#i yearn for the day cora gets to be like this without fear but she doesn't trust people like that IOSDHFOISHF | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chilling-seavey · 4 years

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Amoureux (c.s./d.s.) - Christian’s Epilogue

A/N Long overdue, here is Amoureux’s second epilogue focusing around Christian’s future after the novel ended! Thanks to @why-dont-we-not for helping me out a lil and getting my butt in gear to actually get this done LOL

Christian stood in the doorway of Louisa’s bedroom, staring silently into the empty room, the bed unslept in, the candle burnt out, and the wedding dress gone along with her. His runaway bride. The anger he had felt in the past weeks had diminished and he was just so tired, hiding his face in his hands and turned away from the room as the heartbreak took over. Mary watched him silently, her face fallen in pity as she watched him swallow back his tears. Christian leaned against the doorframe for a moment and took a deep breath to regain his composure before running both hands through his hair and meeting the lady in waiting’s gaze.

“Do you know where she went?”

“I do not know. She did not tell me anything. I had no idea.” Mary replied softly.

“Fuck.” Christian sighed, turning back to the room with his hands on his hips as if they had to analyze the emptiness of it. They were the only two who knew about Louisa’s disappearance at that moment, Mary making sure to lead him upstairs privately to show him the open window in his fiancé’s bedroom. She waited patiently for further instruction from the groom on his second wedding day in a week. Christian sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw tiredly before speaking ever so quietly, almost to himself with realization that he didn’t want to admit,

“She went to find Daniel.”

The calmness that radiated off of the future King and the abandoned groom was almost worse than the possible anger and it turned every head in the palace as he passed on his way downstairs and right out the front doors, still dressed in his suit. No one bothered to question him as his stone-cold straight-lined expression said enough. Christian rushed down the hill to the stables and let himself inside, much to the surprise of the stable hands who watched with wide eyes as the groom helped himself silently to his horse and led him out to the courtyard. He fastened the reins and tied on a leather saddle before hoisting a leg over and took off for the coast, alone.

The Southampton harbour was bustling with people when he arrived nearly an hour later, his once styled hair falling over his forehead with sweat as he had raced to beat the clock, his suit jacket splattered with mud. People bowed as he passed, their expressions flat and Christian frowned at the solemn nature of the crowd as he navigated his way through the harbour on horseback. He easily spotted the royal carriage in front of one of the empty docks and he trotted over quickly. The two guards were talking quietly, surrounded by Daniel’s packed trunks and bags, and when he approached they looked up at him with nothing but fear in their eyes.

“Where is she?” Christian asked flatly, twisting the reins around his hands.

“Your Royal Highness.” the guards bowed to him before glancing at each other again. “Princess Louisa…uhm…she…”

“Spit it out.” Christian snapped, although more sadness than anger was apparent in his voice.

“She and your brother jumped ship.”

Christian swallowed thickly, “To Spain?”

“No. They took off down the harbour and caught a ship at the end. We are unaware where they are headed. We can find out if you would like someone to go after her-”

“No.” Christian silenced them quickly, he looked down the harbour to where they had supposedly disappeared, the girl he once loved, never to truly be his, “Let them go.”

Christian was assigned a new bride by the new year. The Princess of Denmark; a slight stout young woman with long dark hair and a broad nose, always caked in makeup and wearing the tightest of corsets until her bosom nearly popped out of her dresses. She knew her place in society well, or at least it came off as such, and the King of England was sure she would be a loyal future queen. She wasn’t Louisa though; and Christian would never say that out loud.

So he was set for life with this woman whose voice sounded like crows squawking and her laugh was like knives on marble. Christian found himself missing Louisa more and more every minute that passed, hoping she was at least happy but still sick with anger that his brother, yet again, got what he wanted.

The Royal Family never spoke about Daniel; it was as if they lost another son just like they had their first. The disappointment to their country and to their family. Might as well have been dead as it would have saved them a hell ton of trouble. Once Louisa abandoned the wedding plans, England was to take over the French throne since their side of the deal was not held up. Still in love with her, Christian convinced his father to spare Louisa’s family and turn their focus to other things, leaving France intact and England without a future queen.

That was, of course, until Ethel came in from Denmark and was determined to be the queen they never had, with her near perfect old-fashioned manners but still demanding and clingy personality. It was as if she couldn’t function as a human being without a man with her. Christian tried so hard to be polite, to convince himself to love her like a wife, but he just felt empty with her around, like he was literally missing a part of his heart. He always assumed it was Louisa who his heart was always yearning for; how she picked up and left without even a goodbye, his one true love that with whom he never got his happy ending.

His new wedding was planned to occur early in the year, sort of as a way to get it over with before he might have a second runaway fiancé. The King didn’t want to take any chances. But Christian kept putting it off and putting it off with excuse after excuse as to why they should wait; longer to get to know each other, he wasn’t feeling well one week, he wanted to go see a one-night-only play in the city that exact day, anything to just wait a little longer. Wait for what? Christian himself didn’t even know. Wait for feelings to arise? Wait for Ethel to leave? Wait for a sign that he didn’t have to be with a shrieking witch the rest of his life?

Well that sign certainly came that summer as he was rushing to head down to the stables for an afternoon ride, his riding boots clicking loudly over the marble floors of the palace as he descended the stairs and made a beeline for the doors. His cufflinks were proving to be a bit of a hassle as he tugged on them to get them to sit right as the doormen opened the double doors for him and he rushed outside. He knew the path to the stables like the back of his hand, not having to even watch where he was going as he cut through the gardens, grumbling under his breath at the pieces of silver that had yet to clasp. Before he knew it, he was tripping right over onto the grass, falling flat on his face with a loud thud.

“Oh my goodness! Your Royal Highness! I am so dreadfully sorry!”

