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exquisiteserotonin · 1 year

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In the Velvet Light

Rating: E is for Explicit - 18+ only 🔞MDNI🔞

Pairing: Steven Grant x F!Reader, Marc Spector X F!Reader, Jake Lockley x F!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word count: 4.6K

Summary: After you get off work early, you visit your boyfriend Steven, then Marc at the museum, with intention of asking him for an interesting but important request concerning your relationship

Warnings: A little bit of angst, some Spanish, dirty talk, oral sex, somewhat dubcon (if you squint), polyamory (if you squint) knife play, cunnilingus, and a lot of other things that I want to put but I don't want to put in here bc I don't want to ruin the story...just know there are very explicit adult things that happen here OK?

A/N: This is my very first Moon Knight fic and Oscar Isaac character fic. I know I have kept it to Pedro up to this point, but I definitely wanted to branch out. Hope you all love it.

And as always, so much love to my magical sluts @redhotkitchen @imalrightllama @blueheat1-blog @basicoccult @youandmeand5bucks @legendary-pink-dot @sparklefarts38 @arcanefox207

In the Velvet Light

If there were any place in the world that whispered the word peace it would be museums. This was a universal truth, no one could convince you otherwise. The cleanliness, the quiet, the vast spaces, and the tiny corners gathered all in one massive space where no one dared intrude upon the reflections taking root and growing in your brain. It didn’t matter what type of museum: art, science, history. They all gave you the perfect place to let brilliant ideas percolate.

The loud, hydraulic hiss of the bus echoed to the ears of all the passengers as rolled to a stop at the British Museum. It was a stop for locals and tourists alike and today it was yours as well. The sound and smell of the rain on the pavement greeted you as the doors of the bus opened. A breath of excited anxiety escaped you. The way that the raindrops splashed on the growing rain puddles mirrored the way your heart was beating quickly in your chest.

The majesty of the foyer and everything in it always reminded you of how much bigger and older the world really was. You walked amongst the other visitors, several smiling faces from the staff greeted you in friendly recognition.

“How are you today, love?” said a tall, burly security guard with the warmest smile.

You kissed him on either side of his brown, jovial cheeks.

“Hello Ollie, doing well today?”

“Always, love,” every word from his mouth seemed to float out full of kindness, “meeting Steven a little early today?”

A knot formed in your stomach at the question. You would meet Steven for work occasionally, just to surprise him. Today was different, you felt in every part of your body. From the moment you woke up to this moment, you’d been nervous about meeting him today. With a nod and a smile, you answered Ollie’s question and left a tiny skip in your step.

Before losing yourself in the museum, you found a moment to freshen up in the bathroom. It was quiet and dark, nearly the exact opposite of the brightness and bustle of the Great Court. You stood in front of the sink and pulled out your lipstick from your purse. A twist of the tube revealed a vivid red, a color you normally wouldn’t have chosen for yourself. As you smoothed the rich color over your lips, you kept your eyes on your reflection in the triptych style mirror. You looked from left, right, and then back to center, marveling at how different you could look in such a deep color.

I wonder if he will notice. You thought to yourself as you combed your fingers through your hair.

The black hue of your boots stood in stark contrast to the pristine white floors and walls of the court. The rain-kissed sunlight filtered through the tessellating roof, casting warm and shifting shadows on your face, neck, and shoulders. You twirled around, letting the prismatic light bathe you and your pirouetting shadow, helping you to briefly forget the feeling of excited anxiety that continued to settle in the pit of your stomach. You began to draw, doodle, and write whatever came to you, letting it flow from your veins, through the pen, and onto the paper. You laughed at the three cute little doodles you made of your boyfriend.

Nonsense. You murmured silently in your head.

The afternoon moved and with it the sunlight filtered through the roof. You followed the golden beams, like you were skipping through a creek trying to find the sunbeams hiding in the shadows cast by leaves on a tree. The little game you made to pass the time had you so engrossed that you didn’t even notice Steven standing in a single beam of sunlight that broke through the glass roof. You couldn’t help but smile seeing him, something about his face. The way his eyes were so bright and open and full of wonder at everything. He wrapped his arms around you, enveloping in an embrace full of warmth and love. You squeezed him tightly as he held you, leaning your head closely to the side of his face, nuzzling your nose into his neck and into the soft curls of his black hair. He sensed something. You knew it in the way his long fingers slowly caressed the sides of your waist as he unraveled you from his embrace. His fingers moved lovingly up your arms, until they laced themselves in your waves while his palms cupped your face.

“Did I ever tell you that I have the best girlfriend ever?” he said very matter-of-factly as the pads of his thumbs caressed the sides of your face.

“Oh my god, I had no idea!” You teased, pulling him by the lapel of his jacket. “Who is she?!”

“I don’t know, but she’s certainly never tempted me with this shade of red before,” he said, bringing gentle fingers to your chin just below your pout.

He scrunched his nose as the most charming grin situated itself on his face before he moved in to kiss you. It was so difficult to explain, but that little crinkle of his nose was something you found so endearingly irresistible about him. The gesture was so perfectly Steven and so perfectly kissable.

“I also know,” he said as he intertwined his fingers in yours as you walked towards the exit of the museum, “that you’re definitely keeping something from me.”

A secretive silence took over you as the sunlight began to wane over the glass rooftop. When he turned to you again, the beams of light waxed and waned with kaleidoscopic triangles of light and dark illuminated his chiseled face. With a light cough, you cleared your throat, a small feeling of guilt settling over your chest. There was no use in hiding things from him, considering your unique situation.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise!” You insisted as you walked outside, your steps rippling your reflections in the puddles the rain left behind. “You know I don’t keep things from you.”

“Not intentionally, no,” he said as his expression suddenly turned to confusion as you continued towards the crosswalk. “Wait, sweetheart, why’re we crossing the street?

Turning to him, you smoothed the wrinkles in his jacket and kissed him, wiping your thumb along his lips where yours had left their mark. He sucked a deep inhale into his chest, and you could see the small glimmer of yearning shine in his eyes. The rain had stopped enough to let the sunset work her magic on his olive skin, highlighting it with warm colors of gold and coral.

“Come home with me tonight,” you whispered as your lips parted from his.

A combination of excitement and trepidation filled the lines around his expressive brown eyes. It wasn’t about sex, you knew that. You had already taken that much needed step in your relationship. Sex was far from being a problem in your relationship. No, you know from how his eyes hollowed in fear that this was something much more.

“Oh, love,” he said letting go of your hands to wring his nervously, “aren’t you worried about---”

You wrapped your hands in his to alleviate some of the anxiety that lived in his shaking hands.

“Steven,” you said, keeping a steady gaze on him, “you trust me, right?”

The inner corner of his eyebrows raised up as he nodded in earnest. It was difficult for him not to hang on to every word that left your mouth. Keeping his hand in yours, you crossed the street just as a bus stopped, ready for you to embark. You led Steven towards the middle of the bus, finding two empty seats. Steven gestured for you to take a seat first. When he sat next to you, you hooked your arm under his, your hand finding its way back to hold his. He leaned towards you, turning to give your forehead a kiss before you rested your head on his shoulder.

Your eyes turned to look out the window, watching as the remaining raindrops trickled down the window. The dusky sunlight reflected off them like liquid gold.

“Why do you have such a hard time opening up to him?” The sound of a subtle New York accented voice, pressed lightly against your forehead.

In the window, you glanced at the reflection of your boyfriend’s face. His thick brows were lower, his eyes narrowed with greater focus, and his jaw and neck muscles were taut with stoicism.

“Marc?” you inquired, still not used to how quickly he could appear without warning.

He pulled you in with his gaze. It was one of concern, but in a different way from Steven’s. When he looked at you with that furrowed brow and discerning expression in his eyes, it was easy for you to see that he understood without words the feelings you were going through. A small, but grateful and earnest smile grew on your lips before you gave him a kiss. He didn’t melt quite the same way Steven did, but you could tell from the gentle caresses on your fingertips that he was letting himself relax.

“Don’t you think it’s a little bit unfair to be talking to me about stuff that bothers you and not him?” Marc asked.

“Marc, it’s not like he doesn’t find out anywa---,” you started, but Marc was so quick to interject.

“Nah, no it doesn’t work that way, sweetheart,” he insisted while shaking his head at you.

You took note of his words and lingered on ‘sweetheart.’ It was one of the terms of endearment that both Steven and Marc shared for you. You could never explain to anyone how your relationship (or was it relationships?) worked. You were in love with more than one man who shared the same face and the same body, but with distinctive personalities, distinctive lives. When you wondered how you’d introduce your friends or your family to him, telling them the truth was the worst possible option.

Ok, friends, I’d like you to meet my boyfriend, well boyfriends, really. He has, they have Dissociative Identity Disorder.

No, that wouldn’t work at all.

“I’ve just been anxious,” you explained to Marc, expressing all that floated in your head in the least number of words possible. “We’ve been together for a while now and it always feels like I’m having to navigate something new.”

You caught Marc briefly looking at the window.

“He’s listening, isn’t he?” You asked.

Marc nodded with a raised brow and a shrug of his shoulders. The gesture told you that Steven “listening in” on your conversation was inevitable.

“Look, you don’t need to be scared about telling us anything, everything even,” Marc assured you with a gentle squeeze and massage of your thigh.

It was unexpected and sent shivers up your core, reminding you of why you were so anxious in the first place. Another glimpse of Marc looking in the window caught your eye. You wondered what knowing glances they shared with one other. What did each of those glances mean when they were clearly shared about you?

“I know, you’re right,” you acknowledged.

“So, tell me, tell us,” Marc uttered before giving you a gentle kiss, “we’ve got a long ride home.”

The long, stop-and-go bus ride was tolerable because you had Marc with you. When you arrived at your bus stop, you felt Marc’s fingers tighten in yours. Each step that you both took echoed on the cobblestone streets that led to your flat. And with each step that you took, Marc’s hand squeezed yours harder, an unspoken indication of his growing anxiety. Marc dug his hands into his pockets and took a deep breath as you unlocked your door. Before you walked in, you took his face gently in your hands. You looked deep into his eyes, searching for every part of him in those glossy brown globes of his.

“Do you trust me?” You asked the same question you asked Steven.

He rested your forehead against yours and nodded, kissing the inside of your palms.

He followed you up the short set of stairs to your inside door. You flipped on the wall switch, filling your living room with warm light. Marc walked around your flat, taking note of the decor, a mix of mid-century, bohemian, and Scandinavian. A smile spread on his face with the thought that all of it was so perfectly you.

“Make yourself at home,” you whispered softly in his ear, “I’ll be right back.”

Everything in your bedroom was perfect just as you had planned it to be. The terracotta-colored bed sheets were freshly washed. The lamps on your nightstand gave off a dim but romantic glow better than any overhead light could. You had even cleaned the circular mirror that hung over your dresser and the large arched, floor length mirror that rested against the opposite wall. Before you returned to Marc, you undressed from your work clothes and put on a purple, gauzy and lace chemise, paired with a slinky lace thong, with a deep teal kimono over it. You looked at yourself in the mirror, running your fingers through your waves and putting on a sheer gloss over your red lips. You understood, all of this didn’t make any sense. You knew he’d be ripping it off you in a matter of minutes, but he’d never been to your home. This was going to be something you made sure you would remember.

You watched as Marc awkwardly walked around your small living room, pacing around wondering if he should sit or remain standing. It was almost Steven-like. As you glided back to him, he stopped in his tracks, paralyzed by the vision of you.

“So, this is what you were hiding?” Marc growled, as he admired you, grabbing you by the ass and pulling you towards him. “Don’t think Steven will be too upset about it as long as he gets a turn.”

Marc pulled you into him, rubbing his hands up and down the light, lacy fabric until he grabbed your ass again with his large hands. With his right hand, he grabbed the supple muscle of your thigh and lifted it to his waist. Keeping your hands on his face you kissed him fervently, sucking on his bottom lip until you were pulling it gently with your teeth.

“Quiero hablar con Jake,” you stated with conviction as you ran your fingers through Marc’s dark curls.

Suddenly, he stopped and backed away from you, his brow knitted together in disbelief, “You have no idea what you’re asking me.”

“Yes, baby, I do,” you assured, pulling him to you again as walked backwards to your bedroom.

Marc stood before you, his eyes dark with disappointment and anger. You let your kimono drop to the floor and moved to him, bringing your face close to his. He took a strong, commanding grip on your wrists when you tried to push his open button-up shirt away from his shoulders.

“What do you think this is some kind of joke?” Marc snarled through gritted teeth. “Do you have any idea what he’s capable of?”

“Marc, you and Steven said you trusted me,” you said as you planted kisses on his neck and jaw. “It’s been hard, but you’ve told me that I should trust you and be open with both of you, all of you---why should Jake be any different?

“No, not up for discussion,” Marc shook his head.

You pressed your forehead to his and moved your right hand up his chest and then to his face. You eased him into a gentle kiss, slipping your tongue until he was weak in the knees.

“Let me talk to Jake,” you requested again, gripping his face tighter with your hands.

Marc looked at you resolutely to protect you from what he perceived as dangerous.

“You owe me this, Marc,” you affirmed through gritted teeth.

“Then you’d have to make me,” Marc growled, bringing his face as close to yours without touching it.

His breath was hot and touched your painted lips with angry disappointment. Anger and frustration took over you and you lifted your hand, slapping him in the face. An immediate feeling of guilt took over you and you apologetically began caressing the curls that touched Marc’s forehead.

“Oh god, Marc,” you gasped, “I’m so sorry.”

Slowly, he lifted his face and focused his dark eyes on you. His eyebrows were angled downward. He lifted his hand, wrapping it around your wrist in a nearly painful grip. The light and shadows that traced the map of his face revealed eyes darker than you’d ever seen on Marc or Steven. The corners of his lips were turned slightly downward and the vein at the side of his neck was prominent from the tightness of his jaw.

“Not Marc, hermosa,” he growled as he grabbed a hold of your other hand, tossing you on the bed.

“Jake?” You gasped, looking at him as he grazed lustful eyes over your body.

“Sí, claro,” he replied, his voice low and wanton as he stared up at the round mirror above your dresser.

You weren’t sure who he was looking at, Marc or Steven, maybe it was both. Your mind and body completely focused on the man crawling over you on the bed. His hands explored the peaks and valleys of your body. His touch had its own quality that you had never experienced or imagined. With Steven, he made you feel like a queen always willing to serve you and remind you how beautiful you were through gentle, loving touches, and aftercare. Marc was decidedly more confident in himself, though your physical pleasure was always a priority, and he reveled in making you come especially on his tongue. No, this touch had no resemblance to theirs and you trembled beneath it.

Jake’s lips curled up into a devilish smile as he tightened his grip on your wrists. He brought his lips to your neck and pushed your legs apart with his strong thighs. Your breaths came out in quick gasps as he rolled his hips against you, allowing you to feel his cock growing in his jeans.

“Are you scared of me, muñeca?” His breath was hot against your skin.

“I—I don’t---,” you couldn’t find the words to confess how you were feeling, but every inch of your body quivered.

Trapping you beneath his legs, Jake reached into his back pocket to pull out a switchblade. You wiggled beneath him, but stilled yourself as he opened the knife and began tracing it lightly on chest. You closed your eyes, knowing you should feel nothing but paralyzing fear, but your body betrayed you as you rolled your pelvis upward in desperation for him. With a quick swipe of his blade, he cut a slit down the middle of your chemise, ripping the rest of it from your body with his bare hands. A moan escaped you as he tossed the remnants to the floor.

“Oh, you like this, hermosa,” he groaned as returned the blade to his back pocket, getting harder the more you writhed beneath him, “this is why you wanted us to come with you.”

His hands worked at your tits, massaging them, squeezing them with heavy hands, and pinching your nipples until you were crying for him. He painted a hot wet trail up your body with his tongue until he wrapped his mouth around your right nipple, swirling it in mouth, drawing out continuous moans from your lips. A quick nip of his teeth at each nipple sent a wave of ecstasy through your body and you could do nothing but yelp out his name.

“You want me to fuck you,” Jake growled as he pulled his shirt off over his head and as he unzipped and pushed his jeans off to the floor, “You’ve been wanting me to fuck you.”

He pulled your hips towards the edge of the bed, where you were met with his mouth planting hot, wet kisses on your mound through your lacy purple underwear. He took two long fingers caressing the center of the lacy fabric, your desire growing with each stripe he traced there.

“Dímelo,” he said as he curled the tips of his fingers at the edge of your underwear.

They were so close to your center, so close to touching exactly where you wanted him. But not close enough.

“Say it,” he demanded while he continued to taunt you with his fingers.

“I want you to fuck me,” you breathed out, “---need you to fuck me, Jake.”

He paused with a low, deviant laugh that came from the back of his throat. You pressed yourself up on your elbows, needing to see his face after your reply. His eyelids were low with the most wanton desire as his gaze shifted to the large mirror that rested against the wall between two, long arched-shaped windows. The moon beams were bright through the window, and you saw them glimmer in his eyes before he said anything again.

“Don’t worry, hermanos,” he said, his voice rumbling against your center, “I’ll take good care of her.”

The sound of ripped lace reached your ears and just as quickly, Jake’s mouth was on you in a slow open-mouthed kiss. All you could do was gasp as he slipped his tongue through your folds licking with slow, broad strokes of his tongue from the bottom to the top. He worshipped at your clit with slow, torturous circles until he licked down to your center, repeating the movements all over again. You bucked against him with a moan and moved your hands to lace your fingers in his curls.

“Estas tan desesperada por mi,” he uttered, tightening your grip against his hair so that your hands couldn’t move.

He pushed face further into your mound, the tip of his nose touching your clit as he his tongue dipped deeper through your folds, trading endlessly between broad, delectable strokes and swift, tight swipes that tortured you with each exchange. The beat of your heart pounded to your ears and all your nerve endings felt like they had gathered around your swollen pussy as he hummed against it. He wrapped his soft lips against your clit, rolling his tongue against you at first and then sucking every bit of your slick in his expert mouth.

“Fuck---Jake---feel so good!” you cried out, trying to push your hips towards him for more.

A deep throaty hum left his mouth as he began to slip one, then two fingers into your slick. His tongue never let go of its ownership on your clit as his fingers thrusted in and out of you, stoking the fire inside of you. Like some kind of poetic synchronicity your toes curled just as he curled his fingers in you, feeding your fire and sucking at your clit like it's the only thing he’s ever needed. In a matter of seconds, you came with a line of breathy cries of his name while he clamped his arms around your writhing hips.

“Move up, cariño,” he said, slapping at your pussy and helping you with a slight roll of your hips sideways.

His eyes kept their intense and libidinous gaze on you as you trembled and rolled in the sheets as he pulled off his black boxer-briefs. You licked your lips as he crawled towards you, cradling you in his arms as his right hand gripped your face as he kissed you. You knew your lipstick would be a mess by the way he devoured your mouth, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“Need you---need your cock, Jake!” you cried, your fingers reaching out to him through the waves of your bed sheets.

More than ready to oblige, he crawled over you and growled in your ear, “All fours, muñeca.”

His hands massaged your ass before, caressing up and down your waist before he gifted you with one, two, three strong slaps of his firm hand. Shuddering with ecstasy, you looked up and saw the mess he was making of you in your large mirror, your lipstick smeared and your face moaning with desperation for his depravity. It was like being hypnotized as you watched yourself and him in the mirror. A long thread of saliva left his mouth and dripped down to your ass, and you were suddenly wiggling back for him. He teased you with a few quick slaps of your pussy with his hard, bobbing cock and he coated his cock with a few pumps of his own saliva he’d pressed to his fingers with his tongue. And with decadent groans, he began to push into you.

You’d felt this cock many times before, you reminded yourself with closed eyes, as Jake slapped into you with a few shallow thrusts. But you’ve never felt it quite this way, as he pulls back almost completely before he is bottoming out into you with an unrestrained grinding of his hips, making sure you can hear the slap of your hips and your soaking pussy against him.

“Oh god, fuck, so good, Jake” you cried as you pressed your face against your sheets and pushed back against him.

“Face up, cariño,” he ordered as you felt him swiftly wipe his thumb against your asshole, “want you to see your face when I make you cum all over my cock.”

A moan escapes you at the novel feeling, one that Steven or Marc had never done for you. Jake made a few more quick slaps on your ass as you scrambled to lift yourself back onto your hands. His loud groans continued to fill your bedroom as he thrusted in and out of you with a varied pace you couldn’t anticipate, driving you mad.

“Jake, please---please fuck me like I’m your whore,” you begged through filthy cries for him.

The second those words slipped from your lip, Jake’s hand slid from the attention he was giving your asshole until he was caressing your back and pulling at the waves of your hair. His thrusts felt unimaginably deeper as he kept a strong grip there, thrusting and throbbing against the walls of your tight cunt.

“Fuck, look at you!” He groaned as his thrusts became faster and faster as they continued to hammer deep inside of you. “Look at her, a fucking mess, acting like a whore for me.”

You couldn’t help but look, feeling almost bad that you knew Jake was speaking, no taunting Marc and Steven. The way your tits bounced, the way you clutched at the sheets, and the way your mouth hung open in an unending moan for him. The sounds that echoed from your cunt were wet and obscene.

“I---Jake---Jake I’m gonna cum!” you cried, trying to reach back to him as the walls of your pussy quivered and clenched against his long, thick shaft.

With vigorously deep thrusts, he emptied inside you with a luscious and raspy moan, “That’s it, mi amor, take it all.”

With one final groan he pulled himself from you, swiping one thumb to your asshole before sliding one quiver-inducing stroke to the folds of your sensitive pussy. Together you collapsed in a mess of sweaty, love-soaked limbs. Resting right leg open against his thigh gave him a chance to caress your legs with an unexpectedly soft hand. You used this moment of silence to catch your breath and regain your composure, not sure what to expect afterwards from Jake.

“That was...unexpected,” you sighed looking over at a smirking Jake, whose eyes were closed in post-coital bliss, “are they---,”

“They’ll get over it,” he responded quickly to your unfinished question about Marc and Steven, “besides you said, ‘all in’, right? I’ve just shown them it’s ok to push you to your limits.”

You turned to Jake, propped yourself on one elbow, and turned his face towards you with a gentle, but teasing hand, “Tsk, oh darling, you’ve only just scratched the surface.”

