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nichuuu · 2 years

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Beats Me - 2: Celeste

Kwon Eunbi

tags: Mommy kink, teasing, riding, tit fuck, cum on tits

A week rolled by in a blink of an eye. You found yourself backstage at a bar a few streets down from campus, sitting on some crusty seat as you waited to head out. The other band members were busy tuning up, plucking their strings, turning dials and adjusting pegs. Your sticks felt a little heavier than usual, the hickory glistening with sweat from your clammy palms. It wasn’t your first time performing, but the jitterbug always seemed to be in your veins.

You were slowly resonating with the lyrics from that one rap song your friend used to play, that one that went “palms are sweaty, knees weak, arms are heavy, vomit on his sweater already, mom’s spaghetti,” or something of the sort. You weren’t too sure why you were thinking of that now. A soft buzz began to fill your ears, your skin feeling a little more tingly than usual. A single bead of sweat rolled down your nose, and you wiped it away with a shaky hand.

Eunbi’s mouth was moving, telling everyone something that was probably really important. You couldn’t hear her over the thrum in your ears though. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion, time slowing down just enough for you to hear your heartbeat in your ears.

“...eaker…”

Was someone calling you? You weren't too sure. Your eyes were on the drum set just past the curtain on your right. That sandwich you ate for dinner didn’t seem to be sitting well in your stomach.

“Sq…ker…”

The spotlight out on stage seemed so glaring. It was like the sun had somehow been brought inside. You wondered how—

“Squeaker!”

You gasped, the buzzing in your ears cutting out as you whipped your head to your right.

“You good?” Ryujin asked, a look of genuine concern on her face. You managed a smile.

“Y-Y-Yea!” You assured her, a blatant lie. “J-Just… Running through the ch-charts in my head… Y-You know?”

Ryujin’s hair wobbled as she cocked her head, fixating you with a stare that seemed to pierce through your very soul. You lifted a shaky hand, flashing her a thumbs up that paired horrible with the odd smile on your face.

“Relax Myeong-seok… Don’t get nervous,” Eunbi assured you, applying some lipstick. “Yeji, tell him that he’ll do great out there.”

Yeji glared at you.

“Screw up and I’ll murder you,” she muttered, adjusting the strap of her guitar.

What a way to calm someone down.

You gulped, feeling the tremor in your index finger rattling the sticks in your hand. You clenched your fingers tighter, the hard wood pressing harder into your palm.

A hand on your shoulder tore your gaze away from the objects in your hand. Ryujin used her head to gesture towards the back door, signalling you to head outside with her. Forcing your wobbly knees to support your weight, you pushed yourself off the crusty cushion on the stool and headed out the back door. You heard the familiar clicking of Ryujin’s jacket zipper hitting the back of her Bass close behind you.

You welcomed the fresh air in your lungs, drawing in deep breaths of cigarette smoke-free air as you rest your hands on your knees.

“Squeaker,” Ryujin called out to you.

“I’m fine,” you responded.

“Come on dude,” She tried again

“I just need air,” You assured her once more. You heard her let out a sigh before she gripped your shoulder and pulled you upright. She spun you to face her, and you were looking straight into her eyes.

“Relax Squeaky,” She told you, voice oddly soothing. Another gulp of saliva went down your throat, your eyes squeezing shut as you forced yourself to breathe.

In through the nose… Out through the mouth… In through the nose… Out through the mouth.

“Hey… Look at me.”

You opened your eyes. Ryujin gazed back at you. She pursed her lips, looking for something to say.

“You’re gonna be fine okay?” She assured you. “We’ve practised hard, haven’t we?”

You nodded vigorously.

“Y-Yea…” You sputtered. “B-But… I-I’m scared.”

“Buddy, you’ve nailed your part in less than five days,” She reminded you.

“S-Still…”

“Still what man?” She cut you off. “You are an amazing drummer, you know that?”

“I-I wouldn’t say tha—”

She cut you off with a fierce stare and you quickly went quiet.

You’d thought that after your fiasco with Ryujin that night, things would’ve gotten tense between you two. Surprisingly, the morning after you did the deed with Ryujin, she seemed a lot more cheery and goofy than usual. You talked about what happened the night before as agreed upon before you passed out, and she seemed to be totally chill with the fact that you smashed her brains out and came all over her. Twice.

“It was a drunk mistake. It happens,” She told you over lunch that day. “Don’t worry about it Squeaky, I don’t really care. It’s not the first time I’ve been in these situations.”

After clearing the air and emphasising that there were no feelings between the two of you, you agreed to stay as friends, or “friends with benefits” as Ryujin preferred to say. You’d gotten a lot closer with her since then. She called you back into the practice room on almost a daily basis after that day, running through the song list with you over and over again till you almost had everything down by heart. The two of you figured out some cool gimmicks the two of you could pull off, discovering some duets that were usable to spice things up. You later found out from Eunbi that she had been doing it to help you out, and you gained a newfound respect for your fellow band member.

“You’ll do great out there,” Ryujin encouraged. “Trust me.”

Her faith in you touched your heart, and your racing pulse seemed to settle a little.

“T-Thanks…”

She smirked and fixed your shirt collar.

“Don’t freeze up on me Squeaky… I wanna pull off some of those duets we practised, mkay?”

You chuckled and nodded.

“Y-Yea… S-Sure…” You nodded. She patted your cheek.

“There you go… Loosen up…” Your friend giggled.

The door to backstage swung open. Yoo Ji-min poked her head out through the doorway

“Is your little pep talk over?” Karina asked.

“Yep, we just finished. Why? Are you getting jealous honey?,” Ryujin smirked. Ji-min rolled her eyes.

“Very funny Ryujin. Get your asses inside, we’re on in five.”

You tried to put a little bit of a spring in your step as you walked back into backstage.

“Is he okay now?” Eunbi asked.

“A-A little better now,” You assured her. She gave you a smile.

“Don’t worry Myeong-seok-ie, you’ll get used to it,” The singer told you with a wink. You nodded, managing a small smile.

Yeji came strutting in from on stage.

“On stage people! On stage!” She barked. Everyone got up and moved out past the curtain. You weren’t sure how big the crowd was, but there wasn’t time to think about that now.

Ryujin placed a hand on your back and pushed you forward.

“You don’t get many opportunities like this. Go big or go home,” She whispered. You forced a laugh before stepping out onto the small stage, Ryujin in tow.

A small round of applause greeted you as you jogged over to the kit, sticks in hand. You noted that the stool was a little rickety when you sat down, but you reminded yourself that it could be worse.

“Hello everyone! So glad to be able to be here tonight,” Eunbi greeted the crowd, working her charm on those present. She looked amazing under the light. She was rocking her outfit, her form-hugging white top paired with the thin cardigan over her shoulders giving her an ethereal vibe. The shorts she wore hugged her thighs, the seam perfectly cut at the perfect length to show off her creamy, long legs. She spoke to the small audience, introducing the band and giving a quick introduction to its formation, as well as sharing some of the songs you guys would be playing that night.

“Before we kick off the night, could we get a small round of applause for our drummer? He’s making his debut with us tonight and he’s a little nervous guys,” Eunbi said, stepping aside to let the crowd get a better look at you. You smiled shyly and waved, a polite yet encouraging round of applause going around the room. Eunbi waited patiently for the applause to die down before taking the limelight once again.

“Alright, ladies and gents… Sit back, relax, and enjoy,” She beamed angelically. She turned to you and gave you a small nod, a signal for you to begin the count in.

“On your cue Squeaky,” You heard Ryujin whisper. She was standing right next to you, ready to go, and so were the other band members.

With a deep breath, your sticks struck each other, counting your members in before breaking into your first song.

It was safe to say that Eunbi easily captured the attention of the audience. Eyes around the room seemed to be pinned to her as soon as she opened her mouth, watching with intent as Kwon Eunbi took the stage. Not a single eye left her, her presence felt through the entire bar as her body swayed with the music, her angelic voice floating through the air ever so gently, just like a feather. This was her element, and no one can disagree.

The stage was hers. And that was clear through the entire night. You and Ryujin didn’t even bother attempting any of the things that you were eager to test in fear of disrupting Eunbi while she was in the zone.

A standing ovation was the least Eunbi deserved at the end of the band’s performance that night, and it was exactly what she got. You couldn’t help but grin as you saw the crowd rise from the tables, a thunderous round of applause and cheers reverberating through the bar. You noted that the men seated in front of Eunbi cheered particularly louder than the rest.

“Thank you guys for being a great crowd. Good night everyone!” Eunbi thanked them, bowing deeply before gesturing for the band to get off the stage. You rose from your seat, heading back behind the curtains together with the rest of the band.

“Way to go, Eunbi! You killed it out there!” Ji-min didn’t hesitate to praise as soon as the band was all back behind the curtain.

“Thanks, Karina,” Eunbi replied humbly. “You guys were all amazing as well. Especially you Myeong-seok-ie.”

“M-Me?” You stammered. “O-Oh it was… It was nothing… I was just… d-drumming.”

“But still, it was some pretty fucking good drumming,” Eunbi grinned. Ryujin slapped you on the back.

“What did I tell you, Squeaker?” Ryujin beamed proudly. You blushed and smiled back, flattered by the compliments.

“What about me, Eunbi?” Ji-min asked.

“Perfect as usual, Ji-min,” Eunbi affirmed to the younger girl. Eunbi turned and looked at the two guitarists.

“You guys were Awesome too,” She told them. You saw Yeji smile for once, and Kkura looked ecstatic.

“Yo, you forgot about me!” Ryujin pointed out, using a thumb to point to herself. Eunbi laughed and nodded.

“Yes, yes… You were sexy as usual Ryujin-ie,” Eunbi praised. Ryujin looked satisfied, doing a small fist pump.

The door backstage swung open, notifying all of you with the loud squeak it made as a man entered from the door.

“Well done! I’ve never seen my patrons so enthusiastic about a performance!” The man said, walking up to shake Eunbi’s hand. Eunbi smiled graciously and shook it.

“Thank you Manager-nim, we’re glad that we managed to entertain everyone,” She said.

“We?” The manager laughed. He placed a hand on Eunbi’s arm. “Darling, you were the star tonight! The crowd was only interested in you!”

The high spirits that you guys shared seemed to instantly vanish with the one statement. You felt your smile slowly fading from your face as you stared at the Manager of the bar.

“The quality of the performance was a group effort, Manager-nim, it wasn’t just me,” Eunbi said, a glint of annoyance in her eyes.

“Bullshit! Any fool can pick up an instrument and play it as they do! They’re irrelevant!” The man said. He had his back turned towards the rest of the band, and you were unsure if it was out of blatant disrespect or if he was trying to have a one-on-one conversation. Eunbi’s dazzling smile seemed to lose its gleam, her lips slowly closing and forming a line.

“I disagree with that, but thank you for the praise,” Eunbi remarked, shooting a glance towards all of you. The Manager didn’t seem to read the mood.

“No worries! You deserve all the praise in the world!” The manager replied, voice almost in a coo as he rubbed Eunbi’s arm. Your singer took a step back, pulling away from him.

“Thank you for the generous praise, but I believe we all have to rush off now,” Eunbi told him coolly. You could tell that she was doing her best not to slap him.

“Ah yes. Let me hand out the pay,” He said. He reached into his coat pocket and produced 6 envelopes. Five of them were white, and one of them was golden.

He handed the golden envelope to Eunbi ever so gently before whipping around and tossing the other five towards the rest of you. Yeji looked like she wanted to say something, but Ryujin held her arm, calming her friend down silently. You bent forward and picked up the envelopes scattered on the floor, giving them out the rest of your members and taking one for yourself.

“Manager-nim… Why is my envelope gold?” Eunbi inquired.

“You were excellent, so I thought that it was the right thing to do to give you a bonus!” He beamed. A disgusting effort to try and woo Eunbi. “I needed to differentiate the envelopes… Gold seems rather fitting, no?”

Eunbi stared at him stoically. She silently opened her envelope and pulled out the bills inside.

“How much was the bonus?” She queried.

“Oh… Just a small addition of 100,000 won,” He gloated, a proud glint in his eyes. Eunbi was unfazed, almost unimpressed as she pulled out a single 100,000 Won bill from the wad of money. Slotting the bill into the glittery envelope, she handed it back to the manager, who looked puzzled.

“W-What are you doing?” He asked.

“I won’t be needing the bonus, you may keep it,” Eunbi answered, smiling innocently. The manager was clearly taken aback.

“B-But it’s good money!” He argued.

“Good money or not, I am a part of a band. If you want to give a bonus, it’s either you give us all a bonus or no one gets a bonus at all,” Eunbi rebutted flatly.

“But—” He tried to begin. Eunbi slapped the envelope into his chest, cutting him off.

“Thank you for having us, we’ll be going now.”

With that, Eunbi smiled at the rest of you, a signal for all of you to get up and go. Everyone grabbed their things and walked out of the back door.

“Fuck you, you little shit. I’d like to see your fat ass pick up a Bass and play, ” Ryujin cussed the manager out crudely, preceding to flip him off for good measure.

“Now, now Ryujin,” Eunbi cautioned her. “Get to the car.”

Ryujin shot him one final glare before turning tail and leaving. You held the door open for Eunbi, gesturing for her to head out first. She smiled, patting you on the shoulder in thanks before exiting.

“W-Wait!” The manager called out to you as you were about to leave. “You! Make her change her mind!”

You turned and mustered a smile.

“Have a good night sir,” You bowed before shutting the door behind you. You headed back to the parking lot, where Ryujin had just finished loading her instrument into the trunk of Eunbi’s vehicle.

“Irrelevant… Irwelevant?!” Ryujin spat, slamming the trunk shut and heading into the back seat. You could only sigh and squeeze in together with her and the other three members, shutting the door to Eunbi’s car behind you.

There was a moment of silence as you all sat there, processing what had happened.

“Guys… I’m so sorry about that,” Eunbi began.

“D-Don’t be… It wasn’t your fault Eunbi,” you chimed in.

“It’s partially my fault…” Eunbi replied, pinching her nose bridge. “You know what… Let’s forget about this guys… Let’s celebrate our successful gig at my place, how about that?”

The car was completely silent.

“S-Sure… S-Sounds… Good,” You replied hesitantly. Eunbi shot you a small smile in the reflection of the rearview mirror. She started up the car, pulling out of the parking lot and driving into the night.

~~~~

The mood in Eunbi’s apartment was far from celebratory. Ryujin was visibly upset, Yeji was clearly pissed, Kkura looked hurt and Jimin seemed to lose her life in her eyes. You felt their pain but tried to lighten the mood with some basic conversation. It could only last for so long with the sour atmosphere, and Eunbi made the decision to bring out the alcohol in hopes of loosening everyone up.

Ryujin got drunk quickly after downing shot after shot while muttering things under her breath. Yeji decided that it was best if she got Ryujin home and called a cab for the two of them. They were the first to leave, and Kkura decided to call it a day a few minutes later. Jimin left moments later when her friend Minjeong came to get her.

That left you and Eunbi in her apartment, sitting at her table in silence as you stared at the sole glass of liquor you drank that night. You wanted to head home too, but something in your gut urged you to stay with Eunbi in her apartment. The singer took a swing out of the cup of Makgeolli she had in her hand. It was her 10th cup for the night.

“What a fucking mess…” She muttered, looking on the verge of tears. “It started off great… But then I just had to ruin it…”

You weren’t sure why she was blaming herself for the situation caused by another person, but you pushed your confusion aside to comfort your vocalists.

“It wasn’t you Eunbi… You should stop blaming yourself,” You told her. She buried her face in her hands.

“I know but… This… This isn’t the first time something like this has happened,” She said.

You shifted one seat down such that you were on her immediate right.

“You can’t blame yourself for the actions and attitude of others, Eunbi,” You consoled her. “Yes, today was upsetting, but…”

You trailed off, struggling to find words to comfort the woman next to you without repeating yourself. Eunbi swallowed and lifted her face out of her hands.

“I-I don’t know anymore… I just… I just feel like… I-I’m stealing everyone’s spotlight…”

She squeezed her eyes shut. The unmistakable glimmering outline of a tear rolled down her cheek, a whimper leaving her mouth. You hesitated for a moment but slowly patted her arm. She opened her eyes and gazed at you, tears glossing her orbs as her bottom lip trembled

“D-Do you mind if I hug you?” She asked, her tone polite despite the fact she was about to break down. You awkwardly opened out your arms to her, and she wasted no time in leaning in and wrapping her arms around your back. She pressed her face into your shirt, and you felt her body shake against you as she wept. You awkwardly patted her back, your offer of consolation not really doing much to calm the poor girl down.

She stayed there for a while, letting out all the screams and tears that she had pent up in her heart. You were willing to be an outlet for her release as you sat there, one hand rubbing Eunbi’s back while the other remained on the table.

“I-I’m sorry… I-I don’t know what came over me…” She apologised once she had calmed down.

“N-No worries Eunbi…” You assured her. “I-I understand.”

She nodded, wiping away her tears as she sat back upright.

“Thank you, I really needed that,” She smiled weakly. You gave her a smile of your own.

“Glad I could help,” You told her. She sat there for a moment, staring at her hands as she played with her fingers. An air of awkward silence hung over the two of you.

“A-Anything else you need?” You inquired. She stayed silent, but you knew she was thinking. In your week of knowing Eunbi, you knew that she wasn’t usually one to ask things out of others. For her to even contemplate it, she must be in dire need of comfort.

“T-There… There’s one thing you could do for me…” She finally spoke. You sat up straight.

“All ears,” you said. She bit her bottom lip, thumbs twiddling in place.

“I… I need relief right now… Will you help me?” She requested. You nodded promptly.

“S-Sure thing…” You answered.

Eunbi looked up at you, eyes still red and puffy, but there was something else in those dark brown eyes.

You blinked, and she had somehow gotten out of her seat and straddled you. Her face was mere inches away, her hot breath tingling the skin on your nose.

“I… Want to be filled up with a nice, big cock,” She whispered. “And I heard from our favourite bassist that you know your way with a woman.”

You were frozen, limbs, muscles and tendons firmly locked in place. Unlike your fling with Ryujin, you didn’t have the assistance of Alcohol to help you out. Eunbi traced your jaw with a finger.

“I need you to ravish my body and leave me screaming… Just like you did with her. Can you do that?” She whispered.

“E-Eunbi I—”

Her finger pressed firmly against your lips.

“I’ll ask again… Can you do that for me? Yes or no?”

You gulped, unsure how things had taken a turn so quickly. Eunbi’s finger left your lips, slowly tracing a line from your chin down to your Adam’s apple.

“Be a good boy… Say yes for mommy,” She breathed, the unmistakable tone of lust generously injected in her voice. You felt yourself rapidly hardening under her. Her finger was on your chest now, her tongue emerging out between those tantalising lips as she gave her upper lip a slow swipe of her pink tongue.

“I’m losing patience baby…” Eunbi warned. There seemed to be only one answer…

“O-Okay…” You stammered out.

“Okay who?” Eunbi asked sternly.

You gulped.

“O-Okay… mommy…”

A wicked smile made its way onto Eunbi’s face.

“Good boy…”

Her finger left your chest. She grasped the bottom of her white top and pulled upwards, her marvellously large tits spilling out of their confinements. She peeled off the tape covering her nipples and tossed them aside.

“Start with mommy’s tits sweetie,” She instructed, voice almost a coo.

Your mouth drooled at the sight of her voluptuous breasts. Her brown light nipples were hardened, standing proudly at attention. You slowly inched forward towards them, the full mounds on her chest slowly getting closer and closer to your mouth.

You hesitated for a moment, unsure if this was acceptable of you. However, Eunbi’s hand that had snaked up to the back of your head, pushing you into her right breast made you think otherwise. Your lips parted, head moving forward to capture her right tit in your mouth.

A soft sigh left Eunbi’s parted lips, the hand on the back of your head stroking, fiddling and caressing your hair as you applied gentle suction to her bosom, tongue flicking her sensitive nipple intermittently. Each swish earned a sharp gasp of delight out of the woman, her hand pushing you forward with increasing force, pushing you deeper into her tits.

“Yes darling… That’s it…” She sighed, eyes shutting as she tilted her head back.

You released her right breast from your mouth, leaving the mound shimmering with your saliva as you swiftly transferred to the left side of her chest. Eunbi bit her lip, her face twisting in pleasure ever so slightly as you suckled her. Her hand found yours, guiding it up to her right tit and squeezing the full, firm mound of flesh. Continuing your work, you feasted, fiddled and squeezed. Her moans only spurred you, motivating you to double your efforts.

“Oh~ Oh good fucking god… Keep going, sweetie… ” She rasped, nails digging into the back of your head as you took the flesh of her breast deeper into your mouth. You sucked twice as hard, tongue now swirling around her nipple, occasionally flicking up to catch the sensitive nub. You could feel her pressing herself onto you, trying to be as close to you as possible while your mouth and hands worked in tamdem to derive the ultimate pleasure for Eunbi.

Eventually, she had enough. With a firm hand on your chest, she pushes you away from her marvellous chest.

Her eyes catch yours, and you instantly pick up on the ferocity of her gaze, a splash of lust blending in the midst. She rises off you, standing up straight and folding her arms over her chest.

“Get your pants off,” She commanded. You obeyed, standing up to unbuckle your belt. She watches, looking almost unimpressed as you let your pants drop to your ankles.

“Sit,” She barks. You comply. She leans down, breast hanging right in front of you before yanking your boxers down. Your cock springs free, your member twitching with anticipation.

“Looks like Ryujin wasn’t lying when she talked about its size…” She says, slender fingers wrapping around the base of your shaft. Your breath hitched, your mind going blank at the sensation of her hand around your cock.

“Mmmm… This feels like this will stretch me out,” She breathed, stroking you slowly with that delicate hand. “Yes… Yes, this will do…”

She increased her pace, pumping your cock with full, long strokes of her hand. You shuddered, head whipping back to let out a moan.

“Oh f-fuck… Eun—Mommy…” You moaned.

“Tell me you want to satisfy mommy…” She demands, fingers gripping your length tighter and tighter with each pump of her hand.

“I-I want to satisfy… Mommy," came your immediate reply.

“Tell me that you want to make mommy cum all over all your cock,” She continued.

“M-Mommy pleas—”

“Tell me.”

You were going insane. It was too much for you, her hand driving you wilder and wilder by the minute, threatening to send you barrelling over the edge.

“I-I want… I want to make mommy cum all over my cock,” You manage.

She stroked faster.

“Now tell me you want mommy to fuck herself on your cock…”

You fought back a moan, your thighs tensing as you struggled to tell her what she wanted to hear. She was merciless, manipulating you into submission with just her hand striking away at your shaft.

“I-I… I want mommy to fuck herself on my cock!” You finally cried. Satisfied, her hand gradually slowed to a halt, ending your torture. You felt yourself shaking, drawing in deep breath after deep breath.

“What a good little boy…” She praised. “Now stay seated while mommy gets out of this…”

You watched as she stepped right in front of you and began undressing. Her cardigan fell off her shoulders, her top going next to expose her fit build. She didn’t bother teasing you with her ass, undoing her shorts and letting them drop before kicking the piece of clothing away. She was back on you in a matter of seconds, gripping the base of your dick and guiding your cock to the tip of your entrance. She teased your tip, rubbing it between the slick folds of her soaking pussy, coating it with her juices and your pre-cum.

You expected her to make you beg for her to lower herself onto you, but her teasing must have been too much for herself. She dropped down onto you, taking you into her wet pussy all at once. A drawn out moan left her mouth, her tits bouncing with the impact.

She was tight, so fucking tight that you could feel each throb of her heat as her walls squeezed themselves around you. You felt yourself twitching inside her as she slowly started to grind against you, stretching herself out on your member as she sighed in pleasure.

“Oh my… You’re stretching me out, darling…” She told you, gripping your shoulders tightly as she adjusted to the size of your cock. Your hands found her full thighs, clutching the soft flesh for dear life.

“M-Mommy… S-So tight…” You grunted. Eunbi chuckled.

“Shhh… Be quiet baby…” Eunbi whispered. “Let mommy do the work, you just stay there and moan for me, okay?”

You didn’t have time to nod before Eunbi raised herself. Your shaft, slick with Eunbi’s juices, slid out of her womanhood till only the tip of your cock remained inside her. A thrum was in your ears, the buzz of anticipation making your cock twitch wildly.

With a smirk, she slams back down onto you and repeats the motion over and over till she’s riding you fiercely at a steady pace. Your breath gets knocked out of you, pleasure hazing your mind as a series of cusses, sighs and grunts leave your throat. Eunbi bounced on you—slick, wet folds enveloping your cock steadily, taking you in and out of her pussy in a frenzied rhythm. She was whining, almost mewling at the top of her lungs as she buried your head into her cleavage. Your tongue darted out, hungrily licking up some of the sweat that had formed between those perfect breasts, enjoying the reverberation of her chest with each cry that leaves her mouth.

“Yesyesyes… Oh god… Oh my fucking god…” she hisses, her nails digging into the nape of your neck – the pain numbed out by the pleasure shooting up from your cock. Moans continue tumbling out of her mouth, filling your ears with music as she continues to fuck herself on your hard shaft, driving your length in and out of her tight wet pussy.

Your moans mixed with her’s filled her living room, the lewd squelching of her wet pussy serving as an excellent backdrop to the sound of skin slapping against skin. She held you tight, your hands gripping her waist even tighter as you took suckled on her breasts once more. With every suck, every lick, every flick of your tongue, her walls seemed to squeeze you more and more, the slick heat of her drenched pussy making you reach new levels of pleasure. Her body moved hypnotically, round, full breasts bouncing deliciously each time she dropped back onto you, hips rocking ever so slightly to grind her clit against your crotch. Her toned tummy flexed, her face twisted into a look of sheer pleasure while her mouth remained ajar.

She felt heavenly, looked heavenly, sounded heavenly — even when she was in a dishevelled mess, riding your cock desperately as sweat trickled down her head and perfect body. Not once did she let up, never ever slowing herself down for even a split second. She rode you hard, fierce and fast for what felt like hours, thrusting you deeper and deeper into her folds till she finally couldn’t hold on anymore. You could feel your orgasm building, threatening to make you burst inside of her.

“M-Mommy… I’m gonna—”

“No. You’re… Not fucking allowed… To cum,” She hisses, hips still crashing into you.

“Mommy—”

“Zip it.”

Just when you think she couldn’t go any faster, she does. The chair you’re sitting on shakes, legs somehow still withstanding the sheer force of Eunbi harshly driving herself down onto you repeatedly. Her breathing became shallower, body tensing and eyes rolling to the back of her head as she slammed herself down on you again and again, fucking herself to completion with your cock.

When Eunbi orgasmed, it took the combined effort of your will and body to not join Eunbi in heavenly bliss. Unlike Ryujin, she didn’t announce it when she cums, opting for a loud, drawn-out moan that reverberated through the air. Her walls squeezed you, twitching in a way that drived you mad, but you held on. Eunbi’s hips rocked against you, slowly grinding out her orgasm as she came on your cock. After what seemed like an eternity, she collapsed onto you, crashing against you as her weary body heaved with each breath she took.

“Oh… Oh fuck,” She rasps, the single obscenity somehow able to replace all the words she could have used to describe what she just felt. You let her recover in silence, opting to squeeze the fullness of her bubble butt while waiting. She finally rises off you after some time.

“Five… Five seconds…” She tells you. “Tell me where you want to cum…”

Eunbi’s body was amazing, with lots of places that would love to cover with your pent up load…But you had a clear choice.

“Your tits mommy…” You tell her. She nods.

Sliding off you gracefully, she gets on her knees before you. Spitting between that wonderful pair, she lubricates her plunging cleavage before looking you in the eyes.

With an innocent smile hiding her devilish intents, she engulfed you between her tits. You writhe, letting out a moan as the warm embrace of her tits hugs your cock tightly. The mounds reached the base of your cock, the tip of your penis barely visible between them.

Eunbi cupped her breasts, squeezing them snugly around your dick before beginning to slide you in and out between her slick breasts. Her juices–mixed with her spit—made the ultimate lubricant for the perfect titjob as she pleasured you.

“Look at you… All in a mess cause of mommy’s tits…” She teased, breasts unremittingly stroking your hard shaft.

“F-Fuck yes… I-I love your tits so much Mommy…” You sighed.

“Good… You better give me all your cum on my tits then…”

She smiled tenderly before tucking her chin into her chest. She lowered her head, tongue sticking out of her mouth to catch the tip of your cock. You squirmed, completely at the singer’s mercy as she delivered flicks to your sensitive underside as it appeared between her tits. Her breasts drowned you in a sea of pleasure, your vision going fuzzy as the messy combination of her fluids allowed your dick to slip in and out between those warm, heavenly pillows of flesh with ease.

“God… I’m… I’m gonna fucking cum… I’m gonna cum between your tits mommy,” You gasped, steadily approaching your orgasm with each bottom of her strokes. Eunbi didn’t speed up, choosing to slowly torture your sensitive member with her tits and tongue, watching you squirm and shift as you get closer and closer to your orgasm.

You could only last so long between those breasts. Your orgasm hit you hard, sending your body into a fit-like state as a cry left your throat. Eunbi perfectly timed her stroke, making sure to bottom out just as you cum. She tilted her head back, closing her eyes as you felt every burst of cum erupt from your penis. You splattered her chest, your cock shooting rope after rope of hot semen onto Eunbi’s tits. Your first few ropes filled the space of her cleavage, the next few bursting onto her face and splattering her perfect features. You unloaded yourself onto her, hips bucking and thrusting into her mounds as each load of cum was forced up and out of your shaft.

Satisfied Eunbi released your cock. She got to work, cleaning your shaft thoroughly with her mouth before using her fingers to gather your load off her face and tits. She sent her cum-covered hand straight into her mouth, licking and sucking her fingers clean.

“Thank you Myeong-seok-ie… I feel so much better now…” She thanked you, her angelic smile gracing her features. You couldn’t reply, still recovering from your tidal wave of an orgasm. She rose up on her feet, cupping your face tenderly as she examined you.

“You know… I think I’ll have you do booty calls for me from now on,” Eunbi remarks, a look of approval on her face.

She bends down and plants a small kiss on your forehead.

“Thank you for being a darling, Myeong-seok… You’re welcome to stay the night if you want to,” She says, retrieving her discarded clothes.

“I… I think I’ll get going…” You pant.

“Aw… Really? I cook a pretty good breakfast, you know?” Eunbi said. “Just stay with me for one night, then you can leave in the morning.”

Her offer to stay didn’t seem to just be an offer anymore, rather more of a suggestion. Your conscience told you no, but you were too tired to argue, so you nodded in agreement. She grinned and helped you out of the chair. Holding your hand ever so tenderly, she guides you into her bedroom.

You settle between the sheets with Eunbi, the vocalist cuddling up under the blanket.

“Just saying… We’re still friends, capiche?” She reminded you, closing her eyes. “Don’t get any ideas about me feeling anything for you…”

Your ability to think of a response failed you due to exhaustion. You simply hummed in reply, letting the weariness sweep over you. Eunbi giggled next to you, knowing full well that she was the cause of your exhaustion.

And you knew damn well that she was fucking proud of it.

“Good night… I’ll cook up something nice for us tomorrow, okay?” She told you. With that, she let out a small sigh of contentment.

You didn’t know what was making you feel this way, but something told you that things were going to get interesting during your time with the band. You pushed that thought aside for now and focused on getting a good rest, it had been a long day for you.

“Goodnight Eunbi,” you wished her.

“You too Myeong-seok, rest well…”

Your eyes closed, a little smile on your face as you drifted off together with Eunbi.

_________________________

Well I’ll be damned, I guess this band thing is a series now.

Anyway, thanks for reading. This was my attempt at writing Mommy Eunbi so I apologise for cliches and whatnots. Have a good day.

#kwon eunbi #eunbi #eunbi smut #kpop #series

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sapphyreopal5 · 4 months

Note

It took me a while to write this, mostly because I've been looking for this stupid photo for a week. Unfortunately, I haven't found it yet, she probably didn't post it, or didn’t tagged Jensen or I just didn't find it.

I'm actually just a silent reader, but I was at the purgatory con again last week and met a girl there.

I saw her taking a photo with Jensen. I was standing a little behind her in line. She seemed to have somehow caught Jensen's attention. Jensen just looked at her completely differently than at everyone else and seemed somehow surprised to see her there. His facial expression and tone of voice were so surprised. After the photo, he also stroked her back and called out "thank you". I mean he thanks everybody but that hole combination was just somehow odd.

I saw her later again outside the hotel and me and my friends chatted with her a bit and she said it was her first convention. Besides that she didn’t talked too much. She wasn't excited or nervous in general and she really didn't look like she belonged to our fandom. We asked her about her photo with Jensen and at first she didn't wanted to show it, but then she did. Let me tell you, I have never seen such chemistry between two people. The two of them just had such a strong charisma together and they didn't look like they had just seen each other for the first time. When I look at the other pictures of Jensen with fans from the convention, Jensen always looks a little tense, his posture is always a little defensive despite the hug (in my photo with him, actually too). But that was absolutely not the case with her. They didn’t even hugged tightly but the vibes they that photo gave were so intense.

I wish I had found this picture. I'll definitely keep looking, maybe I'll find it. But to my question. Did you "see" anything? Like a premonition or however you get your sources? Or was something told to you? I've been following you for a long time and have become very sensitive to all of this and very attentive. I mean man, Jensen deserves someone who really loves him and needs to get rid of that devil of wife… That's why I noticed all of this and, when I saw that girl for the first time, I had a strange feeling and thought "oh, she could be Jensen's type", dont know why, maybe the blonde hair and demeanor, She just had a strong vibe and pretty much took up attention. Even Misha stared at her for a long time. I don’t know, everything was just sooo odd.

Hello Anon, thank you for this ask. Bummer! I have a feeling she just didn't post her photo op online. I will admit I absolutely love this ask for multiple reasons. Although I myself didn't pick up on THIS particular blonde woman, you'll be somewhat pleased to know that the psychic guy I spoke of did... but you won't be pleased to hear the reality of what he told me of her or what my guides said. The psychic guy I spoke of before mentioned the black road he's been on with "many whores" and then the white road with this "woman of destiny". He mentioned she lives in another country (didn't think they'd meet however), is blonde haired with blue eyes, is younger than him (might've been late 20s to early 30s), kind hearted, modest, and I think mentioned more intelligent than Danneel.

Now, as for the catch here. I asked my guides about this woman you mentioned. A deity named Ba'alat answered me (who I know is not afraid of speaking the truth) and said "here is the thing. Yes, [psychic guy] did see this woman. It is true that their destiny was broken by Danneel's black magic. However, this woman and him were a match that was not meant to be in the first place. She needs a man that can actually tend to her."

This psychic guy (who by the way went radio silent on me again for those who are reading this) and his teacher as he puts it use an astrologer to look at someone's charts. It seems they also both receive a lot of visions of things. He kicks up on a decent amount but either it requires interpretation work or they see only part of the picture. Heck, I don't see everything because like everyone else on Earth, I'm a mortal and we have limitations you know? I have stated before for multiple reasons I don't care for astrology. Understand that all divination methods are merely attempts to access the akashic records (where divine plans and divine blueprints are stored) to look at "the future". Herein lies the problem because just about everyone has 100 versions of divine blueprints. Yes, 100 possible life paths all containing certain "milestone events" happening at different times depending on the every day choices we make. The small things we do, the small choices we make every day do really matter more than people realize.

I have stated before this is a redemption lifetime for Jensen. Between the failure that is The Winchesters and the resulting lawsuit, struggling to land leading roles after Supernatural ended, FBBC closing its one and only in house location (clearly can't be doing good if it also stopped its in house brewing back in January), etc., Jensen does have some karma to answer to. The psychic guy did in his words speak about how "they [higher powers] put a surprise in the bag" for sorcerers every time they use black magic to get what they want. He said the higher powers allow things to happen based on someone's karma. This is 💯 correct. I think Danneel has some surprises in her bag and this does unfortunately include Jensen in the mix. I have a bad feeling he will only fully learn his lessons and therefore gain redemption closer to the end if you catch my drift.

You do have me curious with when you said you've been a longtime reader of mine. I do love this ask also because of you telling me my blog has made a difference in how you observe and see the world. It did bring a smile to my face knowing someone actually does care about what my crazy posts say haha. Hopefully that means something to you. My blog at this point is in a way more like a "diary" of synchronocities and such I see in things as they pertain to my life, my divination readings, etc. I'm glad you became more aware of things like this, it's amazing how much the small things really count, isn't it?

Thank you for this ask again. You are always more than welcome to come PM me or send in more asks :)

#divination #anon answered #love my anons #synchronocities #psychic messages #divine blueprints #divine plans #akashic records #the khala

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1ddiscourseoftheday · 4 years

Text

Tues 16 March ‘21

Zayn liked a post of singer Ingrid Michaelson wearing a Zayn shirt. How odd, I (and everyone else) thought, Zayn never publicly likes things what is going ON. Well SURE ENOUGH – Ingrid and Zayn collab OUT TONIGHT! WHAT! To Begin Again comes out Midnight EST tonight, omg, and not only that-- there’s a Zinterview coming out!! GQ (using a very cool aesthetic gif with the tag line Everyone is Watching) announced an interview with Zayn coming out TODAY (on newstands in Spain :| available everywhere else sometime later)- they say Zayn “discusses his latest album, his relationship with fans.” ZOMG!! We don’t have the whole thing yet, not being able to pop to a newstand in Spain personally, but there’s a cute picture of Zayn looking young and fresh in one of those gucci disney stripey shirts and his blue hair (so from last Dec-ish), and we got one teaser quote-- “I continually go against the grain when people tell me to do things a certain way, but my stubbornness and willingness to want to do things differently help me get through it.”

Niall is everywhere today in advance of his show tomorrow! He’s back on the golf (promoting) circuit, getting the word out about the Modest tournament- he says “I think some of the female golf professionals who currently play need to be celebrated more so these young girls have icons to look up to, and that was a part of the reason I was so passionate about making our event,” and that he wants to “educate these young girls and get rid of some of the pre-conceived ideas of golf being an old man’s sport.” He also mentioned the old Rio bread van story but with a twist, saying “often that was the only way of getting out of the hotel to see things or to get a bit of golf in” hmmm I feel like that was just your priority Neil but he does talk about how he used to play with Harry “out on tour for a bit of downtime” and says “Harry Styles was a pretty keen player at the time and the golf course was somewhere to chill out for us” (at least he doesn’t call him ‘grammy winner Harry Styles’ and I know it isn’t actually weird but the full name thing sounds so funny from him). There’s a sneak preview of him in the promo for Dermot O Leary’s new podcast series which looks awesome, and he congratulated Roman Kemp on his new documentary about the mental health/suicide crisis among young British men, calling it “eye opening and beautiful” and saying, “we must all look out for each other. The two ok rule, always ask twice.” And of course he’s promoting his SHOW, that’s TOMORROW-- he says he’s put together an acoustic set and makes a cute lil face and tells us “don’t you worry” about not going out this year “cause this little Irishman has got you covered”! THANKS little Irishman! But hey-- what about that Anne Marie collab from way back? Niall and Anne Marie both respond to a tweet asking just that to say… well literally nothing. They both just posted eyeball emojis. Hmph.

Grammy winner Harry Styles was spotted out to eat in Malibu in his favorite personal-time look, the bode ship jacket and floppy pants, and an official portrait with his grammy is up, very cute, an excellent Mona Lisa smirk and boa. Alicia Silverstone (Cher from Clueless herself!) took to twitter to compliment Harry on the “Clueless vibes” of his grammys look- “Cher would be so honored (and totally approve!!) of this chic look,” but backing vocalist India Shawn shows some regret after braving the world of twitter harries all week-- “some of y’all are annoying.” Very mildly put, I can only imagine, I hope Alicia doesn’t get any trouble. Oh and Brazilian artist Fiuk spilled that someone in 1D flirted with him back when they partied in 2014 and he now regrets not going for it (even though the reason he didn’t was that he’s straight). Pictures from that party of him being firmly gripped around the waist by a happy looking Harry circulated, but all five of the boys were there and drunk and of course there’s no reason to believe (knowing what we know about how they are, ie casually flirty) that whoever it was was actually prepared to follow through on any flirting, but who can’t relate to “I’m the wrong sexuality but is there really a WRONG sexuality to want to smooch a member of 1D?”

A couple of the guys from Only The Poets talk about Louis and how amazing Kill My Mind is (“that is a FUCKING CHUNE THOUGH”) and reveal that Louis agrees with me that Ceasefire is the OTP tune that matters. Twitter louies started Louniversity, an account that helps louies with school, so if you trust twitter stans to give accurate info that seems very sweet, and dusted off the Buy Defenseless push, which is always nice right, love that song- except when people are doing it to be dicks about Fine Line pushing back up in the itunes (and probably other) charts due to Harry’s grammy win, which is stupid. FFS if you’re not into someone just ignore them, not everything has to be so hostile all the time jeez.

#zayn #niall horan #harry styles #louis tomlinson #my friend gave me a like 2011 twink louis magnet she got at a thrift store today and guess what I LOVE IT SO MUCH #stripey shirt preternaturally pretty airbrushed smile the works #someone seeing a louis item in the wild and thinking I KNOW WHO NEEDS THIS is a yes from me #16 mar 21

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babi-correia · 4 years

Text

What Could Have Been (Part 15)

Words: 1286 Warnings: None?

“What do we got?” Voight asks as Intelligence gathers around him. Kevin grabs his notepad, flicking the pages to the beginning.

“The Emergency Center was heavily sabotaged, their servers have been completely destroyed, thus explaining the inability to respond to calls.”

“What about the fire here? It’s very odd for a building to randomly catch fire in the middle of the winter.” Voight continues.

“Severide says it’s foul play, for sure. Mainly with the bomb.” Jay says, leaning against his table. “It’s very weird, mainly with the fact that it would only catch the firefighters, because most of the researchers are home for the holidays.”

“What if it was directed at the firefighters?” Kim suggests hesitantly, earning confused looks from the rest of the team. She looks at Adam before she continues. “We got that package about (Y/N)… Maybe it was Eric. He has a weird grudge towards her because she knows Jay.”

“Are you sure?” Voight asks, noticing the distraught look on Jay’s face.

“Not sure, but it’s the best theory we have.” She says, wringing her hands together. “And Adam’s CI said he heard a buzz about the whole university ordeal being planned.”

“Why go after her and not me?” Jay asks, anger seeping into his voice. “His problem is with me, not her.”

“He wants to get to you, to anger you, make you drop your guard.” Adam says, crossing his arms. “He knows you’re pissed at this, and he’s counting on your anger to make you be brash and create an opening for him to get to you.”

“Well, he’s succeeding.”

“Jay, why don’t you get to the hospital? I think (Y/N) would really like to see you when she wakes up.” Voight suggests, noticing the weight on the younger detective’s shoulders. “I can give you a ride there on my way to question my CIs.”

“What?” Jay’s brows furrow in confusion. “I can take my truck.”

“I want your truck to be inspected. He rigged a random room to get to (Y/N) and was able to, I don’t want to risk your car being tampered with in any way.” Voight explains, grabbing his jacket and keys.

Jay grabs his jacket and beanie, rubbing his hands on his face as he goes down the stairs after Voight. Trudy sends him a sympathetic look as he follows Voight through the main lobby, and he nods at her in an appreciative way.

The trip to the hospital is quiet until Voight stops his car by the ER door and turns towards Jay.

“I know how you’re feeling right now, like it’s your fault.” The Sergeant says, making Jay look at him. “But it’s not. Eric’s twisted in his head, there was no way we could have predicted or prevented it. You went above and beyond, there was nothing more you could have done.”

“Will says she’s not out of danger yet.” Jay mutters. “That the rod did quite a bit of damage, she lost a lot of blood, the gash on her leg severed a muscle. She’s still in ICU and unconscious, and they don’t know if she’s going to be able to keep on being a firefighter, much less part of Squad.”

“Halstead, none of that is your fault. You helped her the most you could and quite probably saved her life. And now you’re going to be there for her through the recovery, and we’ll nail that son of a bitch down.” Voight says, nodding towards the hospital. “Be there. We’ll let you know if there’s any developments.”

Jay nods and exits the car, entering the ER and spotting Will almost immediately. The older brother leads the youngest into the waiting area filled with firefighters. Their heads turn as they see the brothers come in and Boden, Casey and Severide seem to have a silent conversation before nodding.

“51.” Boden calls, making everyone turn to him. “We have to get back to our job. Jay will stay with (Y/N) and keep us updated. Let’s go.”

The firefighters clap Jay’s shoulder or nod at him as they go by, recognizing him as a trustworthy person to stay and “keep guard” on you. It makes him feel weird on the inside, but he pushes it aside as Will guides him into your room.

He sucks in a breath as he sees you laying in the hospital bed, pale, unmoving, hooked up to numerous machines.

“This looks worse than what you told me on the phone, Will.” Jay manages to say, gingerly sitting at the foot of the bed and resting one hand on your shin. He feels the guilt gnawing at his mind along with an anger he can’t contain; he’s sure that if he’s the one to catch Eric, he won’t make it to prison.

“It does, but it’s mostly preventive.” Will says, looking between Jay and you with a confused face. “I didn’t know you knew her.”

“I’ve known her for longer than you.” Jay chuckles, spotting your dog tags on the small table by the bed and pointing at them. “We served together on my last tour.”

Will’s brows knit in confusion as he approaches his brother, leaning against the foot of the hospital bed.

“You never told me about her.”

“Well… It’s complicated.”

A couple of days later and Jay feels at his wit’s end: they have nothing on Eric and you still haven’t waken up. He’s sitting on the crappy hospital chair, laptop atop his legs, left hand scrolling through the little information they have on Eric while his right hand holds yours. His right leg bounces as he feels his patience dwindling and his desperation nipping at his subconscious.

Will walks into the room, making his normal rounds and taking in his brother’s nervous behavior.

“If you bounce that leg more, the laptop is going to fall.” He remarks, marking your vitals on the chart.

“Shouldn’t she be awake by now, Will?” Jay asks, the desperation evident in his voice. Maybe the coffee Mouse had brought him wasn’t such a good idea after all.

“Jay, this is a game of patience. It will take some time for her to recover even after she awakes. The wounds are closing up nicely, but they still did a lot of damage that needs to be reversed with physical therapy.” Will says, setting the chart back on its’ spot. He watches as Jay runs a hand through his face, the bags in his eyes evident, as well as the longer beard. “Shouldn’t you go home and rest for a bit?”

“I’m fine, I just don’t want to leave her side.” Jay admits, earning a nod from Will.

“You know where to find me if you need anything.” Will says, leaving the room.

Jay closes the laptop and sets it on the floor, turning to you and holding your left hand with both of his, leaning his forehead against them.

He stays like that for a few moments, listening to the steady beeping of the machines until his phone starts buzzing in his pocket. He fishes it out, unlocking it and looking at the text on the screen.

Ruzek: We got a lead. Will text details later.

Jay’s heart jumps in his chest at the news, his free hand gripping your tighter as he types back a reply.

Jay: If you get him, let Voight do his thing and let me know.

He feels excited in a weird way that makes him feel guilty for a brief moment before he looks at you again; Eric had put you in an hospital bed, fighting for your life, and there is no way that Jay is going to let him get away with it.

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slashscowboyboots · 4 years

Text

The Stars Are a Part of Us: Different Speeds (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Tag list @izzysdenimjacket @warrendemachokeme @awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands @smokeandmirrorz @sodalitefully @roger-taylors-car @lost-in-the-80s @whisperess33 @shawolat @80snikki @rumoured-whispers

Warnings: Underage sex, drug use, drinking, implied violence. 18+ ONLY

Notes: Track #2 is by the sadly underrated Cowboy Junkies. It was released in '93, and I wondered if I should include in a fic set in 1987, but then I realized this is fiction and there's no rules! Yayyy! It's such a killer song I had to add it.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ajtnaiLaJNQ

Checkout was at the ungodly hour of 11, and of course none of the band was anywhere to be found, just Karen perched on a chair in the lobby, still reading her book. Love’s Surrender was the title of it, and Izzy snorted through his nose. Surrendering was probably the last thing this uptight broad ever did.

“Fun night?” she asked, her eyes not leaving her page.

He shrugged. “‘S’all right.”

She lowered her book. “Heard you met Kasey.”

Izzy blinked. “Uh, um, yeah.”

She rolled her eyes, exasperation pulling down her mouth. “Oh, of course you don’t know her name,” she snapped.

“She didn’t know mine either,” he retorted. “She thought I was Axl.”

Karen sighed. “She blew him too.”

“Huh. I thought he was with Velvet.”

Her eyes met his. “Velvet insisted on it.”

Izzy furrowed his eyebrows.

“Hazing ritual. She made Kasey suck him off in front of everyone, then he announced that Velvet was better at it. Velvet always does the local talent dirty.”

Izzy closed his eyes. “Fuck,” he breathed, “you bitches don’t take any prisoners.”

She gave him a hard look. “You’re the wildest band in LA. Did you expect angelic whores?”

Izzy frowned, then said, “You’re not just here because of us, are you? You protect her from the other girls too.”

“No. She’s everyone’s little sister, although I’d kill one of them for doing something to her.” She narrowed her eyes at him again. “I’m here because I think I need to be. Cause if I didn’t, I’d be sitting this shindig out. This is definitely my last rodeo.”

“This is your third tour, isn’t it? You were with Def Leppard too.”

Her eyes widened, and Izzy nearly licked his lips in glee. “Steve is Steve Clark. I found out some dirt about you,” he smirked.

“Choose your next words very carefully,” she said in a low voice.

“You were a groupie. Were you running naked through the hallways too?”

She stiffened, eyes widening and her face going pale, and for a second Izzy thought she was going to slap his face. “No, I was trying to keep him from killing himself, you fucking asshole,” she gritted, then slumped down. “I thought a blow job would put you in a better mood. Guess you’re just a dick 24/7.”

“Sissy!” Celestia cried, flopping down on Karen’s lap.

“Hi, Sis. You and your beau doing all right?”

“Yeah,” Celestia answered, centering herself on Karen’s legs. She was taller than Karen, and was nearly crushing her. “Did I tell you he has an anaconda?”

Karen made a face. “Celestia, I don’t need to hear about that.”

Celestia giggled. “No, he has a snake! His name is Clyde. He has some bearded dragons too.”

Karen shifted in her chair. “That’s lovely, Sis. Who’s taking care of them?”

Celestia hung onto Karen’s shoulders. “Uh, he says someone named Yvonne.”

Karen took a deep breath. “Is that his girlfriend?” she asked gently.

“His ex.”

“Uh huh. And she still has custody of his pets?”

Celestia nodded.

“Then she’s not an ex. An ex would’ve poisoned them.”

“You think he still has a girlfriend?” Celestia gasped.

Karen shot another look at Izzy. “I think they all do. Probably a few kids they don’t know about too.”

Celestia leaped off Karen’s lap. “Omigosh! Slaa-ash! Do you have any kids?”

Slash took a sip from a styrofoam cup and pulled his top hat down over his eyes. “I don’t think so,” he muttered, throwing an arm around Celestia.

Izzy shook his head. “You have a really cynical view of the world, don’t you?”

Karen snorted. “I’m never wrong.”

Izzy took a drag from a cigarette. “Actually, you are.”

“Is he still seeing Yvonne?”

“Hell if I know. But I don’t have a girlfriend. Mine got married. And not to me.”

Karen looked down. “I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. You write a song about a woman, and she dumps yer ass when you’re drying out.”

“Was it ‘Sweet Child of Mine?’”

He shook his head. “I co-wrote the music on that, but no. I wrote ‘Patience’ for her.”

Karen’s eyes widened in amazement. “You wrote ‘Patience?’”

He stood up and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray. “Yeah. And you’re wrong about something else too. I’m not a dick 24/7, although you’ll never find that out.”

Izzy leaned over his seat on the bus and looked down at Karen, still engrossed in her book.

“What do you do for fun on the road?” he asked her.

She didn’t look up. “I’m having a love affair with my vibrator.”

“Oh, ha ha, smartass.”

She turned a page. “You think I’m joking. It’s Japanese and has different speeds. I’ll never need a man again.”

Izzy didn’t say anything, but he could feel his eyes getting bigger. Guess you’re not the prude I thought you were.

“Wow, that shut you up,” she chuckled, looking up at him. “Are you bored on the road already?”

He nodded. “I don’t get fucked up anymore, and that took up a lot of time, y’know. I’m not scoring or getting drunk and now I have just…...time.”

“Yeah. Well, I like to read, and being with my sisters. Sometimes, I like to see the towns we’re in, get out of the hotel a little. I like shooting pool. I really like karaoke but I doubt if they have a lot of that here. I’ve seen your itinerary and it wasn’t promising, they’ve got you out in Bumfuck most of the time.” She knitted her eyebrows. “You’re a guitarist, why don’t you play guitar?”

“That’s what I did last night. I don’t know if I can do that every night.”

She cleared her throat. “I’m sure there’s a Kasey in every town. I doubt you’ll be bored for long.”

He shrugged. “That does it for you? Reading all the time?”

She looked up at him. “I rather enjoy being bored. There were many times I was on the verge of a heart attack, and I longed to be bored.”

“Steve kept you hopping, huh?”

She held his eyes for a long time, furious, then dropped her head. “Yeah, he did.” She looked up. “Is that what you want, me to talk about him? Fine. I was in love, he wasn’t, end of story.”

He saw the pain etched in her face, and he let it drop. He lit a cigarette and asked, “You’ve seen our itinerary?”

“Yeah. The record company doesn't have a lot of faith in you, do they?”

He shook his head. “They think we’ll be dead by the end of this week.”

“Those seem like good odds. Where’s your record at?”

“At?”

“The top 100.”

“I dunno, 101 I guess.”

“Is it moving up?”

Izzy blinked.

She sighed. “Okay, how big was your record deal?”

“Two hundred fifty grand.”

She sucked air between her teeth. “You know you have to recoup your costs, right? I’m guessing you have a slew of lawyers and a bunch of court fees too.”

Silence.

“Izzy. Have you talked to MTV?”

He shook his head. “They won’t play our video.”

“You made a video? For how much?”

“$75,000. With Nigel Dick.”

“Ooh, you used a name.”

“That’s bad?”

“Yeah, cause he’s the only one who made money from it.” She lit a cigarette. “Izzy, are you aware you guys are broke?”

“We're getting a per diem.”

“You’re in the hole is what you are. Who are you signed with?”

“Uh, Geffen.”

“Huh. So just one man owns your ass.”

“So what you’re saying is that we’re in debt to the record company?”

“Yeah, big time. I mean, Hoss, if your album tanks, you could be sued.”

He exhaled. “How do you know all this?”

“Because I paid attention when the suits showed up. I knew there had to be a reason for a record exec to leave his wife and kids to hump it all the way out to BFE to talk to the band.” She lit another cigarette. “”Pyromania’ started moving up the charts, and the suits came more and more frequently.”

“Def Leppard are millionaires. I mean, their music sucks, but they made a shitload of money off of it.”

“It took them awhile to make it, though. They had to pay back Mercury, plus they used Marilyn Monroe’s image in the ‘Photograph’ video and it cost them a bundle.” She shook her head. “Your attorney fees will keep you in the red for a while. Especially if you keep playing these podunk towns.”

“Fuck.”

“Yeah.” Karen took a drag. “Well, maybe the record company is looking out for you. They probably figure you can’t kill yourselves out here in the boonies.”

“IZZY!” Steven shrieked, slapping him on the back. “Howya doin’, brother?”

Izzy smiled. “I’m all right, man. How are you?”

Steven was nearly hopping up and down in his dingy white hi tops. “I’m so excited, man, we’ve got a gig tonight. We’re gonna ROCK Canada, aren’t we, Izz?”

“You bet your ass, Stevie.”

“You!” Steven shouted to Karen. “You, what’s your name? Donna?”

“Karen.”

“Yeaah, Karen. You really should fuck Izzy, girl! He’s cool. Like the coolest brother you could ever have.”

Izzy smirked. “She says she doesn’t need a man, she got a device with different speeds.”

Steven looked horrified, then he grinned. “Well, let him use it on you.”

Karen blinked, and Izzy cleared his throat. “Dude, she’s not into that,” he said.

“Too bad. Fuck, that girl I’m with is insane, man. She ate that girl Kasey out last night for like an hour, man. Then they sucked me off at the same time! I’m living the dream, Izz. I don’t want this tour to ever end.” He hugged Izzy, then went back to his seat and snuggled up to a sleeping Absinthe.

Izzy raised an ornery eyebrow at Karen. “So, different speeds, huh?”

“Absolutely not. And you can’t borrow it either.” Her eyes slid to Steven’s seat. “Coke always make him like that?”

“Yeah, he takes a while to come down. He’s pretty hyper to begin with.”

“Well, you should have a high energy set then.”

Izzy rested his arms on the top of the seat. “You’ve seen us play. What do you think?”

Karen fought a smile. “You don’t suck.”

“Says the woman who traveled with Def Leppard.”

She gave him the middle finger. “Keep it up, Hoss, and I’ll ram my Japanese precious where the sun don’t shine.”

Izzy puckered his lips and made obnoxious kissing noises, then said, “Promises, promises,” and flopped down in his seat.

#hello to all 5 of you reading this #i love you more than you will ever know #izzy stradlin x ofc #izzy stradlin fanfiction #guns n roses x ofc #guns n roses fanfic

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carewyncromwell · 3 years

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[Ficlet] We Can Beat Them Forever and Ever

Yep, another ficlet based on Quidditch Season 1, which focuses on the beginnings of the Carewyn/Orion relationship! 💚 This one actually centers around the actual match (chapter 7-8), though if you’d like to read the previous parts based on chapter 5 and 6, you can read those here and here! Carewyn and Orion only become a couple post-Hogwarts (and post-Second-Wizarding-War, for that matter!), but it’s been really fun kind of charting their beginnings, so that one can have a more complete picture of where they started and therefore how they ended up. This may be a platonic relationship at the moment, but even at this point when these two are babies (13 and 15, what!), they still have such fun platonic chemistry.

If you don’t want to read the previous parts, then as usual, here are the basic clip notes -- my girl Carewyn “Not-Yet-Mama-Bear” Cromwell is a third year Slytherin; the Quidditch crew is in their fourth year; Orion doesn’t have his facial hair yet because of course not; and this will ultimately be Carewyn’s only Quidditch match this year and only one of two in her entire school career (if you’d like to follow that second match, you can always consult the Quest for the Quidditch Cup tag!).

Hope you enjoy...and please consider commenting and reblogging if you enjoy it! I hope to include this as part of a masterpost chronicling my writings for the Carion relationship soon, so watch out for that too! xoxo

x~x~x~x

Carewyn didn’t think she’d ever feel more pressured than when she was dealing with the Vaults -- but abruptly becoming something of an unofficial Quidditch Captain just before Slytherin’s big match definitely provided stiff competition.

Following Orion’s instructions, she didn’t tell any of her friends about what was wrong. She did her best to put on a brave face, but she could tell that Rowan, Ben, Bill, and Charlie thought something was up. She felt so relieved that Andre didn’t seem to, so she ended up spending a bit more time with him during the next Quidditch friendly. His confidence was comforting in a weird way, especially since he never tried to ask her if anything was wrong.

With only three days remaining until the match, Carewyn knew she was going to need to come up with something fast -- and after practice that day, McNully pulled her aside into the Changing Room to talk to her. He’d heard about Slytherin’s “bait and switch” strategy from Orion himself, and although he granted that it was “typical Orion” and clearly wasn’t thought through in the slightest, he didn’t seem as worried as Carewyn.

“Look, for as rash and weird as it seems, it isn’t completely out of left field,” he told her. “You do have something of a mediating presence, but you’re also assertive. Orion’s got some pretty big expectations on his shoulders, as the youngest Captain in over a century, and everyone’s sort of been pulling him in different directions...me included,” he added a bit sheepishly. “...From what I gather, he wants to listen to everyone and make them feel represented and heard -- but at the same time, he’s team captain, and he wants people to trust his judgment too, even the players who were part of the team before he was Captain. And the odds he’ll be able to do both at the same time is somewhere around 16%. But you’re the sort to really value other people’s feelings, just like he is. You’re sensitive enough to want to include everybody, but you also have a good head on your shoulders and you’re sharper than most. What you lack in Quidditch experience, you make up for in sincerity, and you’re willing to put in the work to learn what you don’t know.”

McNully smiled.

“Honestly, I reckon Orion made a pretty good choice, in using you as a sounding board. You respect his judgment and will do right by him as Captain, but you can still kind of ‘check’ him somewhat, on those things he might overlook.”

Carewyn actually felt her shoulders relaxing slightly. She offered him a smile.

“...Thanks, McNully,” she said quietly. “I appreciate it.”

McNully’s smile broadened. “Good to hear it. We can’t have you getting too nervous before the match -- Hufflepuff’s already noticed it.”

Carewyn blinked. “They what?”

McNully crossed his arms, his expression becoming a bit more grim. “I overheard the Hufflepuffs talking after their own practice. Apparently Ulrich Dylan thinks that the ‘little girl’ Orion picked is losing her nerve. That’s why he was watching you even more at your practice today -- he’s hoping he can rattle you even more, thinking about how you’re going to have to go one-on-one against him.”

Carewyn’s eyes drifted away and she frowned. The Hufflepuff Captain was about three times her size -- so he thought that her nerves was because she was scared of him?

“Don’t let him get to you, though, Carewyn,” said McNully firmly. “Sure, Dylan’s the strongest link on the Hufflepuff team, and he’s brilliant at what he does...but I already told you, physicality is only a percentage of a player’s overall potential, and a low one at that, compared to strategy...”

“He’s not getting to me,” said Carewyn, and she was being completely honest.

She considered this for another moment, her fist resting over her mouth as her eyes drifted. Then her lips spread into a rather wicked smirk.

“McNully...when you next talk to Orion in class, will you tell him how worried you are about me?”