Christian picked himself up quickly, cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment as he brushed himself off and turned to see what he tripped over, a wicker basket of transplanted flowers now knocked over at his feet. He looked up into the light blue eyes of the young woman in front of him, her face filled with concern and smudged with spots of soil, light brown hair a whispy mess on her head showing how long she had been out working in the gardens.

“Are you alright?” she asked quickly.

“Yes.” Christian cleared his throat nervously, eyeing her plain work dress that was marked up in soil and grass stains and she crouched down to gather her spilled basket. “Let me help you.”

“Oh, no, that is not necessary.” she assured him quickly but he still bend down with her to gather some of the flowers.

“I should have been cautious of where I was walking.” Christian said.

“Oh no, my fault for leaving my things in your path.” she replied quickly, not wanting him to feel the blame in the slightest. The Royals could do no wrong. “So sorry.”

With the flowers back in the basket, they both stood up again and Christian eyed the gentle woman in front of him as if he couldn’t take his eyes off of her, “Are you new here?”

The question seemed to startle her, “Oh, no, Your Royal Highness. I have been working here for two years now, tending to the gardens and the grounds.”

“Usually a mans work.” Christian stated. Not rudely, just an obvious observation.

“Yes, well, I enjoy nature.” she smiled widely at him.

“Well thank you…” he faded out to let her introduce herself.

“Cora.” the gardener said, tucking the basket over her arm.

“Cora.” Christian repeated gently with a small nod, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “For keeping our gardens looking marvelous.”

“My pleasure.” she grinned.

“Darling!”

The shrill voice from the palace sent Christian’s skin crawling and his wide eyes looked back to Cora, “I was never here.”

She could barely laugh through her nod of agreement before he was rushing off to the stables, tossing her a smile over his shoulder.

Christian found himself drawn to the gardens more than before, just to sit on the grass and read his poetry as she worked, sharing small smiles with the pretty gardener in passing. Harmless, right? Harmless that he spent as much time as he could away from his new fiancé and with the help instead. Ethel hardly noticed honestly. She was much more focussed on the lifestyle, spending time with all the lavish activities that came with the title of ‘future queen’ to even be bothered to get to know Christian anymore. It was a vicious cycle of Christian wanting to put off the date and Ethel not caring enough about him to ask why he seemed to be avoiding marrying her.

As the days went by, Christian and Cora started talking more in the gardens and he found that she enjoyed listening to him read her poetry as she worked, giving them lots of time to discuss the pieces as the hours passed. It seemed to always end with Christian losing track of time and having to rush in for dinner with only minutes to spare. Cora wasn’t much to offer; born into a poor family of working class. She was thin and pale despite working outside most of the time and no where close to Ethel’s thicker stature that came from well fed royalty, but she was pretty and Christian wasn’t dumb enough to ignore that obvious fact.

Cora lived in the bottom of the palace with the rest of the staff in dark rooms and cold stone walls. She would never complain though, being treated quite well by the Royal Family compared to other families around the country, and especially not when she had the future King of England coming to find her in the servants quarters late one night. The stares from her work friends (acquaintances?) were near comical as they gaped at her being led off by the Prince’s arm and back into the main palace.

Christian took her to the library – a room she was never permitted in since she spent most of her time outside – to show her his own private collection of literature. They found themselves losing track of time again, sitting together on the wood floors with a single candle between them and books stacked around them. Christian offered out a book to Cora who politely declined.

“You have my permission to read, Cora.” Christian chuckled. “You are not working currently.”

“Yes, well, you see,” Cora mumbled, tucking her hair behind her ear before smoothing her hand over her grey skirt, “I cannot read, Your Royal Highness.”

The silence that fell made her blush furiously.

“You cannot read?” Christian frowned with curiosity, “But you talk so formally about the poems I read to you in the garden…enough that you must have studied at some time?”

“No. I just feel the words like I’ve known them my whole life. They make sense to me; when you read them to me.” she smiled bashfully.

Christian looked down at the book in his hand, dragging his fingers gently over the words on the page before looking back up to her in the candlelight, “May I teach you?”

With a gentle nod from the young woman, he shuffled closer to her, sliding the candle carefully over the floors as well and slipped the book into her hands. He set his hand on the floor behind her to lean in close in the dark room, guiding her through letter by letter as the candle burned itself down bit by bit. They were quiet, sharing whispers and soft laughter through the gold trimmed library as midnight passed and the night went on. Until they turned to each other at the same time, noses brushing in their close proximity and their smiles both faltered with realization of how close they were truly sat.

“Your Royal Highness…” Cora breathed hesitantly.

“Christian.” he corrected softly.

“Christian…” Cora spoke slowly, knowing better than to call any member of the Royal Family anything but their title. But she couldn’t help it when he was staring at her like that; like she had the answers to all the questions in the world.

Christian couldn’t hold it in any longer, raising his opposite hand to her cheek and pulled her in for a gentle kiss. Her soft gasp was the only sound in the room as their lips met, locking perfectly like it was how they were supposed to be as cliché as it sounded, and Christian slid his hand into the back of her hair to pull her any closer. They stayed there for a moment, sharing slow and lingering kisses before they pulled back at the same time, lips with that same blissful pout as their brains worked to keep up with their hearts.

The irony was unbelievable: Christian falling for someone he couldn’t have while going against the wishes of his family and his fiancé. It was a cruel joke by God, he was sure of it. He was just like Louisa, giving him a better understanding of what she was going through during her time at Kensington Palace with that thrill of true love but that sickening constant feeling of guilt. Every time Ethel was around him, Christian felt like he was in purgatory; caught between a rock and a hard place. But his safety was in Cora, reading to her in the gardens during the day and teaching her to read in the library by night, finishing early to get a few secretive kisses in before they parted ways. It was the type of love he thought he had with Louisa but he didn’t realize it wasn’t until he was with Cora.

Ethel was starting to get suspicious as to why Christian kept pushing back the date as he initial excitement of becoming British Royalty started to wear off and now, she wanted a wedding ring to prove it and lock it in. Lock him in. She started getting clingier so Christian couldn’t get time away to be with Cora during the day but he made it up to her at night. She was worth losing sleep over.