#oscar isaac characters #oscar isaac character fanfiction #moon knight #jake lockley #steven grant #marc spector #jake lockely x reader #jake lockely x you #marc spector x reader #marc spector x you #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #moon knight system #juice bar collective #juice collective

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philadelphia-hq · 2 years

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OLIVER KELLY our DARYL MCCORMACK is looking for his BEST FRIEND & FORMER ROOMMATE. They are 28-32 years old and people say they looks like HENRY GOLDING, MANNY JACINTO, RARAEL SILVA, EDDIE LIU, KUBILAY AKA, JAY HAYDEN, ALPEREN DUMAZ, DANIEL EZRA, DEV PATEL, DIEGO BONETA, LUKE PASQUALINO, OLIVER STARK or UTP. You DO need contact JEN ( linked in the source ) first.

Description:

The pair met at Cornell where Oliver was studying Architecture and became friends easily. I see them balancing each other out well but also having a lot in common. So a crossover in interests and views in life but maybe a different way of handling things. Ollie tends to be on the quieter side so either someone who matched this energy or was a little bit more outgoing to bring him out of his shell.

They both ended up living in Philadelphia after graduating (whether they moved before or after him is up for discussion!) and shared an apartment in Fishtown when they were just starting out. Up until six months ago Oliver still lived there, only moving to Manayunk to live in his brother’s house to provide a sense of normality for his nephew. How your muse feels about that it definitely open to plotting, there could be some distance developed between them or they could be as close as ever.

Backstory, what degree they did and why they moved to Philadelphia is completely UTP!

Additional Information:

(x) (x) (x) (x) (x)

#wanted connection #henry golding #manny jacinto #rafael silva #eddie liu #kubilay aka #jay hayden #alperen dumaz #daniel ezra #dev patel #diego boneta #luke pasqualino #oliver stark #phillyplatonic

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vechkinfan · 3 years

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Lost In The Shadows ~ (Part 5)

A/N: I'd like to thank everyone of you who has liked mine and @alycu1 story so far! And we can't wait to share what we have planned for Charlie and the boys! Its a bit of a filler chapter, but we get to experience some Dwayne fluff (which is seriously lacking for this fandom) but we hope you enjoy this next part of this saga!

Words: ~7.9K (It's a lot, we know.... )

Pairing: The Lost Boys X OFC, Dwayne X OFC

Warnings: Stealing, skateboarding, slight injury, hits to everyone's ego and of course some good old flirting fluff

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

It was a gut feeling that told Dwayne to stay back at the cave when Marko yelled at him to get ready - to not even bother wandering the boardwalk like they always do. He couldn't quite explain it, but he just knew something stupid and beyond his control was going to happen.

He should have followed that instinct, Dwayne wasn't in the mood to deal with stupid. He had woken up in a funk, snapping at anyone who pushed his buttons. It was a stark contrast to his normally laid back personality, which even Marko and Paul seemed to pick up on when they left him alone on the boardwalk. Dwayne certainly isn’t the most irritable of their group, David takes the cake there, but they still know when not to push their luck with him.

He appreciated the quiet, having only nodded his head when David also said he was going to wander off to amuse himself. He wasn’t keen to join his brother. Practicing his ollies seemed a better pastime, especially when people passing by gasped and dodged out of his way as he threw himself around. Their fear and annoyance was feeding his pettier side, which seemed to be taking the reins today.

Maybe if he was lucky he'd see that punk that tried to harass Charlie the night of the concert a few weeks back. He didn't need an excuse to rip the guy's head off, but having one always made it easier for him to slip from being your average boardwalk scumbag to full on sadistic killer. Besides, he’d be killing two birds with one stone so to speak. He’d be in a better mood and she wouldn't have to look over her shoulder anymore whenever she leaves the store.

He knew Charlie would never admit that she was worried, she was far too prideful and would probably consider it playing the damsel in distress. But Dwayne took note of how her eyes always cast about the boardwalk when she ventures out, and the sideways glances she steals whenever she hears the surfers laugh as they stroll by the video store. He doesn’t notice but the thought of her stubborn will to always seem tough brings a fond smile to his face as he stops to lean against the railing overlooking the beach, tightening one of the wheels on his skateboard.

"Catch!" Dwayne hears Marko shout crazily from afar, yanking him out of his little daze as he sees the blonde dash across the boardwalk away from the carousel. Paul follows closely beside him, shoving tourists out of their way to clear a path. A heavy set security guard screaming at the two of them to stop immediately. But they don’t listen as they head straight for Dwayne, faces alight with mischievous smiles.

As they barrel closer, Dwayne knows that this exact moment in time is what his gut must have been telling him to avoid. Normally he'd be up for messing with the security guards that wandered the boardwalk, they all took their jobs too seriously. If you asked him, they were all overweight, out of shape, washed up police wannabes who clearly enjoyed what little power trips they got from kicking people off rides for being ‘rowdy’. But tonight he’d just wanted a few moments of peace to work on his skateboard. Was that too much to ask for?

"Catch, Dwayne!" Paul repeats, chucking a blue cap at the brunette who fumbles to catch it as he and Marko speed past Dwayne to vault over the railing. Disappearing over the edge with whoops of laughter, leaving their unsuspecting brother with the cap and an angry guard to deal with.

It takes a moment to register in his mind that his asshole brothers just implicated him in their little scheme of what must be keep away with the security guard now fighting his way through the crowd. But he soon realizes that he was wrong earlier when he thought they knew not to bother him today.

"Oh you're fucking dead," Dwayne growls loudly as Paul and Marko scurry beneath the boardwalk to hide out until the coast is clear and they can grab their bikes.

"Get back here you no good punks!" The security guard huffs through winded breaths of air until he spots Dwayne now holding the cap. “You! Give me back my goddamn hat!”

"So fucking dead, the two of you!" Dwayne yells knowing damn well his brothers can hear him despite being several feet away out of view. Grabbing his skateboard and violently throwing it to the ground he prepares himself for a chase he didn’t even start. The site of which only serves to infuriate the guard even further.

Shaking his head, Dwayne jumps onto his board shoving off to get momentum. Stuffing the hat Marko and Paul clearly stole into the inside pocket of his leather jacket. He’s committed to this whether he likes it or not considering his two blonde friends have conveniently made themselves scarce.

Groaning loudly as he cruises down the boardwalk, Dwayne glances over his shoulder keeping track of the guard through the crowd. He needs to lose the guy sooner rather than later. Which has him steering his board towards the alley beside the VideoMax. Despite his grumbling, this certainly wasn’t the first time he’s been chased off the boardwalk. He’s even been known to instigate a few chases himself. Which meant he’s familiar with the area, and at this time of night the alley would be the easiest way to get someone off his back.

There are so many side streets that cut line of sight that he’s sure he can lose the guard within a few minutes. That's if the guard can even keep up with Dwayne, who was pushing off the ground as quickly as he could. The speed he is going is anything but a casual stroll, causing his hair to whip and the red bandana stuffed in his back jeans pocket to trail behind him.

Rounding the corner into the alleyway, Dwayne lets out a laugh as he watches the security guards' flailing arms disappear behind the building. What a loser.

Just as he turns his attention back towards the road ahead, Dwayne slams into something solid. The force behind the collision causing him to topple over onto the ground, landing on whatever had decided to get in his way. His board shooting out to hit the side of the VideoMax, clattering to a halt a few feet away.

Breathing heavily from the rush of adrenaline, Dwayne is ready to shout at whoever made him wipe out on his skateboard. But as he picks up his head he is pleasantly surprised to see a familiar face through the mess and tangles of his dark hair. A smile spreading quickly across his face instead of the glare he expected to be giving. “Hey, Char.”

Shoving her own hair out of her face, Charlie blinks up at him. “Dwayne?”

“In the flesh.” He replies cheerfully, before remembering why he’d been in such a hurry. “I’d love to comment on this promising position we’re in but, we gotta hide.” Using his arms he pushes up off of her to a sitting position before pulling her up with him as he stands.

“What? Hide?” Charlie sputters loudly, shoving away his hand once she’s upright. “What the fuck are you talking about!? Why did you just-“

Quickly covering her mouth and pulling her to him he glances behind them, back down the alley, to make sure her little outburst hadn’t drawn any unwanted attention. “Hiding implies quiet, sweetheart.” He whispers. Looking back at her once he sees the coast is clear. Despite seeing her less than pleased glare he removes his hand. “Can you do that for me?”

“Why the hell should I-“ Charlie yells before his hand goes immediately back over her mouth to muffle her.

“Alright, never mind. Let’s go.” Turning her around and putting her back to his front, he keeps his hand securely over her mouth. Effectively muting everything she continues to try to yell at him. He half expected her to bite his hand to get him off her with how much muffled complaining she was doing, but she didn't thankfully.

Picking up his board by the trucks and wrapping his arm around her waist he carries her over to the alcove by the back door of the VideoMax, slipping them behind the wall and out of sight of anyone passing by.

It was a feat that in any other situation would have impressed Charlie, he carried her like she weighed nothing, but at the moment it just served to piss her off further. Who does he think he is just plowing her down and then lugging her about like she was some rag doll? To further express her anger she wriggles about in his hold, trying with zero success to break free.

Sandwiching her between himself and the wall so she can’t make any noise he waits until she stops trying to yell at him then removes his hand from her mouth again and peeks around the wall. Watching for the guard who had been chasing him since he reached the water gun games on the opposite side of the carousel.

Charlie glares up at him the entire time, pushing against him futilely to get him to move away. Her frustration grows as he continues to unknowingly crush one of the wheels of his board into her ribs.

"Why are you even running around like a goddamn maniac anyway?" She whisper yells at him and he quickly puts his hand back over her mouth, silently shushing her.

But a few moments pass and then he sees the guard run by completely winded. The sound of his huffing and puffing fills the alleyway as he flies by around the far corner of the building without seeing them, leaving Dwayne to smile in triumph. He tips his head back with a sigh of relief and a short laugh before letting her go completely. He didn’t start all this high jinks but he still had the smarts to get out of it scot-free.

She shoves him away in protest but her feistiness just makes him want to smile even more. She’s cute when she’s mad, he realizes... Looking her over makes him pause and reconsider his outlook on tonight. Maybe it wasn’t going to be so bad after all. He still planned to knock Marko and Paul’s heads together later but they did manage to inadvertently bring him to the one person who has yet to get on his nerves since manifesting in his life.

"I was dodging the man 'cause of this," he smiles, dropping a blue hat on her head before resting his board up against the wall next to him.

She immediately removes the object to look at it and huffs in annoyed anger, waving the hat in his face. "I got tackled to the ground because you stole the security guard's hat?"

"I didn't take it, Marko did." He corrects although he shrugs nonchalantly. "I just ended up with it."

"Yeah, sure..." Overtly rolling her eyes, she smacks the hat against his chest and drops it leaving him to fumble to catch it while she brushes herself off. Picking at a few pieces of sharp gravel that had embedded into the skin of her shins from the force behind their collision.

"Aw come on, you're not actually mad at me are you, Char?" He places the hat on his head askew and gives her his best smile. Hoping to lift her mood the same way her presence seemed to do for his.

"You should stick to motorcycles." She looks at him deadpan and his smile drops, though he tries to play it off.

"Hey, the Surf Nazis surf the ocean, I surf the streets - by board and bike. And I'm pretty good too when I'm not wiping out because some cute girl walks out in front of me." He lightly pokes her in the side, propping himself against the wall next to his board.

She swats away his hand and scoffs again. "I'd question how good you are if a 'cute girl' is all it takes to throw you off."

Hamming it up to annoy her he scoffs back and acts offended. “Is that any way to talk to your boyfriend? I brought you a gift,” he says pointing to the hat. “I’d think you’d be happy.”

Groaning, she drops her head in her hands in embarrassment. “I’m never gonna live that down am I?”

"Absolutely not,” he laughs, knowing Paul and Marko would carry on with the line of jokes about them being a ‘couple’ even if he didn’t.

She glares up at him again from between her fingers before crossing her arms. “It’s a stolen hat, you’d give that as a gift?”

“It was on the fly, sweetheart! I didn’t know I’d be seeing you.” He shrugs, reaching out to hold a lock of her hair between his fingertips. A coy smile spreads on his face as he does so, taking note that she doesn’t smack his hand away from touching her immediately. “Kind of like I had no idea you thought of me like that, I’m flattered.”

“Ughhhh,” she growls in frustration. “I only called you my boyfriend because I was trying to get rid of those assholes.” Charlie readjusts her army jacket so it doesn't look like she had just woken up from a wild night at the bars. “Didn't see you correcting me,” she mumbles to herself until she finds the rip that now exists by her left elbow.

Groaning to herself, she’s half ready to ream him one. Charlie could handle a scraped knee and a bruised ego, but this was her favorite, her most prized jacket. Her grandfather had given it to her shortly before he passed away. She had been seven at the time, and she had loved it ever since she could remember. Always finding a way to weasel her way into the warm, comfortably worn material of his old Army jacket. She especially loved the ranking patched on the shoulder and his name tag stitched above her breast pocket. When she was younger it made her feel important even though his last name, Specter, had been scribbled over by his old Army buddies with the nickname ‘Ghost’.

She doesn’t have a lot of fond memories of her family, but her grandfather had always been an exception. He was loving when the rest were harsh. Ghost and his little Casper as he’d called them. His loss was a hard pill to swallow and in a lot of ways it marked the tipping point in her life of where shit really started to hit the fan. That’s what made his gift all the more special to her, and now it had a nice jagged hole in it.

"Great,” is all she finally ends up saying aloud, pushing her finger through the tear. Knowing it wasn’t worth yelling at Dwayne. He hadn’t done anything on purpose, maybe to that security guard, but not to her. And she had also not been watching where she was going as she carried the trash out into the alleyway.

Despite the minimal outward reaction, Dwayne hones in on her concerned expression immediately. Watching her anger vanish the instant she finds her jacket scuffed. It makes him break the cavalier persona he normally puts on around her. She seems to be good at making him do that. It's starting to worry him. He wasn’t one to get attached to people, made a point of it actually. His ‘brothers’ were an exception of course but he hadn't really had much of a choice about them. Charlie though… something about her just seems to call to his protective side.

He’ll need to keep that in check if he doesn’t want to get in trouble, he reminds himself.

“Sorry… I can get Marko to fix that for you,” he offers.

Glaring up at him at his absurd suggestion, Charlie shakes her head, pulling her lock of hair free from his grasp. "Marko? The same Marko I saw choking on cotton candy a few days ago?" She questions with a raised brow.

Remembering how he had walked into the VideoMax about fifteen minutes before Max typically showed up. Him and Paul sauntered inside like they owned the place, as usual, two sticks in their hands piled high with the bluest cotton candy she had ever seen. Paul's mouth had been ringed with the blue sugar as he attempted to eat it on the go. Marko however, when he had gone to take a bite out of the airy confection, breathed in the thin sugar fluff and began coughing violently.

It nearly had Charlie dying. It even brought tears to her eyes with how hard she was laughing.

Dwayne rolls his eyes, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. "Not sure how cotton candy and sewing relate, but yes the very one. He's really good at it actually, sewed all those patches on his jacket."

"Really? And here I thought they were iron-ons he melted together to form some semblance of a coat..." A small smirk threatening to cross her face when Dwayne bursts out with a laugh.

"You're funny, you know that," he teases, reaching out to move a piece of hair that had fallen in front of her face once again, “when you're not busy looking like you're gonna bite someone's head off." Twisting the lock around his finger into a curl, before tucking it behind her ear.

Charlie fights the heat that slowly engulfs her face as she feels his fingertips brush against the side of her face. Hoping the darkness of the night and the dim flickering bulb above the door to her apartment, which she definitely needed to change, are enough to hide the fact that he’s got her blushing. The last thing she needs now was for him to get the wrong idea and think she is actually falling for his stupid charm. Besides that, he has no room to talk about her looking pissy.

"Say's the brooding man himself,” she counters, pointing a finger at him. "If looks could kill I'm fairly certain everyone who crossed your path would be dead by now."

Charlie was under no ruse as to how Dwayne typically acted around the people that wander the boardwalk. On slow nights at the VideoMax she would occasionally take her dinner breaks on the benches just in front of the store. Eating whatever she managed to throw together that morning, which usually consisted of a peanut butter sandwich and a warm Yoohoo. Eyes panning the crowd as she would sit and quietly eat her bland dinner. Wondering if one of the nameless faces who passed by that night would eventually go missing like so many others seemed to. In her blatant people watching, she would inevitably find the boys. The four of them either on their bikes watching the crowd just as she was or pressed against the railing of the boardwalk chatting up some pretty girls who finally worked up the courage to approach them.

Paul and Marko were the least intimidating, gaining the most attention out of the group. David, though Charlie found him scary, whenever girls wandered close, his scowl was typically replaced by a smug smirk. He reminded her of a spider, luring girls into his web with his good looks. Deep down Charlie just knew there was something dangerous about him and those girls were playing with fire.

Dwayne on the other hand, anytime she caught a glimpse of him from afar he'd be standing with his arms crossed over his chest making himself look as intimidating as possible. His lips set into a thin line and his eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the people around him like a watchdog.

Her first impression of him still held true, he was a bad boy, and he wasn't exactly afraid to hide it.

"You're not dead." He fires back, pushing aside her astute observation. Charlie was a smart one, and dancing dangerously close to the truth - unbeknownst to her. "Yet." He shrugs casually, grinning like the devil and hoping the jovial threat will make her heartbeat race.

His hopes are snuffed out almost immediately as instead her only reaction is to roll her eyes at him.

"I should be…” she mutters to herself, knowing Dwayne wouldn't hear her as the roar of the coaster nearby fills the alley. Walking out of the alcove she spins around once she’s standing in the middle of the alley, bending over to pick up the bag of trash still laying on the ground. Watching patiently as he follows after her, skateboard in tow and the stolen hat still askew on his head. In another time she would have laughed at how comically non-threatening he looked compared to how she’d just described him, but she wasn't in the mood to have him follow her around trying to prove her statement wrong.

"Look, I would say it was nice running into you, but I'd be lying. I got to go, and you should probably do the same. Thief." Charlie flashes him her best attempt at his signature finger gun, before heading towards the dumpster. Throwing the black bag onto the growing pile of trash.

"I all ready told you, babe, I didn't steal anything." He smiles as he continues to follow behind her. Twisting the security guard hat on his head so the brim is now backwards before grabbing her forearm as gently as he can, pulling her back in his direction. "And the night's young, what's the rush? Got a hot date or something?"

"Yeah, with my bed." She barely misses a beat at his comment. Desperately trying to ignore the goosebumps that erupt from where his cool hand meets her skin.

Wiggling his brow seductively, Dwayne can’t help but twist her words and give her his sexiest of smirks. "Want some company?" He asks, knowing it would get him absolutely nowhere. She doesn’t seem the type for casual stuff like that. But he enjoys the way Charlie's face flashes with heat whenever he flirts with her. It's the only sign his attempts actually got to her on some level. She’s definitely the only girl he’s had trouble winning over in what felt like forever, but the challenge she gives him is half the fun.

She stares at him blankly for a moment and then shrugs. “Okay.” Shoving her hands in her jacket pockets, she starts heading back toward the alcove and the stairs leading to her apartment.

Dwayne laughs as she passes by, hearing yes but thinking her answer meant no, until it suddenly clicks in his brain and he gapes open mouthed at her. “Wait, what?”

“I said ‘okay’,” she answers nonchalantly, not even bothering to turn around. That only makes him even more stunned, completely caught off guard by her sudden mood shift.

“Hold up!” Shaking his head in utter disbelief he jogs after her. “Are you actually saying yes?”

Smiling, she finally turns to face him and laughs at his shocked expression as he bumps into her. “I was kidding, you lech! Jeez, I swear you and the terror twins live with your heads in the gutter.”

“Oh,” Dwayne breathes out in relief, while running a hand through his hair. "Fuck, you had me goin' for a minute there, Char!"

“Please. When have I ever played into one of your lines? Or any of the lines you and the guys use? I know you don’t mean them.” Charlie isn't sure why, but a pang of hurt suddenly rushes through her body at Dwayne's reaction. Sure, she wasn't the prettiest girl in the world, but she didn't think she was so ugly that he needed to look like he just dodged a bullet.

“Paul does.”

She raises one dubious brow at him. “Paul flirts with anyone and everyone, just like Marko. And you, when you want something from someone.” She shrugs, calling it as she sees it. Paul and Marko were looking for a good time. Dwayne, like David she presumed, used his charm for strictly personal gain.

“Oh?” He perks up. “Now that’s changing the story. I thought I just scared everyone away. Alright, if you're so observant, what is it I want from you?” Curious to know what she thinks his intentions are. Charlie was quick, more observant than a lot of the people he's come across and he has to admit she is pretty good at reading the four of them like open books. It was quite impressive, and kept them on their toes about keeping their true identities hidden.

“To annoy me, I suspect.” She rolls her eyes. “You’re always teasing.”

“Ha,” he smiles fondly to himself, remembering all their little shared moments over the last couple of months. Despite their initial reasons for bothering her, Dwayne had come to enjoy her presence. Riling her up was quickly becoming one of his favorite pastimes, more so than scaring tourists. “It is pretty fun…”

“See! Jerk,” she shoves his shoulder though she means it in good fun. She didn’t really mind that they were all so overly flirty around her anymore, she’d come to realize that’s just how they are. Besides, it more than made up for whenever David came around and made things a little tense with all that staring...

One day she’d figure out what was eating that guy. But she doubted it would be anytime in the immediate future. He liked to keep his distance, unlike the other three.

Dwayne smiles at her and playfully shoves back. “Would a jerk offer to show you his secret hide out?”

“How should I know? ‘A jerk’ hasn’t offered.”

“Well this one has.” He says smugly until he realizes what he just called himself and glares at her when she starts laughing. “You know what I mean!”

“Yeah, you admitted you’re a jerk.” She snickers, enjoying that he’d fallen into her little trap. It was about time he got a taste of his own medicine.

“Boy… ‘Lech’? ‘Jerk’? I’m really starting to think you don’t want to be my girlfriend anymore, sweetheart. You’re breaking my heart.” He places one hand over his heart, acting like she is breaking it with how cruel she is treating him.

“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” She deadpans, not even acknowledging his exaggerations.

Straightening up slightly, removing his hand from his chest, Dwayne smirks. Enjoying the playful banter of theirs, more than he probably should. “And here I was hoping to prove what you said earlier wrong.”

“What I said earlier?” Charlie raises a brow in confusion. She had said a lot of things to him already tonight, so it really didn't narrow the field down all that much.

