#car battery box hill

[mraprilfools]

Word Count: 5.1k

Rating: M Pairing: Queer-Platonic Alastor/Vox

CW/TW: Canon-typical violence

Summary: Alastor and Vox decide to go see a new play outside town! They pick up some company along the way. Full story under the cut

“The entertainment district has many fine theaters overflowing with talent. Men and women of all ages putting their hearts and souls into these pitiful distractions. All meant to keep the lowly and miserable from realizing how worthless their lives truly are. But the finest of all lies outside our dear corner of hell and upon the lofty hills of The Upper District! If one is to see art, one ought to not settle for fine or passable! But the divine-- don’t you think?” An intermingling of thick static spoke each word as grandly as if on broadcast in that instant. A golden crescent smile shone even in the darkness of the moving car, matching with the menacing red of his eyes.

Competing with Vox’s natural luminosity, the sphere of their luminous influence melted into a gentle violet. Always pushing and pulling; meeting together in a violet horizon. One claw was settled on the wheel, and the boxy frame of Vox’s remained facing forward so all Alastor could see was the smooth matte surface. The car crawled to a stop in one of the more isolated corners of the city.

Exhaustion marked Vox’s expression-- he had always given into Alastor’s demands however lofty. But when you passed by twenty different theaters because he had to see Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde performed by a certain troupe it felt exhausting. But who was he kidding? He always acquiesced.

“And that’s why we got to take the car tonight. It’s a thirty-minute walk otherwise. Look, it’s just a quick stop to give Rosie her candied hearts and we’ll head straight there.” Vox’s claw turned upward as he spoke, only looking at the man he was speaking to when the engine shut off. “Besides, if I let my baby sit in the garage for too long the battery will die.”

Parking space in Cannibal Town was always left wanting. They had to settle for a small lot behind a small shopping strip that mainly was used to load and unload products. These isolated corners always had a way of bringing out the sinners driven insane by their immortality. And these roads were always filled with cannibals. Hungry for the meals sitting inside a tin and glass box. Thankfully, Alastor’s fearsome presence would usually scare them off, which made him the car babysitter tonight. Much to his chagrin.

“It’s a lovely night! Not a single cloud in the sky, the evening’s a beautiful shade of scarlet, and the temperature is positively mild. Your rust-- vehicle’s weak battery is truly none of my concern.”

As tempting as it was to disparage the tin coffin he was dragged into, this car was the first thing Vox scrimped and saved and fawned over. The memory of how excited he was to show it to Alastor first. And their first drive was still one of his fondest memories. Especially the slaughter after! So Alastor couldn’t disparage it-- completely. Not that Vox wasn’t waiting for it with squinted distrustful eyes.

For his audacity, Alastor reached out and poked one of Vox’s antennae. A directed radio signal cut and disturbed the display on his head. Starting first with his voice cutting out. “AL-GAAh-- Kkzrrrzshhhhhhhh----”, Then graduating to a multi-colored block that had written in large letters: No Signal. At one point Vox had altered the display to say, ‘Fuck you Alastor’ but that only made him more inclined to see it so Vox quickly changed that back.

Hands returned to his lap, Alastor waited with a smile like the cat who caught the canary. He had to look his most smug when Vox regained himself. Clamped cyan teeth greeted him with a swirling in Vox’s red eye. The old picture was so cute when he was upset, it inspired laughter in the radio demon. A laughter that extinguished the building rage in the other man. “Ugh, you’re in one of your moods aren’t you.” Vox sighed.

“You only have yourself to blame dear Picture-box. Whenever I get in this car you know how I get.” Alastor leaned forward, pushing himself deliberately into Vox’s personal space.

“Yeah! Because I can’t get you to get in it unless I promise to tear a man open for you like a Christmas present! We’ll miss the opening act if we take any more detours you know. Anyway, I’ll be only a few minutes, watch the car for me.” Vox shoved open the car door, smacking away a cannibal who got a little too close in the process. Bright blue electricity crackled from his iron claws as a warning to the hungry children of the night. Wherever the pale blue glow reached, they shied away from; retreating to the safety of the shadows. A couple of cold clicks for his fingers emphasized what exactly these cannibals were dealing with if they got too close. A blaring noise from his screens scared them out of their wits, scampering into the unknown.

The door closed behind Vox with a thud, and he took a brief detour to grab the red box sitting in the back.

Alastor sat back and enjoyed the show, even if sitting alone in a dark car was never his favorite. He hated any dark cramped space, hence his dislike for the vehicle. Doubly so left alone in it. The man’s luminous presence was the only reason he could stomach it at all! So once Vox was out of sight, he opened the other door and stepped outside. The crickets were noisy tonight, one could almost hear them over the low hiss of the cannibal children. Alastor’s signal buzzed with delight, he was a man who appreciated the natural beauty of hell.

“Happy Birthday Rosie! I’m sorry it’s a little late. Alastor wanted to make them personally, so it took us a while to… organically source them. You know how he loves to over-sample.” Vox put on his best smile for Rosie as he handed her the box. Already changed into her evening clothes, she only kept half the door cracked open when she answered it. When she recognized who it was, all caution was thrown to the wind. She cracked it wide open in invitation, the hollows of her eyes wide in excitement.

“Vox! How GOOD to see you dear! And this is from the both of you?!” Into her waiting hands, Vox slipped the box. She wasted little time to undo the beautiful red silk ribbon, peeking at the sweets inside.

“Of course, nothing but the best for our favorite lady.” Charm came easy for the TV anchor, and doubly so when he was telling the truth. Rosie was no stranger to it, but it didn’t make it any less charming through the years. One may even say his consistency made it all the more flattering.

“Where’s Alastor?” Rosie leaned to the side, hoping to spy on the other Overlord. Not a fuzzy red ear in sight.

“He’s watching the car. We’re going to see the new Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde play in the Upper District. It’s a long walk so I barely convinced him to get into a car with me. Your cannibals don’t like it… much.”

Rosie giggled, the hollows of her eyes upturning in genuine mirth. “Oh, they just want to chew on the tires a little dear! If you feed them a bone they’ll leave you alone.”

“I’ll remember that for next time… I guess even Cannibals get hangry.” Felt awful like the same way Vox calmed down Alastor from his bad moods. Throw him a sinner or two and he was as sweet as a kitten-- As Mimzy likes to put it.

“Oh absolutely! Nothing quite like a cannibal getting hangry either. We’ll try to take bites right out of you!” Rosie flipped her hand, punctuating the statement with a laugh. “But don’t let me keep you, you two have a lovely night alright? Tell Alastor I said hello!”

Vox forced a laugh, thankful for the distance between the two at the moment. One would think his unique mechanical biology would dissuade them but-- it only made them damn more curious. Vox preferred to stay intact, repairs were expensive! “You have a night as lovely as you are, Rosie!”

The door snuffed out the pale yellow light, submerging Vox in darkness. More keen having once been blinded. A few cannibals in the bushes stared at him with their dark hollowed eyes. Vox conjured another burst of electricity crackling at his palm to dissuade them.

Beyond all expectations, Vox was happy to see that Alastor was still in the seat, waiting for him. Still wearing that familiar Cheshire grin that he swore grew whenever their eyes first met. It always gave Vox the sneaking suspicion he was up to something; but when wasn’t he?

The car shook with the added weight when Vox stepped inside, sticking the key right into the ignition. “Rosie says hello. Thanks for watching the car for me Al.” The engine whined before it roared to life. Sending gentle vibrations throughout the entire vehicle.

“Not a problem! You know, as long as you show you’re not scared of them they’ll leave you alone. They’re only looking for an easy meal-- and you look hardly appetizing. No offense.” A total fabrication. Alastor had been tempted more than once to sink his teeth into that firm flesh, wondering if it tasted any different from other sinners. But he could never justify testing his theory in case it scared the little overlord off.

“None taken.” Vox pinched the rear-view mirror, adjusting it to look out the back. His hand froze when he found there was a black silhouette in the back seat of his BMW. Vox squinted, then immediately swiveled his head to cast light on the figure in the back. An elk sinner sat there with their head hanging low. A dark liquid dripped all over his nice pleather seats, dripping onto the floor. Vox didn’t need much imagination to guess what.

“Is that a dead body in the back seat?”

“To be fair darling, you left me alone,” Alastor stated, looking over his nails. “Don’t worry. He’s still alive, for now.”

The artificial glow of Vox’s monitor revealed more of the figure. Their chest was moving, but only barely. There were signs of claws raking all over the body but it was shock that had knocked him unconscious if Vox had to guess. He wasn’t in danger of dying in his back seat, for now. Only torn open just enough to bleed. All over his car. No plastic liner or anything. Vox rapped his claws against the wheel, counting to ten to silence the scream building in him. Screaming only ever made Alastor wall him off completely. When he found his cool, Vox forced a smile as he met Alastor’s eyes. Speaking through clenched teeth.

“And why is there a bleeding all over my back seat?”

Alastor cocked his head to the side, large fluffy ears bouncing with the movement. Deliberately done, Alastor was well aware of how weak Vox was to them. A faint light blue blush crawled over Vox’s screen, making the white freckles on the screen more prominent. The wobble of his lips danced as teeth flashed in and out of view. A smack of a fist against the car wheel sounded his defeat. What soft muttering protests he could muster came out unintelligible.

“You know the cost of getting me in your car, Vox. A corpse would hardly be proper! You deserve them when they’re still squirming and thrashing.”

“But-- I keep plastic liners in the trunk! You could have at least put one down! I’ll never get all that blood out!” All the wiggling of those fuzzy ears couldn’t have stopped Vox from raising his voice plaintively there.

Alastor pressed a finger against Vox’s mouth, hushing him with a click of his tongue. “Tut tut, my dear! Let’s not fight in front of Steve.”

Vox immediately bat the hand away. “You named it Steve?! Why him anyway? Did he crop dust you or something?”

The deer wrinkled his nose in disgust, offended by even the insinuation. “Oh-- no. He wouldn’t be intact if that were the case dear. I saw him trying to make off with some undergarments from a lady's clothesline. Hardly befitting a gentleman, wouldn’t you agree?”

Vox’s mouth hung open- then shut. Then the box head turned and smacked against the car wheel.

BIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

The media overlord’s whole body rose and fell with his heavy sigh. “Sometimes I feel like the reason I fell to hell was because I was destined to meet you.”

“Quite the romantic sentiment-- I’m afraid you’ll need to do better than that if you wish to have a chance, my dear. I am not so easily wooed.”

Vox raised his head, shooting him a deadpan look. “Destined to meet you, so you could torment me for the rest of my Lucifer damned afterlife.”

Alastor’s signal chirped, the ends of the Radio Demon’s lips curling with delight at an equal measure to Vox’s despair. “I dearly hope so.”

It was pathetic that a single comment inspired a blush so furious Vox’s whole screen became smothered in white. Inelegant sputtering answered him with Vox immediately tearing his attention back to the road. Focusing instead on getting back on the road so they could attend that damn play. Once they passed Cannibal Town and through the busy Entertainment streets, Neon signs flashed as they passed by. Panoramas of violence, depravity, poverty, and all the typical miseries of hell sped by. Their beloved Pentagram City.

“So, the man in the back seat. You want me to kill him too? What do you even get out of that anyway? I thought you preferred to get your own hands bloody.” Vox shifted his gaze at a lull stuck behind traffic. The sight of his partner’s face was awash in the city lights, contrasted by the deep shadows. It was a rare moment to see Alastor pensive, lost in his thoughts that put him so off guard that he shared with Vox one of those rare unguarded smiles.

It was always the little things like that-- that made Alastor’s capricious moods and constant teasing all worth it. A gentle words or a smile that was for him alone and his heart would squeeze with the most delightful bittersweet pain.

“It’s good for you my dear! You cannot rely on my reputation forever you know! The big fish will come to nibble at your empire sooner rather than later. If you cannot strike fear into the hearts of the laymen, they’ll see you as easy picking. If my business takes me elsewhere for a week, what would you do?”

“You already do disappear for weeks on end! And I’ve done fine.” Vox muttered. It always jabbed at his pride when he was underestimated, well aware of the fact that he was still living in the Radio Demon’s shadow.

Vox’s fists squeezed against the leather wrap of the wheel. Cyan pupils stared hard at the road as the spiraling thoughts of his self-worth encroached at the corners of his mind. The gentle touch of Alastor’s hand on his shoulder returned him to Hell, banishing them before they could do real harm.

“True. I keep forgetting how quickly you’ve blossomed. Feels like only yesterday since I found you shaking like a kitten after I devoured… what was his name? It was something hideous.” The recollection came with a dainty tap on his chin.

Vox clicked his tongue. “Don’t remember either. Guy was an asshole though! Hiked my rent for the third month in a row! Landlords. Figures they’d all end up here.” Capitalism was great! When it wasn’t keeping the go-getters like him down! But climbing a Sisyphean hill where the rent hiked faster than he could make money was a stark reminder of where Vox was.

“In any case! ANY normal person would be terrified! You don’t exactly have the best table-side manners when you hunt. I had nightmares for weeks where I heard nothing but you chewing on that guy's bones.” Vox shuddered at the memory. Years later? He’d become so used to it that he slept soundly without losing a wink of sleep these days. It was crazy how hell had you desensitized to everything. What remained of his humanity slipped by the day if anything was left.

The blare of a horn behind them impatiently urged Vox to drive faster. A suggestion he paid no heed to, driving even slower in a deliberate attempt to piss the driver off further. The wailing of the horn sped by as the driver slipped into the other lane, flashing the finger at him even as raced past. For all his impatience, he almost ended up slamming into another car. The wild swerving had him hit a bloody corpse on the road. Spiraling until the car flipped and crashed taking under it a few sinners happening to take a walk.

Vox and Alastor both broke out into dry laughter, with Alastor pointing at one of the mangled bodies thrown over the pavement. When lost in schadenfreude, Alastor lost what elegance he normally possessed with his eyes going cross-eyed. The particularly gorey way the brains splattered over the pavement was a visual delight for the sadistic deer.

All the laughter had the misfortune of waking the poor victim still bleeding all over Vox’s nice car seat. “Where the hell am I…?”

Alastor’s head turned ninety degrees, greeting the sinner with his dazzling luminous smile. His good mood had warped his appearance into something terrifying. Eyes now the shape of dials frantically swinging like a haywire pendulum. “Good morning!”

“HOLY FUCK!” The elk kicked back, sliding against the seat trying to put even an inch more between him and the genuine terror staring at him. As if Vox only remembered to, he hit the button locking the doors and the window. The click sent a shiver of dread through the cowering sinner. “What do you two plan to do with me?! What do you want? Money? I have money! You can have all of it! Just-- let me go!”

Alastor laughed, cracking his neck twice, extending it past the seats. Vox kept his eyes on the road, not wanting to end up like that idiot from earlier. Not that he particularly wanted to see the disturbing creepy fuck his partner could be at times.

“Don’t scare him so bad he shits himself Alastor. Or I’m making you clean it.”

A discordant signal answered Vox, souring the unhinged glee he felt from having a new toy to torment. The neck snapped back into place as he turned his head back forward. “You would be incapable of making me do anything dear. But I do know how much you adore this… bucket of bolts. In any case, I’m holding you to your end of the deal one way or another.”

Vox rolled his technicolor pupils. “We might miss the opening act. Will you be O.K with that?”

A buzz filled the air. One that the elk tried to interrupt. “Um-- excuse me. I’d… love an answer. Is this about something other than money? Drugs? Or are you… Jenna’s boyfriend? Is that what this is about?!”

Alastor kept ignoring the elk, leaning to the side with his elbow against the car door. “Even if I must miss the opening act! And I will have you know now, if you give me a half-assed performance I will pull somebody from the audience and make you try again. And again. Until you get it right. So-- best get it done right the first time Vox.”

“Of course not. When have I ever half-assed anything around you?”

Unbeknownst to Vox, Alastor watched Vox’s expressions with the reflection on the front car window. The emotive little picture box was always such a wonder, a marvel if you will. So honest around him that it was impossible to want to push all his buttons. So, he did!

“That Charleston last week didn’t feel like you gave it your all.”

“Um-- guys? Hello?!” The elk tried to get their attention by poking at Vox’s shoulder. It provoked the simultaneous reaction of both Alastor and Vox. Electrical cord and eldritch tentacle reached out in unison seizing his arm. “AIIEEEE! PLEASE STOP! LET ME GO! Fuck! FUCK FUCK FUCK! I’m sorry! Whatever I did, please I’ll do anything!”

Vox fought for control, whipping the sinner to smack against the back of his seat. “What?! I have been practicing that dance for weeks! I wore out my brand new fucking shoes because you said you’d kill me if I embarrassed you!”

“Vox. What did I tell you? Not in front of Steve. You know arguing in front of the children is terrible for their development.” Alastor tut-tutted a second time, even wiggling his leftmost ear when Vox bothered to turn his head. The incensed expression faltered immediately with his face losing all its color.

“Is your name even Steve?!” Vox spoke through the filter, only now noticing that his cords had become tangled with Alastor’s tentacles. The unfortunate sinner had tears streaming down his face. His poor luck to be in a car with a man who was only excited by his tears and the other who couldn’t be more indifferent. If anything he found the wailing more annoying.

“NO! My name is Kyle! W-will you please let me go?”

“KYLE will be fine, Al. Wait-- your name is Kyle?” Vox paused, blanching. “Ew, I’m glad I’m killing you now. Fuck any guy whose name is Kyle.”

A gloved hand hid the golden crescent on Alastor’s face, shoulders trembling from hidden laughter. The elk pinned his ears back, losing all the color in his face as fear turned the blood in his veins into ice. “Why?!”

Grown tired of it all, Alastor leaned back and gave the man the answer he craved. If only so he could stop hearing the same monotonous syllable. “It’s quite simple my friend. You happened to offend me when I was bored, now you’re my entertainment for the evening. You can try to run, and I’ll kill you instead. But it’ll be far slower than Vox. He doesn’t seem to have a love of the art like I do.”

“I don’t think anyone enjoys making people suffer half as much as you do Alastor. Besides, I can’t be horrible at it if you keep making me do it.” Much to Vox’s chagrin. “All it means to me is an extra trip to the dry cleaners.”

The slow roll of the car as they turned into a parking lot was the sinner’s signal to try and escape. Kyle yanked on the door handle, flipping it uselessly. The noisy clattering was music to the sadistic buck, watching Kyle with delight. “HELP! PLEASE SOMEBODY! ANYBODY?! THESE TWO ARE FUCKING INSANE!”

Kyle slammed his elbows into the window, yelping as the numbing shock ran through his arm. Twice, thrice he tried to smash his elbow through driven by adrenaline. Without a word Vox stepped out of the car, strolling over to Alastor’s side. He opened the door, offering his hand as if for a lady.

Alastor took the offered claw, stepping out from the car with eyes glittering wildly with anticipation. Ruby's irises flickered between Vox’s luminous screen and the sinner beating his fists against the glass walls screaming for help. A few of the theater go-ers would rubberneck, curiosity getting the best of them but… nobody was coming to save them. The sight of the two familiar overlords would dissuade all but the most foolish heroic souls. And hell had no place for heroes.

