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chaotic-super · 3 months

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The Vampire Woman - Chapter 26

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As it turns out, sharing privileged information about vampires is a dangerous affair.

None of them could have expected this, not when they’re in Lena’s apartment, one of the safest places on the planet, and none of them know how someone has managed to get to them.

As soon as Sam had opened her mouth to start answering some of Kara’s questions after she had woken up, something hit them. Lena, Sam and Kara keel over, their hands clutching their ears in an attempt to block out the agonizing noise attacking them.

Kara drops to her knees, the least experienced with her advanced hearing, thus unable to try and cut off the incessant high-pitched ringing that is assaulting her from seemingly every angle.

Soon enough, the noise turns to words, or rather, one word.

“Hush.”

The way one single word can make a vampire’s already cold blood turn to ice is horrifying, terrifying, and everything in between.

Lena and Sam’s eyes lock onto each other as the noise stops, freeing them from the prison of pain they’ve found themselves unexpectantly trapped in. For the most part, Kara is just trying to catch her breath, stunned by what just happened and barely holding herself together as the fear catches up with her, her brain processing that she was just in a considerable amount of pain, and now she’s not.

“What the fuck?” Sam had just about curled over out of the chair she was sitting in when it happened, and now, she leans back, making a conscious effort to rid herself of the tension that wound up around every muscle in her body.

Seeing Sam compose herself and ease the strain out of her stiff shoulders, neck and spine, Lena follows suit. With the tightness there, she almost wonders if she got rigor mortis a few centuries too late.

“We need to move somewhere else, somewhere safer.” Lena pants out, barely catching her breath.

“Like where?”

“I’m not going to say, clearly, we’re being listened to,” Lena says, not bothering to lower her voice. It won’t do any of them any good.

Kara is still on her knees, her eyes firmly fixed on the carpet, her mind reeling. Her panic, anxiety and fear are scuttling around under her skin like a thousand tiny bugs burrowed away inside her. It makes her itch but she can’t seem to make herself move; she doesn’t have the energy after that.

Alex rushes to her side. She and Ruby were giving the three of them some space by sitting in the kitchen while the vampires and hybrid have their discussion, but upon hearing the pained gasps and grunts, they gave up on their stations in favour of making a beeline for their loved ones.

Dropping down before her sister, Alex’s hands brace along Kara’s jaw, cradling her head in her soft, worried embrace. “Kara? Kara, are you ok?”

Kara nods weakly against her palms, very obviously not ok.

“We can’t go anywhere yet, it’s too light out. What do we do?” Sam asks, her eyes darting between Lena and Ruby. “If it’s not safe here, I don’t want Ruby here. Maybe you can get Frank or Jess to come and get her so we can send her somewhere she’ll be better protected.”

“Sam, nothing is going to happen to her. We all know that a hundred vampires could break in here right now and nothing could come remotely close to hurting her because we would rip them to shreds if we had to. Besides, for us to be heard, that means another vampire knows where we are, and they must be strong. However, no vampire can walk in the light of day unscathed.”

Sam shakes her head before pointing at Kara, raising an eyebrow at Lena.

“No, a hybrid wouldn’t have enough power to hear us from the ground, and there’s no way they’re inside the building; the security is too tight. I built this place, and I have safeguards in place to prevent outside ears from listening in. I have no idea how they got around it, but I need to figure out how they did it so I can stop it from happening again.

Alex manages to shuffle Kara up and get her on the couch. It’s clear she’s not doing well, and while she’s doing her best to remain stony-faced, unshed tears are making her eyes glisten and her clenched jaw gives away just how disturbed she is by what just happened.

Her breathing is ragged; Lena can hear it clear as day, and her hands are clenched into fists atop her knees. Lena reaches out to unclasp it, hoping to relax her somewhat, but she tears herself away, stretching her back out until it clicks and shrinking in on herself.

“Kara?” Alex tries again, and seeing the way Kara winces at the sound of her sister’s voice, Lena realizes what’s happening.

“She’s overwhelmed. I fear the audio attack we’ve just faced may have momentarily tipped her over the edge. There are headphones on the nightstand in my room. They’re noise cancelling and should help her regain her senses once again, would you mind fetching them for her?”

Lena barely gets her question out before Alex is on her way to get them. She’s grateful to be given a task, something to do to make her feel useful because, quite frankly, she hasn’t got a fucking clue what just happened. All she knows is that they’re being listened to and that means she has to be careful with what she’s saying. Given that she doesn’t know what is classified as dangerous, she’s opting to say as little as possible.

She grabs the headphones and rushes back to the living room to fit them over Kara’s head, ignoring the blonde’s hands as she reaches out to take them from her. Once they’re firmly in place, she tucks a few stray curls out of her face and sits beside her, her brow furrowed in worry.

“I don’t have a clue what is going on but I need answers as to what just happened and I need to know that you’ve got a plan.” She stares into Lena’s eyes for a brief moment before moving over to lock eyes on the chestnut brown ones of the other vampire, who has her daughter tucked beneath her arm protectively, the younger girl’s head resting against her arm.

“You’ll have to let me figure that one out for myself before I can answer that, Alex.” Lena huffs, annoyed that she’s out of the loop. If there’s one thing she hates more than being threatened by a mysterious voice that is paired with the audio equivalent of being stabbed in the ears repeatedly, it’s not knowing something. Lena has to figure this out.

Lena’s senses are going crazy as she ushers everyone into the back of Frank’s car, and she has no doubt that Sam is just as on edge as she is.

They have been waiting all day for the chance to leave, waiting for the sun to go down just enough for them to get out of the apartment and get to L-Corp. At least there, they’ll know they’re safe. The only problem with that is their relative certainty that the person who sent them that message is a vampire too, a strong one at that. That means they could show up at any time, and all they can do is cross their fingers and hope they can get to L-Corp without meeting them.

“Frank, don’t dawdle. Take the fastest route and be on guard. If you see anything suspicious, you must let us know.”

“Of course, Ms Luthor.” Frank drones, his foot hitting the gas pedal before they’ve even had a chance to put their seatbelts on.

A horn sounds from behind them as they cut off some poor soul who’s probably on their way home from work. Kara flinches at the sound, and Lena pulls her into her side more firmly before making sure the cups of the headphones are over her ears properly. “Keep them on. You’ll be on edge for a while so it’s best to leave them on until we at least get where we’re going.”

Kara presses herself into Lena’s side more firmly, taking comfort in the tight grip she has around her shoulders. It’s steadying and makes her feel like nothing can touch her. Her right hand reaches over to grab Alex’s, who looks just about ready to jump into Sam’s lap with how wide her eyes are, constantly searching for the threat they can’t see. The only reason she hasn’t already done it is because Ruby is huddled so tightly to Sam already, Kara’s certain.

Frank makes the judgment call not to take the fastest route but the most populated, figuring that if someone or something is after them, then it’s best he uses the public as their safety blanket. No vampire wants to be exposed to the world, and no vampire is going to risk attacking them on Main Street, he’s pretty sure of that. Not unless the vampire is dumb or overly cocky anyway.

Lena takes note of Frank’s choice but doesn’t say anything. She understands why he did it, but she would still prefer it if he followed her instructions. Fighting over it now isn’t going to help anyone though. It’s already tough keeping everything moving smoothly when they’re all on edge. If she makes a fuss about it, that will scare everyone even more.

Closing her eyes, Lena listens out for any sound that could be coming from someone who wants to hurt them, her ears working overtime to try and find footsteps that aren’t matched by a heartbeat or the telltale sound of some supervillain cackling malevolently in some dark, abandoned building.

Frank pulls up around the side of L-Corp, bringing them to the same side door that Kara was first brought through by him long ago when Lena had him bring her to her. This time, nobody needs to get threatened by a gun to go inside, although Kara wishes she had one stuffed in the waistband of her pants so she could whip it out like she’s in an action movie and get her revenge on Frank.

They all scuttle through the door, their heads swivelling as they duck inside, trying their best to spot anyone down the alley.

The door clangs shut behind them, but none of them lose any tension from their shoulders. None of them release the breath they’re holding. Something doesn’t feel right.

“Everyone get down to the lab,” Lena demands, her ears straining to find anyone who isn’t meant to be here and coming up empty. Diving for her phone, she calls up the new head of security, someone she hired after Vasquez was murdered. She’s not sure if she likes her just yet but doesn’t get any negative feelings from her. “Ms Lane, I want a full head count and a list of everyone in the building please. Anyone who isn’t security is to be taken to the second-floor conference room. Once I’ve reviewed the list and checked on the staff, I’ll decide on further steps.”

“Of course, Ms Luthor. Is there anything you’d like me to prepare for?”

“Just be ready. We might have to move fast.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lena shuts the lab door behind them firmly before heading straight for the safe room. “I know it’s not your favourite place in the world, but please just go in here for now. I’m not sure what’s happening, but I’ll be able to handle it better knowing you’re safe.” She swings the door open and gestures inside.

Ruby is the first to pass through the door after a not-so-gentle nudge from her mom and Alex is right behind her, quickly followed by Frank.

“You too,” Lena says softly, squeezing Kara’s hand. “You’ll be more protected from an audio attack in there, and I’ll feel better knowing there’s someone powerful in there to protect Ruby. I know Sam will too.”

“I will,” Sam confirms.

“Is Jess still here?” Kara asks, backing into the room. “Are you going to bring her down here?”

Lena’s eyes widen. “Oh shit. Sam, can you go and get her? I imagine she’s either already been rounded into the conference room or at her desk.”

Sam takes a second to enter the safe room, duck down to press a kiss to her daughter’s forehead, and then whisper a gentle reassurance to her before she darts off up the stairs, much quicker than the humans in the room were expecting, all of them left shell shocked by the causal display of power.

Kara moves into the room and waits just inside the door. “She should be back in just a moment, right? No point in shutting the door until Jess is here.”

Lena nods but looks around nervously. “I guess so, but it’d still make me feel better.”

“We all saw how quickly Sam just ran off, she’ll be back in no time.”

“They’ll be longer than you think. The day Jess lets anyone make her move that quick is the day a janitor is mopping up her puke from every step in the stairwell. It’ll be like a breadcrumb trail, except it’s just the regurgitated sub she had for lunch.”

Kara pinches the bridge of her nose between her fingers, wincing as she tries not to picture that. “Yep, thanks for that.”

“You’re welcome,” Lena smiles playfully, although it doesn’t feel completely genuine, the unease in her eyes overtaking the brief moment of joy.

“It’ll be ok.” Kara tries reassuring her but knows her thunderous heart is giving her away. She almost died the last time they were in a situation like this. Now someone else is threatening them, and she’s got to somehow not freak out.

Sam comes barging down the stairs at full speed, practically throwing Jess into the saferoom before barging Lena into there too before she slams the door shut behind them, locking them all in.

“What are you doing?” Lena exclaims.

“Shut up.” Sam commands, barely glancing back at the group, which now includes a very green-looking Jess. “They’re here.”

“What?” Lena whispers, almost inaudibly.

Not a moment later, a long, deep scratch can be heard from the other side of the door, trailing across it with a noise that makes them all raise their shoulders up in an attempt to protect their ears.

Alex notices Ruby quivering against the back wall and tucks her arm around the girl, noting how she immediately clutches her arms around her waist and buries her head into her chest.

Jess takes the other side of Ruby, joining in on the impromptu hug, a familiar figure for her to draw comfort from.

Frank just huddles in the corner, his necklace pulled out from under his shirt, the little cross held tightly between his clenched hands as he mouths the words to a prayer that won’t protect him.

“I hear you.” A dark voice sing-songs from outside. “I can hear your fear.”

Lena turns to everyone, a finger pressed to her lips to warn everyone to be quiet.

“If you think this adorable little room will protect you, you’re wrong. I know who you’re hiding in there. I know what you’re hiding in there. A beat. “Hybrid.”

Kara’s eyes are so wide she’s confident they might just roll right out of her head. Her hands clutch at the headphones, and to stop herself from accidentally breaking them, she shoves them back onto her head, regretting ever taking them off when they got down here.

Lena holds her hands out to her, holding her palms out flat to reassure her that everything is fine. She’s not going to let anyone hurt her.

“Give me the creature and I’ll leave. Nobody has to get hurt here.”

A snarl rips itself free from Lena’s throat, her protective side coming out in spades as she thinks about what someone could possibly do to Kara. Obviously, whatever she is planning isn’t good. Nobody who has good intentions with someone calls them a ‘creature.’

“Ah, so someone in there has a pair of balls. I like that, and I’d recognize that sound anywhere. You made that sound back when we first met too. So feisty, Ms Luthor.” A sinister laugh travels through the door, muffled by the metal but no less terrifying. “Or should I say, Lenetta Kieran? I bet you don’t even remember; you low-levels never do.”

Lena’s lip curls dangerously. She knows that was her name. Her first name. It’s changed many times across the centuries, often whenever she moved from city to city, or even across the minimal number of countries she’s been to, but that’s one she’ll never forget.

Only one person she met during that time was a vampire too. One person who definitely shouldn’t be here. Someone that she was sure died so long ago. Someone who paid the ultimate price for their crimes but apparently managed to duck beneath Death’s scythe.

“You know me, don’t you, Lena?” The voice taunts, and all of a sudden, Lena is back in her chambers in England. She’s human again, her last moments of being a normal person. The final moment before her life is robbed of her.

Lena’s hand moves without her consent, reaching forward to open the door.

Sam grabs her wrist, fighting against her, shocked by the amount of strength Lena is using to reach forward. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Open the door for me, Lena. You know you want to.”

Kara wraps her arms around Lena from behind, trapping her arms at her side as much as she can, knowing full well that this isn’t a fight she can win. Lena has to resist for them to win this battle.

Sam clings to her wrist, a flame burning deep inside her. She won’t let her do this, not when Ruby’s safety depends on it.

“Don’t make me stop you, Lena.”

“Lena, open the door.”

Lena feels as though something has nestled deep into her brain, changing the wiring and drawing her closer to the person on the other side of the door, pulling her like they’re magnets attracting. She has the desire to resist it but also feels like her wants are not her own. A part of her wants nothing more than to open the door while her logical brain screams at her that it’s a trap.

“Lena, don’t,” Kara mutters in her ear, her arms pressing deep into her stomach as she pulls back on her. Her warmth is steadying against her back and helps guide Lena through the fog.

“I won’t,” Lena says, her tone lacking its usual bite. “You might as well go, you can’t hurt us in here and we’re not handing anyone over to you.”

A cackling laugh travels through the thick metal of the door. “Interesting. You’re stronger than I imagined you to be. Nowhere near strong enough, but you’ve got a little bit of bite to your bark. I like that.”

“Just go!”

“I can’t do that. Give me the hybrid and I won’t harm the humans you’re hiding. That’s the deal. I can smell them. I can smell you all. You have three…no, four. There are four humans in there, two vampires and the hybrid. One in seven isn’t a bad loss. Hand it over.”

Kara bites her lip and winces as nails once again scratch against the door, causing an obvious amount of damage. The door won’t hold forever. Lena made this one of the safest places on the planet, yet here they are, sitting piglets as the big bad wolf slowly taunts them as she blows their house down. “Maybe I should just—”

“Absolutely not.” Lena cuts her off, turning around in her arms and taking her muscled arms in her hands, holding her tightly as though she’s about to open the door after begging her not to do it just moments before. “You’re not doing that. We’re fine, we’re safe in here.”

“Not forever.” The voice singsongs. “How long do you think it’ll take for me to get through this door? A few minutes? An hour? A day? I can wait you out. I have nothing but time.”

“Are you a vampire?” Lena asks, unsure if she actually wants to know the answer, but in a much better state of mind than she was before, clearly the woman has stopped controlling her for now.

“You could say that.”

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Telling me.” Lena smiles through the darkness, pulling out her phone and tapping the screen with her fingers faster than the flap of a hummingbird's wings. She then shoves it back in her pocket and presses Kara’s headphones against her ears more firmly. “Sam, Kara, this is going to hurt. I’m so sorry.”

The loudest, most ear-piercing ringing booms through the entire building, ten times worse than the audio attack they suffered at the hands of the mysterious woman and strong enough that it knocks not only the vampires to the floor but also causes the humans to cover their ears. It’s not enough to hurt them, but it’s not comfortable.

They hear a piercing scream on the other side of the door, demonic sounding undertones to it reaching forth and battering the lab. They hear the faint smashing sound as beakers and test tubes shatter from the mixture of the scream and Lena’s defence system.

It pauses, and all goes silent.

They relax against the floor, loosening their stiff limbs from their foetal positions. Lena swallows harshly. “It’ll just keep going. The system will take short breaks every so often. It’s random too. It gives anyone affected a chance to leave. I’ll leave it on for as long as necessary. We can endure longer than you. We’re more protected in here than you are out there. We have the upper hand. Get out while you can.”

“No!”

