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moiraineswife · 5 years

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The Expanse - A Clayleb Fic

OKAY SO I ASKED FOR WHUMP PROMPTS AGES AGO and have only done this one bc it got Long bc that is what i Do BUT SOMEONE SENT ME ONE FOR SHAKY HANDS BUT THEN TUMBLR ATE IT and my draft -_- SO I CANNOT TAG YOU OR REPLY TO YOUR ASK BUT I DID THE THING AND I HOPE YOU LIKE IT!!!

Title: The Expanse

Summary: Prompt: “Another character spots their hands shaking, so they hide them.’ Set between episodes 36 and 37. After Caduceus’ near death experiences from drowning, he finds that he can’t sleep, and moves up on deck. He and Caleb have a conversation, and face their fears together. Caleb’s POV.

Teaser: He considered him for a moment. It would be so easy to simply sit up here in his hidden nook, reading, ignoring what was happening. But as he continued to watch, Caduceus moved to the rail of the ship and gripped it, staring down into the ocean. He seemed to be shaking. A year ago Caleb had been alone. As Caduceus had been for some time before they had found him. He was not alone anymore. Nor was Caduceus. And he did not want to be again.Closing the book, Caleb made his decision.

Link: AO3

Caleb’s legs were cramping.

He was perched in the crow’s nest of The Mistake. The ship swayed gently at ease in the in the midst of the endless expanse of ocean while they took a rest. It was oddly soothing. The vast, gaping nothingness was surrounding him like an abyss. Blackness reigned on all sides. All that differentiated the sky from the rest of the looming darkness were the stars, twinkling down at him like the watchful eyes of the heavens. Cold, and remote, and dead.

When he’d been a child, after his grandmother had passed, his mother had taken him outside that night, after a day of endless quiet crying, and pointed up at a particularly bright star he’d never noticed before.

She’d told him it was grandma’s spirit, watching down on him from above. She was always there, mother said, but in the day it was too bright to see her. Only the night’s darkness could reveal her, but she would always be there, and that the night was nothing to fear.

The story had brought him so much comfort as a child. He no longer believed that story. He no longer wanted to. The thought of his family’s spirits staring down upon the waste of flesh and air he had become did not the faintest hint of warmth or comfort to him now.

Taking a breath, he sat down his book and began to work the knots of pain from his leg. As he did so, he caught movement on the deck below.

Curious, he sent one of his little globules of light floating down slightly closer to it. With a soft breath of relief, he realised that it was only Caduceus.

Caleb frowned slightly. It was late, well beyond the point they should all have been asleep. He certainly wished he was. But he accepted that sometimes sleep refused to claim him, and when it didn’t, he knew it was usually wise not to force it. There was a reason for it. And he had learned to listen.

He considered him for a moment. It would be so easy to simply sit up here in his hidden nook, reading, ignoring what was happening. But as he continued to watch, Caduceus moved to the rail of the ship and gripped it, staring down into the ocean. He seemed to be shaking.

A year ago Caleb had been alone. As Caduceus had been for some time before they had found him. He was not alone anymore. Nor was Caduceus. And he did not want to be again.

Closing the book, Caleb made his decision. Stowing it in one of his book holsters, he stood and stretched. Groaning at the sudden aches in his body, he gave himself a little shake, then began to descend from the crow’s nest.

Nott had initially refused to climb up into it. The height had given her a sense of horrible, dizzying vertigo and she had clung to Caleb the entire time. Caleb himself had never been bothered by them. He actually liked the feeling of being on high, watching everything unfolding below him while remaining aloof and unseen himself.

‘No-one ever looks up’ his father had told him when he’d been young. This had led to the unanticipated consequence of Caleb sitting on the roof of their small cottage for long periods of time.

He shook his head, banishing the memories. He didn’t want to think about that. He didn’t deserve to get any sort of pleasure or enjoyment out of the gentler parts of his past. He focused instead of where he was putting his hands and feet to get back down. It would be just like him to fall and break his neck in front of the traumatised Caduceus while he was trying to help him.

Once he had dropped safely down to the deck he padded towards the ship’s bow where Caducus was currently perched, staring out over the dark ocean. He paused, not sure how to interrupt, sure the firbolg knew he was there.

Clay didn’t turn, however, which was unusual in itself. Caleb had never known him to be anything other than entirely polite.

Glancing down, he realised the firbolg’s big, gentle hands were shaking.

Startled, he found himself blurting out, “Mister Clay, are you all right?”

Caduceus still didn’t turn to him, nor did he answer. He was quiet for so long, Caleb nearly gave up and returned to his book nest. Then, just as he was about to leave, Clay said, quietly, “I never imagined it would be so big.”

Caleb followed his gaze out over the seemingly endless ocean. Cautiously, he stepped up beside him, Caduceus didn’t protest, so he settled next to him and gazed out, too.

“The ocean?” he prompted, quietly. Caduceus could be rather deep at times, and it was impossible to know exactly what he was thinking at any given moment.

“Mm,” Clay agreed, nodding his big head slowly.

“I thought the same thing when I saw it for the first time,” he said, softly, feeling a pressure to break the silence for Caduceus’ sake, who he saw was still shaking. “I grew up in a little farming town in the middle of nowhere. We had nothing, nothing like this,” he gestured expansively beyond the ship.

Caduceus nodded slowly again. “There are a few sailors at home,” he said, Caleb had to take a moment to rationalise ‘home’ with ‘graveyard’ and remind himself that, for Caduceus, they were one and the same. “They talked about it, but...”

“But that cannot prepare you for seeing it,” Caleb murmured.

“Nope,” Clay agreed emphatically.

“I read books about it,” Caleb said. “I thought I understood what it would be like, but seeing it in person...”he shook his head.

He remembered his feelings on that day, as he stared out at the endless expanse of shimmering blue that stretched to, and beyond, the horizon. It had looked like possibility, and freedom, and the opportunity to escape everything forever. It had been beautiful and alien all at once, and he had found himself unable to stop staring at it. He still felt the same way looking at it now.

“I never realised how big the world was until I saw it,” Caduceus said, softly, almost taking more to himself than to Caleb.

Caleb felt a little smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Caduceus seemed so wise and deep most of the time, especially compared to their current band of merry fuck-ups, it was easy to forget how sheltered his life had been before.

“Ja,” Caleb said, softly, “There is a lot of it out there. And I imagine it feels even larger for someone like you, who has stayed in only one small part of it your entire life.”

“Yeah,” Caduceus said, nodding again, his eyes growing a little distant. “We had people come to us from all over, but it was only words, the places they had come from. I never realised, I never imagined...” he trailed off, unable to put his thoughts into words.

Caleb patted him slightly awkwardly on the shoulder, but he seemed to appreciate it.

A slight crease formed between his eyes as a sudden thought struck him and he said, “Did you want to see any of it?” he asked. “Before we found your temple and you felt we were a sign to go with, did you ever dream of travelling the world beyond your home?”

“No,” Caduceus said, with that simple, genuine honesty he had.

“I loved my home, my family, my tea,” he added, and Caleb smiled again. “I had no reason to leave.”

“I was desperate to leave my home when I was a boy,” Caleb confessed in a low voice. “It was small, and backwards. The world beyond it seemed infinite, and full of endless possibilities and potential for someone willing to seize it. I was determined to take it, to escape the lowly peasant place I grew up in and become something great. I was so sure there would be so many great things to discover. And there were,” he said.

His voice had now fallen so quiet it could be so easily snatched away by the sea breeze rippling past his coat, but he knew Caduceus’ sharp ears would catch every word.

“But there were a lot of terrible things, too, that I did not anticipate.”

I was one of them he thought darkly.

“There have been a few things so far that have been, ah, a little unkind towards me, I will say,” Caduceus said. “I don’t think I fully anticipated them, either.”

“Ja,” Caleb agreed, thinking of Caduceus’ two near drownings in as many days. “You have had a rough time of it so far,” he said, patting Caduceus once more, still awkwardly, on the shoulder. “Do you ever regret leaving home?” he asked hesitantly. “Coming with us?” he added, curious.

He felt none of them had really taken the time to get to know Caduceus. He would not go so far himself as to get invested. Not after the world had so recently and brutally reminded him why that was never a good idea.

Still, a few gentle questions couldn’t hurt.

Clay mulled this question over for a time, then said, “No. I might have, even though my home is dying and I want to help it. I thought I might have misread the Wildmother’s signs. Or maybe I had just imagined them because I was so desperate for one. I’ll admit I was ready to leave and go home at one point.”

“Why didn’t you?” Caleb asked, genuine interest making him blunter than he would have liked.

Clay didn’t seem bothered.

“Jester had a little talk with me,” he said,” Reminded me why we have faith, and what that means. That helped a lot.”

Caleb smiled again. “She is good at that,” he murmured softly, nodding his head.

“Yup,” Caduceus agreed.

“She is a good person. Strange, in her ways, as we all are, I suppose. But fundamentally she is a good person. Sometimes I wonder what she is doing with the likes of-“ he broke off, abruptly, catching himself.

Caduceus had a way of putting him at ease. Some natural magic of his made it easy to be comfortable around him, even let his guard down a little. The ocean was the same. They both exuded a strange, similar sense of freedom and escape. Their combination was a dangerous one.

