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dreaming-medium · 1 year ago

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Animals Without Direction

Chapter Ten - By First Light

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Masterlist

It was well past midnight when you returned to the keep. There was a fresh gash in your side.

The job you were sent on was supposed to be simple. Just a wolf spotted near a farm owned by an elderly couple. They couldn’t afford to hire a mercenary themselves, so they came to the Jarl for assistance.

And who did he send out? You.

And what did you find? A pack of wolves. Easily seven of them. You took care of them, of course, but not before one got a nasty swipe at your side.

No, you have not been able to sleep yet. Your brain feels like it’s being squeezed by a giant’s hands. Your eyes feel sunken into your skull.

It certainly is not helping your general attitude, either.

With one hand pressing into the wound, you limped slightly into the keep and towards the throne room. You always reported to Chan first thing before going to wash up.

The gash wasn’t too deep at all, it was more annoying than anything. With your healing abilities, it will most likely be closed by the morning, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt like a bitch.

It looks much worse than it is. To anyone passing by, you look like you’re bleeding out.

Silence fills the hallways of the keep. Your boots drag along the stone with uneven steps.

“Fucking wolves,” you grumble under your breath, “Demons straight from The Void.”

There’s only been one instance of Chan being asleep when you’ve gone to report in from a mission. Tonight apparently makes two.

But the throne room is not empty, no, there’s one person standing at a table.

Minho’s back was towards you, he was sitting at a chair at the end closest to you. If there was a plate of food in front of him, you couldn’t tell.

You’re about to turn to leave but he speaks up.

“He’s asleep.” He says without turning to look at you.

“I pieced that together.” Your voice comes out much weaker than you intended.

‘Damn this wound.’ You think to yourself.

This makes Minho turn to look at you with an eyebrow cocked. His eyes quickly scan your figure, hovering on the hand that’s holding your side.

He tongues his cheek and turns back around.

“I did not think a simple wolf was too much for the all-mighty mercenary.” He chides.

You roll your eyes and sneer at the back of his head. “One is not. Once the number climbs to about six or seven it becomes a bit difficult.”

Minho nods his head and picks up the tankard in front of him, taking a long swig.

You shift your weight from foot to foot. “I will speak to him in the morning then.”

The way to your room is through the throne room. Meaning you have to walk past Minho.

A log crackles in the fire.

Taking a deep breath, you take painful steps towards the doorway across the room, each intake of breath feels like needles in your side.

“Should you not be going to see Felix?” Minho calls across the room.

You do not stop walking. “Do not pretend to care.” You roll your eyes, not that he sees it. “I will be fine by the morning.”

“You’re bleeding on the floor.”

“I am fine.” You grit. “Goodnight, Minho.”

Minho sighs.

“Some days I believe you to be intelligent, others you prove yourself to be witless.”

A shot of anger goes through your chest and you finally stop walking. You turn in place, hand still holding your wound tightly.

“Do not speak to me like that, Minho.” You growl. “Have we not had this talk before or are you the witless one who cannot remember a conversation that was had a month ago?”

You make sure to put extra venom into your words, teeth bared and eyebrows furrowed. The room grows warmer as your blood boils.

Minho stares at you from his seated position at the table. Even from a distance you can see the anger flashing in his eyes with a dangerous glint.

You were playing with fire here.

“Has it only been a month?” His voice low, “Did it only take a month for you to find your way into a second court member’s bed?”

Your jaw drops and your eye twitches, “What has possessed you?” You ask incredulously.

Minho sticks a grape in his mouth, one eyebrow raised in a cocky manner. “First the Squire, now the Rogue. Who is next? The Mage?”

The Rogue? Is he referring to you leaving dinner with Seungmin two days ago? What is he on?

Hotter and hotter your anger boils. Every time you think you’ve taken a step forward with Minho, he launches himself ten paces back.

You’re so shocked at his words that you can’t even form proper words. Where is this coming from?

“I— what are you saying?” You sputter.

Suddenly, you can’t even feel the wound in your side. Your attention is on the advisor and his wild accusations.

“I watched you leave dinner with that dopey smile on your face. Do not pretend to be ignorant.”

Is he serious?

“Seungmin wanted to tell me something pertaining to an assignment he completed but did not want any prying ears to hear it!” You bark at him, taking a step in his direction. “What is this all about?”

Minho rolls his eyes and looks at the wall to his left, away from you.

“You spend every moment of your spare time with another man, what is one supposed to think, Y/N? I am not stupid, no one in this court is.”

“Why do you see me as no more than a common whore? Have I not proved myself worthy of being among you? Or do I need to run my sword through your chest before you finally listen to me?”

Minho snaps his head over to you, a sneer on his face. “Is that a threat?”

“Typically when someone insults my honor, I do not sit there and take it.”

Minho rolls his eyes, “You do not sit there and take it? Pity, and here I thought the men gave lay to you for a reason.”

That was it.

In a blink, you marched over to where he sat at the table, with one blood soaked hand and one clean one, you grabbed the pristine collar of his shirt and yanked him from his chair.

Both of your noses were only about a centimeter apart. Your eyes were full of venom and hatred.

“I am not a whore. I am a mercenary who has fought tooth and nail to be the woman I am.”

Minho’s one hand plants on the tabletop and the other grabs your wrist in a vice grip. His eyes are glaring at you with an equal amount of anger and something else you couldn’t put your finger on.

“Why is it the moment I speak with a man you point your finger at me calling me a tramp? Every member on the Jarl’s court is a man. Am I supposed to keep to myself and never speak to a soul?” You tighten your grip on his collar and his does so as well on your wrist. “Why can you not treat me with the respect I deserve?”

The two of you stare so closely into the other’s eyes. Minho’s teeth are bared in a growl like state.

“You know,” you say with an evil smirk, “If I did not know any better, I may even say that you were jealous, Lee Minho.”

A wall of emotion flashes through his eyes, his pupils dilate and an actual growl tears from his throat.

Faster that you can blink, you’re turned around, an arm wrapped around your neck. He’s placed you in a sleeper hold from across the dining table.

Your back screams from the awkward angle. The wound in your side feels like it’s leaking even more.

“Jealous?” He gnarls in your ear. “Let us make one thing crystal clear. I am not jealous, I am angry that you believe you could simply seduce your way into my men’s beds when you had nothing nice to say about Miroh since your arrival.”

You struggle against his hold, his grip on your neck only tightens. “Do you not think that if I hated Miroh that I would have left a long while ago? What is holding me here? Nothing. Are you only seething because it is not your bed that I am trying to land in?”

His breath is hot against your ear, he exhales with each movement that you make against him in an attempt to keep you there. His hold may be like concrete, but you sure were giving him a rough time.

Minho squeezes your throat and a cry falls from your lips at the pressure. He’s one step away from cutting off your oxygen.

Thrashing against his arm, you pull and pull on his forearm but he doesn’t budge. “Do you truly not see the respect I have for this hold? Do you not see that I regret that way of thinking? But what else was I supposed to think when it was all I was fed my entire life!

“The Jarl is starting a war to free the Elves of Erbus. I am prepared to sacrifice my life in order to see that happen and you think that I am simply acting as a cock warmer for your court.”

With one last thrash, you finally yank yourself away from Minho. Your body turns and you stare daggers at him.

He’s looking at you differently, there’s still plenty of anger, but his eyes are moving all around your face. Both of your chests are heaving from exertion.

Minho opens his mouth to say something but a door slamming open takes both of your attention.

Your hand flies to your sword and Minho turns his entire body towards the door, hand at the dagger on his belt.

Your jaw dropped as soon as you saw what it was.

The messenger slumped against the door, his hair wet and greasy. His entire body was covered in dirt and soot, every article of clothing on his body was ruined.

But that’s not what made your heart sink.

Blood streamed down the sides of his head on both sides. He’s holding his stomach the same way that you came in doing, but both of his hands were completely stained red.

His hair draped in front of his face, but the skin you could see was beaten and bruised.

Blood is oozing through his fingers and leaving puddles on the floor.

The messenger lifted his head as much as he could. Both of his eyes were swollen and black. His lip was split and there were several gashes and chunks missing from his skin.

Bile rose in your throat.

You hadn’t seen someone this horrible looking since…

“He’s an Elf,” you choke out, “we sent an Elf to Erbus.”

“Get Chan.” Minho commanded, taking large steps towards the door where the messenger fell to his knees. “Now, Y/N!” He barked and your feet were moving.

“Guards!” You heard Minho scream as you sprinted out of the throne room, “Someone get Felix! NOW, GET HIM NOW.”

As fast as your feet allowed you, you sprinted through the keep. You had never been inside Chan’s room, you had only known where it was.

You were peeling around corners, the exhaustion you felt previously nowhere to be found.

An Elf. They sent an Elf.

His ears. They cut off his ears. Your throat tightened and you willed yourself to run faster.

As soon as his door was in sight, you screamed. “My lord!” You yelled, as soon as you got to the door, you started banging on the wood as hard as you could with your fists.

“My lord! Get up! My lord!” Over and over again you bang until the door is ripped open by an extremely startled Chan.

His hair is tossed and messy, eyes wide and alarmed with his mouth open in shock.

Chan’s eyes are wild as he looks your body up and down. He stops at the wound on your side, but you don’t give him enough time to say anything.

“The messenger, my lord.” You pant out desperately. “He was an Elf, my lord. He is back. He was an Elf,” you repeat and tears well up in your eyes even more. “My Lord, they— they—“

Chan doesn’t give you enough time to finish. His face shifts to a look of absolute horror, his face pales and he stumbles back a step.

You reach forward as quick as you can and grab his wrist. “Minho sent me to fetch you, please. My lord we have to go,” you beg him and pull his wrist.

Chan’s face hardens, but he makes no move to take his wrist from your hand. You pull him out of his room and down the hall.

Within a few seconds, he snaps out of his stupor and the two of you run through the halls together. After rounding the first corner, you drop his wrist.

“Where?” He barks.

“I know not if they brought him to the healing ward or if he’s still in the throne room.” You respond.

This time, it’s Chan’s turn to snatch your arm, he pulls you into a side hallway and both of you continue running at a decent clip.

It was now that you notice his lack of clothes.

He’s shirtless and only wearing a pair of soft cotton trousers. By the sound of his feet hitting the stone, he’s barefoot. The only thing covering him is a deep red silk robe around his shoulders, but it’s not tied in the front.

The robe billows behind him as the two of you run.

Within a minute, you’re bursting through the doors of the healing ward.

His choice in coming here was the correct one.

Minho and another guard are standing against the wall while a disheveled looking Felix does everything in his power to close the wounds on the messenger’s body.

Minho’s hands and clothes are covered in blood and his eyes are wild.

Both of Felix’s hands are emanating a yellow glow as he attempts to use restoration magic. His palms pressed to either side of the messengers head, cupping where his ears should be.

The messenger appears to have passed out. His body limp in the bed, not even his fingers twitching.

You and Chan walk into the room, you stay closer to the door and Chan marches over to the bed, looking down at the messenger.

A gasp tears from Chan’s throat and his hand flies over his mouth in pure shock.

“What happened to him?” Chan demands.

Sweat is dripping down Felix’s face mixing with his own tears. Violent sobs are wracking his chest.

“I know not!” He cries, “I have never seen anything like this before. This cruelty is beyond even what you would find in The Void.”

The light surrounding his hands keeps flickering.

“He is so young, Chan. I’m trying, I am but his wounds are beyond my skill.”

“Then get Hyunjin. You,” he points to the guard. “Go!” Chan commands to the guard who takes off out of the room.

“Hyunjin won’t be able to do anything, Chan. There’s nothing else we can-“

“Try, Felix.” His voice is so stern, yet it’s cracking. Chan reaches down and grabs one of the messenger’s arms gently yet tightly.

Your throat tightens and the tears that were sitting in your eyes finally fall.

They did this to him. They tortured this boy. He couldn’t have been older than twenty winters. This poor boy who was just doing his job.

They cut off his ears, beat his body until he couldn’t move.

“Chan I do not think-“ Felix cries but Chan cuts him off.

“Keep going.” He begs with a hard, even voice. “Keep trying.”

“Chan it is not working!” Felix cries back.

“Fucking— Keep going, Felix!“ Chan bellows, his voice catching at the end.

“It is not WORKING.” Felix screams.

Chan turns away from the bed with his face hidden in his elbow. The Jarl walks away and towards the wall opposite of where Minho stood.

“I cannot.” Felix cries, his eyes staying on the boy’s broken body. Tears are streaming down his face and onto the sheets. “Chan, he is-“

Felix is cut off again by Chan slamming his fist into the wall. A roar tears from his throat and his head falls against the stone next.

Silent sobs wrack your chest, you try to stay as silent as possible. The tears falling from your cheeks down to the stone floor.

“Chan.” Felix calls out with a shaky voice.

The Jarl makes no move, he keeps his head against the wall.

The soft light of magic that was coming from Felix’s hands flickers out. Hard, violent sobs come from his throat as he reaches over and grabs the messenger’s hand.

Almost every finger is broken and bent the wrong way. Felix holds it as if anything as gentle as a breath would break them more.

His knees buckle and he falls to the floor, still holding the messenger’s hand.

Minho is silent as he walks over to the bed. Carefully, he reaches over and parts the messengers tunic towards the top.

Sobs fill the room.

“What are you doing, Minho?” Felix asks through cries. He stands up shaking from the floor to watch his movements.

As soon as his sentence comes out, a startled gasp follows it. Both you and Chan look over.

Minho’s face is pulled into the angriest expression you’ve ever seen him muster. Those dirty looks he gave you in the throne room are nothing compared to this.

You and Chan both took careful steps towards the bed.

A gasp left your throat just like Felix’s when you saw it.

Chan’s declaration of war.

It was nailed into the messenger’s chest. Blood soaked each entrance wound.

You felt nauseous, the world was spinning. His cruelty knows no bounds. Your eyes squint shut to try and stop the tears from flowing even faster.

The floor seems to tilt and you have to sit down on the bed behind you to try and get your bearings.

Chan was eerily silent. But you just knew that he was positively seething.

“Minho. Please go wake up Changbin.” His voice is entirely too even, too calculated. He is past the point of anger.

You open your eyes and look over at the Jarl. His eyes are fixed on the letter still on the messenger’s chest.

“I want our soldiers ready to march by first light.” His voice strong and calm. “Sisk Killoran will know terror before the end.”

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #bang chan x reader #lee know x reader #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #han jisung x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #i.n x reader #stray kids fantasy au #skz fantasy au #animals without direction

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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 1 year ago

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Love Song for a Vampire Pt.37

Pairing(s):Edward Cullen x Wolf!Reader, Jacob Black x Witch!OC

Warnings: none

Words: 3029

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 34 Part 35 Part 36 Part 38 Part 39

Kate's scream could be heard past the tall trees that surrounded the Denali coven's home. Reaching the ears of Tanya and Eleazar who had been out hunting to replenish their stock of blood that would last them the rest of the month. Briefly exchanging a troubled look, they drop their equipment and dash off back to the house where they found Kate on her knees in the living room. She was begging Carmen to wake up. The large bay window of their living room was smashed, glass looking like snow against their hardwood floors. Eleazar collapsed onto his knees beside Kate.

"I walked away only for a second to answer a phone call. . ." Kate tells the other two. Slowly, Carmen was coming to as her pale eyelids flutter with life. "Irina must have taken that opportunity to get out. I'm sorry."

Tanya helps her sister up and maneuvers her to the couch while Carmen's mate helps her rouse to consciousness. "It's not your fault." Hastily thinking, Tanya calculates the amount of time Kate had been away and up to when she came upon Carmen. She didn't want to acknowledge out loud that Irina was probably far away now. Mentally she curses knowing that they were now in deep shit with Irina's escape. In a flash she has her phone in her hands and taps Edward's phone number. They had to get this situation under control as soon as possible.

Supporting his mate, Eleazar has Carmen in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder as her black eyes struggle to focus. "Irina?"

"Sshhh, it's okay." He hushes her, gently rocking the both of them to and fro. "We'll get her back."

Her hand goes up to her head and she lets out a groan. "I can't believe this. . . how humiliating."

Unable to sit still, Kate stands up. "I'm going to start tracking her."

Over her shoulder, Tanya reminds her to keep her phone on her in case she comes across anything. Not bothering to use the front door, Kate hops out of the gaping hole in the window that Irina had made and becomes but a golden flash as her legs run at the speed of light. Finally the dial tone is cut off and Tanya hears Edward's voice in a greeting. No time for that. "We have a problem, Ed. Irina's gotten out."

She could hear his sharp inhale. "When? Kate called me just a few minutes ago."

"It happened within that time frame. Irina overpowered Carmen and knocked her out. Kate went after her right now but I don't think Irina is in the area anymore." If her heart was still functioning like a usual human, it would be frantically beating behind her breastbone. This was not good. There were two places that Irina could be heading toward: the Volturi or Forks. Maybe she planned to take matters into her own hands and find where the wolves were. "Send an alarm to the wolves that they need to be on the lookout for her just in case. I don't know what she's thinking anymore but if she so happens to go into your territory, you might be able to detect her before anyone else and warn the others."

"Got it. . . is Carmen okay?" He needed to get out to warn the wolves, but he was also concerned for Carmen.

From where she'd wandered off, Tanya looks back to the living room where Eleazar had situated Carmen on the couch before he too was zipping out of the window. "She's okay. Might have a headache, but it'll pass as will the guilt."

They say curt goodbyes. Tanya shoves her phone back into her pocket as her loud strides clacking back to the rest of her family. "Alright. You guys can stay here if you want to, but I'm gonna join Kate and see if we can find any tracks to where Irina may have gone."

Carmen is already staggering to her feet and giving her head a shake to clear her brain. "I'm fine. Lets go." Her mate is skeptical but has never been one to protest his wife when she has her mind made up. He simply follows her lead, his hands ready if she was still feeling lightheaded and fainted.

Alone, Tanya takes this moment to let out a distressed sigh and rub her hand against her forehead. They were given one job: to keep a sharp eye on Irina. Disappointment is not the strongest emotion she felt then and there. Shame floods her as she was unable to make Edward proud of her and her coven. Acknowledging that it would take a while for her romantic feelings for Edward to go away, she still didn't like letting down the Denali's one true ally.

She believed in no gods or deities but she found herself praying to whoever was willing to listen to her. Praying that Irina made a stop to Forks first before heading to Italy. Maybe then she could be apprehended and contained. Hopefully with (y/n) among the wolves, she could stop them from mistreating Irina. Even though Irina threatened the peace, she was still her sister and Tanya was loathe to lose another family member.

Free at last.

A massive weight lifted off your shoulders, along with your backpack as you open your bedroom window and toss it inside. Closing it once more, you waste no time in joining Embry in the jog to Sam's. Both of you nothing but smiles as the both of you cheered and laugh now that your academic life would not hinder the more entertaining aspect of the pack. Now you could hang out with the witches and watch them.

The summer sun that streamed through the massive branches of trees was kind and heightened the carefree feeling that you and Embry were drunk off of. Sunlight makes a kaleidoscope of shapes on the ground. They moved with the swaying of leaves and limbs.

But the massive figure of Sam's black wolf emerges from the brush and seemingly scaring off all light. You and Embry halt. You couldn't read his mind yet his pinned back ears and raised hackles told you that something was wrong.

To make the travel go faster, the two of you hoist onto Sam's back and he darts to his home. The backyard still has the two tents sitting silently. Void of occupants. Leaping off his back, Sam quickly shifts back to his human skin and you avert your eyes as he shimmies into his shorts. Questions aren't asked. Not yet. His silence told you enough as he leads you through the kitchen and into the once again crowded living room. This time Edward was at the center along with the three witches and Bella seated on the couch, her nervous gaze flitting around the room until they land on you and relief leaks from her.

"Where's Leah?" Sam curtly asks Seth who shrinks.

"She's not feeling well. . ." An obvious lie. Anyone could tell from the manner which Seth's gaze is focused on his feet. Sam doesn't press it though, there are more important issues to take care of and Leah was at the bottom of his list.

Sam shares a nod with Edward, the vampire taking it as a sign to proceed. "Irina from the Denali coven has escaped."

Ice freezes the blood in your veins and robs you of breath.

"What this means is that she could potentially be either on her way to the Volturi or here." His eyes no longer hold that charming honey-gold, instead they're darkened. When was the last time he'd had any animal blood, you wonder to yourself in concern. You feel your packmates stiffen around you at the potential threat of another vampire trespassing on their territory. "The other members of her coven have already been out to look for her around their home but its clear she's long gone."

Nadege closes her eyes and whispers something in her native creole. Next to her, Evita holds her hand and gives it a reassuring squeeze. Dieufel listens with dark, sharp eyes.

"Can't Alice use her power to see where Irina is going?" Colin's voice was timid as he spoke up. One of the youngest members of the pack, they rarely spoke up during meetings like this as they were aware of their status as a young pup. But it was a good question posed to Edward.

"She's not here at the moment." replies Edward which causes Bella to shift uncomfortably in her seat and even Embry and Quil glance at one another. Everyone pinned so much on Alice's special ability. She was what could make or break any subsequent plans.

"I can find her." Dieufel's voice breaks through the concern in the room. But Nadege and Evita only look up at him with worry. Evita and Dieufel had been working so hard to make the wards and it showed on their features. Tired eyes and weary creases above their brows. This would drain Dieufel even more.

Reading his mind, Edward gets all the answers faster than if Dieufel were to have verbally said them out loud. "As fast as you can."

The male witch nods. "It will be done." His eyes rove over to Nadege and Bella. His lips press firmly together before nodding toward his cousin. She could read his mind easily, just not in the same way Edward had. From the expression in the depths of his eyes that she knew so well, Nadege was aware of the responsibility that was now placed on not just her, but the novice Bella as well.

You observe Bella's face. Quil had one time said that Bella had a very neutral face, almost void of any emotion. But that was not true. Her expressions were subtle. The biting of her bottom lip. A slight twitch of her brow. You could tell she was nervous. Having only been learning magic for three days, it surely wasn't enough for her to dive right into making wards. You feel for her.

Dieufel leaves the living room and heads to his tent to begin gathering his materials. Time could not be wasted.

Sam sends out Jared along with Embry, Seth, and Brady. Ideally it would have been nice to have another wolf added to their security. There were still no news of Leah and Sam still was wary of welcoming Jacob back so soon. Though the imprinting hormones flooding through Jacob could possibly now be utilized as a good thing. The innate instinct to protect his imprintee would make him all too vigilant and ready to defend. Quietly while plans are being devised, you bring this up to Sam, pulling him away from the main room.

He regards your words but there's a storm of conflict behind his dark eyes. Edward keeps his attention partly on you and Sam as he speaks with Evita. Nadege has to shoo them out of the center of the room so that she could start making a fourth ward. Bella lingers behind her hesitantly, trying to pretend Edward's presence didn't bother her. Colin and Quil brush past them as their part of the close guard along with Paul. Those who would keep close in case Irina slipped through. "Theoretically, it's a good idea. But. . . you know how unpredictable imprinting can make you in the early weeks."

You nod. "I know. But we could really use everyone we have."

Exhausted, Sam rubs the back of his neck while he ponders. "Okay. Okay. I'll give him a call. I'll try Leah again too."

His small brick of a phone is clutched tightly in his hands already. He'd broken several others, this one lasting him the longest still possessed a cracked screen and a missing button. He goes down a small hallway where you knew his shared bedroom with Emily was. You catch her poking her head out as Sam whispers something to her. They close the door behind them, leaving everyone else to get to their own individual work.

Emily must be scared at this new threat to her and Sam's life. Now she was the lone, normal human among everyone. You'd caught her once listening in on Bella's lessons. She seemed a little embarrassed that she'd been caught.

"You okay?" Edward spooks you from the abruptness of his voice. His hand was reaching toward you as if he'd been about to place a hand on your arm. It hangs in the air between the two of you. You relax and move your body so that his hand firmly presses against your shoulder. Tentatively you touch his wrist. His lips twitch into a shy smile. Were you moving too fast? You didn't know if wrist touching was alright or too. . . intimate.

"Yeah. I'm okay. Sam is going to call Jacob and ask him to come. We could really use the extra help."

"Mr. Cullen?"

Dieufel stands in the doorway of the kitchen, hesitant to interrupt both of you.

Curious, Edward only takes a second to read his mind and understand what he was going to ask of him. "Of course I'll help. Just tell me what to do." He turns back to you, his smile returned as he basks in your touch for a moment more before peeling himself away. Dieufel doesn't move though as his gaze turns to you and Evita.

"Why don't the two of you come along with us. Evita, you need to work on your tracking spells right?" Dieufel reminds her. "This will be good practice for you." He doesn't wait for either of you to say anything as he walks back to his tent where most of his personal supplies are being kept. Off in the distance you could hear your packmates moving through the trees to sniff out any kind of vampire scent that didn't belong to the Cullens.

The sound their pounding paws made could be likened to thunder. That wolf part of you is pulled toward them, wanting to join the hunt. But your alpha told you to stay put, keep watch here. After all, Emily was still inside the house. Unable to protect herself. She needed whatever protection was left to offer her.

On the wooden picnic table that had white painting chipping off in flakes were the tools of Dieufel's trade. A shallow bowl made out of a purple crystal (possibly amethyst). Around the lip of it are etchings, similar to those you've seen already while hanging around Evita. With his back turned to them, Dieufel takes a vial from around his throat and unplugs the stopper. You wonder what it is but he gives no name to whatever silver liquid he pours into the gemstone vessel. Around it are four stumpy little candles supported by small holders. One brown, one red, one blue and one white.

"The time of day isn't ideal." Dieufel admits and glances up at the sky. "But we'll have to make do."

He beckons everyone closer, particularly Evita and Edward so that they could be of more use. Moving Edward so that he was now in front of the bowl, Dieufel explains that only Edward will be able to see the location of where Irina might be since he knows what she looks like and has been around her in the past few days. Her impression will be fresh upon him.