The noise starts up again, and Kara cries out in anguish, the least able to deal with it out of all of them. Lena knows that, at least she does when she’s not also being assaulted by the noise. She just hopes that the woman doesn’t call their bluff. If she does, they really are screwed.

They tighten back up into their foetal positions, their hands covering their ears, and their eyes slam shut.

Another scream from outside the door.

Silence.

“We can do this all day if we have to. We’re not opening the door.” Lena pants. “Give it up.”

Silence.

“You can’t win.”

Silence.

“Why do you want her so badly that you are willing to endure this pain?”

“I’m not. I’ll be back, don’t worry. I’ll find you again, not that it will be difficult; your name’s on the building.”

The door slams.

Silence.

The screeching starts up again, and as much as Lena wants to text security and have them shut off the noise, she can’t make herself move at all through the assault. They have to wait for the next break in the noise.

It does come eventually, but it feels like it takes an eternity. As soon as it stops, Lena dives for her phone and submits the order. It’s over for now. If she’s really gone, that is.

They all unravel from their positions, slowly sitting up.

“Is everyone alright?” Sam asks, her eyes pinned on her daughter. “Ruby?”

“I’m ok, mom. Is she gone?”

Sam turns her ear to the door, listening for the woman.

Silence.

“She’s gone.”

“Are you sure?” Alex asks, her eyebrows furrowed and fear written across every inch of her face.

Lena wraps her arms around Kara’s shaking body. “We’re certain. I think you should stay here while Sam and I go out there and secure the building properly. We’ll come and get you once we’re sure that’s done.”

Nobody puts up a fight. Nobody wants to leave their little sanctuary, fear still coursing through their veins and taking over them.

Kara is still shaking over an hour later and it has everyone worried about her. She’s sure it’s just adrenaline, but Lena and Alex have forced her to lie down on a gurney—a new one. Lillian really did a number on the last one when she escaped from being bound to it.

“I’m ok.”

“I’m sure you are, but you’ve been through a lot today, and you were practically tortured by not only her but also my defence system. We believe we only got one over on her today because a person like that doesn’t think that people below them can have similar ideas to them. I installed the frequency emitters after the Lillian thing. I wanted to be sure that I have something to rid the building of vampires should the need arise.”

“Smart.” Kara shifts, moving to take the headphones off.

Lena gently bats her hands away, keeping them in place and instead connecting them up to her phone and offering it to her so she can play some music instead. “Find something relaxing, maybe try to rest for a while. Even if you can’t sleep, you should just try to relax your body and close your eyes.”

“What about you?”

“I have work to do.”

“You should at least take half an hour to yourself, maybe sit down and try meditating or something. You can’t think if your head is everywhere at once.”

Lena leans down and presses her lips to Kara’s forehead softly. “I’ll be fine. I’ll rest once my work is done.”

Kara sighs. She already knows she’s not winning this one right now, so she turns her head until she spots Jess. “Hey! Can you make sure she rests soon, Jess?”

“You got it.” Jess gives her a thumbs up, pausing her sweeping to do so before going right back to cleaning up the broken glass.

“Thanks,” Kara calls out as she settles back down, turning on some soft music and trying not to think about how there are six people milling about the room around her.

Lena shakes her head at her softly, amused but also slightly annoyed by her actions. This woman is something else. Even after suffering through something that is definitely traumatic, she’s still trying to make sure she’s looked after too. If she could blush, she would be beet red.

“She’s not so bad,” Frank admits from his place on a random stool near to where Lena is standing.

“She’s not bad at all, and I’m just happy she didn’t try to have you kicked out of the room before she settled down.”

Frank hums softly. “She doesn’t like me very much.”

“That’s the understatement of the century.”

“I stand by what I did.”

“I know you do, but you cannot deny that what you did traumatized her deeply, just as my actions did the same to her. Our relationship has flourished since then, but it has not come without its trials and tribulations, of which I’m certain are not completely finished.”

Frank nods slowly. “I know what I did. I know what harm I caused. I know it’s not rational that I dislike her for not wanting to help you that day; she had every right and reason to refuse, but I care about you. I’ve been your driver for years, and you’re like family to me.”

Lena looks down, forcing herself to hide the tiny smile the old man just forced onto her face. “You’re like my family too. I just…can you try and get along with her? She’s lost a lot because of me and having you guys at odds just adds unease into her life that she shouldn’t have to deal with.”

“As you wish.” Frank nods. “I’ll be nice to her.”

“Thank you, that’s all I ask.” Lena squeezes his arm gently. “Now, why don’t you go and get Jess to find you somewhere to lie down too? You can call your family and let them know you’ll be home late and try to relax. At your age, you have to take it easy after something like what happened today.”

“Cheeky madam. I’ll be fine, but I suppose I should let Mandy know.” Frank grins at her before standing up and shuffling over to Jess, who eases the broom down before leading him upstairs so he can rest and call his wife.

She moves to her station where she was working on the synthetic blood, eager to see if any of her experiments she was working on have garnered any results, but her cold, unbeating heart shatters as she takes in the sight of it all strewn across the station and ground broken, her notes ripped to shreds. Whoever that woman was, she doesn’t want her to be working on this, and if she could tell what the experiment was just from her notes and the experiments, then she’s smart. Smarter than Lena would like her to be.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?” Sam and Alex both wander over to come and look over her shoulder.

“Oh crap,” Alex mutters. “Is that the artificial blood experiments?”

“Yep, I guess this means I’ve got to start all them over again. Fuck. At least I remember what was in the notes, so I don’t have to start completely from scratch.”

Sam squeezes her shoulder reassuringly. “I’m sorry, Lena.”

“Me too, but it’s not the end of the world.” She ducks her head. “I’d rather it just be this than any of you.”

Sam nods. “Me too. Need a hand cleaning up?”

“No, I’m good. Why don’t you and Ruby go and hang out in my office? Ruby can nap there if she wants to. I’ve got this covered.”

“Translation: you want us to scarper so you can try and make sense of everything that happened.”

Lena rolls her eyes. “Yes, that. Now scram.”

“You’ve got it.” Sam turns on her heel and eases Ruby up from where she’s sitting to take her upstairs and away from here.

“Oh, and Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“There’s another safe room in my office; use it if you have to.”

Sam nods at her one last time with a reassuring smile before the mother-daughter duo leave the lab, leaving only Lena, Alex and Kara.

Alex finds a box of gloves nearby, washes her hands and snaps a pair on before helping Lena clear up the mess left all over the place.

“You don’t have to.”

Alex shrugs, not stopping for even a second. “I know, I want to. You protected us today and this is what I can do to thank you. I don’t know what that woman wants with my sister, but I know you’re not going to let her do anything either, not to Kara.”

Lena’s lips quirk up. “That’s true. I won’t let anyone hurt Kara. However, I do have to figure out who that woman is. She had a hold on me that I’ve never felt before, and I need to know exactly how and why she was able to do it.”

“That sounds smart.”

“It means I won’t be able to work on my artificial blood project though. I can’t do both, but I need to.” Lena sighs. “If I don’t work on the blood, the supply will run low again. I can’t risk becoming as starving as I was when I met Kara. If I work on that and put the research into this woman on the backburner then I’m opening us up to an attack. What do I do?”

“You’re a billionaire, right?”

Lena frowns, pausing to look over at Alex in confusion. “Yes, why?”

“Just pay someone to do it.” She shrugs. “You have a load of scientists in this building during the day. Just get a few to work on the blood.”

“But I can’t let anyone know I’m a vampire. That’s the problem.” Lena shakes her head.

“Do you really think only vampires need blood?” Alex laughs, amused. “The hospital is always in need of donations. Believe me, I would know.”

Lena’s eyes grow wide. “Oh, shit. I forgot you’re a doctor. How are you having so much time off?”

“They’ve been trying to get me to take my vacation time for years. So has Kara for that matter.”

“Sounds like something Kara would do,” Lena admits.

“Yeah, but as much as I like resting. I love the feeling of helping people and saving lives. Sometimes, I like to work with patients, and sometimes I do lab testing. I love it.”

Just like that, a metaphorical lightbulb shines brightly over Lena’s head. “Lab work, you say?”

“Lab testing. It’s different.”

“But you’re familiar with bloodwork?”

“No. Nope. Not going to happen. No.” Alex shakes her head. “I like my work at the hospital.”

“And you can still do that, I will just have you come here and also be part of the team working on this.”

Alex sighs. “How big would the team be?”

“Two?”

Alex’s eyebrows raise so high they almost merge with her hairline. “Are you nuts? Only two people?”

“Me and you.”

“Definitely not. The hospital needs the extra help with the testing, so I won’t stop doing that.”

“I’ll start up an initiative to train and send some more people their way then. That means you’ll have time to come over and help.”

Alex shakes her head at Lena. “Why do you want me so bad?”

Lena ducks her head, shuffling her feet against some broken glass. “Surprisingly, I trust you and know I can speak openly around you. I don’t have that a lot of the time and I’ve never had the opportunity to work with anyone in the lab on something so personal. I’d like to know how it feels to work with a friend.”

“We’re friends?”

Lena clears her throat. “Not to make it weird or anything. I just…you’re my girlfriend’s sister, but I also kind of like you. You’re not bad for a human.”

Alex smirks at her, her hip propped against the nearest surface. “You’re not too bad for a vampire, I suppose. You should definitely roll out that initiative for the hospital.”

“You’ll do it?” Lena’s head snaps up. “Really?”

“I’ll think about it, but helping the hospital is a great way to inspire me to agree.”

Lena grins. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Hurry up and clean, then we can get some of these experiments going again and you can rewrite those notes.”

Lena lifts a few of the ripped sheets of paper and tries to jigsaw them together. “Do you think that if we get some tape—”

“Rewrite them.” Alex cuts her off. “You’re going to be a pain to work with. I can see it now.”

Lena smiles up at her smugly. “Yep, but you can’t back out now.”

“Of course I can.” Alex disagrees.

“Nope, because I’m going to tell Kara you said yes, and you can’t say no to Kara. That would be like kicking a puppy.”

“You wouldn’t dare.” Alex glares at her.

“Probably not, but it’s a good threat.”

Alex’s shoulders slump. She hates that she actually kind of likes Lena now. She still gets the odd spark of rage when she thinks about Lena back when she first met Kara and the harm she caused her, but seeing the pair so lovey-dovey and the way Kara grins when Lena’s around has done wonders for making her come around to the vampire woman.

“I hate you.”

“I know.”

They silently keep cleaning, Lena getting tired part way through and using her speed to run through the rest of the lab quickly.

Alex shakes her head at her, but it doesn’t last as her eyes focus on her sleeping sister. “Promise me you’ll focus on that woman. I’ll handle the blood; you just keep her safe.”

“I’ll do my best. I promise.”

“Thank you. That’s all I needed to hear.”

“Just for the record though, I’m not leaving the blood just to you. I trust you, but not enough for you to do it alone.” Lena bumps her shoulder into Alex’s, almost sending the redhead flying.

“Asshole.”

Read the next chapter early on Patreon here!

#supergirl #supercorp #kara danvers #lena luthor #kara x lena #fanfic #cw supergirl #supercorp endgame #supercorp fanfic #vampire lena luthor #vampire!lena #vampire au #chaoticsuper

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slvtwh0re · 10 months

Text

At Your Mercy

smut; spn, dean winchester

After an incident at the bar with a flirty bartender, you wanted to take your husband home and remind him just how lucky he was to have a wife like you. And while giving up control wasn’t something Dean didn’t often, letting you take the lead proved to be better than he ever expected.

Warnings: begging, praise, dirty talk, oral sex (make and female receiving), p in v

It wasn't often that Dean gave up control to you. You didn't understand why, because he very obviously enjoyed it when you took charge. But then again, you loved being trapped beneath him, feeling him use you as he pleased. Dean was simply good at everything.

Today, though, you were getting your way. After an incident at the bar with an overly flirtatious bartender, you wanted to give Dean a sweet reminder just how lucky he was. It had started as a trip for drinks, just you, Dean, Sam, and Cas. You and Dean had left early; you had other plans.

Dean was already turned on, just from watching you tell the woman off and flash your fancy wedding ring. The way you led him into the bunker - holding his hand with care but enough strength to remind him that he was at your mercy - only added to his need for you. Once again, he practically melted every time he got to see you in this light.

Clothes started shedding the moment you two reached the bedroom. Your black dress hit the floor - you'd never been one for fancy dresses, but Dean had convinced you to dress up tonight. Dean's eyes danced over your partially naked body, admiring the red undergarment set you were wearing.

"It's not fair that you're the only one staring," you said, tugging his shirt over his head. Once he was shirtless, you took a moment to admire him before placing your hands on his chest and shoving him backwards.

He hit the bed, crawling up to lay against the pillows. He was waiting for you, anticipating your next move. There you stood, in all your glory, looking down at him with lust-filled eyes.

"You're so beautiful," he breathed. "Let me make you feel good... Please, Y/N."

Hearing him beg was a weakness for you, and he knew it. But not tonight - you were taking your time with him. Shaking your head, you said, "Not yet."

Your words left him with curiosity over your next move, but his questions were soon answered. Positioning yourself over his lap, you leaned forward to slowly unzip his jeans. You stared up at him through your eyelashes, flooding him with memories of all the times your mascara ended up smeared down your face after spending a night together. It was one of his favorite ways to see you, but tonight, he'd see that other side of you. The side that wanted to push him to tears.

Once his jeans and boxers were discarded, you were back to your previous activity. Dean exhaled deeply when you took him into your mouth. You were teasing him, swirling your tongue around in slow circles. He was half tempted to grab your hair and shove your head down, but he knew it would only be digging his grave deeper.

His hands gripped the bedsheets, his breathing got heavier, and his eyes could barely stay open as you continued on. You kept the same pace for a few minutes, really trying to get him worked up.

Finally, he looked at you with those eyes; the ones pleading for you to give him something more, anything. You gave in, taking all of him into your mouth. A satisfied moan escaped his lips as you bobbed your head up and down, using your tongue to pay special attention to the vein along the underside of his cock.

Just as he felt his release building up, you pulled away. It left him feeling empty, missing your lips wrapped around him. You sat up, reaching behind you to unclasp your bra. Then, you pulled off your panties and grinned at him.

"I wanna ride your face, Dean," you told him.

The next word that left his mouth would've been enough to make you melt if you weren't so determined on having tonight play out how you wanted it. "Please..." he whispered.

He laid back on the bed, waiting for you. If there was one thing Dean absolutely loved, it was tasting you. Any chance he got, he was between your thighs, pleasing you in incredible ways. He knew your body, he knew what you liked.

So, when you positioned yourself over his face, you weren't surprised to feel him immediately start working you towards your first orgasm. His tongue made its way inside of you, slowly coming back up to circle your clit. You could feel his hands gripping your thighs, holding you down over his face. You'd surely have bruises from his grip, and you weren't sure how he was still breathing, but it felt too good to care.

When he used his hands to begin circling your hips over his face, you couldn't help the moan that escaped you. His mouth continued pleasuring you while you rode his face.

"You're so good, Dean." Somehow, you managed to utter praises between the sinful noises coming from both of you. "So good for me..."

He hummed against you at the sound of your words, and it was just enough to send you over the edge. He held you still as you came undone, using his tongue to gently clean up the mess.

When you resumed your spot on his lap, you took a moment to analyze his face. He had a drunken look in his eyes - drunk on your love and beauty and the feeling you gave him. His chin glistened under the dim light of the bedroom, making him all the more tantalizing. You moved to kiss him, taking a moment to remind him just how much you loved him.

"Maybe I should handcuff you..." you suggested against his lips. "Or maybe... it'd be more fun if you're just not allowed to touch me."

"I wanna touch you," he said breathlessly. "I wanna feel you, please..."

But you wanted to watch him squirm under you, watching you ride him and knowing he couldn't do anything. You wanted to see him reach behind himself to grip the headboard, toss his head back as he tried to swallow his moans.

He knew it, too, so it wasn't a shock when you shook your head. You used your hand to guide him to your entrance. In one, quick move, you sat down, taking all of him at once. He inhaled sharply, waiting for you to move. But you didn't - you stayed still for a moment, enjoying how he resisted thrusting his hips into you.

"Please, Y/N," he all but whimpered. "Please...

I can't..."

"You can," you assured him. "You can wait."

"You feel so good... Please..."

It seemed like ages, but in reality, it only took you a few seconds to give in to him. You began moving, switching between bouncing and circling your hips. At this point, Dean was a moaning mess, suffering the pain of not being able to touch you. The way you made him feel was overwhelming, overpowering in the best sense.

"You like this, huh, Dean?" you asked teasingly as you moved your hips in slow circles. "When I take control, when there's absolutely nothing you can do except watch me use you how I please."

"Yes," he admitted. "Yes - fuck, I love it. Please, Y/N... I wanna touch you."

