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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months

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Dirty Work 6

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: I had the worst Monday that could have ever existed. Onto Tuesday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"I trust this should be amenable to your work," Mr. Laufeyson holds open the door along the east wall of his study. One you've never opened before though you're familiar with the space within. The library also opens into the hallway and keeps you busier than many of the other rooms. "When you should require it. I expect much of your work will keep you afoot."

You peer past him, his tall figure like a second shadow. You clutch your kit tight and nod. You didn't exactly bring the tools for this new role.

"I should have a blank ledger somewhere, oh and a pen of course," he advises, "given our new... arrangement, I would require a contact point."

You nod and tear your attention from the full shelves and luxurious velvet chaise. You won't get to enjoy those but they give the space a much more welcome feel than the rest of the house. You face Mr. Laufeyson as he keeps the door propped open with his foot. He slides out his phone as if it's a task.

"Never to worry, I wouldn't bother you much so long as you do your work adequately," he assures, "but in case of... emergency."

"Oh, erm," you sputter and reach into your hoodie pocket, revealing the tiny flip phone.

"Hm, vintage," he muses, "as you would."

He holds his phone, gesturing to it with his other hand. You teethe your lip before you recall the digits of your number. Your plan doesn't include a lot of talk minutes but he doesn't promise much of that. He keys them into his screen.

"You'll have mine," he taps his thumb and your phone chimes. "In case."

"Thanks, uh, Mr. Laufeyson."

"Mmmm," he hums again. "Suppose you would need some sort of proper device, a computer of sorts." He clucks and checks his watch, dropping his arm with a huff, "I've an important event shortly, I'll try to venture by the electronics shop before I return.”

You nod and fold your phone, slipping it away as you peek back into the library. He inhales deeply, "suppose you should begin. The list is on the writing desk.”

You accept the command easily. You’re even thankful for it. It gives you a proper reason to find distance. You go to the desk and look over the typed list. You don’t sit, hesitating as you wonder if it would seem lazy, maybe even presumptuous.

“Let me fetch that ledger,” he says before letting the door drift closed.

You run your finger over the top line. ‘Create a schedule’. Hmmm. You look over the bullets that fill the paper. You can only assume he refers to all of that. It’s straightforward, you can handle a schedule. It’s everything that comes after that gives you doubt.

“And you’ll have to review what my wife, ex that is, left in shambles,” Mr. Laufeyson interrupts as he pushes through again. “Her little folder is here. She was always fond of order, even though she left me in much less. This is what’s left of her handiwork,” he approaches coolly and sets down a plain fawn coloured ledger, a fountain pen, and a white folder with golden flowers on it.

“Thanks,” you eke out as his hands linger on the edges.

You sense his gaze, discerning and weighty. He leans forward slightly and you nearly take a step across as he points to the list. You follow the line of his arm and his extended finger.

“Another point to add, ‘acquire work attire’,” he instructs and turns his hand over, flippant flicking his finger in a gesture to your plain hoodie and worn gray denim. “I trust my pay should afford that necessity easily, however should you require a write-off, I suppose it could be argued as a professional expense.”

“Sorry, Mr. Laufeyson,” you frown in embarrassment, “I didn’t…” You look down at yourself, wanting to hide behind your arms.

“You wouldn’t think of it, just a maid,” he dismisses, “very well, I think you have more than enough to begin. I should be some hours.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson,” you agree. He is correct, there is more than enough to keep you busy.

“I will review the schedule upon my return,” he affirms. “Should you require refreshment, you recall where to go.”

You nod and cautiously reach for the ledger, sliding it closer as he backs up. You slowly sit, hovering before you let yourself rest. He lingers by the door as you roll the pen aside and put the ledger and folder parallel. You open the former and line up the list inside the cover, resuming your perusal of the bullet points.

The door closes and you keep your attention to the paper. You don’t dare a glance up until you hear his muffled footfalls cross his study. You feel as if he’s waiting for you to make a mistake. You think you might be too.

🧹

A clunk sharply pierces the tenuous peace of the empty house. You hadn’t heard the door or his approach, not even right next door, not until the hefty thunk. You listen but keep your nose down.

You’re just about done with the schedule. Two cleans throughout the week to spread the duties evenly. The main floor on Mondays, and the upper on Thursday. You’ll be able to fit in an unexpected tidying between your other to-dos.

You flutter through the pretty white and gold folder. The embossed suede speaks of a sophisticated owner. You wonder why she would ever abandon it, though you assume, a separation may not inspire sentiment.

You turn over another note. This one about the gazebo. A blurb on a repair. You’ll have too go out and check to see if it was actually done, there’s no confirmation of the job. You stop to admire her loopy writing, as elegant as the folder.

The door opens without pretense. You sit up and wiggle the pen between your index and thumb. Mr. Laufeyson as a flat white box in his hand, along with a smaller one on top. He does not near you, instead place his lot on the square table by the window.

“Here,” he orders shortly.

You rise and leave the pen in the centre of the ledger. You cross to him as he moves the smaller box aside and unfolds the two smaller flaps from the large one. You can’t help but watch curiously.

“This should suffice,” he shimmies out the cardboard insert, revealing a sleek silver laptop, “hmm?”

He shifts it towards you and lets you look it over. You put your hands behind you to keep from touching. You lean in just a little.

“It looks nice, Mr. Laufeyson. Thank you.”

“For your work, of course. These days, it is a requirement. And this,” he takes the smaller box and offers it up, “a proper work phone. It is more professional. Any calls on my behalf, you will make on this. That relic you have won’t do much.”

“Uh, yes, Mr. Laufeyson, that’s really thoughtful.”

“Thoughtful? Practical. Company property, of course,” he insists, “another point to add. Set these up. They should be functioning by the end of the day. You’ll need them to keep up with the rest of your tasks.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson. I will put it on the list.”

“Mm,” he circles around you, striding to the writing desk before you can react. You follow at a few paces, not wanting to crowd him. He takes the pen and uncaps it. He adds the bullet himself. “There you are.”

“Thank you, Mr. Laufeyson,” you recite again.

He snaps the lid on the pen and his lips twitch, not quite curving, “I’ll review,” he snatches up the open ledger, your schedule open to see. You almost rush forward. You meant to rewrite it before you handed it over. It has scribbles all over it. You won’t argue.

“Go on,” he steps around the desk, waving to the side dismissively.

You return to the table and gather the laptop and phone, along with the stray box. You bring them back to the writing desk and stay standing as you free the laptop from the insert. You let your eyes edge along the top of your vision as Mr. Laufeyson sits on the chaise and browses the ledger.

You refocus and investigate the cord buried in the box as a collection of booklets fall out. You sort through them and find the one in English. You start on the front page, reading over the different buttons and features. The diagram is especially helpful. You’ve never had a computer before, not that it belongs to you.

You squint as you read the precautions. Your mind flits back and forth between your current task and everything beyond. You would go to the library sometimes and spend an hour on the PC, and in school you did all your work in the resource room. This is much fancier than any of the boxy computers you’d used before.

It says you should plug it in and charge to full before booting. You unravel the cord and search for an outlet against the wall. There’s one not far. You hook up the cord to the port on the side of the slender laptop then trail it to the wall. The little light on the side glows yellow.

Then you take the little box. A phone. The flip phone was second-hand but this is shiny and new. You’re like a kid at Christmas, not that you got much for the holiday, even when you were younger.

