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imnotwolverine · 4 years ago

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The Monster’s Lair - A Baptism of Fire

Vampire!Henry x Belle - multi-chapter

< Chap 11 | Chapter 12 - A Baptism of Fire

Disclaimer: Dark adult fairytale, manhunt, blood, gore, death, vampirism, witchcraft, evil fairies, angst

Author’s note: It’s always so bittersweet to finish a long fic. For weeks it has been embedded in my brain, bubbling up on the most impractical moments. Business meetings? Yes. 3AM whilst trying to sleep? Yep. And of course.. once I found a moment to write, the muse was gone and I’d just stare at a blank page for a good hour. Now..after all those struggles..it’s finished. My baby’s finished! *sigh* THE POST-FIC VOID IS CALLING. 😩

Anyways, I’d love to hear from you, dear readers. Give me all your feelings, ideas, tips (and of course fic prompt ideas).❤️I love you and I hope you enjoyed the read!

Word count: 7.801

Reading music: Sowulu - Wulfwiga

(Link to my Masterlist)

Something was there.

Like she owned a sixth sense, she knew when danger lurked. And lurking it did. But quietly. Far too quietly. Flicking her ears the deer listened in more closely, the cold forest sounds muted by the thick layer of snow that covered the earth and greens. Winter was at its deepest and coldest now, meaning hunger pushed the herd further to the borders of comfort.

Turning her ears again, her eyes unblinking, she watched with large doe eyes into the dawn. Another whisper sounded through the trees. Hard to discern. But there. Something was definitely there.

Her heart started to gallop, but her feet remained stationary. Nothing around her seemed to be out of the ordinary, the world as white and quiet as ever before. Perhaps it had been a bird or critter. And perhaps it was death.

Her ears pricked around her head, but neither eye nor ear could spot anything strange. All she could see were the slow sun rays that had started weaving their way through the pine trees, starting yet another day in winter wonderland.

Though it was no wonderland for her. More like a fuzzy white nightmare. As she stood there she felt a strange daze fall over her, her limbs no longer her own as her heart beat for two. Gnawing nervously on the patch of grass between her lips, she tried to figure out what was happening to her. Was it an evil spirit? An omen?

A twig snapped and fast as lightning her hooves spurred into full sprint, back to the safety of the herd that had also started to scatter, away from the invisible danger. With leaps and jumps she rushed over the icy planes and snow-heavy branches, hoping to outrun whatever was hunting her so silently.

Birds chirped and snow fell, the sudden rumour in the forest having caused a flock of birds to set off. Perfect for the deer, as their flight made a soft powdery curtain fall behind her tail, her trail temporarily hidden from her perpetrator. Her scent, however, was not hidden. Nor was her heartbeat; now loud as a war drum in her furry chest. With her small hooves she landed on yet another icy patch, its menacingly slippery mirror reflecting hell as it lapped at her ankles.

But, by a fickle sliver of luck, she got away again. Her perpetrator had also slipped and with the thunder in her heart she raced on, legs scrambling and eyes wild.

Move, move, move! Run, run, run!

Having now lost track of her herd, she felt that same strange buzz in her veins. Like she was possessed. And the spirit inside her whispered; “Go to the light!”

Full sprint she set off to where the trees cleared out, the hunt leaving no moment to ponder and hesitate. The fairy spirit inside her now took over, her long legs stretching in large leaps, near making her fly as a merry chuckle danced through her twitching ears. Here more sunshine managed to break through the canopy, its rays glowing warm and yellow over powdery snow.

When she reached the final trees, a beastly growl was heard behind her. Her perpetrator was obviously not happy with this new direction. Would he maybe shy away? Break off the chase? Had this fairy saved her?

She had no time to wait and see. And thus with restless hooves she jumped into the open field. A field which wasn’t a field at all. It was a garden. Large terraces were layered over a hill, with on the very top a castle that was long past its glory days. And despite that, it looked like heaven’s gates, the sun casting a warm hue over the mossy stonework, snow glittering on its window sills.

“Go, go, go!” The fairy ushered, spurring on the deer to run on. Higher and higher. Deeper and deeper into the garden. Until finally she reached the gates to this heavenly hell.

“Good!” The fairy cheered. “And now you die!”

‘Hahaha..oh like you would.’ Belle cooed, teasingly rubbing her foot up the Master’s leg, their chairs settled next to each other before the fire. In their laps lay books, but they had long been forgotten as the two bantered on.

‘Do not underestimate my..-’ The Master’s scoffing words halted as he flicked his head away from her, eyes looking up and over Belle’s shoulder.

‘Is the castle falling to ruin yet?’ Belle chuckled, unaware of what the Master had picked up on - it happened on occasion that his attention would fly off like that. His head tilted up to the ceiling as he kept scanning for the source, thereby presenting something Belle had not spotted yet. Beneath his carefully tucked cravatte two angry looking marks appeared. Bite marks. Purple and blue, little veins around them bruised and broken.

‘AI!’ Belle shot up from her chair, book left in the seat as she rushed to push the white cotton further down. ‘You are hurt!’ She exclaimed, the Master’s heaven blue gaze now turning back to her. With a hesitant swallow he nodded, arms reaching out to pull her into his lap, ears continuing to prick and look for more strange sounds.

Belle still didn’t notice much of any foreign presence, her fingers looping around the knot of the cravatte to untighten it. ‘You should have told me.’ She chided softly, fingertips grazing over the edges of the broken skin. ‘Tis nothing.’ The Master brushed off, but Belle’s expression made it clear that she did not believe a word of it.

‘If it were nothing it’d have healed by now.’ She retorted, referring to the Master’s ability to heal at a phenomenally fast rate. ‘Let me at least clean it for you!’ And with that she hopped off his lap, skirts flying out of the library in a flurry. Grumbling the Master followed, eyes taking one last look over his shoulder, finding the library’s contents still slumbering.

What was it he was hearing? Was it his staff pulling a prank? The icy wind outside? He thought he had lived here long enough to know every single one of the sounds in this castle.

Turning his attention back to the long hallway, he followed Belle, eyes not leaving her again as he admired her slender frame. It had taken weeks for her to finally accept and wear the great many gowns his wife had left behind. But here she was. Wearing a particularly enchanting, silverish white dress, her hair put up nicely and lips curled in a rosy smile. She looked like an angel, and he couldn’t help but think of what his wife had been like. But Belle was more. Not only was she here. She was livelier…. Happier.

Happiness. It was a strange emotion to feel again. Even now the crooked pull of his lips felt awkward, foreign. But the pretty maiden before him didn’t seem to mind, her large brown eyes looking back at him as he trailed a few steps behind her.

‘Are you gonna hunt me down?’ She teased, eyebrow quirking with a challenge before she upped her step, dainty feet speeding down the long hallway. The Master chuckled.

Happiness. It was strange indeed.

‘Oh, you look at that.’ Plumette sighed dreamily, watching as the Master caught the giggling maiden before capturing her in a sweet kiss. The grandmaster clock grumbled something indiscernible, receiving a little gasp from the feather duster as she gave him a scornful look. ‘Say that again.’ She demanded, glaring at the clock that was close to a slumber - least to her amusement.

‘Time..’ He mumbled, before his eyes fully closed.

‘Time.’ She repeated, huffing slightly. “Time this, time that! ‘Tis a tale as old as time’ he says.” Ladieladiela! PFFT!’ She swivelled off to follow the two lovebirds as they hooked their arms around one another.

‘Well. I say it IS time.’

‘Time for what?’ The little teacup joined her from the kitchens, his porcelain body cleaned off and ready for a new serving. The duster eyed him as he panted to keep up, his porcelain foot hopping with great effort to follow her fast feather feet. With a dramatic twirl she halted and turned.

‘Oh..just look at how pitifully you run, dear boy!’ Her long lashes looked down upon him as the poor teacup shyly looked away, embarrassed by his inability to do what any young boy should be able to do. ‘I say, dear boy, that it’s time we get rid of this darn curse, that’s what!’

‘But ..but how?’ He asked desperately. He had long accepted that he would be a failure when it comes to young boys. He couldn’t play, couldn’t run, couldn’t climb trees. All he could do was hop and talk, hop and talk.

‘Well boy! It’s a curse! Curses can be done..and undone!’ And with that she turned back to watch as the Master tenderly folded a rogue hair back behind Belle’s ear, the sight making a small smile tug at Plumette’s pretty duster lips.

Well. That’s how.

‘We are cursed!’ The butcher rose his fist in the air, making the crowd in the great hall of the Les Comtes roar in agreement. ‘First the drought. The hunger. Then the killing of Ismael’s men in the woods…’ He pointed at the seat where a dark haired lady sat, the Grandmaster’s chair next to her empty. ‘..and the sudden death of our Grandmaster!’ - ‘AYE’ - ‘Tis true.’ The gathered men wholeheartedly agreed. More fists rose in the air, before the room calmed again, the mysterious raven maiden standing up from her seat to walk into the middle of the hall, attracting the men’s attention.

With cool eyes she looked around her, the roars dying down until the hall was quiet as mice. She was a beauty to behold and it had been only weeks since they had taken her on as the grandmaster’s wife. With the sudden demise of their good grandmaster, they were left with this calm apparition of pure divinity, her looks closer to that of an angel than of a woman made of flesh and blood. Slowly her long sleeve rose, a pale hand appearing from the burgundy robe.

‘I grieve!’ She chanted, her chest rising deeply before she turned her eyes towards the butcher, his lips falling open ever so slightly - enchanted. ‘So now. What do you suggest we do, good sir? How shall we avenge my dear husband’s death?’ Her voice played her role of grieving wife perfectly, though her cool eyes sparkled with danger.

The butcher swallowed back a lump and stepped in, eyes searching his fellow men for agreement. ‘I’d say..fair lady..’ He bowed his head slightly. ‘..we must avenge him indeed. But first we must find our lord. Ismael! He shall lead us on, as ever he has done.’

The men didn’t chant quite the agreement he expected, his eyes nervously peering left and right as he heard timid whispers about. Finally one man stepped forward; ‘Say nay, is it not strange, that he is not here? Where is he?! Our Grandmaster?!’

The long sleeved arm rose up again, silencing the roaring whispers. ‘We know not.’ She raised her chin slightly, as if the next news was cause for more grief. ‘He is not in his rooms. His bed is unslept. I fear..’ She lowered her gaze to the floor. ‘..he was taken as well.’

‘Tis like the fires!’ A scrawny man with wild eyes stepped forward. ‘The beast is coming into our homes, stealing our wives..children..and now also our new grandmaster!’ The crowd roared in agreement, but then a woman appeared from behind broad backs, her face scowling and voice straining to silence the crowd. ‘NO! SAY NO LIES!’ The rowdy men halted their loud chants. ‘Me and my children were SAVED, not stolen!’

And with that she gave a menacing look at the scrawny man who huffed in annoyance. Another few voices mingled in and before long the whole hall had erupted in another loud quarrel. Nobody was quite sure who was right, and what had been the Beast’s doing. But they sure were ready to avenge themselves, one way, or the other.

Halting his step for a moment the Master looked back over Belle’s shoulder, the long hallway before them soon to reach the entree hall. With a mindless lick of his bottom lip he pricked his ears, still not quite sure of what he had heard just now. It had most definitely not been his staff. An..animal perhaps?

Belle’s curious eyes looked up at the Master, her lips still curled in a soft, relaxed smile. ‘What is it?’ She asked gently.

‘A..deer..’ The Master frowned. ‘..or something like it.’

It was unusual for deer to get this close to the castle. They knew well that a predator lived here. And one would only go to a predator’s lair if they were young and naive or..hmmm…Or..Or chased..

Fuck.

Like the devil heard the Master’s inward grunt, the front door was barged open, icy winds spewing a whirl of snow into the entry hall.

FUCK!

Without thinking twice the Master lifted Belle in his arms, his long legs making a sprint for the first room to his right, his brain not even thinking of blocking the doorway; they needed to get out of here. Now.

Was it back? Was it back?!

With all the speed he could muster in his legs he ran into one of the windows - which thankfully were on ground floor level, his shoulder turning forward to brace for impact as they ran straight through the thin glossy pane. Belle yelped in terror, her ever-present smile having melted like snow before the sun as a thousand small shards of glistening daggers now brushed past them, licking their skin. It was a near miracle that the cuts left them unharmed, before the Master landed onto the soft snow outside.

With bewildered eyes he started running, away from the castle, his gaze noting that he hadn’t been wrong. There was indeed a deer before him, her swishing tail pointed up as she too ran for her life, long legs bouncing through the powdery white.

A terror clenched in his heart as he made his way down the many garden terraces, his feet knowing blindly where all roots and bushes were hidden in this fine maze of natural traps.

Behind them the loud growls of a beast were heard, also just as he expected. A deer and a beast, right here in his lair. What was going on? Was he about to lose his domain? Right now, in the broad daylight? FUCK.

He wasn’t the only one whose curiosity peaked. Sweet Belle had finally overcome the initial shock of the sudden chase, her large brown eyes daring to look around as the cold wind cut into her expressive eyes. Tears started to well - be it of shock or the icy air - and as she looked over the Master’s shoulder, all she could see were blurs. It was as if death itself was chasing them, a dark menacing cloud jumping out of the busted window, the cold wind licking at its feet.

‘Sshh.’ The Master hushed, twisting his tiring arms so she could no longer see. He wasn’t entirely sure why he was feeling so sluggish, but with Belle twisting like this in his arms, her weight seemed even greater. Just his luck. On the very moment of a great chase his veins pumped lead and his feet weighed like marble. And no matter how hard he tried to speed up, his pace just wouldn’t quicken.

With a light pant escaping his lips he looked at the deer, the animal now slowly losing ground on him as her legs were far less familiar with this terrain. Her glassy eyes stared back at him with a strange gloss. Almost blue in hue. As if possessed. Strange.

What was going on?

Growling deep in his chest the Master hoisted Belle a little bit higher in his heavy arms, teeth gritting as the deer now finally lost on him, his long legs managing to surpass her before they reached the treeline. Everything in his body seemed to object. Where usually a sprint like this costed him a little effort by daytime, right now it felt like he was running in a fever dream. Pushing hard, but barely moving. Perhaps the sun was particularly strong today - their rays hidden by a thick white nothingness. And perhaps it was the deep snow he was plowing through. Or the cold. Or ..Belle.

He had to admit he had started feeling strange these past couple of days. Especially when near her.

Looking down at the fair maiden, shivering and shaking in his arms, he couldn’t even think of asking her to run for herself. No. If really he wouldn’t make it, he’d stop and defend them as best he could. Even if he felt like a bag of bones. Weak and shaking from running just a half a mile.

After what seemed like the longest few minutes in their life, the Master and Belle managed to escape. At least, for now. The Master’s pace immediately dropped to a slow jog, his complexion no longer its usual smooth marble. With a delicate finger Belle traced the heated blush that had crept up his skin, the sensation so foreign as his lips parted in deep exhausted pants. Her cold monster was running hot.

That never happened before, did it now?

