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thr-333 · 4 years ago

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Could you possibly do one where Mari/Mari and marine is/are the daughter/son of the joker?

I actually planned quite a lot for this after you asked but could never get my thoughts to make something comprehensive so I give up here's what I got!:

-Twins are Joker and Harleys kids born before the two split up(and so help me they will split up this story needs gay aunt Ivy)

-As you might know, these two clowns have another kid; Lucy. Harley left Lucy with her sister when she was born. In canon, she thinks Harley is her aunt but I would say in this fic she learned the truth when the twins were also dropped off.

-So the twins grew up in Gotham with their aunt and big sister knowing full well who their parents are; as such they make the responsible choice to suppress every part of themselves that resembles them and constantly dye their hair in an effort to avoid looking like them. You know healthy coping mechanisms. -

-Naturally, Marinette has brown hair with blue eyes and Marion blonde with brown eyes.

-Their personalities are a bit different from Mismatch.

-Marion is still a trickster and a trouble maker but this time around has Marinette fully involved and responsible for his shenanigans. He has a bit of a habit of talking to himself(or singing random phrases), sometimes in the third person; he hates when he does, so Marinette always tells him off. He’s always gets the impulse of dying his hair outlandish colors and will vehemently deny his favorite color is green.

- Marinette is crafty, both figuratively and literally. She’s smart, her mother is a doctor after all she can be manipulative to people that arent her(close) family to protect the ones she cares about. She has a deep-seated fear of becoming a trophy, an object to be put on display like her mother and so dresses the opposite and pushes away her love for fashion.

-They will always call each other Mari but if someone else tries they both answer its a nickname they strictly use for each other.

-In a world where Gotham exists it makes absolutely no sense that Gabriel wouldn't start his reign as Hawkmoth in Gotham(the place with the most negative emotions like geez) so that works out perfectly for the twins becoming heroes(Adrien can move to Gotham or be left in Paris to be kept safe your choice)

-Instead of the twins proving themselves by helping an old man up off the street they go a step further is beating up the thugs that try to rob him(all Fu’s set up of course). When they come home to find two mysterious boxes on their beds they make the only rational conclusion children of the joker would; it’s a bomb!

-Not wanting to get the police involved for obvious reasons they find the security footage(which gets the police involved in a different way) and start tracking down fu to see why he’s trying to kill him.

-And as you may recall at this point in canon Ladybug and Chat Noir are defeating an Akuma, well they're not here they’re off to beat up an old man so thats Batman’s job for the time being.

-The twins get caught up in the fight as civilians and are saved by Batman who immediately recognizes them(you don't think Batman has case files on all of Jokers hellspawn?) so that’s gonna be a problem later but never mind that for now~

-The twins track down Fu, who is wondering why they aren’t out fighting the Akuma. Long story short Fu comes back to the house with them and proves they aren't bombs giving them the miraculous.

-I’m a bit indecisive on the names. I thought Marinette would be Red Bug and Marion Black Cat(yes I know that names already taken I don’t care). But I thought Crimson Bug would work better because then their names would start with the same letters. Then I wanted alliteration like Black Bug and Crimson Cat but that obviously doesn't make any sense since Chats color is green not red-- then I realized it would be completely in character for them to call themselves that confusing everyone in the process so no one quite sure whos name is who(if you wanna write it go with whatever I just thought it could be funny)

-As for costumes Marinette's probably wouldn't be skin tight because deep down she really doesn't want to look like that but more practical armor or less form-fitting at least. Marion's hair turns green when he transforms something he freaks out about and Marinette's turns red(glowing or not either would look cool)

-So anyway they go off to defeat the akuma blah blah blah Batman seeing these two young untrained superheroes can only think of one thing: I have to adopt them. So that’s gonna be fun!

-Anyway they go back home trying to be sneaky and immediately get caught by Lucy: ”Don’t tell Aunty!”-- ”Oh I already know” (her names Delia by the way)

- So now the twins get a support system and a family that will look out for them unbelievable right? This support system immediately threatens Fu making sure he actually trains them and doesn't just set them loose on Gotham.

Anyway that's the end of my semi-cohesive plan and here's a vague outline for the fic:

1. Becoming ladybug and chat noir setting up adoption, and school(Bruce invites them to Gotham academy to keep an eye on the jokers children)

2. First day at school setting up Artemis(and by extension young justice), and own passions, Adrien is also at this school now so Marinette falls, Jason finds out falling in love with Marion

3. Becoming friends with Artemis, convinces them to give their passions a try, Marion runs from hood, some let me adopt you stuff also Jason's spite for Cat Noir

4. Skip a bit of time a few months or so, young justice need help Artemis suggest mari and mari, Marinette has a smackdown with batman about their heritage, at odds with young justice Artemis comes to their defense. Young Justice have an ‘oh’ realization on the job when Marion sings a lullaby to a scared child, now the young justice form the mari and mari protection squad

5. Doing ladybug and cat stuff batman approaches them again this time luring them into adoption with a partnership on finding hawkmoth, Red Hood and cat fight. Marion comes back all huffy and there's a scene with Lucy this time comforting them, Marion goes out to get air runs into hood marion bristles stirring Jason to meet him as a civilian, class come to visit, at odds with lila

6. Doing well at school even made a few friends when the Paris class come to visit completely under lila’s control, lila tries to slander the twins for not worshiping her only to out herself when she tells everyone they laughed at her(the twins never laugh), Jason also drops by further discrediting her, lila tries to throw their heritage in their face but they get support openly working with heroes as civilians, this little section ends quite happily with them being sort of accepted at school and batman tolerating their existence for not attacking the person who tried to make their life miserable

7. Time skip few years out of high school now, ladybug and cat are working well with gothams vigilantes widely considered part of the batfam even if no one knows each other's identities. As mari and mari they are doing good work mainly outside of gotham. Marinette is starting a fashion boutique with a little financial help from Wayne enterprises she also does costume design for heroes and villains, villains mainly because she can't stand their current outfits. Marion quite likes his music but isn't sure how he will feel in the public eye is great friends with Jason and the skip picks up with them officially starting to go out identities unknown. They are still hesitant about their identities in civilian life Marinette starting her business under a false name and Marion cant start his because of his heritage. Jason officially has to admit they are going out to the family is met with grilling by aunt and sister, joy by harley once she tries giving them sex advice they leave, his brothers tease and both are tense about Bruces reaction but he begrudgingly accepts. Are out as ladybug and Cat still snippy with hood but it’s not as bad they are closing in on hawkmoth. Go to hang out with young justice as well they aren't well-liked in Gotham but they’re fine with that(not really)

8. NOW things can go to shit joker finally has enough of them deciding to get a hold of them but I think it should be as ladybug and chat revealing their identities to the world. The twins are terrified rightfully so. Get saved now it’s weird between hood and marion, marion feeling betrayed Jason knew who he was and knew who his father was but still decided to date him and he just can't understand why. Adrien was so scared for Marinette and now they both have to work out why. Gotham is at odds the heroes they admire are born from a villain they fear. Bats are a bit weird feeling like they were tricked while also kind of acknowledging the twins are good people

9. Harassed in their everyday life now the twins go to young justice where they get met with awe for being established independent heros, bats there are acting weird but the twins say something to shift perspective leaving to let them mull on it. Jason tries to apologise saying he doesn't see Marion like that blah blah Marion has a breakdown asking how he can be anything but a villain. Marinette's having whiplash going from loved to hated and still dealing with the trauma of seeing her father. They snap. In public a big ol scene and they get akumatised everyone sees it, it’s on tv. Hawkmoth comes out to get their miraculous the batfam can’t beat him. He’s monolouging probing at their deepest fears when they snap back to reality realizing none of it’s true every part of them has worked to be good people and they are they don't hand over their miraculous beating the akumatizaton and beating hawkmoth while akumatised.

10. They are released from the hospital a few days later, getting hesitant recognition on the streets. It's not thunderous applause but it is something. Their family comes to pick them up, Adrien is crying to Marinette about not scaring him like that(her family took him in when Gabriel was revealed). Marion gets picked up by Jason they patch things over. They get accepted into the batfam and work as ladybug and cat for everything. Marion decides to start playing music and Marinette reveals her face to her fashion brand.

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fairiesherefairiesthere · 5 years ago

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The five proposals Freed Justine rejected and the one he did accept.

Fraxusweek by @fuckyeahfraxus day 7, with the prompt being : Proposal/Wedding/Engagement

1. A girl who's confused, but has got the spirit.

It's a precarious situation and Laxus doesn't know how to solve it. They've got the bad guy of the day cornered, but instead of going along willingly, the man thought it a good idea to get civilians involved. Quickly, the perpetrator had seen that there was no way to get out of his situation, with Laxus, Bickslow and Evergreen trapping him against the side of a building. So he had wrangled a little girl out of her screaming mother's grip and now, he has his one hand wrapped around her throat while he waves a weapon around with the other one.

To her credit, the little girl isn't going down without a fight, kicking and screaming as the situation keeps escalating. If the man wasn't wearing a mask, Bickslow probably could've done something about it. Brainwashing the girl herself is out of the question, as she's more likely to injure than save herself. Opening fire upon the man is completely out of the question, so now they're all stuck.

Rest of the fic under the cut!

The answer comes in the form of their ever so dependable captain kicking down the door from the inside, effectively smashing it into the man who had unwittingly been shielding the little girl from stray doors suddenly opening. With a dull thud, the man falls to the floor, unconscious.

As Bickslow and Evergreen cheer their captain on for a job well done, Laxus catches the surprise in his eyes and the 'oops' he silently mouths before looking around. When Freed comes to the conclusion that his habit of tresspassing for fun has not gotten him into trouble for once, he smiles at his teammates while telling them of the importance of 'seeing all the options' amongst other things. Later, in private, he'll tell the little shit that he knows he's full of bull, but for now Laxus will let him gloat.

Starry-eyed, the now saved little girl tugs on Freed's jacket, narrowly avoiding getting clocked by his sword. "Mister, you saved me!" she says and Freed nods with more confidence than he should have, considering his heroic act was one of mere coincidence.

"That means you have to marry me", she says in a matter of fact voice that throws all of them off. "That's what my books say", she continues before throwing a hopeful glance at Freed.

Behind his back, Freed makes a tiny gesture with his hand and with a bit of magic, he hurls a rather concerningly large rock at Laxus. Swiftly, he moves between Laxus and the rock, fending it off with his rapier. "Well young lady", he says, turning to the girl. "Now I have saved this man as well and now I have to marry him too. I hope you don't mind sharing."

With all the huffy- and puffyness girls that age usually possess, she turns her head harrumphs. "No, I don't like sharing. I'm not settling for trash", she continues, giving Freed the stinkeye. "So our engagement is called off, goodbye my sweet prince", she dramatically sighs before joining her mom. She does wave them all goodbye though, so that's a nice bonus.

2. A girl who isn't confused and hasn't got the spirit.

The second time Freed gets proposed to, it isn't even done by the bride to be. No, the bride to be stands there somberly, as her father tries to offer Freed her hand. "Surely", the man says, "A handsome young man such as yourself wouldn't refuse a gorgeous young lady. She knows how to cook and keep quiet, what else do you want?"

There's a quick flash of anger in the daughter's eyes and anger radiates off Freed as well, although he's more apt at hiding it. It's only because Laxus knows him so well that he knows how the other man really feels.