~~~

Carewyn was very pleased by how fast the rumors circulated. By the next day, just about everyone was talking about how Orion’s newest pick for the team had an emotional breakdown in the Changing Room after their last practice. The students on the Hufflepuff team clearly had caught wind of it too -- they were giving her the side-eye a lot over the next day and sharing knowing looks amongst themselves. Ulrich Dylan even made a point to stop in front of Carewyn in the halls at one point, towering over her for a long moment and blocking her from walking any further before innocently wishing her luck and walking away.

Trying to accent how much bigger he is than me again, Carewyn thought drolly.

She did feel guilty about Rowan and Bill pretty quickly rushing to coddle her and practically suffocate her with reassurance...but at the same time, it felt kind of nice, considering that she was nervous for a completely different reason.

Carewyn arrived at the Changing Room about a hour early. When she arrived, she found Orion meditating on one of the benches, his hands clasped in front of him.

“Hi, Orion,” she said gently.

Orion opened his eyes.

“Greetings, Carewyn Cromwell,” he murmured.

His face was not as pleasant as it usually was. His eyes grazed her face, almost searching for something.

Carewyn glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one was outside the tent. Then she offered him a guilty smile and came over to sit next to him on the bench, her eyes resting on the floor rather than him.

“Orion, I’m really sorry,” she started. “What McNully told you -- ”

“No, Carewyn,” said Orion at once. “I believe it is I who should be sorry.”

“No, you shouldn’t -- ” Carewyn tried again.

But Orion held up a hand to stop her.

“I’m sure my decision must have seemed strange to you -- reckless, even,” he said quietly. “But I assure you, I was sincere when I said I was content in making it. Now, however, I find my spirit a bit unsettled.”

Carewyn felt her stomach crumpling up in shame. “Orion, it’s okay, I’m -- ”

“I placed a weight that was on my shoulders on yours,” Orion cut her off cleanly, “for it seemed to me that you’re the sort who takes strength from doing what must be done, for the good of all. But instead, it’s upset your own internal balance. And that, in turn, has greatly upset mine...”

“Orion, listen.”

Carewyn actually got up and took both of his shoulders so as to force him to look at her. The physical contact startled Orion so much that he rather resembled a cat with its hair on end.

“I’m okay,” she told him very firmly. She tried to offer him a smile, even if she still felt so guilty. “I’m really sorry I couldn’t explain earlier, but you said we shouldn’t discuss your plan outside the Changing Room, and I can never find you anywhere else in the school whenever I try to look for you. I’m really sorry I told McNully to tell you I was upset...but I needed you to react badly, at least at first, if my strategy is going to work.”

Orion blinked very slowly in a manner that made him resemble an owl. Then his eyes grew a little smaller, almost confused, as he considered her.

“...Perhaps you should tell me more about this ‘strategy’ of yours.”

Carewyn released his shoulders, taking a heavy breath.

“McNully told me that Ulrich Dylan thinks I’m scared of him.”

“Many in your position would be,” said Orion.

“Maybe others would be, but I’m not,” huffed Carewyn, crossing her arms rather haughtily. “I’ve been small my whole life. If I was scared of everyone who was bigger than me, I’d be scared all the time.”

The very slightest flicker of amusement touched Orion’s eyes, but it didn’t seem quite enough to lighten his face.

Carewyn grew more serious.

“From what I’ve heard from McNully, and from how the Hufflepuff team’s acted around me in the halls after hearing I had a breakdown, I reckon they see me as the ‘weak link’ of the Slytherin team. That means they’ll be trying to go after me, so as to pull the rest of us apart. And it makes sense. No one can get a good fix on you, particularly since this is your first match as Captain...and the other houses think we Slytherins don’t play fair, so they’ll probably be expecting the more experienced players to try to pull one over on them. But I’m the least experienced, the youngest, the smallest, and -- as far as everyone else knows -- the most fragile. Right now I’m the best possible ‘weakness’ Hufflepuff might be able to exploit.”

She smiled.

“That means, though, that Hufflepuff’s focus will be solely on me, and less on the rest of you. And if I keep letting them underestimate me...let them think I’m this scared little girl who’s stumbled into the big leagues...then I can throw off their center of balance when I play perfectly in the match. And if I can play perfectly...well...what does that say about the rest of our team, who weren’t those weak links? The Hufflepuffs will doubt their own judgment so much that they won’t be able to focus on their goal properly.”

Orion’s eyes seemed to clear as he brought up a hand to his chin thoughtfully. “I see...so you hope to make us appear off-balance, so that we can in turn be at an advantageous position to put our opponents off-balance.”

“Yeah,” said Carewyn.

Her expression became more ashamed again as she looked down at her own feet, dangling off the bench in front of her.

“I’m really, really sorry I upset you. I might not entirely get why you decided to have me call the shots for this, but...well, I meant what I sang. ‘I’ll do my very best, and it ain’t no lie,’” she sang a bit more sweetly, “‘if you put me to the test, if you let me try...’”

Carewyn’s singing seemed to soften Orion’s expression further. He smiled slightly at her.

“I accepted your apology the first time you made it, Carewyn Cromwell. Though it was easier to do, after our minds melded properly.”

He unclasped his hands, resting them on either side of him on the bench.

“...As for your role in this match...I chose you because you didn’t want to be chosen. Just like you don’t want to break curses, and yet you still do.”

Carewyn glanced at him out the side of her eye.

“How do you know I don’t like breaking curses?” she asked coolly.

“It seems to me that someone who likes being known for cursebreaking wouldn’t lose the light in their eyes whenever anyone brings it up.”

Carewyn was momentarily left speechless. When Orion glanced at her, she avoided his eyes.

“As a side,” Orion said levelly, “you may wish to apologize to Skye as well. Her internal balance was also shaken, when she heard the rumors.”

Carewyn felt her shoulders slump. Oh great.

“Don’t worry,” Orion reassured her. “She took out her anger on me, not our opponents. As is proper.”

“I’m sorry I troubled both of you,” muttered Carewyn. “I didn’t want to hurt your friendship...”

Orion shook his head with a smile. “You have nothing to be sorry for. All families have their disagreements, so I’ve heard -- and that includes Quidditch families. And yet they’re worth preserving, wouldn’t you say?”

Carewyn couldn’t keep back a small smile. “Mm-hmm.”

She glanced at Orion, her blue eyes a little softer.

“...It’s really cool, that you’ve made a second family for yourself here at school,” she said. “I really love my friends too...so I reckon it’s got to make things a lot less lonely, while you’re here.”

Orion’s eyes grew a little deeper, almost pensive.

“Indeed,” he said slowly. “Only...my family here is no ‘second’ for me.”

Carewyn looked up, startled. She stared into Orion’s deep black eyes for a long moment, trying to read his expression as she took in this information. Then, little by little, her entire expression seemed to melt. All hints of a smile or humor were gone, and her eyes had welled up with pain -- so much so that one might think she was grieving a loss of her own, rather than simply showing pity.

“...Do you...not have a family, Orion?” she said, her voice a mere ghost of its usual self.

Orion’s hands clasped lightly again in his lap as he considered her.

“Not one forged by blood,” he said lowly. His features then softened with the traces of a small smile. “But just because I’m parent-free doesn’t mean I have no family. As I’ve said, Quidditch gave me a family. Therefore my teammates are my family. You are my family.”

Carewyn was genuinely touched -- but she still couldn’t help but feel awful for Orion. As small and broken as her family was, she loved her brother and mother more than anyone else in the world. She couldn’t imagine how she’d function, if anything happened to either of them. As lonely as her childhood had been, she’d still had them. Jacob was still there to protect her from bullies and inspire her with his dreams. Lane was still there to teach and encourage her. But Orion didn’t even have that.

How lonely must his summer holidays be, with no one there waiting for him at Platform 9 3/4? she couldn’t help but think.

Carewyn had to tear her eyes off of Orion’s face and refocus her gaze on her feet -- she knew she probably looked really upset, and she didn’t like showing it so blatantly.

“...Do...I mean...does the rest of our ‘family’ know?” she asked quietly.

Orion’s eyes became a little smaller. “Only Skye and McNully. But I do not tell you this to make you feel sad, Carewyn. I’m telling you this because I want you to trust me. Many doubt my methods, but there is a reason why I was named Slytherin Quidditch Captain. On the path I have traveled, there is no one to follow...and so you lead. You keep a clear head because survival depends on it. You do not question where your decisions will take you because you have no destination. You listen to your heart first because its beat is more stable than the world around you.”

He smiled wryly, turning his gaze out toward the rest of the tent as he leaned back slightly.

“You could say I’ve been Inspired Broom Surfing through life -- and it hasn’t let me down yet.”

Carewyn felt herself smiling again, even with her eyes still downcast.

Trust isn’t really something I can do, but...

“You really are a cool person, Orion Amari,” she said softly. “And a good one, too.”

Orion’s smile spread and opened, showing white teeth. “And you are a Snidget of a person, Carewyn Cromwell. Small and seemingly fragile in appearance, yes -- but a rare creature that is quick, bright, and fearless.”

He seemed to hesitate, his black eyes drifting down to her shoulder absently. Then, looking as if he’d changed his mind about something, he returned his gaze to her face, even if it was still turned away from him.

“I have faith your heart will lead you well -- as well as us to victory -- if you merely listen to it.”

At that very moment, Skye came into the tent. At the sight of Carewyn and Orion sitting on the bench together, she immediately barreled over to them.

“I damn well hope you were apologizing to Carewyn and telling her you weren’t going to make her do your job for you, Orion,” she said at once, her eyes narrowing fiercely.

Orion raised his eyebrows coolly, his hands clasping in front of him again. “I would have, had Carewyn not already done what I asked of her.”

Skye did a doubletake. “What?”

Carewyn felt guilt prickling at the back of her neck again, and she was completely unable to look Skye in the face. “Let me explain...”

~~~

Skye wasn’t quite as quick to forgive Carewyn’s deception as Orion was, but she begrudgingly accepted it when she had to acknowledge that her plan to mislead Hufflepuff was rather clever.

“Well, we are Slytherins,” she’d said with a grin. “May as well own it.”

When the rest of the team arrived, Carewyn asked them to meet her in front of the blackboard. Once McNully had joined them too, she felt ready to explain her idea more fully.

“Okay...so...” She took a deep breath, her eyes hovering vaguely over the others’ heads rather than making eye contact. “We only have two days left before the match against Hufflepuff. I’ve done a lot of thinking and research, and this is what I’ve come up with.”

Taking out her wand, she copied the movement she’d seen McNully use. In seconds, a diagram of different yellow and green circles spread out across a makeshift “Quidditch Pitch” appeared on the board. Two of the circles, one yellow and one green, had stars in the center of them. Each of the green circles had arrows that pointed to one or more yellow circles. The smallest green circle had several arrows pointed right at the largest yellow circle with the star inside, which was in front of the goal hoops.

“From what I’ve heard from my friend Penny, Ulrich Dylan is a very ‘what-you-see-is-what-you-get’ sort of person. He’s upfront and honest and doesn’t see the need to hide what he’s doing. That’s why he’s not afraid of letting us see him when he comes to watch our practices. He’s confident enough in his own talents that he’ll favor physical skill over strategy. And well, yeah, he is good. I saw him in the matches last year -- he’s really strong and agile. Ravenclaw wasn’t able to score a single point in their match against him last year -- if it wasn’t for Erika Rath taking out their Seeker, Hufflepuff probably would’ve won.”

Skye crossed her arms. “Dylan may be stronger than you, but he’s not agile enough to beat Orion, you, and me when we’re flying together. And Hufflepuff’s Chasers are a joke -- the Parkin’s Pincer can more than take them out...”

Carewyn pursed her lips. She didn’t like being interrupted -- she had to take a minute to regather her thoughts.

“...Yeah. But we won’t be using the Parkin’s Pincer -- at least, not right away.”

Skye looked confused. “Huh?”

“Let her explain,” King soothed Skye. She gave Carewyn an encouraging nod. “Go on, Carewyn.”

Carewyn gave King a short, grateful nod in return. Her eyes drifting back to the board, she took a deep breath before continuing.

“...Everyone’s expecting us to use the Parkin’s Pincer. They know Ethan Parkin will be in the stands watching us play...and they’re expecting the more experienced members of our team,” she nodded to Orion, Skye, and the two Beaters, “to take the lead. We should use the Parkin’s Pincer, of course -- it’s a brilliant move, and it’s a classic for a reason. But before we do...we need to throw Hufflepuff off their game first. We need to use our brains as well as our brawn -- especially when brains is something Hufflepuff’s Captain isn’t using as much of.”

She glanced at McNully out the side of her eye.

“So...if it’s all right with you, McNully...may Orion, Skye, and I use your Thimblerig Shuffle, during the match?”

McNully grinned from ear to ear, his eyes lighting up. “But of course, Carewyn! I may play the impartial spectator, but we all know that’s for show.”

Carewyn beamed. “Good. But before we do that, there’s something else we have to do first.”

“Something else?” recurred Skye. “Carewyn, will you get to the point already? You’re going on nearly as long as Orion...”

Carewyn couldn’t fight back a miffed pout. “I’m getting to it!”

“Calm yourself, Skye,” said Orion serenely. “All will become clear soon enough.”

He nodded to Carewyn, and she returned the gesture before returning her focus to the board.

“Every team is made up of links, some stronger than others,” she explained. “For Gryffindor, their strongest link is their Seeker, Charlie Weasley -- their weakest is their Keeper. For Ravenclaw, their strongest link is Erika Rath -- their weakest is their new Seeker. For Hufflepuff, their strongest link is Ulrich Dylan -- their weakest are their Chasers. For Slytherin, our strongest link is Orion -- and as far as everyone else thinks, I’m our weakest.”

Her lips spread into a smirk.

“That’s why I’m the one who has to go up against Ulrich Dylan.”

McNully and the rest of the team excluding Orion all looked taken aback and confused. “What?!”’

“But Carewyn,” said McNully, “you said it yourself -- Hufflepuff’s weakest link are its Chasers. The Thimblerig Shuffle would be a much better choice to help you take them out -- hell, the Parkin’s Pincer too...”

Carewyn shook her head. “Hufflepuff’s only going after our supposed ‘weakest link’ because I’m the only part of our team they think they can take advantage of. Plus they probably think we Slytherins play dirty enough that we will go after their weakest players first. But we’re doing the unexpected...”

She grinned at Orion.

“...so we’re not going after their weakest link. We’re going after their strongest, so that he becomes their weakest link.”

She indicated the tiny green circle on the board beside the biggest yellow one.

“Dylan thinks that I’m this nervous little girl on a second-hand broom who’s scared of going up against someone as big and strong as him...and now the entire school does too. We’ll keep it that way all the way up until the match -- maybe even during the match, at least at first. Then, when the time is right, I’ll spring the trap on Dylan. In a second, he’ll suddenly be faced with a real opponent, instead of the scared little girl he expects. His center of balance will be shaken so badly that the rest of his team will be thrown off too.”

“Like aftershocks from an earthquake,” said Orion, his black eyes very bright with approval, “the entire Hufflepuff team will feel the devastation wrought by their Captain losing his stability.”

Carewyn nodded. “And once the Hufflepuffs start falling apart, we can latch ourselves onto individual members to cancel them out. Orion, Skye, and I can take out the Chasers with the Thimblerig Shuffle and the Parkin’s Pincer, while Crockett prevents them from scoring any points...and King and Shacklebolt can keep the Bludgers pointed at Dylan and Hufflepuff’s Seeker so that Hufflepuff’s Beaters can’t hit them at us and so that Lucky has free range to catch the Snitch herself.”

The rest of the team’s faces all suddenly appeared much brighter too. McNully was beaming with pride.

“Carewyn, that’s fantastic!” he cheered. “If the match follows this trajectory, I’d say there’s a 96.5% chance that Slytherin will win by a large margin. You really have mastered Quidditch strategy!”

Skye looked awfully proud too as she looked from the board to down at the tiny ginger-haired Chaser. “I have to admit, Carewyn, this is smashing. It really sounds like it could work!”

Orion, however, looked the proudest of all of them as he came up on the opposite side of the board as Carewyn, his black eyes gleaming as he smiled down at her.

“We shall have to play our parts to aid this ruse as long as possible,” he addressed the others. “When we go out onto the Pitch today and tomorrow, practice as you always do, but be aware of any audience we may have. And as before, discuss none of this outside the Changing Room, nor around anyone who is not already present. Now that all of our strengths have been pooled together...” he glanced at Carewyn with a bright white smile, “...we can place our faith in each other, and in ourselves.”

~~~

The day of the match was bright and sunny, but cold beyond reason. Carewyn was honestly kind of glad that she could forego the pre-match party Penny hosted, for the sake of bolstering the ruse that she was nervous but trying not to show it -- she much preferred the idea of staying indoors with her friends than freezing outside with complete strangers asking her pointed questions about the match and the Slytherin team.

Before heading out to meet the rest of her team in the Changing Room, Bill had gone all “Papa Bear” on Carewyn and made sure she put on one of his old Weasley sweaters on before heading out to the Pitch to change into her Quidditch robes.

��I know it’s big,” he said through an embarrassed flush, “but the last thing you need is to freeze when you’re playing out there.”

Carewyn carefully rolled up the sleeves of Bill’s old sweater, smiling up at him gratefully. “Thank you, Bill.”

Rowan looked concerned too. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay, Carewyn? You’re not still worried about the Hufflepuff Captain, are you?”

Carewyn gave her best friend a small smile. “Don’t worry, Rowan...I’ll be okay.”

“Of course you will,” Bill said firmly, his lips spreading into a smile too. “After all, Dylan’s a good head shorter than that Ice Knight you beat last year.”

“You mean we beat last year,” said Carewyn, glancing from Bill to Ben with a smile.

"You did most of the work, though, Carewyn,” said Ben with a self-conscious smile. “I don’t blame you for being scared of Dylan, though -- he is kind of intimidating...”

“Yes, but Carewyn can handle herself out there,” said Penny brightly. “Right, Carewyn?”

“Mm...”

