Tumgik
#think the dog goes missing at some point :( with perhaps a ''the animal knew too much'' implication to that
Text
ten drawings and like twelve seconds of the song into this whodunit? project, determinedly progressing....and for fun, i was like, okay put Anything else into zeke’s locker / give it Any flair, like, always striking for a balance b/w not making things too difficult but not like cutting all corners & fully avoiding what i think would be fun &/or just good to include
Tumblr media
mainly had the spontaneous idea for like, put a poster/pic in there somewhat horror related, i was gonna do something kind of Scary Generic like a haunted house & then had the insight like oh hey make it hopefully evocative of the cover illustration for the first goosebumps book “welcome to dead house”
Tumblr media
and then added a kermit the frog keychain, fun anyways, and a bit of a shoutout to an element of the book in zeke’s like immediate introduction lol
Tumblr media
kind of the best of both worlds when it occurs to me to have something be kind of an easter egg / reference to Something touched on in any of this material, like also made sure to get zeke’s locker number right (or rather make the locker to the left One Number Below the number given in the musical synopsis (no locker number’s given in the book) to imply his correct locker number, but probably i’ll show the closed locker door also) which is itself an easter egg reference to how many years ago the events of The Legend occurred (in the musical), because coming up with such details wholecloth is a trial i might just otherwise avoid completely, and then idk i think it’s fun. like, i’ve read welcome to dead house, classic. i’ve also now read phantom of the auditorium lol and it’s always a great time, r.l. stine always talking about how he thinks that wtdh as the first book is a bit too scary and/or not yet tempered enough with humor, and pota makes me laugh aloud like every page. a delight
#goosebumps the musical#and with this one also just:#goosebumps#i vaguely remember the plot to wtdh also. girl with a little brother & parents & the family dog move to a new neighborhood#where it's like weirdly cold & dim all the time i think but don't worry about it? there's not much going on & like; a cemetary; don't worry?#think the dog goes missing at some point :( with perhaps a ''the animal knew too much'' implication to that#and i don't remember if they even find it lol. their parents definitely go missing & then have to be rescued from like some nocturnal ritual#where like the lore is that years ago everyone in the town was poisoned and died and so now it's just like. undead neighborhood ofc#and idk they lure in living people & then idk if it's like give us your life force &/or just be undead like us. expanding the community.#not much of a diff i guess. anyways they save them & seemingly like get everyone w/the ol First Sunbeams Of Dawn* trick#(*i thought dawn was like a synonym for sunrise but turns out it's like the Dusk to Sunset equivalent. i.e. dawn is when there's still only#indirect sunlight. i think that's fun to know) but when driving away they see the Realtor Who's Supposed To Be Dead But This Time For Real#showing some other family to Dead House(tm) like well that's not good. The End#meanwhile total segue some lines that got me from pota even just extracting that one brief quote were like#the self contained paragraph ''rich is zeke's older brother. he spends most of his life being grounded.''#and a line i misremembered as ''as if he had anything to do with it'' which was already always funny to me#is actually ''as if he had something to do with it'' which imo is at least twice as funny lol
14 notes · View notes
herstarburststories · 3 years
Text
I'd die for you, come kill me
Kinktober Day 11: restrained
Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader
A/N: This one goes for my good friend followers celebration. So happy for your milestone, @msmarvelouswinchester! Divider by @talesmaniac89.
@stillintheimpala said: i have a fic idea. demon!dean stuck in a chair on handcuffed to a bed with those demon proof handcuffs. he's completely at your mercy. you get to dom him. (I put ropes instead of handcuffs because of the gif)
Prompt: Remember how I said I'd die for you.
Warnings: angry sex, p in v, riding, restraints, power play, smangst, angst, kind of hopefully ending (?), demon!dean acts like demon!dean
Tumblr media
“Where is he?”
Sam sucked in a breath, moving his shoulder uncomfortably as he straightened his posture. The youngest Winchester's features contorted into a grimace, and you couldn't tell if it was because of the look on your face or him jarring his dislocated arm. “He's in the dungeon, but Y/N-”
“He isn't himself. I know that. Kinda noticed when he threw me against the wall and said he couldn't wait to rip my throat out with his teeth.” You gave Sam a humorless grin before you gestured to the wound on your shoulder. “This is a good reminder as well.”
“We'll cure him.” Sammy nodded at you, wrapping his words with faith and determination; he was always a believer.
You arched your eyebrows. “Then what are you waiting for?”
You two were still standing in the living room as Dean's howl rushed through the air. He sounded more like a beast than a man, yet he was smack dab in the middle of those polarized states. He was human enough to know where to strike and animal enough to relish in the attack.
Sam's gaze softened on yours.
“I know he hurt you. He hurt both of us, but Dean is my brother. I can do it alone. You don't need to-”
“Sam, he ran away once, and you just got your arm yanked out of your socket. You won't be able to fight him. You need backup,” you interrupted him. Despite your conclusion being completely rational, there was more to it than that, but Sam didn't need to know about it yet. “Besides, it's Dean.”
The hunter glanced at you. Gentle eyes watching your jaw harden, he pressed his lips together and nodded. “Okay.”
Tumblr media
Dean's demonic self had been throwing insults like a man feeding his dog shattered glass. He was full of them, not caring about hiding his satisfaction when he hits yours and Sam's weak spots.
A couple of seconds ago, he had called you an easy pussy that saved him the job of having to go out and get some. That display rewarded him with a thicker needle that pierced much deeper than it needed to. The pure human blood spread into his veins as a holy wash, like soap over a flesh wound. Dean growled in pain and went quiet for a while.
Your eyes abandoned the demon for once, directed now to his brother. Sam's earthy brown eyes were drawn in concern, mouth sketched into a frown. His healthy arm was onto his shoulder, obviously physically hurting.
“Sam, go. I can do it. It’s just two more needles. He'll probably pass out once it's done,” you pleaded in an attempt to catch Sam's rational side that always saw the order in chaos. His hazel orbs settled on you, and you knew he didn't want to leave his brother. You can't blame him for that. You didn’t either, but if Dean was in his right mind, he'd want that. And you needed some time alone with this demon version of your boyfriend. “Please.”
You didn’t know if it was something in your cracking voice or if the fact his brother regaining control meant he’d have even harsher words to spit, but when the tall man’s eyes swept from you to his brother and back, he sighed. In that moment, you knew he accepted it. 
“If he doesn't pass out…”
“I call you right away. Don't worry, and please take some meds for your pain.” You offered some tenderness to him in the middle of the violence through a lovingly smile. In a matter of seconds, the only traces of Sammy in the room were the boot-clad clamor of his footsteps growing quieter and quieter.
“Now you have me all to yourself, sweetheart. What are you planning to do?”
The lopsided grin was still attached to his face, and those were still his teeth. Still, something about Dean's smile made you want to rip him apart with your nails. How did he let this happen? How did the situation escalate like this? How did everything get so bad so fast?
“Shut up,” you hissed through your teeth, boots clicking on the floor as you approached him. Dean glanced at you shamelessly; the pretty little bruise on your skin proving that he had succeeded in breaking you. It twisted his guts in both good and bad ways — the bittersweet contradiction among lovers. 
“Feisty, huh? I always liked that on you. Who would guess that you were a bottom in bed?” Dean appeared to find your fury entertaining as if he relished any emotion he could instigate inside you.
“I said shut up.”
“Or what? You are gonna sting me with a flimsy syringe needle like I did to you with my cock? Go ahead, sweetheart.”
The idiotic nickname burned your insides. As your and Dean's relationship got more serious, he'd stop calling you that. You weren't just a fling or a woman he'd leave the next day, and the Winchester only called you that either sarcastically or during an argument now. Was this how the demon saw you? Just another sweetheart?
Dean smirked at your quietude, poking the bear once again. “What? Demon got that smart tongue of yours? It's embarrassing, really. You get all worked up, pretending to be that tough gal, but you can't hurt me. You didn't even fight back when I tried to kill you. How weak is that? You’ve always been a liability. Just another woman I had to protect to get inside her.”
You warned him, the words coming out more like a groan than anything else: “Shut up!”
Yet, Dean persisted. He had discovered your weakness, and he couldn't wait to see how much you could take. You'd end up giving in to him, thrashing headfirst into a fight, and he'd escape again. The demon was counting on that. “A waste of time, really. At least you had a nice pussy, but I scratched it open. It's useless now, just like you.”
The dismissal in his words laced with the cynical chuckle that left his mouth made you hit your breaking point. 
“I TOLD YOU TO SHUT THE FUCK UP!” You grabbed a syringe and stung Dean like a scorpion, right in the jugular. He wanted to set you on fire? Good, you'd make sure he got burnt too. “I said I'd die for you. Remember how I said I'd die for you? And you tried to kill me.” You grunted, throwing the empty needle away. Dean's normally forest green eyes went black as howls of outrage escaped his mouth. The blood of saints that coursed through his body was a good way to either turn the beast into a man again or kill him completely. Knowing this, he screamed and struggled in the chair, as desperate as a rat stuck in a mousetrap. It made you doubt the cure. Perhaps a good thing couldn't save him now, the whispers of sulfur that colored his heart black too intrinsic to eradicate without killing the host. You couldn't bring yourself to care about it now. The demon was suffering, and he deserved it. You wanted your own hurt ricochet back to where it came from: him. “Now you are sitting there talking about me like I'm your bitch or something like that, but I'm not. I can take care of myself, and I don't need you. I chose to stay here.”
Dean blinked, and suddenly everything was in place again. His face softened like it usually did when you two were alone, and an actual smile conquered his features. All the oxygen in your body caught in your throat.
“You're right. You are a strong, independent woman, and I should feel lucky to get myself a keeper like you.” His voice filled the dungeon with light-hearted relief. Your cheeks were hurting as you scooted closer to him. “I missed you so much.”
He was saying all you wanted to tell him the minute he left. Your eyes got glossy, and you threw yourself on his lap, clutching to him like devout patron to her bible. Dean was here. He came back to you.
A quiet gasp of praise left your mouth: “Dean-”
He interrupted whatever you were about to say, replacing your words with a kiss. A sweet one — sweeter than anything you might imagine. It was the kind of kiss shared for two lovers in the dark, recognizing each other’s bodies by touch alone. You, of course, allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of belonging. You shouldn't have. You should never just jump into someone, or you might drown. It's hard to find corpses in a black river.
Yet, your soul was tied to the righteous sinner, so you kept pressing your lips to his while he devoured your mouth softly.
“Sammy doesn't understand, Y/N,” he said. When he pulled away, you nuzzled into his neck. The heated tang to his murmured sentiments remained there, but his voice, less gruff than usual, fooled you. “I finally don't have the weight of the world on my shoulders. I'm free. I never thought I'd be happy after that night…” Dean wore the façade, even gulping at the thought. He didn't know if it was because the human blood was slowly coursing into the core of his being, but he wouldn't waste time on it. “But I can now. We can run away together, leave Sam behind. Just me and you.”
What did you expect? He was a demon. The blame was on you for expecting repentance from the ashes of hellfire. This isn't a fairytale where the hero suddenly is hit by true love and everything is solved with the ultimate kiss. This is a hunter’s tale, and there's just one ending for those stories: the prey dying.
You lifted your head. “Dean would never leave Sam behind.”
Dean burst into laughter as if your hope was some sort of funny joke. He adjusted his hips in the chair, smirking at you with cruelty.
“Bet it almost got you. I could see your eyes shining with hope. You were ready to get on your knees and suck my cock. You’d be screaming Dean, Dean, Dean, and inevitably fall for some stupid lies.” He shook his head with disappointment. “You're too easy, Y/N.”
“Who do you think you are?” The indignancy in your tone only drew a malicious grin out of Dean. This was too good. He could feel his cock hardened in his pants. He might fuck you before killing you only to make good use of his time.
“I'm a demon. What about you? Oh, wait! I know the answer to that one.” He licked his lips, savoring the moment. “You're a little-”
Smack.
The palm of your hand met Dean's cheek harshly, transferring some of your anger into a red mark on his right cheek. The eldest Winchester's head was tilted to the side from the impact. He clenched his jaw before turning his glare at you, eyes back in black as he spoke: “You shouldn't have done that.”
Every syllable that left his tongue was imbued with a threatening crimson rage, but you didn't care. Not now.
You weren't scared of him.
“You shouldn't be a demon, but here we are,” you remarked, summoning a smarmy leer and wearing it like one of his flannels. “Shut up. I know you're not my Dean. You are just all he hates in himself wrapped with his skin. You're disgusting, cruel, and selfish.” It didn’t make any sense for your body to be as heated up as it was, but it was. And Dean didn’t care. Fuck him. “You’ve spent so long aiming at our Achilles’ heel that you forgot you have yours too. Stupid.” You chortled, grinding your hips on his. At this point, both your panties and emotional stability were ruined. “Look at you, all hard for the girl basically torturing you with poison, huh?”
“You-” He attempted to speak, to put you down so he can climb over you. You stopped him with a hand inside his pants.
“Language, Dean,” you groaned at him. It wasn't unusual for you and Dean to blow off some steam with sex, either after a fight or a hunt, but, this? It’s a whole new level of fucked. Yet somehow, your pussy didn't seem to mind, and neither did his cock. You got his length free, and his stiffened cock slapped his clothed belly. “I don't wanna hear something that makes me angry because if I get mad, then I won't let you come inside my pretty pussy. Understood?”
He groaned in response, trying to move his hands to show you who the real alpha was here, but the rope kept him in place. Silence lanced through the air because you knew you didn't want to waste time on something as exciting as foreplay; he did not deserve that, and you didn't want this. You just lifted your red skirt and slid your panties to the side. Your pussy swallowed his cock painfully slow.
The demon that ate your lover didn't offer mumbled protests at the fact you were still wearing clothes. Your Dean always tried to get any piece of fabric away because he liked to see all of you. This Dean, though, gulped and glared at you. Pleasure flushed his cheeks only he can’t deny the physical pleasure. It’s clear that, even as a demon, he could never reject the carnal appeal of your body and your sweet, soaked pussy. Hands pinned behind his back with the restraints, you two in the middle of a big demon symbols on the ground, he was completely at your mercy. He was helpless.
Dean bucked his hips to get all of his hardness inside you right way, to show both you and himself that he still had the power here. You barely blinked before moving your hips up, restricting him further entrance into your cunt. Dean was always eager when it came to sex, but you knew this wasn't about just fucking you anymore. You were in control.
Placing your hands on his shoulders, you murmured in an increasingly sultry bite: “I'm the one making the rules here. Take it or leave it.”
“Fucking a demon? That's why you told Sammy to go with all the crap about caring for his arm?” the former hunter remarked. You and he both knew Dean wouldn't — couldn’t, not with half his cock being squeezed by your tightness — leave your pussy, but he still very much had the capacity to bite.
“Unlike you, I worry about the people I love.”
“I don't love,” he snarled, watching you swallow the malcontented lump in your throat. “Hear that? I don't love you.”
“Then at least be useful and fuck me,” you groaned, finally resting wholly in his lap with all of his dick inside of you. Dean whimpered, overthrown by the sensation of your heady tightness encompassing his cock. He tried to break free again, starved to grab your thighs, your ass, any part of you he could get his hands on, but the rope limited his range of motion. The raw polyester and nylon mix around his wrists was a contrast to the warmth of his lap. His eyes closed, blinking only back into wakeful blackness because of your promise disguised as a hissed threat: “No, forget it. I'll be the one fucking you.”
There was something delightfully mercurial about the way you rode Dean. The dungeon once filled by his pained screams had now become the perfect studio for your flexing thighs slapping against his, your breathless moans camouflaging the raw hurt of your heart, and the unique sound of Dean's cock sunk to impossible degrees inside your needy cunt. He leaned in for more.
This was no longer about the sexual release for him. It was for the tiny part of Dean that always craved an order to follow. It was the small piece of him that craved carrying the weight of responsibility heavy on his back like the burden Atlas had to bear. It was the liberation of the heavy chains that held him down since he was a child, even if his hands were — appropriately enough — tied behind his back. As a demon, he didn’t have to worry, and neither did he when submissive to you. For you, it was expelling your revenge on this devilish version of the man you loved. He had it coming.
“I hate you. I hate having to save you. I hate caring about you.” You huffed, nails sinking in his clothed shoulder. The ghost of your touch was enough to make his dick twitch inside you. Tears brimmed in your eyes as the goosebumps rose your spine, and every time you sunk on his cock brought you closer to collapse. All Dean did was to praise your name with a moan. “I hate how good you feel inside me.” You sobbed, increasing your rhythmic and going fast and rougher on his cock. Your walls were tightening around his dick. Your untouched clit rubbed against the fabric, but it didn't matter. This wasn't about pleasure. “I hate that it’s you and not him.” That's not my Dean.
That caught his attention. Dean’s shoulders grew rigid. He was ready to catch a glimpse of warring emotions of hatred and disgust on your face, but he wasn't prepared for the crushingly forlorn refraction of loss and dispair he found there. 
The knight of hell should feel satisfied. That was what he wanted, wasn't it? Destroying you, turning the woman the human version of himself loved into a walking catastrophe so you wouldn't dare bring him back.
Apparently, the priorities changed. Maybe the blood was really effective, slowly disintegrating his armor into flesh again. It was the only explanation for all the humanly emotions he was experiencing.
Dean felt the conflict building as if hurting you was physically tearing him apart. His eyes contracted into livid green again, shining like the moon with tears he didn't dare drop. He was still a demon, bratty heart or not.
Yet, there was only so far a man could control himself. His lips were treacherous for your name, echoed more like a plea than anything: “Y/N-”
“Shut up! I don't wanna hear your voice. You said I'm your little bitch, nothing but a whore to you, huh? Guess what, asshole. You are my bitch now, and you’re gonna like it.” The little monster in you hummed happily to your authority, glad to finally punish someone for the incitement of agony inside your guts. You closed your eyes, riding Dean ferociously.
Dean Winchester might have been a cage to your feelings, but at least it was golden.
You said you'd be here. You said you wouldn't leave me. Your thoughts corroded your wearied heart as you tried to fuck them away with Dean's weeping cock. You could feel he was close, and you were constantly hitting your G-spot with eagerness, your sweat and harrowed feelings gushing over. You said I didn't need to leave. You said we'd find a way through this. You lied, you lied, you lied. 
I trusted you, and you destroyed me. You hurt me and Sam, and I can't even blame you for it. He knew all your enemies started out as friends. He knew how much it would hurt you if he got the mark. He knew how it would break you if he said those words, demon or not. And you know you can't put this blame on Dean’s shoulders, but you were suffocating and needed fresh air. The sacrificial game wasn’t always a virtuous act. So, you dropped yourself down hard, appreciating the way his cock hit the right spot over and over again. It forced your body to feel good despite your restless mind. I hate you. You made me go crazy. And I miss you.
What was the saying? Man makes the promise, and the demon makes him break it.
Dean's fixated you. He wanted to get free of his cuffs and cup your cheeks, see you lean into his touch so he could wipe away the tears that started to fall and haven't stopped in minutes. He wanted to tell you he was here, not completely, but he was here. He wanted to apologize and make it better, but he didn't. His white skin was burning red because of how hard he was trying to move his hands, hair moving by your movements and his. The semi-human groaned like the remainder of the beast clutching his strings when he hit his orgasm and spread his seed inside you. You whined like a broken toy as you came all over his cock.
It felt good, for a while. It was nice, feeling good.
You stayed there a little more, gaining control over yourself while he softened inside of you. Dean was doing the same in an attempt to stifle his human emotions from surfacing. He wasn't going to be weak anymore. He couldn't be because for once in his life, he hadn’t hated himself. 
You coughed, using the chair to hoist yourself to your feet. His cum dripped from your pussy, dampening his still-clothed thigh. You sniffed, grimacing a little when you noticed that your face wasn't wet with sweat. You’d been crying. 
That only made you madder at yourself.
“Fuck it,” you groaned, putting his dick back into his pants before zipping him up.
Dean smirked in a final attempt to turn the table and get on your nerves again. “That's what we just did.”
You didn't waste more of your heart on him. Taking the last needle, you sunk the devil into his sharp skin and pressed the plunger with all the fervor of pulling a gun's trigger. He screamed like the rush of humanity flowing into him was a shot to the heart.
Your legs were trembling when you threw the object away and hugged yourself, focused on Dean's fragile body in front of you. 
He looked down, eyes shutting a few times as if he was waking up before lifting his head to look at you. 
“Y/N?” His voice was back to its gruff drag, but it was carrying a strand of vulnerability and care that he had only ever directed at you. Dean frowned, confusedly watching you and the place around you both, not to mention himself. “Y/N, what happened?”
He didn't remember anything. He didn't remember the terrible things he’d done. He didn't remember the words said.
You gulped, the back of your hand pressed against your wet cheeks. “I'm going to get Sam.”
The demon may have gotten teary-eyed, but the human Dean was the one letting the tears slide down his cheeks as you turned around and left, almost running to get away from him. He didn't even know why.
Leave a comment and REBLOG. Feedback is magic!
TAGS ON MY REBLOG
WANNA BE TAGGED? SEND ME AN ASK/DM
285 notes · View notes
imdefyingmavity · 3 years
Text
Little Blue Eyes
A brief follow-up to this. Eleanor visits Michael during his reforming.
.
She had to hand it to Jason. If anyone had told her that it was possible to break a Janet out of Hell and get her away from an army of demons using just a Molotov, a single demon exploder gun, and a bag of weed, she’d have been very sceptical. But somehow he managed to bring their not-a-girl home, riding back in that hand-cart, grinning away as if he’d gone to a Jaguars game with her.
That was one problem dealt with. Now only a billion others to sort out.
As overjoyed as she’d been to see Janet back, safe and sound, she hadn’t been looking forward to reliving the most awful night of the year by explaining to her why their tall, dandy dressed demon wasn’t at her side, or hadn’t gone to save her.
It was easier to hand her the note that Michael had wrote (or possibly snapped into being after she slammed the door as she was sure even he couldn’t write that fast) before he’d pulled the trigger on himself.
I’m sorry.
I don’t want you to be worrying about how I might betray you or let you down again. If I’m locked up, you’re just going to worry that I’ve escaped. Just leave me in a tank on the other side of the map, or in Janet’s void if you bring her back, or just leave me in the Bad Place. If anything I just wanna ask that you make sure I’m all in there as I’d rather not come back shorter. Also if you can make sure no dogs are around to lap me up, I’d appreciate it.
I only ever wanted to save you all. I’m sorry I did nothing but screw up. I understand if you don’t want me back in the group after I’m back to normal. Please just get Janet back safe, even if it does mean going to the Judge. And give my best to Chidi when he wakes up.
I wasn’t lying about one thing; I really do love you all so much. I’m sorry it could never be enough.
Michael.
Reading the goo-stained letter with shaking hands, she’d struggled not to burst into tears of anger or throw up. Standing in the middle of the empty room, her friend dripping all around her, she’d wanted to scream at him for this being his best attempt to make things up to her - to forking leave her! To take the cowards way out. 
Being angry was so much easier than accepting the guilt of what she had said to him before that moment. Of questioning if she had gone too far...if she’d just taken a moment to listen to him...Usually the dude had trouble shutting the fork up but that night, all he’d done is stand there and take everything she threw at him...until there was nothing left standing. Literally.
If she’d had any idea he would do something so reckless and stupid then of course she would never have said...
But you did know. You knew exactly what he was prepared to do to help you, if it’s what you said you needed. What you wanted.
She never wanted this, she admits to herself, barely a couple months later.
Running this experiment basically single-handed was...not overly difficult. In fact, she was pretty confident in saying they were doing okay, considering the circumstances. 
But it still sucked. She was alone. Again.
Obviously there was no way she was going to have Michael’s goo abandoned in some random, isolated location. She was mad at the guy but she wasn’t a monster...so she told herself. At the same time, she couldn’t give up the role he’d thrusted upon her by suddenly taking up the role of nurse-maid, as hot as she might have looked in the uniform. He’d chosen to do this so she could work without distractions. Without a liability. 
“He sacrificed himself to save me. We’re on our own now. Let’s make it count.”
Just get the fork on with things, same as before. No point in looking back.
Tahani is the one who volunteers. She’s able to separate herself from the other humans without causing too much suspicion, claiming the need for a private getaway up in the hills, deep in the valley, a hidden fancy lodge by a stream, surrounded by peaceful deer and mountains. Definitely not Eleanor’s scene, anything involving the wilderness or even resembling camping.
By the time Eleanor sees her off on a private car Derek conjured up, Michael’s goo already reached its first form. The blind, helpless demon larva showed no signs of awareness of his surroundings, curling up as small as possible, malleable as Tahani swaddled him in her fluffiest blanket. Eleanor was almost impressed at how quickly the sexy giraffe had overcome being grossed out at the slimy, squidgy creature, able to look almost maternal as she carried him into the car. And she made sure to say as much.
Tahani’s heavy hearted response would stick with Eleanor for the next few weeks; “I didn’t reassure him when he asked us if we could ever be friends with a gross monster. Best I can do is show him how much we truly care.”
Ouch. Way to kick her in the girl-nads.
“You sure you’ll be okay?”
“I’ve helped out in multiple animal sanctuaries and used to fly out to work with deprived children with my dear friend Angelina...But this is definitely new territory for me.” She’d said as she looked over the larva demon, making the tiniest cooing noise in his sleep (or what they assumed was sleep). “I’ll try my best.”
That was all any of them could do. She’d contemplated attempting to speak to the larva Michael in her arms. What could she possibly say? Could he even understand her?
She was still angry. And yet it was difficult to connect the anger towards the one who abandoned her to the pathetic looking being in the blanket. Best to save all those harsh words on the tip of her tongue for when he was back to being tall and slappable. 
Is he really the one you want to slap?
The question comes back to haunt her more frequently each night that follows, whenever she thinks back on that night, or wonders how the two of them are doing. She and Tahani send letters often via the birds who are happy to act as messengers. They just have to be careful none of the humans intercept them. She lets her gorgeous friend know how the experiment is going and Tahani offers her tips on how to improve John, in particular. Every time she goes to write ‘how is Michael?’ she erases it, chest tightening. Tahani tells her anything important.
The slug monster form that follows the larva is a lot more challenging, she reports. He’s now the size of a Tibetan huskie and just as hungry.
I just let him roam the fields and eat what he can find. Sometimes I have to pull him in on a leash if he doesn’t tire himself out, otherwise I worry he’ll slither off in the night. I try to talk to him but he just grunts or roars at me until I tell him off. I was a little worried he might try to eat me but I found playing music - 80′s classics, mostly - calms him down and makes him rather docile. I don’t think he knows quite who I am or remembers anything. Perhaps it’s like when Janet is rebooted? He may need time to restore his memories, as she did.
Oh, darn, I must finish - he’s in the rose bush again!
Sometimes the image of her prim socialite friend trying to restrain a two-hundred-pound slug monster is so hilarious she can’t help but laugh. Other times she feels more guilt tugging at her soul to go lend a hand.