Looking back ahead she noticed where they were heading; the Le Comte estate. Which confused her. Why would the Master seek out human interaction, especially now as they were being hunted? Why was he leading them here? Quietly she wrapped her hands more tightly around his vest, the cold biting harshly into their clothes. Perhaps he just wanted to hide out here. Use the presence of humans as a distraction.

But it wasn’t that.

The Master leaped over the small straightshorn bushes and hedges, the garden a pretty geometric pattern of white, before he slowed his pace even more. His long legs stepped onto the main path that led up to the..front door. The front door. He was moving to the front door.

Staring in bewilderment at the Master she wondered if he was as possessed as that weird deer they had seen moments earlier.

‘Master..’ She squeaked, pulling on his vest as he kept heading straight for the door. ‘Master what are you..’

A lacky appeared, opening the door for them, eyes looking down on their slightly disheveled attire and blushing cheeks. He raised his eyebrows, but the Master was quick to respond, lips curling in an apologetic smile. ‘Apologies for being late.’ The Master slowly settled Belle down, her eyes immediately flitting back to the forest - but no movement was seen. ‘I’m afraid the poor lady sprained her ankle and..’ He babbled on, but Belle didn’t listen, her eyes keeping a razor sharp focus on the treeline.

Why had he taken them here? And why were they .. “late”? What did he know, that she didn’t?

‘But of course.’ The lackey smiled, feet stepping back to make way for them to enter, his arm gesturing into the left direction, where the grand hall was situated. ‘They just got started.’ And with that Belle and the Master let out a soft sigh, the heavy front door being closed behind them with a firm shudder.

“O, my offense is rank, it smells to heaven;

It hath the primal eldest curse upon ’t,

A brother’s murder. Pray can I not,

Though inclination be as sharp as will.

My stronger guilt defeats my strong intent,

And, like a man to double business bound,

I stand in pause where I shall first begin

And both neglect.

What if this cursèd hand

Were thicker than itself with brother’s blood?”

The new king spoke after his counselor wished to discuss the matter of his late brother’s sudden demise.

Belle turned in her seat as the Master let out a small cough, eyes wishing to look away from the mouse trap and broom stick, who played rather convincing roles as King Claudius and Polonius. After years of begging, his staff had finally managed to get the Master to sit down and watch, the Hamlet play now being performed in full for the both of them.

With tender fingers Belle brushed over his hand, but his eyes once again evaded hers, his gaze instead turned to their entwined hands.

‘What is it?’ She asked softly, the scene now changing as more characters entered the stage.

‘A good play’s all.’ He curled his lips, but the smile didn’t shine in his eyes.

‘Can we continue m’lady?’ Hamlet asked.

Belle raised her finger, requesting a moment, eyes searching the Master’s frowning appearance.

‘Tis fine.’ He shook his head, eyes finally looking back at Belle. ‘Truly. Do continue.’

A brother’s blood. Only as they now walked through the hallways of the Le Comte estate, did the similarities click in Belle’s brain. She knew he was a Le Comte. But as they passed by a few stately portraits, the features were uncanningly close to his. It was near frightening.

Their arms entangled as they made way to the grand hall, where loud roars and cheers erupted from what appeared to be a large crowd. It made for a perfect, quiet entrance, as all attention was aimed at a pale skinned lady that stood in the middle of the hall, arms raised high in the air. ‘...His bed is unslept. I fear..he was taken as well.’

The crowd started shouting again, before another woman stepped in, her appearance easily recognised by the Master, whose breath choked. The woman he saved from the fire.

‘NO! SAY NO LIES!’ She spoke, breaking through the loud ruckus. ‘Me and my children were SAVED, not stolen!’ She roared, her eyes shooting bloody murder at the man who had stoked the disquiet with such disdain. He huffed as two more men stepped in to pull him back into the crowd.

‘YOU!!!’ A new voice boomed through the air as people were roughly shoved aside, their loud yips and groans following the path that was cleared through the crowd. An enraged man had worked his way to the centre of the mass of people, dark hair hanging before his face. With a loud groan he straightened his back, broad shoulders squaring as a hand rearranged his hair. It took everyone by surprise to see who this wild man was.

Ismael.

‘Do you not see?!’ Ismael snarled angrily, the whole room gasping as they slowly took note of the terribly disheveled state of their Grandmaster. His eyes were bloodshot and veins were drawn blue on his pale skin. ‘HE’S HERE!’ And with that he pointed at the back of the crowd, straight at Belle and the Master.

Instinctively the Master grasped for Belle’s arm to pull her back, but she was ahead of him, feet stepping forward as she spread her arms wide, shielding him instead.

In seconds the whole room was staring at her..and the unfamiliar man behind her.

‘Leave him be, Ismael.’ She bit, her lower lip trembling as the whispers started again.

‘Is that Belle?’ - ‘Wasn’t she dead?’ - ‘Who’s that?’ - ‘Where’s the monster?’

Belle swallowed harshly as a new, wide path was created by the people, a lane of emptiness stretching out between her and Ismael’s feet.

‘Or what..pretty Belle?’ Ismael tilted his head, hands folding behind his back as he straightened his shoulders, returning to his usual haughty upright. ‘Are you going to run again?’ He taunted.

The Master snapped his eyes at the taunting smile of Ismael, lips wishing to curl up in a snarl, tongue already flaking out to ...to..He licked his lips again, then more specifically his teeth. Tooth after smooth tooth, they were all there. But different. Furrowing his brow he now realised why he had felt so out of breath in the forest. He was..he was..

With slow, measured steps the young Grandmaster started his way to Belle and the Master, chin tilted upwards and red burning eyes telling of the hellfire he had come walking from. He looked like a dead man walking, jaw tight and eyes deep in their sockets. Positively sickly.

As he slowly narrowed the space until there was just a few feet between them, he quirked his head again. The movement felt so unnatural. Almost as if he was possessed. The Master felt a shiver run down his spine, the worst of his nightmares coming true.

History repeats. History repeats. History repeats.

Belle didn’t notice him. Her eyes were instead transfixed on the strange being that Ismael had become. His nose inhaled, as if he had just stepped outside and the flowers were abloom, his lips curling in an empty smile.

Click.

It clicked in her head. This was exactly like the Master had been when she had just met him. Strange. Inhuman. Obsessed with smell. He was one too. Ismael was one too. And from the looks of it he had some trouble hunting, his skin as deadly pale as the Master’s had been after the long week without feeding. She had to run. To get away. To…looking around she saw all the people. Gruff bakers, butchers and clergymen, all staring at her with bafflement. They probably still thought she had something to do with the curse. No. She shouldn’t run. Not this time.

‘Looks like I’m not running.’ Belle finally spoke, the words escaping with a pent up little sigh from her chest. The crowds had gone quiet, whispers finally silenced, as none wanted to miss a single word.

‘We should go.’ The Master’s fingers melted around her waist, begging for her attention. But from the way she swatted away his hand, he knew that she was a lost cause. And he understood. Ismael had taken everything from her. From the night at the feast, where he chased her until bloody and broken. To the condemnation of her father, who now lay cold in the ground. And then there was the here and now. He was chasing her again. Wishing to take away what little she possessed.

Her sweet rose.

There was little the Master could do, his limbs heavy and feet nailed to the ground. The whole world seemed slow. Dull. Strange. He had lost it. He must have lost it. And now all he could do was hope that Ismael would make a mistake. Make the people turn against him. He did look sickly after all.

‘Did you take something that was not yours, milord?’ Belle cocked her eyebrow at Ismael, her pretty face a mask of calmth.

For a moment the Grandmaster didn’t seem to respond, death staring in his empty eyes. Or perhaps it was hunger. The Master knew that sensation all too well. He had been there. He had smelled the rich delight of fresh blood, he had heard the loud beating of a hundred hearts around him. To remain calm and composed in such a moment, was near impossible.

And so it was.

The young Grandmaster awoke from his contemplation, lips pulling back in a slip as long fangs were revealed. In a whirl of seconds the whole atmosphere changed and Ismael had chosen his fate. People gasped in shock and feet started to flee in all directions, wishing to get away, whilst others tried to find weapons.

The Master also chose his fate - hoping this would not be the day he’d regain life, only to lose it again so soon. Again he tried to pull Belle away, but she stood her ground, head shaking one solid “no”.

FUCK. Fucking stupid stubborn..stubborn...ARGH! His mind reeled at the sight of his Belle, her eyes feraly staring back in Ismael’s vampiric gaze. It both alarmed and aroused him.

Oh..Why after a long life of unmeasured strength, did the Gods choose for him to be weak as of right now?!

With widened eyes he sprinted off to a fireplace close-by, hands grabbing for a hot poker that lay abandoned in the roaring fire, feet evading the many people who ran to and fro in a messy hurry.

In the meantime Ismael had lunged forward, closing the distance between him and Belle, evil hands grasping at her face and hair, wishing to pull her jaw aside so he could go in for a taste. But Belle was fierce and headstrong. And definitely not afraid. With stomping feet and gritting teeth she fought back, nails digging into whatever facial feature she could reach - hopefully Ismael’s eyes.

And it wasn’t just the people that had started to become restless. Also the room itself seemed to fill with a certain disquiet. Windows trembled, before finally they swung open, long curtains drifting high in the wind. It was something out of a beautiful horror story, the vampire trying to sink his fangs in buttery skin, as long streams of heavy red velvet danced on the icy winds. Like blood. Flowing. Dancing. Licking.

Too busy with the struggle with Belle - and her smell - Ismael had lost sight of the Master as he hurled himself at his fellow vampire. Near ready to strike his fangs into her porcelain skin, a loud cry erupted from his lips instead.

The Master appeared from behind Ismael, the hot poker shoved mercilessly between cold ribs, aiming true. A vampire may be strong. But not invincible. And so as daylight lay dust to Ismael’s skin and blood bubbled on his screaming lips, Ismael let go off his tasty snack, poor Belle dropping in surprise from the dying vampire’s grasp. Anguish shrilled through the air as the monster yelped in pain, the hot iron firing straight through his icy heart. Ending his reign of terror. Ending his attempts at pouring poison on the lives around him.

For a long moment the world seemed to have gone mute. The people gawked at the heap of limbs and bubbling, foaming blood that dripped onto the stone, their young Grandmaster no more. And the wind continued to blow, though now far less menacingly, the heavy velvets drifting aimlessly through the curious crowd.

In a mere few weeks the people had lost not one, but two Grandmasters. And how! The first one drowned in his own bile. And the other? The other was a monster...a monster! And a dead one at that, his crimson lifeblood now seeping slowly onto the floor as slow whispers started to travel through the crowd.

Things started to click for the people as well. Gaps were being filled and questions answered.

Ismael had been the beast! It made sense! As of late he had been acting strange. In fact..vile! He had spoken in strange tongues, spat his wine at guests, gnarled like a wolf and roared like a storm. And before that he had lead his people in the wrong way on multiple occasions, the most vivid memory being that of the night of the fires.

And as the whispers circulated, the saved woman from the fires stepped forward again, hands pushing aside the crowds to get to Belle and the Master.

‘TIS YOU!’ The woman cried, her arms instinctively wrapping around his shocked frame. ‘Tis you. OH may God be with ye good lord.’ She looked up from her tight embrace, eyes watering. ‘You saved us.’ The Master swallowed awkwardly, not sure how to respond. He hadn’t been hugged by a stranger in..well..literally centuries.

‘Twas you who grabbed us from the fire, no?’ The woman then asked, realising she might be mistaken. Slowly the Master nodded, blue eyes looking down at her blushing face. ‘It was..I. Yes.’

‘OH blessed be!’ She exclaimed, her next attempt at hugging failing as a new person entered the little get together.

The fayen woman with the raven hair.

Her piercing blue eyes studied the Master as she pushed aside the last of the men who were standing in her way, her lips falling apart in a gasp of exaggerated surprise.

‘MY SON!’ She exclaimed, confusing the Master even more as he immediately recognised her as Morgana.

She was no woman! She was a witch!

Searching for Belle, he quickly pulled her into his side, her large brown eyes looking between him and Morgana to realise that he knew this strange vixenous woman. Fighting away from his grip yet again she stepped forward, brows furrowing as her finger pointed out at the Master’s “mother”.

‘You are his mother? You?!’ Her eyes lit with fire, and Morgana looked in amazement at the fierce little thing.

‘And who might you be?’ Morgana asked, her head quirking in bemusement.

Belle lowered her finger and balled both hands into fists, tongue flaking over her bottom lip. She had to try her best not to fly into the woman’s hair at once.

‘The one who didn’t abandon him.’ She growled.

Morgana smiled, then looked back at the Master. ‘Tis true then. You have returned from the dead and I embrace you warmly.’ She swiped past belle and hugged the Master, long neck stretching as she reached her lips out to whisper in the shell of his ear. ‘What sweet rose you bring.’

Belle watched in bafflement as the devious devil woman let out a theatrical shrill of joy, fingers tracing over her “son’s” cheek. ‘I lose one son, but welcome back another. What cruel faith this day brings. But oh, how joyous am I to embrace you again. You see..Such tragedies have befallen us…’ Slowly she disentangled her branchlike fingers from the Master’s mane, her attention now aimed back at the crowd.

‘..but no more!’ Her eyes trailed to the heap of limbs that had been Ismael - his mouth foaming with blood. ‘Today the tragedies end. And I say we celebrate!’

It was like time hadn’t passed. Like Belle was again at that party a few months prior, the whole village cheering and dancing because the beast was gone. And yet, everything was different now. Looking to her left it was not her father she saw. It was the Master, his eyes giving her a sympathetic smile as he listened to an endless stream of words that erupted from the woman he had saved from that fire.

And looking to her right, to the hallway where she had ran off the last time, there was again a light trail of blood - though this time it was Ismael’s blood, not hers.

She hadn’t felt like dancing then. And she most definitely didn’t feel like dancing now.

Even as the villagers deemed her and her handsome saviour as trustworthy, welcoming them with pats on the shoulder and small smiles, the atmosphere felt off. Like..something lingered here still. But maybe that was also just her projection. Her not daring to believe that it was over. Done. The happy end. Book closed.

Finally, the woman from the fires was pulled away for a dance, leaving the Master’s arms open for Belle to slide into, their feet not opting to dance, but to stay, her head leaning into his warm chest.

Warm..chest. Wait…

Settling back a little, Belle looked back up at the Master. In all the fuss and stress, she hadn’t noticed what he had noticed. Hesitantly brushing her finger over his cheek she could feel the gentle warmth that spread there. She could smell him. He had a smell about him. Which was both new, and refreshingly nice. The Master’s lips curled in a careful smile, allowing her to study his changed appearance, fingers touching and eyes studying.

And then, finally, her finger moved to the corner of his lip, her eyes searching his for confirmation before she carefully pulled it up. A gasp escaped her rosy lips.

‘It’s done.’ The Master nodded, his smile growing.

‘But..how?’ Belle frowned, the question remaining unanswered as the raven haired lady returned. Her sly act of motherly warmth not yet dropped as she procured a scarlet rose from her long sleeve, the crowd around them now starting a dance circle. People smiled, feet jumped, patterns whirled and the music whipped. But Belle, the Master and Morgana had little eye for them, as the three of them shared looks.