You slide out the small device. Your hand is unused to it. It’s not clunky like your phone. It feels easy to drop even if it’s bigger than the flip. You peel off the plastic film around the border and across the screen.

You take out the booklet and read it as closely as the first. Same thing; charge before use. You don’t want to mess up any of this. You plug it in above the computer and place it on the closed lid. You carefully sit in the chair, careful not to jostle the cords.

You peek up and find Mr. Laufeyson looking at you over the top of the ledger. His green eyes gleam and flick back down to the page. You hope he doesn’t see how clueless you are. This stuff that’s all so normal to everyone else is new to you. A job alone is a novelty still.

“You may ask it,” he says abruptly.

You wince and shrug. You don’t know what he means. His brows tweak in amusement.

“You’ve not asked about time off. I am unaware of your previous commitment, what days you had to yourself.”

You didn’t think of it but he does seem to think of everything. You twiddle your fingers on the desk. You would work as much as you need to. You still haven’t seen the final hospital bill.

“Mr. Laufeyson, I worked three shifts per week, but I was on probation,” you explain carefully, “I can work more than that.”

“How much is more?” He wonders, his thumb tapping the corner of the ledger.

You blink. You don’t know what’s appropriate. You don’t want to say too little and come off lazy, or say too much and seem ignorant.

“Six?” You utter, “six days, Mr. Laufeyson?”

His thumb stills, “per week?”

You nod. His eyes narrow and his lips thin in consideration.

“Should do,” he accepts and his eyes fall back to the page.

You think you got the right answer. You look down at the bullet points. It seems like a lot written out but surely it can’t be. Besides, the more you think about it, the more exciting it is. This house is so beautiful and this list means you get to explore it.

You don’t sink too deep into the moment of optimism. Mr. Laufeyson stands, still intent on the ledger. He paces blindly around the library, a click of his tongue as he reviews your handwriting.

“There will be some nights,” he intones, “other occasions where I require you in the evening.”

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you accept as you flutter the pages of the laptop instruction booklet.

“Mm,” he hums flatly, “I do think the cook liked you, didn’t she? Suppose we might retain that service for the time being.”

You nod and make a note in the corner of the list; simply, Corissa. He shuts the ledger and grips it tight. He walks around the table then turns back, coming back to you. He lays down the book on the desk.

“I won’t know until the day in question. You understand, this would be on-call. I’ve a busy life and so will you,” he girds, leaning on the book as he bends over the desk. “You will be doing more than watching little birds flapping around the garden.”

You nearly recoil as he plucks the memory out so precisely. That was careless of you. You should’ve kept your head down and just got to work. It’s a warning you’ll remember.

“I won’t, Mr. Laufeyson, I understand,” you assure.

“Not to say that you can’t,” he stands and pushes the bottom of his jacket back, hooking his thumbs in his pockets, “but only when there are no other pressing matters.”

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

He sighs and tilts his head back, “you must resist distractions. You are prone to it. I’ve noticed.”

You chew your lip and accept the remonstrance. You’ll take it instead as advice. He is right, you do find yourself bewitched by this place at times.

“Like that man,” he says staunchly, “don’t think I forgot. I will warn you, he is my brother… regrettably. He is well above the staff and he knows it.”

You take the hint. It’s improper of you to stare. Even if he had touched you. Or maybe, you misinterpreted an accident.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“Hear me when I tell you, he is not interested in the likes of you,” he sniffs, “with any luck, he won’t be much around for you to believe anything of the like.”

You nod and pick up the pen, nervously rolling it between your fingers. His reproach scalds your cheek. To think he assumes you would ever think of something like that. That you might encourage a stranger in that way.

He watches you for a moment before he spins away. He checks the time on his wrist as you reach for the ledger.

“Very well, I must be at my own work,” he declares, “as I trust you will be diligent in your own.”

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #maid au #dirty work #mcu #marvel #avengers #thor

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voidartisan · 3 months

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It's a bit overdue, but, another semester has passed, and so I present

Incorrect Quotes from AJ's Real, Actual Life

Aayla: If you were stranded on a desert island and could only bring three objects, what would you bring? Quinlan: One 500 lb. block of uranium. No further questions. Anakin: DID YOU HEAR ABOUT THE FISH LADIES????? Obi-Wan: ... Obi-Wan: ...elaborate. Padme: I may or may not have had a crush on a literal otter, but in my defense, he had a Scottish accent. Obi-Wan: Actually, I think I have one of those fold-out seats in the back. Ahsoka: Well you could have told us that BEFORE we stuffed Rex in the trunk Fives: He was an interm--- intermur--- intermule-- Echo: Intermural? Fives: Amen. Jesse: Hallelujah, praise the Lord--- Obi-Wan: I'm going to get some ibuprofen. Anyone else? I've got the good stuff. Fives: Shaak Ti is my favorite council member. I can't wait for her to die so they can name something in the Temple after her. Echo: Rex: *attempting to suppress laughter* Fives: Wait that come out wrong--- bby!Aayla: *crying* Quinlan: Que pasa, Mufasa? Jesse: I volunteered Fives for latrine duty. Echo: Dang. That's messed up. Echo: I also volunteer Fives for latrine duty Kit Fisto: He doesn't deserve this. Mace is the mitochondria of the Order Jesse: I'd better be getting paid for this. Jesse: I want... two mung beans Jesse: Never had a mung bean Anakin: I'm an idiot, not stupid Kanan, addressing the Ghost crew: If you would like, you may drizzle some of my queso on your tacos. However, if you steal all of it, I will ugly cry in your room for the rest of the night. Fox, sighing: Will someone teach our favorite dingbat to sleep on a blanket? Thorn: I sleep on blankets all the time! >:( Fox: I was talking about Grizzer. Thorn: Oh. Hound: I also assumed you were referring to Thorn Rex, looking Jesse dead in the eyes: Get. Thee. Hence.

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evanpetersmybf · 2 months

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Scary Love

Kit Walker x female!reader

Summary: A future nun with trust issues and a falsely accused gentleman.

Genre: Fluff and some angst.

Word count: 1,381

Warnings: Catholic reader and mention of some religious items (not really sure if this counts as a warning, but okay)

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

...And lead us not into temptation,

but deliver us from evil.

Amen.

You crossed yourself, still kneeling down in front of the crucifix, hands holding a Holy Mary medal.

The chapel was quiet and peaceful, a big difference in comparison to the rest of the asylum, which was always filled with screams and many other disturbing stuff. How did you end up in this hellhole? That’s the question you ask yourself every night before going to sleep. Ah yes, you were the one who took this decision. No one forced you.

You returned to the main room; a jukebox eternally playing Dominique non-stop while all the patients coexisted in the common hall.

And there he was. The one and only Kit Walker. Probably the most sane person in the habitation right now, besides you of course.

The handsome man saw you and a sweet smile appeared on his face, cute dimples along the lovely grin. Seeing him made you feel multiple things at the same time. Things you didn’t allow yourself to feel. With a heavy sigh of remorse, you avoided his gaze and kept walking around, finding an excuse to get away from him.

Kit’s brows furrowed, not getting what was happening. Why were you avoiding him? He thought you two were good friends now. In reality, you were one of the few people in the psychiatric who actually treated him as a human being and not as a crazy murderer -which he clearly wasn’t, tho- and that melted his heart.

He followed you from behind, but you kept escaping.

“Sista’!” He pleaded, until was finally able to catch up and grabbed your hand, making you turn around to face him. “Sista’ Y/N, what's goin’ on?” His dark doe eyes tried to meet yours, as an attempt to find an answer.