People were already filing into the theater. Spotlights danced, banishing the darkness of night around it. The stage title ‘Jekyll and Hyde’ was prominently written in lights. Vox sighed, looking at the distant glamour of the stage waiting for them. He hesitated by the car door. “Hey, Al.”

“Hm?” The hum was accentuated with an especially thick static filter. Alastor knew that look, Vox was having one of his moods now.

“Was there ever a Dr. Jekyll in you?” The question caught Alastor off guard. He balanced on his cane, tucking one leg over the other. While the programs Vox put out may be shallow and trite, he understood the beauty of these plays. One more reason he made an exception for this man’s company. So he was always happy to have these discussions with him as much as he hated to reveal anything of himself.

“If there was, he was consumed by Hyde long, long ago. So long ago… that I thought the man himself entirely erased once.”

“Thought?” Vox hung on that word. Of course, he would be at least that perceptive. Alastor leaned forward, deciding to throw him a bone.

“Traces… of him have been returning to me these days. He will never reclaim this body of mine, but I do enjoy what it is he awakens.”

Vox finally opened the door. The elk shoved past him, immediately breaking out into a run the moment he saw his chance. Unfortunately, he didn’t get far. This wasn’t Vox’s first rodeo, nor would it be his last. Cords had whipped out in anticipation, winding around his ankle and tripping him. Vox didn’t even look at the sinner, nor pay attention to his cries as he was dragged toward him. The conversation at hand was far more interesting to him at the moment.

The elk’s nails dug at the concrete, tearing up his nails and fingers in the process. The bleating and kicking of his legs only made him look all the more pathetic, invoking a hunger in Alastor. Unaware of his growing hunger, the antlers on his head warped into gnarled branches.

It took all the self-control Alastor could muster to not devour the elk then and there. Running always invoked the predator’s instinct in him.

“Always talking in riddles… I’m surprised. I would think you would have hated anything like a Jekyll in you. I’ve never seen anyone so happy with who they are.” Vox continued speaking as he fulfilled his end of the bargain as if this was all a familiar routine and nothing more. One man butchered in exchange for Alastor taking a car ride.

The first cut was always the most beautiful, in Alastor’s opinion. Each movement was mechanical and emotionless. Vox’s expression neutral even while his claws slashed across the elk's throat in a chillingly mechanical and ruthless motion. He didn't even get a chance to scream. With such confidence in movement, you knew he'd done it hundreds of times before.

Blood sprayed over Vox’s screen, his clothes, dripping down his claws. The inhuman face had not an ounce of pity or euphoria while he butchered a man like he was skinning a rabbit. A chilling contrast to the joy it inspired in Alastor. So similar to one another; yet in some contradiction they were each other's foil.

Alastor had watched plenty of men kill others, he’d murdered countless more. But there was a beauty in Alastor’s eyes to the surgical way Vox’s claws tore through clothes and flesh. Knew the exact place to stick his hand to grab the large intestine and yank it free. The way his claws tore through bone, muscle, sinew, and fat sent a thrilling shiver from head to toe.

But the best part was the almost bored way he looked at Alastor as if asking him if he was satisfied yet. It made his heart pound. He didn’t care how the blood came down his screen in rivulets, collecting at the gaps at the bottom and streaming down the corners. How inhuman and demonic he looked. Pure poetry.

Only Vox could take a kill from him, and bring him more excitement than if he had dealt the blow himself! But he would never admit to the way his heart was clamoring with excitement at these very moments. This was the remnant of Jekyll, no doubt. There was otherwise no other proof that his dead shriveled heart still beat in his chest.

“And what about you my fine fellow? Was there once a Dr. Jekyll for you?” Alastor was always impressed with how he could continue to speak indifferently, even when he felt anything but. An invaluable tool for an Overlord.

Vox shifted his gaze. “What makes you think I’m Hyde right now?” After mangling the corpse to Alastor’s satisfaction, it dropped from his hands with a dull wet thud. Splashing in the pool of blood it left behind. With bloody claws Vox popped open the trunk of his car, throwing off his jacket to fish out a clean one.

It wasn’t his first rodeo.

Black had been traded for burgundy, a good trade as far as Alastor was concerned. Red suited Vox much better. Though he wished Vox could wait a little longer to wipe his claws and face clean. But one could hardly attend a show fresh out of a blood bath. That was better saved for dances.

Vox’s expression turned pensive. “For as long as I can remember, I was always a burden. A selfish brat who only ever cared for himself. If there’s no Jekyll, there’s no Hyde, right? I was… simply born shitty.” It wasn’t self-deprecation a man spoke because he wanted to be reassured. And he’d be asking the wrong man for it anyway.

It was a personal truth, spoken robotically as if one might talk about the weather. But Alastor could tell, in the way his hands hesitated for half a second. This was a piece of himself that he wanted to share with Alastor, as foolish as it was. “So, I spent my entire life convincing everyone I was a Jekyll instead. Became damn good at it too, even convinced myself. Sometimes.”

The trunk boomed as it shut closed. A new jacket was thrown over to cover the bloody sweater beneath. The only hint that he had torn a man open was the little blood splatter lingering on his bow tie. A small touch that Alastor would not dare to rob himself of the pleasure of speaking up.

“But that’s why I’m glad I found you.” Emotion returned to Vox’s voice, gentle and hopeful.

Vox’s cyan teeth were stained in blood as he flashed Alastor a toothy smile that took up half his screen. The very same that became his favorite since the first time he laid eyes on it. Full of those beautiful sharkish teeth that could tear a limb clean off drenched in the blood of a sinner. More beautiful than ever.

“I feel no need to hide my true nature when I’m with you.”

[dangersam]

Hey everyone, it's time for another game update!

But first I just wanted to say a big thanks to all of you for playing the game and sharing your creations. It's great to see so many new players joining the community, it really helps motivate me to keep trying to make the game better!

OK, on to the update.

Soap Box Challenge

See how fast you can get down the hill under gravity alone, no motors allowed. This new scenario gives you an idea of the kind of "mini games" possible with Lua scripting, but it still barely scratches the surface really, hopefully we can push the boundaries of this more in the future. Anyway, check it out and let me know what you think.

New Parts

Continuous servo motors, more crown, rack, & worm gear sizes, more "hole & plate" connectors, and round ended beams.

Part Behaviours

Separate servo forward & reverse angles, flip pulley belts, link displays to multiple parts, etc.

Here's a quick look at some of these changes:

Release notes:-

New Soap Box Challenge scenario.

New parts:-

Small and medium continuous servo motors.

24T and 40T Hi & Lo crown gears.

x3 rack gear.

x1 worm gear.

More "1-Hole Plate" and "2-Hole Plate" resizable connectors.

Rounded and half rounded resizable beams.

Part behaviour improvements:-

Servo motor part behaviour now has separately tweakable forward and reverse angles.

Servo and stepper motor part behaviours now have an "angular speed" data channel.

Pulley part behaviour now has an option to flip belt routing.

Displays can now be linked to multiple other parts.

Motor, battery, and rotor parts can now attach to each other, and to other parts in a more consistent way.

Changed plate on "plate axle" connector part to be circular.

Tweaked material strength of all wheels.

Added buttons to UI screens to open containing folder in Windows Explorer.

Added player "free flight movement mode" setting to allow for moving horizontally rather than along the view direction.

Added settings to the controls options screen for disabling each of the manipulators.

Improved crosshair.

Added Hungarian translations to currently localised strings, thanks to BlueGoldFlag.

Bug fixes.

Upgraded to Unity 2021.3.33.

[coutelier]

Thing in the Woods

Excerpt from Irongate:

Kaya was tired. Too tired to spend the rest of the night dealing with Angela, and she was sure Sayuri would find some other girl to have fun with. For Kaya she was heading back to Greenback to rest as she had done for the last several nights. She was tired a lot lately.

She’d seen the lightning, felt the thunder, droplets starting to fall as she set the seat in Greenback as far back as she could to settle as much as she could. To her left were lightless mostly empty warehouses, and to her right an inky valley, trees atop the most distant hills swaying as if performing a dance to their god, the only sound the pitter-patter of rain. Until the scream. Kaya was used to hearing screams; if not Angela’s singing, then usually it was drunks shouting and brawling. But this was more anguished, desperate, and cut off so abruptly. And it was close.

It was no warmer in the car than out there, where Kaya flitted her gaze for anything out of the ordinary. Streetlights - shouldn’t at least some streetlights have been on? Only now did she notice the complete lack of any power in the neighborhood. And shoes - behind a ‘to let’ sign hammered into turf there was definitely a foot poking. Could someone have fallen? She couldn’t really see from where, but hugging herself for warmth she stepped out of Greenback to where the injured person was laying.

“Hey?” Kaya cooed, the raindrops splashing on her, her denim outfit quickly getting heavy, “are you okay?” She craned her neck to see around the sign. The man looked like he was sleeping, or lying on his back staring up at the sky. Both things were impossible. Kaya stepped back, skin paling as something rose in her throat - the man was really, really not okay, although at least he was past worrying about it. Kaya couldn’t remember running back to Greenback or for how long she sat frozen at the wheel. She looked straight ahead into the murky night but all she saw were those eyes, or rather the ichor oozing holes where eyes should have been. It was certainly a while before she could form any more coherent thought than ‘shit’.

Call someone. Who? Dibbles? That made sense. But the phone… she was she’d charged it, yet all she saw was her own white and red reflection. Pressing it harder didn’t transfer any energy into the device. It was dead - don’t think the word dead! Did she have a spare battery? Maybe… she was going to need her flashlight from the glove box to search all the shoeboxes in the car with her, but that was… taking a power nap as well. Great.

Another thought - it hadn’t been that long between hearing the scream and finding the man, which meant the eye-gouger could still be… perhaps the best thing to do was just to stay very still.

The rain grew heavier, beating down more rapidly. Kaya had been alert after the scream, but now her eyes were wide taking in everything. The rain obscured a lot, but also revealed something she might not have seen. In her mirror she saw up in the branches behind her an outline begin to form. It became like a melting ice sculpture of a man crouching in, completely still, until it opened its eyes and looked back at her.

Staying still was a dumb idea. Now was definitely, definitely time to go. But Greenback seemed asleep - she kept turning the key in the ignition again and again but just nothing. Between turns she kept glancing in the mirror to see what that thing was doing. For the first three turns it was just looking, then on the fourth it vanished. Kaya searched for it while turning the key a fifth time, and then it was at her window. It had dropped whatever cloak it had been hiding with so now she could see it was a gray-brown androgynous humanoid covered in chitinous armor. The armor had a texture like tree back, leaf-like ears protruding either side of the mouthless helm. It scrutinized her then reached down getting one hand under Greenback’s door, then flipped the entire vehicle over.

Kaya braced herself as best she could as the world spun before her, her own shoeboxes flying and hitting her from all directions. She gritted and waited until with a jolt gravity was firmly beneath her again. She had rolled down the hill and come to rest on another part of the road that winded down. What’s more, Greenback’s nose was facing down the slope - this was good. Both she and the car were battered, but now she could release the handbrake, Greenback slowly trundling forward as she kept trying to start the engine. Just one spark - that was all that was needed. But then a dull metallic thud drew her eyes from the ignition to those of the creature now kneeling on the hood.

It pulled its arm back, about to punch through the windshield, when Greenback finally awoke with a roar. Kaya screeched in triumph, slamming him into reverse, the creature falling backwards, somersaulting in mid-air to land on its feet. But now it was in the middle of the road in Kaya’s sights and she was way past shock and terror now. Now she was just pissed off.

Greenback’s tires squealed, rubber burning before he was launched at the target. The creature in its armor showed no emotion, but was fast, leaping over the car like an acrobat leaping over a charging bull.

Now she was moving Kaya kept her foot down not caring where she was going - just away. After a moment she noticed the roadsigns telling her that she was heading out into open country. That likely wasn’t the smartest thing - she should be heading into town where there were people. Before Kaya could turn them around another thud and the roof crumpled slightly as Greenback shook - Kaya suspected they had picked up a passenger. A suspicion confirmed when a blade punched threw the roof narrowly missing her.

Trees and fences kept kept whizzing by, Greenback’s tires screeching as he swerved side to side, Kaya doing her best to keep him on the road while avoiding the creature’s blade; if she couldn’t shake it off it would soon get her but the damn thing held on tight. With a heavy heart Kaya saw only one way out, patting Greenback’s dashboard while making sure her seatbelt was done up. “Forgive me buddy,” she said. If she couldn’t shake the thing, she was going to crush it.

White striped whizzed by. Just as the blade came down again Kaya spun the wheel, Greenback squealing as he fell on his side, white hot sparks from the tarmac as he slid then flipped and rolled, smashed glass and agonized twisting metal as he bounced off the road through. That was when Kaya passed out.

When she came around the world was upside down. It was cool. The rain had stopped. There were a couple of cows grazing on the far side of the field, completely unbothered by what was going on where she was. Kaya’s head was ringing. Blood rushing to it likely didn’t help. She pushed open the door and unbuckled herself, falling onto the broken glass and junk scattered below adding more to the cuts and scrapes. As she was trying to wriggle out she yelped, hand recoiling from something warm and very sharp - the creature’s blade. At least a piece of it seemed to have broken off. Also seemed a good idea to take it, so after putting on some gloves she carefully slipped it into her jacket.

Once outside she grunted, bones and muscles creaking and aching as she forced herself to her feet. Greenback however wasn’t getting back up anytime soon. If there was a way to get him she would, but the fact was he wasn’t supposed to have been on the road in the first. He was a reject, like her, and once the cops found him he’d be impounded and likely scrapped. Wasn’t a lot Kaya could do about that - she had to get away from here. She patted him, thanked him for his service, then staggered toward the road while loosening her shoulders. With the blades nearly touching she froze; of course the monster was behind her.

Gritting her jaw Kaya spun about, fist and red pony tails flying. The creature swatted her arm aside and kicked, Kaya doubling over with a whoomph. It kicked like a horse, sending her sprawling into the wet glass, its twisted limbs popping back into place as it advanced on her. Kaya rolled to her belly, trying to crawl away only to be lifted to her knees by one of her tails. The creature stepped around to the front of her; it had no face to emote with, but it nevertheless seemed confident she was under its control and was taking its time to finish her.

But Kaya struck, wedging the blade she’d found into a gap between the plates covering the creature’s upper and lower arms. At least it must have felt pain as it let her go, staggering back. Spurred on Kaya launched her shoulder into its torsos, tackling the creature and screaming as she stabbed again and again at any gap she could find in the armor. Kaya had to find a way to kill it before it remembered its strength. The eye - go for the eye!

It let out a harrowing howl as the blade slid through the socket into, presumably, its brain. Then it was still. Kaya rolled off it to lie on her back, panting, aching. The wet grass was cool and refreshing, but she couldn’t stay. Something else must heard the howl. Best she wasn’t here when they came to investigate.

[whumpster-fire]

Some people in the notes aren't getting it so:

The idea as described in the OP is a perpetual motion machine and doesn't work because no conversion of energy is 100% efficient. Batteries, motors, and wires all "waste" some of the energy you put into them, so any "run a thing off itself" system will still lose energy, not to mention the energy losses a car naturally has to overcome from actually driving, e.g. rolling resistance of tires, aerodynamic drag, any power needed to run AC/heating, headlights, windshield wipers, etc. It doesn't work for the same reason that if you plug a light bulb into a solar panel and put it in a box lined with mirrors you can't get infinite light, or why we can't make wind turbines generate power on days with no wind by just pointing a giant electric fan at them.

The basic concept of "Use energy from the car's motion to recharge the batteries" is regenerative braking. This is a known, proven technology THAT IS ALREADY STANDARD IN THE CHEVY VOLT AND MOST OTHER ELECTRIC CARS, and it doesn't need an extra generator because electric motors are already capable of acting as generators if you put mechanical power into them.

Regenerative braking is not perpetual motion, but it can make an electric vehicle significantly more efficient in conditions where it's starting or stopping repeatedly or going up and down hills where it needs to control its speed on the downhill sections by braking, because every time you stop the vehicle or descend a hill it gives you back a decent percentage of the energy you used to accelerate / to climb the hill, whereas a combustion-powered vehicle, even one that's using engine braking, is getting back approximately 0%. Even if it's powering the alternator from the car's motion, that'll give "free" power for the next time the engine's started or running the electronics but it can't use the generated electricity to get itself back up to speed after stopping at a traffic light. It doesn't work just cruising at constant speed: if you had one motor applying power and another trying to do regen braking simultaneously you'd just end up wasting energy.

You actually can supply all the energy a vehicle needs with regenerative braking, but only in the very specific use case of transporting heavy cargo down a hill, offloading it, and driving back up empty and much lighter. This isn't much use for cars, but it is a thing for some heavy mine/quarry haul trucks. This is still not a perpetual motion machine: it's using the gravitational potential energy of thousands of tons of rock and ore at the top of a mountain as an external energy source.

[reddocsailor]

01 Down the rabbit hole - The Begin of a journey I

By Docsailor 2023

Here is me, somewhere in the middle of nowhere. My car broke down, no life sign around, no cell phone coverage, lovely that’s how I liked it.

I am leaning to my car, staring at the sun, which is dropping slowly behind the hills.

My hand moves through my ginger hair which is cascading down my back in a wavy style. I am sighing out load "What a fuck!!". Yeah, not lady like but who cares anyway.

I finished my business trip a couple of hours ago and had some time off. This time I wanted to spent cruising around, get in contact with the country, people….

So nobody would miss me for a couple of weeks "Great". "Yeah spare your holiday of a whole year and take it in a row" I am speaking out load. "Not as planned you…" holding on " Why I am yelling nobody around…"

I am kicking the tyre " Autsch", luckily I switched my heels to the sneakers, but it still hurts.

"Come on you are an engineer, you can fix a car" I inhale deeply trying to calm myself down. My hands brush down my lovely Scottish skirt, I like the texture of it. I am looking down on myself.

My white blouse, still my black bra on, give my C Cup breasts a lovely shape and then my Scottish skirt in which I jumped after the business was done. I like to travel with it.

I begin to smile "Yeah I am looking like a schoolgirl, besides that I am forty…"

Anyway let’s have a look at this bloody rental car. "What does this message say "Error in electrical drive unit"

Damm I am a mechanical engineer. Ok what does my electrical engineer say about drive units "Sometimes they need to reset" Honestly why I have taken a hybrid. " Oh yes be bold, be brave try something new…." Ok I have checked the manual which says call the service, which is quite of tricky when you are in the middle of nowhere. So reset the drive unit, I could kill the connection to the battery, let’s give it a shot. I open up the engine cover, great has this car some tools a wrench would be lovely. So, I go to the trunk throwing my stuff to the back seats, no, no tool box…. Hold on my Leatherman, … In my backpack for hiking… is it a good idea, give it a shot. So, unfold the pliers. Grab the nut and give it a turn…" Arrrrggghh God Damm it that hurts…"I look at my right hand, its bleeding, I slipped an smashed my hand at the engine. "Told you"

So I make myself a bandage on my hand and sit down on the open trunk.

Frustrated I grab myself something to eat from my hiking backpack.

"So here I am, in this bloody hill forest in the middle of nowhere…. No cell phone coverage … broken down car and a scratched hand because of foolishness….." yelling out loud of frustration.