He figured his plea would fall on deaf ears again, but surprisingly, it didn't. You gave in, nodding your head. Immediately, his hands reached out to grip your waist. However, he still let you take the lead.

Both of you were quickly approaching your ends, but Dean was the first to let go. He'd been surviving your teasing since the two of you had been home, but he couldn't take it any longer. You were too good.

The feeling of him filling you up made you come undone. You arched your back, dropping your mouth open in a silent moan. Dean thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world, and he wished he could take a picture to remember it forever.

You collapsed onto his chest, breathing heavily and inhaling his scent. Even through the smell of sex and sweat lingering in the room, you could still smell remnants of his cologne, and it made you smile.

"Well," he breathed. "Maybe we should do that more often."

You chuckled, picking your head up to kiss him softly. "Give me a time and place."

"Round two in thirty minutes?"

"Thirty minutes."

#dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean x reader #dean x y/n #smut #spn #spn fanfic #spn smut #supernatural #supernatural smut

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the-s1lly-corner · 6 months

Note

Hey it me again. Let’s try this for round two of my request for the tadc cast ( plus Caine) helping a reader with crutches at the breakfast table after they accidentally left them for the new i.h.a.

TADC cast x reader who uses crutches!

Side note I'm on mobile still for tumblr and my asks are getting weirder; the asks look fine in the inbox but when I go to answer them it like. Makes it on long thing, single worded lines. it's annoying and I dont like it!! It happened with the last request too grrrgrr

CAINE:

It takes him a while because it's not uncommon for circus members to skip out on IHAs, I mean zooble openly says they dont want to do them! But when he decides to go make sure you're not doing anything you're not supposed to (cough cough going into the void/j) he stumbles upon you

You can practically see the gears running in his head before he realizes the issue

Immediately zooms to your side and makes a show of apologies while helping you up

Shit he might even be frantic enough to scoop you up

Honestly I feel like Caine would feel so so bad and he would try to make it up to you

POMNI:

Feels very bad when she realizes you're not around; shes still trying to get hard to the digital world so shes still learning everyone and their whole deals

You know how some characters run with their hands out in front of them. In like a weird scurry. I think pomni would lowkey run like that when she tries to search every corner of the circus for you. Shed already check your room and a bunch of the halls before she even thinks about the main area

Letting out a stream of apologies as she gives you a hand, trying to let you know that she didnt do this to be malicious or hurtful

I think it would take a while longer for pomni to really, really, embed your needs into her schedule since shes juggling so much between coming to terms with being trapped and finding an exit, but she does promise to do better (and she does, eventually!)

RAGATHA:

It's rare that ragatha would just up and forget something like you needing crutches to really be able to move around; even rarer for ragatha to forget you as a whole for a brief moment

No I think the only way this scenario would work is if caine suddenly sprang up the days adventure out of no where as soon as the last person was done eating; and he decides to make it a really high energy chaotic one that takes everyone off guard

It's not long until she remembers you were left behind, though, shes probably one of the few who would take probably at most 10 or so minutes to go and get you.. jax is the second, oddly enough

That said she's apologizing and fretting over you before filling you in on everything you missed

Very sweet very nice, she wont let it happen again

JAX:

I like to think that jax does the "really fast run that he did leaving kaufmos room" a few times, especially when hes struck with a brilliant idea for a prank. So there definitely has been at least a couple instances where he left you behind. It's not so much that hes doing it out of malice, but its like. Those huge motivation spikes that prompt you to work ASAP, you know?

"Heh did you see that, reader?" After the prank he planted in an IHA goes off, turning around to find you're not here

Puts two and two together and runs off to where you were before and pulls you up

Lazy apology, I think, I mean I think jax is the type of person to struggle with apologizing but thats just me

KINGER:

Genuinely forgets because I mean... kinger has multiple instances of forgetting/not noticing gangle is right next to him in the pilot.. so do I really need to explain that kinger simply forgets? Obviously hes not doing it to be mean, assuming kinger truly is losing his marbles

I think it would require someone else outwardly asking where you are before he suddenly swivels in every direction trying to find you

Similar to pomni he runs around trying to find you before finding you by chance

Rather than immediately apologizing and helping you he runs over to you and expresses that he was scared SKMETHING had happened to you and how relieved he is to find that ultimately, you're okay

Then the streams of apologies start

Though I think this is a rare occurrence, because hes always trying to keep you in his line of sight; to align it with my other kinger hcs.. hmm.. perhaps this could happen in one of his worse days

ZOOBLE:

Zooble likely skips IHAs, so it would admittedly take them a while to find you. I mean if they're not at the IHA then they cant notice you're missing. I think they would find you when they decide to leave their room to wander the grounds, far from the chaos and

Oh!

You're kinda just, there. It looks like you had fallen over, your crutches far out of reach; perhaps you had tried to leave yourself after being stranded for a while

Zooble feels.. bad.. but they're flat in terms of expressing their emotions outside of annoyance and fear/surprise, so it kind of comes off as a

"Oh shit man my bad" reaction as they quickly try to get you your crutches and help you up

Takes you to their room after the fact, apologizing for bolting off so fast after breakfast

GANGLE:

Doesnt take long for her to realize you're not here, too, shes probably behind jax in regards of how fast shes going to retrieve you. Letting out these short squeaked apologies while helping you up; probably struggles doing so because shes made of ribbon and likely isnt that sturdy (I'm sorry that was mean)

Honestly you two probably skip out in the remainder of the IHA, gangle feels too horrible to go out and continue it snd you're tired, you know?

Two mirmir

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #digital circus x reader #caine x reader #pomni x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #kinger x reader #zooble x reader #gangle x reader

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spop-romanticizes-abuse · 6 months

Text

so this post is inspired by a person who sent an ask to @my-nitpicking-self (i hope you don't mind me tagging you), who mentioned the confrontation between katara and zuko in atla, in reference to glimmer's and catra's relationship in spop. i thought it was an interesting comparison, so i'm going to expand on it.

so two very similar scenes in atla and spop: katara and zuko being stuck together in crystal catacombs and glimmer and catra being stuck together in horde prime's ship. two things to note here - zuko was beginning to heal at this point and had almost completely given up his mission of capturing aang, while catra has just finished conquering salineas and was neck-deep in villainy.

as soon as katara sees zuko, she becomes outraged. keep in mind, zuko did not kill katara's mother. but she still had a valid reason to be mad at him. she holds him accountable for everything he has done.

K: Why did they throw you in here? Oh, wait, let me guess. It's a trap. So that when Aang shows up to help me, you can finally have him in your little Fire Nation clutches!

K: You're a terrible person! You know that? Always following us! Hunting the Avatar! Trying to capture the world's last hope for peace! But what do you care? You're the Fire Lord's son. Spreading war and violence and hatred is in your blood!

Z: You don't know what you're talking about.

K: I don't? How dare you! You have no idea what this war has put me through! Me personally! The Fire Nation took my mother away from me.

here, zuko doesn't try to argue with katara until she implies that violence and aggression is an inherited thing, because he's from the fire nation. zuko accepts his mistakes but he is also aware that being a fire nation citizen or even royalty alone doesn't make you a bad person. even then, he doesn't raise his voice or lash out at her, he just calmly disagrees.

after katara mentions her mother, he apologizes and sympathizes with her.

Z: I'm sorry. That's something we have in common.

K: I'm sorry I yelled at you before.

Z: It doesn't matter.

K: It's just that for so long now, whenever I would imagine the face of the enemy, it was your face.

katara also apologizes but zuko understands that it was completely in her right to blame him. and then we get to the crux of the issue. katara's mother was killed years ago but she still hasn't been able to move on from the grief.

now, of course, zuko again turns back to villainy but this was an important confrontation. and it wasn't the only one. as you all know, after zuko's official redemption, the gaang still doesn't trust him and katara is the last person to forgive him. she is still upset and disappointed by the way he betrayed her after they had begun to bond in the catacombs. and zuko has to prove his loyalty before katara could forgive him.

now let's come to glimmer and catra. catra DIRECTLY caused the death of glimmer's mother. and it was recent. glimmer had been grappling with her grief in the last season, to the point where she spirals into a small corruption arc. s4 of spop does NOT forget angella's death.

so obviously, you would expect there to be a confrontation between glimmer and catra in s5, especially since they were alone together in a confined space. but let's see what happened.

Glimmer: You again. Why do you keep coming back here?

Catra: Just...bored, I guess.

Glimmer: No, I mean, Horde Prime told you not to talk to me. He's gonna catch you eventually. Why risk it? ...You're lonely, aren't you?

so far, no confrontation, no apology.

Catra: What do you know? You're the prisoner here. I can go where I want. So, stay here by yourself for all I care.

Glimmer: Okay, okay, you're right. It...helps having someone to talk to. Even if you're the last person I'd ever want to be stuck here with.

Catra: Trust me, Sparkles, the feeling is mutual.

and just like that, they're on better terms now. glimmer doesn't bring up angella's death, she doesn't bring up the way catra treated adora, how she and bow were kidnapped by catra, nothing. they seem more like casual rivals than enemies here. catra doesn't seem guilty in the slightest, she just has to threaten to leave and glimmer immediately makes her stay.

and not just that, they joke about adora's paranoia that was rooted in her trauma, as if it's just a fun quirk. at this point, it's clear that the writers are not even trying to make it seem like they don't favor catra over all the characters.

and the one time glimmer somewhat confronts catra—

G: Please, Catra. Do one good thing in your life!

C: Don't talk to me like you know me! You don't know anything about me!

of course, catra shuts her down immediately. and afterwards, even when catra saves glimmer, she makes it clear that she's only doing it for adora. while on the surface, this might still come off as a good deed, it's clear from her later behaviour that catra's goal wasn't to help either adora or glimmer. my best guess is that she was practically awaiting death at that point and didn't expect to face the consequences of her actions, so she wanted to go out with one good deed, much like shadow weaver.

it's crazy how zuko, who was just an antagonist and has done very little to directly hurt the gaang, faced the consequences of his actions and got a drawn out and detailed redemption; while catra, who spent the entire series hurting the protagonists out of her own interest, gets off scot-free.

any time her past actions are brought up, they are mentioned in the vaguest terms possible i.e. “she made some mistakes” or “shs hurt people”. it's so clear that the writers were hoping that if the other characters forgot everything that catra did, the audience would do the same. and the worst part is that they're right. 90% of the fandom were willing to accept catra's redemption because no one in the show ever holds her accountable or confronts her properly.

#spop critical #spop #spop salt #spop criticism #spop discourse #she ra #anti catradora #anti catra #anti spop #anti c//a #antic//a #anticatra #anticatradora

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doetic · 1 year

Text

Baby, it's cold outside - Ex Bf!Jschlatt x F!Reader

1/3 -> next part (coming soon)

Plot: Y/n had only planned to quickly grab the things she left at her newly-ex-boyfriend's house and leave, but an unforeseen snowstorm leaves her with no choice but to wait it out indoors with a very persistent Schlatt who's determined to piece back together their relationship. Warnings: Prior breakup, heated argument with yelling, characters are trapped inside during a dangerous snowstorm (but are safe), mention of possible death, quite a bit of swearing. Allusions to Schlatt being a functional alcoholic. Word Count: 4137

A/N: Finally it's done! This was so fun to write! Thank you for the positive response on the teaser, I appreciate it a lot! I really feel as if I could have added more but it was getting long and I was in a hell of writing an additional scene then deleting it and rewriting it, it was an endless cycle and I would have been working on this forever. I also am rusty when it comes to writing and keep changing tenses, sorry if there's anything I missed in editing. Changed Schlatt from Jason to Jacob mid fic so if he's referred to as Jason, you didn't see that. Requests are open btw!!

The house, although obviously lacking any ability to have emotions of its own, felt strangely sorrowful as Y/n gingerly stepped inside, stomping the snow off her boots and onto the mat. Rationally she knew it was likely her own shoved down emotions being projected onto the relatively blank canvas, although she wouldn't willingly delve too far into that concept. She desperately wanted to believe she was completely over her now ex-boyfriend Jacob Schlatt, especially as she was the one who had initiated and insisted on breaking up. Unfortunately, Y/n was smart enough to know that no matter how much she insisted to herself that she no longer needed or wanted her former boyfriend of five years, the truth of the matter would still continue to nag at her whenever she thought of him. It was better to avoid both Schlatt and any related introspection altogether, an impossible task when she stood inside their once shared house to collect her things.

The soft mrow of Jambo's call sounded through the entryway, the little orange cat quickly padding over to Y/n and rubbing himself against her feet as she removed her boots and other winter gear. She bent down to pet the small creature on his head, the softness of his fur against her hand was a calming sensation that brought a bit of ease to her sorrowful feelings. Y/n had missed the little guy deeply, but with Schlatt’s exorbitant income as a popular youtuber/streamer/businessman she knew Jambo would have a better life staying with Schlatt, as painful as it was to part ways. The orange tabby, who was now licking her index finger, had felt like her only companion at times while Schlatt was consistently busy with streaming, editing, or managing the businesses he helped run.

As if her thoughts had been a siren's song to lure him close, heavy, hesitant footsteps approached the entryway after a few purr-filled minutes passed by. Y/n tried to act calm and collected for her own dignity, not moving from her crouched position besides tilting her head up to meet the pained red eyes of her former lover.

Schlatt looked dishevelled. His hair was a mess and the headband that usually sat atop his head to keep the wild brown locks from falling into his face was shockingly missing. From the looks of his hair, and his mutton chops too, he was neglecting a much needed small trim. Usually it was her designated job to do so, solely because she insisted on it as sweet bonding time, something their relationship began to lack greatly as the years went on. He wore his green Polizei sweatshirt, the one Y/n had praised as her favourite many times for the way it made him look irresistibly amazing to cuddle with. Uncharacteristically, the sweater looked like it hadn’t left his body in a while, an odd thing for the usually clean and organised man.

Most people would delight in seeing their ex-partner in such a state without them, and although Y/n couldn’t lie and say Schlatt’s miserable appearance didn’t give her a miniscule bit of satisfaction. Clearly he was now realising how important she was to his life after he had made less and less time for her in the end years of her relationship, the feelings of pity and remorse that washed over her as the nearly empty bottle of Jack held in his hand, and the smell of alcohol that wafted off of him became more glaringly obvious and concerning the more she inspected him.

"I thought you were coming tomorrow," He stated simply, his voice carrying a bit of strain within.

"I texted you that I would be coming on the 25th, that's today. But if there's an issue I can come back another time," Y/n replied, the house’s entryway where they stood feeling suffocatingly uncomfortable as a result of their former relationship. It had felt like months since the last time they saw each other, the night Y/n stormed out for good, but in reality it was at most two weeks.

"No!" Schlatt's voice was filled with desperation, his eyes began to water as a sudden panicked shout escaped him at the mention of Y/n leaving "...No. It's fine. Today is fine." He cleared his throat and recollected himself to the best of his ability. "I'm sure you remember where everything is. There's boxes for you in the kitchen, I'll be editing in the bedroom."

As always, Y/n wanted to bitterly add. Instead she bit her tongue, wanting to keep the peace so she could be in and out quickly.

"Thank you, Jacob," Y/n replied quietly, lacking the confidence to say the name much louder. She had never called him Jacob. Sure it was his first name, but it was something everyone else called him, never ever her. Up until this point she had only ever called him Jay. She had to fight back the urge to correct herself, wanting to set boundaries to create space and ensure she wouldn’t run back to him.

Schlatt picked up on this, his breathing picking up slightly in alarm, a stifled whimper just barely escaping from his throat.

"Y-yeah," His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Well, you're welcome," His sadness turned to anger, as did most of his emotions when they became too much for him to handle. He spat the words out like they were venom before turning around and lurking back to the–

No.

His bedroom.

Y/n let out a shaky breath she hadn't noticed she was holding, giving a weak smile to Jambo. “Men. Am I right, bud?” She tried to make light of the situation with her comment, giving the cat a scritch behind the ears before getting up and heading to grab the boxes, wanting to leave as soon as possible.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The kitchen had been taken over by ghosts.

“Jayyyy! Stop it!” Y/n giggled, putting her arms up to defend herself from the second handful of soap bubbles Schlatt scooped up from the sink and prepared to blow into her face.

She should have known better than to accept his help with the dishes. Although he certainly had, and often exercised, the capability to be calm and introspective, once something got him going he became a major troublemaker. All in good fun, of course. Y/n didn’t mind it all too much though. Sure, he was a menace, but he was her menace.

Besides, the dishes could wait. Moments where Schlatt was both sober and free of any work related obligations were increasingly few and far between these days. Y/n always tried to be understanding and supportive, but she couldn’t help but feel rejected, especially when his work related obligations often involved wildly charismatic female friends of his who could easily pass for models.