"What else I want?" Freed asks, voice carefully leveled before throwing on the biggest of smiles. "Why, your son would be a good place to start. He's gorgeous as well and I bet he's a fast learner, we could make our dinner together before having a ménage à trois in our kitchen."

The words immediately hit home and before they know it, the four of them are hightailing it out of there, but not before Freed has pressed a vial with suspicious liquid into the girl's hand with a whisper of: "Please feel free to use this however you want."

3. The spirit.

As far as Laxus knows, the party gathered in front of him is reaching the peak of their little roleplay game. He has no idea what they're actually prattling about, but Freed looks happy playing whatever it is, so of course he's there too. Although he isn't participating and merely laying his head down on Freed's lap, as he's done the past few session, he can kind of tell what's going on based on observations and little comments Freed gives now and then.

Wendy is narrating the story and honestly, her youthful spirit adds a gentle touch to it. Levy, Lucy, Mira, Freed and for some reason, Gray and Loke are the nerds participating and rolling dice. Throughout the story, familial bonds have been formed and right now, they're on the cusp on something more than just familial.

Loke and Freed's characters have been flirting since pretty much the first session. Laxus really doesn't mind, because he trusts Freed and also because both men are making a competition out of it. It keeps Freed sharp, so to speak and he only becomes better at flirting with Laxus in return. It's ridiculous how smooth he is sometimes.

In-game, Loke has proposed to Freed and the whole group is hollering and shouting until Loke rolls the dice. Then they fall silent, so naturally, Laxus presumes something bad has happened. Calmly Wendy shoots the group a warm smile before saying: "Alberion (the name of Freed's character) panics, thinking he's gotten too close to the enemy. He shoots Guryon (Loke) and flees, back to the dark castle where he was born and raised!"

A series of whats and hows raises from the group while Freed and Wendy bump fists. Seeing the indignant expression on the rest of the players' faces, Wendy merely shrugs. "It was on his character background sheet", she explains and leaves the group to deal with the betrayal.

4. A man who's had too much spirit.

"Justine, marry me", Hibiki Lates sobs into Freed's shoulder as Laxus watches in amusement. His boyfriend is looking mildly annoyed at the overly intoxicated man, but there's a hint of fondness in the set of his lips.

"Now why would I do that?" he asks with a sigh and Hibiki immediately straightens his back before putting a USB-stick into Freed's hand.

"There's a powerpoint on there", he explains before starting to list his good qualities. "I'll start with the main reason why you should marry me: I'm really, really cute."

"That's what you're going with? Not our 1 week relationship when we were both fifteen?"

"No, because we broke up you dumbass", Hibiki says before headbutting Freed harder than probably intended. "You're not good at providing comfort, I'm gonna look for someone else", he mopes before stalking off. Before disappearing from view completely, he turns around to yell at Freed. "This is why our teenage romance didn't last!" Both of them end up snorting and laughing about it.

5. A man who's lost his spirit.

To say he's nervous is a serious understatement. Laxus has been planning this proposal for months now, has lost a significant amount of sleep over it and will probably cry if even the littlest of details goes wrong. He's stressed beyond belief.

For now, everything seems to be moving in the right direction. His reservation at the expensive seaside restaurant hasn't magically been cancelled and the clothes he'd set aside for today still fit nicely. Freed has also been going along with Laxus' plans without demanding to know what they're doing. Seemingly sensing Laxus nervousity, he simply follows wherever Laxus directs him to be.

The first thing that nearly goes wrong, is transportation and Laxus really has no idea how that even happened. He planned this whole thing while giving his own weaknesses no thought. As the carriage had pulled up, Freed had commented how nice it looked before giving Laxus a teasing smile, while telling him how good it was that that carriage wasn't for them, as Laxus would've puked all over it.

Immediatle, he blanches and Freed, bless his heart picks up on it. He waves the carriage off, which isn't a problem since Laxus already paid for it and then sets up some transportation runes. "Just imagine the place where we need to be and we'll be taken there", he instructs Laxus.

The seaside view is luckily just as gorgeous as in the pictures and Laxus feels the repeated crashing of the waves soothing his mind. Maybe it would go alright after all. The two of them settle in their chairs and look at the menu, commenting on some of the stranger recipes. Swiftly Laxus decides what he wants to eat and puts the menu down to ask Freed for his choice.

It's then that he catches Freed drumming his fingers on the table while biting his lip. He's also tapping his feet, so Laxus knows that he's essentially screwed. "Is there something wrong?" he asks, nervousity returning in full swing.

"Ah...It's just a little something that hasn't really been brought up." Catching Laxus' questioning gaze, Freed winces a little bit. "I'm allergic to seafood. Deathly allergic actually", he admits sheepishly and Laxus wants to dig a hole in the ground and take a nap in it. "Don't make that face", Freed gently chastises him. "This trip isn't wasted." With a grin, he browses through the menu until he's found what he's looking for. Triumphantly he turns the booklet around to show Laxus the dessert section. "You best believe I am testing out as much of these bad boys as I can. I don't believe they'll put fish in there."

After something that could be counted as some form of a meal, the two of them want to take a walk on the beach. They are however dressed to the nines and after a brief moment of consideration, they come to the conclusion that neither of them wants to clean all the sand out of these clothes, so they let a walk on the sand itself drift from their minds for today. Instead they walk on the pavement until the sun sets.

During their walk, Laxus thinks that now would be a good time to propose. The setting sun is the perfect background and he bets it'd look really romantic if he were to pop out the rings right about now. Right about then, is when he realises he left the rings at home. After vehemently checking each and every one of his pockets, it's clear that a proposal isn't going to happen. To highlight this fact, the wind starts picking up and Laxus knows a gathering storm when he sees one. Defeated, he sits down on the sidewalk.

With more pep than Laxus'll probably feel for the rest of the week, Freed plops down next to him and lays his head on Laxus' shoulder. "My dear, do you want to cry about it?" he asks and honestly, he wants to but they're in public. Crying in front of Freed is one thing, crying in front of a crowd is another thing. "It's good that it's going to rain then", he adds gently before taking his head of Laxus' shoulder and opening his arms. "Get over here sweetheart."

It's a bit embarrassing, sitting there in the now full-on storm and crying while his boyfriend cradles him in his arms. But it feels too good to pass on, so he doesn't let go until he feels somewhat placated.

"My dear Laxus", Freed says softly but still audible over the storm, "You could ask me to marry you in the back of a dumpster and I'd wholeheartedly say yes. But you worked hard on this, didn't you? I'll keep that effort in mind. So ask me another day, when your nerves have calmed down. I just want to tell you now, I love you and I always will."

6. Two spirits, a shared love.

This time around, there are no theatrics or outrageously expensive restaurants. It's a simple breakfast prepared by Laxus, one he knows Freed'll like. After sliding the last egg on a plate, he goes upstairs to try to coax Freed out of bed for the third time this morning. A few languid kisses follow and reluctantly Freed follows, sticking close to Laxus because he is so very warm and comfortable.

"It's time for food, don't use me as your human blanket", Laxus softly admonishes him and Freed grumbles in return. With droopy eyes, Freed starts nibbling on his toast and although Laxus is very used to the sight of his boyfriend in the morning, it still elicits a smile from him.

"Yesterday I spent the day with Bix and he learned me some magic tricks", Laxus says and produces a set of cards out of his pocket. "Wanna see some?"

Vaguely interested, Freed hums and nods. Dutifully he picks out a card when Laxus asks him to and when Laxus asks him if he picked out Freed's card, the man shakes his head drowsily. "That isn't even a card Laxus, that's a box...", he complains quietly, yawning a bit afterwards.

"There is an accompanying card though", Laxus grins as he shoves the little box and the card to Freed side of the table. Predictably, Freed picks up the card first, reading the message and silently forming the words with his mouth.

Immediately the sleepiness seems to evaporate from his system as he quickly opens the box as well, revealing the rune-ingraved ring. Before even answering, he throws his arms around Laxus, planting a big, fat smooch on his lips before peppering a thousand little ones all over his face. "I love you", he gushes before collecting his thoughts a little bit. "And of course I'll marry you." They exchange some more kisses until Freed pulls back with a huge grin. "I'm going to brag to everyone. The guild, the lady at the grocer's, they'll be hearing it for months."

With a gentle tug, Laxus witholds the man from running out of the door in his bathrobe. "If they're going to hear about it for months, then you've got time to finish your breakfast, silly", he says warmly and Freed shoots him a cheeky smile and a wink in return.

#Fraxusweek #Fraxus #Fraxus Week 2020 #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #TheFairyWrites #5+1 things

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theawkwardterrier · 5 years ago

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No Place Like

Steggy Week 2k20, day 5 Prompt: Outside POV

Summary: Miss Carter is a regular at the local diner.

AO3 link here. Thanks to @steggyfanevents for organizing!

Ernie thinks he’s been told that he’ll be inheriting the diner since the day he was born, and if it hasn’t been quite that long, it was probably the day after.

For years, the thought was okay with him. When he was little, filling salt shakers and reminding himself to be careful-careful when he got the chance to lift the occasional plate onto a table as tall as he was, it was the only future he could imagine. But now, halfway through being a junior in high school, he sees the sorts of things his classmates are planning, all that they get to do and choose and find out about themselves, and suddenly what he has waiting for him doesn’t seem like enough, even though he knows that it represents two generations of effort and saving and love from his family.

Plus most of his classmates don't have to work the early shift before school starts.

“Thank you for a lovely breakfast,” Miss Carter tells him one morning, thankfully coming over to pay for her meal just in time to rescue him from having to clean up the catsup spill at the corner four-top.

Miss Carter is a regular. He has the feeling that she’s either real busy, or doesn’t have a clue about how to cook, or maybe both - she’s in for either breakfast or dinner more often than not. She’s pretty, polite, always more put together than she needs to be for the job she says she has at the phone company. Sometimes she seems a little sad, gazing into her teacup or sighing to herself without even seeming to realize it, but he’s also seen her confront a kid who’d stolen a tip off one of the tables, looking ready to flip him over her shoulder as she waited for him to put the money down and cough up some extra too.

Ernie likes Miss Carter, but he’d never want to cross her.

“You have a good day, ma’am,” he says, dropping the pair of quarters into the register (and putting her tip into his own pocket). “Hope it’s not too busy for you.”

She laughs. “I’ll hope that for all our sakes. When things become busy for me, it usually indicates more trouble than I think anyone would like.” Picking up her briefcase, she adds, “But as far as I’m aware, it should be quite uneventful: just paperwork on the docket, and then I’ll be back this evening.”

“Enjoy your paperwork, then,” Ernie tries joking shyly. It earns a light laugh, but afterward, as he hangs up his apron and runs water through his hair to get ready for school, he wonders if it was just out of pity.

“Stupid,” he mutters to himself. He never knows what to say around Miss Carter; one of these days he'll learn to keep his mouth shut.

She doesn’t come back for dinner like she said she would. The tables are jam-packed all evening and Ernie’s so run off his feet that he doesn’t even notice.

Just before he falls asleep, he does remember what she said and wonder if this means there’s some big problem that she has to take care of, but then he puts it out of his mind, rolling over.

If the world’s ending, maybe he'll at least get a chance to sleep in.