Nothing.

Kit scoffed, making early assumptions due to your lack of reaction. “So do ya’ really believe in that bullshit, huh? Ya’ really think I killed my wife?” Annoyed, the man let go of your hand, but deep down he hoped you didn’t think of him that way.

“No, wait!” You replied, looking down at the floor while fidgeting with a cross necklace hanging around your neck. “Is not like that, Kit…”

“Then what is it, sista’? Are ya’ scared of me?”

“I actually am.” You took a deep breath and stared at his eyes after hesitating for a while. “I’m afraid you are the temptation, Kit.”

The brunet raised an eyebrow, having more questions than answers. “Whatcha’ mean, sista’? Da’ temptation?”

“The temptation I always pray to God to keep far from me.” Your gaze drifted to his forearms; thick veins and big hands. Oh Lord.

Kit realized you were staring down. He tried to discover what were you looking at, until he noticed your eyes and a subtle blush on your cheeks.

He smirked and crossed his arms in front of him. That cheeky smile. The one who made you head over heels.

“Oh, so now I’m da’ devil, hm?”

You didn’t say anything else. You ran away from him and locked yourself in your room.

Kit was always on your mind. No matter what you did, he was always there. Even when you attempted to pray, you heard his voice. Maybe you need to be the patient and not a novice.

After a long sleepless night, you found yourself in the kitchen early in the morning, just to find Kit kneading dough and mumbling some things to himself.

“Mornin’, sista’” Voice soft like honey, yet it showed some concern because of what happened yesterday between you two. “Ya’ ‘kay?”

“Mhm…” Of course not. You weren’t okay. You felt conflicted.

“If I may ask… Why did ya’ become a nun?”

“I’m not a nun yet. I haven’t made my vows. I’m here tryin’ to find out if this truly is my vocation or not.”

“And? Have you made up your mind?”

You shook your head no, hugging yourself and looking at his arms, again. “You’re the reason why I don’t know if I belong here.”

Kit let out a chuckle, feeling amused by your shyness and obvious fixation on his limbs.

“Why do ya’ always stare at my hands, sista’? Do ya’ like ‘em?”

Your face went red, eyes slightly widened. Damn. He noticed it.

“I’m not supposed to like those sinful things.”

“Ya’ a human too, Y/N”

“But I wasn’t made for this. For affection or lust.”

Kit was curious about what you meant by that. You explained everything to him, saying you felt out of place because when you were growing up not a single boy flirted with you. Besides, you said you had many awful love experiences and, after a serious heartbreak, you began to wonder if possibly your destiny was staying single and dedicating the rest of your life to God. Furthermore, you mentioned your fear of physical touch, and how you still desired it. It was complicated.

The man listened to you, looking at how you fidgeted with a chain while you nervously told your story, taking note of how your soothing voice cracked from time to time.

Everything about you was so alluring to him. He couldn’t believe no one treated you right. And, as the gentleman he was, he wanted to change that.

“Well, sista’... To me, you’re one of da’ most beautiful women alive. I mean it.” Kit took a few steps closer to you, but kept a fair distance in order to not make you uncomfortable.

He cracked a smile, in love with those charming eyes of yours.

“If I’m that beautiful, why haven't I been loved, Kit? Tell me why–”

Kit was now some inches away from your face contemplating your lips. He placed a hand over your mouth, not letting you finish your sentence.

You tried to speak, but it was nonsense; his palm muffling your words.

“Y/N, ‘m not like those assholes. Not at all. Trust me, please.”

He let you speak again, now intertwining his fingers with yours. His body was warm, his touch was gentle and comforting, the type of connection you’ve been craving for too long. Walker was so good-looking; you could look at him forever… And he could look at you for the rest of eternity, too.

“Can I, gorgeous?” His thumb brushed your lips and part of your cheek, sending electric waves to your spine.

Was this even for real? You doubt it. You thought he was messing around, but he wasn’t.

Fearfully, you agreed.

Finally, Kit leaned in and pressed his chapped lips against your velvety ones. The kiss was tender, full of endearment. His heart was beating fast, so was yours. Pupils dilated and breathing deep.

He cupped the side of your face, rubbing the flesh with his digit while you melted under his touch.

This was the very first time that someone held you the way he did. Embracing you as if you were the most precious gem, or as if you were made of delicate porcelain.

Eventually, he pulled away and grinned, both of you feeling like dorky teens after having their first kiss, even if that wasn’t the case. “Ya’ so divine…” Kit mumbled and then, his lips were dancing with yours.

He stepped back from time to time exclusively to flatter you, saying corny compliments between the kisses.

His hands were roaming all over your body, caressing every right spot to make you feel in heaven.

He was so good at this.

But… Did this have a future?

Kit was here in Briarcliff, falsely accused of committing a murder. Not only that, you were a novice. This love couldn’t be.

Your mind overwhelmed you with those thoughts, making you abruptly get away from him.

“No, Kit, I’m sorry, I can’t do this.” Or perhaps you could. You felt like losing your mind. Love was making you crazy. However, you couldn’t allow yourself to feel, nor risk his safety for this. Maybe you were scared of his love. Of how much he was caring for you. You didn’t understand.

Without further ado, you left the cold kitchen, once filled with sweetness and adoration.

Kit remained there, a single tear drop falling from his eye, wondering if he could ever be happy again.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ཐི ♡ ཋྀ

A/N: English isn't my first language. Sorry if this has grammatical mistakes. Also, I tried to be respectful with the religion, I'm catholic myself and I'm so sorry if this offends someone. Hope you enjoy it! ^^

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monstersdownthepath · 3 months

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Herald of Shelyn: The Spirit of Adoration

CR 15

Neutral Good Large Outsider

Inner Sea Gods, pg. 308

This gorgeous gal is said to be the incarnate of Shelyn's hope and love, born directly from the emotions of the Goddess of Love, and it shows. The Spirit of Adoration (who's title I will be shortening to 'the Spirit' or SOA from now on) is one of the rarest of the Heralds to ever see, as she spends the majority of her time in Nirvana, frolicking among the gardens of her mistress and creator. For vast swaths of her existence, the Spirit does little but entertain and interact with people coming and going from Blossomheart, the divine domain of Shelyn, putting her +22 to Perform and her Bardic talents to use. The only times she leaves are on diplomatic relationship missions with other planes... and as the occasional muse for a mortal in dire need of some beauty in their life.

Able to take the shape of any Small or Medium Humanoid, the Spirit masquerades as a bright and beautiful Bard when cavorting among mortals. She exists to lift spirits, dispel darkness, bolster love, inspire art, and preserve beauty, all things she excels at. Not over is she an incredible marriage councilor, but a phenomenal wingman, standing by the side of someone hopelessly in love but unable to pursue it, either because they physically cannot or simply don't know how; in either case, the Spirit provides answers and guidance.

Whether it's helping a budding relationship or helping an artist hone their skills, the Spirit can hand hand out upwards to six tokens of Inspiration, which often take the form of jewelry. So long as someone carries the token, they're blessed with a +4 insight bonus to Will saves, as well as Craft and Perform checks. Any Bard holding onto the token also gains +6 rounds of Bardic Performance per day regardless of their level, and the Spirit always knows the condition and emotional state of a token holder, arriving to their aid if they ever begin slipping... and if they put the token down for too long, she will know that it's because her job is done and they no longer need her blessing, letting her free up the slot for the next soul in need.