Carewyn had to keep herself from reassuring her friends too much for the sake of her strategy -- after all, Penny was a Hufflepuff, even if she wanted Carewyn to do her best -- but she still gave them all a big hug before heading out to the Pitch.

~~~

Before the match, Orion gathered everyone around the blackboard for something called a “moment of vivication.” According to McNully, it was his version of a pep talk -- and sure enough, it was full of typical “Orion-isms” that could make the average person tilt their head in utter bewilderment but that made his teammates smile and shake their heads.

“To win, we must believe we can win,” he’d said. “And we shall, for the greatest loss we can have is loss of focus. I am Quidditch -- you are Quidditch -- we are Quidditch.”

Eventually, though, he got to a point.

“The time is nearly here, my teammates,” said Orion. “Although you have followed me in all of our practices, as your Captain, remember that once we are in the air, we will follow Carewyn’s lead, when it comes to springing our trap. Use patience, when waiting for her. Defend Crockett and our hoops with tenacity, while you wait for her. Show her the loyalty a teammate deserves. And once the trap is sprung, we can set loose all of our fire against our opponents. Let us go to the Pitch and make Slytherin proud.”

The rest of the team cheered. Orion glanced at Skye, McNully, and then Carewyn, all of them smiling.

“Blimey,” said McNully, “I’d better get to the commentary box. Good luck, everyone -- give me something to talk about!”

He smiled at Carewyn. “Good luck out there, Carewyn -- dazzle me with that strategy of yours, all right?”

Carewyn nodded determinedly, and McNully wheeled himself out. Not long after he did, Madame Hooch came into the tent.

“Come along, Slytherins!” she said stridently. “It’s time.”

The Flying teacher and coach gave Carewyn a rather long look as the Slytherins lined up in position. Instead of speaking to her, however, she addressed Orion.

“Since this is your first match as Captain, Mr. Amari,” she said, “you’ll signal your team to take flight, when McNully announces you. You’ll enter from the left side of the Pitch -- the Hufflepuffs are already in position on the right.”

Orion nodded. “Thank you, Madame Hooch.”

“I’ll be very curious to see what you do, Mr. Amari,” she said brusquely. “And I’m sure everyone else will be as well.”

Orion looked around at his teammates with a smile, his eyes resting on Carewyn last, before he took the lead and headed out of the tent, the others behind him.

They strode up toward the Pitch, coming to a stop under the stands on the left-hand side. Neither the Hufflepuffs nor the audience were in view. Once Madame Hooch left, the team got into formation, with Orion, Skye, and Carewyn standing in a triangular shape at front.

“Well...here we go,” said Skye. She glanced at Carewyn. “We’re counting on you, Carewyn.”

Carewyn gave her bravest, most determined expression and nodded. She then faced forward, her eyes resting on the small strip of sunlight on the grass just past them, and waited.

She could hear the crowd gabbing loudly overhead. Her eyes drifted over her head absently.

Rowan, Bill, Charlie, Ben, Andre, and Penny would all be watching up there...she wasn’t sure if that made her feel better or worse.

“Find your center.”

Carewyn glanced at Orion. His expression was very gentle and his voice soothing.

Carewyn’s face softened with a smile, and she nodded. Facing forward again, she closed her eyes, took a deep breath in through her nose and out through her mouth...and began to sing quietly under her breath.

“I...I wish you could swim... Like the dolphins...like dolphins can swim... Though nothing...nothing will keep us together... Oh, we can beat them...forever and ever... We can be heroes...just for one day...”

When she was finished, she slowly opened her eyes and looked at the others. She’d expected to see some smiles -- what she hadn’t expected was just how bright and courageous all of their faces looked, nor how fond Orion’s smile would be.

The crowd roared overhead, and through the overwhelming cheers and applause, Carewyn caught the sound of McNully’s voice.

“Welcome, one and all, to the first Quidditch match of the season -- Hufflepuff versus Slytherin! Put your Pumpkin Pasties down and your hands together for Hufflepuff, led by returning captain Ulrich Dylan! Look at them fly!”

The excited sounds of the Hufflepuffs in the stands was deafening. Orion mounted his broom, and everyone else followed suit.

“And now for the Slytherin team, led by new team captain Orion Amari -- also featuring a new addition to the roster, Carewyn Cromwell, flying alongside Amari and Skye Parkin as Chaser!”

The Slytherins all took off in perfect unison and soared out onto the Pitch. Orion, typical to form, looked ridiculously confident while flying -- there were quite a few points, when they flew around the stands, that he didn’t even have his hands on his broom.

They moved into their starting positions, with the Chasers in front and the Keepers toward the back of the Pitch. Carewyn could feel all the Hufflepuffs’ eyes zeroing in on her -- she kept her focus on the frayed handle of her broom, thinking hard.

I should let Orion and Skye duke it out for the Quaffle at first, she thought. It’ll be more believable that I’m nervous if I’m hesitant to grab it. It might even look like I’m distracted.

She resisted the urge to look at Orion or Skye to try to communicate her thought process to them.

They know what we’re doing. Best keep your cards close to your chest.

“And here comes Madame Hooch, striding up the Pitch!” McNully’s voice rang out overhead. “The Bludgers are released, as is the Golden Snitch! Remember, everyone: the Snitch is worth 150 points -- when a Seeker catches it, the game is over.”

Madame Hooch gave both teams a rather discerning look as she took out the Quaffle. Then, without warning, she hurled it up into the air.

“The Quaffle is released -- and so starts the match!”

~~~

The match was stressful and exhilarating from the start. There was no sense of restraint or politeness here -- every team player’s eyes were as hard as diamonds with their concentration. It was enough to rattle most anyone: even Carewyn had to admit, everything was so much faster and felt so much more important than when she played Quidditch friendlies.

It’s no wonder people treat this game like it’s a matter of life and death, she thought, when you’re out here with seemingly the whole world watching you, waiting for you to fail...

She purposefully missed the Quaffle Orion passed to her, letting Skye double back to reclaim it. A little while later, she purposefully failed to steal it from one of Hufflepuff’s Chasers herself, and even took some time to get yelled at by Skye. (Skye honestly wasn’t that good at acting, but her looking angry was all that was really needed.)

“Looks like we’ve got a dispute between Star Chaser Skye Parkin and newcomer Carewyn Cromwell,” said McNully, his voice dripping with concern. “One can only hope that Cromwell can get her head in the game...”

Carewyn glanced across the Pitch in Ulrich Dylan’s direction -- he was grinning as he shouted something at his Chasers.

Sure enough, in the next round, the Hufflepuff Chasers seemed to decide that they were purposefully going to stick to Carewyn. Whenever Orion or Skye tried to get close to them, they passed the Quaffle or slipped out from under them.

“Hufflepuff has possession -- Groves passes to Polson, over Cromwell’s head -- ”

Carewyn caught sight of Skye flying up under them. Catching Carewyn’s eye briefly, she smirked -- then, in an instant, she’d swerved upward, bumping Polson from below.

“Whoa, Polson’s lost his balance and drops the Quaffle -- Quaffle’s just barely caught by Cromwell -- ”

Carewyn held the Quaffle under her arm, soaring off toward the goal hoops. She could feel all three of Hufflepuff’s Chasers bearing down on her, trying to cut her off from Orion and Skye. She hunched down on her broom, her eyes darting quickly around from each of the three Chasers to Ulrich Dylan smugly lounging in front of the goal hoops.

And Carewyn’s eyes narrowed.

Now.

Just as the three Hufflepuff Chasers were about to try to attempt the Parkin’s Pincer themselves, Carewyn sidestepped them completely by diving. The two Hufflepuffs who had tried to pin her both slammed into each other.

“WHOOOA! What’s this?!” cried McNully, unable to hold back his excitement. “A modified Wronksy Feint?! Looks like Cromwell’s been studying with Slytherin Seeker Lucky!”

Once she’d dodged the first two, Carewyn fixed her sights on the remaining Chaser, sweeping around him in a tight figure-eight and bumping his face lightly with the tail of her broom. Although the move had no strength and didn’t hurt, the Chaser still felt the urge to try to protect his face from the bristles, which made him absentmindedly let go of his broom with one hand and almost lose balance.

“And Cromwell pulls out a Chaser variant of the Double Eight Loop -- signature move of Slytherin Keeper Crockett!” cheered McNully.

The other two Hufflepuff Chasers, looking faintly stunned, had flown back up after Carewyn, trying to regroup. It was as they flew at her that Carewyn knew the time was right. She hoisted herself up onto her broom in a standing position, the Quaffle under her arm, and she broom surfed right around them.

“Inspired Broom Surfing, ladies and gentleman!” said McNully, as an awed sound moved over the crowd. “Signature move of Slytherin team captain Orion Amari! Cromwell’s still in possession, approaching Keeper Dylan -- ”

Carewyn fixed her sights on Dylan. The tall, chiseled Keeper was staring right at her, and yet it was obvious he didn’t see her clearly -- just as Orion had suggested, he was too distracted by her technique, and her abrupt switch had clearly thrown him for a loop.

Smirking from ear to ear, Carewyn chucked the Quaffle right to the side of Dylan’s head. Rather than block it, the Keeper felt the subconscious urge to dodge, so as to protect himself -- and so the Quaffle soared right through the hoop over his shoulder.

“AMAZING!” McNully had to shout over the sounds of the delighted roar of the Slytherins down below. “Cromwell completely sideswipes Dylan and scores Slytherin’s first goal! Hufflepuff leads 30-10! Looks like she’s not as fragile as she looks, folks!”

Carewyn took the time to lower herself back down onto her broom as Skye snatched up the Quaffle again and headed back toward the goal hoops. The turnover between rounds was so fast that Carewyn had little time to recover -- so she didn’t see the warm, proud smile on Orion’s face as he watched her fly off after Skye.

The trap was sprung, and the Slytherins immediately let Hufflepuff have it. King and Shacklebolt kept Hufflepuff’s Beaters from attacking their players by keeping the Bludgers aimed at their Seeker and Keeper. Crockett whipped out the Double Eight Loop himself to protect the Slytherin hoops from any more goals. And Orion, Skye, and Carewyn became an unbreakable unit, shaking Hufflepuff’s Chasers off with the Thimblerig Shuffle and then crushing them with the Parkin’s Pincer. By the time Lucky had caught the Snitch, McNully was struggling to keep his commentary unbiased, thanks to the excitement echoing through every word.

“THE SNITCH HAS BEEN CAUGHT! LUCKY CATCHES THE SNITCH! Slytherin wins 250-30! What a match!”

The Slytherin team all came down to land in the center of the Pitch. Carewyn immediately rushed over to the others, her face alight.

“We did it!” she said happily. “We did it!”

Lucky grinned from ear to ear. “No, Carewyn -- you did it!”

“Don’t be daft!” Carewyn said with a smile. “I couldn’t have won by my -- ahhh!”

She gave a start when she suddenly felt herself being hoisted up into the air -- both King and Shacklebolt had picked her up, their hands under her legs as they bobbed her up and down and cheered.

“Oh no!” yelped Carewyn, trying to weasel out of their grip, “No, no, no, put me down, please --”

She knew they were excited, but she absolutely did not like being grabbed and picked up out of nowhere.

It took Orion some time to calm his teammates enough to put her down. Once she’d gotten back on the ground, though, he actually couldn’t restrain himself from wrapping an arm around Carewyn’s shoulders, taking hold of one of them so he could squeeze her against his side. His face was alight with delight and pride.

“I knew my choice was the right one,” she just barely made him say over the sound of the cheering Slytherins. “You flew like a Snidget, Carewyn Cromwell.”

Carewyn flushed with pride around her smile. “Thanks, Orion.”

Orion’s eyes sparkled like the night sky, even in the middle of the day. "No, Carewyn -- thank you. For your faith.”

The memory of Orion and Carewyn together on the Pitch with their team, with Carewyn’s friends Rowan and Bill both hugging her tight and Skye whooping at the top of her lungs in Orion’s ear, was an image so strong and blazing that it helped Orion -- three years later, in Defense Against the Dark Arts -- conjure his very first Abraxan Winged Horse Patronus.

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #my writing #quidditch #orion amari #carewyn cromwell #skye parkin #murphy mcnully #bill weasley #ben copper #rowan khanna #charlie weasley #andre egwu #and that's it!#i kind of feel like leaving this on a high note rather than on carewyn leaving the team #at least for now #I mean honestly it's not as much to tell -- it's basically just carewyn shutting skye down when the rumors against rath start #and with the original chaser having finally recovered carey bear just bows out with grace #and admittedly in the following years she can't justify rejoining the team with the vaults looming over her #her brother has to always come first :<#but yeah orion and carewyn always had a really strong bond compared to the other members of the quidditch crew #orion really was so happy he got to fly alongside carewyn one more time before graduating #also yes I had carey use all of the quidditch crew's moves because honestly I hate that we had to pick just one #they all have their uses!!#in game I picked inspired broom surfing and had carey use her head to make the decision #largely because if she went with her heart she felt like it might be more likely to hurt someone's feelings #and in her head she thought that throwing off her opponents with an unexpected play made a lot of sense #plus also orion is our captain?? hello?? and he trusted MC to make this important decsion??#I dunno I kind of felt like it would be honorable to show that same respect in return XD

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ka-za-ri · 4 years

Text

Prize Pt 2

Henlo! more commissioned smut? Heck yeah!! Uh... I suck at summaries, so please enjoy the Satan smut. I’m sorry, but also not really... ‘cause I will never apologize for slammin’ down some pr0nz your way. Enjoy! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

Chapter Index and Obey Me! Masterlist: here Ao3 Mirror: Here Pairing: Satan x Reader Genre: smut Wordcount: 6,200 ish Tags: Demon Sex, Rough Sex, Breeding Kink Summary: Now that you’ve pieced together what’s going on, it’s up to you to take control of this game.

Match Point

After your private ‘study session’ with Asmodeus, something changed among the brothers. Their attempts became much more candid. As if a seal had been broken, it was common now for one of them to make a scene at the table first thing in the morning to usurp your time after classes. Even if none of them had stated what their damn game was, it was clearly a competition to claim your body as theirs. Asmo’s brief mention of having children together only helped confirm the suspicion you had ever since the beginning.

Now that you had a better idea of what they were plotting, it became easier to predict their plans. Even if you knew what they were up to, it didn’t mean that you had the ability to avoid them until another breaking point like what happened with Asmo. Whether it was to stay late and do some ‘make up’ work with Lucifer or to have an innocent ‘movie night’ with Belphegor, you came to expect some level of intimacy with every one of your meetings with the brothers.

At least now with their plan mostly exposed, you knew who you wanted to be with if your hypothesis was true. Unfortunately for you, trying to get any sort of dedicated time with Satan was nearly impossible unless he initiated due to how his brothers were playing. Not only that, out of all of his brothers, he seemed to be the most detached from the game. His aloof, nonchalant strategy attracted you if only because he seemed much safer to be around.

As the days passed, it became more difficult to dodge their advances; and at some point, it was normal to find yourself whisked from one raunchy whirlwind fuck to another. Any spare time you had was essentially dedicated to avoiding them if you could. Whether it was due to luck or it was his game plan to the competition, Satan approached you with a deal.

“Study date?” he suggested, pointing in the direction of the library one day before breakfast. “There’s a test in Demon History later next week, and I know you were sleeping through it.”

You sighed in relief. A day without anyone accosting you seemed like a dream. The fact that Satan had specifically pointed out the library gave you enough security to feel like he wasn’t going to try any sort of funny business. Though there were lingering doubts about his intentions, a chance to just get away from it all was ideal; and it gave you the chance you were looking for to spend time with him.

Any attempts Mammon made at the table that day were quickly shot down with confidence. Your preapproved arrangements with Satan gave you the peace of mind that you’d be able to rest your body as well as get some actual studying done. You knew your notes weren’t the best; and with how studious he was, you were sure you could bribe Satan to let you copy his own.

“Thanks,” you mumbled once you met up with him at the library.

“For what?” he looked up from his book and cocked an eyebrow.

“For you know…getting me away from all that today. You know how chaotic it’s been. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I’m only making sure you pass that test,” he shrugged and went back to his book. “I’d hate for the average of the class to drop because you’re not doing well.”

Due to all the antics that ensued among the brothers, it was odd the most calming thing you could do was to actually knuckle down and study. You didn’t think fretting over your classes would be less stressful than finding a way to discreetly avoid everyone; yet there you were, copying notes and trying to make sense of the Demonic timeline. Things were only made worse when prominent members of Demonic society started to time travel.

“How do you even pass a test with all this information in it?” you lamented, idly flipping through the textbook. You understood the words on the pages separately; but when you tried to comprehend them together, it was practically a different language to you.

Satan put down his book and looked at the pages you were grumbling over. He shrugged and took back his notebook once he saw you were done copying everything down. “Memorize it. It doesn’t have to make sense if you just know everything.”

“That’s easy for you to say. You’ve only lived through half of this history.”

“Not really. Closer to maybe about 10% of it. The others? Maybe a quarter of it. History is very long, longer if you count all the time travel.”

“I don’t want to count all of the time travel.”

“It’s going to be on the test,” he warned.

“Ugh, fine. Just help me with how to make sense of this chart then,” you turned the textbook over to him on the page with an extensive, yet somehow it was still labeled ‘abbreviated,’ flowchart of Demonic history. “If I can memorize this, then maybe my grade won’t be too bad.”

He chuckled, looking over the page and pointing out the key events you would need to know. “A lot of this is just found in trivia games. The more important stuff is going to be underlined in red.”

You nodded, picking up your pen to start jotting down the important dates but then paused when you got a few lines in. “Wait. Almost everything is underlined in red.”

“Guess there’s a lot of important stuff in there.”

You huffed, realizing that you weren’t getting anymore help than he was willing to give. It was already a breakthrough for you that he was even willing to tolerate your presence alone for a longer period of time than necessary. The tranquil ambiance of the library seemed to bring out a more mellow side of him. Having a time and a place where none of the other brothers could bother you did wonders to your blood pressure and mentality.

Hours passed as you poured your heart into memorizing as much as you could before you were kicked out of the library. With how chaotic things were outside of that sacred quiet place, you didn’t know when the next time you would get any sort of quiet time to study would be. Your eyes ached, and your brain struggled to remember the last thing you read by the time Satan suggested leaving.

“Do you think you’ll do well?”

“Depends on how much of all of this is going to be retained,” you shrugged. “Hopefully it’ll be good enough to pass.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t let me down. I’d hate to see you be the reason the class average goes down,” he teased.

You pouted, even more determined to pass now more than ever. “Fine. Whatever, just help me study again next week. There’s an Advanced Sigils test soon, and I still don’t understand half of what’s going on.”

“Are you really having trouble in that class, or are you just trying to spend more time with me?” he raised a brow, curious as to how you would answer his inquiry.

“Is it not allowed to be both? If I’m studying with you it means I don’t get bombarded with requests to go out, and I get to actually do some schoolwork. Do you know how hard that is to do when Levi is rattling off TSL trivia in the middle of trying to do homework? At least you’re willing to do it in the library, and I’m guaranteed a few hours of real concentration time.”

Satan chuckled, his eyes crinkling in untold joy at your words, “Well then, let’s make it a regular thing then,” he suggested. “I will admit, it was nice to have you around for company.”

You broke out in a grin, feeling as though some progress was finally being made with him. Seeing him like this, unbothered by the presence of his brothers, softened the generally haughty nature he displayed when around others. You’d hold onto the precious softness he showed you for as long as you could, so asking for more study dates with him seemed to be the most logical thing to do.

“So, see you next week?”

“Same time, same place,” he confirmed.

Study dates with Satan were the thing you looked forward to the most during your week. Often, you found yourself daydreaming about the next peaceful date with him in the library. It gave you the sanity to survive the otherwise hectic life you lead. Having a predetermined break in your week also gave you time to figure out what to do the next week when it came to dodging as many advances as you could from the others.

You always felt safe with him. Perhaps it was because you always met with him in a public space, or perhaps it was just because he never overtly tried anything with you. The two of you stayed a respectable distance from one another with no pretenses or ulterior motives. With all the chaos that surrounded you, it was nice to actually have a dedicated time to get away from it all and focus on classes or daydream about times back in your realm. Satan didn’t seem bothered with your dozing off unless he knew there was a test looming near. Then, he would put some effort into pointing out the right books to pull from the library to aid your struggles. If he felt merciful, he would offer to tutor you, though that opportunity rarely presented itself. Even if Satan was in on the competition, at least it didn’t seem like he was intent on making his move during those peaceful moments.

So, when he abruptly disappeared in the middle of the week and refused to answer any of your messages, you quickly became worried about his well being. None of the others mentioned his condition, and they all carried on with their lives as if his disappearance was normal. You heard vague whispers, but nothing you could make out or really understand.

You didn’t admit it to anyone, but you missed Satan. Not just because of the quiet times you got to spend with him, but his overall aura and company kept you sane. To have that go missing without warning was a shock to your system, and you didn’t know how to handle it.

“Is Satan sick?” you brought up the topic finally during breakfast while the others went about their morning routines. “I haven’t seen him in a few days.”

“He’ll get over what he’s got in a day or two. It shouldn’t be much longer,” Lucifer answered calmly with a shrug, his eyes never leaving the article he was reading on his D.D.D.

“None of you are worried? I mean, he’s just gone for half a week, and you don’t question it?”

“Aww, you really don’t gotta worry yourself over him,” Mammon reassured with a pat on your shoulder. “All of us gotta go through it too. He’s just unlucky that he’s gotta go through it now while you’re around.”

“Wait. What?” you blinked, trying to understand what they were talking about. The way Mammon talked about it and how nonchalant everyone was made it seem like it was a normal occurrence. Your mind went through the notes you had taken during Demonic Culture Studies in an attempt to figure out if it was some sort of rite of passage for demons when they became a certain age. Nothing clicked.

It wasn’t until you heard Asmodeus skipping out of the room that you recalled what he had said weeks ago.

“Makes me wish I was rutting right now so I could breed you over and over again.”

Ah. Maybe, just maybe...

The term was vaguely familiar to you. You were sure you had heard it during a lecture at some point, but couldn’t remember which one. Luckily, after a quick search online, you were able to get an idea of what he might be going through. If your suspicions proved to be true, it would be an ideal opportunity for you to play the game in a way that would guarantee your favor. Running through your schedule and obligations, you cleared up the rest of your day, determined to get to the bottom of all of this.

“Are you alright? I haven’t seen you around in a few days,” you knocked on his door after classes, hoping to get some answers. Satan had been avoiding everyone; and though you had an inkling as to why, you needed to confirm it for yourself.

You didn’t dare to breathe while you waited for the door to open. You could hear him get up and move around. Just as you thought he would finally let you in, there was a long uncomfortable moment of silence. You could feel him hesitate before finally turning the handle and cracking the door open just a bit. “Sorry, I haven’t been feeling well…”

From what you could see through the tiny crack, he looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. His normally messy hair was even more unkempt than usual. It was clear he didn’t want to be anywhere near you, but disappearing for days on end without notice was concerning. The others seemed to know what was going on, but kept themselves mum about it all. It was frustrating to have to take things into your own hands and figure things out for yourself.

“I got notes from class for you,” you offered, reaching into your bag and pulling out your notebook. “I actually paid attention in class and started using the shorthand you showed me, and let me tell you, it’s definitely helped me out a lot the past week. The professor was talking so fast,” you started to ramble, just glad to see his face again. It felt like ages since you got to talk to him and having contact with him made you drop your guard in a heartbeat. “Did you want me to copy them for you? I can also help you with homework. I promise I haven’t slept through any of my classes lately.”

“It’s fine,” his reply came out strained and rather curt. “I already have notes, Levi dropped them off for me earlier.”

That was a lie, and both of you knew it. You knew better than to push your luck with him. Satan had a propensity to lash out, but something told you to persist. Jamming your foot into the door as he tried to close it, you ignored the pain and pushed through to gain access to his room. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on. This isn’t like you.” You stepped past the threshold of his room and looked around.

The piles of books he surrounded himself with didn’t seem to be in terrible disarray. It was the first time you had actually stepped foot in his private quarters, and you took a moment to look around. While you were distracted, Satan took the time to close the door and turn the lock to it. Now that you were in his space, the aura he had tried to suppress came out in full force. He stalked around you like a cat waiting to pounce. His eyes trained on your body as he circled around you, his footsteps light and quiet.

It didn’t take much for you to notice the slight change in his demeanor. One moment he was looking absolutely sickly and unwell, the next moment he was pacing around you. The way he watched your every move was unsettling, and you tried to offset the unease you felt by placing your arms over your chest. Huffing in annoyance that he was still being rather cryptic, you started to demand the answers no one was bothering to tell you. “So, are you going to tell me, or are you just going to walk around looking at me?”

“I’m not… well,” he said, the last vestiges slipping from his control now that you were so close to him. He didn’t want to break the tentative trust the two of you had built over the last few weeks. He wanted to think he was better than what his hormones were telling him to do with you; but since the opportunity presented itself so neatly to him, it was hard to pass up. While you tapped your foot impatiently for an answer, he let go of the last bit of control he had on his hormones; and an odd calm washed over him. A haze settled over his mind as he let himself be carried away by instinct. He would find time to apologize to you later, after he won.

“You don’t look that bad. Maybe a little sleep deprived...” You reached up to touch his forehead, checking for his temperature. He didn’t seem particularly warm, but you didn’t really have a very good frame of reference for what normal demon body temperature should be like. It wasn’t until you got a closer look at his complexion that you noticed how dark his eyes had become and how flushed his cheeks were. “Okay, maybe I take that back...”

You pulled your hand back just a second too late. He reached out and held onto your wrist firmly, the barest trace of a smirk played at the corner of his lips. He understood that you were saying things to him, the words were supposed to make sense; but in his addled state, it was hard for him to care about anything other than the hunger roiling within him. With just your slightest touch, you destroyed the little bit of control he worked so hard to maintain around you.

It didn’t matter anymore. You had squandered your last chance to leave when you touched him. He had you cornered in his own territory. The hunt was over, and he could finally play this damned game on his own terms. He had been so patient, biding his time and waiting for the right moment. His rut came upon him just as he was about to make his move, and he was sure he had missed his chance with you. However, you had chosen to walk into his room even knowing he wasn’t well. You had chosen to seek him out, almost as if you knew what he was going through. Maybe it’s fate…

With a strength he rarely showed, he pulled you to the bed tucked in the corner of his room and nearly threw you onto it. He exuded an aura that shot down any protests you might have had about his rough treatment of you.

He moved according to instinct, wedging his knee between your legs and pushing you down onto the soft covers of his bed. “I think you can understand how I’m not well. After all, from what I remember you saying, you passed that biology test with flying colors.”

“I…yes...” It was only a matter of time before you bedded him. It was the most fortunate of circumstances that it happened during a time when he was holing himself away due to a rut. You couldn’t have planned it any better. The rules had never been said out loud, but Asmodeus’ words held so much more weight and meaning to them than you could ever imagine. “Maybe I do know what I’m getting into.”

“Good girl. Then I won’t have to explain myself,” he purred, nuzzling your neck and ran his lips across your skin. His voice was pitched in a way that made you shiver. There was much more passion in the simple gesture than anything else he had ever shown you publicly. Your unique scent seemed to fill his whole head and made him dizzy. He pulled you closer with one arm around your waist and he took a deep breath to memorize just how you smelled right before he took you. The intimacy was strange, but not unwelcome. You wondered if he would be anything like this if his mind wasn’t so influenced by his hormones. His fingers found your chin, tilting it up to meet him eye to eye. “I’m sorry.”

Satan didn’t give you time to think about the oddly gentle apology before his lips found your own in a heated kiss. He claimed your mouth greedily, running his tongue across your lips just once as a forewarning before it delved into your mouth, tracing your teeth and swallowing your moans. One hand on your chin kept your head tilted just the way he wanted, his other hand laced itself into your hair and held you steady as he claimed you like he had already won.

He didn’t want his first time with you to be like this. It was supposed to be sweet, romantic and soft; not what a demon in heat was going to be like. Perhaps knowing that he wasn’t the first to get to you was what drove him to want to possess you even more. If anything, he at least knew that the state he was in granted him the best chance of victory over all his brothers. Perhaps they would call it cheating; but he considered it good luck with a hint of strategy that got him to where he was.

He pinned your arms above your head with one hand, keeping you firmly in place while his other hand swiftly slid under your skirt. Curling a finger, he pressed it against your heat. Even though the two of you had only kissed, he was pleasantly surprised to feel quite a bit of dampness between your legs through the fabric. It felt like after a couple of run-ins with his other brothers, your body seemed to be primed for the taking at any moment. His luck didn’t seem to be running out anytime soon.

Your gasp brought him out of the haze of lust for a brief moment only to have him redouble his efforts into making you squirm for him. He had the darkest, most wild look in his eyes as he watched your every movement. It pleased a deep part of him that out of all his brothers, he was the one who was able to get you to squirm and whimper like this. It wasn’t hard to hear how the others made you feel; they didn’t make much of an effort to hide what they were doing to you. It was a bit shameful for him to admit to himself just how he had memorized your breathy sighs late into the night.

What wasn’t shameful was just how different it sounded when you were so close to him, and there weren’t any walls to muffle the pretty noises you could make when you were given pleasure. His knuckle pressed against your heat a little harder; and out of instinct, your legs spread wide, giving him access to your body. He played you like he had studied you for decades. As if he knew which part of your body would make you sing the loudest for him.

Satan’s lips peppered kisses all over your heated skin as he worked you up to the peak of your arousal. He buried his head at the crook of your neck, taking time to lick and suck the sensitive skin there. He nipped you with his teeth in between his kisses. Nothing hard enough to break skin, yet enough to leave dark marks proving to anyone who saw where he had been.

Your fingers tingled from being pinned down so firmly, but all that felt negligible compared to how he was making you feel with just his lips and his finger against your clothed heat. You rolled your hips to meet his knuckle, encouraging him to keep going. “Ah…Satan...” you breathed, your eyelids fluttering when he pressed just right against your clit.

Outwardly, he didn’t show it; but his heart sang when he heard you call his name that way. There was nothing quite like the elation he felt when he realized just how much power he had over you. The instincts that guided him only egged him to go further to get even more sounds from you. His need to breed and fill you with his seed only grew the warmer you body became thanks to his ministrations. He didn’t care if you wouldn’t last much longer. No, now that you were in his territory, he owned you; and he had so many more plans to exact after one climax.

“Don’t you dare think about moving your hands from where they are,” he growled, loosening his grip on your hands momentarily. You flexed your fingers just to get circulation back into them, other than that, you complied to his demands without question. His hand now free to roam your body made quick work of your uniform. He had the decency to at least make an attempt to not rip apart everything, though in his haste, you swore you heard a seam tear at some point.

You laid bare, save for your panties, under him; and it was a sight he was going to remember for the rest of his life. There was an innate fear in your expression that made you irresistible to him. In one swift motion, he divested you from the last piece of clothing you had on. There was no denying just how aroused you were with the bit of resistance your underwear gave him as he pulled it away from you. He could clearly smell how excited you were from just the little bit of teasing you had done.

Swooping in to give you a torrid kiss, it was too easy for him to slide two fingers into your wet heat. Your moans were muffled by his lips as he worked his digits in and out of you. The pace was just enough to have you seeing stars and gasping for air anytime his lips left yours for a brief moment. In a moment when you had your eyes closed, when he curled his fingers just right inside of you, you heard an unfamiliar rustling sound. When you cracked open your eyes again, you saw grand, curling horns framing his face.

After his transformation, the pace changed once again. There was almost a malicious glint in his eyes as he watched your expression change the closer you got to your climax. He had dreamed of this moment so many times before. To see it happen in front of him was a wondrous sort of magic, a magic he had complete control over. “Remember to say my name when you cum,” he growled before using his thumb to rub your clit alongside what his fingers were doing to you.

You choked back a sob as your body shuddered in the wake of your orgasm. His name did leave your lips at that moment as he demanded. You were also sure anyone else in the building could also hear you as you called out for him while your inner walls clenched around his fingers, soaking the digits in your essence.

He pulled his fingers out of you and looked at just how coated they were with your juices. While you recovered from your climax, Satan took a moment to lick his fingers clean, his long tongue lapped up the slick mess on his fingers as he hummed in approval at your unique flavor. It would make claiming you much more special now that he knew how you tasted as well.

You only had the time it took for him to remove his clothes to recover from your orgasm before he took control once again. “Hands and knees,” he demanded and you scrambled onto your quaking limbs to comply with his needs.

You could see your faint reflection in the window in front of you.The outline of your body and his prepared you for what was to come next. You felt the bed dip with his added weight as he lined himself up behind you. There was no additional preamble before he sank his length into you and started a brutal pace that had you clutching onto the sheets below to prevent you from moving too much. Having already cum once, sliding into you was too easy; and with how tightly your walls were around him, it only made the first pass feel that much more rewarding. Even if you never got a chance to properly see the unique shape of his cock before he buried himself into you, you definitely felt every particular ridge and divot he had.

He lost himself the moment he entered you. Gone was any notion of soft loving and romance. All he had within him was the innate need to breed, to see you filled to the brim with his seed. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of finally fucking you and how he was going to continue to fuck you until both of you passed out from exhaustion.

“You have… No idea how long I’ve waited for this moment.” His nails dug into the flesh of your hips, helping you stay right where he wanted you. He couldn’t care less about being too rough with you, not when your moans were encouraging him. He could see your face scrunched up in pleasure whenever he glanced up at the faint reflection on the window. The scratches he left on your skin welted up so beautifully, it only drove him to dig his nails deeper into you until you bled. His need to mark you overpowered any common sense he had.

The pain and the pleasure you felt mixed into something so much more than you had ever experienced. He had given you no time to adjust to his girth and length before he started fucking you in earnest. Even if you didn’t get a chance to see it, you could feel the tip of a hard, bulbous knot press against your entrance with each hard thrust. You clung to the sheets underneath you for dear life, riding out the brutal pace. He didn’t moan as much as he growled whenever your walls clung to the ridges of his cock just right. Satan leaned over, biting your shoulder hard enough to where his canines broke skin. Seeing your blood well up in contrast to your complexion only had him craving for you even more. He licked at the wound he created while he continued to rail into you, your cries sending him into bliss.

He could tell you were close to another climax; and just when you thought you would crest over, he stopped his pace abruptly, pulling out of you without warning just to flip you over and reenter you. Satan grabbed onto your leg, propping it against his shoulder before he resumed fucking your abused hole. With the new angle he was granted, he took more measured strokes, letting you fully experience everything his cock had to offer you. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the exertion, but the high he was getting from ramming his length into you over and over was worth the exhaustion he would feel later once the brunt of his needs were sated.

He could feel you ramping up for yet another orgasm. It would be the last push he needed to fully embed himself inside of you. His thrusts slowed, if only to press his knot against your entrance, letting you feel the sting and burn of being stretched out to accommodate the last few inches of his length. You whined, feeling both the need to accept him but also a bit of fear, wondering if that was even a possibility.

He seemed to notice your trepidation and leaned in for a surprisingly soft kiss considering how roughly he had treated you thus far. “Soon,” he said, his voice hoarse and gravely. He pressed his hips forward again, and you forgot to breathe as you were pushed to your limits. Satan pulled back only to repeat the motion once more. “Soon...” he growled again, his cock twitched in anticipation, knowing what was to come.

Subconsciously, his tail wrapped around your leg, tightly squeezing it as if to reassure you it would all be alright. He showered your neck and collarbone with kisses before reaching in between your bodies and rubbing your clit. “I know you’re close. Cum for me, and accept all of me...”

The combination of his low voice so close to your ear and the stimulation of his fingers gave you all you needed to once again reach your climax. Your walls pulsed around him, pulling him further into you; and it gave him just the little extra push he needed to fully seat himself within you with a satisfying “pop” sensation. His breathing wavered as he relished in the feeling of being buried within you so intimately. Looking down, he could see your entrance throbbing around his length, the sight of being joined with you in such a way had his heart soaring. All the time he spent with you, keeping you at arms length for this moment was so worth it.

You on the other hand needed to contend with both the feeling of your orgasm as well as being filled far beyond anything you had ever experienced before. His knot kept him lodged within you for as long as it took for him to be properly satiated. He waited, feeling your walls clench tightly around him before feebly caressing his hard length once the most intense part of your orgasm passed.

“Good girl,” he purred. His expression was surprisingly soft and loving as he brushed your hair out of your face. Now came the part that he had been looking forward to the most, the part that his body had been craving ever since you willingly walked into his territory. He rocked his pelvis slowly, causing you to gasp and accommodate him. He didn’t have the freedom of movement to thrust into you as he did before, but the subtle jerking motion of his hips rocking against you gave you enough stimulation to have you seeing stars and gasping for air.

“Satan...” you whimpered, your eyelids fluttering as you struggled to get a hold of yourself above everything you were feeling.

The sound of your voice calling out for him only made him rock more insistently into you, pressing further and further, deeper until the tip of his cock pushed against your cervix. The fullness, the pain, the pleasure, it was all beyond anything you could ever imagine; and just when you thought you couldn’t take anymore, you felt him release inside of you, a guttural moan coming from his lips as he finally climaxed.

He buried his head at the crook of your neck, desperately sucking and nipping at your skin. The warmth of his seed filled your hot caverns and spilled out, coating your thighs and the sheets below you despite his knot still being crammed tightly into your entrance. The amount of cum he pumped into you felt unfathomable as he seemed to climax for an eternity, his body trembling above your own in the aftermath of such an intense release. “Good girl...” he purred again, kissing the dark marks he had left on your skin.

The haze of need dissipated from his eyes now that he finally let go of his pent up desires. When his heartbeat finally settled a bit, he coaxed you to lay on your side facing him while he was still connected to you. He sighed in content, brushing your hair from your face. His legs tangled up with yours while his tail lazily swished from side to side, grazing your calf lovingly from time to time.

As you basked in the afterglow, you finally had a chance to admire him in his true form. Your fingers idly played with his hair and traced the curves of his horns. He sighed softly, eyelids fluttering in the softness that came after such a rough session. It wasn’t what he expected out of you visiting him, but he was glad for the outcome.

“Well, you look like you’re much better now.”

“Maybe a little. But I think a few more rounds will be needed to really get me on the road to recovery.”

You paused everything you were doing, feeling your body react to the possibility of even more sex with him. Blinking you gave him a shaky laugh. “You’re kidding right? I’m already half dead after one round.”

“Well, I hope you’re ready to accept the consequences of seeing me when I’m unwell like this,” he purred, flexing his hips to remind you that he was very much still inside of you, “but for now, rest.” He pulled you close, kissing you on the forehead and pulling the sheets over the two of you. “I hope you don’t have anything else planned for the rest of the day.”

You giggled, snuggling up against his chest, settling for much needed comfort and a nap. “Well, taking care of an unwell friend is more important than anything else I had scheduled.”

“Hmm, Good answer.”

#Obey me! Fanfiction #Obey me! smut #Obey me Satan #Shall we date obey me Satan #shall we date satan #My writing #Commission Work #i'm trash you're trash we're all trash

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tatooedlaura-blog · 4 years

Text

Geometry of a Triangle

I found a few hours of quiet time and what better way to spend them than to revisit that beautiful thing called, “Triangle” ...

It’s a standalone and I’ll be tagging @today-in-fic ...

&&&&&&&&&&

“Oh, brother.”

With that statement, she pushed herself off the bed rail and turned, click-heeling back into the hallway, running into a clump of boss and unwashed boys, “how is he?”

“He’s delusional.” Moving past them, she hit the down button on the elevator when she reached it, “he needs time, rest, and probably another CT scan, which I will schedule for him once I get downstairs.”

The four of them, following like obedient dogs, got on the elevator with her and just as the doors were closing, “damn it. I forgot my keys in there.” Recklessly flinging her arm in between twin metal deathtraps, then stepping out once they’d reopened, “why don’t you guys go and I’ll call you if anything changes?”

Not one to question her, ever, they said their goodbyes and disappeared. Once the elevator had definitely left the floor, she took a deep breath, wondering if collapse against the wall would be appropriate given the amount of stress still choking her system. Why was he always trying to kill her, inadvertently mind you, but still, every time he left his apartment, he put her in panic mode.

She really fucking hated panic mode.

Taking a minute to collect herself while staring out the window at absolutely no view at all, hospital expansion building blocking the view of what was probably a very pretty neighborhood.

Whatever.

She took her time going back to his room, companions not fluttering around her, peppering with questions, irritating her with endless regurgitation, explanation and exaltation of the exploits of her thankfully not drowned partner.

And Skinner just needed to go away in general; she’d kissed him in the elevator and now couldn’t look him in the eye given mortal embarrassment.

She needed a vacation.

&&&&&&&&&

Finally, many deep breaths later, she was back at his door, numbered 342 in the grand scheme but from her last count, it was hospital room number 206, give or take; she also counted emergency room curtained off areas as rooms so her count might be a little skewed.

Walking back in without knocking, she thought maybe he’d be asleep and she could do her thing and go home to warm bed, fragrant bath, cup of hot chocolate, not necessarily in that order. He wasn’t asleep, however, instead looking up at her, tracking her as she carefully shut the door, turned, crossed her arms, “I was beginning to wonder if you’d be back.”