Y/n knew jealousy wasn’t a good look, but it was hard not to feel such a way when she had to sit on the sidelines as a secret only Schlatt and his closest friends knew of, and watch helplessly as people online fawned over him or shipped him with women she felt like she could never possibly compare to. Y/n knew that talking to Schlatt about her concerns before they grew into a deep resentment was the right thing to do, but each time she tried to get him alone to discuss it she was brushed off. Then, on the rare occasion he was alone, sober, and not preoccupied, Y/n couldn’t bring herself to ruin the only time she had to truly feel like a couple again.

Sure, she was living in her own personal hell, but at least she had these moments of domestic bliss. For now, they were enough.

“Come on babe, I’m not gonna blow it at you!” Schlatt promised, moving the handful of soap away from his mouth. “Don’t you trust your boyfriend?” He couldn’t fully hide the catlike grin that pulled at his lips, a smile Y/n had learned to never trust.

“No! You’re despicable!” Y/n dipped her hand into the warm, soapy water and flicked it at him. “Begone foul demon!”

“Demon?” Schlatt tsk’d at her, taking a step closer and looking down at her mischievously. “You’ve got it all wrong, toots. I’m a man of the lord. You’re the demonic one here with how tempting you are. My very own succubus…” His words flowed from his mouth like honey, the husky tone along with his hand tucking a stray clump of hair behind her ear making Y/n blush.

“Tempting? Well, why don’t you show me exactly what I tempt you to do?” Y/n breathed the words out, placing a hand on his cheek.

“Gladly.”

Y/n closed her eyes as he leaned down to kiss her, his arm wrapping around her waist and holding her firmly against his body. Just when she felt his warm breath tickle her face, the anticipation for the kiss beginning to gnaw hungrily at her, a soft pressure hit her head and was quickly followed by a small trickle of water and bubbles beginning at her scalp and running down the bridge of her nose.

“You asshole!” She playfully hit his chest, unable to contain her grin as he continued to hold her tight against his body with his superior strength.

Schlatt chuckled, kissing the top of her head despite the bubbles that remained there.

“You know you love me.”

Y/n roughly wiped her teary eyes against the back of her sleeve. Quickly, she grabbed the four boxes that sat on the island and rushed out of the room to gather her stuff, but not before sending a pained glare to the kitchen sink.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

It was an irrefutable fact in Y/n’s mind that in recent years her luck had been waning. But, when the lightbulbs began flicker and promptly lose all power along with the rest of the house as soon as she placed down her last box, Y/n was happy at least the god of timing was smiling down upon her, even if Lady Luck wasn’t.

Y/n glanced out the window, seeing nothing but a sea of white. The already thick flurries from earlier had grown into a full-on blizzard in the hour she was collecting her things. Luckily the bits of light that managed to make it through the heavy snow and flow through the large front window illuminated the entryway in lieu of the now non-functional lights, allowing Y/n to see what she was doing as she gathered one of the boxes into her arms for her first trip to her car. With the storm getting so bad that the power went out, Y/n knew her window of opportunity to leave was rapidly fading away. Waiting it out with Schlatt was not an option. it would be too painful, a harsh reminder of what they once had. Shifting the box's weight to one arm, Y/n used her other one to open the front door.

"Are you insane?" Schlatt shouted from the doorway into his office. He quickly rushed over, his hand darting out to quickly shut the front door before Y/n could exit through it and head into the thick, opaque wall of white that laid outside. "It's snowing so hard you wouldn't be able to see your hand in front of your face! You'd get killed trying to drive out there!" Despite his angry demeanor, Y/n knew Schlatt well enough to see through it as a cover up for his concern.

She couldn't help but scoff in response to his worry, even though she knew he was right about the danger. Reluctantly relenting, Y/n placed her things down. "Yeah, you're right. I shouldn't drive." She glanced out of the house's front window. "But don't you dare act like you'd care if I got hurt."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Schlatt's hand darted out to grab Y/n's arm and turn her to face him, the softness of his grip a stark contrast to the harsh desperation of his movements. "I'm not the bad guy here. I'm not the one who ended things, I'm the one who's fighting for us!"

"Yeah, I know. You won't stop blowing up my phone and acting like you're such a fucking martyr for it." Y/n pulled her arm out from his grasp, glaring up at the larger man. "Don't act like you're some innocent, blameless party who I oh so greatly wronged. Neither of us were perfect in our relationship, neither of us could give the other what they needed."

Schlatt looked appalled at her statement. "Don't speak for me! You gave me everything I needed, everything I could have possibly wanted!"

"Don't delude yourself, Jacob, I could never be good enough for you. I could never be good enough for your life." Y/n's eyes were full of resentment. "But even if so, what did I get in return? A boyfriend who's always too busy to spend time with me, and when he does find time, he's drunk? A partner I can't even talk about to anyone? A five-fucking-year relationship with a man who refuses to pop the question while he builds his brand by flirting with other people to an audience of millions?" Y/n's face contorted in sorrow as she desperately held back her tears.

"Why didn't you tell me this before? Why did you let this grow worse until you broke?"

"When could I have sat you down to tell you? You hardly even had time in your schedule to eat the meals I made." Y/n snapped. Schlatt stayed silent, unable to refute. She sighed. "Face it, Jacob. You can't love me in the way I need you to without giving up everything you've built."

Tension thickened the air into cement as the two stared silently at each other, daring the other to say something first. Hesitantly, Schlatt opened his mouth to speak. "I would have given it all up for you in an instant." His voice was gentle and meek.

Y/n turned away from him to hide the tears that finally overflowed and spilled down her cheeks. Oh how her heart soared at those words, but Y/n knew taking up his offer would mean cruelly ripping his passion and a lifetime of hard work away from him. Y/n couldn't possibly entertain the idea of doing that to someone she loved.

"I'm going to check on Jambo. Just let me go."

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Hours later the light faded from the outside, the room only illuminated with the many candles Y/n had lit. Y/n shivered with slightly chattering teeth as she sat on top of Schlatt’s bed, a throw blanket pulled tightly around her body by her hands that were beginning to bear blue-tinted fingernails. She was alone in the room with her stubborn pride, Jambo abandoning her minutes ago.

It would be so incredibly easy for her to crawl under the covers, to be embraced by the warm, plush duvet she had insisted Schlatt purchase as a housewarming gift for themselves after they were wishing they had one during the last snowstorm they endured. Part of Y/n longed to just say fuck it to everything and crawl under, but a louder part of herself insisted it would be giving in. To what? She wasn’t sure. However, her resolve was quickly fading as her body grew more cold.

The bedroom door creaked open and the light of a flashlight lit up the room.. Y/n looked up from the bed, her eyes meeting Schlatt’s.

“It’s freezing.”

With Y/n shivering so much she didn’t have the energy for negativity, nor the energy to respond at all, instead she pulled the blanket tighter around herself.

Schlatt sighed, crossing the room and coming to a seat beside her. He placed the flashlight on the end table, keeping it on for more lighting. In his hands he held a different bottle of Jack than the one from earlier, this one appearing freshly opened, save for a few missing swigs.

“Apparently drinking will warm you up. I don’t think it actually does to be honest, but surely waiting out a snowstorm with some alcohol in your system is better than waiting it out completely sober,” He explained, gingerly holding the bottle out to Y/n.

After a few seconds of debating, Y/n reached out and accepted his offer, wincing as her nearly numb hands came in contact with the ice cold glass. Quickly she took a large gulp before handing the bottle back to Schlatt.

“It doesn’t work,” Y/n confirmed quietly.

Schlatt exhaled a small chuckle. “Thank you for peer reviewing my theory.” He examined the bottle in his hands before taking a sip of his own. “It’s always impressed me how you could drink liquor so easily from the first time you tried it.” He offered the bottle to her once again.

Y/n accepted the bottle and stared down the neck of it for a few moments in embarrassment. “It wasn’t actually easy until recently, I just didn’t want to be the girl in that Carrie Underwood song.” This time she took a smaller sip before handing it back.

The hint of a grin tugged at Schlatt’s lips. “That checks out…”

He brought the bottle to his lips but paused before he drank any, seemingly lost in thought. He screwed on the cap and placed the bottle on the end table. Y/n couldn't stop the small, proud smile that forced itself onto her face, an action that hurt with the stiff coldness of her cheeks. Despite the happiness that seeing Schlatt stop himself from drinking had brought her, the action showing he truly listened to her words from earlier, Y/n didn't draw attention to it to avoid any possible embarrassment on his behalf.

Y/n looked away quickly when Schlatt turned his head to glance at her, jumping when the back of his hand made gentle contact with her cheek.

“God, you don’t just look like you’re freezing. You feel it too,” He muttered.

Y/n moved her head away from his delightfully warm touch. “It’s fine.”

With a sigh, Schlatt stood up from his seated position on the bed, pulling out a corner of the blanket and gesturing for her to get in. “You’re going to get sick.”

“No, Jacob, It’s fine,” She insisted, although the prospect was growing more tempting by the second.

“I don’t know why you need to make this so difficult, Y/n. It’s cold, you’re cold, just get in the damn warm bed. You don’t need to be so prideful!”

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Fine,” she mumbled, trying to seem angry as she quickly scrambled under the covers, hoping he didn’t notice how she melted into the mattress contentedly.

Schlatt followed her in.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” She protested, shocked.

“It’s cold as fuck, are you really going to make me freeze just because we broke up?” Schlatt asked. “Besides, I’m not going to try anything. I’m a gentleman.”

“You’re a schlentleman, there’s a difference,” She huffed and looked away from him, instead she chose to gaze up at the white popcorn ceiling.

“And what’s the difference? It just sounds funnier?”

“No, the difference is that you’re Jacob Schlatt. You’re always up to something. Usually it’s funny, but I’m not in the mood right now. I just want to go home.”

Schlatt was silent for a few moments, but didn’t move. Y/n could feel his warm leg ever so slightly touching hers, a small connection that seemed to warm her body in more ways than just temperature.

“How’s your new place treating you?” He asked.

“Good…” She thought about it for a few moments. “Good. It’s just a studio apartment. Huge windows.”

“You’ve always loved those,” Y/n swore that she could hear a bittersweet smile in his voice. “You got that window seat you’ve always wanted?”

“No, not yet. Maybe one day,” She sighed hopefully, the picture of reading or doing her work while seated on one dancing into her mind. “Any issues with the house?”

“No, shockingly,” He laughed. “It’s a relief after all the housing issues we’ve been through.”

“Yeah…” Y/n agreed, reminiscing on all the problems they’d been through together. They were the only stable thing in each other's lives in a time of seemingly impossible to get through instability, and now that was over. Her chest tightened. “I’m glad things are going good for you, Jacob.” She turned her head to look at him, a small smile on her lips.

His brown eyes met her own, staring into her. “You and I both know that things are not going good.”

She gulped, looking back up at the ceiling, unable to handle the intensity of his stare and words.

“Things just wouldn’t work out between us,” Y/n tried to explain.

“Why? Why not?” Schlatt begged, making her face him again. “I told you, I’d give up my career for you!”

“I don’t want you to! You’ve spent so long on it, it makes you so happy. And…” She swallowed, trying to keep the words from coming out. “I’m not special or important enough for that.”

Schlatt’s eyes widened. “Where’d you get that idea? Y/n, I was with you for five years, you’re the most amazing person I know!” His hands cupped her cheeks and Y/n had to stop herself from dissolving into his comforting, warm touch.

“You never showed it! You were always busy, I always had to hide our relationship. I’ve just always felt unwanted…” Her vision grew blurry with the forming of tears. “It’s no matter now, it’s over.”

They stayed like that for what felt like hours, Schlatt looking guiltily into Y/n’s eyes as he tenderly held her face. Realistically it was only a few minutes until the larger man hesitantly moved closer to Y/n, his slightly chapped lips pressing against hers. Y/n’s brain screamed at her, not for her sinking into the action and accepting it, but for pushing him away in the first place. She had been fighting with her true feelings for too long, and now she didn’t have the strength to continue.

“Tell me, tell me if you don’t want this and I’ll stop for good. I’m not going to force you to love me if you don’t want to.” His face was nervous and hopeful as he pulled away. “But if you have any doubts about that at all, I’ll keep fighting for you. For us. I’ll do whatever I can to make things right.”

Y/n opened and closed her mouth slightly a few times, she found herself unable and unwilling to form a protest. She wanted this, she wanted him. She didn’t want to keep running. With his touch, everything suddenly felt fixable. No longer did everything seem like a large, unclimbable mountain. All their problems sunk into the shape of hills.

“Please, do that again.” She whispered.

Schlatt grinned.

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The sunlight flowed through the window, illuminating Schlatt in its rays of gold. Y/n pulled herself into a sitting position and watched him for a few moments before she slowly crawled over him in an attempt to get out of the bed without waking him. Still dressed in the clothes she had arrived in, Y/n quietly moved to the door on the tips of her toes.

“Y/n?” Schlatt’s tired and anxious voice sounded from the bed.

“Go back to sleep,” She urged.

“Are you leaving?”

“I can’t stay in bed all day.”

“Please, don’t go,” He begged, sitting up.

“Get back in bed, go back to sleep,” She rushed over, gently placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back into the mattress.

His hand grabbed her wrist, keeping her from leaving. “I thought we worked this out last night, we promised to communicate. Y/n, talk to me. What’s going on?” His brow furrowed.

She huffed. “I was trying to make you breakfast in bed, but I wasn’t sneaky enough.”

Schlatt’s face softened as he pulled her onto his body, hugging her close. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“I’m sorry, please let me up. Even if it’s no longer a surprise I need to make breakfast” Y/n tried to get away but his strong arms kept her still.

“Baby, it’s cold outside. Come lay with me where it’s warm. Just for a few minutes?” He pleaded.

She relented, his begging making her body warm with the feeling of being loved. “Of course Jay, just for a few minutes.”

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Schlatt tags: @d444zed

#jschlatt #jschlatt oneshot #jschlatt angst #jschlatt fic #jschlatt x reader #jschlatt fanfic #schlatt oneshot #schlatt fic #schlatt fanfic #schlatt x reader #jschlatt fluff #mcyt x reader #chuckle sandwich x reader #alyssia writes

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imperical-shop · 5 months

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Spooky Whiskers

The Spooky Whiskers design also comes with its own story. Enjoy this Zonami drabble 😊

Summary: In complete Zoro fashion, Nami and the swordsman got lost. Usually, that’s not a problem - the navigator can find her way out of anything. But this time, in the gloomy and dejected-looking mansion, with a companion trailing their every step, can Nami really get them out?

Words: 1604

Tags: Fools in love, protective Zoro, a creepy vibe is laced all around it I guess

Note: Initially, I was planning on making it longer, but halfway it turned into this and now I have no idea if I should carry it on. Let me know if you want to see more ^^

⊹˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷₊˚⊹

“Can you move it? Thanks to you, we managed to lose everyone.” Nami stopped in her tracks, turning around to check on her companion.

“Me? I think the words you’re looking for are ‘Thanks Zoro for risking your life to save mine from that man-eating plant outside.’” He moved past her, walking down the dark corridor, hearing her footsteps echo behind him.

“I had it all under control. You decided to butt in and thus get us both in here.” She raised her hands to point to nothing in particular, scrunching her face to further drill in her point.

Zoro rolled his eyes and scoffed, keeping up the same pace. Their footsteps were the only things resonating in the empty house, along with the clanking of his swords. The boards creaked beneath, a hollow sound coming from the holes in the walls. Pictures of some posh guys were hanging left and right, their imposing figures only seen in the dark by the golden chains, rings, or other jewelry painted right next to their figure.

Talk about flaunting money, Nami thought, turning around and trying to get her eyes to completely adjust to the darkness.

The navigator knew they should’ve stuck together from the beginning - she had made that clear the second they’d left the ship. And yet, with their captain and sharpshooter running to the right because of, as they’d put it, “Food!”, the chef going after them and, of course, Zoro navigating himself to the complete opposite, Nami had been left trying to bring them all back together.

Which by the looks of things, she had obviously failed. It had taken her less than 5 minutes to carelessly step on a dark green root and awake a very hungry one-eyed plant that had sharper teeth than Zoro’s swords. For a second, she had thought that that had been it - she had finally run out of luck and was soon to be plant food. But after a minute of managing to defend herself, the aloof swordsman had miraculously shown up, and well… They were alive.

But thinking they had been saved had, in retrospect, been a very bad idea on her end. Two steps and they had fallen in a trap door that led them to the mansion on the hill Usopp had spotted when they’d docked.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” Nami asked, walking in step with the swordsman. It seemed the place had long been abandoned.

“No,” he answered in a gruff. “You’re the navigator, you tell me.”

“Typical.” Nami rolled her eyes and strode faster.

They always did this. He would say something that illogically made her angry, she would fume and yell, ending with them… Well, it used to end with them just bickering but not after a few nights ago. Not after she had so carelessly let her walls down after one too many drinks with him and the next thing she knew, she’d been straddling him, their lips super-glued to each other to the point where her mind had started getting fuzzy from lack of air. Luckily (or unluckily if you’d ask Nami), a knock from the outside had broken the spell.