The Spirit is a noncombatant for the majority of her life, a far cry from most Heralds and very fitting for the servant of a goddess who holds out hope for even the most vile of souls. Even when pushed into battle, the Spirit seeks to end it as quickly as possible via diplomacy, charm, and calm explanations, saving violence only for creatures which cannot be reasoned with--namely, mindless Constructs and Undead--but even then preferring to fight only until they pose no danger to an innocent, going so far as to knock out and imprison the likes of daemons rather than dispatching them. While some may see her all-loving nature as foolish in such a universe, like her goddess she maintains that redemption, beauty, and love can be found in anything and given to anyone.

Remember that she's a merciful being as I explain to you just what could happen if that mercy ever stopped.

It takes a while to get there, mind. The Spirit's entire kit is devoted to keeping fighting to a minimum, to the extent that she has a Charming Aura that causes any creature within 30ft of her that fails a DC 24 Will save to be charmed for a day if they fail. A power like that would certainly be useful in the hands of a nefarious fiend, but the Spirit only uses it to get on everyone's good side to make them more amenable to her attempts at Diplomacy (which she has a +17 in).

She's also got Calm Emotions at-will for the same reason, and her aforementioned 40 rounds of Bardic Performance to distract or fascinate hostile crowds long enough for her to try and talk them down from their rampage. Should that fail, she has Good Hope and Inspire Courage +4 to aid any nearby allies in efforts to pacify the opposing force. She will refuse to kill any thinking being and will hesitate to harm even unthinking ones beyond the point of healing, using her at-will Cure Moderate Wounds to spare both ally and enemy from death in the hopes that her enemies will see the folly of their actions and begin walking the road to redemption.

While 40 rounds is usually enough to last her an entire day, there is the small but amusing interaction with her Inspiration power, in that she's not restricted from giving herself her own token, granting herself a +4 to Will saves and Craft/Perform checks, as well as +6 rounds of Performance if for whatever reason 40 isn't enough. If the DM allows her to do that, it's important to note that the stat enhancement is an insight bonus, meaning it STACKS with her own Unearthly Grace, which adds her Cha mod to her AC and all her saves; this means her saves go from an already impressive +17/+20/+24 to +17/+20/+28. She doesn't have immunity to mind-affecting effects, but between her 26 SR and a +28, she may as well; foes of a similar level to her simply can't affect her with anything that targets her Will unless she rolls a 1.

Her DR 10 is bypassed by Evil weapons like most celestial Outsiders, but she's immune to the common Fire and the typically-reliable Sonic, and has 30 Resistance to Acid and Electricity. She's not just sturdy, but she's also fast, moving 40ft a round on the ground and a 60ft fly speed with a proper +17 to Fly, allowing her to make impressive and often beautiful aerial maneuvers. Even beyond that, if she can see you she can just be there because she's got Teleport at-will, letting her appear directly next to anyone who's posing a threat to her or her charge. She's got a 10ft space and 10ft reach... but her statblock is a little ambiguous as to whether her 10ft reach is because of her weapon, a +2 Dancing Glaive, or in addition to it (which would make her reach 20ft). The downside that the glaive can't be used to attack creatures directly adjacent to her, but that's mitigated by the fact it's a Dancing weapon, allowing it to fight entirely on its own even when she moves, and leaving her hands free to cast spells, go full-defense, or open-palm slap someone for 5 nonlethal damage.

Whether she's wielding it herself or letting it dance around her, the glaive can attack up to four times a round for 2d8+8 damage, tripled on a critical hit. While she tends to go for nonlethal, the real use of her weapon is to disarm her foes; she's got Improved Sunder and a weapon strong enough to make that hurt, smashing apart her foes' weapons and armor if she just doesn't reach over and take them once she has them calmed, charmed, fascinated, or stunned.

"Stunned?" Oh yes. At will as a standard action, the Spirit can make a Stunning Ray ranged attack at anything within 180ft, blasting a target with a dazzling beam of light that deals 1d8 untyped and irresistible damage. Any creature impacted by the beam must make a DC 24 Will save or be stunned for 1d6 rounds, time the Spirit uses to rid them of their gear whenever she can... and, as the book states, time she uses to talk to them. Yes, for the entire duration of your stun, a 10ft tall beautiful woman will be trying to talk you out of continuing the battle. If you say "no, I'm going to keep fighting," guess what? There's no 24-hour immunity on her ray, so she may just blast you again... and again, and again, and again, and again, all the while relieving you of your equipment and perhaps even breaking it in front of you, until you either succeed the save (only to fail it again next round) or finally break down and surrender.

I don't know about you, but I think if I was some nameless soldier ready to kick some schmuck's teeth in, and the incarnate of resolute love and beauty descended from the heavens specifically to tell me to knock it off, I might begin questioning 'are we the baddies?'

And you know what? I've said all this without revealing the Spirit's nuclear option: Bardic Magic. 3/day, the Spirit can cast any Bard spell of any level. Do you know what most Heralds lack? Level 7+ spells. Do you know what the Spirit of Adoration has? 3 castings of any level 8+ equivalent spell in the game. Besides simple and silly utility options, the Spirit of Adoration can simply end any fight by casting oh, say, Overwhelming Presence, Waves of Ecstasy, or Hymn of Peace. And that's just defensive; offensive it's even worse, because Bards have access to spells including Shadow Evocation, Shadow Enchantment, and Shadow Transmutation, effectively meaning the Spirit of Adoration's spell list is "all of them." Bardic Magic is basically 3 castings of Limited Wish, except even stronger since the Bard's lower spell levels allow some sneaky power houses like Irresistible Dance, Mass Suggestion, Brilliant Inspiration, and Greater Shout, which are normally outside the power of Limited Wish. The DM is essentially encouraged to let the Spirit pull out whatever insane nonsense she needs to at a whim... but note that Bardic Magic is actually casting a spell, NOT using a spell-like ability! She has to provide components, if any are needed!

It's still a powerful option, and it makes her considerably more versatile than she already appears to be, in AND out of combat, and makes her just as dangerous as any Bard can be while surrounded by allies with fewer qualms about using lethal force. If you think she's dangerous on her own, just imagine how obnoxious Stunning Ray will be when there's a hasted Barbarian bearing down on you...

You can read more about her here.

#Holy Heralds Month #Monster Spotlight #CR 11 to 15 #Pathfinder #dungeons and dragons

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medusapelagia · 19 days

Text

This is my contribution to the Harringrove Relay Race

Thank you @thatgirlwithasquid for preceding!

Perfectly Misaligned

written for @harringrove-relay-race Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve /Billy TW: violence (Billy slaps Steve), hurt/comfort Word Count: 6859

Now also on AO3

Going camping seemed like a nice idea, at least at the beginning.

The few happy memories Steve had as a kid were when his father wasn't the world's most famous heart surgeon and instead of traveling around to save lives he used to take him camping for a night or two just after school ended. It was their “boys' time”, as his father used to call it, winking at him while he giggled at the comradery between the two of them. And Steve loved every second of it: from the moment Richard Harrington announced that they were leaving for the weekend, to the moment the man parked his car back in the garage. That's why, as soon as Steve and Billy were released from the hospital, Steve asked Billy to go camping and he agreed on one condition: that they would go camping in California.