Is Michael really little more than an animal, in his head, right now? She’s hardly proved herself the best at pet care, though it sounded like Michael overeating was the least of their worries. It pained her to imagine what his head must be going through right now. Is he scared? Confused? Lost? Does he have any emotions other than the instinct to feed?
Does he still blame himself? Does he miss her as much as she...?
The more she sits in that chair in the office, the smaller she feels. It doesn’t belong to her; she’s merely filling it in while he’s gone. She has lunch in silence, remembering the jokes they used to share, the games of trying to aim food in the others mouth across the desk. She remembers him snapping a margarita for her when he knew she needed it most. She remembers his hand on her shoulder. She remembers him finding her at her lowest point, when everyone else had doubted her, turned their backs.
She remembers him, always there. And now she’s lost him.
Was wanting him gone over a stupid lie really worth all of this?
When Jason returns with Janet, on the same day she’s hesitating whether to jump on the nearest unicorn and head towards the mountains, she takes it as a sign. She has no excuse to stay away now - not with Janet back to watch over things, though she’ll probably be paying Michael a visit soon too.
She rides up on the train Janet conjures for her, saving her from trying to figure out how to ride a unicorn without breaking her neck. Something tells her she might have more luck at taming a slug monster than her British friend, not that she has any experience, just a few encounters with the grosser men in Arizona. Besides, it was Michael, at the end of the day. Their Michael.
The same Michael willing to sacrifice himself to help a bunch of cockroaches.
It’s such an idyllic landscape she arrives at. A total holiday card photo, without the snow. Nothing but grass and trees for miles before a backdrop of purple mountains. She looks around, seeing the evidence of devoured flower gardens and broken fences. At least the solid, oak cabin by the stream stood in tact, smoke billowing from the chimney. 
Eleanor is so focused on keeping her eyes peeled for a rampaging slug monster that she almost fails to spot the little person sat on the front step of the veranda.
She frowns. That has to be the whitest child she’s ever laid eyes on. Granted most kids growing up in Phoenix were smothered in fake tan before they were three by their moms, but this is something else. The kid has long white hair, half-plaited, down to the shoulders of the cream dress she’s wearing. Her skin is so pale it’s nearly translucent. Fork, is she looking at an actual ghost?
Wait...She’s a ghost. That really shouldn’t freak her out.
There’s just something so eerie about the little girl, from her sickly appearance to how weirdly quiet she is for...However old she is. Six? Seven? Thirteen? Eleanor really knows nothing about kids, just that they’re usually much louder than this one, sat alone, playing with a set of shining...
Oh.
“Michael?��
The kid looks away from the chain of a paperclips they were linking, gazing up at Eleanor on the gravel path. As soon as she sees their eyes, she has her answer. Even without a pair of glasses, she’d recognise those sparkling blue eyes anywhere. It’s only then that she remembers the third form.
Spooky little girl.
Though far less spooky than she imagined. More...sad.
Despite her surprise, she tries to smile, not knowing how badly she needed to see those eyes look at her again after this past month.
“Hey, buddy. How’re you feeling?” She starts to approach.
The kid drops the paperclips and jumps up to their feet, beginning to tremble terribly, eyes wide as saucers. 
Eleanor stops. Is he afraid? Of her?
“Michael? D’you remember me? It’s Eleanor, dude..”
“‘Hani!” The child cries turning and running inside the cabin. Fork, she knew was bad with kids, but shirt! Eleanor rushes in to follow, unable to hold back.
She enters the cosily furnished cabin to see the pale girl run up to the leg of the six foot beauty standing at the stove and cling to her skirt for dear life.
Tahani looks over from the pot of spaghetti, face fearful at first before lighting up when she spots her friend stood in the foyer.
“Eleanor! What a lovely surprise.” She beams, turning the stove off; “I’m so glad you decided to visit.”
“Wow...You’re kinda rocking the whole rustic single mom look here, babe.” Eleanor says, looking around the place, everything making her feel so warm and comforted from the open fireplace to the heavy air of recently baked bread. 
Tahani looks down to her charge hanging onto her dress, reaching down to pick the little fingers off carefully.
“Well, it was rather nice to have a project to myself, and Derek was surprisingly helpful. Everything else I acquired myself, having learned to survive in the wild from a well known ‘Bear’ friend of mine.” She holds the kid’s hands and bends down to their eye level; “Michael, sweetheart, look who’s come to visit. Remember Eleanor?”
The demon child whimpers, throwing their arms around Tahani’s neck and hiding in her luscious dark hair.
Eleanor bites her lip; “He’s a lot more shy than the slug monster, I take it.”
“Oh, I don’t understand. They were fine with Jason this morning, they were playing video games for hours - he and Janet teleported over briefly to check in on us. So glad they got back safe.”
So Jason gets a teleport but she takes the train? The first time she’s not an immortal being’s favorite to spoil.
Eleanor shuffles her feet, trying not to feel wounded at how terrified her friend currently is of her, when apparently there was no issue with Jason. But then, Jason makes it difficult for anyone to dislike him. Eleanor makes it an open invitation. 
The kid whispers something to Tahani that causes the woman to pick them up.
“Oh, darling, don’t be silly.” She responds, rubbing their back; “That was just a nightmare.”
“Nightmare?” Eleanor asks. Is she the stuff of nightmares?
Tahani eventually convinces the pale kid to go back outside to continue playing while she catches up with Eleanor.
Questions Tahani has about the experiment and the subjects get quickly brushed aside. Eleanor is unable to focus on anything but the image of Michael’s eyes looking at her with so much fear. When Tahani hands her a fresh cup of cofffee, she wants to stick her hand in it, just to scold herself for the sake of it.
“He’s having nightmares? I mean...she’s having...” Eleanor frowns.
“I find it easier to use ‘they/them’, which Michael seems to prefer as well, currently.” Tahani explains; “Most of the time, they’re a calm, affectionate child. Such a welcome change from the beast I was putting up with a fortnight ago, as much as they grew on me. It’s just at night, while their brain is still reforming and all these memories are flooding back...It can be rather distressing. Trust me, it’s heart-breaking just to see them crying and screaming...”
She can’t imagine that recalling centuries of brutally torturing innocents along with the knowledge of why that was wrong is easy for anyone, least of all in the form of a small girl, creepy or not.
“Honestly, the creepiest I’ve encountered so far is them levitating at the end of my bed - and that’s usually when they’re just looking for a cuddle.”
Eleanor smiles a little, Michael never was the best at being a truly ‘frightening’ demon.
“And I’m in these nightmares?”
Tahani sighs; “I suppose the memories of their last night are mixed up with everything else. They just...were worried you were here to say something mean or...you wanted them gone.”
Fork-sake. 
“I never wanted this, Tahani. I never wanted him to...Shirt, I didn’t even think he could, but...” She struggles to hold back tears; “I shouldn’t have come. I’ve just made him...Them more upset. Fork knows what I’d be in for if I stayed for the Teenage Boy phase. He’d probably set my hair on fire as payback.”
Bratty Michael in his fully grown form had been enough to handle. A hormonal one with amnesia was a whole other level.
“Eleanor. Just go talk to them.” Tahani presses; “This whole distancing thing you two are doing to deal with your falling out is dangerous. You’re not going to fix anything by staying away from them. As I kept telling my good friend Courtney when she had a row with my other friends, Lisa and Jennifer - you just need to communicate!”
“Babe, they’re afraid to even be alone with me.” She’s the monster under the bed now. All because she took one sin he committed to heart and forgot about all the good he’d done for her that outweighed it.
“Then stay, there’s plenty of room. Even if it means we swap and you stay here and I return to help with the experiment. Either way, this needs to be sorted out. I don’t believe demons are supposed to be this upset during their growth...You could help with that.”
Can she? She’s not the nurturing type, like her hot friend. She melted her own doll in the microwave as a kid. And she unwittingly talked her own demon bestie into exploding himself.
Tahani’s hand squeezing her wrist gives her some strength. 
“...Okay. I’ll try.” she meets her eyes; “Is Michael the only one allowed to snuggle in bed with you when they’re scared?”
Ten minutes later, she goes to find the creepy girl outside, this time sat among the flowers, being far more gentle with them than her previous slug form was. 
Eleanor approaches slowly.
“Michael? Buddy?”
The kid gasps, standing up again and flinching back. Eleanor raises her palm.
“Please don’t run away. I promise I won’t hurt you...and I won’t be mad.” She says, soft as she can manage, getting down to the ground; “And I’m not gonna make you go away anywhere. I just wanna chat...That ok?”
Michael doesn’t look too convinced, glancing over at the cabin. Looking for the one constant they’ve had, who’s been here for them, caring for them. Where Eleanor should have been, at least sometimes.
Okay. Time for the trump card.
“I got you something. Tahani said you have trouble sleeping. I thought maybe this guy could help?” She produces the minion toy from behind her back.
Michael’s eyes sparkle and he instantly reaches out to take it.
“So ugly!” They cheer, hugging it to their front.
Eleanor chuckles. Still so easily impressed.
“Can’t argue there...Also, I picked up those paperclips of yours. Did you know you can do this with them?” She holds up the chain; “Gimmie your wrist a minute.”
Michael frowns, hiding behind the toy a little.
“I won’t bite, dude. Kids are way too gross to eat. You’re too stringy and bony.” She wrinkles her nose.
They blink at her before slowly holding out their wrist. Eleanor takes the paperclips and links them around Michael’s arm, forming a bracelet.
The child gasps, clearly thinking they’ve seen it for the first time; “Holy motherforking shirtballs.”
“Damn, you kiss Tahani with that mouth?” That must have been another residue memory tucked away.
Michael sneers; “Kissing is gross.”
“It’s pretty weird if you think about it, yeah.” She concedes, glad they’re at least talking, as much conversation as she can have with a billion year old immortal that’s lost their mind as they regrow in the body of a haunting little girl; “...What about hugs? You like them, right?”
The kid nods, eagerly.
“...Maybe I could have one, someday? If we can be friends? I’d like that...” More than they could know right now. More than anything else, even having Chidi remember her. This...This is just as painful, because she can’t be sure if this is fixable. 
Eleanor crosses her legs as she sits, facing her friend.
“I’m so sorry, Michael. I know...you don’t understand that right now but...I’m sorry for why you’re scared of me...I wouldn’t ever wanna hurt you. Please believe me.”
Trust me? God, she’s such a hypocrite. 
The kid eyes her, up and down, before turning to the flowers. They bend down, picking a few up into a small bouquet of daisies. Michael turns and hands it out to her.
“Oh...Uhh....Thanks...” Eleanor reaches for them.
Michael’s blue eyes flash red. The flowers burst into flames.
“Forking shirt!” Eleanor jumps.
And still the kid holds them out; “Pretty, right?”
A heartfelt laugh tumbles out of her; “...I can tell Jason’s been here.” Or maybe that was part of her friend’s demon nature. Either way, it was adorable. “Thank you, Michael.” she says, taking the flaming daisies. “You know...if you want, I could show you how to make chains out of these? We could make a crown for Tahani?”
“And ones for me and you?” Michael asks, hopeful.
Eleanor’s lip quivers, a sudden lump in her throat. She reaches out to run her palm over her friend’s white hair, soft as it’s always been; “Yeah...Me and you too, bud.”
13 notes · View notes
thetriggeredhappy · 3 years
Note
in the latest Dad!Spy fic, it seems like both of them have a degree of separation anxiety. largely *reasonable* separation anxiety because of the whole, y'know, Spy (and eventually Scout) being a mercenary thing, but it's still fascinating to see. i wonder how Spy would deal with easing Jeremy's anxiety and his own all the while knowing that he very well COULD be killed and leave his young son alone any time something goes wrong with work
spy as a dad would i think be extremely concerned about his kid’s safety to the point of paranoia, and the worst part of it all would be all the times when his paranoia is justified.
(warnings for discussion of canon-typical violence, none of it happening onscreen, and assorted mention of spy-type business)
-
Something about this felt so deeply... dishonest. Something he couldn’t quite place. Maybe some sense of irony, or... maybe just the sort of general guilt he’d had as a very young man starting to reverberate within him again. Whatever it was, sitting there and writing down the cipher of a message intended to ensure his son’s safety if he died, while that aforementioned son slept soundly against his shoulder, felt deeply morally wrong.
His eighth birthday was coming up. It was, according to Jeremy, a pretty big deal. And Jacques was aware that most children in more average situations would be having a party together, eating cake and playing games and having fun while he theoretically chatted with the other parents and talked about... school, or, extracurriculars. He wasn’t sure, to be honest, that was just his assumption. But Jeremy’s situation was anything but average, so he’d be making an attempt to do something else, something he’d enjoy enough that perhaps he would be able to put off the conversations of “why can’t I have normal friends?” for one more year. He’d heard about and marked down an annual fair, and found that this year the weekend it was taking place just so happened to also fall on Jeremy’s birthday.
It was a good excuse for why they were leaving town so swiftly. Much more justifiable to himself and more explainable to a very-nearly-eight-year-old than whispers on the wind of a pair of men he thought he’d killed twelve years previously being seen within the state and that alone being enough to make him very very nervous. He did not believe in coincidences, and moreover, he knew that him finding out about these men being alive was not an accident, it was a warning, and the only one he would be receiving before they struck to kill.
Regardless, he was still a bit troubled by it. And he knew it was an adjustment from the plans he’d been hesitantly laying for some time on where he would be and when, his route a closely guarded secret meant to be known to exactly three trustworthy people in entirely seperate areas of the world, and even then it was a risk he would never have taken previously. But him going missing would be several degrees more significant, as he’d realized roughly eight years ago.
A movement to shift, trying to keep his arm from falling asleep, was enough to wake up Jeremy, who blinked a few times down at what Jacques was writing as if waiting for the letters to make sense. “Is that Russian?” he mumbled sleepily after two minutes of silence.
“No,” he said, having to pause in his writing entirely, broken from the rhythm he’d gotten into. “It’s a cipher. Secret symbols and letters.”
“Oh,” Jeremy said simply, and went silent and still for long enough that he convinced himself that he’d surely fallen back asleep, and he was a bit startled when he spoke again. “Who are you writing secret symbols at?”
“A friend of mine,” he answered carefully, if kindly. “You’ve met him. Twice, actually. A very large man, who also wore a suit. I believe you told him you really liked his tie.”
Peter was a good man, or as good as one could be given the circumstances the two of them both worked in. He had made a very genuine effort at, as Jacques had requested, ‘easing up’ on the usual intimidating way that he carried himself when he’d been been told Jeremy would be there at one of the very brief meetings the two of them had. One was when Jeremy was three, and fully preoccupied with a gift he’d received for the holidays, and the other was when Jeremy was six. Apparently, Peter had decided the best way to appear less intimidating to a young child was to wear a tie plastered with a pattern of cartoonish bubbles. Jacques thought it was perhaps the most ridiculous thing he’d ever seen, but was promptly proven wrong when Jeremy pointed it out gleefully within moments of being in a room with the man.
If Jacques died unexpectedly in most of the mainland United States and immediately surrounding territories, Peter would likely be the one taking care of Jeremy. At least until the other two correspondents could stop by and negotiate further on what would happen with him. Peter, at least, could cook and survive alone for multiple people (as he’d proven before on at least one occasion where Jacques was too injured to take care of himself and required assistance), and if he would stoop so low as to wear a bubble-patterned tie because he wanted to avoid intimidating a six-year-old, he was likely capable of stooping low enough to perform other essential activities involved with raising a child.
“I don’t remember that,” Jeremy muttered, shifting slightly.
“That is fair,” he nodded. “You do meet a lot of people, mon lapin, it is not easy keeping names straight.”
He hummed in sleepy agreement. A pause. “That one looks like a dog,” he finally said, pointing at one of the little letters on the page.
He tilted his head, squinting a little. “Hm. I suppose it does,” he acquiesced.
“Does it mean dog?”
“It is not kanji, the characters represent letters, which spell words in German,” Jacques replied.
“Is it that letter that looks like a B but it isn’t and sounds like that one dog?”
“...Are you referring to an eszett?”
“Yeah.”
“...And what dog does it sound like, exactly?” Jacques asked, fully baffled.
“The one that howls really loud.”
“Howls really—mon lapin, are you referring to a basset hound?”
“Yeah!” he agreed, sitting up a little and smiling. “That’s it!”
He wanted to further investigate why the word eszett reminded his son of basset hounds, but Jeremy picked that moment to yawn, reminding him of something.
“Well, dogs or otherwise, I do believe that it’s past your bedtime. You should go to sleep,” he said, no room in his tone for argument.
The whining noises began and were silenced by a swift kiss to the top of his head and the setting aside of the notebook he was working from, moving as if to pick up Jeremy and properly put him to bed. But then more genuine protests began, Jeremy moving to dart beneath the sheets before he could even properly set his pen down.
“Can I sleep here tonight?” he asked earnestly, employing the use of his big blue too-much-like-his-mother’s eyes. A slightly disapproving tilt of the head did nothing to dissuade him, so Jacques sighed inwardly, standing regardless.
“Alright, alright,” he surrendered as he moved to also get ready for sleep, “but I will be awake rather early in the morning, and you do not get to complain at me if you also end up awake as a result.”
Jeremy didn’t look upset by this caveat in the slightest, just burrowing further and smiling like he’d won some sort of contest.
And he looked asleep enough by the time Jacques was back that he was very quiet and careful about getting back into bed, but woke up regardless with the express intent of tucking against his arm again.
And he knew he would miss this one day. His son was already growing up much too fast, and at very-nearly-eight-years-old was closer in many ways to twelve, and surely only had another year or so before he would be much too embarrassed to lean against his father’s shoulder this way, to comment upon how things looked like an animal, to speak so freely. Soon he would be having secrets, a life of his own that he’d know nothing about, and he looked forward to it of course but he would also miss it so very dearly.
He’d hate to miss any more of it by dying unexpectedly.
He wished he didn’t need to prepare for the worst. He wished he didn’t feel guilty for needing to work out details about what would happen if the nightmare scenario occurred. And more than that, he wished he didn’t have to feel all the more guilty about having no plan at all for what he would do if something happened to Jeremy. It was unthinkable. He couldn’t imagine having a world without his son in it, not anymore.
And so he leaned back as well, albiet so much more carefully with the understanding of the fact that children tend to be fragile, and couldn’t imagine.
57 notes · View notes
imnotwolverine · 4 years
Text
The Monster’s Lair - A Belle Tune
Vampire!Henry x Belle - multi-chapter
Chapter 1 - A Belle Tune | Chap 2 >
Tumblr media
Disclaimer: Dark adult fairytale - stalking, mild injury, angsty vibes
Author’s note: Here we go dear readers, a whole new series!! As I was setting out the plotline I kept saying to myself; “Let’s make this 3-5 chapters, a short series, okay, Wolfie?” ...Welp... Apparently I have many talents, but writing short series is not one of them. I’ve tried again and again to reshape the plot into a shorter, snappier version, but I just couldn’t. So, here goes; 12 chapters of broody vampire Henry and sweet Belle. I hope you are ready ❤️
Word count: 1.991
Reading music: Agnes Obel - Tokka 
(Link to my Masterlist)
-
It was the first day of Autumn, summer finally past, as a tale of old was sung anew.
The land was cracked open dry and dusty after months without rain, the crops starting to fail just before harvest season. It made the tensions run high amongst the town folk, their worried eyes aiming upwards. The air had been thick for days now, the clouds drifting heavy and grey on dreary skies, foreboding a long awaited storm that just wouldn’t break.
And yet, not all were worried. At this moment the morning air felt slightly cheery too, as a soft tune wove through the ancient pine tree forest that lay like a prickly blanket over the rolling hills. 
It was a familiar tune, sung by a familiar woman’s voice, her pale skin and dark braided hair a sight he saw often in these parts of the land. Before her, two mutts sniffled happily, their wet noses pushing through the fallen leaves and shrubs that covered the dry forest floor. 
From the shadows of that same thicket, he was watching her, watching her rosy lips curl up in that dreamy smile, her feet kicking her blue skirts with confident strides.
Belle, he knew her name by now, was one of the few who dared to wander so close to his grounds, his domain, her skirts rustling as she conjured a book from the depths of her pockets. Always reading. 
At first he had been somewhat surprised to see a woman of her position even owning a book, a proper book. Her father was but a poor horse handler and her family long deceased. 
But, indeed, she could read. 
With an elegant hand she brushed down her skirts before sitting down on that same fallen down tree that she used everyday; her hide-out whenever the weather allowed. Clicking her tongue she instructed her dogs to lay down, her hand flicking through the book, returning to the page where she had left off a day ago.
Away from the snarky remarks and jealous whispers of the town folk, here she could read as dawn cracked over the horizon, her presence welcomed by the listening embrace of the forest and its inhabitants. The birds quieted their song and the mice and squirrels halted their squabbling, just long enough to look and listen, bewitched beady eyes watching the pretty woman as she started to read aloud.
It was an old and leather bound rendering of Apuleius’ Cupid and Psyche, an ancient fairy tale, the book nearly falling apart as she brushed her fingertips over the yellowed, vulnerable pages. She had read it a dozen times now, and yet the monster couldn’t help but listen, his lips moving in a silent joined recital. He knew the words by heart at this point.
What exactly she did by the day time he couldn’t tell, his disposition making it impossible for him to visit town when the sun was out. And thus he would just imagine it. Perhaps she worked as one of the chambermaids for the Les Comtes. Perhaps she helped her father in the stables - he had seen the old man during the nights many a time, his rough hands being ever so gentle with the handsome beasts that belonged to the Les Comtes. In fact all was owned by the Les Comtes, the family so rich that almost all villagers worked for their estate and businesses.  
Far too soon Belle’s voice would silence again, her finger tracing the page she had ended on, memorising it before gently closing the book, her eyes looking up through the thicket of the tree branches, watching those looming clouds up above. He knew what she thought; it was going to rain and she probably couldn’t return to this spot for a long time.
After the rain would come hail, winds, winter. And as it goes with reading outside, her natural reading nook was simply not able to hide her from the elements, and, with her reading hobby sneered at by the town’s folk, this might very well be her last reading session for this year.
With a sigh she got up, calling for her dogs and making her way back to the village, long skirts kicking, her book hidden back in the depths of her pockets. Oh, how he was going to miss her. Even if it was just for a day. Here in the forest he was awaited by an eternal nothingness. No job, no destination, only empty days that wove into a long string of months, years, centuries.
Returning to the crumbling ruins of his castle, the grande structure long past its glory days, he wandered endlessly through its halls, dust collecting on items that shouldn’t ever run into such disuse. Plates, cups, the fireplace, the beds. For centuries now he could not feel the pleasure of the simplicity of life. The food ashen on his tongue. His eyes, though closed, never truly resting. His skin no longer feeling the comfort of a warm hearth. His still beating heart but a mousy whisper of its once roaring strength.
Watching those heavy clouds above the treetops, he knew that it would be long before he would get to hear her voice again. A storm was looming, the long dry spell finally coming to an end and taking with it the long awaited rains. He knew it was a necessity, the listening critters around him feeling desperate for food now winter was soon to arrive, but he couldn’t help but feel a deep disappointment all the same. Because with the dreary days would come even more dark hours for him, the last sparkle of joy ripped from his life until spring would probably come again.  
‘Another one dead.’ The hunter growled, heaving the dead dog’s body from his cart, the boneless heap of bled out sinew and fur unceremoniously dropping to the dusty ground. With the ongoing drought, food has become more and more scarce. Crops were failing, wild animals were roaming nearer to the village and despite their best efforts, the hunters had great difficulty to actually catch anything. Something strange was afoot in the forest and rumour was about; it was the beast!
‘So no luck then.’ Arthur said in a hushed tone, his old knees cracking as he squatted down to inspect the remains of the hound. And indeed. Neck cracked, jugular torn, the required strength for such an act belonging to no less than a bear..or beast..of sorts.
‘Twas a mad dog anyways. But still..’ The hunter squinted, looking out over the yellow grassed meadows, to the edge of the forest where that monstrous beast hid away. ‘..we must see to it. The darn thing must be done with once and ..for..’ He blinked, then looked at Arthur with mild confusion. ‘Is that Belle?’ He pointed at a figure that appeared from the tree-line, two dogs at either side of her light blue skirts.
Arthur pushed himself up with a groan and also squinted his eyes, his sight no longer what it had been. ‘If it’s a pretty thing with two mutts, a dress of blue and a smile for days, it must be Belle.’ He said, his vision too blurry to discern anything that resembled his daughter. The hunter gruntled his disapproval, though not denying that it was indeed Belle, his strong, broad shouldered frame turning back to his cart to bring out what few rabbits and pheasants he had managed to catch in his traps. ‘You ought to bring some sense in that girl, Arthur..’ He warned, bushy eyebrows frowning as he looked back at the girl, her skirts twirling as she threw a stick for the dogs to fetch.
‘She is just so very much like her mother.’ Arthur sighed, not fully agreeing with the hunter’s sentiments as his lips curled in an amused smile.
‘Tcould be the death of her, old man. The beast is out there, I know that much. In fact. There’s a meeting in the town hall by sundown, in case you wish to join.’
‘Good..good...’ Arthur nodded, only half-listening now, his eyes finally managing to focus on Belle as she kicked her legs over the wood log fence near the stables he worked, her face all smiles and skirts a muddy mess.
Oh..Belle!
--
The shutters of the barn-like town hall shuddered, the wind outside picking up and the torch flames dancing wildly in the draft. It was a busy night, the floorboards creaking as the town’s men got up from their benches to express their bewilderment and frustrations, loud “Aye’s” and “Nays” echoing in the air as the discussions roared.
Now the food reserves of the town were running low and people had to ration, the tension was near tangible. Winter was coming and the people felt as restless as the storm that was picking up outside. The pigs needed to be fed, the elderly were struggling, sickness was spreading and all fingers pointed angrily at the direction of that wicked forest. The Beast’s forest.
‘Dear people! My people!’ Old Master Le Comte stood up from the throne-like seat that was situated right at the head of the hall, his fatty fingers balancing a shiny cup of wine. He raised his hand to calm the uproar, old furrowy brows raising up to show two grey, beady eyes. ‘Say AYE and agree, that we must see to the end of this beast for once and for all. He threatens our livestock, steals our hunted bounty and his cursed evil talons bring us only disease and misfortune. This drought? I would not be surprised if it were by HIS design!’ He exclaimed.
The town roared up with enthusiasm, fists raised in the air as a loud ‘AYE’ resounded front to back. In fact only the old man Arthur sat quiet, far in the corner, thinking fingers pulling at his moustache. He had discussed the matter with Belle and all she had to say was; “It is indeed quite practical to make a simple minded animal responsible for all your sorrows. But is it right to kill it because you conjured an image of beastly proportion, fed by your own fears? From what I heard he only has killed those who came too close..far too close.” 
‘HELP HELP!! The church! A FIRE!’ The large doors of the hall swung open as a young man burst through, arms waving in despair, the discussions regarding the monster quickly forgotten as everyone made haste to stop the flames as they quickly swept around them, the simple wooden structures of the inner town feeding themselves like perfectly dried logs to the hellish bonfire.  