Worth losing sleep over as she was tucked up in his down filled bed sheets with him, the two of them silently staring at each other, breaths in steady time and cheeks flushed in matching pink. Christian traced the curves of her jaw and her neck and over her bare shoulders as they laid in silence, wondering how he ended up like that…in the best way. He shifted his arm around her and she cuddled up against his chest as he pressed a kiss to her head through the silent night. You never sleep better than when it’s next to the one you love.

The morning only brought a rehashing of the night, between shared gentle kisses and soft touches and bashful giggles and shy moans against warm skin and supple lips. They had yet to get through to the reality of their situation, still riding the high of that thrill of the sneaky ‘honeymoon phase’. But that only lasted so long until there was a knock at the door. The fearful look on Cora’s face was engraved into Christian’s mind when he looked back on that memory in the years that followed but in the moment it was a brief glance before the door was thrown open and Ethel was barging in, singing out about wanting some extra time with her darling.

It only took all of six seconds for Ethel to process that the gardener was in her fiancé’s bed and she threw an absolute fit, shouting obscenities at the poor girl, throwing herself over Christian and his messy bed to grab her by the hair and drag her out of bed. It was a panic that morning and a complete haze of screams and pleads and tears from all parties and soon Christian found himself sitting in his father’s office, slouched back in the chair, numb, staring at the floor with his fist pressed to his mouth as if thinking how did I end up here?

“I do not know what to say to you right now, my son.” the King spoke lowly, sitting opposite him at the large desk.

Christian closed his eyes tightly as his father spoke to him about where to go from there, how wrong it was to be at all involved with the help and how heartbroken Ethel was. In moments like that, Christian could only think of Daniel. He knew better than anyone at that moment that you couldn’t force love; it just happened, and Christian felt sick with guilt over pushing his brother away. More than just pushing him away; banishing him. His own brother.

“Are you listening to me?”

Christian’s eyes rose from the floor to his father’s serious expression and he nodded weakly.

“She will be dismissed this afternoon.”

“No.” Christian said quickly, sitting up in the chair as if suddenly intrigued in the conversation.

“Christian, you are no better than…” his father couldn’t even say his name. “You are acting incredibly immature. After one failed engagement I only hoped you would take this one more seriously.”

“Ethel is atrocious, Father. Truly.” Christian protested. “I loathe the sight of her.”

“Oh my word, Christian John, you sound like your brother.” the King scoffed tiredly with a roll of his eyes.

“I cannot look at her without wanting to rid my supper from my stomach and her voice makes my ears bleed.” Christian said seriously, looking right into his father’s eyes.

“That is enough.” the King scolded loudly. “You will not speak about your fiancé like this. You are incredibly rude.”

“I want to choose my wife.”

“Christian, that is not-”

“I want to choose my wife myself. Not who you pick or who mother picks or whomever. I want to pick my wife. And I want to marry Cora.”

“The gardener?”

“The woman. I love her.”

“Do not be ridiculous.”

“I love her and I am going to marry her and she is going to rule England with me when the time arises.”

“You cannot marry a commoner, Christian. Society does not work like that.”

“It can. And it will. I will either marry Cora with your blessing or I will abdicate the throne.”

His threat left his father in stunned silence for a few long seconds, his shocked and angered blue eyes staring down his nose at his son. Without Christian staying as heir, they would have no family left to take up the throne since Daniel was long gone. Anna was not an option. The British throne would be passed over to some other family. The King cleared his throat and looked to the tabletop, tapping his fingers on the surface anxiously.

“Your…suggestion arises questions about your brother.”

“Daniel doesn’t want to be King. There’s no doubt in my mind that if he comes back he will abdicate as well.”

The King sighed heavily.

“Father, I want to be King. I will be a great King at that. But I do not want to be forced to rule beside a woman I cannot stand.”

The father and son stared at each other silently.

“You are aware that you are no better than your brother in this situation.”

Christian bowed his head to his lap at the obvious.

“Finding yourself in the same situation as he, the same situation you threatened his life over and thus got him exiled?”

“I am aware.” Christian spoke softly.

“I do very much want you to take my place as King some day, Christian. But, for now, you need to spend today thinking about your actions.” the King said sternly. “I want you in your room until supper and by then I expect that you have spoken to God about your hypocrisy. You must take it up with Him and find guidance, son. As you do, I will contemplate your…negotiation terms.”

So Christian was then back in his room, bed stripped by the maids, and he was sat at his desk by the window overlooking the grounds. Cora wasn’t in the garden. Just like his brother months before, Christian was locked in his room to think about what he had done. Pathetic.

He prayed for a bit at first but felt generally hopeless turning to God about something so…sinful. So Christian resorted to a quill and parchment instead. He found himself writing each letter carefully and slowly, spelling out the name he once cursed to heaven at night;

Daniel,

I’m sorry…

#👑#christian seavey #daniel seavey #why dont we #daniel seavey fanfic #why dont we fanfic #wdw #limelight #writing #historical fiction #au #why dont we music #christian seavey fanfic #daniel seavey imagines #why dont we imagines #wdw boys

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lacrossepapi · 5 years

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Movement

The skeleton of this fic is Movement by Hozier so here’s the link

Words: 1871 Ao3 Link

Peter wasn’t sure why he did this. Perhaps he was more masochistic than he thought, since he continued to find himself at Jungle drunk and enraptured by Stiles. The boy was edgy most of the time, movements jerky and rigid, but somehow he came alive with a little bit of booze and the anonymity that comes with dancing in a big crowd. His movements became slow and flowing from one to the next instead of the anxiety and fear filled motions he usually made. Peter was enchanted by the peace he found there. Both the peace within Stiles dancing and within himself watching Stiles be unburdened. He had never thought he’d feel the sort of happiness that comes from others happiness again. Derek no longer radiated pleased contentment, and Cora no longer grinned so fiercely her cheek ached. The Hale’s were broken and damaged, and Peter blamed himself for their hardships. He chased any momentary peace he could get safely, which is how he found himself going out with the pack one weekend after their weekly pack meeting. He discovered the beauty of Stiles’ body in a way he’d never noticed before. Stiles was alive in a way Peter never remembered being. Even standing still, the boy was constantly buzzing with activity. It was in his darting eyes, twitching nose, and bitten lips. Everything about Stiles was filled with more life, energy, and even more love than Peter thought he would ever have the capacity to have himself. Peter had been attracted to the man for some time, but it was that night that Peter thought that maybe he loved Stiles.

