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hexonthepeach · 3 months

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a gentle tongue breaketh the bone | chapter 25: tribunal

pairing: fem hybrid fox omega!reader/hybrid Alpha!nct 127

tags: reverse harem, non-traditional omegaverse hybrid! cyberpunk au, pack dynamics, polyamory, slowburn/slowbuild, angst & hurt/comfort, heavy content warnings inc. torture, graphic violence, suicidal ideation, explicit sexual content

summary: the year is 2127. decades of eugenics and warfare have led to the rise of designated populations: the ruler Alphas and their rare, prized omegas sequestered from the Beta population. in the aftermath of the War of the Two Tigers, New Goryeo ushers in an Imperial dynasty determined not by birthright but by the alliance of the Syndicate’s clancorps to choose the best pack of your generation. you are destined to take your place within the Imperial harem as a queen, and–perhaps–Imperatrix herself

but you have a secret, written into your skin and bones–one that could easily kill you, depending on who finds it out

ten years ago you chose your Alpha and their pack in a fateful meeting

now, you must make them choose you

[masterlist & glossary] [read on AO3] [24: escort]

wc: 6.7k

warnings: in-world bigotry, graphic depictions of violence inc. cardiac arrest

recommended listening: ten's solo album is a masterpiece but we've got nightwalker and on ten on repeat for this one

When you’d failed to meet the expectations of your name and station your elder’s favorite punishment had been to send you to the Imperial Tombs to kneel.

For hours or even days–you never knew how long–the statues of the Amitahba Buddha and his companion bodhisattvas were your only company beside the dead as those surveilling you determined whether or not you’d shown the appropriate level of filial piety.

Those long gone points of meditation were more welcome than the terrifying visage of a xiezhi rising up behind your judges now, cloud-like flame swirling from its lion-like snout and single horn.

If myth were to be believed, at any indication of guilt the chimera would simply impale or devour a criminal. You can register a similar threat in the machinery beneath the holographic projection, the cold light of sensors and turrets in its frame. Tapestry-like screens hang on either side, reflecting you and the equally frightening sight of your vital readouts.

Now you kneel in the center of the arena, a slowly rotating sam-taegeuk beneath you casting the scene in ominous primary colors. Before you the table is set up for the legal arm of the tribunal, the three judges flanked by a small army of advisors and projected screens.

Your neck is bent, not just from the heavy jewelry adorning your head but the weight of thousands of Syndicate eyes resting on you, countless more if your suspicions that this was being streamed were correct. Outside the Dome, you aren’t spared visibility.

Thankfully, neither are they.

“Lee ____, third of her name. Lotus Princess, Daughter of Heaven and the East Sea. Only child of Lee Eunji, second of the Samshin, beloved in memory. The one born by the will of All Saints and the stars aligned to be Princess Consort of the last Imperial Dynasty of New Goryeo.”

“You come before us bearing a number of complaints brought against your kin, your mates, and the pack who took you into their protection.”

Protection. You flinch at the word. Your judge clears his throat, eyeing you over his glasses.

“We will hear your case before that of the accused, and decide on the terms for reconciliation,” the central figure finishes.

Elder Jeong Yunho is only a distant relation to the hound in Halatus, you know, your parent’s generation and the most notable prosecutor in Old Seoul. He's joined by one of the Park elders, a sly looking man you know as Leeteuk, along with that strange Vulpine spokesperson with a flashy suit–the Kim.

“Rise, Lee ____, and swear your vows.”

“Esteemed members of the Imperial houses and Syndicate, thank you for honoring my formal request for a tribunal.” You curtsy deeply in the spite of the burn in your knees, tail sweeping the illuminated floor. “I welcome your objective review of my case.”

You can feel the approval of your uncle at having remembered your etiquette, though you can’t see him in the booth beyond the table with the blazing lights. You approach the table to lay your hand on the Imperial seal, the touch activating an internal glow.

“Under the eyes of heaven and by its laws, I swear to tell the truth,” you recite.

“Please proceed with your testimony,” Leeteuk allows, nodding at you. Your cardiac output scrolls on his screen, an appropriate orange for the fear driving your vision white. You swallow, hands folding before you as you look down again.

“As you know, I entered into a contract with Nyctos as their property, at the initiation of my first heat cycle.”

You glance to your right, finding Taeyong by his profile burnt black by the red pa on the floor, Doyoung illuminated more clearly by the glow of his A/R glasses.

“I thought he was my fated one,” you say, turning back. “We seemed to have made a bond-match immediately.”

“Seemed to?” The Kim finally speaks.

“Please refrain from speculative language,” Elder Jeong adds. “Did you or did you not bond-match with the Crown Prince? Answer truthfully.”