‘I beg you forgive me for our logy meeting, earlier.’ Morgana curtsied. ‘I do speak in honesty when I say you must be the most beautiful of the land. And, I understand wholeheartedly why my son has taken a liking to you.’ Her lips curled in a smile, but jealousy laced her words. Then, with a controlled force, she offered the rose to Belle, the poor girl yelping in surprise and pain. Its jaggedy thorns ripped through her palm, hot blood oozing from the wound.

‘Ai!’ Morgana expressed, not half as surprised as it was probably foul play from the start. With fascinated blues she watched as the Master grasped for Belle’s hand, soft lips kissing and soothing where it ached, the rose falling discarded on the ground.

So it was true. The curse was lifted.

With a wry smile she looked at the rose as it fell to the ground, blood glistening on its petals.

Too bad that..

‘What is this sorcery?’ The Master whispered through gritted teeth, his dark gaze aimed at her, disturbing her thoughts. Morgana chuckled, then shrugged her shoulders. Sorcery? Did he mean the curse she had lain on him? The deer she had sent his way? Or the ..rose?

Just as the thought whirled through the branches of her wicked brain, she watched as Belle started to wobble, her hands grasping for the Master’s chest as dainty legs gave way. Such a loss. Such a pretty girl.

Too pretty.

With a theatrical gasp Morgana watched as the Master caught Belle in his arms, her body hanging limp like a sleeping corpse.

Much better.

With Belle held in a tight embrace and tears brimming in the corners of his eyes, the Master looked back up at Morgana. The question he posed earlier couldn’t have had a better timing, Morgana mused.

‘Tis love.’ Morgana sighed, making the Master cry out in anguish.

Nothing could ever end well, could it? One moment he regained life. Only to lose it again a moment later. Feeling up Belle’s throat her heartbeat was but a whisper, face calm and restful like she was in a deadly sleep.

‘Hahahahaha.’ A sudden burst of laughter erupted from Morgana’s cherry lips, making the Master’s anguish greater. ‘Oh hush..my son.’ She taunted, then sighed. ‘I just required proof, ‘s all.’

The Master blinked in horror at the wicked witch. The whole world seemed to be unwilling to see what a grievous bitch she was. SHE was the monster. And she made her lair wherever and whenever it suited her. With a snap of her claw-like fingers she could enchant any and every man and woman. She did as she pleased. But he wasn’t sure why. Was she truly vile? Or had she good reason?

‘Proof of what?’ He bit through his tears.

‘Hmm..you know..what.’ Morgana gave him a cold stare, the laughter of seconds earlier melted away, making place for her true nature. With a click of her tongue she eyed Belle. So pale. So frail. So cold. ‘So..very pretty.’ She tutted.

It was then he had enough. With a careful bow he laid Belle to the ground, eyes having a hard time to break away from his dying love. ‘You killed her.’ He whimpered.

‘Well. Then bring her back.’ Morgana also lowered to her knees, head tilting in fascination as the Master’s watery pools of misery looked at her.

And the people? They continued to dance. Like enchanted. No. Possessed.

With a long sniff of the nose, the Master retraced his finger over Belle’s cheek, her heartbeat no longer to be found beneath her marble skin.

‘No..’ He trembled. ‘No please. Please Belle.’ Anguish tore through his breaking heart, his next movement rash and unpredicted. With a deadly force he picked and pushed the rose into Morgana’s chest, its sharp thorns cutting like knives into her pale skin.

‘You keep your vileness...mother!’ He spat.

In the initial wave of shock Morgana couldn’t help but laugh, the irony not lost on her before her laughter too died. With awkward sputters of her luscious lips she reached for slurred words, that were hard to hear even if you leaned in real close. ‘Tcan’t be.’ And with that she sank to the ground too, her face melting into one of eternal sleep.

So lost in his pain and tears, the Master did not notice how the people around him were unleashed from their magical chain, the whole world sighing with relief as the witch had been defeated.

No, all the Master could do was cry. His lips whispering wordlessly, he begged for Belle to come back. With rubbing hands he wished to warm her skin, wake her. But curses were evil. Hard to break.

Was she truly dead?

After centuries of agony he found his love, only to lose it by the prick of a fucking ROSE?! ARGH!! NO! No...no…

‘Belle..’ He begged, his hands lifting up her sleeping form, wishing to keep her as close to his shattered heart as he could.

‘Tis a witch!’ A voice cried behind him, making the angry anguish burn up in his chest. But when he looked up, he noticed what he had not noticed earlier. The body of Morgana was now no longer of lady-like form. Twisted and evil, skin wrinkly and warted, she looked as picture book perfect a description of a witch. Cursed by her own trappings, it had caused her demise.

More voices erupted from the disenchanted crowd, people rushing to come to aid, hands pulling away Morgana’s corpse to get to Belle.

Blinking away some of his tears, the Master looked back down at Belle. With a tender brush of love he kissed her cooling lips finally, one last time.

The poisoned rose crumpled and a clock rang.

It was a tale as old as time.

A tune as old as song.

For centuries he had felt the long minutes melt into hours. Into days. Into aggravating months, years, a lifetime. But time reminded him also of how precious it was. Or had been. The lone years had been forgotten so simply when he stood there one day in the forest, only to hear a sweet voice tinkle through the trees. For a moment he did not exist. He was like a bird on the branches. He watched her as she spoke, rosy lips curling in one of those dream-haunting smiles.

That day he finally reinstalled that darn mirror in the hall. Just one mirror. The rest still locked and stocked away. One mirror to remind him that he existed. That he was no ghost. He was real.

That day he looked upon his form for the first time in centuries. Sharp and pale. Fanged and broken.

Bittersweet and strange

Finding you can change

Learning you were wrong

Without fail he would listen to her then everyday. He would re-read her words in his lair. He’d even go out and trade with merchants far and wide to retrieve as many copies of her book as he could get his hands on; he would have them all if he could. At some point they stacked up high in his room, alongside the many other books he had read in hope that he would learn more about the female heart...and soul.

His every waking hour - which were many - was invested in learning. Reading. Reclaiming what little hold he had of life. Belle was his anchor, his lifeline. She brought a fickle sliver of hope back in his lonely days. She brought him a soul.

‘Please.’

Certain as the sun

Rising in the East

‘Please..’ A finger grazed up his cheek.Two large brown eyes looked up into his tear bleeding eyes and he wondered if he was dreaming, his eyes starting to blink furiously, but the eyes before him remained. What..? OH! OH my! She is awake! With a tremble of his lips he felt his dying heart revived, her lips curling a sleepy smile.

‘Anything Belle.’ He smiled in disbelief. She sniffled, still slightly hazed, before pulling his hand to her thigh, making his cheeks flush in mild embarrassment.

‘Belle..we are..’ He wished to alarm her of their audience, to which some people chuckled, whispers erupting in the crowd. It had always been a weird girl, that Belle.

And then the Master realised what she wanted him to find; his fingers felt the outlines of the book beneath her skirts. Of course. The book. He smiled and reached down her pockets - receiving some silent gasps from the crowd - before retrieving it. The people laughed even louder. Oh! And Belle and her books!! Oh, Belle!

Tale as old as time

Song as old as rhyme

‘You want me to read?’ The master chuckled.

‘No.’ She slowly shook her head and smiled. ‘Twas just that I was right.’

Beauty and the Beast

Church bells rang in the morning air, but for once they did not hurt the Master’s ears. In fact, he couldn’t imagine a more welcoming sound at this very moment. With sure strides he walked down the path, the crowding numbers on the square indicating just how packed the chapel had to be. Their faces smiled, and napkins waved in the air, as people wished to bestow gifts and well-wishes. But they would have to save that for later. With a practised, but well-felt smile, their new Grandmaster thanked them, his cheeks glowing with a thrilling buzz.

Before him the large wooden doors to the chapel arose behind side-stepping people, the path to his future cleared as the January sun warmed the back of his tailcoat.

Outside a grumpy old man awaited him, hand folded around his hip as beady eyes peered from beneath thick grey eyebrows. He smelled of wood and grime. ‘Twas about time!’ The man grumbled, tilting his head, gesturing the Master to step inside. ‘Thank you..grandfather time.’ The Master chuckled, offering the man a teasing wink before finally stepping inside.

‘Okay..GO GO GO.’ Lumiere’s wig bounced somewhere at the altar, the small man quick to spur the little orchestra into motion, a soft music warming from their strings and bells.

The Master smiled, halting his steps to allow his ever chaotic staff a moment to get a hold of the situation. They were still not entirely used to their regained human form, but the gladness did beam off their glowing cheeks.

And then, with a grounding breath, the Master prepared himself for the first day of the rest of his life.

It was time, indeed.

‘Are you catching up with that?’ Belle sniffled after their staff left the room. Soft candles casted a soft glow around their shared bedroom, a fire burning in the hearth.

‘What is that..wife?’ His smile grew even wider, making Belle chuckle. Without further ado the Master stripped himself of his shirt, the planes of skin and hair underneath unveiling a new life. Like Adam stood before Eve, he stood before Belle, her appreciative eyes travelling a long way down his muscular physique. A very naked physique. He had changed so little, and yet so dramatically. The shapes were the same. But the touch was different. He was no longer hard and marble, but soft and warm.

Though not soft, mushy soft. He made sure to flex his muscles teasingly as she looked back up his large biceps.

‘Very well..HUSBAND.’ Belle grinned and got up from the bed, her long hair falling in soft brown waves over her night gown. ‘I’m just saying that you haven’t stopped smiling since.-’

‘You.’ The master interjected.

The both of them laughed.

‘Ai.. Henry.’ His name still tasted so new and sweet on her lips as he had only dared to share it so recently. But he could keep no secrets from her. No more. They now shared everything. Heart, mind..soul.

‘Tis so.’ She smiled, breaking through his thoughts with a brush of her gentle fingers, Cupid’s wings fluttering in his heart.

And with that they kissed sweetly, until death did them part.

The End.

Roll-credits reading music: Le Sextet à Claques - Laryngo-rhino-phraryngite

General Tagsquad: @harrysthiccthighss @magdelen69 @thereisa8ella @mary-ann84 @darkbooksarwin @summersong69 @madbaddic7ed @luclittlepond @maroonmolly @elinesama

Vampire!Henry Tagsquad: @i-cant-remember-my-old-login @wednesdaybraids @othersideofforty @starstruckkittyangel @strangerliaa @omgkatinka

If you want to be added to or removed from my tag lists, shoot me a message!

Final author’s note: Thanks for reading my loves! Are you feeling the post fic reading buzz/blues? Here’s a few things to keep you entertained:

Listen to The Monster’s Lair Playlist

Check out my vampy mood blurb that inspired this fic

Read the original version of Beauty and the Beast: Apuleius’ Cupid and Psyche

Make Lumière proud and read some Hamlet by ye good ol’ Shakespeare

Read another vampire!Henry long fic: @viking-raider‘s Fangs Deep

#henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fluff #vampire!henry #beauty and the beast au #long fic #angst #adult fairytale #dark fairytale #its finished yo

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brelione · 4 years ago

Text

Daddy Issues (Rafe Cameron X OC)

Chapter One:What Happens At Night?

Meet Billie Maybank

Warnings:Stalking, blood, robbing, mentions of abuse.I had to rewrite this because the ogr one got deleted somehow.

Billie Maybank was a mess of a person.She was a bit of a mystery, held a kind of power over people that not even they could understand.A lot of people only knew her as a pretty face or a thief, only one person knowing what she was actually like.

That one person was her ‘baby’ brother JJ Maybank.She had enemies on both sides but it was mainly the kooks that wronged her, well, not her directly.It was usually the ones that wronged JJ that she considered her enemies.

Billie yawned, surprising herself when she sat up on her mattress that was pushed up against the wall of her small bedroom.She didnt sleep often because of all the yelling and glass constantly being smashed against the floor and walls of the living room and kitchen.She rubbed her eyes, scratching at her chin.

The sky was dark and sprinkled with stars, making her a bit angry.She wished she could go back to sleep and stay in her own little dream world until three in the afternoon, looking at the watch that she had stolen, groaning when she realized it was only three in the morning.

She knew that she had to get up and prepare herself for what was left of the night, switching on her battery powered lantern.Every night had been the same since she decided to drop out.

She had stopped going to school half way through junior year.

It was bullshit and took up way too much time that she could be using to do something that benefitted her.She had started her full time robbing and stalking six months ago, mid January when she found the source of her life problems.

Barry.He was the one who supplied Luke with coke which meant more beatings for her and more stress for JJ.He was the reason that she had to carry a lighter on her at all times, just in case her father decided to pull something.

It all began with Barry.She stood up,stretching her limbs quietly,grabbing a pair of shorts that she shared with JJ from off her floor and pulling a dirty shoe lace through the belt loops,tying it tight around her waist to keep the shorts from slipping down her legs.

Her and JJ shared all their clothes, they didnt want to but it was just something that they had to adapt to.She didnt want to waste any of the money that you did have on something that she didnt absolutely need.Any money that she did make went into an empty pickle jar under her bed.

It was for when she turned 18 so she could buy her own house for her and JJ.It was something they had been planning for years, when she turned 18 she’d get legal custody of him and they’d move somewhere safe and away from Luke.

Ideally they’d get Luke thrown in prison but seeing that it would require going to court it was completely unrealistic.The siblings had even discussed trying to find their mother again and possibly live with her but there was really no way of doing that without a name or a phone number or even a photograph.

JJ had gotten out of school last week, immediately going to John.B’s.He had stopped by the house first, walking slowly and quietly through the house and into her tiny room,asking her if she wanted to go with him.

She Said no, knowing that she would ruin his fun with his friends, having her own plans anyways.He had hugged her tight, telling her to stay safe before he left.She Waited two days to leave the house, not planning on coming back for two weeks.She just had to make sure that he wouldnt come back to grab something before she left.

Tonight was the two day mark.Putting a notebook,dollar store pens,a couple of oversized shirts,a small towel,matches and a tin full of blunts in her shiity old backpack she prepared herself for a long two weeks.

Her oily,salt smelling blonde hair was in a messy and knotted pathetic excuse for a bun that was already falling apart.She lifted her mattress up,grabbing the black pocket knife that she kept hidden under there,clipping it onto the pocket of her jeans that were starting to slip from the additional weight.

She slipped out her window and onto the lawn with a sigh, looking over to the deck to see her father passed out on the wood.She considered going over to spit on him, deciding it would waste her time.The air was warm and humid but it wasnt nearly as hot as inside of her bedroom which she was grateful for, slipping into the woods.

The path was clear from her constant stopping, now able to walk the route in pitch black darkness,coming out behind Barry’s trailer.The fire that had been lit hours ago had calmed after he left it unattended, going to sleep without a care in the world.

She opened the back door, slipping inside quietly.She had changed the locks ages ago without him knowing,tip toeing through the shitty living room and into his even shittier room, seeing his sleeping form on top of a mountain of blankets.