Arthur looked up from his daze and slowly followed the hastened crowd outside, his feet no longer so fast as he felt a sudden, surprising coolness in his neck. A wet coolness. With a question in his eyes he looked up at the darkened sky, feeling another drop on his wrinkly skin. Rain? Did the gods bless them just in time? Would all be well?
A conclusion made prematurely, as a new alarm was struck from the village’s heart.
‘THE BEAST! TIS THE BEAST!’ The loud screams came from the village square, Arthur’s attention immediately drawn back to the people that sped past him. Oh no..oh no...BELLE! She was alone, she was..
*FLUNK*
With a loud thud Arthur smacked to the ground, his eyes blinking in shock as he saw the person who had bumped into him rush passed, the silhouette of the person already fading from his vision as all he could do was claw into the dusty road, eyes seeing all black.
Oh no...he thought, his body now fading out of consciousness. Belle! She must be warned! She was all alone! The beast..Oh Belle..the beast..and...Belle...
With heavy blinking eyes he scratched and cried, trying to gain the attention of people rushing by, but failing. None could hear or see him as the storm drowned out his wails and the night hid him in unblinking dark, leaving him with little else but hope, hope that Belle’s joyful tunes would indeed not be ended at the slashing of beastly claws, like the hunter had warned him for this morning.
Oh Belle, dear Belle..
--
Chap 2 >
--
General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss​ @tumblnewby @magdelen69​ @thereisa8ella​ @mary-ann84​ @darkbooksarwin​ @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly​
Vampire!Henry Tagsquad: @elinesama​ @i-cant-remember-my-old-login
If you want to be added to or removed from my tag lists, shoot me a message! 
68 notes · View notes
stereksecretsanta · 3 years
Text
Merry Christmas, outtoshatter!
Dear @outtoshatter​. You requested fluff, getting together, alternate first meetings, and something!Stiles. This was so much fun to write, and I’m thrilled to have the chance to create something for you. I hope you have the loveliest of holidays!! <3
Read On AO3
*****
Tumblr media
Derek is a romantic. He dreams of finding his mate, of connecting with that special someone who will make his heart swoon.
"How did you know Dad was the one?" Derek asks his mom as he digs out a pink, glittery bear from beneath the pile of loose-limbed plushies. "Were there fireworks when you first met, or—?"
His cheeks flame. He can't tell his mom that the spun-sugar scent of Jenna's hair makes his heart race, or that the smell of Mark's baseball jersey gives him a boner. In fact, Derek's embarrassment is so thick she probably scents it despite being surrounded by a bunch of seven-year-olds with sugar highs from birthday cake and soda.
"The first time you meet your mate will always be significant,” Talia says as she hands the bear over to one of Cora's classmates. “It might be passionate and explosive, or it could spark a bond that builds and grows. It's influenced by who you are and where you are in your lives. But deep inside, you'll know. Your wolf, especially, will know."
"But what if my mate isn't a wolf? What if they can't sense the connection?"
"Humans cherish the notion of 'true love' as much as we do. And I bet your mate is someone who's sensitive and wise." She leans down and ruffles Derek's hair.
Derek wriggles out of his mom's touch. He's thirteen, not three.
"You think?" he asks. Maybe it is Jenna or Mark, although he was hoping his mate would be someone more… well, special.
"You'll see." Talia's smile disappears as she studies the line where Cora and her friends are waiting at the stuffing station. She counts their numbers under her breath and shakes her head. "Someone's missing. Will you help me find them, Der?"
Derek sighs. It might be Cora's birthday, but he's missing practice to babysit a bunch of second-graders at a Build-A-Bear. "Seriously?"
"Seriously. I know this seems like an unbearable chore, but it means a lot to your sister that you're here. And to me, as well." His mom runs a hand along the back of Derek's neck and gives him a gentle squeeze.
Perhaps it's because it's close to a full moon, but Derek feels restless and edgy. Guilt washes through him at his snappishness, and he apologizes to his mom, giving her a quick hug before starting his walk-through.
There are bins of bears and cats and dogs and dragons in every color imaginable, their limp bodies waiting to be plumped up with poly-fill. He’s surprised Cora wanted a party here; her interests run more along the line of laser tag than dolls or stuffed animals. Although there's a backstory, he's sure; Cora had mumbled something about wanting to invite her whole class 'unlike that Lydia Martin', whereupon Mom's fangs dropped and her eyes flashed red. The next thing Derek knew, they had made a reservation for all twenty children.
It's not until Derek passes the displays of the Marvel and Star Wars bears that he finds the errant partygoer. Unlike the other boys in the class who dress in athletic wear stamped with Nike and Under Armor logos, he's wearing a faded t-shirt and a plaid overshirt, topped off by a pair of worn trainers.
Derek looks down at the limp plushie in the boy's hand. "Hey. Are you here for Cora's birthday party?" he asks softly.
The boy raises his eyes. They're ridiculously large for his face, amber orbs framed by long lashes and a buzzed haircut that make them look even bigger. Suddenly, they narrow as he looks Derek up and down.
"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."
Derek frowns, the defiance taking him by surprise. "Maybe I work here."
Any shyness the boy may have seems forgotten as he takes a step closer.
"No, you don't," he says, his tone raised in challenge. "You don't have a nametag and you're not wearing a vest."
The kid's smart. Derek is filled with the weird urge to push his buttons and protect him at the same time.
"You got me," Derek says, holding up his hands. "I'm Cora's brother, Derek." He points to the animal in the boy's hand. "Don't you want to wait in line with the others and get your bear stuffed?"
The boy straightens out his arm. "It's not a bear," he says. There's a slight hesitation, then he's turning the animal over. Derek sees that it has a long muzzle, pointed ears, and plastic blue eyes. "It's Can… um, Canis…”
"Canis Lupus. A wolf," Derek says, surprised.
The boy nods vigorously. "Is that okay?"
"Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't it be?"
"I didn't know if I was allowed to get something that wasn't a bear." The boy hangs his head, his fingers digging into the wolf's ample fur. "I've never been to one of these parties before."
Ah. Another reject from Lydia Martin's party list. The news makes Derek inexplicably angry.
"If I was getting one, I'd get a wolf, too," Derek says.
The boy looks up, his earlier disapproval of Derek apparently forgotten. "Yeah?"
"Totally." Derek crouches down and strokes the wolf's fur. "It's pretty skinny though," he says as his hand lingers on the nape of its neck. "We'd better go and fatten it up. Maybe get it some clothes?"
The boy shakes his head. "Wolves don't wear clothes," he says, his exasperation plain. "Duh."
Derek snorts. "Well, how about one of those scent things?" The discs seem to be popular; most of the other kids have one in hand.
The boy lifts the wolf to his face and buries his nose in its fur. "Nah. He smells good the way he is. But he needs a heart."
"Okay. Let's get one, uh—"
"Stiles," the boy answers. "Stiles," he repeats with a small scowl as Derek stares, bemused. "That's my name."
"Oh. Okay, Stiles." Derek stands up and holds out his hand. "Let's go. We've got a wolf to build."
Stiles places his hand in Derek's. It's small and a bit clammy, but Derek doesn't mind, surprisingly. They head towards the front of the store where Stiles takes his time in choosing a red heart out of the bin of hundreds. There's another display close by filled with a selection of noisemakers.
"Do you want one?" Derek asks as Stiles stares. There's a lot to choose from. "They have some songs and animals noises, and—"
"They don't have any wolf ones, though," Stiles says, seemingly put out. He pushes one of the buttons, rolling his eyes as a dinosaur's roar breaks through the tiny speaker. He chooses the dog button next.
God, no, Derek thinks.
Thankfully, Stiles passes on that one, too.
"What about this one?" Derek asks, pointing to number eleven. When Stiles presses the button, they hear the lub dub of a human heart, steady and true.
Stiles' face breaks into a huge grin. "That's perfect."
Derek opens the drawer, takes out the sound chip and hands it to Stiles, who curls his fingers around its edges and holds on tightly. By the time they make it to the stuffing station, Stiles is bouncing on his feet, a bundle of barely contained energy. He's also staring with a horrified expression at a boy who's twirling in a circle while rubbing his bear's poly-filled heart across his chest and down to his belly.
"Uh, Derek? Do I have to do that?" Stiles whispers as a Build-A-Bear employee eggs the boy on.
Maybe it's the vulnerability in Stiles' face, or the wobble in his voice, but Derek wants nothing more in that moment than to soothe Stiles' worry. He leans over and whispers, "You mean, act like something's crawling up your butt?"
Stiles lets out a half-gasp, half-laugh. "I can't move like that! What if I do it wrong and his heart won't work?"
"Listen to me, Stiles. I'm thirteen and I know a lot about wolves. Rubbing your wolf's heart on your pants or doing ten jumping jacks isn't going to make him come to life. What he needs is for you to care for him. To love him, and believe in him with all your might. Okay?"
"Okay." Stiles gives Derek a grateful smile, his face radiating his happiness.
Derek stands a bit straighter and catches his mother's eye. He's sure it's his alpha's approval and nothing else that makes him feel warm and tingly inside.
~*~
Derek used to be a romantic. He once dreamed of finding his true love, of meeting that special person whom he could care for and be cared for in return. But a series of bad relationships with people who either wanted different things in life (sorry, Braeden), or were only interested in him for his family's powerful connections (thanks, Jennifer), or who were, to put it bluntly, vindictive, psychotic stalkers (hello, Kate) has left Derek realizing not everyone is destined to have a mate. Of course, that also means one of the great Hale legacies has come to an end, although he's not sure why the Fates decided to pin that dubious distinction on him.
He doesn't want to end up like his Uncle Peter who, after losing his mate, creeps around with people half his age, filled with snark and cynicism. So Derek tries to settle, without success. His friends and family blame his inability to have a meaningful relationship on 'being too choosy', or 'not trying', or his 'emotional constipation'. He supposes it's a damning statement when even his best friends have given up their matchmaking attempts and relegated him to babysitting duty.
Derek's trying to decide whether he has time for a quick run before he goes grocery shopping, or whether he has enough milk and butter to postpone the errand altogether, when an EMT kit lands by his feet.
"Any plans for tonight?" Erica asks. Her smile is a bit too bright, her tone a shade too innocent.
Derek frowns and gives his co-worker the side-eye as he tries to figure out her angle. He can't believe there was a time where he thought he and Erica could be anything more than friends. She's gorgeous, of course, but she's also too perceptive and blunt as hell, and she calls Derek out on his bullshit more than anyone else aside from his own sisters. She feels like safety—like pack—but his wolf knows there's nothing more. Besides, she's snagged herself a handsome and brilliant ED doctor in Boyd—along with a ring, a two-bedroom Murray Hill apartment, and a five-year old daughter.
"Catching up on the second season of The Mandalorian?" Derek grins, baring a toothy smile of his own.
"Are you thirty-five or sixty-five, Derek? Because seriously, I can't tell. And since you phrased your answer in the form of a question and this isn't Jeopardy, I'm assuming those plans aren't set in stone."
Fuck. Erica had promised after the last disastrous blind date that she wouldn't try to set him up again. "I'm really not in the mood for company—"
"Even if it's a little girl who loves her godfather more than anyone else in the world?"
Derek sits up straighter. "You need me to watch Hailey?" He couldn't love Erica and Boyd's daughter any more than if she were his own.
"If you're up to it," Erica says, actually looking contrite. "I know it's your first day off in almost two weeks and I normally wouldn't ask, except… Well, the New York Public Library's doing this Children's Authors series, and her favorite writer's going to be reading today."
"The Fox and the Spark? I'm somewhat familiar," Derek says drily. He's read the story so many times he could recite it in his sleep.
"Yeah." Erica lets out a small laugh. "So, there's a second book that's coming out and the author's signing copies. Boyd was supposed to take her, but he has to cover for someone who called out with a family emergency. Greenberg won't let me change my shift, and I know you just finished yours, but—"
Derek puts a hand on Erica's shoulder. Next to Laura, Erica's his closest friend, and it's not like he really had plans.
"Don't give it another thought. Of course I'll take her."
A wave of relief sweeps over Erica's face. "I owe you one, Hale."
Derek lets out a small huff. He's pretty sure that if they were keeping tabs, he's going to come out on the short end when it comes to Erica and Boyd. Besides, an afternoon out with Hailey is bound to be better than his last several dates, even if he has to put up with a bunch of screaming kids.
~*~
As it turns out, there are a bunch of kids, but none of them are screaming because the man in front of them's woven some kind of crazy magic and has them in his thrall. He has thick brown hair that's the epitome of hipster chic, a wide mouth that pulls into an easy grin, and is wearing a heather grey t-shirt paired with khakis and a red hoodie. He looks young—young enough that Derek thought he worked for the library at first, a notion that's dispelled once Mrs. Purcell, the head librarian, gathers everyone together. His smile is bright and engaging, although it falters a bit when Mrs. Purcell stumbles over his name.
"Mieczyslaw," the man says with a self-deprecating grin. "Like 'mischief'. But I'll tell you a secret. No one calls me that, not even my family. You can just call me 'M'."
The news seems to delight the kids, who shout "Hi, M" in a loud chorus. M shows his appreciation by running across the front of the room and handing out high-fives.
"Is that really him?" Hailey wriggles in Derek's arms and cranes her neck, trying to get a better look. The construction-paper fox ears that they super-glued to her headband earlier that afternoon gets pushed aside at a precarious angle.
"That's really him," Derek affirms, which earns him an excited squeal.
"Put me down, D!" Hailey says with all the imperiousness of her mother, and it's all Derek can do, even with his superhuman strength, to keep her from toppling over.
"You can find a spot up close. No pushing or shoving, and if you can't see, ask politely. I'll be back here, okay?" He leans in and nuzzles her cheek to let her know she's safe and protected.
"Okay!" Hailey gives him a quick squeeze back before making her way up front. Derek is glad to see one of the other girls make room for her as Hailey sits down in the second row and clutches her book happily.
Derek straightens and runs a hand through his hair. He feels someone watching, and when he looks up, he suddenly locks eyes with M.
M rubs the back of his neck as a light flush spreads over his cheeks. It doesn't help to diminish his already-youthful appearance; in fact, it makes him look vulnerable—like prey—and the thought causes something to flare hot in Derek's belly. It's only when someone nudges him impatiently that he realizes that he's gawking in the middle of the room, surrounded by a restless audience that comes up to his knees. Derek mutters his apologies, then takes his six-foot frame to the back of the room where he watches from behind a row of brightly colored, miniature plastic chairs.
M starts off by saying that his best friend Scott is a veterinarian who works at a wolf sanctuary, and that M always thought wolves were the coolest. The tidbit makes Derek straighten to his full height and he puffs out his chest, inordinately pleased.
Most of the children already own copies of M's latest but choose to watch as M holds up a giant book that's nearly a foot-and-a-half tall. The pages are filled with illustrations—courtesy, M says, of his friend Isaac. The pictures are warm and soft, and detailed in a way that appeals to both a young and older audience. But even though they're beautiful, Derek finds his attention drifting elsewhere. He's mesmerized by the way M's fingers dance across the pages as he reads, how his eyes grow bright and animated when he hears the children laugh at his vocal impressions, and the way M's mouth—god, his mouth—turns down at the corners when he reaches a poignant scene. His voice defies categorization: it's raspy yet young, melodious but slightly off-pitch, and serious yet mischievous, as if an old soul had somehow merged with an adolescent’s energy.
The truth is that Derek's too distracted by M to pay close attention to the story. But after his brain momentarily shorts out from watching M lick his thumb to turn the page, it manages to reboot and catch the his next words:
"You need to care for him," the fairy said as Milo hugged his wolf. "You need to love him and believe in him with all your might."
Derek listens in a daze as M tells the group how Milo's wish for his wolf to come to life comes true. His own wolf perks up, and against the stench of the colognes and soaps and sweat of the crowd, he can pick out the welcome scent of citrus and cottonwood from back home. It's intoxicating, yet soothing and breathtakingly familiar, and in that moment the thread of hope that Derek's long thought cut manages to wriggle into his heart and take hold.
~*~
Derek absolutely does not push his way towards the front of the line. He just has longer legs.
His heart is in his throat and he's holding tight to Hailey, who's clutching her copy of Build A Wolf close to her chest. Derek doesn't understand how he could have missed the signs: the smattering of moles that grace M's cheek, the adorable tilt of his nose, or the warm intelligence of his eyes.
"Hi," Derek says when they reach the table where M's seated, his voice catching.
The Sharpie that M's twirling lazily between his fingers falls with a clatter. M stares at Derek, seemingly lost for words. A beautiful pink flush highlights his cheeks that Derek wants to trace with his thumb.
"You're a bit older than my usual fan. Bigger, too," M croaks. His face turns even brighter, and Derek can smell his surprise and the faint spice of his arousal.
"Stiles?" Derek blurts out. Upon seeing M's shocked expression, Derek tries to backtrack. "I'm sorry, it's just… well, you remind me of someone I knew from back home." When M doesn't deny the assumption, Derek continues, "I'm Derek Hale. Cora Hale's brother?"
M scrubs his face. "Wow, dude… wow, yeah, I am." He looks around and lowers his voice. "I'm surprised you recognized me. Or that you even remember who I am." When he smiles it's small and embarrassed, but Derek can also detect the happiness that colors his scent.
"I know you're probably busy, seeing as you're on a book tour and all, but do you want to grab a bite after you're done?" Derek feels breathless, and it's totally unlike him to be so forward, especially in the midst of an increasingly antsy crowd, but he feels like he's been waiting for this moment forever. "I mean, it can be something low key," he adds hastily, in case he's laying it on too strong. "I haven't been home in a while and it would be nice to catch up, and—"
There's a strong tug on his shirt sleeve. "Hi, Mr. M," Hailey pipes up. She's wearing a sweet smile but her eyes are impatient and determined. "Can you sign my book for me?"
"Sure, I'd love to." Stiles gives Derek an apologetic look. He greets Hailey with a complicated fist bump after commenting on her fox ears, uncaps his Sharpie, and opens the book to the front page. "Who should I make it out to?"
"To Mommy and Daddy and Hailey," Hailey decides. She tugs on Derek's sleeve more forcefully. "Do you think Mommy will like that?" she asks in a loud whisper.
Derek bends down and kisses her forehead. "I think she's going to love it," he says, nuzzling her neck. When he stands back up, Stiles has finished signing, but his smile seems a bit forced. "So, about dinner..." Stiles doesn't answer immediately; Derek falters as he takes back the book, his hopes sinking with each passing second.
Stiles' eyes lower, his once-happy scent souring. "Sorry," he says, his expression unreadable. "I'm on a tight schedule."
Both the human and wolf sides of Derek are confused by Stiles' sudden rejection. "Maybe a drink?" he tries again, desperate. He may have been a terrible judge of character in his previous relationships, but he can't be wrong, not about this.
Stiles shakes his head. Before Derek can press his case, there's a cough as the father and son behind Derek fix him with matching glares. Derek and Hailey get shuffled towards the door, and by the time Derek regains his bearings and looks back he discovers that Stiles is posing for a selfie with the kid, his scent now off, his smile a bit too forced.
~*~
There are several truths about the holidays—and the end of the year in particular—which are that the crowds are larger, the stress is higher, and people tend to avoid hospitals as much as possible. It also means that Derek's unit is flooded with calls, from decorating mishaps and drunken shenanigans to medical emergencies that are so far gone they can no longer be handled by an urgent care. He hasn't hung out with both Boyd and Erica in nearly a month, and even though it's for a quick bite in the hospital's cafeteria, he'll take it.
"Seriously, Hale. You'd better have a smile on your face after your PTO."
Derek looks up from his burrito, his brows furrowed.
"I don't know why you think I have PTO, Erica, but I don't," he says, grimacing as a glob of beef and avocado drop onto the wax-paper wrap. He's never requested a holiday week since he started with the FDNY eleven years ago. His family's all on the West coast, and he'd rather leave the prime vacation weeks to his co-workers. It's not like he has someone special to share the holidays with, after all.
He ignores the ache in his chest as he thinks of Stiles.
"Yeah, well the thing is, now you do. The week between Christmas and New Year's," Erica clarifies as she takes a bite of her burger. "You never exercise the perks that go with your seniority, and don't think it's gone unnoticed. It's the department's gift to you. "
Derek stares, flummoxed. "Greenberg will never go for it."
"Are you kidding me? He was the first to say 'yes'. Said he's tired of seeing your grumpy mug whenever he rings in the New Year."
Boyd grins at Derek's obvious discomfort. Derek gives him the middle finger, which makes Boyd chuckle out loud.
"I don't even know if my family's around," Derek protests. Laura often spends the holidays with her husband's family in Sun Valley, and Cora's hard to pin down any time of year.
Erica and Body give him twin looks of guilt. "They are," Boyd says as he takes something out of his coat pocket and hands it to Derek. "We already spoke to Laura. She can't wait to see you."
"Ho, ho, ho." Erica grins.
"What's this?" Derek asks as he stares at the envelope in Boyd's hand.
Boyd shrugs but Derek's not fooled by his casual stance. "A first-class plane ticket. An early Christmas present from us to you." His usually placid expression grows sheepish. "Look man, we don't want to put you in a bad spot. If you really don't want to go, use the credit for another trip. But we knew that if it were up to you, you'd be spending Christmas alone, eating leftovers and watching It's a Wonderful Life for the hundredth time."
"Who says I need to be in a relationship to be happy?" Derek asks, his hackles rising. Besides, Boyd has it all wrong. Derek has Die Hard on his Christmas queue.
Yippee ki yay.
Boyd holds up both hands. "Not me. If you want to be a bachelor forever, I'm not one to judge."
"But I am," Erica says. "You don't date anymore, Der. Hell, when's the last time you even got laid? Which would also be fine, except it's not, because you're miserable and it's obvious that's not what you really want."
Sometimes Derek has a hard time following Erica's logic. Unfortunately, this is not one of those moments.
"It doesn't matter," he says, digging the excess rice out from his wrap. "I'm better off alone."
Erica and Boyd share a look. Derek feels a pang of envy at the way they so easily read each other's thoughts and their mutual love and support. He'd always fancied himself a romantic, but to finally find his mate only to be rejected flat out hurts worse than anything Kate had put him through. Which… well, it says a lot.
Boyd nudges the envelope towards the remains of Derek's burrito. "Do what's right to you." And just like that, he changes the subject as they argue over whether Brees or Brady will end the season with the most touchdown passes and have the better chance of securing a berth in the Super Bowl.
~*~
Minutes after Derek sets foot inside JFK, he remembers why he hates flying. It's the noise and the stress, the smell of impatience and sweat, and the lack of personal space as he waits to clear security. He jams his beanie down to cover his ears, and the glower he's wearing doesn't help the dubious looks being cast his way. By the time he reaches the concourse, he has to duck into a coffee shop to catch a break from all the commotion.
He's standing in line, trying to decide whether he'd rather have a green or carrot smoothie, when someone's suitcase catches his heel.
"Shit! Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" The stranger pulls back the offending piece of luggage, and Derek suddenly catches a whiff of a familiar scent amongst the flurry of clothing and limbs. "Are you okay?  I'm not exactly graceful on most days, but I'm working on like two hours of sleep and… " The man's voice trails off as he meets Derek's gaze, his whiskey-colored eyes widening further. "Derek?" he squeaks.
"Stiles," Derek answers, his voice equally strangled.
Stiles blows out a deep breath. "Oh, wow. What are the chances?" he mutters. His face turns blotchy.
Derek's wolf is pawing at his chest, begging Derek to not waste this second chance. "Uh… seeing as we're both here, I'm going to repeat my offer. For the drink. And a meal, if you'd like. Although I guess it's more like a grab and go." He's stumbling over his words and he feels the tips of his ears heat.
Stiles glances at the breakfast wraps and fruit bowls displayed behind the plexiglass counter. He pastes on a grin, although it seems strained at the edges. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, man; that'd be great." He orders an OJ and an egg wrap, while Derek finally decides on the green smoothie.
"Is that all you're getting?" Stiles asks after an awkward moment of silence.
Derek shrugs. "I ate before I got here. But you can order something else. I'm in a generous mood."
"Haha, big spender. I mean… " Stiles ducks his head and bites his lower lip. Derek watches helplessly as it reddens and swells. "Doesn't your daughter or wife want something, too?"
"I don't have a daughter or a wife," Derek says, his brow furrowing. "Or a girlfriend or a boyfriend, for that matter."
Stiles' mouth drops. "But who was the girl you were with at the book signing?"
Everything starts to slot together. Derek lets out a small chuckle of relief. "Hailey? She's the love of my life. She also happens to be the daughter of my best friends, Erica and Boyd, and my goddaughter. They couldn't make it to your signing because of a scheduling conflict, and I jumped in as a favor." He hands over a twenty to the cashier and deposits the remaining change in the tip jar, his shoulders suddenly lighter.
"Ohhh." Stiles wheels his bag around as they head out towards the gates. He stays close to Derek and his scent grows brighter and sweeter. "I totally jumped to the wrong conclusion," he confesses with a rueful grin. "And I don't want to make the same mistake twice, so I'm going to ask you straight out: are you heading back to Beacon Hills? Because if you are, I'd like to take you to a real dinner. If you're interested, of course," he hastens. "If not, that's cool, too—"
Derek stops and places his hand on Stiles' arm. "I happen to be going back to Beacon Hills. And I'm definitely interested."
A quick check of their tickets shows they're on the same flight into Sacramento International. When they reach the gate, Derek marches up to the counter and trades in his first-class ticket for a business-class seat next to Stiles. He hurries back to the waiting area, flashing a 'thumbs up' sign and grinning like a loon. The look of pure joy that lights up Stiles' face makes Derek's wolf howl with glee.
"So I was curious... why did you choose Mieczyslaw as your nom de plume?" Derek asks as he sits, resting his bag on the floor between them.
Stiles huffs out a laugh. "Mieczyslaw is my name—at least, it's the one I was born with. But it was too complicated to say, so my best friend Scott nicknamed me 'Stiles' when we were younger." He shrugs, as if to say, the rest is history. "Anyway, I wrote The Fox and the Spark for Scott and Allison's son and they finally convinced me to submit it to a publisher. I really didn't think it would go anywhere, and it seemed like it would be less of a rejection if I sent it as 'Mieczyslaw' instead of 'Stiles'."
"And then you ended up with a best-seller," Derek finishes with a grin. He stares at the label on his cup, rubbing an edge that's grown worn from condensation. "Hailey's favorite book is The Fox and the Spark. But I think I'm partial to your latest. The one where a boy builds a wolf out of snow and wishes he'd come to life."
Stiles sucks in a deep breath. "It's based on one of my greatest memories."
"The memory of a wolf? Or someone else?"
Stiles' cheeks stain a beautiful pink. "Uh, a little bit of both? I've always been drawn to wolves, but I've also never forgotten how nice you were to me at Cora's party. I mean, you're Derek Hale—Cora's cool, older brother. I kind of built you up after that, turned our meeting into some kind of mythos, but even then I hadn't been prepared for you to be so…" He gestures with his long, graceful fingers up and down Derek's torso. "I mean, look at you. You're ridiculously hot, plus you were so amazing with your goddaughter. You probably work saving kittens or puppies or endangered wildlife or something—"
Derek coughs. "People. I'm an EMT."