Fool, he snapped at himself.

He had to be more careful. Clearing his throat too loudly, he averted his eyes from Clay’s mild gaze and said in an overly casual way, “So, Jester convinced you not to leave, but you still can’t sleep tonight? And you came up here this late instead?”

“Yup,” Caduceus replied, evenly, apparently not bothered by the brusque subject change and obvious shift of focus back onto himself. “For much the same reasons as you, I imagine.” His tone remained light, casual, and friendly, but there was an intensity to him all the same. “Kind of hard to relax and sleep when you’re always afraid.”

Caleb shivered.

“’Specially when the thing that’s making you afraid is sort of everywhere,” he said, blandly, but his eyes locked with Caleb’s as he said it.

Mouth suddenly very dry, Caleb forced himself not to react to the implied double-meaning and said, firmly, keeping the spotlight on Caduceus away from himself. “The ocean?” he prompted, firmly.

“I mean,” he said, with such an easy smile Caleb almost convinced himself he’d imagined the hidden meaning behind the words, “It has tried pretty hard to kill me a couple times now.”

“So it has,” Caleb agreed. He swallowed with difficulty, coughed, then said, “Well, my father always said that the best way to conquer fear was to face it.”

“He sounds like a very wise man,” Caduceus said, solemnly.

“He was,” Caleb replied, very quietly.

“Did you follow his advice?” Clay asked, jerking Caleb sharply back to the present.

In spite of the relative invasiveness of the question, Caleb found himself grateful for it, as it stopped his traitorous mind from wandering along the cliff edge of his sanity, teetering dangerously towards the abyss that always pulled at him.

He scrunched up his mouth without thinking and shook his head in a sharp, jerky fashion, “I would have,” he said, quietly, self-disgust lacing his words, “If I had been stronger.” He bowed his head, shaking it and muttering, “But I was a coward, so...” He shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably, trying to act as though this was of no significance to him.

He didn’t believe it himself. He highly doubted Caduceus would.

The firbolg watched him for a long time in silence, then, without warning, patted him gently on the top of the head.

This was so unexpected, Caleb started in surprise. The ghost of something that might have been a smile almost flitted across his face.

“You regret not doing it,” Clay said, finally, “That means you’ve grown since then. Maybe next time you have the chance, whenever that might be, you’ll be brave enough.” A soft, sweet smile lit up his face and he nodded, looking suddenly certain, “I think you will. Whatever it is, I think the next time you meet it, you will.”

Caleb shook his head bitterly, but didn’t speak.

“But even if you don’t, it doesn’t make you weak, and it doesn’t make you a coward,” Caduceus said, gently.

“I think that it does,” Caleb said, jerkily.

“Nah,” Caduceus said easily, shaking his head. “You’re still here,” he continued, “You didn’t give in to it,” he considered, then nodded, “You don’t give in to it. Don’t think you can be a coward in those circumstances. Now,” he said, patting Caleb on the shoulder again before he could say anything.

With two long strides he stepped off the slightly raised platform at the bow onto the deck, leaving a somewhat stunned Caleb standing where he had been watching him numbly.

Caduceus took a deep breath, then, without a word of warning, began to shed his armour and clothes.

Momentarily stupefied, Caleb just stared at him for a long second. Then, giving himself a shake, he stammered, “What are you doing?”

Caducues, now wearing nothing but his trousers and the loose white shirt he usually wore under his armour, pulling off his socks as he answered, smile gently at Caleb and said, simply, “Conquering.”

His hands, Caleb noted as he stood up and walked to the rail, were shaking again. But he clenched them into tight fists at his side to control them. Then, without another word, he stepped right to the edge, and jumped straight into the ocean below.

Caleb cursed in Zemnian and hurried to the rail himself.

“That is not what I meant, you-“ he hissed.

Staring down at the ring of bubbles marking the place where Caduceus had disappeared.

Silence.

The light sea breeze ran gentle fingers through his hair. The sails creaked softly as the wind stirred them. The ship swayed rhythmically like a cradle. Caduceus did not surface.

Caleb gripped the wooden rail so tightly it hurt. Frumpkin wound around his ankles, peering down, too, and meowing softly, as though in concern.

Still nothing.

Caleb was on the verge of running below to fetch Yasha, certain he would not be able to rescue Clay himself when with a lot of splashing, coughing, and expelling of water, he resurfaced.

Caleb breathed agin, as though he too had just vanished into the depths.

“It’s deep, you know,” Caduceus observed, matter-of-factly.

“I thought you had drowned,” Caleb hissed, realising he was still gripping the rail too tightly and relaxing somewhat.

“Nope,” Caduceus replied.

He was flapping and flailing so much that Caleb asked, suspiciously, “Caduceus, can you swim?”

“Apparently, yeah,” the firbolg replied with another of his easy smiles.

“Apparently?” Caleb repeated, feeling like an angry dragon about to spit fire at an oblivious cow. “You dived into the ocean with apparently?”

“Sure,” Caduceus replied.

Caleb’s eyes bulged with indignation.

“I mean,” Clay added, “I can sort of swim. We had a little pond back home. One of my sisters taught me a couple things.”

“A pond?” Caleb repeated, faintly. Then he snapped back into a more pragmatic mindset, “Come around this way,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose and walking a few feet to his left, “There is rigging, you can climb back on board before you do drown.”

“I can’t do that,” Caduceus said, frowning slightly, “Not yet, at least.”

“Why not?” Caleb demanded trying, and failing, to keep the impatience out of his voice.

“I’m still afraid,” Caduceus said simply.

“You-“ Caleb began in frustration, “This is not the time, not-“ he broke off, composing himself, then said, bluntly, “You’ve proved your point, this is not necessary.”

Somehow, even while half-drowning, Caduceus managed to give him a stern look, “Not everything that happens is targeted at you, you know,” he said.”

“I never implied that-“ he began, but Caduceus interrupted.

“I’m not doing this to prove a point to you, I’m-“ he broke off, head briefly submerged by a wave, stuffing salt water into his mouth and smothering his words. “I’m doing it,” he ploughed on valiantly, choking a little as he spit up the water, “Because I need to learn and I need to not be afraid of this. ‘Specially since we’ll probably be in it again tomorrow.”

Caleb was quite impressed he’d managed to get any of that out at all in between bouts of coughing and spluttering while half-drowning. Not to mention more than a little humbled.

“But does it have to be done now?” he pressed, reasonably.

“No time like the present,” Caduceus said, “Something my father taught me.”

“No, there are better times,” Caleb insisted, “Times you can see, for example.”

“No,” Caduceus said, firmly, flailing stubbornly, “I could be in her again tomorrow with no time to prepare or practice. Or I could be struck by lightning and never get the chance.” He was ducked beneath another wave and popped up again, adding with a splutter, “Or I could drown tonight.”

Caleb cursed again under his breath in Zemnian. He was learning many things about the firbolg this evening. Prominent was the fact he had his own particular brand of stubbornness that nothing could overcome.

“Give me a moment,” he called irritably over the side, “And try not to drown.”

“Will do,” floated up to him amid splashing.

Still grumbling under his breath, Caleb stripped himself down to shirt and trousers, too, shrugging his coat and book holsters to the deck.

“Frumpkin, guard,” he ordered the cat.

Frumpkin sat himself down ostentatiously on the coat pile and blinked at him.

That would do.

With that, Caleb too jumped into the ocean.

The water was freezing as he plunged into it, and it took all of his self-control not to scream as the ice cold burned at his skin. It had always seemed strange to him. For all the ravishing, devouring power of a flame, it could not burn like ice.

He surfaced and gasped, but forced himself to take deep breaths and not panic or seize up. Caleb cursed again and shook his head like a dog to get the hair out of his eyes.

“Nice of you to join me,” Caduceus said, smiling for some reason, “The water’s lovely.”

“It is not,” Caleb spat, teeth chattering, “It feels like death.”

“Yeah,” Cad agreed, “I just always wanted to say that.

Caleb sighed and moved towards the still flailing firbolg. “Come here,” he said, floating close enough to touch him. “Stop flapping, you are not a bird,” he instructed, “Besides, all that flailing about will only tire you, which means you will only drown faster.”

“You’re good at this,” Caduceus said, so mildly Caleb almost missed the sarcasm. Almost.

Huffing, Caleb chose to ignore the jibe, noticing that, in spite of his words, Caduceus wasn’t flapping about nearly as much as before, though he was now beginning to sink, and seemed distinctly dissatisfied by it.

Every time his head dipped beneath the waves he desperately flapped his arms as though hoping to take flight and escape the sea altogether.

“Calm down,” Caleb said, trying to make his voice low and soothing. “And lie back, flat, as though you were on a bed,” he said, echoing advice that had been given to him a long time ago.

Caduceus glanced at him, not entirely with suspicion, more a deep uncertainty in his eyes.

“Trust me,” Caleb coaxed, “You are safe, I will not let anything happen to you.”

It had been so long since he’d said those words and meant them. He hadn’t been safe for anyone to be around in what felt like several lifetimes. In truth, he still wasn’t, not entirely. But in the moment, he meant them. Caduceus seemed to know that and, nodding he did as he was told, though he still looked distinctly uncomfortable about it.