Miss Carter isn’t there for breakfast either, and this time Ernie’s not the only one who notices. His mama and pops have always said that one of the advantages of owning a “community establishment” like theirs is getting to know and care about people and having them feel the same for you. Ernie’s never quite believed in that - people coming up to loudly tell him that his skin is finally clearing has never felt quite like caring to him - but now he understands just a little. When his sister Luella says that she hopes that everything’s fine over with Miss Carter, he agrees with perhaps too much vehemence.

She finally comes back for dinner, and he’s taking in a breath to shout back for a cup of tea (Miss Carter has a regular breakfast order, but she likes a hot drink while she picks something out on the dinner menu) when he notices that she’s not alone.

Miss Carter has come in with a friend every so often in the past, mostly a tall, beaky sort of man with an accent that matches hers, and a brunette lady who acted fancy, sticking out her pinky and all, but tipped real well. A few times it was with a cheerful redhead who had a different sort of accent, one Ernie didn’t recognize, or a handsome, dark-haired man who used a crutch and watched Miss Carter closely. Once she even came in with Howard Stark, the inventor. Ernie recognized him from the papers and almost went over to say hello or ask for an autograph, but he was too familiar with the signs of hangover to try it; he made sure to be extra quick sending coffee to their table instead.

(Mr. Stark has a great mustache up close, though. If Ernie could grow one, that’s the kind he’d want, but at last glance into the side of the toaster he has barely half a dozen struggling hairs on his upper lip.)

This man isn’t someone Ernie recognizes, and he can tell immediately that he’s not just a friend. His hand is wrapped so tightly around Miss Carter’s that Ernie can only think about the two trees out on his granny’s property which have been growing around each other for so many years they finally fused together. When Miss Carter points out her regular booth, there’s a moment where Ernie thinks she isn’t going to even let the man go to sit facing her. Eventually she does, but they lean over the tabletop so that they’re nearly touching, and her gaze on him is so intense, so full of love and pain that Ernie turns to go make Luella take their order instead.

“Uh-uh!” she whispers and swishes over to go top off coffee cups that she'd just refilled five minutes ago.

Ernie stands up straight, taking out his pad like it's armor. As he walks over, he tries to imagine the least awkward way of clearing his throat.

He doesn’t achieve it one bit (it comes out as an “A-HEM,” like Patty Francona’s dad when he found them standing together talking on the porch after their one and only date) but the two of them are too wrapped up to notice.

“What can I get you folks this evening?” he asks, the automatic patter helping steady him.

“I’m not certain yet, Ernie,” Miss Carter says, finally looking up at him, polite as usual, though her voice is soft as heartbreak. “We might need just another moment to get our bearings.”

“Take your time,” Ernie responds, quick with relief, and hightails it back to the counter.

When the two of them finally pick something, it’s a couple orders of franks and spaghetti, which Ernie’s never known Miss Carter to eat. He’s actually not known very many people to pick that off the menu. It’s like they just put a finger down and decided at random. Luella makes a face when Vince, the short order cook, adds the franks on top.

“Hope they enjoy,” she says dubiously as Ernie goes to take the food out front. Miss Carter and her companion have decided that they’d like it to go. As he rings them up, they both offer him tips at the same time. The looks they give each other are so soft and sappy that Ernie ends up practically shoving the bag of food at them before saying rapid and clipped, “You have a very pleasant evening now!”

“Thank you,” says Miss Carter, nearly sing-song. “I believe we shall.”

And she and her companion stride out arm in arm.

They start calling the man ‘Mr. Carter.’ While they might not know his actual name, he’s a regular now which means that they have to call him something.

Beyond his name and where he came from, there’s a lot of speculation as to what exactly happened between him and Miss Carter.

Vince, thoughtfully cleaning the grill, suggests that maybe their families didn’t approve of them being together. “And he had to wait years and years until his parents died, but as soon as they did he raced back up here to see her.”

“No, he probably married another woman,” proposes Jean, the other evening waitress, looking at her reflection in the side of a napkin dispenser to make sure that her hat’s on straight. “Men are fickle like that, you know. Forget a girl as soon as their eyes are closed. So she’s just been pining away all these years, waiting for him to realize that they belong together, and he finally got divorced and looked her up. But a man like that, he'll be gone in another blink, that's for certain.”

From her place swinging her legs atop the counter, Luella scoffs, “As if she would ever pine. No, I’ll bet they were just about to get married and then he tripped over a sewer grate and hit his head and lost all of his memories and is only just getting them back.” She sighs. “The first thing he remembered about his old life was probably her.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ernie says, giving up on trying to do his homework in the corner of the kitchen and entering the conversation fully. “You might as well say he was MIA from the war and finally came home, that’d be just as realistic.”

“The war was years ago,” Luella says, waving an irritated hand. “If someone suddenly came home now, it’d be a miracle. We’d have heard about it.”

Just to needle her, Ernie says, “Not if they’re spies. They’re probably both government agents and all their business has to be kept completely top secret!”

She just shakes her head, looking put upon, as if just entertaining his notions ages her ten years. “I have no idea where you come up with these things,” she says, and huffs out of the kitchen.

Whatever happened, Mr. and Miss Carter sure do look happy together. They come in for breakfast together more often than not, and dinner several nights a week too - apparently he's no cook either or is just as short on time.

(When Ernie mentions this observation to Vince, he gets a very huffy reminder that some people really do just prefer the food here.)

They laugh a lot across the table, and they're always touching. She'll swat at his shoulder while he gives a mischievous grin. He'll fold a little flower when they've finished with the newspaper and slide it gently behind her ear. They link their little fingers together on the tabletop so often that Ernie, bright red over the top of his notepad, has to pretend not to see it, and eventually he actually stops noticing it altogether.

Mr. Carter sometimes comes in for lunch on his own, but he's not there the Sunday afternoon when the radio starts acting up and people coming in report strange lightning strikes nearby. And Ernie doesn't see him or Miss Carter that evening, either, when there's an earthquake strong enough that the road ripples beneath the cars outside and concrete slides off of the surrounding buildings. In the diner, everyone's food shimmies off the table and splatters all over the floor.

Ernie stands there a minute after the shaking has stopped, staring around at the mess. The building itself is fine, and something in him isn't surprised that the place is still solidly standing.

"Get a move on," Luella urges, practically skating in gravy as she comes to hand him a mop. "All this isn't going to clean itself up!"

The Carters do show up again the next night, listening to the other regulars recounting the shock of what had happened. Considering they've spent the past few weeks practically sharing the same air, it's easy to notice the change between them. They're both perfectly civil to Ernie when he comes over to take their orders and deliver the food, but they speak to each other only occasionally and in undertones that seem taut even from where Ernie is standing.

A while later, he glances into the dining area on the way back to throw out the kitchen trash and notices that they’re no longer at their table. When he opens the outside door, however, he finds where they’ve gone.

“—putting yourself in danger!” Mr. Carter’s voice is low but harsh.

Miss Carter hisses, “As if you can talk,” with so much venom that Ernie almost steps back inside even though it wasn’t directed at him.

“Even if Delacroix had hit me, it wouldn’t have been fatal.” (Mr. Carter should have probably asked for some advice before trying that one, or at least rehearsed so it wouldn’t sound as flimsy.

The alley is dim, but even with the low light Ernie can see how her face twists. “If that’s the metric that we’re using, ‘will this certainly kill me?’ then I don’t—”

“And what about you?!” He hits back defensively. “You knew that Howard had said another minute for the power, and you jumped anyway. If he’d been ten seconds slower—”

“He wasn’t.” She seems to be trying to spit the words with her same vehemence, but it doesn’t quite work. Her arms are tightly crossed over her chest. “And had you been in the same position, you would have made the same decision, Steve, don’t act as if you wouldn’t have.”

“I know,” and with the simple words all the fight seems to go out of him. “I know. I would have. And one of the reasons I love you is that you would make the same choice. But Peggy—” He steps forward, arms held open, and though Ernie thinks he’s nuts for trying it, Miss Carter actually moves toward him too, letting her own arms drop and pressing herself against his chest.

“When I came back, it was because I wanted to get a chance at a life together. A good, long life,” he says, so softly into her hair that Ernie has to strain to hear it. “Which means that we have to, the both of us, take better care to make sure we last that long.”

“I suppose I can prioritize further recruitment of people we trust. With more hands, things might not get quite as...shaky as they did last night.”

Ernie wouldn’t have pegged Miss Carter as a fan of puns, but Mr. Carter just laughs. “I think Jarvis especially would appreciate it. He’s probably going to name his ulcer after us if we keep on like this.”

“You underestimate him,” Miss Carter remarks. “And you underestimate me. I would say I’ve earned the ulcer all on my own. Perhaps I shall grant you the gray hairs, however.”

“Generous of you.”

They’re both laughing together now, turning to come back inside. Ernie hastily hefts the trash bag and steps noisily into the alley.

“Oh!” he says, projecting surprise as hard as he can when he spots them (though the springing eyebrows might be a bit much). “Good evening there.”

“Hullo, Ernie,” says Miss Carter, patting his shoulder as they sail by. “Careful on the stones. Some of them seem to have come a bit loose after last night.”

He watches the way their silhouettes stay framed in the doorway for just a second, little fingers twined together once again, before he shakes his head and turns toward the dumpster.

He’d learned a lot more than he’d expected to tonight: that the Carters weren’t entirely perfect, that Mr. Carter was apparently called Steve, and that Miss Carter, no matter what she said, pretty certainly didn’t just work for the phone company.

Mr. Carter comes in by himself one quiet spring Saturday. (Ernie might know his name now, but in a thousand years, he doesn’t think he could bring himself just to call him by it. The most he might stammer out one day is “Mr. Steve, sir.”) He sits at the counter and asks Ernie for a root beer float, swiveling on the stool a bit and just thinking or drifting as he drinks it down.

“Say, we’ve been asking around,” he says once he’s finished and turned over a full dollar (“Keep the change,” and floats are only sixty cents!). “Do you happen to have old boxes in the back? Maybe crates left over from deliveries that you’re not using anymore?”

Ernie thinks as he takes his four dimes from the register and puts them in his pocket. “Maybe one or two. Do they have to be big?”

“It might make it easier. We’re using them to pack up the apartment, and we have some more stuff than we bargained for,” Mr. Carter explains.

Ernie tips back his hat. “Oh. Did you two get a new place?”

“We did, but not here. We’re moving out of state - Peggy needs to, for her new job. She’s actually at the office now, taking care of some last minute paperwork so the transition goes smoothly.” He’s smiling as he says it, really proud of her, but Ernie’s too distracted to pay much attention.

“I wish I could get out of state,” he says, the words bitterly out before he can stop them. Mr. Carter raises an eyebrow and sits back down on his stool, leaning over the counter.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well.” Ernie shoves his hands into his apron pocket, then rips them out to gesture around. “Look at this place!”

Mr. Carter actually takes him literally, glancing around at the linoleum Ernie’s mama swears she’s going to have replaced soon, the two- and four-tops with the salt and pepper shakers that have been in the diner since the day Ernie’s grandparents opened, the wooden booths which Luella is supposed to polish every week.

(They’re looking a little worn, actually. Maybe Ernie will mention that to his pops, just if it comes up, or if Luella does something annoying.)

“Looks like a pretty nice place to me,” Mr. Carter says, swinging back around. “And I’ve got some good memories from here. So I guess the question is why you don’t.”