"See! I mean, your fucking perfect. It's a good thing I didn't know all these things before, because otherwise, like, mind blown." Stiles mimes an explosion with his hands.
"I'm hardly special. Although I do have a book written about me. How many people can say that?" Derek teases.
"Yeah." Stiles' grin fades slightly, his hands falling to his sides. "About that. I know it must seem weird, but I'm not some obsessed fan, I promise."
Derek shakes his head. It's too early to tell Stiles about werewolves and their mates, but he wants Stiles to know that the feeling is mutual. That Stiles' story is the same one Derek's been living in since they first met.
"It's okay, Stiles. I feel the same way, too." Emboldened, he takes Stiles' hand in his, his eyes dropping to Stiles' mouth as his mate licks his lips.
"Dude," Stiles whispers, awed.
~*~
By the time they touch down in Sacramento, Derek's learned all about Stiles' closest friends. He learns that Scott is a werewolf as well, though bitten and not born, and that Stiles is considered part of Scott's pack. He's surprised to know that the infamous Lydia Martin is now one of Stiles' closest confidants, and that they'd briefly dated before deciding they were better off as friends. He also discovers that the Sheriff who busted Derek and his friends on Senior Prank Day (and let them off with a warning) is none other than Stiles' dad.
Derek and Stiles eventually connect the dots and realize that Stiles' friend Isaac went to the same college as, and remains friendly with, Erica and Boyd. He's happy to know that Stiles also lives in New York, on the Upper West Side near Riverside Park, which happens to be one of Derek's favorite places to jog. And he discovers other things about Stiles—like how Stiles is ticklish along his sides (just below the curve of his lowest rib), and how his lips are just as soft as they look, and how Stiles goes absolutely crazy when Derek scents and mouths his neck.
In fact, by the time they disembark, their mutual attraction is pretty much apparent to everybody—including the Sheriff, who pointedly avoids looking at Stiles' neck, and Laura, who just laughs.
Stiles lifts the hem of his scarf to hide the evidence, his cheeks flaming. Derek's just glad that neither the Sheriff or his sister can see the other places Derek's marked.
"Looks like you've finally found a flight you enjoyed, baby bro," Laura says as she wraps her arm around his shoulders and squeezes. "I'm so glad you're home."
Derek closes his eyes and breathes Laura in, his wolf settling at the smell of her shampoo, the warmth of his skin, and the feeling of home. "Me too."
Laura nuzzles the crook of his neck. "You smell different," she says as she leans back, her gaze sharp and assessing.
Derek glances at Stiles, who looks over to Derek at exactly the same time and waves at him with a blinding grin. "Um, yeah. About that..."
"I don't mean in that way," Laura says, wrinkling her nose. "Although he is a cutie. What I mean is that you smell... happy."
"I am," Derek says, realizing he means it. He can't wait to introduce Stiles to the rest of his family and begin formally courting his mate. But for now, he and Stiles know they have something special. They've entered the next chapter of their lives, one that already has a great beginning.
And the romantic in Derek knows this story will have a happy ending.
22 notes · View notes
intelligentdumbass · 4 years
Text
My Sweet Prince
It was a morning like any other, or at least, it was supposed to be.
Hyacinthus had set off with his dogs to go hunt in the nearby forest, but the trees were silent; not a single prey in sight. Wondering where they had all gone, he trekked deep into the woods until at last, the silence broke. However, it wasn’t because of the roar of a bear, the trot of a deer or the howl of a wolf. Rather it was a song, but the voice was not of a bird’s. He had walked into a small clearing, and wow was it a sight to behold.
In the middle, there was what he perceived to be a young maiden strumming on their cithara; their golden hair shimmering under the sunlight. A wide range of animals sat around them, eagerly listening to every note, and so did he and his hounds. Hyacinthus couldn’t help but stare, he was entranced.
Eventually, the musician had noticed his arrival, and the music stopped, but before they could speak, Hyacinthus snapped out of it and spoke first.
“I’m sorry miss, but who the hell are you?” He slowly approached, cautious of all the critters around them. “What in Zeus’ name is a lass like you doing here, playing in the outskirts of my kingdom?”
The stranger raised an eyebrow, but decided to play along. “Nothing, just bored and passing the time with my lyre.”
“Ah. I assume your father’s somewhere close by, then.” He looks around, but they only laughed in response.
“Oh no, I came here to have some me time with myself.”
“Wait, myself?!” Hyacinthus seems dismayed. “No one accompanied you here?! Not even a brother, cousin, or a friend?”
They shook their head; he frowned.
“Look, it’s not safe to be all alone out here. As a prince, it is my duty to protect you-”
Unfortunately, it was at that moment that he had accidentally stepped on the tail of a sleeping lion, causing it to wake up and it looked very pissed. Luckily, a silver arrow had rushed by; just barely missing the prince and piercing the cat’s heart. The rest of the animals took this as a sign to scram.
Hyacinthus blinked, and looked back at the musician, who was still sitting down on the ground, unfazed. He muttered a silent prayer of thanks to the archer god before speaking up again.
“See! I think it is best we get out of here.” He reaches out, offering his hand for them to stand up. The stranger only sighed when they realized that the mortal didn’t put two and two together.
Before he knew it, Hyacinthus felt someone’s fist punch him square in the face, causing him to stagger back. It was then that the stranger spoke again, except they sounded very different this time.
“What is it with people thinking I’m some sort of forest nymph or mortal maiden?”
Hyacinthus froze; their voice was much lower than he remembered. Gazing into their sapphire eyes, he suddenly understood. The being that stood in front of him was no mere mortal. He hastily tried to get his shit together, smiling in embarrassment.
“A-” “Apologies my lord. I suppose you’re just… that enchanting.”
“Oh?” The god raised an eyebrow, his mood slowly shifting when his instincts told him that he was telling the truth; it wasn’t merely empty flattery. “Why, thank you.” He scanned the boy from head to toe. “I suppose you’re not that bad yourself.”
“Oh, um, well of course! I’m Sparta’s heir after all!” He proudly exclaimed. “Still though, I am, uh, terribly sorry for interrupting your song.”
“No need to apologize for that.” Apollo sat down, and placed the cithara back on his lap. “In fact, you’re welcome to stay if you want. I won’t mind.”
“I thought you said you wanted some time alone?”
“Away from the other gods, I mean.”
Hyacinthus was reluctant, but as the immortal started to strum on his lyre, the offer was tempting; even his dogs seemed like they wanted to listen. He did have nothing else to do.
“…alright, only for a bit, if that’s really okay with you my lord-”
“Please, just call me Apollo.”
Unbeknownst to Hyacinthus a ‘bit’ was quite an understatement, for while listening to the god’s music it was as if time itself ceased to exist.
Now the sun was setting, and the prince had already left to go back to the palace; Apollo choosing to remain in the clearing. It was then that the west wind had materialized before him.
“I was just passing by, so here’s a quick tip.” Zephyr murmured. “If I were you, I’d try not to spend too much time with him. He’s already caught the eye of two other gods and one mortal.”
“And you’re telling me this because?” Apollo couldn’t help but have a sympathetic smile.
“…what’s with that look?”
“Well, my friend, it’s a little too late for that advice. He had already invited me to go out hunting with him.”
Zephyr frowned as he fizzled out into thin air.
--------------
On the day of their hunt, as expected, it had gone exceptionally well. However, Apollo wasn’t the only one that had his gaze fixed on his new friend. Even as they ran through the trees, he could sense the eyes of someone else, but who could blame them? The mortal was a fit and handsome young man that much was obvious. Plus, in the short interactions that they’ve had in the week before this, the prince was quite the charmer; his banter witty and entertaining. Still, he was curious. So, when they had stopped to take a break, he asked him this,
“Has anyone ever made a move on you before?”
Hyacinthus froze. He was sitting on the ground next to him, and was about to try subtly holding his hand. “At least three other men have, but I’ve rejected them all.” He realized what that sentence might’ve implied. “That isn’t to say I’m only into women though!”
Apollo laughs. “I suppose you merely haven’t found the right one yet.”
“Who knows, perhaps I already have.” Hyacinthus beamed. “Do you know why?”
“Because I’m smart, talented, and very hot?”
“Maybe.” He inched closer. “But it’s also because of your smile, or rather, how you smile.”
The god was a little flustered, and couldn’t help but give that signature dazzling grin; thus further proving Hyacinthus’ point. Before he knew it, the prince had already leaned in, a hand holding his chin; faintly muttering something under his breath.
“May I?”
Apollo answered it with a kiss.
Thus was how they met; the beginning of the tale of the golden god and the Spartan prince.
And it didn’t take long for the news to spread.
--------------
Everyone was just going about on their daily routine when Hyacinthus had showed up to his training with hundreds of flowers intricately woven into his hair. The soldiers were too scared to comment, but Thamyris wasn’t.
“Okay, what in the actual fuck?”
“Short version is, I fell asleep during the break after the hunting trip, so now there are a bunch of flowers in my hair.”
“Out of all of your suitors, you chose a god; hell, not just that, one of the fucking Olympians.”
“Who wouldn’t?”
“Marpessa wouldn’t.”
Hyacinthus sighed. “Look, we all have our own preferences. I’m dating him and that’s final.” He raised an eyebrow. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous?”
“As if.” He turned around, about to leave; probably going to hang out with Marsyas. “Just don’t come back crying to me when shit goes downhill.”
The prince just ignored him, or at least he tried to. His words were awfully persistent.
A few days later, among the immortals, Hermes was one of the first to discover.
“Oh and Hermes,” Zeus said, when he saw his son enter the room. “If you happen to run into Apollo, please, tell him we need to talk.”
“Is it urgent?”
“…just tell him to come to me whenever he’s free.”
So that’s what he did, flying as swift as a morning breeze until he stopped in front of the studio’s door. He carefully pushed it open, but despite being the lord of communication, he couldn’t utter a single word.  
It was late in the evening, and his brother wasn’t alone.
Apollo was sitting down writing notes on a scroll, most likely for researching purposes, and behind him was a mortal curiously peering over his shoulder. Then the boy moved closer, and wrapped his arms around the blonde’s waist; tenderly whispering sweet nothings into his ear. To Hermes’ surprise, Apollo allowed him to pry him away from his work with zero complaints.
At this point, he just slowly closed the door. His message can wait. Meanwhile, the two lovers hadn’t noticed a thing.
However, now Thamyris wasn’t the only one with a complaint.
Hyacinthus was sitting under a cypress tree; trying to practice playing on the lyre his lover gifted him, when the breeze whispered into his ear.
“Look at it.” He said. “Your reflection in the water.”
The prince raised an eyebrow, but he glanced into the stream in front of him anyway. The top of his head was adorned with all sorts of flowers, no doubt due to the breath of the west wind.
“Hm… I think I liked it better when Apollo did it.”
Zephyr frowned; materializing seated down on his left.
“You’re not giving me a chance-”
“Except he already did.” Apollo sighed, suddenly appearing on Hyacinthus’ right. “For fates’ sake, take a hint and go blow someone else.”
The other god glared, but gave in, once more disappearing into the wind.
--------------
Days turned into weeks and months of bliss. Now that isn’t to say that they didn’t have their own little problems of their own, but what did it matter?
“Those laurel wreaths you wear; they mean a lot to you, don’t they?”
“Well, of course; there are many reasons as to why I care about them, one of them being that they remind me of something I shouldn’t ever forget because I don’t want to make a mistake like that ever again.”
There was a brief moment of hesitation before he continued.
“Hyacinthus?”
“Yeah?”
“Never doubt my feelings for you, okay?”
“I never did.”
“…even so, you really must know that, because of you, right now is the best I’ve ever felt in literal decades.”
“Oh don’t flatter me, sunshine.”
“You know I can’t lie. So really, trust me when I say that I’m here to stay.”
Hyacinthus’ eyes darted around the room while the god’s head rested on his lap; the prince’s fingers twirling around in his golden locks. The floor was littered with paintings and marble statues of varying shapes and sizes scattered all over.
“Something caught your eye?” Apollo said as he saw his boyfriend look at a painting of Crete. “You can take one of them home if you’d like.”
“Oh-” “Oh no it’s fine, really! I was just… enjoying the scenery.”
“Hm, you know I could just take you there myself, right? Oooooh, imagine! A tour around Greece with yours truly.”
Hyacinthus smiled. His gaze shifted from a painting of Delphi to some art work of Leto, then Artemis, then Zeus, Athena and the rest of the other heavenly gods. What he stared at the most though, were the ones next to those paintings of the Muses and the Thriae.
The names were many, Admetus, Cyrene, Branchus, Hecuba, Helenus… then there was Cassandra, Daphne, and an unfinished Coronis, and as he continued to look, the prince could’ve sworn he felt the god gently squeeze his hand.
“Everything alright, Apollo?”
The god smiled. “I’m just… tired.”
The prince leaned in to give him a small kiss. “Well, just remember that, whatever happens, I’m not going to run away.”
And he really didn’t, or at least, not willingly, but you already knew that, didn’t you?
--------------
Two years, or at least, about two years, their laughter almost lasted for about two years.
“Athena, Apollo still hasn’t showed up for the talk.”
“Father, just give him a little more time. He’ll come eventually. On the bright side, at least he seems to be faring much better now.”
“I know, I know… but he’s neglecting his duties.” He sighed. “When was the last time you saw him walk into Olympus?”
“Fear not my lord.” His messenger, the west wind, suddenly exclaimed. “He’s already here.”
And indeed he was, fingers dripping with crimson red; purple petals falling out of his hair.
Zephyr couldn’t help but have a sympathetic smile. “You’re welcome.”
Ai, ai, ai…
It was a morning like any other, or at least, it was supposed to be.
Hyacinthus loved to spar. The god was a fierce opponent and he could never truly win, but man did he love seeing him panting and drenched in sweat. Another favorite sport of his was the throwing of the discus; he especially loved to try to run and catch it once his lover had sent it hurling into the air.
Crack
Apollo could’ve sworn that sound had echoed across the fields. Before he knew it, cradled in his arms was the stem of a poor flower that had broke its neck; all due to the breath of the west wind. All of his knowledge in the arts of healing was useless; by the time he tried it was already too late. So he just, sat there until a concerned Artemis tried dragging him back over to Leto in Delos, but he unknowingly slipped away.
It was like time itself ceased to exist.
Ai, ai, ai…
It was an interesting sight to see. Apollo had a blank look in his eyes and Athena was standing in his way; Zephyr a little further down the hall behind her, curiously peaking over the corner.
“Athena, move.”
“Apollo,” The goddess was perfectly calm. “Father has already retired him as his personal messenger, and he is now going to serve under Eros to repent for the very stupid thing he did in ‘the name of love’.”
“It’s not enough-”
“I know, and it’s never going to be enough.” Then she muttered. “Look, what happened with Pallas was much more justifiable than what this idiot wind bag did and even then, even if it was our father, to this day a tiny part of me is still pissed even if I knew he did it because he was worried about me.”
For a moment, the god was quiet. “Zephyr isn’t nearly as important.”
“But still crucial enough; I think it’d be best if we didn’t lose the west wind. Listen to your head, you know this isn’t worth it; it’s never going to be worth it.”
After a few seconds of silence, in the blink of an eye, Apollo was gone.
--------------
Olympus’ garden was huge; its depths filled with paths most don’t even know of. It was here the two gods sat down on top of a small hill, right in front of a giant crevice that overlooked all of their creations.
“I really am unreasonable, aren’t I, Hermes? Crying over beings much lesser than myself…”
“You had your eyes and heart set upon a mortal, so I guess it does sound foolish to grieve over their mortality but… I think we’re all a little unreasonable sometimes.” His friend paused for a moment, to think. “Is there anything you want to say? To Hyacinthus, I mean, when I guide him down to Hades.”
“…”
“If we should ever meet again
No matter how long the wait
No matter how many lifetimes it takes
My arms will be glad to welcome you in an embrace
Until then, just know
That even when man has forgotten my face
And I roam the world as nothing but a shade
Your memory will continue, forever living on
In all the flowers that the earth will cover itself, bearing your name
Goodnight, my sweet prince”
82 notes · View notes
sara-scribbles · 4 years
Note
Here is a scenario, if you feel like it: Byleth is having a hard time in the marriage because she feels Seteth can't let go the memories of his wife, she time travels and meets Seteth's first wife. How it goes?
Promise
Fandom: Fire Emblem Seteth/F!Byleth Note: Contains spoilers.
A yawn escaped her mouth as she stood from her desk. Spending a long evening going over reports was a tedious process. Who knew being archbishop meant dealing with piles of paperwork. Every document, missive or note had to be read, reviewed, and approved or declined. Seteth had drilled into her that she was not allowed to skim over them; he still took his job seriously.
A smile played on her lips as she thought of her husband. They had been married for almost a year after the war had ended. It still felt new to her. However that smile dropped as she thought about the past few months. He had become distant from her. Mornings were filled with half hearted greetings before he went to work. She didn’t see him until lunch, and even then he didn’t have much to say. At night she would wait for him to retire to their bed, but she would fall asleep alone.
Byleth didn’t understand what was going on with him. Flayn was acting her usual sunny self around her. She wanted to ask him what was bothering him, but had decided her straight forward approach may not work. Whatever was bothering Seteth was a personal matter, and she needed to tread as lightly as possible.
Leaving her office, she made her way through the monastery. She stopped a few times to feed the stray cats and dogs treats she carried around. Most people greeted her warmly as they were now used to seeing the archbishop playing with the animals. She wandered near the docks and spotted an all too familiar figure.
Standing at the edge of the dock, Seteth stared out past the water. Arms behind his back, he looked like a statue. Walking over, she noted how he didn’t seem to hear her so lost in thought even when she called his name. Placing a gentle hand on his shoulder, she called to him again.
He startled and spun around. “B-Byleth!”
“I’m sorry if I scared you. I did call you…” She peered up at his face trying to find some answers.
“Hmm? Oh, my apologies. I was lost in thought. He smiled at her but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Did you need something, dear?”
She rocked on her heels. “I know you’ve been working hard, so I thought a break might help. Maybe we can go on a little trip?”
“I’m sorry, but I have a lot of work to finish tonight.” He frowned as he took her hand and placed a kiss on her palm. “I promise we can do something together later.”
“That’s okay, Seteth. I should get back to work as well.” Giving him a quick kiss on the cheek, she left him. The smile on her face fell once she was inside her office.
She let out a deep sigh. “...” Something was wrong, and he wasn’t going to share what it was with her. Twisting the ring on her finger, she stared down at it. Suddenly the ring felt heavier than normal.
---------
“Is everything okay, Byleth?” Flayn noticed the way she picked at her meal.
Poking at the smoked fish, Byleth’s frown deepened. “Is Seteth okay?”
Flayn’s eyes briefly glanced at the empty spot. “Father is a little sad right now. It’s the anniversary of my mother’s death.”
“Oh…” She felt like a fool for being upset. “He didn’t tell me…” Of course he was upset. After all he was being reminded of his late wife.
“He doesn’t like to talk about her too much. It’s been years but he still gets upset around this time of year. He tries to act strong for me, but I think he takes it worse than I do.” She took a sip of water. “Don’t worry. He’ll be back to his old self in a few days.”
“And how about you? I’m sure this is also a difficult time. If you need to talk…” She offered her an encouraging smile.
Lowering her head, Flayn poked at her fish. “Thank you. I miss her a lot, but I think she’d be happy to know that we’re happy. I’ve come to accept that she’s gone physically but will remain in my memories. I think it’s harder on father though. He misses her dearly.”
Byleth studied Flayn for a moment. “She must have been wonderful.”
“Oh, yes! Mother was the best. She could make father laugh at the smallest things. We used to go fishing all the time…” Flayn sighed. “Those were happier times for all of us. Of course I am quite happy with you as well, Byleth! You make father happy too.”
“What did you do today?” Dinner continued with idle chatter on a different topic.
Once in her shared room with Seteth, Byleth sat at the edge of the bed. Her thoughts were filled with what Flayn had mentioned. Seteth was distant from her because he missed his late wife.
She understood how he must feel as she still felt an ache whenever she thought of her father. However a small part of her was sad that he couldn’t confide in her. Despite being married for almost a year, and knowing each other long, Seteth was still closed off.
As she readied for bed, she wondered what she could do to understand him better. If only she could ask his first wife…
Byleth quickly got redressed into traveling clothes. Throwing on a cloak, she rushed out to the stables. Her Pegasus perked up the moment she stepped near his stall.
“We’re going for a midnight fly,” she murmured to him as she led him out. After ensuring everything was set, she mounted her stead and took off into the night sky.
---------
Rhodos Coast came into view. The smell of the sea and sound of the waves reminded Byleth of the time she was here. That time Seteth told her the truth of his and Flayn’s true relationship.
Once her Pegasus was settled on the island, she walked over to the lone headstone. Flayn had prayed over her mother’s grave before they left. It was a simple headstone with no date and a name: Clíodna.
Byleth knew that what she was about to do wasn’t an appropriate use of her powers. She could almost hear Sothis reprimanding her. However she felt that this was the only way she might be able to understand Seteth on a deeper level. Hearing from the experience of the woman who loved him first.
Pulling out her sword, she focused her mind on what she wanted to do. The sand shifted under her feet. Raising her arm, she sliced the air in half. A tear in the fabric of space appeared and widened.
Without hesitation, she stepped into the tear and it closed. She was free falling into an abyss of stars. She could see a bright light coming closer and then it enveloped her.
Feet landing on solid ground, she opened her eyes. She was still on Rhodos Coast. Sheathing her sword, she glanced around. It was evening now as the sun was starting to set.
The headstone was gone and the beach was empty except a lone figure further down. Slowly making her way down the beach, she noticed the figure was of a woman. She was sitting with a child cradled in her arms.
She lifted her head as Byleth walked heavily on the sand. Light green hair shone in the setting sun, and bright, soft emeralds peered at her curiously. She stood up, gently brushing sand off her dress with one hand.
“Hello. I didn’t realize there was someone else here.” Her voice was soft with a calming quality.
Byleth’s gaze went to the sleeping child. “I was just…wandering. I apologize for intruding.”
“Oh don’t worry! This isn’t my land either. My husband just happened upon it and thought it would be a good place to rest. I’m Clíodna and this,” she smiled down at the sleeping baby “is Flayn.”
Baby Flayn slept peacefully as drool pooled at the corner of her mouth. Tufts of light green hair peeked out of the blanket.
“I’m Sitri.” The lie rolled off her tongue easily.
“What a lovely name. I’ve never seen you before. Are you new?” She brushed away a strand of hair, pointed ear poking out.
Swallowing her dry throat, Byleth shook her head. “I’m just traveling for a bit.”
Despite being a stranger Clíodna seemed at ease. She was welcoming and warm. No wonder Seteth had fallen in love with her. Byleth could see where Flayn got some of her personality from.
“...staying long?” Her voice broke through Byleth’s inner musings.
Keeping her face completely blank, she shook her head. “I prefer to travel from place to place.”
Clíodna gently rocked Flayn. “Sounds exciting. Does your lover go with you?” Her gaze darted to the ring on Byleth’s finger.
She glanced down at her own hand. “We...sometimes do. Not today though.” She twisted the band on her finger. Her whole reason for coming here was because of the man who had given it to her.
The older woman studied her for a bit. Her brows drew together in a small pinch. “Is everything alright? You seem lost…”
She brushed her own sea-foam colored hair out of her face. “I guess I am in a way. My husband has been...distant lately because he misses his late wife. I want to ask him but I don’t want to pry. I feel like he’s keeping me at a distant despite being married for almost a year. I want to be there when he’s having a hard time, but I don’t know what to do so he knows.”
Her inner thoughts tumbled out of her mouth without stop. Perhaps it was because Clíodna was a stranger she felt comfortable talking. Or perhaps it was because she had bottled up her feelings for so long. Byleth couldn’t bring herself to tell Flayn her worries about her father. There weren’t others she could talk to as her job as archbishop kept her occupied. And the few times she could socialize, she didn’t want to burden her friends with her marriage woes.
It was Clíodna’s chuckle that caught her attention. “Young love is so...cute. This reminds me of when Cichol and I were newlyweds. He’s the type to shoulder his burdens. He never wanted to tell me what was bothering him because he didn’t want to put stress on me.”
“How did you resolve that?” Seteth hadn’t changed much it seemed.
She met her gaze. “I reminded him that we were husband and wife. And part of that means we share each other’s burdens. No matter how heavy they may be, we carry the weight equally. It seems you’re willing to do the same for your love. So tell him how you really feel and go from there.”
She was right. Byleth needed to talk with Seteth instead of trying to figure it out on her own. His problems were her problems, and she wanted to help him. Perhaps they were both at fault as she had the bad habit of not expressing herself fully.
“Thank you.” A small, genuine smile formed on her lips.
Flayn started to stir. “A marriage takes time for both parties to understand each other fully. As long as you work on it, I think you’ll be fine.”
“Clíodna?” Both women turned toward the voice. Byleth felt her heart thump as she realized Seteth was coming. He was not her Seteth but his voice still caused her heart to pound.
“Oh! That’s my husband. Let me get him, and you two can meet.” Leaving Byleth, she rushed in his direction.
Byleth quickly ran off in the opposite direction. Coming back to where she first came, she quickly pulled her sword out. As much as she would like to meet a younger Seteth, she knew she shouldn’t. The laws of time could only be tampered with so much.
Stepping into the space tear, Byleth returned to her time.
---------
By the time she returned to the monastery, the sun was coming up. Though she hadn’t planned to be gone for so long, time traveling had taken a lot out of her.
The moment her feet had landed back in solid ground, her legs had given out and she had blacked out. It was only by the gentle nudging of her Pegasus did she wake up. By then she knew it was late and her absence was bound to be noticed.
Once her Pegasus was back in his stall, she snuck to her quarters. Having successfully avoided anyone, she firmly closed the door. Perhaps her absence had gone unnoticed.
“Byleth!” Spinning around, she was met with Seteth’s frazzled appearance. His eyes were wide and bloodshot. His usually pressed outfit was half unbuttoned and untucked.
He quickly strolled over to her in a few steps, and pulled her into a tight hug. Her face pressed against his chest as he released a ragged breath.
“Where have you been all night? I came to bed and you weren’t there? I searched the entire monastery but couldn’t find you!” He pulled her away at arms length and scanned her body. “Are you hurt?!”
Placing a hand on his chest, she used her other to comb back his messed hair. “I’m fine, Seteth. I just needed some air and decided to take a short flight with Speckle.”
He frowned and his brows pinched together. “I thought you had been kidnapped. I was about to call the guards for a search party. You had me scared half to death!”
“I know. And I’m sorry. I had a lot on my mind and I needed somewhere to think.” She couldn’t bring herself to tell him what she did. He would be even more agitated if she did.
He cupped the sides of her face. Staring deep into her eyes, he let out a sigh. “Please, my dear, next time you decide to take an impromptu flight, at least leave a note.”