Caleb bobbed closer and slid a hand under him, but it was far more a psychological support for Clay than a physical one, the ocean was doing most of the work for him.

“There,” Caleb said quietly, feeling Clay relax a little, realising that he was all right. “You will float naturally in this position, especially in the ocean, due to the salt,” he explained in a low, measured voice. “If you are in difficulty in the water, stay calm, and allow yourself to float.”

“Huh,” Caduceus said. Caleb carefully removed his hand and the big firbolg flailed in sudden fright for a moment before settling and continuing to float. “Well that’s neat,” he muttered absently, and Caleb smiled again.

“Your body will follow your head in water,” he said, gently tilting Caduceus’ head up towards the star-spattered sky, “Look up towards the sun and you should be okay.”

“Thanks, Caleb,” Caduceus rumbled, sounding much calmer and happier already.

“You are welcome.”

“You know, this is actually kinda nice,” Clay said, his eyes closed now, his arms outstretched as though he really was flying.

“Ja, it is,” Caleb agreed flipping onto his back and mirroring Clay.

He gripped his wrist with one hand and the ship’s rigging with the other to stop them becoming separated and drifting away into the depths of the ocean. But apart from his tethers, he simply let himself be.

“It feels like...Like freedom,” he breathed softly, not sure why he was telling Caduceus, but going on anyway, “If I close my ees like this, it feels as though I am no longer here, as though the world no longer exists and I am alone in an endless soft sky where there is no pain. There is only me. And oblivion.”

“Yeah,” Caduceus murmured, and Caleb felt him shiver slightly. “I don’t know if I’d want to live in a world with just me and...Nothing,” Clay said, thoughtfully.

“It has its merits,” Caleb said, bitterly, without thinking.

“Well, sure,” Caduceus said, “But I would miss some things. My home. My work. My family. My tea. I think I might even miss all of you, too, and everything that’s happened. Some of it was pretty terrible, sure, but a lot of it was pretty great.”

Caleb relaxed as Caduceus lapsed into silence. He had been tensed, waiting for him to push him on what he’d just said, but to his relief, he didn’t say anything more, and allowed the silence to stretch into a comfortable moment of peace between them.

After a long time of drifting together in the darkness, however, Clay said, “Who taught you all this? Fjord?”

Caleb huffed a soft laugh at that. “No, he said, “A good guess, but no, it was not Fjord. It was my mother, actually.” In spite of himself, he smiled, still able to hear her cool, measured voice instructing him. “She grew up in a coastal shipping town, and she insisted that I know how to swim properly. She said it may come in useful for me some day.” His mouth twisted into a slight smile at the thought. “I doubt she had all this in mind when she was teaching me.”

“She was right, though,” Caduceus observed, lightly.

“She was,” Caleb murmured quietly. “About so many things.”

He wished he could tell her that.

Caduceus once again, to his relief, allowed silence to blossom between them. It went unbroken so long that something like peace settled over Caleb like a warm blanket on a cold, winter night. He felt he could almost have drifted into sleep at last.

He no longer felt the frigid sting of the ocean. He felt calm, and quiet, and good.

Then he felt Caduceus jostling him.

“Come on,” he said in a low voice.

Caleb made an irritable noise halfway between a groan and a growl.

“We need to get out and dry off, “Clay coaxed, more insistently.

Caleb di not want to open his eyes. He did not want the world and all its horrors to be real once more. He wanted to linger in this sweet, dreamlike oblivion just a little longer.

“Caleb,” Caduceus said, sounding urgent now, “The water’s too cold, come on, we need to heat you up.”

Reluctantly, Caleb let his eyes flutter open. The world and all his pain flooded back. He reminded himself that he deserved it.

“Okay,” he mumbled, a little thickly.

He felt heavy, and sluggish, and Caduceus had to help him as they made their way back to the ship and climbed back on board. Now that he was out of the water he realised just how cold he was, shivering violently and uncontrollably as he spilled onto the deck in a heap.

Frumpkin trotted over, meowing and nuzzling him in concern.

“Here,” cad said, gently draping Caleb’s dry coat around him and picking up Caleb’s books from the deck. “It’s okay, I’ll look after him,” he told Frumpkin reassuringly. Then, to Caleb, he said softly, “Come on,” he said, leading him firmly below decks and into his cabin.

A fragrant aroma filled it from all the different teas and spices he had, but it was not unpleasant. Caduceus steered him towards the bed and nudged him down onto it, ignoring his vague, slightly slurred protests about soaking his blankets.

Then he leaned over him and cast a spell on the metal bed frame. At once, it glowed red hot. Caleb sighed and leaned into the warmth like a plant stretching towards the sun’s light.

“Careful, not too close,” Caduceus said, pausing in what he was doing to tug Caleb gently away from the metal.

A moment later, or so it seemed to him, Caleb had a steaming cup of tea in his hands. “There we go,” Caduceus said soothingly, wrapping another blanket around Caleb’s shoulders.

The fussing felt unnecessary, and he wanted to say so, but was feeling very lethargic and sleepy all of a sudden, and couldn’t summon the energy to do so.

“Sorry about that,” Clay said, sitting down next to Caleb with a mug of tea of his own. “Forgot you couldn’t last in the cold quite so well. No fur.” Caleb nodded vaguely in agreement, though this wasn’t making much sense to him at the moment. “You should be fine now, though,” he reassured him, patting Caleb gently on the shoulder.

Frumpkin jumped lightly onto the bed, purring loudly, and nuzzled closer to Caleb. Clay ran a big, gentle hand along his back and his purring grew louder.

Caleb nodded vaguely again, absently patting Frumpkin on the top of the head.

Some distant part of his brain was screaming at him to be more wary, to keep his wits about him. But it was very difficult to feel that way around Caduceus. At last, when he felt able to speak again he said, “You are a very good person, Mister Clay.”

The firbolg smiled gently and said, “Thank you. So are you, Mister Caleb.”

Caleb shook his head vigorously, “no,” he protested,” I am a piece of shit.”

“Well,” Clay said, apparently considering this, “Shit is technically pretty useful.” Caleb blinked at him, wondering if he was starting to hallucinate. “Great fertiliser,” he added, matter-of-factly.

Caleb stared at him for a long moment. Then he started to laugh, only a little hysterical. He only stepped when he ached too much to draw in the breath required to continue.

“I think I am going to like you, Mister Clay,” he said, finally.

“You don’t already?” Caduceus said with a half smile. Caleb replied with a crooked smile but said nothing.

“I think,” he said, hoarsely, feeling suddenly lightheaded and heavy all at once, “I am going to sleep now.”

He registered, dimly, that he was still in Caduceus’ cabin in Caduceus’ bed, and should move to his own. But his body felt as though his bones had turned to lead, and he was slumping sideways onto the pillows.

“That’s fine,” Caduceus said, a smile in his voice.

That was the last thing Caleb heard before sinking, finally, into his temporary oblivion.

#critical role #clayleb #caleb widogast #caduceus clay #caduceus x caleb #text post tag #clayleb fic #my fic #taliesin said on talks that caduceus would face his fear of the ocean after nearly drowning #and this is my shippy clayleb take on how that happened #long post #mine

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lacrossepapi · 5 years

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Hold Your Devil By His Spoke

Hi! This is my gift to @tahlreth for the @stetersecretsanta exchange! I went way deep off the prompt for this so uh I hope you like it and if you dont thats okay cause I wrote you another one!

Ao3: Link Words:3099 Chapters: 1/1

The earth here still remembered his presence, the branches gently caressing him as he treaded softly underneath. The Beacon Hills Forest Preserve would always remember him and the taste of his family’s blood, though it was different now, changed forever by the feet of strangers. He found himself growling at the amount of garbage he could smell in his homeland.

Tourists.

The thought caused him to growl again. Who let these strangers trample this powerful, untamed land, so charged he could practically feel it thrumming beneath him?

This was Peter Hale’s home and the land knew it.

Approaching the ruins of his family’s once magnificent plantation would never be easy, but Peter was a resilient man. He’d been left standing after his home had burned and he would still be standing after the world was bathed in Hellfire and Brimstone. The Lord taketh away, but he would be giving eventually, if he didn’t Peter would just have to start taking.

Peter leaned against an old oak when his ears picked up the sound of a rumbling jeep. The only cars allowed in the preserve were the law and the handsome ranger Peter had glimpsed through a window sleeping on his desk when he’d entered the preserve. Peter would bet his inheritance that the Jeep rumbling towards him was not the law.

I said Lord, don't have mercy on me I'm looking for a light in the darkest of streets I said Lord, don't you have mercy on me I'm looking for a light in the darkest of streets

Peter rolled his eyes at the boy who drove past singing at the top of his lungs. Definitely not the law.

He sneaked through the overgrown grass, following the loud rumbling jeep with its loud caterwauling driver. This road went to the old Hale plantation and nowhere else, Peter felt anger wrap around him like a well known lover. Why did this loud annoying young man think he had any right to sully the god given land his ancestors had owned for generations?

Peter waited on the edge of the clearing till the sun had dipped low and the owls had started rustling in the trees before he finally heard the young man approaching, this time whistling Lonesome Drifter like a proper southern gentleman.

The boy reeked of cleaning chemicals and there was a lightness to him like he’d just caught the prize winning turkey at the fair, Peter didn't’t like it.