I still watch you when you're groovin'

As if through water from the bottom of a pool

You're movin' without movin'

And when you move, I'm moved

“Let go of him!” Stiles’ scream of fury and rage echoed in the clearing, forcing its way passed the sounds of battle all around him, as he charged the giant holding Isaac by the ankle.

The giant stopped swinging Isaac around as if he was a fly swatter and his pack flies at the sound of that rage. Peter was moving before he even registered that Stiles had moved passed him, his body automatically racing to catch up and protect the human.

“Interesting. You’re only human.” The giant laughed after a sniff.

“And you’re an asshole!” Stiles shouted in response, but his eyes weren’t on the giant, they were on Peter.

Peter would give him hell about this later, he always did, but right now he knew exactly what Stiles wanted and he was helpless to deny him. He planted his feet and readied himself just in time for Stile turn and approach him at a dead run. His foot landed squarely in Peter’s waiting palms and Peter threw his fragile human with every ounce of strength he had. Stiles shot him a smile before twisting in the air, his body long, lean, and beautiful in the light of the moon, and flying directly at the face of the giant. As he rushed quickly towards certain death he smoothly slid his bat in the strap on his back and pulled his gun from its holster. Three shots later and the giant fell, with Stiles holding on by its hair as they both crashed to the ground.

Later when they were safe and healing Peter pulled Stiles aside and looked him over further, the human always tried to hide his wounds from the pack. This time he was laughing at the ‘wolf’s protectiveness.

“If you really hate when we do that then tell me ‘no’ next time.” Were his parting words as he ran his hand down Peter’s arm and smiled at him.

Peter was never a religious man, but in that smile he found divinity and a warmth he’d never felt before. He would never tell Stiles ‘No’.

You are a call to motion

There, all of you a verb in perfect view

Like Jonah on the ocean

When you move, I'm moved

“You guys!” Stiles’ whine brought Peter’s attention away from the discussion he had been having with his nephew.

Stiles was trying to make dinner and the pups were buzzing around him, eating anything they could snatch while he was distracted. It reminded Peter so achingly strong of his little sister.

Cherri had been a light in Peter’s life since the moment she was born. He had once heard that little siblings were born to be the person their older sibling needed, and he believed that sometimes when he watched his life. Peter did anything and everything for Talia, but it was Cherri would would seek him out to spend time with not Talia. Soon he realized that the reality is that younger siblings just want to be around their older siblings as much as possible.

He supposed this was true with the pups and Stiles too. Stiles, though younger than most of them, was the first one of the bitten ‘wolves and other supernaturals to know about their world. He was the one that taught Scott control, and he still taught most of them something new every day. In many ways Stiles was the first beta, and it seemed the others viewed him as an older brother they could push around because he loved them too much to punish them.

It reminded him so much of the boy he once was, who yearned to be a man. A man who others needed, who others loved, who others wanted. Stiles was a testament to what Peter could’ve become, what he still can become.

Peter watched on with a twist of nostalgia, regret, and hope in his stomach as Stiles interacted with the pack. A long fingered hand gently pushing a beta away even as he cursed them, a smile pulling at his lips as he hip checked another beta into the refrigerator, an eyebrow raised at the beta watching him from across the room.

When you move

I'm put to mind of all that I wanna be

When you move

I could never define all that you are to me

So move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally

Move me, baby

It should be a sin the way Stiles captivated Peter every moment of every day. Peter felt like he was observing a long forgotten god not meant to be seen by the likes of him. He wasn’t worthy. Sitles was light and love and Peter was so full of darkness and hatred, he would only taint him.

“You’re gloomy today.” Peter blinked, his head slowly rising from the feet of the man walking in front of him to his face.

“What makes you say that?”

Stiles shrugged, his thumb coming up to his lips so he could chew his nail, “Normally you’re more talkative. We’ve barely spoken in the half hour we’ve been on patrol.”

“I will taint you.” Peter breathed out in a moment of vulnerability he’d never admit to later.

His eyes snapped back up to Stiles’ face as the human laughed, his head thrown back and his shoulders shaking. Even when he’s laughing at Peter he is beautiful. Stiles was created to be in motion, he radiated an erratic aura that usually unsettled people, but Peter was drawn to every twitch and fidget. He was drawn to everything about Stiles and now that he’d shown some of his feelings Stiles could only laugh at him.

“I am a serial killer and an insane one if you remember correctly, Little Red. I could gobble you up right here and no one would know.” Peter threatened with a leer, the only way he saw out of this embarrassment was to turn the tables.

Stiles blushed and stopped laughing after that.

“You haven’t been insane in a long time, Peter, and frankly I would’ve killed them too.” Stiles shrugged again before turning back to the path they were on.

“So don’t be so gloomy and get up here. I’m lonely.” Was all Stiles had to say to summon Peter to his side.

They chatted about various things like movies and songs, until Stiles tripped on an exposed root. Peter caught his arm and had him back on his feet before anything dire could happen, but it still pulled a chuckle out of him.

“You go dancing every weekend, you glide through the air to kill monsters, and you maneuver through the pack with a tray full of hot food, but you can’t watch where you step.” The words seemed like a criticizement, but the crow’s feet that crinkled at the corners of Peter’s eyes as he laughed showed something softer underneath them.