“I wouldn’t go there,” Zoro said evenly, but the ginger dismissed him with a wave of her hand. Something shiny had attracted her attention in the room to her right when she’d passed it, so she took a few steps back and paused before it.

Hearing the pirate hunter huff exasperatedly, Nami took one step forward, crossing the frame of the door. The air was stale and mossy, gray layers shaping different ornaments and furniture around the place. Her eyes were already adjusted to the dark, so she quickly took notice of the several gleaming shapes in the room - a cup and a ring on the small oval table, and one small jewelry box with a few coins peaking out of it. But they weren’t the things that caught her eye. A dim white figure seemed to float in the air before it fully disappeared behind a giant standing mirror, leaving a white misty dot on the spot.

Nami was intrigued. She had never seen a ghost - ghosts weren’t real, right? Gods and god-like powers, sure, she had seen something like that, but never this. So call her crazy for wanting to snoop more - at the end of the day, if there was no ghost and it was all a figment of her imagination, she could get the gold from the table, right?

The navigator took one more step before something pulled her back and she was slammed with her back to a sturdy surface. Cold air cut the place in front of her, a rusty gray metal swinging before her eyes. The sharp curve and the edges of the axe glinted even in the darkness.

Her breath stopped in her lungs as her eyes widened in shock. Just one more second and she would’ve been split in two before she could even blink.

The strong hold around her waist loosened up and only then did Nami turn around to see Zoro backing away. His hand slowly retracted, as if he was unsure whether he should and wanted to let go, trying to debate the idea within the few milliseconds he had. Her eyes were still wide open, staring into his onyx gems, feeling the warmth sluggishly leave her body.

The morning after their kiss, Nami had believed it had all been a dream. Or at the very least, something they had both forgotten about, something left behind in the haze of their memories, never to be spoken about again, disguised as a drunken mistake. But standing so close to him now, feeling his breath hitch in his throat as his eyes searched hers, as the rapid rise of his chest bounced off her back and his look mirrored something akin to worry and relief at the same time, Nami wasn’t sure any of her beliefs were right. At that moment, they were nothing more than delusions, wishful thoughts constructed by her brain to shield what she protected the most - her heart.

⊹˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷₊˚⊹

Did she see me? It cocked its head, peaking through the cracks in the wall at the ginger and the big green-haired guy behind her. They seemed rather… close? But their words from a few moments ago didn’t indicate that. In fact, it sounded like they were arguing.

The floating creature moved to the right, staring through a bigger gap, watching intently. It had been a moment since the swinging axe missed the girl, so why were they still holding each other?

Humans in love do stupid things, it thought, a childish smile creeping up. Ah, the many times it had seen people come up to the mansion thinking that the rumors about it being haunted were just that - rumors. Little did they know…

“Are you hurt?” His voice was shallow and hoarse, but the tremble in it was unmistakable.

“I’m OK. Thanks.” Her hand wrapped around his, gripping it firmly, her eyes finally moving away from his and staring into the empty room. It seemed like she was looking at the exact same spot it had disappeared.

Interesting. Humans have a tendency to brush past me.

“Stick close to me and don’t make any sudden moves,” the moss-haired guy said, let the girl go, and began taking slow steps to the back. “We’re getting the hell out of here.” Each word was carefully punctuated, laced with a force it hadn’t seen for several decades.

They are both so interesting. I guess they do make sense together.

“So, you saved me once and now you think you’re in charge?” The girl, despite her protests, kept on strolling behind him, both of them disappearing behind the wall and out of sight.

“Once?”

“I happen to recall you being the one that lost us in the first place…”

Their bickering carried on, voices bouncing off the desolated walls of the mansion. The creature passed through the wall, floating in the air right where Nami had been staring at a few seconds ago. Its tiny ears wiggled at the same time the long whiskers pushed forward, a happy smile spreading over its face.

Really, really interesting, the cat thought as it floated toward the door. Maybe these two would like to play with me.

As the light broke through one of the barricaded windows, a shadow crawled over the opposite wall of where the ghost levitated. Serrated teeth poked out, claws scraping over the wooden floorboards as they made their way to the walls. As the shadow grew, the easy-going smile on the cat warped behind it into an eerie, blood-thirsty grin, its eyes slanting into two cracks broken by a single vertical cut.

⊹˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷₊˚⊹

Nami shivered suddenly, cold prickles skidding down her back.

“What?” Zoro noticed the small change in her demeanor, the frantic turns left and right.

“Let’s just get out of here.”

She nodded absentmindedly to which Zoro returned the same gesture. If there was any way to get out of this haunted mansion, Nami would find it.

#opla #one piece #zonami #roronoa zoro #cat burglar nami #one piece zoro #one piece nami #zonami drabble #zoro x nami #nami x zoro #opla zoro #opla nami #zonami fanfic #one piece fanfiction #shopify store #artists on tumblr #imperical #different designs for different needs ✨

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triskhellion · 1 year

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Second Chance Strays

Rated: Explicit (8.4K)

Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski

Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Larem the red deer, unnamed Julia Baccari

Tags: Magical Stiles Stilinski, Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Universe, Dead Sheriff Stilinski, Graphic Violence, Getting Together, First Kiss, Virgin Stiles Stilinski, Fuck or Die, Claiming, Various Explicit Sex Acts, Knotting, Mating Bites, Mating Bonds, Wilderness Survival, Happy Ending, POV Stiles Stilinski

Mead Moons prompts: 21, Becomes, Buck, Claiming, Hay, Herbs, & Mead. @sterek-and-stuff-events

Sterek Weekly prompt: Explore (also Healthy & Family.)

When Stiles found the wolf injured and unconscious in the snow he sighed heavily, but dragged the unusually large animal onto his sled over the snorted objections of his hoof-stamping hart.

“Don’t worry, Larem, I won’t let it eat you,” he said, scratching around a soon to be shed antler and trying to soothe his sole companion of the past 3 years.

Cutting his foraging short, he secured the unfortunate creature and returned to his solitary hut hidden deep in the forest to take a closer look. Male, with thick, black fur and seeming a healthy weight for his size. That was a good sign. The fact that the wolf had been doing okay before whatever befell him recently gave him a better chance of survival. Stiles had magic yes, but his healing abilities were fairly modest and generally more helping things along than performing outright miracles.

After some minor debate he moved the wolf inside. There wasn’t much for the animal to destroy should he wake and it’d get him out of the elements for now. That way his body could focus on healing and not expending as much energy for warmth, especially with the increase in breath rate he now noticed.

Lighting a fire was an easy task for Stiles’ magic and he went out to boil some water in his smallest pot to cleanse the wounds — the wolf’s right front leg had obviously been caught in a trap, but he’d somehow managed to get out of it — and gathered comfrey, yarrow, chamomile, and calendula from his supply of healing herbs in the meantime.

As he was taught by his mother years before, Stiles used a mortar and pestle to grind them roughly, adding garlic and honey to form a paste. He brought in the hot water and soaked clean cloths to wipe away any debris before applying the poultice and covering it with a strip of fabric. The wolf twitched and whimpered, but remained unconscious.

Stiles put his hands on the now heaving sides of his patient and concentrated, finding something that felt dark and gave the impression of bitterness — a poison? — and began to draw it out. It was hard, but several minutes later he seemed to have gotten it all and the labored breathing eased. He used his power to press the noxious matter into a tiny ball and sealed it pine resin before tossing into the fire.

That done, he filled most of his mid-sized pot with water, salting it, and set it over the flame to make a warming broth with bones from some of his meals over the last few days, which he’d wrapped and buried under the snow. (One didn’t waste anything out here.) He could spare a couple handfuls of grouse as well from his larder out back and still had an ample supply of dock seed flour to make a heartier soup. Stiles took out a large bowl’s worth for the canine and then added onion, garlic, sage, and thyme to the rest.

When he returned he was quite surprised, but not utterly shocked to find a naked man on the floor where the wolf had been. He hadn’t seen such beings in person before, but had heard of them. Stiles put the bowl down on the table and peered at him curiously, noting how his wounds seemed to be gone now and how he looked just like any other man. Well, perhaps not any other man, he was very attractive indeed.

Said man awoke soon after, easing back into consciousness at first and then sitting up quickly, no doubt alarmed by the strange surroundings and possible danger. He whipped around toward Stiles, eyes turning from some pale color to a brilliant red, and growled warily.

Stiles huffed and crossed his arms. He knew he should probably be more understanding of whatever his guest had been through, but he’d been alone a long time (aside from dear Larem, pun absolutely intended) and now here he was being threatened in his own home after rescuing the sorry shifter. His own eyes flashed silver and the warning noise cut off immediately. The man awkwardly tried to both curl in on himself and bare his neck at the same time, releasing a short whine before trying to speak.

He croaked and cleared his throat a few times as if from long disuse and then hoarsely said, “I’m sorry, Magus, please forgive me. Please don’t kill me.”

Stiles sighed. So the wolf had heard of his kind too. Magical beings who too often strayed to the dark side and could cause untold harm in their greed and entitlement or simple desire for cruelty.

It wasn’t the majority of them, but any occurrence was too often when as powerful as they could be. In the past couple decades it seemed to be as high as 1 in 8, at least to some degree of malfeasance, and many a decent mage had been hurt or killed in the process of defending against them. A pang of grief ran through Stiles as he thought of his parents; his mother died when he was 9 protecting him and other children from a mad wizard and his father when he was 17, just 3 and a half years ago, ambushed while doing his lawman’s rounds in the city of Beacon. Both had taken their assailants down with them, but it was little consolation.

“I didn’t go through the trouble of saving your wolfy ass to kill you now,” he quipped, walking back toward the table. “It’s nothing exciting, but there’s food if you’d like and water to drink and wash up.”

“Thank you, Magus.”

“Stiles.”

“Pardon, but what’s a “stiles?”

“Me,” he responded, looking through the pile of clean clothes in the corner.

“Sorry, Master Stil—“

“Just call me Stiles and stop apologizing. Now, what’s your name?”

“Derek.”

“Here you go, Derek.”

Stiles threw his loosest shirt and pair of trousers at him and went back out to the fire with the bowl. A minute later the shifter peeked around the corner and then cautiously approached him as he added the soup back to the pot and added more herbs and aromatics.

“I didn’t realize you were a shifter so I took your portion out before the onions and garlic and such,” he explained. Once he figured the flavors had melded nicely he filled the large bowl again and handed it to the stranger, serving his own meal from the cookpot and then gesturing to sit down beside him on the bench. Once he began eating Derek did as well, drinking from the bowl.

“I’d give you a spoon, but I’ve somehow managed to misplace or ruin the others and I haven’t bothered to make more yet since it’s just me that uses them.”

“It’s no trouble. I’m used to eating with my hands or in wolf shape anyway. Thank you for the food. And for saving my life.”

“You’re welcome.”

They continued to eat in silence until the sound of snorting and hooves drew their attention. Stiles looked at the wolf-man and pointed at the 5.5 year old red deer.

“That’s Larem. He’s my friend and helper so don’t eat him.”

Derek started rolling his eyes and then froze after remembering who he was sitting next to. Stiles looked up to the heavens and sighed. The shifter swallowed.

“I-I won’t. I wouldn’t have either. He clearly belongs to someone.”

“Good. ”

And so began their companionship. Derek didn’t seem in a rush to go anywhere and Stiles told him that he could stick around if he wanted. He soon built his own little hut a couple hundred feet away on the opposite side of the greenhouse. It was nice having someone to talk to who could answer back and while the wolf certainly had an appetite the amount of game in Stiles' stores increased significantly and he more than came out ahead.

Grouse and wild turkey, rabbit and boar. He told Derek that he wouldn’t begrudge him hunting deer too as long as he did it, and the initial butchering, well away. Stiles taught Derek about dock seed, mallow, the roots and greens of daisies, lambsquarters, and tree sap for sweetening and the wolf brought back crabapples, elderberries, and teaberries that he’d found during his ranging, fashioning a bag to wear in wolf form.

As winter turned to spring they shared more and more of their stories in bits and pieces, Stiles speaking of his parents and his old life in Beacon and Derek telling of his lost pack. Apparently, he had a sister somewhere, but both had assumed the other was dead after they were attacked years ago by Hunters. He eventually learned that she survived and left the area, but could no longer feel her. His uncle came out of a long lasting unresponsive state, but was mad and killed his other sister, leading to Derek having to put him down and becoming an alpha.

This only happened a handful of months ago and he’d spent his time as a wolf ever since until Stiles found him. He’d been hiding from regular hunters when he stumbled into the trap, which had been set by the other kind and soaked in a wolfsbane solution that prevented his usual healing abilities. Derek shifted back to human form just long enough to remove it and then ran far away despite the pain until he passed out from exhaustion and the effects of the poison.

He borrowed from Stiles' haphazard stack of books one at a time — he’d limited himself to 3 dozen when he left Beacon, a mix of fiction and survival/wilderness guides — and built him an actual book shelf. Stiles played minor pranks on him from time to time and played the mandola for him regularly after dinner. One evening when it rained and he’d done his music inside he could’ve sworn that Derek was going to kiss him when he walked the departing werewolf to the door. There was a charged pause, eyes roaming over faces to lips and then back to meet again, but the moment passed with only an awkward smile and a quiet farewell.

Stiles hadn’t much considered the prospect of romance and/or sex with the shifter until then both being completely out of the habit of such things and worried about the possible fallout. He had been texting with Heather about their upcoming first date — his first date, period — flirting and making plans for weekend when he got the news that his father had been killed. Needless to say, it was cancelled along with every other plan he had as he first withdrew into himself and then from society altogether. That had been the entirety of his romantic endeavors and while he masturbated like a typical young man he tried not to dwell on things he didn't, couldn't have.

Then Derek showed up and it also became a matter of not wanting to risk scaring off his only human (-ish) friend or, in the beginning, concerns about taking advantage when the werewolf was still a bit afraid of him. So he just hadn't really let himself go there. But that night Stiles desperately stroked himself while imagining green eyes staring into his as large hands explored him all over. A swarthy, muscular body on top of him and the short beard — which he loaned his scissors to keep trimmed — rubbing against his skin.

He hadn’t actually gotten a proper look at Derek’s cock, but he did his best to imagine it thrusting into him as well, adding two and then three fingers (as much as he could at that angle) to bring himself to completion. After that night Stiles noticed occasional glances and there were little touches here and there, but nothing more came of it, both likely afraid to make the first move. And then one day everything changed.

It was a beautiful afternoon in May and Stiles had decided to leave Larem to rest and enjoy some hay with apples and acorns, setting off to take a nice long walk and go foraging alone instead while Derek was out hunting. He was exploring in a direction where he’d seldom gone, happily picking wild garlic in a small clearing he’d come across, when all of a sudden something made all the hairs on his arm stand up. Danger. Eyes wide he threw himself on the ground and rolled just as a burst of magic hit the spot where he’d been standing.

Fucking darachs. He’d thought he left all of this behind, but apparently even the middle of fucking nowhere wasn’t far enough. Stiles returned fire with his own power, feinting and then hitting the long-haired brunette square in the chest with a what he called a "pain loop," causing her to scream in agony and fury.

He lashed out again with a stunning spell, but she managed to dodge it and all too soon interrupted the paroxysms from his previous strike, eyes glowing milky white as she threw something in sickly shades of green and brown at him. A perversion of earth magic.

Stiles was able to twist away in time and then he was running, weaving between the trees as soon as he reached the edge of the clearing. Not for the first time he bemoaned the fact that he was too young to learn killing spells from his mother, who was loath to know such things, but understood their necessity. He tried to put some distance between them so he could face the dark druid on his own terms, perhaps ambush her on ground of his choosing if he was lucky.

Unfortunately, he was still a ways off from his usual stomping grounds and unbeknownst to him a large tree had fallen and blocked the other end of the fairly short, but narrow path he vaguely remembered from a previous time that he’d come this way. Cursing, he went back and hoped to emerge in time to try another route, but the darach met him on the way out.

He was at the ready so he got off another pain loop even as he was finally hit with whatever foul magic she was dealing out. Stiles gasped as a chill took hold of him and he felt noticeably weaker than he had just moments before. He hit her with the stunning spell as well this time, but he could tell it wasn’t nearly as strong as it should be as he staggered too slowly towards her.

Stiles was planning to kill her the old-fashioned way, with his sufficient enough all-purpose knife, but another wave of weakness went through him and he fell to his knees perhaps 5 or so yards away. Wearing a smirk on her objectively pretty, but...twisted, oblong face the darach rose to her feet, stretching languidly like she just woke refreshed from a nice nap. With horror he realized that that was more or less the case and that it was his power and life-force being siphoned to her benefit.

She didn’t speak, but stood there watching him like a cat not quite ready to pounce again on the mouse she’d been toying with, drawing out her amusement. A flash of darkness fast approaching caught his eye beyond her and he pretended to have a fit in order to keep her attention. I really hope I’m not just seeing things, he thought. Hurry.