Ernie says indignantly, “I do!” before he’s even realized it. His voice pitches up embarrassingly; he brings it down a purposeful octave and says, “I have plenty of good memories, I just don’t know that I want to stay working here forever.” He rubs a hand over his forehead, then rests his elbows on the counter across from Mr. Carter. “And the worst part is, if I had something else I wanted to do instead, my parents would try real hard to help that happen, but I don’t know that I want to do anything else. I just know that I’m not sure I want to do this. And heck, maybe I really do! What if I give up on this place and it turns out that I don’t like whatever else I try?”

Mr. Carter passes a hand over his mouth, considering. “Huh. Well, do you think your parents would let you take a year for yourself? Would they be able to run things without you while you traveled a little, took some classes, worked a couple of jobs, just to see what’s out there?”

“Maybe?” They’ve never talked about anything like that. He’s never even asked, afraid that the answer would be that it’s impossible, the family can’t swing it, can’t make things work without him.

“That’s my advice for now,” Mr. Carter says. “Find out, and if it’s okay with your folks, take a year away, see how you feel. Sometimes you know how you want your life to turn out, and sometimes you need a little time to know, or to realize how much you want something.”

As if he hears something outside, he turns on his stool so he can see through the big front windows. Miss Carter is at the opposite corner walking toward them, glancing quickly back and forth before she crosses to enter the diner.

“The places that are home will still be that when you come back,” says Mr. Carter, turning to look meaningfully at Ernie one last time before he steps over to greet Miss Carter just as she opens the door.

A few years later, Ernie’s running a busy dinner shift. Half the staff is out with a cold, the remaining half can barely keep up with orders while also drying the floor so no one breaks their neck slipping in melting snow, and Ernie’s wondering how it always seems that Luella never has to work on these sorts of nights. It’s why he’d hesitated before agreeing to split managing with his sister when she finishes high school next year. That, and she’s been going on and on about “revolutionizing” the diner with what she’s planning on learning in the business classes she’s going to take at night school. Ernie doesn’t really need a revolution; there’s some charm in the idea that this place doesn’t change much.

The door opens with a gust and Ernie glances over the dining room to see if there’s even a free table. Then he looks back at who it is and decides that he’ll make one if he has to.

The Carters stand there, looking around with smiles on their faces. They’re each holding the hand of what must be a toddler, though it’s hard to tell considering how well-bundled that snowsuit keeps things.

“Welcome back,” Ernie says, trying to be careful not to slip himself as he hurries over to them. “It’s good to see you, Miss Carter, Mr. Carter.”

The words are out before he can stop them and he can feel his face flaming. “I’m sorry,” he manages. “Back then, we didn’t know—It’s just what we all—”

Mr. Carter just laughs. “That’s okay. It’s what I go by officially these days anyway,” and Ernie notices a wedding ring when Mr. Carter puts out his hand to shake.

“I’m glad to see you working tonight, but I’m still wondering: did you get a chance to figure out where home is?” Mr. Carter asks, and Ernie looks around at the linoleum they’ve finally gotten a chance to replace, at the salt and pepper shakers that he filled himself in the late quiet last night, at the booths which Luella keeps proprietarily shiny now that she’s “almost in charge.” He went to plenty of diners during his year away, and many even looked like this one, but none of the others felt like it, at least not to him.

“I did,” Ernie says. “Thank you.” He glances at the wedding ring on Mr. Carter’s hand, at Mrs. Carter, who’s leading the baby over to their old, surprisingly free booth. “I guess you found where home was too.”

Mr. Carter follows his gaze, taking in the scene. “I guess I did,” he says. His eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles. “I guess we all did.”

(And, Ernie decides, Jean can go suck an egg.)

#steggyweek20 #Steggy #Steggy fic #Steve Rogers #Peggy Carter #this is later than I'd have liked but it took waaaay longer to finish than I'd expected

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tw-anchor · 5 years ago

Text

28. Deucalion and the Darach

Anchor

Stiles Stilinski x Original Character

Episode: 3x04; Unleashed

Word Count: 8,853

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

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

Story Masterlist in Pinned Post!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You don't have to tell her."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Isaac, wait!"

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

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

Eventually, she started slowing down.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coach turned to him. "Yeah?"

"He was a senior."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I don't know yet."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ollie: How's Cora doing?

Derek: She's still healing

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

Ollie: She's actually staying still?

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

Derek: I didn't say that

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And it worked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Were you?" she asked sarcastically.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The one that can conjoin...?"

"Yep."

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

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

"Sorry—"

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

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

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

"Liv, are you okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, I deserved that, he thought to himself.

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

"No, he wasn't a virgin."

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

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

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

"Then what are you doing?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ouch.

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

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

"So, you two were friends, then?"

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

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

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

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

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

Sweetcheeks: Hey, where are you?

Sweetcheeks: Why are you ignoring my calls?

Sweetcheeks: Are you okay?

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

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

"Nope."

"And you didn't go after her?"

"Nope."

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

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

Stiles rolled his eyes and messaged Olivia again.

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

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

His phone dinged:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lydia shrugged lightly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You mean someone like my dad?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Olivia's eyes widened. We're screwed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Isaac."

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

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

Isaac, Allison, Isaac, Allison...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And psycho, Olivia added in her head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No."

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

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

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

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

"That's what I said!"

"Are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Deaton nodded. "Absolutely."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mr. Harris."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stiles grimaced; they were in deep trouble.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing?" he asked curiously.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"How is he?" she asked her.

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

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

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

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

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

Olivia was still confused. "Wait, what?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(Gif is not mine)

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

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polymathemawrites · 5 years ago

Text

Hungover in the City of Dust Part 2

CW: depictions of broken bones, drug use (via the HEV suit), mentions of former sexual partners, guns, consumption of alcohol

Flashback with us to the year 2000 where Gordon is a useless bisexual with a huge ass crush and hasn't yet been fucked around with by eldritch abominations with briefcases

also featured: a section that looks vaguely like a songfic, do you guys remember songfics? wow so old

part one is here read below for part two

He broke his arm, he thinks. Looking down at it does nothing to help him determine this because it's in the HEV suit, but it's also in the HEV suit at a very inhuman angle. He's not that kind of doctor, so he doesn't know, but again he's pretty sure. The refrain of 'morphine administered' hums through and he staggers a bit.

Dr. Cross' voice says something, and he is forced to loop his finger in the air to get her to repeat herself, her understanding of ASL isn't as strong as some of the other AnMat members but he can get his point across easy enough.

"I asked if you wished to stop the simulation, Dr. Freeman."

He shakes his head.

It takes a further half an hour of training and the chemicals that the suit chooses to pump him with cause him to vomit up his lunch but they clear it.

He is beaming with pride, his arm in a sling when he meets an off-duty Barney Calhoun at the bar in the town above ground and a bus-ride away. The one Barney loved most, with the fake UFO constructed on the roof and the bigfoot pictures on the walls.

"Hole-lee shit, what happened to you, doc?"

Gordon makes him order him a drink from the bar and return before he signs out a heavily edited version of events, the REDACTED blanks nearly hang in the air between them.

But I'll be fine in a few days, it's not as bad as it looks.

Barney takes a sip of his PBR and Gordon's eyes immediately track the way his throat works around it, the wide-breadth of his chest in the plain black t-shirt he's wearing. Due to experience with Barney's limited wardrobe he knows he's wearing the same worn Levis he always wears, and that his uniform boots are what those jeans are tucked into.

Gordon reaches out and drags the menu of bar appetizers over in front of him even though he has it memorized at this point. Something to do with his eyes that isn't stare at Barney Calhoun like an idiot.

He sips his hard apple cider and listens to Barney give him a less redacted version of his day's events - the usual, who locked themselves out of their office, who stole whose lunch, who broke the elevator. Gordon snorted and stopped him, holding his hand up.

The elevator just hangs so whoever hits the button is not who breaks it, Barn.

He could finger-spell Barney, he could, but using the English Sign for Barn/Shed the first time had caused Barney to laugh so hard he choked, so he's done it since.

"I don't know doc, I think it's a pretty good working hypothesis."

Gordon laughs again, the same huffy silent breath, the sound makes Barney's eyes light up, his frankly devastatingly attractive face break out in a sweet smile.

No more hypotheticals from you.

Gordon touches him, a lot maybe, the more drinks he gets in him the more tactile he gets, eventually he slides into the same booth as Barney when he comes back from the bathroom, makes an excuse about how it will be easier for him to see the book Barney has bought from the similarly themed book-store next door to the bar. He laughs at the bad science, points it out and corrects it, and makes Barney laugh or huff and try badly to defend whatever not-a-scientist researcher has to say. Barney holds his PBR, cheap-ass fake piss water for babies, far more than Gordon holds his alcoholic apple juice for toddlers, so that when they do hitch the bus back to the compound, Barney has Gordon's arm slung around his shoulders.

Barney doesn't live in the underground, but he follows Gordon all the way to his rooms - or rather he shepherds him all the way there, together they manage with the door lock mechanism and despite it being a massive breach of security, it's Barney who inputs the numerical code to open the door in the end when Gordon can't seem to manage.

Deposited on the cheap mass-produced couch, Gordon kicks off his shoes and pulls his khaki-clad legs underneath himself while Barney messes around in the tiny kitchenette. Gordon had worked himself up to having the seniority enough to get his own kitchenette, it was a crowning achievement here at Black Mesa. Even if you didn't cook for shit, having a kitchenette meant you were considered a vital enough investment to be allowed a heating element in your dorm that wasn't a coffee maker.

It was a bit like perpetually living in a motel, when one thought about it. Less the college life and more hundreds of identical suites.

Barney crashes down next to him and shoves a glass of water at Gordon's chest. It doesn't manage to slosh and Gordon notes that Barney has even politely put a neon-pink bendy straw in it just for him.

He sips the water obediently and Barney puts his feet up on the coffee table.

He wants very badly to turn Barney's face toward him, to see that soft please smile up close. He wants even more to press forward, chase the taste of blue ribbon from the edges of his lips, follow deeper. He wants to drag his hands - or hand as the case may be tonight - over Barney's broad chest, the softness of his stomach, the stretch of his shoulders. Maybe five years ago he would have. If he'd met Barney when he was in college, not that it was at all likely seeing as Barney went to school on the entire opposite side of the country but still. Definitely not now that Barney was, is, the best friend he's ever had.

They'd hit it off like wild-fire from day one, Barney getting his dry and dark humor and Gordon obliging his conspiracy theories and charming warmth. A few months in and Barney had invited him to sneak onto a roof in the middle of the night, Gordon had come, half expecting Barney to confront him on Gordon's feelings. Instead there had been a cooler of beer, a blanket stretched out on the ground, and Barney's grin. Gordon told him the names of constellations and Barney made some up. UFO watching, except it's mostly star-gazing, and Barney didn't confront him, hasn't yet, but he also hasn't closed the distance between them either.

Gordon isn't open about his sexuality, but he's had boyfriends and girlfriends both, and one memorable night in which he had been propositioned at a bar by a couple and had ended up the very intimate meat in a sandwich.

When he puts the water glass down and reaches out to rest his hand upon Barney's arm, the guard turns his gaze from the ceiling to Gordon's face - his smile still easy and open.

He's a coward, he doesn't move in, he doesn't press his lips to Barney's smile, doesn't trace the curve with his tongue.

Gonna head to bed, you can camp on the couch if you want.

"Thanks Gord, I think I will." Barney pats him on the leg, makes him take the water to the bedroom with him.