Ok I have my hiking stuff with me, so here is the plan, leave the car, leave a message and then do some miles. So I switch my cloth from casual to hiking. My spandex purple hiking leggings, my hiking shirt and my jacket, and on my hiking shoes. Message left check, car locked check and off I go.

I am humming to myself " And I would walk 500 miles…" as I start my walk down the road.

The sun is dropping down and then I hear it in the far distance a roaring of a high-powered car. There in the distance a red car, the roaring increases.

"Great in the middle of nowhere a single women and the only car is probably a muscle car. Well you wanted to get in touch….. " Sighing

It is indeed a muscle car, Ford Mustang. As it comes closer it slows down and halts right next to me. The side windows opens. "Hi Dear, your car broke down 3,5miles " a friendly women at my age with a colourful hair job asks me.

"Yeah kind off you know Hybrids…" me responding.

"You should not trust the new stuff, luckily I find your car and you, I am Catherine shall I give you a lift to my place, until we find a somebody to fix it".

"That would be lovely. I am Angelique “.

"Angelique what a lovely name. Drop your stuff in the trunk and tug yourself in" I move my backpack in the trunk and then I slide myself into the passenger seat.

“A 5-point belt?”

"You know I like speeding."

"Sure, you do with a car like this."

"You need a hand?"

"No thanks." and then she accelerates like the Devil is chasing her.

"Woaw "

"Yeah I like the vibrations and of course the speeding"

"That’s for sure…"

And we are speeding down the road….

The sun starts to disappear behind the horizon. And we start to chat.

"You are not from here, aren´t you Angelique?"

"No, I had been on a business trip and now I have some days off."

"What are you doing for business?"

"Well I am engineer and have done a Factory Acceptance Test on one of our suppliers the last weeks."

"So you have been long away from home"

"Yeah, kind off"

"Nobody missing you back at home."

“It is complicated. That why I wanted to travel a bit. Until the car broke down”.

“Luckily I find you first, you could be a sweet target”

"Hold on, no I am not a prey I can be pretty bad ass"

"A prey, that is an interesting saying" Catherine is giving me a strange look, mustering me.

"Luckily I have picked you up, and as a female engineer who is running factory acceptance tests I bet you have your abilities to earn your ranks." she is smiling at me.

I look back at her, started scanning her. Well she is probably my age, but her hair style is probably not typical for her age. It starts jet black, starting straight her neck down, getting purple and wavy and the ends fire orange. That’s a hairstyle. She is shorter than me, she got a fitting cleavage to her frame. A cleavage I would like to have. Then I see for the first time she is wearing a corset, leather? Yeah, leather her skirt is shiny leather, of course black stockings and she is driving in heels, very high heels. She is recognizing that I scan her.

"Why is prey wrong to say, what should I say a target? Anyway, what is your business, Catherine." Trying to disguise my scan.

"Oh, you like to change topics. I am the CFO of our family business" With a harsh turn she is leaving the main road down in the forest.

"So, you are probably coming or heading to a party, I assume."

"A party, no my Dear, it is not my vanilla style I usually wear at office and luckily I can leave the vanilla style for a little bit thanks to Home Office" She breaks quite harsh.

"There we are, welcome to my place".

I have seen a lot of places, but this my jaw drops down.

"Your place,……and that of a…"

"Yeah, my place…"

" That is a mansion, no hold on how… big"

"Come in the weather is going to change" The trunk opens automatically. I am still turning my head slowly from left to right. "And you living her with…."

"Alone, come on the weather" she rushes me.

I realize the wind had freshened up quite a bit and dark clouds are moving over the hills.

I grab my backpack and follow her. She opens the door, and I am standing in a hall. Two stairs a leading upward in 2 wings, in the centre there is a doorway which leads further into the house.

"Yeah Daddy had paid very well for this" I mumble to myself.

"Come on before you get lost and find something you might like." I nearly stumble forward as I pass the big C which is been laid in the floor.

"Might like…?" puzzled response. But the clicking of the heels might over tune my words. I have to pay my respect to Cathrine speed on her 10" heels, I would not be able to walk that fast in heels.

"So who is Mr. Cathrine? "

"There is none, I life her by myself, but I have guests if I want. Or I take up a prey" Cathrine turns around and give me a smirking smile "Sorry I like your saying"

"Prey? Just because I mentioned it in the car"

"You offer me a picture, which I somehow like."

"I offered a picture? Honestly."

"I am not vanilla in my house" she cuts me off.

"House, it is more a mansion, residence or something but definitely not a house. Vanila?"

"Dear lets get you sorted. Please be my guest until we manage something with your car" she had stopped right in front a door. With an elegant move she opens the door behind her back with her right arm and steps backwards in gesturing to follow her.

"Make yourself comfortable, shall I pick you in 45min to have dinner together"

"Wow, thank you for your hospitality, you are really generous. I know it is Friday and to be honest it is in the middle of nowhere her, so thank you."

"With pleasure my dear, maybe I will ask for an compensation, maybe, depending on which side of the coin I am." giving me a friendly smile and turns on her heels.

"I will also change in something more appealing."

"Appealing is there a dress code for the dinner?"

"It´s dinner dear, there is always a dress code"

"So no yoga pants than, for being comfortable?”

"Do what you like my dear" as she moves elegant around a corner. The clicking of her heels still echoing.

I through my backpack on a chair. Sighing out loud. "What a day, what a day. So let’s get a shower then and then find something suitable for the dinner".

[aawestautomotive]

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[bookmychardhamyatra]

Advice on Packing and Preparing for the Char Dham Yatra Package Tour

Kedarnath, Badrinath, Gangotri, and Yamunotri, are the four Chardham shrines of Devbhoomi, and they are all situated at elevations of more than 3,000 meters above the level of the sea. Pack plenty of warm winter apparel, including coats, sweaters, thermal underwear, socks, and mufflers. Even though the day may appear nice, after the sun sets, it becomes quite windy and chilly. Additionally, the weather at the high elevations of the Garhwal Himalayas for the Char Dham Yatra Package Tour is unforeseeable. Therefore, you need to carry things to handle the situation.

Things to Carry on Your Char Dham Yatra to Combat Weather

The pilgrims will be warm and comfortable if they carry a windcheater, which is the best method to combat the chilly air and stinging wind.

It may rain at any time along the whole Chardham Yatra path due to the highly unpredictable environment. It is highly recommended that pilgrims bring raincoats and umbrellas with them on their journey.

The pilgrims ought to bring an additional pair of stockings and water-resistant footwear for the yatra for further protection.

The pilgrims should also bring hats, a pair of sunglasses, and sunblock, among other necessities. Particularly in these high-altitude areas, the pilgrims require complete shielding from the sun's harsh rays.

People should always remember to bring mufflers and monkey hats to protect their heads from the chilly winds that regularly sweep across the hills throughout the summer.

Stay Physically Active Before Char Dham Yatra

High-altitude terrain presents a number of difficulties that people must be properly equipped to handle. The pilgrims must be in good physical shape because the site is nearly 3,000 meters above sea level. Before starting their trip, yatris need to sufficiently prepare for the treks; this may be done by engaging in a 20-minute daily training routine. You ought to include walking, running, and racing in your preparation for the trek.

The Chardham pilgrimage requires good physical condition, mostly because of the temples' difficult terrain. Both pilgrims traveling by helicopter and by car should do this.

Things to Carry for Medical Emergency

Bring a medical box with all of the necessary medications for the trip, such as pain relievers, anti-diarrhea, and anti-fever drugs.

No matter how well you get ready, the Chardham Yatra may be extremely mentally and physically taxing. To reenergize yourself, pack chocolate, energy bars, almonds, and other dry fruits.

If you want to explore the Dhams, make sure to carry a bottle of water.

Things Should Be Avoided

Elder people, babies, and pregnant women must not visit the Chardham Yatra.

Sarees should not be worn throughout the yatra, as the clothing may make walking difficult and unpleasant. To make your trip comfortable, make sure to bring a salwar kameez or a set of track pants with a pair of sneakers.

Some Must-Haves to Carry and Follow

You should also carry flashlights, torches with rechargeable batteries, and a power bank device.

Every Yatri is required to register. This is done to keep track of the number of pilgrims and ensure their safety. This is a required process that may be completed online or in person in some locations, including Rishikesh.

Yatris are required to have a copy of their immunization record and a negative COVID-19 RTPCR test that is no more than two to three days old as a safeguard.

Conclusion With this blog, we hope, you get all the information regarding your Luxury Chardham Yatra Package tour so that you can experience Char Dham Yatra effortlessly.

[memynissanandi]

Nissan Navara Bakkie Is The Perfect Blend Of Business And Pleasure

While age may be catching up with fans of authentic hardcore trucks, it does not mean they could no longer enjoy long drives. There’s the versatile bakkie that possesses long-travel off-road suspension that smoothens any ride — the Nissan Navara.

So whether they’re off to an out-of-town business trip or simply want to scratch their adventure itch across challenging terrains, the Nissan Navara is a reliable choice for those who require a vehicle for both work and play. Take a look at everything you get for the Nissan Navara price - you’ll see it’s well worth it.

Its multi-functionality does not stop there. The Nissan Navara boasts features that make it the perfect business partner for someone who wants a versatile workhorse. With its fully boxed ladder frame — unlike some three-sided frames — the Nissan Navara would not twist over uneven terrain. The aforementioned 5-link rear suspension also provides a comfortable ride, even to those seated at the back. Thrive with full power in every performance with a 2.5-litre turbo diesel engine that boasts up to 141.683 kilowatts and 450 Nm of torque, paired to a 7-speed automatic transmission.

On top of the specs is its 1-ton payload capacity, Nissan Navara is a hulk of mobility that does not bend on an adventure. Its Utili-Track™ Cargo System has two channels running the length of the pick-up bed, plus four heavy-duty cleats that let you position stable tie-down points practically anywhere. Its new integrated bumper step, meanwhile, gives you easy access.

Those calling shotgun will be delighted with Zero Gravity front seats, inspired by the weightless posture of astronauts in space. The front seats provide generous support to help reduce fatigue. People in the back will also experience a smoother ride, thanks to the rear seats with comfortable springs and high-bumping urethane foam pads. All in all, the quieter cabin makes those long drives feel short.

The Nissan Navara also has convenient amenities and cutting-edge technology for better comfort and confidence in driving. A case in point is the 20.32 cm Advanced Touch screen Display Audio, a capacitive screen comparable to the sizes of other display audios of top pick-up trucks. It offers a more heightened usability of Nissan Intelligent Mobility features so that users can see and do more.

Entrepreneurs and professionals-on-the go will also enjoy seamless connectivity with Apple Car Play for iPhone users and Android Auto for Android phone users. Drivers can even customize the 20.32 cm Advanced Touch screen Display Audio, as easily as tweaking their tablets. Losing battery for your gadgets? The Nissan Navara got you covered with a state-of-the-art USB port for rapid charging.

Make no mistake, this brute also carries intelligence on the road. The Navara’s Nissan Intelligent Mobility (NIM) features that include the Intelligent Around View Monitor. On rough terrain, the Intelligent Around View Monitor becomes your personal spotter. With a designated off-road mode that activates at slow speeds in 4 LO, it gives you a clear view of the surrounding terrain. This helps you see exactly where to drive your front wheels.

Other Nissan technology includes Rear Cross Traffic Alert, Lane Departure Warning, Blind spot warning, Intelligent Forward Collision Warning, Intelligent Emergency Braking, Off-Road Monito, Hill Descendent Control, and Hill Start Assist. Trust the tech and feel free to climb, crawl, and conquer with the Nissan Navara.

While the Nissan Navara may give you a sense of heart-pounding action, you do not have to worry about skyrocketing prices of repairs. Be protected longer from unexpected fixes with Nissan Navara’s 5-year or 150,000 kilometre-warranty.

So start a brave new ride. Hit the beach. Climb a mountain. Cross a rocky stream. Intersecting the demands of business and pleasure, the Nissan Navara is a versatile pick-up truck that will give you a good mix of rugged capability, comfort, and modern technology

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Article sourced from: http://www.cnnphilippines.com/

[all-things-fic]

Somewhere Only We Know

A/N - Hello, you lovely lot! Hope you are all keeping well in these utterly shit Covid times. Who would’ve thought that we would still be here in December?! Please see my offering for @goldenbluesuit​‘s Christmas Fic Challenge. Hope I’ve done a bit of justice with this piece.

I can remember Katie texting me telling me about the challenge, and I’ll admit I was given first dibs and now I’m absolutely shitting myself because I’ve seen all the brillaint entries so far and I’m not sure I really cut the mustard with this piece but I’m proud of myself for being able to put a solid 70% of this together in just one day (that one day being today).

Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Katie has done a brilliant job and I know how grateful she is towards anyone who has joined the challenge or supported by reading/sharing etc.... I need to stop rambling... Okay, thank you for sticking with me as always and happy reading! .x

***

The last thing you remembered actually reading in the group chat was “make sure you have your wellies”. You were glad that you remembered that part at the very least.

Winds whipped around you as you buried your face further into your cream roll neck cable knit jumper, all but hidden underneath your tobacco borg teddy coat that someone had already likened to Macklemore.

Nothing like being back home with your closest and oldest friends.

Mud squelched under your feet as you walked in line with two of your oldest girl friends, eyes looking over the four males in front of you as they led the way over the grassy hills.

There had been zero planning on what today’s events would bring. It was quite clear that the seven of you just wanted to be reunited with the country air and wind bitten cheeks.

It was nice. How simple it was. On the surface at the very least. That was until you zoned in on the little things. 

Like his laugh. The same laugh that always carried somehow and it seemed like the wind was making it that much more prominent than usual today.

There was no denying, he had this glow about him. Even from the back of him. You felt silly for thinking it, but it was true. It was in the way he held himself as he attacked the grassy hills with his feet clad wellies and brown trousers.

Life had changed a lot in over a decade. Christ, had it been that long? You’d all gone from baby teenagers to fully fledged adults. The age range of your friendship differing slightly, the odd person here and there slightly older than a couple of people in the group.

Nonetheless, many of the experiences had been the same. The big job offers, and the even bigger promotions. The heartbreaks, regardless of their prominence or lack of, had been the felt the same. The flirtation between some of you sparked probably a bit more so now with a finesse that didn’t have you rolling your eyes but rather leaning into it. 

Four out of seven of you were single. Jack and Jonny were virtually married off, however neither of them were with their partners this year with both deciding to spend Christmas at home and New Years with their significant others. Alice was still loved up and going strong with her fella, as was Grace who you hadn’t heard a peep from as she constantly checked her phone to see when the person she was besotted with finally arrived up North thanks to West Midlands Trains pulling into Crewe. 

So that left Will, you and Harry. Harry who had  quite publicly made it known that he was single. Well, according to your Mum he had, in several interviews. Including the one that she had described as an ‘incredibly relaxing watch and nice background noise to my Sunday evening brew and ironing session’. 

That was a strange one for you, his honesty. In earlier years of friendship, he always seemed quite aloof. Like he was keeping his options open. Guarded in a way that frustrated at least 75% of the friendship group, in the nicest way possible. You knew that was a contradiction but any annoyance came from a good place. 

You remembered one night in 2014 when he wouldn’t quite give you a straight answer over tequila shots whether he was shagging someone or not. You also remember the way he’d been pulled away from you tactfully by Alice that night when she sensed how you were about to blow up at his lackadaisical attitude. 

The same had been felt in 2016. Not so much in 2018, but you weren’t single then so maybe you just didn’t care. 

2019 was significantly different though.

See the thing was, you knew him now. Like, knew knew him. 

Some would think it was a lapse of judgment, a reading that you would agree upon given what had happened two days prior if ever prodded about it publicly.

Others would vehemently disagree. Stating how long any sort of energy between the two of you had been bubbling for a number of years. 

Looking back you couldn’t even understand why you’d attended his show. You lived in Camden and it made sense, but that’s where the sense stopped. Even the ways he had reached out had been one of the most random messages you’d received from him

There was no context, just a simple ‘I’m playing the Electric Ballroom and there’s tickets waiting for you if you want ‘em.’

And the thing was, you loved that venue. The grungy-ness of it all. The way you had stuck to the floor while trying to dance along to the likes of The Hives and Kings of Leon when seeing them playing there, basking in your sweaty happiness. 

But the stickiness of the floor and sweatiness of the room didn’t compare to the stickiness and sweatiness you later found yourself partaking in as Harry took you from behind over the side of his couch. 

A shiver rolled through you at the thought, one that you would blame on the December bitter chill because it was a secret. One that neither of you had mentioned since it happened on Thursday night, or to be technically correct the early hours of Friday morning. 

He’d been good. Of course he had been.

He had that way about him that night that pulled you under a false sense of endeared security. From his dimpled smile to gleaming eyes. He was happy. 

And the way he had shone as he found you on the balcony had warmed you like nothing you had known in the longest time.

It caused you to forget about the worry that had laden you limbs as you turned up at 9.13pm to the wooden doors of the building, wondering how many songs he was in to the set as you convinced yourself he would start at 9.00pm.

As you’d been ushered over to a clear box window and uttered your name to a dorky looking man wearing a tracksuit pull over and watched him handover a white envelope through the circle hatch. 

You stood in the dark, next to two much younger girls who enjoyed the way his glances lingered over at their side. Eyes had found Gemma in the opposite corner of the balcony, her dancing and singing with some recognisable faces mainly more so because you had seen them on social media.

You, however, kept yourself to yourself. Until you were anchored in the tightest hug from Gemma that you had ever felt from her and swayed from side to side as she made it known how pleased she was to see you once the concert was over. 

That familiarity had been nice. The vibrancy of nostalgia consuming you in your entirety. 

Watching him work a room when he finally entered the after party was a sight to behold, in his navy blue pinstripe suit and yellow ‘I’m gonna die lonely’ t-shirt. 

He wasn’t. Gonna die lonely, that is. 

He glided so smoothly from one person to the next, spilling a drink down himself in the process you’d seen (and later felt when your hand clung to the fabric of his t-shirt as you kissed), making time for everyone in his own unique way.

Big eyes followed you over Gemma’s shoulder when he had finally found himself within your circle and hugged his sister once more that evening. They were hard to read but also openly filled with a glimmer of hope as he dropped his gaze to see what you were wearing.

And when he approached you, he hugged you in a way that managed to pull you into the darkened corner of the dingy space. Spinning your body to keep your face concealed from any prying eyes. 

He revealed to you how he didn’t think you were going to turn up, scanning you with his gaze as he spoke. You did the same, a bit taken aback by just how attractive you were finding him. He had always been handsome but the aura he gave off, made your fingers itch to have him closer to you. 

Words ran away from you that night as he begged and pleaded with you to tell him what your favourite song had been. Based on first impressions, which the show has been, then Canyon Moon and Watermelon Sugar had smothered you and given you no other option but to pick them.

If he were to ask you now you’d probably say To Be So Lonely, thanks to the drive home being longer than originally thought and said album being your choice of road trip music. 

Forget Driving Home For Christmas, nothing slapped more than one of your closest friends admitting to being an arrogant son of a bitch. 