And that is exactly when the problems started.Even if Steve was somewhat familiar with camping areas around Hawkins, he never went camping in California so he didn't know where the best areas were and they definitely didn't have time to plan ahead where they would go. The second big problem was that Steve's and Billy's ideas of camping were really different. Steve loved the idea of the two of them alone in the wild, sleeping in a tent under the stars, lighting their own fire, making some s'more together, getting cozy by the fire while stargazing, and maybe sharing some personal stories while cuddling a bit far from curious eyes, while Billy insisted that he wanted to sleep in the campsites with all the amenities the park could offer; picnic tables, showers, water supply, and a cleared area for the tent, but definitely no privacy.

Not wanting to fight, Steve agreed to sleep in the designated area of the park, making small talk with their neighbors. But even though it was fun, it wasn't what Steve was expecting from their trip: he wanted to sleep so close to each other in their sleeping bags that they would awake almost entangled in one another, drink some beers, finally declare his love to Billy and, who knows, maybe even kiss under the stars, but being surrounded by so many people made all his dreams impossible.

The only aspect of their trip that was exactly as Steve imagined was the long hours in the car.

The only moments they have spent alone since they decided to go on this trip together were the ones in the car, but even those moments were far from pleasant for Steve. They rented a car at the airport in San Francisco and Billy hated it from the first moment he saw it, complaining that it wasn’t as good as his Camaro. But Steve didn’t complain, letting Billy put the pedal to the metal and blasting his rock music as loud as the stereo would let him, even if it gave Steve a terrible headache.

The only thing Steve asked, once he saw a picture in the park visitor center, was seeing the Alamere Falls; a beautiful waterfall that fell into the ocean was something you only see once, and after renouncing his dream trip he knew that Billy couldn't refuse him.

That's how they find themselves packing two backpacks with the essentials: maps, sunglasses, hats, jackets, flashlights, a first aid kit, matches, food, and water. Steve tries to pack their tent too, but it is too heavy and, in the end, Billy convinces him that they would not need it.

"What if it starts to rain while we are getting back?" Steve asks, looking at their tent, unsure if he should insist on bringing it with them or not.

"Come on, pretty boy! Look at the sky! Do you see a cloud? No. It's just a little hike! We will be back in no time."

"It's a thirteen miles trail, Billy!" Steve insists, while the blond guy starts to mock him for being too anxious. Steve is almost ready to remind him that being too unprepared is exactly what almost got him killed in a secret Russian base, but he doesn’t want to remember what happened at the mall and how it was sheer luck the Mind Flayer didn't kill them all, so he sighs and shrugs, ready to leave with Billy. Before walking to the car he turns toward the nice family that has the tent just next to theirs and tells them that they are going hiking to Alamere Falls.

"That sounds nice," Sarah, the young mother, replies while holding little Darla who is desperately trying to get into Steve's arms "Have fun boys!"

Steve nods and finally walks to the car.

"Took your time, huh Harrington? What was that? Are you flirting with moms now?"

Steve doesn't reply, getting in the car and ready for Billy’s jealousy. As if on cue the other boy starts the car, letting the engine roar as he drives way too fast for a little parking lot in a park. Steve doesn't complain, though, instead his mind goes to the waterfall he saw in the brochure. He wonders if he should have brought a pair of swim trunks too, but he quickly decides that, if they get in the mood, they can always swim in their underwear. After all, they have shared lockers for years.

***

They take the wrong turn twice, all Steve's fault in Billy's opinion because he is the one holding the map. Steve raises an eyebrow, not commenting on the fact that the California boy turned left even if Steve told him to turn right so now he is using his hands to show where to go. turn here, hand to the left, turn there, hand to the right.

Steve is already pissed when they get to the parking area, saying that they should go back to camp and maybe even back home, after all this vacation was a disaster from the beginning, but Billy is adamant.

"You want to see the waterfall so we will see the waterfall," Billy declares, closing the discussion by throwing Steve his backpack and putting on his own.

They start walking, Steve's eyes fixed on the map he is holding until Billy snatches it from Steve's hands.

"Stop looking at the stupid map and look around you! The view is beautiful and the colors are so vibrant! Can you hear the waves roar? I bet I can get to the waterfall faster than you!" He winks, but Steve shakes his head.

"I'm not going to take your bait, Hargrove. I ran enough for a lifetime in that fucking Russian base, and now I want to take a walk and enjoy the view, if you want to go faster I'll see you at the waterfall, or at the car if you are so fast that you get around before me." He replies calmly, and Billy's shoulders relax for once.

"I guess I'll keep you company, I don't want you to get lost."

Steve chuckles a little and follows Billy. "Have you already been here?" He asks, seeing how confident Billy looks.

"California is big, pretty boy, I haven't seen all of it and I have never been here, but this is the only trail I see so it's not hard to follow it."

They walk in silence, avoiding tree roots and low branches, breathing in the warm scent of the earth.

"I missed this," Steve whispers so low that he is surprised when Billy turns toward him and asks him what he is referring to. "Walking around the woods and not feeling anxious, or scared," He replies, getting closer to the other boy. "I used to go camping with my dad as a kid, and when I got older I started bringing my dates to the woods. I'm the one who made Skull Rock a cool place for hooking up, did you know that?" Steve asks and Billy shakes his head "I liked it. The scent of the earth, the brightness of the stars, I really loved those woods, but that was before..."

"The Upside Down?" Billy intervenes, giving words to the thoughts Steve can't express. Steve nods, avoiding the other boy’s stare and looking at the sunlight that shines through the leaves.

"It feels like it took something from me, you know?” He continues, his eyes still fixed on the horizons. “I will never be the person I was before and I'm not talking only about the nightmares, the night terrors or the migraine attacks. I'm talking about the way I look at the world. I loved those stupid woods, and now I fear them because I know what they can hide, and some nights I go on patrol, with a flashlight and a makeshift weapon, just to check that there aren’t any demodogs lingering around. And I would never take a date to Skull Rock anymore, and I miss it. I miss laying my jacket on the ground and sitting on it while watching the stars, pointing at the few that I know and then sharing a kiss, or maybe more if I’m lucky,” Steve chuckles, then he lets out a sigh, “I miss the idea of taking my son camping, lighting a fire together, and falling asleep under the stars while I tell him a story like my father used to do."

Billy's reaches into his pocket to retrieve a cigarette that he lights under Steve's judgemental look, "Your father doesn't sound shitty as mine, but, I didn't see him in the time we were in the hospital."

As soon as he received the call from the hospital, Richard Harrington made sure that his son and his friends had the best care Hawkins Hospital could provide but he remained in Singapore, where he was working on a new model of artificial heart.

"He is a famous doctor,” Steve explains, getting in front of Billy. “He travels the world to save lives, he doesn’t have time to lose on stupid things like that. I was fine."

Billy snorts, "You almost died, Harrington. They put you in a coma for two days to help your swollen brain and you are still going through the aftermath of that. Do you think I didn't notice that you squint when you have to read a road sign? Or that you have spasms in your hands? Why do you think I insisted on driving?"

Steve stops, staring at the other boy, wondering if it’s clear to everyone how affected he is from the injuries he sustained even if he tries his best to hide it.

"I don't..." he tries to deny in a lower voice, but Billy's brazen voice cuts him off.

"You don't what? Don't try to deny it, Harrington, we both know that it's true! And even if I'm sure things will get better once you buy a fucking pair of glasses and start taking the medicine that you are hiding in your backpack, at the moment you are a fucking mess!" He growls back at him, stepping in front of him and starting a staring contest that Steve is not going to lose.

"And what about you, Hargrove? You got possessed by an interdimensional monster! You killed people! How do you cope with that?" Steve rebukes, feeling raw and exposed to the other’s icy stare, trying to find an escape from those unforgiving eyes.