He finishes half of the water while he sways on his feet, undressing and leaving the clothes he strips to the floor. He puts the arm sling on the bedside table and studies the bruising on his mending arm. The bone had been a clean break and a cleaner thing to heal for the mess of chemicals and other things. He didn't pretend to think he understood what it was that Black Mesa was working with that could heal a broken bone. Or where they got the samples they worked with in AnMat. He wasn't paid to think about where anything came from, only to get excited over the prospect of working with it, and he was - is. His college thesis has already been expanded on here, exponentially. There is so much to observe, so much to theorize on and then potentially prove or disprove.

He loves his job, really he does, he knows he is honored to be working here.

But breaking a bone hurts like a bitch. He curls up on his side and clicks off the light, remembers to remove his glasses only after he's already smashed them into his face via the pillow. He thinks about Barney removing his boots and jeans in the other room, about the months they've spent going to that bar or sneaking places they probably shouldn't. Lauren Calhoun hugging him and thanking him for keeping her brother out of trouble. It was her birthday soon, Gordon knew because Barney was at a loss for what to get her. Gordon's suggestion of flowers had been taken well, he only hoped Barney knew what she was and wasn't allergic to.

Gordon is allergic to dandelions, not that they were a flower usually used in bouquets, they were a weed, but still. Not that anyone had ever even gotten him flowers? Not even Kyle, although it wasn't as if they were open about their relationship anyway. When Kyle told him he was getting married but that didn't mean they needed to stop fucking, Gordon had politely ended it with him. Gordon had really wanted to deck Kyle and call him a bastard but well, the ever-present anger simmering under the surface had never exploded yet and Gordon was a patient man, maybe he never would - fated instead to go on in life with a steady undercurrent of seething rage. Was that actually normal? He didn't know to be honest.

He's thinking of what flowers Barney would get him, when he falls asleep.

You look like, a perfect fit, for a girl in need of a tourniquet.

Gordon sways along to Aimee Mann in the shower, eyes shut and head tilted up to the shower's spray, washing his hair with one hand.

But can you save me, come on and save me.

Gordon prefers vinyl but the bathroom isn't the place for his record player, so he listens to the CD he mail-ordered. He hasn't actually seen Magnolia, but he's listened to the soundtrack on repeat more than once while working. It fits his hangover just fine today.

If you could save me, from the ranks of the freaks, who suspect they could never love anyone.

He hangs his head down for the rinse, mouths out the words as the hot-hot water slides soap over his shoulders. There is a bang on the door and Barney's informal, "I'm comin' in."

Over Aimee Mann's voice crooning out Gordon's emotional state of being a perpetual bachelor in need of affection and human connection is the sound of Barney getting ready for work, swishing Gordon's mouth-wash, cleaning his face, flushing the toilet. "If you stay in there much longer you're gonna be late again, Gord." Barney warns him.

Gordon flips him off by sticking his hand out of the curtain and Barney laughs before letting himself out.

Except the freaks who could never love anyone.

When Gordon goes to run out the door, shoving his arm back into the sling and gathering the read-outs he'd dropped off before heading out to the bar he notices the cup of coffee Barney had made for him, waiting right there next to the door.

It is painfully domestic and Gordon sips his coffee as the tram carries him toward AnMat, perfectly sweetened and mellowed out with a heavy scoop of non-dairy creamer. Creamer of which Barney liked to tell him could cause cancer, even while putting it in his coffee for him, but if Gordon is going to get cancer from anything it will likely be a computer monitor. Also, Barney drinks his coffee plain and black which clearly means he has no soul or taste buds.

The guard who lets him out at the tram is named Harold, which Gordon knows because he's beat him at beer pong in the Security dorms above ground an undetermined amount of times. "Did Barney hook up in town or was he slumming it down with you guys?"

Gordon grins at him which is answer enough, he raises his cup of coffee to the man when he keys in the code for him and does the retinal scan. Some days more of the security staff will talk to him than the science staff and he knows he owes that to Barney, who had somehow decided he belonged at their weekly gatherings. He wonders sometimes what they think of him, if he's the weird mute nerd, or if he's actually been accepted as it seems he has.

The guard on the front desk gives him his messages, Dr. Vance wants to check in with him on the training yesterday and his request to use the supercomputer to run computations has gone through. When he throws the empty paper cup over his shoulder and effortlessly lands it in the waste bin on his way out it is to a short shout of excitement from the guard and the combined looks of annoyance and confusion from the loitering scientists and techs. This is probably why he 1. wins at beer pong all the time and 2. has more contact with the security team than his own.

He scarfs down a cold poptart in the break room and buys a bottle of overpriced water from the machine because he's starting to actually consider Barney's theory about the onsite water treatment facility putting mind-altering drugs into the tap water. The aging microwave hasn't given up yet but whenever he microwaves his poptarts someone looks at him weird and points out the perfectly working toaster.

He's just setting up at his desk to bring up the schedule for the supercomputer when Dr. Vance enters and shuts the door behind him, not actually the usual protocol for a meeting, Gordon instantly worries he's messed something up and the older man is going to gently berate him outside of earshot of the rest of AnMat. He wasn't THAT late!

What did I do?

Dr. Vance's kind face immediately takes on a rather guilty appearance, "No, no Gor- Doctor Freeman, you're fine. I just heard what happened during your training simulation yesterday and wanted to check on you." Gordon is aware that Eli Vance is a father, he's never met his child but he has been the recipient of a few nearly fatherly interactions with the man. Relief pours over him as he realizes he is just being worried after and hasn't messed up an equation or something serious.

I'm fine.

"You know, if it gets too much, you can always pause your training." Dr. Vance says it gently like it's not the most terrifying thing Gordon has ever considered. Months, they'd lose months of time, would have to train someone else and no one is even near Gordon's placement. He has been training with the HEV suit and anomalous environments for months now, he's the youngest scientist in AnMat. He had literally been physically training for half a year already, numb with horror he shakes his head and something in his expression must be less blank than he'd like it to be, because Dr. Vance gives a soft sigh, "The tests will wait, Gordon, you have to think about yourself too."

I'm fine. He signs it harder this time.

"You don't have to burn yourself out, you're young yet."

Gordon wants to tell him he's not that much younger than him, that just because he's married and has a kid and has seniority in AnMat, just because Gordon is a shut in who wont kiss his best friend, doesn't mean Gordon needs someone to tell him he doesn't have to break his body to pieces to prove a point. Because he knows that's what this is, it's the time the professor he was TA to had to take him aside in his office, hand warm and comforting on Gordon's shoulder and told him he wasn't going to green-light Gordon's request to double up his classes. He could have graduated two years earlier, damn it!

Thank you Dr. Vance, your concern is very kind. But I really am fine.

Smile, smile through the rage boiling under the surface. Dr. Vance gives up with a kind smile and a shrug of the shoulders.

The rage stays, all through his early morning meetings, the equations he runs on the supercomputer, lunch taken in silence, and the remaining hours spent running computations on the newest materials borrowed from Lambda. The frustration mounts when Dr. Keller, who doesn't know ASL, comes to 'discuss' his work on the last batch of materials and 'really this one equation just seems off' and he has to use the white-board to argue with the man, not argue, discuss their disagreement passively and with an objective toward polite reconciliation and a working resolution. Dr. Keller cuts Gordon off a few times, hard to do when Gordon is mute, and yet.

He excuses himself when it proves that Dr. Keller is too fucking stupid to admit he's wrong, doing so with a polite smile and and an apologetic wave. Takes his lab results and himself and shuts everything out in his office.

Barney must have gone everywhere looking for him, when he finds Gordon in the security dorm's gym, running his rage out on the treadmill he looks a little out of breath.

"Want to hit the shooting range with me?" Barney asks, as if he knows, as if just by looking at Gordon's carefully passive face, tense shoulders, and discarded arm sling, what a shit awful day he's had.

He dumps the arm sling in the trash on the way out, his arm aches down to the very bone and they told him to rest it for a week but the break is mended and the bruises are hidden by the long sleeve of his sweater so whose to say he was even hurt at all? He catches Barney looking at his arm a few times but the guard, his friend, says nothing about it all through the shooting range.

It was a rarity, that they do this. Gordon had asked Barney to teach him when he'd followed him in a few too many times during a conversation and had to wait. Something more to do with his hands, and the familiar motions center him as he checks the chamber and loads the beretta m9. Barney leans carefully in the opening of the booth behind him as Gordon unloads five of the fifteen rounds perfectly into the center of the moving target. The security staff who had seen him shoot had told him his mantra of 'it's just physics' was bullshit but that's really all it was. Computational math of trajectory and environmental input. There wasn't anything like windspeed in the firing range, but the few times he'd gone with Barney to the open-air range in town had been similarly (un)spectacular for Gordon.

His body feels loose after the guns are checked back in and the sweat has dried on his skin. Barney trails alongside him through the quiet tunnels of Black Mesa, toward the Science housing. "I'm sure glad we're friends so when you inevitably go postal I might survive." Barney is grinning at him, and Gordon smirk softly back at him.

He doesn't have to ask Barney inside, the guard follows him in too, and before Gordon can offer him a drink, Barney shocks him.

Gordon is tactile, he touches people, mostly unconsciously. Grounds himself in physicality and has always been a kinetic learner, retaining information by doing. In contrast Barney largely keeps his hands to himself. Over the months he's opened up with Gordon, yeah, but when he gently takes Gordon's arm in his strong sure hands, it is completely unexpected. Barney pushed his sleeve up, all the way to his elbow and Gordon stares down in numb shock. The bruising is ugly and mottled on his pale freckled skin, contrasted with the tan of Barney's hands it looks even worse.

"Gord, you gotta take care of yourself." When Barney says this it does not cause the same stream of anger to flow down his throat. It is a thrill of cool ice-water down his spine, a tingle along his nerve endings, makes his stomach clench up and get all fluttery at once. "Lets get some ice on this for twenty minutes and then put a heating pack on it, this has to be hurting you."

It does hurt, but with Barney's gentle hands holding his arm, he can barely feel it. They should bottle this up, Barney's warm concern, because it does more for Gordon than 10 mgms of morphine does, fuck.

Barney sets him down on the couch and puts a bag of frozen green beans on his arm. They watch a bootleg tape of MST3K Gordon swapped on the underground tape-trading circuit while Barney carefully times out alternating heating pad and frozen vegetable usage. Eventually Gordon starts to fall asleep to the sound of Tom Servo crooning out 'Creepy Girl' only rousing when he feels Barney's hand gently brush his hair back.

It feels so good that he closes his eyes and leans into it, so Barney does it again, gently carding his fingers through Gordon's hair. If he wasn't so bone-deep exhausted he might even be freaking out about this right now, but Barney is touching him and doesn't seem like it's something weird.

He blinks over at his friend in the light provided by the tv screen and the kitchenette's overhead. Warm smile, soft eyes, dark hair and five-o-clock shadow. Barney ruffles up his hair and finally removes his hand, "You need to eat something."

Probably.

But all he wants to do is sleep. So he doses off while Barney does something in his kitchen. He listens to it, pots and knife to chopping board. He doesn't even remember what he has in the half-fridge but Barney must have found whatever something is. When he presents Gordon with a bowl of ramen that has been beefed up with a soft boiled egg and vegetables he isn't too surprised.

Thanks.

He laughs silently and Barney settles down to eat his own bowl, they watch the end of the tape and Gordon turns off the white-noise static of the TV.

"So, whatcha doin' this weekend?" Barney asks him.