"Evita, my grimoire." It was on the edge she was closest to, a great leather bound book. Weather worn and near bursting. Evita lifts it up and before she could hand it to him, Dieufel flicks his wrist and the book opens in her hands. She suppresses a surprised yelp, watching as the pages fan open to the correct one that had the tracking spell. He hisses out another word that you don't quite catch but the stubby candles suddenly burst to life with little beacons of flames. Edward's eyes are wide as he has a front row seat.

Their magic was always amazing to witness.

"And what do we do next?" He probably knows this spell from memory, but he's also training Evita too.

She tries at first to recall it from memory, but in a second her eyes flick down to the yellow page. "Mugwort. Sprinkle mugwort on the surface." Already on it, Dieufel's dark hand pops open a plastic container with what looked like moss. You'd heard about the herb before, commonly used even on the reservation. Especially among the elders. He grabs a fistful and skillfully sprinkles it producing ripples on the liquid's surface. Each ripple starts to bleed a cosmic swirl of blue and purple as Dieufel murmurs something under his breath. "Next we'll need. . ." Evita looks to Edward "a piece of your hair."

Edward's brows quizzically raise but he's not one to ask questions of a witch and easily lifts his hand to his head, plucking a single strand. Offering it to Dieufel between pinched forefinger and thumb.

"Conjure up her image the best you can. Every facial detail, make it crystal clear in your mind. Focus. Don't lose it." He instructs once he has Edward's hair. Rubbing it between his fingers. "Ankhom tenebris vinculum"

Closing his eyes, you focus on Edward's face. Every twitch and movement behind his eyelids.

His hair is gently placed into the cosmic waters, stilling them and producing a soft, shimmering light. "If you have her in sight, slowly open your eyes and look into the bowl." Carefully with his hand on the nape of Edward's neck, Dieufel moves him so that his face is leaning directly over the surface.

Fluttering his eyelids lazily open, Edward takes a sharp inhale once they're fully open. "Wow. . ."

You try to see around them, hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever it was Edward was seeing. All you could make out was light dancing around the rim of the bowl. The runes glowing as Edward's eyes widen even more.

Apparently it doesn't take too long before Edward's found where Irina is for he hisses and nearly flings himself away from the picnic table with wild eyes. "Jacob. She's heading towards Jacob's."

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#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #twilight fandom #twilight fanfiction #the twilight saga #twilight saga #twilight #edward cullen x you #edward cullen x reader #edward cullen fanfiction #edward cullen fanfic #edward cullen

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everbloomingsoul · 6 hours ago

Text

@kindofuneven sent: [ THIRTEEN ] for sender to reveal their abilities to receiver by protecting them. from xx | accepting

she had figured out months ago that she was in over her head. tried to stay out of the mess of supernatural beings popping up in beacon hills like the town is some kind of flower field while still clinging to the threads of connection with her family only to be constantly caught in the edges. tried to ignore the number of times someone called her a coward for not stepping up for any of the armed calls that seemed to increase weekly. thea knew enough to keep everyone protected, always ready to provide mountain ash for new homes and such. less steady the more demands came for wolfsbane varieties, even when it's chris asking.

this time she'd gotten too close. too many people kept getting hurt, guilt hanging heavily in the pit of the young hunter's stomach for how often it was at least partially her fault, thinking this might be a way to start making up for it. but after the break-in at the school, thea couldn't risk leaving allison in that path alone. and she sure as hell couldn't go to anyone else, not even chris, with her worries about how they were handling the situation here.

cut to tonight: one night until the full moon. thea had severely underestimated her own skill at tracking and accidentally come across derek hale when looking for something else entirely. he seems to just know she's an argent even with how quickly she tries to pull away from the situation, and frankly it's either run for it or stand her ground to disappear. she chose run, and all she could do is hope to make it far enough that after the full moon is done there would be a chance to talk.

she's still smart ( or foolish ) enough to steer clear from the paths she knows the other hunters had planned tonight. derek hadn't been the one causing all the havoc, that much she knew, and if she could get the distance to make sure he didn't rip her throat out then it would be fine. probably. the second rookie mistake she makes is not accounting for how much better he knows beacon hills and the surrounding area, and she has to make another choice: lead him across the paths most likely to get him injured or worse, or break pattern and hope someone doesn't decide to hold this against her too.

the chance to decide disappears when she hears how close the next growl is, and instinct screams at her to duck, leaving claws to rake through empty air. she fully expects the next strike to catch her, only for it...not to happen. instead there's a crash of something crashing against brick, followed by more growls; derek wasn't making all of them. two wolves. she stays quiet hoping they'll be too occupied with each other to turn attention back to her, seeking the next optimal exit only to realize the best option is behind her. derek didn't seem to be in a forgiving enough mood for this to be any kind of easy, but she still had to try.

and it's a lucky thing she turns to do so, because thea has to duck a second time to avoid the debris flung in her direction, grimacing against the shower of dust and brick. yeah, definitely not easy. but nothing comes after that, and she looks up to see if she can identify what piece she's missing. who, more than likely, holding a standoff that was so far keeping her alive.

scott.

of course it's the mccall kid. they all knew the new beta running around had to be young, but the lack of destruction hadn't implicated so young as high school. wolves his age only had that kind of claim if they were borne, as far as she knew. she can't tell if there's an actual conversation between the two or not, but the longer the teenager holds his ground, the more clear it becomes that at least for now she's safe. safer at least, and it's a relief when derek leaves first. it didn't seem like they had the dynamic of a pack either, oddly, but for now she lets it go. seemed a step toward fair after he'd jumped in when he didn't have to.

" ...well that was unexpected. " the words pop out unbidden when he faces her, transformed features already fading back. if scott has this much control now she couldn't imagine what else she was missing. what they were missing. " i-- thank you, for jumping in like that. thought i was a goner for a bit there. "

#kindofuneven #( all addressed to me | asks )#( beckoned by beacon hills | teen wolf v. )#[ casually plops this early series ]#[ she's so way in over her head 🥹]

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honey-milk-depresso · 3 years ago

Note

Hmm can you do the first year gang with mc who is like Beidou pls ?

HI HI WOO BOY- Last request in my box hun and it is you <3 <3 Sorry I kept you waiting and Beidou can step on me-

A strong desire to travel far and wide, a strong and reliable leader figure you are. You read people as easily as a book, you're a courageous person who fear no powerful entity.

You're empathetic to the lost and weary, when they feel they have no one else to turn to, you give them your helping hand. In all things, you prioritize over your peers' needs before anything else, and refuse to listen to authorities ; a rule breaker.

The first years found themselves one heck of an s/o.

TWST The Fearless, Rule-breaking Leader, s/o (Beidou)

Ace Trappola

You are his literal idol.

No joke-

You're fearless, brave and strong. No one, seriously no one, can bring you down. Every overblot doesn't hold a single nerve of you no matter how powerful they may be, and how weak in magic you are.

Ace sees you're rebellious nature as an inspiration, as he aspires to be like you. Sort of.

When he saw you detesting Riddle's way of treating your friends and all the students of Heartslabyul, he felt that surging rise of goosebumps from his veins. He really felt that.

From onwards, Ace thinks you're the coolest person to walk into NRC.

Seriously-

And whatever you asked for, he is right there. Like-

Ace rushing with a plate of beet in hand, "ANYTHING FOR YOU, S/O-"

Precisely-

Ace feels pretty safe with you, and you still forgave him (a little salty but still-) for the number of times he dragged you into trouble.

Because he's yours that you care for, as much as he won't admit it, but he fails to hide it, as much as he cares for you. <3

Deuce Spade

Deuce admires your bravery, and how you take courage to do anything.

No overblot can stand in your way! And he finds you so cool!

But sometimes he gets a little worried about your rebellious nature getting out of hand.

You might get killed, maybe a little literally, especially with Riddle. Boy, with that whole overblot event it sure went haywire.

But when you completely went against Riddle because he was becoming an autocratic, fear driving beast? He saw that you really cared for him and Ace, and all the students of Heartslabyul.

You were selfless and he admires that. The sparkle in his eyes.

Deuce really wants to be as brave as you, and you solve your problems as easily and competently as you.

The same thing as Ace, he'll be there if you need anything.

Maybe get the wrong thing due to misunderstanding but the thought can so appreciate it man-

And he wants to be the one to put others needs before his own, well not too much, but,

he wants to do so, and especially putting you first in his mind before anything else.

Because he really loves you! <3

Jack Howl

It's a wolf thing- lmao-

Jack sees you embody what a leader of a pack should feel.

Daring, strong, caring and selfless.

And he respects that.

And above all, Jack treasures loyalty, and you are truly the person who would never leave your friends behind no matter what.

And since you're such a good friend, he's loyal to you no matter what!

He observes that you're always the one leading the Adeuce combo, and even better, the entire squad of the First Years.

Yes, even Sebek, much to his surprise.

I'll get with him later-

Jack is, however, a little concern over your rebellious attitude, especially towards your seniors.

Well, you don't do that on a daily basis, but usually to the dorm leaders, every one of the delinquents, and yeah.

He's worried you'll get hurt because of such, especially with all the overblots that keep sprouting up in school.

And even if you're brave and survive in the end, he's still out there to protect you.

Not because of wolf instincts or anything, but because he genuinely really cares for you. <3

Though I guess wolves care for the pack right- whatever-

Epel Felmier

Another one who puts you as their idol.

Your fearless and selfless, he aspires to be like you!

Not just to look manly or anything, but he also wants to someone you can rely on as well.

He feels really hyped up and energetic when you step into the squad.

Epel relishes in the fact you treat him like how he wants to, and not some baby with makeup lookin' at you Vil-

Like Ace, would also do anything for you when you ask.

The whole "Anything for you Beyonce" meme is the one example in my head

lmao-

You're rebellious nature to him is something he looks up to.

Of course, he's worried you fear and go against authority when you feel they're wrong.

As much as he agrees sometimes, he admits the dorm leaders themselves are pretty powerful, and overal intimidating.

But seeing you conquer overblot after overblot and survive? He's reassured nothing can stand in your way.

Epel feels so blessed he's met someone like you in his life.

And he, too, would be the man you can rest your shoulders on. He really wants to show you that he can be there for you, too. <3

Sebek Vigvolt

Unlike everyone else, Sebek, at first, hates you.

Could you stop going against authorities?!

Sebek is the type of man to respect people who hold higher power, or are older than him. Well, unless absolutely necessary, he would disobey, but very rarely he would.

He despises people who holds no respect for anyone (well, at least most people-), and so you had a pretty low standing in his head. Lilia told him once that someone like him, should friend someone like you, to which he spitted out the tea Lilia brew.

But- but- WHY????-

But what he can respect is your leadership qualities you possessed. Even he admits you make a pretty good job at keeping the squad together and looking out for them.

But still, you're rebellious nature, he feels, is something to cringe over.

But that was in the beginning.

Over time, he sees you braving over so many overblots. Your bravery, he must condemn, is pretty incredible. He sees you remain loyal to him and the squad no matter what, and that you're always there to lend a helping hand.

Slowly, Sebek starts to fall for you, and he hates to admit that you're now constantly on his mind.

But Sebek wouldn't hesitate to protect and look out for you, too. <3

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p4lparker · 3 years ago

Text

Part of the Pack

The aggressive alpha threw you away as if you weighed nothing, like a broken toy or a floppy rag doll. You felt your body crash into the concrete wall. It crumpled in on itself- nothing felt broken, as far as you knew. Well nothing apart from your pride. Thinking back, you had hoped today would be normal day- or as normal as cold be for you anyhow.

The day had started out normal, well as normal as it could when there was a new alpha in town hoping to take over the pack. Scott had warned you and so had the others, but you didn’t feel all that scared. You were just a human who ran with wolves- you weren’t supernatural and you definitely weren’t a threat to anyone or anything. Though the rest of the pack felt it necessary to keep tabs on you and Stiles constantly. They would take it in turns ‘hanging out’- which was basically babysitting you to make sure you didn’t put yourselves in danger somehow. Scott had come over and watched movies with Kira and yourself, you all were sat watching Kick Ass- when Scott perked up. Almost like a dog; he quickly sat up and brought Kira with him. You paused the movie- waiting to find out what had caused him to do so.

“Derek’s here..” Scott said, standing up and walking to the door; you followed Kira after. You stood leaning on the wall as Scott opened the door and revealed a brooding Derek. His dark brow furrowed and his face scrunched in a frown- his green eyes glaring at the three of you intently.

“I’ve been calling you for an hour and you didn’t pick up. It’s your turn to patrol the perimeter.. I’m supposed to stay with Y/N.” Derek grunted, he was still glaring- but it was mainly aimed at Scott and Kira, rather than you. You folded your arms and stayed leaning against the jam of the lounge room door. Watching as Scott and Kira collected their things and gave you a sheepish goodbye before dashing through the still open door and to Scott’s parked bike. Derek turned his almost angry gaze to you before nodding his head at the front door. You flustered for a moment before gesturing for him to enter, then closed and locked the door behind him at his instruction. Not that locking it would keep an alpha out or anything- but whatever, you did as the intimidating wolf told you and lead him through the house to the kitchen. Grabbing a glass and a can of pop from the fridge, you offered one to him which he gratefully agreed to. Offering him a glass he nodded and allowed you to pour the carbonated refreshment. You both stood in silence as you took sips from the drinks. You shared an awkward smile with Derek, who just nodded at you- not smiling back or giving any emotion away. You gestured for Derek to follow you back to the lounge- sitting down and making yourself comfortable on the sofa once more. You watched as Derek perched himself on the couch- at the other end of it. You started the movie again and allowed yourself to get sucked into watching the movie- trying not to feel on edge, Derek’s tense body and stoic facial expression was making this situation feel all the more forced.

The movie was almost over, throughout it you’d wriggled and squirmed around the sofa- all the while Derek sat still, perched on the very edge of the couch cushion. You’d tried to concentrate on the vigilantism on the screen, you found it difficult to focus; it wasn’t until Derek sat up even straighter, as if that was possible. He lifted his head and glared at the ceiling, your eyes following his. He tilted his head and sniffed the air. You watched half amused half confused as he stood and walked out of the lounge room and to the stairs of the building. All the while still sniffing at the air. Following behind him as he began to trek up the stairs, through the hall and sniffing at each door until he stopped in front of one. Yours. He sniffed deeply, before rearing back. When he finally turned to face you, you could tell something was bothering him.

"Have you left your window unlocked?" His voice gruff and demanding. You looked at him in surprise. Shaking your head quickly.

"No! Everywhere is locked up tight, like you and Scott and everyone else had ordered.." You muttered, glaring alternatively between your feet and Derek's leather clad back. All you heard in return was a grunt, before you bedroom door was roughly pushed open; the handle slamming against the pale walls and probably leaving a dent or a mark or something. Derek stalked around the room still sniffing, until he found himself standing under the sky light. The access to the roof, the wide opening window didn't work though- it wouldn't lock, so your dad nailed it shut. Derek jumped up from the floor and onto your bed, boots and all. As he stared intently at the big window above him. You watched, from your position by the door as his eyes flickered blue.

"The window is broken." Was all he uttered, the anger present in his voice.

"Yeah, it always has been.. My dad nailed it shut years ago. It wouldn't lock or anything.." You stated, shrugging your shoulders.

"No. The glass. It's broken. It's like its been lifted from the surround. And put back." Derek growled, eyes narrowing as he glared at you.

"Meaning what?" You asked, terror seeping into your words that you couldn't control. You were sure, Derek could hear how fast your heart was beating even without his wolf hearing. The tension in the room and your bodies built.

"Meaning, I don't know how long the alpha may have been coming in here. Meaning I don't think you're safe here.." Derek answered. His eyes narrowed still, but holding worry in their green depths. "C'mon." He grunted. Stalking towards you and gripping your upper arm. You struggled to keep up with his long strides, he walked out the room not even closing the door- dragging you with him as he practically ran down the stairs and out the front door. He came to a stop just short of the road, you not realising he'd stopped slammed into his back. Wincing as you nose bumped into the leather was wearing, you stumbled back and lifted your free hand to your nose checking for blood. Derek let go of your arm and glanced over his shoulder at you, dark brows drawn together. He moved towards your neighbours car, looking around him suspiciously. Raising his elbow and slamming it into the drivers side window, you shrieked. Dashing over to him quickly and gripping his arm through his jacket. Through the thick material did nothing to hide or disguise his tensed muscles. It took a moment for you to shake yourself to move your brain back to what the issue at hand was.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" You demanded, trying to tug his arm away from the broken glass- he was slowly moving his elbow to knock the remaining pieces from the frame.

"I'm stealing your neighbours car. Get in." Derek replied, as if it was the most simple thing in the world. Once the frame was clear of any sharp shards, he put his hand through and pulled the lock up. You heard the click as the internal locking mechanism worked. Opening the door, Derek threw himself into the drivers seat and waited impatiently for you to copy him. Groaning to yourself, you dashed around the front of the car and got in. Staring at Derek as he was fiddling with some wiring under the steering wheel. In a moments notice, you were off. Driving down the road quickly, Derek not really paying all that much attention to the road; he wriggled around awkwardly for a moment before pulling his phone from his jeans pocket. He looked sparingly at the road before dialling someone's number. You watched the scenery pass, you were in the warehouse district. Full of concrete walls and steel roofs.

"The alpha's been in her room. She needs to leave..." Was all he managed to get out before he was slamming the brakes on. Both of your bodies being jarred forwards, your seat belts yanking you back into the cushioned seats.

Breathing heavily as you tried to gather your bearings, you stared straight ahead of you in terror. There in the middle of the road was a great hulking beast. It was black and huge, making Peter's alpha wolf form look like a kitten in comparison. Derek stared ahead also, sizing the creature up. Before either of you could comprehend what was happening, the beast was pounding towards the stopped vehicle. Derek thinking quickly tried to put the car in reverse, but the beast just came at a quicker speed. It charged towards you on all fours and once it was close enough- it stood on two feet, reaching its clawed hands out and ripping the hood of the car to shreds. The scraping of metal made you cringe, but what petrified you was the fact that the engine was destroyed, and there was no chance for you to escape. The creature sauntered round the car, it ripped off the door on you side and snagged you from the opening. You screamed. Derek flustered with his seat belt before he leapt from the destroyed vehicle. It didn't take long for you to realise that he was in full wolf form, but you also resigned yourself to the fact that he wouldn't be able to save you. He stood no chance against the monstrosity holding you captive in its sharp claws- you struggled to breath.

Your throat being constricted dangerously as you were held captive. You watched through bleary and unfocused eyes as Derek launched himself from the car; his eyes shining a bright blue, claws protruding from his hands and fuzzy hair clumping on the sides of his face as his face contorted into that of his wolf form. He dashed towards where the Alpha had you clasped, he started throwing slashes here and there. Desperately trying to free you from the monster. Though, the alpha did little more than seat Derek away as if he were nothing more than a fly. Derek didn't give up though, he kept coming- attacking again every time he got thrown back. You could feel your breathing becoming more laboured as the claws tightened. You felt the darkness calling to you like an old friend. You hadn't noticed that the rest of the pack; Malia, Isaac, Scott, Kira and Alison all joining Derek in trying to rescue you. Your eyes had fallen shut, and you felt consciousness slipping away. It wasn't until you felt someone stroking hair from your face gently, did you wake up. Peeking your eyes open to see Alison kneeling next to you- she smiled down at you as consciousness came back to your aching body.

“She’s okay guys.. but she needs moving. Like yesterday.” Alison stated as she helped to pull you up into a sitting position- you winced slightly, pain radiating from your ribs causing you to freeze. You looked to Alison, who frowned and prodded gently at your ribs; she shook her head.

“And I think she has either some cracked or broken ribs from the awkward way she’s moving..” Alison muttered, pulling you even more gently into a sitting and then standing position- in a slow but sure manner, she kept her arm supporting you. The rest of the group nodded, moving around you. It was then you took notice of them; they were all battered and bruised, deep angry looking gashes on their faces and arms. Your eyes caught sight of Derek who was favouring one arm, it cradled to his chest- which was barely covered by the shirt he had been wearing. It was slashed to smithereens, blood and skin showing through the rags, Alison and Kira helped you stand- staying close until they were sure you were steady on your feet.

“The Alpha’s gone for now. He’s off to lick his wounds. But I have no doubt that he’ll be back and soon. Y/N needs to be somewhere safe and secure- I vote we take her to the old train car.” Isaac stated, mainly directing his words to Derek and Scott who both nodded.

“There’s at least two other scents that’ll mask yours and hers, you should be safe their until we can get rid of this guy… Even if we have to chase him from Beacon- he’s gone.” Scott stated, you didn’t miss the red circling his irises as he spoke. He looked determined, and you knew not to be afraid. Scott was an alpha. He was a true alpha. He was your alpha- even if you weren’t a wolf. And with that the others were off, you looked to Derek still cradling his arm and knew he wouldn’t be able to drive. Looking around, you spotted the demolished car not too far from you- sighing as you had no way of getting to the train car. Derek grunted and nodded his head to the left, you followed him. Hoping he knew where he was going, as you had no idea. You followed as he walked through the maze of practically identical buildings- leading you left and right and left again. Hoping like hell you wouldn’t have to navigate your way out yourself, as you had no chance of remembering and would probably end up living in this concrete jungle like a hermit. Soon enough you were standing in front of the abandoned subway- staring wide eyed as Derek had successfully navigated you both there- you had no idea it was so close, but then you realised that, that was the reason Isaac had suggested it to begin with. If the Alpha’s scent was covering the area, he probably wouldn’t return to it and you’d be safe- or safer. You followed Derek into the abandoned area and shivered. It felt so lonely- you remembered Boyd and Erica, smiling faintly before it slipped off your face all together. Moving further into the abandoned area, you collapsed onto a tattered seat- your eyes roving over all of the graffiti and claw marks that marred the walls. Derek groaned as he too collapsed into a seat. Breathing deeply, through his nose and clenching his jaw. It was then you realised how badly he was injured. His dark features were even darker due to the bruising covering his face, the gashes and slashes in his chest and torso- still bleeding, looked angry and painful. And the awkward angle that he held his arm, showed you he was in bad shape. Pulling yourself up and off the seat- ignoring your screaming muscles, you searched slowly- or as quickly as your sluggish body would allow, for some medical supplies. Knowing that Derek’s old pack must have had something like that lying around.

Your eyes landed on a couple of old shirts that looked similar to the tattered remains on Derek’s shoulders- making your way over to them, grabbing them up and letting your eyes roam over the area- until they landed on a lock box of some sort. Moving towards it, you checked on Derek over your shoulder- he hadn’t moved, you opened it quickly and smiled lightly. There in the box sat a bottle and a half of Jack. Gripping them both and the shirts in your hands before moving back over to him. Kneeling in front of him, you let your eyes scan over his injured body once more. Derek’s eyes flicked open as he felt you pushing his knees apart- allowing you to slip between them and situate yourself more comfortably.

“I-I th-think we need to set your arm first and then deal with the..” You stated and gestured to your own chest, Derek said nothing- just nodding and delicately offering you the obviously broken arm. “You need to tell me how to do this.. I’ve watched Grey’s Anatomy plenty.. but I’ve never actually done it..” you spoke quickly the words tumbling from your lips almost of their own accord. He nodded, and grit his teeth as you gently took hold of the broken limb.

“It’s my shoulder.. it’s dislocated- you need to grab hold of my arm and pull as hard as you can. When you hear it click and me scream- you’ve set it back.. Go!” Derek commanded, your eyes were wide as you tried to remember his words. You steadied yourself and pulled as hard as you could like he said. You yanked at his arm- as he growled- pulling as hard as physically possible for you until you heard a loud and sickening click and a scream-like groan fly from his slowly healing lips as well as some more unsavoury curses- you tried to steady your breathing and not let the pain show on your face too much. You let go of his arm and fell back onto your butt, watching as he breathed deeply and a light sweat dotted his forehead. He nodded and gestured to the injuries marring his chest, you too nodded and gripped the bottle of Jack before handing it to him. He raised a brow and chuckled darkly- before shoving it back at you.

“You need it more, besides it won’t do any good for me to drink it. It won’t affect me.” Derek told you, you nodded before unscrewing the cap and taking a swig of the dark liquid- letting to sweet taste linger in your mouth before swallowing it- then taking another long gulp. Setting it down by Derek’s foot, you kneeled up and gently tried to move the shreds of material away from the affected areas- but having no luck. Derek sighed almost impatiently, before gripping the fabric in his hands and tugging- the material falling away from his glorious chest- injured, but still glorious chest. You held your breath as he shrugged his shoulders, making the material fall to rest around his hips- his torso now bare to your wide eyes. You took hold of the bottle and one of the shirts, lifting both to Derek’s chest. You took a deep breath as you tipped the bottle allowing the liquid to flow down and onto the injuries. He hissed in pain- you moved the shirt and pressed against the wound- he groaned but allowed you to continue the process until you were sure the slashes were cleaned out. You knew though- he wouldn’t heal for a good while, but the treatment you’d given would do for now. Derek nodded his thanks, you smiled shyly at him before gripping the bottle and bringing it to your lips again. Taking a deep swallow you sat back, not realising your eyes had locked with his. The deep green boring into you- you didn’t know if it was the alcohol or what, but a shiver ran down your entire body. Blinking and looking away, you let one hand slip to his thigh and pushed yourself up- still gripping the bottle, you looked over your shoulder when you felt his eyes still on you.

You turned away and took another swallow of the sweet liquid, the burn becoming a comfort now. You hadn’t heard him move until you felt him rest a hand on your shoulder. He span you around so quickly- it felt like the room was spinning around you. The bottle slipped from your lips as you stared wide eyed at him, he stepped you backwards until your back was pressed against the cool metal of the train car. Lifting one of his hands, he gently brushed his fingers against your neck- gasping softly- his fingers sweeping your hair out of the way. One of his hands stayed at your neck, gently poking over the area, whilst the other trailed down your arm and to your hand gripping the bottle- pulling it from your fingers and bringing to his lips taking a swallow himself. Before placing it near your lips offering it to you- you obliged gulping some down, he then moved it down slightly and tipped the contents onto you. Your eyes still staring into each other’s, though yours widened marginally as a stinging pain radiated from you neck.