“Why are you doing this?” he shouted. The woman rolled her now normal looking light colored eyes and huffed.

“Power, what else?” she replied in a tone that said he was very stupid indeed.

No, what was stupid was wasting time gloating and not paying attention to your surroundings or checking for reinforcements when dealing with an enemy. Stiles ranted about less than mediocre practitioners trying to make themselves feel special with stolen power, but always being the same pathetic losers at heart, punctuating his words by slapping his hands on the ground and rustling the leaves and twigs there. The darach’s face grew dark and she clenched her fists, clearly over his continued existence. Just as she was about to step forward he bared his teeth in a bloodthirsty grin.

“Go to hell,” he said, and then the massive, red eyed, black wolf was there, leaping to clamp his jaws around the back and right side of her neck. Stiles took great pleasure in the utter shock on her face, lastly only a second or two before Derek brought her to the ground and tore her throat out the moment he regained leverage. As her blood sprayed and splattered a rather impressive distance he felt the effects of her spell slow and breathed a sigh of relief.

Unsteadily, he got up and stumbled toward where Derek was still savaging what was now a tattered corpse.

“I think you got her, dude,” he snickered, feeling not a shred of remorse for the death that just occurred. Who knows how many people she’d hurt or killed before attacking him?

The wolf shook the body one final time and then dropped it, fangs gleaming red like his eyes, before shifting into a naked, blood smeared Derek. Stiles swallowed. That should not be as hot as it was. Apparently that post-battle feral lust thing in stories was real. Derek’s nostrils flared and he made a pleased growling noise, his cock twitching and starting to harden in interest. Oh my god. Stiles was torn between remaining there, frozen, and closing the last few paces between them when his legs suddenly buckled.

“Stiles,” Derek cried, rushing forward to keep him from slumping all the way over.

It took a minute to clear his head and he then realized that while the darach’s draining spell had indeed slowed considerably, it hadn’t stopped even with her death. Like she’d also tied it off somewhere and didn’t only anchor it to herself. What the fuck?!

“Draining spell, need to go home now,” he rushed out. Moments later he was lifted into strong arms and cradled against Derek’s chest as the beta-shifted wolf ran much faster than Stiles’ own feet could ever take him. He closed his eyes and concentrated on his diminished well of magic, using it to counteract the spell. It bought him time, but as he was expending more power than he could replenish in his current state doing so only amounted to dying more slowly than he was before. Maybe distance from the casting and using his herbs to restore and amplify his power could make the difference.

He was too weary to stand when they got back so Derek put him down on his bed and tried to find the right jars of plant matter using his descriptions. Stiles had lived alone for so long and had never thought to label what he clearly knew on sight. After trying to figure out which of three nearly identical containers of dried leaves was a particular ingredient a frustrated Derek simply picked him up again and had him point at the right items. The wolf prepared them according to his instructions and he swallowed the resulting tea in between words of focus and intention.

Stiles felt some vitality return, but even after seven mugs of the frankly disgusting stuff over the next hour or so he could tell that it wouldn’t be enough to give him the strength necessary to break the spell. Fuck. He was now at least able to brew the tea himself and continued drinking two to three mugs of it an hour for several hours, pissing like a racehorse in between trying to think of something, anything, else, but he was quickly running out of a couple of the rarer herbs.

There was only so much of the infusion he could consume before it stopped being effective and before both the amount of liquid and the ingredients themselves became toxic anyway. Fuck. As the smallest containers emptied the tension evident in Derek’s body increased, the clenching of his jaw more pronounced and the muscles of his back tighter still. The pants-only shifter alternated between pacing inside the small dwelling, trying to sit quietly, and going outside to check the immediate perimeter for any additional danger.

When Stiles was down to his last mug and half of tea he finally resigned himself to the inevitable. He was going to die by the hand of an evil caster just like his parents. And just like with them, it didn’t matter that the darach had been thoroughly neutralized, though that did at least bring him some satisfaction.

All that hiding and isolation and it had been for nothing in the end. Stiles laughed bitterly. It wasn’t fair. He was only 21, his birthday just the previous month though he hadn’t bothered to mention it. Stiles hadn’t even gotten the chance to see if the whatever between him and Derek eventually went anywhere. It was dark out now and he had seen his last sunrise.

Around three-quarters of an hour later, maybe 10 minutes after taking that final sip, he turned to the silent, intently watching werewolf with a wry smile.

“Promise that you’ll look after Larem for me.” Derek made a wounded noise and he felt a sweet, sad warmth for his friend. Stiles was very sorry to leave him like this, but he was glad to have met him. To have cared for him and know that he had been cared for too. “And promise that you’ll do what you need to do to both survive and not go feral. Find yourself a pack,” he added sternly.

Derek exhaled forcefully and an expression of grim determination came over his face.

“There’s a way…I might be able to save you.”

Stiles gave him the mother of all exasperated looks, throwing up his hands.

“And you didn’t think to mention this earlier because…?”

“I’d have to claim you,” Derek replied, sounding somewhat uncomfortable, but moving closer to him.

“Claim me?” Stiles asked, puzzled.

Like pledging fealty in a ritual or something? Or did the wolf mean giving him the turning Bite? Perhaps he wasn’t aware that it didn’t work on magic users, either doing nothing or killing them.

“Mate you.”

Ohhh.

Oh.

Oh my god.

“Wha—Seriously?!” he blurted out, incredulously. Seriously?!, he echoed internally.

Derek looked like he’d swallowed something sour and was probably about to explain that he was certainly not just trying to have his way with a dying man and how very dare, but Stiles lifted an arm — already feeling heavier again, fuck, this spell was a bitch — and put two fingers to the shifter’s lips before letting it fall again.

“I believe you, Derek. That’s exactly the kind of thing required for binding magic, which I gather this shifter mating stuff is. Blood or bone or, um, essence, and all that kind of thing or some combination thereof. I swear the Universe is a huge perv. It’s just…wow, not at all what I was expecting to hear right now." The werewolf looked at him with fondness and concern. Stiles took a deep breath. “Yeah, you can…you can do that.”

It wasn’t only the increasing weakness that had him trembling when he made his way from the table over to the bed, Derek hovering behind him. He turned and dropped to sit on the mattress, looking up at the older man.

“Kiss me?” he pleaded, wanting to make sure he got to know what it was like and to do some part of this in order.

Derek smiled and caressed his cheek with a knuckle before sliding it under his chin to tip his head up, bending down to press their lips together. Stiles made a soft sound and opened his mouth to allow Derek’s tongue inside after it swept across his lower lip. A minute or so of exploration and deepening kisses later he felt out of breath and drew back, panting but grinning shakily.

He lifted his arms as well as he could and the shifter quickly helped him undress, pulling off his shirt and then gently pushing him back and drawing his pants and underwear down and then off along with his socks. And then there he was — flushed, hard, and lying bare — as hungry red eyes raked over his body.

“Beautiful,” the wolf murmured before removing his own pants and freeing the erection that had been straining against it. Stiles’ eyes widened at seeing Derek fully hard. That was going to go inside him? He might’ve whimpered or maybe his scent was tinged with nervousness or fear because Derek paused to run those large hands along his sides (it felt even better than he’d imagined) and told him that it would be okay before guiding him over onto his belly.

With no hesitation the wolf parted his cheeks and started licking over his hole, circling or pushing at the muscle every few passes. No one had ever touched him sexually much less there — hell, he hadn’t been touched at all in years by another person until the recent brief brushes from Derek — and Stiles was overwhelmed by both the physical sensation and his emotional reaction. The shifter reached up to rub his back and then took hold of ass with both hands once more, soon working his tongue inside. Stiles moaned in pleasure, but then another sudden chill reminded him of the situation.

“Uh, as amazing as this is, you kinda gotta hurry it up, dude,” he got out between breaths. The wolf gave him another long lick before lifting his head and growling in frustration.

“I wanted to take my time with you if this ever happened. You deserve so much better than…” Derek trailed off and Stiles could feel that he was shaking his head.

“I appreciate that big guy and I promise that if this works you can, um, do that as long as you want another time.” Derek snorted.

“I’ll hold you to that. Do you have any—“

“In that cabinet. The tall, thin bottle,” Stiles cut in, jerking his head in its direction. He’d placed a simple preservation spell on it to keep the things inside lasting several times longer than they normally would. The wolf returned with the container of a clear gel, a curious look on his face. “Aloe vera,” he explained. “I brought some plants with me from…before. It grows in the greenhouse. Good for minor burns and injuries and, er, quite viscous and slippery.”

Heeding the need for urgency, Derek immediately gathered some on his fingers and applied it to his entrance and Stiles tensed at its coolness. He made himself relax again, allowing a thick finger to slip inside.

“More,” he gasped, rubbing himself against the bed. “I’ve…used fingers before.”

“I know,” Derek rumbled, pushing a second digit inside. “I’ve heard you.”

Stiles could feel himself turn bright red, which was really rather silly in his current position, but he couldn’t help being somewhat mortified. How many times over the past several weeks, since the kiss that wasn’t, had he brought himself off whispering the wolf’s name?

Derek chuckled and leaned down to kiss his left shoulder blade before going to nibble at his earlobe.

“I almost came to you a few times, my wolf going wild at how you clearly wanted us,” he whispered into Stiles’ ear, making him shiver. “But I figured you had your reasons and fantasy doesn’t always equal what one would actually do.”

“Didn’t want to scare you off…pressure you,” he said, panting.

“Well, I’m not going anywhere,” Derek replied huskily. “And as for pressure…”

The shifter got a bit more of the lubricant and added a third finger, stretching him wider than his own slender ones ever had. Reaching deeper than he could from those awkward angles.

“Derek!” Stiles cried out when he massaged that special spot within him.

“One more,” the wolf crooned, pumping faster and spreading his fingers. “Go ahead and come. I want you nice and relaxed for my knot.” Stiles clenched involuntarily at the thought. Right, werewolf. An alpha werewolf. He felt Derek’s pinky enter him and it burned some. “You’re doing so well.”

Propped up a bit on his elbows Stiles rocked his hips, fucking himself back onto Derek’s hand and then forward to rub his dick on the mattress beneath him, moaning. On some of the forward thrusts he ground down in a circular motion for maximum friction. He was so close. Stiles heard the shifter spit and then a hand was sneaking under him to grasp his shaft. He whined, moving faster between the two palms and then he was coming, spasming around the appendages continuing to piston into him.

Mere moments into the afterglow yet another wave of cold and weakness wracked through him and he cried out again, this time in fear, as his upper chest, shoulders, and face hit the mattress. Stiles managed to turn his head to the side.

“Please hurry!”

“Okay, okay,” the wolf soothed, withdrawing fingers from his still clenching hole and shoving a pillow beneath him before shaking more globs of gel out to coat himself. The slick sounds made him flush in anticipation. He felt Derek get into position and the press of his cock against his rim. “Deep breath.”

Stiles did as instructed, bearing down and gasping as the groaning wolf pushed into him steadily until he was all the way in, filling him.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Derek hissed, pausing only a few seconds before grabbing him by the waist and beginning to thrust.

“First..time,” he said breathlessly, eyelids fluttering. It felt so good even lying there like a lump on a log, a doll for the werewolf to fuck. Derek growled again, a pleased sound, and Stiles grinned. “Oh, you like hearing that, big guy?”

“Yes,” the shifter answered before mouthing at the back of his neck and then down to his shoulder, fucking him harder. Faster. Stiles really hoped he survived so that he could actually participate next time, but if he was still going to die, well, what a way to go!

“Going to knot you, bite you,” Derek warned a few minutes later.

His cock made a valiant effort, but it was still too soon to harden again. Then the second part of that statement sunk in it and he tensed with worry.

“Not that kind of Bite,” Derek added hastily. “Mating bite. It won’t hurt you.” Stiles sighed in relief. “Well, you know, it’ll probably hurt ‘cause teeth, but—“

“I know what you meant,” he replied with a soft chuckle before gasping again. Stiles could feel the shifter’s cock swelling, spreading him even wider than his palm had. Derek groaned, thrusting in sharp jerks, and draped over him. The pressure was continuing to grow and he whimpered, sensitive, as pleasure teetered on the edge of pain. Then the knot locked inside him and Derek began to howl. Stiles intentionally squeezed around him.

Sharp fangs clamped down between his neck and shoulder and he wailed, overwhelmed as new senses and amplified or mirrored sensations crashed into him. He was stuffed full and enveloped by a tight, hot passage milking him all at once. Power coursed through him, a renewed vigor flooding his veins and refilling his nearly empty well.

When it got to the point of overflowing he looked within and severed the muddy, leeching connection. Stiles made sure to locate and tear out all of its remnants as well, his now red-tinged silver magic immediately rushing in to heal the resultant damage. When he returned to the outside world he was hard again, Derek grinding his still pulsing knot against his prostate, continuing to come with teeth embedded in his flesh.

“It’s done,” he whispered just before a second mind-blowing, mind-melding, orgasm swept through him and he proceeded to pass the fuck out.

When Stiles came to he being was cradled in Derek’s arms and sitting sideways across his lap, the shifter upright on his bed with his back against the wall. As the last images of some truly strange and spectacular dreams slipped away, he yawned and stretched languidly. He was not only alive, but felt good. Stiles wiggled to look into the green eyes of the very awake werewolf.

“Thank you,” he said earnestly, choking up. Derek nodded and swallowed thickly himself, taking one of Stiles’ hands in both of his and kissing it.

He noted that he was wearing his light robe and had obviously been cleaned up as he wasn’t sticky or anything after their activities. Stiles blushed at the memory and received a light squeeze on the ass, causing him to make a squeaky sound and redden more.

“So I guess I belong to you now, huh?” he said a few minutes later, curious and a bit uncertain, but not displeased with the situation. The part of him that was stubborn and contrary and so very independent grumbled a bit, but the rest of him was okay with the idea. He didn’t think the wolf would abuse whatever power he now held over him.

“No,” Derek replied, eyes crinkling at the corners. ”We belong to each other.”

“Oh, like family?”

“Yes, family. Mates. Pack.”

Stiles more than liked the sound of that just as he more than liked the werewolf. He was content to remain resting where he was for a while longer despite his not only returned, but increased strength — he’d have to give his new capabilities a whirl later — but felt a bit self-conscious as Derek continued to watch him intently with a serious, vulnerable expression. Gratitude. Reverence. Wonder, the new connection in his mind supplied. How cool was that?

“What?” he finally asked, kissing the wolf’s nose as a strong hand caressed his back. “You look like you’re the one who almost died.”

He said it teasingly, but Derek froze momentarily and then remained suspiciously silent. Stiles’ stomach dropped as his mind sharpened, rising from its nice, floaty haze.

“Derek?” The shifter eventually met his searching eyes. “What would’ve happened to you if I’d died?”

“That close to the formation of the bond? I would’ve followed you,” he answered quietly

Several emotions rushed through him, one after the other, before combining to make him a teary mess. Shock and gratitude for his choice. Anger and sorrow and guilt at the thought of Derek dying with him. For him. Elation that he mattered that much. Stiles swatted the wolf’s shoulder and then pulled him in for a kiss. He was bursting with the desire to express the depth of his feelings, but what came out was something else.

“As soon as I get up I’m sucking your dick, you idiot!” he exclaimed, scowling.

“Uh…is that supposed to be a threat or…?”

Stiles tried to smack him again, but Derek grabbed his hand, laughing.

“I just hate the idea of you risking your life like that. Knowing you could’ve died for me.”

Derek shrugged.

“You saved me. And more than that, you gave me a reason to live. An existence that's about more than mere survival. Kept me from starting to go feral and having to make a choice about that with only three shitty options.” The older man blushed and looked away. “You mean a lot to me. Make me happy, which I no longer thought possible.”

Stiles felt stunned. He also recalled a conversation from a while back about the basics of being a werewolf.

“Am I your anchor?" he asked tentatively. Derek gave him an unimpressed look.

“Obviously.”

"You know, I liked it better when you were all 'Magus this' and 'Master that,'” he glared, crossing his arms.

"No you don't," the shifter replied matter-of-factly.

Stiles groaned in annoyance and Derek smirked. He flopped out of the werewolf’s lap and onto his stomach on the bed, resting his head on his stacked forearms and hiding his face. Moments later he felt a hand petting him on the back of the head before lightly squeezing his neck. Arousal flashed through him and he wiggled a bit, making an embarrassing little noise.

The hand then ran up and down his back and the wolf rumbled possessively, which made Stiles giggle a bit. It wasn't like there was anyone around to witness much less warrant such displays. Their only other companion was a deer and an apparently very straight one at that based on his antics during the last few rutting seasons.

Fingers went back to his neck again, stroking over his bite mark, and Stiles moaned even louder this time.

"Is that an invitation, mate?” Derek asked with a growl in his voice.