After your chat, he mingled some more but Harry was always tactile and that night had been no different. He veered conversations with people you had never seen before to take place by the zone that you all occupied.

He actively kept his back against yours, allowing the faintest of touches and brushing of arms - sometimes hands too if he dropped them down heavily enough with his arms as he spoke - to entice and create a spark. 

You were kept late enough to miss the last tube. Battery dangerously low on your phone that you didn’t know if a transaction with Uber would be worth a try. 

Jumping into the same car as him had been easy. His soft and tired eyes findings yours in the cab as he leant his head back against the headrest in the back seat and let his lips tip upwards in an expression of tenderness that had you melting in your seat. 

“‘S been a while since we’ve both been a bit pissed in the back of a taxi,” he mused, pushing his fallen locks out of his eyes to ensure his view of you wasn’t obscured. “Come an’ cuddle me like you used to do when we went out a’ home and were worse for wear.”

Falling into his side was almost second nature, eyes closing as you let your forehead rest against his jawline and let his worn in cologne fill you senses and scatter your judgment.

You don’t even remember how you ended up kissing that night. A mixture of confessions about missing each other and praise of how good you both were in your own ways. The sound of his whispered, “are you coming home wi’me?” against your lips an offer too good for you to refuse as you sat pressed into his side and half in his lap. 

The giggles that night, around dramatic shushes as you tripped and shuffled from the car to his front door were almost haunting in your memory as he tried to chastise you around spluttered laughter about being respectful of his neighbours. 

Getting the key in the lock proved unchallenging -  one of the better analogies aligned to your memories and latter sexual endeavours - as you slipped into the house. He enjoyed watching the way you walked ahead of him into his home, not realising how much he needed that visual of seeing how well you fit in. 

While time seemed to slow in that moment, movements desperately sought the opposite. Hands gripped and clawed like their lives depended upon it. 

Looking back now, both he and you wished it hadn’t happened the way it did. Skirt lifted and over the side of his couch. Teeth clashing and hips knocking.

It had been every inch a drunken fumble. A first meeting slightly cheapened but wanted nonetheless. Only made even cheaper by the hush-hush concealing of it ever occurring. 

But a secret it was and a secret it would remain. 

And oh how you wished you had a pillow you could press you face into right now and scream, this time for an entirely different reason. Unlike that night. 

“Not seen a sign of any deer yet, mate,” you heard a voice break you out of your indulgence of recollecting past events. Harry was the worst at wanting to get a reaction. 

“Christ, have a bit of patience would yer?”

You smiled at the bickering, just like it always was as the River Dane could be heard in the distance somewhere as you walked. If you listened really close, that is. 

Lifting your eyes, your smile lingered as you watched Harry spin his body around and let his hands get lost in the massive pockets of his parka. He walked backwards holding your gaze softly with his eyes twinkling before he gently rolled them at the overreaction and impatience of your friends.

He seemed pleased that you’d enjoyed his teasing as you once again hid you smile into your jumper. 

You’d be alright.

***

You heard giggles and screams ahead of you as your friends stumbled in the dark and messed about as you got closer to the viaduct. This place or the people didn’t change, and at times while it filled you with a warm nostalgia, it could be heavily jarring.

A soft and lazy smile pulled at your lips as you felt his heavy forearm lightly tug you closer to him, his lips finding your hair. And then there was Harry. 

“Think we should go this way m’self,” Harry mumbled, the nudge of his hips against yours had you stumbling slightly in your heels away from the direction of your friends and somewhere completely different. 

“And why’s that?” You turned your face slightly, cheeks warm and flushed thanks to the mixture of alcoholic beverages; eyes glazed as they lifted up to look at him. 

“Cause you never would’ve let me when I was sixteen,” he admitted. 

“You didn’t ask.”

“‘M askin’ now.” 

With slow blinking eyes, you looked at his own unfocused vision. A soft shine to his skin, hair blowing gently against his forehead. The softest of smiles tilted at your lips.  

“On yer go,” he nudged you forward, this time more so with his crotch and his hands, which wrapped around your hips to help steer you. Harry was met with only a small amount of resistance from you as you split off from your friends and turned in the different direction. 

You bit back your laugh, dropping your head slightly as you felt your heels started to sink into the grass as you walked. Harry was level with you when you sunk down noticing the way you legs slightly gave way, a soft chuckle omitting from his throat as he asked, “You alrigh’?”

“I’m sinking in these bloody things,” you grumbled, pulling your heel from the grass and trying to place the sole of your shoe onto the ground beneath you first. 

“So much for no’ being able to take the country out o’ the girl. London’s changed yer, swear it.”

Shaking your head, you cut your eyes to give him a harsh stare for his wind up. His amused expression lit a fire in you like no other. He really wasn’t one to talk though, was he? 

“Gi’me your hand ‘ere,” he held his out to you, quickly cupping it when you handed it over and pulled it under his bent elbow. “Remind me again who’s idea this was, eh?”

He didn’t need reminding, he had been one of the keen instigators for the whole jaunt down Twemlow Viaduct. It usually was him, or Jack. The two of them often reminiscing on times they had both raided their parents' alcohol cupboards and managed to sneak out with some dusty bottle that held a liquor that tasted out of date and stale, and if not that then, cheap. 

“‘S still fucking freezing down ‘ere, in’it?” He asked, lifting his left hand up to his mouth and blowing against it to try and get some feeling back into his fingers.

“We’re so close to the river, I don’t know why you’d expect anything different?”

“Is this why everyone was always so insistent on necking anything with over 11% alcohol in it when we came down ‘ere as kids?”

“Probably,” you softly laughed. 

“‘S a bit different now though innit?”

“Oh, I’m not so sure,” you started to correct him, shrugging your hand out from under his elbow and reaching for your bag. Quickly fumbling with the clasp, you lifted up the quilted flap and managed to pull out the stainless steel hip flask.

Harry cackled a harsh laugh, his eyes crinkling as he slowly let his laughter die down and softly let his joy wash over his features. “Impressive. Gone all proper on me.”

“You know I haven’t,” you held his eyes watching as he nervously cupped at the back of his neck for a short while, a gentle bite down of his bottom lip, as you quickly uncapped the item and held it out to him. He looked like he needed the courage.  You continued, “We’re just a bit more refined, that and we earn a good living. Some more than others, and by some I mean you.” 

He held his hand up towards you with an amused grin at your comment. “You first, ‘s yours after all.” 

Lifting the item and knocking back your head, you swallowed the whiskey with a small grimace, before offering it to Harry once more. This time he accepted, his right hand making light work of taking the item from your hands and sipping at the contents.

His face wasn’t as contorted as your’s when he swallowed, a fan of the chosen beverage if needs must. “‘S the proper stuff, tha’ is,” he commented with a quick lick of his lips before continuing, “Come a long way from sneaking the bottles of dusty Blossom Hill from the back of the cupboard.”

“Don’t know about that,” you smiled, taking the item and pushing it back into your bag. “I’d still drink if, if it were on offer.”

“‘M sure Mum’s got a bottle or two going at home?”

“Is that your way of asking me to go home with you?” You paused. “Again.”

Harry remained silent at your words. Both you and he knew it was going to happen. A mixture of sparks and lovelorn, lingering glances was enough to make anyone both want to give up, while also giving a burning confidence usually unknown. 

Neither of you expected it would be you who started the conversation, however. 

“It is, ‘f it’s gonna work. ‘M not sure I could wait any longer t’be’onest wi’yer.“

Laughing, you reached up to push at his shoulder. He always knew exactly what to say, but no way was he going to make a laughing stock of the whole thing. “Oh, give over,” you spoke, harshly swallowing when he kept your hand against the thick cable knit black jumper he had on. “You’ve made it this far, thus far just fine.” 

“‘M not playin’,” he whispered, hand gently curling around your own and lifting it up to press against his face. His cheeks were warm underneath the cooler hands, despite the cold night whipping around you both and your mind quickly wondered if he was just as embarrassed for his lack of acknowledgment as you had been. “Homes nice, you’re nicer.”

“I thought we weren’t going to talk about it,” you let your soft voice get taken by the wind.

“An’ what gave you tha’ impression?”

He did. He gave you that impression. By not mentioning it. By treating you how he always did.

“You.”

“Me?” Harry responded, indignantly, blowing out a sigh that had his cheeks puffing out underneath your hand. “‘M not doing a very good job then am I? I can’t keep m’eyes off o’you. ‘S not my fault you don’t bloody notice ‘em.”

But you had noticed them. 

His eyes, gaze following your every move, near enough. Stupid little touches. Glances of approval. Not just now, but from years before. 

Treating you how he always did.

Oh, treating you how he always did.

Bringing your eyes back to his figure, you saw the way his gaze darted and nervousness dragged at his features. A frown began to set itself between his eyebrows from worry. 

“Changes everything.”

Running his tongue along his teeth, Harry pursed his lips. “Everythin’ has changed, changed a long time ago an’all.” 

You dropped your hand down, it now massaging against the back of his neck and shoulder as you felt the tension of his body radiating through his clothes. Under the dim moonlight and the odd spotlight that had been added to the viaduct with each passing year for safety, Harry exhumed everything anyone would want in a boyfriend. He was soft, and so bloody gorgeous. Not just because he was personification of an almost six foot tall string of handsomeness, but his character did the talking for him.

He knocked the door before he walked into a room, for example. Who really did that kind of thing anymore? 

But you could also still see the heartbreak that lingered, albeit not as strong as it once was, it was still there. And that was problematic and scary. To be on the receiving end of it. Not that you would hold it against him, because you had been him at one point too. At many points in fact. 

When the two of you had shagged, because let’s face it that is exactly what it had been, while a sense of familiarity in the person was prevalent it was definitely overruled by the desire to just hit a euphoric high that if hit right could not be topped. 

Familiar overruled in other aspects, and it wasn’t to be brushed away. But was familiarity a mask that would slip sooner rather than later? Was it the start and the end?

The both of you experienced similarities in your life that could not be matched by the friends in your friendship group. London had chewed you up and spat you out, ruthlessly so. While rewarding you with long hours but fat pay cheques, careers that catapulted you to new heights and enabled you to see parts of the world that two country kids (which in one way you were) could never have imagined. 

Sure Harry’s had been on a much, much larger scale - you would not ever deny that - but you no longer fit in. 

And neither did he. 

This was a place that only the two of you knew. A place where you watched those around you fall in love and have the time to do so. A place where your friend's happiness was created a lot easier than it wasn’t and allowed a sense of success to weave its way in, through the most unexpected of happenings.

Not a place where you found happiness in your work because there was less of a space for happiness to blossom elsewhere. Not really. Not like you; both of you. 

Understanding was vital. 

This had been a place you knew like the back of your hand. A place that had you feeling the earth beneath your feet, fresh air in your lungs and had at times made it so you found yourself sitting by a river and finding yourself feeling complete. 

Yet looking over at the almost 26 year old, that just wasn’t the case anymore. 

And for once you didn’t feel alone. 

The sound of the odd piece of cobbled pavement underneath Harry shoes, buried beneath overgrown grass and plants, broke you from your thoughts, as you watched him kick at the ground and scuff his shoes.

He sighed, head tilted back before he knocked it to the side and caught your eyes. A small scoffed laugh left his lips as he shook his head and dropped his gaze to his feet.

“‘S it fucked?”

You hummed, a small frown lacing your features.

“Fucked it, haven’t I? Fuckin’- idiot-“ he breathed out a noise as he clenched his teeth, one that wasn’t quite a growl but enough to let you know he was agitated. Only strengthened by how tight his jaw became. 

Before you could even think, the back of your hand gently brushed against the pulsing hinge of his jaw. Muscles taut as you tried to soothe him in a way that your mind was screaming was far too intimate.

You didn’t want him having any internal battle about right and wrong. Not when you had both taken the same steps to get here. 

“Thought it was just meant as a one time thing,” you admitted. “Like you needed it, and I needed it. Was what it needed to be at the time. Bit rough, bit sloppy-“

You cringed are the use of the word. Wanting the ground to swallow you in a weird fashion. You should be able to talk open and honestly with someone who you had known longer than hadn’t. 

“Rough?“ Harry swallowed audibly, his face fallen. “That’s not-“ 

His eyes held an emotion similar to sorrow at the mention of the word. “That’s not the impression I wanted to give you.” 

“We were both drunk, it happens.” 

“Not with me it doesn’t. Not when it’s me, wanting to be wi’you.”

“I mean I was into it if that helps anything?” 

“Were yer?”

You looked at him from the corner of your vision, watching his lips try to fight a smile as you rolled yours into your mouth to not give yourself away. You knew what you were trying to do by speaking those words aloud but you wished you hadn’t. Awkward breathy laughs were shared by the two of you as you held his eyes. 

“Was I?”

You hummed in agreement to answer his question, letting your smile dance along your lips now and watching as Harry’s dimples started to show. His expression was youthful, slightly smug. 

“Good t’know.”

***

Finishing saying your goodbyes to your friends and ignoring their suggestive expression because ‘Harry was stopping as an extra pair of hands’, you shut the heavy wooden door and reached up to close the deadbolt lock at the top. Shortly after, you let your feet drop as you stopped standing on your tiptoes and pressed your forehead against the door. 

The silence of the pub was always a strange one to you. A place that was usually thriving, whether it was just your friends, or your parents friends. When the lights were turned out, it was actually quite a lonely place. Regardless of growing up around this sort of industry your entire life and having parents as publicans nothing was more depressing than an empty bar, lifeless and nothing like it was intended.

A suggested lock-in from Jack, who managed to interrupt both yours and Harry’s conversation earlier had not been a bad shout after all. You knew it meant that you would have to deal with the fallout with it being Christmas Eve, but it wasn’t very often that you found yourself in the setting. 

Turning to move from the door, you almost jumped out of your skin when you heard the opening of a familiar Lily Allen song start to play over the speakers. 

Harry emerged from the corner of the pub that housed the jukebox, slowly rubbing his hands together before he wordlessly picked up the scattered pint glasses that had remained on one of the tables that had been missed by the staff on the evening shift. His eyes glanced over at you, as you stood with a hand to your chest.

This wicked smile and gleam washed over his face as he paused his movement. “Did I scare yer?”

“Do you not think it’s a bit loud?”

He wrinkled his nose at you, a soft shake of his head no, to answer your question. 

“‘S your fave innit?” He asked, head nudging to where the jukebox was now hidden.

With a small smile you nodded, “Prefer the Keane version in all honesty.”

“Don’t have it in the bloody jukebox though, d’yer? Can’t like it that much.”

Your smile deepened at his exclaim and how prominent his accent sounded as he spoke, the small clink of the glasses he was holding only heard if you really zoned in. 

“Where d’yer want these?” He asked, holding up the five pint glasses he had collected. “Behind t’bar?”

Humming, you nodded and watched as he weaved his way through the tables to you. You frowned as he got closer, not understanding why he hadn’t bypassed you completely.

Once he was close enough to you, you watched as he reached for what you knew to be your own glass of wine that was almost finished. 

“Fancy the rest of this or can it go too?”

Looking at him and down to the glass, you gently wrapped your hand around it and brought the lip to your mouth. You knocked the item back quickly, swallowing the rest of your wine, before handing over the now empty glass back to Harry.

“Good girl,” he joked, light laughter lacing each word. “Sit yourself down.”

Wearing an amused and quizzical expression, you let yourself sink down into the wooden chair. Resting your chin on your hand, you spun slightly in your seat to keep your eyes on Harry as he placed the glasses down and lifted the hatch so he could step behind the bar. 

With your free hand, you started to tap the worn beer coaster labelled with the Cheshire Brewhouse logo against the table. Part of you hated how Harry had a knack for anything, including knowing his way around a bar. 

He busied himself with collating the glasses once more as you let your eyes take in the surroundings you had known, loved and even grown out of. 

Your parent’s pub was cosy and friendly. A truly 

classic and quintessential British village pub, featuring open fires, bookcases found in the very far corner or the jukebox in the other, lots of old oak and a really pleasant garden with benches for the summat and heaters for the winter. You know the kind that had its regulars that had kids who had seen each other grow up.

The bar was the centre of the pubs house, with an extensive array of whiskies amongst many other delights. A nice range of local ales and a well-balanced, great quality list of wines on offer designed (which you would be taste testing if the service hadn’t decided to take a break) to complement the food menus designed daily by a team of chefs who all have a passion for great cooking using fresh, seasonal and local ingredients.

It looked as Christmassy as Christmas could get, with a real tree which was locally sourced from one of the many surrounding farms and traditionally decorated with golds and reds. Twinkly lights shone, not only on the trees but as part of the garland that was hung above the bar each year, much to the annoyance of your Dad and the delight of your Mum.

Slowly dragging your eyes back to the bar, you watched Harry as he poured you another glass of white wine and started to recap the bottle. He must’ve felt your eyes on him, his gaze meeting yours almost immediately. 

“Service is a bit slow,” you jibed, once you knew he was with you. “Going to ruin the reputation of a fine establishment.”

His chuckle was breathy in response, but warmed you through as he turned his back and pushed his tumbler glass up against the device at the bottom of the Glenfiddich distilled malt whiskey, not once but twice going for a double. 

“Helping yourself to the stock now, as well.” 

“‘M sure your Dad won’t mind,” he responded, twisting his body back around to reach for your own glass and place it onto a tray that sat along the bar top. “In fact he’d probably make a comment about how it’d put hairs on m’chest.”

You laughed, unrestrained, knowing just how right he had been with that comment. 

Over the otherside of the room, Harry smiled and shushed you as he walked closer, easily holding the tray with your drinks upon it. “Being a bit loud,” he taunted as he slid the tray down to the oak table.

“Oh, now you’re concerned about the noise.”

With his hand against the back of the chair which was currently housing your outstretched legs, you felt him start to wobble the seat to give you a warning. 

“Hang on,” you said, “Plenty of other chairs.”

“This one’s mine,” he responded.

Wanting to roll your eyes but deciding not to, you let your legs drop down and gave the seat back to Harry. Once he was comfortable and he’d taken your drink off the tray, he gestured with his right hand.

Not entirely focused, he had to do the ‘come hither’ motion a couple of times before you finally cottoned on. He was willing to let you put your legs on his lap instead, while he may have taken the seat it didn’t mean he wanted to take away your comfort.

No sooner had your legs been raised to rest against his tan washed velvet corduroy trousers, was he fiddling with the buckle of your stiletto sandals.

“Got mud everywhere,” you commented, wiggling your toes that were painted a festive red and inspecting the little dots of dirt that were splattered against your skin, as Harry dropped the first shoe to the floor and quickly worked on the second. “Dread to think what they smell like.”

“Smell alrigh’ from ‘ere,” he mused, smirk faint but glaring obvious in his tone of voice as he threw a quick and mischievous glance at you. As you elongated your foot against his thighs, the tips of your toes were just about able to press into his thick jumper to try and jab at him for his comment. 

Before you were able to put any sort of force behind your action, Harry’s hand clamped down around the top of your foot causing your eyes to snap up away from his hand and up to his eyes.

There he sat watching you, top two teeth pressed into his bottom lip keep his smile at bay. Releasing his lips slowly, his whispered threat left his throat, “I will tickle.”