Peter turned around and quietly ran through the forest, leaping over rotten stumps as he raced to get ahead of the old jeep.

The sound of brakes screaming like the rapture hurt Peter’s ears but it was worth it.

“Holy shit fire, what the hell are you doin’ in the road there?” the young ranger’s voice called out as he shoved his head out the window to properly look at Peter.

“Afternoon, ranger! I seem to have gotten lost on my way out of this here park. I followed the sound of your singin’ and that ole’ beauty you got there and found the road, but I’m not quite sure where in the hell I am!” Peter hated talking like this.

He might have been born and raised in Beacon County but that didn’t mean he had to put his good education to waste, though a little Southern charm added to some simple ignorance always went a long way.

“Well shit, yeah I’ll take ya back to the ranger’s station. Promise not to tell anyone you got lost in my woods though, sir!” the ranger gave him a bright charming smile, but Peter knew the smell of shit by heart and this boy stunk like a pig pen.

Peter smiled back at the boy and lifted himself into the Jeep with a quiet grunt. Something was off about this young man and Peter wanted to know what he was doing in the Hale mansion.

“I was tryin’ to see the haunted house y'all got out here but I got dreadfully lost. Have you been?”

“Why yes I have, I’m comin’ from the old Hale house right now.” the ranger’s tone had lost its cheery edge.

“What’s it like?”

“Empty”

“Well it’s not empty if you’re in it right?” Peter laughed a charming sound.

“No, I guess not.” Now the ranger sounded plum irritated.

“So, what were you doing up there?” Peter asked casually.

“I was just makin’ sure the teenagers weren’t drinkin’ in there again.”

“Kids these days are much wilder than my cousins and I were.” Peter chuckled.

“Well sugar we’re here. Is your car close?” The ranger was all smiles once again now that Peter had backed off the topic of the Hale mansion.

“I walked here actually. Thanks for the ride, darlin.” Peter smiled before gasping, “I’m so rude! I didn’t even ask your name!”

“It’s Stiles Stilinski, sir. And yours?” Stiles asked curiously once they were both stand out in front of the jeep.

“Peter.”

Stiles smiled his fakest smiled yet and said, “Well nice to meet you Peter No-Last-Name. Next time you want to go off the trails in my woods take a guide.”

With those parting words the ranger turned and entered the little station.

Peter would have to monitor this boy with his shiny smiles and lifeless intelligent eyes, something wasn’t right here.

The humidity hung through the air like a veil in Beacon Hills, one had to cross the veil with every step. Peter had never experienced the powerful feeling anywhere else. The sun made its presence overwhelmingly known throughout Peter’s day of crouching behind beat up two-door trucks and large well manicured shrubbery.

The young ranger lived an ordinary life, if one didn’t noticed the emptiness in his eyes or the way his aura screamed Danger. There was a sparking, angry energy wrapped around the man that the sweet, God fearing residents of Beacon Hills didn’t seem to notice. Peter could see it’s tendrils slithering towards people the longer Stiles talked to them, could see the way Stiles’ hands twitched when it touched someone.

During the day Stiles Stilinski was the son of the good sheriff that’d left this world too soon and the preserve ranger who kept the kids out of trouble. He was the epitome of a good southern boy and the townsfolk ate out his hand.

“This boy stinks more than a donkey in August heat.” Peter mumurred to himself once he’d finally sat down in the air conditioned Country Kitchen.

He’d been so preoccupied trying to find something that wasn’t disgustingly bad for the body that he had missed the door opening, but there was no way Peter could miss the electric taste of Stiles’ presence. His blue eyes flashed once before he looked up to smile charmingly at the other man.

“Well hello there, handsome ranger.” “Peter No-Last-Name I oughtta call your momma for that shameless flattery.” Stiles’ grin was more predatory than playful like a hyena on the hunt.

“She’s dead, bless her soul, so she’d be kind of hard to reach just for a tattlin’.” Peter had casually thrown it out to gauge Stiles’ reaction, but the man just shrugged.

“Mine’s gone too, bless her soul, don’t mean I can’t go tattlin’ anyways.” he flashed a cheeky grin.

“‘What can I get you two lovely boys?” The waitress’ appearance almost startled Peter, he’d been so wrapped up in his banter with Stiles he hadn’t noticed her approaching.

Stiles flashed one more sharp grin at Peter before his smile became sweet as molasses, “Can I get the Country Fried Chicken with grits and Country Gravy on both of those please, honey.”

“Sure thing sugar. What you want to drink?”

“Now darlin’ you ought to know I’d want a nice cold sweet tea.” Stiles replied with a wink.

The waitress giggled and hit his shoulder lightly before calling him a flatterer with the devil’s tongue.

Peter was enraptured by the display of effortless charm Stiles was putting on, now he just knew it was all candy coated lies.

“I’ll have the same please.”

“Coming right up, hun. Yall behave while I’m gone” she left them with a wink of her own and danced across the dining room to get to the kitchen.

“You’re as slippery as a snake.” Stiles’ words caught Peter off guard with their frigid delivery.

“Now why would you say a thing like that to a practical stranger?” Peter asked, leaning forward to rest his chin on his fist and inclining an eyebrow.

“Well, we aren’t exactly strangers are we Peter David Hale?” Stiles mirrored Peter’ body language while Peter tried not to react.

“No I guess we are not Mieczyslaw Jonathan Stilinski.” Peter smirked at the boy.

“Did you practice my name in the mirror for your big villain reveal?”

“Well you did the big villain reveal first now didn’t you? Are either of us an actual villain Stiles?”

The smile dropped from Stiles’ face and his expression turned stormy, Peter could feel the crackling tenders approaching him.

“I’d appreciate if your little friends didn’t leech my energy.” Peter finally got Stiles to show surprise with that reveal.

“Interesting.”

The men sat in charged silence until their waitress returned for refills and their plates.

“Thank you ma’am.” Peter smiled at the waitress, causing her to blush.

“The two of you could rule the world with your flattery alone.” The waitress smiled at both of them one more time before departing again.

“We would be formidable.” Stiles sounded like he was contemplating something.

“I am intrigued to see exactly what you’re doing out in those woods, ranger.”

Stiles nodded, “Well it looks like I’m takin’ ya out there, so hurry up now and finish your grits.”

Peter wasn’t foolish, he told the ranger he would meet him at the Hale mansion on his own. The jeep was a good place to try to incapacitate him and Peter wasn’t going to give Stiles the chance.

Peter let the preserve wrap around him once more as he hiked to the Hale mansion. The moss covered trees reached out to caress Peter as he passed, the wind moaning his family name. Peter’s blood was singing in his veins as he approached the clearing around his old home.

The younger man was leaning against his jeep singingly loudly.

Don’t care if he’s guilty, don’t care if he’s not

He’s good and he’s bad and he’s all that I’ve got

Oh Lord, Oh Lord, I’m begging you please

Don’t take that sinner from me

Oh don’t take that sinner from me

Peter entered the clearing as the boy finished.

“Perfect timing the song is just ending.” Stiles grinned before leaning in the window of his Jeep to turn it off.

Peter took a moment to get a good look at the ranger’s ass before he pushed his attraction aside and remembered this evening was most likely going to end in murder, and he wasn’t as confident that he’d win as he’d like to be.

“Well if you’re done looking at my rump let me show you what I’ve been doing out here.” Stiles’ grin and eyes were sharp with mischief.

“It’s a nice ass to look at darlin’.”

Stiles’ laughter echoed in the hollow bones of Peter’s childhood home. Peter wasn’t stupid enough to lead like Stiles was trying to make him, this was no longer the place of his memories Stiles had taken this skeleton and given it life again. Peter would not step blindly in this place, especially when he glimpsed a tripwire near the entrance. Stiles had set up traps but the more of them Peter noticed the more he also noticed the traps were set to spring as if to keep someone in than to keep someone out.

“Why are there so many traps?”

“You have keen eyes Peter Hale.”

Stiles’ response offered no answers and Peter rolled his eyes at the man’s back. Peter took a moment to let his shift wash over his eyes, with his wolf eyes he could see many many traps all over the house. Peter let the shift fall away before Stiles could see, but wasn’t sure the man hadn’t already figured it out anyways.

The deeper they went the more Peter’s skin started to crawl, he wasn’t sure he was ready to enter the room his entire family had died in. The room he’d snapped many of the human’s necks so they would have to feel the flames. The room he’d said goodbye to not only every member of his family, but also to the boy he’d been.

Never again would Peter be caught unaware.

As they descended the steps to the cellar Stiles began his story, “It started when I was about sixteen. My father and I had known the Hale fire had been arson, but my pa wouldn’t pursue it further. I think it was because the officials that did look into it usually ended up moving away and becoming mysteriously wealthy or they ended up dead. Little did I know that pops had been looking into it the whole time. I found his files the summer before junior year, just before he passed, may he rest in peace. In those files the name Kate Argent was circled, she was someone on the periphery of all the investigations, all the suspects had been seen at least once with Kate. Dad was leaving an unknown location in his cruiser when a semi hit him head on.” Stiles stopped at the base of the stairs and took a breath.

He didn’t turn any lights on, it was too dark for even Peter’s eyes meaning he had no idea where Stiles was now or what was going to happen now that they had reached the cellar.