“I will if you promise to tell me when something is bothering you,” she countered. She moved away from him to sit on their bed. Peeling her boots off, she watched as he slowly turned around.
His mouth opened and closed. “I...where is this coming from?”
One boot hit the floor. “Flayn told me that it’s the anniversary of your wife’s passing. Why didn’t you tell me?”
She watched as he tried to work out his thoughts. “I didn’t want to bother you with that. I’m a grown man, Byleth, I can handle my personal matters alone.”
The other boot dropped with a thud. “You shouldn’t have to do it alone. I am your wife, Seteth. I love you and I promised to always be by your side. I hate that you’ve kept me out. I thought...I thought I did something wrong with the way you were avoiding me.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, he stared up at the ceiling. “It was never my intention to cause you distress. I just thought that dealing with this alone was the best. I...I didn’t want you to think I love you any less.”
Tossing the cloak on a chair, she walked over to him. “I would never love you less for wanting to mourn your late wife. She was a big part of your life and I understand how much you must miss her. I just want to be able to help you carry these emotions. We’re in this together through good and bad.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck. His arms encircled her waist and pulled her closer. Pressing his forehead against hers, he let out a shaky breath. Eyes closed and face free of stress, he looked younger.
“I’ve forgotten what it means to be married. And I apologize for being distant. This time of year, I always find myself lost in thoughts of the past.” Eyes opened, he smiled. “I promise to share my burdens with you. And I hope you will share yours with me.”
She brushed her nose against his. “I promise.” Eyes falling shut, she closed the distance between their lips. Sealing the promise with a sweet, passionate kiss.
67 notes · View notes
lokislytherin · 4 years
Text
euphoria // vampire!jungkook
pairing: vampire!jeon jeongguk x human!reader  summary: you’re scared of vampires - until one saves your life one night. word count: 1988 + 1808 + 2373 + 
chapters: prologue / chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 3 / chapter 4 / chapter 5 / chapter 6 / chapter 7 / epilogue
Tumblr media
Over the next few weeks, Jeongguk's appearances in your apartment become increasingly frequent until it's a daily occurrence, regardless of whether Seokjin is there or not.  Jin is like an older brother to you, and you know he would never allow you to bring home a boy he hasn't given his stamp of approval, let alone a vampire he's never even met.
But the thrill of breaking the rules has always excited you, hasn’t it?
Slowly but surely, you and Jeongguk grow steadily closer.  You learn a lot about him: he likes photography, but a part of the curse of vampirism makes it impossible to appear when not seen by the naked eye; impossible to be caught on camera; or reflected in your bedroom mirror, for that matter. He's unintentionally scared you one too many times for you to be comfortable stepping out of the bathroom with just a towel wrapped around you anymore.  He adopted a tiny white dog called Gureum, but he wasn't able to visit ever since he 'died' and was turned - Gureum barked every time Jeongguk even came close.  Jeongguk had sniffed himself, wondering if he smelled any different.  He couldn't tell.
He also learned a bit about you - like your opinion on pineapples on pizza, which had baffled him endlessly.  He'd looked at you, distrustful, wondering how you could possibly not like pineapples on pizza.  Equally horrified, you'd turned to him, asking how could a fruit like pineapple possibly belong on pizza? After a lengthy debate, both of you had reached a final decision to agree to disagree.  You'd even told him you were saving up to get two tattoos - a fleur-de-lis with mismatched angel wings, a personal choice; and a dragon, a symbol of your family.  He'd nodded in approval, lifting up the sleeve of his hoodie to reveal an armful of tattoos.  You'd asked about some of them - the tiger lily was his birth flower, and the 'please love me' inked behind it was "wishful thinking"; a skeletal hand making the rocker sign and a lyric by Nirvana was for how he'd wanted to be a singer.  Ironically, the lyric said 'better be dead than cool', and Jeongguk had laughed at his own expense.
At one point, both of you had bonded over contact lenses - you had a pair of red ones you'd used the previous year for Halloween, and Jeongguk had screamed when he saw you with them on, thinking you'd been turned and he wasn't there to protect you.  You thanked him for the sentiment, plucking the lenses off your eyes as he fell onto the bed in relief.  He told you his eyes weren't naturally blue, but brown - he'd been wearing blue contacts when he was turned, and now the color had merged onto his eyes.
Soon, you find yourself anticipating Jeongguk's midnight meetings with you, excitement making you shiver when night falls.  You're not surprised when you find yourself falling for Jeongguk, hard.  He's basically perfect: he's cuddly (but lean and muscular underneath), just how you like him; always buying you little trinkets that reminded him of you; even going to far as to bring you flowers, sometimes braiding them into your hair.  His good looks are just a bonus.  His only flaw so far is his love of pineapples on pizza.
On nights like this, you find yourself thinking - what if he was a human? What if the two of you could be something more than just friends? What if he could be yours?
You're rudely interrupted from your blissful, wistful daydream by the sound of harsh knocking on your bedroom window.  Your apartment isn't far from the ground - anybody with a good grip could probably make their way out without much sweating.  It's probably a prank - one of your exes was petty enough to throw pebbles at your window until Seokjin opened the window and screamed until he fled.
More than a little cranky and annoyed, you barely think about the consequences before you throw the window open and yell out into the gloom: "Who the fück is knocking on my window at one a.m?"
A pair of familiar but haggard-looking blue eyes stare into yours.  In the dark, his eyes look purple, until you realize that they're tinged with red.  Even though you know full well that it's Jeongguk and he wouldn't hurt you, you can't help but fear for your life: it reminds you of the first time you 'met' him, the vampire starving and driven to kill by the blood-lust that controlled him.
"Permission to enter," he rasps.  Normally, his voice is smooth enough to make you swoon, but not today.  Today, it is husky and a near growl.  "Wards increased power."
You blink.  Ward? What ward? You have no clue what he meant, but you grant the young vampire permission anyway, urging him in.  The pain and exhaustion is clear on his face, and it worries you, empathy completely overriding your innate 'prey' response of fear. “Thanks, Y/N,” Jeongguk mumbles as he staggers into your arms like a drunk man.
You clap a hand onto your mouth upon seeing the state that he's in. Oh, god. Blood. So much blood.
Oh god, he's covered in blood, dark red liquid painting his white shirt crimson.  The metallic tang makes you want to puke your guts out the window, but you notice that there are traces of it on your windowsill, and Jeongguk is dripping the stuff all over the floor. “Jeongguk? Jeongguk, are you okay?” You can hear the desperation in your own voice.
"Hi, Y/N." He smiles at you, a little loopy, the twinkle in his eyes missing.  He doesn't look like the Jeongguk you've gotten to know.  "Good... to... see... you."
He bares his fangs in a weak grin.  One is a little chipped (you've noticed that before), both are gleaming red with blood (that's new).
“Oh my God, Jeongguk,” you whisper, horrified, “what did you do?”
“Sorry… Y/N.” He looks mildly apologetic.  "Didn't mean to."
A whimper of a scream escapes you as his eyes roll back in his head and he collapses on top of you, bringing you down to the floor.
You muffle your screech with your sleeve as you shove him off as gently as you can, praying that Seokjin can't hear you from the room across the corridor.  Your hands are red with blood, all over your fingers and rolling onto your arms.  You wipe it on your shirt in an attempt to get it off, but there's blood under your nails, too.  That's not even the biggest problem - whose blood is it?
Thankfully, Jeongguk opens his eyes after a minute or two.  It felt like ages to you.  He's conscious now, but his irises are redder than when you saw them last. “What happened to you?” you ask him, confused, worried, scared.
He grunts, trying to push himself into a sitting position.  There's a long gash on his arm, though it doesn't look very deep.  "Got ambushed," he hisses, something feral in his voice.  He doesn't quite sound human, but he seems to be holding back in front of you, trying to be human even though both of you know he's not.  He carefully pokes and prods himself, trying to find out the sheer extent of his injuries.  "Damn hunters again."
You remember what Jeongguk said about the hunters before - humans who knew about the secret nightlife, humans who were so thirsty for some sort of vengeance that they would hunt down vampires, werewolves, and witches alike, regardless of how said creature had treated them in the past.  Jeongguk had sneered when he talked about his previous close scrapes with hunters, but this was the first time he'd been caught.
"I took a few down, but there were too many.  I tried not to hurt them, I really did.  But they didn't hold back, so neither did I." He grits his teeth at a particularly deep cut on his thigh, which sizzles and oozes blood.  You stare at it in horror.  Did he climb all the way to your apartment with all those injuries? He growls lowly.  "Fückin' silver knife." It's the first time you've heard him swear.  "Hurts like shït, but it's worse for werewolves." He laughs hollowly.
But why you? Why, of all people, would he come to you?
"You're the only one I'd trust with helping me," he grunts as he plucks a small shard of wood out of his thigh.  He tosses it out the window.  "Also, this is going to sound crazy, but I think your roommate is a witch.  He knows I've been here, and he strengthened the wards around the apartment." He flinches when one of his wounds begins to steam.  "That's why I had to ask for permission.  He's trying to protect you, but I put both of you in danger by coming here.  I think I lost the hunters, but they have a good tracker."
You frown.  Seokjin, a witch?
You rewind back to all the times he's seemed particularly magical in any way.  Perhaps it's his cooking, and how everything he makes seems to be better than yours even though you're not too shabby a cook yourself.  Or maybe it's his looks - most times, he goes unnoticed, but once you make eye contact with him you seem to be unable to look away.  It doesn't help that he looks the same as he did ten years ago, you've seen his pictures.
But now is not the time to question Seokjin's humanity.  Jeongguk is badly injured, and by the steam rising out of the wounds and the fading light in his eyes, he looks like he may even be dying in your arms.  "Let me help you, Jeongguk," you beg, "just tell me how."
Jeongguk shudders, squeezing his eyes shut as a silent scream rips out of his mouth.  When he reopens them, the lovely blue of his irises is almost gone, covered by flecks of red.  "Blood." Fangs slide out of his gums, and he eyes your neck.  "I need fresh blood."
“Fresh… blood?”
"I mean, dead animal blood works too," he adds hastily, "just not as well.  I'd heal faster with fresh blood." His voice is deeper and gruffer, and you like the sound of it a little more than you should.  "But please, hurry.  Make a decision.  Once my eyes go completely red, I'll lose all control." His voice goes even lower.  "I don't know how I'd live with myself if I hurt you somehow."
You can see his blood-red gaze on your throat, sharp fangs peeking out of his mouth.  The look in his eyes is damn near predatory, and you shiver when his tongue darts out hungrily.  If this feral side of Jeongguk isn't the hottest thing you've ever seen, you don't know what is.
Slowly, you brush your hair away from your neck, exposing your throat to the young vampire.  His gaze pins you to the spot - no doubt he can hear every frantic beat of your heart.
Blue briefly flickers in Jeongguk’s eyes. “Are you sure about this?” He sounds scared for you.  “'Cause once I start, I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop.” “It’ll be okay, Guk. I’ll be fine.” Are you reassuring him, or yourself? “We’ll be fine.” “If you still say so.” He still sounds uncertain.
As soon as the red bleeds into his eyes, he becomes another person completely.  Gone is the Jeon Jeongguk who would make you flower crowns and buy you pretty little trinkets - here is an apex predator (who totally does not get you all hot and bothered, by the way.)
Jeongguk licks his lips, a small smirk on his face.  The tips of his fangs are stark white against the red of his lips, and you can feel your cheeks heat up.  It’s too late to back out now.
He pounces, pushing you down against the covers, trapping you under him.  You gasp as he clamps his teeth onto your neck, fangs piercing through the skin of your throat and sinking deep into your jugular vein.  The feeling is foreign, as is the pain, and you struggle a little.  Jeongguk lets out an animalistic growl, sucking hard as he pins your wrists above your head.  Your eyes flutter shut after a few moments - after the initial sting of the bite fates, all you're left with is a growing sense of euphoria.
All is well until you start to feel woozy.  Jeongguk is literally draining away your lifeblood, and if he keeps going you'll be dead in a few minutes.  You nudge him gently, but there's no response.  You nudge him a little harder, and you get a grunt this time.  Not much better, but a little progress is better than none at all.  "Jeongguk," you start gently, "that's enough." You hope the thirst has faded enough for him not to lose his temper and snap your neck.
He groans, mumbling something about your sweet blood.  You call him again, a little more fear in your voice.
Footsteps sound from across the corridor, and you swear under your breath as your housemate kicks the door open, revealing Seokjin in all his alpaca-nightshirt wearing glory.  He's wielding his phone like a weapon, the torch on as he squints.  "Y/N, what the-"
He takes in the state of your room - bloodstains all over the floor, the vampire attached to your neck.  You're less scared of Jeongguk now, more fearful of your roommate.  The only thing worse than an angry and protective Seokjin is a tired, cranky and protective seokjin. “- hell?” Well, you’re screwed.
43 notes · View notes
moonstone-blues · 3 years
Text
A Spark By The River - Chapter 9: Red And Blue
“Jesus, Blue. You look like hell.”
“Thanks.”
River chuckled as she sniffled. She had dark bags under her eyes, her skin was pale, hair dishevelled and a red nose.
River and Piper had met up a few streets away from Diamond City. After a rough night, River and Nick decided to split up to try and find a fusion core. Nick would look in the more irradiated places and River would go with Piper to try and find one amongst the ruins of the city. Nick still wasn’t comfortable letting River go alone and while he didn’t exactly trust Piper with the details of the case, Codsworth was busy helping make Sanctuary more comfortable for the settlers there and Preston was busy trying to set up some sort of line of communication.
Once Piper heard that there was a chance she could get herself in the story, she didn’t hesitate to grab her bag. River was concerned about Nat but Piper assured her she would be fine on her own for a bit. And if she needed anything, Arturo was only around the corner. He didn’t always agree with Piper but he couldn’t say no to helping a kid.
Piper nudged River with her elbow as the two began to walk.
“I didn’t get much sleep.” River admitted with a shrug. She had tried but it just felt… Wrong. Knowing she would wake up and Jack wouldn’t be beside her… She couldn’t. Not yet.
“Nick keeping you up with all his nagging?” Piper joked, using her hand as a puppet and pretending to talk.
River giggled, shaking her head. “He’s been nagging me to get some sleep."
"I remember when he used to do that with me.” Piper thought back.
As they navigated through the streets, River noticed that Piper was less careful than Nick, only occasionally ducking behind something when a noise was heard. Whether that was because of River or just their normal strategies, River didn’t know.
Footsteps sounded. They were slow. River quickly ducked into an alleyway, pulling Piper beside her. The footsteps became quicker. River could guess it was an animal by the sound of two feet hitting the ground at once. A blur of green whizzed past. Piper recoiled.
“Mutants.” Piper whispered to herself.
“Those big green men?” River questioned.
“If they have a hound out, there’s probably one close by.” She explained.
“They have dogs?!” River exclaimed in a quiet voice. More things she didn’t know about them, great!
“You can get a zoology lesson later, we need to go.” Piper turned around. Upon looking down the alleyway, it branching off at the bottom, she groaned.
“I should really scout out this area more.”
“Is there anywhere specifically we need to go?” River questioned walking down the alleyway.
Piper followed her, trying to come up with a solution in her head. “West would probably be best but I don’t know which path-”
“That one.” River said, pointing to the one on the right.
“But won’t that take us back the way we came?” Piper asked, looking down it.
“For a bit.” River nodded. “But it will make a ‘U’ shape taking us back up. The alley ahead leads to a dead end and the one on the left goes back to the same road.”
Piper blinked in astonishment.
River smiled sheepishly as she began to walk down the alley.
“Hey, you spend hours navigating alleys with Nick.” River chuckled.
“Okay, maybe a little nagging from Nick is okay.” Piper admitted with a defeated shrug. “But don’t tell sixteen year old me that.”
It was River’s turn to be astonished. “You knew Nick at sixteen?"
Piper raised an eyebrow. "How long do you think Nick’s been in Diamond City?"
River shrugged as she carefully stepped over a fallen trash can. Piper and her had to hold their noses at the putrid stench of it’s rotten contents. When they were a good enough distance away, River responded.
"I don’t know.” River shrugged. “I know he was there when the Mayor’s daughter went missing…”
Piper’s face lit up. “He told you the 'beep’ story?"
River laughed, nodding. "Can you imagine it?"
"Oh I would give anything to have been there at the time.” Piper grinned. “That was about two mayors ago.”
“Oh wow. A long time then.” River stated.
The two made their way around a corner, spotting a small playground just ahead. The two looked at each other before walking ahead.
“Ugh I hate these places.” Piper shivered as she opened the, surprisingly still working, gate and walked into the park. “How did kids used to play here?"
"Believe it or not, not everywhere used to be an apocalyptic Wasteland full of raiders and green feral dogs.” River joked, walking up to a climbing frame that looked like a spaceship. She poked her head inside.
“Well it was also full of weird space monkeys.” Piper shrugged.
River tried to pull her head out of the spaceship but she accidently hit it on the top, not realising how small the entrance actually was. She let out a pained yelp as she held her head, carefully pulling it away. She rubbed her head as she turned to Piper who was stifling a laugh.
“Space monkey?” River said through her winces. She then realised what Piper meant. “Oh! Jangles the moon monkey!” She exclaimed. She double checked her hand to see if there was any blood. Couldn’t be too careful.
Piper snickered as she raised an eyebrow. “Jangles? Moon Monkey?"
"Yeah, he was a TV show character, I think. There’s toys of him, too. I was thinking of getting Shaun one but their faces are just…” River cringed. “Besides, they cost thirty dollars."
"So… He wasn’t an actual space monkey?” Piper questioned, leaning against an old slide, hearing sticks and leaves crunch under her feet.
“Moon monkey.” River reminded. “And no. He’s just a character.”
“And I thought I had pre war times all figured out…” Piper shook her head with a sigh. A thought suddenly hit her as she looked back up at River.
“You know a lot about pre war times, right?” Piper asked, a grin beginning to form on her face.
“I did live there all my life.” River said plainly. This wasn’t new information to Piper. Seeing Piper’s full grin was a big give away of what was going through her mind.
“Another paper?” River chuckled.
“Perhaps…” Piper said suspiciously. “The ghouls I manage to talk to don’t really go into detail. Besides… you’re relatively fresh.”
River smiled, giving Piper a side glance, seeing the reporter smirk.
“If you’ve seen any old posters, probably like that.” River simply told her.
“So… Space monkeys?” Piper teased with a laugh.
River gently pushed Piper, not helping herself as she giggled along. Once Piper reegainedd her composure, she took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m sorry. But seriously, what was it like?” Piper genuinely asked.
“Well… ever hear of the ‘American Dream’?” River began walking towards the swings.
“Kinda. I’ve seen a few pictures with that on. But I don’t get it. They’re all just families having dinner.“
“That’s kind of the point.” River examined the swing, checking if it could take her weight. She continued.
“Families being happy, just living their life. No worries, no stress. Everyone has equal opportunities and has the same value of life.”
“Sure sounds like a dream.” Piper rolled her eyes, sitting on the swing, not checking if it was safe herself. “How did people possibly believe that could happen?”
River shrugged, carefully sitting on the swing. She gently began to swing back and forth. “It was a way to distract people from the war. So much was going on. Everyone was clinging to what was left of our country. And that was the American Dream.” River sighed. “Maybe if we all weren’t so focused on a pretend picture perfect life, we could’ve been more prepared…” River clenched her fists. She quickly relaxed, softening her facial expression.
“Sorry… I guess my husband’s feelings on this rubbed off on me…” River chuckled. “He was a military man.”
“Like the Brotherhood?” Piper asked.
River hesitated. “Kind of…”
“But without the super mutant and ghoul bloodlust.” Piper added. “Oh, and don’t forget the ‘will literally kill people for technology’ mentality.” She shook her head. “Anyway, got any specific details? Like your life?” Piper asked.
“My life?” River raised an eyebrow as she stopped swinging.
“Well, yeah. We still don’t know each other that well.” Piper explained. "Promise this one’s not going in the paper.”
“Well I was kinda middle to high class, I would say.” River thought back to her childhood. “Had a loving dad, a money obsessed mom and a boy crazy little sister.”
“You had a little sister?” Piper questioned, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah. The age gap wasn’t as big as you and Nat though. We only had four years between us.” River began to gently swing once more.
“Were you close?”
River chuckled. “Sometimes. One minute we would be laughing and close as ever then the next we would be at each other’s throats.” She then sighed, a look of shock suddenly appearing on her face. “God… the last thing we did before the bombs was fight…” She stopped on the swing, it now fully sinking in. “Shit…”
“You didn’t know.” Piper leaned over and put her hand on River’s shoulder.
“I just hope that she got to her vault in time…” River leaned back.
Though, that may have been worse for her, considering what the Vault had done to River. Maybe Jane’s vault was better…
She looked back to Piper who looked back, expectantly. River continued. “Anyway, yeah. Born and raised in Boston. Went to D.B Technical High School where I met my husband, went to college, university and eventually married. I had just given birth to Shaun a few months before the war. He kind of occupied most of my time.” She explained.
“I’ll bet.” Piper chuckled. “Harder than growing up with a little sister.”
“But before Shaun, I practised law.” River smiled, thinking back to her law degree that had managed to survive the nuclear war.
She wanted to wait until she had time to examine and fix her house but as her foot nudged the cracked glass encasing the degree, she couldn’t help but proudly place it back on display.
“A lawyer, huh?” Piper thought. “And… what was justice like back then?” She hoped it was even a slither better than what McDonough was 'enforcing’.
“It was a bunch of power hungry bastards locking up anyone they didn’t like or who got in their way.” River replied with an annoyed huff.
“Shit.” Piper chuckled. She knew it would be too good to be true. “So, not much has changed then.”
River defended herself. “I made sure everyone got a fair trial. They didn’t get rolled over by the system.”
Piper smirked. “Guardian of the downtrodden, huh?”
“That sounds like a new title for a paper.”
“Maybe.”
River laughed, getting up from the swing. She pretended to swing a sword.
“Trial by combat. I rocked up thirty kills in my day.” She grinned. Of course, she had done many more court cases but who was counting?
“Huh. Always wondered why pre-war courthouses had all that gladiator equipment just lying around.” Piper stood up herself.
“It doesn’t matter now, though. The American penal code burned up along with most of Boston…” River tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“I have an idea.” Piper said, beginning to walk.
River followed, not knowing what to expect.“Oh God, what?”
“You know all about law.” Piper began.
“Where is this going?” River cautiously questioned.
“Diamond City is pretty bad when it comes to managing the law. Maybe next election you could… you know…”
River shot her a look.
“Y’know… after you find your son, of course.” Piper haphazardly added.
River carefully stepped around the fallen pieces of gate on the opposite side of the miniature park. “Where will you get your source of satire without McDonough then?”
“I’ll probably find some scandalous secret you want to keep buried.” Piper shrugged, moving on ahead. “Maybe you’re hiding some dirty little dungeon.”
“Ha ha.” River rolled her eyes. “So, any idea where we can find a fusion core?” She asked, looking around. The tall, decrepit apartments toward over the two as they gazed up.
Piper had a thought. “Fusion cores are pretty rare… we can either spend days searching every single building which are probably full of ghouls or we look in the only place that you can be certain to find them…” She groaned at her conclusion. “The Brotherhood. Well, we can’t exactly waltz onto their ship and politely ask for one of their precious fusion cores like squatters.”
River sighed, walking on. Everything was quiet. Eerily quiet.
“You okay if I put some music on? Shouldn’t be too loud.” River asked, holding up her pip boy.
Piper nodded.
River was about to select the Diamond City Radio but she noticed a new radio channel present on her pip boy.
“Military Frequency AF95.”
Piper walked behind River and peeked over her shoulder, her curiosity evident.
“-s Scribe Haylen of Reconnaissance Squad Gladius to any unit in transmission range. Authorization Arx. Ferrum. Nine. Five. Our unit has sustained casualties and we’re running low on supplies. We’re requesting support or evac from our position at Cambridge Police Station.”
“That sounds bad.” River said, tuning out the channel.
Piper nodded her head, agreeing. “Speak of the devil.” River raised her eyebrow in confusion. “She said she was… Scribe? Yeah. That’s a rank in the Brotherhood. Just leave it. They’ll be fine on their own.”
River rolled her eyes, checking her map. They weren’t that far away…
“Brotherhood or not, they need help.”
Piper watched as River continued to walk well into the city.
“Blue! You can’t just- They- Ugh!” Piper finally gave in, reluctantly chasing after River.
River navigated the streets of Boston carefully. Piper groaned as she squeezed herself in between a truck and a brick wall, sucking in her stomach as she tried to keep up with River.
“Nick warned me you were a runaway, but I didn’t think you were-” She took a deep breath as she moved away from the truck, following River up the main road which happened to lead into a large, open area. “-This bad.”
River chuckled, turned around. She rested a hand on her hip with a smirk. “What can I say? I’m-”
Piper glanced to the side as she heard growling. “Feral!” She pounced forward, pushing River down as a ghoul flew past them.
River yelled in pain as her head hit concrete. She looked ahead and saw Piper over her, smiling nervously.
“Sorry.”
River opened her mouth to respond but quickly stopped, pushing Piper away, raising her pistol and shooting a ghoul looming over her.
“Apologize later!”
Piper quickly stood up, while River scrambled to her feet, readying themselves. A few more ghouls were beginning to surround them as they had decided to check out where the loud noises were coming from.
“So much for being careful…” River muttered to herself. It was still going to take her a while to get used to safely navigating the city, no matter how much she had already learned.
The ghouls began to run. River and Piper backed up quickly. River looked around, spotting a nearby diner.
“Up there!”
River climbed onto a rusted old car, making sure Piper was following. She carefully balanced herself as she walked across a fallen lamppost. From the way they pounced carelessly and stumbled round, River could guess that they wouldn’t be elegant or coordinated enough to follow them. She managed to hop on top of the diner, thankful that it had managed to hold her weight. Piper was close behind, but so were the ghouls. She was only a couple feet away from the diner when a feral ghoul from below had jumped up, clawing at Piper. It caught her foot, causing her to lose her balance and fall off.
“Blue!”
River lunged forward and grabbed Piper’s arm, using all of her strength to try and pull her up. The ghoul was strong, however, it’s claw saught on Piper’s coat. Piper swung her foot, trying to shake or kick the ghoul off of her. River reached for her gun only to realise she forgot to holster it. She glanced behind her and saw it a few feet away, just out of reach.
“Dammit.”
She turned back to Piper, thoughts and decisions flying through her head.
“Piper, do you trust me?”
“What?”
“Do you trust me?”
“Why?”
“Sorry!”
River quickly let go of Piper, letting the woman fall with a short scream. She dived for her pistol, quickly grabbing it. She scrambled to the edge of the diner roof, spotting Piper trying to fight off a snarling, snapping ghoul. She winced, holding out what looked like the bumper of the car they had climbed on top of. She pressed it against the ghouls chest, keeping it in place, futilely swinging at her. River readied her weapon, took aim and then fired, piercing the ghoul’s head.