“Yeah, when you said I should stick to motorcycles. I’ve got the perfect place where I can prove you wrong.” Dwayne smiles at her, dropping his skateboard to the ground beside them.

“If that place leads to any more opportunities where you can plow me over on your skateboard again, I’ll pass.” Her gaze drops, watching the board bounce against the hard asphalt a few times before settling. Allowing Dwayne to prop one of his sneaker clad feet on the deck, rolling it back and forth underneath him methodically.

“Oh come on! You’re really gonna sit inside like an old fuddy duddy on a night like tonight? It’s beautiful out here! Come with me?” He raises his arms up in the air, gesturing to the beautiful clear night sky.

He had a point. It was the first night in several weeks where dark clouds didn't fill the entire sky, blocking the bright light from the moon.

“I’m tired." She lies. "I don’t know what you had to do all day but I had to work.” She retorts, slightly annoyed that he, along with his friends, never just accepted her answers.

“So you don’t even have anything planned?” He counters, ignoring her attempts to get out of joining him for the evening.

“Well, no… but-“

“Then… when you don’t have anything, you don’t have anything to lose. Right?” Shrugging his shoulders, Dwayne looks towards the alley entrance watching as a group of kids ran by.

“… Did you just quote Samantha from ‘Sixteen Candles’?” Charlie narrows her eyes as she fists her hands in the pockets of her jacket. Fiddling with the loose fabric like she always did when she was anxious.

“Fuck… should have known the video girl would catch that.” Turning his attention back to Charlie, Dwayne smiles. Secretly glad she picked up on his reference.

“Why do you know ‘Sixteen Candles’?”

He narrows his eyes at her, mimicking her own appearance. “I’ll tell you if you agree to go with me.”

Taking a small step back, Charlie looks at Dwayne contemplating the offer he gave to her. She could wager a guess as to why mister bad boy biker dude would know the lines from Sixteen Candles, and it wasn't because he thought the plot was meaningful. It was more likely that one of his boardwalk dates forced him into watching the romance movie and he went along with it in hopes to get some action afterwards. Charlie really wasn't in the mood to hear about his romantic endeavors, she got enough of that when Paul came into the store. Blabbing on and on about this attempts at winning over this week's hottest little number.

Instead Charlie had a better idea, one that might cause this bad boy to actually burst into flames.

A devious grin slowly spreads across her face, causing Dwayne to instantly quark a brow at her. "How about you take that hat you said you didn't steal to the lost and found, maybe prove you can be a decent human if you try." Tilting her head to the side, she carefully watches Dwayne's face for any signs he might outright refuse. "If you do that, I'll go with you."

Dwayne appears to contemplate her words briefly, taking his hands out of his pockets to cross his arms over his chest. Causing his leather jacket to pop open, exposing the fact he was still lacking a shirt underneath.

"Like I keep saying, babe, I didn't steal anything." Tipping his head, he causes the hat to fall off his head. Catching it quickly and giving it a theatrical twirl.

"Then it shouldn't be a problem to return it then?" Charlie counters, grabbing the hat from him and setting it on her head. "If you don't want to, I'm going to bed."

Scoffing, Dwayne takes the hat back from her possession. Stuffing it into the back pocket of his jeans. She wants him to turn it in? No problem, he never wanted the thing in the first place. "Fine, sweetheart." Gesturing with his hand towards the boardwalk, motioning for her to start walking. "Let's go return this hat, and be good citizens. Then I can finally show you a good time." He winks playfully.

Rolling her eyes, Charlie can't help but feel her lips turn up into a smile. "Whatever you say, D."

Without another thought, Charlie begins walking towards the mouth of the alley. Hearing Dwayne pushing off on his skateboard to keep pace with her. Thankfully for the both of them, the lost and found wasn't far from the VideoMax. Maybe a five minute walk, ten minutes if they got caught behind some obnoxiously slow tourists who needed to stop and take pictures every few feet.

Because of the summer hours the boardwalk has, the lost and found was most likely still open. So he was shit out of luck if he thought it was gonna be as easy as dropping it into a slot and carrying on his way.

Like expected it took the two of them no time at all to roll up to the office building that housed the lost and found. The light above the door was on and the neon 'open' sign flickered in the window in front of closed blinds. Dwayne kicks his skateboard up into his hand and without hesitation walks it over to the side of the building. Hiding it in the overgrown bushes in the planters that flanked the front windows.

Charlie gives Dwayne a skeptical side eye as she watches him wander over to the door to the main office building. Pulling the folded over hat out of his back pocket and looking at it briefly before turning to Charlie.

"Sure ya don't want it? Always dig a chick in uniform." He smirks at her knowing it was sure to rile her up even more so then she already is. He enjoyed how easy it was to frazzle her, and now that she is doing it again he realizes it’s the way she narrows her eyes and scrunches up her nose in annoyance that he finds kind of cute.

"I'll pass." She replies, crossing her arms over her chest.

Shrugging his shoulders, he turns back around and pushes open the door with the toe of his shoe "Your loss, sweetheart. But don't say I'm not a nice guy or nothing. You watched with your own eyes that I turned it in."

"You're one of the reasons it was lost to begin with." She sighs as she steps in behind him, knowing she was helplessly falling for his attempts to irritate her.

Smirking devilishly, Dwayne shrugs once again. "Arguing semantics like always, huh Char?"

She waves him off, knowing it was no use to fight him on it. "Fine, fine. You did good, very proud." She flashes him a thumbs up to emphasize her enthusiasm of him being a good citizen.

However she is caught off guard by a woman sitting behind the receptionist desk clearing her throat at them. She was an attractive middle aged woman with blonde hair pulled up into a high ponytail and breasts proudly on display in her low-cut top. Her lips painted with a dark red lipstick, and black smokey eyeshadow made her blue eyes pop behind her Buddy Holly glasses.

"Can I help you two?" She asks as she rises from her seat.

But Dwayne doesn't falter for a second, instead Charlie watches him saunter his way over to the counter. Resting one elbow on the edge as he leans towards the women, smiling handsomely. "You bet, gorgeous." He winks playfully, and Charlie nearly snorts out loud at the display. "Found this outside, figured someone may want it back." Extending his hand out, Dwayne holds the hat for the woman to take. "That's a sexy shade of lipstick, looks great on you." He adds as Charlie watches the woman's hardened face completely crumble into a fawning mess within seconds right before her eyes.

It was very impressive actually, it made sense now how the guys were able to get away with all the bullshit they pulled on the boardwalk every night. A few sweet words, a couple smoldering glances and any women in charge were eating out of the palm of their hands. Truly it’s a miracle that Charlie's resolve hasn't broken in half like that woman's with how often Dwayne tries those same tricks on her. Perhaps she had seen Marko and Paul do the same too often on the unsuspecting women on the boardwalk, she knew it was just a game to them. Dwayne doesn't mean any of what he’s saying, it's just a means to get what he wants from others. And when he’s joking around with Charlie it’s just a form of entertainment for him.

"It's my favorite, actually." The woman answers, taking the hat from his hand. Letting her finger linger against his own a little too long, giving him her best bedroom eyes.

"Should I, uh, leave you two alone? 'Cause I can," Charlie hooks her thumb over her shoulder as she backs up to the door. Not really interested in staying if they are going to continue down this path. She'd prefer to keep her dinner down.

Dwayne glances over in surprise and narrows his eyes at her. “You’re not getting away that easy. Just a second.” He looks back at the desk clerk and smiles. “Have a good night, miss.” He winks again and Charlie rolls her eyes, walking out the door quickly.

Dwayne tries to hurry out after her but the woman speaks up again.

“Julie.”

“What?” He spins around, caught off guard. Hand on the door, ready to leave so Charlie doesn’t get too far ahead of him. He knows she'll use the distance against him and retreat back to her apartment.

“It’s Julie.” She smiles sweetly, pointing at herself.

“Julie,” he repeats, “right.” He holds up two finger guns and a bright smile, feigning interest, before running out the door. Stopping only to pull his board free from the shrub he hid it in. “Hey, Charlie, wait!” Throwing down his board he races to catch up to her.

“Dwayne,” Charlie warns, not turning around as she walks down the boardwalk back towards the video store back towards the safety and solitude of her apartment. “If you run me over again so help me I will shove that board where the sun doesn’t shine!”

Rolling up next to her he shoves his hands in his jeans pockets and shrugs. "I hate to break it to ya, baby, but it's nighttime. That could be anywhere you want it to be."

Charlie doesn’t even have to look over at the brunette to know he is sporting a sly grin at his own comeback. So instead of glaring at him like she would usually do when he was up to his usual antics, she sticks her foot out to the side. Letting the toe of her shoe catch the front wheel of his skateboard, stopping it in its tracks almost instantly. Which sends Dwayne running forward off the front of the board from his momentum while the board goes flying backwards behind Charlie.

He stumbles ahead a few feet ungracefully, arms flailing to regain some of his balance and prevent him from eating pavement for the second time that evening. It’s actually the most ungraceful Charlie has ever seen him be with her own two eyes, he’s usually so composed. That fact leaves a smile on her face and causes a small chuckle to escape her lips. Serves him right for being such a flirt.

"What was that for!?" He shouts as he turns around seeing her trying to hide the smile tugging at the edge of her lips.

Shrugging her shoulders, she spins around and walks off after his skateboard. Slamming her foot down on the back, causing the front to pop up into her waiting hand like she had seen him do earlier. "What was that for? You know what it was for, D. You big perv."

"Perv? Baby, if I remember correctly, I wasn't the one to suggest sticking that board where the sun won't shine." Closing the distance between them, he reaches out to take his board back from her.

He gets close enough to see the glimmer of amusement in her eyes, despite how she typically reacts it seems she is having a good time with this banter. Dwayne loves to rile her up, but seeing her fight back is something he hadn't expected. He likes it, very much so. She can be feisty when she wants and Dwayne can’t help but think it’s a good look for her.

“Oh yeah?” She counters, holding his board just out of reach. “Well at least I wasn't flirting with someone old enough to be my mother."

"Speak for yourself..." he mumbles, straight-faced. If he could tell her his age Charlie would realize that woman is about one hundred years younger than him. But he isn’t about to spill his secret over something as small as this. No, instead he reaches for his board, faking like he is going to poke her again with his one hand so he can grip the board with the other and yank it from her hold while she tries to dodge him.

Having no clue that he’s been granted an extended stay on Earth, his statement makes her furrow her brow. Was that woman not old enough to be his mom? Comically, her first thought is to wonder if he looks younger than he really is. A surprisingly spot on assumption if only she knew that. Instead she tells herself that is unlikely considering the company he keeps. But then what else could he mean? Was it just a weird way of saying he has a thing for older women?

“You know, you’re free to go back to that clerk? If you’re really that interested, don’t let me get in the way of a good time,” she offers, testing her theory. But just as quickly as his odd expression appears it's replaced with his usual charming grin - usual around her it seems at least.

“Thanks, but no thanks,” he replies. “I’ve got a cutie right here who is obliged to keep me company now.” He nudges her shoulder playfully. “Speaking of! If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were trying to get rid of me. Are you trying to avoid seeing my gnarly shredding, and shirk on your end of our little bargain?”

“I’m… not… even sure I know what that means." She blinks at him and he laughs at her confusion. Happily holding his board up he wiggles it for emphasis. She sighs heavily once she puts two and two together. “You still want to prove you don’t suck at that?”

“That’s right, baby, I’m gonna show you I’m a pro. Maybe even teach you how to do a few tricks.”

"Fine, a deal is a deal, D. I would never renege. But I’ll pass on the tricks, I'm not that coordinated.” She says stoically as she places her hands into her pockets again, letting him turn her in the direction he needed them to head in.

“Aw come on, Char. Give it a chance. I promise I won't let you get hurt.”

“Can’t you just get one of your friends to skate with you while I sit and watch?” She says back to him watching as his shoulders droop in disappointment.

“What do you think I am, five?” He asks slightly offended. “No, come on.” He walks instep with her. “Please?” He says in earnest. “The rest of the guys never got into skateboarding. It’d be kind of nice to have someone around for a change.” Slowing to a stop she sighs as he comes to stand in front of her. “Please?” He tries one more time and, despite very much wanting to ignore him, the honest plea gets to her. Damn those eyes of his…

She glares up at him for a moment before growling in frustration and defeat.

“Fine. But no tricks, just teach me how to ride. Last thing I need is to explain a broken hand to Max."

“That worked?” He asks, surprised. “Wow.. I oughta try Paul’s sad puppy face more often. Hell of a lot easier than coming up with all of these damn pick up lines and shit!”

“Really?” Giving him an unamused look, Charlie sighs. She should have known he would try something like this to get his way.

“Come on, Char! Lighten up, will ya? It's gonna be fun, I promise. Live a little." He chuckles loudly, throwing down his board so he can scoop her up in his arms before she can try to get away. Ready to jump back on and ride back to his bike with her.

“Put me down, I swear to God, D!” She shouts nervously, seeing he was going to attempt to ride with her in his arms. After his earlier display of talent she wasn't in the mood to faceplant on the hard asphalt again with his full weight on top of her.

“Nope.” He responds, hoisting her a little higher in his arms so she’s more comfortable as he steps onto his board.

“D, put me down.” Charlie demands but, unlike his plea, hers seems to fall on deaf ears - as always.

“No can do, sweetheart. Like you said, deals a deal." He smirks down at her as he balances them on his board and pushes off, sending the two of them rolling forward.

“Dwayne!” She squeaks, feeling the momentum of their movement along with the warm summer air blowing against her face already.

“That’s the name, sweetheart. But if you're gonna yell it, could ya make it sound a little breathier? Maybe moan a little? Really turns me on.” With his fingers, he squeezes her side where he's holding her up against his chest. Enjoying the annoyed expression mixed with the look of pure terror on her face.

As if he was actually going to drop her. He could do a lot worse than that if he really wanted, but Dwayne was just enjoying her company far too much to give into that notion. Then there was the whole Max thing… speaking of.

“Put. Me. Down.” Charlie growls through gritted teeth and Dwayne sighs.

“I think Max is wearing off on you, you’re becoming a real killjoy.” He sticks a foot out, skidding the soul against the ground to slow them down enough where he is able to jump off the board. Setting her down on her feet in front of him. "Fine, I’m puttin’ you down. But I don’t want you to move a single muscle! Not one! You can wait here and I’ll get my bike ‘cause I’m taking you to my secret place so I can show you my stuff.”

Charlie makes a face. “Again - Perv.”

“Not that stuff! Skateboarding! Christ, you’re the one that needs to get her mind out of the gutter… I’d only show that stuff if you asked nicely.” He adds with a wink, lifting his arm up to push back a piece of her hair. Knowing she's more than likely to blush at how brazen he’s being.

“That's never happening." Running a hand through her hair she tries to rub away the slight tingling sensation she keeps getting when he plays with it, surprised at how excited Dwayne seems to be at the thought of skating with her. But she keeps her annoyed façade up, not needing him to know that she is a little intrigued about this secret spot he keeps mentioning. Afterall, it isn't like Dwayne to act like Paul and Marko, and that is exactly what he is doing now.

"We'll see, babe. One day I might break that iron will you seem to have." Stepping back onto his board with both feet, he balances precariously on the edge so he can rock back and forth. "No one can resist my charm forever and, last I checked, you really enjoy feeling me up." He outstretches his arms to show off his toned abs. Watching as her eyes roam across his body and the way they briefly hesitate when she spies the trail of hair leading under the waistband of his jeans - the very same one she seemed so fond of that first time riding with him.

"Just go get your bike, Casanova." Crossing her arms over her chest, Charlie swallows thickly. Really hoping the night doesn’t turn into him endlessly flirting with her.

Tag List: @readingafterdarkness @pitiful-anonymous-vampire @ilikechocolatemilkh @hopester08 @ninjettey @kuronovixenyami

#the lost boys #the lost boys 1987 #dwayne the lost boys #paul the lost boys #david the lost boys #marko the lost boys #lost boys #tlb 1987 #all the damn vampires #lost boys x reader #the lost boys x oc

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deliciousangelfestival · 3 years

Text

Epilogue

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youtube

Character: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

This is the epilogue from the series Loving Is You Too Difficult.

Song prompt that inspired me for this chapter is Alexander 23 - Loving You Gets Hard

Check on the previous chapter : Chap 1, Chap 2, Chap 3, Chap 4, Chapt 5, Chap 6, Chapt 7.

Masterlist

“It’s beautiful, daddy.”

Steve lifted his head from the sketchbook, then put down his pencil so he could pull Oliver, who stands behind him.

“Sshh… Not so loud, we don’t want to wake them.” Steve whispers.

“Opss.” Oliver made a gasp, and shocked face that made Steve’s heart fluttered with his son’s cuteness.

“I want to see.” Oliver point at his father’s sketchbook, which Steve happily gave him to see.

Oliver is admiring his father’s works. He looks upfront, seeing the model for his father.

On the couch, there’s you who fell asleep, and in your arms, there’s his one-year-old sister, Chloe, who also fell asleep.

Five years ago.

It was a difficult ride for Steve after you gave him a chance. You didn’t immediately start to open up your feeling towards him again.

Steve knew he must earn your trust again.

He followed you leaving the State after you are done dealing with Stark business.

You see how serious he is. His sincerity makes you start to warm up towards Steve.

Steve waited three years until he could hear you say ‘I love you’ to him again. He cried and got on his knees at that moment.

You flicked his forehead lightly, “Propose to me again in the most romantic way.”

Steve was utterly clueless at first, but he calls his backup Sam and Bucky to help him up.

It took five attempts until you said yes at the Eiffel Tower.

When you told your family, Rhodey immediately flew to see you. Steve was nervous to ask Rhodey for the blessing since he was always a brother figure to you. Rhodey shrugged his shoulder. “We’re okay now Rogers,” but then he wears his iron gloves and landed a punch on Steve’s face, he got a broken a nose because of that. Rhodey smirked “Oh, and Ross sends his regard.”

Steve and you plan for a simple wedding. He wanted to see you wearing the wedding dress.

On that day, you were breathtaking; his eyes couldn’t focus when Morgan walk first as the flower girl; behind her is you, who look so beautiful. He almost drops the ring when it’s to put it on your finger. Steve was super clumsy at the wedding.

After that day, the three of you become a complete family.

A year later, Steve got another blessing. He was over the moon when you told him you were pregnant. He was overjoyed because this time he could support you.

The moment his daughter Chloe Rogers was born, he couldn’t stop crying. He keeps saying thank you over and over again to you for giving him another greatest gift.

When Chloe is in his arms, she’s just perfect. He brings Oliver closer so he could see his little sister. Steve holds his children for a long time since he doesn’t want to let them go.

He almost lost this moment if he still stayed in his era. Steve is grateful he could come back and receive the last chance from you.

Steve stroked Ollie’s blonde hair, then get up to walks towards you; he bends down to kissed your cheeks and stroked Chloe’s chubby cheeks. He whispered, “My sweethearts.”

Steve finally home.

The end.

Fiuh, finally. The series is done. Thank you to all the readers who follow Loving You Is Too Difficult from the beginning until the end. Especially @lovely-geek and @kalopsia-flaneur. 😘

Request are open for this series. (Request for Alternate Ending?) But I don't accept any 18+ requests because I have no idea how to write them.

#Steve Rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #Steve Rogers x Female Reader #marvel #loving you is too difficult #Youtube

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flysafepapi · 3 years

Text

best interests (surprise, you’re human) 7/?

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Ollie x OFC John x platonic!OFC Tommy x platonic!OFC

tagging: @the-makingsofgreatness

Summary: Even in the short amount of time it’s been since Amelia moved to the city, she’s heard all sorts of stories about them. The Peaky Blinders. More than half of the stories, she suspects, are wildly exaggerated and little more than idle gossip traded when people are well into their cups. Even so, she made a promise to herself to stay away from men who looked like trouble, especially after the last time, and if anyone in this dreary city was trouble, it was them.

masterlist

“What time is it?”

“Early. Sun isn’t even up yet.”

Amelia has always been an early riser, and working nights at the warehouse hasn’t managed to break the habit yet. Usually she’d be up and making coffee already but it was freezing outside the mountain of blankets when she slipped out to use the bathroom, so she shuffles closer instead and doesn’t bother to try and stop the laughter that comes from Ollie when she presses her cold feet against his legs.

“Sorry, were they cold?”

“Carved from ice and you know it,” he grumbles, trying to hide his smile behind a faux frown, but he never was good at it. She likes these moments, when there’s no pressing issues and they can relax for however long it lasts; the way his hair looks before they have to get out of bed and start the day, the tangle of their legs, how he adjusts to wrap an arm around her when she shuffles closer to curl into him. “What time do you have to leave today?”

“Not until later. I’ll leave after lunch.”

“You could stay.”

“Do we have to do this again? After the wedding. I promise.”

She lets him take her hand between his and watches him rub his thumb along the ring on her finger. It’s a simple thing, just a gold band, but it’s the best thing anyone has ever given her in all her life.

“Only three months, yeah?”

“Three months and then you’ll see me so much you’ll get sick of me.”

“Pretty sure that’s impossible.”

“Remember that when you finally meet my brothers. They’ll be here next month sometime, according to their letters,” she says, flipping the blankets back and sitting up on the edge of the bed. The worst of the chill has faded away, thankfully, but it’s still cold enough that she shivers and reaches for the sweater thrown over the back of the armchair in the corner. “Hope you’re not easily scared off.”

It’s a Sunday so neither of them have anywhere they need to be and they rarely move from their seats at the small table in the kitchen, angled towards the woodfire stove for warmth, passing the hours quietly. It’s nice. Growing up, the house was never quiet, someone was always in and out at all hours, shouting and generally causing as much trouble as they could without the police taking notice. It’s still a novelty, sitting here with their books in a comfortable silence, one that she misses when she’s back in Birmingham during the weeks.

“I should get going, I want to be back before dark.”

“Drive safe, alright? Call and let me know that you got home safe.”

If it were anyone else, the words would’ve been irritating, but she knows it’s because he worries, not because he’s demanding to know where she is at all times.

“I’ll call as soon as I walk in the door.”

Well, that had been the plan, at least.

Amelia barely has enough time to get out of the car before another screeches to a stop beside her, and then she’s bundled in between John and Charlie for another car ride to god knows where. She has her suspicions, given the way Tommy won’t meet her eyes, but bites her tongue for the moment.