Nothing yet, what do you have in mind?

Barney grins at him softly and Gordon turns his attention to the noodles floating in cheap broth, because if he keeps looking at Barney right now, he might do something really stupid. Might do something like close the distance and kiss him or ask Barney to please touch his hair again because he thinks he could get addicted to that feeling if he isn't already, he is though. Barney is terribly easy to get addicted to.

#freehoun #half life but it's gay now #barney/gordon

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broadwaytheanimatedseries · 5 years ago

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Once Upon A Time, In A Far Away Land... - AU:

The legend says that King Raymond, then still a Prince and an adventurer, went to find the terrible threat known as the dragon witch, that has been rumored to have hurt innocent people and was the cause of great distress for a long time. What he found was a lovely, beautiful woman with charm and wit and a heart of gold, who's reputation had been tainted by those who tried to steal from her and payed the price when she defended herself.

It was then and there that the king decided he would do anything to make her happy.

Many years later, and the two married and had a family together. Three beautiful boys. Two of them ordinary looking twins, and the younger one seemingly half dragon and half human.

Now of course not everyone in the kingdom was immediately on board with their new queen, not did they all approve of the princes, especially the young one. But eventually, most of them came around, or at the very least knew better than to voice their negative opinions.

The years pass and the children grow up. Roman and Remus learn magic and swordsmanship, both being more talented in the latter, and they go on lots of adventures, both together and separately.

while Drake learns all that and more, doing his best to perfect all his skills but being especially talented in magic. he wants to be able to always have the right answers, to never be caught unprepared.

Unfortunately, he is caught very unprepared.

One day, while adventuring in a part of the woods rumored to be overtaken by the misfits and rebels of the kingdom, Roman and Remus are caught in one of their traps.

"well well well, a couple of trespassers." A hooded figure teased, eyes lighting up in amusement.

"those are no ordinary trespassers! It seems we're in the company of royalty!" Replied a man with glasses who didn't seem that mean compared to the hooded figure.

"Vee did good job with those traps, I gotta hand it to him." Said the woman among them, sounding pleasantly surprised.

The twins were too weak from their previous fight to do much, and they could only stare angrily as they waited for one of the rebels to speak.

Finally, the woman gave an order.

"R, Em, escort our guests. I'll go tell boss the wonderful news."

Hours later, as Drake was pacing in his room and his parents were sitting in the throne room patiently waiting for news on the whereabouts of their sons, all knowing it isn't like them to disappear for this long without giving a proper warning.

Finally, a message came, from the leader of the forest dwellers.

"if you wish to see your sons, there are matters to discuss. I will come to the forest's entrance every night for the next three days. Send a representative, they must come alone. We shall see if we can come to an agreement that's favorable for both sides. Should you fail to accept this offer, we will have no choice but to keep the princes as our prisoners. Their transgressions can not go unpunished, but perhaps theit unfortunate mistake can bring about a new era, for all those who deserve a better life.

Sincerely, P. Sanders"

Drake couldn't sleep that night, knowing that his parents had no intention listening to the rebels' wishes. He couldn't help but worry what his life would be like without his brothers. He didn't like the idea of it, not one bit.

So that night, after tossing and turning in his bed for hours, he decided to do something he never thought he'd do in his life.

He snuck out of the castle to disobey his parents.

He went to the entrance of the forest to speak to the leader of the rebels. The man he saw before him, however, was not at all what he expected.

Patton Sanders has been fighting ever since he could remember himself. He was hardly the first rebel to find shelter in these woods, but with all the elders that had raised him having passed away, he became the new leader. It wasn't an easy job, but it was rewarding, and someone has to do it. He couldn't let all these poor people go without any help, not when he knew from personal experience how hard it was to survive in the kingdom for anyone who couldn't be born or marry into nobility, and who couldn't fit into whatever narrow path was set up for them.

So to see that the king and queen sent their youngest son to negotiate was... puzzling, to say the least. After all, you'd think at least one of them would want to show up to discuss a way to get their sons back.

But when he saw the prince's nervous body language, he suspected he knew what was really going on.

"greetings, Mr Sanders." the young prince gave a small bow.

~at least he cares enough to show up and be formal about it.~ Patton thinks and decides that he can allow himself to be a little nice.

"please, Mr Sanders was my father. You can just call me Patton, your highness."

"oh, alright. Well then I suppose you can address me as Drake, if you wish."

There was a moment of uneasy silence before Drake decided he'll cut to the point.

"so what is it that you want in exchange for my brothers' safe return?"

"simply put? Justice."

Drake raised an eyebrow, not in judgement or mockery but in confusion. "I'm afraid you're going to have to be a bit more specific."

"why is it, you think, that generations of outcasts and misfits have sought shelter in these woods? Have you considered why we'd need to seek shelter from our own kingdom?"

Drake had a few ideas, but by the look on his face they troubled him too much to express.

Patton sighed in sympathy and decided to say it himself, as he had many times before, to save the young prince (who actually was about Patton's age, although the leader looked older due to all that he's had to endure) the embarrassment.

"the kingdom is under attack from within itself. The rich and powerful are attacking the poor and helpless, by not extending to them the aid they need in order to just barely survive, let alone thrive as the nobles do. And your parents have been complacent, content to let the broken system that benefits them go on as it always had. All I want is equality. To be provided with what we need to survive and to be allowed to exist however we choose, be given the same freedom the nobles have that we had to escape from the kingdom into the forest to find. That is all the rebels have ever wanted, and it is all I ask."

Drake listens carefully, studying Patton's face for any deception or insincerity, and finds none. He sighs, tiredly, heavily.

"you know my parents didn't send me, don't you?"

"I figured as much, yes."

"so you understand this is gonna be hell on earth for me, trying to accomplish what you're asking of me, against their wishes, right?"

"indeed, but considering your choice of words, it sounds to me like you've already joined the cause."

"...unfortunately, yes." Drake couldn't help but agree. He knew it was dangerous, and would take expert planning, and would be downright impossible to achieve, but besides the fact that it was the only way to get his brothers back without starting an unnecessary war with the peaceful forest dwellers, it was also the right thing to do. And besides, Patton was very cute- convincing! Drake had meant convincing, he insisted to himself, unconvincingly. Yes the irony of that is not lost on him.

Meanwhile, At the rebels' campsite, the twin princes were surprised to find that aside from the occasional jab or tease, they were being treated rather respectfully. Sure their hands were tied to ensure they couldn't escape but they were treated more like guests rather than prisoners. In fact, they were treated like equals, which has never happened to them before. Their parents treated them like kids and, although they tried to be subtle about it, so did a lot of the older nobles, and everyone else treated them like royalty, which they were. But this was the first time they've ever had a normal conversation with people who saw them as equals.

Roman was a bit huffy at first, insisting he be treated with the respect worthy of a prince, only to be met with laughter and eye rolls. "there aren't any classes here, you're no better than anyone else. Better get used to it, Princey." said a figure standing completely in shadow, though his eyes almost glistened in the darkness, the fire reflecting off them. "let him whine, Vee. It's all he's got now." the woman he now knew as Valerie teased, and the only reason he let her get away with it is because she had bested him in combat earlier that day, when he made a daring escape attempt. Seeing as she proved herself a fierce warrior, she had his begrudging respect. But then he heard the shadowed figure chuckle in response, and the sound evoked many different emotions in him, so he decided to focus on annoyance and anger. "so, you're the Vee in charge of the cowardly contraption that ensnared my brother and I." Roman could see the eyes squint as they looked him up and down, and then a smug smirk spread across the shadow's face. "the very same. Pretty neat trick, isn't it?" "I don't know what you think is so impressive about a machine made by a man too weak and scared to best his enemies face to face." "it's efficient, and it takes a hell of a lot more wit and talent than waving a sword around like a reckless idiot." the shadow bit back, sounding very defensive. Roman would have been prouder to have gotten him riled up if it were for Valerie looking very mad at him for insulting who he now had to assume is a friend of hers. He really didn't wanna anger Valerie. "I wouldn't expect a ruffian like you to understand anything about the fine art of sword fighting." at that, the shadow growled. Well and fully growled, sending a shiver down Roman's spine, filling him with fear and... Well he was going to ignore that other feeling for now and hopefully it would go away. "okay, fuck this. Val, can you untie his hands?" Valerie's eyes went wide. "Vee, you don't have to-" "no, I want to. It's worth it to get this asshole to shut up and show some respect." Roman would have said something if he weren't intrigued by the conversation. "alright, but I don't like this." "no one's gonna get hurt. I promise." as Valerie untied his hands she glared at him. "what? How was I supposed to know he'd react this way? Also what the hell is going on?" "you'll see in a second, just don't see this as a chance to try escaping again or I'll personally knock you unconscious." "noted." as the bindings were fully removed from his hands and Valerie backed away, Vee stepped out of the shadows, allowing Roman to see him for the first time. This was already a very big problem for Roman, as he was not prepared for how hot the rebel was. To make matters worse, Roman wasn't done checking him out sizing him up, when Vee pulled a sword from where it was resting on his hip, and he held it directly at Roman's throat, just inches away from grazing his skin. And that really should not have made the blood rush to the direction it did for Roman, but his body just had the worst timing. Luckily, somehow, he still managed to focus on Vee's next words.

"you wanted to fight face to face? Fine. I, Virgil Fabre, challenge you to a duel."

And that is when Roman realized his big mistake. Well, too late to back out now.

"I accept your challenge."

Remus was ecstatic, though. He immediately started feeling more at ease and free to be himself. He didn't even mind being tied up all that much, and he made sure to get that point across with a bunch of inappropriate humor that made everyone uncomfortable. Well all except for the two men who brought them to the camp, and a third, much cuter nerd, resembling the rebel in glasses but seemingly more stoic, but even he was clearly smiling at one of Remus's crass jokes. Their eyes locked and the serious rebel blushed and turned back to resume his conversation with the men he now knew as Remy and Emile. Fuck. Finding a way to enjoy being kidnapped while waiting to be rescued or until he found a way to escape? That was one thing. But crushing on one of the rebels who was holding him prisoner? Remus would have to be a fool to act on these emotions. He glanced the other way to check on his brother and asked why he was sword fighting with one of the rebels. After being updated on what happened, he sighs heavily. Well you know what? If Roman was allowed to be stupid, and they were truly equals in this forest, then dang it Remus can do whatever Roman can do if he damn well pleases. With this new conviction, he boldly strutted over to the handsome nerd, only for Emile to give him a death glare that immediately makes him turn around.

But he's far from giving up. They all are.

Anyway thats it for this au, for now (;

Let me know what you think and as always -

Stay Tuned!

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btsiguess · 8 years ago

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This Is Just To Say (m) - 3

Summary: To say it’s unusual to have a soulmate is an understatement, and most people desperately wish to have an elegant name scrawled upon their wrist. In reality though, you’d have to say it causes much more issues than it solves.

Pairing: Yoongi/Reader (slight Namjoon/Reader; Jungkook/Reader)

Genre: Fluff, Smut, Angst

Word Count: 4806

Warnings: Smut!!!

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

You were sitting in Tae’s room -- as had become the habit for your group in the past two weeks -- and Jungkook was attempting to teach you to play video games.

It wasn’t going particularly well, and Taehyung and Namjoon were practically rolling around on the floor as you tried your best to move your character around the screen. Surprisingly, Jungkook was keeping relatively calm while you struggled, a small smile playing on his lips as he sat close to you on the couch.