“I had to get rid of them before I could …” her voice cracked here, tears rushing to the surface, falling freely down her cheeks in under a second.

Mulder tried to get up but was forced back down by gravity and dizziness, so instead, he reached out his hand, “come here. I’m sorry. I hate seeing you cry.”

“If you wouldn’t do such stupid things, maybe I wouldn’t have to cry.” Swiping her face, the torrent already slowing to a trickle, she sniffed hard, “maybe you’re like a puppy. You need a good swat every now and then in order to learn not to put me through this crap.”

Beside his bed by now, he reached his hand out, hooking it in the pocket of her jacket, “I have never intentionally set out to make you cry. I swear.”

Growling at him, she dried her face one last time with her fingers, looking down at him, “did you really say earlier that you loved me? How many drugs are you on, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“You should know. You’re the doc, doc.”

Moving to see his chart again, she zoned in on the narcotics area, perusing then sifting through her memory, “looks like plenty. More than enough to say all kinds of incriminating things.”

Looking at her sheepishly, “did I really say ‘I love you’ though?”

And her heart jumped then sank, bobbed back to the surface and sank again, “you don’t remember?” He looked innocently guilty and she tilted her head at him, “I won’t hold it against you then.”

“Thanks.”

Moving back to his side, she pulled the chair over, slotting her feet in the undercarriage of the bed and settling back, head comfortable after a moment, Mulder’s fingers wiggling in her direction, his discreet invite to hold his hand while they fell asleep.

She both hated and loved their routines.

“I really am sorry I always make you cry.”

“I can’t imagine this life without you, Mulder, such as it is.” Thinking back to all the times she’d cried for him, both inside and out, “I have often wished that my stress levels weren’t congruent to the production of my tear ducts but they are and we have both learned to live with that.”

“I still hate that I make you cry.”

Squeezing his fingers, “go to sleep, Mulder. I’ll see you when you wake up.”

&&&&&&&&

Ten minutes later, she expected him to be deep in dreamland but looking in his direction once she realized she didn’t hear his whistle-snoring nose, she saw his eyes open, staring intently at her, studying form and function of his Scully, “why aren’t you asleep yet?”

“Trying to ignore my headache while I think about a few things.”

Dusk was dropping outside, their room growing dim and soft, her voice quiet across the vast region between them, “what kinds of things?”

“Nazis and Thor’s hammer and shiny red dresses.”

He must be wandering his delusions again and she figured, why not wade in with him, “were the Nazis wearing the red dresses?”

“No, thank God but you were.”

“I was wearing a shiny red dress? How did I look?”

“If I answer that question, you’ll hit me again.”

Maybe she shouldn’t play into his medication after all, “well, why don’t you go to sleep and dream about things and tomorrow, we will get another head scan.”

The side of his face ached from her 1939 clenched fist and deciding to go for broke, given he knew she’d chock up anything he said to drug-addled haze, “your hair was slicked back, pin-curled, perfect even as we ran up and down the halls, thwarting Nazis and trying to find a way to get me home.” Continuing when all she did was tilt her head, listening with both ear and he hoped, heart, “you saved the world in a knee-length dark red dress and heels and,” pinpoint focus on her darkening blue eyes, “you looked more beautiful than I’ve ever deserved to see you.”

Oh, she could so easily be dragged into his delirium … dream … reality …

This was headed to a bad place and she needed to stop the train before she got fully onboard, believing every last word falling from his lips, “I always thought I looked pretty good in my pajama pants and Yosemite Sam t-shirt.”

“That’s my t-shirt, by the way.”

Returning to lightness even as her heart pounded unexpectedly in her chest, “you say yours, I say mine. I keep it. We both win.”

“How do I win?”

Was she really going to say it?

“Because you get to see me in it.”

She said it.

“If I ever find that red dress, Scully, I’m buying it and you’re wearing it and we’re going out on the town to make sure everyone sees you in it. There’ll be so many guys falling at your feet, you won’t know what to do.”

“So, I’ll just stand there and let them swoon?”

“And then you’ll come home with me.”

She felt the blush blooming across her chest and crawling up her face, “you need to go to sleep, Mulder. As both your doctor and your …” she hesitated without understanding why, partner seeming cold, friend seeming inadequate, anything other distinction making her blush even more, “you need to get some sleep, Mulder and so do I.” Standing quickly, squeaking chair legs against tile, “I should probably go. I’ll pick up some clothes for you and bring them back tomorrow when they release you, okay?”

She still hadn’t let go of his hand.

Odd.

In fact, her fingers were firmly joined with his, zippered closed, thumb stroking thumb.

Very odd.

“Hey, Scully,” tugging her hand so she moved towards him, she leaned across the bar of the bed once again.

“Yes?”

“Be with me tonight. Spring me from this place and take me home and hover and feed me meds and check my stitches and just … be with me.”

Another ‘oh, brother’ should have risen up her throat, fallen to his ears but instead, she leaned in even more, “let me go find a doctor.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&

There was finagling and promising and coercion to the highest levels but in the end, she helped him off the elevator and down the hall to his apartment, setting him on the bed, taking in his weary eyes, his pale face, “you look terrible.”

Not able to argue such a valid point, “could you find me something to wear, please? I feel like I’m about to die or at the very least, begin having hallucinations of pink elephants playing poker in the corner.”

Not about to dispute the obvious, pink elephants fairly likely at this point in their day, “can you sit up for a second or do you want to lay down while I find things?”

Hands firmly gripping mattress edge, “I’ve got it. Just don’t leave.”

She’d return to that statement later on but for now, “I’ll be back.”

At the dresser, she pulled out stuff for both of them, missing the Yosemite Sam shirt but happy with her find of ‘Sit on it, Potsie’ black, frayed glory. Soon, she was back beside him, gently pulling his shirt over his head, wincing along with him when she passed the collar over his bruise-darkening eye. Pants weren’t too difficult, Scully holding his arm for balance while he dropped scrubs and pulled up ratty sweatpants, “remind me not to follow any ghosts ships in the near future.”

“No.”

He smiled as best he could but most of his energy and being was wrapped up in desperate need to lay down, go to sleep, rid his head of the terrible pounding that had wedged itself behind his eyes, “did you bring drugs home with you?”

“Several. What color do you want?”

“Rainbow me up, please? My head feels like it’s going to explode.”

Drugs swallowed, Scully changed – he would comment on her shirt at some point in the evening – and after tucking him in, she turned out the light but came back to his side, “I’m going to go sleep out on the couch, okay? Do you need anything?”

Even through pain and wavering reality, “be with me, remember? The couch is too far.” Indicating over his shoulder, eyes already closing for longer and longer intervals, “I have plenty of room behind me, softest mattress in the place, I promise.”

She could seriously just wait two minutes then go out to the couch, he’d never know but Scully being Scully, especially tonight, especially now, especially here, “okay but if you kick me in your sleep, I’m kicking back.”

Slurred, sleepy, “I’ll try not to kiss you in your sleep, promise.”

Nearly correcting him, she instead checked the front door locks one more time, then, incremental debate later, folded back the covers opposite him, sheets cool, pillow shockingly comfortable. She’ll admit it, she may have let out a slight, happy, back of the throat groan when her head sank down into it.

This pillow may have to go the way of Yosemite.

&&&&&&&&&&

Never expecting to fall asleep so quickly, she had no idea she had until she found herself blinking, eyes rolling and lids sticky. Concept of time had disappeared, clock telling her it was after 2 am but mind firmly believing she’d only been asleep for a few minutes. Wondering what had woken her, she turned to her other side, coming face to face with Mulder, still asleep but hand twitching, searching.

He must have touched her back while he moved and taking his wandering fingers, she was surprised when he bought them to his lips, kissing her knuckles, “I should have kissed you again after you hit me.”

Wondering if he was still dreaming, “Mulder?”

His eyes opened suddenly, wide awake like she’d never seen him, “You saved the world and I should have kissed you again.”

“You kissed me?”

Smiling, his eyes closed, drifting back to dreams, “and I want to do it again.”

Still back on the last statement, “you kissed me?” He answered with a deep sigh, sleep capturing the conversation in limbo and driving her forward, 2 am a thing of both beauty and shadow, she maneuvered to get her lips to his, a light brush, a tentative touch, a fleeting taste, “I love you, too, Mulder.”

#nazis and thors hammer and red dresses #even a triangle comes full circle in the end #msr #txf fanfic #x-files fanfic #MulderNScully #My writing

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twixtandshout · 3 years

Text

Tagged by @pidgeonpostal! And not tagging anyone else because I have SOILED the original template (soiled it!!) in deference to my [brushes off skirt] mostly clean public-facing appearance.

...I’ve been making a lot of Spongebob memes lately for someone who has not seen Spongebob.

How many works do you have on AO3?

71!

What’s your total AO3 wordcount?

...306,834. Jesus.

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

Uh. Many! I do a lot of one-offs (and/or start long things I never finish) in many different places. My top three fandoms by fics written are RWBY (29), Undertale (25), Gravity Falls/Transcendence AU (4).

Bet you can’t tell where my hyperfixations have fallen.

I’ve also got some Pokémon and Sonic the Hedgehog fics back on my ff.net account, or I think I still do, anyway, but let’s never go back there pls

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

1. Sweeter Than Honey (Undertale): Taking a Completely unsurprising first place, with over 600 more kudos than the runner-up, the haphazard Underswap fic featuring a post-college self-insert I wrote just after high school! I shake my head some at how overblown and ridiculous the gap between this and all my other stuff is (c’mon, guys, I’ve written way better fics), but this is also the fic which prompted me (and at least one other person!) to start using they/them pronouns. I’ve gotten a lot of really sweet comments about how seen and appreciated it’s made people feel, so I can’t get down too far about it.

2. To Be A Hero (BNHA): I don’t count myself as part of the BNHA fandom, for a number of reasons, but for something that’s arguably the main motivation for the entire plot, Midoriya’s quirklessness is something I’ve never thought has been handled well. This fic marked the first time I (somewhat tentatively) claimed the disability label (thanks again to Sweeter Than for prompting that realization) to hold that lens over canon. It also really shot up my chart, dang! It’s the only thing here I’d consider “recent.”

3. Three-Sentence Shipping (Undertale): Self-explanatory.

4. Brothers Beyond Bonedaries (Undertale): Ah, the way-overcomplicated AU³ I got nowhere close to finishing. One of the things I really like about Undertale is the interface screw, how Toby Fox uses the medium of the video game to pull off crazy things and enhance his game, but most of the fic written for the fandom seems dedicated to explaining it away, grounding it, rather than taking it to the next step and messing with the medium of fanfiction when you keep the story going. I tried to do something cool like that here, playing with questions like narrator and authorship and breaking the fourth wall, even taking the “final boss” fight to a “totally separate” fic reached through the first by link – but, well, then I never finished it, which probably didn’t make anything less confusing for the poor folks who missed the intent.

5. Spirit and Such (Gravity Falls: Transcendence AU): A whole fic written to line out a particular image I had, which, naturally, never made it to the page. I consider it a bit of a cautionary tale for myself when it comes to writing (near-)original content; there’s a lot I look back on and cringe. I still love the characters, though – well, the important ones – and I think just stepping away from the tried-and-true Mizar formula nets it a star sticker here.

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

>w>; I try, but a lot of the time I just don’t have anything to say? Like, oh, you liked it? Neat. There’s not much to respond to in comments like that, and then I’m weighing falling down on an ~obligation~ to respond to every message in my inbox vs annoying people with copy-paste fluff responses all down the page. Plus I know I make more of an effort to comment on things that didn’t get the attention I feel they deserve, so if I’m driving up my own comment count with nonsense, am I preventing myself from being in a position to receive more comments later? And then if I do comment, am I being too effusive or running people’s ears off explaining things they don’t actually need to know? Sometimes people just want to express interest or admiration and don’t necessarily want a whole peek and guided tour behind the curtain.

Can you tell I have anxiety? x3;

Anyway, I do respond when I can. And I keep most of the comments I’ve gotten to go back and reread.

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

Hm, hmm. Lots of stuff in the TQ Nonsense series would probably qualify! I’m thinking of Unfixable, Wolfsong, and Ethanol. And there’s Bursting Through A Blood-Red Sky (I Can Live, I Can Breathe), of course, but that was always intended to have a fix-it epilogue. It’s just that I wrote it in a couple of hours day-of, stared at it, and decided I didn’t wanna just then. But now that’s As Long As You’re Still Burning Bright (I’m Still Awake), and that’s probably the best romance I’ve written, so that one worked out.

Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you’ve ever written?

Now and then! When the urge strikes. Uhhh, I’ve got a series of Doctor Who x Undertale crossovers I actually made a whole dang verse for that never made it to print. Get a couple great comments on that every few months or so. I think the World Trigger x Undertale crossover is probably weirder, though, by virtue of WT being a very small fandom. My enthusiasm kinda sputtered out on that one.

Mostly I just daydream crossovers with whatever happens to catch my eye at any given moment. I have a lot!!!! Though odds are out on whether I manage to remember any of them once the initial thought’s passed, lol.

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Gotten a couple eyebrow-raising comments, but I think mostly I’m just too small a writer to draw that kind of attention.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don’t? think so? Think my tastes are a little niche for most people to bother ^^;

Have you ever had a fic translated?

I had someone apologize once for any language mistakes in their comment cause they had to run it through a translator! That’s not what you asked (the answer is no), but it’s very flattering to think that someone liked my fic enough to read and comment despite the language barrier.

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! :D @pidgeonpostal was gracious enough to agree to co-write Five Nights at Denny’s with me off an idea about shoes. This has fulfilled a long-held dream of mine (collabing with someone, not the shoes) and also introduced me to some lovely people.

What’s your all time favorite ship?

Who has time for just one? ;3c Honestly, I care more about the characters and how the relationship – any relationship – between them changes them than I do about ~A Ship~ as a solid, bounded noun-object. I’ve got characters I like more and less and feelings about who does and doesn’t have chemistry in which directions with whom, but finding anything that agrees with those preferences is hard, harder when you take alloromanticism into account. I’ll play in any sandbox with cool toys, especially if other folks have already built sick sandcastles there.

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

[kicks every single unfinished fic further under the bed] What nooo no WIPs here, everything on my account is either finished or does not exist

I’ve got a couple extra chapters of Sweeter Than floating around unposted, but 1. that fic’s a mess 2. high school Twixt and post-college Twixt are different people and trying to contort myself into three other me-shapes just cause people Like this fic is not something I’m super interested in 3. it’s headed for an emotional dip and I’d rather leave it where it is than post two chapters, stall out again, and leave folks with a bad end.

As for other fics... it’s looking more and more likely that v7 of my Yellow Brick Road AU will never actually make it out. >w>; I’ve got some really great ideas, but not enough to make me feel like I know what I’m doing, and that’s a big roadblock. Plus trying to engage with RT’s Atlas-Mantle worldbuilding in any serious capacity is... a headache. I can’t recommend the Happy Huntress Cinematic Universe enough, but it leaves some pretty big shoes to follow! And I’ve got small feet. <w<;

What are your writing strengths?

Dialogue’s fun, probably as an extension of characterization. I love tearing into what makes people tick, especially against the backdrop of their environment, the story they’re in, and the people they’re up against. Voice is a double-edged sword; I’ve been told my writing is really recognizable and individual, but on the other hand, I’ve been growing frustrated with with the limits of my narrative ability. There’s a strong rhythm I keep when I write (you might notice it here, even) but that leaves me feeling predictable and stale. I’m not sure I’m great at setting as a matter of course, but I’m pretty good at describing setpieces where the need comes up; that comes from my background in poetry, as does the fun I have with sublimating and abstracting complex imagery. And I think I bring some needed nuance to the universal. For good or ill, I don’t do what “everyone else” is doing.

What are your writing weaknesses?

Well, writing, for one thing. If I don’t know how something’s going to go and don’t have the urge to write it, it isn’t getting done, which means there’s a billion things that will never see the page and a few hundred more that are never getting finished. I lose momentum easily and have a hard time getting started, and I put way too much standing on finding a foothold with other people; as critical as I am of my work, I have high expectations for the stuff that passes muster, and it never seems to measure up. I’m also really uncreative. Yeah, I can mix up elements and extrapolate events, but coming up with things wholesale is really hard, which is why I avoid it wherever possible and steal/reskin stuff from other places instead.

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Something along the lines of “Hoo boy, I am Not qualified for this but hopefully it’s decent anyway.” Maria’s Spanish lines haven’t been a big deal – I’ve used it sparingly and, as a Latin language, it should be easy for English-speaking audiences to pick up on the gist – but I’ve had a harder time with Tai’s Chinese, both because I have Even Less background there and because it is, of course, an entirely different language system. If I write it out in English or Romanized italics, am I colonizing it or changing the meaning? If I write it out in the presumed-original characters (presumed because it’s Google Translate and who knows if I’m even barking in the right forest), am I confusing or alienating my presumed-majority-English-speaking audience? Where should I put the translations? Should I put the translations? And for Frisk’s sign language, thinking back, are the brackets I used instead of quotes alienating/infantilizing? I like that different characters give the text between a different feel, but I’m not an ASL speaker – and I’m pretty sure the word is “speaker,” which would only reinforce that that demographic would rather I didn’t do that. It’s important for all these characters, I think, that they use non-English language where it makes sense; it’s part of who they are. But as a white monolingual English-speaker, I don’t think I can really weigh in.

What was the first fandom you ever wrote for?

Thaaaat’d be Pokémon, followed closely with Sonic the Hedgehog. Whether those fics are still on my ff.net account or not (pretty sure I’ve purged them, but you never know) I’ve still got a couple saved to a folder on my current laptop, ostensibly so I can look back and see how far I’ve come and more practically to allow for the possibility of furthering group cohesion through public shaming.

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

I still like the idea behind The Man Who Is Atlas, and Burning Bright (Still Awake) gets props for being my current fic, though it’s currently in that spot where I’m excited to get new chapters posted but also quietly marking everything up in red pen. I think Harbinger gets the crown here, at least for now.

#answerin' stuff

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lifebeginsbyleaving · 4 years

Text

A Pirate Walked Into A Bar...

This is for @sterek-bingo I didn’t have time to completely finish it, but all tags are included. This is almost 25k words, so make sure you got the time lol. Anyway I hope you like it! I’m so excited to finish this, so my hope is to have it completely done by the end of june.

***************************************

"Shit, shit, fuck, FUCK!" Stiles vaulted over the boxes blocking the alley way. His eyes scanned the path as fast as they could, looking for any possible escape. His breath was coming out in harsh waves. His legs were stinging.

"You there! Stop!" The voice came from closer than he would've liked. It was followed by the clatter of people giving chase.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckity fucking ell." He was too far from the sea, and with the way he was running he had no idea if he was getting closer or farther away. Stiles darted down another alley way, this one much narrower and more cluttered with dirt and boxes. It was like the walls were slowly closing in and soon he would have no where else to run.

The clattering was getting closer, but they were still out of sight as Stiles kept weaving down different paths.

There was a crossroads up ahead. If Stiles pushed fast enough he could get through the crossroad and down the next alley fast enough that they would have to split up.

He darted out into the road just as a cart came barreling through. It knocked him off his feet. God bless the fuckin queen, that hurt his hip! As he tried to get up he looked around. A big red sign posted at the top of one of the buildings drew his eyes.

He knew where he was.

"Stop that pirate!" A voice boomed from directly behind him. The few people who were around all turned their eyes to him. The people just looked on, not even caring if he was caught.

Stiles scrambled up and grabbed his hat. As he ran to his new charted path, he kicked the wagon's gate down and apples spilled all over the road. He didn't even slow his pace as he leaned down to grab an apple. He took a bite and turned around still moving. He smiled around a bite of apple before he hurled the rest right at the crown's guard leading the charge. He turned back around, not even seeing if it hit him. The answering annoyed, 'Stiles!' was enough.

He took off, once again laughing. He could hear the clatter of at least two guards slipping on apples as the rest followed him again.

Stiles had never been so grateful for being knocked on his ass. He would've never seen that sign if he wasn't. All he needed, all any self respecting pirate, would need is just one point. One point to let them know where they are, to find out where they need to go. And Stiles' Northstar was the, 'Shoddy shirt and chantey shanty,' big red sign with bold letters and a half naked lady on it.

They were within sight so he needed to lose them first. He sped seemingly at random through alleys and in and out of houses and businesses that were most welcoming at his unexpected and late polite visit.

Stiles vaulted a dinner table.

"Get the fuck out! Thief! Guards! There's a thief in my house!"

"Pirate!" Stiles called over his shoulder as he burst out the back door with huffing breath.

They were greatly slowed down by having to clatter after him through a house and finally they could still hear him, but not see him.

Stiles looped back and finally started towards where he wanted to go. He could taste the salt water and feel the sea calling to him behind him, but he could not go that way. He would never make it through the dense quarter at this time. Either someone or one of the many crown's guard would stop him. He could barely hear the thud of boots over the harsh panting of his breath, but he still felt as if they were on his heels nonetheless. He could tell he was getting tired, but he needed to push on.

Just as he was turning a guard came crashing into the wall right behind him.

"Oh fuck."

Two of the guards must've tried to get around him, but failed. They didn't make it in front of him, but they were right at his back.

If this didn't work exactly he was screwed.

He took two quick turns in succession and finally he was close.

He shot down the alley to the left and quickly concealed himself in an alcove.

When they ran past he quickly and as quietly as he could, made it to the alley now on his left, which he would've gone straight into before his misdirect.

There was a man blocking the path up ahead, emptying a barrel into a trash bin. He could hear them turning around and shouting at each other that he went back. The man turned to put the trash bin back inside the door he was keeping open showing a warm glowing room. Stiles didn't slow his pace as he plowed right towards the man. He was closing the bin when Stiles barreled into his chest and grabbed his shirt and the door behind the man. Stiles quickly went backwards into the lit room, hauling the man along with him by his shirt and tugging the door right behind them. The door latched and there was a thud as Stiles pressed the man against the door and followed his body with his own.

"Don't make a sound." The man's eyes were wide with confusion, but as the boots and yells went cluncking by he seemed content to just hold his breath.

Stiles tried to slow and quiet his own breath as he pressed closer to the man trying to stay out of the windows view as they went by.

Stiles counted the sets of footfalls as they went by, and when the final pair cleared he let out a heavy breath.

"Well, that's one way to finish your day." Stiles let out a laugh.

The man was still pressed against the door like they were about to burst through it. Stiles could hear muffled movement out in the hall.

"What the fuck Stiles!"

"Oh calm down. I'm only in trouble if they catch me, sourwolf."

FIVE MONTHS AGO

Derek's shoulders ached and his eyelids begged to close, but he had to finish carting the heavy barrels before he could go to sleep. His family could no longer afford to rent the cart and steed they normally did to haul the weeks brews from their distillery to their bar. With the raging war outside their lands laying waste to their country, and the war inside it barely held back by the tentative so called peace and the people poorer than they had seen in decades, no one could afford anything.

If anyone saw a man carting a barrel on each shoulder it would certainly give him away, so he had to finish under the cover of dusk. It was very late but with his bed calling him like a siren's song, he finished earlier than normal. He was about to go up the steps to where his family slept above the bar, when he realized there weren't as many heartbeats as there should've been. That was odd. Usually everyone was in bed by now.

He slowly crept back down and tried to listen, but he could only see the light coming from the room in the back of the bar that functioned as his mother's office. He slowly opened the window he knew wouldn't make a sound and tried to pick up something.

"-rate we won't make it three months!" That was Laura's voice, she sounded stressed and upset.

"Be that as it may, we need actual solutions, not just more problems." That was his mother's voice calming and commanding, but no less stressed which worried him. His mother didn't get stressed.

"I've already told you what we need to do!"

"No. I won't do that. You know that."

"Mother! Please just consider it. The pirates make enough plundering the seas, but now they're taking our livelihood with their cheap smuggled moonshine! We could at least ask them to stop. Look, I know that they do some good keeping the crown's guard occupied and when they help, but this is our survival we're talking about! If we're to remain in this city we have to consider our options."

He could hear his mother sigh as though there was a weight on her chest he never knew was there. "Laura, you'll make a great alpha one day, but you must consider grander things than just your pack if you're ever going to be more than that."

More than an alpha? What was she talking about?

"What would you have me do anyway? We don't know all of the pirates. Would we talk to the pirates? Reason with them? Run them out of town? Which could expose us, and then where would we be? Put to death."

His mother seemed to soften her face. "I know you want to fix this, but we can't. We must wait. He will come, I'm sure of it. We have to wait here for him and I know that's not the answer you want, but it's the only one I have."

Who was he? Who would come?

His dad which had only been a heartbeat he could hear on the other side of the room came closer and wrapped Laura in his arms. "We'll be okay little wolf. Your mother has a plan."

He could hear Laura's heartbeat relax, but the worried look his parents shared while Laura's head was tucked into his shoulder had his beating faster.

His mother came over and rested all of their heads together so they could focus on each others heartbeats and calm down.

Just as they had gotten settled, his mother's head shot up and her eyes glowed directly at him. "Derek?"

They saw him now and he didn't want to pretend like he hadn't heard it anyway.

He opened the door and walked in. "So everything you said about the war being the reason we are going out of business is a lie? It's really filthy pirates and their bootleg pisswater they call liquor?!"

"Derek!"

He was so angry he didn't even feel sorry for his outburst. "What? What mom, you want me to calm down about my family about to lose their home and business because of some no good thieves that like to think they're important because they have a boat and get away with it! They're the scum of the seas!"

Laura turned to him. "You sound like Captain Whittemore."

That stopped the boiling of his blood with what felt like a slap. He hadn't realized he had almost directly quoted the man that would like nothing more than to skin his entire family alive.

"I-I um-"

"You, need to calm down." His mother flashed her eyes at him and he felt the shame of his outburst. It wasn't their fault and he finally realized they were as scared as he was.

His father started to lead him upstairs. "They'll figure it out son. Don't worry about it." His father had no eyes to flash at him, but he felt it as a command anyway.

When they made it upstairs his dad checked the girls' room. He could see his cousin Lily in bed, but Laura's was predictably empty.

His father followed him to his room and checked for Thomas, who was of course curled up in his bed instead of his own. With them all accounted for he gave Derek a hug and bid him goodnight.

His muscles protested even moving his small sleeping brother.

His eyes opened wide, but seeing Derek he calmed. "What took you so long?"

Derek let out a small laugh. "I'd like to see you haul all of those barrels champ."

Thomas started to crawl out of his bed.

"You can stay."

Thomas looked at him confused and with his bed head he looked adorable. "You usually kick me out."

"That's because you actually kick me in the neck. But you can stay tonight."

Thomas didn't think twice. He crawled right back into the middle of the bed and Derek didn't have it in him to care. He got changed into his sleep clothes and gently moved a yawning Thomas over. He protectively curled around him and got settled in.

A small sleepy voice spoke. "Are you letting me stay because of whatever has mom, dad, and Laura so worried?"

Thomas had none of the enhanced senses that his siblings and cousin had, but he always could sense things. In some ways he was more in tune with things than any of them. "No I'm letting you stay so the kraken under your bed doesn't eat you." He smiled when Thomas turned to him to give him a flat look. "And there's nothing to worry about." He put an arm around Thomas and pulled him as close as he could. "Go to sleep Tommy."

Thomas let out a yawn and soon his heartbeat was slowed.

He was still seething with the new found enemy, at finally having a channel for his anger, but seeing Thomas sleeping peacefully he calmed. Derek placed a kiss on his forehead and spoke once more before letting his brothers heartbeat lull him to sleep. "We'll protect you."

---

Derek awoke the next morning to a forceful pain in his neck. He shot up with claws and glowing eyes. He looked around wildly. Once he new everything was okay he flopped back down and pulled a pillow on top of his face with clawless fingers.

The sound was muffled, but no less frustrated, "Ughgshghh omas at urt!"

Derek moved the pillow to see Thomas was still sound asleep with his head on the opposite side of the bed and his foot close to Derek's face. Derek shoved it off the bed and he didn't even stir. Derek got up with a huff and got changed. He headed downstairs to start his work.

He kissed his mother's head where she was bent over her desk. When she looked up at him his head tilted towards the floor. She brought her wrist up and rubbed it against his neck. Once he looked up she wrapped her hand around the side of his neck and gently stroked his jaw. "Don't worry. We will handle it."

Derek opened his mouth to protest, but decided not to. "Okay."

She smiled and pulled his head down to kiss his forehead. "Good. Now go help your sister so she can head to the distillery."

In the face of all their budget cutting Laura took the brunt of the distillery work. She only helped set up the bar in the mornings while his mother sorted paperwork. Once she went to the distillery the bar was managed by Derek till the end of work rush and then his mother helped. His father was a teacher, but was recently let go so if he didn't have an odd job or two he helped out when he wasn't giving the younger two kids lessons.

They were all constantly working nowadays, just to barely make ends meet. Derek could remember even just a couple months ago when things were good, but there was supposedly some big peace meeting in a couple months that had tensions rising and the people preparing for an all out war. As the months dragged on things got tighter and tighter. Now, he just wished the noose closing around their necks was on the filthy pirates stealing their lively hood. But Derek had to put that all away to get though the day, it was much too heavy for this early.

The mornings were always slow. There was nothing really to do except get set up for the day. Pretty soon Laura was leaving him in charge of the two barflies, Kevin and Mark, that seemingly never left the place. It was slow up until it wasn't. The lunch rush came like it always did, all at once. Even though it wasn't as much as it had always been, Derek was busy. It wasn't until two that he finally felt like he wasn't rushed off his feet.

He was just pouring a refill for someone as the bar doors slammed open. All eyes in the bar turned to the stranger in the entryway as he quickly closed the doors behind him. He was out of breath, but acting like he wasn't. After a pause as he surveyed the room, he started to saunter towards the bar, but as shouting crown's guard walked past he sat down with a clatter at an occupied table. His back was to the door as he slung an arm around the man sitting there.

"Hi, how ya doing?"

The man sneered and started to pull away. The stranger pulled out a coin and flicked it onto the table in front of the man with his thumb. "Have a drink on me pal." The coin was worth at least three drinks and the man swept it up with a smile.

The man was pleased with his presence then, and tried to get him to stay, but as soon as the shouting stopped he resumed his path towards the bar. "Sorry, I can't stay friend."

He reached the bar and knocked on it as if Derek wasn't already looking at him. "Three things call me: the sea, rum,-" He reached up to point towards a middle shelf rum. "And f-"

Derek caught his wrist before he could pull it back down. "You're a pirate." Derek said the word with a sneer as he looked down at the brand.

The stranger quickly schooled his startled expression. "Nonsense. The P stands for pretty, my face was such a distraction Captain Jackson Whittemore had to brand it into my skin. I am a fine upstanding citizen of this country just like you all. God bless the rightful queen." He lifted his other hand like he was toasting the drink he did not possess yet.

"So I could just call those guards back here?"

The stranger tutted like he was speaking to a child. "Now is that any way to treat a paying customer?"

Derek flung the arm that had still been firmly in his grip. "Your money is no good here." He spit his next word out like vitriol. "Pirate."

That only made the stranger smirk with a fire like look in his eyes. "Have I bed your wife? You seem to be very angry with someone you don't know."

Derek grit his teeth.

"No that's not it. Perhaps I refused to bed you?"

Derek's veins burned as did his cheeks. The other patrons seemed to chuckle at the barb, finally turning back to their drinks.

"No, that's not it either." The stranger leaned over the bar into his space to speak softly. "I wouldn't have refused." He tossed a suggestive wink and as he leaned back his eyes raked up and down Derek in a way that made him feel naked.

"Maybe I bed your sister."

Derek closed his eyes because he knew they would bleed blue. He quickly clenched his claws into his fists, hoping the stranger didn't see them.

"Get out before I make you." Derek snarled around teeth. This was one of the filthy people taking his family's business and he came to flaunt it in his face with jokes. Derek would rip his throat out with his teeth if it wouldn't put his family in more danger.

"Hm, no. I think we can come to an agreement. I-"

"I will call the guards back here." Derek could finally open his eyes and it was to a smile that had no right to be that disarming or that smug.

"You see, I don't think you will." The stranger gave a meaningful look down at his hands and when Derek looked he then tapped on the bar before scrapping against it with his fingernails. "I think you're about to pour me a drink."

Derek was just about to pull him into the back alley to beat that smirk right off his face when the pirate lifted a heavy coin purse to the bar. As soon as it clanked down the ties loosened enough to see in. It was enough gold coins for a third of their expenses for the entire month.

"I think you're going to pour me a house rum while taking my coin. Because between me and you, I think you'd rather have a filthy pirate drink here than have everyone you know brought before the Captain."

Derek couldn't help the fear that filled his chest as he said that. Every single were brought before the Captain was never seen again. Well, sometimes there would be a piece of jewelry or a blood stained article of clothing given to the uninvolved human family members if it was something they didn't know about. But if they had so much as a hint, they were gone too. The Captain was known for killing anyone who was even suspected of being in league with supernaturals. He was called the Kanima Captain, because almost like a reptile, he left no trace of people, seemingly swallowing entire families whole. Derek only had a moment to consider as the crown's guard filed back past.

The pirate seemed to give him an amused look like he didn't care if Derek called them in here. Like he would be just as happy running away.

"Fine." Derek snarled back swiping the coin purse.

The pirate smiled and threw down some more coins from a pocket. "And another round for the tavern filled with friends I've made." The pirate looked back to see if his bribe would work and the people cheered and tipped their glasses up in appreciation.

Derek poured his drink closer to the top than he normally would if not to just keep him from speaking that much longer.

As he turned back, the pirate was already mid story with Mark, who could barely keep his head up. The pirate must've taken the wobble his head does towards the bar as a nod of encouragement. He turned with sharp eyes to Derek who was wearing the most malicious look he had.

The pirate's lips only stopped moving once the glass was being tilted back and resumed as soon as it was empty.

Derek didn't move his spiteful stare away from the pirate, he knew better than to take your eyes off a thief.

The pirate finished his story and turned back to Derek. "You know if you look at me any more intensely I'll assume you want something. We already know about your scorn for pirates and their supposed thievery, so you must not want me to steal something for you. I already gave you money. I suppose there is one more thing I'm famous for." The pirate gave him a lecherous grin.

"The only thing I want from you, pirate, is for you to get out of my bar."

"Well, I think one drink is much too soon for you to take me back to your place. I mean, even if you were to try to take advantage of me, one drink is not enough to get me disoriented. I am a pirate after all." The pirate scrunched his nose mockingly as he said pirate.

"Oh I'm sure there isn't enough rum in the world to make you act even more as indecent and appalling as you do sober."

He smirked at Derek. "Not nearly."

Derek rolled his eyes and continued on with his job. He couldn't wait for the pirate to leave. As luck would have it, he just tossed down way too many coins and ordered himself another round.

Derek dutifully poured it.

Derek was on the other side of the bar pouring a drink when Thomas came down. The wolf inside him panicked. He wanted to be in between his pack and the pirate that seemed nothing but trouble.

"Tommy aren't you in the middle of lessons with Dad?"

Thomas shrugged. "I was hungry. He told me to ask you for something."

Derek seemed frazzled. "Right okay, there should be some dried meat over there. Grab it and go back upstairs." Derek tried to finish with the group, but they kept asking him questions.

"I can't find it."

Derek was about to huff at him to look with his eyes when he remembered Laura grabbed the snack on her way out. "Okay sorry bud, I didn't get time to pick up anything else. Just giv-"

"Here."

Derek stiffened at the voice. He turned to see the pirate washing an apple with his soft flowy shirt. He held it out to Thomas.

Derek put the pitcher down and moved towards them quickly. "Tommy don't take that."

Thomas seemed to look at the pirate appraisingly. He took the apple and smelled it.

"Tommy!"

"What? It's just an apple." He took a bite and Derek felt his heart fall out. He rushed the rest of the way to Thomas.

"What did I say? Huh! I told you not to take it!" All he could smell was the sweet scent of fruit, but there were many scentless poisons. He went to snatch it out of his hands, but Thomas moved it and stuck out his tongue.

"Easy friend. I did not mean to offend you. He seemed hungry."

Derek turned turned to the pirate and snarled in his face. "Do not, call me friend!"

The pirate held up his hands, and Derek wanted nothing more than to just rip them from his body. Something about this man irritated him so much. Just the way he looked got under his skin.

"Whoa, you're scaring me." Thomas' eyes looked shiny. "Did I do something wrong?" Thomas' voice went small as he looked at the pirate. "Is he a bad man?"

The look on the pirate's face looked totally foreign to anything Derek thought it could look like.

"No, I'm not. I just said some rude things to your brother. He made me feel like I was wrong just because of what I am, so I said some things I shouldn't have. I am sorry for what I said though... Well. most of it. Some of it. Do you think your brother will forgive me for what I am and what I said?" The pirate didn't take his eyes off Thomas and it made his wolf bristle at how earnest he was looking at his brother. Like he actually cared what he said.

Thomas looked confused. "That doesn't sound like Derek. He would never hate anybody for what they are. Just who they choose to be. He can seem kinda mean sometimes though. But he's not. He even let me sleep in his bed last night even though I always kick him!"

Derek's cheeks flamed once again.

Stiles glanced up at him. "Is that so?"

"Yeah. So I'm sure he will forgive you for what you said. Well, as long as you didn't say anything about his family." Thomas laughed. "He once gave Louis, the butcher's son, a knuckle sandwich for saying Laura couldn't do better than him."

"Well, what if I tried real hard, even if I did that, would he forgive me?"

He seemed to consider. "I think so. Derek's the best big brother ever. He never stays mad at me." Thomas looked up at him so adoringly his heart almost melted.

"Well then, I guess I should apologize."

Derek was brought away from Thomas to look at the pirate. "No need. Pirate."

Thomas' eyes went wide. "You're a pirate?" He spoke in a hushed awed tone.

He booped his nose. "Sure am, kiddo."

"Is the kraken real?" Thomas asked in a rush.

The pirate laughed and leaned down from his bar stool after glancing around to see if anyone was looking. He whispered into his ear. "She sure is, but between me and you, she's a total sweetheart."

Derek put an arm on the pirate's shoulder to pull him back. "Tommy, go finish your work."

"But Derek-"

"Thomas." Derek spoke with a commanding voice.

"Ugh fine." Thomas turned to the pirate before leaving. "What's your name?"

"Well, your brother just calls me pirate, but my name is Stiles."

Thomas' face scrunched up as Derek spoke, "What the hell is a Stiles?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "What's your name kid?"

Thomas beamed before holding out his hand. "My name is Thomas, but Derek calls me Tommy."

Stiles smiled. "Should I call you Tommy?"

Derek moved in between them and put his hand on the bar. "You shouldn't call him anything."

Thomas wedged underneath Derek's arm. "You should call me Thomas." Derek had an annoyed scowl on his face.

"And you can call my brother D-" Thomas' eyes widened slightly and Derek's arm tightened around him. "Miguel. You can call him Miguel."

Stiles raised an eyebrow. "Miguel?"

Derek tightened the arm around him as he spoke with clenched teeth. "Miguel."

"I can't breathe, you meanie. Let me go." Thomas landed a boney elbow right between his ribs and as soon as he doubled over he scurried back up the steps.

As Derek was regaining his breath he realized how close he had gotten to the pirate. He took two steps back.

"Relax. I only bite if you make me." His gleaming teeth somehow seemed more threatening than half the wolves he's met.

"Finish your drink and then leave. I'm not asking."

Stiles swallowed it all down then stood. "Well, I'm not one to overstay my welcome."

"You did that the moment you stepped foot in here."

Stiles let out a laugh. "Man, what do you have against pirates?"

"You are dirty thieves that don't think about how you hurt anyone else. You don't care about anyone and no one cares about you."

The pirate slapped his hand down on the bar. "You know it's bigots like you who don't think to even try to understand someone before going right to judging. I would think you would know better, but apparently not. You know, not all pirates are just the trash that this society throws out to the seas, sometimes we leave because we know this society is the trash and needs to be fixed. I don't take down the little fishing boats trying to make a living. I take down the royal ships so laden with treasures they've stolen from other lands just because they have less firepower! I take down ships with enough money to help the kingdom, but the Argents would rather hoard it for power!"

Derek took his arm harshly. "If you're going to flaunt that you're a pirate a few drinks might make them forget, but if you want to talk about just who you steal from I'd lower your voice. Most don't give a damn, but some care for the Argents."

