{Text from Lily} Do you know how to actually congratulate someone because this is lacking, honey. I wasn't engaged beforehand, it was a spur-of-a-moment decision that I didn't mention to my sisters first, but it isn't foolish.

“Motherfucker...” Ciaran cursed loudly, as the old letter opener slid across the envelope like a hot knife through butter, piercing his finger. Dropping the family heirloom that bore the O’Bryan crest, he reached for a Kleenex and wrapped it around the tiny but oozing cut. Guess he had gone a little too hard when he’d sharpened it this last time.. As the wolf put pressure on the wound he noticed something...odd. The more pressure he put, the harder he pressed..the better it felt. In fact, small shockwaves of pleasure began to vibrate through his body, leaving him wanting more. “The fuck is goin’ on here..” Ciaran muttered, even though he knew the answer. It was another bloody spell wasn’t it?

Waving off the nonsense, he pulled the first aid kit out of his desk drawer and bandaged up his finger, intent now on getting on with his business and forgetting whatever fuckery was messing with his mind. Yeah..easier said that fucking done. He should have known. Navy eyes landed on the opener once again, as his body stirred to life. More. He craved more. Ciaran’s hand moved before he even remembered thinking about the command, taking the cold metal and aiming the point towards his palm. One more cut, what harm would that do..

The wolf seemed to go into a trance then, only stopping when the door of his office swung open. “Go.. Get the fuck out, mind ya own goddamn business” Ciaran bit out. Chest heaving, body on fire. And arms coated in blood, which must have been what had drawn Wat to him.

Annoyed by the body of their younger self, Steele decided what better time to take advantage of all the people they had come to dislike the most. Of course, the first person that came to mind was Wat, though they less hated him and more enjoyed getting under their skin. He was more like a frenemies, which seemed appropriate now they both appeared 18, though from their brief encounter in the forest, Wat was like a few other people and was not just 18 physically, but mentally which only meant more fun for Steele.

Still dressed in their flashy outfit, they easily found the lanky human. “Wat, do you remember me, we met early,” they asked slowly, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

Wade was still out in the quad. The guards had been taking turns with their punishments of him, and he was doing his best to hold it together. They were getting bored with him at least, and he did finally just take a moment to gather himself, as the latest one walked away. That’s when he looked up and saw Wat. He was half tempted to divert his eyes, but instead locked eyes with him.

“What?” he snarled. “Want to have your fun, too?” he demanded.

watfletcher​:

Wat was not too keen on boats. It wasn’t as if he had a traumatic experience, really. (Nearly boarding the Lusitania aside.) He wondered if it was a vampire thing. Something about running waters in a book or movie, he was sure. But most of that was stuff and nonsense. He just felt uneasy. New job. New life. He could stop hiding. He could tell people he was 700 years old, not just the rare other supernatural. They were all allowed to be open here.

The boat ride to the main island wasn’t too long and he greeted the guard with a friendly wave and a hello. The guard handed him a piece of paper and the key to his suite, promptly leaving. Wat pushed up his sunglasses, glad to leave the boat behind and looking forward to exploring the new island. He walked as he read, taking the person who took his bags to move into his room, and fidgeted with the old bronze ring around his middle finger with the thumb of the same hand. An age old habit. He hadn’t been able to afford a wedding ring for Johanne and though by the time he’d been turned and found her again she had remarried, he decided upon one for himself. He wore the enchanted ring of the noble lady that has turned him, until he found someone to make his own. He inscribed it thus: Johanne, Wat, Meggy, Wilky. His wife and three children, long, long dead. The ring protecting him from the worst of sunlight sickness and his own symbolic gesture to himself to not forget where he’d come from was nothing of real special value when it had been new, at least to no pick-pocketing human. And attempted muggings never was in their favor anyhow.

“Excuse me!” Wat’s attention darted to the first person he saw, the welcome letter crinkling in his fist as he brought it up in gesture. He stopped thinking of his wife and children, instead worrying over the wording of the letter. “What bloody century is this again? Slavery? You must be joking!”

Summer break. The one thing that kept teachers going, at times. And Grace would admit, as much as she loved her job, there were days when she was one of those teachers. In all though, the year had gone well. The shop was as always prospering, and she felt that she had accomplished nearly everything that she wished to teach her students. Which she supposed was as much as any educator could hope for. 

Now though, it was her chance to take a little time for herself, and she had her plans for the season. A trip to New York, hopefully with Keith, was at the top of the list. She needed to check on her shop there, and quite missed the hustle of the auction circuit and Sotheby’s and Christie’s. Grace couldn’t wait to see what treasures they could find. Her mind was already turning with ideas, so much so that the voice of another actually made her jump. Sensing one of her own kind, she turned on a smile that was both dazzling and empathetic. 

“Indeed.. It is rather appalling, yes?” Grace murmured, extending a hand in greeting. “Grace Carleton, Art History professor”

Wat woke up... groggy. And that wasn’t his first red flag, even after hearing Wild’s voice. The feel of a warm, rough hand jostling him. He’d woken up. He didn’t sleep.

Fucking magic.

Wat groaned and sat up, running a hand through his hair, making it stick up oddly. His gazed turned to Wild, more than happy to see him in his bed, piecing together the words he’d spoken. Happy to have him, but not under fucking magical circumstances. That had caused enough problems for them already.

“Fucking magic,” Wat muttered, his gaze moving to the cuffs...

He could pick the lock. He just needed tools to do it. And he hadn’t needed any for decades...

“I didn’t do this.” Wat rubbed his face with his free hand and then moved to get out of the bed, on Wilder’s side. “I’ve cleaned you up looking worse. C’mon...”

Wat waited for Wild to join him. It occurred to him, random casual pet name or not, Wild had called him ‘love’. He allowed himself to bask in that, just even for a moment, pretend like they were... relatively normal again.

“Don’t worry, I can pick the lock.”

“Thank god,” Wild sighed as he followed Wat out of the bed. When they got to the bathroom he smiled a little sheepishly. “Gotta borrow your hand for a sec,” he explained as he unbuttoned his trousers. “So, this is another one of those magic nonsense things eh?” he asked as he suddenly felt a little self conscious. 

It wasn’t like Wat hadn’t been in the room when Wild had peed before- they’d lived together for years, but with Wat standing there, that close, it was like having an audience. He shuffled slightly, getting his shoulder between them as much as possible, but he still felt awkward, yes Wat had seen his dick countless times, but this was just weird. 

“So how was sleeping for the first time in centuries?” he asked, trying to distract himself from the uncomfortable feeling as he looked down at himself and tried to convince himself to just go already. 

Going around the corner he paused when he saw Wat in the kitchen. Cooking. Wilder sighed at the view before he licked his lips and looked around the room, cursing himself internally before spotting the suit jacket on the couch, his sparkly loafers neatly on the floor by the couch as well, and he walked towards them, relieved to see them, his relief was short lived however and turned into annoyance and exasperation as he bumped a table and nearly upended a lamp. Wilder gasped, catching the lamp and then put it back on the table before he looked up and seeing that Wat had obviously not missed his little moment he straightened, clearing his throat before he grabbed the suit jacket. “I don’t know what happened last night,” he admitted. “But um, I’m- I’m gonna go.”