The pull of the order is more powerful than you expected; you nod in affirmation.

“Yes. We did. But I believed a trial period was necessary to determine if our pairing would be favorable,” you stammer.

“A trial which we understand has resulted in a successful mating, hence cementing your bond,” Elder Park replies. “Is that not correct?”

You shake your head, ears appropriately submissive. “We bond-matched. We . . . mated. But I requested contraceptive treatment prior to our formal marriage ceremony.”

“Contraceptive treatment when your contract is based upon providing heirs?” The fox Kim speaks again, asking questions on behalf of the audience it seems. “How curious.”

You don’t dare to look up past the curve of his lips and fangs, seeing the comments scroll down his screen, mirrored but legible.

“–Claimed by five Alphas. At least one of them should have stuck–”

“Can you illuminate the Syndicate as to why you did not proceed with a definite mating to assure your bond?” Park’s voice breaks the spell of reading through the written condemnations.

“I suspected I would be abandoned as unsuitable,” you say.

That surprises all of them, the three sitting forward. You can hear the murmur of the crowd, now, muffled by the containment field.

“On what grounds would you be found unsuitable?” Elder Jeong asks.

You turn slightly, the head of the haetae above you mirroring the gesture. Taeyong glares at you from the shadows, shaking his head slightly.

“When the Crown Prince refused to mate me and allowed his pack to claim me first,” you say.

“Objection.” Doyoung raises his hand as he steps forward into your purview. “Did you not agree, willingly, to a pack claim?”

“This is not your cross-examination, cousin.” Elder Kim warns, stylus tapping on the table. “But we will allow this clarification.”

You refuse to acknowledge Doyoung, turning away as you let real anger sweep through you.

He approaches the table, pausing to give you a wide berth before bowing stiffly. “My apologies for interrupting. But I feel I must specify there is no legal requirement in the Princess Consort’s contract for exclusivity nor is there a precedent for which order claims may be taken.”

“Did you agree to this pack claim?” Elder Kim’s voice is mildly aghast, if a little amused.

“Answer truthfully.” Jeong repeats.

You pause, mouth opening to close again as you simply nod. You feel an instant sense of relief once the command is fulfilled.

“Your written testimony implies but does not state directly that these claims were forced upon you.” Park says, highlighting the text displayed. “Is it not your duty within a pack contract to submit to the will of your superiors?”

You feel yourself bristle, eyes still lowered. “Is it not the responsibility of a pack leader to protect its weakest members from abuse?”

“The Princess Consort will refrain from directing questions at the tribunal,” Jeong rebuts you, sighing heavily. “Let the tribunal recognize that only a contract owner may submit a charge of abuse towards the persons covered by it.”

The meaning is clear–you are just property, after all.

“It seems this is merely a matter of internal insubordination, then,” Kim laughs. “How delightful.”

“Does the Crown Prince’s counsel wish to submit such a complaint?”

Doyoung stands more stiffly.

“Formally, no,” he explains. “We are here to address internal insubordination, as you said. The tribunal is necessary due to the Crown Prince’s status, not because we recognize the Princess Consort’s complaint.”

“Hypothetically speaking, if the Princess Consort’s claims were legally recognizable,” Elder Kim asks, “how would you respond to this accusation of so-called abuse?”

Your eyes swim with tears as you brace yourself for whatever silver-tongued answer Doyoung will give them, fists clenching.

“The Princess Consort refused to accept her mate's orders to stay confined and made certain solicitations,” he says, clearly uncomfortable with being forced to describe the details. “She tried to turn lesser ranks against the Crown Prince. Eventually she submitted when she found that pack loyalty would not grant her desire to overthrow natural authority.”

“What–?” you begin, forgetting yourself.

“Silence.”

You crouch, mouth clamped shut. So much for maintaining your composure, you think, face burning.

“I think it’s clear enough this contract is in dispute because this omega does not know their place.” Elder Kim says, arms crossing. “Dozens of generations of breeding have fallen thus far.”

“Is it the wish of the Crown Prince and Nyctos to forfeit their contract with the Kims on the basis of this insubordination?” Elder Park asks.

“While we have been disappointed in the Princess Consort’s behavior it hardly warrants contract termination,” Doyoung says. “We believe with adequate training these flaws in character and behavior can be addressed by reasserting pack authority.”

You shake your head, still silenced.

“Do you wish to say something, little Princess?”

You’re surprised enough to look up at the other Vulpine, finding his eyes narrowed in a smug but cold smile.

“The Princess Consort may respond this once,” Jeong says tiredly, waving his hand. “Make your final statement before we dismiss this matter.”

You drop to your knees, desperate.