The pirate still had rage in his eyes as he looked at the attention he had grabbed, but he nodded at Derek and stormed through the doors.

Derek's day passed like all of the ones before and soon enough he was tossing out the days trash and then getting ready for bed for it to all start over again tomorrow.

He kissed Thomas on the head and crawled into bed.

"Psst. Derek."

Derek opened his eyes. "Yes Tommy?"

"We met a pirate today!"

Derek couldn't help the churning in his stomach at Thomas' delighted tone. "We did."

He heard rustling. "Don't sound like that Derek. We met a pirate! You love pirates!"

Derek swiveled his head to look at where Thomas was sitting up in bed. "I do not!"

"You do too. You always tell me stories about awesome pirates!"

"That's different."

"How?"

Derek opened his mouth before he found something he could say. "Those pirates are fake."

"So?"

"Well, they don't actually steal from people."

"Robin hood is fake, but if someone actually stole from rich people to give to the poor people he would be good."

"That's not the same thing."

"Why?"

It infuriated Derek when he did that. Used one word answers to completely derail what Derek said. "Because. Okay. Just because."

"But why?"

Derek turned to groan in his pillow. "Because, Stiles is a filthy pirate that steals okay. Now go to bed."

"I'm not tired. I want a story about pirates." Derek knew he did that just to press the issue.

"Tommy go to sleep before I smother you with my pillow."

He heard a huff and Thomas angrily turning towards the wall and shoving around his blankets.

Derek could practically see the pouty lip. He closed his eyes and sighed. "There once was a pirate, he was a bad pirate. He got put in jail and everyone celebrated at the bar. The end."

"That's the worst story you've ever told." Derek could hear the smile in his voice just like the one he was wearing.

"Tomorrow night's will be better. Get some sleep. I love you Tommy."

Thomas yawned. "I love you too Derek."

For once Derek was not awoken by Thomas crawling into his bed or nightmares. He was awoken by a crash in the alley. The alley that was right below their window. Derek scrambled out of bed shoving the blankets away and snagging a shirt as he went towards the hall. He walked out the hall and was met with glowing red eyes in the darkness of the room across the hall. The glowing gave way to darkness and his mother stepped into the faintly lit hallway.

"Did you hear it?"

"It did not sound big. Are you sure you closed the bin? Those raccoons are probably back. Go check Derek."

They had been plagued by the pesky vermin since Lily had left food out for them for a week and now no matter what they would not leave. Derek nodded at his mother and headed down the stairs and he grabbed a broom before going through the back door.

Derek let out a sigh as he closed the door behind himself.

When he turned around the silhouette of a man startled him into dropping the broom and growing claws and fangs. The flash of his eyes brought clear sight of someone he dreaded to see.

"Man you are the worst secret werewolf ever. That's twice now. If the crown's guard weren't such incompetent imbeciles I would say you'd have a problem."

Derek quickly shifted back. Maybe he would get a chance to beat him up in the back alley. "Say it a bit louder why don't you?!" Derek hissed out.

Stiles lifted a challenging eyebrow. "Man you really are the wor-" Stiles' lifted voice was quickly cut off by a hand over his mouth. A hand that had been across the alley, not but a moment ago. Derek's body was close enough to be threatening, but not enough to be squishing Stiles' bag in-between them. Derek's eyes made him look like he was about to tear Stiles to shreds as the hand gripped Stiles' mouth in a vice.

Stiles licked it.

"Augh gross! What are you, a child?"

Stiles stuck out his tongue. "Well then, you shouldn't cover my mouth. I need it for things." Stiles made a suggestive face at him.

"I don't want anymore filthy pirate on me, thank you."

The suggestive nature was wiped away by irritation. "Alright then. I believe that brings this conversation to an end then. If you would please excuse me, I have some business to attend to." Stiles did a mock bow. When he leaned back up he made a gesture like he was waiting for Derek to leave.

Derek had unimpressed eyebrows and petulantly crossed his arms. "I'm not moving until you leave my alley."

"This isn't your alley."

Derek's eyebrows taunted him and he adjusted so he stood a little taller. "That's my family's bar and we live right above it, I think it's safe to say this is my alley."

Stiles' eyes flickered up to above the bar and Derek inwardly cursed himself for giving out that piece of sensitive information. He didn't know what it was about the pirate, but he disarmed him while making him want nothing more than to just press his body against the wall and use his teeth on the man. "Not that it's any of your business pirate."

Stiles smiled. It seemed he was getting used to the sneer. That made Derek's blood boil.

"No, but it is good to know." Stiles chuckled. "If I ever need to find you, I'll know where to look."

Derek's face must've betrayed what he was thinking, because instantly Stiles' hand was no longer gripping the light brown satchel he had slung over his body and instead was clutching his arm.

"I mean you no harm." If Derek didn't know that he was dishonest for a living he'd swear he'd never seen a more honest man than he did in the face before him. "No matter what I said in the bar, I would never, and I mean never, put your family in harms way just because of who you are." Stiles' eyes were leaking sincerity and Derek found his shoulders slumping down in a calm relief he hadn't felt in months. It was dizzying how quickly the mood and conversation had changed.

Derek caught up to himself after a few moments of staring right into his eyes. Derek nodded minutely and stepped back while brushing off his hand. Derek had never been accepted for who he was entirely, ever, by anyone outside of his family. His family had to be constantly vigilant, never letting anyone too close. He felt flayed raw and his insides were a mess of not knowing what to do or how to feel. He had become so used to hiding who he was, never letting anyone in, and here was this pirate sauntering into his life when he should've been running. Or maybe Derek should've been the one that ran, but somehow he felt transfixed. Either way right now he had no idea what he should be doing, but he knew even if he wanted to, running would be the last thing he did. Even if he had no idea why.

Thomas hadn't been entirely wrong, though. He did like pirates, but that was before he found out that pirates were the ones stealing his family's business. Had been the reason for months of worry and barely scraping by. Months of Lily and Thomas no longer getting the cakes he used to buy them from the corner bakery, or the joy they brought. Months of Laura having to do the jobs they could no longer afford to pay anyone else to do. Months of his mom in her office making sure they didn't spend a single gold coin too much. Months of his dad trying to pick up odd jobs that had his bones creaking in a way that never failed to remind them how human he really was. They had owned New Haven for as long as Derek could remember. He couldn't lose it. He wouldn't. Not to the likes of this pirate.

And now that he had somewhere to focus all of the anger, that seemed to be more of a part of his heart than the blood pumping through it, he wouldn't let that go. Even still, just for this moment all of what had been suffocating him seemed to vanish to be replaced by desperation. It had been so long since he had felt something that deep other than anger. He almost forgot he could feel other ways. He still felt for his family of course, but the rage was always there. There were always flames crawling up his throat and licking the back of his brain. Now it was like cold ocean water was dumped down his back.

He nodded again. No matter how earnest Stiles seemed, Derek felt like he had to convince him. "We don't bother anyone. They would take the kids. He's only eight, she's nine. They don't deserve that. We aren't monsters, we ar-" Derek could tell he was getting himself worked up.

"Hey hey, I know. I know. Stupid heartless people that are afraid are the only ones who think that you are. You don't deserve any of the shit the Argent's rule has brought upon you. No supernatural being does."

Nobody ever disrespected the Argents like that. They grumbled and didn't care about them, but no one voiced their opinions like that. But maybe that was the plus of being a pirate. It made him wonder why the venom in Stiles' eyes was there. Why did he hate them so much? It seemed personal to him. Derek discretely took a breath in through his nose. Surely he wouldn't have missed it if Stiles was a were.

"I'm not a shifter. I just know when something is wrong."

Derek tried to not let it show that he was surprised Stiles caught him. "What about stealing, isn't that wrong?"

"Not if it was already stolen."

Derek scoffed. "So you're telling me everything you steal has been stolen?"

"No, I'm saying I only steal from the Argents and everything they have was either stolen of the backs of their people or from the rightful ruling families of Beacon and Duszasdom. They rule with an iron fist and Queen Victoria is as fit to rule as the crazed vengencewolf Captain. She lives for nothing other than to see her lands rid of peaceful families just because they are different, even at the expense of her own. She has no right to rule, much less of a claim on the riches of those kingdoms. They can talk peace and prosperity all they want, but the war with King Deucalion is ravaging the lands! The only thing keeping their control is their army of hunters and the so called strengthening arrangements. Just because they gave away the southeastern half of Beacon to the now Queen Natalie and Lady Lydia and the rest to Kate doesn't mean that that vile woman doesn't control it too! And they might have won tentative favor among the Duszaonians with my- the Sheriff's approval, but that won't last long. It might look nice on paper, but make no mistake that family controls everything and everyone who submits to them! And I refuse! Refuse! To be one of them! So call me dirty pirate all you want, I will never submit to a rule under an Argent who thinks about how she can kill innocents just because they're different, before she thinks about the good of her people! The Argents focus their armies inwardly hounding anyone who so much as growls all the while Deucalion slaughters her supposed subjects at the borders! She is unfit to rule as is her sister-in-law! The Argents do not deserve what they took!"

Stiles was heaving with rage in his eyes. If Derek didn't know better he would say that the air was actually charged with lighting, everything felt electric. Stiles seemed to collect himself, but it was more like the lighting was in a bottle now. He may have corked it, but there was still a danger there. "All I'm saying is, I might steal, but I steal from the right people. I don't hurt innocents. There are much worse things out there to be than a pirate."

Derek almost wanted to scream my family is innocent, but with how worked up Stiles had been he thought against it. "You can think what you'd like. I don't want to see you around here again. You are loud with your views and no matter if they are true or not, they attract attention. Attention we don't need. This is private property. Get away." Derek barely held back the urge to make a shooing motion.

Gone was the rage as Stiles slipped into that lazy smile he seemed to always wear. "Private property? This is an alley."

Derek was back to being annoyed. "My alley."

"Okay okay. I'll leave just one question."

Derek let out a huff of exasperation.

"Is it private property to the rat too?" He pointed at a small mouse eating a piece of banana peel.

"Should I take him with me? Or are you going to snap your teeth at h-" Stiles ducked the broom Derek swung at him with a laugh. He started down the alley and called over his shoulder. "Okay, okay. You win sourwolf, I'm going." He started walking backwards to look at Derek. "But I know you'll miss me."

Derek deadpanned. "Desperately."

Stiles let out an obnoxious laugh and set off in a jog. "Goodnight Miguel." Stiles' voice had a strange lilt when he said his name like he knew it was fake.

"Goodnight pirate." Even if he was justified in other things he was definitely still causing harm, whether he knew it or not. Nonetheless, Derek found himself oddly taken in with the pirate. He shook his head trying to rid himself of the amusement curling in his gut.

Derek could hear his mom moving down the stairs. He quickly went back inside to meet her in the back room.

"What took you so long? Were they in the garbage?"

He knew she would hear if he lied, and for some reason he didn't want to tell her about the pirate. "Don't worry mom. I cleaned up the filth out there."

"Good. Let's get to bed. It's late."

It wasn't until he was back settled in bed that he realized that Stiles probably was delivering his moonshine in that brown bag.

---

Derek yawned as he was lost in thought about the night before while wiping a glass. Why had Stiles been in his alley. Sure, he was probably delivering moonshine, but his alley specifically? The town was a maze of different back ways and turns. Not only did he burst into his bar, but to be outside his window? His mother always warned him about people hunting them. It always boggled Derek the amount of paranoia his parents and Laura had for being found. It wasn't just the guard they were weary of either. They wouldn't let anyone outside of the family watch Lily or Thomas, they never told people their real names, and they never allowed them to have friends get too close.

Derek had once. He had made friends with three people, kids really. They had nowhere to go and they were scared. Derek and his family took care of them, but as soon as his mother found out they were wanted by the Captain, Derek never saw them again. For a terrifying moment Derek had wondered if she turned them in to keep her family out of it.

Sometimes it was a lonely life, not being able to talk to anyone outside of his family. He loved them, but he wished that sometimes he could meet someone more than just once. The bar was filled with either people that he'd known since as long as he could remember or drifters that only stopped for a drink.

Then came Stiles.

Why did the first person he actually was able to have a conversation that didn't involve asking what someone wanted to drink, have to be with a filthy pirate?

He felt eyes on him and he looked up.

Laura had one eyebrow raised at him. "I don't think that glass is getting anymore dry. You've been on that one for like five minutes. Something wrong?"

Derek did not want to tell her about Stiles. "No." Fuck that was way too fast, and did his voice really go a bit high, ugh.

Laura looked gleeful. The damn shark looked like she smelled blood in the water. "Really?" Her voice was flat.

"Leave it."

"So there is something!"

Derek put down the glass. "Lauuuuuuraaaaa." He wished she would just go open the doors, so they could start working.

"Nope nope, you do not get to hide this from me. I'm your big sister and nothing ever happens in this town. Spill."

"It has nothing to do with you."

"Don't care. Do you want me to get Mom to as-"

Derek's eyes widened. "You wouldn't, you evil witch." Derek knew she absolutely would. "Fine." He had to remain vague. "I met someone."

Laura's mouth went open with a grin. "You met someone?" She unlocked the door for a group that was waiting.

Shit. By her tone he realized how fucked he was. He stayed vague alright, but by her tone she interpreted it way differently than he meant her to.

"Not like that!"

She looked downright smug. The bitch. "Sure. Not like that at all." She said it like it totally was like that.

"Don't go making a big deal about it."

"Are you kidding? You haven't met a person you haven't instantly hated. This is huge!"

Someone called for a barkeep. He contemplated telling her that he does actually hate them, but that would just open more questions. "I'm done talking about this." Derek walked away from her to help the patron.

"For now. I'll let you be, for now." That woman was evil, pure evil.

---

"You there! Stop! There's nowhere left to run!" The head crown's guard shouted at a panting Stiles heading straight towards the lookout point.

He laughed as he came to a stop where the cobblestone mounted upwards into a waist high fence. The crudely cemented together rocks arched out in an incomplete circle towards the sea, on the edge of a cliff. Stiles hopped up onto the ledge.

"Who said anything about running Captain Jackass?" Smirking, Stiles jumped off with a sloppy salute.

After the expected splash Jackson let out a sigh. "Every fucking time Stilinski."

A few moments later more guards rushed up behind him and swiveled their heads back and forth trying to catch sight of the pirate.

Stiles saw his laugh turn to air bubbles and then race each other to the surface in a wobbly game of chase. They broke the surface, but he kept swimming down.

What little air he had left he used to blow out a little bubble in front of him. He quickly reached out a hand and forced the bubble to stay down with the wave of his hand. He slowly opened his hand and splayed his fingers as far as he could. The air bubble rapidly expanded. Once it was big enough Stiles swam over to it and went inside. He took a deep gasping breath and let out a small chuckle.

"That will only get old once he figures out how I do it." Stiles looked over to a fish swimming by. "Which will be never."

With the flick of a wrist the bubble was moving and carting him along with it. It was moving at a leisurely pace till a big dark shape came into view.

"There she is."

As he came closer Stiles was able to make out the shape he had memorized by now.

Inside a bubble much like the one he was currently in, except much larger, was a ship. But not just any ship, the finest ship in, or on the seven seas. She far out shone any of the sunken ships that had ever graced the waves, because when she went down it was never for long. And any ship now would barely be out of port by the time good ol Claudia made it round the world two times flat. The finest ship and with a crew Stiles had mostly hand picked by the time he was fifteen. It had only taken five years to get Stiles from a sniffling kid just wanting his mom back, to first mate on the head ship of the most feared and respected pirate armada on the seas. It had only taken three more years after that before he convinced the Captain he could lead it before Stiles was Captain Stilinski the feared spark of the seas.

He was renowned for being fair, but ruthless. Many said that if it wasn't for his first mate the town of Schlongshire would be nothing but rubble and bodies not even worth burying. It was unusual for a human to be a pirate, but not unheard of. What was unheard of was a spark being one. When one could control countries and have given to them everything they could want simply for their allegiance, why would they go pillaging the seas for scraps. Sparks hardly came along twice in a century, they were powerful. And more often than not, destined for greater things than being a pirate. All the same, he lived a life true to himself and doing everything in his power to make the world better, while trying his damnedest to return to his family. Even if in his many years at sea he had learned to make a new one. One that ate oranges and threw each other overboard for a laugh. He helped supernaturals as much as he could, giving the homeless and hopeless with nowhere else to turn, a place to be accepted. To be cared for and a part of something.

It was no secret that most of his crew was strays he had picked up or saved from certain doom. He even protected quite a few from the grasp of the Argents and even the Captain.

His bubble met the much bigger one slightly above deck level and as they pressed into each other they combined and Stiles popped through. He fell down and landed on deck in a crouch steadying himself with on hand on the floor.

As if they hadn't seen his approach, his crew's eyes snapped to attention at the sound of his boots hitting the wood.

"Mornin Cap."

Stiles half bowed at the man carrying a barrel across the ship. "And an absolutely splendid mornin to you as well."

A man rushed up to him. "How did it go?" The man seemed nervous.

"Scotty, me matey, you worry too much."

Scott rolled his eyes. "You know you sound ridiculous when you speak like that."

"Arrr I do. And you know you love it."

Scott's face went serious. "How did it fare?"

Stiles' smile fell as he looked at him. "Where is she?"

Scott winced. "That bad? She's below deck, she didn't sleep well and has a headache. What happened?"

Stiles looked around to see if anyone was listening. Everyone seemed rather busy as soon as he looked. In fact as his eyes started sweeping the deck he clocked at least three people actually sweeping the deck which was odd because it was his turn to brush away the dirt. "Are you givin your Captain sauce?" Stiles hooked an arm around his neck and started walking them towards his quarters. "It went bloody brilliant as expected."

Once the door shut behind them Stiles let go of him. "How many times do I have to tell you, no talking in front of the crew. It's bad for morale."

"So it is bad news then?"

Stiles sighed and scrubbed a hand down his face as he tossed his hat onto his desk. "Duchess Evangeline hadn't heard or found anything and neither has Lord Emhyr." Stiles sat heavily down in his chair by his desk and Scott came closer. "If they're in either of their territories they're so well hidden that they'll never find them."

Scott crossed his arms as he leaned against the desk. "And you believe them? You think they're trustworthy?"

Stiles gave a considering look as he steepled his fingers. He nodded his head. "I do. With what we know about them they wouldn't dare lie to us. If there is any further information they would've passed it along. For all the Lady's talents, blackmail is one of her finest."

"And were you followed on your way back from your meeting with her?"

Stiles scoffed. "The Captain couldn't catch me if I had two hands tied behind my back, and I would know-"

Scott rolled his eyes and spoke instep with Stiles.

"I've gotten away shackled."

"- I've gotten away shackled." Stiles stuck out his tongue. "Make fun all you'd like, that was badass."

Stiles stared at him until one side of his jaw moved and his lip curled up. "Okay, that was pretty badass."

Stiles smiled. "Okay, I'm all good here. I'll be heading to bed shortly, I woke up so early it was late, you should go check on her."

Scott's expression changed. "You going to bed shortly translates to me walking in on you in the morning still up, drunk bent over the charts."

Stiles' wide smile dropped. "I'll be fine. You head to bed, you woke early as well."

Scott didn't move. "You may not want to worry the crew, but I'm not just crew. I'm your firstmate. You're my brother." Scott looked at him with his puppy eyes.

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Alright you can stop that now. I'm worried Scotty, of course I am. If we don't find them in time-"

"We will find them in time." Scott went over to the couch and sat down.

Stiles gave him a flat look. "Your eternal optimism is not welcome here."

"Okay fine. Say we don't, it will still be fine. We have a backup plan." Scott motioned him to come sit.

Stiles gave him a dubious look. "You and I both know she won't be able to kill her father, not when he hasn't done anything to deserve it." Stiles poured two glasses of rum and walked over to sit down.

Scott took a glass. "So we'll find a way around it. Stiles I know us, I know you. You've always thought of something, you always figure any problem we have out."

Stiles ran a hand through his hair. "That's just it Scotty, this isn't just some problem. This is the problem, the biggest problem. And if this doesn't go right then we're most likely dead."

Scott put a commiserating hand on his arm. "Yeah. That would suck for us."

"It would so suck."

Stiles drained his glass and set it on the floor. "Alright, open up. I need puppy cuddles."

Scott opened his arms and wedged a leg along the back of the couch and draped the other down the side of the couch. Stiles crawled into his arms and leaned his back against Scott's front.

"Scott you're the best friend ever."

Scott wrapped his arms around Stiles and breathed in his best friend that always smelled like spicy soap, seawater, and something crackling. It took him awhile to realize, but he knew now that was the scent of Stiles' rage. Ever present, even now, content to be wrapped up safe with the person he relied on most. "We are going to be okay. Stiles, I need you to realize that. We will figure it out and we will be behind you every step of the way. This crew, they would die for you. We're a family Stiles. You did that, you built us. You saved us. You aren't just my best friend or the best Captain, you're the best person I've ever known."

With his words Scott swore he could hear the thunder receding. "I just don't want to let everyone down. Everyone is all in on this one. And no matter what everyone says, even if it is their choice, if this goes belly up, it's on me."

"Yeah it is. It's on ye, it's on me, it's on everyone involved. But that won't stop you will it?"

Stiles sighed and leaned his head back into the curve of Scott's neck. "No, it won't."

"So we're in this together?"

"Aye. We always are. Always have been."

There was a pause of silence as they just relaxed.

"Why can't we be nine again, running around and stealing jelly tarts when our moms weren't looking?"

Scott slapped Stiles' stomach. "Excuse ye! I never stole jelly tarts! You never told me they were stolen! I still can't believe ye roped me into that one. It's been nine years and I still can't believe that!"

Stiles laughed. "But you ate them, you were a part of it!" He chuckled and then his scent went sour. "Maybe I was always meant to be a filthy pirate stealing things and hurting people."

"Hey what did we say about listening to the shit Jackson says?" Scott said it jokingly expecting a light-hearted response. Usually Stiles didn't take those sorts of things to heart.

He was serious as he replied, "It wasn't Jackson."

Scott set his drink down. "What? Who was it?"

Stiles stared blankly up at the ceiling. "Just some man, a barkeep. From yesterday."

"Don't let those speciest, Gerard lovers get to ye. He's a pig for-"

"No. He wasn't. He was an honest man, kind to his brother. I think he was a good man, a truly good one. He just- when he looked at me I could see just, this hatred. He hated pirates, he hated me even after I told him I didn't steal from the local fishermen. I felt like he truly hated me the second he looked at me. It was strange. I've never felt anything like it. You're going to think I'm mad but-"

"I already know you are mad."

Stiles elbowed him. "His eyes. I feel like I recognized them. And I just strangely wanted to get him to understand that I was not his enemy. I wanted him to think I was good too."

"Oh by thunder, that's your Lady Lydia voice! Have ye planned your wedding yet?"

"Shut up. I don't know he just felt... Important. I shouldn't even be thinking about this. It doesn't matter. I'll never see him again."

Stiles was still staring at the ceiling without moving.

"But ye want to?"

"It doesn't matt-"

"Do y-"

"Yes!" He turned and laid on his stomach. "I want his eyes to look at my eyes. And for him to not have so much hate in them. Is that so much to ask for?"

Scott smiled. "I think you deserve to be happy, but you pick impossible ways of getting there. But if you think he could be good for ye, go for it."

"It's not even that Scotty, I just feel in my bones I need to see him again. It's not like that at all. "

"Like your spark says so? Okay. Then do that."

"Don't be daft."

"I'm not."

"I can't be distracted right now."

"Oh, he's distracting is he?"

Stiles turned his head and smiled. "He's hotter than Lady Lydia."

Scott grabbed the couch like they were sailing stormy seas that were tossing the ship about. "Hotter than Lady Lydia!"

Stiles pressed a finger to his lips. "Shhhh she'll hear you!"

"We're under the ocean and she's miles away in her castle."

"She has tea with Davey Jones, they gossip."

Scott laughed at his friend which was interrupted by a knock and some one barging in followed by the door slamming. "Is the Cap- Ugh gross your weird incesto make out session is not something I wanted to see today."

"Cora, how many times do I have to tell ye. Knock, wait, then come in!"

Cora rolled her eyes. "I just came in to ask if the Cap-"

There was another knock and the door once again slammed open. "Is the Captain coming out to tell us what happened?"

Stiles pressed his face into Scott's chest and banged it against it. "Ma-li-aaaaa! Knock! Wait! Come in! I swear I will hang a sign."

"She can't read remember?"

Malia snarled at Cora.

"What? You can't."

"That's rude Cora! Malia put the claws away there will be no murdering of crewmates today." He turned to Scott. "I swear by the stars I thought I was their Captain not their mother."

They laughed as they stood up to stretch.

"Captain will give a quick talk, eat something, then get some sleep."

"What would I do without you Scotty."

"Set ye ship on fire."

"That was one time!"

"Do you know how many times it takes a ship to burn down? Once. And it happened again too!"

"That time doesn't count because technically it was the monkey and you know it!"

---

FOUR MONTHS AGO

Derek had tried to push it away to not focus on it, he even nearly forgot. But as the days went by he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was about to burst through the bar doors. It had been over a month since he had seen the pirate and he didn't know if he was expecting him to have sent the crown's guard or if the pirate would burst through the doors again. One sent dread and the other excitement and he didn't know how to feel about that, hell he'd deny feeling anything but contempt for the pirate. Each day Derek became more resigned to never seeing him again, but one night when the sound of rustling in the alley woke him up he sprung out of bed.

"I'll get it mom!" He called out a little too loudly for the late hour as he rushed down the steps.

"Don't wake the whole house!" That was Laura's voice not his mom's.

"Go back to sleep you wench."

He could tell she was raising a middle finger to his back without even turning.

He threw open the door and for a disappointing second didn't see anything. Slowly out of a shadow a figure emerged.

"What are you doing here pirate?"

That damn lazy smirk. "I thought you might miss me by now."

Damn him. "Like shit on a shoe."

The pirate laughed and Derek found himself smiling. The sticky sweat and fever of having too heavy of a blanket on in the tropic heat still clung to the back of his neck, but the warmth felt a little less scorching with the night air tickling his skin.

"Do you often have looters?"

Derek was confused by the question. "What?"

"Well, I was just wondering what would prompt you to so eagerly bolt out of bed in such a state."

Derek looked down at his bare torso and thin sleeping pants. He crossed his arms with a scowl, but quickly used one hand to try and smooth down his bed head.

Stiles looked up and pulled his bottom lip into his mouth while the corners tilted up.

"That made it w-"

"Worse. So much worse." The words flooded out of him with joy.

Derek's cheeks heated as he looked away.

Stiles came closer and lifted a hand. Derek flinched.

"How many times do I have to tell you, I won't hurt you."

He had never seen his eyes this close before and he knew he'd never pour another glass of whiskey again without thinking about how honest he looked right now. How truthful, how right.

He moved his hands up again and carded his hands through his hair to smooth it out.

"There." He smiled at Derek and he swallowed harshly. "Now, I can't do anything about the pants... Well, I cou-"

Derek met his raised eyebrow with a pair of flat ones. "No, thank you."

"Hm, are you that polite in the bedroom too?"

Derek was so caught of guard he scoffed as his cheeks flamed. "Must you be so shameless?"

"Yup. Otherwise I lose a bet that I couldn't live my whole life being the most shameless person to ever walk the earth. And unfortunately I put my ship as collateral, so I must keep to it."

At the mention of his ship Derek's eyes hardened again. "Well, it's rude and off putting."

"If you'd rather I could be putting out."

"I'd rather you leave my alley."

The step forward the pirate took was dangerous and Derek suddenly couldn't remember how to breathe. He was close before, but now he could see that it was exactly three thirty-five on a good sea faring day, the kind of day filled with just the perfect amount of sunshine filtering through windows that if he swirled a glass of whiskey it would be the closest anything could ever get to his eyes without a touch of magic. They were hypnotic and he wondered if maybe the pirate had been blessed by a seawitch. A blessing that any hate ever felt towards him would turn to butterflies.

"Would you though? Would you rather that I leave? Because I can."

Stiles went to take a step back and immediately Derek's mouth fell open. The pirate smirked at him and his rage came back at being tricked and toyed with. "Why are you here in my alley, pirate?" Derek caught sight of the bag over his shoulder and quickly dug in it and snatched out a bottle.

Stiles scrambled to get it back. "Hey, that's mine!" As he reached for it Derek held it up. Even though they were the same height, Derek grew up with multiple siblings and knew how to play keep away. As Stiles' limbs flailed in their pursuit he whined. "With all the shit you gave me about stealing, and here you are taking my things!"

Derek knew he had a right to what he said, but the anger was still there. He pushed Stiles backwards and looked right into his eyes as he sent the bottle crashing to the ground.

It shattered with an awful noise and liquor splashed everywhere. As the pieces scattered Stiles' eyes widened. "What the hell! Dude, that is so not cool!" His eyes were still downcast at the shards that now laid all over. As soon as he looked up he took a step back.

There was malice in his eyes clear as day.

"Leave pirate. And don't come back."

This time Stiles believed him. He scrambled backwards and as he took off into the night Derek heard something like he's not worth it. He felt that mutter as if Stiles had picked up a shard and slashed across his chest with it.

This entire time he's been rejecting the pirate. He's been belittling him, thinking he's heartless. A thief. A criminal. But to hear that he doesn't think Derek was worth it hurt more than he would've thought. Worth what? The time he took to talk to him? The effort to annoy him? The air he breathes? The space he takes up? The family that he has? Not worth what? Anything? It was so vague Derek's mind took it and ran. He imagined he meant all of them. Maybe that's why it hurt so bad, it was like multiple insults at once.

Just like that, as soon as he could no longer hear the pirate absconding in the night, Derek felt the familiar heat at the back of his throat. His anger and returned and decided he wanted nothing to do with the filthy pirate anymore.

Derek fell into bed still hot with anger and tossed his blanket to the floor. Derek laid there stewing till he thought about how his anger was justified. The pirate insulted him, even if he had done something offensive first. The pirate was a rotten no good liar. He didn't know shit about Derek. A self satisfied smirk found its way to his lips. He was glad he had vented like that now. It was good to get it out, because he deserved it.

With a yawn he decided to sleep and dream only of the pirate's ship sailing far away.

Thomas was asleep in his bed, but even from across the room he felt the comfort his brother brought him. He listened to his heartbeat and drifted off.

---

He was aware of the sunlight filtering into the room before he opened his eyes. He heard heartbeats from all the rooms and instinctively felt the safety of having his pack asleep around him. His eyes opened in soft little flicks of his lashes. He felt the peace of the morning and smiled. He hadn't slept like that in ages.

While getting dressed he debated taking a quick run. He woke up early and feeling rested, but he knew the day would tire him out quickly. It was better to just get to work. By the time Laura came down he had already set up all the tables, made breakfast for everyone, and gotten the bar ready for the day.

"Ugh, I nearly forgot you're a disgusting morning person. Seriously Der, it's been so long I was getting used to you rolling out of bed right before mom was about to lose her shit and go into your room to tackle you."

He let a small smile grace his face.

Her face still had a mark where she had laid on her pillow, but to Derek she was the most intimidating person he had ever met when she had that look on her face. She raised an eyebrow. "Why are you so glee ridden today?"

"I just slept well."

She became further intrigued. "And why did you sleep well?"

Derek needed to distract her with something and quickly. "I don't know. Hey, I made fresh bread for breakfast."

She squinted at him. "You're distracting me."

Oh shit, oh shit. It was the worst when she knew she was being distracted. She would be relentless now.

Her face turned sad. "It's okay. You don't have to tell me. It's just I miss how we used to be. We were so close. You used to tell me everything. I guess I just wanted to feel like your big sister again."

Derek felt the back of his throat getting thick. Damn her. This is how she wanted to play it, fine. He was ready to tell her to stop guilting him, but then he caught her eyes and he saw the sparkle of sincerity. Derek knew he had been pulling away from them, but he didn't think they'd notice. The guilt of it wore him down and he leaned against the counter with a huff.

He saw the satisfaction in her face, but she leaned against the bar as well to show how ready she was to listen.

His sister knew him, so when he sat in silence she didn't push.

Why had he slept so good? Why did he feel so content? The foreground of his mind wanted to shout that it was because he had sent the pirate off, but even if it was the loudest voice it wasn't the only one. With how calm he was he knew, deep down, that Stiles wasn't the only pirate responsible. He was just the only one Derek could hold responsible. Hell, it wasn't even just all the pirates' fault. It was the taxes to fund an unnecessary war. It was the war killing people's spirits. It was the Argents for creating the war. It was so many things, but Stiles was all he could focus on because it was easier to scream at one person than accept there's a flawed system in place that he can't fix. He knew rationally he didn't really want Stiles gone, so why was he happy that he was?

Or maybe it wasn't that Stiles was gone that made him happy.

Maybe it was that he was there at all.

Derek tried to find a reason for it to not be true, but he couldn't.

But then if he was happy that Stiles was there, why was he still happy once he was gone? It didn't make any sense. He felt confused and wrong footed.

Why was he so happy? Why was he so content? Why was h-

Derek's head lifted up from where he had been staring at the ground with a shock.

Why wasn't he angry?

That was the real question. He hadn't even noticed, but he didn't feel the heat at his back chasing him. He didn't feel the burning inside. For the first time in a long time he had awoken without the rage.

Maybe he wasn't happy that the pirate was there. Maybe he was just not angry once he had left. Maybe letting it out helped him in a way he hadn't been helped in a long time. It still made him feel bad. Especially remembering the way he looked at him once he told him to leave, but still. That hole where his anger was, was so much lighter to carry now. Even if there was an emptiness that came with how he got it.

He knew it wouldn't last, but today he was genuinely happy. He couldn't help wanting to see the pirate everyday if this is how he felt afterwards. Even if that was selfish.

Laura made a noise that let him know she was getting impatient.

Even if he didn't understand it, he knew he had to try to explain.

"That person I met." He could tell she got excited. "We had a fight. I yelled at him and I don't think I'll ever see him again and it makes me happy."

He could sense the confusion.

"I told you it wasn't like that Laur. But it's not really that I enjoy that he's gone either, at least I think not. I just- I always have this anger in me. It just hurts so much, and when I yelled at him it made it not hurt so much. I know it was shitty of me, but I-I just..."

"You just want it to stop hurting." Her eyes were teary and Derek could feel his getting glossy as well.

"I don't know why. I don't know why I feel this anger. God Laura, it doesn't make any sense. It's just there constantly, and it feels like I'm on fire."

At that Laura let out a choked sob.

"I'm sorry Laura. I'm so sorry I don't know why I'm like this."

She moved quickly towards him and pulled him into a hug. "Do not, ever, tell me you're sorry for how you feel. You hear me? You only have to apologize for how you act with those emotions."

Derek gripped onto the back of her shirt for a few more moments, grateful to feel the comfort of his big sister again.

When they broke apart Laura looked questioningly into his eyes. "Do you think this happiness will wear off once you realize, truly realize, that you'll never see him again? You'll never get to apologize. Don't you think you'll feel bad for what you said to him?"

Derek shrugged. "I guess I'll find out."

While they had breakfast Derek smiled at jokes and gave an extra slice of bread to Lily and they looked at him with approval. He hadn't realized how long it had been since he had interacted with his family normally. He enjoyed the day and he fell into sleep with a blissful sigh.

---

When he woke up the anger wasn't back all the way. It was just like there was a match, a tiny insignificant match. He could deal with a match.

By the end of the week the match had grown to a campfire and the hole inside him had gotten deeper.

By two more weeks the fire had consumed him and there was smoke biting at his lungs like he had never felt before. The hole inside him was a cavern that he didn't know how to crawl out of. Over the last few days he'd been getting concerned looks from the family he couldn't stop pushing away and snapping at. He didn't know how much longer he could take it.

---

THREE MONTHS AGO

It had been over a month since he had seen the pirate when Laura got the idea to try and provoke him. To try and get his anger out on her. No matter what she tried he wouldn't react.

She was particularly determined when she awoke him by smacking him.

It was a long day and he was just tired. Tired of everything. At the dinner table she made one final jab.

"What's even the purpose of you getting up at all if you're going to be so late?"

His mother was about to admonish her when he spoke.

"I don't know what the purpose of it is either."

He didn't know whether it was what he said or the way he said it, but everyone stopped. His father's cutlery clanked onto his plate and he sent unsure glances to his wife.

His mother pushed her chair away from the table and went to his side. She kissed his forehead and spoke. "There is always a reason to get up in the mornings."

He mustered a smile he didn't feel. "Right." He excused himself and headed to bed.

He heard the door open and close, then Thomas getting changed. They both laid down in silence till Thomas' voice came out sure. "Tell me a story Derek."

He looked to where his brother was. "Sorry bud. I don't think my stories would be any good tonight."

"A story doesn't have to be good to be worth hearing. Sometimes it just has to be what someone needs to hear, or even what someone needs to tell."

"Tommy?"

"Yeah Derek?"

"You really freak me out when you say stuff like that."

They both gently laughed into the darkness.

"You're eight. You shouldn't know the secret to life."

"Okay, then I won't. Tell me a story."

Derek settled into his bed more and turned to stare at the ceiling.

"I suppose you want one about pirates." Thomas loved his stories about pirates, and after meeting one Derek knew that would be the only thing he'd like to hear. He'd been able to avoid it after his fight so far. Thomas seemed to sense he didn't want to talk about them, but it seemed he'd have to finally cave tonight.

"It doesn't have to be about pirates." He could hear the, 'But I really want it to be.' in the tone of his voice.

"Just a short one, okay? I have to haul the brews tomorrow."

"Fine."

Thomas listened, completely enthralled, while Derek told a story about a boy cursed by a witch to breath fire. Thomas could feel the heat in his own neck as Derek described the boy choking on cinders. The rage bubbling in the boys chest felt oddly familiar, but Thomas knew it wasn't his own.

He spoke of ash clogging lungs and Thomas felt like coughing. Derek explained how every time the boy felt deeply, the fire poured out of him. Everything about what he was saying lit him up. He wanted to scratch at scabs that weren't even there. Thomas was scared of the darkness surrounding him, but it had nothing to do with how the dim room reminded him of smoke. What scared him was how it seemed to be coming out of Derek as he spoke, in great big puffs that snuffed out the light.

Thomas was about to try and move the story away from the flames by asking where the pirates were when Derek's tone changed all by itself.

He started describing the cool waves and the crisp scent of the sea that clung to an annoying pirate. The pirate pestered the boy till he lead him through the town. The boy showed him around and brought him to his favorite apple tree. They shared apples as they talked. The pirate made the boy laugh and as he did flames bubbled up and burned the pirate. The boy ran away as the pirate called after him. Derek told about the guilt the boy felt from burning the pirate, but he was happy because it had been so long since he had laughed like that. The boy sat on a rock over looking the harbor and watched ships leaving wondering if the pirate had left yet.

Derek had stopped talking and it took Thomas a bit to realize that was where he was leaving it. "That's the end?"

Derek sounded confused. "Yes? Of course it's the end, why wouldn't it be?"

Thomas sat up in his bed. "Because! You didn't deal with the witch, or explain why she had done it. You didn't let the boy let go of his anger. You didn't let the pirate know what was happening and why he got hurt. He deserves to know why! You didn't have them fall in love. They didn't even meet again!"

Derek's cheeks heated as he clung to one particular sentence. "Fall in love?"

"Yes! They were meant to fall in love right? The pirate made him laugh. The boy brought him to his favorite apple tree!"

"He hurt him. Why would he come back?"

"Because! Just because butthead! You can't stop the story there! You just can't." Thomas was emphatic about it.

"What happened to a story doesn't have to be a good one? Huh?" Derek raised an eyebrow at his brother who he knew couldn't see it.

"A story doesn't have to be good, but it does have to be completed. That's not the end. It just can't be."

Derek took a deep breath and Thomas could tell he was about to tell him to go to sleep.

"I'm going to finish it."

Derek's mouth dropped open. "How dare you! I told you it wouldn't be good. You wound me, deeply. I'll never recover. You don't like your big bros stories anymore, you have to rewrite the ending."

Thomas rolled his eyes. " I'm not rewriting anything you baby. Now listen."

Thomas talked about their reunion and how the pirate wasn't mad the fire burned him. He had a magical potion from the kraken that healed it, so it didn't even hurt. It did leave a cool shimmery scar that the pirate showed the boy because he thought it was cool.

Derek chuckled at that.