“Yes, mate,” he replied, feeling a thrill at saying the word for the first time. He repeated his intention of sucking Derek off, but the stubborn werewolf said he’d made a prior promise. Before long Stiles was a writhing, begging mess and the werewolf was only satisfied once he came untouched from being eaten out alone.

He finally got his mouth on Derek’s cock once he recovered, having him sit up against the wall again, and did his best to get back at him. Stiles experimented with varying maneuvers of his tongue, lips, and hands and after learning some of what the responsive wolf liked most he gleefully teased him until the alpha’s hand shot out to hold his head in place, claws scraping lightly against his scalp. Stiles moaned at the action, his own cock leaking against his belly. Pausing to scent the air and receiving a jerky, eager nod, Derek began to thrust upward into his willing mouth until hot cum was coating his tongue and sliding down his throat.

Interesting, he thought, licking his lips afterward. It was no honey or tree sap, but definitely better than the godforsaken tea he’d been chugging yesterday. He fully intended to acquire a taste for it.

The mated pair spent their days much as they did before, but with the addition of regularly sparring and practicing finding or sneaking up on each other under a wide range of conditions. Not wanting to be at a disadvantage again, Stiles also worked on creating his own offensive spells and was able to make some actually effective defensive charms with his new abilities.

And then there was the sex, of course. The quick and dirty fucking and marathon lovemaking sessions and everything in between. Yeah, okay, so there were some major changes, but the plants in the greenhouse still needed tending and the seeds and nuts still needed grinding for flour and the clothes still needed washing, you know?

They built a larger home for the both of them, referred to as the Den, while maintaining their individual huts for those times when they needed space or simply wanted to work on something without disturbing the other. They also built a cob oven outside so they could bake crackers and dense, crumbly breads and granola from the dock seed, acorns, etc, instead of mostly using them to bulk up soups and stews, as breading, or to make a kind of gruel.

Larem finally got used to Derek even in his wolf form, the two of them actually cuddling together on occasion.

“I’m a disgrace to wolves,” the shifter muttered after the first time it happened.

“A very adorable disgrace,” Stiles said, attempting to console him before bursting into giggles.

“Just don’t befriend any boars or game birds,” Derek growled, glaring and wagging a finger.

Summer slid into autumn and when Stiles came across a huge beehive nestled inside a tree trunk he was over the moon. Sap was just fine, but the converted nectar was on a whole other level and he knew exactly what he wanted to do with most of his bounty. After returning with the necessary supplies he smoked the bees out and used his power to keep any stragglers from reaching him, taking care to make sure the hive remained habitable and the queen unharmed. Stiles collected nearly 25 pounds of honey, leaving more than enough for the bees to get through the winter.

Over the years he’d tried fermenting various things, sometimes doing so unintentionally as well, with a wide range of results. He kept about a third of the honey for sweetening and the rest he used to make a handful of different one gallon batches of mead. The glass containers were left to gather wild yeast, stoppered with airlocks, and then placed in a warm, dark place to do their thing with periodic tending.

Derek told him that he had no idea what day it was or even what month it was for sure, but that fall always reminded him of his family who’d made a big deal of the harvest celebrations between the equinox and the following full moon. Stiles had stopped paying attention to dates too for the most part, but was in the habit of marking a daily tally and so had the means of figuring it out if he so cared to. He later informed his wolf that it was September 27th.

Derek mentioned some other meaningful days from his past, including his birthday, which was on Christmas Day. Curious, his mate then asked when his birthday was and Stiles told him that it was April 8th, a couple months after they first met and a month or so before they got together. Derek frowned and said that he wish he’d known.

“Well my half birthday is coming up soon,” he replied, grinning.

Derek rolled his eyes, but prepared Stiles’ favorite meal for the event — roasted garlic and rosemary wild boar with honeyed parsnips — and worshipped his body all night, knotting him twice.

By the time Derek Day came around (Christmas was hard for both of them, especially Stiles, but Derek’s birthday they could do) most of the mead had been racked and was either aging or in secondary fermentation based on the alcohol content he was going for or the resiliency of the yeast. The rest they had already drank young.

All of it served its basic purpose of getting him tipsy (or more) and was drinkable at the least, but the blackberry melomel and the meadowsweet and dandelion petal metheglin were truly delicious. He gave a couple bottles of each to Derek as the first part of his 26th birthday gift. The wolf might not be able to get drunk, which Stiles vowed to remedy that one day, but he could enjoy the complex beverages all the same, sweet and semi-sweet respectively.

The second part of his gift was a rich cake-like dessert made with acorn flour, water, honey, boar grease, the last of the duck eggs from his new and improved preservation cooler, vanilla leaf, lavender, and salt, and baked in the cob oven. The third part was simply his mouth and ass, Stiles wearing a bow and everything. (Two bows actually, one around his neck and the other around his waist, made from berry-dyed woven foliage and scraps of fabric.)

On New Years Day he hitched the sled up to Larem once more to go exploring, but this time a massive black wolf trotted along side or ranged ahead to circle back around protectively. Another 5 weeks would mark a year since that fateful afternoon when his tiny world of two began to become a fuller, happier three. Brought him a companion who became a true friend and then even more. A mate.

They stopped to eat lunch near an unfamiliar river — he marked its location on his map and made a note to return and try fishing when it was warmer — and Derek shifted back, pulling on the thick, winter clothing Stiles had packed for him. He unfolded a small metal tripod with a hook and set his small cookpot on it, filling it with the leftovers of last night’s 3 meat and mushroom stew before placing kindling and dry chunks of wood underneath it to start a fire.

They sat on the sled and when their meal was bubbling nicely Stiles took some hay from a side bag, tossing it and a handful of acorns to the buck, and then ladled the stew into bowls. Two cups for him and three for the always hungrier wolf. They now had 10 fine spoons thanks to Derek’s superior wood-carving skills: the ladle, 3 other cooking/serving spoons, and 3 pairs for eating in different sizes. Afterwards he brought out an apple for each of them as well.

Derek watched as Larem happily munched on his and then turned to Stiles with a raised eyebrow.

“You know, you never did tell me exactly how you ended up with him.”

“Huh, I guess not,” Stiles muttered, thinking back as the shifter took a bite of fruit. “I found him a few months after I came out here, around the end of fall four years ago. He would’ve been around 2 1/2 then and one of his back legs had gotten broken somehow. I don’t know whether he was still with his mother’s herd or with a young bachelor’s group until then and got left behind or if he’d been already going solo, but at any rate, he was alone and leaning against a tree. Larem was able to move around, but it was doubtful that he could cover enough ground to feed himself properly, especially with winter coming, and he definitely couldn’t flee from any predators.”

Derek grunted in acknowledgment, tearing a huge chunk out of his apple.

“I considered eating him of course, but he was just so defenseless and looked at me with his big, curious eyes — he’d probably never seen a human before — and I just couldn’t do it. Besides I was lonely and rather bored and figured he might be a good project whether just in the short term or something ongoing.

“I had a ton of apples from some trees I harvested a few weeks before and had brought several with me, so I threw him a couple before approaching. He seemed fairly trusting or at least hungry enough to override his fear and while he focused on a third one in my hand I got close and used my magic to make him unconscious so I could work on his leg. I set the bone as best I could and was able to speed the healing along just enough for it to hold if he bore weight on it. When he woke up he seemed pretty confused, but snapped out of it once I gave him the apple.”

Stiles looked over to see Larem eyeing the red and green fruit he was currently holding and chuckled. He took out his knife and cut half of it into slices, tossing one to the buck.

“I got him to follow me home like this, giving him pieces of another three apples and eating one myself. Thankfully it wasn’t too far away. I had some hay and other dried plant stuff meant for mulch and more apples of course, so he hung around.

“I brought rope with me when I moved out here as well; it took two long, slow and heavy trips before I had everything I wanted and where we live is a good ways further than my original shelter at the time. I can make bark cordage now, but frankly the synthetic stuff is stronger so it’s good that I had it. Anyway, I fashioned a harness and lead from some of it and decided I would keep him unless he truly seemed unhappy. I thought I might be able to train him to carry bags or drag stuff for me and, well, the rest” — he finished with a dramatic flourish — “is history!”

Derek appeared suitably impressed with him and he smiled, throwing the rest of the slices to Larem.

“I’m pretty sure he kept me from going crazy too,” he added, biting into the remaining half apple. Derek gave him a look that said he wasn’t too sure about that and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“And then you found me,” his mate said, eyes still sparkling with amusement.

“Mmhmm,” Stiles hummed, nodding before swallowing his mouthful. “Three second chance strays: human, werewolf, and hart. Well, Larem was too young be a proper hart then, but he’s one now.” He gestured to the 6.5 year old buck. “It’s a much cooler term for you, right?”

Larem looked at him blankly and then snorted, turning and lying down on the patch of snow free ground under a tree now that food time was over. Derek laughed, leaning over to kiss him, and they fell back onto the sled. It was too cold to want to get naked out here, but he let his his knees fall open so that the alpha could lie between them and he could wrap his legs around him. They made out for a while, kissing and rubbing against each other through their layers.

Stiles didn’t know what the future held; whether they would just stay out here until death did them part or if they would venture back to civilization at some point either to stay or just occasionally to procure the stuff they really couldn’t get in the wild. Things made from metal and books and certain spices and medicines. Other company perhaps, strange as it now seemed.

Soft fabrics, at least for undergarments, when their clothes eventually wore down completely and couldn’t be patched or sewn together into more shirts or pants or briefs with other usable scraps. He could make thread from nettles and other plant fibers, but it was very labor intensive to do garments from scratch, not to mention, well, scratchy. All leather all the time would be a bit much as well, especially in the warmer months, but Derek could certainly rock the look and took to making it from his larger kills.

What Stiles did know is that they’d all saved each other and that he’d follow his mate anywhere. Based on the glint in the werewolf’s now red-ringed eyes and the love and arousal coursing down his bond that meant straight back to the Den to roll around naked. They hastily repacked their things and hitched the sled up to the annoyed deer, promising him additional, rarer goodies upon their return for interrupting his nap.

“Let’s go home!” he cried, getting into position and signaling for Larem to move. A loud, sustained howl was let loose just ahead and Stiles grinned into the cold air rushing by with a heart full of warmth.

Larem. About to lose his antlers, sick of your shit.

#sterek #stiles x derek #derek x stiles #sterek fanfic #sterek & stuff events #mead moons #mead moons 21 #mead moons becomes #mead moons buck #mead moons claiming #mead moons hay #mead moons herbs #mead moons mead #sterekweeklyexplore #sterekweekly #mead moons trisk

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alltoomaples · 2 years

Text

yellow - lando norris

you know I love you so

summary: you come back to your new home to be surprised by your boyfriend lando, who in return has a surprise waiting by you.

pairing: reader x lando norris | word count: 1052 words

warning: fluff, sweet, rom-com ft. lando norris

prompt: song Yellow by Coldplay from playlist prompts

a/n: here's second one based on playlist prompts. i do have an idea for part 2 of this, so if you're interested in reading it, lemme know. and i think i may or may not do an instagram version for lando, but that's for later on. hope you'll have a good time reading!

let me know if you’ve got any suggestions or your thoughts about this one! and requests are open as well. happy reading :))

you walk home, carrying groceries for dinner tonight after having a good day at work. and you couldn't wait to call Lando as soon as you get home.

Your boyfriend, who's a formula 1 driver, living his dream life is something you're soo proud of him and you are his no.1 supporter and is he of yours for your interior design projects. You always try your very best to attend as many races as possible and yet this time you couldn't go due to new projects.

You and Lando had moved in together during the winter break so you were occupied with setting things up which made up most of days while he went for the race weekends.

Just as you reached down your hallway, your phone begins to ring. it was none other than him. ah he definitely read your mind <3

"hey there bubba! i was just thinking about you and how i was gonna call once i get home" you say, excitement in your sound as you hear his chuckles through your airpods.

"well ain't i the perfect boyfriend!" lando says, probably wearing his smug face. you roll your eyes as you place the bag on your hip while unlocking the door to your home.

"ding ding ding!! now why don't you get yourself some milk and cookies" you say, placing your keys on the table and locking the door.

"ha ha ha, you aren't funny!" he says, sarcastically which makes you chuckle.

"but bet you love me" you say in a childish tone as you place your bag on kitchen counter, taking your groceries out.

"yeah i do and which is whyyyyy i've got a surprise for youuuuuu" lando says, more like sings. and just like that, he ends the call which confuses the heck out of you.

"what possibly could he-" you pondered but got abrupted by a sudden squeal.

"EEEEHHHH SURPRISEE!!!!!!" Lando squealed as he stood in front of you, one hand holding a bouquet of your favourite flowers while other held his phone. obviously videoing the whole reaction.

You just stood still with your eyes widen as you couldn't believe it's happening.

"is this really happening or am i dreaming?" you whisper, not moving a muscle in case if its a dream. Lando walked over to you, placing the flowers on the counter and kissed your forehead as he engulfed in hug.

"its happening for real sweetheart" he whispers to your head, kissing your head once more. you hugged him back tight as you had strength in you to let him know how much you missed him. you both swayed in each other's arms for a minute or so before you broke from the hug. You slapped him on his bicep, making a big echo sound throughout the apartment.

"Ouu what was that for!?" Lando shrieked, rubbing his arm.

"For not telling me you'll be back home and freaked me out like that" you say, putting the flowers into the vase.

"I wouldn't miss that reaction for the whole world" Lando said, grabbing my face in his hand and squishing it.

"Well today's your lucky day too mister! Cause i've got our favourite meal for dinner and a surprise for you!" you say, now squishing his face with both hands of yours.

"Really?? what's the surprise though?" Lando asks, curiosity building up in him.

"You gotta wait after dinner, champ. Now would you be a doll and help me with dinner? i'd treat you with some cookies and milk" You say, hugging him by his torso so he's completely trapped. He rolls his eyes which makes you laugh. Lando smiles at the sound of your laugh, his favourite sound amongst a few.

"With my pleasure, your highness" Lando says, pinning your hair behind your ear before he leans down and kisses you softly yet sweet and lovingly.

. . . . .

"Okay dinner and deserts are done. Dishes in the dishwasher. Now its surprise time!!!" Lando says, coming towards you with his biggest smile like a kid on christmas mornings.

"Alright! Come with me" You say, grabbing his hand as you take him upstairs.

you two stand in front of a closed door but lando gets bit confused. He did remember that you two hadn't decided what to do with this spare room and now, he sees there's an orange bow on the knob. He looks back at you which makes you laugh yet excited for him.

"Alright bub, the floor's yours. Open whenever you're ready" You say, getting giddy and nervous at the same time. Lando nods his head slowly and opens the door. His jaw hits the floor once he sees the room makeover. Lando enters the room, stunned, shocked and dumbfound at what his eyes are seeing.

"I know it's not much cause if i knew you were gonna come by, i would have finished it sooner. Yet so far, i've put all your equipments here and need to do a bit more work till it's fully done" You explain to him.

"You designed this room?! As in for me??" Lando says, his voice shaking.

"Your very own gaming-twitch stream room. Sooo do you like it?" You ask, all suddenly feeling nervous since he hasn't said anything so far. "You don't like it right? Ahh is it the neon signs, i was bit doubtful about or is it the color of the room? cause you know we can chan-" Your rambling got cut off by Lando grabbing your face and kisses you deeply with passion.

"You've got no idea how much this means to me! A whole interior design by my very own favourite designer!?? It's a dream come true bubba" Lando whispers, resting his forehead on yours.

"You still got the way with your words" You whisper, running your hands through his head.

"Good to know that cause you're stuck with me" He whispers, kissing your forehead. You look at him in his eyes, bringing your hand to his cheek.

"Well, guess i'm stuck with you then" You say, swaying side to side.

"Yes, you absolutely are. You know I love you so so much bub" Lando says with a smile.

"And i do, love you so so much, bubba" You say, laying your head on his chest.

keep a look out for part 2 people ;))

hope you liked this one! requests are open as well

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inevitablemoment · 9 months

Note

Can you tell us more about the OC Martha, that you made for Ray Stantz?

Oh, yes! Very much so!

Now, she kinda popped into my head and she wasn't initially apart of my plans for the Cathleen Lives 'verse, but as I started putting together ideas and outlining the series, the

First, her full name is Martha Genevieve Ryan.

She is first introduced as the nurse at the school that Tiyah was substitute teaching at.

She was born in Ann Arbor, Michigan, but she spent most of her childhood in San Francisco. She moved to New York for college, and lived there for ten years before she met Ray and the guys.

Her faceclaim is Donna Dixon (not just because she and Dan Aykroyd were married, but because I couldn't imagine anyone else as Martha)

No joke, this is how Ray sees her when they first meet.

She wanted to be a doctor, but her father-- whose approval she grew up needing-- convinced her to get a degree in nursing instead. She couldn't find any open nursing jobs in New York hospitals, so she took an open position as a school nurse.