She let out a small breath, pulling the pocket knife from her pants,flicking it open as she approached the mattress.The sharp blade touched against his skin,her hand moving slowly and leaving a small scratch over part of his throat.She watched as his eyes flicked under his eyelids, a small smirk on her face.

He was too high and too tired to wake up, probably still feeling the cool blade in his sleep.She knew she’d never actually kill him but leaving the small cuts relieved some of the anger that had built up inside of her over the years.She giggled, using the very tip of the knife to scratch a “B” along his collarbone, little bits of blood seeping from the tiny cuts.

She stood for a while, watching him sleep.He’d move a bit every once in a while, sending little waves of adrenaline through her body.She went over to his closet, taking forty dollars from the wallet in his pants before moving to the bins of drugs.

She found little sacks of weed, deciding to take some for herself and stuff it deep in her bag, a smile on her face the whole time.She made her way to his tiny kitchen, looking through his fridge, a frown on her face when all she saw was beer and sticks of butter.

“Fuckin’ trash, the mans got thousands of dollars and he cant buy good shit.”She huffed, shutting the fridge and moving onto the cabinets, settling on a bag of m and m’s and deciding to take it.She sat on his table, thinking about which beach she wanted to go to, grinning when an idea came to mind.

She cut open a beer can with her knife,rolling it down the hall and letting the alcoholic drink coat the wood before leaving out the front door with a sigh.Making her way onto the road she thought about JJ, trying to imagine what he was doing right now.

She hoped he was asleep if he wasnt drinking and if he was drinking that one of his friends had decided to babysit him.She kept walking until she was on Figure 8,walking right across the golf course, pulling her shirt over her nose and chin,tucking the fabric over her ears to keep it there.

It only took her a few tries to get the code for the lock right, the metal door giving up as she slid it open, sliding across the counter.As much as she despised kooks even she could admit they had pretty great snacks, taking off her bag and unzipping it.

She loaded her bag full of candy bars and snack sized chip bags, her eyes eventually falling on a snack sized bag of popcorn with chocolate drizzle.She zipped her bag back up, forcing the ends together so she could shut it before moving onto the large refrigerators.

There were dozens of pre made sandwiches, luckily all of them had labels so she knew what she was getting.It took a while of looking before she eventually settled on ham and cheese with lettuce, red onion and honey mustard.Her watch told her that it was nearly 5:30, groaning as she walked across the shop to pull the door shut again, sneaking out the back.

She unwrapped the sandwich and ate as she walked, the soles of her shoes eventually hit the soft sand of the beach, a smile growing on her face as she made her way across the land.

Some of the more hard core surfers began to show up in hopes of catching the early morning waves.They were choppy and short lived so she could never understand why they wouldnt just wait until afternoon for the larger, smoother ones.

She wouldve asked them if she had the energy, continuing to walk until she found the perfect place to people watch from for the day.The far side of the beach had all the large rocks that people never occupied, too stressed about climbing up the boulders to ever get up there in the first place.

By the time she had gotten herself settled on the hot rock more people were beginning to pile in, a small smirk on her face as her stormy blue eyes dragged themselves over the crowds in search for her next victim.

She pulled out her altoids tin full of blunt, placing one between her teeth, eyes squinting when she saw a familiar group.Sarah Cameron, her boyfriend and her brother.

Billie chuckled, white smoke escaping her lips, placing the blunt back into its tin and hiding her bag between the cracks of the boulders, hopping down from her throne and sending a slight pain up her leg.

She had gotten into a fight with her father a couple of days back.She had misplaced something, earning her a strike to the rib cage.Luckily that hit was on the weak side unlike the hard punch to her thigh, a yellow and black bruise blooming across the tanned skin.

She had gotten Luke to the ground, her shoe pressed against his throat, grabbing the can of compressed air off the counter along with her lighter, threatening to ‘pull a hockstetter’.It was nothing she hadnt experienced before, continuing her walk along the sand, deciding to circle around so she could find both large and little things that could fit in her pockets, not wanting to raise any suspicion among the kooks.

Rafe watched the blonde move across the sand, his eyes wide.He tried to figure out why he had never seen her before.She was obviously a pogue, it was clear from the crappy clothing that she was wearing.

He had seen the exact same outfit on someone else before, unable to remember who it had been.Something about the way she carried herself gained his full attention.It was like she knew that she was better than everyone else, superior to them.It got him wondering if thats what he looked like.

Topper nudged his arm, trying to get his attention again. “What?”Topper asked, not understanding what he was staring at.He followed Rafe’s gaze, unable to see because of the sunlight in his eyes.

Sarah could see through her sun glasses, laughing. “Not you staring at Billie Maybank!Oh my god, you have a thing for her!”She exclaimed.Rafe’s eyes widened, turning to look at his younger sister.

“Shut up.”He growled, looking back over to Billie.Maybank, he thought.He didnt know that JJ had a sister. “Its okay to admit you have a crush, Rafe.”She insisted.Rafe shook his head. “She’s a pogue, Sarah.That’s fucking disgusting.”He replied, storming off to the snack stand.

“We need better security!Somone broke in again!”One of the workers shouted, noticing the lack of chips.Again. “Well we aint getting better security any time soon,Jane.”Another worker replied with a dramatic sigh.

“Suck my dick, Alice!”Jane shouted back, turning to see Rafe. “Oh,im sorry!What can I do for you?”She asked.Rafe shrugged, not originally planning on getting anything.He just wanted to get away from Sarah. “Sandwich.”He replied, squinting as he hunted the crowds for Billie. “What kind of sandwich?”The worker asked, only earning a shrug from Rafe. “Suprise me.”He replied.

Billie turned around, walking behind the small groups now.Sarah and her boyfriend Topper THornton had gone down into the water, laughing as they splashed eachother but it was a little too loud to be genuine.

She opened their cooler quickly, grabbing the first thing she saw before continuing her walk, only noticing what it was when she was coming across another abandoned bag.Strawberry Fanta. “Not bad, Cameron.”She muttered under her breath, seeing a magazing sticking half way out of a bag.It was too tempting for her to pass,swiping it from the bag and tucking it under her arm.

Rafe was given a ham and cheese with lettuce, red onion and honey mustard.He knew he probably wouldnt eat it but didnt care,walking down the hill back onto the sand, rolling his eyes at Topper and Sarah’s squealing as he dunked her into the cool waves.

He would be lying if he said he didnt want a relationship, knowing that it didnt really matter what kind.He just seeked love and validation, biting the inside of his cheek.He wasnt paying attention to where he was going, his elbow colliding with someones shoulder.

He looked down, heart dropping when he realized it had been the same girl he had been staring at since he had got here.Billie Maybank. “Watch-uhhh....watch where you’re going, pogue.”He refrained himself from using her actual name, not wanting to let her know that he knew her name, figuring he would sound like a stalker.Billie simply smiled, walking past him.

“Shit.”He whispered, realizing that his voice had cracked, his neck, face and ears becoming red as the embarrassing moment played over and over again in his mind.

Billie had hated Rafe Cameron for years but him being an asshole to her directly was her breaking point, biting her lip when she realized she’d have some new plans tonight.Rafe Cameron would be in for a surprise later.

@sexytholland @28cnn @popcrone818 @fttayla @cherryobx @n1ghtsh4d3-67 @drewstarkeyobx @poguestyleskye @judayyyw @jjtheangel @jj-iz-bae

@sunwardsss @meaganjm @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @natalie-kate-98 @nxsmss @broken-jj @joshy-obx @prejudic3 @outerbongs @copper-boom @httpstarkey @teenwaywardasgardian @drewswannabegirl @simonsbluee @jiaraendgame @khiaraaa-in-spacee @on-socks-off @abbiesthings @kindahavefeelingskindaheartless

Comment with a blue emoji if you’d like to be added to the taglist.

#rafe cameron #rafe obx #rafe cameron imagine #rafe #billie maybank #jj maybank #daddy issues #rafe cameron x oc #ocs #maybank oc #drew starkey #outerbanks fanfic #outerbanks

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aw-eather · 5 years ago

Text

Heather Watches SG1: s2ep22 Out of Mind and s3ep01 Into the Fire

Ah two of my all time favourites. Maybe even THE favourites. They’re just SO good. Also my shipper heart cannot take it but we love torturing ourselves here so lets go.

I’m gonna try and do enough that y’all get at least one post a day and scheduel them to go up periodically :)

This go very long so I hope it posts properly.

Ooooh mysterious tank

I mean honestly this was suspicious from the get go

Don’t trust this guy

JACK

YOU’RE ALL WET JACK

Is he?

Are they dead tho? Are you sure? Cause that sounds fake...

You see, the year is now.............. 2077

CREDITS

Teal’c looks all big and scary but really he’s a precious boy

End credits

TERYL ROTHERY

honestly that device looks very Star Trek

Missed opportunity to make a 69 joke

Girl he has been asleep for 79 years he probably remembers shit all

Good boy, answer nothing. Don‘t trust the random men that woke you up

thats not sarcasm, I don’t trust them either

“the rest of the facility” riiiiiight

Wizard of Oz reference

38 teams is a lot of teams

MMMMMMMM sounds FAKE

DON’T TRUST HIM JACK

General whats his face just dropped something on the ground

STARGATE

Jack is handsome

Me: I’m gay

Jack O’Neill: Yeah sure ya bethcha

Are ya just? What makes ya think Jack can help? he’s been asleep for 79 years

Tok’ra mind probe

Benefical alliance my ass, what did they ever really do for the Tau’ri??

Except promise to send a ship when they “had one available”

So thinking of Sam right now would be BAD Jack.

NOX

I LOVE THE NOX

WHAT CUTIES

look at them, they’re so sweet

Jack stop thinking and showing them shit

Could be a great weapon but the Nox are peaceful and beautiful and I love them

LITTLE GREY ALIENS WITH THE LITTLE GREY BUTTS

Thats a big ship

This is the only “look at all the shit we’ve managed to do so far” episode that is actually any good

Why don’t we meet the Furlings?

I wanna meet them

They sound fluffy

I love the baby asgards look at ‘em so cuuuuute

Kathrine! You’re great girly

“Touch it” *Jack touches it without knowing what it does, could die*

Jack waving his gun to touch the molecules seems like a bad idea

Yeah let him rest stop bullying him

purple goop

stop the pruple goop Jack

purple goop is never a good thing

Oh look... ANOTHER tank

DANNY BOY

Please cover your nipples

I don’t wanna see your man nipples

A third tank... funny that

SSSSAAAAAAMMMMMM

Funny how none of them are ACTUALLY dead

LIES WE’VE JUST SEEM THEM

Get these people some clothes

leaving her wrapped in a blanket is rude

Blanket looks like a mat tbh

BRATAC

SKARRA

Daniels hair is so bad in this episode I’m not sorry its HORRIBLE

He has a SHIELD Jack

FUCK YEAH JACK THROW THAT KNIFE YAS

HATHOR

I love Hathor hosts

She’s great honestly

Sam and janet and the girls kicking ass is the best

RIP Hathor

No seriously Daniel’s hair is BAD

Teal’c

JANET

ah yes, unusual

Teal’c is so passionate and caring about his friends I love him so much

THREE FUCKING WEEKS?!?!?!?!

janet is such an angel you can’t convince me otherwise

Are they tho?

Yeah he would but Teal’c with do anything for his F A M I L Y

Well he will leave

Aw Teal’c I love you with my entire heart

That zoom in on the patch is nice

YES JACK STOP THE GOOP

Nice kick!

BYE TEAL’C I LOVE YOU

AWW THIS EXCHANGE IS SO NICE

AW THE SALUTE BABE NO THAT HURTS MY HEART ITS SO SWEET

#SorryNotSorry but Jack looks so fucking good in this outfit

Like... he looks sooooo good

God I am questioning my sexuality left right and centre today

But seriously can he dress like that more often?

Go get ya girl, Jack!

Oh look... not the SGC

WHO WOULD HAVE EVER GUESSED

Serpant and Horus guards! :O

STOP THINKING BABE

THEY GONNA FIND YOOOOOU

SAAAAAAAAAM

BEAT THIS GUYS ASS AND SAVE. YOUR. GIRL

O U C H THAT WOULD FUCKING HURT

SHOULDER TOUCHING

SHOULDER RUBBING

SHOULDER TOUCHING

SHE IS TOUCHING HIM

I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD FOLLOWED BY A MEMORY OF HIM NEARLY DYING

SHE’S STILL HOLDING HIS SHOULDER

STARING AT HER NAKED BACK

TRYING NOT TO STARE AT HER NAKED BACK

HE IS SO IN TROUBLE

HE FANCIES HER SO MUCH

I MEAN SAME

she also looks good but like he looks better???

GRABBING

WALL HOLDING

HANDS TOUCHING SHOULDERS

PINKY CURLED IN SO HE DOESN’T TOUCH BARE SKIN

COULD HAVE MOVED BUT ISN’T MOVING

THEY WANNA HOLD EACH OTHER

DEAR GOD

sorry I’ll stop with the caps

I just physically cannot with those two

i love them so much

and i hate how they were treatd

Hathor you idiot,

SUANNE

LOL Jack

Servants in the royal court? Yeah sounds great

Rude Jack

lol the pat on the shoulder Jack you dick

uuuuuuhhhhh didn’t notice before how HOT IT IS WHEN HATHOR RUNS THE IDC REMOTE UNDER SAMS CHIN AND THE LOOK SAM GIVES HER I-

ACK SNAKE

I hate them the same way Jack does tbh

they make me squirm

Give it to Daniel. Why is Daniel the only one that never has a snake in him... wait...

sorry but I just wanna talk with the national captions institute...

Alright! On to Into the Fire!

DAVIS

MAJOR DAVIS I LOVE YOU

MY FAVOURITE

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH EVEN IF THINGS DO FALL TO SHIT WHENEVER YOU’RE THERE

Dramatic zooooom on Hathors name for E M P H A S I S

CREDITS

I love how Hammond is like EVERYONE is saving SG1

How DARE you, Daivs. They are THE team, rude!

I love that everyone steps forward because everyone loves SG1 but also everyone knows you don’t leave anyone else behind.

I love Hammond

MARTIN WOOD :O

He is a great director

Ew snake

Jack still looks fucking good

Jack now is not the time for sass

Give it to Daniel. No one cares

Sam is like “I’m not scared bitch bring it”

Of course it wants Jack

Poor Jack

Why is it always him??

You tried, buddy

Sam’s hand on his CHEST PLEASE JUST GET MARRIED

TEAL’C

BRATAC

Sam literally hates watching Jack in any pain

Poor Jack

Hathor fuck off

What exactly was the point of ripping his shirt? It makes no difference to the snake going in the back of HIS HEAD

oh gross

i hate it

I hate it so much

ugh the chills I currently have

Suanne Baun is super pretty though

YAS TOK’RA LADY

WE RESPECT AND LOVE YOU

Another Wizard of Oz reference

Sorry Daniel looks so bad

its the hair honestly, the little dorky fringe

Sam’s hair, on the other hand *chefs kiss*

Yeah but he’ll be fine, Tok’ra lady saved the day <3

YAS GIRL

NOOO Poor Tok’ra lady

Sorry fam, I forgot her name lol

Sam pulling that jacket on, Sam in a jacket thats a little too big for her , Sam in a white shirt.. Sam

Yeah they are Teal’c.