“He looks happy.” She moves to stand next to Tommy at the edges of the celebration, half hidden in the shadows, and they watch John on the other side of the fire dancing with Lizzie Stark. Amelia can count on one hand the amount of times she’s talked to the woman, but she seems nice. Lizzie says something, the words unknowable to her and Tommy from this distance, but whatever it was makes John laugh. “You don’t.”

It’s probably the least happy she’s ever seen Tommy, if she thinks about it, which is probably a record of some sort.

“You should be smiling. It’s your wedding, after all.”

“You knew about them.” Tommy gestures towards John and Lizzie with his head. “That’s why you wouldn’t help me unless I let him make his own choices.”

“I did. But that’s not why I did it.”

“And why would that be?”

“You can control everyone else all you want, but when you start doing that to your family, you can’t come back from that. They’re your brothers, not bargaining chips.”

She feels him sigh more than she hears it, lost in the cheers and laughter from the crowds milling around, already well on their way to what are going to be truly impressive hangovers when they wake up tomorrow morning.

“I’m surprised you let me come at all. Family business, that’s what John said when I asked where we were going. I’m not family.”

“You’re here, aren’t you? And you’re right. He should be allowed to make his own mistakes, if that’s how it ends.”

It’s not a full smile, the look he gives her when she links her arm with his and leads him forward, away from the shadows and towards the fire, but it’s almost there. It’s alright, she can keep trying.

“I knew there was a heart somewhere inside there, Tommy Shelby. Guess you’re just as human as the rest of us.”

Whatever he opens his mouth to say next is cut off by Polly ordering Arthur to take Ada to the car, and Amelia looks down at the dirt, just barely visible in the shifting fire light. The ground under Ada’s feet is darker, wet with something, and Amelia sighs.