“Looks like the Alpha got you…” Was all Derek whispered, his eyes not leaving yours as the liquid flowed over the affected are of your skin. You just stood frozen, back to the wall- alcohol dripping down your neck and chest soaking your t-shirt, teeth biting into your bottom lip as you tried to control the raging hormones in your body. All you could think of was that if he leaned just that bit closer- his inviting lips would meet your own. Your body moved of its own accord, pushing forwards slightly. Your lips pushing against his. It wasn’t a kiss, not really- it was just your lips meeting his. And he didn’t push you away- so you pressed against him harder, your wet chest meeting his. Your lips moving with his as the kiss gained momentum and passion. You weren’t sure who’s tongue slipped out first and deepened the kiss, but you were sure it was you who moaned- and you were definitely sure it was Derek who pushed away from you. He stumbled away from you, and you struggled not to giggle at the image. The big bad wolf stumbling away from little old you. A giggle must have slipped out though, because Derek glared at you. He stormed towards you- ceasing the giggles almost immediately. He stopped in front of you. His body flush against yours, glaring eyes boring into you. Before he pushed his lips against yours kissing you furiously. Soon it wasn’t just lips meeting, his teeth were scraping against your bottom lip, and clashing against your own teeth as you opened your mouth.

You moaned again. Not even caring. It felt too good, his toned chest pressed against your own- even through the saturated top, you could feel his body heat, his pecks pressing against you- his muscled abs pressing against your belly. Which felt like it was filling with liquid lava- that seeped solely into your core, giving you a pleasant ache between your legs. Derek pulled back, closing his eyes as he tilted his head and sniffed the air. His eyes narrowing as he stepped back, taking your hand and leading you after him. He stepped backwards until his knees contacted the leather of the seat, he fell back and tugged you with him. Pulling you until you were kneeling on the seat- knees each side of his hips, he pulled on your hand until your chest was hovering over him- leaving you to straddle him in the abandoned train car. He stretched his neck up to graze his lips over the fragile and broken skin of your throat- his stubble creating a delicious friction, before moving to your lips and pulling you into another passionate kiss that sent shivers straight to your core. Derek breathed deeply through his nose and growled- before pulling you down onto his lap. You fell and kissed him more comfortably as your neck wasn’t craning at an awkward angle.

Derek’s hands rested on your hips for a moment, before they ventured upwards- dragging the wet material of your shirt with them. He pulled the soggy shirt up and only separated from your lips to remove it from your body. Tossing it away and pressing his lips back to your own. You let your fingers wander over neck and shoulders feeling the tensing muscles. Derek picked up the discarded bottle of Jack beside him. Pulling from the kiss to take a swig of the booze- before pulling your lips back to his own, you felt the Jack slip into your own mouth before you swallowed it. Derek pulled back from you again and you moaned in disappointment. You were getting sick of him pulling away from you! You watched as his eyes roved over the expanse of your half naked body before him- his fingers lifting to caress over our rubs, causing you to suck in a breath. He frowned before pushing his lips against your own more ferociously than before; and soon enough you were lost in his lips and tongue again. The pain simply disappeared. And when you pulled away from him to watch the blackened veins recede into his skin, you knew he’ deliberately taken your pain. Raising a hand to stroke over his stubble covered cheek- you kissed him gently, before letting him control you once more.

He tipped the bottle over you neck again, you hissing at the sting it brought- until his lips followed the trail. Licking and sucking over any skin that was flavoured with the drink. His lips lingering around your breasts, kissing and suckling at the sensitive ignored area. His hands trailed over your stomach, caressing the skin and tracing down to your hips- where they played with the waistband of your jeans. Fingers moving to unfasten them and tug them over your butt and hips. You stood from his lap and stepped back, catching his eyes and pulling the denim down your legs slowly- his eyes only stared at your partially dressed form. The damp bra still hiding your breasts from him and the dark panties covering your core from his waiting eyes. He leaned forward and tugged on your hand- pulling you back to your spot on his lap. You kissed him solidly, letting your tongue trace over his lips before letting your lips explore. They kissed over his rough cheeks, and down his neck- gently nipping at the stubble covered skin, he groaned loudly- letting his hands grip your hips and pull you down onto his own.

Once you were situated in his lap and still devouring his neck- he moved your hips back and forth- creating a friction that was almost maddening. It was driving you to distraction, and you almost lost focus on kissing as much of his skin as you could. You weren’t sure what it was- but you couldn’t get enough of him, and you needed more. You ground your hips against his and could feel that pooling sensation- though it was more noticeable now, that and there was a stirring within Derek’s pants that had you grinning into the open mouthed kisses you were leaving down his chest, careful to avoid the injuries that were still trying to heal. You let you fingers feel over those delicious abs, before dipping lower; rubbing over the bulge in his jeans, rubbing back and forth until you were desperate for more, moving your shaky fingers down to the button and zipper. Popping one and tugging the other. Derek got the message and lifted his hips obediently and shuffled out of his boxers. You moved your gaze to look at him, his size was impressive and made your mouth water and core clench. He lifted your chin with the forefinger of one hand, as his other made a home rubbing you through your panties. A pathetic moan- not even stifled, echoed through the silent room; his calloused fingertips were rubbing the dark lace onto your most sensitive area, and you were revelling in the feeling of it. The way it sent shocks through your body, the way it thrilled you and left you needing more and more. You were chasing that soul shattering feeling, and you were well on our way to catching it- especially if Derek kept his fingers moving at that pace and in that certain pattern.

You hadn’t realised, but moans and groans were spilling from your lips almost in a chant. You were praising Derek’s skilful fingers and he chuckled in response, letting his other hand unclasp your bra and let it fall to rest against your stomach- the straps caught on your elbows, as your hands desperately clutched at Derek’s waist for something to keep you grounded as you floated higher and higher into the pleasure he was offering you. His lips descended onto your exposed chest, teeth and lips nipping at the taut bud. All it took was one hard bite to your nipple and you were coming apart in his arms. Your breath halting, your shoulders tensing and your knees shaking. His fingers didn’t let up though- they guided you through the haze of pleasure and only left you when you were breathing out slowly into the crook of his neck. You let your forehead rest against his shoulder as your tried to calm yourself down, once you felt your breathing return to a semi-normal pace; you let your eyes trail to where his erection was straining and leaking happily- if it were possible, he looked like he was even more erect and ready for you than before. You watched as he let his hand slip from between your legs and you gasped at how wet it was, he just chuckled before slicking his hand down himself and moving your hips to just above him. They rested poised, ready- yearning to plunge downwards and onto him- but he held you steady, teasing you. Before deciding; enough was enough and letting your hips drop.

He raised his own the moment you met, and a sigh slipped from his manly mouth as he was welcomed into your warmth. He held you still for a moment; as if he knew you were still too sensitive and needed some time to adjust. And adjust you did, soon you were desperate to grind yourself against him. Or thrust yourself one him and chase that pleasure again. Sure you were being reedy, but it was almost a necessity! Derek held your hips steady- still buried within you, but not moving. He hissed a breath through his teeth- then let his grip on your hips loosen, you let yourself free. Grinding against him- the skin above where you were joined rubbing at the sensitive nub, you let out a guttural moan; which made even Derek blush by the looks of his pink cheeks. He gripped your hips tighter and guided them into a rhythm. You could feel him rubbing against you in all the right ways, reaching parts of you- you didn’t think was possible, merely a myth. But Derek Hale proved you wring and reached that elusive spot within you. Your rhythm continued, gaining speed and strength. Until you could feel yourself on the cusp of oblivion, and Derek gave a hard thrust within; giving you that final nudge. You cried out- probably an unrecognisable sound or even made up language you weren’t sure. You just knew the way you were feeling in that moment nothing mattered. You could feel the pulsing between your legs, though if it was you. Or Derek. Or you both combined, you weren’t sure and you sure as hell didn’t care- your body was shaking and covered in a light sweat. But nothing mattered apart from Derek still being buried deep within you as you both experienced euphoria. Once you were both calmed from your activities, you rest your head against his shoulder and lifted your hips lazily from his. The slightly uncomfortable feeling of being empty, brought you back to reality. And your senses- and it seemed like Derek’s had also returned. As his mood changed from sated to grumpy in no time. He was soon shoving you off his lap, and onto the seat beside him- and shoving a discarded shirt into your chest.

His glare forced you to tug the shirt over your head, and once it was situated; covering the necessities and Derek had tucked himself away. You noticed that Scott was stood sheepishly by the entrance- rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly and blushing a bright red. You buried your face in your hands embarrassed, because Scott could tell what had not long since transpired within the abandoned train car.

#repost #derek hale smut #derek x y/n #derek smut #teen wolf smut

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pri00r · 3 years ago

Text

Bruised Knuckles

Pairing : Geralt of Rivia x Jaskier

Warning(s) : Blood , Nosebleed, Someone breaking someone else nose (it’s Valdo , it’s worth it.)

Rating : General

Words count : 6900 (nice hehe)

Edit : Now with the "Read More" option

Geralt had been promised the best ale of Oxenfurt , instead he had gained first seat to a fight between two bards in the middle of a tavern and honestly what else did he expect after falling for Jaskier’s advices. Now they are in an alley screaming at each other and someone is about to say too much.

Geralt get to see Jaskier punch someone and be covered in blood , get yelled at and have a ”…oh-” moment.

Read on AO3

Geralt can’t help but blame himself for this whole mess.

No truly what a stupid idea it had been to listen to the bard. But he had just wanted to drink a few ales- no. Scratch that : one ale. Just one who wasn’t watered down or served in a dirty cup by a grunting barman as unwashed as his dishes.

So when it was almost time for him to go to Kaer Morhen and Jaskier to Oxenfurt , the bard had started to sing the praise (not literally , thanks Melitele ) of a small tavern hidden in the city , who always served the top shelf alcohol with no distinction on who was buying as long as they had the coin to pay for it. And in that case it was Jaskier who promised to pay for it.

So sue him for being weak once and wanting to treat himself to one thing before the long trek up the blue mountain to the Wolves’s keep.

And now if he could , he would have been willing to give good money to any mage or sorceress just to go back in time and stop himself.

Truly he should’ve known. He always did when things looked too good to be true : it was because it was often the case. But the constant babbling of his side-kick must’ve droned his sense of logic.

When they got to the city it was almost already dark out due to the approaching winter hours. They dropped their things at an inn (Geralt didn’t really understood why Jaskier insisted on taking a room with him since they were in Oxenfurt already but he said something about his professor quarter not being ready yet.) The stableboy had looked up at Roach with stars in his eyes , probably thinking that a horse who traveled with a witcher was much cooler than the old mares of the travelling merchants.

She was being brushed while munching on fresh grains almost immediately , already in her own little world and giving a look to Geralt that seemed to tell him to go away as it was her ”me time”.

And well she deserved as much so Geralt left her to her selfcare session , trusting the young boy to treat her well.

So they dropped their thing and headed toward the promising inn. And well…

”You brought me to a place called.. ‘The Gentle Duck’ ?” Geralt couldn’t have hidden his disapproval if he tried.

”Hush now Geralt !” Jaskier said ; he was wearing his luth on his back , a spring in his steps , clearly hoping to get a late night gig at this place.

”No matter the name this place is one of the best in the whole city ! The number of times I got drunk during my studies oh oh !” He had a faraway look in his eyes , clearly remembering younger days.

”I must’ve drank at least once in every joint of this city during my years here and I’m giving you the honor of trying the best of it all ! So yes the name might seem a bit.. juvenile , but I promise the quality of the alcohol will quickly make you forget all about it ! That’s a man promise.”

”Careful” Geralt chuckled. ”I’m a witcher , if this alcohol can make me forget something I might end up forgetting you first.”

Geralt easily dodged the smack Jaskier tried to land on his shoulder which only made him huff in annoyance. But the witcher could see that he wasn’t truly offended : even with frowning eyebrows , Jaskier couldn’t properly hide the smile on his face.

If he had been anyone else Geralt might have smiled too and kept on joking. But he was a witcher and he knew that it was a matter of great survival to never show weakness in front of this bard. At the risk of the memory being stored away in his mind and it being mentioned even months later.

(He had laughed once when Jaskier fell in that lake. It wasn’t even a full belly laugh but the bard milked the memory as much as he could in the following months.)

——-

Jaskier opened the doors of the establishment in a flourish. His smile didn’t even falter when it was clear a bard had already been hired for the night. His music wasn’t terrible but definitely forgettable , more here to set an ambiance than to make the crowd sing and dance.

The place wasn’t crowded to the brim but it certainly was filled. Geralt didn’t have to avoid any shoulders or elbows but only the waitresses passing by , arms filled with empty cups , plates and full pitchers. Apparently Jaskier wasn’t lying about the quality of the place if the scholars , students and other crowd of people all mixing here were to back up his claim.

And Jaskier took this place like a fish to water , waving at future coworkers for the upcoming semester at Oxenfurt or old students of his watching him with an admiration and respect Geralt will probably never get used to.

He fluttered around before walking directly toward the bar , Geralt not far behind. After all, it was Jaskier’s coin that was going to pay for the whole thing and he wasn’t going to wait for the bard to make his rounds to say hello to everyone before getting his promised drink.

As Jaskier was sweet talking the man behind the counter, (probably finally aware that Geralt intended to take full advantage of his purse for once) the wolf swept his eyes around the room out of habit and gave it a sniff. The place actually smelled…okay. There was no stable near to sour the smell in the air or drunkard puking on one of the walls. Actual dried bouquets of the last flowers of the season were hanging on some of the pillars giving off a pleasant but not overpowering scent. There also was a lantern hanging by a window slightly open to let it fresh air , in it a leftover lemon-grass scented candle to prevent the remaining bugs who still hadn’t died from the upcoming cold from coming in and bother the merry drunks.

And as soon as Geralt moved his eyes from all the little smelling decorations , he saw from the corner of his eyes a flurry of blond hair and blue cloth. Actually he would have smelled the person before seeing hadn’t it been for the dried flowers and candle masking it at first.

But then a strong perfume of lavender suddenly hit his nose as the figure got closer. It made him think about how Jaskier lost the habit of wearing such powerful perfume quite early in their travels together and he was secretly relieved.

”My, my, Julek !” the figure suddenly spoke. ”Had I known you’d already arrived here I would have never set foot in this place. I mean I know that the coin has to come from somewhere but I never thought they would lower themselves to such clientele !” the lavender-smelling-man said , a smug smile on his face barely hidden by the most obnoxious little mustache Geralt had ever seen in his life. It reminded him of a weasel and by the tone of his voice he clearly wasn’t so far off in his comparison.

Immediately Jaskier’s happy mood soured to a point where Geralt could smell it rolling out in waves out of the bardling. He hid it behind his own smile but Geralt could clearly see the murder in his eyes as he was sure the lavender-smelling-man could too.

”Valdo Marx ! It’s quite funny you would say such a thing , after all it seems to me that you were served alright. But what are you doing here so late in the season ?” Jaskier was leaning on the counter , he would have played the perfect concerned friend had it not been for his smug smile he wasn’t even trying to hide.

”You are usually already holed up in the first noble house that is willing to keep you for the winter. But.. since you’re here.. oh !” He made a pained noise like a condescending adult pretending to care about a child’s trouble. ”..it seems as if the Poviss accident really hurt your reputation then didn’t it ? Oh you poor thing.” The nickname was said in a honeyed voice dripping with faux-concern.

And whatever this Poviss Accident had been , the mention of it was enough to wipe the smug face of Valdo Marx whom Geralt finally took the time to look at head to toes.

Jaskier’s nemesis wasn’t wearing any instrument on him and yet he was the spitting image of a classic court bard. Up to the color of his doublet : a royal blue and if the witcher could trust his vague memories of what Jaskier had said about him , Valdo was the type of bard who would sing a song about any royal or noble willing to pay , no matter their reputation or recent political scandal.

Something Jaskier scoffed at , being censored and told what to sing meant you had just been good at finding the melody and that wasn't anything to be proud of.

He had mid-long straw colored hair that looked more brushed and cared for than those of most of the noble ladies Geralt ever met. And most importantly a stupid hat with the most ridiculous feather that was probably dyed as no creature alive arbored such colors.

And he also happened to be the bard Jaskier had tried to make drop dead the second he believed he had gained wishes during the whole Djinn debacle.

”Jaskier.” Geralt warned. He had come here for an ale not whatever…this was about to become. Which thinking now was probably a bad move as Valdo’s eyes were on him. To give him credit at this point he wasn’t reeking of fear…yet.

”Speaking of reputation : I see that you are still following the Butcher around like a lost pup. Tell me now, have you managed to write any good songs about swamps monsters lately ? After all this seems to be your weird obsession now.”

Jaskier frowned , clearly not taking lightly the jab at his choice for subject of writing.

”I’d rather write about the most hideous creature that whatever bland royalist bullshit you still manage to choke out. Come now Valérie at your age you should really consider finally doing something original in your life.”

Jaskier's voice had taken a sharp tone , the bard will to keep up decorum in public clearly thining. At least he wasn’t shouting to the man like Geralt had seen him do in the more backwater tavern when men criticized his songs.

As the thing started to clearly escalate and the promised ale never coming, Geralt finally noticed that people started to be paying attention, clearly eager to see what two bards fighting will end up looking like. He groaned internally , if at least he had gotten that ale before all of this happened.

”-quite the fucking audacity coming from a man who failed theory of music twice !”

And while he had been distracted the two bards were now raising their voices more and more while he had less and less patience. He finally put a hand on Jaskier's shoulder trying to turn him toward the bar.

Jaskier had gone from his relaxed stance against the counter to nearly nose to nose with his opponent; he had almost expected him to be tugging at his hair already.

”Ignore him, Jask , he is probably already drunk and not worth it.” By the smell he knew that the opposite bard was only buzzed and not that drunk but at this point he was willing to say anything to stop this from going too far. Jaskier huffed but was willing to stop giving Valdo the evil eye and went back toward the counter. That was of course without taking into consideration the fact that Valdo Marx wasn’t going to be very cooperative.

”You do well to walk away Julek at least I won’t have to see your ugly head ruining my drink.” Valdo scoffed.

And Jaskier the slippery bastard turned around in a gasp and pointed a finger toward the other man while Geralt quickly took a fistful of the back of his doublet clearly not in the mood to haul Jaskier back to the inn if he tried to start a bar fight.

"Me ? Ugly ? What a fucking joke coming from you ! Have you seen yourself lately ? You're so ugly , you make drowners and grave hags look hot !"

Valdo let out an offended squeak.

"You.. ! You take that back you bastard!" He scoffed "It's no wonder you would find those monsters attractive after all since..since you're already the witcher's whore !"

Geralt doesn't know how it happened -maybe it was the shock of the insult that let him lose his grip on the bard a little bit- but next thing he knew , Jaskier had crossed the room and punched Valdo Marx straight in the face. He heard a crunch and then blood started to gush on both the bards. Valdo let out a scream and clutched his nose while stumbling back , tripping on his own feet and falling on the ground , clearly not expecting their verbal jousting to come to such blows.

He wasn’t able to see how badly the nose was with all the blood coming out profusely and the bard not taking his hand off from it , trying still in shock to stop the bleeding.

Someone had gasped in the crowd and like wild animals , the blood got the attention of everyone in the room.

…yeah Geralt really wanted to go back in time right about now.

”What the fuck Julian !” Valdo hollered in genuine shock.

Jaskier just looked at his own fist : Valdo’s nose started to bleed as if he had a sliced neck, not just a nosebleed, it was like a bottle of sparkling red wine which had been shaken before being opened. And for a fleeting second Jaskier pulled a face , Geralt thought it was a grimace but instead realised it was some sort of smile.

But Jaskier’s face suddenly fell , probably realising only now how unfitting it was for a bard such as himself to break his opponent's nose using his ring-clad fist in public , quickly turned back and grabbed Geralt's arm, tugging him to run away with him.

”Fuck ! Fuck , fuck , fucking fuck-” he gasped.

Had Jaskier been anyone else trying to grab Geralt's arm and tug him away he would have failed miserably. He only moved because he allowed it. After all he was all muscles and if he wanted to, he could be impossible to move , like a tree taking roots.

He cast one last mournful look at a pitcher filled with ale in one of the waitress trays they passed and let himself be dragged out of the tavern and into a random alley.

No really he should have known this proposed ale was too good to be true.

_______

It's only after a few minutes of running that he noticed the weird noises that Jaskier was letting out. The idiot was probably hurt or worse : crying.

He was probably panicking from what he just did in front of his peers and future students , all because that stupid bastard had used Geralt against him. The white haired witcher then realised that out of all the insults it was this last one that broke the camel's back. Something he had noticed before already : Jaskier could be called a harlot by someone and still laugh and brush it off as if it was a joke between old friends , but the second Geralt was insulted in front of him he would gasp and start shouting back.

And now the wolf probably was going to have to deal with a sobbing bard and Gods above Geralt was too sober to even think about that.

"Jaskier stop…Jaskier !" Gerat said.

The witcher nearly tumbled into the bard back when he suddenly stopped , only avoiding it using his witcher reflexes. And that's when he realised that in between gasps of air , Jaskier had been laughing.

The front of his doublet and one of his fist still covered with the blood of his nemesis. Seeing the bard out of breath glowing under the moon , covered in blood and laughing hysterically made Geralt feel… something.

However he quickly brushed it off , secretly relieved that he wasn’t going to have to deal with the sobbing mess the bard could sometimes become. Years of companionship and everytime the bard would cry in front of him Geralt panicked like on his first contract , having no idea what to do.

”Did you see his face ?! And the noise that he made ?! He sounded like a squeaking frog !” Jaskier cackled while swiping the back of his hand on his chin to catch the pearls of sweat that started to form along his chin , effectively smudging even more blood on his face. And Gods why did it make Geralt feel like that ?

Geralt took in the bloody knuckles of the man in front of him. The ring on his fingers had probably hurt him nearly as much as it had hurted that other bastard’s face. They were in an alley without their pack so he couldn’t do much.

He took him by the elbow and directed him to sit on a barrel that had been left out in the street and was under relatively good moonlight. He had patted Jaskier's back pocket to find the cloth napkin he knew the young man always had on him. The man in question was even too out of it to make a joke about Geralt sudden groping.

After managing to catch Jaskier’s wrist and letting him use the other to gesticulate wildly as he rambled , he took off the rings that adorned his fingers. Jaskier usually never wore those on the road for obvious reasons but as soon as they passed Oxenfurt’s walls he started to feel safe and protected enough to parade around in his almost full glory.

”I’ve been walking in the forest with no one to appreciate my fine outfits except for you and Roach… well mostly Roach.” he had muttered. ”So excuse me for wanting to look presentable ! You never know when I will cross paths with an adoring fan !” he had said when he slipped the rings on his fingers in the middle of the busy streets.

Now dark bruises were already forming as well as a few open cuts covered in blood that certainly belonged to a bard , now to guess which one was a whole other thing. Geralt used the cloth to dab at the bruised knuckles to get the blood out of the way using some of the moonglow and his own witcher heightened senses. Well more like tried to as the bardling was clearly buzzing with adrenaline and not sitting still.

"Ye Gods ! When the others will hear about this ! Ah ah ah ! My heart is beating so fast ! I can feel it in my throat ! Does yours beat fast as well after a good fight ? Gosh the rush is just-"

"Your form was all wrong." Geralt grunted.

Jaskier stopped his flow of words.

"Pardon ?"

"Your form" Geralt insisted. "You didn't even put your thumb outside of your fist , you threw with your upper body not using a good stance. You could have cracked your thumb with how bad it was." He wasn’t looking at him, instead focusing on his current task.

Jaskier scoffed.

"Well as bad as it was I still managed to break that weasel nose so-"

"And why did you even do that ?" Geralt asked suddenly . He stopped dabbing at the knuckles and looked up at Jaskier.

And what a sight.

His cheeks were red from the running , his hair disheveled and he still was slightly short of breath. Geralt could smell the thin layer of sweat that had formed on his skin as well as the freckles and smudge of blood he had on his chin , at some point some of it even got on his lips making Geralt’s eyes spend a second too long on them.

"...because he insulted you." Jaskier answered almost shyly, noticing the look the man in front of him was giving him.

And at that Geralt had to stand up , letting go of the bloodied hand but still gripping the handkerchief.

"You always do that ! It's so stupid !" The wolf snapped.

For a second both stood still. Jaskier silent for the first time in minutes and Geralt trying and for once being the one failing to stop the flow of words trying to get out.

”I’m not.. I’m not some knight who needs his honor protected at all times, Jaskier ! You out of all people should know that and yet you keep doing … that ! Getting into fights with idiots ; you never defend yourself like that when someone insults your singing or yourself !” He almost wanted to ask why but something in him stopped him , probably feeling that somehow he couldn’t handle the answer.

Jaskier scoffed.

”Because there is no need ! I’m a bard , I ought to disturb some of the most bland and closed minded peasants or rightfully so piss off some husband whose wife I slept with !” Jaskier passed the hand that wasn’t bloody in his hair and the sweat caused them to stick out , really giving him the ruffled look and Gods- focus Geralt !

”But you , Geralt they keep saying all that bullshit about witchers and-”

”And it makes your song look bad doesn't it ?” Geralt interrupted.

Jaskier looked at him truly shocked for the first time tonight.

”What are you talking about ? Of course it’s not about that and you know it.” Jaskier said his brow frowned. Good at playing the confused one Geralt thought back.

This had been a thought that had been in the back of Geralt’s mind. He knew that Jaskier had to have an ulterior motive to keep travelling with him. Sure he never wrote anything that Geralt told him to keep secret but in the end the bard was probably just using him right ?

Had Geralt been paying attention he would’ve been able to smell that Jaskier wasn’t lying , actually he was smelling more and more angry but his mind was being louder than his logic , like it had been all night long.