You tried to fidget away but to no avail. With a whined laugh, you frowned as Harry goaded you by slowly raising his eyebrows. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Try me.”

You had tried him. 

Truth be told you wanted to again.

If he wanted to.

Reaching for your wine, you took a hefty sip and let the silence swallow you both. Harry, who kept his hand on your foot and his fingers dancing gently against the top, let his head fall back awkwardly against the hardwood. His head dropped to the side taking in his surroundings and their familiarity. 

“Do you ever get tired of coming back?” 

You hummed, sure you had misheard due to the way the blood was rushing around your ears. He turned to look at you, all double chin and puffy cheeks.

“Of everything being the same, but different?”

His whispers captivated you, hushed confessions not quite meant for anyone else but his own mind yet spilling from him with such an ease that he did nothing to fight them. 

“I’ll admit, I come home for other people. Not for me.”

“People?”

“Mum, Dad,” you paused. “You.”

His smile deepened. His chin knocking down to his chest, his eyes looking up at you from underneath his curling hair from being caught in the moist winter evening just hours before.

“You can stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you did three nights ago.”

Harry breathed in deeply, his nostrils flaring and his chest expanding. A lick of his lips, before his mouth dropped to sit slightly agape. 

“What if I don’t wan’to? What if I want t’look at yer like this all the time?”

You found yourself unable to respond, nose burying itself into your wine glass as you pressed your lips against the cool outside to try and hide your burning smile. 

His lips curled lightly, before he breathed a laugh once and gently shook your foot with his hand. “Eh? Come ‘ere-“

“Harry,” you breathed.

“C’mon, c’mere. ‘S room for more than just your feet.”

If it wasn’t for the creak of your chair as you slowly started to push yourself out of it, you wouldn’t have consciously been aware of how you were making your way to him. 

His body relaxed, somehow managing to become closer to horizontal than sitting upright in his seat, as he peered as you walking the short distance over to him. 

With his legs widened, he pressed his face into your side now that you were close enough. His nose inhaled the familiar scent of your perfume which was only faint now due to the other senses and scents it had mixed with throughout the evening.

Rolling his face out of your body, he knocked his head back and pressed his chin where his face had been. The face you showed him was worn with worry, an expression he did not want to meet.

“‘S wrong?”

His ask was lazy. Not wanting to dig deep and know. What if he didn’t like what he found? 

“We know how this is going to end.”

“Do we?” He prodded. His eyes moved over your features quickly before they partly disappeared to him, thanks to your curtain of hair which slowly fell down.

His hand reached up, desperately brushing it away and cupping at the back of your head as best as he could while he remained seated. 

“How’s that? Tell me.”

“Same, but different.” 

You knew you shouldn’t use his words, not in a way that could be considered against him, but they - in the most ambiguous of ways - described everything perfectly. 

“Not if I have my way.” 

His words were almost lost against your stomach as he pressed his face against you once more and wrapped his hands around you; sweaty, nervous palms pressing to the backs of your thighs. 

“Same, but better.”

Harry guided you down to his lap, his lips somehow managing to remain pressed into stomach, or your chest, or your clavicle, as your face became level with his. 

“Different, but better.” 

He kissed against your cheek slowly, nose nudging at your skin as he willed for you to relax against him. “I don’t know how you like it, like this,” he whispered in confession. “Show me?”

A puff of air left your lips as you turned to look at him with hooded eyes. His mouth was closer to yours than you originally thought, corners of lips brushing as you slightly pulled away. 

When your lips met, it was in the softest of pecks that trembled under your nerves. Both sets of eyes looking back at each other as you innocently engaged. 

If you were to take your eyes away from him in any way, you would notice those fluffy curls of his falling over his forehead and the lightest dusting of red blush making itself known against his cheeks and the tops of his ears.

He felt like a school boy, lost and clumsy. The kid who was once again flicking paper at you in science class just so he could pull a face at you over something your teacher was saying to get you to laugh. 

Mouths hovering over each other, your breathing mixed, as Harry nodded to you slightly. You pressed your lips to his once more, feeling the way he gradually opened up to you, warmed and softened underneath the puckering of your mouth against his. 

His hands, that slightly trembled, smoothed over your hips trying to pull your body so that it was more so flush against his. You moaned softly, your hands running over his jumper covered shoulders, fingers digging and pulling at the material just below the nape of his neck. 

The chair beneath you moved lightly against the floor, not quite a scrape but a dull drag. Neither of you broke the kiss, but his hands against you allowed fingers to dig in to hold you steady to him so if you were to fall from where you were sitting, he still had you. 

His lips slowed, moving to press against your cheeks again as he panted and his warmth breath bounced off your skin. “Think I got it,” he heaved. 

“Do you?”

Harry hummed his ‘yea’, before pressing his lips so tenderly to your chin and the underside of your jaw. He felt how you swallowed heavily, throat dry from the way your mouth hung open and your neck further exposed itself as you lolled your head back. 

You were falling further and further back, finding it hard to stay upright as he devoured you and made you weaker with each pulling kiss. His groans were needy, muffled and making your ache. While yours were silent and making his desperate to pull something from you. To build is confidence in that he was doing something right, you liked it this way too. 

Hands fumbled and dragged upwards at your skirt, faintly aware now how it was similar - if not the same one - to the garment you wore to his show. 

“Gonna take this off properly,” he mumbled, feeling the way your hips moved slightly from his hands to roll over him. 

“You don’t have to-“

“No?” 

Your voices were rushed as you spoke to each other, barely audible but loud enough all the same. His head was knocked back slightly as you hovered over him and you found yourself admiring his blissed out face even only in the lead up.

This was a sight that you hadn’t received last time, and if you had your way it was one you were going to greedily enjoy in all its glory.

Like watching the way his eyes closed and he softly grinned, the left side of his teeth started to show as the one side of his face reacted first while your hands blindly moved to lift up his jumper and the white tee he had on underneath, to allow you to find the button of his corduroys.

“What ya doing?”

“Nothing,” you mused. 

He pulled a face, the kind that down turned his lips, eyebrows raised and head slightly tilted to the side. The kind that had you smiling. 

“Not trying to get m’trousers around m’ankles for a second time within a week then?”

You giggled. “No.”

“Please do.”

A low moan left you as you pressed your forehead to his jaw and dropped your eyes. Your hands slowly started to pull at the brass button and pop it open before seeking out the zip thanks to his desperate plea, encouraging you to continue. 

Hands quickly sought out the waistband of the trousers and gently pulled at the item. From the way that you were sat, you knew there was no way you were doing to make them budge.

“Stand up fo’ me,” he mumbled, quickly helping you get off his lap so that he could make light work of his clothing and pull down his trousers and underwear. 

His bare bum made easy contact with the cushion leather beneath him, eyes carefully watching you as your hands moved to underneath your skirt. 

The fabric of your underwear slipped so easily down your legs, his eyes just about caught the sight of them as they pooled against your ankles and you kicked them away. 

Legs pressed together, you slowly untucked the v-necked blouse you had chosen and pulled it over your head. Wearing nothing but a fancy black bra, and a tight little skirt you hastily snatched for your wine and took a hefty gulp.

You could feel his eyes on you, a gruff groan catching in the back of his throat and when you finally turned your eyes from where they had been looking down at your heaving chest and how great this bra made your boobs look, causing him to move his hand down to start playing with himself. 

His name left your lips in a breathy gasp, causing you to look up quite surprised at the find of his right hand gently tugging at his hard length.

“Keepin’ me waitin’,” he groaned, his left hand sloppily reached for the back of the collar of his jumper and tee, pulling the item roughly over his head.

“Fuck sake,” he mumbled under his breath, agitated that he was unable to get both items of in one go.

“Smooth.”

Harry stared up at you with a playful squint, before he gently fell back and moved the chair as he did so, the dull scrape heard once more. 

And if you didn’t know he was flushed before, when you first kissed, you were definitely aware now. His eyes were blown out and hungry as they devoured you. Hair wildly haphazard before he let go of himself with a soft slap of his skin and harshly pushed his fingers through it.

“‘S it still a couple of quid for a strip of three,” his words brought you back to him. This smugness radiated off of him as he groaned and leaned forward to push his trousers down all of the way. Over his vans and socked feet, before he toed them off as well be harshly pulled at his white sport socks. 

You didn’t even need for him to explain what he meant, staying silent as you watched his hands tug at his corduroys from the floor and retrieve his wallet. As his fingers moved around to find a couple of quid, the jangle of the coins was taunting. 

One leg crossed over the other, you swayed and found yourself blushing when he looked up at you once he’d managed to find enough money and then some. With his wallet thrown on the table, he stood proudly from the seat and closed the short gap between your both.

Leaning forward he easily took your lips with his own before pulling away. With his face still close to yours he whispered, “Promise not to look at my arse.”

He didn’t hang around long enough for your reply, instead turning away and brazenly giving you all the time you would ever need to admire him, his fantastic bum and his hairy legs before he opted for a jog-walk type of thing, suddenly conscious that he was absolutely walking around naked from the waist down in a pub owned by your parents. 

While you waited you took a quick pull from his whiskey, needing the heftier burn for Dutch courage. Nervousness returned when you heard the endings of what you believed to be Harry whistling. 

“Machine ate all m’fuckin’ change,” he grumbled, regardless of the twinkle in his eye at the strip of overpriced condoms he had managed to score from the men’s bathroom. “‘S Durex. Business must be booming, your Dad’s definitely gone up in the world.” 

“Please don’t talk about my Dad.”

He smiled brightly before he reached for your face with one hand and pulled you towards him mumbling his ‘sorry’s’ against your lips as he gave you several kisses in quick succession. 

His other arm loosely wrapped around your back and pulled you with him as he walked backwards and slowly lowered himself back onto his previous seat. The chair creaked as you joined him, slipping into his lap and feeling the way he was smiling now.

Pulling away from your kiss, he quickly tore away one of the condoms allowing the others to fall without much care to the floor. Teeth took a hold of the foil-like packaging and he tore it not so elegantly with his eagerness.

With his cock nestled in the crease of his own thigh now, the heat radiating from it matched your own agonising yearning. Scooting back to give him space, you heard him groan as he gently rolled the condom down onto himself. Eyes looking up just in time to see him knocking his head back and breathing deeply through nose. The foil-like packaging was back in between his teeth once more as his hands were otherwise preoccupied.

Slowly your hand reached up to take it from his mouth, feeling some playful resistance as Harry continued to hold it in his teeth. His eyes were open and boyishly sincere, as you tugged at the item and he finally released it when you lightly laughed. 

“Gi’me a kiss.”

Obliging him, you leant forward and slotted your mouths together a lot easier than you had done at the start of the night. A heat built easily between the two of you, as Harry gave you his tongue and you felt the flex of his jaw under your hand as he worked your mouths together.

He was eager, his hands tightening on your waist before he growled when he understood he had to grab handfuls of skirt before he could cup your backside. But when his skin met yours and you ground down onto his lap, the groan that left him was the most animalistic sound imaginable. 

The frown your face fell into showed your desire to whimper, as he kept you atop him and marvelled in the way you writhed, both from satisfaction and keenness at the pressure of his cock against you. 

“Can I have you again?” He asked, the startings of sweaty hair being pushed off your face. His eyes peered at you, searching for his answer as you seemed to be able to do nothing but pant and look back at him yearningly. “Are you letting me?”

You dragged your fingers down his t-shirt covered torso and lifted it slightly just to see the quiver of his stomach as pulled you onto him once more. 

“Like this?” you voiced, meekly.

“‘F this is what you like then, yea’”, he breathed into your mouth, hands shifting your pliant body. “Is this what you want?”

You wordlessly nod, mouth falling open in a breathy gasp when he managed to move you so he sat so enticingly at your entrance. He was teasing both yourself and him, wanting to keep you both on the edge. 

Harry blinked a few times as he looked at you, and you revelled in the way he couldn’t seem to concentrate. His hands held your flesh tightly, fingertips dipping into the skin of your bum cheeks as he gently guided you down.

An unattractive and dull, quite strangled noise, left your throat as you let your forehead fall against his temple. Eyes falling down you see the cups of your bra fall slack, you felt his hands softly gliding over your shoulder blades and shoulders. 

He rid you of your bra, hands moving to your chest to squeeze your breasts. His jaw fell slack when you found yourself sitting snugly on his lap - on him - settled and already feeling spent.

This was so different compared to the last time; if not overwhelming so because of the way you both appeared to be so present. Each movement of your hips, and the way they rolled and grinded and dragged felt too much. So much so that you had become nothing more than a mess of short, quick breathing and blushing, sweaty cheeks. 

Slack-jaw, you were unable to find it in you to return Harry’s kisses, and his joyful, breathy chuckle seemed to lead you to believe he was fine with it. In fact he was happy to keep going as you were. 

Your movements were frantic, and despite the build up, not entirely driven by lust either. Harry continued to encourage you to move as you were; slow, grinding motions on his lap that caused the filthiest of groans and dirtiest of laughs from the two of you. Laughter that was only made stronger as the chair that held you both started to creak too. 

You couldn’t do much about it though other than to breathe into each other’s mouth, and rock your hips together with more fervour each time. 

“Yea’,” he breathed against your lips, left hand at the back of your head holding you to him, while his right rested just above your bum. “‘S better. That’s better.”

It was better. Better than last time. Better than anything before. 

And while it hadn’t been frantic before, it was now as your legs that were hanging down either side of the chair started to tremble and your toes started to dig into the worn carpet beneath them. Hips knocking and your clit dragging heavenly against his public bone, you grasped his name as you buried your face into his neck and dug your nails into his nape.

Harry hissed his approval which fell to a groan as your nails pushed up into his hair and lightly pulled as you sought leverage. There were so many things you were learning this time around and his penchant for liking his hair pulled from time to time, was one of those things. 

“God, ‘m gonna come soon,” he admitted, gruntly as he forced your hips down as he anchored his legs and widened his seating position. “Are you close?”

“Yeah,” you whined. “Yes. Like this-“

And as you pressed your face to his once more, he was everywhere. Soft but hard, loving but commanding. Smelled like clean washing detergent but of country air. Inviting and alluring, allowing you your lingering kisses between grounding breaths that became staccato in unison with the movement of your hips. 

You aren’t ashamed of the whines that escaped your throat as you squeezed down on his cock, praised by indecipherable works that left Harry but were nothing more to you than lips moving against your rough and dry ones. Word that made the burning feeling of your pending orgasm spread through your entire body, warming you and setting you alight.

It was long and deep, with your toes curling into the carpet they were pressed against now. Barely able to catch your breath, sucking in harshly and shaking. 

And when you came to, thoroughly exhausted, you noticed that he was waiting for your say so. That he could let go and enjoy the pleasure brought about by your shared labour. 

“Coming-“ was all the warning that you got and was enough to encourage you to watch him as he came, his face completely void of anything other than pure pleasure. Wrinkles and frowns fade, his mouth falling open with his pink lips glinting prettily under the dim Christmas lights around you.

His forehead gleamed with sweat as he wrapped his arms around you tightly and his hips bucked up one, two and three times for good measure. “Fuck me,” he heaved gruffly.

You were suddenly desperate to feel his lips on yours despite the way you both continued to fight to get your breath back, but settled for resting them against the skin of his cheek, which was hot to the touch. 

When you felt Harry start to go soft, you reluctantly pulled away and let him slip out of you. He wasn’t so keen to let you get too far, holding you just that bit higher than before with his hand cupping gently but firmly at your hip. “Where’d you think you’re going,” he hummed, eyes still closed as he continued to heavily inhale and exhale. 

You softly smiled, taking in his soft face and responded by nuzzling close to him again. 

Nowhere. Somewhere. Anywhere with him.

A place where only the two of you knew, like the back of your hand. The same way you knew each other. Now and possibly forever.

[imagine-sterek]

This is me submitting me a prompt for Christmas-in-July event:

5 times Derek was on the recieving end of a miracle and one time he saw who was the one responsible for them. (Hint: It’s Stiles).

1.

After the Hale fire, Derek and Laura had to stay in Beacon Hills while the police investigated. They stayed at the run down motel on the outskirts of town. Derek was still young and dreaded the thought of Christmas without his family. But when he wakes up on Christmas Day, Laura suggests they go for a walk to take their mind off of it. When they open the door to their motel room, there's a small Christmas tree set up outside their room with a few presents underneath it. Derek thinks Laura did it but she says she didn't, and when they look closer, the stickers/labels on the presents say they're from their parents.

2.

Laura dropped out of school and picked up two jobs to pay rent so she and Derek had somewhere to live and so she could pay for her brother's education, but money's tight and sometimes she doesn't have enough money to buy food. When Laura and Derek get home that afternoon, there bags of groceries on their porch.

3.

Derek has a necklace that his father gave him when he was younger. He treasures it more than anything, but one day he has to make the heart-breaking decision to pawn it in order to help his sister pay for food and rent. That evening, the doorbell rings but when Derek opens the door, no one's there--just a small box. Derek brings it inside and opens the box to find the necklace.

4.

Every Christmas, Derek throws a Christmas lunch for the disadvantaged, disabled, or homeless and vulnerable people of the community. Every year, he dresses up as Santa and hands out presents to those who come. Usually he has enough presents to give to 50 or 60 people because that's the most that have shown up in the past (and any left over presents go to children in the hospital or to charities), but this year there were over a hundred people. Derek starts to worry when Cora tells him to come out the back. Derek follows her and finds a (literal) sleigh of presents, more than enough for everyone. There's a note that just says 'Merry Christmas'.

5.

Derek adopted a rescue dog, but on Christmas Eve, his dog went missing. He and his sisters searched for hours with no luck. Christmas morning, Derek hasn't slept. He gets a call from the vet even though they're closed saying someone found his dog and had brought him in to make sure he was okay. Derek hurries to the vet. His dog is freezing cold and wrapped in blankets, but that's not going to stop the pup from leaping into his arms.

---

1.

Derek's flight got in late and it was pitch black by the time he started driving home. He wanted to surprise his sisters for Christmas. All of a sudden, his ca breaks down. He's in the middle of nowhere on quiet roads where the last car he passed was over an hour ago. He pulls out his phone but he has no signal and low battery. There's no one to ask for help. Derek lets out a frustrated sigh and puts his head on the steering wheel. "If there is such things as Christmas miracles, I need one right now.”

All of a sudden, a bright light pierces the darkness.

A car drives up from behind him and slows down, pulling over to the side of the road. The driver gets out and walks over to Derek. "You okay?"

"Car's dead," Derek tells him.

"I'll give you a lift," the stranger offers.

Derek knows all about stranger danger, but there's something about the young man that puts him at ease and makes him feel like he can trust him.

Derek gets out of his car, locking it behind him as he follows the stranger over to his Jeep.

"I'm Derek," he introduces himself.

"I know," the young man says as he opens the driver's side door.

The car light illuminates his face and Derek realises who he is.

Stiles.

[apiratewhopines]

This one is a gift for @teamhook because she is one of the most generous people I’ve ever met.