“Oh, hell.”

~~~

“What do you need me to do?”

She is completely, utterly out of her depth here. Sure, she’s got nieces, but she was never in the room when they were coming into the world. Thankfully, Polly and Esme seem to know what they’re doing, and she just slips in and out of the room to grab whatever Polly tells her they need. Towels, clean water, pillows.

On her third trip back out, she almost runs directly into Freddie.

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

Amelia likes Freddie. He’s a little unrealistic with his thoughts on how he thinks the world should be, sure, but there’s never been any particular reason to dislike him. She’d rather cut her right arm off than get together with any of her brother’s friends, so she can’t say she understands why Ada chose him, but she’s not going to judge.

“I’m not going to miss this. Not even because Tommy Shelby said so.”

Men. She shoves the bucket of water into his chest and watches him scramble not to drop it. “Go on, then. I’ll take your place at the Garrison.”

By the time Polly storms in, she’s already well on her way to finishing the bottle of rum John had grabbed from behind the bar, and flinches a little when the sound of a slap echoes through the pub.

“What’s going on?”

“Are you going to tell them, or should I? About how the police knew exactly where to find Freddie tonight?”

“Polly-”

“What?”

She knows that, unlike the others, Polly has never really liked her. Whether it’s because she’s a stranger that came out of nowhere, or because she thinks it’s a little suspicious how quickly Amelia has gotten herself involved with the business. Maybe it’s just because Amelia Johnson doesn’t exist and it’s just the identity she’d created on the boat ride over from New York. Whatever the reason is, she glares at Amelia when she speaks up.

“It couldn’t have been Tommy.”

“What?”

“The phone in the office hasn’t been working for the last few days, how could he have called the police to tip them off? He wouldn’t have had the time to go somewhere else, Arthur and John have been with him since Ada’s water broke.”

“Then who-”

Out of the corner of her eye, Amelia notices Grace bowing her head, suddenly occupied with something behind the bar. Of course. She should have realised something wasn’t right when Grace had come back from next door, stuttering through an explanation about calling her family.

Amelia turns to face her and leans against the bar, raising an eyebrow.

“So, Grace. Are you going to tell them, or should I? About how the police knew exactly where to find Freddie tonight?”

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midnightprelude · 4 years

Text

For @14daysdalovers from @oftachancer and I!

Pairing: F!Lavellan x Cassandra Pentaghast Rated: Teen Prompt: Ask me to stay Word Count: 2,043 Read here or on AO3!

Cassandra

It was the middle of winter, but she was sweating. Her fingers ached but she pressed anyway, wedging into the tight crevice-

“Oh, Creators,” she heard Lyanna sigh and she smiled. Worth it.

Cassandra leaned up on her elbows from the floor, setting the screwdriver to the side. It had taken them the better part of a week to transform what had once been Dorian’s room in the flat into a nursery. Lyanna’s cousin had left wood shavings all over her living room, hauling lumber up into the flat and sculpting it into the parts for a rocking chair and the crib that could connect and separate for the twins. Cassandra had spent her off hours from the office painting the walls, then installing soft-edged dimmable sconces and baby monitors and cloth mobiles, before child-proofing everything she could get her hands on.

“I think she likes it, eh,” Esha grinned.

Cassandra watched Lyanna pressing her fingers to her lips. “You weren’t supposed to see it until we were finished,” she chided softly, climbing to her feet. The room felt like a small forest. Warm wood and green walls. Shelves that looked like branches and clouds.

Cassandra set the screwdriver into her toolkit, wiping her hands off on her jeans, grateful for the summer lightness of the tank top. Outside, there would be snow in a few days, but in this room, it was warm from their labor.

“You- It’s-“ Lyanna glanced between the two of them, wrinkling her nose and wringing her hands. She was seven months into her pregnancy and looked as though she’d stuffed a watermelon under her shirt, the bulge stark against her thin frame. “It’s wonderful. You- All of this? You did all of this yourselves?”

“See,” Esha crossed his arms, leaning over the hand-made crib. “I told you we could have sprung for strippers.”

Cassandra snorted softly. “Yes,” she answered. “But if there’s anything you don’t like, we can change it. There’s time.”

“No,” Lyanna’s voice was shaking as she crossed to Cassandra, pressing her cheek to her shoulder blade, belly pressing up against her back. “No, Cass, it’s perfect. It’s so- Creators, are all of those toys handmade?”

“Your cousin,” Cassandra mumbled, “insisted that his kin shouldn’t be saddled with ‘shem corporatism’.” Only a few months before, Lyanna had been able to press flush against her. Now Cassandra could sometimes feel the twins kick her in the spine when they slept. Her tiny lover was a big spoon no matter the size of her belly. “It’s fortunate my uncle insisted I learn to sew.”

“It is fortunate,” Lyanna chuckled, nuzzling her nose against Cassandra’s back.

“The blocks are my doing,” Olivier’s voice called from the doorway, laden with takeaway boxes and bags. “Well, with some help. The tour bus was covered in sawdust for weeks, nearly sent Ril into a conniption.”

“Nearly,” Esha laughed. “If that was nearly, I’m genuinely afraid of what a real conniption looks like. He made me clean his harp with a toothbrush.” He grinned, resting his chin on his arms. “I thought for sure you’d spill the beans, but she looks genuinely surprised. Well done.”

“We can always get less lopsided stuffed animals when they leave,” Cassandra murmured, wrapping her arms back around Lyanna.

“Lopsided is perfect,” she chuckled, “I love them, each and every one.”

The words sent a curl of warmth through Cassandra’s core; she felt a smile curve her lips before she bit the inside of her cheek to control it. “Good.” She took a breath. “That’s good to hear.” She glanced across the room to find Lyanna’s cousin smirking. “Go away.”

“You’re welcome.” Esha hugged Lyanna on his way out the door. “Proud of you, asa'var'lin.”

“If I find either of you listening at the door, you’ll be in trouble,” Lyanna lifted her brows, kissing Esha’s forehead. “Save some food for the pregnant woman. The pickled onions in particular.”

“Those you can have,” he laughed, slipping out the door. “Ollie, she says she wants us to eat all the pickled onions!”

Cassandra rolled her eyes, uttering a sigh. “He talks so much.”

“He does,” Lyanna laughed brightly. “How long have you two been at this without me realizing?”

“Since they came to Val Royeaux for their tour.” Cassandra turned to wrap her arms around Lyanna, kissing her cheek. “The planning, in any case. We worked on some of it separately and pulled it all together in the last week.” She leaned back, studying Lyanna’s upturned face. Her sharp chin and kissable nose and pleasure warmed cheeks and bright, brilliant eyes. “I wasn’t sure which room it would be, but when Dorian elected to take the other lease… He loaned me his key so I could sneak in and take measurements while you were at work. You really didn’t suspect anything?”

“Well, perhaps something,” Lyanna admitted with a grin. “You’re not a very convincing liar.”

Cassandra shook her head. “You’re right. I’ve never really seen the point of pretending to do or be something that I’m not. But I wanted to do this for you, and I had a feeling if we told you, you would be on your hands and knees putting furniture together and breathing paint fumes. It’s alright?”

“More than,” Lyanna lifted on her toes to brush their lips together, eyes as green and shimmering as the freshly painted walls. “You know me too well. I love everything you’ve done, and that you did it with Esha and Olivier, and most of all…” She grinned, squeezing Cassandra’s hands. “Most of all, I love you. That you wish to be a part of not only my life, but theirs. It means everything.”

“I do,” she lifted Lyanna’s hands to her lips, kissing her fingers. “I want to, very much.” Cassandra cleared her throat. “It’s- I want to be with you for all of it. I’m aware it’s only been a few months, but this - us - Sometimes I can barely remember what it was like not to share my life with you.”

“What are you saying?” Lyanna lifted her brows, tilting her head curiously. “Of course you can be there.”

“I like making your tea in the mornings. I enjoy driving you to work and talking with you at the end of each day.” Cassandra brushed her thumbs over Lyanna’s fingers. “I miss you when we sleep apart. And when the twins come- I want to be able to help you with them. Not drive halfway across the city at odd hours. I want- I want to be with you. If that’s what you want.”

“You want to-“ Lyanna blinked, her brow furrowing. “Here? With… You’ll never get any sleep, once they come. At least I can take leave, for a time.”

“You forget I’ve raised multiple puppies. I’m more prepared for midnight feedings and sleepless nights than you are.” Cassandra watched her carefully. “Let me worry about what I want and what I can handle. What matters is whether or not you want me here. You don’t have to make a decision now. I only wanted you to know where I am, so you can consider it.”

Lyanna nodded, wringing her hands. “You wish to stay here. You want to-“ She closed her eyes, massaging her brows. “I didn’t realize you wished to- I hadn’t considered you might-“ Lyanna met Cassandra’s gaze, steady and serious. “Yes. So long as you keep your flat, at least for a while. In case… In case you decide it’s too much and want some space. Yes. Yes, if you’re sure.”

“You remember that I come with three appendages?” Cassandra thumbed her cheek. “It’s alright if I bring them here?”

“Please do,” she chuckled, “now that Dorian has officially moved out, we shouldn’t need to worry about allergies. I like waking up to a cold nose or a furry bum in my face in the morning.”

“I know you do, but also I have the dogs and the cat.” Cassandra bit the inside of her lip. “I wouldn’t go so far as to call my bum furry.”

“No, but Valentina’s is,” Lyanna rolled her eyes. “Fenedhis, I was speaking about your pets.”

“Oh, was that what you were doing?” Cassandra murmured innocently, trying to ignore the heat working its way up her neck into her cheeks. “So I shouldn’t try waking you with my bum in your face? Fuzzy. I would accept fuzzy. Like a peach. Yours is.”

“Mine is-“ Lyanna sniffed, crossing her arms at her chest. “What exactly are you getting at?”

Cassandra smiled despite herself. Somehow in a matter of months, she’d gone from fearing those consternated expressions to wanting to kiss Lyanna every time her nose wrinkled. “I love you,” she chuckled, smoothing her hands down Lyanna’s arms. “And I want to live with you and blend our lives and argue with you every day and every night about ridiculous things like how much I love your body. I want your children to grow up with Valentina and Alexei and Czyzy nuzzling them and giving them unconditional love and hopefully distracting them from the rabbit I made that has one ear shorter than the other.”

Lyanna seemed to melt before her, her features softening before her. She pressed her forehead against Cassandra’s shoulder, sighing as she wrapped her arms as tightly around her as she could manage. “Then stay,” she murmured, tilting her chin up to meet Cassandra’s gaze. “Stay. If you’re certain, I want you to stay.”

“I’m certain,” Cassandra kissed her forehead gently. “And I’ll keep my flat in case you change your mind. Until you realize you won’t.”

“I can start making room for you in my closet. You’ll need somewhere for all of those suits of yours.” Lyanna closed her eyes and stood still for a moment, arms wrapped around Cassandra’s shoulders. “I think I can have things sorted here by next weekend.”

“I can have things sorted,” Cassandra held her close. “You can tell me what to do and put your feet up while you eat pickled onions.”

“You are always sorting other people’s problems,” Lyanna leaned up to kiss her, lingering over her lips as her hands trailed down her back. “Just let me have this one little thing, make myself useful. And then I’ll have pickled onions and ice cream.”

That had been one of the most horrifying things Cassandra had ever witnessed. “You’re very useful.” She kissed her cheek. “And very beautiful.” She kissed her other cheek. “And very edible, somehow, despite all the onions.”

“They’re delicious,” Lyanna tutted, nudging her with her nose “I only just realized. The doctor says I need more salt. I won’t be distracted from my task by sweet nothings, though. I need to sift through my own belongings. Perhaps there are things I might not want you to find!”

“Like what?” Cassandra kissed her nose. “Your collection of bawdy magazines? I found those ages ago.”

“What?” Lyanna reddened, wrinkling her nose. “I don’t even have- Oh. Actually, I might. You were snooping, though.”

“I wasn’t snooping,” Cassandra laughed. “I was trying to find where you’d put your gray sweatshirt. It’s the only one that fits me.” She skimmed her hands down Lyanna’s sides. “One more reason it would be nice to have some of my things here.”

“Yes. Infinite sweaters and tee shirts for me to steal,” Lyanna chuckled, “though even those are getting a bit tight around the middle. Why don’t we eat and then we can clear out my room together?” She tilted her head. “Suitable compromise?”

“Yes.” Cassandra skimmed her fingers across a fallen bright red curl, tucking it back behind Lyanna’s ear. “You’re beautiful. Truly, wonderfully beautiful. I like the way you look, tight shirts and all.” She smiled, heat idling up her neck to her cheeks. “I like the way you look when sweaters stretch over you. I like the way you look when you’re slurping onions like a madwoman. I like you.”

“You’re terribly, horribly biased,” Lyanna rolled her eyes, wrapping her arms around Cassandra’s shoulders and stepping backwards from the room, fumbling with the doorknob behind her. “And I’m very glad you are.”

Cassandra kissed her temple as they headed down the hall. “As am I.”

#14DALovers #cassandra pentaghast #lyanna lavellan #cassandra x f!inquisitor #modern au #ask me to stay #midnight writes #oftachancer writes

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tw-anchor · 4 years

Text

28. Deucalion and the Darach

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 3x04; Unleashed

Word Count: 8,853

Warning(s): Mature language, canon violence + gore, talk of sex, blood

Author’s Note: Stiles teams up with Lydia to do some investigating and Olivia has her first real interaction with Deucalion and the alpha pack. Hope you enjoy! Make sure you tell me what you think! Reblog and like!

Story Masterlist in Pinned Post!

"I looked everywhere. It's like he just walked away," Scott told Stiles. "He left his car and his dog."

As soon as Stiles and Scott walked into the boys' locker room to get ready for cross country practice—which was mandatory for lacrosse players, who needed to stay in shape during the fall—Scott had started to tell Stiles about the previous night at work. Apparently, a senior that was on the football team, Kyle, had come in with his little dog. After they left, Scott was taking out the trash when he heard the dog barking. Kyle was nowhere to be found.

Stiles nodded shakily as he slipped on his gray hoodie over his practice uniform. "Okay. Was he, like...could he have been a virgin maybe? Did he look like a virgin? Was he, you know virginal?"

"No, definitely not," Scott pulled on his own sweatshirt, a giddy smile on his face. "Deaton makes me have sex with all of his clients. It's a new policy."

Normally, Stiles would have laughed at Scott's joke because they were few and far between. This wasn't a normal situation, though. He might not be a virgin but the love of his life, his girlfriend, was. There were already three virgins dead, so if Kyle was a virgin, too, the rest of them in Beacon High were screwed—and not in a good way.

Scott sighed when he saw the blank look Stiles was giving him. "No, I don't know if he was a virgin," he told his best friend. "And why are you talking like he's already dead? He's just missing."

"Missing and presumed dead because he's probably a virgin, Scott," Stiles didn't know how much simpler his explanation could get. "You know who else is a virgin? My girlfriend, all right? Her lack of sexual experience is now literally a threat to her life. And you know who keeps putting sex off? Me because I'm an idiot who wants her first time to be special."

The locker a few down from them was slammed shut by Danny. He turned to face them, stating, "I know a guy who would—"

"Don't be a dick, Danny," Stiles stopped him before he could finish his statement.

No one was going to have sex with Olivia but him, thank you very much.

As Danny shrugged and walked off to talk to one of his friends on the team, Scott raised an eyebrow at Stiles. "Have you told Liv that, you know...you're not a—"

"No, I haven't," Stiles huffed, frustrated with himself. "And I'm a total hypocrite because I told her that we shouldn't lie to each other but I—I don't know how to bring it up."

"You don't have to tell her."

"Yeah," Stiles shook his head at Scott's suggestion. "I do."

"Mr. Lahey!" Coach called as Isaac scurried into the locker room fifteen minutes late. "Happy to have you back. Not happy that you're late."

"Sorry, Coach," Isaac mumbled as he went to his locker, only a few away from Stiles and Scott; they both nodded at him in greeting.

Coach shook his head and addressed the boys' team. "I'll remind you all, cross-country is not optional for lacrosse players. I don't need you turning into a bunch of fat-asses in the off-season," he paused as Isaac and Danny took off their shirts, both of them fit. "So work on that."

Five minutes later, Stiles, Scott, Isaac, and the other members of the team were lining up outside of the mini cross-country trail behind the school. Stiles and Scott settled at the back of the group and waited for Coach to blow his whistle, allowing them to start running.

Coach blew his whistle and everyone took off. "Pace yourselves! Come on!"

Stiles started jogging beside Scott but both of them stopped by Isaac, who hadn't started running and was still on one knee where he had been tying his shoe. Just as he was about to start sprinting, Scott grabbed his shoulder. "Isaac!"

Isaac turned to face them, an angry look on his face. "It's them."

Before Stiles could even ask who 'they' were, Isaac ripped himself away from Scott and took off.

"Isaac, wait!"

Stiles shrugged and started jogging, watching as Scott started running after Isaac. He settled into pace, grateful that he had always been a natural runner, and soon overtook some of his teammates. Soon, he fell in pace with one of his classmates.

Riley was trying cross-country out for some type of extra-curricular besides student government but she wasn't used to running a mile or more at a time. She was asthmatic, her inhaler clutched tightly in her hand, and she usually took an aerobics class every Saturday. Yes, she told him all of that while he ran beside her, voice breathless because of her light wheezing.

Eventually, she started slowing down.

"I need to take a break," she wheezed as she veered off the path, pressing her inhaler to her mouth.

Stiles didn't feel right just leaving her to work through her asthma attack—or rather, the start of one—so he stopped with her. It looked like her asthma was stronger than Scott's had been; her face was stark white as she stumbled toward a tree to sit against until she felt better.

Stiles followed her and stood still when he saw the body tied against the tree in front of them. Like the others, it looked as though the guy had been strangled, had his throat slit, and his head bashed in. Another three-fold death, another sacrifice.

Riley saw the body and only took a second to let out a high-pitched scream. Within minutes, the rest of the team was gathered around the body and the police were called. Stiles barely looked away from the body as Scott and Isaac ran up to his side.

Stiles looked away from the body to glance at Scott. "It's him, isn't it?"

Scott, who was looking at the body in horror, nodded slightly.

The body was Kyle, the guy who went missing from the animal clinic the night before.

"Hey, get out of the way. Get back," Noah burst through the teenagers forming a circle around Kyle's body, Deputy Tara right on his heels. He got to the tree where Stiles was hovering, trying to get a better look at Kyle's injuries, and turned back to Tara. "Get this area cordoned off before they trample every piece of evidence."

Deputy Tara immediately got to work. "Back up!" she raised her voice to get everyone's attention. "Everyone back!"

Noah gently pushed Stiles away from the body. "Get these kids out of here!"

Stiles slapped away his father's hand and stepped back toward the body. "Dad, look. It's the same as the others, you see?"

Noah looked at him firmly yet calmly. "Yeah, I see that. Do me a favor and go back to school, yeah?" he turned way to address Coach. "Coach, can you give us a hand here?"

"You heard the man," Coach called out to his students. "Nothing to see here. It's probably just some homeless kid."

Stiles stared at him in disbelief while Scott sighed, "Coach."

Coach turned to him. "Yeah?"

"He was a senior."

"Oh," Coach sighed sadly, holding his fish against his mouth. "He wasn't on the team, was he?"

Stiles rolled his eyes just as Kyle's girlfriend, Ashley, came sprinting up to the tree, already crying. She took one look at the body and screamed in grief, a heartbreaking look on her face as sobs broke through her chest. Deputy Tara grabbed her before she could get to Kyle's body and held her tightly as she broke down into hysterics.

Noah pushed against his chest, quietly urging him, Scott, and Isaac to get back to the school. The three of them walked away solemnly, all of them feeling bad for Kyle and Ashley.

"You see the way the twins looked at him?" Isaac asked as they left the group surrounding Kyle's body.

Stiles remembered the look that the alpha twins had given the body and it seemed more like shock than anything else. "Yeah, you mean like they had no idea what happened?"

"No," Isaac said determinedly. "No, they knew."

"The kid was strangled with a garrote, all right?" Stiles spoke with exasperation. "Am I the only one recognizing the lack of 'werewolfitude' in these murders?"

As they came to stop only twenty or so feet away from the crime scene, Isaac faced Stiles with a look of disbelief. "Oh, you think it's a coincidence they turn up and then people start dying?"

"Well, no, but I still don't think it's them."

Both of them turned to Scott, who had been way too quiet for their tastes. "Scott?" Isaac grabbed his attention. "How about you?"

Stiles crossed his arms over his chest expectantly, waiting for Scott to be on his side, only for him to be disappointed.

"I don't know yet."

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "You don't know yet?"

Scott shrugged and nodded toward Isaac. "Well, he's got a point. Seriously, dude, human sacrifices?"

Now Stiles knew what betrayal really felt like. How could Scott—his very best friend, his brother—agree with Isaac over him? His theory was so sound yet he choice to agree with Isaac, when he had only known him for what, six months? He and Stiles had been friends for a decade.

"Scott, your eyes turned into yellow glow sticks, okay?" he was more than a little huffy. "Hair literally grows from your cheeks and then will immediately disappear, and if I were stab you right now, it would just magically heal but you're telling me that you're having trouble grasping human sacrifices?!"

"That's a good point, too," Scott sighed, looking at Isaac; Stiles nodded in satisfaction.

"I don't care," Isaac stated firmly. "They killed that kid, they killed the girl that saved me. I'm gonna kill them, too."

Ollie: How's Cora doing?

Derek: She's still healing

Olivia raised her eyebrows in surprise, only glancing away from her phone for a second to see if Mr. Harris had turned away from the board; he hadn't.

Ollie: She's actually staying still?

Cora had always been an active child. When they were little, she couldn't count the amount of times Cora asked her to play tag, hide the flag, or go on runs. She had always exhausted Olivia, who wasn't the type to just run around for fun.

Derek: I didn't say that

Olivia huffed silently in amusement and slid her phone back into her leather satchel to turn her attention back to Harris' lecture—of which she had already knew.

"All right," Mr. Harris finished writing on the board and turned to face the class. "since inertia is a subject of which you all know plenty, why don't we start with momentum?"

"Isaac," Scott whispered from behind her and Isaac, who was sitting next to her. For some reason, Stiles was mysteriously missing from his seat beside him. "they're here for a reason. Give me a chance to figure it out before you do anything, okay?"

Apparently the boys had quite the cross-country practice that morning. Stiles and some girl on his team had found a senior's dead body and from the quick explanation that Stiles gave her before he went running off, he had been killed by a three-fold death. Another sacrifice; she wasn't going to lie, it scared the shit out of her.

Olivia glanced at Isaac to see if he was going to agree with Scott but jumped when Mr. Harris got her attention.

"Olivia," she looked over at him to see that he was starting at her expectantly. "what do we know about momentum?"

"It's a product of mass and velocity," Olivia answered easily; this was her thing, after all. "The more massive something is, the faster it's going—"

"Mr. Harris," Isaac interrupted her in order to get the teacher's attention. "can I use the bathroom, please?"

Olivia gave him a half-irritated and half-curious look. Why did he need to go to the bathroom so urgently? She quickly figured it out; he wanted to go after the alpha twins.

Mr. Harris sighed and gestured toward the door. Isaac quickly got to his feet and walked out of the classroom.

Scott rose from his own seat. "I have to go to the bathroom too."

"One at a time," Mr. Harris reminded him of the school-wide rule. The rule was supposed to cut down on hook-ups and smoking or whatever it was that students did while skipping class but she didn't know if it actually worked. The only time she had skipped class was when Stiles was trying to teach Scott control.

"But I really have to go," Scott said urgently as Olivia grimaced, nervous about what Isaac was going to do. "Like, medical emergency have-to-go."

Mr. Harris stiffened and Olivia just knew that he was going to rant. She was right.

"Mr. McCall, if your bladder suddenly exploded and urine began to pour from every orifice, I would still respond with one at a time," despite Mr. Harris' irritation, he kept his voice calm. "Is that enough hyperbole for you or would you like me to come up with something more vivid?"

"No," Scott quickly sat in his seat. "That's pretty good."

All of a sudden, everyone in the classroom heard a huge bang come from the lockers on the other side of the wall. Mr. Harris made his way over to the door and the rest of the class followed him. Olivia and Scott stuck together as they pushed past their classmates in order to see what was going on.

Isaac stood in the middle of the hallway with one of the alpha twins at his feet, beaten up and bloody. Olivia's attention was immediately captured by the other twin, who was casually turning into another hallway; she quickly nudged Scott and nodded at him and his face lit up in realization. It was clear—to them, at least—that Isaac hadn't done anything to the twin at his feet. No, the alphas were trying to get Isaac into trouble.

And it worked.

"Isaac, what the hell did you do?" Mr. Harris asked him angrily. Before Isaac even had a chance to explain, he added, "You'll be seeing me at lunch detention."

They all went back to class and before long, they were at break. Olivia and Scott escorted Isaac out of the room, Olivia holding onto his arm tightly so that he wouldn't lose control.

"Don't let it bother you. It's just lunchtime detention," Scott said as they came to a stop by Isaac's locker. "If all they want right now is to piss you off, then don't give in. They're just trying to get to you."

Isaac paused, his eyes down the hallway. "It's not just me."

Olivia and Scott followed his gaze and saw that one of the twins—the one who hadn't got beaten up—was chatting up Lydia. They watched as he smiled flirtatiously at her until she closed her locker and leaned against it before playfully patting his chest.

Olivia pressed her lips together, displeased. Lydia was her own person and everything but Olivia didn't want her cousin fooling around with someone as dangerous as an alpha who could conjoin bodies with his brother and had a hand in killing Erica.

"Now they're getting to you," Isaac commented to Scott.

Olivia stormed away from Scott and Isaac and made her way down the hall to where Lydia and the alpha were still talking.

"Lydia," she took her cousin's attention away from the twin. "we need to talk."

"We were kind of in the middle of something," the alpha douche objected as Lydia nodded at her.

"Were you?" she asked sarcastically.

"Aiden, here, was offering to help me study," Lydia raised an eyebrow at Olivia, as if to say 'get a load of this guy'.

"Really?" Olivia looked back to Aiden. "You have an IQ higher than 170?" when Aiden faltered, she continued, "No? Didn't think so. Scram."

Aiden narrowed his eyes at her and even though he could rip her apart and it did kind of freak her out, she raised her chin, meeting his gaze head-on. She wasn't going to back down.

"I'll see you later, Aiden," Lydia dismissed him.

Aiden huffed and sent Olivia one last glare before walking away.

Lydia turned to Olivia once he had walked out of the hallway. "What was that about?"

"Lydia, he's one of the alphas," she told her cousin, watching as realization dawned on her face. "Yeah."

"The one that can conjoin...?"

"Yep."

"Shit," Lydia sighed in disappointment. "but he's so hot."

Olivia didn't agree but she and Lydia had always had different taste in guys.

"Sorry—"

Olivia instantly cut herself off as a tingling sensation started in her belly and a flash of Derek's loft came and went quickly as her head and ears started to ache from the intent voices spinning through her mind.

Derek, Derek, Derek. He's in trouble. He's going to die. Derek, Derek, Derek.

She gasped sharply as she came back to reality, noticing that Lydia was giving her a worried look.

"Liv, are you okay?"

"Uh, yeah," Olivia answered distractedly. "I have to go to Derek's."

Lydia furrowed her eyebrows. "What? It's not even lunch yet."

"Yeah, I know," her vision was flashing between normal and purple; she had to get out of there. "I'll, uh, I'll see you later."

She turned away from Lydia and marched out of the school, ignoring the surprised looks that Scott and Isaac were giving her. She quickly got into her car and set to Derek's loft. He was in trouble and if she had to guess, it was the alpha pack who was responsible.

Stiles peered over the windowsill that allowed him to look into the main office. He could clearly see his dad and Deputy Tara asking Kyle's girlfriend, Ashley, if she knew anything that could help them investigate his death. He waited, trying to listen and gain as much information about Kyle's death as he could—the walls weren't good at keeping out voices, which was a concern for the school—and there were some things he found helpful.

But he still needed to know if Kyle was a virgin.

He waited until Tara had Ashley wait outside of the office while she conferred with Noah to go up to Ashley and speak to her.

"Um, hi, Ashley," he greeted her hesitantly, reminding himself to have tact; she looked at him unsurely. "Can I talk to you for just one sec?"

After she nodded silently, he gently moved her so his dad nor Tara could hear what he was going to ask her. He was going to Hell for it, he didn't need to get into trouble with his dad, too.

"I just need to ask you something really quick and it's gonna sound really unbelievably insensitive, so I apologize in advance," he cringed and took a deep breath. "Um, was Kyle a virgin?"

Ashley jerked her head a little, surprised. "What?"