Dead and false and dead... or is he???

Hand dance

Energy barrier is in the way, boys continue to shoot

oh no shooting towers of death are never a good sign

And of course Daniel got hurt so we have to baby him for the rest of the fucking episode jfc just sit him down somewhere and Sam and the rest of the teams can do the hard work... again

Cool Tok’ra tunnels are Cool

Lol Daniel being sassy (oh its just a deep, bleeding gash, it’ll be fine) lol sorry he is funny when he’s sassy

I’m sick of your army already, Hathor

OOOOH a barrier

Hammond is awaiting

Why do they give them such short time periods to do shit? Like they know things go wrong literally ALL THE TIME

Like “hi you have 24 hours to go into a SECURE, GOA’ULD FACILITY, RETRIEVE THREE SG MEMBERS AND GET OUT. PIECE.OF.CAKE”

6 hours is a long time to sit on your hands and do nothing tho. Ah well might as well go and save the boyfriend

The president can suck a rotten potatoe

Davis, you can’t really argue with him, he outranks you about 4 times

Sam’s sleeves are too long and baggy and its SO CUTE

GO SAM

SAVE THE DAY

BUT SAVE YOUR BOYFRIEND FIRST

Hammond visiting Chulak

because he’s an angel baby

and the best dad ever to his four kids; Major Dr Science Space Baby, Sassy Grumpy Fruit Loop and Sam Carter Loving Space Baby, Warrior Gentle Giant Space Baby and Annoying, Doesn’t know shit, Archaeologist Space Baby.

Yas Teal’c, spill that tea

I will join you, bb

Hammond in a toga will also join you cause he a babe

and he needs your help cause Davis said No.

HAMMOND OF TEXAS IS MY FAVOURITE THING EVER I LOVE IT

Sam: I’m gonna go and shut this shield down

Sam: but not until I have tried to save my Future Husband.

Poor Tok’ra lady

Hand on chest again

Fucking Hathor man

Go away boo, you’re ruining the moment

Stop hurting Sam

YAS JACK FUCK YES I LOVE THAT

I love his response to it too

Like the shock and fear

This hug goes on a long time

I know he’s cold or whatever but like...

and I know he’s in shock and so is she a bit

he’s doing it for her as much as him

but they’re STILL hugging

They literally never do this again

Its so sweet because after this its just... nothing? Like POV happens and then Upgrade and Divide and Conquer and they go ah fuck we can’t hug anymore so all we get is platonic shoulder holding and using shoulders as pillows. The closes we get to a hug is Death Knell and emotional trauma Threads. I want a REAL hug

And he holds her arms for ages and helps her up

Wow they’re so fucking in love this hurts

“Found ‘em” Jack stop so cute

C4! Who’d have thought it

Ah shit they’re surrounded

He still looks good

They BOTH look good

They make a great couple

Nope, not really but its what ya got so you’re gonna have to deal with it

This general guy is a bit of a dick

Thats right Sam, don’t listen. Good job, Danny boy.

Only 1? Thats not a lot of time

Get out there, Jack! Buy that time

Gun Bum! (if you know Sanctuary, you’ll get it)

He’s really not doing a great job of pretending to be a Goa’uld

Its really not impossible

ex-goddess lol

“She’s Gone. She is no more.” I’m honestly shocked people didn’t shoot him more often

I love him tho

Thank god, thats good timing

Hammond is IN. HIS. ELEMENT

There is no way she heard hiom say now but she still knew. I love them. I love how well they know each other and they’ve only known each other a little over two years

Time to KICK SOME ASS

JAFFA YAS

ooh coming in from behind, sneaky

YEEHAW

OH HAMMOND YOU PRECIOUS BABY

Sam going straight to Jack and it looks like she goes to put her arm around him.

I hate them ffs

Bra’tac and Human fuck me thats so cute

Sam’s smile when they see Teal’c and Hammond is Gorgeous

and Hammond patting her on the back! stop! I love Space Dad and his idiot Space babies.

Final Thoughts:

Seriously guys this is my favourite Final and First eps of a season.

100% one of my favourite two parters, if not my all time favourite two parter

Great direction, good story, excellent bad guys, good acting, just enough suspense with out being too drawn out, something for everyone, comes of the back of a fun as fuck episode (1969), Hammond has a big part, Davis is there, lots of cute Sam/Jack and of course, Daniel’s Elf Hair.

Also the Tok’ra are actually useful in this one which is SHOCKING

Lemme know your thoghts friends, I’m excited to hear them!

18 notes · View notes

backtothestart02 · 6 years ago

Text

25 Days of Westallen Fanfiction: Day 16 - Better Than Christmas

A/N: Can you say...pre-series (the year before PAE in my personal headcanon of this fic) love confession on Christmas that reminds me an awful lot of @wintertruffles‘ fic that she wrote for me last year for the WA Secret Santa exchange, but I swear only has a couple similarities and the rest is very different? I never get enough of this premise. I hope you enjoy my take! Almost 4k words b/c this thing took on a life of its own, and I LOVE IT.

Enjoy!

*Many thanks to @valeriemperez for beta’ing.

...

Iris’ warmth beside him was ecstasy. Her wool sweater with the penguins playing in the snow with winter hats combined with her red sweatpants and fuzzy socks made him think of home and happiness. Sitting with her on the couch, looking up at the Christmas tree with its blinking lights and dozens of ornaments, a few professionally wrapped presents under the tree, and the smell of eggnog in the air as the fire blazed, effectively shutting out the cold. Joe wore a scarf anyway and two layers. Barry wore his typical big red sweater that Iris loved to snuggle into. And God, if Barry didn’t just love Christmas time because of all of those things.

But he wasn’t next to Iris on the couch admiring the beautifully decorated Christmas tree right now. He was in the kitchen baking Christmas cookie with Joe because Iris’ specialty was decorating the tree – and also, her talent in the kitchen was lacking unless it came down to slicing and dicing, which to her credit, she was great at.

Every so often Barry would peak out into the living room and watch her decorate the tree. He’d taken care of the lights and the garland. She would always beg him to help her put up the ornaments with her, but she also wanted him to bake cookies for her and so he was doing the latter as fast as he possibly could. Still, he yearned to see her. He always liked seeing her. She was beautiful, and he was in love with her.

“Hey. Bear.” Joe walked over to him, though he didn’t notice until the man was waving his hand in front of his face. “Earth to Barry?”

Barry blinked, blushed a bright pink and cleared his throat, ducking back into the kitchen just as Iris was turning to quizzically look at them.

“I, uh, I thought we were done, Joe.”

Joe eyed him suspiciously, and Barry wondered if he knew. He’d been careful not to show his feelings for Iris too openly. She’d never guessed, so he assumed no one else had either.

“With one tray, Bear. We have four more to go.”

Barry looked over to the counter and the bare cookie trays spread across it.

“Oh. Right. Sorry, I must’ve just-”

“Son, are you ever going to tell her how you feel?”

Barry’s face went white as a sheet.

“I…um…what?” his voice rasped.

Joe barely suppressed rolling his eyes. He did lower his voice though.

“I know you’re in love with my daughter.”

“What?” Barry’s voice squeaked.

“I’ve known it for a long time, and I approve.”

“Y-you do?”

“Are you kidding me? Who else better to take care of her than the boy I raised, the only man I know who comes close to loving her as much as I do and treating her like the goddess she is?”

Well, she is one, Barry thought to himself.

“There’s no one else I will ever trust her with as much as I trust you.”

“Joe, this is a lot…to take in.”

So much so that he was feeling the need to sit down, and quickly.

Not only had he failed hiding his feelings from Joe, but Joe was eager to get him and Iris together. It was reassuring to know he wouldn’t have to win him over and that at least one person thought he was worthy of Iris as a romantic partner, but it still was happening faster and more suddenly than he’d ever expected it to. Truth be told, he hadn’t expected it to happen at all. Actually obtaining Iris’ affection seemed like a far off dream that would never come true. He certainly never expected anyone to encourage that goal, let alone Joe, Iris’ father and the man who had raised him since he was eleven.

“Look, I’m not trying to overwhelm you, Barry,” Joe said, coming to stand next to where he was leaning against the counter. “I just…I’ve seen how you felt about her since you came to live with us, since before you knew what the word ‘love’ meant.”

Reluctantly, Barry looked up into his eyes.

“And I’m telling you, she has no idea how you feel.”

Barry wrapped his hand around the back of his neck and rubbed the skin there – a nervous habit.

“I…I know,” he said, nearly a muttered breath.

“You have to tell her.”

His eyes flashed back to Joe’s.

“W-What? Joe, no. She won’t- She doesn’t feel-”

“She does.”

A scoff spilled past his lips.

“You can’t know that, Joe. I mean, has she said that she does?”

“No. But-” Barry shook his head indignantly, but Joe continued, determined. “She might not know her own feelings, but she will if you tell her yours.”

“Joe, no. That doesn’t make any-”

“Just tell her how you feel.”

“No!” His voice escalated unknowingly. “I’m not going to risk our friendship over feelings she might or might not have.”

“Is everything all right in there?” Iris called out, and Barry reigned in his temper.

He knew Joe had good intentions, but what he was asking of him was absolutely ridiculous. It just wasn’t that simple. If Iris hadn’t shown interest in him all the years they’d lived together, him telling her how he felt now wasn’t going to change that.

“Yeah, everything’s fine.”

“Are you suuu-” She came to a stop in the doorway and instantly felt the testosterone coming off both men in waves.

“Yep,” Barry said, forcing a smile onto his face. “I just wanted to come help you decorate the tree and your dad insisted I stay in here to bake cookies.”

Iris looked relieved. Barry didn’t know if she believed his excuse, but it didn’t matter. She was going to let it slide, and she was going to get him out of the kitchen. He knew even before she reached for his hand and pulled him toward her that was what was going to happen.

“Give Barry a break, Dad.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you can handle the rest of the cookies by yourself.”

Taking the lead from his pseudo-son, Joe’s face had smoothed over and his frustrated eagerness cooled to more manageable degrees.

“You’re right. Of course. You two have fun.”

Barry didn’t dare look behind him as he and Iris left the kitchen. He could feel Joe glaring a hole into the back of his head.

…

Half an hour later, the tree was fully decorated – well, except for the star. But Joe would put that on later just before dinner. It was their tradition every year, and there was something very comfortable about tradition. It felt safe. It was nice.

Iris plopped down beside Barry on the couch, snuggling close. He tried to relax into her, but his conversation with Joe in the kitchen kept going on repeat in his mind. He hated that it had happened because it was ruining a moment he would’ve otherwise indulged in. If this was the only way he could have Iris, he would take it. It was great. It felt almost perfect.

Is almost enough for you? After what Joe told you?

But Joe was only guessing. He wanted them to be together, so he made himself believe they had mutual feelings for each other. That wasn’t the same thing as actually having mutual feelings.

He guessed you had feelings, though.

Barry ignored that line of thought.

“It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?” Iris said, starry-eyed as she stared up at their masterpiece.

Barry wrapped his arm around her, forcing Joe’s words out of his mind. He was going to enjoy this moment. It only came once a year.

“You did a great job, Iris.”

She snorted and poked his chest with his finger.

“We did a great job.” She continued before he could insist otherwise. “Only half the tree would be decorated if you hadn’t helped me, and you know it.”

He smiled slowly. “I guess my height does come in handy.”

She sat up enough to turn and face him.

“You come in handy, Bear. I won’t have you saying otherwise.”

Oh my God, she’s so close.

Maybe she wasn’t really. Maybe it just felt that way. But everything inside him was aching to kiss her.

Don’t do it. It will change everything. And not for the better.

That voice was annoying, but it was also probably true. He knew he needed to listen to it or he might very well ruin Christmas for both of them. The awkward tension next Christmas if he caused that now just might kill him.

“You have really pretty eyes, Bear. Did I ever tell you that?” she asked, sifting her fingers through his hair.

God, she was going to kill him. She was so touchy-feely with him, so handsy, and so innocent about it. It nearly drove him crazy. If she only knew.

Well, she won’t know unless you tell her. He heard the words in Joe’s voice in his head and knew they were true too.

And therein lie his dilemma.

“Not recently,” he teased, needing to lighten the moment before he went insane, before he got a hard-on with their knees touching, her thighs pressed against his, and her cinnamon fragrance absolutely intoxicating.

“Well, they are,” she continued, unthwarted and completely unaware. “Sometimes I wish I had them.”

He gawked at that.

“W-why? Your eyes are so pretty, Iris. They’re beautiful. I’ve never seen such beautiful eyes.”

He was babbling now, but he didn’t care. How Iris could ever think she was anything but the most beautiful was a mystery to him.

Her eyes twinkled in amusement though, and he knew he’d gone a bit overboard.

“All right, if you insist,” she said, and fixed his hair so it was as it had been before she’d started playing with it. Then she repositioned herself so she was snuggled up against him again, this time with her arm looped through his.

He didn’t know how he suppressed a sigh honestly, but when Joe came in a while later, Barry saw the look on his face and felt the pressure. Joe wanted him to tell her so bad. He didn’t know why the urgency had come on so suddenly, but he knew he was going to be feeling it until he told her. Maybe Joe thought Christmas would be the perfect time to tell? Regardless, he did feel guilty about snapping at the man. So later when Iris was asleep against him and most of the cookies had been eaten, and it was just Joe and Barry watching the Christmas tree and listening to the fire crackle, Barry spoke up.

“I’m sorry, Joe,” he said quietly. “About before. I didn’t mean to-”

“I know,” Joe said, and Barry had a feeling he did. “I was wrong to push. I just want you – both of you – to be happy.”

“We are happy, Joe.”

“Not as happy as you could be.”

Barry opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out.

“Look, if you’re not ready to tell her, I won’t push anymore. But please think about it. Maybe it wouldn’t work out, but I really think that it would. I think you owe it to yourself to give it a shot.”

Barry didn’t say anything, but he nodded. Then he looked down at his sleeping Iris and wondered hard. He still felt very strongly about everything he had said before, but in this gentler setting, a flicker of hope came to life inside him, and he wondered if it was possible that Joe could be right.

“I’m going to bed,” Joe said a while later, and came to press a kiss to his drowsy daughter’s face.

“Mm, what? No…Dad-” Iris protested, reaching for him.

“I’ll see you in the morning, baby girl.”

Her arms fell short and she murmured an ‘I love you’ and an ‘okay’, snuggling back into Barry and drifting back to sleep, her hand clutching his warm, red sweater.

Barry and Joe’s eyes met once more before Joe left. A nod, an understanding, and a ‘Merry Christmas’ passing their lips, even if it wasn’t quite midnight.