The boy told him he was frightened about how the pirate would react to his abilities. How everyone had shunned him, but the pirate didn't care. They became friends and the pirate asked him to sail away with him. He refused because he didn't want to burn the pirate's ship. But the pirate came up with a plan. He took him to a cove on the other side of the island and within they met sirens.

The sirens blessed the boy with their gifts. From then on whenever the boy would feel the fire inch up his throat all he had to do was sing and the salty waves would flow from his lungs out his lips to vanquish the flames.

To thank the pirate he promised to sing for him, but the pirate refused him. He told him to only sing for him if he would stay with him to sing aboard his ship everyday.

The boy said he would, and so he also became a pirate. They sailed the seas and lived happily ever after.

"And that's how the story is supposed to end!" Thomas' voice sounded snooty.

"Why would the boy become a pirate? And how could he leave his home? Also the pirate just forgives him? And you didn't even talk about the witch!" Derek replied snottily.

"Because he wanted to leave, everyone didn't like him."

"Still, why would he become a pirate?"

"Because that's what his friend was. He wanted to be like him, so he wasn't alone." Thomas explained.

"Still, he could've gone without becoming a pirate." Derek refuted.

"It's just a story Derek, why does it matter so much?" He seemed like he already knew the answer.

Derek felt gobsmacked. "You're the one that wouldn't let me end it! You made up an ending!"

"But you're the one trying to change what the characters did. They're just characters. What they do doesn't impact anything. It's not like they're real."

Derek was about to argue again when their door opened.

"Boys! You're supposed to be asleep. Go to bed!"

"Sorry Mom."

After a scolding look, she closed the door and they settled into bed.

"Goodnight love you." Thomas turned over.

He was done talking. Apparently, he had said what he was going to.

"Goodnight Tommy. I love you too."

Derek said goodnight even though he wanted to question him on what he meant. Thomas always seemed like he cared what the characters did. He always complained when Derek was too mean to one character or if one did something that didn't seem like them. Why did he say that what they did didn't matter?

He hadn't said that though, had he? He had said what they do doesn't impact anything.

The boy burning the pirate didn't impact anything. It wasn't like they were real.

Derek got a flash of hurt eyes and a speedy exit. It wasn't like they were real.

They weren't real.

But why did Derek have this pulling in his chest when he thought of the pirate in pain as the boy ran away?

He heard his brother's voice echoing. It wasn't like they were real.

Derek huffed and whispered to his brother's soft snores. "God damn you, you witch child."

What they did didn't impact anything, but Derek was real. His pirate was real. And he had hurt him.

Laura's words came back to him and he supposed he finally did feel awful for yelling.

He fell asleep cursing his siblings.

---

He had a fitful night of sleep and woke up already exhausted. The day drug on, and by the time he was on his last trip from the distillery he was beyond tired.

He was thankfully going down the last hill before he reached the bar. He debated taking a break, but decided to just get it over with.

He didn't see the uneven cobblestone till it was too late.

Fuck.

He managed to keep a hold on one of the barrels, but the other went sailing down the hill.

Derek watched it go with a detached sort of disappointment.

Fuck his life.

About half way down the hill a figure emerged from an alley. They were cloaked in shadow. The figure swiftly moved in front of the barrel while speaking, "What would you do without me?"

Just as they finished talking the barrel reached right in front of them. As it came close they brushed their coat behind them and lifted up one boot to stop the barrel. Their hat had a ridiculous feather standing up proudly as they stood with their arms akimbo.

For one shining moment they looked quite heroic. But the momentum from the hill, and then quickly being stopped must've sloshed the liquid inside. The second wave of force was unexpected. And just as the figure tipped their hat to look up, Derek caught a glimpse of a wide, brown eyed, mole dotted face.

Stiles' perched boot slipped in front of the barrel which, without anything stopping it, rolled into his other leg. Just like that Stiles went face first into the cobblestone, barely catching any of his weight with his arms.

"Roaloorororloriiiiiiikeeerkrlo." The barrel continued down the hill unbidden.

Stiles flipped over with a muttered, "Fuck." He lifted onto his elbows to see the barrel. After it had trampled some bushes, it rolled over a felled branch like a ramp. It was about to fly off the cliff's edge.

Stiles lifted a hand. It was Derek's turn to go wide eyed.

A soft yellow light flowed around his hand like currents. That same light wrapped itself around the barrel and caught it midair. Derek looked at Stiles only to see the same light emanating from his eyes. Derek nearly dropped the other barrel with shock.

With a wave of his hand the barrel was coming closer and obediently sat softly onto the ground next to him.

"Damn. I woulda looked so swashbuckling if that would've worked." Stiles picked up his hat.

"You have magic!" Derek was quickly moving closer, now wide awake.

"Yes? Didn't you know?" Stiles replied nonchalantly as he got off the floor.

His eyebrows went flat from where they were embedded in his hairline. "I wouldn't have asked if I knew." Derek stopped still a few paces away.

"Well sooorry. I figured the glowy hands-" He wiggled his fingers. "And barrel freezing midair were a big enough clue in, but yes I'm a spark."

He filed away the knowledge of what Stiles was, it was very shocking and he didn't know what to do with that. Derek laughed while he shook his head. "Are you always this much of a jackass?"

Stiles didn't miss a beat. "Only on Tuesdays and Thursdays." He brushed non-existent dirt off his shoulders.

Derek's eyebrows furrowed. "Today is Sunday?"

Stiles seemed thoughtful. "Huh. Well, then I guess Sundays too." He seemed to dwell on the thought for a moment longer before snapping out of it. "Anyway, you have your barrel and my pride has been brutally ripped from me once again. I do believe that brings our affairs to a close." Stiles clasped his hands behind his back, waiting for him to leave.

He didn't budge.

"So if you'll excu-"

"Wait." Derek set down the barrel.

There was a pause as they both waited for Derek to say something.

"About last time-"

"What about last time?" He seemed like a shark.

"Well, I just wanted to say- I wanted to say I was wr-"

"Captain Stiles!"

Derek startled as a portly old man came running out of another alley.

"You weren't at the agreed spot?" He looked out of breath and confused. Derek recognized him as Mr. Bramington. He came into the bar a couple nights a week, but hadn't been in a few weeks.

Stiles had a plastered on smile. "My apologies friend. I believe I'm done here anyway. Good to see you again." He gave a curt nod that Derek knew meant it was not.

"Well, should we get on with our business Captain?" He gave Derek a distrustful glance. "To the meeting spot?"

"Why yes, of course." As Stiles stretched out an arm to usher the man forth, he caught sight of that damn bag.

"Mr. Bramington, how have you been?" Derek said before they could leave.

He squinted in the low light, till recognition filled his features. "Why Derek! I've been well. How've you been, my boy?"

"Good. Have you truly been well? What about Martha and the boys?"

He seemed confused till Derek mentioned the boys, then his face lit up. "Yes I have. Martha as well. But that's not what you want to know is it, you scamp." He gave him a fond knowing look. "You're asking after Jacob, aren't you? He talks about you constantly. He truly will be overjoyed to hear I ran into you. You must meet up. You've only seen each other, what twice? That cannot stand. Oh and your little brother could come along to play with my Fletcher." His eyes looked dreamy. "Just think of it, two of my boys, marring two of Jadwiga's boys."

Stiles' jaw dropped and he looked at Derek squinting, before he shook it off.

"You know, your mother caused quite the stir when you all moved here. No matter how humble she tried to be her beauty nearly broke quite a many marriages. But I have always thought higher. Admitted, I did think it would be my oldest and Laura that got together, but fate always finds a way."

Stiles and Derek shared sideways glances. Derek mouthed something that seemed like make him stop.

"I think it's actually qui-"

"Shall we continue to our business?"

His gaping mouth closed with a shake. "Why yes. Yes, of course."

Derek raised a hand. "Actually I was wondering, because I haven't seen you at the bar in awhile. And now you're taking up with this sort of... Company."

Stiles narrowed his eyes.

The man seemed to fumble his works. "Right well, you see. Well, times are tough. You understand my boy, right? Do tell your mother I am sorry, but with the war, you understand. Even for my son's future in-laws it's hard to manage." The man worried at his overcoat. "Well you do u-"

"Understand. Right." Derek's words were clipped as he stared at the pirate.

The pirate slung an arm over Mr. Bramington's shoulders with a smirk. "Now that that's sorted, shall we? I do appreciate," The pirate looked directly at Derek. "That I'm the one getting your business."

Derek could feel his blood boil. Let the competition begin. "Not so fast." He plastered on a fake grin. "I don't want to lose such valued customer, especially one with such deep familial ties. So what do you say, half priced drinks tomorrow?"

Mr. Bramington's eyes gleamed.

"Now now. I think he's developed quite the taste for moonshine, there's no going back once you've tasted our quality."

Derek scoffed. "That pisswater? My sister does all of our brewing. She carefully makes every batch. You'd be lucky not to be actually drinking piss with him. And half priced is one hell of a deal."

Derek would've sworn there was a flash of light in his eyes before he fired back. "Half off is one hell of a deal... What about buy one bottle get the second free? And I personally assure you my first mate stopped pissing in the bottles months back." He gave Mr. Bramington a hearty back slap and tossed a wink at Derek.

Mr. Bramington let out a laugh at the pirate's joke. "Well, that does sound good. I'll-"

Derek felt bad for what he was about to do, but he couldn't help it. The smug way the pirate was looking at him was infuriating. "First round on us, anything you'd like. Then half off. And I would love it if you would bring Jacob with you. It has been so long since I've seen him."

The man nearly started to shake with glee. He ran over to hug Derek, and he lifted him slightly. "Deal my boy! Oh, he'll be so excited! We'll see you four sharp. Right after work. I can't wait to tell Martha! She'll have to hurry up and finish her dress for the wedding!"

They watched as the man sped off.

Stiles turned to Derek with disbelieving eyes. "As in, she's already started the dress?"

They both burst out laughing at the same time.

Once their laughter subsided, Stiles turned to him with a smile. "So I take it you're not actually in a starcrossed love affair with his son, as he seems to think?"

Derek raised an eyebrow then his face went flat. "Why would you even have to ask? We're desperately in love. Don't tell anyone though."

"Ah his parents don't know?" The pirate put on a face of faux sympathy.

"It would break them if they found out." Derek was still speaking deadpan. He moved closer to the barrel Stiles caught.

Stiles laughed once again. "My lips are sealed. That was quite heartless though. To mess with that poor man and his son just for some rivalry with a handsome pirate."

Derek felt a stab of guilt again, something he was getting quite used to feeling. "I would feel worse if his son wasn't so insistent. The only time we spoke he mentioned that his father could acquire five pigs for my hand."

"That's ludicrous!"

Derek smiled. "I kno-"

"You're worth at least twenty. And maybe a horse."

He was taken aback as his cheeks flamed.

"And don't think I've forgotten that you didn't dispute that I'm handsome." He tossed another wink and Derek wondered how he could ever be so carelessly charming.

"I- wh- no."

"To what? No to what? The pigs? Or my devilish good looks? Maybe you object about the horse and I see where you're coming from. Your personality leaves a bit to be desired, so maybe a compromise. Twenty pigs and then an ass included into the deal."

Derek drew his eyebrows together in confusion. "Why would they give my family you?"

Stiles' face looked shocked, but still amused. "So you do have jokes hidden away in those eyebrows."

Derek let the corners of his mouth lift. "Yeah, I guess I do."

"Well bravo. That one was good. Got any other ones?"

Derek felt the lightness in his chest, but it wasn't filled with heat either. Right now it felt like he was a down pillow. He wanted to float on the cool night air forever. "Maybe. If you stick around."

He looked caught off guard. "Hm, well is this your alley?"

It was Derek's turn to not expect what the other said. "I'm sorry?"

There was a defensive edge to his eyes now. "It's just every time I find myself in your company you tell me to get out of your alley. So is this your alley?"

Derek considered. He tried to pull up all of the anger he felt with their little rivalry, but he just felt light. "No. This is just a street. An empty street, late at night. Anyone can meet anyone here."

"Even a pirate?"

He thought back to Thomas and Laura. "Yes. Even a pirate."

He nodded and seemed to accept it, but the defensive nature was still there. "So tonight I'm just Stiles and you're just..."

"Mig-"

"I seriously am not calling you Miguel. There is no way that is your name. How bout a nickname?"

His response was immediate. "No."

"Eyebrows? Cranky pants? Barkeep?"

Derek didn't like the idea of him calling him any of those things, but barkeep was especially grating. It was like that's all they were. Just barkeep and customer. They weren't even acquaintances yet, but they weren't just that. Well Derek didn't know what they were, he wasn't even sure he didn't actually hate him. Maybe they were rivals. Rivals that were occasionally friendly, but rivals all the same. That sounded right.

"Do not call me any of those."

"Well what do you suggest sourwolf? Hey tha-"

Derek instantly was alarmed. "Would you shut up! We are in the street!"

It took a beat but he realized his mistake. "Yes, in the empty street. At one in the morning!"

Derek still looked upset. "Still!"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Oh, for the love of the bloody sea! Fine!" His eyes started to swirl with black and the inky color smoked out of his eyes in wisps. That same dark black weaved around his fingers and gradually faded to a smoke all around them.

Derek took two steps back in alarm.

The smoke quickly dissipated and his eyes went back to whiskey brown. "There. Now no one can hear us. Happy, sparky?"

Derek raised an eyebrow. "I find that interesting that you picked that, considering you're the spark."

Stiles opened his mouth then shut it. "You have me there, spot."

"I will rip your throat out. With my teeth." Derek sounded sincere.

A jolt of excitement raced up Stiles' spine. "I've never been one to shy away because of a threat. Especially not one as alluring as that." Stiles smirked.

Derek floundered. "I didn't- That's not what I meant."

"Sure it wasn't sourwolf. Then, how exactly did you mean it?"

Stiles took a step forward and had an evil glint in his eye. Derek found himself taking a small step back. He hit the barrel behind him and Stiles followed till he was close.

"How did you mean it big bad? Did you mean you would slam into me? Press me against a wall? Would you flash your eyes at me to let me know who was in control? Would you growl? I bet your claws would be out. Would you be careful with them? Or would you scratch me all up? Would you leave bruises from where you held me down? Would my wrists wear your mark like manacles from when you pressed them above my head? I bet you could do it with one hand, that you would."

Derek swallowed harshly.

"Would you make me beg you? Would I be able to see the hint of fang peeking from your lips as you smiled? Would you tip my head up as I pleaded?"

Stiles slightly lifted Derek's chin to tease him. He leaned his head forward. "Would I feel your breath against my neck?" He puffed out a breath and Derek let out a noise halfway between a pant and a whine.

"Stiles I-"

He interrupted him. "Is that how you'd do it? Would you do all that and then between one exhalation." Another tickle of warm breath. "And the next, you'd use your teeth to rip. Out. My. Throat. Is that how you'd do it big bad?" Stiles leaned back to look into his blown eyes and moved far enough back so Derek could move away from the barrel.

"No." Derek's voice came out shaky and his mouth was dry.

Stiles made a contemplating noise. "Hm? Well then, how would you?"

Derek knew this was the moment he took back the power. The moment he shoved Stiles into submission, but remembering how his eyes glowed just moments before he held that back. "I wouldn't be able to do any of that. The moment I moved towards you, you would use your magic to restrain me."

Stiles nodded and seemed to be surprised by the knowledge he saved for later. "Okay. Good to know. Well, I already knew, good to know you know, who's in charge here."

Derek was glad to be on some what more solid footing now. "Oh no, that's not what I said at all." He let out a low growl and leaned forward as his fangs peeked from behind his lips.

He heard Stiles' heartbeat jump.

"Agree to disagree, sourwolf."

"Keep telling yourself that."

Stiles smiled so wide his eyes closed. "I will. Thanks."

"You're impossible."

"Oh come on, you wouldn't like me if I was easy. An easy friend couldn't hold your attention."

Derek furrowed his eyebrows and counted the moles on Stiles' face as he realized, no he wouldn't.

Stiles rolled his eyes and pushed him away as he spoke. "Fuck off if you're about to say-" His voice imitated Derek's as he put on a scowly face. "We're not friends."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"Oh yeah, what were you going to say?"

"I would like you if you were less annoying."

Stiles' mouth dropped open and Derek laughed.

"You know you're cute when you're indignant. Less cute when you talk though."

Stiles' face went red as he turned away.

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, we should get going." He deflected.

"Oh, you can do all of that earlier, but I call you cute and you look like you were left in the sun for days?"

Stiles turned back around with a finger pointed up, but his mouth opened without any words coming out.

"Get your finger out of my face or I'll bite it."

Stiles shov-

"Ow!" He quickly pulled his finger back as a self satisfied smirk found its way to Derek's face. "You bit my finger!"

"You shoved your finger in my face. I told you I would bite it."

"What are you, five?!"

Derek shrugged.

Stiles cradled his finger to his chest as he glared at Derek. "First, you make fun of me by calling me cute, then you brutally bite off my finger. What's next? Are you going to stab me?"

"I wasn't making fun."

That reply wasn't expected and the shock showed itself on his face. He looked apprehensive. "People don't call me cute. They just don't."

Derek stepped closer and cradled his face as his thumb stroked the freckles on his cheeks. "They should. It's true. Even when you're red as a cherry, you're cute." Derek sounded distracted. "Especially then."

"Your ass is cute." Stiles inwardly cursed that his response to compliments was humor.

Derek snorted a laugh and let his hand drop. "Why, thank you. I do believe Jacob has mentioned it when he thought I couldn't hear."

"Well, I've got to respect a man that knows a true asset when he sees one."

"Was that a pun?"

Stiles put a hand on his shoulder. "I'm about to tell you something very important, it's always a pun."

They both smiled and Derek realized his cheeks were starting to hurt from it. And of course that's when reality had to crash down on him.

"Well, it was nice to know you sourwolf." He gave an exaggerated bow and Derek's stomach flipped.

"Wait, are you leaving?"

Stiles tilted his head. "Yeah. I mean my sale was a bust, thanks for that by the way. No moonshine tonight, I got you instead." His face lit up. "Maybe that's what I'll call you. Moonshine."

Derek wrinkled his nose at the name.

"Anyways, I have to head back." He pointed behind himself.

"I'm headed that way too. We can walk together."

Stiles looked at the two barrels. "I think you'll be slower, besides you don't don't want to be caught out with the likes of me. This time already has been a risk for you."

Stiles started to turn.

"Wait! I just- I was going to ask for your help. They are very heavy and it didn't look like much work for you to lift one before." He threw in one final plea. "I'm tired."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "Honestly, what would you do without me." That same yellow flowed around him again, and the barrels were both lifted up.

"You didn't have to- I could've taken one."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "It's not like they're heavy."

Derek grumbled. "They are, you just cheat."

"This isn't cheating. It takes just as much effort, if not more."

Derek was intrigued. He had heard stories about sparks and their power. Given their rarity he didn't think he'd ever meet one. "How does it work? I mean, I just assumed you waggled your fingers and it, I don't know, happened."

Stiles gave him an unimpressed look. "You thought magic... Just happens?"

He shrugged.

Stiles sighed and began walking. "There are different types of magic, but rarely does it ever just, happen. Every type of magic takes years of mastery and skill. Though you can have an aptness for it, a predisposition. Something that makes magic just," Stiles paused, seemingly searching inside himself for the answer. "Belong. Magic just belongs inside some people. It is meant to flow, to work and be inside of some people. Like me. And like how being a werewolf belongs inside of you. Its not a part of you, it is you."

Stiles stopped walking and Derek did as well.

Easy as breathing Stiles' eyes turned scarlet and flames reflected from his eyes into Derek's while he watched with interest. Stiles raised a closed fist and slowly opened it to let loose little cinders. They rose up and as Derek watched their dance they took shape of a bird. It swooped and soared, but soon enough they took on a new shape. A man's face slowly came into focus. As they settled Derek recognized the face as his own. His image morphed and he saw his eyes gather most of the burning particles and it changed his face to a look of anger. Just as it looked like it was about to yell something, all of the cinders instantly gathered into his eyes. In the next moment, the two spots were gathering. As the groups collided they shot up into the air to once again form the bird, this time wings spread wide. Derek heard a ear piercing screech, but it only reverberated inside of his own chest. Just like that, they disappeared leaving not even a trail of smoke in their wake.

"Neat party trick, huh?" His eyes went back to normal and he resumed walking, like he hadn't just changed Derek's worldview.

"That was bloody brilliant!"

Stiles shrugged. "You should see what I can do with a glass of water."

Derek's eyes shone. "I bet that's brilliant too."

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks."

"That bird was beautiful. And it really looked like my face!" Derek faltered and seemed unsure, "Except, why-why did it look like that? So angry and hateful?"

Stiles looked away. "That's how you looked last time I saw you. Usually, it latches onto a vibrant memory of someone's face."

Derek solemnly nodded. "Right. I'm sorry about that. I shoul-"

Stiles waved a hand. "It doesn't matter. Who cares."

"I do. I treated you unjustly. I apologize."

Stiles looked over at him. "I accept." He looked down at his hands for a second. "Well, I should go."

Derek looked at him with alarm. Perhaps his apology was lackluster. "But-" After his objection he took in the scene of a familiar back alley. "Oh. We're already here."

Stiles scoffed. "You hadn't noticed, sourwolf?"

Derek looked sheepish. He hadn't. He was so wrapped up in Stiles he could've walked straight into a pole and he wouldn't have noticed.

"I just- we barely got to talk."

"My favorite fruit is oranges, I love freshly baked pastries, but I can only get the best ones in a land far away from here, and I've had a long day. These barrels are heavy. There, those are some things about me." Stiles gently set down the barrels and the yellow magic faded after Derek opened the door for him.

Derek nodded. "Right. Of course. I know they are, I haul them every week." He hoped he picked up on what he was trying to ask for.

"I bid you farewell, sourwolf."

The frustration at him leaving without the insurance of another meeting got to him. "Goodnight pirate."

The pirate's face closed off at that. He quickly turned on his heels to leave.

Shit. This alley must be cursed. He always said the wrong thing there.

"Stiles?"

He didn't turn. "Yes?"

"My favorite fruit is apples."

When Stiles' face came into view it had a soft smile. "Sleep well, moonshine."

"You as well, Captain." Stiles face was shocked and pleased at Derek using his proper title for the first time.

Stiles walked away again and Derek reluctantly went in the door.

Damn it. He would never see him again.

Damn it. As Stiles walked away he thought of how he should've made plans for another meeting, but he hadn't.

Derek fell asleep and for the first time, dreamed of images in fire and ashes that didn't end in heartbreak.

---

Mr. Bramington and his son came sharply at three. Derek was able to make his excuses as he kept himself busy while they drank. Jacob, upon realizing his father must've greatly exaggerated his interest, left with his father in tow.

The evening passed in a flash after that as Derek's mood was high and the bar was full. He cleaned tables diligently as his mother poured for the evening crowd.

A patron made a joke and he smiled back. He was about to crack back when he looked up at the swinging doors clattering open.

His smile faltered and he nearly dropped the jug he was carrying.

His mother shot him a look and quickly wiped her hands on her apron as she weaved the tables to get to their intruder.

He had to get upstairs. Lily had not learned proper control over sensing pack distress, so his father had no way of knowing what was happening.

Over his shoulder he heard, "Captain Whittemore, have you come for a drink?"

At that name being uttered the tavern fell to a hush.

"No. I'm here on business."

Derek felt the bile at the back of his throat as he reached the girl's room where they were studying.

His dad looked up from where he was pointing at the book in front of Lily with a smile. One that faded as soon as he saw Derek's state. He instantly knew something was wrong.

"Where is your mother?" He asked urgently.

"Downstairs with the Captain."

The color drained from his face.

Thomas instantly shot up and grabbed Lily's hand. He drug her over to his room and Derek could hear him grabbing their packed bag from under his bed and handing Derek's to Lily.

His father similarly went to his room and grabbed his parents bag.

From downstairs Derek heard, "What sort of business?" His mother's voice cool as a river.

"The official kind."

They both rushed back into the room and suddenly Derek couldn't hear anything except the blood pumping in his ears.

He could see the commotion of them moving around him, but could not bring himself to move.

He saw Thomas sling a bag around himself, then he helped Lily pull out one from under Laura's bed.

He saw his father grab a knife out of his bag and he wondered if people were about to bust down the door. If his father could hear them he should be able to, but he just couldn't focus. His mind felt foggy as he watched his father open and lean out of the window. He saw him stick the knife under one of the letters on the sign right outside the window. He pried until the H came off. He knew there was a reason for it. His mind was just so blurry right now.

Aven. That was a flower. Right? Derek was grasping to figure out what it meant. It didn't make sense. The letter now laid on the window sill and it meant something. Laura would know. Maybe it was about Laura?

His father was now tucking the knife into his waistband and talking to him. Was he talking too? No, he didn't think so. It didn't even feel like he was breathing. What was his father trying to say? Something about his mother. Was she here? He tried to shake his head to clear it. To bring his father's or his mother's voice back into focus, but he could not. He tried desperately to bring air into his lungs, but once again he couldn't.

Suddenly he felt a small hand on his arm and the world snapped back into focus. "Derek, you need to calm down."

He looked into Thomas' eyes and they were set with determination. "You need to help us. We can't hear down there, but you can. What is mom saying? Can you tell us?"

Derek nodded even though he wasn't sure he could do much of anything right now. It was taking all of his strength to just remain standing. He focused on the hand holding his arm then on his mother's voice. "She's taking the Captain to the storeroom."

"What else?"

He still felt a bit dazed. He didn't answer Thomas.

He saw him moving and he brought Lily closer.

"Ow!" He felt the pinpricks of tiny claws.

"What else Derek?!"

He felt his head clear. Oh God, he needed to protect them. The Captain would kill them. He looked at his little brother and cousin. He was instantly dropped back into the panic of the moment as his senses returned fully. "She's taking him around. He's... looking for something?"

His father's eyebrows pulled together. "What?"

He listened and tried to catch their words, but it was hard with them in the heavily insulated room. He finally pieced enough words together.

"He's looking for moonshine?"

His father deflated and he looked two seconds away from a heart attack. "Thank the gods." There was an uneasy set to his shoulders still, but he wasn't as distraught. "I should go down. Derek stay here, and if you hear us tell you, you take them and you run."

He dutifully nodded.

His father went downstairs and the three of them sat huddled together, a kid under each of his arms, tensely till Derek heard the guards and the Captain leave. Lily started shaking and he just held her tighter. Derek hadn't realized how scared he was till he saw his mother enter and his claws vanished from where they were buried in his thighs.

At the sight of her, Thomas started to sob. His parents quickly joined them on the floor where Derek was leaning against Laura's bed. They wrapped them up in a hug and just sat there for a couple minutes.

Lily's timid barely used voice broke the silence. "Safe?"

Derek pulled her onto his lap as his mother kissed her forehead.

"Safe."

She stopped trembling and nodded.

His mother rose to her feet and Derek wanted to pull her back down.

"I have to go to the meeting place. Laura would've been done by now and she would've seen the sign. She'll be waiting."

The only thing keeping him from asking his mother to stay was the need to see his sister.

When they went back downstairs the bar was empty besides Mark who had reached across the bar to serve himself.

As his mother moved to leave his father stopped her. "Maybe I should go, love. I'm less noticeable than you. And you should stay with the kids."

She considered for a moment. "Alright. But hurry."

He nodded then walked up to her. They briefly rested their heads together then kissed. "I'll be back soon, dear."

He was out the door.

They helped their mother clean up the bar as they waited.

Derek was flipping a chair over as the doors burst open and a teary eyed Laura froze at the door. After seeing them alive and unharmed she ran closer and swept the two youngest into her arms. Derek moved closer and he was brought into the hug as well.

"I saw the sign and I thought- I thought I'd never see you again." Her voice was shaky.

Their mother smoothed down her wild hair. "Did you leave your father behind?"

Just as she finished speaking. The doors burst open yet again. His father was out of breath as he braced on his knees. "Don't worry about your old man. Just run all the way back why don't you."

There had been so many people bursting through the doors these days ever since Sti-

Derek's heart dropped out of his chest.

They were here looking for moonshine. Stiles sold moonshine. Derek was with him last night.

This was all his fault.

Derek didn't know whether he felt more guilt or more anger.

He suddenly thought about Stiles warning him that being around him could be dangerous, then he thought of the dirty pirate some how telling Jackson about them.

He now felt nothing but rage and contempt for the pirate.

He started to stalk off to his room, but Laura caught his arm. She looked to their mother. "What are we to do?"

His mother and father looked at each other for a few moments. "We will stay, for awhile. To leave immediately would arouse suspicion, but if they call again we will leave. If this is just about erroneous moonshine rumors then this will blow over. We just stay quiet and calm. Go to sleep."

Derek was anything but calm as he laid down for bed.

He sat stewing for a half hour before he heard a groan. "I need you to stop Derek. I can't sleep. It won't help being angry or feeling guilty."

Derek didn't know what to say.

He heard a sigh and covers rustling.

Thomas settled in beside him and he instantly felt the comfort of his brother.

"Do you want a story?"

Thomas laid his head on Derek's shoulder. "No. I think I just want to be here."

Derek knew exactly what he meant so his just kissed his forehead and said, "Okay."

Less than ten minutes later he heard shuffling in the girl's room before their door opened and in walked Laura holding a sleeping Lily to her chest. "Move over Der-bear."

It had been awhile since he had heard the teasing nickname and didn't care for it, but he complied nonetheless.

All four of them settled in.

He heard his mother check all the doors and windows. She came to check on them.

She gave all four of them a kiss on the forehead before saying goodnight.

Derek slept restlessly. If it wasn't Thomas kicking him it was Laura's snoring. Lily was a sticky weight on his chest. Good God, that kid was a furnace. He was already awake when the noise started from the alley, but all the wolves fell quickly out of slumber.

Thomas awoke with a look of alarm. "What is it?"

Laura went to stand, but Derek stopped her. "You stay with them. It's probably the raccoons again."

He met his mother in the hall.

"I'll check tonight Derek."

He felt a bit of panic bubble in his chest. "No, it's okay I can. It's probably that pest again."

"I want to make sure tonight." She looked like she was listening to the back alley.

Shit. He hoped she was focused enough on the noise outside and not on his heart. "I looked out the window. It's just raccoons."

She looked at him for a moment and he tried to be calm. "Okay."

He nodded and went downstairs.

He took a steadying breath before opening the door.

The pirate's mouth opened with some quip or another at the ready. Derek quickly put a finger against his own mouth to tell him to be silent. He moved his hands in a way that he thought looked like magic using. Stiles raised and eyebrow and rolled his eyes. Which turned black and wispy like they had before.

The smoke cleared and he spoke. "There, now no one can hea-"

Derek had him up against the opposite wall by his throat before he even finished his sentence. The pirate's eyes went wide as Derek lifted him slightly off the ground. He started to try and break the hold as Derek's claws started to make beads of blood drip down his neck. "Do you enjoy toying with people?! With their families?! Well, I've had enough of your sick games, you bastard! All this time you try and get me to trust you, but then you do this?! Why even bother?!" Derek's eyes were murderous.

The pirate was desperately trying to take in a breath. "St-stop. W-wh-what?"

He thought of how scared he had been earlier, Derek's resolve didn't falter. "I should kill you for what you did to my family."

The confusion in the pirate's eyes seemed out of place to him. He let up just a bit.

The human's nails dug into his arms. "Do-don't ma-make me d-"

Derek pressed harder again. If he was innocent why wasn't he using his magic to help himself? Did he feel guilty?

"P-please."

With a growl Derek let him drop to the floor. He fell to his hands and knees and took in great gulps of air.

In-between deep breaths he spoke. "What. The. Hell."

Looking at his prone form Derek wanted to kick him till he heard bones crack. "You are the scum of the earth. You prey on innocent people no matter how much it hurts others."

Stiles shakily made it back to his feet. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Derek whirled on him and the pirate's arms whipped up placatingly.

"Don't play dumb!"

"Listen to my heart. Does it skip? I have no idea what you're talking about."

Derek's eyebrows pulled together. He thought back. How would the Captain have known if the pirate hadn't told him? "That doesn't make any sense. He knew. He knew we talked. How did he know?"

Stiles looked as confused as Derek. "Who? How did who know?"

Derek sneered, "The Captain. He came to my bar because of you."

Stiles' eyes went wide. "What? No. That doesn't make any sense. He couldn't have not withou- What exactly happened?"

"He came looking for your pisswater, as if we would sell it." The confusion morphed back to anger.

Stiles let out a relieved breath. "Oh."

That boiled his blood. "Oh?! Oh?! Like he couldn't have found out about us?! Like we couldn't have been forced to flee our home?! Like it isn't important that my entire family could've been torn apart and killed?!" His voice rose as fearful tears fell.

"No. Oh, like I'm glad he didn't know about you. Oh, like I'm glad you and your family are safe. Oh, like I'm glad you weren't forced to leave."

Derek felt like someone had put all of his emotions into a cup and mixed them. "What? How- why do you say things like that, and yet you leave me so confused? I always feel so many different things around you. I feel like I should trust you, even when I know it is not so."

The pirate's face turned into a soft smile. "Feel all you would like, but know this, I would never, ever put your family in harms way. I would die before telling anyone something that would harm you or them."

Derek just kept falling deeper and deeper into the darkness. "Why? What have we done to earn such fierce allegiance?"

Stiles looked into his eyes and he swore he saw a flash of guiding light. "Because, you exist in a way that is different. Someone that has everyone against them needs at least one person on their side." He squinted at him. "And I don't think you've ever had that person, moonshine."

Derek decided he believed him. The fight left his shoulders and he let the anger fizzle. He replied, "You hurt me. You hurt me because you exist in a way that is different, but similar to me. You hurt me because you have decided to care for me, and I don't know what that means. Or even if I can allow it." He stared directly into Stiles' eyes. "I cannot yet decide if you are a poison or a salve. If you are meant to be my healing or my damnation. A kiss of grace-" Derek looked to his lips. "Or the silver tongue of the devil."

Stiles' arm reached up, but it froze as Derek looked to the side and continued, "Because I was around you my family could've lost everything."

His arm dropped.

"I am sorry Miguel. Truly."

Derek looked back intensely. "Are you bad for me?"

Stiles wanted nothing more than to say no. "I could be. I do not know."

Derek sighed. "My family I-"

Stiles' smile did not reach his eyes. "It's okay. I know. I understand."

When Stiles' hand cupped his cheek he closed his eyes against the feelings welling inside of him. He didn't see it, but he felt the soft press of lips against his other cheek.

"Goodbye, my moonshine."

He had only met him a hand full of times, but Derek had this pull towards him. It felt like if he let him walk away he'd spend the rest of his life regretting it. He didn't want to see Stiles leave. "Goodbye, Captain."

When Derek opened his eyes he saw a faint trace of black smoke. His spell was gone, just like him.

"Derek?" His mother's voice called out from the steps. "What's taking so long?"

Derek wiped under his eyes and walked back inside. "Nothing, Mom."

She frown as soon as she saw him, then her face turned surprised. "You were crying?"

Of course she'd smell his tears. "Nothing Mama. I just hurt him and I didn't mean to." Derek felt the sting of how true those words were.

Her face softened. "It looks like he hurt you too. You have too kind of a heart, sweet cub. Sometimes we hurt things we don't mean to. That doesn't make us bad. It just makes us people. Everybody hurts things Derek. I'm sure he's fine." She pulled him into a hug and raked her fingers through his hair.

"He just- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to." He crumpled farther into her.

Stiles was the first person he'd ever had any sort of connection to, and he messed it up somehow. He didn't even know if he was trustworthy, but his absence stung like he was important. Like he was a friend.

Derek had only been friends with Issac, Erica, and Boyd, and they had to leave him too. He probably hurt them too. He almost hurt his family by not being careful. Why was he so bad at this.

Maybe he was the poison.

His mother pulled back and he put on a smile.

She looked unsure. "Is something else the matter? Is there som-"

"I'm fine. Just too tired I think." He started for the stairs.

"Derek."

He looked back.

"You know there is nothing you could ever do that I wouldn't forgive you for, right?"

"I kno-"

"And perhaps you should start forgiving yourself for things that were and are out of your control. I don't know or understand what has been going on with you, but I still know you. You are good, even when you try to convince yourself you are not. You put the weight of the world on your shoulders son, if I can't convince you to put it down, will you at least share it with someone? Laura or I wou-"

"I'm fine. Truly mother. Just a bad night." He knew she wouldn't believe him, but he hoped she'd let him have his secrets.

She looked like she would fight him, but then thought better of it. "Alright. Get some sleep. I love you Derek."

"Love you too Mom."

Derek laid awake wondering how he knew if Stiles truly didn't tell the Captain.

---

"And that's where you left it?!" Scott sounded outraged.

"I'm a liability to his family, Scott."

"So what? It's true love!" He was practically shouting.

Cora walked in on the wrong moment. "Is he trying to convince ye to marry him again?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "No. What did you need Cor?" Beside Scott, she was his closest deckhand. Throughout their years of searching they grew close. Through every false lead, every person trying to dupe them for money, they stood together never letting their faith waver. She had become family, just as Scott was. Like all of his crew.

"Me and Malia are shovin off."

"Malia and I. Okay I'll be up in a minute to send you off."

Scott went to bed with one final beseeching look.

---

The next week passed quickly and without event. His family let out a breath at their continued safety.

Derek settled back into his normal routine like he'd never left it, and soon enough he was wondering if his loneliness invented the pirate. If he was some manifested moral argument that was warring inside of him.

Just like his magic, he had left no trace. He had half a mind to ask Mr. Bramington if he remembered him.

He was back to the rush of the day and the quietness of the night. The anger was still in the back of him, but he embraced everything with an air of detachment and acceptance.

Very few things mattered to him anymore. But among those that did, were his nightly stories. Thomas had applauded him on including more humor in them lately. He didn't have it in him to explain about how it was the pirate that really brought the humor. Another thing he never cared for before was pouring a glass of whiskey, now it was one of his favorite parts of the day. Every time someone asked for rum he looked at them, just to be sure it wasn't him. One day a patron thrilled to be done with the work week threw open the doors and Derek nearly broke his neck snapping it up so fast. He smiled at a pun his father made and he had to assure them all that he had smiled like that recently, he was sure of it, maybe just not in front of them in a long time.

Derek didn't know if his life was better or worse, he just knew it was changed. The kind of change that hurts to remember before and aches to think of what ifs.

If there was an ache in his shoulders he didn't feel it. It was almost as if his magic lingered. As if it helped Derek carry the barrels, even now.

He was looking forward to resting when out of the corner of his eye he saw a blurred shadow darting in an alley. He was instantly alarmed. He hastily put down both barrels and tried to squash the part of his brain that invented the swish of a familiar brown coat. "Who goes there?"

There was silence.

A crown's guard would've announced their presence. "I saw you moving, do not make me come over there."

An unbelievably high and shrilly voice spoke, "Oh, it's just silly me. I forgot the wash on the line."

There was no way that was actually a woman's voice.

"Come out."

"I'm in my nighty you pervert."

Derek scented the air and as familiar spicy soap, rum, salt, and something unidentifiable filled his nose, happiness filled his chest. "I already know it's you. Come out here, Stiles."

That shrilly voice again. "No, it's not."

Derek listened and sure enough, he picked out a recognizable rabbiting heartbeat. He wondered when the pirate's heartbeat had become recognizable to him. He smiled and replied in a similar high tone. "Yes it is."

It must've caught him off guard because Derek heard his bubbling laugh from the dark alley.

Slowly he emerged. "I swear, I did not seek you out."

Derek had a wide smile. "I gathered that from your most convincing ruse."

He crossed his arms. "I was pressed for time okay! You snuck up on me."

"You must be horrible at stealth. I've ran into you numerous times at night now."

Stiles' smile faded. "I'm very good at stealth actually. But I should go." He had a regretful look upon his face.

"Wait." Derek wanted to reach out to grab him. To make him stay.

"I'm sorry, moonshine. I don't wan- Your family. We mustn't press fate. It's not just the captain we have to worry about, the guard patrol."

Derek felt a hot stone in his gut. "Right. Of course. Were you on a delivery?" He didn't actually want to know. He didn't want to find out how many of their customers he was stealing, but he didn't want to be without his company again so soon.

"Yes. Business is booming. I really should depart, moonshine."

"Why don't you leave?"

The pirate looked confused and hurt.

"No! I mean not here, the port. Pirates don't stay in one port for long. Why do you? Surely you risk capture?"