"Your boyfriend," Stiles said patiently. "was he a virgin or did you guys, you know, have sex—"

Stiles was cut off by a harsh slap in the face. His head turned to the side, he blinked in shock while his left cheek stung from the force of Ashley's slap.

Yeah, I deserved that, he thought to himself.

He looked back at Ashley, about to serve her an apology, but she was being whisked away by Deputy Tara, who was giving him a look of disapproval. They were only a few feet away from him when Ashely turned back to him.

"No, he wasn't a virgin."

Her answer had his mind racing. There were only three virgin sacrifices then, which made everything all the more confusing. Then again, the number three did have a bunch of meanings, especially for ancient civilizations. Maybe that could be something to go on...

"Have you completely lost your mind?" his dad's voice brought him out of his head. Stiles took one look at his father's angry expression and bowed his head, scratching his nose unsurely. "I've got four murders, Stiles. You see those men in there? That's the FBI. They're pulling together a task force to help because it looks like we've got a full-blown serial killer on our hands. You get that?"

Stiles pressed his lips together, trying not to get angry in response. "Yes, Dad, I get that."

"Then what are you doing?"

He hesitated for a moment. "I'm trying to find a pattern."

And right now, all he had were three virgins and Kyle to go on.

His dad wasn't pleased with his answer but he didn't yell at him again, either, so that was a plus. With another disappointed look—which Stiles was more than used to by now—Noah was on his way and Stiles had to get back to school. Thankfully, the juniors were on lunch break so he had time to visit Kyle's locker, where a memorial of sorts was set up for him.

Kyle's locker was covered in brown paper so that his friends and classmates could write messages to him and put up any pictures they might have had with him. He read through the messages, each one of them a memory of the person of Kyle. Though Stiles knew Kyle because he was an athlete and they went to the same school fundraisers and stuff but he hadn't known him very well. He seemed like a cool guy and the memories on his locker supported that.

Stiles stepped back from the locker as Boyd came over and clipped a blue card with the ROTC emblem on it to the brown paper.

"Hey, Boyd," Stiles nodded at him in surprise. "I didn't know you were back at school."

Olivia didn't tell him anything about it. She had said that Cora, her cousin who came back from the dead—which was really confusing, by the way—was still healing but nothing about Boyd.

"Yeah, I would have told you but we're not actually friends," Boyd stated.

Ouch.

"Oh, yeah," Stiles blinked awkwardly and hurried to move on. "Hey, so did you, uh—so did you know Kyle?"

"Yeah," Boyd nodded, looking back at Kyle's locker with a solemn look on his face. "we were in Junior ROTC together."

"So, you two were friends, then?"

"I only had one friend. She's dead too."

Boyd quickly walked off after that, leaving Stiles to look back at Kyle's locker unsurely. He took another minute to study it for any hints that might have led Kyle to his murder before turning to walk away.

While he walked through the hallways to his locker, he pulled out his phone to call Olivia. She didn't answer, even after three calls. It concerned him, because she should be at lunch just like he was and she usually looked through her phone while eating. She wouldn't just ignore his calls since they had made up and apologized to each other about the fight they had the week before.

He was about to call her a fourth time when he spotted Lydia at her locker, down the hall from his. He quickly made his way over to her, ignoring the annoyed look she shot him when he popped up next to her.

"Hey, have you heard from Olivia?" he asked her while shooting a few texts to his girlfriend.

Sweetcheeks: Hey, where are you?

Sweetcheeks: Why are you ignoring my calls?

Sweetcheeks: Are you okay?

"She went to Derek's," Lydia told him as she grabbed her textbook for her next class. "She had an episode."

"She did?" he asked worriedly. "Did she say what was wrong?"

"Nope."

"And you didn't go after her?"

"Nope."

Stiles scoffed in disbelief. "Why not? You know she's all out of whack when she has her episodes. Aren't you a little worried about what was so wrong with Derek that she had an episode in the first place?"

Lydia shrugged, frowning slightly. "Scott didn't seem worried."

Stiles rolled his eyes and messaged Olivia again.

Sweetcheeks: Do you need me to come to Derek's?

He was in the middle of an investigation but he would drop it for her, especially if she was in any danger.

His phone dinged:

Livvy: Everything's fine. Don't come here.

All right, then, Stiles furrowed his eyebrows and stuffed his phone back in his pocket.

"Okay, I can't talk to Livvy about this but I can talk to you, right?" he addressed Lydia as she closed her locker.

Lydia sighed, like listening to him was the most boring thing she had ever had to do in her life. "I guess."

Stiles didn't pay attention to her attitude. He didn't have Olivia to bounce ideas off at the moment so the next best person who had the same amount of knowledge of him and Olivia was Lydia. She would have to deal with him.

"Okay, so did you know that there's a temple in Calcutta where they used to sacrifice a child every day? That's every day a dead baby, Lydia, every day!" he exclaimed as they walked out of the school and through campus to the building that held the cafeteria. "Hey, you want to know what today is? It's dead baby day. Oh no, wait, that's every day because every day is dead baby day, yay!"

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because Livvy's not here and Scott, Isaac, and Allison are dealing with the alpha twins," he answered diligently. "You know about them, right?"

"Yep, Ethan and Aiden," Lydia confirmed almost bitterly. "Liv shared the news this morning."

"Good, good," Stiles nodded and continued with his theory. "So look, here's what I'm thinking. I'm thinking that the murders maybe come in threes. Ancient people love things in threes, right?"

Lydia shrugged lightly.

"So, maybe first it's three virgins and then, I don't know, maybe it's three people who own little dogs."

Lydia stopped in her tracks—Stiles following her lead—and stared at him blankly. "We have a little dog." Stiles grimaced. "We're not getting rid of Sirius."

"Look, I love Siri as much as you and Livvy but if—"

"No," Lydia interrupted him sharply as they started walking again. "And by the way, you can't discern a pattern by a single data point, so stop trying."

Somehow, he knew that Olivia would have said the same thing.

"Okay, so what, I'm just supposed to wait around for someone else to die then?" Stiles asked, growing a little irritated. "I'm just supposed to sit there and watch them die? Just wait for them to wither up and die right in front of me?"

Lydia paused again, giving him a strange look. "Wither?"

Wither might have been the wrong word, he admitted to himself.

"You know what I mean," he snapped and gestured wildly as he continued, "Die in just a hideously awful, strangulating, head-bashing, throat-cutting kind of way."

Lydia grimaced and looked away, making him feel bad because he knew that she had seen Heath's body the same way as he did.

"Maybe it's not your job," Lydia said after a few seconds. "They were strangled with a garrote and we both agreed that it was something a human would do, so...Maybe you should just leave the figuring out part to someone human."

"You mean someone like my dad?"

"No, I mean your dad," Lydia emphasized, rolling her eyes as she began to walk away from him. "The sheriff!"

When Olivia received the warning that Derek was in trouble, she expected that something was wrong and that it had to do with the alpha pack. What she didn't expect, however, was that the alpha pack—other than Ethan and Aiden—would be gathered in the loft and that the female alpha would have Derek pinned to his hands and knees on the floor, a metal pipe impaled through his stomach.

She had been taken aback by just how serious the situation was. Maybe she should have asked Scott and Isaac to come with her. Maybe she shouldn't have told Stiles that everything was okay.

All eyes went to her as she frantically pushed the metal door open and stepped into the loft. Other than the twins and the brief glimpses from Isaac's memories, she hadn't seen the other alphas that made up the alpha pack. There were three of them in Derek's loft; the female who was hovering over Derek, who looked like she could be feral and in need of a desperate pedicure to take care of her clawed toenails; a massive guy who was standing behind Cora to make sure she wouldn't move, his head bald and his muscles massive; and a guy who sat in front of Derek that she figured was Deucalion due to his seeking cane and dark glasses.

Her skin crawled from their attention; the female smirked viciously and the huge guy eyed her with cruel eyes.

"Ah, Olivia, right on time," Deucalion greeted her casually, causing her eyes to widen in fear.

"Ollie—" Derek grunted, unable to speak because the female alpha twisted the metal pipe in his stomach.

"Ollie, get out of here," Cora urged, glancing from her to Deucalion.

"Oh, no, she should stay, I insist," Deucalion stated. "Ennis..."

The big one, which was now known as Ennis, made his way toward her. Olivia didn't dare move, listening to the voices in her head that warned her that fleeing would be a bad choice. Ennis roughly took one of her arms and shoved the door closed with the other, before dragging her over to stand next to Cora, where he could watch over the both of them to make sure they wouldn't make any moves against him or his packmates.

Finally, Olivia found her voice, her eyes stinging as her eyes locked on her cousin's form. "You're killing him."

The female turned to her with a smirk and shook one of her clawed fingers at her. "Not yet, little Anchor, but I could," Olivia paled when she turned back to Derek and nudged and twisted the pipe. "Who knows if it's five minutes or five hours before it's too late to take this thing out. But, just to be on the safe side, Duke, you might want to get to the point."

"Now that Olivia's here, I can," Deucalion rubbed his hands together and addressed Derek, continuing their earlier conversation that Olivia wasn't privy to. "You see the problem with being in an alpha pack. Everybody wants to make the decisions. Me? I'm more about discovering new talents. Like your cousin over there," Olivia winced in fear and when Cora took her hand, she squeezed it tightly. "And you."

Derek coughed and blood splattered on the floor beneath him. "Not interested."

"But you haven't even heard my pitch."

"You want me to..." Derek was panting, in too much pain to speak quickly or all at once. "kill my own pack."

Olivia's eyes widened. We're screwed.

She had known that the alpha pack were after Derek as she had been privy to that knowledge since the beginning of summer but this situation was much, much worse than she thought. They wanted Derek to kill his pack—which sucked for her, Isaac, Boyd, and now Cora—and for some reason, they wanted her, too.

And all she could come up with for a reason for that was that she was an anchor.

"No, I want you to kill one of them," Deucalion told Derek. "Do that and I won't have to ask you to kill the others. You'll do it on your own. I did it. Ennis did. Kali did," Olivia guessed that was the female and she was proved correct when Deucalion nodded at her. "Tell him what it's like, Kali, to kill one of your own."

Olivia and Cora shared a horrified look as Kali answered him, "Mm," she hummed. "liberating."

"Listen to me, Derek," Deucalion drawled in his British accent. "Do you really want to stay beholden to a couple of maladjusted teenagers bound to become a liability? And believe me, they will become a liability. In fact, I have a feeling one of them is getting himself into trouble right now. Just ask dear Olivia."

For a moment, Olivia had no idea what he was talking about. Then, her gaze went purple and her mind flitted away from reality. The part of her brain—or soul, or whatever, that kept track of her pack—told her that Isaac was losing control. She didn't know why and she didn't know where, but she knew that he was having trouble.

"Isaac."

She didn't know that she had spoken her friend's name but Deucalion, Kali, and Ennis stared at her intently as she went through another episode, like the one that had led her to Derek's loft. Cora squeezed her hand, trying to get her attention—she hadn't seen Olivia like this yet—but it was no use.

Olivia's mind was split as she heard herself mentally call for Allison. She was in danger and Isaac...Isaac was with her—No, Isaac was the one who hurt her. He didn't mean it, but he was out of control for some reason.

Isaac, Allison, Isaac, Allison...

Come on, Isaac, she mentally pleaded to him. You're in control. I'm here with you and you're in control. Just hang on. Come on, come on...

Olivia came to when she felt a familiar voice rock its way through her head and Isaac took control of himself. Her wrist tingled from Allison's injury but she knew that her friend would be okay. So would Isaac.

"Fascinating," Deucalion said while she noticed that he, Kali, Ennis, and Cora were staring at her; she blinked and the purple in her vision went away. "See, the reason I'm always interested in new talent is simple," he stood up and folded his cane, his head still facing Olivia, though she knew he was addressing Derek again. "The stronger the individual parts, the greater the whole."

He unfolded his cane again, letting it snap back into place. "When I lost my sight, one of my betas assumed I wasn't fit for my role anymore. He tried to take it from me," he folded the cane again; Olivia guessed he was fiddling with it for symbolism, though she was pretty sure that her, Derek, and Cora could understand perfectly fine. "Killing him taught me something about alphas I didn't know they could do. His power was added to mine. I became stronger, faster, more powerful than I'd ever been."

Olivia shivered but tried to stomp her fear down. Although she knew that the alphas could probably smell it on her, she didn't want to give them the satisfaction of letting it show on her face of with her body language.

"I tested this new ability to subsume the power of your own by killing another one," he continued as he folded another part of his cane. "In fact, Derek, I killed them all," he folded the cane again. "I took the individual parts and became a greater individual whole."

Deucalion shook out his cane, making it snap together once again. He kneeled in front of Derek, who was getting weaker and weaker—Olivia was hearing more of his name than what Deucalion was saying at that point—and grabbed his head, pulling it up so he could feel Derek's facial features.

"You're right, Kali. He looks like his mother," he commented as he stood up again, slowly walking over to the table in front of the wall of windows. "You'll get to know me, Derek, like she did."

More blood dripped out of Derek's mouth as he spoke, "I know you. I know what you are," he grunted breathlessly. "You're a fanatic."

And psycho, Olivia added in her head.

Deucalion set his cane on the table and turned so he was facing Derek and the others again. "Know me?" he repeated slowly, his voice hard. "You've never seen anything like me."

Thunder started to rumble as he raised his voice. "I am the alphas of alphas," lightning flashed somewhere outside the building. "I am the apex of apex predators! I am death, destroyer of worlds! I AM THE DEMON WOLF!"

Olivia winced in pain and stepped backward with Cora, both of them hiding behind a pillar from the fear that Deucalion's words and alpha voice had stirred in them. Even though she wasn't a werewolf, her entire being told her that she needed to obey and cower from the alpha in front of them. His display of power and ambiance struck such a fear in her that she had never felt before.

She hid her face in Cora's shoulder and only looked up when the lightning and thunder stopped. Deucalion's glasses had cracked and when he took them off, his eyes were crimson red. His voice and demeanor had softened into a casual tone that only psychopaths could manage after such strong words he had given only a second before, "I hate when that happens."

Kali ripped the metal pipe from Derek's body and smirked when he started to fall to the floor, the puddle of his own blood soaking his skin and clothing. Ennis stepped away from behind Olivia and Cora and followed behind Kali as she grabbed Deucalion's arm and led him out of the loft.

When the metal door slid shut behind them, both Olivia and Cora rushed to Derek where he was laying on the floor. Tears stung Olivia's eyes as they coaxed him into a sitting a position, both of them sighing in relief when they saw that his wound was already healing.

Olivia glanced at the door once more; they were in deep trouble.

Having no idea what was going on across town in Derek's loft, Stiles had skipped class in order to speak to someone who he thought would know what was going on with all of the murders.

He parked in place outside of the animal clinic, glad that no one seemed to be there but Deaton, and entered the building. Deaton, dressed casually in a t-shirt and no coat—Stiles guessed he was at lunch—walked out behind the front to see how it was that had the dogs in the back barking like crazy.

Deaton gave him a surprised look. "You're out of school early."

"Yeah, free period, actually," Stiles lied. "Um, I was just headed home to see my dad. He's, uh—you know, I guess you probably heard people are kind of getting murdered again. It's his job to figure it out."

"I gathered as much from the sheriff title," Deaton stated sarcastically, though the tone kind of fell flat. It was a good thing that Stiles was fluent in sarcasm.

"Yeah," he nodded. "You know, but it gets kind of hard for him to do his job when he doesn't have all the information. And we all know he's missing pretty much half of the story here, right?

Yeah, um... You know, but it gets kind of hard for him to do his job when he doesn't have all the information. And we all know he's missing pretty much half the story here, right? So—so, then I started thinking and I remembered someone who does have a lot of information."

He saw Deaton shift uncomfortably and figured he was in the right place.

"Someone who always seems to know more than anyone else around here," he finished, giving the veterinarian a pointed look. "You."

Deaton pressed his lips together and nodded toward the back of the building where his exam room was. "Let's talk back here."

When Deaton opened the wooden gate to let him back, Stiles quickly walked through and shut it behind him, knowing that it was important to the man that the mountain ash barrier was always complete in order to protect him from wandering werewolves and the like.

"All these symbols and things, the triskeles, the bank logo, the mountain ash," he started speaking rapidly, hoping to get answers right away. "all of it is from the Celtic druids and anyone who has ever looked up human sacrifice before knows that the druids had a pretty big hard-on when it came to giving one up to the gods. You ever hear of the Lindow Man?"

Deaton just stared at him and Stiles knew that the veterinarian was intelligent and probably knew of the story but he told the gist of it anyway.

"He was a two-thousand-year-old body found in England. He was found strangled, head bashed in, throat cut—a threefold death," Stiles stated firmly. "They also found pollen grains in his stomach. Guess what favorite druid plant that was?"

Deaton picked a jar out of the box on the steel table they were standing around and pulled a sprig from it to show to Stiles. "Mistletoe."

Stiles stared at the plant for a few seconds before he looked back up to Deaton's face. "I'm just telling you everything you already know, aren't I?" Deaton didn't say anything, which was an answer in of itself. "Then why aren't you telling us?"

Deaton put the jar of mistletoe back in the box and looked at him, ashamed. "Maybe because when you've spent every moment of the last ten years trying to push something away—denying it, lying about it—it becomes a pretty powerful habit."

Stiles softened only a little. "All right, so this guy—is he a druid?"

"No," Deaton shook his head. "It's someone copying a centuries-old practice of a people who should have known better. Do you know what the word druid means in Gaelic?"

"No."

"It means wise oak," Deaton informed him. "The Celtic druids were close to nature. They believed they kept it in balance. They were philosophers and scholars. They weren't serial killers."

"Yeah, well this one is," Stiles scoffed lightly, only to pause when his phone vibrated in his jeans pocket. He answered it, seeing that it was Lydia who was calling. "Hey, I can't talk right now."

"Well, Olivia isn't answering my calls, so you're my best bet," Lydia rushed, her voice panicked. "Look, I'm in the band room and the teacher is missing."

"Wait, what?" Stiles blinked in shock. "He's missing."

"That's what I said!"

"Are you sure?"

"Actually, I'm not sure he's missing," Lydia corrected herself, exhaling deeply. "I think he was taken. Like Heath and the Kyle guy were."

Stiles pressed his lips together and looked over at Deaton, who was patiently waiting to hear about what was going on. "I'll be right there and I'm bringing Deaton with."

Twenty minutes later, after several calls to Olivia—who still wasn't answering, which was a whole other panic-inducing situation—and sneaking Deaton into the school without a visitor's pass, the two of them, plus Lydia, were searching through the band room to find anything that could tell them where the band teacher had gone. It wasn't a question of if he simply didn't make it to class, the bloody handprint on the piano gave them enough evidence to the contrary.

While Deaton listened to a recording on the teacher's phone, Stiles searched through his desk. The creepy voices coming from the speakers creeped Stiles the fuck out but he kept himself busy by going through the teacher's stuff.

"Can we get a copy of this?" Deaton asked Lydia, who stood by his side.

Lydia took the phone ands started to transfer the recording to herself so she could pass it onto Deaton.

Stiles opened the top drawer in the desk, finding nothing so far. "Hey, Doc, any held would be, you know, helpful."

"Each grouping of three would have its own purpose, its own type of power," Deaton spoke thoughtfully. "Virgins, healers, philosophers, warriors—"

A lightbulb went off in Stiles' head as he laid his eyes on the photograph on the teacher's desk. It was from his wedding, where he stood next to his gown-clad wife in his military uniform.

"Wait, wait, wait," he cut Deaton off as he picked up the picture, his mind still racing. "Warrior, could that also be like a soldier?"

Deaton nodded. "Absolutely."

Stiles showed him and Lydia the photo and added, "Kyle was in the ROTC with Boyd."

"That's got to be it. That's the pattern," Deaton declared. "Where's Boyd?"

Stiles grabbed his phone from his pocket and glanced at the time as he started to call Boyd. "He's probably home by now. I'm gonna try to get him on the phone."

He pressed the phone to his ear as Deaton looked over at Lydia, who was stiff and looking ahead of her thoughtfully. "Lydia, is something wrong?"

Lydia shook her head. "No, it was, uh," she grimaced. "I mean, I just thought of someone else with a military connection."

Stiles dropped his phone from his ear, ending the call before Boyd even answered. "Who?"

"Mr. Harris."

Stiles sighed in realization; why was their dick of a science teacher involved in every supernatural drama that ever came up in Beacon Hills? "He went to West Point. He has the honor code on his desk and everything."

Lydia bit her lip. "We should go see if he's in his classroom."

He wasn't. The classroom was empty by the time Stiles, Lydia, and Deaton entered, and Mr. Harris wasn't to be found. On his desk were many ungraded tests, though some of them had letters written in red at the top, and his briefcase was on the floor next to the desk.

Deaton looked around the room cautiously. "This is just one of many possibilities," he muttered as he came to the desk where he and Lydia were looking around. "He could have simply left for the day."

"Yeah, well, not without this," Stiles grabbed Harris' briefcase and held it up for Deaton to see.

As he set the briefcase back down, something caught his eye. One of the graded tests he had looked at before didn't hold an A, B, C, D, or F. At the top of the packet was a letter that he had never seen on graded homework before; it was a 'R'.

"What?"

"This test is graded 'R,'" he showed Deaton and Lydia the packet.

Lydia pursed her lips and looked down at the tests, grabbing another one that was graded unusually. "This one's an 'H.'"

A bewildered expression passed over Deaton's face as he grabbed both of the tests from them. He set them on Harris' desk and rearranged some of the tests until the letter grades spelt out, 'DARACH'.

"Stiles," his voice conveyed the worry on his face. "you remembered how I told you druid is the Gaelic word for wise oak?"

"Yeah," what did that have to do with anything?

Deaton had his answer. "If a druid went down the wrong path, the wise oak was sometimes said to have become a dark oak," he looked over at him. "There's a Gaelic word for that as well. Darach."

Stiles grimaced; they were in deep trouble.

Olivia would probably be scrubbing Derek's blood from her nail beds for a week. It seemed like it was everywhere but in reality, it was isolated in the puddle in front of her where it had started to dry on the floorboards as she mopped and scrubbed it away. She wasn't one to get sick over blood but she still wasn't a big fan of it—especially when she had the job of cleaning it up.

Cora was upstairs with Derek, helping him clean and disinfect his wound before it healed up all the way so that left Olivia to do the work. Isaac, the little fucker, had refused to help her clean it up when he got home from school, and she would never forgive him. She had been on her knees the past hour or so after she finished mopping, trying to get the stain out of the floorboards. She was almost there.

"I think you missed a spot," Isaac called idly from his place on Derek's couch, his English textbook opened on his lap.

"Isaac, I swear, if you say another word..." her voice took on a warning tone that had Isaac smirking to himself.

Satisfied that he wouldn't say anything else, Olivia went back to the large, soapy sponge in her hands, wishing that the stain would just be gone already. She didn't want Derek to have to see it; her cousin was more than capable of protecting himself physically but she wanted to support him, even if she had to clean up his blood so he wouldn't have to do it himself.

She heard the metal door slide open and she only stiffened for a second before looking up and sighing in relief when she saw who it was. Stiles walked into the loft and rolled the door closed behind him before turning around to look at Isaac and then Olivia.

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

"She's cleaning up Derek's blood," Isaac answered casually, turning the page of his book. "He had a little accident."

Olivia rolled her eyes at him and then looked back at Stiles. "The alpha pack made a surprise visit."

Stiles winced worriedly. "You're not hurt, are you?"

"No, but Derek was," for the moment, Olivia gave up on the blood stain, throwing the sponge in the bucket of pink water and getting to her feet. "Kali decided that he needed a pipe through the stomach."

"Fuck, that had to hurt," Stiles made his way over to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pressing a quick kiss to her temple. "Why'd they come?"

"They want Derek for their pack," Olivia kept it simple for now; she could tell him all the details later.

Stiles, who usually had a hard time picking up silent signals that a person didn't want to talk, just nodded in understanding. Olivia was one of the people he could read the easiest—other than his dad and Scott—so he knew she didn't want to talk about it. Usually, he would have pushed her to tell him anything but for some reason, he knew that tonight wasn't the night.

Olivia looked away from Stiles' face when she noticed that Cora was descending from the spiral staircase. Her cousin was dressed in a black t-shirt now, rather than her workout clothes, and her hands were cleaned of her brother's blood.

"How is he?" she asked her.

"He's getting dressed," Cora answered, her eyes flitting toward Stiles before pointing at him. "I know you."

Olivia furrowed her eyebrows as she looked between her cousin and her boyfriend. "How do you know Stiles?"

Stiles' eyes were lit up in recognition, as well as horror and embarrassment. "We met last summer," he told Olivia before looking at Cora accusingly. "You said your name was Cara."

Cora folded her arms over her chest, looking uncomfortable. "Yeah, well, I lied."

Shit, I'm fucked, Stiles cursed himself. I'm so fucking fucked.

Olivia was still confused. "Wait, what?"

Stiles nor Cora got a chance to answer as Derek came downstairs, cleaned up and dressed warmly to combat the slightly chill air from the storm going on outside. Olivia, Stiles, Isaac, and Cora turned to him and waited for him to say something.

Derek's expression was somber as he addressed Isaac. "Isaac, I need you to leave."

Olivia shut her eyes tightly; somehow, she knew this was coming. She knew Derek better than she knew most people; it was unfortunate that he was doing this but he was trying to protect Isaac. She just hoped he wouldn't screw it up.

"When should I come back?" Isaac misunderstood his alpha's words, closing his textbook and standing to his feet.

"No, I need you to move out," Derek elaborated, a grimace on his face. "It's for your own safety."

Isaac gave him a curious look. "Did something happen?"

"It—the alpha pack—" Derek shook his head. "Look, it's not important. You didn't do anything wrong but I need you to go."

Isaac's blue eyes were wide as he looked between Derek, Cora, and Olivia. "Where am I supposed to go?"

Olivia's heart ached for him; the loft was Isaac's home. He had been with Derek since his father was killed by the kanima last spring and he had no other family to go to. She was going to offer him a room at her and Lydia's house but surprisingly, Stiles was the one to speak up.

"I don't have a guest room at my place but Scott does," he said, uncharacteristically kind—when it came to Isaac, anyway. "I'm sure Melissa won't mind."

Derek looked at Isaac and Olivia could see the sadness in his eyes; he truly cared for his betas and he hated the fact that he had to send one away from his home. "Is that okay for now?"

Isaac nodded hesitantly. "Yeah, it's fine."

(Gif is not mine)

#teen wolf rewrite #stiles stilinski x oc #stiles stilinksi x reader #teen wolf #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski fanfiction #teen wolf fanfiction #stiles stilinski x original character

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thepeakyfckingblinders · 5 years

Text

Insānĭa || Alfie Solomons x reader || Part One

↬ Part Two ↫

⤠ MASTERLIST⤟

Anon requested/summary: “Hi luv can you write a Jealous Alfie that's leads to in ur words good old fashioned rough sex pretty please 😉”

Warnings: swearing, dirty talking, smut, rough sex, oral sex, jealous Alfie getting me on my knees

Author’s notes:

Sooo, I’ve definitely decided to use this kind of titles for fics about strong feelings such as jealousy because Latin is a magnificent, very expressive language that allows you to grasp every single shade of a word and fully understand its meaning

I had to split this in two since it was awfully long, part two will be out in the next hours!

Alfie -and Tom Hardy in general- is one of my most remote wet dreams, I truly hope I did a good job with this one ♡

I’m sorry for being this late, but I’ve been really busy in the past days and writing is never just easy, it demands concentration and effort, plus I don’t want you to be disappointed, so I’m always extra accurate while working. I hope this is worth the wait!

Let me know what you think and tell me if this is what you expected ♡

I’m Italian, English isn’t my first language, so I apologize for every possible mistake I made. Also, please, help me improve my writing by telling me if there’s something wrong