“Oh hush. I normally pay attention to everything, but with you here I know it’s okay to lower my guard. The root snuck up on me is all.” Stiles huffed indignantly.

With Peter there Stiles could lower his guard. What a wondrous piece of information. Peter had always known Stiles carried too much by himself when it came to both the pack and his father. He always tried to fix everything by himself. He hid his wounds, and cared for everyone else. Stiles never lowered his guard.

Except apparently with Peter.

You are the rite of movement

Its reasonin' made lucid and cool

I know it's no improvement

When you move, I move

You're less Polunin leapin'

Or Fred Astaire in sequins

Honey, you, you're Atlas in his sleepin'

And when you move, I'm moved

Peter wasn’t sure how he got here. There were hands on his chest, long elegant fingers pushing against him. His hips swayed to the music and the rest of his body followed suit, all of him focused on worshipping the lithe body in front of him. Stiles had dragged him out to the dance floor and Peter was drunk on the feeling of Stiles moving against him alone.

They danced until Stiles was panting and covered in sweat. Peter thought once again of the boy he’d been, the life he’d had.

“My mother would’ve loved you.” Peter whispered the words like a prayer.

Stiles heard that prayer, ever proving to Peter worthy of his worship and devotion, and smiled at him so sweetly he thought he might cry.

“Mamo would’ve said you were divine.” Stiles gifted him with those words.

The next song was an old punk pop hit that had Stiles flashing a grin so bright Peter felt something in him snap back into place.

Once again Peter found himself observing the destructive, all consuming power of Stiles dancing. It was erratic and uncontrolled, often leaving him apologizing to nearby dancers, but Peter and never seen something so enchanting.

That night they crashed together in a collision of limbs and teeth. Hands roaming skin and tongues darting out to taste what their hands felt. Eyes burning into the night as they created a crescendo of movement and devotion between them.

When you move

I can recall somethin' that's gone from me

When you move

Honey, I'm put in awe of somethin' so flawed and free

So move me, baby

Shake like the bough of a willow tree

You do it naturally

Move me, baby

#steter #peter/stiles #peter hale #stiles stilinski #Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski #song fic #kyla writes #kyla creates

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wxldchxld · 5 years

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An updated timeline:

So, I have reworked a couple of things in Beck’s history but I haven’t written them ON Beck’s history page yet bc that’s going to be a bear to deal with. I’m just going to post this as a hc for right now, and hopefully update the pages in a couple of days.

Look this is LONG and there are trigger warnings for suicide attempt mentions as well as abuse and animal cruelty. None of it is explicit. It’s even more vague than my current history has it. So I’m begging you, if you write with me or want to write with me, please look at this updated canon. But I will put it under a cut for the sake of triggers as well as the insane length that it got to.

Birth - 6

The daughter of a political marriage between the Wolf and the Fox clan leaders. Named Dahlia Adelaida Beck by birth. Born at the height of the winter solstice, marking her as a priestess among her people.

Nicknamed Dolly by her grandmother Alma.

Lives with her mother Élea, her father Oskar, her brother Fenris, and her grandparents Alma and Percy on their family owned land in Montana. She gets Ringo, her first familiar here and learns how to ride a horse, and some basic camping/fishing/farm skills from her father and grandfather. Her grandmother teaches her basic knitting/sewing/cooking. Her mother is, in large part, absent during this period of her life. She and Fenris are inseparable.

At three Beck makes her first shift into a fox, marking her in the eyes of everyone as a feral witch. Whatever meager affection her mother had for her evaporated completely at that moment.

On her sixth birthday she is given a mare who her father has named Dawnbreaker.

Three months after her sixth birthday her father passes. Her mother takes them on a vacation back to her family home in Sweden that lasts the remainder of the year. They stay with her maternal grandparents, Linnéa and Stefan Tandy

A month after Beck’s seventh birthday, Linnéa and Elea have a falling out over the way Elea is treating her children. Elea consistently refuses to take care of Dahlia in particular, and she begins to learn to fend for herself, which is deeply concerning to her grandmother.

Her maternal grandparents ask for custody of both Dahlia and Fenris. Elea responds by taking both of her children back to the states to California where she resumes her master’s program.

Shortly after her mother reverts to her maiden name, and forces her children to do so as well. Dahlia, furious and still deeply grieving her father, declares that her name is Beck, and refuses to answer to anything else.

Elea’s abuse of her children gets worse. Fenris, who was a more passive child, rarely got physically punished like Beck, but he still suffers from severe emotional abuse and manipulation. Beck is, for the most part on her own. She stays out of the house as much as she can, sleeping in parks or other abandoned places, and learning to steal for her food, as there is little to hunt for in the city. This is embarrassing to her mother, and she’s frequently punished for it.

Beck meets Cora, an older witch ostracized by the local covens, who becomes Beck’s mentor in everything she can teach her.

Beck finds the city suffocating, and she frequently wanders out into the countryside when she can, and cries when she cannot. Elea finally consents to bringing the horse her father gave her to a stable outside of town, and lets Beck walk to the stable several times a week. In this time, Dawnbreaker becomes her second familiar.

Both Fenris and Beck are homeschooled by coven members at this time. Most of them are apathetic, some downright hostile to her. She is eventually diagnosed with dyslexia, but is given little help with it.

8-9

Beck is able to stand the city less and less. She begins disappearing for longer periods of time. At first days, then weeks, and eventually she begins to take Dawnbreaker away for months at a time.

Elea, who is using Fenris’ birthright to rule both her people and the Wolves, sends men after her. The fights between them grow even more violent and bitter, and Elea struggles to even cast the appearance that her house is in order. She begins to drive a wedge between Beck and Fen, who still loves his sister dearly. But this backfires, and gives Beck even less reason to return home.

Beck’s mother finds her one final time. When they are brought to Elea this time, they are not taken to the family home in the city, but a secluded section of woods. Her mother proceeds to have her bound, and forces her to watch as Dawnbreaker is hanged from one of the old trees in an attempt to keep her from ever running again.