The gunshot alerted the couple other ghouls who were still trying to figure out how to reach their dinner on the rooftop. Not only that, but even more ghouls had started to emerge from the different buildings surrounding them. Piper chuckled nervously as she watched the dead eyes glare at her. She waved.
“Nice fer-”
River grabbed Piper’s raised arm, trying her best to hoist Piper up. Piper climbed onto the lamp post once she was high enough, letting River relax. Piper cautiously joined her. There was a moment of brief peace for the two before Piper reeled back, punching River in the shoulder.
“Ow!”
“I could’ve died!” Piper growled.
There was a pause. “But you… didn’t?” she shrugged. River had to admit her plan was absurd. Guess she was starting to get used to wastelander ways.
Piper opened her mouth to argue back but stopped herself, folding her arms.
“God, I see why Nick wanted to split for a bit.”
River let out a breathless chuckle, still panting. Piper raised an eyebrow.
“What?”
River took deep breaths. Piper gasped.
“I’m not that heavy!”
River finally gained her breath back and laughed. “Come on, let’s check our bullets and see if we can pick the rest of them off…”
After the two killed the rest of the ghouls, they carefully climbed down from the diner. They both cringed at the smell. Seemed like even people who were used to this could never get over the smell.
Piper covered her nose as she carefully made her way around the ghoul corpses. She took in her surroundings. “College Square. Explains why it stinks this much.”
River tilted her head slightly, confused. “Because of all the teenagers?” She chuckled to herself before realising Piper might not get the joke.
Piper raised her eyebrow at her before pointing away from them, her expression now serious. “No, because of that.”
River turned to where Piper was pointing and gasped.
During their fight, she didn’t notice… The dozens of decaying human corpses strewn about. A lot had been half eaten. And they had clearly been dead for a while.
River took a few steps back, feeling sick to her stomach. This was a massacre. Piper continued on her way, face screwing up as the smell became too much.
River quickly followed her. “All those people…” She mumbled.
“Raiders.” Piper stated. “You can tell by the gear.”
“Those ferals couldn’t have killed that many people.” River only counted about ten feral ghouls. She understood they could be vicious but no way they could cause that much carnage.
“The rest must’ve gone into the city.” Piper said in agreement. “I know they’re evil people who did horrible things but being eaten alive by ferals?” A shiver ran down her spine. “I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy.”
River nodded. “Yeah.”
As they neared the exit of College Square, they could hear gunshots. They carefully approached, seeing more ferals rushing towards a barricaded police station.
“That must be it.” River pointed out.
“Yeah, the Brotherhood look like they’ve got it all under co- Blue?” Piper looked beside her to see River gone. She turned back to see River had moved ahead, hiding behind a wall before taking shots at the ghouls.
Piper groaned. “Nick, you owe me big time for this…”
It seemed like the majority of ghouls were dead. A few bodies were around the station with the others obviously back in College Square. That explained why there weren’t that many the two had to deal with.
Piper ran forward but nearly tripped up when something grabbed her leg. She whipped her head around and yelped, seeing a legless ghoul clinging onto her. It wasn’t long before a bullet pierced it’s skull. Piper shook the arm off and ran towards River who was being surrounded by a small group of three ghouls. She stood there, watching them. And just before they were about the pounce, she quickly moved out of the way, letting the three ghouls attack each other. However, she wasn’t aware of her surroundings and ended up tripping over some debris from a nearby building. She fell to the ground only to be rushed at by another feral ghoul. She stuck her leg out, letting the ghoul run into it. She kept the ghoul at bay as it swung for her. She tried reaching for her pistol-
It was gone.
River groaned as she spotted it practically right underneath the tangle of ghouls just ahead of her. She really needed a bigger gun she wouldn’t lose.
She could hear Piper dealing with her own set of ghouls and it didn’t seem like the Brotherhood were going to leave their fortress.
The feral attacked whatever it could, scratching and sinking its nails into River’s leg. She bit back a scream as she desperately felt around for something- anything!
She didn’t take her eyes off the ghoul. Her leg made sure it’s head couldn’t reach down to bite her but that didn’t make her any less terrified.
She wasn’t going to end up like those raiders.
River eventually felt something sharp stab her hand. She gripped it tightly and let her leg drop for one second as she plunged the sharp thing into the ghoul’s head. It struggled for a moment more before falling limp. River took a deep and shaky breath, looking at the small, jagged pipe she had used as her weapon, sticking out of the now dead ghoul’s head. She stood up only to wince in pain as she put weight on her left leg. The battle seemed to be dying down but it wasn’t over. Luckily, the trio of ghouls she had previously escaped from seemed to be dead so River could quickly snatch her pistol back up. It took a few shots but eventually it seemed like the ghouls were all down.
River panted, her leg feeling weak. Piper jogged over.
“Blue!”
“Please tell me a scratch isn’t going to turn me into one.” River said, slightly limping as she approached Piper.
Piper shook her head. “No, but you should definitely get that looked at.”
“First, let’s make sure the Brotherhood people are okay.”
“Oh yeah, I’m sure they’re all struggling in their impenetrable tin can suits and their fortified base.” Piper said with an eye roll. River shot her a displeased look. The two then made their way into the barricade.
There were three people outside the police station. A man wearing power armor covered in grime, a woman who was giving medical attention and the man she was giving it to.
“Are you guys okay?” River asked.
The man in the power armor turned to her. She would never get used to the height and sheer power that radiated from the suit alone, let alone the hardened soldiers that wore it. He reloaded his weapon.
“We appreciate the assistance, civilians. But what’s your business here?"
"We heard your distress signal.” River explained with a small smile. “We were close by so we thought we should help.”
“Don’t drag me into this.” Piper whispered under her breath.
The man raised an eyebrow. “Close by? You’re not from a settlement, are you?”
“Don’t answer that.” Piper quickly spoke to River.
River looked back at the woman then to the soldier. She wanted to help but she also had to be cautious. “Why do you want to know?”
He didn’t answer.
“We’ve done our good deed, let’s go.” Piper whispered, trying to rush River.
River sighed. “I’m from up north west. I… came out of a vault. Vault 111.”
“A vault Dweller? Most people wouldn’t admit that.” He finally spoke.
“Now can you tell me what you’re doing in the area? Not everyday you see someone wearing mint condition t-60 power armor.” River looked the man up and down. Even her suit wasn’t as clean. The Brotherhood didn’t seem like any other group in the Commonwealth.
“You know about power armor?” The man said, shocked. Most wastelanders had never even heard of power armor, let alone pick out a specific model.
River hesitated for a moment. “My husband was around power armor a lot while he was in the line of duty.”
The man smiled for the first time. “Ah, it’s good to know we have the assistance from an ally of the Brotherhood of Steel.”
“Well, not-” River tried to explain.
“If I appear suspicious it’s because our mission here has been difficult. Since the moment we arrived in the Commonwealth, we’ve been constantly under fire.” He looked to River, smiling. “If you want to continue pitching in, we could use an extra gun on our side.”
Piper was slowly shaking her head, eyes narrowed. River sighed, trying to ignore her objections.
“I want to help but I don’t like the secrecy. Who are you?"
"Very well.” The man stood, proud. “I’m paladin danse.” He gestured to the two other people behind him. “Over there is Scribe Haylen and Knight Rhys. We’re on recon duty, but I’m down a man and our supplies are running low. I’ve been trying to send a distress call to my superiors, but the signal’s too weak to reach them.”
“The distress call we found.”
“Correct.”
An unsure voice made River turn her attention to the woman, Scribe Haylen. “Sir, if I may?"
"Proceed, Haylen.”
“I’ve modified the radio tower on the roof of the police station, but I’m afraid it just isn’t enough. What we need is something that will boost the signal.” She explained. Her eyes then fixated on River’s leg. “You’ve been injured!"
River looked down at her leg before looking up at Scribe Haylen. "Just feral ghoul scratches, it only really hurts when I walk.”
“Despicable creatures.” Danse spat. “Haylen, take her inside. See what you can do.”
“Yes sir.”
“What about me?” The other man who hadn’t yet spoke loud enough for River to hear cried.
“I’ve done all I can, now you need to rest.” Haylen told him. “Come on.” She gestured for River to follow her.
“We’ll tell you about our mission once we’re inside.” Danse explained, walking to the entrance of the police station. He helped Rhys up before taking him inside.
Before River could move, Piper grabbed her shoulder and whispered.
“Blue, this is crazy!”
“I know, what I’ve heard of the Brotherhood isn’t good but this is my chance to get a fusion core.” River explained. “You said it yourself: we either spend what could be days going through every ghoul filled apartment or we can get one straight from the Brotherhood.”
“What do you even need this core for?!” Piper questioned.
River paused, confused. “Nick didn’t tell you?"
Piper threw her hands up in the air with a groan. "No! Do you think he tells me anything about his cases?!”
River sighed. She thought for a moment. She didn’t want the Institute to get a whiff of their plan…
But she did kind of owe Piper for dropping her in front of a feral ghoul.
“I need to use power armor to go into the Glowing Sea.” River began.
“The Glow- Why?!"
"There’s an Institute scientist who went rogue. He can help me find a way in.”
Piper’s confusion and annoyance turned into a child-like glee as her mouth stretched into a grin.
“You’re going to talk to. An Institute. Scientist?” She asked slowly.
“You can’t tell anyone.” River warned. “I can’t let the Institute get to him first.”
“My lips are sealed.” Piper 'zipped’ her lips shut to emphasise her point.
“Also I’m kind of bleeding out a little so I need them to patch me up.” River pointed out with a shrug.
“Come on.” Piper pulled River’s arm over her shoulder and started to walk, making sure she didn’t put much weight on her leg. “Let’s get you a fusion core.”
15 notes · View notes
lionbled-aa · 3 years
Text
ACT V: THE LION THAT ONCE WAS.
The ambush happened all too fast. The valiant elf fought hard but they just kept coming and in the end, they overpowered him. They brought the Lion to his knees before her, making him kneel at her feet. At first he didn’t recognize her, thinking she was just another vampire but when he realized she was his maker, despair washed over him. How could this be possible? He killed her, he knows he did. He made sure to. These fleeting thoughts were quickly interrupted as she grabbed his chin, forcing his eyes to meet hers. ❝ Hello Faelmon. ❞ the red head’s voice was laced with malicious glee ❝ It’s been a very long time, has it not? ❞
❝ You should be dead! ❞ the elf barks back, ❝ I killed you! You should be dead! ❞ and that earns a laugh. ❝ Oh I was dead. Quite dead. For a very long time. ❞ she continues, ❝ However, necromancy is a very useful tool it seems. ❞ she says in a sing-song tone. ❝ Though those necromancers weren't as smart as they thought they were. They thought they could control an ancient vampire’s spirit but they were wrong. ❞ A grin forms on her features, ❝ It also helped that their little sacrifice was the spitting image of myself. ❞ That made sense. It was rare but it happens, having a person that looked exactly like you somewhere in the world. He pitied the poor woman who had hers. ❝ Get to the point, Fralda. ❞ the elf huffed. ❝ Why attack me? ❞ a giggle follows in response, ❝ Mainly revenge, but you would also interrupt my plans. ❞ She looks to her fledglings and gives a nod, and they bring the elf back to his feet, but bind him as they begin to lead him somewhere.
He doesn’t know where he’s going and whatever these restraints were he couldn’t break them, even with his vampiric strength. The journey however was not long, within a few hours they lead him to an ancient Nordic ruin, one he hasn’t seen before and push him inside. His maker humming as they venture deeper and deeper into the ruins. They encountered draugr but strangely enough they weren’t hostile to them. It must have been some sort of necromancy spell she casted upon them. Then he sees a sarcophagus with intricate runes and mechanisms he hasn’t quite seen before. ❝ Do you like it? Kalaril made it! ❞ she says motioning to the altmer vampire on his right side. ❝ He’s very smart, you know, studied baneful magic and dwarven mechanics for a couple hundred years now. ❞ He doesn’t like where this is going. ❝ He built it especially for you! Well, I made him make it but it’s still all for you. ❞ Another nod comes from her as she’s done speaking, which prompts them to drag him into the sarcophagus. He struggles to fight back but by the time he can free himself he’s locked in. He bangs and claws at the inside of the lid, screaming for them to let him out, but it’s too late. He’s trapped, and not a soul would know where he was.
The hours passed, and thoughts began swimming in his head, thoughts about his family. Oh Gods, his children. They were alone, he couldn’t be there with them. He left them alone. The Lion breaks down in sobs. He promised them he would always be there for them and now, he couldn’t be. Eventually the elf exhausts himself and passes out.
When he awakes again he notices the dryness in his mouth, the chapness of his lips. The second stage of hunger had begun but with no way out he knew he was going to be left to become blood starved. It scares him but there’s nothing he can do. He exhales and goes back to sleep, hoping maybe he wouldn’t be discovered now. It was probably for the best.
Decades pass when he reawakens again, the vampire hearing the sound of the sarcophagus’ lid bursting open. A hiss escapes him as life flows back into him once more. Then a clawed hand reaches out and grips the side of the it, pulling himself out of it to take a look around. Then he sees who broke the seal, a band of adventurers looking for treasure, but all they found was death. His movements are quick, even a corpse. He grabs the closest one to him, slashing open their neck with his claws, almost decapitating them before drinking the sweet lifeblood that spurted from the wound. He could hear them scream in horror as they watched their friend choke on whatever blood was left in them. He moves again grabbing one that flees and smashes their head into a bloody pulp against the sarcophagus that previously held him prisoner, licking the blood off his hands like some feral animal before moving onto the drain whatever was left in their body. The third adventurer did put up a fight, and a brave one as well but a starving vampire is a very tough adversary and it wasn’t long before the vampire killed them too. Biting open their throat and finishing them off until there was nothing left.
With all that blood in his system he could feel his mind clearing again. He stumbles back, falling on his ass and leans against the tomb. Those black scaleras finally returned to white. He looks around now conscious, and lets out a gasp in horror. He looks at his shaking hands, covered in sticky crimson. He… he did this. He knew this would happen but it still made him feel sick to his stomach. He is quick to remove his armor, throwing himself into a pool of water nearby to wash the blood off him and his clothing.
When the elf finally leaves the tomb he notices how warm it is outside. The bright light of the sun stinging his eyes. The last time he saw the sky it was snowing. Perhaps it’s only been a few months since this all happened he wishfully thinks but that was far from the case. He wandered the wilds of Haafingar, some of the territory he knew, some of it had changed. He eventually wanders enough to find the Thlamor Embassy, or what was left of it. It looked like it had been sieged, skeletons in Elven armor scattered across the grounds. Something happened here, and it happened long ago. Faelmon begins to wonder, how many years had passed when he was in that tomb, then those thoughts of his family come flooding back. His children. He needs to get home.
It’s sunset when he arrives and a sigh of relief leaves him, Solitude still stands. And it stands strong. Faelmon walks through the front gates, the guards stop him but he explains who he is, and they let him pass, though these were not the guards he knew. These were bright-eyed young men and women, a lot more cheerful than their previous incarnations. Okay so maybe it’s only been a couple years. If it had only been a couple years there was still a chance his children still resided in his home, which brought him slight joy.
He walks up to the porch of Proudspire, noticing the changes. The bench that he and his children had painted was gone, along with the plants and pottery that were scattered around it. He takes an old key he had on his person and to his surprise the key still works. He turns it and the door pops open, allowing him inside.
A loud growl as he steps through the door is the first thing he hears, it’s a dog, but not the dog he had given his children. Then the rushing footsteps of someone can be heard above him and moving down the stairs before he’s confronted by a Redguard man, brandishing a sword. His family’s sword. ❝ Halt! ❞ the man shouts, ❝ Who-- ❞ he stops, the sword falls. It takes the moment for the man to realize who the elf was. ❝ Papa…? ❞  Papa? It takes Faelmon a minute before he recognizes him ❝ Alesan. ❞ his son. His boy. Except he wasn’t a boy now. He was a man, a full grown man. ❝ Son… ❞ his son places the sword on a table nearby before stepping closer to him, looking at him to see the tears beginning to form in his eyes, ❝ Is it really you? ❞ he asks him. ❝ Yes, yes of course it’s me.   ❞ The elf takes a step closer, a hand reaches out but draws back. He clears his throat ❝ I owe you an explanation. ❞ and more, he had been gone so long. He missed so much. Before he could continue he felt his son’s arms around him, hugging him tightly. It catches him off guard but within moments he finds himself hugging him back, a deep sigh of relief leaving him and soft sobs emitting from Alesan. It’s a good minute before Alesan pulls back from his father, wiping the tears from his face.
It’s a quiet evening, the only sound being the roaring fire in the fireplace. Alesan sits across from his father, petting his dog. ❝ We wondered for so long. ❞ he speaks, disrupting the silence. ❝ We knew you wouldn’t abandon us like that. ❞  hearing that brings relief to the altmer for that was another worry of his, his children resenting him for abandoning him. ❝ Sofie never stopped after we did. ❞ A pause as the Redguard stands from his chair, ❝ In fact… ❞ he walks over to the dining table, grabbing an opened letter and handing it to his father. ❝ She sent me this about a month ago from Hammerfell. ❞ He was amazed, hearing his eldest daughter had traveled that far, but to be fair she was always the adventurous one out of the trio of children. Alesan continues as he sits back down ❝ Lucia studied at the College of Winterhold to become a healer, and ended up in Riften at the Temple of Mara. ❞ He was overjoyed to hear that, his daughter, a healer, it was something so noble and honorable. ❝ And to not brag but I’ve become captain of the city guard. ❞ Faelmon’s features form into a slight smile, his children doing such wonderful things made him so proud. However, the smile quickly fades, realizing how much he’s missed. He missed watching his children grow. ❝ Father? ❞ Alesan asks, ❝ I’ve… missed so much of your lives. ❞ he replies somberly, ❝ I… I’m sorry. ❞ Unintentionally he grips the letter in his hand, crumbling the sides of it. Alesan stands moving to his father once more, a hand places itself upon his shoulder. ❝ It’s alright father. ❞
They chat for a little while longer before they both see the morning light peeking through the curtains, they have been talking since dawn. The elf yawns, exhaustion taking hold of him. ❝ I should probably be going. I need to find a bed to rest on. ❞ He stands and begins to move towards the door when he feels his son’s hand on his shoulder once more. ❝ Wait you only just got here, please, stay until I send word to Sofie and Lucia. I’m sure they’d want to see you again. Besides this is your home, you have a bed here. ❞ He insists, ❝ You can stay in Jordis��� old room. ❞ The elf nods in response, accepting his offer and begins to walk downstairs. Along the way he noticed some chances that had been made to the house, for instance the basement no longer holding a smithing area but instead became a grand library. He turns the corner to find Jordis’ room has been redecorated as well, looking more like a room at an inn. He shuts the door behind and flops down onto the bed, falling asleep.
The next day he makes his way back to the Blue Palace, relieved that it was still the same as it was when he was still thane. He explains to the guards who he was and they let him inside. He walked slowly up the grand staircase, and to his surprise not much had changed except for the people of the Court. He recognized Falk Firebeard now as an old man, Elisif now a woman of middle age, but Sybille however, still remained the same. They were in the middle of an argument when they stopped, turning towards him. ❝ Who interrupts this-- ❞ Falk begins to speak but Elsif stops him. ❝ Faelmon? ❞ she asks, ❝ Yes my Jarl, it is I. ❞ he bows his head in respect. He could hear the court whispering amongst themselves. Elisif stands from her throne, approaching him with a hand outstretched before it reaches his chest. ❝ You were gone for so long. ❞ He nods before placing his hand on hers. ❝ I apologize for that, my Jarl. ❞ A small smile forms on his face, ❝ Things happened that were out of my control, things that if you have the time I’d discuss with you and Falk privately. ❞ which earns him a nod from her in response. Falk walks over to him, placing a hand on his back ❝ We’re glad to have you back. ❞
The months pass, and as they do he ventures back into the wilds of Haafingar like he once did, making sure he is well fed, even taking bottles now in case he can’t get it later. He never wanted to become as feral as he did in that tomb, when he was locked away by his maker. Speaking of his maker, he had gotten word that she had become trapped in the Soul Cairn through word of Sybille Stentor. She didn’t get very far in her plans, whatever they were and that gave the elf solace. Though he wonders what became of the poor vessel that held her soul. 
It took almost a year for him to finally be reunited with his family, Lucia and Sofie were overcome with joy when they finally saw him again. They almost knocked him over trying to hug him. They caught up about their adventures, their studies, their careers. Everything they could recall.
The thane takes a less active role in the court too. Eventually he stops coming to the court meetings altogether, only traveling to Skyrim to visit Elisif and Falk. A few more years pass when he and his eldest daughter decide to tackle the adventure of traveling all of Tamriel. Exploring the lands and uncovering their mysteries, and of course sending letters back home to his son, entailing of their findings and recalling their grand adventures.
4 notes · View notes
adarlingwrites · 4 years
Text
Absolution
Summary:
noun: formal release from guilt, obligation, or punishment
The Capital Wasteland lauded the Lone Wanderer as a hero, a Messiah, a savior who’s willing to give her life for the Good Fight. Beyond the legends, the propaganda, and the mythification that surrounded her legacy, there is only one person who knew her bare soul. She gave him his absolution, and now he will fight for hers.
VI
September 19, 2277. It’s been two days since the incident. I still can’t figure out my mistress’ motivations for helping me with that sorry excuse of a trial. Perhaps she’s protecting her 2000 cap investment, but she took the money back from Ahzrukhal’s body when I shot him. Letting me be apprehended by the people would certainly mean losing an asset, but she can always hire other mercenaries to take my place as her bodyguard. Whichever is it, I don’t know. Things had calmed down in Underworld. Barrows decided that the Ninth Circle should be repurposed as an assembly area. Carol invited my mistress and I for lunch, and Greta said the food was on the house. Percy spent hours listening to Carol’s stories while I ate my meal in peace. I appreciated being able to sit down and eat. Ahzrukhal never granted me such a thing. By the time we left Carol’s Place, Percy was blushing and smiling ear-to-ear from the stories and compliments the ghoulette told her. Carol stood in the doorway, an arm around Greta, as she watched us leave for Megaton, mentioning something about saying hi to someone named Gob. Miss said that we are going to her house in Megaton. On the way, we made a detour to a scrapyard, the sun almost setting. “Hey, Charon, could you help me look for a handbrake?” Percy asks, bent over a fallen motorcycle that she’s stripping for parts, and I set my sight on the horizon, watching for threats and actively avoiding looking at her. “My contract entitles you to combat services. I’m afraid you have to look for it yourself,” I tell her, unmoving from my spot. I still refuse to look at her. “Please? Two pairs of eyes are better than one,” she asks. That word again. Please. I realize she’s not issuing a command. She’s asking me a favor. I see a pleading expression on her face, and I roll my eyes.
Grumbling as I marched over to help her look, I got on my knees next to her to look for the damn thing. When she laughed at my frustration, I finally allowed myself to look at her. Snowflake chopped my mistress’ dark hair to a very short bob, no longer the combat hazard that it used to be. When I tore away my eyes from her and started to really look for the item she mentioned, I found one just lying a few feet from us, and held it out to her with a flat expression. She looks at me, laughs, and tucks the handbrake safely in her sack of scrap. “Oops. Didn’t see that just there, sorry.” “Your eyesight could put us at a disadvantage in combat, mistr-.” Percy gives me that look again. I realize my mistake. “Miss.” Laughing and shrugging me off, she stands up and shakes the dirt off her knees. “Okay, maybe I can tolerate ‘miss’, Mr. Dreamboat. I still prefer Percy, though.” I can’t help but grumble and groan in exasperation, but the jokes are better than what I experienced from past employers when I unintentionally disobey an order. Far better. “I will endeavor to adjust to your preferences, Percy.” “Thank you. I appreciate the effort, big guy,” she replies, moving on to rummage through a toolbox next to an old, decrepit car. “It’s hard to unlearn all the habits you picked up from your previous employers, so don’t sweat it. I’m giving you a wide room for error. You are allowed to make mistakes, unless it gets one or both of us killed, of course.” “I shall do my best not to commit such errors, miss.” Then, I heard a laugh bubble from her throat again. “A skin mag? Really?” she mutters, perusing a pornographic pre-war magazine hidden underneath the tools. She looks over her shoulder and sees me waiting for her, and she seems almost bashful. “N-not that I was planning on keeping it,” she stutters, tossing the magazine aside. “What my employers do in their spare time isn’t my business.” Percy pauses, then throws her head back, laughing in relief. “Finally, I’m in good company,” she said, breezing past me to pick up and tuck the magazine in her pack. She goes back to rummaging through the toolbox with an embarrassed smile.
Then, we both hear it. Gunfire, and barks. Percy immediately drops what she’s doing and runs towards the noise.
Cursing, I followed close by, and a raider was shooting at a dog. A scavenger lies dead on the ground, the dog’s former master I presume, and another raider, with teeth marks on his neck. Not wanting to waste ammo on a lone raider, Percy retrieves her baseball bat from her pack and gives the raider a hard smack on the head, and the dog lunges in for the kill, sinking its teeth in the raider’s neck. I didn’t even have to move a muscle.
Then, the dog sidles over, whimpering, a gash on its side. My mistress immediately falls to her knees and pets the animal. “Charon. Charon are you seeing this? It’s a dog! An actual dog!”
I was confused by her enthusiastic reaction, then I remember that she’s from a vault. She probably saw them only in pictures. “Hi boy. You’re okay,” she coos at the mutt, running her small hands on its head and giving it a good pet.
“You lost your friend, did you boy?” The dog whines at her, almost as if it can understand the words she’s saying. “Hey, I lost my dad too. I’m still looking for him.”
At her remark, the dog licks her face. “Huh. Well aren’t you smart? I think I should call you... Dogmeat. Like that dog from an old sci-fi flick. Do you like that, boy?”
Dogmeat slobbers on Percy’s face even more. Then, he bounds towards me, sniffs me, and decides that my hand is worth slobbering on.
“Charon, I think he likes you too,” Percy coos, and the edge of my lip twitches upward. I let go of my inhibitions and pet the dog’s furry head.
“C’mon, let’s get home.”
Eyes were on us when we arrived in Megaton. The sheriff, a man called Lucas Simms, went over to greet my mistress, and asked about me and the dog. Percy tells him that we are her new friends. Simms tipped his hat at me, told me that I am welcome as long as I treat Megaton’s people right, then went on his way. Seems like a decent enough man.
Percy dug in her satchel for the key to her house, and when the door swung open, we were greeted by one of those old Mr. Handy robots from before the war. My mistress dumps her sack of junk near the door. The dog gives the robot a curious sniff before moving on and settling at my mistress’ feet.
“Well, this is home. It’s not much, but it’s a place to sleep in. What do you think?”
There’s a salvaged couch and a busted pre-war television set in the living room, a stove in the kitchen, and school lockers repurposed as storage. A shelf holds her cutlery and there is a lone sink near the fridge. No toilets or showers. The stairs don’t have any safety railings, but thankfully the area above has some. I’ve seen houses in a more sorry state, but the house had no windows nor other exits. Still very much a hazard.