ENJOY!

Insānĭa [insaniă], insaniae feminine noun I declension 1. madness, insanity 2. fury, frenzy 3. excess, extravagance 4. profligacy, luxury

The dark green brocade of your dress flawlessly embraced your body, creating a ravishing contrast between the bright colour of that precious fabric and your y/s/c velvet skin, as you gave a final glimpse at the mirror, appreciating what you saw for once. That surprising realization made a small smile appear on your ruby lips and you brushed behind your pearled ear a stand of your hair escaped from your fine coiffure, before finally leaving Alfie’s office, headed to the great hall of the distillery where an important business dinner was about to take place. Actually, your fiancé hardly ever involved you in his working life, indeed he always tried to keep you safe, far away from the atrocities of that cruel world, almost like you were his rare rose under a bell jar, he would’ve never let anything happen to you, at the cost of his own life. But that was a special occasion and it demanded an exception: Alfie had finally succeeded in reaching an agreement with a new Italo-American partner, in order to expand his traffic in rum all the way to the Americas; consequently, that opulent feast was arranged not only to celebrate, but also to define the ultimate details of their recent deal, and your presence was required too. Entering the huge room already half full of people, you immediately waved your hand at Ollie who was friendly smiling in your direction, before your eyes went looking for your boyfriend, finding him seconds later, while he was busy talking with who you assumed to be Mr. Antonio Fontana. As you approached them, you had to admit to yourself that Alfie’s latest business associate was, without a doubt, one of the most charming men you’d ever seen; his tall, muscular figure stroke a thrilling fear into you, as his dark greedy eyes examined your body with surgical precision and, when you eventually found yourself right in front of him with flushed cheeks, a slight smirk formed on his fleshy lips surrounded by a hint of beard, just as black as his curly hair.

You remained caught up in your inappropriate thoughts, unable to pronounce a single word, until a strong arm unexpectedly harpooned your waist, catapulting you back into real life, and you recognized Alfie’s intense cologne as it forcefully filled your nostrils. Only then you raised your eyes at him, noticing an irritated look contaminating his sublime masculine features, still you didn’t manage to say anything because, just as you attempted to open your mouth, Antonio’s deep voice overtook you, capturing your attention again.

“May I ask who this stunning creature is?” Although that question was in effect addressed to Alfie, your guest’s impudent gaze entangled yours once more, as he held your right hand, leaving a brief kiss on the ardent skin of its dorsum; his strategical sweet-talk, along with his sudden gallant gesture, inevitably intensified the blush on your face, preventing you to look the other way, so you simply kept your irises locked with his.

“I’m y/n ...” Before your full name could leave your red lips, Alfie nonchalantly took your tiny hand from his, sending him an indecipherable, unsettling glare in stark contrast with his apparently mild voice, while his fingers automatically stroked his long beard .

“Antonio, this is Y/n y/l/n, my lovely wife-to-be” That last appellative in particular was marked with far too much emphasis as his strong hand, still laid on your side, gently pulled your back closer to his vigorous torso covered by a creamy-white shirt and black jacket; already bothered by all of that impudence, he was obviously making it clear that you were not available, still the half Italian just didn’t seem to care and continued to shamelessly court you, right under Alfie’s harsh stare.

“This means it’s not too late for you to make a better choice, angel” Antonio’s grin widened while he spoke those insolent words, making his black eyes blatantly travel from your mouth to your deep neckline, his tongue slithered on his bottom lip in a salacious movement as he lingered on the soft skin of your chest. You felt your fiancé’s fists brutally clench, moreover his muscular arms visibly tautened together with his large shoulders, and you knew he wouldn’t have contained his anger for much longer, still, before your spellbound brain could start working again, your rambling mouth raced beyond the point of no return.

“Guess it’s never too late”

You said lightly and, as soon as you realized how idiotic your answer was, your eyelids snapped wide open with absolute panic for the likely destructive consequences of your foolishness; however, to your great surprise, nothing of what you expected actually happened. Alfie was still holding you tight, his heavy breaths slightly betrayed his attempt to remain calm: he was well aware that the deal with the Americans was way too important for him to ruin everything at a few inches from the finish line, so he just had recourse to all his self-control and somehow managed not to blow his shareholder’s head off his neck right on the spot. He simply cleared his throat before speaking again. “You know, my friend, we are businessmen, aren't we?” Your boyfriend’s husky voice revealed a hint of edginess, even though he was using his usual unintelligible tone “And as a businessman, there’s only one fucking thing I demand when it comes to my affairs, and that’s respect, ‘cause respect, mate, is fucking sacred, innit?” His tattooed hand drew a few little circles in the air as his brows and mouth raised simultaneously, giving birth to a brief pretentious expression. “I mean, no matter how hard I want to, I can’t just break into your house and fuck your mother under your bloody eyes, eh? That wouldn’t be right, mate” Antonio looked at him with a cheeky smile never leaving his face, and again he chose to totally ignore those veiled warnings, his attention utterly moved to your silhouette once more and his fingers dared to move a lock of your hair behind your ear. “Amico mio*, I think when you desire something so bad, you have to take it, even if it meant breaking the rules”

With fiery blood both in his greenish eyes and on the palms of his hands, due to the nails now wedged in his own flesh, Alfie abruptly breathed out, ready to assault his new sworn enemy and probably kill him right there and then, without a second thought; luckily, you were able to read him like a book, so, with great timing, you successfully avoided a bloodbath by yanking his arm, in order to dissuade him from the violent intentions crowding his turbulent mind. “Mr. Fontana, if you’ll excuse us for a few minutes, I just remembered I need help with a couple of things before our dinner is served” You put on an apologetic smile, starting to back off towards Alfie’s private room while dragging him with you “Please, take a seat, we’ll be back in a moment”

As soon as the two of you entered the main office, you quickly closed the door along with the curtains, conscious of how hard it was to cope with your man’s wrath, especially when it came to other blokes brazenly flirting with you. “What the hell was that, eh?” Alfie furiously removed his jacket, carelessly throwing it on the floor, his hoarse voice echoed between the walls almost astonishing you, as he approached your minute figure with a literally livid look. “How dare you eye-shag that fucking wop, in my own fucking home! He was practically about to put his dick in you right in front of me; and you would’ve fucking let him!” His savage screaming paused for a short instant when he spasmodically messed up his hair, madly pulling its tips in a desperate effort to hold back his rage.

On the other hand, you simply couldn’t take your eyes off him: whenever he got angry, the way veins swelled in his solid neck and half-exposed forearms drove you crazy, you were in a haze as you kept staring at his manly features pursed in such a cursed yet handsome expression, and if that wasn’t hot enough, his muscular body tensed several times, showing all of its virile glory, while he continued to shout at you. “I don’t even know why the hell I haven't killed that cunt yet! Maybe I should just go and rip his throat open” A familiar heat began to rise in your belly and you tactically sat on his desk, viciously martyrizing your bottom lip with your teeth, determined to tease him a little more, in order to eventually get what you were craving. “Oh, c’mon, love, no need to be this irascible! He is a gorgeous man, you can’t deny that” In truth, you couldn’t care less about that eyetie, still you kept using that coquettish tone, knowing how easy it was for you to find his weak spot, indeed Alfie immediately got close to your face, slightly squeezing his menacing eyes. “Are you fucking trying to make me mad on purpose, y/n? eh?” His palms loudly collided with the wooden surface on each side of your legs, his plump lips were now only a few inches apart from yours, his hot breath warming your flushed cheeks as you pierced his dilated pupils with a lustful gaze.

“Maybe.”

*Amico mio = My friend

@namelesslosers

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arkhammaid · 7 months

Note

UMM LITTLE STARK X OLLIE BEARMAN ENDGAME PLEASE IT'LL BE SO CUTE LIKE WHAT THE OTHER ANON SAID. HE'LL BE SO SO INLOVE WITH HER. LIKE STARING AND COMPLIMENTING HER DURING INTERVIEWS WITH A LOVESICK SMILE. THEN TONY SEEING THE SCREEN WITH A HAND OVER HIS MOUTH THEN STEVE ROGERS WILL SAY "hey, this kid looks good for little stark". ANNE, PLEASE ENDGAME WITH OLLIE BEARMAN. ITS LIKE SINCE THEY'RE THE NEW ONES IN THE GRID SO THEY HAVE A HARD TIME ADJUSTING SO AS THE TIME GOES BY THEY'RE RIDE OR DIE.

OLLIE BEARMAN X LITTLE STARK

i have so much love for Ollie honestly

my reaction when i got the notif of this ask (only for me to actually think "what if... no")

LISTEN!!! LIGHTNING ON TRACK is all about starks and how they slowly pave their way into formula one and is meant to focus on little stark as a woman AND nepo baby AND kid of a superhero in 2025. do you really think she would risk that all for someone called ollie bearman? maybe in another universe (GET THE HINT GUYS THERE WILL BE AU'S) but in the mainverse? she will probably never be with a man

ALSO yes i totally agree with you abt the pairing and the way he would act around little stark BUT!! as i said, she's a strong, independent woman. doesn't mean he won't crush on her LOL

#anne talks: with anons #— ˚₊‧⁺˖ lightning on track #ollie x little stark #literally jumping on this wagon they're my babies fr (just in another universe SKSKDKKD)#ollie bearman x little stark for the win #(<- steve asks peter to run calculations (because he's the captain of this ship) -#- to confirm that ollie x little stark is the most common ship in the multiverse. he knows tony won't like it so he doesn't even ask him)

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justallamaimaginingthings · 5 years

Text

To Hell And Back [Jon Snow x Baratheon!Reader]

Request: "Can you write a Jon Snow one-shot, where he is in love with a trueborn Baratheon!Reader (since childhood)? During the War of the Five Kings, R gets married to Robb (who knows of her true feelings for Jon but doesn't object). R escapes the Red Wedding with now loyal-only-to-her Grey Wind, and heads for the Wall to the surprise of Jon. She is there when he gets killed, and is killed herself (they are both revived by Melisandre). In the aftermath, they admit their feelings for each other" by @witch-of-letters

A/n: I absolutely loved writing this, thank you so much for requesting 💕 Really hope you like it! Don’t hesitate to request anything else and/or leave a comment. Have a great day/evening/night/whatever and sorry this is kinda late.

Words: 2800 (that’s why it was late😂)

Being the first born daughter of Robert Baratheon and, as you later found out, his only true born one, was absolutely overwhelming. Of course you adored your father but despite that you knew he was a terrible political leader. On top of that, the relationship with your mother had been more than tense since as long as you can remember. At first, you were truly hurt because of her continuous rejection but as time went by you understood you didn't need her.

If anything, the life of the Princess of the Seven Kingdoms didn't suit your adventurous and outspoken character so you often found yourself in trouble. Luckily, seeing that you were Robert's favorite, there was always a way out. Almost always, you thought bitterly thinking the current situation you had found yourself into.

Upon visiting the North, your father had decided to unite your house with that of his old friend, Eddard Stark. That meant you would marry Robb Stark, Ned's oldest son and Sansa Stark would end up married to your brother Joffrey. If you wanted to be honest you felt pity for the poor girl, knowing what a terrible person and future king, Joffrey would be. However, your betrothal to Robb was even worse for completely different reasons. Frankly, there was another Stark, well half Stark, that had captured your affections a long time ago.

You had been in love with Jon Snow for a long time and the more you got to know him, the more those feelings grew. The raven haired boy was different than anyone you had ever met in your life. The way his brown eyes would light up every time he spoke passionately about his dreams never failed to make your heart flutter. He was intelligent and caring and despite the conditions he had grown up in, he remained kind towards everyone. Jon loved the North even though Winterfell had never like home to him, as he had admitted to you once.

a few years back a strange friendship had formed between the tow of you. Unfortunately, that relationship didn't have the chance to bloom as Jon left for the Wall a few days after the announcement of your betrothal. You knew it was what he wanted, but even then you couldn't help wishing for things to be different.

"Take care out there" you had asked him when he had come to wish you goodbye before his journey.

"I will" he had promised as you wrapped your arms around him in a bone crushing hug. You had let your head rest on his chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat for the last time in a long while. Jon had placed his lips on your forehead in a kiss so soft you had barely felt it.

"I'll miss you" you had whispered almost inaudibly but he had heard it.

"And I'll miss you too, Y/n. I…" he had paused as if in doubt of whether or not he should continue what he'd been saying "I wish you every happiness. You will make a magnificent Lady of Winterfell"

"We both know I'm not a Lady. The terrified look Lady Catlyn gave me during the feast can prove that" you replied causing him to laugh slightly at the memory and you couldn't help but mirror the action "You're a good man, Jon Snow. The Night's Watch should be proud to have you" you added. In truth there were so many things you wanted to say to him, but you knew most of them were better left unsaid. So, you hugged him once more and headed back to the castle.

It was that moment, upon seeing you walk away from him, that Jon Snow realized he had made the biggest mistake of his life by not admitting his feelings for you sooner. It’s for the better, he tried to convince himself. After all, you were the King's daughter and he was nothing but a bastard...

After your family left for King's Landing along with Ned Stark, you had stayed North with your soon-to-be husband and current Lord of Winterfell. Robb was no fool, he knew you didn't love him and more importantly, he knew his half brother was the person you had decided to give your heart to. Nonetheless, the oldest Stark sibling was very fond of you as a person and knew you were strong enough to rule the North alongside him. So he decided to turn your marriage into a sort of friendship, being successful once you had warmed up to him.

Those were the last carefree days you had had as soon afterwards everything came crumbling down. First your father died, leaving Joffrey on the throne, who became, as predicted, even more vengeful and cruel once he was crowned King. Then Ned Stark was executed and Robb marched South to avenge his father's death, as at the same time your uncles, Stannis and Renly, rebelled against the crown. During that whole mess, Robb ruined his alliance with the Freys and ended up being murdered alongside his mother and most of the Stark army. Almost by a miracle, you had managed to escape the red wedding by the help of Grey Wind, Robb's direwolf, who had taken a liking to you since day one.

Knowing that everyone considered you dead, you decided to play it safe and keep a low profile as you followed your heart. Travelling in secret, through hidden paths and forests, you made your way towards the Wall to find the man that had been plaguing your thoughts and dreams during the last two years. Finally reaching the walls of Castle Black, contradicting feelings of anxiety, happiness, nervousness and relief flooded your mind as the doors opened. What if he didn't want you there? Did he already know about Robb? How would you tell him if he didn't?

"Who are you and what is your business in Castle Black?" one of the two guards you were faced with asked giving you a pointed look that caused Grey Wind to angrily growl at the man making him flinch and step back a little.

"I'm looking for Jon Snow" you plainly replied, choosing not to state your identity as you it would be safer to avoid being recognized. Not shying away from the man's look, you upheld his gaze using the same amount of defensiveness as he was.

"I asked who you are, lady" the guard insisted in a harsh tone, but you were interrupted before you were able to snap at him.

"She's a friend" a familiar deep voice answered making you turn around to see exactly the person you'd been looking for.

"Lord Snow" the man said respectfully, making room for you to pass inside. If it had been any other day, you would have ran straight into Jon's arms. Instead, you chose to slowly walk up to him and wait to see how he'd react. His eyes met yours and you could feel your heart almost stopping as a deep silence fell between you for a moment. Then, snapping out of his initial shock, Jon pulled you in a tight hug, needing to touch you to realize you were actually there.

"You're alive" was the only thing he whispered as his hand cradled the back of your head, tangled in your messy hair, to pull you even closer to his chest, making you feel safe for the first time in years "I thought you were dead" he repeated a few moments later as he pulled away, using a slight cough to hide the quivering of his voice.

"The world can't get rid of me that easily" you replied chuckling, trying and failing to hold back tears of relief.

"Good, because it needs you" he said. Because I need you, he thought but didn't dare say it out loud. Having you there in his arms, alive and uninjured was all he could ask for. So, instead of voicing his thoughts, he gently wiped away your tears with his thumbs as he softly traced your cheekbones "You should eat something. Follow me" he added taking you by the hand and leading you to a large room where a strong fire burned. His touch was so gentle as if he thought you'd break had he been rough, you realized. He sat you down by the fire and asked a young boy called Olly to get you some food from the kitchens.

"So, Lord Snow?" you questioned remembering how the guards had addressed him.

"It's a long story, I'll explain later. How did you end up here?" he brushed it off, wanting to know if you were okay before anything else was said. The past two years, Jon's mind had been wondering back to you continuously. No matter how much he had tried to avoid those thoughts, they always returned much stronger. When your letters stopped arriving he had been more worried than he had even felt in his entire life and upon learning that you were dead his heart shattered.

"It's a long story" you quoted his words back to him causing a smile to grace his features at your stubbornness. After a short argument, you exchanged stories. You told him how Grey Wind had saved your life at the Red Wedding and the way you had followed afterwards while he explained his experiences beyond the Wall as well as his attempt to get the Wildlings and the Night's Watch work together. He was sitting right next to you on the bed, so close your legs were touching as you relished the feeling of having him close to you.

As he spoke you couldn't help but admire the man in front of you. Somehow he was completely different from the Jon you used to know, more confident and wise with every inch of naivety long gone, as the bashful bastard of Winterfell had been replaced by the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. And still, at the same time, he was the same passionate and kind person you had met all those years ago, only grown up. The two of you had so much to discuss that no amount of time would be enough.

The conversation was cut short when the boy that had brought your food came in claiming he had important information for Jon.

"Tell me, Olly" he prompted when he noticed the hesitation in the young boy's eyes. Instead of replying, the boy glanced at you causing Jon to sight in defeat "Anything you want to say, you can say it in front of Y/n. I trust this woman with my life" he reassured taking you by surprise.

"It's one of the wildlings, Lord Commander. He says he knows your uncle Benjen. He says he's still alive" Olly explained causing Jon to shot up from his spot next to you.

"Are you sure he was talking about Benjen?" he insisted, his tone turning into one of absolute seriousness.

"He said it was the first ranger. I'll show you to him" the boy offered running off. Jon followed him after motioning for you to do the same. The three of you ran down stairs and corridors that ultimately lead you to a small training yard. At one corner there was a bunch of people carrying torches that seemed to be gathered around something "That way"

You and Jon pushed through the people but instead of seeing any wildling, you faced a wooden sign that read only one word, "traitor". Shooting a confused glance at Jon, he took a step forwards standing in front of you in a protective manner as you grabbed the dagger you always kept on you. Before you could realize what was happening, a tall white haired man grabbed Jon by the shoulder, turning him around and burying a knife deep into his chest at the same time that another sneaked behind you and repeatedly stabbed you in the stomach.

"For the Watch" each man claimed as they took turns stabbing Jon. What hurt him even more than the wounds, was knowing that his own men had turned on him while all he had done was to protect them. The thought your life being at steak because of him was all it took to bring Jon down on his knees as the knife went through his chest one last time. The last thing he saw as he fell down was your motionless body staring at him with empty eyes and then everything went black.

Jon…

That was the only thought running through your mind as you hit the floor. And then silence as all the pain gradually left your body. Feeling as you were floating you were met by a blinding light that seemed to be the only thing visible in the darkness, its source unknown. Making your way towards it, it started getting bigger until it got the shape of a door that was made out of pure light. The need to open it became excessive but something deep inside you told you not to. Suddenly a voice chanting in an exotic language was heard and the door in front of you disappeared just as quickly as it had appeared.

You jerked upwards, desperately trying to figure out what was happening. Your breath came out in short erratic gasps and you felt like you had been drowning. A sharp pain shot through your abdomen making you fall back into the hard cold material with a thud. A short man gave you a blanket to cover up and the moment you had calmed down enough to take in your surroundings you saw Jon sitting on a table right next to you in a similar state.

"J-Jon?" you whispered hoarsely making his head snap towards your direction. The man tried to get up and if it weren't for the short white haired man he would have fallen face down on the floor. Davos helped him move and sit next to you as Jon's panicked eyes met yours. Neither of you could remember anything. Then your eyes fell upon the fresh wounds on his chest and you extended your hand to trace right next to them.

Jon's heart was beating frantically as memories started resurfacing, feeling your trembling hand wondering on his chest, an action that caused his whole body to be filled with a pleasant sense of warmth and comfort. And then everything came rushing back to him.

"I- We shouldn't be here. I was dead, you were dead. They stabbed me" he exclaimed trying to put his thoughts into order "They stabbed me. Olly put a knife through my heart. They killed you" he continued as tears flooded his eyes while the scene replayed in his mind.

"Jon, hey listen to me" you whispered framing his face in your hands to make him look at you "We're alive. I do not know how or why, but we're alive and that's all that matters" you reassured him. Instead of replying he just hugged you, clinging to you as if you were fresh air and he was drowning, letting his head lean down to rest on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry. I love you" he said before he could stop himself. His whole body stilled as he held his breath waiting for your response. A wide smile spread across your lips as the hand that was previously combing through his hair moved to caress his cheek.

Knowing there were no words to describe what you were feeling at that moment, you allowed actions to speak as you inched closer to him until your lips were millimeters away and you could feel his hot breath fanning into your face. For a moment the two of you stayed like this, eyes half closed and lips almost touching. Then something in Jon snapped as he crushed his lips on yours letting all of his emotions into the fiery kiss. Fear, insecurity, affection and love were evident as your lips molded with his in an almost desperate manner. You gently tugged at his hair causing a quiet whimper to escape his lips and prompting him to tighten his grasp on your waist.

After the need for air became too much the kiss was broken and Jon rested his forehead on yours, eyes remaining closed for a little longer as he wanted the feeling to last.

"I love you too" you replied finally, voice slightly deeper after the kiss.

Neither of you could understand what had happened or try to explain it. At that moment the past was equally mysterious as the future, but none of them mattered as much as the present. You were sure you’d figure it out, but you’d do that together and that was all that mattered

#jon snow imagine #jon snow x reader #jon snow #jon targaryen #game of thrones #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader #got x reader #got imagine #got

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boogiewrites · 6 years

Text

Choking On Sapphires 73

Characters: Alfie Solomons x Genevieve (OFC)

Title & Song: Loverman

Summary: Alfie takes revenge to defend Genevieve's honor. He keeps his promise and tells her after he does. Genevieve has a surprising reaction, even taking her off guard as the night leads to more honesty between them than ever before. **Chapter song is Loverman by Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds .**

Warnings/Tags: References to past sexual assault. Explicit Sexual Content. Torture. Not graphically described. Language. Protective Alfie. Revenge by Alfie for Gen. Confessions of feelings.

Click on my icon then go to my Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. (Had to do this since Tumblr killed links, sorry.)

Alfie sat silently in his anger on the drive back to London. He was stone-faced and hearted as he let himself go back to that dark place he knew inside himself to do the things this man deserved to have done to him.

He's careful and planned as always in these endevors. Different cars, guards, not wear his signature hat. He makes his way into the back entrance of the club and down into the cellar. Ollie waits, hands clasped in front of himself as he can tell from the sound of his boss's footsteps that this would be a long and bloody night for him.

"He's in there." Ollie says not making eye contact. Alfie takes off his coat and shirt, leaving his suspenders hanging from his sides, not wanting blood on anything light enough for it to show. "No one saw us. Everything's in the clear." he remarks as an afterthought as he saw Alfie was ready to get to his dark deeds without need of the confirmation. "May I ask-?" he begins.

"No." he states, turning his face towards Ollie and he diverts his gaze on sight.

He stomps into the windowless stone walled room. The man hangs from his tied wrists from a hook in the middle of the dark, bare space. A drain sits in the middle of the floor, the only thing to interrupt the echoing of Alfie's intimidating footsteps is the crates stacked against one wall.

The man squints under the single bulb, a single bead of blood coming down from his brow where he'd been knocked unconscious to be brought to his final resting place. "Who the hell are you?" he asks with a posh accent.

"You can call me, yeah? The wanderin' Jew." he says with a nod, walking slow around the man and thumbing his nose. "But it looks like you are the one that has wandered into the wrong place, mate." he says with a dark tone dripping from his words as he spoke them slowly and certainly.

"I don't know who you think you are or what you think this might bring you but you've got the wrong man."

"Nah." he shakes his head, stopping in front of him and crossing his arms, his brow low and heavy over his eyes, lips disappeared under his mustache as he commands his anger. "I know I've got the right one 'n this is gonna be a judgment of satisfaction. 'At's what 'is is." he raises his chin, his face shadowed by his sharp features and the stark light to obscure his face and make him look even more threatening than his body language already managed to.

"For what? What did I do to you?" he asks, his face still looking pompous somehow."

"You have hurt someone I care about. And I'm the type of man who don't let fings go ya see." he squares up against the man. His chin pushes back in concern for the closeness of Alfie's rough face.

"What do you want? Money? I can get you money. I haven't killed anyone." he says defensively.

"No I've got me own money mate." he says with a huff from his nostrils. "And you innit killed no one? I believe you might've killed a little girls innocence or time or two, yeah? Killed her belief in herself? What sort a man does such a thing." he puts his nose so close to the hanging man's he has to back away for them not to touch.

"Oh, bloody hell. You a pimp of some sort? Look I paid for what I did to those girls."

"No." he says loudly, slapping the man across the face hard and fast. "Looks like you're an even ore miserable excuse for a man that I thought." he backs away, looking at the contents of the room for something he could use.

"Look, a man like what he likes." he says with a nervous chuckle. "How am I supposed to know what I did if you don't tell me?" he asks.

"Fink reaaaaal hard." he says, reaching out, his head lowered and shoulders still to reach for a crow bar laying on top of a crate. "Almost fifteen years ago now. Little girl you threw yourself at. Barely a woman. Her father believed your words over hers. Daft fuckin' prick he is. Just like you." he turns and points the bar of steel at the man.

He sees the man's eyes searching. "Oh." he says, eyes looking away. "Greene." he says quietly.

"Her name is Genevieve." he says, hitting the man in the stomach with the edge of the bar.

"Yeah." the man says, groaning and gasping.

"You remember now?" he asks, an attitude in his voice.

"Yeah." he mutters, eyes hesitant in meeting Alfie's.

"What makes a man do and say such things, eh? To a little girl no less?" the question is mostly rhetorical as he takes the bar to the man's knees. "Now me. I was in the war. I've done some fucked up things meself. But never in me life have I hurt a woman in such a way. What would your mum fink of ya, eh? What an aboslute maggot you are. A fuckin' manky monster. Preying on little girls and lettin' 'em get put out in the streets, tellin' 'em they's broken and you own 'em?" he puts the end of the bar under the man's chin.