Several months of inconsolable grief, where she scarcely eats or leaves her bed at all, send her brother Fenris into a mad rage. He begins to plan his revenge in secret. At the next coven meet, he reveals her heinous crime and kills her. The witches absolve him of the murder of another witch in light of what Elea did, and they help cover up the crime.

Shortly after Beck moves in with Cora, but Fenris refuses. He tells her he was offered a chance to learn powerful magic from a coven member, a man Beck doesn’t trust. For the first time in their lives, they are truly separated.

11-13

Fenris and Beck try repeatedly to mend their relationship and get back to where they were as children, but they fail every time. Beck grows more restless, more wild, by the day, and the magic and fear and anger are twisting Fen into someone she doesn’t know.

Before she can even turn twelve Cora’s loving support is no longer enough for Beck. She has no desire to stay in a house, among people, not even someone she loves. She and Ringo leave the safety of Cora’s home permanently, returning only for visits.

On her thirteenth birthday, Beck is attacked by a mountain lion. After a long battle, before the creature makes its killing blow, she catches the animal’s eye. Understanding sparks between the two of them, and this time when she tells it to go, it obeys. Both she and Ringo are nearly killed in the incident, but her familiar manages to limp to the nearest town and bring back help.

She is taken back to California and returned to her brother rather than Cora. Fenris has grown in power and status among the witches there. Her appearance strikes Fenris with a cold terror, and though he is extremely kind to her in helping her heal, Beck feels as if something is deeply wrong.

14-16

After a long recovery, Beck begins to get restless again. She yearns to return to the wilds. The city suffocates her more and more by the day, but her brother refuses to let her go.

Tensions between Fenris and Beck reach a boiling point, and she is eventually confined to a room until she agrees to stay in the city with him. The change overtakes Fenris as the year drags on, and he’s not the sweet young boy she once knew. She feels as if she’s living with her enemy rather than her brother.

She is enrolled in a coven school, where they attempt to continue her educate while working around the fact she is almost completely illiterate. This is where she meets Harper, just two months after her 14th birthday.

Beck and Harper fall into a quick, extremely heated teenage passion. All of the grief and loneliness they feel slowly evaporates. Beck reconnects with some of her old friends at this time too. When she’s with them, she feels as happy as she can possibly feel living in a cage, but things only seem to get worse and worse every time she goes home.

On her seventeenth birthday, Harper gives her a ring. Harper is anxious to leave home to move to New York, and asks Beck to marry her the second they’re both eighteen and to move away with her. Harper doesn’t know what’s going on between Fen and Beck. She doesn’t know about the healed bruises and the shouting and the threats. Beck refuses to take the ring without being able to tell Harper the real reason why. Even if Fen did let her leave, she would never survive New York. They don’t break up but Harper vows to leave for Juliard the second she can. With or without Beck.

Between life with her brother and the ever looming deadline of Harper leaving, Beck becomes increasingly fragile and hostile. She knows she cannot stay.

Harper, older than Beck, leaves for New York a few months later, and without her protective presence, things at home get even worse. When she tells another coven witch, the woman either doesn’t believe her, or she’s too frightened to listen.

After several failed escape attempts, and Fenris’ control getting tighter and tighter, Beck eventually attempts suicide. She is taken to a hospital, a place she’d been a handful of times before because of her brother’s wrath, and a woman there offers her help. She accepts and is stolen away.

Beck is introduced to the Sisters of the Holy St. Marciana of Mauretania, a group of humans, witches, and other supernatural beings who masquerade as an order of nuns. They operate in secret under many names and in many places, helping those that no one else will help. After a brief recovery, Beck leaves them, but not without a promise to help if they call on her.

Beck returns home to her family land, despite knowing her grandparents have long since abandoned it. She finds her father’s old VW bus still in (mostly) running order and begins to use it for travel.

In the early spring, Beck returns to the wild herds of Montana, where Dawnbreaker lived in the months they were separated, and where she was born. She meets a golden stallion and instantly recognizes him as one of her foals. The stallion begins to follow her around tirelessly, and Beck tries again and again to send him away. But the stallion will not be shooed, and eventually Beck lets him remain with her. She calls him Grani, and soon after he joins her, he becomes her familiar.

Beck begins to do odd jobs and magical favors for people in order to gain certain magical objects, slowly building a steady collection in her bottomless bag.

Beck remains constantly on the run, knowing her brother’s men are only a breath behind her at any moment. She has the van enchanted so it can be easily concealed, can travel off-road, and can haul a horse trailer.

19-21

Beck mostly still lives in the wilds, but takes several jobs helping children and adults escape situations similar to hers. Victims of domestic abuse by powerful people that are beloved or feared by everyone else. These jobs are the only time she goes into cities, and often while she’s doing research and laying low, she steals from wealthy nearby homes and businesses.

During one of these thefts Beck steals a kitten after it follows her out of the mansion she’d just robbed. The kitten becomes her final familiar, and when she gains her sentience, she re-names herself Angrboda.

In the fall before her 22nd birthday Beck sees Harper jogging in Central Park while working on a job. Knowing it was a bad idea, she still approached her. Harper was different in almost every way, and yet some how she was still as hopelessly passionate and deeply furious as the day she’d left for New York.

22-24

Beck and Harper fall back into a relationship. Perhaps both of them knew it was a bad idea, or maybe it was only Beck, but dread grew alongside passion. Harper could scarcely stand her absences, and life in the city was hell on Beck.

They dated for two years. Harper even consented to moving out of the city center to a farm near Roxbury. Marriage was a frequent topic between them both, and yet it never happened.

Eventually even Harper’s power on the East Coast wasn’t enough to keep Fenris away, and the fear of the conflict that would ensue between the witch factions and fearing her brother and deeply missing her life on the road, Beck left. She couldn’t bring herself to say goodbye, and it has been her greatest regret.