“You’re doing well, really.” He said quietly, so only you could hear. “Don’t listen to Tae and Namjoon, I think you’re doing great for your first time!”

“Jungkook, I’ve died eleven times in the past twenty minutes.”

He cracks a smile and shakes his fringe into his eyes.

“It’s okay to say I’m bad, Jungkook.”

“You are.” He laughs, “but I still love watching you play. And I can’t help but feel honored that you’re letting me teach you.”

You hear Namjoon and Tae laugh.

“Bro, it’s Fallout not her virginity.” Namjoon snorts, and Jungkook’s smile falters just a bit. You doubt you’d have noticed if you hadn’t been sitting so close.

“You’re right,” you say, “this is way better than when I lost my virginity.”

The room fell into fits of giggles again, and Jungkook beamed at you. Soft motherfucker, you think, I used to be something. But really you felt pleased, sitting by Jungkook as you made another mistake in the game and died again. This was nice.

“I think I see what you’re doing wrong!” Jungkook said “You’re mixing up your health points and action points.”

He leans closer to you as he begins explaining… something. You can smell his cologne and feel the heat radiating off his skin and you know, you know, you should be paying attention to what he was saying. After all, you weren’t kidding when you said you liked the video game, and you wanted to be good at playing since all the boys played so often but… shit. You were only one person you know?

After a moment Jungkook looks directly into your eyes. His mouth moves and his head cocks slightly to the side, but still you don’t hear what he says. Your heart is pounding extra hard in your chest and finally Jungkook waves a hand in front of your face.

“Y/N? You good?”

“Uh. Y-yeah.” You stutter and you’re suddenly grateful for the distraction the door opening brings.

Jimin comes in, looking as handsome as ever, and hops onto his bed after greeting you all.

“Y/N!” He says, “I didn’t expect you to be playing video games!”

“Yes!” You reply, “Jungkook is teaching me.”

A knowing smile passes over Jimin’s lips before he asks if this was really your first time playing a video game.

“I play Animal Crossing?” You respond.

“That counts, definitely!” Jimin says, and the rest of the boys nod in agreement.

“But it’s on a different system,” Jungkook pipes in, “and she’s having a bit of trouble getting the hang of this controller.”

“Cute.” Jimin says and you scrunch your nose up, “So cute!” He repeats.

It continues much in the same way for a while. The introduction of Jimin to your group makes everyone work to help you a bit more sincerely, and you find that they’re suddenly giving you tips that are actually helpful. You can definitely feel yourself making progress, and each time you level up the whole room cheers in encouragement.

Eventually though, Jimin’s phone makes a little ping, and he asks excitedly if you’d all like to come with him to a bar with some of his friends.

Tae and Jungkook agree immediately, leaving you and Namjoon to stare nervously at one another.

“Come on!” Jungkook says to you, “It’ll be fun! We can celebrate you getting to level seven!”

“That’s ridiculous and you know it!” you retort.

“Y/N” Tae drawls from his perch on his bed, “you know you’re going to end up saying yes, so why fight it? It’s a Friday night! Don’t waste it.”

“Fine,” you sigh, “I’ll go, but only if Joonie comes too.”

The room turns to stare at him and he just shrugs his shoulders and mutters a “whatever, sure” before everyone stands to leave.

On the walk there, Jimin tells you about the friends you’ll be meeting but you’re much more focused on the way Jungkook’s hand brushes against yours every so often. You wonder if it would be too forward of you to reach out and grab his hand but just can’t work up the guts regardless.

When you arrive at the bar you follow Jimin to a table of his friends. There’s a lot of you now, eight altogether, and you’re squished together quite snugly; the round booth you’re occupying built for probably around six, leaving you pressed closely between Namjoon and Jungkook.

Jimin goes around the table and introduces everyone, and you learn that his three friends names are Hobi, Suga, and Jin and that their majors are dance, music composition, and theatre respectively.

Jimin begins to tell the story how they all met, through the university’s last end of the year arts recital, but suddenly you feel Jungkook start bouncing his leg slightly beneath the table. His thigh, which is pressed flush to yours, moving just enough to shake your leg a little too.

The touch is thrilling in a way that makes you uncomfortable, like you’re doing something wrong. The feeling of discomfort is unusually strong at the moment as well, for whatever reason. You’re in a public place, your brain supplies.

You unthinkingly place your hand beneath the table, on top of his thigh, to stop his movements.

You both stiffen and you move your hand off of his thigh abruptly, placing both your hands politely on the table. You lean forward as you try to become more engaged in the conversation going on.

You feel a little bit blessed as Jimin drags Jungkook to the bar to get you all drinks, the space between you and that boy was definitely needed.

One of Jimin’s friends, Hobi, asks you questions about yourself, as if he’s trying to include you in the conversation a bit more. You’re grateful to him as you answer and soon he’s asking the age old question, “What’s your major?”

“Literature!” You tell him, as Jungkook and Jimin come back with full hands, casually passing out drinks.

“Yeah but you should see her debate,” Namjoon adds, “she should join-”

“Don’t say it, you fuck.” You shoot, but he only smirks back.

“Philosophy!” He finishes.

“What’s wrong with philosophy?” another of Jimin’s friends add, Suga this time.

“Nothing” Namjoon says at the same time as you say “everything.” And again your group laughs a bit.

“Y/N has a bit of a vendetta against the philosophy majors here on campus,” Jimin says, “Seems like they don’t like the way she debates.”

“What do you throw punches instead of words?” Suga asks, “Why wouldn’t they like it?”

“Because I always win.” You state smugly, looking directly into his eyes.

“A bit cocky, no?” Suga shoots back.

This time Namjoon comes to your rescue, and you’re a bit relieved. Suga seems… challenging. Not necessarily in a bad way, but you feel… some sort of way when you look at him, and you chalk it up to him being just as ready to fight as you always were.

“No, she really does always win.” He says, “It’s like watching an actual tornado happen right in front of you. It’s destructive, awe-inspiring, and demands respect.”

Suga simply nods at that, as you take your hand and jokingly flip your hair over your shoulder in mock arrogance.

“Damn, Joonie, thanks. I know I’m fantastic but feel free to always remind me.”

“Don’t make me regret it,” he says.

“I always thought philosophy was really interesting!” Jin says, “I’m surprised you don’t like it.”

“I do like it.” You reply, “It’s just the philosophy majors that make it suck.”

“Seems to me,” Suga says, “that you’re letting them win by doing that. You’re letting them ruin something you like just by existing.”

You stare at the boy for a moment, trying to decide whether you’re offended or impressed. Both, you think. He holds your gaze, his dark eyes never wavering as he brings his drink up to his lips.

You find yourself at a loss for words, no witty comeback or scathing remark flying forward like it usually does. Suga seems pleased at your state, and you can see his lips quirk up just a bit over the rim of his glass.

“I bet you wouldn’t say that if you ever went to a philosophy club meeting.” Namjoon says, noticing your silence. Honestly, bless that boy. You should start keeping a tally of the amount of times Namjoon has saved your ass.

“Mmm, maybe.” Suga hums noncommittally. “When are they? Maybe I’ll go.”

“Thursday’s. They start at six, in the campus center.” Joonie replies and you’re floored. Suga definitely doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would willingly go to philosophy club. You briefly consider that maybe he’s just trying to rile you up. And it’s definitely working.

You lean back in your chair and try not to look as huffy as you feel. You’re not mad at this… Suga boy by any means. But you weren’t used to the way he challenged you. I mean, you and Joonie fought all the time but that was always about things that didn’t really matter. Suga had gone right for your stubbornness, and honestly most people didn’t call you out on it. Suga though? He had a point. Maybe you really were letting the philosophy majors win? No, you think, I’m not.

“Philosophy is fun, but it’s not my passion.” You say suddenly, interrupting whatever conversation had evolved since the last time you were paying attention.

Suga raised his eyebrows at you, and a small smirk spread across his lips.

“You’re still on that, huh?” He asked.

“Well, I just didn’t want you to think that I let people walk all over me like that. Philosophy is fun but I wouldn’t like to have to learn it. I just like doing it on my own.”

“Mmm, okay.” Suga says, shrugging.

At this point the whole table was watching the conversation play out, and you felt your face heat up under the weight of their gazes.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You sneer at the boy across from you.

“You say you don’t let people walk all over you but you got upset over what I said and you don’t even know me. Seems like you put a lot of weight into what other’s think about you.”

You feel your mouth open and close, and your blood starts to boil.

“Everyone cares about what other people think of them.” You finally sputter out, “It’s stupid to pretend you don’t. It doesn’t make you cool.”

For the first time since you’ve met Suga you feel like you’re in control of the situation again. His eyes narrow ever so slightly at your words and out of the corner of your eye you see Hobi stifle a giggle.

“I’m not trying to be cool.” He says simply.

“That sounds like something a person who was trying to be cool would say. It’s stupid to pretend things don’t matter. At least I can admit that the philosophy majors were bothering me, and then come up with a solution to fix it. Better than just making the people around me feel little.”

Namjoon put his hand on your arm, distracting you from Suga’s icy gaze.

“Y/N, I think you’re getting a little too into it.” Joonie tells you.

You wrench your arm from his grasp and nod.

“You’re right. I must be tired I’ll just go.” You say, gathering your things.

“Ah, babe, don’t go!” Jimin says, “Suga say you’re sorry.”

“No.” he says, and you find that even through your anger you are impressed with the way he operates.

“It’s really fine guys,” you say. “I’m just tired. It’s getting late anyway. Jungkook, scooch. Let me out.”

Jungkook stands and stutters out a quick “I’ll go with you. To make sure you get home safely.”

You nod, before saying your final goodbyes, flipping Suga off as you leave. Suga huffs out a laugh at that, but you try not to analyze the situation too much on your way out.

As you and Jungkook exit the bar and begin to walk in the direction of your dorm, he turns to you.

“I think the way you handled that was really cool. He was being sort of an ass hole.”

“Ah, Jungkook, you are my favorite. I love when you agree with me.”

You see a light blush color his cheeks and in a moment of sheer bravery and stupidity, you reach out and grab his hand in yours.

You hold your breath, waiting for Jungkook to laugh at you and let go, but he doesn’t and he stays quiet too.

“I, uh,” you start, “I really had a fun night playing video games with you today.”

Jungkook beams at you, “me too! You’re improving really quickly! I, uh, I have a playstation in my dorm too. Maybe you could stop by sometime and we’ll play some more!”

“Really? That sounds awesome! I’ll definitely take you up on that! Maybe we can do it tomorrow? If you’re free?”

“Yes. Definitely free. Yes.”

You giggle softly at how quickly he responds, and allow yourself to grip his hand tighter.

You walk the rest of the way to your dorm in comfortable silence, and when you get to the front steps of your residence hall, Jungkook turns once more to face you.

You’re briefly given an odd feeling of deja vu, remembering how Joonie did the exact same thing not too long ago. you can’t focus on that for long though because Jungkook is looking directly into your eyes, and boy if that doesn’t just halt your thoughts right in there tracks.

“So,” you say, “ I’ll, um, see you tomorrow I guess…”

Jungkook doesn’t respond and just leans forward to press his lips against yours. It’s a brief kiss, just a peck, and he’s pulling away before you have the chance to reciprocate.