"She was young, I knew I could get away with it. She was supposed to be married to me so I thought, why not take it now?"

Alfie puts the curved end of the bar in the man's mouth. "She was not yours to take. And to fink you would've treated her the same or worse if that monster did make her marry you. You are lower than dog shit on the bottom of me shoes you fuckin' tosser."

"Why do you care? That was forever ago." he says, his words muffled.

"Because she'll be my wife and when she saw you tonight she looked like she'd seen a ghost. And nothing scares that woman. 'Specially not some dodgy posh cunt like you." he growls.

The man swallows, drool accumulating in his mouth from the taste of metal and grime from the bar Alfie was slow pressing into his jaw. His brow furrows, trying to think if he knew who this man was. "Durand." he mumbles.

"'At's her name now, yeah. But not for long. Soon it'll be Solomons." he hisses, a demented smile on his face.

"Oh fuck." the man groans, realization as to who he was dealing with hits him.

"Oh fuck is right!" Alfie laughs, jerking the bar back quickly and taking out a few on the man's teeth with it.

He moans and shouts, blood pouring from his mouth.

"Now 'at we know each other. I'm gonna have you tell me everyfing you did to her. 'N for everyfing you did to hurt her I'm gonna hurt you worse. And if I fink you're leaving somefin' out... I'm gonna hurt ya. So best to tell me the truth, eh?" he commands with a tilt of his head. "'Cause you're not gettin' outta 'is room alive, mate."

------

He has the boys take care of the evidence after he kills the man. Or take care of what was left of him. He washes off at his home in London, scrubbing away the evidence and changing, burning his clothes that held any blood on them. He could hear the cries of the man broken by the wet sounds from his throat and lungs filling with his own fluids. The fractured clotted sludge from his insides coming out of holes Alfie had put in his body, the blood that was spat out of his mouth as he pleaded and begged washes down the drain. Alfie's face stays cold, knowing he'd done what needed to be done for the thing that was most precious to him.

He comes back home to you, once again driven in silence. He wasn't feeling regretful in the least, a calm and self-assuredness came over him after he watched the man breathe his last breath. He kept repeating to himself over and over, no one would get away with hurting you as long as he was around.

He comes in quietly to your bedroom, sending Aggie away with a gesture of his hand as he takes off his clothes and gets into the pajamas you'd bought him. He watches you as you sleep, totally at peace, snuggled up to the pillow that was serving as him in his absence.

Light from the moon barely filters through the tops of the windows, he can only make out the faintest traces of your soft skin, his fingers moving down your cheek and jaw slowly, taking in your delicate features at rest, something he hadn't had as much time for as of late. You stir, something he didn't expect and he sighs, watching you stretch like a harmless kitten before rubbing your face.

"Alfie, darling is something the matter?" you inquire with sleep heavy words, propped up on your side in the bed. You can almost make out his face, it's set stiffly, his eyes hidden in shadow as he reaches out and takes your hand into his.

"Nuffin's the matter, my love." he whispers to ease you. You nod and let yourself rest your head back on your pillow, rubbing your thumb over his hand.

"Then come back to bed with me." you insist softly.

"I'm afraid I've got somefin' to tell ya first, Gen. It can't wait 'til mornin'." you see his head shake and hear the solumn tone in his voice. It raises your subdued senses into higher alert.

"What?" you rasp out, sitting up and scooting closer to him.

"I'm sorry to wake you with this love. But there's somethin' I should tell you." he pauses, his words holding grit to them as he forces them out.

"What have you done, Alfie?" you ask, your grip on his hand tightens.

"That man." he begins.

You shake your head. "Alfie, no." you whisper.

"That man at the club tonight." he pauses, taking a moment to audibly swallow. "After we left I had my men follow him." his sentences are paced and well rehearsed. "I had 'im put into the cellar. After you went to bed I left and went back to the club. After some... persuasion... he answered all my questions." he says with a certain, calm tone. "And I killed 'im." he states coldly, a nod and a characteristic grunt afterward.

"Alfie you-" you hurry to move up to your knees, your hand on his shoulder.

"Listen to me, Genevieve." he demands. Your mouth hangs open and you hold your words back with a sigh. "We ain't gotta talk about it. In fact I'd prefer if we forgot either of us ever fuckin' knew." he spits out. "And I know you dinnit want me to do it." he says defensively. Your shoulders slump. "As long as I'm 'round there innit gonna be no one that hurts you, Genevieve, yeah?" he moves his head towards you as you kneel next to him on the bed.

"You didn't need to do that, Alfie." you mutter, slightly worried.

"I wanted to." he states clearly.

"He's of high standing." you tell him, your hand going to his face to make him look at you. "What if you get caught?" he only sees worry for him when he meets your eyes and it hurts his chest.

"I ain't gonna get caught." he responds reassuringly.

"Why did you do it?" you beg for andanswer with your eyes and you shake his face. "I told you not to."

"I had to for what he did to you Genny, you fuckin' know 'at, why you keep pushin' it, eh?" he says holding your upper arm.

"I could've done it if I wanted to." you bite back at him.

"Well now you don't have to, do ya? I took care of it for ya." he says roughly releasing your arm.

"Alfie."

"I don't wannt hear it, Gen."

"Alfie."

"Fuckin' wot?"

You swallow loudly and it breaks his confusing growing anger. He's completely disarmed when you wrap your arms around his neck as his arms move up to hold your back. His hands hit your bare skin. He takes a shaky inhale at the feeling of you so warm and soft in his arms. You were something he was compelled to protect, this version of you. This soft and heartbroken woman was his to keep safe.

"No one's ever done anything like that for me before." you whisper into his ear. Your soft tone blindsiding him. You pull back slowly, your lips dragging from his ear to mouth. Your eyes were stinging with confusing tears as you wanted to be angry and you also felt so gut wrenchingly moved by his tone and willingness to exact an act of revenge when he knew you wouldn't. "You're going to keep trying to protect me even though I tell you not to aren't you?"

"Are ya just now figurin' 'is out?" he asks, somehow makign the words feel like they raked across your inner thighs. "No one's gonna hurt ya and get away wif it." You plant a soft kiss against his lips, his words sending direct blows to your chest. "Ever." he states defiantly before pushing your lips together again, exhaling harshly as one hand moves to the side of your head.

"Why would you be so reckless?" you whimper out through his biting kisses. "You can't be so brash," you say weakly as he groans into you. "You can't let them find out you did it, Alfie." you whine into his mouth, his hands kneading into your back as you move across his lap, straddling him.

"No one's gonna know, love." he sucks on your neck for a moment before moving his mouth to your ear. "I promise." you murmur against his words, wanting to believe them desperately.

"Don't let them take you from me." you rasp out in a broken breath as his teeth graze your collar bone. His tongue drags across the place he was kissing as he grunts as your words hit him. He stops and holds your back and hip tightly, looking into your eyes and finding them threatening to cry. He lets his eyes shut for a moment as he collects himself. He holds you tightly and moves you onto your back gently, keeping your body close to his. His knees are on the bed as he leans over you, the arm that was holding your back still there securely as his other hand holds your face. He leans in and looks over your soft, wanting expression. He's never seen this look on your face before.

"Is that why you didn't want me to do it?" he whispers, looking at your lips as they tremble with subdued worry. Your eyes widen and he can feel your shakey inhale.

"I cared about you, not him." you admit with a soft shake of your head, his thumb rubs your cheek as he sighs down at you. "He was too high profile to kill. People will come looking for him." he stays quiet, looking at you everywhere but your eyes. You move your hand, your fingers touching his face like he was yours in tender caresses. "I don't care that you killed him. I care that you'll get caught." you gulp and let out a small whine as you hold back tears that have sat behind your eyes for far too long. Your hands are light and trembling as they press to his chest. "They've taken too much from me already." you say with a slight shake of your head, you wrap your hands tightly around the collar of his shirt, yanking him closer. "Don't you fucking dare let them take you from me too, Solomons." you order through clenched teeth, your eyes sparkling with tears in the low light.

"Nothin' is ever going to take me from you again, Genevieve." he says softly, holding your face, your hand on top of his now. "I should've never left to begin wif." he admits with defeat in his voice, he kisses you hard and you want to sob. "Fuckin' wanker I was." he says between kisses as he feels you smile against his lips.

"They can't take you from me, Ari, I wouldn't be able to stand it." you confess into the dark, his lips pressing into your cheeks, lips stinging from the salt of your silently falling tears as you speak.

"No one's takin' me nowhere, pet." he promises with a gravelly tone, hands moving to your chest, hands desperate and firm against you as his kisses were planted with no rhyme or reason. "I'm stayin' wif you, yeah? Always." he moves down, lips fast to your chest. "Not even death is gonna make me leave you Chanah. You understand?" he asks with a harshness to his voice that makes your heart flutter.

"Stay alive. Stay with me. I can't have him take you away. I can't. I-" your words are rushed out in your desperation for him to understand.

"Shhhh." he presses his lips against yours, hands now up your gown and moving over your hips. "No one's takin' me, love. I'm yours. None of 'ems worth shedding a tear over. He's dead. I killed him for you. I'd kill anyone to avenge ya, love. Anyfin'. Everyone. You're mine and I'm your keeper now. No one hurts you and gets away with it anymore. No one." With the desperate words come more desperate kisses and hands. Your clothes quickly removed and the air heavy with a twisted, romantic agony that serves both of your dark sides. You are filled with a heartbroken lust for each other, as if it could be the last time you had him in your bed. As if he could be taken away come morning, you loved him.

"Ari I love you. Please, darling." you pant out, so many emotions rushing through you, your body feeling on edge and tense, his skin the only thing that warmed you and eased your suffering.

His lips suck against you, taking in the buds of your breasts, the softness of your stomach as he nips at your thighs, parting them and resting himself between them. "And I more than love you, Chanah. Never you worry that beautiful mind over any other man. It's all my burden to bear for you now." he huffs out, his mouth spilling out words without much thought or consequence as your legs locked around him, him grinding himself against your center.

"How dutifully you love me, Ari. How sick we are for each other. How mad have we let ourselves be for love?" you moan as he pushes into you, your sincere words being expressed physically by you both. "To have let ourselves become so dependent on another?"

"I am as demented as a man can be." he pants, lips moving back to your own, a heavy hand on your thigh, the other by your head on the bed, latched into your hair. "I will serve you as long as I live in this fuckin' insanity, my love. I no longer wish to be called sane since lovin' you. There is no going back to who we were before now is there? Only this madness. Only us." he pumps into you with careless thrusts, your mouths open and molded against one another, speaking hurried and passionate words as you shared the same breath.

"Only us." you moan out, hands clutching to his back. "Only you darling. There's only you now." you cry out, as your eyes squeeze shut and tears break through. Your life was now one you felt. He had taken a life in the name of your honor, to help you heal a part of yourself that you couldn't do on your own. There would never again be another Prittance to hurt you. Alfie would never leave you alone because of something another man did to you. He would always believe you over any man's word. He would never hurt you, abuse or use you in the ways other men would. You were safe now. You were with a man who would kill for you and you the same for him. You were both irreversibly connected in this love you'd found. It felt like madness. Like you were losing yourself, something becoming unhinged as you let yourself open up to the possibilities. You didn't need any sort of ceremony to define it for you, in this moment your bodies as one and your breath shared you were reconciled to the time your souls had spent apart. He had given you something you didn't know you needed. He gave you himself, fully, making your hurt his. He would carry your pain with you, and it had been so lonely and heavy all these years.

"You are mine, my love. Mine." he groans through gritted teeth against your throat. "My hunger for you knows no bounds. I want all of you. Good and bad. As long as it's you I need it." he moans, both your voces lilting higher.

"I'm yours. All yours. Take me." your voice sounds like you're begging, and maybe you were. You were finally loved enough to give yourself over to it. You let it engulf you, drowning willingly as his hips grew faster and harder, the sweat and tears from you both dripping across your skin, you could almost taste the intensity of it as your lips rhythmicly pushed againgst his head and shoulder, whimpering your revelation to him. With your eyes closed, your face feeling the brush of his hair and beard, you bask in the smell of him, soap and musk, your tongue reaching out to take him in with every sense.

Your mouth open and panting, taste the sting of salt against your lips as the sounds that emanated from you were no longer voluntary, both of you sounding angry as your bodies found their end. The painful night you'd both had concluded where it should, it each other's arms. You lie together in a tangled mess, your skin pinked and now covered in bumps as the chill of the air hits you before he encases you in a cave of covers.

He lay across your chest, your fingers combing through his damp hair as you felt his breath fan across your neck where his rough cheek was planted on your sternum. "Alife?" you breathily whisper.

He pushes the covers back, exposing yourselves to the darkness. "Mmm?" is the grunt he manages, his muscles now sending signals to loosen and shut down at the weight of the day they had carried.

"I know people think me mad." you begin, your voice heavy with honesty, a softness that only comes with true vulnerability is laced within it and his ears pick up on it the moment your swollen lips part to speak. "I have been at times. I'll admit. But it was only temporary. For the purpose of completing something." your voice trails and his blue eyes catch the light, looking over your face cast in shadows. "But I've never let myself need anyone else. Ever. Not my mother, not Altar, no one." you pause and sigh, wetting your lips as you projected your eyes down to his face, set in an open and honest pose against your skin. "It..." you let out a small noise of discomfort and he raises his head to get a better look at you. "It frightens me." you confess, your brow furrowed, chest now rising and falling slowly beneath him, the rush of the deed now passed, but the emotions still moving frantically in your mind.

"Fear has it's place." he says with an agreeable nod. "But that place is not our love." he assures you simply, a kiss to your forehead. "C'mere my precious flower." he says, grunting and moving to his side and taking you into his arms tightly. He speaks quietly to you, his hand holding your chin up as your face wants to bury itself in the warm and thick seclusion of his chest. "Know you have no reason for fear when it comes to me. I will not leave you, as I know you need me as well. We wouldn't purposely do irreversible damage to something that has come to us in such perfect condition would we?"

"Never." you whisper in response.

He presses his lips to your head as it shakes gently back and forth in support of your sentiment. "You are a strong woman, Chanah. The strongest that I know. Tenacious to a fault." he smiles against your hair and closes his eyes, letting you retreat to the safety of his embrace. "The only fear I know now is losing you. And it is frightening, have no doubt. To make yourself reliant on another. As we both know us humans are so terribly flawed." he sighs. "But isn't that what makes it so astoundin' love? That we, in all our imperfection, found somethin' that we fear. We were not wholly human before. There is no man without fear, for without it he isn't a man. But now we know it. Now we are so frightfully human we are aware of how fragile we are in actuality." his voice is soft and smooth, the certainty of his words, some you had said to him before calm you. He was so eloquent in his rough delivery of sentiment to you. But the coarse voice made the brilliant words that much more charming to you. "You have taught me, yeah? In all your beauty and art, that the messy parts of us are what make us human. And our love is that pet, it is messy. It's only perfect in that it was made for us. Nothin' else comes so easy. Not with people like us. You're dramatic, I'm stubborn as an old 'orse and we're both prone to outbursts at the expense of those 'round us." he let's out a tiny huff of a laugh. "But it's who we are. We ain't changin' it now." he lets out a gruff laugh and he feels your shoulder shift as you smile against him, face nuzzling into his chest as he wrapped his arms around you fully, pulling your body against his fully.

"I wouldn't want you to change." you murmur against him.

"'N 'at, see? 'At's love. Ya puttin' up with me, me puttin up wif you. Although I do say I got the much betta bargain out the two, love." he grins and squeezes you, pressing his face into your hair. "I love ya to pieces, Genny. I do. To the point of madness. Always. Never question it. Ya got nothin' to fear when it comes to me lovin' you, yeah?"

You nod and move your arm to around his waist. "I've never loved someone like I love you." you admit, your eyes shut and feeling the soft scratch of his chest hair against your face.

"Nor I you." he whispers in agreement.

"And you aren't frightened by it?"

"Why would I be frightened if you are the one keepin' me heart? I know no one more perfect for such a job."

You hum happily. "I'm not perfect. But I am yours." you say, kissing his exposed skin.

"You need your rest." he hums, feeling his body settle and relax against yours. "No other reason for you to say such nonsense as you not bein' perfect."

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annes-andromeda · 5 years

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GOT Virtues AU: My Wolf, My Moon

N/: Another chapter! More Jon x Ygritte! Jon comes back from the dead and makes up with Ygritte. While also finding out something unbelievable... Also sorry if it’s so long, but these two make me feel things.

Edit 11/14/19: Jons real name has been changed from Aegon to Aemon as it’s getting irritating to tell him apart from Elias son, also Aegon.

Nothing. That was all that Jon felt. His eyes were screwed shut, his heart had stopped, but his mind was in a different place. A different world, it seemed. The blades went so deep into his chest, they left gashes that looked as if someone tried to scoop him out.

He couldn’t hear anyone speaking; nor Davos, Tormund or Edd. But he could feel. Jon could feel Ghost’s snout brush against his hand. How much he longed to touch his soul, to tell him that he was alive. But he couldn’t, for his body was still and his mind was lost.

Jon thought how he’d never see the Starks again. He’d never see feisty Arya, or sweet Sansa, or little Rickon. He didn’t know whether Robb was alive or not, and last he heard, Bran had woken from his fall. But now, he’d never see them. He had died in the hands of his brothers, men he thought he could trust.

And then, he felt a hand on his shoulder. A warm hand, with slender fingers and the gentlest of touches. It felt like the hand of a woman.

Ygritte, he thought

The wildling had asked to be alone with Jon, and she sat just above his head so that she was staring him down.

Jon could feel her wet tears fall on his cheek, and her forehead against his own. How he wished he could open his eyes to see her beautiful, red hair and her soft, pink lips. He wanted to kiss her, to feel her warmth... and to say he was sorry.

Sorry for leaving her, sorry for just ignoring her instead of just talking to her. Gods, why did he ignore her?

This was his punishment. A fate the gods had planned for him. To be betrayed by his brothers, and left for dead while his beloved suffers. Perhaps he was never meant to help the people. They’d never know his name, his deeds, nor his sacrifices. And they wouldn’t care either. He was a bastard in their eyes, someone never destined for greatness or glory.

To think, he once was to rule over these people. But it was just how Lord Arryn said: make one mistake, and they won’t be as kind. He could imagine their faces when they’d find out about the Wildlings choosing to follow him.

Perhaps the boy in him was still present. Perhaps Jon Snow was never meant to become a man, and instead always be that naive, ignorant boy hidden away in the Red Keep. Yes. Maybe it was best the Seven Kingdoms didn’t have another dragon ruling their land. A mere babe dragon, at that. He was no dragon. Dragons who breathed fire of cold were not real dragons. His wings had been cut off, and scales were instead born fur. What were meant to be eyes of molten gold, were but pools of blood that stirred in the winter snow.

More over, dragons wouldn’t fall for a mere fox. Was that what his beloved was? A fox? Perhaps so. She was swift and cunning like one, and her gorgeous mane could charm any of them. After all, she had succeeded in charming a wolf. Or is he a dragon? Either way, her methods were victorious. The red fox was truly beautiful, as breathtaking as the clear waters in Tarth. The way her hair rippled like embers, and the simplest touches could almost burn the tips of your fingers.

Jon could see her. In all the dark clouding his mind, he could see Ygritte’s hair shine as brightly as the morning sun. It’s as if his mind was being pulled from, wherever he was, and back into the miserable, wondrous state of reality. He wanted to pull back, to tell these invisible forces to stop their pursuit and leave him for dead. But then again, he’d return to his beloved. The red fox who had wooed the Targaryen Wolf and the White Dragon. This beautiful vixen who had captured his heart, and whose radiance had made her nearly untouchable to any other suitor who wished to steal her. For the wolf would guard her, and mark her as his. She was his woman; the moon he would howl to every night and the fox who would hunt those who would dare harm him.

He would see her again. But if only that were the first thing he’d see. Never did he expect to return to the Onionman and the Red Woman.

——————————————————————————————————————————

Jon almost jolted off the table, his breath coming in short and his head practically spinning. His chest was heavy, and he was trying to remember how to breath again. He looked around the room and towards Davos, his face depicting shock and disbelief. Jon breathed heavily, his chest heaving and the air coming out of his mouth instead of his nose.

He heard Ghost whine, his red eyes glowing in the dim room. The direwolf’s fur almost looked like it was shining a bright essence. Ghost nearly covered the whole room, and Jon wondered how he go into the room in the first place.

Jon looked down, and he nearly fainted right there and then. His chest was covered in deep scars, all still red but not gashing. Jon couldn’t even touch them. His heart thumped, and he breathed harder. He scattered off the table, and stumbled on his own feet. Davos grabbed him before he could fall, and wrapped his cloak around Jon’s figure. Jon sat down on a chair Davos pulled for him, trying to catch his breath. Melisandre had entered the room, her eyes widening in the presence of Jon alive.

“What do you remember?” Davos asked

Jon responded in faint breaths “They stabbed me” The memories hit him like a club “Olly...he put a knife in my heart...” He remembered the pains in his chest when his brothers stabbed him, and how it all stopped when Olly came forward

“I shouldn’t be here” Jon looked up to Davos, his silver eyes glistening with the need to know. To know why he had returned from the grave.

“The lady brought you back” Davos said

Melisandre kneeled before him “Afterwards, after they stabbed you, after you died, where did you go? What did you see?”

Jon hesitated, his voice trembling “Nothing. There was nothing at all” It was the truth. Despite his thoughts, Jon’s mind was clouded with darkness, with only the iridescent glow of his woman’s hair to guide him.

“The Lord let you come back for a reason. Stannis was not the Prince Who Was Promised, but someone has to be” Melisandre mused “You’re not going to die now, Aemon Targaryen. The Gods are not done with you yet”

Jon thought for a moment. Was that why he had returned? The Gods had more plans for him? What more could they possibly want?

“Could you give us a moment?” Davos said to Melisandre. She got up and left the room, with Davos closing the door behind her.

Davos picked up a stool and sat in front of Jon “You were dead. And now you’re not. That’s completely fucking mad, seems to me. I can only imagine how it seems to you”

Jon looked up to Davos “Ygritte...” he said faintly “I felt her before. Where is she, Davos? I need to see her. Is she alright? Is she hurt? Has someone harmed her?”

Davos put his hand up to silence Jon “The lass is alright. However, something has happened. And I don’t believe you’d be too pleased to hear so”

“What is it?” Jon asked. Whatever has happened, he wished to know terribly.

Davos took a second to remember everything with Melisandre and Ygritte, and the visions in the fire “The wildling girl, it seems, has gotten with child. Your child, that is”

Jon’s breath hitched in his throat. Pregnant? Oh Gods, no, no....

“She seems to be in good health” Davos continued “But the Red Woman says that they will be dragons in a sea of wolves. Whatever that means, one thing is for certain. She has more than one babe in her”

More than one?!, Jon thought, That day, in the cave... Is that where it happened? Is has to be, I haven’t bed her since...

“But she’s alright?” Jon asked. He never wanted a bastard, but that didn’t mean he never thought of having children of his own. He didn’t want the child to go through what he had to for half of his life. But this was the worst time for this to happen.

“Yes, she’s alright” Davos said “However, this seems like a conversation reserved for the two of you. It’s not my right to meddle in things that are of no business of mine”

Jon nodded in agreement. He was definitely speaking to Ygritte after this. But for now, at this very moment, he had to let everything sink “I did what I thought was right. And I got murdered for it. And now I’m back. Why?”

“I don’t know” Davos mused “Maybe we’ll never know. What does it matter? You go on. You fight for as long as you can. You clean up as much of the shit as you can”

Jon furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head slightly “I don’t know how to do that. I thought I did, but...I failed”

Davos raised an eyebrow, and looked at Jon sincerely “Good. Now go fail again”

——————————————————————————————————————————

Jon had walked out into the courtyard, his brothers and the Wildlings staring at him in awe. To them, he was a walking corpse; the man who returned from the dead. A God, as Tormund said. Jon reassured him that he was far from a God.

“I know that” Tormund had whispered, “I saw your pecker. What kind of god would have a pecker that small?”

Jon chuckled at that. He then went on to embrace Edd, his fellow brother. Even he seemed to stare at Jon as if he were a fallen angel of some sorts.

“Your eyes are still brown. Is that still you in there?” Edd asked

“Silver” Jon said, “They’re still and always will be silver. Hold off on burning my body for now”

Edd chuckled. “That’s funny. You sure that’s still you in there?”

As much as Jon had wanted to be with his brothers, and to make sure the Wildlings were safe, he needed to sort things with Ygritte. To hear of such news, and from Davos at that. She should have told him herself.

He knocked on the door to her quarters, and heard a faint ‘come in’. Jon opened the door to see Ygritte sitting on the edge of her bed. In her hands she held Longclaw, and her fingers fidgeted with the pummel. She turned to see Jon still standing at the door, and her breath hitched. Jon walked towards her, and she got up slowly from the bed. He embraced her fiercely, and she could only wrap her arms around his waist as Jon cradled her head. Jon kissed her cheek lightly, and released from the embrace to look at his love. He caressed her face with his thumb, and sighed deeply.

“Is this real?” Ygritte said, her voice trembling with uncertainty “A-Are you real?”

“Aye” Jon responded in a slight whisper “I’m here, love” He moved his hands from her waist to her belly, caressing it lightly. The bump was beginning to form, and even though he couldn’t hear it, Jon could feel the life growing inside of her.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked softly

Ygritte stared at him, her eyes filled with an emotion Jon couldn’t quite place. Was it regret? Uncertainty? Sorrow?

“I didn’t think you be too pleased” Ygritte sighed, as she sat on the bed once more “You spoke ‘bout how you didn’t want a bastard. I figured you’d probably throw a fit or stay silent”

Jon sat beside her, and reached out to hold her hand “If you’re still upset with me for leaving you, I understand. You have every right to be. I shouldn’t have ignored you and make you feel worse than you already did” He kissed her hand, like the lords would do to their ladies “I thought of you” he said after, and Ygritte’s eyes glimmered “Even in death, you were still in my thoughts”

Ygritte pulled away “You were wrong to leave me” she said sternly “And you were wrong to love me”. Jon hung his head, but was then brought up by Ygritte’s hands. The same soft hands he had felt beyond the grave.

“But you loved me anyways”

Jon leaned into her, and he pressed his lips against hers. They were as soft as he remembered, and she deepened the kiss. They parted, and pressed their foreheads together, breathing in each other’s scents. It had far too long since either of them had been in each other’s presence.

“You’re mine” Jon whispered “As I as yours. You are my woman, and I swear to all the Gods, I will never abandon nor betray you again. You have my word” He caressed her midsection once more. He smiled faintly. He wasn’t going to loose this. One of his greatest fears had come to light, but yet, he felt content. Like any lord would feel in finding they would soon be a father.

“The Red Woman,” Ygritte said “She spoke about a battle to come, and that I must take no part in it. That’s the only way they’d survive” She motioned to her belly, and she held worry in her voice. Pregnancies were already difficult with one child, but with more would be far more disastrous.

“We’ll figure it out” Jon reassured her, as he placed a kiss on her forehead “Together”

She nodded “Together” And they kissed once more. Let the Gods play their games, Jon thought. Let them use me as their pawn, but I’ll not loose this. I will not loose my love.

And I will not loose my children.

#game of thrones #virtues au #my writing #jon x ygritte #jon snow #ygritte #jongritte

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