24-present

Beck lives in the wilds with her familiars, constantly traveling, and for the most part very happy. There are people she misses, and places she knows she can never return to, but she’s free. Even on nights when she’s hungry or the weather is bitter and savage, she’s free.

She’s mastered several other forms in this time, and I didn’t want to break down their discoveries by age, but they happened over the years, not just after she turned 25.

#hc

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megalony · 5 years

Text

Baby of mine- Part 2

The second part to my latest Ben Hardy series which I hope everyone will like.

Taglist: @marshmallowmae @langdonzvoid @butlegendsneverdie @jennyggggrrr @luvborhap @caborhapch

Series masterlist

Enjoy.

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"Are you going to keep walking around ignoring me?" There was a clear sigh at the end of Ben's words as his sorrowful eyes followed (Y/n) around the kitchen as she busied herself making something to eat for breakfast.

Her eyes finally diverting to the left so she could look at him, seeing how he was leaning against the doorframe, not looking his best. There were dark blue and purple circles beneath his eyes which looked rather spaced clearly showing he had disappeared for a drink last night. He looked like he needed sleep and there was redness around his eyes that showed he had shed more tears than he was letting on. His words weren't snapping at her like they were yesterday like a crocodile's jaw but they showed he was too tired to start shouting or properly arguing with her. They lived together, they couldn't keep ignoring each other and walking around like the other didn't exist.

"What do you want me to do Ben? You drop that bombshell on me and then fuck off all night, coming back bladdered. I'm not going to be best pleased am I?" (Y/n) didn't care that Ben felt he needed to drown his sorrows, she cared that he just stormed off almost all night and came back early morning. She didn't know where he had gone or if he was alright and in his state after what he had said that was very worrying.

"We live together (Y/n), I don't want to walk around the house acting like you don't exist and vice versa. Can we talk? I want to explain my past so you can see why having a baby is so hard for me to say yes to."

There was something in his words that both gave (Y/n) a rush of hope and then crushed that hope immediately. Ben didn't say that he was always going to turn her down for a baby but the way he spoke showed he didn't think his mind would be changed. But they were engaged, they were wanting to take that next step to be together and (Y/n) was not throwing that away just yet. Ben deserved to tell his story and to be listened to and (Y/n) needed to understand so that they could work things out.

Sighing (Y/n) closed her eyes as she nodded, moving to sit at one of the stools at the island in the middle of the kitchen. Opening her eyes as Ben moved to sit down opposite her, watching as she started to eat her breakfast. His head turning a little at the smell that made the alcohol in his stomach churn.

"I met Cora when I was nineteen, we were together for just less than two years when she got pregnant. I wanted kids then, I felt the way you do now it was a big thing for me." (Y/n) had met Cora once and she couldn't find any faults with her at all which had made it worse at the time when she saw how close she was to Ben. Ben said from the start that Cora meant a lot to him even though they had split they were on very good terms. They were like best friends and Ben didn't want (Y/n) to feel uncomfortable about that. He could see she was just a little but she never said anything which he was so thankful for that she was coming to terms with his friendship with his ex.

(Y/n) didn't know many people who were friends with their exes, especially not like Ben. Now she was beginning to realise the reason why.

"Everything seemed fine back then... we were both twenty-one when she had the baby. Cora had a few health scares and stuff but nothing too bad." One of the things Ben liked about then being young when they were together was that some of the friends back then he didn't have much contact with now. Ben didn't have any risk of those friends spilling the news that he had once been a father because it was private, something Ben hated to share with others. The friends who knew back then had promised they wouldn't say because they saw how it tore both ben and Cora up.

Reaching across the counter (Y/n) took Ben's hand in her own, a neutral look on her face as she silently conveyed her message that he didn't have to carry on if he didn't want to.

"We had a boy, Tommy. He was perfect (Y/n)... he had blue eyes like the sea, he had a little button nose, he fit perfectly in the crook of my arm. My little boy." Bowing his head down to face the counter Ben rubbed at his eyes with his free hand. Trying desperately to stop the waterworks, it had been seven years and Ben still shed thousands of tears when he even thought of his boy, let alone talked about him. "He died when he was three weeks old."

Closing his eyes Ben leaned his head on his right hand, his eyes showing pure pain and exhaustion as he felt a migraine coming on. Just the thought of that time in his life sent Ben reeling and made him feel like he was going to blackout. He had been given a glimpse of fatherhood and then had it cruelly snatched away from him. Ben wasn't going to have that happen again.

(Y/n) didn't know what to say.

She had never met anyone who had lost a child like that before, she only had one friend who had a miscarriage and was so much different to this. There was nothing that came to mind for her to say or anything that she could do to try and comfort Ben right now. She was at a loss of what to do.

"It made it so much fucking worse that there was no reason for him to die. 'Cot death' they call it. There's no reason for it, just bloody happens." Ben would feel a sense of closure or at least something different if there was a reason for Tommy to pass. Such as if he had some kind of illness or disease that couldn't be treated. But for him to just pass away in his sleep for no reason at all sent Ben up the wall. There was no reason for nature to just pick out children at random and not give a reason, nature didn't have to take Tommy because he wasn't ill, he hadn't done anything wrong.

"He would have been seven?" (Y/n) wasn't sure if it was a statement or a question that slipped past her lips without her thinking. She didn't know what else to say.

What could you say to someone who lost their child?

It wasn't as if she could tell Ben that things would get better because he had had seven years to test out that theory and prove it right or wrong. Time must have done something for him because Ben never gave away any indication that he had a child before. Now that (Y/n) thought about it there were only a few times she noticed something really wrong with Ben and that was the same time of year since she had met him. He got so quiet and frustrated too easily, then disappeared for one day saying he had to be alone. He seemed to be better after that and then it happened again, now (Y/n) was wondering if that was Tommy's birthday.

"Yeah... I... I tried to save him. I did CPR b-but he was gone."