”Oh please , the witcher you’ve written your song about and tried so badly to fix his terrible reputation is starting to get disliked again ? You can’t have that : would look bad for business doesn’t it ? ”Geralt let out a sharp humourless laugh.

”I’m willing to admit that the song might have helped a little but it would be annoying for you if I were to do anything to tarnish your hard work ! That’s why you’ve been defending my name so much : Would be terrible if people started to call me The Bu-”

Jaskier , who had been sitting on the old barrel in the alley suddenly rose and shoved one of his bloodied fingers into Geralt’s chest.

”Now you shut up , you moronic idiot ! For once in your life you are going to really really fucking listen to me.” Jaskier said and just like in the tavern , he had murder in his eyes and Geralt would never admit that he was troubled for a second to be the person whom that stare was directed to.

”I wrote that song because all the bullshit said about witcher was always that : bullshit. You save people from monsters and their own stupidity and yet you never get any thanks because of what ? You have shiny feline eyes and magic hand thingy ! Whatever ! What a big fucking deal ! There are knights out there who don’t know how to carry their sword better than they hold their own dick and with much more songs and tales told about them.” The bard was back to talking rapidly and waving his hands around in clear frustration. Mind you he was still covered in blood and his outfit all rumpled , it wasn’t an exaggeration to say that he looked somewhat… feral.

”Did you really think for a second that I would spend all of those years following you around to what ? Babysit you and make sure your stupid ass doesn’t ruin my song’s fame ? Have you even heard of my own reputation ? I’m the bard who sings about witchers and sorceresses falling in and out of love when all convention would want me to be singing about knights and noble ladies ! I chose to sing those stories instead the one I was fed over and over again in my youth , because I lo-” he coughed

”Because I admire you !” he ended up squeaking out.

Geralt tried to respond but Jaskier was going to finish his monologue.

”You speak in grunts and monosyllabic sounds and yet I've learned each and everyone of their meanings. I know which oil you prefer for your bath , in which bag to look in for your potions. Do you think I've learnt those things out of obligation ? At the risk of breaking your heart dear witcher I’ve had other muses , some of which I never took half the time to learn about as I did for you !

Those songs I've sang and the one yet to be sung , there are thousands of those ! From…from the way you like to talk to Roach or the squinting thing you do with your nose when you get in a room and smell it -and don’t fucking dare telling me you don’t do that !”

Jaskier was absolutely frantic , he knew that he was saying too much , that Geralt never took kindly to excessive displays of affection and or admiration. Years prior in their relationship he would’ve already tried to gag the bard to make him shut up two minutes into his word flow. But he just couldn’t stop , the adrenaline rush refusing to crash down. And by the Gods Geralt seemed glued in place too.

”So yes when someone insults you I see red , Geralt ! Because if only the world could see a fraction of the person you are under all that dark leather and monster guts they would see all the good ! You deserve so much more and sure I can’t change the world with song but I’ll be damned if I don’t fucking try !”

Geralt decided to try his best to ignore most of what he just heard , his mind racing so much. Jaskier was a liar , liar , liar. He must be , because no one would do this for a witcher…right ?

”And by changing the world you mean like punching every bigot you meet ? You could break your fingers and then what ? Huh ? No more songs for your songbird !” Geralt couldn't help the way his voice sounded. So cruel even to his own ears but he was defensive , never in all his long life someone tried to change anything just..for him.

Jaskier looked away first. He was getting tired , tired of screaming at a wall with the man behind it refusing to believe him no matter what.

”I could..still be useful you know.. even without my music.” he muttered. And Melitele’s tits Geralt hadn’t meant it like that.

”This isn't about you being useful Jaskier ! It’s about your survival ! You can’t just throw yourself in brawls , your good intention won’t change the fact that you can’t throw a punch for shit.” This was going so wrong and Geralt couldn’t stop. He was supposed to make the bard see reason , not insult him. But Jaskier couldn’t seem to stop himself either.

”Are you fucking kidding me ? You , the Geralt of bloody Rivia , giving me a lesson on self preservation ?” Jaskier forced a dry laugh. ”The man I had to tackle and bear-hug for twenty minutes last week so you would let me take a look at your shoulder to stitch up after that kikimorra’as attack ?”

”Oh please there was nothing bear-like about what you did , have you seen yourself ? And you want me to trust you with a needle ? Geralt answered , his blood starting to boil with how the shouting match was going.

”You bastard ! I learned to do that with Shani last winter !” Jaskier just about shouted at Geralt's face -and wait when did they get so close to each other ?

”Why would you even do that ?” Geralt asked genuinely surprised. Jaskier, no matter what he said, was always good at avoiding fights with monsters at least. The worst injury he had ever gotten was due to a Djinn and it wasn’t going to be criss cross stitches that would ever help with that.

Jaskier let out a guttural groan tugging at his own hair. Geralt couldn’t be this dense could he ? He had literally shouted his devotion to the man's face and it clearly barely made a dent in the witcher's thick skull.

He couldn’t do it anymore. He had laid it all out for Geralt to understand and yet here he was at the same point at the start of the whole fight : why was Jaskier doing all these things ? It was bloody obvious because Jaskier was obviously-

”BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU ! YOU DENSE FUCKING IDIOT !” The young man shouted.

Jaskier had fantasized about kissing Geralt. Of course he had ! Have you ever seen him ? Jaskier dreamt of kissing the man the minute he slid on the chair in front of the witcher in Posada twelve years ago. But it always had been just that : fantasies. He knew deep inside of him that it would never happen.

And so he dreamt : That after a vicious monster fight in which Jaskier barely escaped with his life , Geralt would realise how fleeting his human life was and declare his undying love here and there and kiss him until he could see stars.

Or at one of the banquets they would sometimes go , he would see Jaskier dancing with someone in the crowd and be overcome with jealousy. He would grab the man just to kiss him in a secret alcove.

That they would wake up together in the same bed like they already did thousands of times before , with a soft ray of sunlight covering them both in warmth. They would look into each other's eyes and just know. No words needed , just looks instead of words.

And all this daydreaming was sometimes the only thing that kept Jaskier going on the Path sometimes.

All those imaginary scenarios always had something in common : it would always end up in a kiss full of passion and love.

However as he looked at Geralt under the moonlight he only felt anger and exasperation. So maybe it was the idea that he had nothing to lose anymore that made him take a step forward as the white wolf was still taking in the sudden love confession and shove his hands in his hair. Nevermind that the movement made his bruised knuckles ache. Geralt quickly took Jaskier’s wrist in his hands, probably thinking that he was about to get attacked.

”I want to kiss you right now and if you don’t want it you can just shove me to the ground you stupid fuck.” Jaskier said in a voice thick with anger , still wanting to ask for permission even in all of this. Geralt let out a small gasp that the bard could only hear because of how close he was. When Geralt didn’t say anything , Jaskier growled.

”Usually people expect a response after that dear wolf.”

Geralt seemed to snap out of it and growled back : ”Fuck Jaskier- you speak too much , be useful with that mouth for once would you ?”

And so Jaskier did.

Him and Geralt were almost the same height but as Jaskier shoved him in the brick wall behind him and looked into his amber colored eyes, it was easy to feel like he was the one towering over him. And when he finally , finally , kissed him it was like a dam breaking.

So many years of pinning , and daydreaming and nothing could have prepared him for the wave of feeling that took Jaskier over. He had imagined soft lips , soft kisses and instead this kiss almost felt like a fight.

This definitely had more teeth than in his fantasies but he wasn’t complaining.

Both men groaned. Jaskier still had smudged blood on one his lip giving the kiss a coppery taste. The kiss was hard , Jaskier didn’t want to stop for one second even if he couldn’t breathe. He caught Geralt’s bottom lip between his teeth to slightly nip at it and licked it just after. Meanwhile the witcher relaxed enough to let go of the bard wrist , instead he put one of his own hand near his neck , against his pulse point (he didn’t even need to feel it to know that Jaskier’s heart was beating like a hummingbird) and the other tugging his waist to bring him even closer.

Jaskier still broke the kiss first -damn his human lungs- to take a gulp of air but immediately went back with the hunger of a starving man. Some of the blood on his face had transferred into Geralt's already bruising lips and using his tongue he licked it off and started kissing his jaw instead.

”Fuck— Jaskier…” Geralt let out.

Jaskier scoffed.

”Certainly not darling : I haven’t been waiting to kiss you for so long just to bend over in the first dirty alley you find when you finally let me indulge.”

Geralt had to bite back a moan : he hadn’t meant it like that. But now the mental image didn’t want to leave him.

Jaskier meanwhile had gone from peppering kisses all over his jaw to his neck , getting dangerously close to his collarbone for someone who didn’t want to be fucked in a back alley.

”Gods Jask you-…you need to stop.” Geralt forced himself to say even if his whole body was screaming at him to keep going and going.

Jaskier to his credit as soon as he heard Geralt's request stopped , not without letting out a small whine before.

They both looked at each other panting : Geralt back against the wall , some strand of hair had fallen from his bun and almost hid his blown out pupils that glowed a warm amber.

Jaskier licked his lips to get the last trace of blood off of them , his lips red and bruised from the forceful kissing. He was blushing to the tips of his ears and his anger had settled down enough for him to start doubting his action.

What if Geralt regretted everything ? Oh Melitele’s tits he was about to get punched or worse Geralt was going to freak out and never talk to him again. Gosh he just had to ruin everything because of his stupid stupid crush and-

Probably seeing (and smelling) the fear that was forming at the pit of the bard’s stomach , Geralt moved his right hand from Jaskier's neck to his jaw to bring him close enough to kiss him again , much softer than before.

The bard eyelid fluttered before closing , wanting to feel this fully.

”Oh Geralt. ” he sighed in the kiss. He cupped the witcher's face in his hands.

”You are so gorgeous , my beautiful beautiful beloved.” Jaskier murmured against his lips. The fire inside of him had calmed down enough to just make him feel warm all over.

Geralt hummed but Jaskier started to think. He had never answered his confession. What truly were his feelings for him in all of this ? And secretly he knew that it would take more than his confession to have Geralt’s walls fully disappear. So he broke the kiss for a second time and looked the white wolf in the eye.

”I swear Geralt I- I’m not lying : I do love you oh so much my wolf. I would never lie to you about my feelings. Please you must trust me” Jaskier pleaded.

He knew the walls that Geralt put around himself , he witnessed some of them crumble just to be built back up immediately after. He was familiar with those which is why he knew that telling all of those things once sometimes wasn’t enough for him.

They had been friends for years for fuck sake and Geralt still tensed sometimes when Jaskier referred to him as such. He was like a frightened animal everytime he had to talk about his emotion but Jaskier knew that Geralt felt so much more that he pretended. You just had to know what to look for.

The way his eyes would slightly glaze over when remembering a fond moment with his brothers at Kaer Morhen , how he always made sure to give Jaskier the bigger part of a meal when they had to split it or without looking sometimes he would redirect Jaskier from wandering too far away by having Roach walk closer.

The way he looked at the remains of a grave hag , the body still covered in the traditional wedding garbs or at a ghoul he just killed, clearly not tall enough to be an adult.

He had lived for hundreds of years and saw many tragic things , the job required him to. So it was hard for him to see the good in the world , which was what Jaskier had tried so hard to make him see. Let it be by making them take the long road less travelled to pick up flowers or find fruits hanging from hidden trees.

Knowing every town festival and in which season they started so they could stay a day or two while the town was buzzing with an happy energy while putting up flowers everywhere and the smell of baked goods wafting through the household window.

”I know it’s not easy to trust my words so I shall repeat myself everyday if you let me-”

”Jaskier it’s okay” Geralt interrupted.

”I-… i’m not going to lie that it’s going to take me a while for this to truly sink in , I want to believe you so bad but.. well bad habits die hard I guess.” he gave a sad smile.

”I want… Well, I don’t really know what I want. You make me feel so.. weird and stupid sometimes and I can’t feel like that : I’m a witcher not a teenager. And yet , I want to kiss you , never stop and do so much more.”

Geralt truly didn’t know what he wanted , the idea of acting like a couple with Jaskier felt odd , weird even. But here : hidden in the dark , almost seemingly alone in the world he felt safe enough to mention the thing he wanted to indulge in with his songbird.

”But I feel like maybe … I kind of knew.” He continued ”I’m bad at noticing all the little things but they always stand out more after you leave. My pack is a mess after 3 days. Late nights are so silent and when I see a patch of flowers I know you love to braid in Roach’s hair my heart.. it does a thing…. Also you’re not very subtle when you’re drunk but well.. I just assumed that you were always like that with everyone.”

Drunk Jaskier was clingy as Geralt learned early in their travels : he wanted to hug and dance , use pet names left and right clearly to hide that he had no idea who he was talking to at the moment and mostly : be the big spoon in bed.

Jaskier started to blush again this time definitely out of embarrassment. He did get a little desperate a few years into their travels together and started using being drunk as an excuse sometimes to do things he knew Geralt would have never let him do while sober.

He tucked one of Geralt snow-white hair strands behind his ear.

”I will make you believe me Geralt , I promise I will : for you dear heart I would do anything…. Like break the nose of that stupid bard all over again. Well okay I will admit , it would also be for me a little bit” Jaskier chuckled.

And Geralt’s heart did the thing again when he heard the pet name Jaskier used , like it did everytime they were directed toward him.

He took Jaskier's bruised hand and kissed his knuckles gently.

”I think songbird… that if you keep doing it I might be able to believe you.” He said while looking at him in his cornflower eyes.

And Jaskier smiled at him like he was the most beautiful thing in the world , as if just giving him permission to try was the most beautiful gift he ever gave him.

”Well I better get started soon and work hard because my Geralt : I love you so much my beautiful beautiful wolf” Jaskier murmured before finally kissing Geralt in the way he daydreamed : full of love and tenderness.

And maybe just maybe Geralt finally did as much , for he too had daydreamed about kissing the bard many times in the recent years. And he had to admit that right now in this alley under the moonlight , Jaskier was still smelling faintly of blood , his arm around his neck and yet he couldn't have daydreamed about anything better than this even if in the end he never got his ale.

#geralt x jaskier #geraskier #thewitcher #jaskier #fanfiction #bruised knuckles #feral jaskier #jaskier covered in blood #valdo marx #he have a very punchable face #and i dont regret using it #geraskier fic #twn #the witcher 3 #the witcher netflix

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aurevell · 2 years ago

Text

And That's Why We're Banned From Trader Joe's

Gen / Stiles & Derek | 2.5k | G AU-gust Prompt 27: Adoptive Family

Summary: Talia shops for her pack the fastest way possible: by setting her kids loose on a grocery store scavenger hunt. Derek and Stiles mean to win, but the competition is fierce.

The Hale horde descends upon the unsuspecting grocery store, seething with excess energy. They hover just past the front entrance, overlooking the produce, fidgeting with lists in hand as they wait for the signal.

Talia steps out in front. Maybe you objectively have too many kids when they can’t fit in a single minivan, she thinks wryly.

To be fair, they’re all her kids, but they aren’t all her kids. And she’s also counting Peter in that number, though he’d scowl at her if she said it aloud. He only barely counts: at sixteen, he’s just old enough to drive a car on his own, which is a godsend given that her husband’s still in Reno on business. Without her little brother, bussing the Hales back and forth from their Saturday morning soccer practices would be a nightmare.

“The usual rules?” Laura asks. Her hair’s still a mess from earlier, when she nearly punched the other team’s forward over a messy foul. It’s hard to believe her eldest is technically a teenager now, though only just. (Talia was hoping the tendency to get mud stains on her clothes would have grown out of her by this point.)

“Ten minutes,” Talia agrees. “No running. No cheating,” she adds, eyeballing the most likely culprit, which is surprisingly one of her young nieces, Jack. “The first one with every item checked off—correctly—gets anything they want at the register. And if anyone tries sneaking extra junk food, I will take points off.”

Cora is skimming her list over and over again. Talia is willing to bet Peter’s already memorized his, though he’s feigning disinterest in their little game, as usual.

“Ready?” Talia asks. All of them but Sophie and Stiles have grabbed a basket, and their little faces are a spectrum from playful and determined. In their identical Beacon Youth Club jerseys, they look like they’re preparing the starting gun in a race.

“Set…” An elderly woman squeezes past, eyeing them in confusion.

“Go!”

Talia smiles as they all head out, walking as fast as they can in their cleats without getting too close to running. She heaves out a breath and follows.

The benefit of this strategy, of course, is that for a brief instant, Talia is temporarily child-free. Which gives her enough time to muddle through the nuances of her own list: which wine goes best with vitello tonnato, and should they stock up on more band-aids for Stiles, and is picky eater Eli getting enough protein to make up for his sudden growth spurt?

But for just a moment, she watches as her small army of kids begins ravaging the grocery store. She’s gotten the hang of dividing the grocery list pretty evenly, given their range of ages: Peter and Laura have the items that are hardest to find as well as those most likely to be scattered around the store, while her youngest, the twins, have the easiest ones.

Toward the far end of the produce section, Eli grabs two free samples from the table and crams them into his mouth. She rolls her eyes, but she’s far enough away that she can pretend not to have seen. Or to know him.

It’s probably unfair, unleashing her family upon innocent Saturday shoppers. Or bad parenting to let her kids split up and run free, especially with Sophie being just six.

But to be fair, Peter keeps an eye on Sophie. The rest of them are all wolves, and well able to defend themselves, except one.

And Talia knows Derek will look after him.

⬩

“Twix. Even split?” Derek asks, falling in line beside Stiles.

“Snickers?” Stiles counters.

“You’re on,” Derek agrees, and Stiles beams.

They’ve gotten pretty practiced at this part, so Derek hands his list to Stiles and runs off to get oranges—the only item of his that’s in produce—while Stiles pulls out a marker, making note of the items on both lists that are in the same area of the store.

Technically, it’s not against the rules to team up. But there’s only one prize to split between you, so it’s an unpopular move. Jack and Eli, being twins, sometimes double-team, but that’s only on days when they can stand each other.

But Derek knows Stiles doesn’t like doing this alone. Even after almost three months with their family, he’s still trying to find his place in the Hale pack, the only human in a pack of wolves, the outlier with the dead mom and the dad who’s mostly MIA. He’s the odd one out even with soccer this morning, the only one of them sitting on the sidelines, not because he’s bad at it but because he didn’t start living with the Hales ‘till way after fall signups. He cheers from the sidelines, of course, but Derek still thinks it kind of bugs him.

Anyway, he and Stiles make a good team. Stiles may not be as fast as a wolf, but he has an uncanny way of guessing where their items are most likely to be, especially for a nine-year-old kid, (“The generic stuff is always on the bottom shelf,” he informed Derek sagely once) and Derek brings his nose (“You smelled maple syrup from four aisles away?”).

Still, teamwork doesn’t keep the other Hales from bringing the heat.

When Derek goes to grab the oranges, Jack is already tossing apples into a bag nearby—very carefully this time, because Mom gets irritated when she rushes and bruises all the produce, and she knows she’s on thin ice. She grins at him, tongue between her teeth. “You’re going down.”

“Not this time, sucker,” he says, and hip checks her away before she can reach for another produce bag. He blocks the dispenser with his entire body as he peels one off the roll, making her laugh as she tries to crowd around him.

“Move, you turd!” she squeals, knocking some of the neighboring lemons to the ground.

“Fight later,” Stiles says, grabbing Derek by the arm. “Cereal aisle next!”

They hurry to the far end of the store, where the produce section spills out into the other aisles. Eli is just ahead of them, and Jack’s literally on Derek’s heels, stepping on the backs of his shoes to get back at him for the plastic bags. As they round the corner, though, he realizes something’s different.

They stop short. Jack gives a cry of dismay.

“They reorganized the store?” Eli complains.

“Assholes,” Cora says fervently from somewhere over their shoulder, eliciting a shocked look from a woman nearby. But she keeps moving past them, and the rest of them follow suit, scowling.

They split off from each other as they get their bearings, Derek carefully not-sprinting ahead and Stiles muttering under his breath to rework the order of their list.

Right before they reach the new cereal aisle, a cart cuts them off: Laura. She must have been given the big-ticket items this time around, doubling back for a larger cart instead of a plastic basket. As she speeds around the corner, Derek swears the wheels drift a little.

“Okay.” Stiles mutters, skimming the list as they head into the aisle. “We need five-minute oats, those blueberry granola bars, and…” he makes a face. “Two boxes of shredded wheat.”

“She never lets us get the good cereal,” Derek mutters under his breath, though he dutifully starts looking for it anyway.

While he searches the far end of the aisle, he sees Eli at the corner by a sample table of pretzels. His cousin takes a paper cup full of them and crams it into his mouth like he hasn’t eaten in days. The store employee watches him in resignation.

Stiles tosses his findings into Derek’s basket. “Let’s figure out where they moved the canned food.”

As they hurry down the next aisle, he hears Peter over his shoulder. “C’mon, talk to me, Soph.”

Derek turns to find his cousin Sophie perched on Peter’s shoulders for a bit of extra height. At six years old, the youngest Hale hasn’t yet earned the right to her own list—which is why Peter often grabs her for an extra pair of hands, or at least a periscope.

“Oh, the condiments are in aisle three now.” She squeals in excitement, pointing. “I can see the spicy mustard!”

Derek and Stiles find the canned goods, though the ensuing search for raisins takes so much time they’re both fuming by the time they grab them. The store’s reorganization has made their little search more chaotic than usual, and though Peter and Laura are often the favorites to win, this one feels like anyone’s game.

In the next aisle, they come across Laura’s abandoned cart, the girl herself frantically looking through the boxes of crackers for the right brand.

That’s about when Derek realizes his partner isn’t at his side. He turns and finds Stiles slowly sneaking a small box of random cookies into the bottom of her cart. Quickly, Derek strides over to block Laura’s view, pretending to search for something on the nearby shelves. She glances at him suspiciously but doesn’t have time to investigate.

Trick pulled off, they scurry away. Derek waits until they’re around the corner to offer his fist to Stiles, who bumps his knuckles against it. “Nice,” he grins.

“Do you think she’ll realize?”

Derek shrugs. “Normally? Yes. When she’s distracted? Maybe not.”

“Worth a shot, if your mom docks points for it.”

When they double back, Eli’s at the pretzels again, stuffing more free samples into his mouth. By this point, the store employee’s desperately looking around for an attending parent.

Derek rolls his eyes. “You have no shame,” he hisses under his breath as he and Stiles hurry past.

“They’re chocolate-covered!” Eli protests.

But Stiles taps Derek on the shoulder as they go, huffing out a laugh. He must have swiped a sample cup of his own, because he presses a chocolate-covered pretzel into Derek’s palm.

They’re scrambling up and down the condiment aisle in search of soy sauce, still chewing, when two tiny arms reach out from the bottom shelf like something out of a nightmare, fingers curling around the metal edge of the shelf above.

Derek and Stiles stare in horror as Jack pulls herself out from the next aisle, covered in grime as she wriggles onto the floor. She’s clutching two boxes of pasta and the bag of apples to her chest.

“Yes!” she shouts in triumph, grabbing a bottle of ketchup from the shelf—and sure, that’s one way to take a shortcut.

“You’re a literal terror,” Stiles says, though his tone is admiring.

Unfortunately, Mom thinks so, too.

“Jacqueline Hale!” she cries, and the three of them whip around—smelling various shades of guilty at her tone, though Derek knows he and Stiles have done nothing wrong—to find her on the far end of the aisle. Derek’s pretty sure, by the look on her face, that she’s having a flashback to that one time when Jack snuck under the fence of a petting zoo and they couldn’t find her for a half hour. “I will put you on a leash again, and don’t think that I won’t!”

“Yes, Aunt Tali,” Jack says, deflating. When she turns to scurry away in the opposite direction, she has a dust bunny caught in her ponytail.

“That’s…so nice that your kids help with the groceries,” a man says from behind Mom, his tone dubious.

“Oh, you know. A little game to encourage them,” Mom responds, her voice dialed back from deadly just that fast. “Just a scavenger hunt.”

“Yeah, to the death,” Laura mutters under her breath in the next aisle, having overheard.

She might not be far off. When Derek and Stiles reach the frozen section, they find Cora cheerfully stuffing a yowling Sophie into the freezer next to the ready meals.

“Don’t ask,” Cora grunts, slamming the door shut behind her. Sophie flings it open, scrabbling out behind her cousin. Stiles catches her by the arm, meaningfully wagging two fingers over his open mouth, and Sophie pulls back her fangs and scampers off. Derek turns back to find that her little handprints against the condensation, along with the frozen meals knocked from the shelves, have made the glass look like a disaster scene.

When they pass the pretzel lady again, Stiles grabs another free sample. She glares at them, and Derek glares right back.

After they double back again to find their last item—four packs of thin-sliced turkey—they’re finally done. Derek rushes to the front of the store with the basket to reach his mom, with Stiles coming behind more slowly as he double-checks the list for accuracy.

Unfortunately, Cora’s already grinning beside his mom in line when he arrives. “Eat dirt,” she says, and kicks at his knee. But being first doesn’t guarantee a win, not if you don’t have everything you’re supposed to, so Derek waits impatiently while Mom combs through their lists.

Behind him, Jack, Peter, and Sophie make it to the finish as well. “That’s not fair!” Sophie cries, upon seeing Cora. “She—”

Jack elbows her. “Snitches get stitches,” she mutters, nearly inaudible. (By popular agreement, no one goes to Mom over roughhousing anymore, not since they all swore to never tell how the living room wall got the head-sized hole conveniently hidden behind the clock.) Sophie snaps her mouth shut, and Cora smirks.

The next few minutes are a bit chaotic: after a final headcount to make sure everyone made it back, Mom makes Eli scramble back to the chip aisle to exchange his bag for the right brand. By the time they reach the front of the line, though, the tally is complete.

“Good work, Cora,” Mom says with a smile, and Cora almost squeals with delight. In addition to choosing whatever she wants from the register—which, in this case, is “Reese’s Cups, suckers!”— the winner is exempt from helping with the groceries. Everyone else gets the food onto the conveyor belt and helps with bagging.