"How do I cope? I go to therapy, fucking moron!” The California boy replies, stepping even closer so that Steve and Billy are almost chest to chest. “I don't try to pretend that everything is fine and I make the government pay for every fucking thing I need! I already have a little apartment near Brown University waiting for me as soon as the semester starts and I try to accept that there are things that I cannot change but that they do not define me," He barks back. "Those things are things that happened to me and I was a fucking victim! Like Heather and her parents! And when I wake up, feeling that I deserve to die, I call the emergency number my therapist gave me and we talk for hours until I feel better," Billy takes a deep breath, giving his shoulder to Steve. "Things will never be as they were, Harrington. As you said, the Upside Down took something from us, but the only way to keep going is to accept that it's going to be part of us," Billy tells him, staring into the pretty boy’s eyes, then he takes a step back and starts following the little path again. All Steve can do is stare at his back, taking some deep breaths to calm himself before following him on their hike.

That was the longest conversation they have ever had.

It was harsh, and so real.

For the first time, Steve realizes that he and Billy are fighting the same fight, only in different ways. Steve keeps trying to pretend that everything is fine, that he doesn't need any help, and that the part of him that he lost the night he first hit a Demogorgon didn't change him, while Billy is trying to direct his anger toward the people who should have protected them, or at least warned them about what was coming. He is taking taxpayers' money with no shame because he feels it's his right, and even if he is troubled, maybe even more than Steve, he is not going to let all that happen define him as a person and Steve is impressed. All that Billy ever knew was the fight, and now he is fighting his personal demons. What's braver than that?

Steve follows Billy's lead, his red t-shirt stands out between the green of the leaves and the brown of the ground, while cursing himself for choosing a yellow t-shirt that attracts every kind of insect, especially mosquitos, as all the red bumps on his arms can prove. The more they venture into the woods the more the path becomes smaller and harder, and when Billy almost slips down a cliff, Steve dares to ask Billy if he is really sure that they are on the right path.

"How should I know?" He retorts, glaring at him. "I told you I have never been to this stupid waterfall before!" He reminds him, as Steve stares at him in astonishment.

"But you... you threw away my map!" He yells, feeling the panic getting to him. He didn't pay attention to their direction, and he didn't take notice of landmarks that could help him find their way around, they are going to get lost in the forest and he hasn't brought the tent, and the animals will find them, and all they have is one little pen knife, and maybe he should give it to Billy, he is stronger than him and his hands don't tremble so maybe he might have a possibility to survive and...

"Hey, pretty boy! Look at me."

Someone is talking to Steve but his vision is tunneled and his heart is beating so hard that it feels like it's going to jump out of his chest, and he can't breathe and...

"Steve! Look at me!"

The voice insists and in his blurred vision he sees a pair of ice blue eyes staring back at him with intensity.

"Steve!" The voice calls again, "You have to slow your breathing or you'll pass out!"

How could he slow his breathing if it feels like the forest is closing in on him like a monstrous green mouth that will devour them both and...

Steve's cheek burns while he takes his first big breath. He puts a hand to his face and realizes that he was slapped.

"What the fuck?!" He yells, but Billy is standing in front of him, holding his t-shirt in a tight grip and with a hand in mid-air, ready to slap him again.

"What the fuck?! You gave yourself a panic attack, idiot! I tried to talk you out of it but guess what? The King doesn't listen to anyone! So I slapped you, and it worked! So stop complaining and keep breathing like a fucking normal person!" Billy yells back, finally releasing Steve's t-shirt but leaving the cotton crumpled from the force he was holding it.

"I'm breathing..." Steve replies, meekly, ashamed about what happened.

"Thank god..." The other mutters, keeping his eyes pinned on Steve. "Why the fuck did you do that? You were the one that wanted to see the stupid waterfall, weren't you?"

Steve would like to explain to him that yes, he wanted to see the waterfall, but that he wasn't ready to get lost in the forest, but he knows that Billy will probably make fun of him so he whispers his apologies for the inconvenience of almost blacking out in the middle of nowhere and keeps following Billy, who now seems to be walking slower and is just a couple of steps ahead of him. They walk through a narrow maze of tall shrubs and vines that makes them both shiver because it reminds them too closely about the Upside Down.

They finally get to a clearing only for their glee to suddenly die when they see that they will have to go down a narrow eroding cliff.

"We can go back..." Steve suggests but Billy shakes his head.

"We are almost there and we are not going to give up right now!" He hisses, almost slipping while he tries to go down the cliff. Steve holds his breath till he sees him safely on the sand.

"Come on, pretty boy! Are you going to make me wait forever?"

With a big sigh, Steve begins his descent, scratching his hands on the sharp rocks, complaining with himself for his stupid idea, and when he finally gets to the shore he finds Billy smoking another cigarette.

"What? It's good for my health!"

"Smoking is definitely not good for your health," Steve snorts.

"My mental health!" Billy insists, dragging some smoke with his plump lips.

When they finally get to the falls they rest a bit, eating Steve's granola bars and drinking some water.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Steve asks, looking in amazement at the energy of the water that falls to the ground with a humid mist that fills the air.

"It is," Billy agrees. After a long moment of silence, he asks "What were you worried about?" Steve stares at him blankly, trying to understand what he is referring to. “In the forest. When you panicked.”

"I didn't panic! I... I got a little anxious," Steve tries to deny, ignoring Billy's scoff. "I was anxious because I was scared we got lost, ok? Going hiking is fun but it can be dangerous too, there are so many things you should keep an eye on."

"Like what? Where do you put your feet?" Billy mocks him but Steve nods.

"Yes. And not just that,” He says, pointing to the beautiful nature around them "In a place like this you must pay attention to the tide, to the ocean... and the animals too! There might be coyotes, bobcats, and mountain lions."

Billy lifts an eyebrow, "Never knew you were a nature nerd, Harrington."

Steve doesn't reply. He is not a nature nerd, he is just the kind of person that wants to come prepared, and after all they have lived through with the Upside Down shit, Billy should get it more than anyone else.

"Ready to get back to the car?" Billy asks, his hands on his knees while he gets up like an old man, suffocating a whimper. Steve feels guilty because he forced Billy to join him on this journey while he is still recovering from his injuries too. For a moment he wonders if he should offer to help him, but Billy is too proud and Steve knows that he will get offended, so he gets up quietly, staring at the clouds moving in the sky, wondering if they'll manage to get to the car before the storm starts.

***

If climbing down wasn't easy, climbing up is even harder. Steve's feet slip on the friable ground and he almost falls back just before getting on the top. Thankfully, Billy grabs his arm and drags him toward safety, but they both fall to the ground in an entangled mess of libs.

"You ok?" Billy asks him, and for a moment the California boy seems almost worried about him.

"I'm fine. Sorry, I slipped," Steve murmurs, hiding his blushing face in the crock of Billy's neck for a moment, breathing in his familiar and comforting scent.

"I noticed. Now get the fuck up. You are squashing me!" Billy protests and Steve quickly gets up, offering him a hand that Billy slaps away before getting up on his own. "A storm is coming, we better get moving."

Now that the sky is getting darker, following the same path they followed before is harder. Billy keeps saying that they are almost at the car but Steve is sure that he saw that strange red rock at least twice.

"Billy, stop it! We are going in circles!"

"We are not!" The other protests, continuing to go toward what he says is the right path.