Barry fell asleep once for about forty-five minutes before coming to again. Iris was still sleeping against him, and he decided that maybe she might regret the arrangement if her back was out-of-sorts in the morning.

“Hey, Iris.” He gently shook her when she didn’t so much as budge. “Iris.”

She moaned a little. “Mmm, no, let me sleeeeeep,” she whined, then sighed contently against him and snuggled closer, the side of face fully pressed into his chest.

Of their own accord, Barry’s fingers tangled in her hair.

“It’s late, Iris.”

“It’s Christmas, Barry.”

“You’ll thank me in the morning after you’ve slept in your own bed,” he said, more firmly this time.

Reluctantly Iris roused herself and lifted her body off his.

“Why are you so eager to get rid of me, huh?”

His eyes widened. “Iris, I’m not. I’m just-”

“I know, I know. Doing what’s best for me like you always do.” She sighed, getting to her feet, running a hand through her hair and straightening out her clothing so she wouldn’t be walking with her seams sideways or her socks slipping off.

“Iris-” he tried, but she waved him off.

“It’s okay, Barry, you’re right.” She yawned. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

He wanted to go after her. He should have gone after her. It was the perfect mood, the perfect lighting. And on Christmas Eve? What better time to risk it all, to risk every Christmas after this one if she really did feel the same?

But she was so tired. It probably wasn’t the ideal time to be making confessions of love.

So, he let her go, and he told himself he should go too. But as luck would have it, he ended up being too tired himself. He pulled a blanket off the top of the couch over him and fell asleep in the light of the Christmas tree.

…

The next morning when Iris came down the stairs, she was struck by the sight of Barry sleeping on the couch. She shook her head at his sleeping form, doing what he’d insisted she shouldn’t do.

Unbelievable.

She knew she should leave him, despite his hypocrisy. But she couldn’t help it. She went and sat on the floor in front of the couch and trailed her fingers up his arm hanging over the side of the couch.

“The itsy bitsy spider…”

“I love you, Iris,” Barry mumbled in his sleep.

Iris chuckled to herself.

“I love you, too, Bear. Even if you are a bit of hypocrite.”

“I love you so much. Kiss me.”

His lips parted, and Iris’ eyes widened. Barry’s eyes were still shut, so he had to still be dreaming. She wondered what he could possibly be dreaming about. The thought suddenly occurred to her that he might be having a wet dream. About her. Her body’s first reaction to that possibility was to get hot all over, and for her a dampness to gather between her legs.

Iris tightly pushed her thighs together, willing the sensation to go away.

That’s weird, Iris. He’s your best friend. You can’t- No. Stop it.

But he really was very handsome – hot, some people might say. Girls in her class, for instance. She remembered feeling some type of way when they would giggle and talk amongst themselves about Barry whenever he would come to meet up with Iris between classes at CCU. At the time she’d decided they were mean girls, unworthy of her best friend, just like Becky Cooper.

But now she wondered… Was it jealousy?

She tried to stomp down the feeling, but she couldn’t ignore what she’d felt last night either. For the longest time she stared into his eyes. It felt like an eternity. And she could’ve sworn he wanted to kiss her. She’d stretched out the moment deliberately just to see if he would. The fact that he hadn’t should’ve proved to her that her suspicions he might like her were wrong, just as they had been her entire life. Surely he would’ve made a move by now if he was actually interested.

And there was nothing wrong with him not being interested. She certainly wouldn’t want to ruin their friendship. The only person she depended on more than Barry was her dad, and even that was pretty much tied.

No, it was probably better to let this slide and ignore whatever Barry might be saying or doing that could be interpreted differently than what was obvious to the naked eye.

Barry’s eyes blinked open. Hazy with sleep, Barry’s voice was husky. It turned Iris on. There was no getting around that.

“I-Iris?”

She smiled slowly, shoving down the feeling.

“It’s a little hypocritical, don’t you think?”

“Huh?” His brows furrowed, confused, not registering what she was implying.

He’s so darn cute.

“Telling me to get off my butt and sleep in my own bed and then proceeding to sleep on the couch yourself?”

He was silent for a moment, then, “Oh.”

She rolled her eyes.

“And not only that, but before you woke up just now, you were mumbling in your sleep.”

That seemed to wake him right up.

“What did I say?”

She shrugged nonchalantly, though her cheeks felt hot as coals.

“Oh, you know, just the usual…that you love me sooo much.”

He swallowed hard. “Yeah?”

“And that you want me to kiss you.”

She met his eyes. Her mouth suddenly felt so dry. She couldn’t look away from him if she tried. His stare was so intense she thought she’d die if she looked away.

Was he gonna kiss her? Was he gonna kiss her? She thought she’d die if he didn’t.

She didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to break this crystalline, fragile moment, but his name slipped past her lips anyway. Or, at least it started to.

“Bar-”

He leaned over the edge of the couch, most of his body still level enough that he didn’t fall off. And Iris was close enough that he didn’t have to lean far. He didn’t hesitate once he reached her, not for a single moment, and Iris wondered if he’d wanted to do this for a while. If he’d dreamt about it.

His lips were warm and soft against hers. The pressure was sweet and made her feel all tingly. It was the simplest of kisses, but she let him pull back, so he could say something if he wanted to, even though every part of her wanted to grab his face and devour him.

“I do love you, Iris,” he said softly. “I’ve loved you for…so long. And I haven’t told you because-”

“I know,” she said, nodding. “I understand.”

“What about…” he trailed off, then licked his lips. “What about you?”

Iris thought about it, wondered what she truly felt. She certainly loved him like family, though she’d never really thought of him as family, certainly not in a way that would make her see him as her brother or cousin or any other kind of relative. She’d never thought that. But she felt safe with him and protective of him. She enjoyed spending time with him, and she liked touching him a lot. And right now, there were few other things she wanted than to make out with him right here by the Christmas tree on Christmas morning.

“Iris?”

She smiled tentatively, then draped her arm around his neck.

“I think I love you, too, Bear.”

Her small, pretty smile was nothing compared to the thousand-watt one that spread across his face.

“Yeah?” he asked, his eyes bright with happiness. He was so very awake now.

“Yeah,” she giggled, then scooted closer and kissed him again and again and again.

By the time Joe came downstairs sometime later, Barry was sitting up on the couch and Iris was straddling him, kissing him with a fury that stole his breath. And Joe West groaned, causing them to break away.

“Dad!” Iris shrieked, but Barry said nothing, a lazy grin on his face he couldn’t suppress.

“Well, I guess you told her,” Joe said on a sigh.

Iris’ jaw dropped. “You knew?”

He ignored her. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, Barry Allen-”

“You told me once,” Barry retorted, to which Joe shrugged and headed back towards the stairs.

“Wait, Dad! You don’t have to-” She tried to climb off Barry’s lap, but he sensed the movement and held her in place, making her brace her hands on the top of the couch, startled.

“I really think I do,” Joe said, continuing up the steps. “I’m still tired anyway.”

When they heard his bedroom door shut behind him, Iris turned back to Barry and playfully smacked him.

“I can’t believe you!” she giggled.

He only grinned. “You’re beautiful in the morning, you know that?” He tucked a lock behind her ear, then sunk his fingers into her hair.

Iris shivered beneath his touch. “Only in the morning, Barry Allen?”

“No,” he said and pulled her closer, nuzzling her nose before stealing a kiss. “All the time. Always. You’re always beautiful.”

One kiss after another. Iris sunk into each and every one of them.

“I have a Christmas present for you.” She tried to pull away.

“I like this one,” he said, pulling her in for another kiss.

“I’ll do you one better,” she said, leaning back enough so they’d tumble to the floor if he tried to lean forward.

“What’s that?” he asked, resigned to whatever fate she’d decided to deliver him.

The question sounded simple enough in her mind, and she knew he’d say yes. She was just suddenly very nervous to ask it. Would he tease her? Would she tell her she was being silly?

“Iris?” he asked, concerned, breaking through her self-doubt, and she knew she was being silly. Silly to doubt him ever.

“Will you be my boyfriend, Barry?”

His literal gasp followed by the look of awestruck wonder in his eyes, the unshed tears of a boy in love staring straight at her like she was the reason science made sense.

“You have to ask?” he rasped, and she knew right then she loved him.

She loved him. She loved him. She loved him.

She kissed him hard – but just barely because she was smiling so much.

“I’m so excited, Barry. So happy. This is the best Christmas gift ever.”

Her eyes dazzled when she pulled away, and he was smiling so bright he looked like he might burst.

“Not as happy as I am, Iris,” then stole another kiss. “Not by a long shot.”

And they kissed a while longer as dawn crept into day and sun shone through the front window. And after a while Barry made pancakes and Iris stared dreamily at him as he did.

“My boyfriend, the cook,” she said, not realizing until he turned to look at her that she’d said it out loud. She was too embarrassed to take it back. And the smirk he sent her way melted her insides.

He finished up their breakfast and delivered it to her. Her eyes lit up at the display of deliciously smelling food, but before she could dive in, he tipped her chin up, leaned down and kissed her.

“Better than pancakes,” she murmured against his lips.

“Better than Christmas,” he countered.

She didn’t disagree.

...

*Also posted on AO3 and FFnet.

#25 days of westallen fanfiction #westallen #fanfiction #backtothestart02 fanfiction #christmas fiiiiiiiic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!#pre-series #2013 christmas basically #baby 24-year-olds aww

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overwatch-xoxo · 7 years ago

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low tide

reaper x fem reader | platonic sombra action | beach fanfiction | 1500 words

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You’d expected the Talon beach trip to be a bit more, well, populated. It had been your idea, after all - there was a moment of downtime, and it might be good for unwinding, or team bonding, or something equally as intangible. Mostly, you missed what it was like to feel hugged by the sunlight and the humid beach air on a summer day. You had imagined collecting seashells with your closest teammates, trading them. It was childish, in hindsight. Why would the people you typically fought beside want to have a day or two of relaxation when so much was at stake?

Regardless, everyone had come up with some kind of excuse to use their day off for something more productive. Everyone - except for one.

Sombra lounged on the beach chair beside you, nursing a popsicle that was melting more quickly than she cared to notice, sprawling out her legs in a way that must have seemed most beneficial for a suntan. It had been late afternoon when you arrived. Now it was nearly sunset, and she was trying to get every minute in that she could. You had brought a book along, which was currently on your lap, thus far untouched. Sombra lolled her head lazily toward you. She gave you a look over her sunglasses that indicated you were ruining her vacation.

“You can’t think about it too much, amiga. At least we get a day at the seashore. Everyone else will be jealous of our sun-kissed skins when we get back, and then they’ll never say no again. You’ll see.”

Shifting uncomfortably, you toyed with a string on your bikini. “I had at least hoped that – I don’t know – maybe, that – that at least Gabriel would show up.”

Sombra threw her head back, barking a short laugh. “Oh, honey, I’d like to see that big crybaby on the beach, in all his black clothes, grumbling about how hot he is.” She peered at you sideways, deviousness quirking her lips. “What, you think you’d like to see him in a swimsuit?”

You scoffed a haughty chuckle, fingering the pages of your novel, and struggled to come up with a response. It wasn’t like there had been meaningful glances between you and Reaper in the halls of the Talon compound, because his eyes were always hidden behind a mask. But each time you accidentally brushed against him, or he corrected your aim with a firm hand, you couldn’t help but feel the electric shock that made your head buzz for hours. And his voice made you shudder - in a way that wasn’t full of fear, as it had once been.

Sombra let out an exuberant hoot at your silence, nudging you with her arm, sticky with tanning oil and sweat. “Ooh, have I hit a sensitive spot? Is there something you want to tell me?”

You shrugged and buried your nose in your book, using it to shield your face which was red, although perhaps only because the heat was finally getting to you. Ever since the incident last week, when Reaper had been caught holding a piece of paper outside your door that he promptly tore to shreds, you’d been the butt of all sorts of teasing from your teammates. Sure, you’d thought about it. Even now, you had a hard time focusing on the words on the page, your mind drifting to the idea of having warm hands grip your waist with a roughness, biting mysterious lips from underneath a mask —

“Well, if you don’t wanna talk anymore, I’m going down to the water.” Sombra wedged her popsicle stick in the sand so it was sticking straight up, and she slinked down toward the seafoam collecting on the shore. You could see her poking at the tiny fiddler crabs scattering at her feet, and you smiled a bit. She was a good friend, if a terrible gossip.

No matter how you tried, you still couldn’t focus on your book, so after the fifth time of scanning the same sentence you threw it down on the beach chair and moved towards the water as well. You needed to clear your head. “I’m going for a walk,” you called to Sombra. She nodded in acknowledgement, up to her knees in the water and even deeper in thought.

“I’m going back to the hotel soon, I’ll grab your things,” she called back as you strode away. Sunset was rather nigh, you realized — it wouldn’t be long before it was dark all along the beach. So you focused on your walk, tasting the briny air, kicking up the water as you went along. You watched the sunset alone, scrunching your toes into the mud just near the lapping waves, your feet sinking incrementally deeper into the sand with each push and pull of the tide. Becoming one with the ocean.

You felt him first. Cool tendrils of darkness chilled the air, giving you goosebumps moments before the sun slid below the horizon, leaving a dusky purple in its wake. A little afraid to look, your gaze slid to your left, then over your shoulder to look at Reaper. He looked a little pissed off - but then, didn’t he always?

“Where’s Sombra?” he hissed, the last remnants of his shadowstep dissolving as he took on a more corporeal form.

You shrugged. “About a half mile that way, I guess. I think she went back to our hotel room.”

He clenched and unclenched his fists, debating what to say next. “You shouldn’t be out here alone.” His words sounded choked, strained.

“I can take care of myself,” you said, crossing your arms indignantly. Any relaxation you might have earned from your few moments alone were instantly gone, your shoulders tense, your jaw set.

“You’re a member of Talon now — just being out in public puts you in danger.”

“And why do you care what kind of danger I’m in?”

He stopped at this question, glanced over his shoulder, clenched and unclenched his hands again. The silence was, at first, thoughtful - and then it was uncomfortably long. He was stuck. Softening, you sighed and let down your guard. “Reaper—”

A loud beat plays from a bar up the shore, surprising both of you, causing you to jump. It’s a live artist, playing a bad cover of a Jimmy Buffet song. A giggle bubbles up in your chest. Reaper cocks his head quizzically at your outburst of laughter. You step closer to him, arms outstretched in an offer, a truce. “Want to dance?”

“What?”

“Dancing. It’s something people do together, sometimes.” You grinned, and you took a bold move closer to him, placing his clawed hands on your waist, looping your arms over his shoulders. You laughed again, shaking your head. “I can’t believe you came to the beach in full gear.”

“I was… busy today.” He began to sway with you, and something tense in him eased up at the movement, as though this was easy, this was familiar.

“You don’t have to be busy anymore,” you said, gazing up at his mask where his eyes would be. Maybe you’d been this close to him during training, but this was gentler. For a moment, the two of you danced in silence, to the echo of the music, the rhythm of the ocean moving with you, rolling in and out.