“That unknown location wasn’t so mysterious when you had all of the puzzle pieces. I was young then, mind you, but I ended Gerard and Kate Argent a month after they’d made me bury another parent. I wish it’d been long and painful. I wish that for both of us Peter. They deserved so much worse than they got, but I was full of so much rage back then. I poisoned them. Potassium Chloride for Gerard and Succinylcholine for Kate. He was old so a heart attack wasn’t even worth lookin’ into and all it took was a little evidence planting to make Kate’s asphyxiation and paralysis look like an allergic reaction. Did you know that Kate was allergic to some of Gerard’s medicine? The report says that after she found her father dead she took all of his medicine and killed herself. How tragic.”

Peter’s entire body was rigid with tension, he didn’t like not knowing where Stiles was, but he needed to hear the rest of the story.

“After those two were gone I simply broke in and went through their files. Did you know werewolves are real, Peter David Hale? Are you named after David in this bible or David Kessler? Has the big American werewolf even been to London?”

“My name is biblical, Mieczysław.” Peter’s words floated out into the dark abyss around him.

“How boring.”

Suddenly Stiles was pressed against Peter’s body, his lips crashing into Peter’s. Peter wrapped his arms around the lithe body, his hands exploring every inch of Stiles that they could reach. The kiss was all consuming and full of a fire he didn’t know he still had in him. When Stiles stepped back and out of reach Peter couldn’t stop the high pitched whine that escaped him.

Stiles made a contemplative sound before saying quietly, almost like he was making a note to himself, “Needy.”

Before Peter could be offended Stiles continued, “I just wanted to taste you before I showed you. I didn’t want to kill you before I kissed you. I don’t want to kill you, Peter. I hope I don’t have to.”

With that Stiles finally turned the lights on, it took a moment for Peter’s eyes to adjust but when they did he gasped.

The entire cellar had been turned into a torture room, but Peter’s attention was drawn elsewhere before he could properly inspect the room. In the middle of the room was a bloodied stump of a man, who was on the cusp of death his heartbeat so quiet and slow Peter hadn’t heard it.

“And who is this unfortunate soul?”

“He raped three girls this summer.”

“And why is he still alive?”

“I was going to kill him that day I ran into you but my sparks told me I was being watched.”

Peter hummed, “So you did know. Interesting.”

“Oh baby you’re easier than pie. I saw through your little tourist facade almost instantly.”

Peter growled and stepped closer, noting that the sound aroused Stiles, “You’re little Blessed Ranger routine is flimsy at best.”

Stiles laughed before he pulled Peter forward by his belt loops. “So you aren’t gonna make me kill you?”

“You couldn’t catch me much less kill me, but no little ranger. I seem to have taken a shinin’ to you.”

They kissed once more before Stiles stepped away, “Wanna help me clean this up?”

“You made the mess darlin’, you can finish up. I’d like to watch you work.”

Stiles grinned sharp, “You just wanna stare at my ass.”

Peter flashed his eyes with a low rumble, “Not just that.”

Stiles shivered much to Peter’s delight.

“Well fine. You watch but next time you’re helpin’. Hit play if you will.” Stiles gestured to the speaker on the far counter.

I might be a part of this Ripple on water from a lonesome drip A fallen tree that witness me I'm alone, him and me

Peter knew this song and joined in with Stiles’ singing.

And then life itself could not aspire To have someone be so admired I threw creation to my king With the silence broken by a whispered, wind All of this can be broken All of this can be broken Hold your devil by his spoke and spin him to the ground

Their voices danced and spun around each other as the melody overshadowed the muffled screams of a soon to be dead rapist. The tree outside the Hale mansion sang their own song of triumph as the spark and the wolf finally joined. The land had called for a savior and had received two broken men ready to watch the world crumble down around them. They’d withstood catastrophe and now it was their turn to reap destruction on those unworthy of town they called home.

#steter #stetersecretsanta #southern gothic #kyla writes #kyla creates

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canadiankazz · 5 years

Text

The Fourth Time - An L.A. by Night fanfic

Jasper and Annabelle's relationship has taken a lot of intimate steps lately, but when she lets him take the reins, so to speak, and let his more dominant side out, they manage to find a way to get even more pleasure out of it.

SPOILERS for the end of Campaign 1 including the one-shots. This has gone off canon, so consider this an AU. It's worth reading Part 1 (The First Time), Part 2 (The Second Time) and Part 3 (The Third Time) before you read this. This fic takes place almost directly after The Third Time. This was written before the premiere of Season 2, Episode 2.

I lay no claim to owning any of the characters involved. Things are gonna get more kinky than they have been in this series so far from here on out. We are way past tame wrist biting now. We’re getting into some mild BDSM stuff in this part.

As always, special thanks to @cravatfiend for the support and encouragement during the writing of the drafts. When I asked them for a safe word, they picked the best one for Annabelle. I had the privilege of watching them read this for the first time and all they could say was "...Damn!" High praise, indeed.

All my love, also, to @gokaiyellow for their additional input, @fluffy-wookiees for being adorable, and to everyone else who has enjoyed this series so far. There are many more parts to come after this one, no worries. (As of posting, I’m currently finishing writing part 8 with ideas for part 9!)

Also posted to the author's Ao3.

First posted Feb, 2, 2019.

The Entire ‘Feeds From’ Master List Can be Found Here

The Fourth Time

Annabelle was having a nightmare. She was running for her life through a dark sewer. Her shoes splashed through the filth. Rats squeaked and scattered in a panic as she charged forwards. Behind her, she could hear a dreadful snarling echoing through the tunnel. She couldn’t see the monster chasing her, but she could hear it. Its hungry growling was getting closer and closer. When, not if, but when it caught her, it was going to rip her apart and eat her alive. Her eyes scanned the walls and curved ceiling frantically for a ladder or escape hatch up to the streets above. There! A ladder appeared to her right. She climbed it as fast as she could, but right when she was about to push up through the manhole cover, she felt sharp claws grab her leg and pull her back down. She screamed.

Annabelle woke with a shudder. Her Beast strained in her chest and throat. The room she was in was dark. There were no windows. She was on her side facing a blank wall. She could feel someone else's body pressed against her back and a long arm curved cosily around her side and stomach that was not her own. There was no breath or body heat coming from the person behind her.

Then she remembered. She was in Jasper's sanctum again. In his bed, again. And he had fed on her last night, again. And now...

She tried to turn her head to look at him without disturbing him. His arm tightened around her a little.

“Jasper?” she whispered.

“Mm.”

He was awake. Annabelle relaxed a little and went back to looking at the wall. He seemed comfortable where he was and so was she, to her mild surprise. Their relationship had taken many great leaps these past few months.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey,” he mumbled into her hair.

“Sleep well?”

“Like the dead.”

She rolled her eyes and poked his arm. “Ha. Ha.”

She heard him snarl softly in her ear as he smiled.

“You need a bigger bed,” she told him.

“Why?”

“Because we only barely fit on it.”

“I thought that this was only going to be a temporary thing,” he said, sounding amused. “Something to tie me over for a little while.”

“Well, clearly... it's not,” Annabelle said softly.

“We can't keep doing this forever,” he told her. His voice was gentle, but firm. “The others are going to find out, and... it's not a healthy relationship.”

Annabelle frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

“What I mean is that...” he sighed, thinking of what to say. She felt him roll back slightly away from her. “It's one sided.”

“No... you feed from me sometimes and let me sleep in your bed sometimes, that's fair.”

“But you don't have to sleep here.”

“You don't have to feed from me either, but here we are,” Annabelle said pointedly. She sighed and touched his hand. “I don't want to argue with you. I... I am happy for this to continue as long as you want. I don't feel like it's one sided, Jasper. I thought you liked it... Liked me.”

“I do,” he admitted softly, “but that’s the problem. I think I’m liking it too much and... that scares me.”

Annabelle thought she understood now. He had told her that a Kindred feeding from another was a big deal and she got why now. Blood was more than just food for them, it was life, and sharing your life with someone else left a big impact. So too did someone forcibly taking it away. He had been trying to adjust to this new, kinder type of feeding and despite the fact that they had only done it three or four times in the past few months, maybe things were still, on an emotional level, going a little too fast for him. Annabelle awkwardly shifted, rolling over to face him. His hoodie was down. From what little light there was in the bedroom, she could see his pale, gaunt face. “It’s okay,” she said. “Don’t let it scare you. I think I get it though. We’ve been kind of going at my pace a little bit.”

Jasper remained quiet, but gave a slight nod. He could see she was more or less on the right track. He felt it in his blood.

“Okay,” Annabelle sighed slowly. “Do you want some emotional space?”

“I think so. To think things over.”

Annabelle nodded and stroked his arm. Her Vitae has done a good job healing him. “Okay,” she said. She didn’t want to make Jasper uncomfortable in this relationship. “How about this... if you want to do this again, you call me, okay? And we’ll do it however you want to.”

“Okay,” Jasper said. He lent forward a little and his forehead touched Annabelle’s for a brief, tender moment. “Thank you,” he whispered. Then he rolled over and got out of bed.

Annabelle stayed where she was, not wanting to get up yet. “You still owe me a boon, remember?”

“Mm. True.”

“And I've thought about what I want from you. If anything happens to me, anything really bad, I want you to take care of Mark and Elleanore for me.”