Cora jeers at them from the bench across from the checkout. She does, however, snap off a piece of her second cup for Sophie, either out of guilt or as hush money, under Peter’s watchful eye. Peter’s smile is a little too pleasant for him not to be plotting something. (Since he has a part-time job and could definitely pay for snacks himself, this whole thing is just about the competition for him. And defending his teammate from foul play is part of that competition. Derek figures Cora will get what’s coming to her, one way or another.)

They manage to get the mountain of groceries into carts and then into Mom’s van and Peter’s car. Cora playfully doles out orders until Laura comes up behind to put her in a chokehold.

Stiles throws his shoulder into Derek’s as they watch Cora gnaw at the crook of her sister’s elbow.

“Next time,” he says, and Derek finds the idea that there will be a next team-up satisfying.

“Next time,” he agrees.

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#stiles stilinski #derek hale #au-gust 2022 #just an excuse to write about baby hales taking the world by storm #and also stiles #mine #tumblr fic

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nikki-writes-stuff · 5 years ago

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At the Edge of the Woods (Werewolf!Steve x Reader)

Summary: When you move into a cottage on the edge of the forest, you’re ready to start a new life in a new, quiet town. But when you attract the attention of Steve Rogers, a man who everyone in town seems to dislike and fear, your world is turned upside down after he decides that you belong to him.

Pairing: Werewolf/Alpha!Steve x Omega!Reader

Read part two here!

A/N: Hey, guys! So a couple warnings about this one: it contains stalking, a/b/o dynamics, non-con, dub-con, breeding kink, and a whole lotta sin. Also, this is my first time writing anything with alpha/omega stuff in it, so be kind! And let me know if you liked it or if there’s anything I need to work on when writing about this sorta thing. Thank you so much, and enjoy!

It was love at first sight. From the moment you laid eyes on the cottage, you knew it would become your home. The thing was tiny, barely any bigger than a shack, and it was a good fifteen minutes’ drive from the nearest sign of civilization. But you didn’t care; you were enamored with the thick layer of ivy that had overtaken the western wall of the structure, and there were huge bushes of honeysuckle growing along the edge of the forest just a few feet from the backdoor.

And when your real estate agent told you the price of the property, the deal was immediately sealed.

“You’re kidding,” you’d deadpanned. “That’s all?”

“Yep,” she’d grinned, clutching her binder of properties tight against her chest. “Quite the bargain, huh?”

“I mean… Yeah,” you’d laughed. “It must be too good to be true. What’s wrong with it?”

“Nothing, structurally,” she began, “The plumbing is on the older side of things, but it passed inspection. Same goes for the heating and air conditioning. There’s been a bit of a rodent problem in the past, but the appraiser said that a few mouse traps should do the trick to take care of that.”

Her smile had fallen at that point, though, and she shifted on her feet as she considered her next words.

“What is it?” you’d prompted.

“Well… The thing is,” she said sheepishly, “The locals have this superstition about the woods in this area. People say that they’re, uh…haunted.”

“…Haunted?”

You were barely able to contain an amused grin from overtaking your face, and with a shrug you turned back toward the kitchen, admiring the view of the trees through the little window above the stove.

“I know, it’s pretty weird,” the agent chuckled. “But people around here really do believe it. Something about an urban legend. I will say, though, that coyotes and wolves are known to roam around at night, so that’s probably where the paranoia comes from. Just try not to go out after dark. And if you get any chickens or outdoor animals, I’d keep them inside a kennel.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you assured her. “I’m not exactly a farmer. I’m just looking for a place to settle down.

“And I think this cottage is the perfect spot.”

A month later, after the papers were signed and your possessions were moved in, you found yourself happier than you’d ever been in your new abode. You’d purchased house plants and artwork, designing the small space until it was exactly to your liking. You’d even decided to take up gardening, and your tiny back porch had become dotted with pots filled with flourishing herbs.

You fell into an easy routine. On Mondays, you would venture into town, picking up groceries from the local mart and picking up any other supplies you needed. Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays were dedicated to your work; you were the owner and manager of a blog that had become an overnight success several months ago, and so you spent those days curled up in the cottage, typing away at your laptop and creating content.

The only strange thing thus far had been the town residents’ reaction to you. Everyone was friendly, of course, and they’d made it clear that small town hospitality was a value the entire population seemed to share, but you weren’t oblivious to the way they side-eyed you. No one ever looked suspicious, per se, more like…expectant. Like they were waiting for you to say or do something, though you had no idea what it could be.

Earl, the bookstore owner, was by far one of the friendliest people you’d ever met, and after four weeks of the bizarre treatment, you finally asked him about it.

“Oh, don’t mind us,” he waved you off, sliding your new books into a paper bag. “It’s just that no one’s ever lasted long in that cottage o’ yours.”

“…Well, that’s a bit…unsettling. What happened to them?”

“Nothing,” he was quick to assure you. “Nothing bad happens to ‘em. It’s not like they’ve gotten hurt or anything. It’s just that, uh… Well. Strange things seem to happen in that part o’ the woods at night, and it’s scared the last couple o’ tenants off.”

“Huh… My real estate agent did mention something like that,” you admitted, starting to feel an irrational spark of apprehension. “What kind of things did they see?”

“Well… I don’t wanna scare you away,” he grumbled, scratching at his salt-and-pepper beard.

“I promise you won’t. I really like where I’m at right now. I’m just…curious, I guess.”

Earl seemed to consider it for a moment before giving in.

“Alright,” he sighed. “But for the record, I don’t believe any of the silly nonsense some folks ‘round here like to gossip about. This is a quiet town – a safe town. The only dangerous thing about this place is Mary Jo’s strawberry rhubarb pie down at the soda shop – I swear those things are the reason I got diabetes.”

You chuckled at Earl, and he gave you a warm smile before leaning towards you over the counter, propping himself up on his elbow.

“So, anyways, back to your house,” he started. “The last people there were this younger couple. They were nice kids – had just gotten hitched. But after a few weeks, they said they started noticin’ howls at night. Now, that’s normal for this area; we’ve got some wolves. But these howls were close, so loud that it woke em’ up most nights.

“Then, they started seeing people walking around the property around midnight. It coulda’ been that they were smokin’ some stuff they shouldn’a been smokin’, but they swore up and down that they saw naked men traipsin’ around. One time, there was one on their back porch, and the husband ran out to chase him off, but as quick as they saw him, he vanished.

“Again, I don’t know if I believe all of that junk,” Earl huffed. “But… the old lady who lived there before the couple said the same thing before she passed away, god rest her soul. And ol’ Lizzy didn’t lie about this sorta thing.”

You made a quiet hum of contemplation, nodding.

“Well,” you eventually spoke, “if I see any naked men hanging around, I have my handy dandy taser.”

A wide grin broke out over the older man’s face, and he reached over the counter to cuff your shoulder.

“Thata girl,” he chuckled. “I like it. And if you do see people hangin’ around on your property, give me a call, ok?” He fumbled around for a business card, eventually opening the cash register and pulling one out. “Call the bottom number if anyone gives you trouble, ok? I know I’m not the most intimidating guy around, but I keep a shotgun at the house just in case. And if the wolves become a problem, call the police. They’ll send some guys over from animal control to chase ‘em off.”

“Thanks, Earl,” you smiled, tucking the card into your wallet. “Oh, and before I forget, do you have any stationary? Letter writing paper, colored pens, that sort of thing?”

“I’m afraid we don’t. Oh, but Greg and Lou would probably have some. Try their art supply store; it’s right around the corner on the left side o’ the road.”

With that, you thanked Earl and walked out, clutching your paper bag of novels to your chest. You had to admit that the idea of wolves on your property was starting to scare you, but the thought of a naked guy just hanging out in the woods was enough to make you laugh to yourself. Even if it was true, you’d dealt with weirdos before. If that was the worst of your problems, then you’d be a happy camper.

You followed Earl’s instructions and immediately spotted a quaint store with a sign over the door reading “The Brushstroke”. Upon walking inside, you were greeted by the smell of paper and ink, and papier mache mobiles were hanging from the ceiling every few feet, dancing in the breeze that had flown in after you opened the door. Two men were standing behind the counter, sipping from steaming mugs of tea, and their heads popped up as you walked in.

“Hey, there!” one of them called, giving you a wave. “Welcome; come on in.”

“Hello,” you replied with a smile.

“We haven’t seen you around before,” the other man remarked, a kind smile on his face. “You wouldn’t happen to be the new girl in town, would you?”

“Word spreads quickly, I guess.”

“It does when you live in a town like this,” he nodded. “I’m Lou, by the way. And this is my husband Greg.”

Greg nodded in greeting, and you gave them a wide smile.

“It’s nice to meet you guys.”

“Likewise, hon. Can we help you find anything?”

You told them what you were looking for, and they instructed you towards the back of the store, where you found a wall filled with rows of neat packets of paper right next to a cubby of pens of all types and colors. You took your time in making your selections, not even noticing the door of the shop opening and closing; it was only when you heard Greg and Lou’s quiet conversation come to an abrupt halt that you glanced around the corner to see what was going on.

Your eyes widened when you saw the man standing in front of the counter; he was tall, maybe a few inches over six foot, and built like a tank. A thick, well-groomed beard adorned his face, and his hair was on the longer side, curling just past his ears in thick, easy waves. Despite the chilly weather outside, he was only dressed in a blue long-sleeved t-shirt and jeans, and you watched his biceps bulge under the fabric as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“…Steve,” Greg finally said. “Long time no see.”

The man – Steve, evidently – nodded his head as he approached the counter.

“Wh-what can we do for you?” Lou asked, seeming to shrink back as he walked towards them.

“I need a new sketchbook,” Steve mumbled, almost too quietly for you to hear. His voice was deep, resonating, and something about its gravelly edge made goosebumps rise up over your arms.

“You know where to find ‘em,” Greg stated after clearing his throat. “Just get whatever you need and go.”

It looked as if Steve was about to say something, but after a pause, he just nodded, ducking his head and turning directly towards you. You stiffened as he grew nearer, feeling an unexplainable urge to turn and run away from him, but then his eyes met yours, and you were frozen in place.

Blue irises stared directly into you, and you watched as surprise washed over his features. His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath in through his nose, and you swore that you saw his pupils dilate as he looked you up and down. When his gaze finally met yours again, and you stumbled back a step, stunned at the look on his face. It was as if he knew you.

But that couldn’t be; you’d never seen this man before. If you had, you definitely would’ve remembered him.

“I-I…” you stuttered. “I’m sorry.”

You weren’t sure what you were apologizing for, but all of a sudden you were broken out of your strange stupor. Fixing your eyes firmly on the floor, you turned and blindly grabbed the first stack of papers that your extended hand came in contact with. You did the same with the pens, grabbing a random pack before turning on your heel and heading towards the front.

Or, rather, heading directly into a broad, firm chest. You hadn’t heard any footsteps, but while your back was turned Steve had apparently stalked up behind you, and now you were so close that you could smell the distinct scent of pine wafting off of him. Pine and…something else, something musky. It made your mouth water and your eyes flutter shut, and you could have sworn that you heard a deep growl sound from his chest.

The noise startled you so badly that you dropped everything, even your paper bag from Earl’s, and you felt as if your entire body was trembling as you turned away. On unsteady feet, you walked back to the front, glancing at Greg and Lou out of the corner of your eye as you headed towards the door. Lou was watching you with a concerned expression painted across his face, but Greg was still staring Steve down, as if he were sizing him up.

The cold, early-spring wind hit you square in the face once you exited the store, and it sobered you up enough to cease your nervous trembling. There was still a sense of blind panic, though, a deep-seated fear that drove you to march over to your car without turning back.

As you peeled out of your parking space and sped towards your home, you slowly began to calm down, taking slow, even breaths to slow the frantic beating of your heart. As you put more and more distance between you and the mysterious man from the art store, you found that, even later on when you were safe in your home, you still couldn’t rationalize why you’d felt the way you had. And that evening, when you were getting ready to go to bed, you couldn’t help but feel like you were being watched.

Typically, you kept the curtains in your bedroom open, enjoying the sight of the forest laying just beyond the panes of glass. But tonight, before going to bed, you drew them shut before burrowing under the covers, hiding away from the lingering, unexplainable dread that had followed you home that day.

____________

You weren’t sure what had woken you. When you jolted out of your slumber, you were laying sprawled out over your mattress, your sheets tangled around your ankles. Everything was quiet, unsettlingly so. It was as if your cottage was holding its breath, waiting for something horrible to happen. The world was black beyond your windows, and the clock on your bedside table read 3:42 in the morni-

Wait.

The lingering tendrils of sleep within your brain melted away as you bolted upright, your wide eyes focused on your windows and the curtains that were neatly pulled away from them. Your heart was pounding in your ears as you slowly, deliberately, stood up from your bed, reaching for your phone blindly as you kept your eyes on the windows.

You drew the curtains closed as your thumb hovered over the emergency call button, and you gulped before turning towards your open bedroom door.

“H-hello?” you called out, voice still thick with sleep.

There was no answer, and you took a deep breath before stepping out into the living room. You were relieved to find nothing out of place; the kitchen, as well, was in perfect order, as was your tiny bathroom. You grew bolder as you searched your house, checking underneath your bed and inside of your wardrobe, but still you found nothing.

Eventually, you sauntered over to your back door, and that’s when you smelled it. Smelled him. The same scent that had flooded your senses back at the bookstore was thick in the air right next to the backdoor. You blinked rapidly, feeling a stirring in your gut as you inhaled it, and you gulped as you faced the door.

“…Steve?” you murmured, suddenly unable to make a sound any louder than a whisper.

Without realizing what you were doing, your hand came up to the doorknob, tracing the curve of it with your thumb. A tiny, experimental twist revealed that it wasn’t locked, and a small voice in the back of your head supplied that it was sure you’d locked it before going to sleep.

One more twist, and the door popped open, goosebumps rising up over your skin as the night air rushed over you. You turned on the porch light with a flick of your fingers and stepped out, wincing when the floorboards creaked under your feet. You half expected to see a naked man standing there just as Earl had said, but there was nobody.

You let out a shaky laugh, leaning against the doorway as your eyes flitted over the forest. You felt silly, getting all paranoid for no reason. With a small, sheepish smile, you straightened up and turned to head back inside, eager to climb back under your warm sheets and forget about the whole thing.

But that was when you saw it.

You stopped in your tracks and sucked in a deep breath as the wolf sauntered out from the tree line, its eyes focused directly on you just as yours were focused on it. Its fur was sandy and mottled with streaks of light brown and creamy white, and in the dim light you thought that you caught a flash of blue in its eyes. You took a step backwards as that same smell washed over you, and for a short, fleeting moment, you thought that there was something familiar about the beast.

It took another step towards you, and that was when you realized how massive it was. You’d seen pictures of wolves on the internet; you knew how big they were supposed to be compared to people. But this was another thing completely; this wolf looked to be the size of a grizzly bear, and you knew that if it were to stand up on its two hind legs, it would tower over you.

Abruptly, you broke out of your paralysis, blinking rapidly as you turned back towards your door. You heard a growl from behind you, but you ignored it as you fled back into your house, slamming the door shut and turning the lock back into place. A thud sounded on its other side, followed by the scratching of claws against wood.

You waited several moments, silently begging the animal to stop, but the thumping only carried on, accompanied by muted, distressed whining. Taking a deep breath, you turned to your phone, punching in ‘911’ and holding the device up to your ear.

“911, where is your emergency?”

“U-um… I-I’m at 432 Nottington Lane. Please, there’s this, this wolf outside and it’s trying to get it, and…”

As you spoke, the noises suddenly stopped. You paused, frowning at the door and straining your ears. But everything had once more gone silent.

“Hello, ma’am? Ma’am, are you still there?”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m still here. Um… I think it’s gone now. It’s… Yeah, it’s gone. I’m really sorry to bother you guys. Just, uh… Just ignore this call, please. I’m sorry.”

You hung up and set your phone down on the kitchen counter, staring hard at your back door.

“…Shit.”

_______________

You didn’t close your curtains again after that night. You told yourself it was because there was no reason to, that you had nothing to hide yourself from. But, in the back of your mind, you knew that it was because you were too afraid of waking up with them open of someone else’s accord.

Two days went by with no further incident. You kept up with your little routine, throwing yourself into your work and acting as if you weren’t still shaken up from the ordeal. You called Earl and let him know you’d seen a wolf, just like he’d said, and the two of you had laughed over the scare it had given you. But the laughter didn’t reach your eyes or your heart, and it was still hard for you to fall asleep whenever night came around.

On the third day, though, you decided that you needed to get out. Every time your eyes strayed to the forest, you felt a pinprick of anxiety, and you were desperate to forget about what had happened. And so, dressing in your most comfortable leggings and oversized sweater, you ventured out into town, stopping for breakfast at the soda shop.

Mary Jo’s Soda Shop had been open and owned by Mary Jo herself since before you were born. It was located right in the center of town, and it was the closest thing to ‘busy’ that the small township’s population could be capable of. The front porch was lined with old, worn rocking chairs, and empty planter boxes sat beneath every single window; you were sure that they’d be overflowing with petunias as the weather turned warmer.

The atmosphere was warm and cozy as you stepped inside. People of all different races and walks of life found solace under Mary’s roof, and it was clear by the easy smiles, easy laughter, and easy conversation that pervaded the dining room. A teenaged girl, who you’d later find out to be Mary Jo’s granddaughter, showed you to your table and took your order, and as you settled down into the cracked-leather seat of your booth, you found yourself finally relaxing.

It was easy to get lost in your own thoughts, especially with the dull roar of voices and the soft sounds of country music playing over the radio as background noise. You stared off into space as you sipped your orange juice, content to just zone out for a few moments and let your brain go on autopilot.

Maybe that was why it startled you so much when a man abruptly slid into the seat across from you. You were pulled out of your revelry by a dark shadow suddenly appearing in your peripheral vision, and your initial fright only deepened when you looked up to see who it was.

“Steve…”

The man from yesterday was staring you down, dressed this time in a red and black flannel. His hair, too, looked like it had been combed out, and his beard was shiny and soft-looking, as if he’d rubbed oil into it that morning.

You didn’t know what to say as he sat across from you, his fingers laced together on top of the table, and for an uncomfortably long moment, the two of you were completely silent.

“What’s your name?” he finally asked, and you arched your eyebrow at him.

“Why do you want to know?”

A muscle in his jaw ticked, and he let out a long sigh through his nose. He didn’t answer your question, and you started to shift in your seat as he continued to stare.

Finally, you told him, murmuring your name under your breath. Upon hearing it, he nodded, finally glancing up when your waitress came back to take your order. When her eyes fell onto the man seated across from you, she visibly paled, her mascara-lined eyes widening as her smile turned to a grimace.

“Mr. Rogers,” she said timidly, “my grandmother told you not to come in anymore-“

“It’ll be fine, Rosie,” he grunted. “I won’t cause any trouble; I’m just talking with (Y/N), here.”

Rosie looked over to you, and you blinked up at her, hoping your incredulity was showing through in your eyes.

“I… I’m not sure…”

Steve huffed and looked over at you, a predatory edge appearing in his visage.

“Go on,” he encouraged you. “Tell her.”

“I really don’t-“

Suddenly, his scent was flooding your senses once more, and you almost gagged on your words as you breathed it in. You wondered why Rosie didn’t seem to notice it as it washed over you, nearly suffocating in its intensity.

“I, uh…” Your voice trailed off distractedly, and Steve’s knee nudged yours under the table.

“I-it’s fine,” you finally managed to stutter, and a pleased smirk appeared over his features.

“See? Everything is fine,” he insisted. “Now, weren’t you coming to take our orders?”

Rosie hesitated, but finally she slipped a notepad out of her pocket and nodded.

“Perfect. I’ll have the sampler with crispy bacon. Eggs over easy. And, uh… a biscuit on the side,” Steve listed off.

After a moment of silence, he cleared his throat, prompting you to jump a little before telling Rosie what you would like.

“Oh! Uh… I’ll have the same,” you muttered, though you hadn’t really been planning on eating anything of the sort.

But Rosie jotted it down in her notepad, all but fleeing to the kitchen after you were done speaking.

“And I’ll take some coffee!” Steve called after her.

When it was finally just the two of you, he once again gave you his full attention, and you fought to keep your mind straight.

“I don’t…know you,” you mumbled, squeezing your eyes shut. “I don’t know you, and you’re making me uncomfortable. Please, just-“

“I really liked the nightgown you had on last night.”

Your eyes bugged open, and your head shot up to look at him. You felt your blood run cold as he watched you with that same smirk he’d worn while ordering Rosie around, and you clutched your purse tighter to yourself.

“Wh…What did you just say?”

“You heard me,” he insisted. “How are you liking living in that cottage? The last few people there-“

“What the fuck,” you interrupted. “You…you were watching me?”

He sighed at your interruption but nodded, leaning forward on his elbows.

“And you were watching me.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I never saw you, or I would’ve called the cops-“

“But you did see me,” he insisted. “While I was in my other form.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, but then understanding came over you, and you shook your head.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered. “You mean…the wolf?”

Steve nodded, looking up when Rosie came back with his coffee. She all but slammed the cup on the table, spilling a few drops of the beverage as she poured it. After shooting him a sour glare, she turned on her heel to attend to the other tables around you, the occupants thereof starting to notice who you were sitting with. The din of voices had gone just a bit quieter as they watched him, and you were starting to realize that the entire town knew who Steve was, and judging on the locals’ reaction to him, his reputation wasn’t on the favorable side of things.

“So… Let me get this straight,” you deadpanned, watching as Steve took a sip from his steaming mug. “You’re saying that you were the wolf I saw?”

He nodded, swallowing his coffee.

“I’m among the last of my kind,” he sighed, tapping his fingers against his cup. “At least in this area of the country. But, yeah, that was me, scratching at your door. I was honestly a little hurt by your reaction-“

“You’re fucking insane.”

A scowl overtook his features, and his hands tensed as his fingers went still.

“I would really prefer it,” he growled, “if you didn’t use that sort of language with me, Omega.”

“Ome- What?” You shook your head, unable to process how insane this man really was. “Ok, I’m done here.”

You grabbed your purse and stood up from the booth, but a hand clamped down on your upper arm as you made for the front door.

“You’re not going anywhere,” Steve insisted, and you felt fear course through you at how possessive he’d just sounded. “We have a lot we need to talk about.”

“Let go of me!” You tried to pull away from him, but you might as well have been struggling against an iron chain. Steve didn’t budge as he held you in place, and a whimper escaped your throat as he began pulling you to sit next to him in the booth.

“Steve.”

Both of you froze when you heard the voice, and you looked up to see three men standing over your table, frowning at the man who still had a firm hold on you.

“Steve, let the girl go,” one of them said, and you saw Steve’s lip curl out of the corner of your eye.

“Rhodey,” he grunted. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Not long enough,” the man fired back.

For a second, you were afraid that Steve was going to ignore them, but then his grip on you disappeared. You hurriedly stood up again, backing away until you were out of arm’s reach from him. The entire restaurant was silent as everybody within held their breath, watching Rhodey and Steve stare one another down.

“This isn’t any of your business,” Steve said, and it was then that you realized you couldn’t wait there any longer. You didn’t care how it played out; you just wanted to get out of there.

And so, while everyone was distracted, you turned on your heel and slipped out, pushing past the front door, running past the rocking chairs and planter boxes, crossing the street without first looking both ways. Your heart was pounding a mile a minute, and you didn’t fully know where you were running to until you were standing in the entry way of Earl’s bookstore.

“Hey, there,” he called out to you, but his typical cheerful greeting died on his tongue when he saw your face. “What happened?”

Twenty minutes later, you and Earl were seated in his office. You’d told him everything, save for the way Steve’s scent affected you. You knew it was crazy, and you didn’t want one of your only friends in your new town to think you were as insane as your stalker.

“…Shit.”

It was the first word he’d uttered since you began telling him your tale, and he rubbed his forehead as he took in your story.

“Shit. I mean… I always knew there was something off about that Rogers boy,” he admitted. “But he’s never pulled anything like this.”

You quirked an eyebrow, glancing up at him.

“Why does everyone dislike him?” you asked. “It seems like the whole town has something against him.”

Your friend sighed and sat back in his chair, stroking his beard in thought.

“It didn’t used to be that way,” he started. “Steve, he grew up here. He was always the golden boy – never cursed, never acted disrespectful. Hell, he was a boy scout for years, and all throughout high school he was the team quarterback. He won so many games that he became a local celebrity.

“But, uh… Well. Shit hit the fan the day he turned 18.”

You frowned; you couldn’t picture the crazy, creepy man you’d just been borderline-assaulted by as a popular, polite teenager.

“What happened when he turned 18?” you asked.

Earl hesitated, wringing his hands. For a pregnant pause, he didn’t say anything, but finally he took a deep breath.

“Look, I don’t personally have anything against the guy,” he finally huffed. “But even I get the creeps when I’m around him. That boy, he was never the same after that fourth of July. Hell, the town hasn’t been the same since.”

You raised your eyebrows expectantly, and finally Earl began the story.

“Steve’s folks were a nice couple. He was their only kid, so each year, Sarah and Joseph would throw Steve this big birthday party. I’m talkin’ fireworks, barbeque, the whole nine yards. But his 18th birthday outdid them all; the whole town practically showed up for it.

“But Steve was off the entire day; I think he was sick or something. He was real sweaty, and his eyes were all…red. Like he’d been scratchin’ at ‘em. And when the fireworks started goin’ off… The boy lost it.

“It was like a flip switched in him; next thing we knew, he was takin’ off into the woods, holdin’ his head like his skull was gonna split in two. His mama went runnin’ after him, and then his pops went to get ‘em after about five minutes or so when there was no sign of them comin’ back.

“After half an hour, we went searchin’ for ‘em, and it wasn’t till dawn that we found the three of them.”

Earl took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes with a trembling hand as he recalled the memory.