Something about it felt right. On tiptoes you angled yourself, and softly brushed your lips against his mask, all the while keeping your eyes open. Your heart was pounding, but you weren’t scared. This was a different feeling. Reaper stopped swaying.

“Promise me you aren’t afraid,” he said. His voice was shaking.

“I’m not,” you said.

Slowly, he took his hand off your waist, and with his fingertips cradled the edge of his mask. He hesitated. Then he angled it upward, revealing a mouth that seemed to be partially shrouded in something darker, a face which had features that resembled old photos of Gabriel Reyes, but more gaunt, and eyes that burned with a fire that flipped your stomach.

This time, he leaned down to meet you. His kiss was slow, warm, and deep. That same fire burned in your chest, curled in your stomach, awakened every inch of you. You had never felt more alive than you did now, in the embrace of a half-dead man. Before you were finished, he broke away, caressing your face with a gloved hand.

“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he growled, something possessive in him awoken.

You smirked, returning his softness by stroking his own cheek, not allowing him to recoil from your touch. When you gazed at him, it all clicked together. "And I can’t wait to do it again,” you said, once more closing the distance.

#reaper x reader #overwatch x reader #overwatch fanfic #overwatch fanfiction #reaper x reader fic #reaper x reader fanfic #reaper x reader fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #drabble #reaper x reader drabble #reaper #gabriel reyes #sombra

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petals42 · 7 years ago

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Can you please do some more Kent/chowder friendship body swap bc if you write like anything at all I will die happy

this is going to be an Unorganized Mess because i’m doing it right before bed because WHY NOT but here. [Note: You gotta have read this post first to make sense of this.]

So, like, as mentioned, I really want this friendship to develop after they switch back but the question is like... how??

In my last post I talked about how Parse would send Chowder nicer clothes (and sheets because wtf is that thread count christopher??) but i think this happened because-- wait lets go back

Okay so Chowder gets to go to the Aces/Sharks game and go backstage (not the right word for that but lets just move on) and meet people so while he is obviously ALL UP IN THE SHARKS, he introduces his family also to Kent as “and this is my friend, Kent Parson” and admist the confused stares (coming from both his family and Kent Parson), Chowder is just like “we met at Samwell!!”

And Kent Parson, who is never really referred to as a friend (more a teammate, tbh, or “ex” or “celebrity crush) has like acquired some sort of blushing instinct (he blames his time in Chowders body) because he sort of blushes and stammers (JUST A LITTLE OKAY) before finding his cool again and--

“Oh, also,” Chowder tells his little sister. “You gotta feel that inside of that sweater-- it is like SO SOFT.” and so that is actually where Kent gets his first idea to send Chowder nicer clothes (the expensive CASHMERE clothes yaknow... (sidebar: is cashmere soft? i don’t... actually know things about nice clothes))

But he doesn’t do it right away because like.. c’mon he’s not going to seem desperate here. He’s Kent Parson. He... they switched bodies for a little. Surely Chowder doesn’t actually want to... be his friend.

WRONG.

Because Chowder gets on a flight and heads back to Samwell and Kent Parson gets back to Vegas (and snuggles Kit) and THEN Kent Parson gets a text.

And that text is chirping him. Hard. For his coding notes.

“Lol. Dude. Really?? These don’t even make sense!”

“I told you I was bad at it! You’re lucky I tried.”

“It looks like you gave up halfway through and started doodling hockey plays.”

“... that is actually supposed to be some zeros and ones?? he wrote them on the board??”

“holy shit.”

and suddenly kent parson finds himself sort of smiling and laughing at his phone and he would say it is one conversation but then he gets a GOOD LUCK! text before his next game and then a bunch of texts DURING the game that he sees after and then-

Then he gets a “Remember to ice your shoulder!!!” the next day and, okay, yes, it’s weird that this guy has BEEN IN HIS BODY and thus knows that his shoulder bothers him but its also... its also nice??

So Kent Parson says fuck it. And he sends Chowder that sweater he liked so much. Because Chowder is being really nice to him and he... okay he will try to have a friend.

Note: Kent Parson trying to have a friend is a Disaster. because Kent Parson knows his weaknesses: He is bad at emotional conversations, he cannot give relationship advice, he is sarcastic and rude and-- he is not good at being Friends with someone. Chowder’s natural friendliness is something he can appreciate but has difficulty reciprocating.

But you know what he does have?

Money.

Lots and lots of money.

And no one to spend it on.

Until now.

Kent Parson cannot say “Thank you for wishing me good luck before my games” so he buys Chowder fancy sweaters and t-shirts and fashionable pants and sends them on over. Kent Parson cannot say “It is cool you remind me to ice my shoulder” so he also sends new sheets (accompanied by pseudo-snide remarks such as “so i dont have to lay on that sandpaper if we ever have to switch back”). Kent Parson cannot tell Chowder that texting him during the day has become something of a highlight but he CAN buy chowder that coding software he was going on about and e-mail him the product key and he also can get people on the Sharks to sign stuff and mail it to Chowder and, look, he knows that getting Chowder’s family season tickets to the sharks game would be Too Much (at least... right now) but he does offer them when chowder goes home for breaks.

Look, as they text more and more, Chowder puts up with his sarcastic sense of humor and dark moods and doesn’t seem to take it personally when kent just texts back ‘yeah whatever’ after loses.

Chowder is just plain nice to him and Kent does his best to follow Chowder’s complaints about school and tries to offer advice when Chowder admits that sometimes he feels torn between Nursey and Dex and their constant bickering and wishes they would both just stop but Kent knows he cannot actually be that helpful. Even when Chowder texts: “gosh its nice to have someone not involved that i can vent to,” kent knows that he is not adding to chowder’s life nearly as much as chowder is adding to his.

With the time difference, Kent now usually wakes up to a few texts from Chowder and Chowder thinks Kit is the devil but still doesn’t mind when Kent sends pictures of her and Chowder... Chowder sometimes ever so casually reminds him that he doesn’t actually need alcohol (”you could just go home dude. wanna play starcraft?”

Oh right. That’s the other thing. Chowder has got him into computer games. Games that they can play together. On the same time. Kent has never done it before and its embarassing to be bad at something but somehow with chowder its not so bad and he’s already promised that after the season, he is going to have much more time to dedicate to it and chowder thinks that they can get really GOOD over the summer and it becomes... their thing

When Nursey and Dex are driving Chowder crazy or Kent is actually free, the two log on and play some nerdy computer game shit (kent’s words. he keeps calling it that even after he admits he "sorta kinda likes it okay??”).

OF COURSE BECAUSE KENT PARSON CANNOT COMMUNICATE, he just keeps SENDING GIFTS. Which Chowder accepts at first, partly because he doesnt really know how much all this shit costs.

Nursey finally clues him in “dude, is that shirt fucking All Saints?” and Chowder is like “uh... what?” and that breaks the mystery and suddenly Chowder is like... wait a minute. this dude has sent me probably over a thousand dollars worth of nice ass clothes (and sheets and towels) all in the name of “In Case We Ever Switch Back.”

Not To Worry: At this point it is Summer Break. Which means that Chowder can just go, meet up with Kent in person and tell him that while he appreciates the gifts, kent should probably stop. They both now know not to wish on any shooting star anymore. They are probably good.

So Chowder texts Kent something like “dude im home may 22nd-- when are we meeting up over break?” and Kent gets it and lowkey PANICS because like... Chowder wants to hang out with him?? And he can’t even just take him to a hockey game because the season is over?? WHAT WILL THEY DO??

Better to stay on home turf, Kent decides. He can take Chowder out in vegas and they can hit the casinos and maybe he’ll rent a limo and-- “Im free anytime” he texts back, hoping that doesn’t make himself sound lame. “when do you wanna come over?”

And then Kent Parson is thrown for a loop because Chowder ruins his plans by saying “you should come here! i’ll show you non-hockey parts of san jose! first weekend of june?? promise no one will yell at you!!” and kent... well hes not gonna say no obviously but he... he can’t take chowder to casinos if they arent in vegas and--

“Bring your laptop” chowder says. “starcraft IN PERSON”

Look this deserves a 15k fic of its own but picture: Kent Parson, nervous, awkward, feeling a little like he did when he visited the zimmermanns except not because he and chowder are just friends so there’s less... challenge and also he has grown up a little and so its just very embarassing for him and chowder’s whole family is the nicest and he sleeps in the guest room and they just-- They play starcraft. They go see a movie. They walk around Chowder’s favorite park. They drive up to the beach with Farmer. They go to an arcade. Normal people stuff. They do normal people stuff.

And Chowder sits Kent down and is like “dude you gotta stop sending me presents like some kind of weirdass sugar daddy” and Kent does turn bright red at that one because he was kind of just lowkey hoping chowder didn’t notice but Chowder manages to make it not TOO awkward and then its just sort of a funny and Kent promises to stop (he wont really... chowder gets a new gaming computer for his birthday but kent claims that is because chowders weak ass system is affecting his gameplay but that not til later so thats okay)

MORE SURPRISING is Chowder agrees to come up to vegas to celebrate kent’s birthday on july 4th. Farmer comes for part of it (but she has work) while chowder stays for five whole days and they... they stay in kents apartment and play more computer games. chowder tries to build up kent’s tolerance for spicy food and then laughs at him when he dies. they go play hockey at the rink. they just... hang out. like friends.

It’s weird and bizzare and THEN TO TOP IT OFF Chowder (who is a wee bit drunk at this point because they aren’t just going to not drink or gamble at all-- chowder had doubled his 40 dollars today!!) says something like “do you think we can switch back again? if we tried?”

and kent (also tipsy, but just like... tipsy. not wasted) says “uh... no?”

and chowder says “LETS TRY” and kent says “why?” and chowder says “FOR FUN” and kent says “alright if you want”

and the two stand and hug and kent thinks “alright switch back” and then he pulls back

And look into his own face

Which is grinning at him.

“oh my god” chowder (in kent’s body) says. “This is gonna be so fun.”

ENDING THERE FOR NOW because i’ve got to stop writing this AU. what is this. what is my life. i don’t... i don’t even go here.

#my fic #again i dont know what this is or what my life is #kent parson #chower #parson #check please fanfiction #body switching au #they are going to use this power to get into SO MUCH TROUBLE #i guarantee it #Anonymous

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agrestenoir · 7 years ago

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turn right (1/2)

Title: turn right Pairing: Lila Rossi/Chat Noir Summary: It’s too quiet, she’s tired, and all Lila Rossi wants is a friend. read on AO3

This is part 1 of a my remix for @thinkoutsidethelovesquare for the Remix Challenge. I was assigned the insanely talented BrenanaBread and decided to remix their lovely fic, Lovebug. Hope I did it justice. Honestly, I saw the Jonas Brothers and jumped because hello throwback?

Lila doesn’t remember much about her time as an akuma.

If she closes her eyes and tries hard enough, she can faintly recall the wind rushing past her as she leapt over the Paris rooftops and the cold hand of an illusion clasped around hers. While she wishes to know more about the time she holds against herself, in a way, it’s a gift not to remember it. The things she did, the people she hurt—Lila doesn’t want to think about any of that. She just wants to stop hurting.

It’s bad enough being the new girl, outed as a liar by Paris’s famous superhero, but to carry the constant weight of the akumazation on her shoulders takes more of a toll than people realized.

Going to school is a long and treacherous road that she isn’t too fond of walking. It’s winding and windy, and she’s nearly blown off the path before she even scales the stairs to the front of the building. Already classmates who’d been fawning over her every word the day before are sending her curious but cold glances over their shoulders when they think she isn’t looking. A sick, nauseating feeling bubbles up in the pit of her stomach, and it takes all she has to push that fear and humiliation back down.

The sad truth of the matter is that Lila has no friends. As the new girl, while her lies helped her masquerade, now that the mask is gone, so is the mystery and intrigue. No one wants to get to know her because what else is there to get? After Alya heard Ladybug’s accusations in the park yesterday, everyone knows the truth now. Lila the Liar, as Chloe has taken to spreading, and it’s not like anyone has tried to stop her (just like it’s not like it’s not true). Lila knows she made a mistake by telling lies to get people to like her, but after the sixth new school in the last three years, could anyone really blame her? The lies were a quick and easy way to meld in with the new crowd of new people with new faces and new voices. She just wanted to be liked and have friends.

And that’s the crux of the matter. Lila is lonely, and all she wants is a friend.

But thanks to Ladybug, that will never happen.

Now she sits in the back of crowded classrooms, head buried in her hands, too afraid to face the world. She wonders how long it’ll be until her father relocates again. She has never wished for the day she gets to leave to come sooner, always dreading the fact since it means leaving friends she’d finally made (and even though they swear to keep in touch, the weeks fly by, relationships are strained, and suddenly Lila is alone again). It’s a constant cycle of coming and going, having and hurting, and loving and losing. The geography of Lila’s heart is full of high mountain ranges and wide, open oceans, barriers to block the capital city from complete destruction, but each day a little bit more is chipped away and crumbles to dust.

Watching her classmates from across the room, Adrien with the DJ, and the Ladyblogger with Gabriel’s Protégé… She wonders what it would be like to have a friend like that.

So, as upsetting as her akumazation was, a small part of her wishes she remembered it. If only to have one connection to her classmates, something everyone could relate too, because most of them had been akumas as well. Volpina may have been evil and hurt people, but something good could have come out of it if she remembered.

May she could’ve had at least one friend.

It starts three days after her akumazation.

Lila sits on the edge of her balcony, her legs poking through the rusty rails with bare feet kicking in the cool, evening air. Paris is different from Milan—quieter even in the late hours of the night—and it’ll take her a while to get used to the new setting. Which means sleep won’t come for a long time still.

She sighs and stares at the dark sky above her, which twinkles with clusters of stars and the soft glow of the pale moon, and she can’t help but think there’s something ethereal about Paris at night.

…She wants someone to share it with.

The thought leaves her in a whoosh, air jumping from her lungs as if a wrecking ball had slammed into her ribcage, and she can’t catch her breath. It’s funny, Lila thinks to herself, that she came out here to feel better, and all she succeeded in doing was remind herself of how truly lonely she was.

A burning sensation prickles in the corner of her eyes, and she sniffles helplessly, fighting back the tears that had been brimming for days. It’s been a long fought war against the onslaught—she absolutely refuses to give in now.

“Lila?” The voice comes from the corner of her balcony, and she starts, whipping around to come face-to-face with a pair of huge, green eyes glowing eerily in the dark shadow of her apartment building.

“C-Chat Noir?” she asks, breathless.

Chat Noir clampers down from his perch on the balcony railing, landing softly on his toes, and settles back on his haunches with a small, cautious smile. “Mind if I join you?”

Lila takes a moment to reorient herself, the world turning slippery as she faces off against one half of Paris’s famous superhero duo, who just days before had battled her akumatized-self. All she can manage is a small nod and gestures to the empty space between them, mouth still open in surprise.

Chat Noir flashes her a quick, blinding smile—teeth and all—and slips his legs between the railing, parking himself alongside her. “Thanks,” he says, “I just wanted to check in and see how you were doing.” Their thighs brush against each other as they kick their feet back and forth, falling in sync like a pendulum swinging in time with a clock.