“What do you mean by 'take care of?'” he asked.

“Watch out for them. Make sure they don't get attacked, I guess? Just keep them safe, as best you can.” Her hand found her golden locket around her neck and held it.

Jasper considered this briefly and decided that it wasn't unreasonable. It was certainly less embarrassing than teaching X how to moonwalk. “Alright,” he nodded.

“Thank you,” Annabelle said tenderly.

Then Jasper stretched his long limbs. Annabelle could her his joints crack and pop. She sat up and sighed. She was hungry. She needed to go.

She packed up her laptop and the little plastic candles she had brought the night before. Jasper helped to collect them. “Will I see you again later?” She asked hopefully.

Jasper shrugged. “At some point, yes. I want to explore my labyrinth this week, and I know the others will be tracking down those other Kindred who attacked us the other night. We should help with that.”

Annabelle nodded. She was angry that her group had been attacked and she hadn't been there to help. At least she could help in the aftermath. She dreaded to think what would have become of Jasper if she hadn't gotten to him when she did. “Yeah.”

An invisible Jasper walked Annabelle to Griffith College, then they parted ways. They both had a lot to do.

Jasper kept himself busy over the next few weeks. He explored his labyrinth. He visited Eva. He received and carried out more jobs for Baron Abrams. All the while, Annabelle's movements and moods were in the back of his mind. The longer he went without feeding on her, the weaker his bond with her became. Part of him missed that. He found himself delaying finding another more permanent solution to his empty larder. He knew that eventually he would have to go back to his more aggressive feeding style, but he also knew he would miss having someone give him their honest and thoughtful consent. It made him feel a tiny bit less like a monster.

That got him thinking. Despite himself, he started to formulate a plan, purely hypothetical, of how his next feeding session with Annabelle could go. She had asked him to come back to her when he was ready to initiate things again and had said that they could do things his way if they wanted to. He had genuinely appreciated that. There was something dominant about him that was asking to be satisfied. Every time it came down to the act of feeding in the past, Jasper had been violent and dominant. Until Annabelle came along and offered herself to him, that is. That had changed things. Jasper had become what was for him, very submissive. Nothing wrong with that, of course, but it wasn't what he wanted to be doing all the time, every time.

He was curious, also, about how far he could push Annabelle's boundaries. She was the one who always wanted more and he had been holding back. He knew very well what he was physically capable of and what his Beast demanded of him. The thought of challenging Annabelle, daring her to keep up with him intrigued him. By the time Jasper finished planning the night he had in mind, he knew that he might regret it forever if he didn't try it. The worst that would happen was Annabelle would say no. He might be a little disappointed, but that was nothing new. He waited another few nights, then decided to set his plan in motion.

Annabelle was on her way home when she thought she heard something behind her. She paused, straining her senses, searching for something unseen. At first, there was nothing, then she heard Jasper’s disembodied voice in her ear. “Hey.”

She jumped. “God...!”

“No, just me.” Jasper sounded highly amused.

“Jasper, what are you doing?” She hissed, annoyed at being startled like that.

“I was going to ask you...” he started, then hesitated, possibly reconsidering his words. “Would like to come over tomorrow night for another round?”

Annabelle felt a ghost of a touch on her neck and shoulder, right where he had bitten her last time. She shivered and something deep in her core twisted in the memory of pleasure. “Uhhh... sure,” she said faintly. Her mouth was dry and she swallowed. “Can I ask why? I thought you might not want to any more.”

“I’d been thinking,” Jasper said in her ear with a light snarl, “that there are a few things I would like to try with a consenting individual such as yourself, and I don’t know when I will get the chance to do them again. I would be a fool to not ask.” He put special emphasis on the word ‘consenting.’ His voice was soft and sensual, unusually so, but it was undercut with a thirst that Annabelle recognised.

“Okay, um... how about I come over tomorrow and we’ll talk about it and... see where we go from there,” she said.

“Alright. Come by 3:00,” Jasper replied, “and bring those little plastic candles. And yes... you may sleep over as well.”

Annabelle nodded. “See you then.”

“Oh, one last thing...” she felt Jasper’s lips on her ear and she shivered again, despite herself. “In the meantime, can you think of a safe word, please?”

Annabelle’s eyes went very wide. What on earth could he be planning that would need a safe word? “Uh...” she stammered.

“Do you trust me?”

“Of course. Well, I have to, for us to do this, right?”

“We don’t have to do this,” he reminded her.

“I know, but... I want to.” Annabelle swallowed nervously and steadied her nerves. “Okay. I’ll think of something.”

“Alright. See you tomorrow.”

She didn’t hear him leave, but she hadn’t heard him approach either. She stood there in mild shock for another little while with her hands over her mouth and cheeks. She cursed herself for being as excited as she was. This was going to be very, very interesting. She hurried the rest of the way home.

When Annabelle arrived once again at Jasper's sanctum the next night, she had her bag with her with the plastic candles and her laptop in it. She had fed earlier, as much as she could without killing any one. She was almost beside herself with nervous excitement. Part of her thought that she should be more apprehensive, that she should let someone know where she was just in case things went bad. But she trusted Jasper. He had been very good to her so far, very good indeed, and he didn't seem to want to ruin this relationship they had going. She trusted the control he had over himself. She still believed that, over-all, he wasn't a bad guy.

She knocked on his front door. Jasper answered it quickly. He had been waiting for her in the passage way on the other side again. He was wearing a different black hoodie this night. This one had fewer layers and just a straight zipper up and down. It was casual. Easy to get into and out of. Interesting.

They smiled at each other and Jasper invited her in. She followed him closely back down the long passage way, though she was sure by now she had the route memorised. They caught up with a little small talk. As they got closer to his rooms, Annabelle could hear faint music. It was classical, something with an orchestra and a choir. They weren't singing in English... Latin, maybe? Annabelle wasn't as knowledgeable on her classical pieces. “You're playing music?” She asked, pleased and surprised.

“Yeah, to set a mood.” Jasper smirked at her. She recognised her own line that she had used on him last time she was here.

“Oh, I see,” she chuckled. “What is it?”

“Mozart’s Requiem in D Minor.” Jasper licked his fangs. “Tell me... have you learned Blush of Life yet?”

“Um... yeah. Yes, I have.” Annabelle had used it very successfully around Elleanore. It gave her a pulse, warmed her skin, let her breathe and otherwise seem almost entirely human again. Annabelle tilted her head a little at Jasper, slowly working out what he had planned. “Why?”

His grin was sharp. “I would like you to use it tonight.”

“Oh... yeah, sure. Right now?”

“If you'd like, or we can wait until we get to the bedroom.”

“I'll wait,” she decided. So far, she liked where this was going.

In the bedroom, they set up her candles on the floor as they did last time. The room was soon full of artificial, warm candlelight. The classical music continued in the background, unobtrusive.

“Did you decide on a safe word?” Jasper inquired.

“Yeah. Um... are you familiar with the stoplight method?”

He considered it. “Red, yellow, green?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Green means go, yellow means slow down, and red means stop. It's basic, but effective.”

Jasper nodded. “Alright. We're going to use that tonight. Unless I hear you say 'yellow' or 'red,' I'm going to assume that everything is green.”

“No gags, then, please,” Annabelle specified.

“No,” Jasper agreed. That had never been a part of his plan for tonight.

Annabelle kept glancing at his fangs while he spoke. She couldn’t help it. His eyes had a hungry and excited gleam. She suspected that he and his Beast were working in near harmony tonight. Well, they had their safe word in place. Everything would be okay. She was feeling brave and keen to see how far Jasper was going to push things tonight.

When she was ready, Annabelle nodded and slipped off her red jacket, as was their custom by now. She had worn the good bra again. Jasper recognised the shape of it under her thin tank top. He snarled a little when he smiled.

“On the bed, please,” he gestured to the bed. Annabelle complied, her lips twitching into a little smile. She sat on the bed, then lay back. As she did so, she activated Blush of Life. Her Beast stirred a little, but was still mostly dormant. She glanced at Jasper. He was staring at her with an expression of incredible desire. He came over to her and sat on the bed. He held her hand and seemed to marvel for a few seconds at its warmth. Annabelle's body fell back into the natural rhythm of breathing. Jasper felt her pulse in her wrist. His fingers were very cold by comparison, and felt very dead. He snarled to himself, pleased.

“I don't have Blush of Life,” he explained softly. “I never bothered to learn how to do it. I mean... why would I? Who am I going to try to convince that I'm alive?”

“You still could learn,” Annabelle said. She could think of at least one person he might have used Blush of Life on, if he could, but bringing up that person was very likely going to ruin the mood, so she didn't.

He shook his head. “I could, but it's doubtful.” He seemed to be enjoying just feeling her hands for a moment. The classical music swelled and faded into a new piece of a similar feel to the last, but a faster tempo.

Jasper moved suddenly. With little warning, he was on top of Annabelle, straddling her hips. He had one knee pressed on either side of her ribs. He wasn't very heavy, especially not for a Brujah's strength to support. Annabelle's insides quivered in anticipation. She felt vulnerable, but she remembered all she had to do was say one or two words and he would stop. She understood finally what he had been planning. Jasper looked down at Annabelle, his icy eyes boring into hers. Her heartbeat sped up considerably. Her face flushed. She met his gaze, excited but steady. The degree to which she wanted this to continue bewildered her.