“I was in the team that found his parents, and… Hon, they were butchered. The bodies, they were hardly recognizable. Big bites had been taken outta them; blood was everywhere. Another team found Steve about half a mile away, completely naked and shivering by the river.”

“Oh, my god,” you murmured. “That’s… That’s horrible.”

Your friend nodded gravely, but he wasn’t done yet.

“We all figured that it was a coyote that got ‘em,” he continued. “Or a wolf. But Steve… He was in shock, you see, so take what I’m about to say with a grain o’ salt. But all the way to the police station, he kept sayin’… He kept sayin’, ‘I didn’t mean to kill them… I didn’t mean to kill them.’

“O’ course, no one really believed him; it was clear that an animal had gotten to them, and this was Steve Rogers we were talking about. The kid had never said an unkind word to anyone. And his family got along great.

“A few years passed, and Steve was never the same, but we expected as much. Everyone was still nice to him, and he tried for a while, you know? But then Peggy moved into town.”

“Who’s Peggy?”

“She was this real nice girl – British. She moved with her family to the area. Shoot, she was a firecracker. Didn’t take any shit from nobody; the whole town fell in love with her. Including poor ol’ Stevie.

“When the two started dating, we were thrilled for ‘em. Steve was finally starting to act more like himself; you shoulda seen him. The kid was head over heels, and she was the same. About six months went by, and we really thought that they were gonna make it.

“But then…”

Earl swallowed thickly, eyes darting back up to your face before resting once again on his hands.

“Peggy was found one day in the woods, just like Steve’s parents – mauled, butchered…dead.”

“Jesus Christ…”

“No one saw or heard from Steve for years after that. The kid just vanished into thin air without warning. And so soon after Peggy’s death, well… You can imagine the rumors that started flying around about him. Five years went by, and that was when people started hearing and seeing strange things in the woods. And your cottage, it’s right by where the bodies were found; you can’t be more than a quarter of a mile from where they found Peg.

“Eventually, Steve moved back into town, though no one recognized him. He’d always been a skinny, lean kinda guy, but when he moved back, he looked like he does now. And even if he hadn’t changed so much on the outside, no one would’ve recognized the polite young man we’d all watched grow up in this new Steve. He was mean; I can’t tell you how many fights he got in at the bar, or how many times he lashed out at someone just to have an excuse to throw some punches.

“Whatever happened to his family and his girl, he’s never been the same since. And if he really believes what he told you earlier at the soda shop, then he’s finally lost his mind.”

___________

You spent the night at Earl’s house. He and his wife set up their guest bedroom for you, and as you and Sherry ate dinner, Earl called the sheriff. You listened in as he told him everything that Steve had done, including watching you the night before, and after ending the call, Earl gave you the sheriff’s number.

“He said to call him at the first sign of trouble,” Earl instructed. “And he said that he’s gonna head over to Steve’s cabin to have a nice, long talk with him. Don’t you worry; Sheriff Wilson is a tough son of a bitch, and he’s a great man. You’re in good hands with him.”

You thanked the couple profusely, and you were finally able to sleep restfully through the night, knowing that you weren’t alone. You didn’t even mind that you could hear Earl and Sherry’s snoring from all the way down the hall; you hadn’t had such a good night’s sleep in days.

The next morning, Sheriff Wilson stopped by after Sherry had served up breakfast, and you had to admit that you did feel better after talking to him.

“So I set everything straight with Steve,” Sam explained. “He said that he’d been drunk that morning at breakfast, and he admitted to saying some things that he regretted. He asked me to apologize to you on his behalf, and he said that he would stay away from you from here on out, if it would make you more comfortable.”

“I’d be more comfortable if he moved to a different country altogether, but I’ll take it,” you’d joked weakly, coaxing a laugh out of the sheriff.

“Well, I’ll run it by him the next time we see each other,” he’d chuckled. “But for now, I think you’ll be just fine.”

After helping Sherry clean up from breakfast, you reluctantly got into your car and started back to your cottage, feeling your short-lived relief start to dwindle away as you approached your home. Who’s to say that Steve would stay true to his word? And there was something about the memory of him calling you ‘omega’ that didn’t sit well with you. You had no idea what that meant, but the conviction, the possessive, commanding tone in his voice still made shivers crawl up and down your spine.

Once you stepped into your cottage, you gave each room a cursory once-over, making sure nothing was out of place before plopping down onto your couch with your laptop. You were severely behind on work, and you needed the distraction to calm your nerves.

Before you knew it, the sun was starting to slip over the horizon, and as the evening turned to night, your eyelids started drooping. You’d finally managed to catch up on work, and although it took you until 9 o’clock at night, you were back on schedule with your blog.

Finally giving in to your sleepiness, you stood up and stretched before methodically going around to each door and window, making sure that they were all closed and locked. After once more checking that Steve wasn’t hiding in your wardrobe, shower, or backyard, you relaxed and went into your bedroom, changing into a flannel pajama set before crawling into bed.

Sleep came easily to you that night, but it didn’t stay for long.

_________

It was, once again, just after 3 in the morning when you woke up, although there was something different about this time around. There was an almost electric charge to the air, and it immediately made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. You sat up in bed and looked around your room, and even though the curtains were still closed, just as you’d left them, you immediately noticed the smell.

Your hand fell onto your nightstand, blindly fumbling for your phone, but it wasn’t where you’d left it. Panic pierced through you, and you frantically reached for your charging chord, but it was no longer plugged into your cell. There was, however, something new sitting on your bedside table, and you flicked your lamp on to see clearly what it was.

Your blood went cold when you saw the paper bag from Earl’s, still filled with your new books, just as you’d left it in the art shop.

“I’d been meaning to give that back to you.”

A scream tore itself out of your lips, and your hand flew up to clap over your mouth as you turned to the man now leaning in your doorway.

Steve was watching you with an amused smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. His hair was wild, and you noticed the way his chest rose and fell with quick, uneven breaths. He looked…unhinged, and Earl’s voice started ringing in your ears, telling you all the gory details about the deaths that had followed this man through his life.

“Steve, please,” you begged, pressing your back against your headboard. “I don’t know what you want-“

“Oh, c’mon,” he scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You’re a smart girl; I’m sure you can put two and two together.”

With that, he pushed off of the wall and sauntered towards you, ignoring the way you trembled as he took a seat on the edge of your bed.

“I read your blog, by the way,” he remarked. “I actually liked it; you’ve got a talent with writing.”

You gulped, not sure what to say as he turned to face you. For a moment, something flashed through his eyes, something other than the smug cynicism that usually dwelled there, but he looked away before you could get a good look at it.

“I’m sure Earl told you a lot of things about me,” he murmured. “And I’m sorry that’s how you had to hear them. But I’m not… I don’t want to hurt you. Honestly.”

“Wow, that really puts me at ease,” you grumbled. “It definitely makes the fact that you’ve broken into my house twice now totally ok.”

Steve huffed, and annoyance crossed his handsome features.

“Careful, omega,” he grunted. “I’m trying to be nice, here.”

You wanted to snap at him that he should really try harder, then, but you kept your mouth shut, knowing that you didn’t want to anger him if you didn’t have to.

“…Why do you keep calling me that?” you instead asked, and the fire in his gaze cooled just a bit.

“…I’ve given this a lot of thought,” he finally sighed. “And I can understand why this all sounds so crazy; if I were in your situation, I would probably think the same thing. But just… hear me out, ok? I’m going to tell you everything I know.”

You nodded, hugging your knees to your chest, and after another deep breath he began.

“I used to be normal, or so I thought,” he began. “I used to be like you; I didn’t know what was out there. I didn’t know that certain legends that we’ve all learned to accept as fiction were actually based on fact. But that all changed on my 18th birthday.

“That was the day that I first turned into a wolf.” Steve paused, looking pained for a moment, but after swallowing thickly he continued. “I had no clue what was happening to me. I just felt…wrong, like I was being torn apart from the inside. I fought to keep control of myself, but… I couldn’t keep it in anymore.

“People got hurt; I’m sure you’ve been told all the gritty details. But that wasn’t… It wasn’t me. I tried so hard, so goddamn hard, to keep it inside, bottled up, but eventually I couldn’t hold back anymore. And that was when I left.

“I went looking for people like me. It took me a while, but eventually I found a small group of them in New York. They called themselves the Howling Commandos.”

Steve laughed, shaking his head.

“Not the name I would’ve chosen, but they were good people. They helped me control it, taught me how to remain myself even when I’m in my other form. And I learned more about what it means to be a, uh…

“Werewolf.”

You bit your lip, staring at him as you grew even more fearful; he believed this. You could tell by the way his eyes were glistening with barely-contained tears, and if you weren’t so terrified of him, you would feel sorry for how sad he looked.

“Steve, you… you must realize that this is hard for me to believe, right? I mean… This isn’t Twilight; this is the real world.”

He rolled his eyes at the mention of that book.

“There’s about a thousand things wrong with that fucking story, and I’ll die mad about it,” he muttered under his breath, and you hugged yourself tighter as he stood up.

“You want me to prove it to you? Fine.”

Steve stood still for a long moment, closing his eyes, and you found your gaze straying to the door behind his back. He was distracted, evidently focused on transforming into a fucking wolf, oblivious to you as you slowly moved to set your feet on the floor.

Now is your moment, your brain whispered, and after taking a deep breath, you leapt to your feet. You didn’t notice the way his skin was slowly starting to grow patches of blonde fur, nor did you register that his voice had become more of an animalistic growl as he realized that you were trying to run. You were solely focused on making it out alive.

The back door was closer to you than the front, and you could practically feel Steve’s breath on the back of your neck as he gave chase, and so you nearly yanked the door off of its rusty, old hinges as you went flying out onto the back porch. You just barely managed to close the door behind you, and right before it slammed shut, you were able to make out an open maw filled with sharp teeth. The same thumping you’d heard several nights ago sounded from within your home, but with the way the wood was creaking and splintering, you knew it wouldn’t keep Steve trapped inside for long.

You began to run towards your car, but with a curse you realized that your keys were still resting on your coffee table inside the cottage, and you wouldn’t go back inside there if someone offered you a million dollars to. So, fully aware of what a terrible idea it was, you started running down the length of your gravel driveway, the small stones and twigs digging into your feet until you felt them starting to grow slick with blood.

You didn’t get far at all before you heard the sound of a low, deep howl split the silence of the night, and you pumped your legs even faster when you heard heavy footfalls starting to give chase behind you. Frantically, you turned and made a beeline for the forest, hoping to lose him in the woods. Low branches and brambles clawed at your face, and the cuts on your feet burned so bad that tears started rolling down your cheeks.

It was simultaneously an eternity and a millisecond before you felt a massive weight crash into you from behind, and with a cry you fell onto your belly. Your arms and legs scrambled about as you tried to crawl away, but you stopped with another scream when a set of impossibly sharp teeth nipped at your shoulder. Even though they didn’t cut deep, it was still enough to scare you into submission, and you immediately went still as your captor panted above you.

Your chest rose and fell as you fought to catch your breath, but it felt as if your heart had stopped beating entirely when you chanced a look to your right and saw…a paw. A huge, sandy-blonde paw about the size of your head was planted in the mud right next to your neck. You turned, and on your left side was the same thing.

Slowly, you rolled over onto your back, and you found yourself face to face with the wolf from before, only this time, you were close enough to see its blue eyes clearly – Steve’s eyes.

“…Steve?” you breathed.

Before your disbelieving eyes, the animal hovering over you started to shift and change, morphing gradually back into the man who’d terrorized you so much up to this point. Except now, as he straddled your hips, completely nude, you knew that he’d been right all along.

“Still think I’m crazy?” he panted, still out of breath from the chase.

“I… How…”

“I tried to tell you,” he grumbled, leaning down. You squirmed when you felt him press his nose to your neck, nuzzling it as he inhaled deeply, and you whimpered when his cock twitched against your thigh. “God, you have no idea what your scent does to me.”

You made a small noise of protest when his tongue darted out, laving over a spot right under your jaw.

“I thought it was too good to be true, you know,” he groaned, and you let out a noise that was dangerously close to a moan as you realized you could smell him once again. “I thought that people had to be a werewolf to be an alpha or an omega, but as soon as I smelled you in the art shop… Fuck, I knew you were mine.”

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you tried to protest, but you were silenced when Steve nipped at your neck.

“We both know that’s not true,” he chided. “We both know what my scent does to you.”

Steve dragged his teeth down the side of your neck, and you shivered at the sensation. You wanted to fight this; you didn’t want to give in to him. But something inside of you refused to do anything but lay there beneath him, panting as he tasted your skin.

“I’ve never been with an omega before,” he confessed. “The Commandos told me they were incredibly rare, a dying breed just like me. But fate must have brought us together for a reason.”

“I’m… I’m not an omega,” you insisted, but a soft mewl fell out of your lips when he ground his hips forward, the line of his cock sliding up the length of your clothed pussy.

“Then why do you have a mating gland?” he rasped, his tongue darting out to lick at a spot on your neck.

“A what?” you squeaked, but suddenly his hands were on your hips, flipping you over onto your hands and knees. His palms groped your ass, and suddenly you felt your pajamas being pulled down until they pooled around your knees.

“I can’t wait any longer,” Steve growled.

No, no, no. Your thoughts were swirling rapidly as Steve’s fingers slid down your spine. You didn’t want this; you weren’t an omega; Steve was crazy.

Why does your body want this so bad?

You couldn’t find the strength to try and crawl away when Steve’s hands left you, but your eyes widened when he suddenly spread your legs wider apart. The cold night air was icy against your cunt and your thighs, and when the warmth of his hands finally returned to your body, you couldn’t hold in your moan.

“That’s right, omega,” he panted, his hand reaching down to cup your pussy. “Fuck, you’re so wet; it’s already dripping down your thighs…”

Your pussy made an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as he pushed his finger inside, and your body’s reaction started drowning out your brain. As he thrust his finger in and out, your hips started pushing back against him as white noise echoed in your ears.

“Mmm,” you whined, clenching your teeth. “M-more, fuck-“

“More?” Steve cooed. “You want more?”

You nodded your head, and a gasp parted your lips as he added another finger, curling it in a way that had you seeing stars. Your legs spread wider, and you dropped to your elbows, pushing back in time with his hand.

“This is what you need,” he growled. “You need your alpha to take care of you, don’t you? To use your pretty little cunt and fill you up with my seed. Ain’t that right, doll?”

“Y-yes,” you moaned, feeling your walls start to flutter around him.

All too soon, though, he pulled his hand away, leaving you hanging on the precipice of your orgasm. You burrowed your face into your arms and whined at the loss, but a few seconds later, Steve was gripping your hips. You could feel his fully hard length against your ass, and your breath caught in your throat upon feeling how big it was.

“W-wait-“

Steve shushed you, tangling one of his hands in your hair as the tip of his cock glided through your folds, brushing against your clit.

“It’s ok, omega,” he whispered. “Just lay back and take it.”

With that, his head pressed against your entrance, and your lips parted in a silent scream as he impaled you. Your cervix ached as his dick pressed against it, and you were vaguely aware of the broken moans falling out of your lips.

“Fuck, doll,” your alpha breathed, and you felt him rest his forehead against your shoulder. “Feels so good, so fucking good. My good girl…”

You groaned when he drew his hips back and thrust forward again, jarring your whole body with the movement. Your teeth clenched together as he found his rhythm, the initial stretch still burning. You’d never felt anything like this before, and the pain was mixing with your pleasure until you couldn’t tell one from the other.

Slowly, as the minutes went by, your abused cunt started to adjust, and your moans became less and less strained as you once more felt pleasure start to crest within you.

“That’s it,” Steve praised, pushing your hair away so he could press a kiss to the side of your neck. “Just relax; let your alpha make you feel good.”

You whimpered as he started thrusting faster, his hips snapping as deep, gravelly growls spilled out of his throat. Your own moans filled the air as you once again felt your orgasm build up inside of you. Your pussy walls contracted and fluttered as you got closer and closer, and Steve’s hand came down hard on your ass.

“Go ahead, omega,” he commanded. “Cum for me; don’t hold back. Give it to me; let me feel it. Cum for me-“

With a wail, your body did as it was commanded, and you trembled as you reached your climax. Your cunt squeezed his cock as he slowed his thrusts, and your hips moved of their own accord as you rode it out. Quiet, hoarse moans were still trailing out of your mouth as you came down from your high, and Steve’s beard tickled your skin as he pressed kisses along the curve of your shoulder.

“Good girl,” he praised, and you were sickened to realize that you enjoyed his words of encouragement.

You were surprised when he pulled his cock out of you, and you allowed him to flip you over onto your back. His cheeks were flushed, and he was panting, and your eyes trailed down to see his cock still painfully hard.

Without warning, he shoved it back inside of you, and your hands flew up, digging your nails into his back as he once again started thrusting at a brutal pace.

“’M gonna fill your fucking pussy up,” he was moaning, his hair falling into his eyes while his mouth hung open. “Gonna breed you like the little bitch you are-“

Despite having just cum, shocks of pleasure spread through you as he filled you, and in this position, you could watch his muscles bulge and flex as he chased his release. His eyes were squeezed shut, and one of his hands was pawing and kneading at your breast as he used the other to support his weight. The veins in his neck throbbed as he grew closer and closer, and you were taken off guard to find that you were approaching your second climax with him.

“You already gonna cum again, baby?” he whispered. “Do it. Give it to me; I want it.”

You closed your eyes and arched up, frenzied moans of yes, please, God, more, I need more, spilling past your lips almost unintelligibly. You were so close – just a little more and you would be pushed over the edge.

Just before you could reach it, though, Steve’s eyes snapped open, focusing on your neck hungrily. You should have felt fear, knowing what he was, what had happened to his parent and his last lover. But instinct took over, and you found yourself tilting your head back, baring your neck to him in a sign of submission.

With a feral growl, he lunged forward, and you shrieked as his teeth pierced your skin, right where he’d claimed earlier your ‘mating gland’ was. You closed your eyes, expecting to feel your life fade away, ready to see blood spurting up from the wound. But that never happened; no, instead you felt as if you’d just been electrified. Every sensation you were feeling was suddenly amplified tenfold, and your vision went black as you came for the second time.

Your ears were ringing, but you were still able to hear the primal roar that Steve let out as he came, painting your inner walls with his seed as hips finally slowed to a stop. For several long seconds, the two of you were perfectly still save for your chests as they rose and fell with your heavy breathing. Steve’s cock began to soften inside of you, but he made no move to pull away. No, instead he collapsed over you, his head resting against your chest as his heated skin shielded you from the cold air.

“You were perfect,” you heard him whisper, and one of his fingers came up to trace the bite mark he’d left behind on your neck. “Your bond scar is gonna be so gorgeous, little omega.”

Sleep threatened to overtake you as you lay there, not truly processing Steve’s words as his weight atop you lulled you towards sleep.

“Go ahead and rest, doll,” he murmured. “I’ll carry you back home, and then we can go again. Don’t worry, doll; I won’t stop until you’re nice and round with my babies.”

You should have felt scared – you should have pulled away and ran into the woods. But instead, you let out a content noise of acknowledgement before doing just as he said. The last thing you registered before slipping into a deep, dreamless slumber was his arms as they wrapped around you and picked you up, carrying you away from the road and into the forest.

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #dark!steve rogers x reader #werewolf #werewolf!steve #alpha!steve #omega!reader #a/b/o dynamics #a/b/o au #werewolf au

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allteacher · 3 years ago

Text

Eris has been thinking about Oryx.

This is what she tells the Vanguard, but it feels wholly inadequate. She feels half-consumed, again, burying herself in Toland’s letters and in the shorthand notes she’d carved into her armor down in the pit, contrasting her scraps of arcane knowledge with newly-classified Hidden reports of some alien brightness emitting from the depths of the Shrine of Oryx. All the information she has points her unerringly to that same place, that same desolate object in orbit.

She still has not been back to the Moon.

Ikora has not leashed her, but all of her missions have been strictly planetside, no more dangerous than the assignments of civilian intelligence agents. Eris knows this is because she is a civilian, now, no matter what Hunter-instincts still guide her. But she still feels stifled, trapped in the Tower, despite what the other agents whisper about healing and recuperation and trial periods.

Despite the hopes and fears of the Vanguard, she does not want to rush headlong into her final death; there is a reason she directed the Guardian like a blade across the surface of the Moon to hunt Crota’s brood. But something is stirring in the nearest seat of Oryx’s power, and she needs to see it for herself. They must learn more about the King before he sweeps into their little corner of the universe and kills them all.

After Crota there had been scarcely a night to celebrate, to sit quietly with her grief, before her work had continued. She can accept this if she can be of use once again, if she can follow her chain of vengeance up the royal lineage of the Hive until there is nothing left, no trace of the Hive left to burn.

The Guardian comes to retrieve bounties every morning, bringing Eris what scarce information she can find in the field. The Wolves are freshly escaped from their prison, and the Tower is in a frenzy. Crota is dead with his father a million lightyears away. They are of no importance, now.

“You destroyed the Shrine of Oryx,” Eris says over a handful of sticky idols. It is not a question: she has read the after-action report.

“Yes,” the Guardian says, her black hair hanging over her eyes. “Well— we did.” Her voice, always quiet, sinks lower. “I don’t understand why the Speaker had us chasing Osiris’ prophecies, after everything I’ve heard about the exile…” She is still newly-risen, but already she knows the value of a secret.

Eris leans in at that, curious. “Osiris?” There had been no mention of him in any of the mission data, though she can already guess that the Speaker had a hand in this. Few remembered Osiris’ prophecies about the Hive; they did not need reminding of their truth with Oryx hanging on the horizon.

The Guardian leaves shortly after, bond gleaming on her arm, promising to send her a recording of the mission in full. Eris suspects she has all the information she needs. There is, at least, one person she can trust as a traveling-partner.

She needs to get to the Shrine. The Vanguard are still fighting among themselves as to Oryx’s existence and importance, the Speaker furtively seeking information from the same man he exiled, so Eris considers her mission a Hidden matter. She sends Ikora a message and departs before she can ask too many questions.

It is still early enough in the day, so she takes her ship out of the hangar and flies it into the wilderness, somewhere she can sit without being bothered by any well-meaning Guardians passing by. She adjusts her radio until she finds the channel spitting out static cut through with the trill of a harpy. She hears numbers occasionally, two two seven…

Eris waits, but she is used to it. Eventually the static cuts, the harpy-song violently ended.

“Osiris,” comes the voice on the other end, brisk, like he’s still Vanguard Commander, fielding calls. As if anyone else could be on the other end, as if anyone else could be reaching out through the heavy curtain of exile to seek him out.

“Eris Morn,” she replies, then, “I have news of Oryx.” She is still newly-returned, still refiguring herself in the wake of her own personal catastrophe. Talking to Osiris is at least easier, because he leaves no space for anything but what is necessary.

She thinks maybe he has forgotten how to do anything but question, too, in an exile less excruciating but no less lonely. Here they both are, grasping at the edges of something.

“Oh!” Sagira gasps on the other end of the line, excited. Something in Eris, at the very back of her mind, shutters— not completely alone, she forgets. The emptiness over her shoulder aches in tandem with the ever-present burning in her eyes. Some things will always be only her burden to bear.

“Yes,” Eris says, pushing forward despite the feeling, because that is what she does. “The Shrine is awake again.” She suspects he already knows, may be watching it even now. “I want to know what we can learn from it.”

She knows they will find something. She also knows that there is more to this bone-deep desire for shared action, when she has been alone in her hunt since she and Eriana and the rest first sought Crota’s realm and died in the seeking. She is certain she would die before telling anyone. Some gnawing uncertainty of what may happen to her if she was completely, devastatingly alone in those tunnels again. All that blank terror and wordless desperation, still hiding somewhere in her mind.

Eris knows she is not mad, regardless of the whispers from the young Guardians burning shockingly bright. But her wounds are still seeping, not six months since she crawled out of the Moon. She still has nightmares of finding bodies in the dust, of being stripped of her Light, of being split open that first horrific night of the Great Disaster. These, she suspects, will never stop.

The thought makes Eris feel ridiculous, like a child that cannot take care of herself. But for this, for the fate of humanity, she is willing to submit to her own self-doubt. There is work yet to be done.

“The Shrine!” Sagira squawks over the line. “I told you it wouldn’t stay closed forever! That Guardian, what, shot at it? Eris, we’ll meet you in orbit. The signal!”

Osiris sighs, irritated. “Yes, we will. Bring any information you have.” The line cuts. Because no one can see her, Eris allows herself to think of Brya.

—

Sagira transmats Eris aboard their ship once she arrives. It is remarkable how utterly alien it appears, as if the Vex had terraformed it from the inside out. She has met with them a few times, in the search for Crota’s court, but never anywhere Eris could begin to grasp the full scope of Osiris’ obsession.

Osiris huffs something at her by way of greeting, splitting his attention between a terminal screen and an ancient book. Eris occupies herself with spreading her materials out on a little card table, conspicuous, next to the navigation controls: scrolls, notes and their translations, runes, her Ahamkara joint.

After a few minutes Osiris stands, tips his head toward her. “Toland’s things?” He asks, moving to sort through the Hive-lore Eris has managed to accumulate.

“Some of it,” she says, reaching for the book Osiris had been examining. It’s one she’s never seen before, a rambling theory about Hive communication logics. She digs through it in silence while Osiris and Sagira examine her own theories, Sagira occasionally making comments as she draws comparisons.

Eris tries to keep herself from growing too comfortable, too complacent, but in the dim light and the ship’s low static hum she finds it far easier to think. Especially in comparison to her place in the Tower, where even in the shadows she feels exposed, on display.

In time they go down to the surface of the Moon, the harsh architecture of the Hive looming over their heads. Eris expects herself to be more nervous, some paranoia still buzzing in her skull. Now, though, there’s only a sort of anticipation. Clarity in action, just as it had been hunting Crota.

Osiris enters the underground first, Sagira buzzing around his head. There are a few Thrall lingering around the moldering stonework of the entrance, all neatly dispatched.