Thanks to @jrob64 for giving me advice on artwork and to ultraluckycatnd for reading over this chapter

Midnight

Chapter 1 — The Prince

Summary: In which our heroine meets cute

Chapter 1 of 7 on AO3

“But don’t forget folks,

That’s what you get folks

For makin’ whoopee”

-Makin’ Whoopee, Eddie Cantor

Emma Swan had been in some tight spots, but she’d never been in a run out of gas on a deserted highway with a dying cell phone battery and a stomach as empty as her bank account kind of situation before. In truth, she blamed this unfortunate situation on the same person she blamed all the misfortunes of her adulthood. Neal Cassidy.

There was a time a few short months ago she would have done anything for the man responsible for her current circumstances. Neal had been too good to be true. A real Prince Charming, down to the supposed trust fund and a smile that made her believe in happy endings.

She’d been a sucker. She heard one was born every minute, she just never thought her time would come. After all, one of the few things she learned in the foster system was how to spot bullshit from a mile away. But he looked at her with his soulful eyes and whispered promises in his smoky voice and she fell for it. More than once, actually, and all she had to show for the wasted years was a voicemail box full of collection calls and a wolf at the door.

Because Neal Cassidy didn’t just leave her. He stole her identity, maxed out her credit cards, and took out half a dozen loans in her name. Then he proceeded to use the money to wine and dine a wide assortment of women, the sheer number of which would make Casanova blush. All the while professing his undying love and spending his days eating all her food and watching television from his favorite seat on the couch.

Seriously, you could still see the faint outline of his backside on the cushion.

As countless victims of his schemes started showing up at her door looking for the man who made them feel alive while killing them one dollar at a time, she listened to tears and rants and misery with ill-disguised impatience. How had she become the counselor to the trail of broken girls he left in his wake? When was it going to be her turn to moan and groan and swear she’d never love again?

Well, she did get around to the swearing to never love again part. Some mistakes don’t bear repeating.

The final straw happened two months ago. Neal had disappeared after their final fight. His righteous indignation at being called on his crap and inability to find a plausible excuse for the stack of overdue bills and statements she found stuffed in the back of his gym bag made it difficult to share the same space. She wanted him gone even as her hands itched to touch him one more time.

Unfortunately, leaving her drowning in debt with the knowledge he cheated on her for the majority of their relationship wasn’t enough for him. He decided to do some collateral damage on his way out of town.

He did the unforgivable. He went after Granny.

His target was meant to wound her. While he lied and schemed the entire time they were together, she had been an open book for the first time in her life so he knew Granny was the sole connection she formed as a foster. Her brief stay with the woman before she aged out of the system was a time of peace and healing. Granny was responsible for helping her get on her feet and the two maintained a friendship years later.

Emma received the frantic call from Ruby explaining her grandmother had been tricked into giving Neal a blank check so he could do her grocery run. Hours later, she received a notification from her bank saying her checking account had been wiped out. At that point, the tenuous control Emma had on her emotions disappeared. She sat on the kitchen floor of the apartment she was about to lose, staring at empty walls that still echoed with his laughter in her weaker moments, and she broke into a million pieces.

So it was no wonder she vowed to have her vengeance. To do anything and everything to make him pay. Luckily, since he skipped out on a court date, catching him would also get her paid.

Tracking him had taken more time than she liked to admit. She was good; even penniless and running out of options, she recognized her worth and knew she possessed hard to find skill sets. But she had a sinking sensation that he might be better.

Now she was stranded on the side of the road with nothing except her most uncomfortable shoes to keep her company. But damn did they make her legs look good and with everything else in her life collapsing around her, somehow that seemed important.

Squaring her shoulders, she climbed out of the car and pondered her next course of action. She was unfamiliar with the state road connecting the two small towns on the Maine coast, so she had no idea what the odds were that a good samaritan would happen along. She had just enough juice in her battery and lettuce in her account to call for an Uber to take her to the seedy nightclub where Neal was last seen. Or she could walk the rest of the way in her mile-high heels knowing she never looked better, even though she would probably not be able to move the next day without a significant amount of pain.

What she would do if she found him or where she would stay if she didn’t weren’t questions she was ready to entertain.

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and with a huff of frustration opened her app. Pleading with whatever powers that be to let her last long enough to see herself through to the other side of this, she leaned against her beaten down yellow Bug and waited for the black sedan to show.

Of course, her phone died immediately after she booked her ride, finally giving up the ghost even though she didn’t get a chance to see the name or license plate of her hired car. Getting more anxious by the minute, she paced along the shoulder, careful to keep on the pavement since the ground was soft from recent rain. After what seemed like forever, but had probably not been more than half an hour, the headlights of a lone car crested a nearby hill.

“About time,” she muttered. To make sure the driver knew she was not pleased with the delay or the prodding pace he maintained despite the fact the sky seemed ready to open at any moment, she moved out into the middle of the lane and placed her hand on her hips. Pride kept her from squinting even though the bright high beams made her eyes water as the car approached.

Slowing from a crawl to a stop, the driver put the car in park and jumped out. It was dark and the man was dressed all in black, but as he moved around to the front of the car, she got the impression of blue eyes and a stubble-covered jaw that could probably cut glass. Great, just what she needed. A sexy Uber driver.

“Alright there, love?”

With a British accent. He probably smelled like bacon, too.

“What took you so long? I’ve been waiting all night.”

Moving closer, he smiled with a hint of confusion. “Had I known you were waiting for me, I would have been along sooner. Tell me, do you always accost strange men in the dead of night on empty roads?”

“Only when I’m paying them to take me where I need to go,” she grumbled, walking toward the back door on the passenger side. She pulled it open as he protested, and glared at him over the top of the car.

“Love, I think there may be a bit of a mix-up—“

“It’s fine. I won’t give you a bad rating for being late as long as you don’t talk to me. I’ve been driving for hours to get here and I need to think.”

She heard him sigh and saw the flash of his teeth as he smiled at her again. “Very well. Would you like me to get your bags?”

“You’d have to go to a pawn shop in Boston to accomplish that,” she joked, dropping into the leather seat and noticing for the first time the expensive luxury of her rented carriage. She supposed if she was going to spend her last dime on a ride, she could have done far worse.

She resisted the urge to use the low ambient lighting of the dashboard to get a better look at her temporary chauffeur. The glimpse she got outside was more than enough to know she needed to keep her distance. It didn’t stop her from feeling the weight of his stare as he peeked over his shoulder while clicking on his seatbelt. Out of the corner of her eye, she could have sworn she saw his tongue flicker slowly over his bottom lip before he turned his attention back to the road.

“Nice dress. Where are we heading this fine night, Miss…?”

“You’re really terrible at this. Is it your first time being a driver for hire?”

“What gave it away, love? It’s quite an unexpected development that came about just this evening. But you know what they say, you never forget your first.”

It was everything she could do not to laugh. She had a feeling it would only encourage him and if she was heading into battle, she needed her wits about her. “The Snakehole Lounge.”

“At the risk of sounding cliche, why would a nice girl like you want to go to a place like that?”

“I’m not a nice girl,” Emma informed him without a hint of irony or bravado. “And your rating is going down with each syllable out of your mouth.”

“Tough lass,” he murmured. “But do yourself a favor. Stay away from the Snake Juice.”

Little did he know that even if she wanted to have a drink, and boy did she ever, she used the last of her meager funds to get to this backwater place and she wasn’t sure where her next meal would come from. “I’ll do my best.”

The rest of the ride passed in silence. She spent the time looking out the window at the trees flying by and trying to ignore how every time she looked away, her eyes caught his in the rearview mirror.

Honestly, it was probably a good thing they were the only people for miles around or he would have gotten them both killed.

Less than fifteen minutes later, he pulled to the curb in front of a shabby nightclub. Even the multitude of neon lights flashing “Girls! Girls! Girls!” and “Half-Price Beer Buckets” did little to enliven the dingy exterior. They didn’t bother with a bouncer, probably because no one actually wanted to get in.

Before she could say anything, her driver was out of the car and rounding his way to her door. She didn’t have a chance to object as he opened it and looked at her with avid curiosity. She had to admit she was impressed he didn’t give into it and ask any questions.

“Since we’re out of the car, am I allowed to speak again?”

Perhaps she had been too hasty in her internal praise. “Thanks for the ride. I hope your next passengers are more chatty since that’s what you’re into...overall, a solid three stars.”

“Three stars? I’d be surprised, but I had a feeling you were warming up to me between the baleful stares and eye-rolling.”

Gifting him with another of the said eye rolls, she adjusted the hem of her skirt to show a little more leg and walked away. She knew if she stayed a second longer she would give in to the almost magnetic pull of him and say something foolish like, ‘What’s your name?’

—

The inside of the establishment was every bit as horrible as the outside. The low lighting obscured the grime and wear that would be glaringly obvious otherwise. She wasn’t surprised. It seemed like the kind of place Neal would gravitate to since he was a dirty little rat.

Music heavy with bass pumped out a rhythm entirely too fast for the energy of the place. The few patrons who persevered this far into the night looked anemic as tired dancers did their best to act like they wanted to be there. Pulling her ID from the scrap of a bra she wore under her dress, she flashed it at the lone employee who manned the entrance and the bar. He gave it a cursory glance and turned back to his phone.

Snapping her fingers under his nose to get his attention, she pulled out a grainy photo of her quarry from the same location and asked, “Have you seen this man recently?”

“I’ve never seen anyone. Ever.” The man grumbled, not interested in the slightest. She wondered if he would stop her if she walked behind the counter and helped herself to a drink. She was leaning toward no and tempted to try.

“Tell you what buddy, take a good look at this picture. Then look me in the eye and tell me you haven’t seen him and we’ll end the night without any trouble.”

Something in her tone must have penetrated his disillusionment and he gazed at her with more interest than he’d probably shown anything in years. She waited as he glanced at the photo for a few seconds. “No, sorry. If he’s been here, it wasn’t during any of my shifts. Is he your husband or something?”

“He’s something alright,” she muttered. Defeated, she turned around without another word. She used the last of her resources to fund a wild goose chase, but at least it got her into town. Only thing left to do was find a park or quiet bench somewhere safe to sleep for a few hours and then she would tackle whatever came next. It wouldn’t be the first time she roughed it, although she had never attempted it in formal wear before.

Pushing the door open with unnecessary force, she immediately froze. Her three star driver was waiting at the curb as if it wasn’t the middle of the night and she hadn’t given him the brush off.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Yes, especially since I’m pretty sure our business is done,” she replied, walking past him and wishing the man could be a tiny bit less handsome. Now that the streetlights of the small town were there to illuminate their interactions, she couldn’t deny he was ridiculously attractive and exactly her type, complete with a black leather jacket and messy hair begging to be pulled. And, heaven help her, he was determined to extend their acquaintance apparently.

“It’s just good sense, love. I figured you’d be in need of transportation again, so why waste the gas to leave when I’d have to turn around after you called for your next ride.” He matched his stride to hers as she did her best to increase her pace.

Sighing, she stopped at the corner and looked at him. “Listen, I could tell you my phone is dead and I need to make a few more stops, that I’d pay you when you drop me off at my place at the end of the night, but it would be a lie. I’m chasing down a bounty. I need the money to pay for a ride and I need a ride to make the money. A smart man like you can see the problem. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

She turned away again but felt him leap into action behind her. He moved to cut off her escape and said, “Double or nothing.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Double or nothing, sweetheart. I take you to wherever you need to go tonight and when you collect your fee, you pay me double whatever the normal fare is for jaunts like these.”

“What if I don’t find him?”

“That’s where the nothing comes in, lass. A smart woman like you can see the benefit of such an arrangement.”

She studied him, hoping to find some ulterior motive in his seemingly selfless offer, but all she saw in his expression was an earnestness bordering on being painful and a thirst for adventure barely contained. Perhaps this was how he got his kicks in an isolated town. He propositioned strangers and gambled on fate. “No strings? No funny business?”

“This whole business is funny, but I’ll behave myself if you will. We’ll have much less satisfaction that way, but I’ll do my best to rally my spirits and overcome my disappointment.”

With a rueful shake of her head, she stuck out her hand and introduced herself. “I guess we’re doing this. I’m Emma Swan.”

“Killian Jones, driver extraordinaire and captain of this fine vessel, at your service. Where’s our next stop?”

“I need to go to every seedy bar and filthy dive in the area so you tell me, Captain.”

—

She wasn’t sure what it said about her newfound companion that he was able to rattle off several places in a matter of seconds, but as the night stretched on and the miles racked up, she found she rather liked her tour guide. Which was probably a good thing since at this rate, she would be splitting the bounty fifty-fifty with him. Who knew the twin cities of Storybrooke and Misthaven had so many sleazy places to hang out?

“I’m afraid we’ve reached the end of the line, Swan. Are you sure he’s in the area, because every traveler worth his salt makes a point to stop by Moe’s Tavern while visiting our fair city.”

“I can see why. The thrift-store ambience is delightful and the watered down drinks are to die for,” she murmured as she rested against the side of his car. She was tired and weak from hunger and as much as she wanted to curl up in the back seat and sleep, she was scared she’d get used to the comfort he was offering and do something she might regret later.

She was trying to figure out how to cut and run without seeming ungrateful when her stomach growled loudly.

In a playful tone belaying the concern in his eyes, he asked, “Was that your stomach? Bloody hell, am I in danger? Are you going to try to eat me to satisfy the beast within?”

Feeling a blush color her face, she avoided his gaze as she said, “Sorry, I...um, I skipped dinner.” And breakfast and lunch for that matter.

Taking up a position next to her, he nudged her with his shoulder. “Tell the truth, when was the last time you ate something, lass?”

“Hmm, what day is it again?”

“As I suspected. Come on, I know just the spot.” Pushing off from the car, he gently moved her and opened the door to the backseat.

She wanted to fight, to tell him she could take care of herself. She would have too, if she had any energy at all. Meeting his eyes for the first time, she joked, “You lost a gamble, Captain. That doesn’t mean you have to feed it.”

“I consider it an act of self-preservation. I figured you for a man-eater the first moment I laid eyes on you, but I’m afraid you might prove me right in unexpected ways if we don’t get some food in you soon.”

“As long as eyes are all you plan on laying on me, I accept your gracious offer,” she replied with a narrowed stare. Before Neal, she trusted her instincts. She would have insisted they were infallible, but he had shaken her confidence. She couldn’t risk being wrong about Killian Jones of the electric eyes and perpetual helpfulness.

“No strings. No funny business, Swan. Those are the rules. Get in, your chariot and dinner awaits.”

He stood a few feet from her, urging her into the car and she wasn’t sure what drove her to say it, but before she could change her mind, the words were out. “I’d rather ride in the front this time if that’s okay with you.”

His smile could have melted metal, tempted angels to fall, and inspired devils to repent. It was probably lack of rest and food causing her stomach to do flip flops. Or at least that was what she was going to tell herself.

“Your heart’s desire, Swan. I promise that’s all I want you to have…” He closed the back door with a firm finality that echoed through the night and somehow felt momentous in the thick air of summer. When he opened the passenger door, the light seemed warmer and it bathed him in softness and shadows. He waited patiently as if he knew something had shifted between them and he didn’t want any sudden movements to break the odd spell.

Then her stomach growled again, angry at the promise of food being delayed while she gawked at the man who was determined to rescue her in every imaginable way.

“And dinner, of course.”

“Of course,” she whispered, taking care not to make contact with his body as she slid into the seat. She was glad the door was already closed when she left out a huff of air. Good thing she had sworn off love or she may be in some danger.

@teamhook @kmomof4 @jrob64 @stahlop @motherkatereloyshipper @xarandomdreamx @xsajx @klynn-stormz

[readyourimgaines]

The Little Things

Summary: Derek knew fully well that moving in with Spencer was going to bring around some changes. Dr. Spencer Reid was different and Derek loved him for it. There were little quirks that the doctor showed at work and some Derek was still learning. So there must be some at home.

And a special thanks, of course, to @chaoticgremlinwholikescheese​ for helping me compile this list!

1. Alphabetizing Movies by Title

“Pretty Boy?” Derek was crouched down in front of their TV looking for their movie while Spencer did the dishes. The latter hadn’t seen Happy Gilmore and Derek couldn’t let that stand. 

“Yeah?” Spencer called from the kitchen. 

“I can’t find it?”

“What?” Spencer stepped away from the sink and went to the living room. Water dripped from his fingertips. “The movies are alphabetical. It’s between Hamlet and Ice Age.” He went to Derek’s side and gestured to the movie. “I was going to order them by director, but Hotch said most people don’t know directors very well. Which is a shame because J.J. Abrams destroyed Star Trek but Guy Riche-” 

Derek pressed a kiss to Spencer’s lips with a fond smile. Spencer blinked. 

“Sorry,” the doctor blushed. 

Derek just chuckled. “You know you’re adorable, right, Pretty Boy?” 

“You may have mentioned it a time or two,” Spencer laughed. 

“You can tell me all about directors later,” Derek promised. “I know a bit about the mainstream guys, but not a whole lot.”

“All you really need to know is that J.J. Abrams kills anything he touches and Peter Jackson doesn’t get as much attention as he should.”

*****

2. Morning Rituals

One thing that Derek very quickly learned about Spencer was that he 

had a specifically timed morning ritual when not on a case. And that if it was broken or disturbed, the whole rest of the day would go down hill like a train on greased tracks. 

He woke up at 6:17, was in the shower by 6:25, eating breakfast by 7:00, his bed made by 7:30, and shoes on his feet by 7:32. The last half hour before they left at 8:00 was free game. 

The first morning in their new place was the roughest. Spencer went 

about his usual morning, but Derek didn’t usually wake up until 7:45 because he took less time to get ready and ate in the car. So when Spencer finished breakfast and went back to their room to make the bed but Derek was still asleep… He paced for the next fifteen minutes and his head nearly went through the ceiling when Derek’s alarm went off. 

Spencer almost had a panic attack as he fumbled his way through making their bed and cramming his feet into his shoes. Needless to say, the extra half hour was spent- in vain- trying to calm the doctor down. None of the rest of the day lined up properly and Spencer was on edge and fidgety. Hotch even had to gently remind him to focus a few more times than the usual redirection of infodumps. 

That was the first and only time Derek didn’t follow Spencer’s morning routine. He found the same day that Spencer had a much simpler night ritual: Snack (sometimes) at 10:10, teeth brushed by 10:25, in bed by 10:35, reading until (supposed to be) 11:18, and then lights out. This routine was much more flexible and relaxed.

Derek found waking up and going to bed at the same time every day made the former much easier. He also found that Spencer reading to him most nights- no matter the book or topic- was very relaxing. And of course there were nights when Derek read to Spencer.

*****

3. Sugary Coffee

Derek took a sip of coffee from his travel cup and whistled. “Think I got yours, Pretty Boy. There’s enough sugar in this to hype up a six year old’s birthday party.” 

Spencer braced himself and took a sip of the coffee in his own cup. He was pleasantly relieved when the bitterly sharp taste expected never came. “I-I put sugar in both of them. I wasn’t thinking,” he said sheepishly. 

Derek shrugged. “You know what they say: I’ll try anything once.” He chuckled. “I’ll just brush my teeth for an extra three minutes.” 

Spencer scoffed as he got into the passenger seat of Derek’s car. “Who knows? Maybe you’ll like it. You don’t get the caffeine drop when the eight hour half-life is over.” 