"I am looking for someone. It is imperative that I find them, and it is my greatest hope that I will find them here."

"So, you cannot leave?"

"Do you want me to?"

That had been what he'd been hinting towards, but now that he said it he knew it not to be so. "I think it would be best for my heart if I had to stop saying goodbye to you."

"But do you want me to?"

Derek looked away and he then realized how unfair a question he had asked. "Sorry, nevermind."

He started to walk away when his voice froze him. "I want, to be able to talk to you the entire night. Just the two of us making each other laugh like this world isn't trying to break us. God, how you manage to make me laugh." There was a pause. "That is what I truly want."

Stiles tried to find his voice. "But we cannot have what we want, can we?"

"No."

With great difficulty he continued to walk away.

He was almost to the next alley when an idea hit him. He turned and ran back to where Derek was picking up the barrels.

Derek looked at him in confusion.

"What if no one could tell it was me?"

His eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"What if I looked completely different? Could we see each other then? If no one knew it was me?"

"I suppose? But if your disguise is anything like your voice change, then I don't think it will be very good." Derek smiled.

"Shut up you jackass. I'm serious. Would that work?"

Derek considered it. "If you looked nothing like yourself? Yes, I think it would."

Stiles' eyes were wild with happiness. He rushed Derek and hugged him. Derek wanted to let the barrels go crashing to the floor so he could wrap his arms around him instead. Stiles stepped back.

"I will meet you here, same time, next week. Okay?"

Derek wanted to say no, to have the strength for it, but he couldn't. He craved to feel the way he did around Stiles constantly. "You will find me here."

---

The week could not pass fast enough and Thomas started to wonder about the stories he told. They all included a heart touching reunion or forbidden meeting of some sort and it took Derek quite a bit of effort not to die from embarrassment when he pointed it out.

He made himself wait to leave the distillery so he'd only be ten minutes early, but he found himself dashing through the streets. He waited fifteen minutes and wondered if the pirate would show. If maybe he changed his mind, if he had left. At twenty minutes he stared at the barrels wondering how long he could put off picking them up. It had been thirty minutes and he was about to leave when he heard someone approach. His heart instantly soared.

"What took you so long? Did you take a nap, you lazy bastard?"

An old man came out of the shadows. "What did you call me?" He was bent over and had a crotchety look on his face.

Derek instantly paled. "I am so sorry sir! I thought you were someone else!"

The old man's lips started to turn up till he let out a rumbustious laugh.

Derek looked confused. He wondered if maybe the man had had a bit too much drink. He took a breath in to see if he could smell the alcohol.

He did smell rum, but there was another scent that struck him.

"Stiles?!"

The man rolled his eyes and instantly Derek knew it was him.

"What is the point of all this if you just go on saying my name like that?"

Derek check to see if he could hear anyone around. He didn't. "My gods it is you! How?"

He pulled out a pendant from under his shirt. It had the faint trace of black smoke leaking from it. He held it in his palm and closed his eyes. Between one blink and the next Stiles was standing in front of him. "I do have a few tricks, moonshine."

Derek came closer and looked at the rock. "And you'll just enchant this every time we are near? Will you always look different to me?"

Stiles shook his head. "No. It is still enchanted."

Derek cocked his head. "But I see you?"

"If I want someone to see through it, I just have to hold it and focus on a strong memory of them."

Derek thought for a moment. "Like with the fire bird?"

Stiles nodded.

"Did you think of the same memory?"

"How do you mean?" He asked confused.

Derek looked nervous. "Do you still think of me angered and yelling?"

Stiles smiled sweetly. "I think of the forests in your eyes and your bunny teeth."

To divert from his rising blush Derek flashed his fangs.

Stiles laughed. "Oh, don't worry, I think of those too. Just not when I'm casting magic."

There was no hiding his blush now. "My mother warned me sailors have dirty minds."

"Did she also tell you only pirates can follow through with all they say?"

Derek looked away. "Never came up."

The pirate opened his mouth.

"Do not! Leave it alone."

He laughed. "Shame. That was such a good one."

Derek felt the smile on his face slide into place and he relaxed. "What took you so long?"

"I received a message." Dejection wafted through the air.

"Not good?" Derek tried to be sympathetic, even though Laura always told him he sucked at it.

"Not the best, but that doesn't matter now. Now I just want to talk to you."

Derek felt warmth curl itself into his belly, but not the harsh heat he was familiar with. It was nice, feeling like someone wanted his company.

They wandered aimlessly and talked all night.

************************

Okayyyy so hopefully I'll have the next part up in like a week. Thanks for reading!

117 notes · View notes

mostlycompetentwriter · 5 years

Text

“Blessings”- A Domesticated Drabble

F/M Pairing: Y/N X Bang Chan (Stray Kids)

Word Count: 4K

Warnings: Language...I guess?

Genre: Married Life AU, Parent AU

Note: This was a request from an anonymous user so I can’t tag them but here ya go!

I should have known better because it was one of those days teetering over the boundary of too perfect. I woke up next to Chan in bed, his hospital pager eerily silent, feeling as though I had been asleep for years. My body felt great, the sheets bundled around my waist because I was a notoriously bad bed partner, pulling the blankets further and further away from Chan as I sought additional warmth. But Chan didn’t seem to care, wearing nothing but boxer shorts as he remained statuesque-still with the heavy promise of a rare morning where he could sleep-in. I decided to leave Chan alone while I prepared breakfast, catching the attention of a still-groggy Felix who walked into the room with heavy eyes, grabbing a piece of toast before struggling back to his room. It was almost too peaceful, cooking alone in the kitchen with the company of my thoughts.

I fixed myself an omelet because I was feeling especially cheerful, flipping the eggs as the ingredients provided an alluring smell. Taking a seat at the counter, I started eating while scanning through my phone, excited to see a few promising emails swimming through the promotions tab. “Yogurt,” I murmured quietly, suddenly filled with an odd craving for the frozen treat.

Yet, just as quickly, my stomach suddenly started churning uncomfortably as if deciding that breakfast was a really bad idea. A wave of nausea washed over me like a profound warning before I was rushing to the bathroom. I tried to be as quiet as possible when I closed the door, dropping to my knees to empty the contents of my stomach into the toilet, groaning as I tasted the foul substance on my tongue. I couldn’t remember the last time I had been so sick, and I pressed my cheek against the cool surface of the floor, sweat pooling above my upper lip.

“Sweetie?” I heard Chan’s voice somewhere through my disoriented haze. “Are you okay?”

I swiped a hand across my face, flushing the toilet before pulling myself up against the sink. “I’m fine,” I tried to assure him, grimacing as I reached for my toothpaste.

“Are you sure?” Chan insisted and that’s when I knew that he must have heard my unfortunate bout of sickness. More than likely, every doctor instinct ingrained in him was demanding to assess my condition courtesy of endless training in college.

“I promise,” I said, closing my eyes against another passing pain of abdominal discomfort.

“I’ll use Felix’s bathroom,” he said kindly and I thanked every possible deity for the inclusion of Chan in my life because he always understood when it was best to leave me alone.

“How about this one?” Minho asked loudly, holding up the pregnancy test for everyone in the whole damn store to see.

“You idiot,” I hissed at him, snatching the offending object away. “I don’t need everyone in here knowing!”

“Congratulations,” an elderly woman said to Minho, offering him a pat on the shoulder and a wink in my direction.

“We’re both excited,” Minho said to the woman before I dragged him further away since he insisted on embarrassing me.

“I hate you right now,” I said, slamming a few different tests on the counter, waiting for the cashier to process my order.

“You definitely have the mood swing thing,” Minho commented.

“And you definitely have the asshole thing.”

“Why do we even have to do this?” Minho asked. “I’m sure Chan can just run some stupid tests or something.”

“Home tests are better for me right now,” I said, handing the cashier my debit card. “And Chan is a general doctor. I would set up an appointment with the OBGYN.”

“Are you planning to set up an appointment without him?” Minho asked with a gasp. “Can you film his reaction when he finds out?”

“I’m not trying to keep anything from him,” I snapped. “I need to be sure first before I go telling Chan that he knocked me up.”

“It’s not surprising, Y/N,” Minho said. “You told me that you stopped using Condoms, so what the hell did you expect?”

“It felt better that way,” I whined, snatching the grocery bag from the innocent cashier who was watching us with trepidation.

“Bad things always feel better for you,” Minho said, reaching into his jacket for a box of cigarettes. “See?”

“At least pregnancy won’t murder my lungs.”

“Yeah? But you’ll feel like shit,” Minho argued like the supportive best friend that he was. “Swollen feet, morning sickness, and carrying around an extra ten pounds? I’d rather lose my lungs.”

“Remind me again why I decided to call you this morning,” I lamented.

“Because you weren’t going to ask Felix to shop pregnancy tests with you and Chan was unavailable?”

“That’s right,” I nodded, pausing next to my car. After my corvette was totally wrecked a year ago, Chan had decided that small cars just weren’t safe enough. This is why my ass had to drive around a Sienna Minivan now despite my protests.

“The Grandma car could use a fresh coat of paint,” Minho snickered and I sighed as I observed my bloated reflection in the side view mirror.

I held the pregnancy test up high, trying to catch it just right in the dim light of the bathroom. “Five minutes,” I murmured, re-checking the box to make sure I had read the instructions correctly. “What the fuck am I supposed to be looking for?”

“Are you almost done?” I heard Minho’s voice from outside. “God, it can’t possibly take this long.”

“Will you come in?” I asked nervously because I was starting to really hate the fact that my urine on a stick was somehow supposed to determine a very important yes or no question.

“You’re still not pissing in there, are you?”

“Minho,” I snapped through the door. “Just get your ass inside!”

He twisted the doorknob, hesitantly looking inside to meet my glare. “Sorry,” he whispered, opening the door fully to join me. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing,” I said, trying to hand him the test but he quickly threw his hands up.

“Didn’t you pee on that?”

“Grow the hell up,” I said, slamming the stick onto the counter. “It’s supposed to show a blue stripe if I’m pregnant.”

“So if there’s nothing, then we’re good?” he asked, squinting down at the device like he was suddenly far-sighted.

“Not necessarily,” I said, handing him the box. “Red if not pregnant.”

“But there’s nothing.”

“Thank you, asshole,” I grumbled. “Why do you think I brought you in?”

“You’re always dragging me into your problems, Y/N,” Minho said, shaking his head. “Just take another one I guess.”

I let out a groan. “I can’t spend all day taking pregnancy tests!”

“Is that so? Well, I could be with my girlfriend right now if I wasn't here with you,” Minho pointed out.

“Fine,” I muttered, grabbing a different test box.

After a series of failed observations, including an unfortunate incident in which Minho knocked a test into the toilet, we finally got a reading on a particularly expensive offering. “Pregnant,” Minho declared, glancing at me nervously. “Are you okay?”

“One more,” I insisted, but Minho reached out for my hand.

“Just go get tested, Y/N,” he said. “This will literally drive you insane.”

I whined at his words. “I don’t want to be pregnant right now, Minho. Chan and I haven’t planned for this!”

“Aren’t most pregnancies unplanned?” he grunted, swearing when I threw an empty test box at him.

“They don’t have to be unplanned! A lot of couples talk about this with each other.”

“Wasn’t there an inherent agreement when you decided to let Chan fuck you raw?”

“You know what? Stop talking,” I said, shoving him out of the bathroom. “Go home to your girlfriend.”

“Call the doctor,” Minho retorted right before I slammed the door in his face.

The OBGYN office was way too bright. I squinted against the Halogen nightmare while fidgeting anxiously on the table, holding onto the hem of the oversized hospital gown they had loaned me to wear. A smaller cart sat next to bed offering a variety of dangerous tools that looked like they were meant for a serial killer’s house as opposed to a friendly office.

“Y/N?” an older woman greeted me, opening the door before locking it behind her. “How are you today?”

“I’m fine,” I said nervously, resisting the urge to jump out the window.

“Just relax,” the doctor said, scanning over a chart. “This is for pregnancy confirmation, then?”

“A possible pregnancy confirmation,” I said, and the doctor chuckled.

“I take it that this was unplanned?”

“Very much so.”

“Is that why the father is missing?”

I took a moment to glower at the doctor. “The father is missing because I don’t know if he’s actually a father yet. My husband works long hours at the ER. I didn’t want to bring him here if this turned out to be nothing.”

“Based on the symptoms you’ve described,” the doctor carried on as if ignoring my last rant. “And the home pregnancy test results, I don’t think you should expect negative lab work.”

I bit my lower lip, struggling to keep myself in check. In actuality, I wanted to scream at the nurse that she was definitely wrong because I did not want to be pregnant right now. “That’s why I’m here.”

The doctor nodded. “Go ahead and lean back, this shouldn’t take long.”

“Will it hurt?” I asked with a wince, slowly easing myself against the pillows.

“You shouldn’t feeling any pain,” the doctor replied, negotiating her stool to situate herself right between my open thighs. I had to force myself not to cover my exposed vagina, deciding that the doctor should spend no more than five minutes down there before I was forced to intervene. “Pull up your shirt for me,” she said, selecting one of the wands situated next to my bed.

I glanced at it suspiciously. “Is that going...inside?”

“It’s for your stomach,” she said, jerking an overhanging screen to eye-level. “I’m going to use a very small amount of what might look like jelly. It might feel cold on your skin.”

This warning still didn’t stop me from jerking in surprise when she placed the wand on my stomach, rubbing it over my skin with precision. “This is interesting.”

The doctor grinned. “After this, I’m going to need a urine sample as well.”

“Okay,” I managed, watching the screen with careful eyes, searching for any signs that there was something growing inside of me.

A few moments later she pulled back, removing her gloves with a snap. “All done.”

“Just like that?” I asked incredulously.

She offered me a smile. “That’s it.”

“Holy shit,” I cursed, accepting the paper towels to swipe across the mess on my stomach.

“For your urine sample,” she said, offering me a sterile cup.

I accepted it with a sigh. “How long will it take to get the results?”

“Not long,” she promised me with a wink.

I retreated into the adjoining bathroom after downing a few cups of water, waiting until I could finally accommodate her request before re-entering the room. “Here,” I said, offering her the sample.

“Great!” she chirped. “Your results will be ready shortly.”

I watched her leave before fanning a hand across my stomach. “Why did you choose now of all times?”

Silence greeted my words and I worriedly played with my wedding band while I waited impatiently for the doctor to return. In moments like this, I really missed having Chan at my side because he always knew the best ways to calm me down. Without his familiar presence, I was left succumbing to all of my nervous ticks including that nasty habit of picking at the skin around my cuticles.

“Now I need a manicure,” I sighed, startling when the door abruptly opened to welcome my doctor back inside.

“Congratulations, Y/N,” she said, offering me a manila folder. “You’re pregnant. The scans are available for you inside that packet.”

The heavy revelation slowly settled in as my stomach churned uncomfortably.

“You’re quiet today,” Felix remarked, watching me over his bowl of popcorn. I couldn’t even remember what movie we had been watching.

“Tired,” I grumbled.

“I thought you had the afternoon off,” Felix scoffed. “Is it that hard answering phone calls?”

I glared at him. “Maybe it is.”

Felix held up his hands defensively, fingers glistening with a mixture of salt and butter. “Sorry for asking.”

In actuality, I couldn’t stop thinking about the scans sitting on top of the counter. There were a million different scenarios running around my head as I envisioned Chan’s reaction to the news. At this point, it was inevitable that I told him, no more hiding behind Minho as we experimented hopelessly with a bunch of stupid pregnancy tests. I had the confirmation in several successive scans and my heart was beating at an irregular pace against my chest.

Chan had called earlier to tell me that he was on his way home and I had immediately panicked. I had nothing prepared to say to him, except something stupid along the lines of “You see? This is what happens when you stop wearing condoms.” Then, I could shove those scans at his chest and hide away in my bedroom for the rest of the night.

But all rational thought completely failed me when I heard Chan’s key turning in the lock. “He’s home now,” Felix remarked, wiping his nasty hands on his jeans. “Maybe Chan can order us takeout.”

I slowly exhaled, watching my husband walk into the living room. “What have you guys been up to?”

I froze in place while Felix complained about the lack of suitable groceries in the refrigerator. “I ate a TV dinner for lunch, Chan,” Felix whined.

My husband rolled his eyes affectionately, glancing at me with concern. “Y/N?”

“I’m okay,” I assured him quickly, nervously wringing my hands together. “Can I show you something in the kitchen?”

“What did you break this time?” Chan joked, but his smile was gone as soon as he noticed my expression. “It’s never good when you look at me like that.”

“It’s...something,” I offered, leading a ponderous Chan into the kitchen with a nosy Felix trailing behind. I carefully picked up the scans from the table. “Chan,” I exhaled, gazing into his understanding eyes filled with adoration. But words were suddenly impossible and instead I shoved the manila folder at him. “Here.”

“What is it?” he asked with a trace of amusement, flipping open the cover to look at the first scan.

“It’s supposed to be a baby,” I replied, suddenly aware of Felix joining us in the kitchen.

“A baby?” Chan repeated, looking up at me with wide eyes. “Our baby?”

I nodded slowly. “I had a scan today.”

“We’re pregnant?” Chan asked, his smile growing wider with every subsequent confirmation. “We made a baby?”

“The sperm was good,” Felix nodded solemnly, taking the scans from an overjoyed Chan.

“Are you serious, Y/N?” he asked.

“I went to the doctor today,” I said. “The tests were all positive.”

“Why aren’t you more excited?” he asked, pulling me into his arms with careful consideration for my stomach.

I relaxed in his hold. “I’m nervous, Channie. Don’t you feel the same way?”

“Well, of course, I’m nervous,” Chan said, studying me carefully. “This is a big deal.”

I took in a deep breath. “We didn’t plan for this.”

“I know we didn’t,” Chan said, “but we should have anticipated the risks of dropping the condoms.”

“I hated those fuckers,” I complained. “Your cock feels better without them.”

Chan pulled me closer. “What did you expect, Y/N?”

“Married bliss for the rest of our lives?”

He chuckled. “Why can’t we have that with a kid?”

“Kids get in the way,” I said. “My parents had to send me to my neighbor's house just so that they could have quick sex every once in a while.”

“You’re worried that we won’t have sex anymore?” Chan asked in that ridiculous way of his that let me know I was being irrational.

“No,” I groaned, burying my face against the fabric of his t-shirt. “I’m worried that I’ll fuck everything up.”

“What do you mean?”

“Do I honestly look like I could be a mother?” I asked, stepping out of his arms. “How do you even take care of a baby?”

Chan sighed, reaching out for my hand which I tentatively allowed him to hold. “Sweetie, we’ll learn these things together. You act like you’re all alone and that’s not true at all. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“You’re not scared?” I asked, brushing my thumb across his hand.

“Of course I am,” he nodded. “But I’m also really excited. I think that’s how most new parents feel regardless of whether or not they planned for a baby.”

I didn’t know what to say, but I could always find solace in his eyes. At least until Felix ruined the moment. “You totally knocked her up, bro!”

Chan sighed, glancing over his shoulder. “That’s not helpful, Felix.”

“Sorry,” Felix mouthed, taking the scans into the dining room. Meanwhile, I simply allowed Chan to maintain his familiar grip on my hand because there was no better feeling in the entire world.

Nine months progressed at the slowest possible pace as if the conspiring universe was determined I should suffer from every possible pregnancy symptom imaginable. I was beginning to think I was doomed to suffer, complaining to Chan until he finally forced me to revisit my OBGYN. “The sickness is really bad,” he explained to my doctor while I just groaned on the bed.

“Let’s have a look,” my doctor suggested leading to the unanticipated revelation that I was carrying not one, but two kids inside of me.

“Twins?” Chan gasped, clapping his hands together like he had just won the jackpot lottery. Meanwhile, I suddenly lost all motivation to even move from my spot on the examination table. Apparently, pregnancy symptoms were more severe when carrying multiple children, and I had just about reached my breaking point until one glorious day when my water broke while I was beating the shit out of Felix at MarioKart.

“That’s gross, Y/N,” Felix complained until I threw my phone at him and demanded he call Chan.

By the time my husband got home, I had finished ordering Felix around, demanding he pack my bags for me until there were two suitcases instead of one. “Are you going on vacation, sweetie?” Chan asked to which I offered him my most wilting glare yet. His face immediately paled. “Right, let’s get you to the hospital.”

I was practically numb with pain by the time we were finally checked-in, leaving me groaning on a hospital bed while my idiotic doctor explained that I wasn’t dilated enough. “How the hell is that possible?” I growled.

“What about an Epidural?” he suggested.

“She doesn’t want that,” Chan insisted until I reached out to firmly crush his hand beneath mine.

“I do want that!” I snapped. “And I want it right now before I die!”

“Of course! Whatever you want, sweetie,” Chan assured me, fleeing my hospital room like he had just seen a ghost.

I tried to lean back in the bed, growing more and more irritated with the endless contractions. My doctor insisted that I wasn’t ready, but I would hate to see how much worse this could possibly get. In the meantime, Chan returned only moments later with Jisung faithfully by his side. “No,” I snarled, pointing at Jisung. “Do not let him anywhere near me with needles.”

Graciously, Chan knew better than to object to my vicious demands.

“Oh fuck,” I sighed in relief when the pain slowly started to ease. “This is amazing.”

Chan grinned from his seat next to me. “Do you feel better now?”

“I feel like I’m in one of those Willie Wonka cartoons,” I said. “Channie, I think this is what Heaven is like.”

Chan seemed amused by my reaction. “Was it really that bad, sweetie?”

“I think the kids were trying to split me open,” I told him. “My entire body was at their mercy.”

“I don’t think it’s their fault,” Chan teased. “After all, it’s just your body’s way of preparing itself.”

“Those women in the movies are fucking liars, Chan,” I said. “Pregnancy is not fun and I don’t recommend it to anyone. 0 out of 5 stars.”

Chan couldn’t hold back his laughter, leaning forward to brush a few strands of sweat-caked hair out of my eyes. “It’ll be over soon, sweetie. Then, we can finally meet our twins.”

“I expect two Mozarts, Chan,” I said. “For all this pain and suffering, I want two child prodigies who can grow up and make us lots of money.”

“Are you telling me that you’ve been incubating our retirement fund?”

“Hell yes.”

The doctor’s arrival disrupted our moment. “Shall we try pushing now?”

“Please,” I practically begged him, more than ready to do whatever it might take to end this unnecessary suffering.

“Remember your breathing,” the doctor reminded me and I quickly sought Chan’s hand, gripping it tightly between sweaty fingers. Chan was always strong, but apparently, even he found his limits when his wife was steadily crushing his hand. “Sweetie, it hurts,” Chan said, but didn’t try to pull away when I only gripped even tighter, screaming out through clenched teeth.

And several hours later, I was completely spent, breathing hard as the room filled with the sounds of distinct crying. “Congratulations, Y/N,” the doctor said, but I was already falling asleep, too exhausted to stay awake any longer.

I was still tired, despite my two-night stay at the hospital, coming home surrounded by people who insisted they needed to be involved in some capacity. Chan helped me walk to our bedroom, hand wrapped securely around my waist. Meanwhile, someone had decided it was a good idea for Han Jisung to manage both baby carriers while Felix slowly drug my bags across the floor, complaining about their weight. “They’re so cute!” Jisung squealed, bouncing the carriers with far too much enthusiasm.

I gripped tightly to Chan’s collar. “Please save my children from Jisung.”

Chan nodded, eyes perfectly serious as he adjusted my blankets. “Give me a minute, sweetie, I’ll be right back.”

I groaned, reluctantly allowing him to leave the room. Of course, the pain was absolutely worth it because when I finally woke up, I was greeted to the sight of two adorable tiny babies looking up at me with wide, curious eyes. “I did this?” I immediately questioned which Chan found amusing.

“Good job, sweetie,” he said, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead.

“I guess you helped too,” I grumbled in return.

I was drawn out of my memory by the sudden appearance of Felix who wore a bright smile. “Jisung is offended that you don’t trust him.”

“I’m just being protective,” I said. “You have to take certain precautions when it involves Jisung.”

“Well, I think we might go out later,” Felix mused, lingering by the doorway. “Are you still out of it?”

“It’s not so bad now,” I reassured him. “I did just push two kids out of my vagina.”

“Don’t need the visual,” Felix shuddered, moving out of the way for Chan who walked into the room with both baby carriers in hand.

“Jisung had to go back to the hospital anyway,” Chan said. “I’ll put the twins down in their room.”

“Okay,” I agreed, eyes following the carriers until they disappeared from sight.

“How can you already be whipped?” Felix asked. “I’ve never seen you this way.”

“My maternal instincts, I guess,” I offered in return, drowsiness slowly summoning a new urge to bury my face in the pillows.

Felix seemed to notice my dilemma. “Next time we play MarioKart, you can’t interrupt the game in the middle of a round.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

In the background, I could hear Felix talking to Chan before my husband was sitting next to me on the bed. “Try to get some sleep, sweetie,” he encouraged me, but I was already one step ahead of him.

Later that night, after several wonderful naps, I convinced Chan to help me walk to the twins’ room. “Just for a little while,” I pouted at him because Chan could never resist me.

“Alright,” he agreed. “But only because you asked so nicely.”

I stuck my tongue out at him while accepting his outstretched hand. “I probably won’t break.”

“It’s my job to protect you,” Chan said, ushering me close to his side as we slowly made the arduous trek to the bedroom at the end of the hallway. Eventually, when they were older, we planned to give them their own rooms. However, for the time being, I knew it would make things a lot easier if we could take care of them at the same time.

“Did Felix go out earlier?” I asked Chan as we passed by his room.

“He went out with Hyunjin and Jisung.”

“That’s a very dangerous combination,” I said.

“They know how to stay out of trouble,” Chan said, but I was already reminding my husband to call Felix later just in case Hyunjin tried to convince them to go to a strip club downtown.

“Here we go,” Chan said, nudging open the door with his foot, leading me inside as we navigated the darkened space. Chan kept a firm grip around my waist as we both looked down into their cribs. I remember when we first set up the beds when Chan kept screaming at Felix and Jisung because they couldn’t figure out the instructions. Eventually, I called over Minho and his friend Seungmin who were more adept at solving the complicated steps.

“We did it,” Chan whispered, sweet voice soothing in my ear.

I looked down at my twins and felt a burst of pride. “Yeah, we’re pretty fucking cool, right?”

“The coolest,” Chan agreed, leaning down for a kiss which I was more than willing to reciprocate.

#stray kids #stray kids fanfic #bang chan #bang chan fanfic #chan fanfic #stray kids chan #stray kids chan fanfic

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liam-93-productions · 5 years

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Nearly five years ago, I saw One Direction live. Twice, on consecutive nights – on the first two dates of their On the Road Again world tour. Once was for work, to review the show. The other was for the sheer, heady, sugar-rush pleasure.

I was, I’ll admit, a little on the old side for a Directioner, even then. Most of the 45,000-odd crowd was much younger – not that that you would necessarily be able to tell from the saucy suggestions on their homemade signs. “I don’t want to draw attention to them,” Liam Payne had said fussilyon stage.

It was an on-brand comment for the then-21-year-old Payne, who, had the harried, slightly anxious energy of a father-of-four at Disneyland. And no wonder: it was clear, even to me, that Zayn Malik had checked out, barely bothering to conceal his rolling eyes. He would be gone within the month, marking the beginning of the end (or “indefinite hiatus”) for the biggest boy band in the world.

“It was a point where every day, you didn’t know whether it was going to be the end,” says Payne, sitting in the offices of his PR company in central London. “It was so touch and go, at every single show. I was slowly losing the plot.”

Now 26 and almost totally tattooed, Payne has a new album on which he raps about getting rowdy on Bacardi and being “free” from 1D. At the same time his very-nearly-naked form is plastered on buses and train stations in a provocative ad campaign for Hugo Boss.

Yet Payne is as polite and agreeable as if he were talking to his best friend’s mother. He is tired he says after an energetic early morning music video shoot. “There was a trampoline involved,” he says, sucking on his silver Juul. “It was hell – but it will look great.”

Gym beast and sex symbol are relatively new tags. His role as the diplomat of the group was established from the time they were first assembled from five solo applicants on The X Factor in 2010.

Payne auditioned when he was just 14, but was told by Simon Cowell to “come back in two years”. He did – and, eyes serious beneath his enormous fringe, blew the judges away with a brassy rendition of Cry Me a River.

Growing up in Wolverhampton, he had been a talented cross-country runner – making the reserve list for the British Olympics team. But a fan of Usher, Justin Timberlake and Chris Brown, he was drawn to singing as “the thing that made my parents proudest”. His backup plan, had he not got through on X Factor, was to follow his father into an aircraft fitting factory.

Once grouped in One Direction it took the five boys, then between 16 and 19, to pull together. “At the start we couldn’t get past our own egos,” says Payne. There would be fights over who got to sing what part, and even personal style. “Everybody had their own little thing – it was like having four older brothers.”

Payne went on to write songs for the group, contributing to two-thirds of their 2014 album Four (arguably their best) and even earning a production credit on 2015’s Made in the AM. But in the early days he would be the one to sing the opening part because, he was told at the time, he “used to settle everybody”.

Payne says he was a more experienced performer than the other boys, and a “bit more mature” – which he puts down to spending more time with his dad than his peers, and being so focused on a career in showbusiness. “I’d lived a different lifestyle from 14 to 16. Most kids try alcohol and experiment – I never did any of that because I thought there’s a chance that I might make it.”

Management took advantage of this, he says, telling him his “very specific role” in the group was to keep the rest in line. “I was like, that’s great, innit – because then everyone in the band thinks I’m a dick.” He remembers one of the band’s first hotel stays. “We’ve got plates being thrown out the window, mattresses being ridden down the stairs, and I’m getting calls from the manager saying: ‘You need to sort it out’.”

It wasn’t lost on the fans. Where Malik and Styles were the heartthrobs, Payne says he was classed as Mr Boring. “When you’re at the stadium, and if you get the least screams, it’s like: ‘For fuck’s sake.’”

After a year playing 1D-Dad he gave up and learned to have fun. “If you can’t beat them, join them” – at which point, he notes wryly, the band’s public image became more cheeky and carefree. “And the more fun we had, the more successful it got.”

He recalls performing to sold-out stadiums night after night, seeing “hundreds” of iPhones being thrown onstage in the vain hopes of their being returned with a selfie. “It’s like the kids just lost their minds.”

“There were parts of it that were a bit shit, like there is with anything,” he says, “and there were parts of it that was just euphoria.”

He recalls seeing 15,000 fans camped outside his hotel room in Lima, Peru. Security had advised them to stay inside all day, and because “they were the adults, we thought they were in charge. Then over time we started to figure out that they weren’t, and that’s when we used to run off.”

Yet the adrenaline peaks of performing, followed by long troughs of tedium, were akin to a drug addiction, says Payne. He turned to alcohol. “Doing a show to however many thousands of people, then being stuck by yourself in a country where you can’t go out anywhere – what else are you going to do? The minibar is always there. ”

For a time, he was also taking an epilepsy drug as a mood stabiliser that he says affected his cognitive functioning under certain lights. Payne says he had been well advised to take it, to counter the “erratic highs and lows” he was experiencing – “I just needed a little bit of help to keep me stable” – “but under certain lights on stage or during interviews, I wouldn’t be able to tell them my name”.

The day we meet, Payne has made headlines for telling Ant Middleton on the pair’s Sky One show that the loneliness of fame had “almost nearly killed” him. When Middleton asked Payne if he had ever wanted to act on those feelings, Payne said that he had: “100%”.

He is not inclined to discuss this today, “because it’s a bit dark,” he says, a touch brusquely – “but yeah, it was very touch and go at times”. This was both in 1D and afterwards, he clarifies. As One Direction got bigger and bigger, he says, “I was like: ‘I don’t really know how to deal with this’. Once you start, you can’t really press the stop button.”

The “indefinite hiatus” button, though, was easier – in mid-2015, four months after Malik’s departure, the band made the decision together. “It was a little bit dark and twisted towards the end of it,” says Payne, “but the last few shows were really beautiful moments because the pressure cooker had been let off.

“It was almost like counting down to holiday – we were going to wake up that Monday morning with no schedule.” Afterwards Payne was in therapy for two years, and took six months off. “It was difficult at the start, because I didn’t really know anything about myself. It was a bit of a numb feeling.”

(...)

That schedule is about to get busier, with Payne’s debut album as a solo artist finally out this Friday. Laden with chart-friendly trop house, trap and Latin pop influences, LP 1 plays like a water cannon aimed at commercial radio – there is even a Christmas song.

It has been a long lead-up: the first single, Strip That Down, was released nearly two years ago and established Payne as the 1D member most influenced by contemporary hip-hop – perhaps too much so. A picture he posted to Instagram of himself in February 2018 wearing a chain necklace, flipping the bird and bragging about travelling by private jet was quietly deleted following ridicule.

Amid the success of Strip That Down, which was streamed over 1bn times, Payne was also still “struggling” with alcohol: “I just hid it very well.” He went on to spend an entire year sober – a necessary if boring step. “My social life completely plummeted. I always feel like you never get past the awkward first 10 minutes at a party, when everyone’s like: ‘Do we get up and dance, or do we just sit here?’ I don’t know whether it made me happier, but it was definitely needed.”

His more recent stint of self-discipline was to prepare for his nude photo shoot with model Stella Maxwell for Hugo Boss. In the lead-up, he was in the gym between “five and eight times a week, sometimes twice a day” and eating mostly chicken and vegetables – with no carbohydrates after 2pm and nothing at all after 8pm. For the last “stripping” phase, he ate nothing but porridge and white fish for a month. “It was horrible – but it definitely works.”

The shoot had been his idea, inspired by campaigns featuring David Beckham and Mark Wahlberg – Payne’s role models, whose cross-disciplinary celebrity shapes his own career goals. Last year he auditioned in front of Steven Spielberg for a part in next year’s West Side Story remake, and has been submitting audition tapes irregularly since. “It’s just trying to manage the time in between (...), singer, model and whatever.”

Between the trap beats, tighty-whities and tattoos is he attempting to put across a new, more grown-up image? “Oh yeah, definitely.”

In One Direction, he was “Mr Vanilla – no one wanted to know a thing”. Then, with the “chain and rapper phase … I didn’t really know what I was aiming for, but it was actually exactly where we are right now. I just needed to find the right keys to make me feel like the man I wanted to be.”

Which is, he jokes, is “like a really English Magic Mike”. Do you like being objectified, I ask? “I think it’s quite funny,” says Payne, clearly delighted. The other day, he says, someone sent him a picture of an old lady walking past an enormous blown-up poster of him in his pants. Not bad for Mr Vanilla, I say. “Exactly.”

Liam Payne’s debut album LP1 is out on Friday 6 December

#liam payne #the guardian #one direction #lp1 #liam's interviews #02.12.2019

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keelywolfe · 4 years

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FIC: Not What It’s Cracked Up To Be ch.2 (baon)

Summary: Edge and Stretch are finally getting back on an even keel. Edge’s broken leg is healing well, Spring is finally here and the flowers are close to blooming.

Be a shame if anything disturbed their domestic bliss.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Fluff, Chickens

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Chapter 1

~~*~~

Read it on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

If Stretch had to make a top ten list of people that he expected to find at his front door on any given day, Papyrus would be on it, but Stretch had to guiltily admit, he would have been close to the bottom of the list, just below the mailperson.

It wasn't that Stretch didn't like Papyrus, he really did, but somehow, their paths didn't cross that often. Papyrus did a lot of work up at the Embassy and spent time training with Undyne and the rest of the security team. He had his own group down at the Y like Edge did of younger kids and every year they did a nature hike out in the wilds of Ebott, down the walking path that ran behind the shopping center.

Papyrus had his own gig going on and that was fine, but it did mean they mostly saw each other on movie nights and holidays. Kinda like cousins, maybe, not that Stretch ever had any. Not exactly close family, but family, nonetheless.

Now, finding Papyrus AND Jeff on his porch? Both of them with their arms loaded with plastic food containers and cups from the Beanery that looked to be filled with gloriously caffeinated concoctions? That wasn’t anywhere on Stretch’s top ten list or even in the top fifty. That was one that might’ve wandered onto an alternate list in the AM hours when Stretch couldn’t sleep, but even then, the odds weren’t good.

Papyrus’s grin of maniacal cheer, though, that was to be expected. It was the same one Blue got going when he had a scheme up his pant leg and that made warnings prickles stand up and do the cha-cha-cha on Stretch’s spine.

“hey, guys,” Stretch said slowly, “what’s going on?”

“What is going on is we are here to see you!” Papyrus said cheerily. He shifted the boxes in his arms. “We can continue going by you letting us inside!”

“I mean, you can leave us on the porch if you want,” Jeff’s grin was less maniacal, at least. Honestly, he looked tired and also like he wasn’t about to let that slow him down. “We’ll just stand here, alone, sad and pining for the fjords, wasting away—”

“yeah, yeah, i get it,” Stretch grinned and held open the door. “come in before the neighbors get interested. they already think we’re better than netflix.”

Papyrus and Jeff trooped inside, and Stretch took a second to peek out the front door. Edge was still working diligently on his flowerbeds, so that was fine. He saw Stretch looking and blew him a kiss and maybe catching it was pretend, but the warmth in his soul from it was plenty real.

Didn’t mean Stretch missed that his loving traitor didn’t come inside, though.

By the time he closed the front door, Jeff and Papyrus had taken over the coffee table. There were several plastic containers alongside the drink cups and okay, yeah, Stretch was curious to see what largess had been brought to them. Hopefully not too much, with his cast off and permission to stand, Edge was probably itching to get back into the kitchen. He’d graciously accept anything the guys brought over, probably, and then he’d be stuck between his urgent need to make food for everyone in sight and his need not to waste any morsel that came into the house. It was a bit of a balancing act and Edge was already wobbly on his feet.

Stretch wandered over to give one of the containers a poke. “i hadn't heard the hospital cut you loose yet, Paps.

“Just yesterday!” Papyrus beamed and now Stretch could see he had a cane of his own, exactly the same as Edge’s but he was currently using it more as punctuation than for support.

Released yesterday and Stretch hadn’t even known. He could have, should have. He’d just seen Sans a couple days go and he’d asked about Red, but not his brother who was still in the fucking hospital. And what, he could send tweets out to his fans but not a text to Papyrus to see how he was feeling? Stretch swallowed hard against the rising thickness in the back of his throat. “listen, i'm sorry i didn't get up to see you at the hospital much.”

Papyrus being Papyrus, only waved that off. “Not at all! Everyone is very busy right now.”

“Yeah,” Jeff put in and there was a wealth of meaning in that single word that probably synced up to the shadows under his eyes. “I barely got up there to see you and Edge, too.”

“Besides,” Papyrus went on, “You had your own patient to handle in what I am sure was an experience that left you stronger!”

“heh, that’s one way of putting it. how’s the noggin?” The bandages that were wrapped around Papyrus’s head in the hospital were gone and all the bruising faded. The dark line of a hairline crack was still running along his parietal bone. At this point it was probably here to stay, healing magic wasn’t much good on scars, otherwise Stretch would have gotten to work on Edge’s a long time ago.

Papyrus mimed rapping on his skull with his knuckles. “Better. I am still on sick leave even though I am injured, not sick. But I am not falling down as much now so they let me go home!”

The phrase falling down had implications that made Stretch shudder, even though he knew that wasn’t what Papyrus meant. Especially after today, seeing Edge’s healing leg, all his new scars, hairline fractures, all of them, but they were still there.

Okay, yeah, a subject change seemed to be a good idea.

Stretch picked up one of the containers and gave it a little shake. “so what brings you over to see me. not that i don’t want to see you guys, but…” He gestured at the rest of the containers. “i’m seeing a plan here.”

“Yes!” Papyrus said happily. “I brought something for your chickens!"

Huh. Today was definitely going off the charts, because that option wasn’t on any of Stretch’s top ten lists. “seriously?"

Papyrus obviously had his own standards when it came to lists, because he nodded as if it were obvious. “Yes! You see, usually when you are sick or injured in the hospital because of germs or stupidity—"

“hey!”

“--i have cared for your chickens for you! this time i was in the hospital and so i brought them spaghetti!”

Impeccable logic, really. Except for one small detail.

Paps was a much better cook these days but pasta still tended to elude him. Even the mention of spaghetti still gave Stretch shuddering flashbacks of those first few weeks when they came to this universe. It’d almost been enough for him to wish they were back in Underswap.