"Listen to me! We have to stop before we get even more lost!" Steve insists, but Billy keeps ignoring him, so he catches up to Billy and grabs his arm. Billy spins around, his eyes shining with fury. "We are fucking lost in the middle of the forest! A storm is coming and we don't have a tent! We need to find shelter and we need to find it now!" Steve hisses.

The blond boy is seething with rage but he can't deny that Steve is right, so he gives him a little nod and frees himself from Steve's grip before turning and starting to look for a place where they could wait for the storm to pass.

"That tree seems big enough." Billy says, pointing toward a big tree a few feet away.

"You don't want to wait for a storm under a tree, trust me," Steve says, looking around. He remembers seeing a little cave somewhere and he really hopes that it's near. Retracing their steps, Steve tries to follow their path backwards, smiling at himself when he finds the same red rock he saw before.

"We are going backwards," Billy protests, but keeps following Steve until they find the little cave.

It is hot and humid inside but there aren't any animals so it's the best place they can be. Steve goes inside and removes his backpack, then he turns toward Billy, "Get inside. I'm going to search for something to use to make a small fire to keep us warm."

Steve doesn't wait for a reply and leaves the blond in the cave while he looks around for anything that might be useful. These are not Hawkins woods but some things are the same, so he tries to avoid poisonous plants and wild animals and gets back with a few branches while the sky begins to rumble.

After a few moments, the storm starts and it rains heavily, while they are safely inside the cave.

"Are you going to start this stupid fire or what?" Billy protests, but Steve shakes his head.

"It's not too cold and there is still light, I want to save the wood for as long as I can because with this rain all the rest of the wood will be soaked and we will not be able to get more," Steve explains to him, while holding his leg to his chest and staring at the rain. It's not too bad, he thinks to himself, they have water, a little bit of food, shelter and even fire if they need it. He also made sure that Sarah, their neighbor, knew where they were going so Steve is not too worried, just a little pissed. Not only is the vacation not as he expected it to be, but thanks to Billy's reckless behavior they are stuck in a stupid cave, waiting for the weather to get better.

"What?" Billy growls.

Steve turns toward him, his blue eyes shine in the darkness and he looks like a snake ready to bite. "I didn't say anything."

"You are a really expressive guy, Harrington." He replies, taking a cigarette from his pocket and lightening it, and that's the straw that breaks the camel's back. Steve snatches it and throws it outside "What the fuck?!" Billy complains furiously.

"Take another one and I'll throw away the entire packet of cigarettes," Steve threatens him.

"You wouldn't."

"Try me."

They glare at each other in a staring contest that neither wants to lose and in the end, it is Steve that looks away, trying to get to the farthest part of the cave, but it's so small that their legs bump before he finally gets on the opposite side of the cave.

Steve turns toward the opening of the cave, trying to hide the tears in his eyes. Nothing has gone as he wished and he is starting to think that he got everything wrong; that Billy hates him for real, and that he accepted coming with him only out of pity not because he was really willing to spend some time with him.

Stupid, stupid Steve!

How could he believe that someone could have ever fallen in love with him? It wasn't love that got them closer while at the hospital, it was the trauma, and now that Billy is doing far better than Steve they have nothing more in common.

Billy must sense the shift in Steve's attitude because when he calls his name his voice is way kinder than before.

"Steve?" He calls again, getting closer to him.

Steve can't take it anymore and runs out into the rain, trying to escape his feelings, but his bleeding heart aches so badly that he knows there is no cure. He will survive, he is sure of it, but nothing will be the same, not after he made a fool out of himself. Thank god he didn't confess his feelings to Billy. He would have mocked him cruelly for his stupid crush.

Because it was a crush, ok? Just a crush! Nothing more! Not... love.

He slips and falls to the ground, hitting his head on a rock while he gets mud everywhere.

For a moment he remains still, lying in the mud while the rain keeps pouring down on him. He wonders how he got there, crying in the rain, with his face in the mud, but then there are hands helping him up and blue eyes staring back at him.

"Steve! Fuck! Are you ok?!" Billy is kneeling at his side, cradling his face like it is the most precious thing in the world. "Don't move! Let me check your wound." He scolds him, brushing away his hair "You are bleeding a little, but it doesn't look serious. How do you feel? Lightheaded or what?" Steve stares blankly at Billy while the boy gets anxious. "Maybe I'm wrong and it’s worse than it looks. You should see a doctor. Don't worry I'll take care of everything. I can find the car, I know I can, and then I'll drive you to the closest hospital and..."

"I'm fine,” Steve replies, pushing him away. “I just don't understand what you are doing here."

Billy studies his face for a moment, "Maybe you hit your head harder than I thought. We were hiking, Steve, do you remember?"

"Of course, I do, dickhead!" He hisses, punching him in the shoulder. "I'm just confused because I don't understand why you are here, with me, in the rain, while you could have stayed in the cave where it is warm and..."

"Steve! You bolted out of that fucking cave without saying a word! I was fucking worried, ok?!"

"Why?! You hate me! You agreed to go on a trip with me out of pity and..."

One moment Steve is staring at Billy, trying to understand why the boy followed him, and the next thing he knows is there is a hot mouth on his shushing him and taking his breath away.

"Billy..."

"Can you shut the fuck up for a moment?" Billy asks, his icy blue eyes still pinned on Steve's chocolate one. "I'm sorry for the way I reacted. I really thought that I could have guided you to the waterfall and back and I'm so fucking angry with myself that I can't cope with that and I have to give the fault to someone else, and the only other person here it's you and... It wasn't fair, ok? We would be in deep shit if you didn't pack our bags and had brought water, food, and everything we might need. And I'm sorry for criticizing you and trying to get into a fight, ok? I'm sorry." Billy takes a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment before adding, "Fighting is still the first answer to anything that happens to me and I'm very sorry that you have to deal with all my shit, but when I saw you run into the rain for no reason I worried, ok? I thought you were having an episode or something, and I followed you and now... god... now I really hope I haven't made the biggest mistake of my life because if these feelings are not mutual then I'm not really sure I want to get back to the car," He concludes with a cackle.

"Feelings?" Maybe Steve did hit his head really hard because this can only be a dream, even if it's the saddest dream ever; he is shivering with cold under the rain, has mud on his face and his clothes, and a nasty bump on his forehead.

"I have feelings for you Steve, I always did, since the first time I saw you on that basketball court." Billy tells him, their faces so close to each other that Steve can feel his breath on his skin.

"You do?" Steve asks again, brushing some wet curls away from Billy's beautiful face.

"I do." Billy bites his lips before daring to ask, "Do you?"

"I do," Steve replies with a beaming smile. He leans forward to kiss Billy again, slowly, taking the time to savor Billy's taste on his tongue. Steve sinks his fingers deep into the blond curls, holding him tight like he was worried that he could disappear at any moment.

They are wet, cold, and dirty, but none of that matters when Billy's tongue licks Steve's lips, asking for permission that the pretty boy gladly gives him, opening his mouth and letting Billy explore and taste as long as he likes, shivering in pleasure.

It's their first real kiss and it has nothing to do with the romantic image that Steve had in his mind when he started to plan this trip, but it doesn't matter because that was just a fantasy, while this is real.

One kiss turns into two, three, four. They would have probably kept kissing if it wasn't for the rain, so when Billy suggests getting back to the cave, Steve begrudgingly nods and follows him. Luckily, their backpacks are dry, so the first thing that Billy does is help Steve out of his wet clothes and give him some dry ones, then he cleans the cut on his forehead and covers it with a band-aid, before kissing it better and finally takes some dry clothes for himself too.