“Is that why you put so much sugar in coffee?” Derek raised an eyebrow, thinking he already knew the answer. 

“And coffee tastes like battery acid. I’d rather drink vinegar than black coffee.” Spencer shuddered. 

Derek chuckled but didn’t say anything else as he pulled onto the street.

*****

4. Cuddly Sleeper

Even though Spencer wasn’t huge on PDA like Derek was, he sure was a cuddly guy. The second the door closed, he was a six foot koala. That included in bed- but usually not until after he was asleep. 

Some nights, Spencer would fall asleep reading. So Derek would take his book, close it, gently remove Spencer’s glasses, and turn out the lamp. Nine times out of ten, Spencer was curled up against his side before Derek was asleep himself. 

At first, Derek found himself wondering why Spencer wasn’t nestled against him before sleep took him. But after a while, it sunk in that the doctor unwound by reading. 

The look on Spencer’s face when he curled into Derek’s side always sent the older man over the moon. The absolute peace on the doctor’s face. One night, Derek almost woke Spencer up laughing. Derek rolled over to out the lamp and Spencer had gripped Derek’s arm tighter and whined in his sleep. Derek then had to assure his boyfriend- in soft whispers as to not actually wake him up- that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

Spencer never thought to question why his book and glasses were gone when he woke up.

*****

5. Leaves Books Everywhere

Anyone who had a 30 second conversation with Spencer- anyone who glanced at Spencer- could tell the man read more than he did anything else. 

Derek picked up the doctor’s satchel once and was moderately surprised the slim man hadn’t dislocated his shoulder with how heavy the bag was. But Spencer didn’t only keep books in his bag. No. They were all over the place. 

Their bedroom, the craft room where Derek made floor plans for his renovations, the kitchen, the dining room, the living room. Even both bathrooms and the basement. 

When the two first moved in together, Derek debated building an extension onto the living room for a library. He still debated it from time to time (just in case). But as time wore on, Derek grew to appreciate the countless (if seemingly random) books around the house. 

Spencer would read when Derek was working on floorplans, so Derek would read when Spencer worked on an academic paper or consult. 

“What’re you reading?” Spencer asked one night, finally looking up from his notebook. He was writing an essay on how handwriting analysis could help catch a serial killer and/or rapist. 

“I don’t even know,” Derek chortled. “Uh..” he looked at the cover, “it’s Introduction to Law by Joanne Banker and Yvonne Ekern.” 

“Oh! Hotch loaned that to me yesterday,” Spencer noted. “I should get that back to him soon.” 

Derek just shook his head. “You know, Pretty Boy, I didn’t read this much in college.”

Spencer smiled. “See? Maybe there’s a good side to not spending thousands of dollars on building a library,” he teased.

6. The Nightlight

In the bedroom, in the outlet closest to the door was a nightlight. But not just any night light. This nightlight made the move in the front pocket of Spencer’s satchel. 

“So what’s the story behind this platypus, Pretty Boy?” Derek had to ask one night as Spencer turned it on. “Because you’ve had this since before we were dating.” 

“My uh- my mom’s went on a sort of field trip with her hospital a couple years ago. It was on one of her good days. She saw this in the aquarium’s gift shop and bought it for me.”

“That’s pretty cute,” Derek encouraged. He knew Spencer didn’t open up about his mom often so Derek tried to learn everything he could about the woman during the rare occurrences. 

“We named him,” Spencer laughed. “Alfred Nicholas Brian Reid.” He giggled. “I just… He helps.”

*****

+1. Bleeding/Infected Hangnails

Spencer usually had something to stim or fidget with. A strip of paper, a pen or pencil to twirl, a shirt with a loose thread, something. On the off chance that he didn’t, the doctor somehow decided that his fingers were good enough. If Spencer didn’t have a hangnail, he’d start one. 

This was the one and only thing about Doctor Spencer Reid that Derek Morgan hated. He could see the minute flinch when Spencer held a utensil wrong and it pressed on the swollen skin. He heard the soft hiss when Spencer got tomato or orange juice in the broken skin. 

What Derek hated even more than that was when the hangnail would get infected. The skin around the nail or turn a greenish-yellow and harden. Which, in turn, gave Spencer another thing to pick at. 

“Pretty Boy, you gotta stop,” Derek sighed. He’d gone into a convenience store to get them something other than coffee- but tastier than water- to drink. While inside, he bought a box of Band-Aids and a tube of anti-bacterial cream. 

Spencer snapped out of his daze. “What?”

“Picking at your nails.” To prove his point, Derek took Spencer’s hand in his to show him, as well as to stop his current picking. “I know you’re worried about the case, Baby, but we’ll catch the son of a bitch and put his ass behind bars like we always do. You gotta stop destroying your hands.”

“I didn’t realize I was,” he admitted. 

“I know,” Derek said softly. He applied the cream and a Band-Aid to each finger that needed it (five in total between both hands). “We just gotta get you a couple of those fidget cubes Garcia has.”

Tag List: @mayonnaiseismycomfortfood​

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

Gonna Be Home Soon

Time’s passed and things don’t feel better. It’s like settling, accepting, the new normal. But sometimes exceptions can be made to the rules. 

My fingers slipped. Part 2 of Away for a Moment. 

Enjoy my masterlist

Support me on kofi

________________________________

When Calum’s phone rings at 8:05 am, he doesn’t waste a second to answer it. He’s been anticipating this call ever since the two of you talked last night and you mentioned errands you needed to run in the morning. And there you are, grinning into the camera, the morning sun bright behind you.

“Morning,” you chirp.

“Morning, love,” he returns, falling back into the mass of pillows on his bed. “Waiting for the bus?”

“Nah, the store’s not too far and I’m already half way there.”

He nods, a hum falling over his lips. Your breathing is a little heavy. He can hear the pants as you walk. There’s a bit of a hill on the way there, if his memory serves him correctly. “Sleep okay?”

You shrug, ducking under a tree to take a short cut up to the concrete steps that lead you into the tiny shopping center. “Slept alright. Woke up in the night sweating my ass off.”

“What about your fan?”

“It was on. I had just cocooned myself and got to hot that’s all. What about you? How’d you sleep?”

Calum starts to answer but like his body knows, a yawn interrupts him. “ ‘Cuse me. Slept okay. Still trying to wake up even though I’ve been up for a while.”

“I’m sorry, love. I can let you go. You need rest.”

“No, no, I’m okay.” He doesn’t it say it but you know just by looking at him that even if he were dead tired he’d answer your call. And you know it’s because of the two incidents you told him about while just out. Approached once by men who was too chatty for your comfort—asking too many questions about you personally. And then someone asked for directions which wouldn’t have been weird but they never got off at the stop that you gave them directions for. So when you got off at your stop in front of a gas station you marched right into it and lingered until you were sure the bus had passed.

You don’t regret telling Calum about these strange encounters. And Calum knew you could defend yourself but he didn’t want you to have too. He didn’t like that you had to be on alert and that you were always looking over your shoulder. He knew you would and did still do it in LA with him. He knew all the times you had gone out without before. But he had always been close by. And now he’s not. He’s miles away, across state lines and though he’s not too far it’s still far enough for him to worry more than he did before.

You walk into the Wal-Mart and grab a basket, cradling your phone in one hand. “Wow, it’s kinda quiet in here.”

Calum remembers previous how packed the place was when he helped you move and how you recounted going on a Saturday and immediately regretting it.

“Better hurry,” he teases, looking to Duke who’s now waiting at the edge of the bed. His ears are perked up. Calum picks him up and sets him on his chest.

Your screen when you glance back down is full of Duke’s face and his fur hiding away Calum. But that’s perfectly fine by you. “My boy! Is pops treating you well?” 

Duke barks in response to the question. His snout pressing into the screen almost as if that will bring you closer to him. You don’t even realize tears are welling until one falls and hits your screen. “Love you Duke.”

He barks again at the sound of your voice, leaping off Calum to unearth your sweatshirt he buried into the sheets.

“Oh Duke gets tears but I don’t? I see how it is.”

You quickly wipe at your cheeks. “Shut up. I didn’t realize how much I missed him until just then. I know I miss you.”

“Hey, no, I’m just teasing. Is too soon for a visit?” 

Calum knows it’s only just over a month. Maybe a full month and a half since the last time he visited. He’s not really sure. All he knows that the days are long. All the clothes you’ve left behind have lost all your scent. Big’s too big and most nights Calum falls asleep on the couch. You text him though well before he falls asleep to make it to the bedroom. You beg him really, knowing that it’s better to have a healthy sleeping schedule. Sometimes he makes it, even sends a selfie from underneath the covers, pouting of course. 

In the studio, things feel normal. He can focus on the tasks at hands. And he still can crack jokes. The guys know though. They can all tell that Calum lingers around his phone more so than usual. He takes every call, even the ones that he’d normally ignore because he can tell they’re probably spam. But he takes them know because he can’t be sure it’s not you. Sometimes, he wishes it was you, instead of some bullshit car insurance scam. 

The other guys can tell Calum’s a little down in the dumps because when they ask him if he wants to join for dinner, he declines. And it’s not like he couldn’t shoot you a text saying that he’ll have to push back the FaceTime until later, or just hold off until tomorrow. It’s not like you’d flip your shit. But instead, he holds to those FaceTime dates. He holds for the times even if he’s writing, he can glance to his phone and see you riding the bus or walking into your classes. 

It’s the new normal and though Calum misses the way it used to be. It’s his new normal that keeps him mostly sane. It’s this new normal that helps Calum orient his days. Monday you text early in the morning to head into your office and you message at every stop too. And then around 2 he can call, after you’re done with one stint of classes. On Tuesdays, you morning starts early but he can call during your morning commute. Wednesdays he knows that it’ll mostly be a text day, you have meetings all in the morning and then classes well into the afternoon. Thursday start to lighten up and you can FaceTime most the day of the day minus the tutoring hours you’re putting in. And Fridays, Fridays are Calum’s solace. He can wake early, knowing you’re up early too, and he can be there for just about everything. It’s your reading day too. So you two talk mostly in the morning while you run errands. 

Like today, as you pull out your grocery list, Calum watches you smile at the folks passing you by. “What’s on the list today, love?”

“Batteries. Restock on the veggies and figure out what’s for dinner for the next couple of days. I found these two recipes that I want to try. Just can’t decide on which one.”

“What are they?”

“One’s a chili recipe. Other one is a one pot spaghetti recipe.”

“I vote chili. You can freeze part of the portion for next week.”

You nod, with a hum. “Smart call. Knew I kept you around for a reason.”

Calum laughs, scooping Duke back up into his arms. “Not my devilishly handsome good looks.”

“You’re hot, don’t get my wrong. But it’s what? Two years in now? Good looks don’t make a relationship. But they do help.”

“I see, loving me for my brains. I can’t say I’m upset with that.” The aisle aren’t clear as you walk down. But you pause. Calum can’t really see where, thinks it might be the clothes or close to it. You hold up a cartoon sports bra, wiggling your eyebrows. Calum whistles. “Hot.”

You snort. “I’ll pair it with my school sweatpants.”

“Doubly hot,” Calum snickers.

 As you wonder about, you show small things to Calum, laughing together as you goof about in Wal-Mart. You show Calum a T-shirt that says ‘I can’t people today’ stating that you need that saying tattooed to your forehead. Even though you’ve gotten into a routine it’s still hard some days just to deal with any other human being. Calum’s always enjoyed watching you, even if it’s just you reading the ingredients lists on the back of box. And you do it out of habit now, taking the time to make sure nothing has changed in the ingredients list. Depending on what it is, sometimes there’s a recipe. 

“How many bags of mango slices do you go through in a week?” Calum asks, watching the package fall into your cart. 

You duck your head, speeding down the aisle even though you’re reaching back for another bag. “We do not talk about that.”

“You’re going to have a whole mango budget!”

“At least it’s better than you and your Oreos,” you sass back, waiting for the elderly couple to cross in front of you. “How many packs are you up to in a week?”

“Two,” he states through a mumbles. “But I’m cutting back!”

The giggles dissipate and you warn Calum that you’ll have to put him in your back pocket while you check out. It’s not a bad haul and you’re glad for it. You’re trying to keep the weekly grocery spending low, since the rent’s a little high at your place. With all your groceries bagged, you find your reusable bag and then head for the bus stop. Though it’ll take it a little far out of the way, it beats hauling your groceries up two hills and reduces it to one. 

The morning’s growing warmer and Calum can see the beads of sweat as you walk down to the stop. He knows he ought to get up too. He should think about getting grocery, and washing the bedsheets, and scrub the bathroom. He doesn’t want to. He wants to wrap his arms around you and bury his nose in your neck and inhale the smell of your shampoo and body wash. 

Once you’re safe into your apartment grocery sitting on the counter, you say your goodbyes. It’s in Calum’s eyes. The way the tears don’t fully form but they do glaze over his eyes and you know. It’s going to be a hard day. And if it weren’t for the 200 pages you had to read between your classes, you would’ve stayed longer on the call. You almost ask if he wants to stay on as you read. It almost crosses your lips. 

But Calum sighs. “Guess I gotta let you go, but we’ll talk throughout the day?”

You don’t know if he’s got a busy day or not. It’s Friday and while it’s your easy day, Calum might be buried in some work. So you nod. “Of course.”

The groceries are easy to put up. You settle down for the first half the reading, pen and highlighter at the ready. Calum drops the phone into the sheets and turns onto his stomach, face buried in the pillows. The day will be long if he stays like this. But he can afford himself a little misery, a little grace so that he can sigh about how much he misses you but eventually get his own ass into gear. 

Between the grocery, scrubbing the bathroom, three loads of laundry, Calum doesn’t even realize more than half the day is gone and there’s nothing much else to do. But that ache of saying goodbye to you finally comes back and he took today off from the studio. Which might’ve been a mistake. But it’s too late now, so Calum walks into his own office and picks up his acoustic guitar. 

He was only going to send it to you. But he didn’t want to inundate you with the same old sad sentiments. And sure, this one was a little different, him strumming as his voice is just above a whisper, to let himself finally release the yearning. But still, he didn’t want to bother you. The texts were less consistent than normal but he also understood when you had reading days you were focused on nothing else but the readings. 

Your phone buzzes an alert to let you know about an email. You check it, not sure if it was a student making an appointment for tutoring, but it’s just from the school’s bookstore. “Fucking, now I have anxiety about my email,” you chuckle to yourself. 

Then your fingers wonder, you exit the mail app and tap onto instagram. Right in the bubbles up top is Calum’s icon. You tap onto it and see, or hardly see the  lamps illuminating him. And it’s dark back at home much like it is where you are. His voice is soft as he croons, his cry out for a return. The semester is halfway done and you know even though you’re going to be soon buried in work for midterms, though mostly for the tutoring and teaching and less of midterms for you, you text Calum. 

Gonna be home soon. Just for the weekend. I’ll book a train ticket.

Almost immediately after sending the text, your phone buzzes with a phone call from Calum. “I can come to you,” he rushes out. 

“Well, it’s not home.”

“Home’s not a building, not a place,” Calum whispers. “And I know some people are going to say it’s not smart to find home in other people. But it’s too late for me. You make me feel at home.”

“Literally, I’m crying into my books,” you return, wiping your cheeks. 

“What time are you free on Thursdays? After 6 is good, right?”

You nod, “Yeah, after 6 I’m free.”

“I’ll see you then. We can try that Indian place you pass on the way to class. And I’ll be there to remind you to drink water when you’re grading.”

A soft exhalation of laughter escapes you. “I definitely need that. See you Thursday.”

[kirah69]

Or Stiles and/or Peter have a really bad bout of dysphoria. If not triggering for you ❤🧡💛💚💙💜🤎🖤🤍

Yes! Thank you!

So here it is. For the Full Moon Ficlet Prompt DISCONNECTED & for the @transbingo​: Vampires.

Dysphoria: It's a term for the anguish and distress a person experiences as a result of a disconnect between their gender identity — who they feel they are — and the gender a doctor assigned them at birth.

Laura Beltrán Villamizar

Title: Fucking Vampires

Pairing: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Summary: A fucking vampire turns Stiles and sends to hell all the effort he had made with his transition.

Warnings: Trans male Stiles, Vampires, Forced detransition, Angst, Strong body disphoria

Chapters: 1/?

[AO3 link]

Chapter 1

Stiles woke up in a fucking abandoned warehouse, again. Why couldn't he wake up for once in the bed of an attractive stranger? Oh yeah, for that he would have to socialize. He hadn't even been caught drunk on the way home from a party, at least then he'd have an excuse. Someone (or something) had caught him back from the library late at night. He didn't even remember how it happened, just he was on the street and now he was- oh wait, it wasn't a warehouse.

That in the background was the noise of the subway and behind him was an old subway car. Everything looked gray under the few remaining lights on the ceiling (which were brighter than he'd expect), maybe it was just covered in dust. The air seemed stagnant, and he could smell decomposing bodies. It must have been an abandoned station and by the boxes, the makeshift tents with old fabrics, the gasoline drums turned into bonfires and so on, homeless people lived there. He was probably sitting on the bed of one of them. Where were they? There was not a soul around him, not even rats.

Stiles felt his head for any injuries (the bad guys had a habit of hitting him on the head to knock him unconscious) and there was some dried blood, but no wound, it didn't even hurt. He looked down to see if there were any other injuries and-.

His heart stopped. He lost his breath. His mind went blank for an instant, and then he was filled with sheer panic and terror.

It can't be, it can't be, no no no nononononono, not again, how, no, why, it can't be, not again, please, please, why, how, this can't-, nono nonononono...

He couldn't know how long he was like this until his mind settled down, just long enough to form rational thoughts. Everything had returned. Someone... something had kidnapped him and had... had... Oh god, fuck, something, somehow, had made his body return to... its original form. He had tried so hard to get rid of all that and now... now they were back. His breasts. And inside of him... he was pretty sure his ovaries and uterus had returned as well. He brought a shaking hand to his groin and... shit, his clit had returned to its original size as well. He was terrified of looking in a mirror or talking; he didn't want to hear himself, he didn't want to see his face again with feminine features.

Eight fucking years of hormone therapy and operations gone to waste! Who the hell had done that and how? And how come he still hadn't passed out from the panic attack? His chest... didn't ache. It should, and he should be out of breath and blacked out, but it was as if he didn't need to breathe even though his lungs continued to inflate and deflate.

He stopped thinking about it when he felt another presence nearby. “Feel” was the right word because he didn't hear it or see it until it was in front of him. It was a tall man with long blond hair in a ponytail, intense green eyes and extremely pale skin. He was dressed in black from top to bottom with a knee-length leather coat. Was it a requirement for sinister villains?

“How are you feeling?” asked Stranger with a French accent. Oh wait, he had read this.

“Are you a fucking vampire?”

There was a shocked expression on his face followed by a smile that showed too many teeth.

“I knew I had caught a smart one. My nam-.”

“What have you done to my body? Why did you do this to me?”

“Um... Well... I admit I didn't expect it.” He seemed to be trying to smile, but he grimaced instead. “It's the first time I've turned... well, someone like you. I didn't even know you were a woman.”

“I'm not a woman!” he hissed through his teeth.