Almost.

All the other dishes Papyrus made were more than palatable, even delicious, except for when he dug out the noodles. Much as he didn’t want to hurt any feelings, neither did Stretch want to murder his chickens by poison pasta. “um that's really nice, but, uh.”

Whatever Papyrus thought he was going to say, if there were any hurt feelings about it, he shed it like water off a duck’s back, “Have no fear! It is vegetable spaghetti!"

“Spiral cut veggies, “Jeff put in. He pried off one of the lids and held it out, revealing bright orange and purple strands. His grin was a little wry; Jeff was another victim of Papyrus’s attempts at carbonara. “We made it fresh this morning.”

Oh. They’d made it, together. For the teeniest, tiniest moment there was a twinge of stupid jealousy, bitter sharp in his soul, because Jeff was supposed to be his best friend and here was Papyrus poaching on his territory when he already had lots of friends, in a couple different countries even, pen pals and people at the Embassy, why did he need one of Stretch’s?

Then he squashed that thought like the stink bug it was; there was plenty of Andy to go around and he wasn’t about to end his week by being a dick to his best friends over veggie noodles.

So hey, time to unwrap the enthusiasm and get this chicken party started. Stretch pasted his smile back on and said, “well hey, let’s go out back! i bet they’ll be scrambling for it.”

Papyrus didn’t even groan at the pun, though Jeff booed under his breath. His smile brought new meaning to the word beaming, it really did, bright as the sun. “Let me get some plates!”

He caned his way into the kitchen before Stretch could even offer to do it for him and yeah, there was one of the ways he and Edge were alike, stubborn little shits that they were.

Stretch shook his head and turned back to Jeff to ask, softly, “how is he doing, really?”

“He’s been fine today, but he should probably sit down for a while,” Jeff said in the same quiet tone. “I had him sitting at home when we were using the spiral slicer and he was pretty good about it. Don’t let him fool you, though, the doctors told him to take it easy—”

“—and he’s not really good at following their instructions,” Stretch finished with a sigh. “yeah, i’ve had some practice with that.”

“I’ll bet,” Jeff laughed just as Papyrus returned, plates in hand. Stretch kept back any comments about what Edge might have to say about them using his plates to feed chickens. Hey, they were family, they could use the good tableware.

“I’ll bet, too,” Papyrus said, “if you two are finished talking about me behind my back! Unless you want to do it in front of my face as well.”

Yeah, there were definitely times Stretch could tell Papyrus and Edge were cut from the same cloth. Although if he ever saw Edge smiling like Papyrus did, Stretch would be checking for any other signs of the apocalypse. “nah, i think we’re good. let’s head out.”

“Oh, and we brought you—” Jeff plucked one of the plastic cups from the table and held it out with a flourish. “triple venti, iced caramel macchiato with whip and an extra shot.”

Now that was a drink and Stretch took the cup, clutching it to his chest without even caring for the condensation dampening the front of his sweatshirt.

“you are the second-best person in the world,” Stretch told him sincerely, “if i wasn’t already married to the first best, i’d be polishing up my flirting skills for you.”

Jeff only rolled his eyes, “Yeah, okay, I’ll add you to my dance card, Mr. Darcy.”

“The dating manual has a chapter on polygamous relationships if you’d like to borrow it!” Papyrus said brightly.

Immediately, Jeff’s pale cheeks flamed a bright red and Stretch felt a blush of his own warm his face. Uh, yeah, no, his love for Andy stayed above the waist, thanks. Now he was glad Edge hadn’t come inside, he’d either be annoyed or silently laughing his ass off. Either way, Stretch could live without it.

He clapped a hand on Papyrus’s shoulder, “you know what, paps, i think we’re good, but i’ll keep it in mind. c’mon, it’s a nice day and the ladies await!”

“Of course!” Papyrus followed Stretch to the back door while Jeff gathered up the containers. “Did Edge redecorate the kitchen? I seem to recall a lot less red paint splattered on the walls and also a table the last time I was here…”

~~*~~

A few days ago, Stretch spent a couple hours cleaning off all the chairs on the patio from any winter gunk left on them. He’d done it for Edge so he could come outside while he was still off limits on any marathons, just a quick scrub down and some sunshine and they were good.

Now he wondered why he bothered because so far, every time anyone came out to the backyard, they ended up sitting on the damned ground. At least they grabbed the cushions off the chairs to keep the damp away. The chickens were gabbling eagerly from the moment the sliding glass door opened and the volume doubled when they realized it was more than the usual amount of suckers to demand scritches from.

Stretch let loose the chicks and Papyrus laid down the plates, already scolding, “Now hold on a moment, there’s more than one flavor! You’ll need a serving of each for the full decadent experience!”

Soon enough the grub was out and they were all sitting on their cushions, watching the chickens feast.

“gotta say, this was a pretty good idea,” Stretch admitted. Pretty good was understating it, the chickens loved the veggie spaghetti and they were gobbling it down, switching plates at will as they scarfed it as fast as they could. Noodle let out an indignant squawk when Nugget stole a tasty looking tidbit from under her beak and ended up on the other end of a strand with Dumpling in an impromptu Lady and the Tramp recreation that ended a lot less romantically when Nugget stole a bite right through the center.

“Of course it was!” Papyrus said loftily. Then he surprised Stretch by adding, “JeffAndy suggested it.”

Stretch raised a brow bone and Jeff shrugged, awkwardly, “Julia used to make veggie spaghetti all the time and Blue had a spiral cutter, so.”

“i haven’t seen blue for a few days.” Stretch fumbled into his hoodie pocket for his lighter, the metal smooth and cool under his fingertips. “how’s he doing?”

“Good. Busy, like all of us,” Jeff said. He took a drink from his cup and it left a slight whipped cream mustache on his upper lip that he licked away. “Think everyone will be glad when Edge is back full time.”

“yeah.” The lighter flicking through his fingers wasn’t enough suddenly and Stretch pulled out a pack of cigarettes to go with it at the same time he nudged Papyrus with an elbow. “and how’s your bro doing?”

“Very well!” Papyrus plucked up a far-flung piece of spaghetti and tossed it back towards the chickens. Dumpling all but snapped it out of the air. “He’s packing as we speak!”

“packing?” That was about the last thing Stretch expected to ever hear about Sans. He and Papyrus were the only brother pair still living together and Stretch would have put good odds on the that only changing if Papyrus moved out, and even then, Sans might try to crawl into one of the suitcases. Sans packing up was serious levels of gossip that he was missing out on.

Papyrus nodded. “Yes! Now that he and Red are betrothed, he is moving in! He didn’t want to leave at first, but I told him I would have someone stay with me until I am fully recovered!”

Betrothed was a weird way to describe that relationship and Sans actually moving in? Made Stretch wonder what’d happened that day when Sans carried Red out of the kitchen, not that he’d wanted to be a fly on the wall or anything. Maybe Red liked to play the spy guy, but Stretch had enough nightmares as it was. If he ever had to hear Red in throes of orgasm, he’d scrub the inside of his skull with a toilet brush.

“not undyne.” He couldn’t imagine her staying away from Alphys, especially not while she had a bun cooking in the oven.

“No, no, your brother!”

Stretch was in the middle of lighting his cigarette and sucked in too hard, coughing the smoke back out. His brother was staying with Papyrus? When did that happen? He was starting to feel more and more like Dorothy when she first stepped off the tornado.

“okay, hang on,” Stretch rubbed a knuckle between his sockets where an ache was starting to form. “can i get a timeline on this?”

“Of course!” Papyrus ticked off on his fingers. “First, Red gave Sans a betrothal collar.”

That choker he’d been wearing, with the heart-shaped buckle. Not at all the sort of thing he’d expected to be Sans’s taste, it’d been cute when Sans was more, ‘wear whatever fell on me today’. “is that what that was?”

“Oh, yes, Red told me that collars hold great significance in Underfell!”

“did he now?” Stretch said softly. Nope, that didn’t sting, not one little bit. His soul wasn’t at all lurching in his chest, rising up to settle painfully under his clavicles.

“Very much so! A betrothal collar is a promise and a warning.” Papyrus leaned in, his voice lowered conspiratorially to a level just below a shout. “More people probably need warnings about Sans.”

“you’re probably right.” Honestly, he should probably be wearing a sign.

“So he got his collar and told me. Then I told him he needed to move in with his fiancée and he said, ‘whoa, bro, don’t know about that you’re still pretty banged up and all.’”

Stretch couldn’t help grinning. He had to admit, that impression of Sans was pretty bang on.

“and I told him I would find someone else to stay with me and I asked your brother and he agreed!” Papyrus finished triumphantly.

He glanced at Jeff, who’d moved his cushion to be downwind of the cigarette smoke. “what about andy, thought you and blue were playing roommates.”

“I’m moving in with Antwan,” Jeff admitted shyly. He toyed with the laces on his shoes. “I mean, for now anyway.”

Normally, Stretch would have been squealing to hear that because hello, about fucking time. But from the sounds of it, if he wasn’t the last to know about all this, he was pretty damn close. “this all happened in the past couple days?”

Papyrus glanced at him. “If we are measuring by linear time, then yes.”

“always did prefer linear. helps to keep things straight. hey, congrats, andy,” Stretch said belatedly. Really belated, seemed like if this news was days old.

“Don’t congratulate me yet, Antwan hasn’t had to move my comic book collection,” Jeff laughed. But from his pink, pleased face he was pretty excited and why shouldn’t he be, he was moving in with his guy, Blue was moving in with Papyrus, Sans moving in with Red. All kinds of stuff going on that no one gave Stretch a call or text about it. Not that he blamed them, not really. He wasn’t being much of a good big brother lately or cousin or friend or whatever else the fuck he pretended he could do. Made him wonder how he was doing as a husband, since he was so shit at everything else.

The chickens were done mangling every speck of the spaghetti and Nugget wandered over to peck at the string on Stretch’s hoodie hopefully. It hadn’t turned into food for her the other hundred times she’d tried it, but that never stopped her before, especially since now it looked like her last treat. Stretch crushed out his cigarette and gave her a hopeful nudge, and she settled into his lap amicably, clucking happily as he smoothed a hand down her feathers.

Noodle was taking refuge in Papyrus’s lap, crooning for her own pets that Papyrus obediently provided. “Your chickens are very nice.”

“We’re lucky Edge isn’t here,” Jeff chuckled even as he coaxed Dumpling over for scritches of her own. “They think he’s the next coming of Chicken Jesus.”

Papyrus frowned. “I wouldn’t think that chickens followed Christian theology.”

It was always hard to tell when Papyrus was sincere or when he was fucking with you, and Stretch had a feeling he was being bent over today. “nah, these ladies are nondenominational.”

“If one must have a harem, one of chickens seems a good choice!” Papyrus said thoughtfully. “There are the eggs to consider.”

“a harem, why would---never mind.” Stretch decided he really didn’t want to know which way Papyrus’s brain was twisting today, he had enough of that with his own.

“By the way,” Jeff said as he struggled to keep Dumpling from attacking his shoelaces, “now that Edge is feeling better, I should probably tell you that your brother’s freezer is filled with bags of grapes.”

“grap..oh.” The grapes from Edge’s garden that he’d been picking when…well. When everything. He’d honestly forgotten all about them, that whole day was pretty much a suckhole of shit that he didn’t care to ever repeat. Even thinking that made Stretch feel a little queasy, knocking him even more off balance while he was trying to catch his equilibrium. Stretch let out a little laugh and if it sounded a little shrill, neither Jeff nor Papyrus noticed. “you froze them, really? when did you even have the time?”

Jeff shrugged, which meant it was probably after work, maybe even at the end of that long, horrible day, and he’d been exhausted and done it anyway. He really was a good friend, better than Stretch deserved.

“i’ll let him know.” Stretch rubbed Nugget gently under the chin and she cooed happily. “and hey, thanks for stopping by with the spaghetti for my girls and letting me knows what’s up with the nearby world.”

“Wish I could say it was my idea,” Jeff said. His smile was a little lopsided. “I’ve missed hanging out. With everything that’s going on, Papyrus thought maybe you were feeling a little out of the loop. He said not being at work makes him think it’s Sunday when it’s Wednesday.”

“yeah, he’s got a good point.”

“I usually do,” Papyrus said modestly.

The sliding glass door opened then, and Edge stepped out. Immediately the chickens abandoned all laps and ran to him, and usually Stretch thought that was cute as fuck, but today, it was an extra scoop of abandonment on top of his cone of salty guilt.

Edge crouched and gave each of them a quick pat, “Hello, everyone. I only wanted to check if you two are staying for dinner.”

“No,” Papyrus said, somehow managing to look sad and elated at the same time. “Blue is planning a welcome to my home dinner for me tonight!”

“I can’t either, Antwan and I haven’t done anything but sleep in the same bed for the past week. We’re planning take out and time together.” Jeff scrambled to his feet with a groan, stretching, “We need to get going, anyway.”

Edge nodded, like none of this was news to him. Maybe it wasn’t, Stretch really was the last to know everything. Even about betrothal collars and Stretch twisted the ring on his finger, feeling the delicate swirls etched into it with the tips of his fingers. The metal wasn’t cool like his lighter, warmed by his own bones.

It only took a couple of minutes for Jeff and Papyrus to gather up the empty containers, and Stretch got the plates, setting them next to him on the ground.

“see you guys later!” Stretch called as they went through the gate. He got waves in return and then they were gone.

Edge sat down on the cushion next to him, stretching out his leg brace in front of him as he nudged it closer than Papyrus had. Close enough for him to settle his own hand over Stretch’s and he couldn’t help wondering if that was to keep him from reaching for his cigarettes again. He was supposed to be quitting and that’d fallen to the wayside at some point, supposed to be seeing Alphys about his HP, when was the last time he’d done that? So many fucking questions today and Stretch wasn’t sure about some of the answers.

“Just you and me tonight then, love,” Edge said. His thumb grazed lightly across Stretch’s knuckles and he noted absently that he’d changed his gloves. These ones were worn soft, comfort gloves, like some of Stretch’s sweatshirts, and he didn’t know why Edge needed comforting.

“yeah, just you and me,” Stretch agreed softly, and when had that become less of a delight.

He really was losing his touch because Edge gave him a narrow look almost immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“nothing,” Stretch said, and he forced lightness into the word, “think i’m just a little tired, we had a lot going on today.”

Edge hummed softly in agreement, “Why don’t you take a nap?”

“take one with me?” Stretch offered and he knew from the split-second of hesitation on Edge’s face that he wanted to say no. Which, of course he fucking did, he just got his cast off, he was probably wanting a shower or maybe even a bath, give those newly scarred bones a good scrub before he went to do all the other shit he couldn’t do last week. “you know what, never mind.”

“Are you sure?” Edge asked, because of course he did. He always put Stretch’s happiness first. Like it was something Stretch actually deserved and that was a shitty thing to think and Stretch knew it, so he was stopping that right now.

“yep,” Stretch forced a yawn. “if it’s just me i can sprawl out.”

“Me being in the bed has never stopped you before,” Edge said dryly. But he lifted Stretch’s hand and kissed his knuckles, right over his wedding ring, the one Edge gave him when he promised to love and cherish him, and Stretch was gonna knock it the fuck off thinking about anything with collars or Underfell. Edge loved him and he knew it, he didn’t need anything else.

Not a damn thing.

~~*~~

Read Chapter Three

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

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wistfulcynic · 5 years

Text

On What They Fall 2/4

So let me start by saying how much I hate @thisonesatellite. I mean obviously I don't hate her, I love her even though she has been HOGGING THE BRAIN, but I hate that EVERY TIME she says I’m going to need more chapters to tell my story I DO. I DO NEED THEM. Curse her.

The upside of her eerie genius is that there are now three chapters in this fic. ONLY THREE, DAMMIT.

I’d like to say that this one is less angsty than the first but that would be a LIE.

The first angsty chapter can be found here on Tumblr or here on AO3.

SUMMARY: Killian Jones is an angry young man. He has no family and few friends, and he’s stuck in a small town where everyone views him with fear and suspicion.

Everyone but Emma Swan.

She’s everything he wants in life and everything he can’t have. What he doesn’t know is that she wants him too.

Part 9 of Secret Things.

Rated: T

On AO3

Tagging some folks who might enjoy it: @kmomof4, @stahlop, @mariakov81, @teamhook, @resident-of-storybrooke, @darkcolinodonorgasm, @shireness-says, @thejollyroger-writer, @ohmightydevviepuu @jennjenn615 @superchocovian (Give me a shout if you’d like a tag for Chapter 3 THE REALLY VERY FINAL CHAPTER I MEAN IT THIS TIME)

Chapter 2:

Killian doesn’t write and he doesn’t call. He doesn’t contact anyone except Belle, and she gets nothing but the odd text message sent at irregular intervals. She never tells anyone what the messages say and Emma can’t bear to ask.

She googles him, though, in moments of weakness— when Graham pushes a bit too hard or when her parents smile at him too fondly, when Emma’s had a drink or two too many she gives in to the longing that is never not a part of her and searches for any scrap of information about him that she can find.

Her searches come up empty, at first. She expects little else —he’s off on a boat after all— but then one day about a year after he left she searches for his name and finds an Instagram account. She holds her breath as she clicks on it, wondering if after so long it could possibly, actually be him. All the pictures are of landscapes and cityscapes and food and people— so many people, and though none of them are him she knows instinctively that this account is his. These are photographs he’s taken of his travels.

She makes a second account for herself with a meaningless username and follows him. She checks his page daily, marking off all the places he visits on a globe she buys expressly for the purpose, charting his progress as he travels around the world. His photographs are gorgeous, full of colour and life, and they capture the spirit and the essence of each location. He’s a fantastic photographer, and it turns out an even better writer.

One day when she checks his Instagram she sees a link to a blog. With shaking hands she clicks on it and finds a single post—a story, complete with pictures, of a day he spent in Vietnam. It was a hot day, he recounted, edging towards 50 Celsius (122 Fahrenheit, Emma learns from Google, and her jaw drops) and Killian spent it in a place called Hoi An, visiting an elderly couple who breed silkworms for the local trade and taking photographs in their un-air-conditioned house. By the late afternoon he was bathed in sweat, thirsty and grumpy and wanting nothing more than to get back to his boat and have a beer, sail out to sea to catch a cool breeze. When he returned to where he’d moored her, however, he discovered that some local children had cut his line and set his boat adrift off the coast. The children thought this was a hilarious joke, and Killian, despite his mood and the sweat pouring off him, found himself laughing along with them. With no other practical options available, he put his camera bag on his head, secured the strap under his chin, and carefully swam out to his boat. The water was warm, he wrote, like a tepid bath, bright blue and gentle, and it washed the sweat away and refreshed him. When he reached the boat he tossed the camera bag aboard along with the wet clothes he simply stripped off and then floated in the water, watching a thunderstorm roll in over the mountains behind the town.

Emma devours the story eagerly, then goes back to the beginning and reads it again. His writing style is eloquent and engaging, his descriptions of the locations and people vivid and funny, and she feels like she’s there with him. She feels a pang at that realisation. If only she were there with him.

The story ends with a final photograph, clearly taken from the deck of his boat. A stormy grey sky lit up by a flash of lighting arcing down over the tops of lush green mountains. The brown roofs of houses dotted around the lower elevations and down to the white sandy beach fronted by clear azure water. The caption reads: I had never known such contentment or such peace.

That he had to go to the other side of the world to find those things breaks her heart.

She checks his blog daily and he updates it often, and soon she is only one of his regular readers. He gets dozens, then hundreds of comments on each post and he replies to them with charm and humour, and before too long advertisers begin to take notice. As do editors.

His first professional article appears in Wanderlust about two and a half years after his departure from Storybrooke. More soon follow, and his blog is updated with less and less frequency. And then, four years after he left, he makes the cover of National Geographic.

Emma cries as she reads it, huge, silent tears that leave tracks down her face, and with her fingertip she traces the small picture of him next to the article. His beard is thicker, she thinks, though he still hasn’t learned how to use a comb.

Six months later he announces that he’s shutting down his blog because he’s written a book, a novel that will be published the following year. Emma is thrilled, and so proud of him. He always was good with words, as his impressive career in travel journalism proves, and she’s delighted he’s found an even more creative way to use that talent. But then she thinks about how, once, he would have given her this news himself, and her tears fall again.

She thinks about how things were between them, so long ago now. How from the very beginning he fascinated her, that sullen, beautiful boy with his soft accent and his furious pain, the wary disbelief in his eyes when she brought him a blanket and the shock of intense connection when she shook his hand. Her persistent campaign to break through the bastion of his anger and discover the person beneath, her joy when she succeeded. The long, hot days of his first summer in Storybrooke, walking in the woods or sitting by the docks together, reading, listening to music, talking about everything. How in love with him she was and how she thought, in odd moments and snatches of glances that he might feel the same.

Then autumn came and Killian turned eighteen. The morning of his birthday he dropped out of school, telling Emma without looking at her that with the chaos of his parents’ deaths and the struggle to find someone to take custody of him he missed his exams in England and here in the US everything was too different. He wouldn’t be able to graduate in the spring and he didn’t see the point of staying in school when he should be earning money. Now that there were no more funds from the state to support him, he said, he couldn’t be a burden on Belle.

He got a job at the docks, working such long hours she barely ever saw him. When she did he was exhausted, worn in a way that worried her, though he always had a smile for her and a new book he discovered for her to read. His mind was so active, so curious, but when she tried to talk him into going back to school he refused to listen, withdrawing into himself if she even brought it up.

Emma thinks about how he began to pull away from her, subtly at first, allowing the circumstances of their lives to do most of the work. She thinks of the gossip she began to hear about him, stories of sleeping with older women who would buy him alcohol, drinking until he passed out. She confronted him about it and he stonewalled her, telling her to go back to her high school boys and leave him in peace.

Man whore, she hissed at him.

Princess, he snarled back, turning the word into an insult.

Emma cried herself to sleep that night, and the next day agreed to go to her senior prom with Neal Cassidy.

When word of Killian’s book gets out Storybrooke goes insane. Everyone seems to have forgotten the way they once treated him, the suspicion and distrust, the whispering behind his back, always waiting for him to explode in violence or do something that would get him locked up for good. All they remember now is that he’s a ‘local boy’—one born on a different continent, but that is also forgotten— and there is pride in their voices when they speak of him. There is speculation on when he’s going to ‘come home.’

Emma wants nothing more than for him to come home, but not like this, not into the clutches of these vultures, she thinks viciously, these people who made him feel like less than nothing and who now just want to trade on his acclaim. Yet she wants so badly to see him, to hear his voice again. He’s been gone five years and the wound is still open, still gaping and raw. By now she knows it will never heal, and if she lives to be a hundred she will never stop missing him.

Graham knows it too. They’re still dating, sort of, in the sense that they go out together sometimes and they sleep together sometimes but Emma has never been able to fully commit to the relationship. She loves Graham but she’s not in love with him, as the cliché goes, and when Killian becomes the focus of eager conversation throughout the town Graham thinks he may finally know the reason why.

“It’s Killian, isn’t it?” he asks her out of nowhere one day. They’re in the sheriff’s station where Emma now works alongside him, having graduated with her criminal justice degree and joined the force as a deputy. “You’re in love with him.”

“What? How do you know?” She stares at him, too astonished to dissemble.

“Emma, you should see your face whenever anyone mentions his name.” Graham smiles sadly. “I didn’t notice at first because— well, no one talked about him, but now his name’s getting thrown around all over the place and every time you hear it you look like your heart is breaking.”

“Graham.” She has no idea what to say to him.

“At least now I know why you couldn’t ever fall for me.”

“I’m so sorry.” Emma feels terrible. “I probably shouldn’t have— It’s just my dad was so—”

“I know. I probably shouldn’t have pushed so hard. With hindsight it’s always been pretty obvious your heart wasn’t in it.”

“I wish it could have been,” she says with a flare of anger. “Killian never wanted me, he left without even saying goodbye. I haven’t heard a word from him in five years, so why can’t I stop loving him?”

“What is it they say? True love never dies?”

“I’ll have to find a way to kill it then, because I can’t live the rest of my life like this.”

Graham stares at his hands for a long moment, and then he speaks. “You might not have to.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t think— I don’t think Killian didn’t want you.”

“What?” Emma glares at him but he doesn’t look up.

“It’s not something we ever spoke of, but looking back.. hindsight and all, I see some things now that I didn’t want to see back then. He was always so tense when you were around, and his face when anyone said your name— well, it was a lot like yours is now when someone says his.”

She shakes her head. “You’re imagining things, Graham. Projecting—”

“No, I don’t think I am,” he interrupts firmly, finally looking at her. “I think Killian loved you but thought he couldn’t give you what you needed and that’s why he left.”

“And what exactly did he think I needed?”

“Maybe you should ask him that.”

Emma throws up her hands. “I just told you he hasn’t spoken to me in half a decade. I’ve got no idea where he even is.”

“You’re a cop,” says Graham. “You have resources.”

“Graham Humbert, are you suggesting I misappropriate—”

“I’m not suggesting anything, Emma, other than that it seems you and Killian have a conversation that’s at least five years overdue, and maybe it’s time you finally had it.”

Two weeks later Killian’s book comes out. It’s an instant sensation, shooting to the top of the bestseller lists. All his Instagram followers and blog readers and travel magazine subscribers buy it and so do their friends and family. Emma buys a copy and stares for a long time at his name on the cover before she begins to read.

The book is not a love story. It’s a story of love frustrated by life. It’s the story of a boy and a girl, the classic star-crossed lovers, who end up not dying in each other’s arms or living happily ever after but just… living. Ever after.

It’s the story of bad timing and bad choices and circumstances that grind away at love until nothing remains but the ghost of it, and of two people who would once have done anything for each other but by the end barely speak. It’s beautifully written and it’s heartbreaking, and for Emma it hits her straight in her soul. Because she is the girl, and Killian is the boy, and she doesn’t even have to read the interview he gives to the New York Times Book Review, confessing that the woman he wrote about is based on a real person, to know that this is them. This is how Killian imagined the path their lives would take, if they got together all those years ago. This is why he left.

Emma takes the book with her everywhere, rereading it in every spare moment, searching for something to convince her she’s wrong, that she’s imagining what isn’t there. She forgets to eat and barely sleeps, and finally she goes to see Belle, knocking on her door with the book clutched tightly to her chest. Belle hugs her, the minute she opens it. She’s read the book too.

“He’s never coming back, is he?” Emma whispers.

Belle shakes her head. “No.”

She ushers Emma inside, sits her down on the sofa. Waits.

Emma stares at the book, ruffling its pages and toying with its dust jacket. “Isn’t there anything that might make him— any reason he might want to— to come to Storybrooke again? Doesn’t he at least want to see you?”

Belle chooses her words carefully. “I visited him last Christmas,” she says gently. “In his new place, at his request. He doesn’t want to come back here. I— believe there are some things he thinks would hurt too much to revisit.”

“The woman in his book.”

“Yes.”

Emma takes a deep breath, looks Belle straight in the eye. “Is it me?” She holds up the book. “Is she— me?”

Belle sighs, but there’s no point in lying. The woman in the book is so obviously Emma. She’s kept Killian’s secret as long as she could, but if he’s going to put his heart on display in the pages of an international bestseller there’s only so much that she can do to protect it for him.

“Yes,” she says. “It’s you.”

“Then he… he loved me?”

Belle nods, and Emma’s fingers grip the book tightly. “Did he leave town because of me?”

“He did. He loved you deeply, Emma, but he never acted on it because he believed you didn’t feel the same, and even if you did he couldn’t give you the life you deserved. Then you started dating Graham and couldn’t bear to watch you fall in love with someone else.”

“He’s such an idiot,” hisses Emma, and Belle does rather agree. Yet she’s not sorry Killian left Storybrooke; he’d never have made anything of himself had he stayed. He’s got the life he deserves now, and he’s stable, if not quite happy. He’s been seeing a therapist and working through the scars from his past. For the first time in all the years she’s known him anger isn’t his defining feature, and while she does think his book takes rather too pessimistic a view of the life they might have had together, she’s certain none of the progress he’s made would have been possible if he’d remained here in this town with Emma, however much he loved her.

“Tell me something, Emma,” she says. “If Killian had told you he loved you before he left, what would you have done?”

“Gone with him,” says Emma, without a second’s hesitation.

Belle gives her a hard look. “You would have given up everything —your education, your family, your home— to live with him on a boat, scraping by on his savings?”

“Yes.” Emma thinks about the picture from his first blog post, the calm and contentment he’d found floating off the coast of Vietnam. She would have given up anything to experience that with him. Just to be with him. “All I’ve ever really wanted is to have a life with him. The details of that life don’t really matter. I mean, they do, but— we could have worked them out together.”

Belle smiles and gives her head a little shake. One of these days, she thinks, she’ll stop underestimating Emma Swan. “He’s living in New York now,” she says casually. “In a neighbourhood called the Bowery. Bought himself a nice little flat there. Apparently the advance on his next book was a generous one.”

Emma swallows hard before she speaks. “Is he planning to stay there?” she asks.

“I think so,” says Belle. “I think he’s ready to stop wandering and find his place.”

Emma has been with the sheriff’s department for three years and she’s never once abused the power that comes with her position. She doesn’t speed or park where she shouldn’t, or even cut in line at Granny’s as even Graham has been known to do. She’s never even jaywalked. But when she learns where Killian lives, his very neighbourhood in fact, she busts out every cop trick she knows to find his address.

When she has it she sits for a long time, thinking. Then she opens Google Street View. She feels a bit like a stalker, looking online at the very building where he lives, but she can’t help herself. And if she goes through with her plan then she will quite literally be stalking him and via not-quite-legal means as well.

But she can’t get Graham’s words out of her head. A conversation at least five years overdue. She wants to know why he left, why he pushed her away even before that, why he didn’t trust her to love him enough to make everything else irrelevant. She needs to hear it from his own mouth, not from Graham’s or Belle’s or anyone else’s. She needs to know.

She doesn’t tell anyone where she’s going or what she intends to do. Her dad is surprised when she asks for two weeks off work— she’s not had so much as a sick day since she started— but when he and her mother ask about her plans she tells them she just needs some time away after her breakup with Graham. Her father’s mouth goes grim; he’s not happy about that breakup. But he says nothing and her mother hugs her and tells her to take all the time she needs.

The next morning finds her at Killian’s door, trying to calm her racing heartbeat as she stares at the number on it, gathers her courage, and rings the bell. When he appears her breath stops. Her world stops. He looks good, is all she can think. Older, of course, filled out and more solid, with thick scruff along his jaw and his hair neatly trimmed if less than neatly combed. He’s always been good looking, but in the past the anger and defiance that so often marred his features made it hard to see. But now… now the anger is nowhere to be seen and he is beautiful, his smile shining as brilliantly as she remembers until he recognises her and it fades away.

“Swan,” he gasps, staring at her with wide eyes. “What— why are you—”

“I read your book,” she says breathlessly.

“Ah.”

“I loved it. You’re an incredible writer.”

He drops his eyes and rubs his neck, a pink flush spreading over his cheekbones. Some things haven’t changed, she thinks. He never could handle praise.

“Erm, well, yes. Thank you,” he says. “Um. Come in, Swan.”

He steps back to allow her entrance and she feels breathless again as she takes in his apartment. It’s plainly furnished but everywhere there are things, all manner of them, clearly souvenirs of his travels. Sculptures and paintings and knickknacks and other little touches of the life he’s lived without her. She spins slowly around, wide-eyed.

“This is amazing.”

“Aye, well, I’ve done some travelling.”

“I know. I read your blog too, and your Instagram.”

“You— really?”

She turns to look at him. “Yeah. I’ve been following you for a while. On the internet at least.”

“That’s— well, I don’t really know. I don’t know what to say. I didn’t think you—” I didn’t think you cared. She hears the words he doesn’t say.

The urge to touch him is so strong she digs her fingernails into her palms to stop herself from reaching out, wrapping him in her arms and never letting go. She notices that he seems to be doing the same, one hand stuffed deep in his pocket and the other a tight fist at his side. The tension Graham spoke of is there as well. It radiates from him, belying his casual posture. He was always tense around her in those later years, she remembers. Now she has some new ideas about why.

She doesn’t know what to say, though, how to start the conversation she needs them to have.

He starts it for her. “Why are you here, Swan?” he asks.

“Belle told me where you live.”

“That’s a how, not a why,” he says, with a small smile.

“I just wanted to see you.”

“Why?”

She tries to sort through all the reasons: because she still loves him and always will, because she missed him every second he was gone and she’s so angry at him for leaving without even a goodbye but also she’s proud of him for what he’s accomplished, for pulling himself out of the life he hated and finding success through his talent and hard work and sheer stubbornness. She tries to sort through the chaos of her thoughts but before she can the door opens and a woman rushes in.

“Sorry I’m late, I— oh. I didn’t know you were expecting any visitors.”

“I wasn’t.” Killian smiles at the woman as she approaches them. She’s tall and elegant with dark hair that tumbles in wild curls down her back. Emma feels small and dowdy next to her, and when she kisses Killian in greeting Emma can’t suppress a flinch.

“This is Emma,” says Killian. “A friend from Storybrooke.”

The woman looks at her with sharp interest. “I thought you didn’t have any friends there.”

“I believe I said I didn’t have many,” Killian replies with a grin. “She’s one.” He turns back to Emma and the smile slips away. “This is Milah, my agent,” he tells her. “And, ah, my girlfriend.”

Emma doesn’t flinch this time, she’s frozen by the stab of pain through her heart, though she knew this was coming from the moment the woman came through his door. Of course he has a girlfriend, she thinks, he’s moved on with his life. He’s been moving on, for the past five years. She’s the one who can’t let go.

She feels like she’s watching herself from outside her body as she summons a smile from God knows where and shakes Milah’s hand. She says all the right things— nice to meet you and yes, here on vacation and just in the neighbourhood, thought I’d look him up. From the expression in Milah’s pale eyes she doesn’t believe a word of it.

“Well, I’m sorry to cut your reunion short, Emma, but I’m afraid Killian has an appointment and we’re already running late,” she says briskly.

“Yes, of course,” Emma, replies, leaping to her feet and grabbing her things. “I’ll just… it was nice to meet you Milah, and to see you Killian. I’ll, uh, find my way out.” She forces herself not to run.

Killian catches up to her as she’s waiting at the elevator. “Swan!” he calls, and Emma wills the elevator to come faster, wishes she’d just taken the stairs. She tries not to turn around, but he calls her name again she can’t resist the entreaty in his voice.

“Where are you staying?” he asks, all in a rush. “For how long? Can I— can we—” he takes a deep breath and tries again. “I’d love to see you before you go. If you like, that is. Can I take you for coffee or something?”

The elevator doors open and she steps inside, turns to look at him almost against her will.

“Swan,” he says again, and his voice is so soft.

She gives him the name of her hotel, forces herself not to be thrilled by the warmth of his smile. The first smile he’s directed at her in five years. “I’ll come by tomorrow morning,” he says, and she nods as the doors slide shut. It’s just a platitude, she tells herself, just something people say. She won’t get her hopes up.

She won’t.

Killian returns to his apartment where Milah is waiting, actually tapping her toe on the floor as she stares at her phone with a stony expression. He ignores her mood, grabs his jacket and his satchel and holds open the door.

“Are you coming?” he asks.

She sweeps by him without a word and he follows her downstairs to where a town car is waiting. There is no sign of Emma in the street.

They sit in silence as the car navigates the heavy traffic. Killian is lost in his thoughts, unnerved by the way his skin is tingling, his blood pounding hot in his veins. This reaction is insane, he thinks, they didn’t even touch. Just seeing Emma again has shaken him to his core and he can’t work out how he feels about it. He never expected to see her anywhere but in his dreams.

“That was her, wasn’t it?” says Milah, interrupting his reverie. “The woman from your book.”

“Aye.” He regrets Emma’s presence in his book, resents it a bit. He tried to write the woman differently but no matter what he did she refused to be anyone but Emma. In the end he gave in, hoping that writing about her might excise her from his heart. It didn’t. Nothing ever could.

Milah is silent for several streets. When she speaks again her voice is carefully neutral. “Are you going to tell her you’re still in love with her?” she asks. “That you’ve never stopped?”

“Milah—” he begins, but she cuts him off with a short, sharp gesture of her hand.

“It’s okay, Killian. Well, it’s not okay, but I’ve always known you didn’t love me the way you love her.” She gives a wry smile. “I just never imagined she’d show up at your door.”

“No, nor I.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

He scrubs a hand over his face. “I don’t know.”

Milah pauses again, chooses her words carefully. “You know you’ll never be completely happy without her, right?”

He nods. “I know. But—” He hesitates, and she steps in.

“But you don’t think you deserve to be.” She gives him a probing look. “You do, you know.”

Killian stares at his hands, fighting against the memories that are starting to engulf him, things he hasn’t allowed himself to think about for years. Emma’s laugh, the way she smiled at him, the sunlight in her hair. Her father’s face whenever he saw them together. The way people in Storybrooke used to watch them, resentfully, as though his mere presence in her orbit would despoil their princess.

He shakes his head.“You don’t understand. Emma, she’s perfect—”

“She’s not,” snorts Milah, and meets his glare with a calm stare of her own. “She’s just a woman. A lovely one, yes, and by your account a remarkable one. But still just a woman. One who loves you.”

His heart squeezes at that thought, one his brain refuses to entertain. “She doesn’t,” he insists, “she’s just being—”

“Oh, stop it!” snaps Milah. “Stop making excuses. It’s fucking obvious to anyone with eyes. She’s as bad at hiding her feelings as you are. That woman is crazy in love with you and the only reason you can’t see it is because you think you don’t deserve it.”

“I don’t deserve her,” insists Killian, his jaw set stubbornly.

Milah rolls her eyes, huffs out a breath. “You know what, maybe this is for the best,” she says. “Your moods were driving me crazy anyway.”

“What, are you breaking up with me?”

“Yes. Yes I am. I can do better than a self-loathing nomad who’s in love with someone else.”

They glare at each other. “You probably can,” says Killian.

“Damn straight,” says Milah.

“You will still be my agent, right?”

“Of course I will. You’re my fucking cash cow, love.”

Their glares fade into grins and they laugh. “Maybe it is for the best,” he concedes. “I like you too much to impose myself on you.”

“Stop that,” says Milah. “That self deprecation gets really bloody tiresome. Just tell Blondie you love her, the rest will sort itself out. And quit holding her up in your mind like some sort of goddess. She’s just a woman.”

Killian doesn’t reply.

He calls Belle late that night. She answers after many rings with a sleepy “Hello?” He’s woken her up. He expects he should be sorry for that but he isn’t; he’s too mad at her for telling Emma where to find him. For destroying the peace he’s worked so hard to achieve.

“Why,” he chokes out. He’s been sitting alone for hours fighting the urge to drink, unable to sleep, thinking about Emma and remembering and trying not to tumble back into feelings he thought he’d escaped. “Why would you tell her where I was?”

“What?” says Belle, and there is genuine confusion in her voice. “Killian? Who did I tell what to?” She must be tired, thinks Killian, if she’s dangling prepositions.

“Emma,” he snarls. “You told her where I live. Why? Why, when you know how I—”

“Hold on,” Belle is awake now, and there’s a snap in her tone. “I told Emma you live in New York but I didn’t give her your address. Why? Is she there?”

“Aye.” He rubs the bridge of his nose. “She appeared at my door this afternoon.”

“Ah.” Belle sounds satisfied.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“Killian. Please think about this. She tracked you down. She went to a lot of trouble to find you. Why do you think she would do that?”

“I’ve no bloody clue.”

“You do,” says Belle sharply. “You’re just being obtuse. What did she say?”

“Not much. The timing was complicated.”

“Well, talk to her. Just talk. See what comes out.” There’s a pause as Belle sighs. “You’ve spent so long thinking you can’t have good things, Killian, I suppose it must be difficult to change that mindset. But you have to. You can have the things you want. You are allowed to be happy.”

“I—” He doesn’t know what to say.

“Get some sleep,” Belle tells him. “Talk to Emma in the morning. And keep me informed.”

“Aye.”

He hangs up the phone and drops onto his sofa, letting his head fall into his hands. Belle’s words ring in his ears.

You are allowed to be happy.

#cs fic #cs ff #cs ff au #captain swan #angst #mutual pining #secret love #pining idiots #captain book brotp is strong #people aren't here for Killian's shit #on what they fall #profdanglaisstuff

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