They look a little bit silly in their underwear and wind jacket while the t-shirts and the pants are discarded in a corner of the cave. Steve suggests lighting a little fire to keep them warm and try to dry the clothes and the blond boy looks at him astonished while he lights a fire in a few calculated moves.

"You are full of surprises, aren't you, pretty boy?"

Steve feels his cheek blush and tries to hide his face, but Billy is quick and grabs his chin between his fingers. "No hiding from me, baby," He whispers while the flames shimmer in his eyes.

"Sorry..." He murmurs back.His apologies are welcomed with a big smile and a soft peck on the tip of his nose.

"Tell me, little boy scout, how long do you think this storm will last?" Billy asks, getting closer to Steve. He puts an arm around Steve’s shoulders, and the rich boy relaxes against the broad chest.

"Don't know, but I don't think it will last for long, the clouds are moving pretty fast so it should be short. I'm more worried about how we will get to the car with all that mud, but I imagine we will find a way," He replies, getting more comfortable and letting himself be held for the first time in years.

They must doze off because when Steve opens his eyes the sky is dark and full of stars. He frees himself from Billy's arms and slowly goes outside. The trees obscure the view a little, but there are so many stars looking down at him that he can't complain. Maybe he will not be able to point to some famous constellation, but the view is still breathtaking.

"Are you already trying to run away from me?" A sleepy voice asks. When he turns Billy is brushing his eyes, yawning.

"Look," Steve says, pointing at the sky but keeping his eyes pinned on Billy to see the expression of wonders that paint his face.

"That's... incredible," The blond boy whispers. "I used to go to some bonfires when I was younger, to drink a couple of beers and flirt with some girls. I thought I saw a lot of stars on those nights, but I was wrong."

"You were probably too close to the city lights," Steve explains, regretting that the ground is still wet and they can't lie and look at the stars. Another part of his plan gone wrong.

"Do you want to try to go back to the car?" Billy asks, interpreting his sad expression in the wrong way.

"No, it's better if we stay here at least till dawn, it's too dangerous to try to get back by night even if we have the flashlights."

Billy nods, it's the sensible thing to do, and it has nothing to do with the opportunity to share more kisses away from prying eyes.

When Steve feels that his hunger for kisses has been satisfied he dares to ask "So Brown University, uh?"

"It's far enough and it's a very good university," Billy replies, playing with Steve's hair. "I was ready to move to Antarctica if I needed to." Billy's father... Well, Billy's father is not a good father and Steve can see why he is trying to get away from him. "I'm worried for the shitbird," He adds after a long moment of silence. "But Neil never beat a woman before and I'm pretty sure that Susan is clever enough to get a divorce and take the house, so I guess they will be fine."

Rhode Island. So fucking far from Indiana.

"What about you? Are you going to scoop ice cream all your life?"

"Actually... Robin found us a job. Family Video. Nothing fancy but it pays the bills."

Billy snorts "You live in your parents' house and have no fucking bills to pay! What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Well, my father is trying to teach me a lesson about responsibility and..."

A loud laugh interrupts him “Responsibility? Your father? The one that sends you money and leaves you alone in that enormous house?"

"You don't know him! He is a very famous surgeon and..."

"I don't need to know him, Steve. I know you! And I know he wasn't here when we fought and you got that concussion and I know that he wasn't at your bedside when you woke up from the coma! And you know how I know?! Because I was there!" He yells and Steve tries to make himself smaller and hide from Billy's anger. "Sorry... I'm... I'm sorry. But I don't get why you keep defending him when..."

"He doesn't know," Steve replies, avoiding Billy's stare.

"What?!"

"When I got the concussion Owens' team took care of me so there is no trace that it ever happened and I never told my parents," Steve sighs, staring at the embers of their little fire. "Hopper kept an eye on me, and I was fine, so there was no need to worry them. And this time... I'm nineteen years old, legally an adult, so I signed a document stating that I didn't want them to talk about my conditions with my parents if it wasn't a life or death situation and I'm still here, so it wasn't so bad after all."

Billy groans loudly, and the hug he gives Steve is almost violent.

"I fucking hate this self-sacrificial shit you are up to, you know that, right? No, don't interrupt me. We are not fine Steve, none of us are, and you don't have to deal with all this shit alone." He turns Steve's face toward himself, "Come with me. The apartment is big enough for the two of us."

"And what am I supposed to do, Billy? I'm not a genius like you! I hardly graduated!" He protests, trying to get away from him, but Billy holds him tight.

"You are a fucking war hero, Steve! I’m sure that with some government help we could bend the rules and get you enrolled with a full scholarship in no time! Once there I'll help you with your studies, and if you really hate it there, you could always get back to Hawkins."

Steve raises an eyebrow, “Are you really willing to live with me and help me with my studies?"

Billy smirks, "Well, the idea was to do something more than just help you study, you know?"

Steve bursts out in a loud laugh, "That wasn't subtle, like, at all!"

He is still giggling when they hear voices in the night calling their name.

"What?" Billy asks, confused, while Steve rushes to get their pants and tries to get dressed as fast as he can.

"I told Sarah where we were going and she told us to get back soon. I think she was worried when she didn't see us back to our tent." For a moment Steve curses himself and his way of trying to be prepared for every emergency. "Billy... What will happen when we get out of this forest? I mean... When we get back to Hawkins?"

Billy grabs him by his arm and yanks him against him, kissing him with passion.

"Does that answer your question?"

Steve would reply that he needs more, just to be sure, but the rescuers are almost there so they split apart and get out of the cave, waving their flashlights.

When the rescuers finally reach them, they blame them for not having a map with them.

“I fucking hate that trail,” one of the park rangers complains, “I wish they’ll close it once and for all. It always gives us a terrible headache.” he says, then he turns toward the boys, “You are lucky you didn’t injure yourself too badly.” he adds, glaring at them while guiding them back to their car.

The sun is shining when they finally get back to their tent. Sarah is so relieved that she hugs them both tight and scolds them once more before leaving with her family because their vacation just ended.

Billy stares at their tent for a long moment before asking, "Would you like to sleep in a motel? I saw one just a few miles before the park. We can come back tomorrow to pick up our stuff." And if Steve wasn't already in love with Billy that would probably be the moment he falls for him. He nods eagerly and gets back to the car, ready to rest in a real bed after their little adventure in the forest.

The motel is seedy and smells really bad, but Steve doesn't care; all he wants is to get some sleep but all the emotions from the day make it hard to fall asleep.

Billy is resting on the bed next to his with his eyes closed but Steve can tell that he is not sleeping at all.

"Billy?"

"Yeah?"

"Were you serious?”

“Huh?”

“ Were you serious when you asked me to come with you?"

Billy turns to Steve, staring into his eyes, "I was. Are you thinking about it?"

"Maybe."

Billy gives him a smug smile, "Maybe is enough. We still have a few days of vacation and I'm sure I can transform that maybe into a yes if you will give me the opportunity."

Steve smiles back and in his heart, he already knows that he will agree, but for the moment they rest while holding hands for the first time.

Please look forward to the amazing work from the next contributor: @callieb

#harringrove relay race #Billy Hargrove #Steve Harrington #Harringrove #Billy x Steve #Stranger Things Fanfiction #Harringrove fic #medusapelagia fanfic #stranger things fanfic #my fanfic #medusapelagia #Perfectly Misaligned

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