“Please masters,” you plead, voice shaking. “I cannot bear to spend another moment in these brute's company. His pack abused me and forced claims upon me. I have suffered indignity at almost all of their hands, with few exceptions.”

You expect them to ignore your request but you are mortified when the Elder Jeong brushes off your earnest request with one word and a waved hand.

“Noted. Will Second Prince Lee Minhyung please approach the tribunal.”

You turn to look at Mark stride towards the table, hiding his bewilderment under a soldier’s reserve. It was only fair that he'd be confused.

“Second Prince. Your cousin has requested a transfer of the contract to you, as her closest male relative and preferred mate, with the expectation that you will emancipate her upon transfer,” Elder Jeong says. “Should the trials proceed favorably for you, do you accept this responsibility?”

“You’re the only one,” you explain, quietly, relieved when you aren’t stopped from addressing him. “You can end this.”

A thousand words are spoken in the look shared between you, but most of all you can see something like sympathy there–a welcome sight after this useless political theatre. You see realization dawn on him, eyes wide. He looks up at Doyoung, some subtlety in the exchange spurring him to the obvious answer.

“I accept,” Mark says, looking back down at you.

You close your eyes in relief, exhaling shakily. When you open your eyes again his hand is extended towards you, helping you rise once more from the painful position.

“And will the Crown Prince fight to retain your claim upon your mate?”

The question is directed at Taeyong, who’s already quietly joined Doyoung, tail swishing lazily.

“I have a major investment in her as property, including futures,” he says, turning to look at you with disgust darkening his usually soft features. “While she’s been more than unfavorable in her lack of compliance, no, I will not hand her over without an appropriate response.”

“Then since this is a matter of personal honor, the tribunal recognizes this dispute to fall under traditional methods of arbitration,” Elder Jeong says, slamming the seal down on the table three times.

“The heirs may choose their principals and seconds. As the challenged, the Crown Prince will state his preferences, first.”

Taeyong bows to the tribunal.

“I elect my enforcer, Suh Youngho, until the time in which I may settle my grievance against him for claiming my mate without my permission.”

You’re shocked by this addition and clearly so is Johnny–you don’t dare look up at him but you don’t miss the hesitation on his part to accept his position beside his leader and Doyoung.

“Kim Doyoung will act as second and negotiate the terms on our behalf.”

Elder Jeong nods. “Second Prince. The Princess Consort has elected you as her new owner should your claim be recognized. Who do you request represent you?”

Mark looks at you, eyes twitching with uncertainty as your gaze flicks towards the only reasonable candidate. You don't dare speak, knowing full well that it would undermine Taeyong's plan to present your cousin as a capable leader. Thankfully Jaehyun moves to Mark's side unprompted.

“I elect Jeong Yuno as principal,” he says, relaxing.

“I, Nakamoto Yuta will perform the role of second,” Yuta says, more formal in his speech than you've ever heard.

“That leaves three pack members unaccounted for, with Moon Taeil excused on the basis of his oath of service. Do the heirs wish to elect the two lower ranks to participate on their behalf?”

Mark shakes his head, but you interrupt him, placing a hand on his jacketed arm. “Please, allow me to address a personal grievance.”

Mark’s disappointment is palpable but he nods, following your lead.

“On behalf of the Second Prince,” you say, eyes moving past Jungwoo to your target hanging on the edge of the arena. “I elect Lee Donghyuck to fight on behalf of our honor.”

Haechan glowers at you, but says nothing, joining Mark. Jungwoo winks at you as he passes towards Taeyong's contingent, full lips curled in delight.

“Seconds approach the table for the negotiation and arrangement of terms. The Princess Consort will be retained outside the arena for her safety.”

You bow deeply to the table before turning to Mark’s pack members to present them with the same respect. Before you leave you approach your cousin, placing your hand on his chest, where the five-petaled Clan crest pinned to the navy fabric has already been altered to the same bright blue of the flag beneath your feet.

“Thank you,” you say, embracing him with the same conviction you had hours ago, under extremely different circumstances. At first he stiffens, surrendering when he realizes he’s still on stage.

“You'll do well, for me,” you tell him, hands reaching around him to hold his chest tightly. He relaxes after a few seconds.

“What's even happening right now?” he whispers into the hair between your ears. “Why did you make me–”

“Please, trust me,” you say into his jacket, adding an extra tightness to your hold. “This is for them more than us.”

You stand on your toes to press a kiss to his startled face through the drape of your veil, hands on his shoulders briefly. You don't mistake the way in which he leans forward when you break free, marching away without so much as a glance in the Red direction.

Outside the arena you are directed to the private box behind the judges table already occupied by your uncle and your guards, helped to your seat by the Elder Kim. The fox has shrugged off the formality of the tribunal to return to his natural role as Master of Ceremonies, and you allow him to take your hand even as your skin prickles at the light touch.