“C’mon, don’t be shy, big guy. You’ll be living here with me until we sort your contract out,” Percy asks, sitting on the couch and kicking her boots off.
“I don’t like the look of this place.”
“Yeah I- huh?” Percy looks at me with wide eyes. I realize that I have been too blunt and insulted the house of the girl who patched me up after being ambushed by super mutants.
Dammit.
“There is only one entry and exit point. It’s unsafe in case of an emergency, such as a fire, or a home invasion,” I tell her and cross my arms, not daring to meet her eyes.
To my surprise, she nods. “Yeah. It freaks me out. I still haven’t asked Moira to help me drill windows.” I let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.
“It’s still adequate shelter,” I tell her, but she moves on.
“Follow me,” she tells me, climbing up the stairs. There were two rooms, one that didn’t have a door on the left, and a smaller one with a door on the right. “I use the room on the right to store things, but you can have it. I’ll move the things tomorrow.. I think there’s also a spare mattress inside,” Percy tells me, opening the door, and some items come spilling out.
A bedroom? Under Ahzrukhal’s employ, I didn’t even have a bed. I didn’t even get sleep.
“Miss Percy, this isn’t necessary.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am trained to go without sleep. Providing me with a room would only be a waste of your resources.”
The mistress looks at me in disbelief. “Wait, are you saying that Ahzrukhal didn’t let you sleep? You just stand in that corner all night?”
“...yes. I only leave for meals and to relieve myself.”
Percy does it again, that gesture where she raises her hands in frustration. “Christ, no wonder you’re so grumpy. Just take the damn room, Charon. It'll give both you and me some privacy, and you’ll get some sleep.”
I didn’t get privacy from my previous employers too, save for the times I needed to piss or shit. My head is light from all the things Percy is granting me, but I’m still grateful.
“I- yes, miss. Thank you.”
Thanking Percy felt foreign on my lips. My employers never did anything for me to be thankful for. I can’t help but feel suspicious of this girl, but her smile hides no malice behind it. It’s baffling, but I decided that I still like being under her employ.
“Don’t sweat it. I’ll be right back. Just need to fetch some groceries and disinfectant for my suture kit from the store. I need to boil those tools soon...”
“I’ll accompany you,” I tell her, but she shakes her head. “I’ll be fine Charon. Now go on, make yourself at home. You can clean up in the sink then get some sleep.”
I nodded. As soon as the door shut, I walked to the sink and undressed. I can’t even remember the last time I took a sink bath. Then, I changed into a sleeveless white undershirt and gray boxers… the only spare clothes I own. I go in my room, turn on the lamp on a table in my room, and see everything in my room. There’s an assortment of junk, weapons, and armor.
Then, I see it. Power armor with a white paint job. The letters “USA” with a serial number next to it.
The straw that broke the brahmin’s back.
??? ??, ????
I flinch from a burst of snow, the metal of my armor feels frozen to the touch. The side has been cracked open, red staining the snow. My blood. I touch it and it stains my gloved hand. A .308 round tore through the metal. A pair of hands drag me to safety and I hear my orders from the radio. Get back up. Get back up or risk being taken prisoner. I can’t disobey an order.
Scrambling to my feet, I pick up my rifle. My legs drag me to the sniper’s nest, squadmates covering me, and I can taste iron in my mouth. I do not stop. I have been trained to withstand this. I looked for the tell-tale silver-white reflection, and when I saw it, I opened fire. The sniper uncloaks and lies bleeding face-first, broken on the floor. I see the red star on the nape of his armor, and he rolls on his back, and attempts to reach for the 10 mm on his hip, and I kick it away. He’s begging in a language I can’t understand, but I pay no attention to it. The only thing that matters is my orders. Aiming for the head, I shot him, and the helmet broke into pieces.
At the sound of my gun firing, I look at the soldier and see that there weren't any chunks of gore underneath his shattered helmet. Instead, I was looking at a woman’s face. The body wasn’t a man’s either; the sniper’s breasts heaved as she breathed rapidly, dark eyes wild. She’s underneath me, back pressed against the dirt, and I feel heat on my back.
It’s Percy.
“Charon.”
Every damn muscle in my body hurt like hell, and my head feels like it’s been split open. I look at my hands, rough and peeling, with no bloodstains. A small hand was on my bicep, and I heard the whine of a dog.
“Oh, thank God,” I hear a person gasp. It’s my mistress’ voice.
“Percy. What day is it?”
“It’s September 20, Charon.”
“What year?”
“2277.”
I let out a shaky exhale. My mistress beckons me, and I follow her wordlessly. Percy leads me to the couch, and we sit on the opposite ends of it. Dogmeat follows us too, putting his head on my lap. A look of worry is etched on Percy’s face. “That’s some nightmare, big guy.”
Just great. The first sleep I had in fuck knows how long, and I get a nightmare.
“Do you mind telling me about it?”
My jaw hardens. “If conversation is your order to me, I shall converse with you.”
“Hey, it’s not an order. If you don’t trust me enough to tell me yet, I understand.”
Relief floods through me. I grunted in acknowledgment. My mistress stands up and heads to the kitchen, and comes back with a plate of food. Broiled mirelurk cakes. “Um, here. I made these last night and reheated them. Please, eat with me.”
My eyes wander to my mistress. Her short hair is tousled, her eyes are still heavy with sleep, her face is clean, and she wears nothing but a black shirt and gray boyshorts. Now she’s serving me breakfast.
I think about the domesticity of the scene and decide to say nothing about it.
We finish our meal in peace, and she gets up to put the dishes in the sink. I busy myself with stripping and cleaning my shotgun, and my mistress busies herself with a book. Dogmeat eats his breakfast on a dog dish that Percy bought last night. It was a comfortable silence.
Then, she broke it.
“I need to say something,” she starts, looking at me with a firm expression. “Remember when I said that I was studying to be a doctor in the vault?”
I nod at her, and she clears her throat. “Part of my training is psychiatry. It's... how do I put it… the study of the health of the human mind. So, aside from keeping you physically healthy, I can also help with that.”
I let my mistress continue. An anxious look is on her face.
“And uh, I know the theory behind most of it, but I have no experiences providing those services to a patient yet. I need to properly diagnose you, but, you were screaming and saying some things in your sleep. I don’t think that what you experienced is a regular nightmare, big guy.”
I blink at her a few times.
“Charon, I think you were experiencing a traumatic recall.”
6 notes · View notes
baekhyuq · 4 years
Text
“Atta Boy.” Baekhyun| Werewolf!bbh
Genre: Smut, Angst(not really)
Warnings: Makeup sex, face sitting
Mini Playlist: “Shes my collar - Gorillaz”
Summary: You try to teach your werewolf boyfriend a lesson and he most definitely does not appreciate it.
Tumblr media
Baekhyun sits with his feet propped on the coffee table. Your oh so beloved coffee table you got on sale with your mother during a black friday event. The memory gives you chills remembering how you fought off a middle aged lady for the table.
Baekhyun knew the rules, but never abided by them. If you told him to keep your feet off the table? He’d respond What table? It’s HIS table? His feet will remain on the table.
“Baekhyun, i’ve told you a million times to not put your feet on the table.” You sigh loudly as you swat at his feet with a rolled up news paper. Baekhyun growls, it comes from the back of his throat.
You huff and go back to the kitchen to tend to your dinner. And Baekhyun sneaks his feet back onto the table.
“What’s so special about the table anyway?” He whispers to himself.
You pop your head back into the living room, indeed he’s put his feet back on the table.
“Baekhyun!”
“What!? It’s just a fucking table!”
“The constant weight of your feet will loosen the legs, It’s not meant for your feet.” You swat at him again. He grabs your wrist standing up, his claws dig into your skin slightly.
“That’s the last time you hit me, you always scold me like i’m some fucking dog Y/n. What do you want from me?!”
“I want you to listen to me for once.” You cry. “You always brush off my words. Why don’t you just listen to me!” You rip your hands away from his grip and push his chest. “Your fucking ears should be big enough to hear that.”
You storm off to your shared room, finding your coat and your purse. You make your way to the door and slip on your heels.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” Baekhyun shouts at you, his voice on the edge.
“Out.” You spit at him. Your blood pressure was probably through the roof. Why couldn’t he just listen to you for once. All you ask is that he respects you. What’s so difficult?
You make your way to a bar called UN Village. You could use some distractions, for the night perhaps.
***
The clubs dark, safe for the lights that are flashing around constantly. The music is pounding away, making your whole body vibrate uncomfortably. And the smell of alcohol is calling your name.
You slide into a chair at the bar, the bar is even vibrating from the loud music. But it’s more quiet on this side of the club. A bartender offers you a smile and you note how handsome he is. Red horns rooting from the top of his head.
“Rough night?” He asks.
You nod and let out a sigh with a smile.
“What’s your name miss.”
“You can call me Y/n. You?”
“Jongin.” He responds in a voice all too kind. “What can we get started for you? Want something light, fruity, strong?”
“Surprise me.”
“You got it.”
Jongin turns to grab a few bottles before mixing up a concoction that fizzes. He slides it to you and you eye it before taking a sip. And another. And another. Until it’s gone.
“That was really good. What did you put in it? It tasted fruity!” You giggle, asking for another drink mixture. Jongin laughs before picking his brain for another drink to offer you.
“This ones my personal favorite.” He places a glass in front of you and you smell it, it smells slightly of alcohol. You taste it and it tastes like, Baekhyun. Like red apples and cinnamon. You frown slightly.
“Didn’t like it? Let me make another.” Jongin turns but you stop him.
“It’s not bad I-It just reminded me of somebody. Can you just give me lemon water?” You smile at him.
Jongin smiles back at you with a nod, “Coming right up princess.”
Jongin stays and talks with you throughout the night, he doesn’t leave your side as you spill your relationship problems with him. He comforted you with words of wisdom.
“Sometimes when we are arguing with people we love, we tend to hurt them the most. And when we are arguing one person will want to be heard, but becoming loud and being hurtful doesn’t get your point across. And in the end when the argument is said and done and you both apologize, it will take a whole person to say that they’ve not only heard what you’ve said, but understood.”
Jongin’s words grabbed you by the throat and choked you up. You and Baekhyun have had so many petty fights that it’s just built up. When you both apologize it doesn’t feel like you’ve squashed what you’ve fought about. It’s always something to slide under the carpet.
“Jongin you’re very smart. Your words have actually made me see something I’ve been doing wrong.” You smiled at him, and he kindly returned the smile.
“I need to go...” You patted his shoulder. Jongin nodded in understanding. “I wish you well. Come back anytime princess.” He waves.
***
You enter the house and it’s silent, the silence makes your ears ring. You take a deep breath before continuing to your room. You hear the low hum of a voice.
“Baekhyun?” You call out.
“Y/n?” He says back. Baekhyun’s sitting on the bed facing the wall with his hands in his lap. He looks like a sad puppy and you can’t help but to be sad also.
“Puppy...”
“No. I should apologize to you Y/n. I-I’m sorry for not listening to you more. I can see how it may have been troublesome to be with a person who doesn’t listen.” His ears are laid flat against his head and you feel even more bad.
“Baekhyun I shouldn’t have taken my anger out on you like that. I’m sorry for letting it boil over. I’m sorry I walked out, I needed space to clear my head...”
“Yeah, you smell like...a man.” Baekhyun’s ears aren’t flattened anymore. Ones raised and the over is flopped over on itself.
“Don’t get the wrong idea.” You punch his shoulder playfully. You stand between his legs and take his face in your hands.
“Do you accept my apology?” He says, his eyes shining in the moonlight that creeped in.
You give him a small smile and nod. “Yes puppy, I forgive you. Do you forgive me?”
Baekhyun wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you into him. “Let me show you just how much I forgive you.” He growls.
He tosses you onto the bed and you gasp.
He flashes you a toothy grin which you see his pointy canines. You feel a want towards him and it makes you almost whimper. He crawls on the bed toward you like an animal, stalking its prey. His eyes are narrowed at you, your heart beating out of your chest.
He touches your shoulder and you fall back completely. Baekhyun’s slender fingers strip you of your bottoms, leaving your top on. He plays with your clit, rubbing a finger teasingly. He smiles up at you a playful look thrown your way.
Your brain is processing it all so slowly, capturing every moment every touch every sensation. Baekhyun’s voices sounds but your body is too focused on one thing, getting a release from all this pent up frustration. And sadly Baekhyun would be on the receiving end.
You shot up in the bed, making Baekhyun jump back slightly.
“Y/n?”
“Lay on your back.”
He did as you told eyeing your suspiciously. You were never the one to command in the bedroom but tonight you’d show him. Show him how you should be heard.
You straddled him for a second, your mind almost retreating at the idea of dominating Baekhyun. Even though you know that he would never let you fully make him submit. It was in his nature to be dominant.
You put your hair up in a ponytail, Baekhyun gazing at your figure on top of him. He ran his hands up the sides of your body, his eyes on yours.
“What do you have planned pet.” He said, there he goes. Giving you a nickname to know who you belong to. Being on bottom was hard for Baekhyun. His ego hurt too much.
“How about you wait and see.” You whispered leaning down to playfully bite his lip. He growled, a smirk coming over his lips.
You take his clothing off firstly, getting the materials out of the way. Your fingers trace the muscles on his stomach and arms.
“You’re going to have to control yourself and listen to me.” You say confidently working your way up his body. You make a move, climbing up his body till your core is hovering over his mouth.
Baekhyun looked up at you with those bedroom eyes, the ones he’d give when he really wanted you. When he gave you that look you knew you had a collar on him.
His hand itched to pull you down onto his lips, to taste your sweet nectar stored deep within you. You carefully sat on his inviting mouth, holding most of your weight onto the headboard. Baekhyun was strong enough to hold you up himself though, and he did just that. His hands coming up to support your thighs, his arms flexing slightly at your weight.
He needed some sense of control on his part. Having you on his lips was a treat.
His eyes fluttered closed, his tongue poking out to lick a stripe up your clit. His eyes flashes back over to see your reaction. He can’t help it, you’re too sexy. Irresistibly so.
Your eyes are on his, your voice shaky when you tell him to continue. A moan slips out when he flicks his tongue, you let your hands come down from resting on the headboard, to tangling them in his hair. His hand travels from your thigh to your ass, giving it a cheeky squeeze. You moan once more, his tongue buried deep within you. Alternating between up and down, sliding between your folds to dipping you a few times. To Baekhyun, eating you out was a delicacy. His arms strongly supporting you, his hair between your fingers and your pussy on his lips. He smacks your ass quickly gaining your attention. Your thighs were crushing his head.
“Sorry I got carried away—Are you okay?” You sputtered out.
Baekhyun huffs out and his cold breathe hits your cunt. “I cant believe you tried to kill me.” He says playfully biting the inside of your thigh. Your cheeks turn rosy and you move to get off Baekhyun but his arms keep you in place. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I-I don’t want to accidentally kill you.”
“Y/n i’m a lot stronger than you, your thighs may have almost killed me but atleast i’ll die in your cunt.” Baekhyun smirks up at you, he knew what his foul mouth did to you. Dirty talk was something you loved receiving from Baekhyun.
His tongue was back at your core once more, teasing was no more. He was full on tongue fucking you now, no holding back this time. Baekhyun wanted to get you to release and he was going to stop at nothing. You mouth fell out at the sudden stimulation, missing the warmth between your legs you gave in to his dominating tongue. The faster his tongue was the louder you got. His name slipping off your tongue once or twice. The vibrations from his deep grunts traveling to your core.
You didn’t want him to make you climax without learning a lesson. You looked down at his disheveled hair, yanking harshly on it. Baekhyun’s brows furrowed together and his eyes shot up at you.
“Keep going.” You demanded, gaining confidence when he followed your demand. You rocked your hips on his skillful tongue. You reached back behind you and squeezed Baekhyun’s bulge teasingly. In return Baekhyun groaned, thrusting slightly into your hand. It continued for a minute, Baekhyun’s desperate attempts to make you climax while you returned the favor. Right before Baekhyun was able to feel you unfold right on his lips you pinned his head down on the bed.
“I want you to swallow.” You demanded, your hands full of his white locks, your eyes staring right into his animalistic ones. He nodded eager to please you, he returned to his place between your thighs. Before you knew it he had you doubled over, bent in half as usual. Your thighs squeezed around Baekhyun, but he knew this would happen so he held your thighs apart. Your body twitched and withered as the orgasm ripped through you. And you had the guts to praise Baekhyun, patting him on his head, “Atta boy.”
203 notes · View notes
oofluc · 4 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
LUC’S SUMMER PLANS ! @gallaghertasks
MOVING OUT IS WEIRD –– he’s never done it before. he packed to go to gallagher at the start of the year but he didn’t exactly move out of the family home back in quebec. once he’s gathered all his things from room 408 ( or 4o8, though he’s rolling his eyes at the thought ), he’s feeling a bit WEIRD. he loves rizo, jai… scott can go fuck himself, but the other two ? he’ll miss them a lot as roommates and he’s not sure he’ll be so lucky to get a two-out-of-three victory like this next year. then again, he had made some unexpected friends… max, grey, ellie, noah, asher, emmett, even aspen if he has to admit it, so there was always something to look forward to next year even if his roommates turned out to be scott-level-trash.
once he’s on the plane, he’s thinking about the party, the year, how he was supposed to be at blackthorne with his older brother, marc and yet neither were standing today. he had changed his mind about gallagher, though, something he’d keep to himself and not discuss with his father but he would be telling charles and elias about how he’s happy to be there and how he’s looking forward to the next year.
the dynamic back home is strangely different to when he left. after marc died there was such a shift in luc’s position in the family, going from the montagnier obedient golden boy to making it known he was no longer going to be taking his father’s orders and ensuring he stood up for his brothers instead of competing with them. and he’s not nervous often but once the front gates to their estate open up he’s wondering if he still has the resilience to stand up to his dad, whether charles and elias even need helping anymore and what’s in store for him over the next two weeks.
charles and elias rush out the front door to greet him, shaking the car vigorously ( much to the driver’s disdain ) until he steps out with a big grin on his face and they dive him to the ground. his mother, ameline, is next to come outside, she looks as radiant as ever and her smile is subtle but soft.
“ charles, elias… let him get inside first. ” and they’re off him instantly, elias helping luc to his feet. wandering up to his mother, luc’s happy to see her. he has a complex relationship with her, unsure if he blames her for the treatment against her sons, for marc, for always turning a blind eye and staying quiet — but she’s also so tender, comforting and she knows when something’s wrong every time. he didn’t think it was obvious he didn’t want to be home but she knew as she brings her palms to his cheeks for a moment before placing a kiss on his head, he almost feels better.
he’s not surprised his father hadn’t met him outside, he has to find him in his study. he looks older, which is weird since it had only been a year, but something had changed. maybe an extra few grey hairs or a wrinkle or two, luc can’t pin point it. the door is closed once he enters and luc had been stood in the spot he was many times in the past. whether it was him being praised, finding out a new target or simply learning about their business, luc was always stood in the same spot while his father sat at his desk.
“ son, ” he begins, and for a moment luc isn’t sure what to expect, he’s focussing on not shaking, keeping his composure just a bit longer until he’s out of the room. he wants to hate the man in front of him. he does hate him. everything he’d endured and for what ? to have a dead brother and a damaged perception of what family was supposed to be. he’d learnt more at gallagher about what family was, what love was, than his entire life at home.
“ welcome home. ” that throws him off a bit. he nods, but remains silent. his father had never said anything remotely welcoming to him before and he’s not sure if it’s a test. after a moment of silence, his dad speaks again. “ well, how is gallagher academy for exceptional young women ? ” and just like that the anger is there, suffocating any fear or hesitance he had before and he snaps.
it had been over an hour and when he forcibly pulls the door open, charles and elias stumble down from their positions as they were listening through the crack. luc just steps over them and heads to his room, ignoring their calls as he does so. his throat is harsh, his heart still beating rapidly and he’s too warm for comfort as he tries to breathe. so much was said. gallagher. marc. gallagher. blackthorne. marc. their upbringing. marc. going in circles continuously until he’d ran out of things to scream. he stayed in his room for the rest of the day until leaving to walk their three dogs early in the morning.
they had a few animals, mostly dogs but his mother had a siamese cat called baroness that often clung to luc — she didn’t love the twins and his father didn’t love pets so luc was often just there for when she demanded attention from someone other than ameline. plus, he didn’t mind baroness sleeping in his room, whereas the dogs always moved too much. after a few days of silence between him and his dad, multiple dinners with an absent luc, his mother finally called an end to it.
ameline montagnier was not one to raise her voice. when she did it was frail and prone to break but that did not occur once when she was stood screaming at the male members of the family who were all sat at the dinner table. their father at the head of it, watching his wife, luc on the opposite end with his gaze low, and charles and elias awkwardly sat in the middle and wondering why they had to be present for it. when they’d tried to ask to excuse themselves, they were promptly shut down by an intense glare from their mother and they didn’t make another sound until she was finished.
luc still avoids his father where he can but he shows up to dinner, for his mother’s sake if nothing else. he’ll help his dad with the family business, bringing up suggestions and settling into the idea that he’ll be taking over once he graduates. he helps the twins with their techniques, shows them some things he’d learnt at gallagher and there’s a positivity and enthusiasm within them that hadn’t been there before.
he stays for almost the full two weeks and by the end of it he’s feeling weirdly cathartic. he watches silently as elias decides to shave his head, then even more silent as his mother finds out and cries. he had nothing to do with it, of course. definitely didn’t convince him to. charles wants to match his twin but their mother hides all the scissors and razors in the house — he attempts it with one of his knives and ends up looking worse than elias.
when it’s time to leave, his dad is outside with the rest of the montagniers to send him off and he places his hands on luc’s shoulders to tell him he’ll see him next year, excited to learn more about the gallagher school. his mother actually hugs him and the twins try to take him to the ground yet again to stop him leaving, annoyed he hadn’t spent the entire month with them.
unfortunately luc had already promised to meet @brandtmax in bali for a week and he’d much rather piss off his family than her. plus, he’s really excited to see her again, even though it hadn’t been too long since they were at gallagher. it’s such a contrasting week to his time at home, mostly just him falling asleep in the sun, relaxing, and taking what felt like a billion photos with max. he’s grateful to have a proper vacation, though. 
then after bali he’s heading to ethiopia to meet @gregcollins. perhaps it’s an unusual vacation destination, but for grey and luc it’s where google told them to go for good coffee. they get flights to land at similar times and he’s smiling once he sees him waiting for him, in a coffee shop no less ! he can’t quite hide his excitement as he goes in for a hug, which is new for them, and he’s unsure if it’s too far as grey hesitates… but it’s kind of nice. plus it’s not just coffee they spend their time on, they go to the national park and hike around several different spots to find hidden waterfalls and just talk about whatever comes to mind.
from there, the pair head to berlin and luc’s feeling optimistic about the rest of summer.
9 notes · View notes
seriouslyhooked · 4 years
Text
You Look Good (A CS NYE story)
A/N: Hi everyone! I just want to start by wishing you all a happy New Year! This story is actually one I have been working on for a while, and I had stalled out with writing it. A long long time ago a reader asked for ‘You Look Good’ by Lady Antebellum and I love the song but just couldn’t get inspired, and then today I realized a good way to engage with this song was through also engaging with the holiday. So, this is a CS AU oneshot where Emma and Killian are both on holiday get aways in paradise with their friends. They happen to see each other from afar and… well, you’ll just have to read it to see how it goes. Thank you all for reading and thanks to the very patient reader who suggested this song!
“Now this, right here, is the life.”
The words from his friend Will should have been grating, especially since the rest of the men on this boat were all actually pulling their weight this afternoon on the water while Will was lounging about. But still, Killian couldn’t help but agree.
Being out here on the sea was infinitely better than life in the city, especially in the dead of winter when New York was 25 degrees and covered in ice. There the air was frigid and sharp, and here it was clean, crisp, and glorious. The sunlight that had been gone from the north for so long was out in full force here, and the sand and the waves underneath a clear blue sky were the perfect remedy to anyone’s winter woes.
Even with the frozen temps, at home everything was driven by competition and hectic chaos. Business in New York was cutthroat, something he’d learned as the CEO of his own business. There were no breaks. If you wanted to be a success you worked like a dog and you never slowed down, but out here there was a gentler pace of living that held no less purpose even in its quiet calm. It was easy to get caught up in how much more vibrant the world seemed out in these kinds of open coastal spaces, and how much more possibility floated about in the air out here, but soon enough they’d all head back to reality. That was just the way things were. No matter how much he and his friends may enjoy their annual holiday trip to the tropics, they always returned home, waiting and wishing for the next year to end and call them back again.
This trip was a tradition for the four of them, starting way back when Will, David, Graham and Killian had met in college. David had a friend of a friend of a friend who had a place on a sunny island where summer lasted all year long and the rest was history. Things had radically changed since those good old days, what with all of them having time consuming careers and various responsibilities, but the peace they all found out here on the ocean had never waned. This was a critical time of respite for the lot of them, what with Graham taking time off from his police work, Will leaving the run of his bar to his staff, and David leaving the hospital to the care of other residents. But Killian couldn’t help feeling that each year they were getting closer to the loss of this tradition, or at least a substantial change in the way it came about.
It was only a matter of time before his friends started settling down, and when that day came it was unlikely that their girlfriends or wives would embrace a weeks-long guy’s trip especially during Christmas and New Years. It would no longer be realistic to put their lives on hold for such a long stretch, and Killian understood that. For his part, he would actually welcome such an addition to his life, a woman who would miss him too much to want to be apart at this time of year, but he had to be realistic. So far experience had shown him that finding such a match and meeting a woman who he could truly see forever with was a long shot. It would take a miraculous woman to truly speak to his heart, and only that kind of love would entice him into marriage and the whole happily ever after thing.
“You’ve got that look again, Killian,” David joked and Killian raised his gaze to his best mate who looked smug and all-knowing.
“I haven’t got a look,” Killian responded, prompting David and Graham to laugh.
“Sure you do,” Graham quipped. “The dreamy, brooding one. That one women eat up because they think you’re grappling with the universe’s big questions.”
“Maybe I am,” Killian quipped and after a moment they all laughed.
“Nah you’re just worrying,” David explained. “You’re thinking that this might be our last run out here, and you’re probably right, at least the way we do things now.”
“He’s right?!” Will asked, his genuine concern manifesting as a shriek. It was like a banshee, and the harsh tone was so shrill Killian winced.
“Well, yeah. Next year’s gonna be different. I don’t know about you all, but I’m finding my girl. I’ve got it all planned.”
“You’ve planned it out?” Graham asked with a smirk. “And how exactly did you do that, Doctor Nolan?”
“That’s for me to know and her to find out.”
David’s adamant refusal to elaborate prompted some more ribbing from the others, but it only reminded Killian about how sure and true his instincts were. He sensed that this tide was shifting, and he believed David was right. Not about the having a plan to find the woman of one’s dreams– that was bull shit. There was no way one could plan to find a love strong enough to build a life around. But when he said this year was going to be different, Killian found he genuinely hoped that would be true and that hope carried him through the rest of their afternoon out on the water.