Slowly now, he peeled his hood off his head. Then his hands went to the zipper in the front of his hoodie and he slowly began to tug it down. Annabelle's eyes went wide as Jasper's chest was exposed. He was built of nothing but lean muscle. His flesh was as pale as death save for the starkly contrasting mass of black veins that criss-crossed his body like an insane roadway map. He had no body hair. He unzipped the hoodie down to the bottom, but didn't take it all the way off. This was a compromise, she realised. She had wanted to see what he looked like under his layers for a while, and he had always said no. This was an in-between he was allowing her.

She gave him a warm smile, but when she reached to touch him he stopped her. He gripped one hand in each of his and leaned down over her. He pinned her warm hands and wrists down with his deathly cold hands to the mattress above her head. He continued to watch her, as if daring her to say 'yellow' or 'red.' She didn't. His grip on her was strong. Their faces were close now. Annabelle was breathing hard.

Jasper bared his fangs and growled at her, as if trying to scare her. He was the monster from myth and legend, the deadly black shadow with razor sharp fangs who stalked helpless people at night and she was the young, naive victim. He was perhaps even trying to provoke her one last time into saying their safe word. She did look scared for a moment. There was fear in her eyes, in her Beast, but still she didn’t say either of the words that would make Jasper pull back. A true victim, she was no longer. Annabelle was allowing this to happen.

“Green?” he rasped, edging towards losing control.

“Green,” she nodded and tilted her head to expose her neck. Blood, warm blood, flowed there, and some of it at least, was his for the taking.

The music swelled again in the background as the choir reached a melodramatic crescendo. With a hungry snarl Jasper bit Annabelle hard in the throat. She gasped at the pain. Jasper had good aim. His long, wicked fangs had landed right on her jugular. He bit deep, and his mouth filled with Vitae. She was as sweet, strong and aroused as always, but this time her blood was body temperature. Jasper had never had warm Vitae from another Kindred before. His Beast exalted. He began to drink greedily, keeping an ear open for Annabelle wanting to end this early. He hoped she would not.

The pleasure of the Kiss soon followed, radiating out over Annabelle's body and making her moan. Her eyes rolled back in her skull. She flexed her arms against Jasper, but he still held her down, firmly pinning her to the mattress. Her body, still under the influence of Blush of Life, reacted as it normally would have to intense pleasure. Her heart hammered in her chest. Her pulse raced, sending vital blood into Jasper's hungry mouth. Her brain was very soon dizzy, but she didn't care. Her Beast scrambled, but was soundly ignored in the overwhelming wave of sensations. Annabelle didn't know if it was because of this new, intense situation or the anticipation that had led up to it, but the pleasure this time was near orgasmic. When she felt Jasper bite a little harder in his enthusiasm, it crossed that threshold and she crested with a cry. Annabelle's body trembled uncontrollably underneath Jasper's from her core outwards.

Jasper lingered on Annabelle's throat for a moment or two longer, then pulled his head back with a snarl. His fangs and tongue were painted a deep crimson. Annabelle only barely noticed this. She shivered when he licked her wound closed and he thought he heard her whimper. His Beast whispered at him to continue, that this had been the best he ever had, but he clenched his jaw and ignored it.

Jasper sat up and let her hands go. She didn't move them. She lay there still, breathing hard, eyes closed. Each exhale had a little moan attached to it. He watched her chest heave up and down for a minute. The music faded and changed again to a soprano singing backed by strings and a piano.

Annabelle opened her eyes and saw Jasper watching her. He was still straddling her hips. She smiled up at him. “Wow,” she mumbled. She lowered her hands and rested them on his knees on either side of her body. Jasper didn’t mind. He chuckled at her reaction. “I... mm...” Words were failing her as her blood-deprived brain swam in a haze of endorphins.

“Good?” Jasper confirmed.

Annabelle still couldn’t speak, but she nodded.

Jasper slid carefully off of her and sat on the bed next to her. He hadn't taken a lot of Vitae this time, but what he had taken was potent indeed. His head was also filled with endorphins, mainly from her, but he didn't have the Blush of Life to let his body do anything about it.

“I can't believe you let me do that,” he chuckled softly. He re-zipped up his hoodie, but only part way. He left the top third or so of it open. “I thought for sure you were going to stop me when I pinned you down.”

Annabelle stretched and smiled at him. Other than an internal scolding from her Beast, she was content, still reeling slightly from the pleasures she had been through. “But I didn't.”

Jasper relaxed down next to her on the narrow bed as best he could. He found himself playing a little with her long, black hair. Their bond had deepened again, he knew. At that moment, in that place, he did not care. “You liked it... rather a lot,” he remarked, still amused. His fangs, when Annabelle saw them, were clean now.

“Yeah...” Annabelle marvelled. She covered her face with her hands as embarrassment washed over her. The pleasure this time had been too, too much. “Oh my God!” he heard her muffled giggle.

“What?” Jasper inquired, though he was fully aware of what had happened to her body and why. He was having fun.

Annabelle peeked at him through her fingers. She was grinning. “Is that what you had planned?” she demanded.

“More or less, yes. I'm glad it worked.”

Annabelle groaned softly. “Did you know about... that I would...”

Jasper smirked. “I kind of suspected... but no, but it was a pleasant surprise.” He stroked a cold, pale hand down her arm to her chest, where it settled over her still-beating heart.

“Boy, I'll say,” Annabelle agreed.

Feeling Annabelle's magically enforced heartbeat made Jasper get very quiet and suddenly a little introverted. His eyes found the gold locket hanging around Annabelle's neck and the silver ring on her finger and he pulled his hand back. He got up and went to turn off the music and the lights so that they could settle into bed.

When dawn broke over the City of Angels, the majority of the population arose to begin their day of work and school and life, but Jasper and Annabelle were once again literally dead to the world. The two vampires shared the little bed, holding each other. Where their relationship would take them now, neither of them knew, but in that moment at least, they were content.

#l.a. by night #la by night #vampire the masquerade #fanfic #fanfiction #jasper/annabelle #i think this is my favourite part so far #vampire smut #jaspabelle #jasper #annabelle #times jasper fed from annabelle

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silvermp · 7 years

Text

Flock Together - Part 7

-Read HERE on AO3-

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part7)

The next few days were terse, full of healing and quiet mourning for the crows who hadn’t made it back. Kuroko learned through observation that it was much easier to kill a halfblood, than a full demon.

The difference, Chiyobi explained, was that a Halfblood still had a crow’s physical body - still needed a physical body . Full blooded demons could heal from just about any injury, so long as their sense of ‘ self’ remained unharmed. Somewhere along the line, a demon had decided to give a part of itself up to a yet-unhatched crow egg, and the resulting hatchling walked the line between the two.

Some halfbloods just went on to live as normal, albeit uncannily intelligent, crows. They could use their demonic bloodline just fine, but wouldn’t be able to bud off a chunk of themselves in the same way - they’d have to mate, to have children. The bloodline would then dilute again and again and again until the only sign the crow had any demonic ancestry was a fondness for shadows and above-average intelligence. Halfbloods could mate with each other, but so long as the children would never lose their need for a body, and they’d always be considered ‘half’.

Holy shit she thought to herself. That made so much sense .

“Could a crow demon, then… just give a chunk of themselves to something that wasn’t a crow?”

Chiyobi had given her the strangest look. Somewhere between surprised and revolted at the idea. Her response was a sharp “No.”

No further explanation was given.

Tero and Kokoro had become absent again, but several of the other crows had become more friendly with her. They shared meals, and no longer left or paused conversations when she visited a group clustered together. Not exactly welcomed into the conversation, per se, but not outright pushed away either.

She was still an outsider - but not a threat.

In the process, Chiyobi had grown oddly distant.

Kokoro had begun sending her out on patrols, too. She found it difficult to keep up with the relentless wings of her peers, their conspicuous lack of a need to breathe becoming more obvious the more she lagged behind. There were assholes who forged on, of course, and she started to hate a particularly petty crow, but more often than not, they’d notice and slow down a bit. Sometimes they even stopped to ‘investigate’ some ‘suspicious activity’ that always turned out to be some leftover human trinket or a trick of the light. She still appreciated the breaks where she could get them.

“Normally your kind don’t get sent on border patrols.” A tall bird confided in her one evening, staring out across the treetops from where they perched together.

“Area sweeps, sure, but it’s more efficient just to send us to circle the whole marsh. We didn’t expect much from you.”

“Did you change your mind?”

Himitsua tilted her head, blinking slowly at her.

“You’re a better than expected, but still slow, so- no.” Oof. Blunt.

She wilted a little, expecting something a bit more positive.

“But…” the crow continued, stretching her wings, “Your Listening range is impressive. My brother is alive, because of your quick orders.”

She almost brought up the fact that it was her mother issuing them, but thought better of it. She should just take the appreciation and let it lie. As the small patrol lifted off into the air again, Kuroko wondered how everyone just suddenly knew about the ‘half’ thing. Was it really that obvious?

Yes. She decided, landing back on the bit of nest she had claimed after night had truly fallen, sucking in air like her life depended on it. The rest of her patrol casually scattered across the grove, landing without a feather out of place. She absolutely was that obvious .