“What do you expect?” Eris asks as they make their way down the long corridor to the entrance of the Gatehouse. It’s suspiciously empty, no acolytes making their rounds, no thrall kicking up rocks to search for worms.

“If the shrine is active again, it’s worth protecting,” Osiris says, stopping at the edge of the harsh cliff-face to glance at the stars above, the darkness below. “It would explain the lack of Hive on the surface levels.”

They continue, cautious, Eris stepping lightly enough that she doesn’t break the bones littered across the steps. There’s nothing as they creep ever downward, as the yellow glare of the lamps turns to the icy blue-green of the Circle of Bones.

Eris remembers such names from her first journey to the Moon, from when she and her fireteam were first racing screaming through these corridors. She wonders if they were translated or if Toland had made them up as he saw fit.

She almost startles as she sees a lone acolyte peering off its balcony, though she throws her dagger at it before Osiris can move to kill it himself. It drops silently; she goes to observe it, crouching down to retrieve her knife. The motion makes her knees ache.

Osiris comes up behind her, nudges its cleaved skull with his boot. “Not so graceful as the Vex,” he comments.

“But much more ravenous.” It has been months since she has killed any Hive, she realizes. In the tunnels, again, she feels almost as if she’d never left.

“The Vex devour entire planets without thought. They are less visceral, but no less dangerous.”

Eris stands, looks out into the dark hallways of the Hive to ensure they are not being ambushed. “And yet you live among them willingly.”

“Not so willingly as one may think,” he says, and then he’s moving again, trailing sparks, leading them both.

Some part of her wants to know what keeps him there, if it is anything like what draws her back to the Moon, again, after so much death and pain. But he has not questioned her motives, has not pitied her. She will not seek information she would not give.

The great tunnels of the Hall of Wisdom echo as they move through them, the sound distorting as it passes down the lengths of not-quite-stone. The answering echo sounds like something screaming.

When the shrine-room opens up around them, Eris expects something grandiose in its terror. But there is no immense shadow of Oryx looking down on them, only the simple cruelties of the Hive’s existence.

At the base of the shrine is a small coven of Wizards, all hovering above a lovingly-drawn spell circle. A half-dead Ogre, larger than any Eris had seen in the pits, lays bleeding oil within it. The room is, Eris notices, completely silent. The animal part of her brain, the part that kept her alive in the tunnels, wants her to run until she can see the stars again.

She drops to a crouch, scrabbling backwards to hide more fully in the empty tunnel. Osiris’ ambient Light goes out like a match as he joins her, surveying the ritual around a jut of stone. He looks at her, head tilted, a question. She shakes her head, presses herself flat against the wall.

After a moment, the chanting starts.

It’s not the overwhelming scream of the Deathsingers, but Eris wants to scream back, to chant the names of her fireteam again, to not lose herself in the dark. She grips the handle of her knife hard enough that her hand goes numb.

The wizards sing in turns, the shrine moving under the will of their voices. The ogre shudders as it dies, the circle glowing a sickly green underneath its hulking form.

Eventually, the wizards go quiet. Osiris reaches back against Eris’ shoulder, taps in Hidden shorthand: first opening wait for transmission. She doesn’t dare to move, to acknowledge.

They wait for a few minutes, still and silent in the half-dark of the tunnels. Then the great orb begins spinning, a low drone filling all the gaps in the room.

“Oryx,” Eris whispers, listening to the discordant hum and, through it, the great deep voice of the king of the Hive.

—

They spend the next four hours translating the message. The bulk is an edict on the new chain of tithes, now that Crota is dead.

The ending, though, is what she at once expected and feared: a declaration that Crota’s death will be avenged.

“We knew he would come,” Eris says, trying to stay composed. All the blood Crota spilled, a newborn in the eyes of the Hive, and now his father coming to rain devastation. “I’ve warned the Vanguard.”

Osiris scratches something out on the pad in front of him. “The Vanguard never listens in time. You know that.” It would be barbed, coming from anyone else.

“We have proof now. That might convince them that we are right.” She sighs. She had not expected to feel so drained, so completely bloodless, after such a short journey. “They are still focused on eliminating the rest of Crota’s brood, the Wolves. It will be a struggle.”

“This is not a battle that can be won alone. The Vanguard cannot ignore the Darkness to chase Fallen forever.”

“We may not need to fight alone,” Eris says. “The Queen of the Reef has opened their gates.”

Osiris snorts. “If you think she will listen.”

“Oryx is not just a threat to Earth,” she replies, too exhausted to bristle. She is learning the shape of Osiris’ knowledge, which lies in his challenges. “And we do not know where their knowledge lies. They may yet be able to help us.”

“It is an idea worth pursuing,” Osiris replies after a long few moments, “but it will be difficult to achieve an audience. First we must prepare.”

Eris has been preparing for disaster for as long as she can remember, has spent years guarding against some future ruin. She knows the shape of it, what is at stake if they fail.

Out of the corner of her eye, she watches Osiris card through Hive dictionaries and Eriana’s blood-stained research notes. She had given everything to make it out of the Hellmouth, had become something monstrous to carry her warning back to the City, had destroyed Crota through the stares and the whispers and the doubt.

But she is out of the Hellmouth, now. The City may not trust her, but she has allies beyond its walls, those that can understand this drive to step into the Dark to understand it, destroy it so completely that there is no memory of it left. She will not live to see the end of this war, but the mantle of her vengeance will.

“Tell me about the Vex,” Eris says, arranging her own papers. It is only fair to take on this mantle in turn.

#destiny the game #eris morn #osiris #my fic #tumblr stop eating my posts

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volturicangetit · 4 years ago

Text

D.V- take it slow

Summary: Demitri visits Forks for a check-up on Renesmee but finds you, Bella’s sibling, instead and finally finds his mate.

Request: YES/no @raindancer2004 :Hi Hunny, can I please request a Demetri x Fem reader. The reader is Bella’s younger sister & meets Demetri when he comes to check on the Cullens & Renesmee. He realises she’s his mate as soon as he sees her, maybe sticks around for a bit getting to know her, she likes him too. The Cullens get to see the softer side of the tracker. Carlisle knows about his softer side from when he lived with Volturi & comes to Demetri’s defence when the others disapprove & try keep them apart. Thanks, x

Warnings: cussing

Wordcount: 2069

You became close friends with the Cullens ever since your sister started dating Edward. You found out about their secret before Bella did. It isn't so hard to find out since they do a pretty shitty job at covering it up. Rosalie and Emmett became close friends with you. It was good for them to have a human friend. So you spent a lot of your time at the Cullens house especially after your niece was born. She needed to be held by someone with body warmth ever now and then. So you, Rosalie and Emmett spent a lot of time with her by the fireplace while Bella and Edward were doing god knows what in their new home. Luckily, the Volturi were understanding of Renesmee and knew she wasn't an immortal child. They still send out guards to check up on the Cullens very frequently. Now was one of those times.

No one had warned you about their visit. You found out the moment the guard entered the living room where you are sitting with Renesmee. She's sleeping in your arms as you rock her back and forth slowly. "Another human," a voice says. The accent that is laced through the voice sends warm waves through your stomach. You look up. A man with bright red eyes is standing in front of you. Different layers of intricate fabric adorn his body. Soft spikes of hair stand in every which way. He holds one hand behind his back as he looks you up and down. Your cheeks grow hot under his gaze. Rosalie runs to your side and gently picks Renesmee out of your hands. You stand up from the couch you were seated on and hold a hand out to the man. He shakes your hand gently. His cold skin makes shivers run down your back. "Demitri," he says.

You smile at him. "Y/n. Y/n Swan," you say. You retreat your hand from his and rub it with your other hand to heat it again. "Nice to meet you.". He sends you a smile before looking over at Renesmee. "Is she still alive?" he asks as he steps past you and towards Rosalie. She nods while looking at Demitri with a snarl. She never liked the Volturi, none of the Cullens, except for Carlisle, did. Demitri takes a look at the sleeping child. "I'll have to stay for a couple of days," he says as he turns towards you again. "The masters want me to log her growth.".

Edward suddenly appears in the room. He probably heard Demitri's thoughts. "I thought you were only stopping by," he says in a low voice. Demitri shakes his head. "The plan has changed.". Edwards's nostrils flare as he tries to contain his anger. He can't lash out at the Volturi, he learned that last time he went to Volterra.

"Do you need a room?" you say. You keep your tone kind to try and lift some of the tension in the air. Demitri turns to you with a smile on his face. He nods at you as you point up at the stairs. Demitri follows behind you as you lead him towards Edward's old room. Carlisle turned it into a guest room to give it a purpose. You open the door for Demitri and you are faced with a messy room. Pieces of your clothing are scattered everywhere and the bed is unmade. Embarrassment washes over you and heats up your cheeks. "O God," you whisper. You quickly start to grab the pieces of clothing together with frantic movements. "I forgot my stuff was still here, I'm sorry.".

You look up at Demitri expecting him to be angry. But instead of a scowl, a smile is spread in his lips. In a flash, he runs around the room and collects the clothing for you. He moves too quick for your eyes to keep up with. When he has cleaned up the room, he hands you your clothing which is now neatly folded. You shoot him a thankful as you grab the pile of clothes out of his hands. You hands brush against his cold ones, sending yet another wave of shivers through your body. His skin wasn't ice cold, just cold enough for it to be noticeable like he had just been holding a cold drink in his hand.

"I'll, um. I'll go clean this up. If you need something just let me know!" you say. You look up at Demitri again. Something about him made you very flustered. He nods before you quickly walk past him and out of the room. You look over your shoulder at him and only to find him already looking at you. He winks at you. Butterflies fly up in your stomach. You quickly run down the stairs to the living room. There, you find the Cullens talking to each other. They are whispering at each other. They often talked to each other like that when they had visitors over. They all look up the as you walk down the final steps of the stairs. You clutch the pile of clothing close to your chest. "I'm going to drop these off at home. I gave Demitri the guest room," you say.

Carlisle nods at you. "That's alright, take care," he says. You nod at him before saying your goodbyes to everyone. Emmett is kind enough to open the front door for you since your arms are occupied with holding your clothing. You open your door yourself since you didn't want to bother him too much. You place your clothes in the passenger's seat. The neatly folded tower of clothes falls over slightly. A piece of paper slips out from between the clothes and falls on the car's floor. You reach over, grab it and unfold the cream coloured paper. On it is a phone number and Demitri written in curly calligraphy. Your cheeks heat up again as you bit your lip to suppress a smile. Cheeky fucker.

___

You wake up to the sound of something ticking against your window. You shake it off as being the rain. Storms are not uncommon in Forks and neither is rain. "Y/n," you hear someone whisper outside. You open your eyes and quickly throw the covers off you. You jump out of bed and run towards your window. You push your curtains aside and look out of the window. Beneath you, Demitri is standing and throwing pebbles at your window. Cliche. He waves at you. You hold a finger to your lips to tell him to shut up. You walk away from the window. You grab a sweater out of your closet and put it on before rushing downstairs.

Demitri is already standing at your front door when you open it. "What are you doing?" you ask with a smile. "Are you crazy?". Demitri nods at you as he holds his hand out for you to grab. "Trust me?" he says. Hesitantly, you grab onto his hand. You barely know him for a day, you shouldn't be trusting a stranger. But something in you yearns to spent time with him. Demitri shoots you a toothy grin as he drags you towards your driveway. There you see a motorcycle with two helmets resting in it. You shake your head as you look over at Demitri. He lets out a soft laugh as he nods his head. When you reach the motorcycle he grabs a helmet and holds it out for you. Despite your initial fear you still grab it from him.

"Are you insane? When did you get a motorcycle?" you ask. You never saw one standing at the Cullen's house. Demitri shrugs as he puts on his helmet. "Stole it from some dogs," he says. His voice is slightly muffled by the helmet. You put yours on as well. Safety first. Demitri sits down on the vehicle and pats the spot behind him, telling you to get on. "You stole from a pack of fucking wolves? You're a dead man walking," you say as you sit down behind him. You wrap your arms around his waist to stay seated. Demitri starts up the motorcycle. "Tell me something new."., With that, he drives off. Just like Edward, he likes to drive dangerously fast. You push yourself into his back and grab into him even tighter as the wind rushes past you. The green treeline turns into a blur. The roaring of the vehicle gets overpowered by the window rushing past your ears. You don't know how long you've been riding around for until you finally stop.

You're slightly nauseous and dizzy when you step off the motorcycle. You pull the helmet off your head. The feeling of fresh airbrushing over your face feels heavenly. You look around you. You're at the Cullens house. You hand the helmet to Demitri who sets it down next to the motorcycle. He has already pulled his helmet off. He walks up beside you and wraps an arm around your waist. If he was anyone else, you would have pushed his arm of you. But his touch feels comforting. Your body feels at peace when he's close to you. You let him lead you into the house. You walk over to the living room expecting it to be empty but you find your sister, Edward and Alice in it. Bella has Renesmee in her arms. The three of them look over at you. While Alice's gaze is kind, your sister's and Edward's is filled with judgement. They look at Demitri with disgust written all over their face. The arm around your waist suddenly doesn't feel so good but you can't get yourself to get out of his grasp.

"Get your hands off Y/n, you monster," Bella spits out. Alice quickly rushes to her side and carefully takes Renesmee out of her hands for her safety. Edward's hands form tight fists at his sides. You expect Demitri to let you go but instead, he pulls you closer to him. He shakes his head while he keeps his expression neutral. He can't let you go. "Get away from him," Bella says to you. You look at Demitri. His features are soft and welcoming. A stark contrast with that of your sister's and brother-in-law's. You take in a shaky breath as you think about what you should do. Sure, he's a vampire. A blood-drinking vampire who wouldn't think twice about sucking every last drop of blood out of your body. But your body is betraying your mind by staying planted at his side.

Demitri has shown you nothing but kindness and warmth since he's been here. 'No," you whisper out. The whole commotion must have been heard by the other because the rest of the Cullens start to come into the room one-by-one. Carlisle looks between you and Bella. He knows what's going on. He could sense it the second Demitri laid his eyes on you. "He won't hurt her, Bella," Carlisle says. Bella's shoulders relax as she grabs onto Edward's hand and laces her fingers with his. "He wouldn't dream of doing so.".

Bella looks up at Edward for confirmation. He nods at her. You look between Carlisle and Demitir with confusion written all over your face. "You're my mate," Demitri whispers. You giggle out of his grasp and look at him. You take a step back from him and he doesn't stop you from doing so. "Mates?" you ask. "What the fuck are we? Mates like fucking dogs?". Demitri chuckles as he looks over at Carlisle. "Soulmates," Esmee explains. "You're souls are meant for each other.". You nod at her. You run your hands through your hair as you let out a nervous laugh.

"Looks like the Swan's really are leech-lovers," you joke. You look over Demitri again. You slowly take steps towards him. You grab into his hand and wrap your own around it. Your warm skin heats up his. He hasn't felt heat for hundreds of years and it feels heavenly to not have cold skin for ones. "We'll take this slow, yeah?". Demitri nods quickly. A smile slowly spreads over his face. You look over the Cullens. Bella isn't so tense anymore and Alice has thought her anger had boiled down enough too since Renesmee is back in your sister's arms. You look back at Demitri again. "We'll take it slow," he whispers.

TWILIGHT TAGLIST: @scuzmunkie @thanossexual @prettyinblack231 @rexburn12 @cullens-stuff @puer-de-infinitate @jelly-fishy-babie @kpopgirlbtssvt @awesomebooklover17 @madison-e-mallory

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starr-fall-knight-rise · 4 years ago

Text

Emp-Ire, “Patriot.”

Still working and am still in a bit of a writing slump.

I have only been able to write the very few things that REALLY interest me right now. So thank you for your patience with me going off on the occasional tangent, ok maybe more often then not going off on a tangent, but thanks anyway :)

A crisp morning breeze needled his skin, the icy tendrils causing goosebumps to break out over Adam’s bare chest and shoulders. Overhead a layer of dismal grey clouds blocked the sky over an alien landscape.

He was so tired.

And he hurt.

All around him other bodies shifted in the cool morning air, and he would have sworn he could see their breath puffing out in great gouts of steam, though that might just have been his imagination. He was so cold, what the hell was wrong with wearing a shirt, or at least some real pants.

But no, apparently pants were reserved for those who earned them, everyone else was relegated to nothing better than short leather skirts, or underwear which he found mildly infuriating. Even some compression shorts would have been nice. Another cold breeze ran past him and he crossed his arms over his chest palms pressed flat over his freezing nipples in hopes that by warming them up they wouldn’t just fall off.

Also his toes were numb, courtesy of the sandals he was wearing.

Looking around him, he could see that the other men and women didn’t appear to be nearly as cold as he was, in fact, they were probably being kept nice and warm by the sheer awesomeness of their big manly muscles or something.

Standing in a line with all of them he felt like the awkward nerd kid trying out for the football team. Each and every last one of them had washboard abs, or similar since genetics is more kind to some than to others.

And then there was him.

Chicken chest, noodle arm bastard that he was, with only the faint line of abs hanging out waiting for the moment he flexed intentionally to pretend his abs were bigger than they actually were. He hunched his shoulders just a bit, feeling very very small in comparison.

“Hey, how are you doing? Looking good everyone, looking good…. Hey…. hey.”

Adam lifted his head just in time to watch Ramirez strut up like he owned the damn place turning heads with the sheer gravity of his confidence.

He walked up to stand Next to Adam, “Fuck you, dude.”

“What?”

“How can you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Strut up like you and I aren’t literally the most pathetic people here.”

Ramirez patted him on the shoulder, “Confidence is key my friend. If you pretend to be awesome, soon you’ll believe it and eventually it will be. Self fulfilling prophecy and all of that. The mind is a powerful tool. Also chicks dig confidence.”

“What about men?”

“Them too, I don’t discriminate.” he held his arms out wide, “Everyone could do with a little bit of Ramirez in their life.” He looked at Adam pointedly, “How about you?” He flexed, “Want some of this.”

Adam snorted, paused and then said, “You know what, if I swung that way, sure.”

Ramirez put his hand over his chest, “That is probably the nicest thing you ever said to me. But the Ramirez is an open door and I open both ways.”

“You’re not a swinging door, you're a revolving door.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I don’t know man, it just sounded good. But if you were a door, you would also open from the bottom up, I just couldn’t think of an object that opened on both the x, y and z axises.”

He tapped his chin, “Gotta love how my morning has mostly involved being compared to a door, besides I don’t open to just anyone, I am age restricted, and no pets allowed.”

Adam grimaced, “Gross.”

“No I am not gross, if I was pet friendly THAT would be gross.”

Adam paused, “How about…. aliens ?”

Ramirez shrugged, “If it’s sentient, I Will try anything once. You kno, can’t knock it till you've tried it.”

It was at this moment that Adam became acutely aware that they were the only ones talking. They may have been speaking rather quietly, but at some point the other men and women had stopped speaking. He paused and turned his head to look. Ramirez’s voice faded off into the silence as the two of them turned to find a tall, heavily muscled woman standing before them. Her hair was tied back and her midriff was bare. She carried a spear in one hand and a shield in the other, and she waited very pointedly for the two of them to stop talking.

The look on her face could have coagulated his blood in his veins.

He shrunk back.

She walked up, looked at the two of them and her face pulled into an expression of disgust.

“Flabby.” She announced smacking Ramirez in the thigh with her spear. He yelped and grabbed his leg, “Soft.” The spear jabbed Adam in the belly driving the wind from his boy, “Pathetic,” She announced, “No weakness, not on my island.” She jabbed at him again and, on instinct, Adam caught the haft of the spear.

He knew pretty immediately he had made a mistake as her eyes widened, and then he was slammed to the dirt head ringing from the metal of the shield on his skull.

He groaned and rubbed at his head.

“Thank you for volunteering.”

Adam didn’t know what he had just volunteered for, but it sounded like he wasn’t going to like it very much.

As it turns out.

He was right.

She announced immediately that they were going to play a game. He thought that seemed weird for the biggest badasses this side of fake Greece but ok. But it turned out her idea of a game was just a fun way of saying I am going to make you regret you ever lived.

They were the wolves, he was the rabbit. He had a two minute head start, and then they would chase him. If he got caught, they were allowed to beat him up for a few minutes, and then he got another two minutes head start.

This lasted all morning.

About two or three hours. He couldn't tell by the end.

He had never been so exhausted in his life, andhe thought training with the Drev had been hard.

By the end he determined that they were about the same amount of hard, but the Drev didn’t do nearly as much Running. Towards the end his two minute head start counted for almost nothing, and he was in a nearly continual state of getting the shit kicked out of him. Ramirez huffed and puffed at the back of the pack like the big bad wolf had asthma.

And Adam threw up…. Three times.

Three times.

By the time it was over he was covered in bruises and could barely walk. He thought, like during training, they would get a lunch break or something, but nope by the end of the day they were back to the sandy training field where it was either, wrestling, bare knuckle boxing, sparring, or some other ungodly torture.

There was no stopping.

Occasionally, they were allowed to kneel on the dirt and have something to eat. He wasn't sure what the spartans had eaten back in the day, but this looked like meals clearly prepared by people who studied the science of getting jacked. Mostly protein and vegetables. Whatever drink they were using was some kind of water, but cut with something else he couldn’t have been sure about, probably electrolytes.

Either way he had a hard time keeping it down.

Ramirez on the other hand was part of the passing out gang.

The two of them together barely made a functioning human. And by the end of the day they crawled themselves back to what constituted as the barracks, which was just one long building with mats laid out on the floor. He was so tired that he slept like a log through the entire night until they were woken up to do it again the next day. He slept whenever he could, using anyone and anything as a pillow.

He became way more intimately familiar with Ramirez than he had ever wanted to be but at that point he was too tired to give much of a shit. Even Ramirez was too tired to say anything sarcastic or inappropriate.

He honestly couldn't have said how long they were there, every day seemed to bleed into the next with only the changing of the weather and the night to let him know anything was going on at all.

The change in himself was so gradual that he barely even noticed until one day…

“SHIELD WALL!”

Adam and Ramirez raced forward interlocking their shields with the group of men and women before them. Others piled up behind bracing their spears over the shoulders of their comrades.

“Remember the wall is only as strong as its weakest member!”

Across from them a group of other trainees raced forward and slammed against their shield wall.

Adam and Ramirez shouted their exertion.

“Push back!”

They pulled back slightly and then drove forward shoving the other recruits back and to the ground tossing a few of them bodily three or four feet back.

“BRACE!”

They returned to their interlocking position, spears bristling outward like some sort of demonic porcupine.

They did that exercise once or twice more until ordered to break off, separating into individual units which charged the other groups' spears raised.

Adam Batted another combatant’s shield aside, slammed his shoulder into the man’s chest, kicked another oncoming from the left, dodging out of the way as Ramirez covered him from the right with a sharp jab of his spear which caught another woman by the bottom of the shield and sent her deflecting to the right.

They clashed on the training field for a good half hour of continual battle, when another group of fresh, armored combatants charged them. He was tired, but as the enemy charged inward, he shook it off, roared a battle cry and charged them.

“Shields!” He ordered without thinking, and a small group of remaining fighters bunched up with him and Ramirez. They managed their wall right before the new combatants hit, “PUSH!” And with a massive have they threw them back, causing them to trip over one another. They broke their wall to take on the remaining group now fractured.

Adam went straight down the middle with Ramirez guarding his back chagrin at the armored combatants.

They were fresh, and Adam had the distinct impression that they were also not trainees.

Three of their number had already gone down under the onslaught, but he brought up his spear, knocked the shield to the side and tagged the other man with a glancing blow in the throat. He staggered away holding his neck. He spun left clobbering a woman with his shield. Ramirez cut past him stabbing straight down the middle and catching another one straight in the breastplate.

Two more of their number went down to the right.

There was no way they could make an effective shield wall now.

One more went down on their right.

Ramirez went to his knees shield held up before Adam, who used the shielding to strike past with his spear.

Ramirez ducked and Adam leaped over him crashing into another line of men shield on one side spear on the other.

The man before him went crashing to the dirt. He caught incoming strikes simultaneously and ducked under both allowing Ramirez to take one while he dealt with the other. They were split off from each other in the confusion and he didn’t see what happened as he was blindsided by another shield.

The power in that was awful, and he went flying back at least two feet staggering until he skidded in the sand and regained himself. The armored man came charging at him with a roar, and they clashed shields again. The other man was clearly stronger, though not by much. Adam strained against him, feet digging into the dirt before suddenly slacking and rolling off to the side.

It nearly caught the other man off his guard, but he was good, and caught himself before he could fall forward.

Adam snarled as they exchanged a flurry of blows. All the other combatants had backed off so the two of them could fight. He advanced pushing the other man back, though it seemed impossible that he would be able to score a hit, the other man was just too fast. It went on for a while.

Adam got tagged in the right hip, but kept fighting, it was nothing compared to the beating he had received only yesterday. He cut in again slamming his shield against the other man to throw him off balance. It didn’t do it as well as he had hoped, but for a split second he saw an opening. He would have to time it perfectly.

It was probably as much luck as it was skill that he managed to pass the spear through the little hole between the shield and man scoring a long cut across the man’s left bicep. As soon as he did someone shouted the halt, and he froze in palace.

The man before him lowered his shield and pulled off his helmet to reveal.

The King!

Adam stepped back in shock, quickly raising his spear in salute.

“Sir!”

The man smiled grimly turning to look down at his bleeding arm. He turned back to look at Adam, “Exhausted, training all day, and you still managed to cut me, I think that is a good sign.”

The entire field was returning to rest position.

Ramirez climbed out from under his shield, dazed but somehow unscathed.

“How long have you been with us now, two months maybe more.”

“I can’t remember.”

“Two months of improvement I think, and today many of these men proved themselves worthy of being real soldiers….” He turned to look at Adam, “How about yourself, what do you think you deserve?”

Adam planted his spear against the ground, “I’m still standing aren’t I.”