By the time they pulled back into port, docking their sailboat in the marina they’d come to know well, Killian was no closer to answers about what he wanted and when it might come. He tried to take solace in the beauty that was the sky at this time of day, with sunset silhouettes dancing, painting lazy, wayward clouds that hung over this seaside place. The shades of pink and orange and gold could never be recreated back home, but while he appreciated the sight, it did nothing to truly calm him. He was restless still, but he supposed that was normal for the last day of the year, and the final few hours before a brand new start. People had a tendency to get antsy in these final moments, and even in paradise it seemed that was to be his fate.
“Well lads, it’s time for the age-old question – Captain Jack’s or Odie’s Place for New Year’s this evening?”
No one answered Will’s eager question as they got into the jeep they’d rented for the two weeks, and that was likely because they didn’t care. Either place would suit their purposes. They wanted a decent meal and a few drinks to get them through to the new year. Other than that, there was little consideration to be had.
“All right then, driver’s choice,” Will responded, hopping into the vehicle and hardly waiting for any of them to do the same before he tore off onto the main road and raced towards their vacation villa.
Absentmindedly Killian watched the scenery around them, noticing the way the docks gave way to the bustling town beside it. The island was particularly busy this year, a sign that perhaps their secret haven might not be so secret after all. Years ago it felt like they were the only foreigners here this time of year, but alas it seemed to be a new and wide-spread trend. Some people were here with families, others on trips that mirrored theirs, but none of these people really mattered to Killian. At least until…
The first thing he noticed about her was her golden hair, which reflected the iridescent light of the year’s last sunset in an almost ethereal way. It was pulled back, likely from hours spent at the beach, but soft and wavy tendrils hung loose, shielding parts of a face so stunning it made Killian’s heart skip a beat and then another. In the three seconds that they were passing her, Killian swore he took in every little detail of this woman – nay, this vision – memorizing her like she was the answer to his every prayer. Her lithe form, her perfect face, the way the smile she was wearing met her eyes and the essence around her that was light and happy. She was an angel dressed in a yellow sun dress, an impossibly gorgeous woman the likes of which he’d never seen, and in an instant he knew that he’d regret every moment he lived from this point on if he didn’t get a chance to know her.
“Stop the car!” Killian yelled as he finally got his wits about him. His eyes stayed on her as Will braked a bit but kept driving.
“What the fuck -?”
“Pull the car over, Will. Now!”
David’s intensity matched Killian’s and if he were able to think of anything outside this girl Killian would wonder why his friend was so animated too, but as the car slowed down, Killian hopped out of the side, and raced back down the street. She was only a little while back, but this place was packed with people and there were hotels and storefronts all around. She could be anywhere, and the realization that she was lost to him damn near gutted the sense of hope he’d suddenly found.
“What the hell is up with you two?” Graham asked, appearing beside Killian and Killian shook his head.
“I thought I saw her,” Killian confessed and he continued to look out through the stream of people, but she didn’t reappear.
“Saw who?”
“The one.”
“The one?” Graham scoffed. “Wait are you serious right now? This isn’t just some sort of sun-induced hallucination?”
“I don’t know,” Killian whispered, fear clinging to him that maybe that’s what she was. Surely now that he thought of it no one could be so perfect or call to him so quickly. Maybe Graham was right? But then he saw her again, this time across the square from where he was. He started moving towards her, and as if she could feel his attention she stopped, looking at him and halting him in his tracks. God she was incredible. She was stunning and remarkable and every other good thing and when he saw her he forgot to breathe. All he could do was stare and enjoy the rush of adrenaline that came in realizing she was doing the same. She was caught too, snared in by this connection between them, whatever it may be.
“That’s her!” David said and Killian looked over, suddenly feeling very territorial and jealous. It didn’t matter that this was his best friend. This woman was off limits. She would be his, at least he hoped. God did he hope.
“Back off David.”
“Not the blonde, dumb ass, her friend.”
Cursing from David? Wow he must be just as caught up as Killian, and when Killian looked back over to the woman who captivated him he saw she had a girl beside her. She was brunette and petite, with a blue dress and the same beach-ready look, but she didn’t hold a candle to his girl.
“Aw shit, not now,” David groaned and Killian looked to see what he meant. Fuck! The end of year festival was happening, and now a sea of people were swarming in, dancing away the bad of this year and ringing in the new one. It was, admittedly, a very cool ceremony, but only when one wasn’t trying to meet the girl of their dreams. Instead the dancing and the noise made Killian agitated, but he couldn’t get around it, and by the time it was all over and they were free to move again, both women were gone and Killian was left feeling stunned and defeated.
“They can’t have gone far,” David said, scoping out the area but there was no sign of them. Eventually they changed tactics, with Graham questioning a vendor selling flowers down below. Killian listened as his friend asked questions about the girls but to no avail and so Killian did the same at other markets and shops. It was crazy, but finally one woman selling bracelets by the beach drive said she’d seen them.
“They came to look at my wears. Fancied a few pieces too, but said they forgot their wallets back at their hotel. They promised to come back tomorrow and get them. Said it would be their last day at the beach. Usually I don’t believe tourists when they say these things, but they had such honest eyes. Good things come to people like that.”
“Did they mention which hotel?” David asked, sidestepping the woman’s local superstitions about ‘honest eyes,’ and the woman shook her head.
“Nah, love. They did say they had to get back to the north side of the island though and there’s not many places out there. They likely at the resort.”
“Which ones did she like?” Killian asked, surprising the woman. Slowly a smile of understanding crossed the woman’s face and she gestured to a woven bracelet with a golden hue and a swan charm. It was unique, even in an array of one of a kind bracelets. “I’ll take it.”
“And I’ll take whatever else they looked at.”
It was a small consolation in all of this, and again, it defied rational explanation. This was somewhat crazy on both Killian and David’s parts, but hell if he could stop it. He wanted to have a piece of her with him, even if it was something she’d never gotten a chance to have. It felt a bit better to have this tiny trinket, and it was even more miraculous to know that tomorrow they’d be at the beach and were planning to come back here.
“So that’s that then. We’ll just be sure to get out here early tomorrow.”
Graham said the words, convinced that everything was now all set, but still Killian felt restless. Tomorrow was better than nothing. He’d been afraid he’d never see her again only a few moments ago, but he also hated the idea of waiting. Now that he’d seen her and he knew she was out there, Killian was eager to meet this woman who entranced him. She had him under her spell and she’d never so much as said a word to him.
“Captain Jack’s,” David said to Will, confusing their friend in the process. “You asked which bar and it’s Captain Jack’s.”
“If you say so, mate,” Will said as they all filed back into the car.
“It’s on the north side of the island,” David said to Killian and Killian agreed it was the best place. It wasn’t a surefire plan, what with the resort being an all inclusive, and them not being one hundred percent certain they were even there, but it made Killian feel better. Upping his chances of finding this girl was all he could ask for and they were doing just that by going north.
The next few hours passed with painful slowness, and by the time they got to the bar Killian was a bit of a wreck. It didn’t help matters that all of this was uncertain. She might not come, she might not like him, hell she might already have someone. That last though in particular scared him half to death, but he had to believe that his instinctive reaction meant something. He’d never felt this way, losing himself at first sight like this. It would be the cruelest trick of fate if she was taken, and if she could never feel the same… God he hated to even think how much that would hurt.
“I feel like my hearts going to give out any second,” David said standing next to him and casing the place with the same intensity. “I know it’s crazy but… she’s just gotta be here, man. I don’t want to wait until tomorrow.”
Killian completely understood, and he was going to try and say some words of encouragement, however half-assed they would be but then something caught David’s eye and his friend’s whole demeanor changed. The excitement that pulsed off of him and the adoration told Killian that she was back and his own heart leapt at the prospect. If her friend was here, surely the girl he wanted was here too, right? But when he looked he only saw three brunettes, and the girl of his dreams was nowhere to be seen. This was upsetting in the extreme, but he waited patiently, knowing at the very least David’s girl could tell her where she was.
Funnily enough, the girl who had caught David’s notice was staring at him with almost the same level of intensity. She gazed at him for longer than strangers should, and then she blushed, and that was all it took for David to start moving towards her. Killian followed, noticing the other two women as he did.
“You think he’s the guy?” one of them whispered. “The one from the festival?”
“Oh totally. Look at her, she’s losing it. I just wish Emma was here to see it. Maybe she’d find her guy too.”
Emma – that must be his siren’s name. He heard it and it just clicked inside of his very being, like it belonged with him all this time. He wanted to say it aloud over and over again, to say it in the heat of passion when he’d kissed her senseless or driven her wild with need. But more than that he wanted to see her again.
“Where is she?” he asked, killing David’s attempt at a smooth first greeting and not giving a damn. “Emma, your friend. She was with you at the beach today.”
“Yes, she was,” David’s girl said. “She’s outside. She said she needed some air.”
Completely neglecting his manners Killian rushed off with only a quick, ‘thanks.’ Outside was a loose description of where she could be. At the front of the bar there were people milling around, but his feet took him to the coast, the place where he would go if he needed space. Out here in the darkness there were yellow lanterns and twinkle lights set up, and the pale glow of the moon, but none of it was needed. For there, with her feet in the waves and her hair whipping in the gentle breeze was his woman, radiating her own kind of light that could never be replicated.
Killian stood rooted to the spot, watching her, for longer than he could really know. Any real coherent thought fled the moment he saw her again. Well, the shape of her really, for in the dark, and from the back like this she was a silhouette, dancing at the shoreline, feet bare and hair flowing in the night’s breeze. Killian didn’t know if the music she swayed to was something she could hear from inside the bar or a melody from her head, but either way he stood transfixed, stunned by not only how beautifully she moved, but how freely she expressed herself. This moment was a snapshot into this woman’s very soul, and it was a happy one, a carefree one that didn’t give a damn about the noise or the buzzing all around them. This girl, Emma, just… was, and Killian couldn’t help moving closer, craving the chance to see this siren’s face.
“Come here often, love?” He asked, his voice carrying across the evening air, the slightest tremble discernable in his tone. Emma, for her part, didn’t even flinch, just shook her head without looking at him, as if he and his question were an afterthought.
“Definitely not as often as you use that line,” she quipped, and he couldn’t help himself. He laughed at her boldness, and he knew she was right. It was a line, but damn if he could come up with anything original. She stole the air from his lungs and the sense from his mind. He was lucky to have uttered anything at all.
“Forgive me, that was bad. Let me try again. Are you interested in a partner, or is this more a solo escapade you’ve got going here?”
Now Emma whipped her head towards him, and whatever he’d felt for her before ramped infinitely. She was a beautiful woman from any distance, but up close that was even more undeniable. Her soft, full lips tormented him because all he wanted was to claim them and see them swollen from his kisses, and the smattering of freckles on her skin spoke to lots of time out here in the sun. Her hair was hanging lose now, curled and silky, tempting his fingers which craved the change to run through it, and the dress she wore now was red and fiery, a complete transformation from the pale, pure yellow of this afternoon. He caught her scent on the air, a hint of lavender and something else he couldn’t place, but her eyes did the most damage, striking him with a blow of recognition and interest he never could have expected.
“It’s you.”
“Aye, love, it’s me.”
“Sorry about before. A couple of guys have come up to me and some of them forget that no means no.”
“Someone was bothering you?” Killian asked, his anger rising as he looked around for signs of dead men walking. Who would dare to bother his Emma? Oh shit, now he was really losing it, thinking of her as his when they’d barely even met. Only the gentle touch of her hand on his arm could pull him back.
“It’s okay, I can handle myself. I’ve been doing it all my life.”
He hated to think that she had to be her own defender, when she should be protected and provided for in every way she wished, but he loved the feel of her hand on him. Even when she removed it, realizing she’d touched him and pulling back with a little bit of embarrassment, he could feel her branded on his skin. And he liked it A lot.
“But how did you find me?” she asked, letting her happiness at seeing him slip when she probably didn’t mean to. “I mean, I saw you earlier, in town, but I thought you were gone…”
He reached out for her hand and she let him take it, creating a rush of pleasure as they made contact again. It emboldened Killian, and it made him feel more alive than anything else ever had. “I tried to find you earlier, but in the craziness I lost you. I admit I thought you might have been a dream. It was hard for me to imagine you could even be real.”
“But now you’re here. How?”
“Fate, destiny, and perhaps a little help from a local vendor.”
Emma’s eyes shone with wonder and he heard her gasp as he pulled the bracelet he procured earlier and presented it to her. “For you, love.”
“I don’t usually take gifts from strangers,” Emma said as he tied the strands of the trinket together, sealing it around her wrist. He smiled at the fact that he hadn’t introduced himself yet. He was forgetting himself, but thankfully, Emma didn’t seem to mind too much.
“My name’s Killian. Killian Jones. And you are?”
“Emma. Emma Swan.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emma,” he said, meaning it more than he’d ever meant anything before.
“Yeah, you too,” she said and Killian’s chest swelled with pride. He was still holding onto her, his thumb running against the underside of her wrist as he felt her delicate skin. Her pulse beneath him was rapid, matching the beat of his own, and when he looked back up to her, her eyes were on his lips, torn between hunger, intrigue, and still a little bit of wariness. He wanted to kiss that worry she had away, to show her there would be no reason for fear, not where he was involved, but that might be taking things too fast. He needed something, anything, to show her he could be trusted or to give him just a little more time in her company.
At that moment the music changed and the song filtered over the stereo outside was slower and written out of love. It was intimate and seductive, and for Killian it proved the perfect opening. “So, love, about that dance… would you do me the honor?”
Emma smiled at him, setting him alight as she stepped into his arms, fitting like the piece he’d been missing for too long. It felt amazing to hold her close and sway back and forth with her. One song blurred to another, and another, until truth be told he was so lost in her he couldn’t tell how much time had passed. In the meantime they talked, they danced, they got to know each other but not just with words. This was a blending of two souls, and, if his suspicions were right, the evolution of a love at first sight story that would endure long past this trip.
“I can’t believe you live in New York too,” Emma said as they were finally walking back to the party to rejoin their friends. It was nearly midnight, but it felt like no time had passed at all. “What are the chances?”
“I couldn’t tell you that, love, but I will say I’m glad for it.”
“Oh yeah?” she asked, her face a little flushed from their closeness. He stopped their walking, pulling her into his arms and tilting her chin up so her eyes met his.
“Aye. It makes the whole asking you out thing a bit more manageable. Not that distance would have stopped me. I’d have made it work, no matter how far away you may be.”
“You want to ask me out?” she asked, her voice hoarse from emotion and her eyes wide at the prospect.
“I want to do much more than that, love. And it’ll be more than one date I’m after, you can rest assured. But it’s a good place to start, don’t you think?”
“Hmm, maybe,” she said before smiling at him and edging a bit closer so her lips were mere inches from his.
“You’re not convinced?”
“Well, I kind of like the idea of starting with a chance meeting, some moonlight dancing, and a New Years’ kiss…”
Growling out his own approval Killian crushed his lips to hers, tasting her sweetness and savoring every bit of it. She was magic made real, and the feel of her on him, chasing the same high and the same bliss from being with him that he got with her was life altering. Lightening could strike them now and he’d never know, not when he already felt so much with Emma. This was the first kiss they’d ever shared and yet Killian knew it would be the last first kiss either of them ever had. This was the beginning of a new forever, and Emma was right, this was the best kind of start their story could have.
“I was thinking the kiss would come at midnight,” Emma said when they broke apart, her breathing ragged and her green eyes darker from the desire she was experiencing. “You know that’s kind of the tradition.”
“So you’re saying we should wait then? No more until -,”
He couldn’t get the words out before Emma was pulling him in for another kiss, and that was just fine by him. And as the rest of the night sped by, and the year changed from the old to the new, Killian was certain that this lucky happenstance would be something much bigger, and that this time next year and every year thereafter he and Emma would still be together and happy and whole.  
…………
On a boat, on a beach In the water, in the sand, in the back of a bar Cold beer in your hand Breaking hearts, breaking necks When we rolling down the street, heads turning all day when they see you with me I'm thinking everybody better stand in line 'Cause they need to know that your body's coming with me tonight They're like, "hey, who that there with the shades?" Like oh, the way you move to the bass Hold up Whole room gets to spinnin' from the second that you walk in And baby you look good all day, all night You look good, so fresh, so fine You look good, got everybody watching you like cameras in Hollywood Baby you look good Aw baby you look good Black dress, 2 the 9s, New Year's in a pent From the floor, to the roof, make the skyline spin Yeah, you're killing me boy in your black-faded jeans Ain't gotta work hard when you're smilin' at me Like, "hey, who that there with the shades?" Like oh, the way you move to the bass Hold up Whole room gets to spinnin' from the second that you walk in And baby you look good all day, all night You look good, so fresh, so fine You look good, got everybody watching you like cameras in Hollywood Baby you look good Aw baby you look good I'm thinking everybody better stand in line 'Cause they need to know that your body's coming with me tonight They're like, "hey, who that there with the shades?" Like oh, the way you move to the bass Hold up Whole room gets to spinnin' from the second that you walk in And baby you look good all day, all night You look good, so fresh, so fine You look good, got everybody watching you like cameras in Hollywood Baby you look good Come on baby you look good You look good Baby you look good
Post-Note: So there we have it. Just a little CS insta-love fluff to get us through the end of this year. Like I said, I hope you all have the best end to your 2019 and a wonderful start to your 2020. Thank you all so much for your kindness, support, and friendship this year. Looking forward to next year and wishing you all the best decade to come!
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9,Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24,Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31,Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38,Part 39,Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45,Part 46,Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53,Part 54,Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60,Part 61,Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68,Part 69,Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75,Part 76,Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83,Part 84,Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90,Part 91,Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98,Part 99,Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103,Part 104, Part 105,Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112,Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118,Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125,Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132,Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138,Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145,Part 146, Part 147, Part 148,Part 149, Part 150, Part 151,Part 152, Part 153, Part 154, Part 155, Part 156, Part 157, Part 158,Part 159, Part 160, Part 161, Part 162, Part 163, Part 164,Part 165, Part 166, Part 167, Part 168, Part 169, Part 170,Part 171,Part 172, Part 173, Part 174, Part 175, Part 176,Part 177, Part 178, Part 179 , Part 180, Part 181, Part 182, Part 183, Part 184, Part 185, Part 186, Part 187, Part 188
25 notes · View notes
Text
Possible snippet from Brothers in Arms: The Iron Man Dilemma
Summary, One, Two, Three
Tony has never been so happy to see anyone else ever in his life. Rhodes was alive. The man didn’t die with the rest of those poor kids. As it turned out, neither did the driver of his vehicle. They weren’t the only survivors but they were the only ones he knew the names of. He resolved to learn the rest of their names when he got to wherever this godsforsaken helicopter was taking them. Didn’t these forsaken humans know that proper Wolves didn’t hunt in Thor’s territory?! He’d strike them all for being so foolish, even in the middle of the day!
Thor did not, in fact, strike them down. The sky didn’t even seem ready to, and honestly, Tony could howl for all he was worth when his paws met solid ground. 
He’s almost sure that he did. 
He knows for a fact that his blue-eyed gaze met Pepper’s green one and saw emptiness as she waited for the plane to empty. 
“Where’s Tony?” She demanded sharply. “You brought back his dog. I didn’t even know he took Ace with him! Jesus Christ, you poor thing…” Pepper ran a hand of ragged nails through his fur as she parted it, likely checking for wounds. 
“We’re still looking,” Rhodes insisted. “He’s out there. He escaped. The place he left behind is crawling with our forces and most of them are reporting dead men, melted metal, and half the mountain blown to pieces. It’s a lot to go through, Ms. Potts, but we’re going to find him.” 
“Alright…” Pepper exhaled roughly, breath caught in her throat. “Good God, I can’t believe he took his dog… but okay. If he escaped… that’s good. It means he can be found. And people know where to look now. Okay… okay.”  
The redhead was panicking, talking about press conferences, finding a will, and getting updates on the search. While Tony desperately wanted to shift back and talk some sense into her, he wasn’t sure if he could. He didn’t even remember shifting in the first place, but everything ached and he was exhausted and he really, really needed to go home and sleep. So he nudged Pepper’s hand and walked over Yinsen and Ramirez, grabbing the former’s arm and yanking him over to the latter before nudging them both towards where Rhodes and Pepper were standing. 
“The dog…” Yinsen rasped. “He saved my life, just kept running like the fastest cattle herder I’ve ever seen.” 
Tony deeply resented that remark but saw it for the compliment that it was and did not nip Yinsen like he wanted to. He did flash his teeth, though. 
“Ace doesn’t like being compared to other dogs,” Pepper chuckled fondly. “Tony’s got this poor thing thinking he’s something special when really, he’s just big.” 
Tony definitely resented that remark and knew it was not a compliment at all. He pushed his head upward so that Pepper’s hand almost smacked her face. 
“Oh, you little shit!” She hissed playfully. “I know you know what you’re doing! Just for that, you’re not getting any treats today. I had a nice chunk of deer meat all ready but nope, it can wait.” 
Tony did his best not to roll his eyes and gave his best puppy eyes instead. 
“Whatever, you adorable giant of a dog. You’re so weird.” Pepper laughed quietly before standing to face the others. 
“We should get you all settled somewhere, likely a hotel to start with.” 
And Pepper was off, making plans and being the most competent and put-together assistant Tony has ever had the pleasure of working with. She was handling this surprisingly well since she had no idea that Tony was in fact his own dog and that said dog was actually a wolf. Tony knew there was no further point in hiding it once he managed to shift back. Especially not with this… new contraption in his chest. Loki must have begged Thor for strength and extended his abilities because this was the only way Tony could possibly be alive right now. He wouldn’t question it until he had the strength to change back. So… what felt like another week or so. Loki might have to tap in his nephew, Baldr, to lend Tony patience instead. 
The weeks go by slowly. Day by day, Tony feels less like he’s been blessed by Loki and more like the animal form he’s been blessed with. He wants to rip Obadiah’s throat open and scatter his entrails. He wants to get his jaws around every scrap of metal with the logo of Stark Industries on it and feel it crushed between his jaws. He wants a full list of every person who ever came into contact with whatever dirty operation that Stane is running so he and watch them cower under his claws and shit themselves when they see his teeth. He wants to go through Howard’s precious company one by one, each forsaken building of people that belong to the Stark name, and howl at them all until he gets a full picture of just what the fuck is going on and how deep it goes. 
Sometimes, he just wants to rip into that deer chunk Pepper was talking about and gnaw the bones down until they were as thin and perhaps as sharp as his claws. Sometimes, he wishes he could talk to people in this form. Sometimes, he wishes the world would go away. That he’d been left at the gates of Hel like the Norns intended the first time around. What was the point of Yinsen saving his life if he couldn’t do anything about it?! 
“You’re going to rip up the carpet, pacing like that.” Pepper sighed from behind her computer. “Look, c’mere. I know you miss Tony. I miss him too. It fucking sucks that he’s still out there, but he’s going to come back and when he does, he’ll be ready to hug your fur off and give you belly rubs and pamper you within an inch of your life.” 
Tony very much does not think about Pepper being the one in need of pampering. His poor personal assistant had so much shit to slog through on a daily basis that, as the days went by, got worse and worse. SHIELD sent an agent to debrief Yinsen while Ramirez was taken back by her own people and Tony lost track of what happened there. He hoped Rhodes was able to keep up with her. At the very least, he was glad she wasn’t forced to endure the hospitality of the Ten Rings. At most, he wanted to take Rhodes, Yinsen, and Ramirez, and bundle them into blankets on the softest couch he owned before he sat on them all. He was sure they would make great pillows as they themselves got however much sleep a normal human needed. He could be considered coherent after half an hour and a shitton of coffee, but he’d also pulled his fair share of all-nighters over the many, many, many years. 
(Good gods, why has it been so long?)
Pepper made a very good pillow. She was very soft. 
“Are you drooling on me, Ace?” Pepper asked as she scratched between his ears. “Of course you are. You’re a dog.” 
Tony tilted his head the other way and let his tongue loll. It was fun to watch her react to what she thought she knew, but Pepper Potts was far from stupid. He let his head rest on her ap and she kept scratching between his ears. If he closed his eyes, he could almost remember the last redhead to do that.
Tony changed back on a Monday night when the moon is full, two months after he returns from Afghanistan with the others. That makes it five months since his original capture. He’s missed a lot of things he knows he didn’t want to, among them Pepper’s birthday and the MIT commencement speech. He startled awake in the middle of the night to a bare chest and grey sweatpants, cropped hair, and nothing resembling the goatee people expected of him. Good. No one would recognize him if he were to go for a walk. As it were, he was too tired to do that so he rolled over and went back to sleep.
The next time he woke up, it was to someone’s scream. 
“What-? Where-? What the fuck, Potts?!” He panted, scared shitless by his assistant’s startled screech. 
“When did you get here?! How did you get here? Did JARVIS see you? Why didn’t you wake me? Ace should have barked… where is that dog of yours anyway?” 
“You probably scared him off with that screech of yours, Potts. Goodness, that was the loudest thing I’ve heard in two months.”
“What… Tony, what is that?” 
“You’re going to want to sit down for this. And let me get dressed, at least-.” 
“Don’t bother, I’ve already seen it.” Pepper snapped, tone as cold as her eyes as they pinned him to his spot on the bed. “What is it?” 
“I miniaturized the arc reactor technology used to power some of the SI buildings and put it in my chest.” 
Pepper shivered at that and when she spoke next, her voice cracked. 
“Why?” She demanded. 
“It’s an electromagnet. It’s keeping shrapnel from puncturing my heart. Did Yinsen get to you? He should be able to explain more.”
“What… goodness. This is…” 
“Feel free to take a seat,” Tony offered. At Pepper’s incredulous look, he rolled his eyes. “I’m not exactly in a position to take advantage of you.” He drawled. 
“That’s hardly my biggest issue.” The redhead scowled, walking over to the bed and sitting on the side where Tony was now sitting upright. 
She stared at the bright blue light and then caught Tony’s wary gaze. 
“You should get that looked at.” She said after a few moments of staring. Without warning, Pepper launched herself forward and wrapped her arms around her boss’ neck. Her forehead met his shoulder and he went extremely still as she sobbed on his shoulder. 
“Clearly I was missed,” He deadpanned after a few uncomfortable minutes. 
“You… it’s been five months. We didn’t know where you were or what happened! No one could track you-.” 
Pepper cut herself off as Tony stiffened underneath her and she watched his eyes harden. 
“Sorry,” She said immediately. “I guess this is awkward, I-.” 
“It’s not you,” Tony assured her. “I just… you saying that reminded me of something. Something I need to do later.”
“What needs to happen, Tony?” Pepper asked quietly. 
“Plenty, but nothing that you can help with right now.” 
“Alright. At the very least, I can make sure your schedule is clear for the next few months.” Pepper said, getting up and starting for the door.
“Thank you,” Tony exhaled roughly. “Help yourself to anything that isn’t gross and moldy by now and order whatever you want.” 
“Thanks,” came Pepper’s strained response.
1 note · View note