But… something was bothering her about the whole situation, despite the growing comfort around the others of her kind. It tickled the back of her memory, like a long-forgotten smell, or a feather just barely out of place. Distracting, but not quite prominent enough to pinpoint.

“Kuroko, please join me at the line Mangolia”

She perked up at the sound of her mother’s voice, shaking off the exhaustion with a few quick breaths and taking off again. Growing agility let her weave neatly between massive maze that was becoming familiar. Sharp talons snagged a certain piece of bark in just the right way that she could scoot neatly between two tightly spaced branches.

Even in the dead of night, when fog obscured the stars, she could still manage to maneuver around these trees. Of course, she still missed her nest, and the memory of Akahito’s friendly growl left a sad sort of ache in her chest, but… she could life here, probably.

It was… becoming home.

The group of crows perched around her mother was not so familiar.

“Now that everyone’s here, we can begin.” Oh, good, she hadn’t missed anything.

Kokoro took a long breath, the feathers in her neck maintaining a constant, irritated sort of fluff. Tero stood beside her, looking just as displeased.

“In return for their aid during last week’s battle, the Cranes have named their compensation.” Black talons dug into her branch perhaps a bit harder than strictly required.

“We will help their contracted humans, in a dispute.”

Outraged sputters broke out across the tree, several objections voiced at once. Beside Kuroko, Himitsua just hissed softly, reminiscent of a quietly furious snake.

Faster than Kuroko could properly track, a shadow flickered across her mother’s feathers, and the noises silenced.

“We will not be participating in any skirmishes.” She rasped, looking around at them. “Our losses were quite enough, and they know this. We will be messengers only .” A few soft whispers broke out, and then quieted again.

“Kuroko,” She straightened. “This is where you come in. Tero will lead the group, but you’ll keep us all connected. Report back to me each night, and make sure messages get passed as they are meant to.”

Kuroko nodded sharply, taking a quick breath and steadying herself.

Himitsua was chosen for her speed. Tero as the leader, and three other birds she had only ever briefly met.

Kokoro told them to meet the Cranes at the river’s main bend, tomorrow morning. They’d escort the group and explain further, from there.

“Kuroko, please stay behind. Everyone else, good luck, and good night.”

Her mother watched the other crows fly up and out of the lone Mangolia, seeming to not even pay attention to her daughter for a long moment.

“Please let me know everything the Cranes tell you.” She murmured, still staring up at the departing wings. “Allies or not, I don’t trust them, and I certainly don’t trust their humans. If anything goes wrong, if- if anyone gets hurt, you are to tell me immediately, and I’ll get you out of there.”

Kuroko nodded, swallowing. That did, actually, make her feel a little better. But-

“There’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

Kokoro turned her head, finally facing her head-on.

“Back when I was… just hatched, you said that you had eaten my siblings for not having enough Chakra, and...that laying eggs was hard. Why did you say that?”

Her mother watched her for a long moment, before looking away, beak moving like she wanted to say something, but remaining silent..

“You said I’m ‘half’, right? That means-” “I know what that means”

‘Kuroko blinked in surprise at the interruption, feeling apprehensive as her mother shifted and ruffled her feathers, re-positioning her wings and otherwise delaying. Kuroko sucked in a small breath as it occurred to her.

“I’m not, am I?”

Black eyes glanced at her soft murmur, and then closed with a soft nod.

“I’m not a halfblood. You-, I-” She snapped her beak shut, bristling as frustration and confusion built up into a strange sort of anger. “Why did you want them to think I was half ? More importantly, Why do I still need to breathe?! ”

Kokoro wouldn’t look at her.

“I don’t know.”

“You dont-” Kuroko cut herself off and hissed, shifting side to side and plucking up bits of bark to toss to the ground.She was more confused than angry, pouring over the details she had amassed about the differences.

Demons don’t need a physical body .

“Was that why the foxes were so bullheaded? They just assumed I could suddenly stop being a bird whenever I wanted?”

“Probably.”

Her temper flared back up.

“ Why didn’t you just tell me what was supposed to happen?!”

“ You should have known already.”

“How!? You never told me! As soon as I started talking, you flew off! Why do you keep just throwing me into situations without telling me anything?”

“Because I didn’t think you’d live this long.”

Ice plunged into her heart.

Kuroko froze, her breath catching.

“W-what?” Her voice came out tiny and choked.

Her mother continued to avoid making eye contact.

“That’s, not… that’s not what I meant.”

“You... were trying to kill me?” Kuroko swayed a little, the ice spreading and cracking in her chest.

“No.” Black eyes pinned her in place, voice firm.

“No, I never tried to kill you. I never tried to push you further than I thought you could handle. You just… Kuroko, you were born not knowing how to talk .”

She didn’t reply, breath trembling with every exhale.

“Your friend, Chiyobi, she’s younger than you by months . You couldn’t even feel your own life until I flooded it with mine. You couldn’t fly until you’d built a body that could fly for you. Calling you a halfblood is better than-” “-Better than calling me broken ?”

Kokoro reared back like she’d been pecked. Hesitated, then nodded once.

The ice had become a dark, heavy weight in her gut.

“If I couldn’t learn to Listen , would you have still brought me here?”

The long silence spoke more clearly than a voice would have.

“Please, Kuroko, I am trusting you with this.”

“You’re trusting Tero with this,” She corrected, watching a leaf hit the ground with dull eyes. “You’re trusting him to keep me safe.”

“And I’m trusting you to keep them all safe. Do you know how far Chiyobi can Listen ?”

Kuroko huffed a breath, not answering.

“From this Mangolia to the far side of the Roost. Do you know how far Himitsua can?”

Still no answer.

“From here to the Willow, if she’s trying. Tero can barely get to the River on a good day. You could hear the Roost from your first nest, and that’s so far away I can’t actually properly describe it. I’ve never flown that distance directly, because it’s too damn far ”

“I get it.”

Kuroko kept her wings hunched up, still staring down at the ground. “I’ll head out with everyone tomorrow morning, okay? I’m not-” Her talons dug a big further into the bark. “I”m not going to do something stupid or anything, I just…” She didn’t know what she wanted. To know she wasn’t broken? That was markedly false. The cold, heavy feeling seemed to increase. To know she was wanted? Apparently her mother had only stuck around to wait for her to die. Had only spent time with her, with the thought that she’d eventually bite the dust.

Her feathers felt too heavy, heart pounding too fast in her chest.

“Kuroko, squirt, plea-” “-Goodnight.”

She turned tail and fled, flapping back to the tangled web of nests and tucking herself into a warm hollow close to one of the crows she’d be leaving with in the morning. He didn’t complain, just shifted his head a little so she could step past without bumping.

Her mother never tried to follow her.

Despite the warmth, despite the familiarity of the tangle of branches and starlight past them…

She felt alone.

----

The next morning, she rose when the other crow did, following him to Tero’s perch, quietly listening to the small group banter back and forth. She faked an interested expression when Tero explained what the Cranes had told him. Something about brothers and betrayal.

She couldn’t help the hopeless, empty feeling that had replaced last night’s cold weight.

They took off, flying briskly to the East, to the river and beyond.

Kuroko didn’t look back.

---

Past the river, they were joined by a single Crane, and Kuroko wished she could be more enthusiastic about this whole adventure. She’d never seen anyone with such a long neck and beak, and the bright crown of red upon their foreheads certainly drew the eye.

They flew deeper into the mist, keeping low and avoiding the patrols of shinobi everyone else appeared to be able to sense. Kuroko failed to keep the bitter feeling at bay, at yet another thing about her that was broken .

The bird led them to the outskirts of a sprawling village, flying them low and quiet over a pale wall and into thicker fog. They followed several twisting channels, before darting over a lower fence and landing on the edge of a wide pond. Kuroko noted a high-arched red bridge spanning the small river that fed into the pond, and an artfully but clearly man-made waterfall a bit further up. Red maple leaves stirred only with their wings, and she briefly wondered if the fog ever relented enough for the tree to get any sunlight.

She heard the sound of footsteps and twisted around to see a human walking slowly toward them, dark hair and eyes standing out against his pale skin.

He bowed low, a crown of pale dewdrops (ice?) glinting on his hair, in what little morning light could pierce the fog.

“Thank you for answering our call. I respectfully ask for your assistance in this matter.”

Tero stepped forward, dipping his head slightly. Their guide stood placidly to the side, neck tucked up in sweeping curves against her body.

“I wish for your help to spy on my brother, for I fear his mind is too far gone. He has been acting erratically these past months, and we fear for both his safety, and the safety of our clan and our village.”

Kuroko wondered if she’d ever be able to speak as smoothly as Tero did, when answering. He must have had training on dealing with humans.

“We hear your plea, and will assist you in this manner to the best of our combined abilities, so far as none of my Murder is harmed.”

The man bowed and thanked them again.

“I will provide food and lodging for you, and ask only for information - never for your lives to be put at risk.” Tero nodded.

“Allow me to introduce myself, as I welcome you into my home. My name is Yuki Hikaru, standing head of the Yuki clan. My brother is Yuki Isamu, the Third Mizukage.”

#naruto #smpwrites #fic rec #third mizukage #FlockTogether #Fanfiction #Naruto fanfiction

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