James, the king of sparta, laughed, “Spoken like a true Spartan.” He turned to look at the others, “I tend to agree with your assessment.” He waved a hand at those who are still standing, which included Ramirez, to Ramirez’s evident surprise.

He looked down at himself then around then grinned nodding as if it was very obvious he deserved to be there.

Adam smiled slightly.

He supposed he did.

And now that he realized it the two of them didn’t look at all out of place in comparison to the other men and women there. He stood up straighter, “Thank you, sir.”

“Just right in time then. We set out for Argos tonight, one last test before I let you go.”

The men and women raised their spears to thor king.

***

It felt good, almost familiar, with a cloak fluttering at his back, a spear in hand and a helmet on his head. Granted it was almost nothing like the Drev, but it still felt good enough that he could forgive it. He was, in fact, very proud of his accomplishment as he now stood on the rocky outcrop next to the King of the Neospartans and an entourage of warriors, his sandals feet rested hard against stone and a bare wind tugged at the red plume on the top of his helmet, the same wind that caused the red cloak to flutter behind him in the breeze.

“What is in Argos?” He wondered allowed, not entirely sure if he was allowed to ask, but curious enough to risk it.

James looked down at him from the pinnacle of rock, “You know we dislike the New Athenians?”

Adam nodded “Yeah…. About that, is it just tradition… or…”

James shook his head, “No, nothing like that. We would be fine working with them. This is a real place with real people who have their own real beliefs. It isn’t just some elaborate LARP. No, I was here when this colony started, and there was no difference between us and the New Athenians but after a while there rose some… disagreements.”

Adam tilted his head, “And what disagreements are those?”

“Moral disagreements. I am a patriot, admiral. I may be the king of Sparta, but I was also born on earth and am a True believer in the unity of the GA. Division Will only weaken us. But there are factions among the New Athenians who don’t believe the same, which would be fine. I understand a group of people who disagree with the current political system. That should be allowed by all means, but the way they are going about it is just wrong.”

“What do you mean.”

“They Are supplying information, weapons, and lodging to rebel forces who wish to destroy the GA and everything it stands for. They aren't just doing it through protests and reforms, but through violence, and hurting innocent people. They don’t care how they win as long as they do, and that is something I cannot abide. I have on good authority that some of them are working with Kree operatives and anti-alliance forces to plan assassinations against key members of government.”

Adam’s eyes widened in shock, “Really!, than why haven't we heard about this.”

James shook his head, “Despite their radical ideals, they are a very small and mostly powerless group who don’t pose much of a threat to GA members themselves. In fact, most of them are all bark and no bite. I figure that it's my job to keep my little slice of the galaxy clean, and I have managed it so far.”

Adam shook his head in surprise…. “So the Oracle….”

James nodded, “She recognized you, and likely sent you here in hopes that we would kill you for being spies, which we have done before. She honestly should have killed you herself, but the New Athenians don’t like to get their hands dirty, they like to keep their hands clean and let others do their dirty work.”

He turned to look at Adam, “Based on my studies, you are an important piece in an intergalactic chess game, holding the GA together with a volatile humanity.” He turned his head back to stare out at the horizon, “Like I said, protests, petitions, and legislation is all well and good, but as soon as your course starts to hurt innocent people you lose my sympathy. You are no longer the heroic rebel, but you are a blight and you must be stamped out.”

The fire in the man’s golden eyes was enough to make Adamstand back a little.

“I see.”

“I am glad you do, you need to see what goes on at the small scale. You need to know that there are people here fighting for you and your ideals. You built what the GA is today, whether on purpose or not, and that is something I intend to uphold.” He pointed downwards, “And we are going to start here.”

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friendofhayley · 4 years ago

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Hooray for all content creators in all fandoms! Y’all make the world go round! This is April’s round-up of fics I read and recommend from multiple fandoms. This fic rec includes 9 fics from the Teen Wolf, Harry Potter, and One Direction fandoms!

Drarry (Harry Potter)

1. Nero su bianco by @zuzallove | oblivious boys in love - we get to see what Draco could have been thinking during 7th year Hogwarts - lots of drama, if you’re into it - Narcissa knows all and is great - 40k

September 1997. Hogwarts is under the regime of Voldemort and the Carrows. Finding himself alienated by both his friends and his supposed enemies, Draco puts quill to parchment, and writes letters. He addresses them to the only person he can think of, as Hogwarts rapidly falls into chaos and ruin: Harry Potter. He goes to great lengths to ensure the letters are never discovered, and he’s pretty certain he’s done a great job.

Until the day of his trial.

2. What’s Eating Draco Malfoy? by @actual-howlinglikeaseaturtle | this is a re-read so it’s v v good - cw eating disorder, suicide ideation, alcoholism - Ginny & Draco being friends is just so special to me - also everything is handled very well - 75k

"Tragedy struck today when Anorexia Nervosa claimed a young boy's life," he spoke loudly. "Very sad. He will be missed by one person, maybe two. Awful. Now to the weather with Carl!"

Ginny could not help herself; she burst out laughing. She didn't know what was more absurd. The way Malfoy joked about his own death or the fact that he had watched muggle TV. Muggle news even.

"You're a bloody lunatic!" she snorted, and Malfoy's smile widened.

Sterek (Teen Wolf)

3. Exactly Like You by Jerakeen | Pride and Prejudice AU whoo whoo!! - werewolves are known - stereotypical A/B/O - but everything else is the same except Scott leaves town with Derek after S1 - 70k

“It was Jackson’s idea,” Lydia explains, looking perfectly serious while standing in front of a March Madness bracket of Beacon Hills’ eligible bachelors.

Jackson looks smug. “It only makes sense.”

Stiles meets Isaac’s eyes over the heads of all the crazy people in the room. Isaac shrugs with a slight wince. “’Tis the season.”

4. But Then What... by Stoney | Derek is the same age as Stiles! - I just love how they’re written like real (horny) teenagers - they’re just so bad at communication - also Jackson is a Jackass - 24k

Senior year is almost over, and all Stiles needs to do is keep his head down to survive. A teacher calls in a favor, leaving him stuck tutoring Derek Hale, one of the most popular jocks in school and a member of a group of douchecanoes who have bullied Stiles for years. He's someone Stiles totally hates. Totally. Like, doesn't like him even a little bit. DEFINITELY isn't attracted to him.

Except that is a total lie. Fuck his life, seriously.

5. We’ll be Better Around the Second Time by @jordansaysno | I don’t know about y’all but this hits my wish fulfillment for running away from home in high school - side Isaac/Scott which is very cool - Stiles deserved better tbh - happy ending - 26k

It's been months. Months of fading contact with the pack. Months of the silent treatment from his father. Months of nothing but himself and the occasional lesson with Deaton to entertain him.

It's too much, and eventually, Stiles leaves.

For years, everything goes great, until of course his dad gets injured, and he is suddenly forced to deal with people he thought he left behind in his past for good.

6. Fireman Derek’s Crazy Pie [Cheeseburger Baby] by @thegloryof | this is such a classic and what I turn to when I’m really craving pie - NYC fic - some parts are just delicious to read (and not just for the food porn) - misunderstandings - 17k

“He can't blame me for the fact that I live in a building full of people united in the singular effort to ogle Hot Fireman as often as humanly possible."

Laura laughs, loud and echoing in the empty restaurant. "Hot firemen can make a girl do crazy things," she agrees, nodding towards her brother's name on the menu. "Derek won't let me date anyone from his company, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the eye candy."

"Send them my way," Stiles suggests, finally loading up a forkful of pie. "Apparently I'm incompetent enough that I need to be babysat at all times, because it would be cheaper than dispatching a truck every time I try to use a kitchen appliance."

7. Don’t Feed the Wolves by Amazonia_8 | another classic fic that’s also hot - cw: Derek thinks Stiles can’t consent - werewolves are known - the jailhouse scene is constantly replaying in my head - 30k

Stiles took the dare, because what else was he supposed to do when the whole lacrosse team was chanting his name? Even though the werewolf pack had left Beacon Hills years ago, nobody was stupid enough to set foot on the Hale property.

Except, apparently, Stiles.

Now he's got a feral werewolf following him around town with the sole purpose of claiming Stiles as his own.

Larry (One Direction)

8. take my hand (and my heart and soul) by @anylessreal | aaaaaa this was so good! - just so much misunderstandings, but it’s so cool that the audience/Harry don’t know what’s going on too! - amnesia - friends to strangers to lovers - 45k

Harry feels nauseous when he opens his mouth. "Hey. Um, hi. It's me," he mumbles before realizing with a jolt that Louis might not have his number anymore. "It's Harry... Styles," he tacks on, screwing his eyes shut and pinching the bridge of his nose. This was a terrible idea.

There's silence on the other end for a long time. Harry understands. He shouldn't have called. He tries not to let the static swallow him whole.

"I – yeah. Hi," Louis finally answers, slowly, awkwardly. "I um. Sorry. I heard about your accident. You're alright?"

9. thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in by @absoloutenonsense | this was another re-read!! - traditional A/B/O - misunderstandings due to past abuse (not done by the boys) - get ready for some high/low emotions - 52k

Harry's alpha fraternity donates to a local thrift shop (because of Liam's latent crush on a cute beta in his lecture). Louis' financial situation (and confusing omega instincts) lead him to make some interesting fashion purchases. Lots of pizza, feelings, and not-really-lying.

#sterek #hlsource #drarry #multifandom fic rec #monthly fic rec

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keepswingin · 3 years ago

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I feel like the werewolves would be afraid of needles. Can you write something where one of them (Wyatt, Willa or Wynter) has to go to the doctor or get a check-up or something that involves them having to get a shot or something that involves needles? And the other two have to calm them down? I think it'd be super hilarious.

ANTI-MONSTER RULE NUMBER TWELVE You cannot, under any circumstances, miss mandatory appointments.

Wyatt stares at the notice for a long time; he wonders when their lives started to depend on scraps of ink stamped fresh onto crumpled paper.

He finds he can't pinpoint an exact moment.

"What's that?"

He flinches at the voice. Berates himself for it as he allows his claws to shred clean through the newly issued notice, tiny pieces of card stock fluttering to the ground as Willa comes to a stop beside him. He doesn't have to look over at her to know that's she's already angry, fingers squeezing tight into already scarred palms.

He lifts his gaze to the forest. It stretches farther than any of them could know, so many acres sitting unexplored and unmarked, waiting. Watching. He thinks that maybe they could run. Maybe they could actually make it away before they even realized they were gone. Maybe they could find a new den before this one was burned to the ground, maybe they could--

"You know we can't," she interrupts bluntly, more of a leader than a sister. "The pups wouldn't be able to keep up with the rest of the pack's pace."

His exhale is sharp, exasperated. "We could carry them."

"We couldn't. Not with the ground you want to cover."

He blinks. Something hot begins to build within him, searing at his insides like skin to silver. She doesn't move to sit or readjust, instead continuing to stand beside him, distant like a shadow that couldn't quite reach, steady like the rock he rests on.

"We could leave them places, then. Scout ahead, come back, rise and repeat, until we're far enough that it's safe for them--"

"That's not you, Wyatt."

The fire within him roars as he shoots to his feet, whipping around so that he can face her. "Goddamn it, Willa!" he yells, loud enough that his voice bounces off the rocks jutting out around them, loud enough that he's sure the entire den has heard him. "We can't stay here! Don't you get it?"

His chest is heaving as the words that had been weighing him down finally escape. The burn inside eases, and it's easier to inhale, but exhaling is just as hard and Willa she's-she's just standing there, why is she just standing there--

"Wyatt," she says, softer than she should be. She's not supposed to be soft, she's barbed wire and sharp tongue. She's supposed to be everything he's not, not a shell of everything he's ever known.

He blinks. Her face wavers in and out of focus, like a camera lens readjusting. Her eyes are fearless, and then they are dull, and then they are empty. Her lips are curved, and then they are straightened, and then they are missing.

He blinks.

His breath leaves him in a rushing gasp as he finally sees her, sees her right here, now, twenty-four years into this forest instead of sixteen, and that fire inside of him extinguishes like it was never there at all.

Burns, never fully healed, litter what he can see of her arms, and nearly all of her body markings are gone, some skin torn from bone, some scratched over like pen to paper. Her neck is slit from one side to the other, cut and patched, cut and patched, cut and patched, the mark left stark against the color of her skin. Her cheek still holds the mark of an alpha, shaky lines atop marred skin, but he can still remember what she had said after they had given her back, lifeless body left in the middle of the forest without any warning after he had searched every creek and nook and cliff.

I-I can't, brother, she had whimpered, clawless fingers grasping at the furs of his vest, blood smearing in their wake. It had been the weakest he had ever seen her. I can't lead them anymore.

You can, he had said, voice far stronger than he had felt. We're gonna clean you up, I'll be right there the whole time, and then you can--

If I can't even protect myself, she had whispered, sob hitching at the back of her throat, how can I protect them?

"Stop doing that," he tells her, eyes flickering down to where blood slips down her wrists. "You're hurting yourself."

Willa looks down at her hands and then back at him, lips pressed in a firm line. Still far from who she used to be, but better as the days ticked by.

"They'll find us, brother," she says then, sure as he's ever heard her. Her right hand begins to tremble, one finger, and then two. "They have no plans to let us retire back into hiding. We're..."

She grabs her shaking hand with her other.

It still shakes underneath.

"We're theirs, now."

"No," he says, strong as stone. He takes a step toward her, pulls her hands into his, holds them carefully tight. Willa's eyes flicker with something he'd rather not know. "No. We'll never be."

He pulls her into a hug, drops her hands so he can wrap his arms around her shoulders, and tries to forget the shaky exhale she releases against him.

"What happens when they come for someone else?" she mutters against his neck, so quiet he can barely hear her.

"I'll stop them," he promises, something tight lodged in his throat as he says it. Willa is silent for a long moment, fingers curling around the soft fabric of his shirt.

"What about when they come for you?"

The den is dark against the curve of the midday sun, hiding away the countless lives within. The wolves within. The family within. Words are hard to find when there is no correct answer.

"They won't be able to catch me," he whispers, like it's a shared promise between them.

Willa pulls him closer, after.

He doesn't let go.

The needle stares at him for a long time; he wonders what sits waiting inside of it, grey liquid thick and unmoving as the doctor taps against the side of it, once, twice.

Willa sits to his right, stiff in her own chair, eyes stuck in a stare at the doctor. Wynter is on his other side, eyes flickering between the needle and him. They are both free to move, but fear stops them still. He is strapped to a medical chair, two wrists snapped against soft leather.

Just in case, the doctor had assured easily, tone smooth as silk, pulling tight on mud-brown restraints, you never know what could happen.

"Now then," the doctor says, smiling Wyatt's way as he sides over closer, resting one hand on Wyatt's forearm. He is an older man with a balding head and too easy of a smile. Wyatt thinks he fits perfectly for a job such as this one, because anyone who helped this town do such things was sure to be unhinged in their own special way. "I'll count to three and the needle will be in and out. Will we need any assistance today?"

Wyatt's eyes drift over to his sister's stony expression.

(He knows what hides behind it.)

"No," he whispers. The last thing he wanted was more men, men with guns or tasers or worse.

"Very well," the doctor replies as he angles the needle. "One, two--"

As soon as the needle enters his skin, Wyatt knows something is wrong. The liquid inside moves slow, far too slow, and his arm locks up as soon as it flows into his skin. The burn comes after, soft and then burning, burning, burning--

His whole world is on fire before he can utter a single word.

He's laying in the forest, grass peaking through his outstretched fingers. His entire body aches with a fire that will not go away, seeping into his bones like poison. His skin is hot, and something wet slips down his arm, dampening his fingers and sticking to his palm when he attempts to curl them.

There's a scuffle to his right.

He thinks that if he's going to die, at least it's in his home.

"Little brother," a voice breathes by his ear, arms struggling to pull him from the forest floor. "Wyatt I'm, I'm sorry I-" their voice catches on a sob he recognizes. "I couldn't-I--"

He doesn't think he can talk.

He does, anyway.

"W-What...what was it?" he ask her, voice barely a rasp. Words hurt, slithering their way right through the fire that engulfs him much like a struck match.

She's quiet for a long moment. He's pulled closer to a chest and he reaches up, hand caught by another and squeezed tight.

It hurts.

He doesn't say it aloud.

"Silver," his sister finally answers, voice hoarse. "When you didn't die they...they resorted to other measures."

He wants to laugh.

He does laugh, the sound disjointed and wheezing.

Skin torn from bone. Cuts. Burns. Skin torn from bone. Scars. Silver.

"We're...quite the p-pair. Aren't we?"

He wants Willa to laugh.

She doesn't.

#zombies 2 #asks #keepswingin writes #mine #haha yeah so about this ask being fluffy.....#um it's roo's fault #and the whump just happens naturally ok

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readingwithlemons · 4 years ago

Text

The Training Scene

Edited 8-21-21

Prompt Scene to the Series: Rising Sun

Description: Y/N and Jasper are in charge of training both the other Cullens and Uley Pack, how to fight an army of Newborns. Still on touchy ground, Paul realizes the cruel severity of his imprint previous life and the rest of the pack seem to gain more respect for the tiny leech.

Word count:1902

DISCLAIMER: I USED SOME OF THE DIALOGUE WRITTEN BY MEYER IN THIS PROMPT. I USED THEM AS A WAY TO FIX MY STORY IN WITH HER STORY MORE FLUIDLY.

Warnings: physical fighting, foul language, talk of death

a/n: Paul and the rest of the pack will be wolf form for most of this scene anything in Bold will be the conversation between the pack.

I avoided looking at anyone in the pack as they walked through the tree line. While my family gawked and stared at the large pack, I stood tensed, swallowing the pings and pangs of guilt I felt for not sharing this detail with my family. However this wasn't my information to give them.

Trying to refocus my thoughts towards helping Jasper with plans of training. It became hard to drift from the grey-silver wolf that held my shattered heart in his hands. Anger and Embarrassment still flooded through my system from our last conversation. I was hurt that he had thought so low of me and that he felt the need to scream at me in front of the whole pack.

I flinched as the memory of what I said popped back in my head.

“Do you really think I wanted to be this monster?” I spun around to stare at him. Ignoring the eavesdropping teens behind me. Paul's face still held the ame disgust, as it did after Jacob told everyone of the newborn army.

“You honestly think that I asked to be this bloodsucking filth.” Paul's face flashed in shock at my phrasing.

" I had a life." I stressed the last word " A good life. With a doting husband, who I only recently found out, killed himself because he couldn't protect me."

I never told Paul about Jonathan...or anything about my past because…Well he never seemed to care. Hell, Alice and Jasper are the only ones that even knew about Jonathan's suicide...maybe Edward but- \

Finally looking and registering the blank look that was Paul’s face now. I felt nothing but anger as I tried to bite my tongue from telling him anymore. He doesn't deserve to know about Jon. He doesn't get to use that against me like he uses everything else to attack me.

He just doesn't understand the fuckery that I've had to deal with. “ Did you know that one of the uhh-” I looked back at the ground “side efforts~”

I almost laughed at my word choice. “Of being a leech is that you can’t kill yourself.” I could hear his heart skip a beat. “ Yeah... we can kill each other just not ourselves.”

A laugh escaped my throat, then another , then another. I shook my head, trying to pull myself back together. “And I know that because I tried every single method of the book."

“Even lighting myself on fire, did nothing but tickle me.”

"Y/n" I heard him breathe, then I felt the tiniest brush of a touch on the top of my shoulder. Jerking away from him, and looking back at his face. I saw the disgust that had laced in his expression and eyes were gone. In its place, was an expression of remorse.

Full on laughing I tried to continue my speech, “It’s hilariously fucked up isn’t it” If I could cry I would be. I swallow the dry sob in the back of my throat.

“Well my whole entire existence is fucked up actually.” I started to calm down. “ If it wasn’t, I would be 6 feet under right now.”

“ Y/n” He started but I held up a hand to stop him, but he squeezed out “ It was a bad choice of word-.”

"Of course!" I blew up. " Because you didn't know." I raised an eyebrow as he raised a hand to touch me again. He put it back down as when he saw the flames in my eyes. I continued "Because you never gave me the chance to explain to you what I went through. You just assumed that I asked for it ."

"I'm done with having to defend myself, morally from you." I turned and headed back to my vehicle, ignoring Paul's yells, as I slammed the car door. Bella would just have to get a ride from Jake.

A wave of calmness hitting my system pulled me from the embarrassing memory. My eye shot up to Jasper, who was on the other side of her. He was still staring straight ahead.

“Welcome” Carlisle spoke, I let my gaze settle on his relaxed stance out in the middle. My father has always amazed me with his calm appearance.

"I know it must be a difficult thing for you to come." Then he went on to explain that Edward would be acting as a translator, so that way they don't have to phase if they don't want to.

“Thank you” Edward replied in a gruff tone. “We will only watch and listen, but no more. That is the most we can ask of our self-control.” I was thrilled more by that statement than I should be. I was hopeful that maybe I would be able to leave this place without a glance at a certain wolf.

“That is more than enough,” Carlisle smiled calmly. “My son Jasper” his right hand moved to gesture “And daughter, Y/N '' his hand then shifting slightly to me, I nodded in acknowledgement to Carlisle gaze.

If I was still human, I would have had thousands of tiny goosebumps, up and down my arms right now. It felt like there were at least a thousand eyes on me.

"-have experience in this area. They will teach us how the newborns fight, and how they will be defeated. I’m sure you can apply this to your own hunting style." I heard a low rumble among the wolves

“They are different from you?” asked Edward. Or Sam? This is getting confusing already. Carlisle smiled, “How about I let them explain.” again gesturing toward Jasper and me before stepping back to stand next to Esme. Jasper and I both walked up from the back to where Carlisle stood in the middle.

I took a quick glance at Jasper and knowing, he would want to talk more than I did but I promised to speak mainly to the wolves if he explained more to our family. So that meant this question was for me to answer.

Directing and keeping my attention to Sam, I tried to stay unfazed as I spoke “Yes, as they are still very new to this life. The Newborns will be full of frenzy driven by the brute strength given to them from the blood that still lingers in their system."

"The newborns will fight amongst themselves. As of today we know that their numbers sit at 20. Ten for us and ten for you, with that it shouldn't be too difficult. but it's highly likely that their numbers will either lower farther or raise. ” A rumble of excitement seems to run through them.

“We are happy to take more than our share. If necessary” Edward translated, I notice the change in the tone. I smiled, “We will have to see.”

“ What makes you two more qualified on this matter than any of the others?” Edward spoke again.

There was a rustle next to me as Jasper took a step forward. Arms behind his back, his stance reminded me of my first meeting with him after I changed, posed and ready for a fight.

“Y/N and I were forced into this life for the same reason as these newborns were forced. Except developed a conscience that our creator-" spoke with clear disgust in his tone. " -did not have control over."

I heard a small gasp behind me and a small rustling of feet behind me. Clearly Bella did not know this strange detail. Jasper began to pace. I always picked on him when he did this. 'Your military is showing', I would say. But right now, it was nothing short of intimidating how he stood.

“We know how to defeat them because we know what it's like to be them.” “Thank you” Edward quickly cut him off. “We will watch now.” Nodding Jasper turned to face back to our family.

“There are 2 things you need to know, 1. Don’t let them get their arms around you; they will crush you instantly. 2.” He stopped turning back to face the wolves.

I flashed a look at Sam, the black wolf stood taller staring back at the ex-major.

“ Don’t go for the obvious kill “ Jasper spoke clearly emphasizing each word wanting them to understand him. “ They will be expecting that. “ Jazz relaxed “ and you will lose. “ Sam let out a huff in response.

“ Y/N and Emmett, you are up first.” I heard a mumble pass down the wolf line as everyone spread back leaving me and Emmett at different ends of the field.

“This should be good” Emmett spoke now, seeming to warm himself up, rubbing his hands together.

“Emmett relies on his strength very much like the newborns.” Jasper said “ so he will be a good example for you.” He looked between Emmett and I. "Start whenever you are ready." I smiled at Em “Don’t hold back” cockily, he let out a bearish laugh at ending it with a smirk. “Not in my nature” and he charged.

I felt the wind as he chucked me in the air, quickly catching myself in a landing spin charging back at him. It seemed not even a long second had passed before I had his large head smashed into the ground.

“Again” Emmett growled. Smiling, I pushed away from him. I tried to ignore the huffs and snorts coming from the wolves' side.

“Don’t lose your focus” I told him “Following your emotions is only making your moves more predictable.” He nodded, standing up and heading over to his end of the field again. I nodded toward Jasper who agreed with my assessment, gesturing to continue with Emmett.

Taking my place again, Emmett charged and within the next minute he was already calling for another rematch.

"Don't turn your back on your enemy." Jasper spoke with an eye roll.

**Paul’s Pov**

"Y/n is kicking his ass." laughed Jared. Silently laughing with him I watched as Y/N jumped on top of the big Cullen twisting him mid-air and slamming him into the ground again.

"That she is, " agreed Sam lightly chuckling.

Watching her first stand across the field from that large Cullen made my insides twist in worry; however, as I watched her pin him in no time flat, it seemed to bring a sense of pride in me. It only made me feel even more guilty. I shouldn't be happy to finally see her again. I didn't deserve it. Not after what I said about her.

"God, please just apologize to her already" spoke Leah, before I could reply Sam growled softly

" Leah," he warned.

"Shut up" I replied harshly. "I'll keep my thoughts to myself."

"What? I am only trying to help! Out of all of us. I'm the one who knows best how to handle the emotional range of a woman." Quick to defend herself, I realized Leah made sense.Before anyone could really respond to her statement. We watched as Gruff-man walked off the field. Leaving only Y/n on the field...undefeated. Edward stepped up, Jacob tensed as Edward's death flashed in his thoughts

"Jake" Sam barked

Watching all the Cullen's fight each other it was clear to anyone that both Y/N and Jasper were the only experienced ones. Either of them lost a fight with any of the others. It made me wonder…

"We're done for the day"

------

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