"You found him." (Y/n) muttered quietly, her whole face falling as things seemed to slot into place.

Ben had been the one to try and revive his son but his efforts had been in vain. He couldn't go through the process of having another baby to then find they had passed away in their sleep for no reason whatsoever. He couldn't try and revive another baby to find that it had done nothing. The safest option to stop the heartache was to not have children. Ben had had a baby and he had buried him within a month, going through the pain and the fear may be worth it in the end but Ben wasn't taking the risk.

He didn't have the same yearning to have a child like he did before, the want and need for a baby had died with Tommy and Ben was perfectly fine with that.

"I was meant to be watching him... got up to feed him a- and he was just... gone. Me and Cora stayed together for a few months afterwards but it was too hard. There's nothing to say anymore, something was missing, we weren't us anymore. That's why Cora means so much to me. She gave me Tommy, we went through so much together and I love her. I love her differently to how I love you if that makes sense. She's always going to be a part of my life, just not like that."

Ben and Cora had lost a child, they had brought that life into the world and ultimately lost it too. There was no way Ben could ever cut her out of his life even when they decided that things could no longer work between them. It had been mutual, being together felt wrong, they both knew that Tommy was the missing piece that they needed to work. Being friends was much easier on the both of them, their relationship was a closed chapter in their lives but they weren't shutting the other out. Cora meant everything to Ben because he couldn't stop loving her, his feelings for her changed but not for the worse.

"I understand, I think it's really civil to stay as close as you are." A lot of couples wouldn't have split on such good terms, nor would they have stayed as close as Ben and Cora seemed to have.

"We didn't fall out of love, the love just changed." Ben could never say that he didn't love Cora anymore because they had gone through too much together and they didn't want to split up. But it had been for the best, they were at rock bottom and they couldn't help themselves and pick the other up at the same time. What they felt changed to a love for a friend rather than a partner and they agreed it was and still is for the best. They could never get past that point as a couple.

"What happened after you split?"

"Cora went back to her parents for a while... I just turned to drink. Don't look at me like that, I'm not an alcoholic I swear. Drinking just numbed everything, I didn't rely on it I just abused it a little too much. Mick helped me with that, I got councilling and got better." Ben wasn't an alcoholic, he hadn't taken to drink at all hours of the day and night, he didn't depend on alcohol to make things better and he wasn't addicted to drinking. He simply abused how much it could numb the pain. When things got too bad Ben went for a drink which turned into about five or six, but when Mick found out he stopped that. He helped show Ben that everything didn't stop because Tommy passed.

Councilling showed Ben that his guilt and his pain and everything in between was normal and helped him learn to deal with that and show him a way to move on with his life.

"A-are you, afraid of having a baby?" (Y/n) couldn't help but ask. Ben seemed so cautious about the subject, he was adamant he couldn't have a child with her and (Y/n) couldn't help but wonder if that was because he was afraid or just that he didn't want another baby.

"(Y/n)... I admit I would be petrified of seeing our baby in a cot because of Tommy but that's not why I'm saying no." Ben didn't know if he would ever get that image out of his mind. To lean down to pick his son up to realise he was stone cold and not breathing had scarred Ben for the rest of his life. "If things with Tommy had been different I would have no problems having a baby with you, believe me. But a baby isn't what I want now, sweetheart. I lost my boy and I don't feel that yearning to have another child anymore, another baby feels like I'm replacing him and it doesn't make me excited. Tommy is enough for me and I am so sorry that I can't see this differently."

Ben wasn't frightened to have another baby, he would be frightened if they did but that wasn't why he kept denying the request. Ben wasn't excited when he thought about starting another family like he had been with Cora. There was nothing in Ben saying he wanted a baby, he felt perfectly fine with the way they were now. Tommy was Ben's son and he didn't feel any more children would help or be something he wanted. It was that simple.

"Sweetheart, how do you feel when you think about a baby?" Ben finally looked up to meet (Y/n)'s watering eyes as she took a moment to think about her answer.

"Happy... full of energy, I feel desperate, like it's one of those things you see and just need to have." The thought of a baby made (Y/n) feel like she was a child that had seen the perfect toy that they wanted in a shop. She saw a family in her future and it made her all giddy inside, a baby was what she had wanted, someone to love and care for. Someone to nurture and bring up and Ben was the person she wanted to do that with.

"You get a rush of adrenaline, don't you?" Her head nodded to his question, confirming her suspicions that he once had felt the way that she did now. "I don't get that. You bring up a baby and I think, why? I think that I'm happy just you and me, a baby doesn't make me feel happy but it doesn't make me feel sad either. It's one of those things in life that I don't care for anymore, it's something I can live perfectly fine without."

There was no other way for Ben to word it other than he didn't want a baby anymore. He lost his son and that was it, Ben wasn't ready to have another baby and his mind was set that he didn't want children full stop. Ben didn't want to lose (Y/n) but at the same time, he didn't want to add to their numbers either. "And you'll always feel like this? You wanted a baby before and you don't now, who's to say you won't want one in the future?" If Ben could change his mind before (Y/n) didn't see why that couldn't happen again. She didn't want to throw away what they had because it was something she had never felt before and probably would never feel again. But at the same time did she want to be with Ben if she couldn't have a family with him? What was the right thing to do if they both felt like this?

Standing to his feet Ben let go of her hand to round her side of the kitchen island, his hands moving to cup her face. Thumbs gently brushing away the river of tears as he kneeled down to be level with her.

"I might change my mind in the future, but right now my mind is made up. I have a child sweetheart, one I can never see and that is my heart done. My heart can't take any more pain nor can it expand for anyone else." Ben couldn't predict the future, he couldn't tell her that in five years time he would still be set in his ways that he didn't want a baby. All he could say for definite was that for now and the foreseeable future Ben's heart wasn't allowing their family to go from two to three. "I don't want a baby."

#ben hardy #ben hardy imagine #ben x reader #dad! ben #imagine #baby of mine

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