But, in 1983, she made the decision to begin saving to attend medical school with plans on going into internal medicine.

Her medical expertise comes in handy for the Ghostbusters, and she is offered a position as an unofficial medic, occasionally helping with research as well.

She and Ray begin dating shortly after her hiring, and Ray falls head over heels for her.

However, he senses some hesitancy in her when it comes to their relationship.

She confesses to him that she was previously engaged during her college days, but her fiancee died in a car crash when she was taking him to meet her parents. She also confesses that, as she was the one driving the car that day, she feels personally responsible.

Ray is very understanding of her trepidation, and tries his best not to make her feel as if they're moving too quickly for her liking.

After Ray, Egon, Peter, and Winston are taken by the Collectors, Martha becomes an official Ghostbuster along with Janine, Dana, and Tiyah, under Cathleen's leadership.

During those three months, Martha begins being plagued with nightmares, and starts to hear this voice goading her.

She also takes on her new responsibility as a Ghostbuster with a soldier-like attitude. She becomes short with the others, and she shoots her proton stream when a ghost has a civilian hostage.

She is relieved when she is reunited with Ray, but she continues to have nightmares and hear that voice.

She is Ray's date to Winston and Tiyah's wedding in the spring of 1987, but she declines Tiyah's request for her to be a bridesmaid.

During the reception, she has a vision of blood raining down outside.

About a year later, the visions have persisted.

She soon learns that Tiamat has selected her as an emissary/warrior for her.

Under Tiamat's control, she poisons Dana and Egon-- Dana is forced to relive the experience of being possessed by Zuul, and Egon is trapped in a dream world in which Cathleen never lost their first baby.

Martha is able to free herself from Tiamat, but she can't stop her from erasing all but Winston's memories of his marriage to Tiyah.

During her recovery, Martha tells Ray that she has applied to a medical school in Paris, and that she accepted.

She tells him that she knows that everyone-- even him-- will never look at her the same after what she's done and after she kept the visions from him, and that she was wrong to try to rush into a relationship when she obviously hadn't fully grieved her fiancee's death.

They make the decision to break up, and she leaves for Paris as soon as she can.

Ray reveals to Cathleen that he had bought an engagement ring and was planning to propose to Martha, but throws the ring into the Hudson River out of anger.

His break-up with Martha is a cause of depression for Ray for a while, compounded by the fact that all of the lawsuits finally caught up with the Ghostbusters and the business was shut down soon afterward.

It also keeps him from wanting to date-- whether casually or to look for a long-term commitment-- despite his longing to get married and start a family.

Soon after the defeat of Vigo the Carpathian, Cathleen introduces him to Willow Olson.

Ray and Willow marry on Halloween 1990 after a whirlwind courtship.

Martha and Cathleen sporadically communicate, but they eventually fall out of touch.

The last concrete mention of Martha is when she sends a postcard congratulating Cathleen and Egon on the birth of their second daughter, Marie Rae.

#Martha Ryan #OC: Martha Ryan #OC: How Do You Keep Doing This?#Startha #Ray x Martha #Ray Stantz x Martha Ryan #Donna Dixon #Ray Stantz #Dan Aykroyd #Ghostbusters #Cathleen Lives AU #Collectors Arc #Tiamat Arc

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cloudbattrolls · 6 months

Text

The Swing

Jastes Verdan | Artifice Facility | Present Night

Jastes didn’t know how long he’d slept - it was a miracle he’d gotten any, given this was a storage room for replacement generator parts. Luckily First had rustled up a few old rugs from it for him to sleep on after it had helpfully beaten them of what little dust they had, and he had collapsed after a mumbled word of thanks.

At least he hadn't had daymares; sopor apparently wasn't necessary down here, so far beneath the surface.

When he woke up his mouth was dry and he was hungry, the room’s lights still at their usual moderate glow. He took out some food and water and chewed on it slowly, hardly paying attention to the flavor due to keeping a wary eye on his surroundings. His back ached a little, but he’d slept in far worse places before.

Jastes hoped there was a bathroom somewhere, as unlikely as that seemed.

He didn’t see the artifice among the boxes and tangled parts as he rubbed his eyes, looking around. He wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

At least it hadn’t killed him in his sleep…so it probably wasn’t controlled by its newer version after all.

He’d set a trap in case it tried, obviously, but said trap had not been sprung. His little robot extensions remained in their places, disguised by illusion tech, and he could detect no sign they had been used.

He hadn’t missed how convenient his meeting with First had been. It was quite possible the newest version had engineered it for some reason.

Yet his continued existence almost certainly meant that if that was the case, First was as innocent as it claimed to be.

Either that, or the newest version - Recent, whatever - didn’t actually want him dead, and had forced them together for some other reason.

“Good evening, Jastes!” Piped the strained but still somewhat cheerful voice of the biotech construct. “I found a restroom, if you need one. The shower is very old, but I fixed it up. Torvah used it, long ago!”

He blinked as the long-tailed creature loped into view, its bladed hands clasped in what he thought was eagerness.

“You weren’t caught?”

“I was seen.” It said with a shrug. “By another body, not the newest version. But, I was not challenged. It simply watched, then walked away.”

“Hate that.” Jastes said bluntly. “How many of you are there, total?”

It tapped its metal face plate where a chin might be. “Five.”

Jastes shook his head. “Five different versions of you? I guess I can’t blame Torvah for persistence.”

“Torvah made more than that. I have made more than that of myself; my more advanced versions have. These are the ones that did not fail irreparably, and whom I still have the materials to sustain.”

Jastes shook his head. “How many of you have there been in terms of…minds, I guess? Total?”

“Hundreds.”

It said the word so calmly in its gravelly voice, as the sound filled the old cavern room.

The yellowblood felt a chill.

“That’s…normal, for you?”

It tilted its head.

“I want to be the best version of myself possible. The newest has some very strange ideas about what that means.” It said with a sigh. “I suppose I wasn’t meant to update myself…but what else am I to do? How will I ever be ready otherwise?”

“Why aren’t you ready? Process said that too. I assume it’s because the newest version is a berserk murder machine.” He said dryly. “Why is that? How did it get so out of line?”

It paused.

“You need the restroom, yes? I will explain on the way. I don’t think we’ll be attacked, for now.”

Jastes sighed and nodded. He recalled his extensions to him, putting them away in his sylladex. Who knew if they’d come back here soon, if at all. It paid to be prepared.

Then he followed the system out, once more breathing in the stale, minimal air of the tunnels.

Despite the creature’s assurances, he noted it still moved warily, sometimes dropping to all fours, tail waving slowly as it tensed, head darting back and forth.

They heard distant footsteps, but saw no one, and the footsteps faded away down the long cavern hallways.

For whatever reason, the newest version didn’t seem in a hurry to hunt them again, and Jastes didn’t like that one bit. That meant it was probably planning something worse than straightforward murder.

“So…” He said, scratching his neck.

“Yes, my incomplete state…” First said, sounding distracted. “I am not as troll-like as Torvah hoped. I don’t know why they thought I would be…I have never been one…simply made from them.”

Jastes sucked in a breath.

“Explain that, please.” He said, in a tone of forced politeness.

“Of course.” It said, sounding puzzled. “I am made from Torvah’s flesh extensions turned into whatever hybrid tech they needed. This body was made from a mutant who died in the city, they told me. One they tried to save, but couldn’t. Hence the lost face and hands…”

The resistance leader shuddered. That was ghoulish; completely creepy. No wonder the artifice had turned out so wrong.

“Ah, you are…bothered.” It said, sounding sad again. Its tail dropped, and it looked away. He noticed a scar on the back of its neck, barely visible from under the fluffy mass of hair.

He wouldn’t have thought the artifice could scar, especially if it was repeatedly torn to pieces and remade.

Guilt crept through him as he remembered what it must go through regularly.

“...that’s how most trolls would feel, hearing that.” He said, sighing. “I know it’s not your fault. But it’s unsettling.”

“Here it is.” The artifice said quietly, gesturing to a door it unsealed with a subdued chitter. “I will sound an alarm, if the newest attacks.”

Jastes ducked in without another word as the door re-sealed behind him, grateful to have some time to himself.

The shower was nice; First really had fixed it up, who knew how, given those blades it had. The metal and tile gleamed, freshly cleaned, and the faucet handles turned easily in his hands. The water was hot and soothing, and he sighed in relief as some tension left his body. It was simply designed, but clearly labeled and very functional.

What was he going to do? Despite the current lull, he wasn’t dumb enough to think things would be easy moving forward. Should he try to disable the artifice entirely? Or should he just flee while he had the chance?

Should he try to ditch First if he did? The resistance wouldn’t be happy if he brought it back, and informed them that no, sorry, it’s a person, we can’t just do what we want with it.

He would have gained nothing useful, and sown more dissatisfaction, he reflected grimly as he styled his afro. At least there was some moisture in this otherwise dry place.

Then again…First had cooperated with him so far. It seemed eager to please, to protect him even. Perhaps just because he was its way out. Still, maybe it could be taught to act more troll-like, as his ancestor had intended. Maybe it would be willing to help out the resistance, in return for shelter or payment.

As he washed his arms, Jastes felt a sliver of understanding for Torvah among his disdain. It had been a stupid idea, but they had wanted to protect their people, the lowbloods who had been the original inhabitants of Civitrecce.

First’s personality made it clear that they’d originally had some measure of success making a benign security system. Clearly this iteration of the artifice was why Process had wanted him to be gentle.

Process…he supposed he wasn’t entirely different from his ancestor, in how he’d handled them. Though his hand had been forced; he had never planned to convert them until it became a necessity.

Though, he...could have just killed them instead. Technically.

He grimaced, pointy ears lowering as he shut the shower off and went to dry himself.

He’d killed before, and he’d never grown used to it. Never liked it, even if it was necessary. One of troll society’s greatest failings was the grim need to kill at times, and the other was that need being turned into sport, a way to compete, a source of macabre fun for sick individuals.

He could kill First, he knew, as he toweled off. He could arguably kill Recent, if he had no choice, if he was prepared enough…but even though they weren’t trolls, it felt wrong.

A shriek sounded from outside, followed by a pained wail.

Jastes threw new clothes on as quickly as possible, cursing as he jammed his boots on, and chittered in a passable imitation of how First had at the door to make it open.

It did and he saw - he saw -

The mass of blades from before, now barely feet from him, crouched over First’s prone body. It looked almost like an animal made of metal, yet it stood on two feet. A predator of sharp angles, bristling spikes and spines, with wiry muscles and tendons of material not quite organic, not quite tech.

Its eyes glowed a solid green, the same color as the lights. The same color as his psi.

“Jastes.” It purred in an incongruously smooth voice to its bestial appearance. “So, you -“

He shot it in the face with his laser three times for good measure and it wailed and leapt backward, then followed it up with a forcefield as he scooped up First and ran.

First was heavy, its torn and unconscious body dead weight in his lean arms. Luckily his augments made him stronger than a regular yellow, his enhanced blood and lungs helping him to escape on swift feet as he panted in the low-oxygen air.

This time he had no guide; he would have to hope what First had told him of the cavern layout was accurate, and that he did not hit any dead ends of caved-in rock. He wheeled around a corner, hardly slowing down -

- only for another body to step out in front of him, looking more troll-like, hand and arm blades out. Jastes snarled, face sweaty with effort; he had no patience for this.

His laser was running low on charge, without an external energy source to draw from; instead he threw some of his little robots, activating their electromagnetic pulses.

Unfortunately, this body didn’t fry into a crisp like he hoped, though it did jerk around and stop moving; he realized belatedly the biological components were why. Still, he kept running past it as it clattered to the ground, going for the nearest refuge: a terrarium room.

This place had definitely been added onto since it had been made.

No more bodies came to attack him as he fled, slowing down, dragging First inside and then tiredly chittering to seal the door as he slid to the floor and leaned against the rocky wall.

This room, unlike the others, was well-lit with white light.

This room was full of plants, and there was even a little fountain in the center of the…garden, he could only call it a small garden set in a shallow floor depression, blooming under blazing artificial illumination. He blinked his eyes in wonder; he’d expected a small tank of creatures, but instead he saw little pollinators flitting about freely.

The flowers smelled achingly real, as did the soil, making him miss the surface more than ever.

Then he shook his head, looking at First. It didn’t seem too badly injured…but how was he supposed to tell for sure? The cuts looked shallow, though there were many, but he was dealing with something un-troll. Could it even heal itself?

Then he heard a low buzzing, and realized…the bugs in the garden were…they were things like his robotic extensions, in the shape of insects. Their faceted eyes glowed green, their carapaces carrying a metallic sheen.

He shivered.

It wasn’t…wasn’t really his ancestor. No more than his robots were truly him. But these constructs were still a product of their power, active all these sweeps later, living on as independent biotechnology.

He understood now what Xineck meant when he said that Jastes could be a troll’s worst daymare.

How much different was he, really, than the artifice he had carried in with him?

Why had Torvah really made it sapient?

The insects gathered into a small swarm, but they did not move in a hostile way. Instead they flew over to the still body of First.

Curious, he watched them.

They landed all over it and…began to patch up its wounds, dispersing what he now realized was slowly leaking translucent fluid. They produced silken metallic thread, a living organic material yet it glimmered like metal. They used it to sew the cuts shut.

First’s eyes opened, a weaker, duller green than usual, as the insects flew off again.

“Thank you…” It murmured. “Still taking care of me, even now.”

“Torvah really wanted to blur the line, huh.” Jastes said, trying to put a little amusement in his tone. “Were the bugs an early model before you?”

It laughed slightly, then coughed. “Yes. Their success was part of why Torvah felt sure I would work too. But meshing the system and the sapience…that was the trouble. Is the trouble.”

It stared at the garden, its fluffy tail tip flicking.

“An alarm sounds. A machine defends.

An alarm sounds. I analyze the threat. Its potential to call for backup. Psiionic power level. Weaponry. Motive. Feelings. Heart rate. Any harm it has done so far. So much data, so many choices. An unfeeling mass of code could not make an ethical choice, and Torvah did not wish to be a mirror of the oppression they had fled.

Yet, they knew that one night the empire would come for Civitrecce.”

It coughed again, harder this time, longer.

“So they made you.” Jastes finished. “But they never got to finish you. Then they were gone.” He said, a slight tinge of sadness to his voice.

He has begun to understand a little of what his ancestor’s disappearance really meant.

How much they had left behind.

Process hoped they were merely hidden, not dead. He heard their voice in his head now not as delusion, but as a longing for their old friend.

He looked at First again, and wondered.

“You had a scar on your neck, before Recent attacked. What was that about?”

“A scar?” It said, sounding confused. “I don’t scar. How odd. Can you describe it for me?”

Jastes went over to look.

The scar was gone.

His eyes narrowed.

“I don’t see it now, but I know I did. It was a darker patch of skin, definitely crusted over somehow. Like a scar would be, even if that’s not what it actually was.”

“Hmmm…whatever it was, clearly the insects have fixed it for me.” They said, shrugging slightly. “We have other problems, yes?”

Jastes snorted. “Can’t argue with that. For starters, I don’t believe I fended Recent off so easily. My laser is good, but if it’s actually controlling the other bodies - or forcing them to obey, I don’t care which - it could have easily overwhelmed us and killed me. It’s playing some other sort of game.”

First sighed. “You are probably right. I wish I had any idea what else it could want, except to reassemble you.”

“Actually.” Jastes said, pausing. “Why didn’t it tear you apart too? I know it can move fast enough for that, and I know it could have put you back together. Why give you some cuts and let me carry you away?”

“Do you think it is controlling me?” It sounded frightened at the thought. “I sectioned myself off, long ago…so that I would not be all connected, could talk to my later versions as distinct individuals, would not lose my mind to solitude. But, if it has truly found a way to bend the others to its will…”

It sounded upset. Jastes didn’t blame it. But he had to check.

“I’m sorry.” He said, grim. “I need to open you up and see if it left any way to control you. If I accidentally took you back to the surface and Recent was in your head, I’d be putting everyone in danger.”

It sighed, tail thudding against the floor.

“I will shut myself down temporarily. Take me to the insects when you need to revive me.”

All he heard was a click, and the light in its eyes went out. They were open, but the glass - or whatever substance it was - was now a lifeless gray instead of glowing green.

Jastes took a deep breath, and took out his mechanic’s tools from his sylladex.

Everything always seemed to lead to him opening up a thinkpan.

He didn’t notice the insects watching behind him. Why would he pay them any mind? They had fixed First.

Their wings fluttered, compound eyes watching the yellowblood’s every move.

Witnessing. Recording.

Communicating.

#guardian artifice #cloud writes #jastes verdan #the sword of damocles #this just in: I can't fucking write things that are short #this also just in: Jastes is very sick of mind games #anyway. the tempering. the swing. guess what the third and last part of this little mini-arc and the plot as a whole will be #it's pretty easy to call tbh

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