He is patient with her as she struggles to form a coherent sentence. It’s such a drastic change from the scene she faces at school with cold, lingering glances from classmates who refuse to fall for her false smiles anymore. “Take your time,” he tells her, placing a hand on her shoulder.

“Why are you here?” she finally asks, narrowing her eyes in confusion. I thought you hated me, she wants to say, because why wouldn’t he? Ladybug had a basis for her accusations, even if Lila refused to admit it, and was quick to call her out and ruin everything for her. Why would Chat Noir be any different?

Chat Noir simply shrugs in response, tilting his head towards the sky instead of her questioning stare. “I always check up on people after they’re akumatized. Just something I do.”

“But I fought you,” she protests. “I could have hurt you—”A low chuckle falls from his lips and into the space between them, and Lila’s cheeks burn hot with embarrassment. “Stop laughing at me.”

“I’m not, I’m not.” But he’s still laughing, still shaking his head. “You’d just be surprised how often I hear that.”

“But it’s true! I could have hurt you!”

“But you didn’t,” he reassures her, leveling her with his soft gaze. “And everything turned out fine.”

She wants to say more because suddenly it’s so easy. Even if she can’t remember what she did during her stint as Volpina, she knows enough from news footage and eye witness accounts. Threatening Adrien, nearly succeeding in defeating the famed superheroes of Paris, scaring the entire city with fake meteors and bombs and weapons and she just… Suddenly, Lila realizes just how easy it is to hate herself.

It’s funny. She spends so much time trying to get people to like her, and she can’t even like herself… What kind of person does that make her?

Biting her bottom lip, she whispers, “I’m sorry”, as if it can make up for everything she did.

“Don’t worry about it,” Chat Noir says, shrugging her apology off with a nonchalant smile. He loops his arms through the bars of the railing, resting his chin on his shoulder as he stares at her. “It’s in the past.”

“You’re too forgiving,” she says, and there’s an itch under her skin, because people who are too forgiving get hurt easily, people who are too quick to forget make the same mistakes which got them hurt in the first place. She speaks from experience. It’s not a happy situation to fall into.

Chat Noir laughs again, but this time it’s bitter and hard. “I know,” he says like he understands too.

There’s silence between them now, and neither make a move to fill it. Lila can only look out over the city as if it holds the comfort she’s looking for. The moon looms over the world while the stars stand at its side like guards, the whole sky illuminating the two as they sit on her balcony. It’s an idyllic moment, the kind where lovers share the transcendent first kiss under the faint starlight, but all Lila can hope for is something else. Is it really too much to ask to have one friend? Just someone who will sit in her corner when the rest of the world walks away?

She glances at the superhero beside her and thinks about how he sought out her presence on his own, even though she’d never talked to him before, never lied to his face, never spread rumors about knowing him… They’re unacquaintances, strangers to one another. But in a way… That’s how all friendships started, right?

With a hesitant smile, she lets go of the balcony railing and holds out her hand to him. “I’m Lila,” she says, and it’s the first time she introduces herself to someone without an elaborate tale following it. “Lila Rossi.”

Chat Noir’s gloved fingers clasps around her own, claws pricking goosebumps along her cool skin. “Chat Noir,” he offers and smiles. “It’s nice to meet you, Lila… officially.”

“Thank you,” she continues, “for saving me from Hawkmoth.”

He squeezes her hand once more before letting go, wrapping it around the balcony railing again. “It’s my job.”

Something settles in her chest, like the pieces of her heart are clicking back into place in a tender but turbulent manner, careful and careless all at once. She turns back to the city in front of them, the large, beautiful city that stretches on for miles and miles in every direction. Lila thinks about the quiet and the stillness of it compared to the hustle and bustle of everything else she’s used too. Was worth it to keep trying to fit in here so long as there’s people like Chat Noir looking out for her?

“Well you’re good at your job.” She curls a loop of hair around her index finger, gnawing on her bottom lips again. “D-Do you always come to visit akumas?”

Chat Noir gently nudges her with his elbow. “You aren’t an akuma.”

Lila snorts. “Then what would you call me?”

“A victim,” he tells her, eyes softening. “We call you akuma victims.”

Her mouth falls open as she struggles to form a coherent response, left dumbstruck from the admission. She already knew the cat-themed superhero forgives too easily, but is it really that simple? He doesn’t just forgive the akumatized person; he never blames them in the first place. And somehow, that makes a world of difference.

“Victims?” she asks for clarification purposes. “But we’re—”

“You’re vulnerable.” He turns to face her, eyes burning into her own, as if trying to drill the point into her skull. “Think about it. When Hawkmoth sends his butterflies after you, you’re hurt. He purposely picks people who are at their lowest, when they’re at their most vulnerable and easily manipulated.”

“Well that certainly says a lot about me,” Lila interjects, but Chat Noir is already shaking his head.

“No, no, you don’t understand,” he says. “If you’ve been hurt or backstabbed, or embarrassed or angry, and you’re desperate and feel like there’s nothing else you can do? And suddenly you’re offered the power to set things right? To make all that hurt and pain go away? Well, why wouldn’t you take it?”

Lila snaps her gaze away, staring at the potted plant on the other side of her instead.

“Believe me, I understand. Sometimes I wish I had that chance.”

“To be an akuma?” She quirks an eyebrow high in puzzlement. “Why would a superhero want to be the villain?”

Chat Noir only shakes his head. “No, not the villain. I just mean… sometimes being a superhero is more trouble than it’s worth, and I want to just be done with everything, you know? Akumas get that opportunity, even if it’s just for a little bit, and even if it’s completely twisted and horrible but… I’d be wrong to say I don’t understand what it’s like for you guys. We’re all only human after all.”

We’re only human after all. The words echo through her head, louder than she’d like them to be, as the whispered words from a superhero speak volumes within her.

“I guess that’s one way of looking at it,” she says.

Chat Noir laughs, more to himself than anything, and leans back on his palms. “Anyway, I just wanted to check in on you, like I said before. You doing okay?”

It’s Lila’s turn to laugh that bitter laugh she’s grown so fond of over the last few days. “As well as I can be, I guess.”

“What d’you mean?”

She rests her elbows on her knees, leaning forward under her forehead is against the cool metal of the railing. “Just because you deakumatized me doesn’t mean things got better.”

Chat Noir turns quiet, smile fading to a small frown. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” she manages, shaking her head. “I don’t know why I thought it would. I only got upset because Ladybug had to fuck everything up, and I—”

“Hey, she was just setting things right,” he admonishes, his frown setting deeper, like a marble carving growing more defined. “If you hadn’t lied—”

“I know!” she snapped, whirling around to face him, eyes flashing wildly as anger brewed in the pit of her stomach like hot acid. “I know, okay? You don’t need to remind me. I already get enough of that at school, and I don’t need you laying into me too.”

Chat Noir is silent, and shame washes over her like the high tide against the shore. She wants to take those words back, but she can’t. Just like she can’t take back the lies, can’t take back losing Adrien’s book, can’t take back being Volpina, can’t take back anything… and suddenly, it’s like a raging fire erupts in her heart, and her hands clasp over her chest in attempt to smother it. Damn it, she’d been doing so well. She’d been nice to Chat Noir, and he’d gone out of his way to make sure she was alright. But now she had yelled, and he was going to leave and hate her, just like everyone else in this god forsaken city!

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” The words break through her silent, raging reverie, and she can barely process them. Lila refuses to say anything, worried that if she opened her mouth more than she intended would spill out.

Chat Noir continues though. “Sounds like you’re having trouble at your new school though.”

“Everyone hates me.”

“I know what that’s like,” he says, and she rolls her eyes. “My first day at my new school, I accidentally hurt this girl, and she was really upset with me. Even after I apologized, I think she was still kind of mad with me for a while, but I just had to keep being myself and hope she accepted it, you know? If she saw I really meant it, maybe she could forgive me.”

“Did she?”

Chat Noir smiles to himself. “Yeah, actually, she did. She’s one of my best friends now.”

Lila pulls her hand from the railing and toys with her fingers, needing to be doing anything to take her mind off of the situation, but the words still leave her lips because something tells her that she needs to be open and honest with him. “I wish I could have that.” “Forgiveness?” he asks.

“A friend.”

There’s silence again—thick and heavy like fog before a storm—but she pushes past it and forces herself to admit the truth. “I lied… to a lot of people, and I don’t know how to fix that.” Chat Noir bites his lip, pondering the problem for a moment before suggesting, “I know it sounds easy, but apologizing might be the only thing you can do?”

Lila shakes her head, unable to even think about apologies, because those are the hardest things to do. Admitting your wrong, especially to the people you wronged, is scarier than moving to a new country, becoming an akuma, and dealing with the disastrous fallout all together.

“Lila,” Chat Noir says, expression softening as he catches sight of the fear and worry lining her face. “Apologizing isn’t supposed to be easy. Everyone knows that.”

“You don’t understand,” she protests. “They hate me. They won’t even listen to me—”

“There has to be someone,” he presses.

Her first thoughts flash to Adrien, but she shakes that idea from her head as quickly as it came. She had stolen his book and lost it, and she’d seen him roaming the library frantically as he searched for it. How can she even begin to approach him after what she’d done?

“Just… Be on the lookout,” Chat Noir tells her. “There’s gotta be someone who’ll listen.”

Instead of answering, Lila cocks her head and turns to him, a small smile stretching across her face. “Do you charge for these therapy sessions, Monsieur Noir?”

Chat Noir closes his eyes as a cool wind whips by, looking the perfect picture of ease. “Like I said, comes with the job. Wouldn’t mind a good tip though.”

“Working with Ladybug not enough for you?” she answers coyly. His eyes snap open in panic, and a dark pink flushes across his cheeks. “I’m pretty sure everyone in Paris can see how you look at her.”

“Well,” he says, swallowing thickly. “You aren’t wrong.”

“I know,” she replies cheerfully, practically beaming with pride at this point. “I can read people very easily.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes,” she says simply. She pokes his side with her index finger. “I can see right through you, Chat Noir. You two are dating aren’t you?”

“Can’t deny I’ve got a soft spot for the bug,” he admits softly, “But we’re not dating.”

“Oh, sure you… say…” Something in his sentence causes her words to trail off as she replays the moment in her head. Soft spot for the bug… Where has she heard that before?”

“Anyway,” he says, “We’re partners, and we look out for each other. And that’s just about it… Lila, are you okay?”

He cocks his head to the side, blonde hair falling over his forehead like a golden waterfall, and his green eyes are alit with concern, wide and open and just so honest. She’s taken back for a moment because he talks like he cares, like he’s worried, like he’s her friend even though they’d only known each other for a brief time. She doesn’t see this from many people, and she can only recall when Adrien look at her this way on the park bench when Ladybug was yelling and…

…and when Adrien…

…Adrien…

…Adrien.

Suddenly, the world opens up, and even though it’s the middle of the night, the sun comes out and illuminates all the shadows she’d created. Oh, she thinks to herself, it’s so obvious.

Adrien is Chat Noir, and it’s so obvious. How had she not seen this sooner?

A slight smile creeps across her face, and he returns it hesitantly. “You okay?” he asks again.

“Yeah,” she dares to say and maybe she can begin to actually believe it.

How can she even begin to tell him she knows? And oh god, what if she’s know? But the more she looks at him, the quiet and kindness he ensues, the small smiles and the open looks… The more she’s convinced that she can’t be wrong.

Her fingers itch to hold onto something, so she simply wraps them around the bars of the balcony, staring straight out into the night sky. That haunting silence is back, but this time it’s lighter, easier to bear, and Lila can’t stop the smile from growing wider. What are the chances that Chat Noir was Adrien Agreste, and where is she supposed to go from here?

She fidgets in her seat, wanting to ask question upon question and dig deeper and deeper until there isn’t anything else to know. How does she start the conversation and let him know she knew his identity? How will she handle it from there? Does she confess to stealing his book? Oh Lord, would…

His words come back to her. Be on the lookout, he’d said, There’s got to be someone who’ll listen.

…Was Chat Noir talking about Adrien?

The thought takes her off guard, and she is pulled back to reality in a loud thunderclap. As she regains her bearings, she hears a low droning noise, soothing almost, like sweet lullabies during a restless night. Turning towards the superhero, she’s taken back when she realizes he’d been humming this whole time. She is stuck over here in a world of her own, the earth-shattering realizations cutting deep and hard into her caged heart, and he’s just humming.

“Y-You sound good,” she whispers, almost afraid to disturb him. She doesn’t know how to talk to him now that she knows Chat Noir, the superhero who cared, is Adrien Agreste, the boy she hurt.

“Oh,” Chat Noir says, finally noticing her snapback to reality. The blush on his face darkens even more, and he ducks his gaze from view. “N-Nothing, just bored.”

“Glad I could keep you entertained.”

“L-Lila!” He fumbles for an excuse, not noticing the grin stretching wider across her face. “I was just—”

“I know,” she tells him, and suddenly that’s all he needs.

There’s more silence, but this time it slowly dissipates when Chat Noir’s humming turns to singing. It’s a few lines, just a few bars, but he stares at her as he sings like it’s purposeful, as if the superhero is speaking to her directly in ways that simple words can’t express.

“So turn right, into my arms. Turn right, you won’t be alone. You might fall off this track sometimes. Hope to see you at the finish line.”

“…That’s beautiful,” she says as the last note echoes between them, dipping and diving past her ears, until all that’s left is the sound of heart putting itself back together. “You… sound really good.”

“You gonna be okay?” he asks again, and she can only nod. “Glad to hear it.”

He pushes himself to his feet and unclips his baton, and she follows suite, a hand stretching out to grasp his elbow. But she doesn’t know if it’s to pull him back or push him away, because all he does is make her confused and hopeful. Like she has a reason to wake up tomorrow and go to school with a sliver of hope that things will be okay, that she might leave with a forgiveness and a possible friend. Or will it just lead to more hurt and an opportunity for her to lose what little she had left?

“Chat Noir,” she says, and he cocks his head, waiting for her to continue. At the last second, however, she lets go with a small smile. “Thank you.”

His own warm one mirrors hers. “I’ll be seeing you around, Lila.”

“Plan to visit me again?” she asks, breathless.

He ponders the question for a moment before nodding. “Consider it a date?”

“A date?” Her heart beats louder in her chest.

“A date between friends,” he clarifies, grabbing her wrist suddenly and pecking the back of her hand with a quick kiss. Then, with a flick of his wrist as his only goodbye, he launches himself off her balcony and goes sailing off over the Paris rooftops.

Lila, on the other hand, is caught between a promise and a kiss, with the secret that she holds dearly against her chest, and all she can do is echo the words of the superhero who saved her in more ways than one.

“A friend,” she whispers, “I… have a friend.”

And suddenly, the world seems brighter.

For the first time in a long while, Lila smiles.

And this time, it doesn’t leave her face.

#miraculous #ml fic #think outside the love square #tols remix #lilanoir #lila #chat noir #adrien #my writing #my fic

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