“Sorry,” he says, “I’ve just wanted to do that all n--”

You don’t let him finish his thought before you’re pulling him back to your lips again, your heart pounding in your chest.

Jungkook seems momentarily shocked, but recovers quickly enough, his hands sliding down your sides and wrapping around your waist. He returns the kiss in earnest and you start to feel lightheaded as you feel his tongue come out to lightly trace along your lower lip, asking for entrance. A little whimper escapes your lips as you open your mouth to him, and the sound has Jungkook gripping you tighter.

Your hands come up to tangle in his hair and you can’t help but pull slightly as his tongue rubs along yours. The light tug you give pulls a low grunt from Jungkook’s lips and you suddenly feel heat begin to gather at your core.

“Jungkook,” you half say, half moan into his mouth, “Jungkook, come upstairs.”

“Fuck, yes.” He replies, still not moving his lips away from yours.

“Jungkook,” you say, trying to pull away, but his hands keep you pulled flush against him, one lacing through your hair to hold your mouth to his. You turn your head away from him slightly, trying again to stop his onslaught of kisses, but he just begins trailing his lips sinfully down the side of your throat, his hand gripping your hair tightly.

He’s being much more rough with you than you thought he would be, not that you’re complaining; and you briefly wonder just how much he holds back in his everyday life. You’re letting yourself get lost in Jungkook and you know you have to stop him soon before things get carried away on the front steps of your residence hall.

“Jungkook, you have to stop kiss--” your words get lost in a gasp as he sinks his teeth into the junction between your shoulder and your neck, and then begins soothing the spot with his tongue.

“What was that, babe?” He says with a low chuckle, and then immediately continues his ministrations. You try to reply, you really do. But your head is swimming and Jungkook’s mouth feels so perfect working on the skin of your neck and it’s all too much.

From across the street you hear a wolf whistle.

“Yeah!” The stranger shouts. “Get it in my man!”

Your cheeks flush a deep scarlet and Jungkook laughs, pulling away from you. He looks down at your dishevelled form, and smiles before quickly placing a chaste kiss to your lips.

“Am I still invited upstairs? I’d rather not have an audience” He asks, and you nod, not trusting your voice not to waver if you speak.

You take Jungkook’s hand and lead him into your dorm, trying not to look too eager as you rush up the stairs. When you get to your room, Jungkook stands close behind you, his arms wrapped around your waist and his lips playing softly on your neck as you fumble to get your keycard into the lock on your door.

After the third failed attempt, Jungkook laughs and takes pity on you. He takes your keycard from your shaking hands and easily inserts it into the door’s lock, opening it on the first try.

You grumble a bit, but Jungkook pushes you inside the room, closing the door behind him.

“Where’s your roommate?” He asks glancing at the two single beds in the room.

“She goes home for the weekend.” You reply and he smirks down at you, biting his lip.

“Then I guess,” he says, pausing to draw you in for a deep kiss, “I can take my time with you tonight.”

You’re pretty certain your knees are going to give out any second so you wrap your arms around Jungkook’s neck and pull him into another kiss.

Now that you’re both alone, Jungkook seems to be letting himself go even more. His mouth is rough on yours and his teeth bite and nip at your lips. His hands don’t stop moving, running through your hair, along the curve of your jaw, down your sides and back, over the curve of your ass.

Suddenly he picks you up, wrapping your legs around him, and he presses you up against the wall, his mouth never leaving yours. The new position allows you to feel Jungkook’s hardness through his pants, and you’re sure you’re positively drenched as well.

For the second time tonight, Jungkook’s mouth runs along your jaw and neck. This time though, he’s taking his time, sucking and biting so harshly you’re sure you’re going to have marks all over you tomorrow. You’re also sure that that’s Jungkook’s intention and you can’t help but gasp at the thought of everyone looking at you tomorrow, knowing…

Your hips buck into Jungkook’s of their own accord and he let’s out a low growl. Hands gliding back and forth on your hips, forcing you to roll on him again and again.

“Fuck.” He says, as your hips move together frantically, little breathless moans leaving your lips at the friction, “Fuck, you feel amazing.”

“Jung- kook” you gasp brokenly, and he slams his lips back on yours.

He pulls you away from the wall, never ending the searing kiss he’s giving you as he lays you both down on your bed, positioning himself between your legs. He parts the kiss, looking down at you, your hair fanned out on the pillow beneath you, your breathing ragged, and you lips swollen. He drops his head to your shoulder and breathes out another ‘fuck’ before his hands come down to the hem of your shirt, tugging for your permission.

You nod and he lifts your shirt over your head tossing it to the side before his mouth is on you again, trailing down the front of your chest; his hands reach beneath you and unclasp your bra and that too is discarded. You gasp and moan as his mouth latches onto one of your nipples, his fingers coming up to lightly toy with the other. He flicks his tongue back and forth, and your back arches off the bed, desperate for more contact. He smirks up at you before letting his mouth slide off you with a small, wet pop before he switches his attention to the other side of your chest.

You tug on his shirt and he pulls away, leaning back and pulling his shirt over his head. You greedily let your eyes rake over his chest your hands come up to rub along his abdomen of their own accord. He drops his head back at the feel of your hands, a shaky breath slipping from his lips.

He revels in the pleasure for a moment before focusing his attention back on you, his hand coming down to unbutton your jeans and pull them -- and your underwear -- down your legs and off you. You gasp as his hands gently force your thighs open, and he stares unabashedly at your wet center, catching his lip between his teeth. You blush at the intimacy of it all and try to close your legs. Jungkook just laughs slightly, trailing his fingers down the inside of your thigh, drawing slow circles into your skin.

“You look so fucking beautiful.” He say and he leans over you to kiss you again, his hand still teasing you, dipping low towards your core but never quite coming in contact.

You’re desperate for his touch, your body is hot all over, and his mouth over yours drives you wild.

“Please, Jungkook,” you gasp out, “please!”

“Please what, babe?” He whispers into your ear, a smile playing on his lips.

“Please touch me! Please!” You gasp out and he chuckles, before slipping his fingers gently over your folds, making a gasp spill from your lips and your back arch into him.

“Ah!” He says, clearly pleased, “you’re soaking! I’ve hardly even begun.”

His fingers dive into you again, this time swirling over the swell of your clit.

Your nails dig into the skin of his shoulders and as he continues, his fingers working you into a frenzy.

“Shit, you look so sexy like this,” Jungkook tells you, “lying beneath me, gasping for me, moaning for me, dripping down my fingers. God I want to taste you so bad.”

Your breath hitches in response and then Jungkook is sliding down your body, peppering kisses down your torso as he goes. He settles between your legs and glances up at you, waiting for your permission. You nod quickly, and he wastes no time, licking a stripe up your center.

You can’t hold back the moan that leaves your lips as he sets to work, his tongue alternating between circling your clit and diving straight into you. You try to cover your mouth with your hand, embarrassed at the noises you’re making but Jungkook grabs your wrist tightly. He’s gazing up at you through his eyelashes and you’ve never seen something more beautiful and obscene. There’s a challenge in his eyes and you’re briefly reminded of Suga.

Your head tips back and your eyes close at the thought of the other boy between your legs, eating you out with reckless abandon. You bet you’d be able to feel his smug smirk even as he--

You’re eyes shoot open again as Jungkook slips two of his fingers inside you. You don’t have time to feel guilty about your mind wandering because Jungkook is curling his fingers within you, rubbing on a place inside you that has you shuddering, and you feel a coil begin to start forming in the pit of your stomach. Your fingers thread into Jungkook’s hair, and you’re unable to stop yourself from pulling roughly, as you move closer and closer to the edge.

“Are you close, babe?” Jungkook asks, and the only reply you can give is a loud moan.

“C’mon then.” he says, “I want you to cum all over my fingers, cum for me.”

With that he lowers his mouth to your clit and sucks harshly. The coil within you snaps, and you’re sure you black out for a moment. Jungkook’s fingers continue to move inside of you, helping you ride out your orgasm and when you come back down from your high he smirks up at you.

“You’re taste so good.” He says, bringing his fingers to his lips and sucking them clean, all the while keeping eye contact with you.

“Jungkook,” you say, trying to catch your breath, “Jungkook, please.”

“Yeah?”

“Please fuck me.”

For the first time all night, Jungkook is struck silent. He stares at you with lust filled eyes, and you reach out to tug at the waistband of his jeans. That snaps him out of his reverie and he’s quickly shuffling to get his pants and boxers off and a condom out of his wallet.

You take in the sight of his hardened member, marveling at it’s length and thickness.

“You’re so big, Jungkook.” You say, before you can stop the words, and you quickly add “Sorry, that was lame.”

Jungkook leans over you again, shaking his head.

“That was the hottest thing I’ve ever heard.”

You take the condom from his hands and tear the package open, you give him a few slow strokes that leave him breathless, before rolling the condom on.

“Are you sure?” He asks, and you nod.

Jungkook places a sweet kiss on your lips before sliding inside of you, and you gasp at the stretch.

“G-god,” you mumble, “you really are big.”

Jungkook chokes out a strangled ‘sorry’ but you feel him twitch inside you at your words.

“No, it feels so good. Please, you can move.”

Jungkook shifts inside you and you both groan. You were still sensitive after your first orgasm and the feeling of Jungkook inside you was almost too good for you to stand.

Jungkook tries to go slow at first, to get you used to his size, but soon he’s losing control of himself, using his strong arms to push your legs back, to go deeper. You can’t hold back your moans as he fucks into you and the sound is like music to Jungkook’s ears.

“You’re so tight.” he says as he picks up the pace, shifting his hips and hitting a spot that has stars dancing across your vision.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you say. “Right there, please don’t stop! Please don’t ever stop!”

“God, you sound so sexy begging for my cock. Shit, say my name again babe.”

His filthy words in your ear has you complying with his request unintentionally. His name falling from you lips in a desperate gasp, and he thrusts harder. Already you’re barrelling towards your second orgasm and by the way Jungkook’s thrusts are coming more haphazardly, you’d say he’s close too.

“Again.” he growls out, “Say it again.”

A particularly hard thrust has you nearly shouting his name, and without any prompting from him, it begins to spill out of your mouth like a mantra.

You’re both panting, and the room smells of sweat and sex and all you can hear is the sound of skin slapping on skin, along with your desperate cries of his name.

“God, yes!” Jungkook gasps as you cum around him, your walls clenching around his dick and pulling his orgasm from him. He kisses you as he cums and your moans mingle together, before his arms momentarily lose the ability to hold his weight, his body coming down a bit roughly on yours, his dick still inside you,

“S-shit sorry,” he says, but you just wrap your arms and legs around him, hugging him to you. He chuckles slightly, and turns his face into yours, kissing you gently before removing himself from you and tossing the condom into the wastebasket beside your bed.

He then lets himself collapse beside you, and you roll to cuddle into his side.

“Jungkook, that was amazing.” You say, and he agrees.

“Will you stay here tonight?” You ask, and he looks at you surprised.

His face splits into a smile and he tentatively leans forward to kiss you again, almost as if he's afraid you'll push him away.

“I would really love that.” He says before pulling you closer and shuffling so you're both under the blankets.

It all feels perfect and warm, and it isn't long before your vision fades, sleep overtaking you.

A/N: Oh mannnnnnnn so THAT happened. But don’t worry, it’s still a Yoongi fic! Also, as usual I’d like to thank my babe (lol) @gimmesumsuga for editing and giving advice because she’s a smut Goddess ?????

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