“I mean, I knew that the transformation regenerates mutilated limbs, missing organs...” he explained with wide gestures of his hands, “but I didn't even know you were an operated girl.”

“Man! I. Am. A. Man!” he screamed and flinched at the sound of his high-pitched voice.

“Um... Look... I'm very sorry about this, but I have to say that you look very pretty like that.”

Stiles saw red. Something reacted within him, like the snap of a whip, and just as quickly he launched himself at the creature. He didn't think about it, he didn't consciously do it. It was as if the beast mode switch had been flipped and his humanity had stepped aside. He felt everything, he acted with all the precision that his new abilities allowed him, but he did not control it.

When his prey stopped moving in his hands, he came back to his senses. He first noticed the blood in his mouth, a taste that should have been disgusting, but he just swallowed. His hands were covered in the same blood and his clothes too. He had practically bled that pig out, appropriate. He had a broken arm, but he could already feel it regenerating. The vampire's body was at his feet. Or part of it. A pair of limbs were scattered around him, and his head had ended up on top of the subway car.

He let out a shaky breath and staggered backward until he tripped over some box and fell to the ground. His mind returned to his situation and he stopped breathing. Not that he needed it anymore. He reached into his pocket for his cell phone, but it slipped between his blood-soaked hands. He tried to catch it a couple more times, but ended up giving up. He left it on the ground and dialed the number. It was a miracle that there was signal there, and he attributed the first tears to the relief it made him feel. He lay down next to him with his knees and arms curled, making himself as small as he could, and waited as the tones sounded.

“Hello, Stiles.”

He heard Peter's cheerful voice, and a sob escaped him.

“Stiles, what's wrong?” His voice quickly turned concerned.

“Peter.” Shit, why did his voice have to sound like this?

“Stiles?” He sounded confused, perhaps because he didn't recognize his voice.

What could he say? How could he explain all that? He didn't want to say it out loud, he didn't want to hear himself in that voice talking about his worst nightmare. He sobbed again, his chest contracting in a strange way because he didn't need to breathe, but he was trying and surely it was necessary to speak.

“Stiles, listen to me, I need you to take a deep breath and tell me where you are.”

That made him give a nervous laugh, and he seemed to be able to control his diaphragm again.

“An abandoned subway station.”

“Can you go to a public place? Can you get help?” he asked calmly, though his voice was full of concern.

“Um... I can... Wait, what time...” He turned his head to see the screen. 3:29 pm. “No, I can't go out. Peter...”

“Don't worry, I'm on my way.” It was true, he could hear the car's engine. “If you can, don't turn off your phone, I have located you. Are you safe? Do you have danger nearby?”

“No, I'm alone.” He felt a great relief knowing that Peter was on his way. He was going to take hours, he had to get there from Beacon Hills, but Stiles knew he would speed up as much as he could to get there as soon as possible.

“Okay. Are you hurt?”

Stiles began to cry louder. No, technically he wasn't hurt, it was even worse.

“Stiles, sweetheart, I need you to talk to me. Are you hurt?”

“N-no, no. Peter...” he said with a whine.

“I'm on my way, hold on. Hide if you can. You'd have to hang up or the battery-.”

“No! Peter, please...” The idea of staying there alone without even Peter's voice terrified him.

“It's okay, I'm here. Can you tell me what happened?”

He knew Peter just wanted to distract him so that time would pass faster, although for him it was enough to hear his heartbeat on the other end of the phone (it was strange and at the same time comforting that he could hear it).

“I was coming back from the library last night. God, I don't know how I could have been unconscious for so long. I woke up here a few minutes ago and this...” he gave a humorless laugh at how ridiculous it was,” this vampire appeared. A fucking vampire, Peter! Why did it have to be a vampire? If it had been... anything else.”

Anything, even if its only intention had been to kill him. That would have been better than what had happened.

“Well, now we can be a cliché.”

Stiles wanted to laugh, but the sound that came out of his mouth sounded more like a groan. Then his cell phone started beeping.

“No, no, no, no, no.”

He leaned over the phone, there was only five percent battery.

“Stiles, you have to hang up. I promise I'll be there soon, but you have to hang up and keep your phone nearby in case you move. I have your GPS signal located, I don't want to lose it.”

Stiles wasn't going to ask how he had located his phone, Peter was up to date with technology. At that moment he was only grateful for it because the truth was that he had no idea where that station was.

“Okay. Don't let the police arrest you.”

“They couldn't reach my car even if they tried. Although maybe you should be listening for police sirens.”

He hung up the phone reluctantly and brought it close to his body, it was his only connection with Peter. Maybe he should feel bad about not calling his father. He could have arrived quickly with the siren without risking a chase, but the truth was that Stiles didn't know if he would come, he didn't know if he would pick up the phone or if he would believe him when he explained the situation or even if he would consider it important enough to travel from Beacon Hills. In short, he couldn't trust his father to help him. He had been aware of it for a long time, but at times like this it was particularly painful.

He could have called Derek, he also lived in Los Angeles, but most likely he wouldn't even pick up the phone and besides, Derek had no idea of his situation and it would be very awkward to explain. Lydia lived in New York, they barely kept in touch in recent years; and it would be futile to try to contact Scott now that he was on the run in Canada with his latest romance, a hunter whose family weren't too happy about her dating a werewolf. (Stiles was not at all surprised that history repeated itself.)

However, he had no doubt that Peter would come, even if he had to cross the country to do so. He was the last werewolf in Beacon Hills and the one in charge of protecting the town since Scott had abandoned his duties as alpha of the territory. After Scott's departure, Peter had sent the few werewolves of his abandoned pack out to other packs to take care of them while he stayed there alone. Peter was an omega, but he was far more capable of keeping the people of Beacon Hills safe than Scott and his entire pack had been. Stiles had kept in touch with him while he was studying in Los Angeles. At first it had been to keep up with the threats against Beacon Hills, but everything had settled down in a few months and they had still kept in touch.

Peter didn't know about his situation either, but Stiles felt that he would understand it much better than Derek. Although if Peter told him like that asshole that he was fine like this, Stiles was not responsible for his actions.

Maybe he fell asleep at some point or got too distracted because suddenly a noise made him react and he jumped up. His body took on a fighting pose not unlike a cat instinctively. It was a distant metallic noise, but more sounds followed like footsteps, gates opening and closing, and a heartbeat. He then smelled a person before he even saw it. He heard a kind of hiss and realized it was coming from him. He was a snake now? Then he saw Peter appear from one of the tunnels and the hiss stopped. His legs shook, and he was about to collapse, but then Peter was there to hold him. He tried to call his name, but he had forgotten to breathe and there was no air in his lungs to make his vocal chords vibrate.

“I've got you, I've got you,” Peter whispered, sitting him down on the closest mattress without leaving him.

Stiles shrugged and buried his face in Peter's neck, clutching his shirt with both hands. He had forgotten about the blood that now also stained the wolf's clothing. He sobbed in great relief now that at last he was not alone. One hand stroked his back comforting while the other held him tightly.

“You did a great job,” Peter commented. Stiles frowned and then realized he was talking about the vampire's corpse. “We'll have to burn it to make sure it doesn't resurrect, but decapitation is definitely the best method.”

“Good to know, you can use it with me.”

“Hey, no, don't say that.” Peter hugged him tighter and kissed his hair. “You're going to be fine, you're going to get over this.”

“Peter, I... this... m-my body...” Fuck, he couldn't say it.

“I know. I know, sweetheart. We'll fix it, I'll find a way,” he told him confidently, and his heart didn't give any lies away.

“How are we doing...? Wait, you know?” Stiles lifted his head and looked at him confused.

Peter looked at him almost tenderly, a slight curve on his lips.

“From the beginning, well, from the formal. At first the smell of Adderall prevented me from recognizing the other medications, but then it was clear.”

“So, all werewolves...” The idea that any werewolf, any creature with enhanced senses could...

“No, don't worry, if you don't know how to recognize them, it's difficult to distinguish between medications. I had a friend in college who was also under hormonal treatment, that's why I was able to recognize them.”

“My smell isn't... is...” He had always worried about so many things so that people would not notice his situation and now he had to worry about another one.

“It's slightly different from most boys your age, although mainly because of its lack of smell of semen and most would attribute it to a lack of sexual activity. Anyway, you don't have to worry about it, you will soon be practically scentless.”

Stiles frowned and ducked his head to smell himself. He smelled of blood and other foreign smells, but he could barely smell his personal scent.

“It's a peculiarity of vampires,” Peter explained. “It's the way to recognize them, although the most skilled strive to simulate a human smell.”

“Huh. Well, it's not my main concern right now. What...? Fuck, how am I going to-?”

“We. We're going to fix this, both of us.”

“But how?! I can't even have surgery again! It'd just... again...”

“I know, but I'm sure there's some magic that allows us to recover your body. In ancient times surgeries wasn't an option, but magic is older than science. We'll find the spell we need or create it if necessary,” he said it with such conviction that it made him think it was true, that it was possible.

“Werewolves can't use magic,” he whispered.

“But vampires can. You already had a slight affinity for magic as a human, but now, with a little training, you'll be able to use it without restriction.” That proud smile on his face made him blush (or would have if he could still blush).

“You don't have to-.”

“Shh, none of that. We're going to do this together, don't doubt it.” His expression was determined. Stiles was sure that, even if he refused, Peter would keep trying to help him behind his back.

It was comforting that someone cared so much about him. Stiles sighed in relief and relaxed next to Peter, waiting until it got dark.

Peter took him out of the subway station through its abandoned entrance. It was in the suburbs, a pretty abandoned area in every sense, which was good since he was still covered in blood. Peter's Shelby Cobra was right at the entrance (it was a miracle it hadn't been stolen while they were waiting). It was a shame to stain the extremely expensive upholstery with blood, but he didn't have a choice either, and Peter didn't seem to care.

It took them almost an hour to get to Peter's apartment in one of the highest-class buildings in Los Angeles. It had been his property for years, but he didn't use it often, a few times a year when he went to visit Derek or when Stiles needed help with a research. It was an open, modern space with wooden floors, large windows, and metal, glass, and leather furniture. It was quite impressive, especially the views of the city, but Stiles preferred his house in Beacon Hills, much more homey and full of antiques and books.

“Did you bring your laptop?” Stiles asked.

“I'm afraid not, I was in a bit of a hurry. Why don't you take a shower, and I'll go find yours at your place?”

“I had it with me in my backpack, but I haven't seen it at the station. Maybe he got rid of everything when he kidnapped me.”

“Then I'll go to buy a new one, there'll still be a store open. Make yourself comfortable, there are clothes in the room, take what you want.”

Peter left before Stiles could tell him that he didn't have to buy him a new laptop. It would have been useless anyway, he was that stubborn. Stiles walked into the bathroom and looked at himself in the mirror without thinking, which was a big, big mistake. There was the body that he had worked so hard to change. As if he had done nothing in those years, as if all the suffering had been for nothing. He got into the shower and slammed the glass door. The crystal exploded, falling into small fragments around him. Stiles started crying cowering in the corner of the shower. He was a monster and not just because he was a vampire.

When Peter returned, he didn't say a word. He stepped over the glass and scooped him up, carrying him into the bathroom attached to his bedroom. He sat him on the shower bench and turned on the shower head, not caring about getting wet himself.

“Stiles, tell me if I can take your clothes off or if you want to do it yourself. You have to take a shower, you have to clean this blood.”

At any other time the idea of being naked with that body in front of someone else (in front of himself) would have been terrifying, but he saw the blue eyes that were watching him so worriedly, and he knew that Peter could handle it better than himself. He nodded and raised his arms almost like a zombie. Peter didn't bother to pull the shirt over his head, he just ripped the front with a sharp claw.

“Hey!” he exclaimed in surprise.

“It's beyond saving.”

Peter removed his T-shirt along with the shirt he was wearing on top of it, then lifted him with one arm around his waist and pulled down his pants and boxers. Peter let him sit down again, his body was shaking. He reached for the shower head, and the water washed away the surface blood before Peter scrubbed it all off with the sponge. He was meticulous, cleaning even behind his ears and between his fingers. At some point, Stiles stopped shaking and relaxed under his attentions. Not a single improper touch or look. Stiles wanted to hug him and thank him.

When he finished, Peter turned off the tap and wrapped him in the fluffiest bath robe he had ever seen. They went out into the bedroom, and Peter started looking for clothes in the closets. Even though he didn't live there, there were more clothes than in Stiles' closet.

“Are you tired or hungry?” Peter asked him as he held up a pair of pants in the air to see if they would fit him.

“No, I'm fine, I don't have... Oh, god! I'll have to feed on blood! I'll have to kill!”

Before he could panic, Peter was already there, kneeling in front of him.

“Hey, hey, no killing. First of all, you can feed on the blood of animals. It won't be as satisfying and it won't help you get stronger, but it's possible. Besides, if you wanted to feed on human blood it wouldn't be a problem either. Nowadays it's not hard to have access to a blood bank.”

Stiles snorted a laugh and shook his head.

“Of course.” He couldn't help but smile. After all, Peter was a man of resources like few others. “Sorry about the shower.”

“It's okay, you have to learn to control your new abilities. Put this on,” he said, handing him the clothes. “I know you'll want to star researching right away, but I have to tell you that you should get some rest. Your body has yet to adjust to your new abilities.”

“I can rest with the computer on the bed,” he replied with a shrug.

Peter smiled and brought his new laptop.

“Think about whether you want to stay here or go back to Beacon Hills. Whatever you decide, I'll stay with you, but I think at first it'd be easier in our territory.”

“I'll have to drop out of college,” he realized suddenly. One more thing to add to the long list of misfortunes. “I was so close to finishing the master's degree.”

“You can always follow the classes online.”

Stiles shook his head and took the laptop out of the box. He needed to focus on something, he had to stop thinking about all the things that fell apart in his life.

“The problem is not the classes. In a couple of months, I'd have to start with the internship, and where am I going to do an internship at night? Anyway, what for? What night shift jobs I need my degree for? I'll end up at a gas station or a 24-hour store. I don't need a university degree for that, much less a master's degree.”

He had tried so hard, working to pay for his classes and studying every spare minute to be one of the best in the class. No parties, no friends, no social life, no coming home except in the summer. All that for nothing. Again.

Peter sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulders, letting Stiles lean against him.

“We'll find something. You could be a night class teacher. And if there isn't a school for that, I'll open one.”

Stiles snorted and buried his face in his neck. He knew that Peter wanted to tell him that he didn't have to work, that he had money to spare to support him, and Stiles was grateful that he didn't. Peter knew perfectly well how important it was for him to be self-sufficient.

“Thank you. For everything, Peter, thank you.”

“I'm here for whatever you need, sweetheart.” Peter tightened his arm around him and kissed his head.

He didn't remember Peter being so tactile, or so affectionate, or so close the last time they'd met, but it was probably the only thing keeping him from falling apart right now.

While Stiles was searching the internet and the bestiaries he had uploaded to the cloud for information on vampires, Peter went to collect some things from his apartment. Even if he did not return to Beacon Hills, he would no longer be able to live with his current roommates. Even if they didn't find it strange that he only left his room at night (something that was not entirely unusual among students), they would find the sudden change in his appearance strange.

He texted his father to call him as soon as he could and considered informing the others, but he wasn't ready for that yet. If it had only been the part of turning into a vampire, it would have been easier.

“You should find less naive roommates,” Peter commented when he returned with ALL of his things.

“Then I couldn't have done some of the things I've had to do,” he replied.

He opened the first bag looking for his hard drive. He made regular copies of his computer there just in case.

“When you put it that way.”

Peter took the hard drive out of the inside pocket of his jacket and offered it to him with a smile. Stiles rolled his eyes and returned with the hard drive to the bed. He hadn't moved from there even though there was a perfectly comfortable sofa in the living room.

“Did you tell Derek?” Stiles asked, trying to sound casual.

“No, I won't unless you ask me to. It's your decision to whom and when to tell.”

Stiles nodded tightly and remained focused on the computer. If it had been Scott, half Los Angeles and all of Beacon Hills would already know.

“Did you find anything useful?” Peter asked, sitting down next to him.

“I thought there was a lot of fake shit on the internet about werewolves, but vampires take the cake.” I was researching on the topic of sunlight, you know, to know if I'll turn to ash or glow like a gloworm. But there are so many possibilities, so many variations that not even something so basic is clear.”

Thanks to his studies, he had a better training to know how to distinguish between reliable sources and junk sources, but it didn't help in something like that. One might think that hunters with their vast knowledge could be a reliable source, but experience told him to doubt every word that appeared in their bestiaries and forums.

“I can assure you that you won't glow like a gloworm and, please, don't read that garbage full of toxic relationships again, it leaves us all in a very bad place.”

“I haven't read it! I've only seen memes on the internet,” he replied. Peter looked at him with an arched eyebrow, and Stiles lowered his head. “Okay, maybe I read the first one out of curiosity. Anyway, do you know anything about that? The sunlight thing, I mean.”

“I can't say for sure, but as far as I know, right now your skin would burn and then your muscles down to the bone. Over time, when you get stronger, you'll be more resistant. You may not be able to expose yourself to the midday light, but you may hold out longer during dawn and dusk.”

“Mm... That matches Anne Rice's type of vampires,” he mused, opening the folder named in precisely that way.

“I have good books at home on vampires, and I can get more, don't worry. I can also speak with some contacts. Vampires are quite closed about their nature, which is understandable, but if I explain your situation to them, some of them may decide to help us.”

Stiles squeezed his knee with one hand and smiled at him. It was a miracle that he could still smile.

TBC...

(The Trans Bingo Card btw)

[e-carlease]

In terms of the car shown, the Hyundai Kona Premium 64kWh 5dr Auto (Pure Electric Vehicle), this is based on the following configuration:

Pulse Red Pearl Paint

Cloth -     Black      

17" alloy wheels

Type 2 charging cable and an     emergency three-pin ICCB (In-Cable Control Box) cable

 As standard the car includes 10.25” touchscreen navigation, 17” alloys, 60/40 split folding seats, alarm/immobiliser, ambient lighting, auto dimming rear view mirror, autonomous emergency braking, blind spot monitoring, Bluetooth, cruise control, DAB radio,  Driver's electric adjustable lumbar support,  Forward collision warning, Front parking sensor, Full LED headlights, Heated front seats, Heated steering wheel, Krell premium audio system with 8 speakers and subwoofer, Hill start assist control, Lane follow assist, Lane keep assist, Parking system with rear camera and guidance system, Rear parking sensor, Smart key with keyless entry and engine start/stop button, Smartphone integration with Apple CarPlay and Android auto, Smartphone wireless charging plate and Vehicle Stability Control. In terms of additional options, you can only add the heat pump.

On the technical-side, company car and business users can note the P11d at £35,560.00 and CO2 at 0g/km. The Kona has a usable lithium-ion battery of 64kWh which offers a cold weather range of around 205 miles and summer range of around 285 miles. In terms of performance, the bigger battery Kona offers 200ps, 0-62 times of 7.9 seconds and top speeds of 104mph. In terms of charging, the maximum charge AC is 11kW, which will allow 0-100% charging in around 7 hours. For rapid charging, expect a 77kW DC maximum to offer 10-80% in around 45 minutes.