Your box is illuminated softly by neon lights, prisms and starbursts of light dancing around you where they catch in the crystals meticulously sewn into your gold dress and Key's suit. The table is strewn with various drinks and rich bite-sized foods, your stomach wrenching at the sight and smell.

“There. Now you look like a proper prize,” Key says, almost a little mocking for the calculated way he adjusts your veil once you’re both seated, his tail curling against your own as he sits beside you. “Excellent work proving yourself the opposite.”

“Are you suggesting I don’t wish to be prized?” you ask, demurely hiding your lips in case anyone can read them through the covering. “Perhaps you can advise on how to be more submissive?”

“Me?” he says, pretending to be wounded. “Though you might make an effort to show some concern for your favorites. The drama here will have no small part in determining the outcome. Perhaps you already know who will win?”

You toss your head. “Not a single one of them has proven worthy to earn my favor.”

“Careful pet,” Tenth Prince interrupts, moving closer on the long booth’s plush seating. “Your negligence towards your mates is not, under any circumstances, a point of pride.”

“Yes, uncle,” you say with a bow of your head.

You sit back as you listen to the conversations around you. Some of the voices are distinctly familiar, court attendees and Syndicate relations alike, all discussing odds of the mis-matched group inside the arena. Screens on the tables display the individual roster as well as points averages.

They may as well be written in a foreign language for all you understand.

“Can you make any sense of the betting?” you lean over to ask Yangyang, watching his ears turn naturally towards yours near the box entrance. He’s more than excited to crouch down next to you to explain, Renjun joining him with an attitude of annoyance.

“See here? Anything involving Suh is getting swept into a parlay. They assume he'll win every match.”

Renjun huffs across from him. “If he has to fight the Crown Prince, there’s no way.”

“You seem so sure,” you say.

“Clearly you've never seen your cousin in battle,” Tenth Prince says. “My dear, have you no sense of decorum? Omegas should be seen, not heard.”

“Apologies,” you say with a dip of your head. “I'm merely nervous.”

You receive another look of warning before he returns to speaking to the blond man that's slipped into the booth beside him–one of a handful of guards dressed impeccably with the Lee Imperial plum blossom on their lapel.

There's no indication that your uncle is agitated but you can sense something is off, fighting to keep your ears from swiveling back and forth as you listen for snippets of that particular conversation, pretending to watch the judges retreat from the floor to their own seats past the barrier.

“That's my cue,” Key says, flicking your ear with his claw upon standing. “Enjoy the bloodshed, my dear.”

There's a muffled wave of applause as the lights adjust once more, the Master spot-lit as he descends to receive the tablet of rankings and details.

“Fascinating,” you hear him say before he looks up to address the crowd, voice amplified for the entire room.

“Welcome honored members of the Imperial Houses and esteemed guests and patrons of our Syndicate. Tonight we present a once in a lifetime event, a demonstration of Alpha justice not seen since the Exodus trials of ‘02. Tonight a pack divides over a mutual claim, their prize the contract ownership of Heavenly Lotus Princess Lee ____, Daughter of the Eastern Sea."

He gestures to the far side of the arena, one of the lower boxes crowded with familiar Syndicate heads.

“On the one side, our accused and challenged–Crown Prince Lee Taeyong, son of the last would-be Imperator, first of his name. He petitioned the Kim clan for ownership of his cousin in the name of preserving their clan line, and yet within a few weeks has been sued for breach of contract by the Princess herself in a submission of formal complaint to the Syndicate’s board, witnessed by our ranks.”

“How do you plead, your highness?”

“By Heaven's design, my honor will be preserved,” Taeyong announces, tail curling as he salutes and then bows, in your direction. “I will win my claim.”

You're surprised to hear applause, a few cheers erupting from the wings across the room.

“Our most popular choice of course, as pack leader and the Lee clan’s worthy Elder. But we have a challenger and champion of our Princess's virtue to fight in her stead tonight, son of our beloved Reverend Mother and the People's Princess, Third of the Samshin, Lee Eunchae and her consort the Fourth Tiger Prince–name not to be spoken.”

“Second Prince Lee Minhyung–your mothers shared a womb–is that what motivates you to defend your closest relation, or do you seek to take what is rightfully your Elder's and claim your Alpha's mate for yourself?”

The provocation is felt within the room, murmurs accompanying a close-in on Mark's face on the screens.

“I'm here to defend the Princess. That's it,” he says, not bothering to bow. “She asked to be freed and I'll do my best to honor her request.”

There's less of a positive response to this announcement, disapproval like a dark cloud settling over the arena. Beside you Renjun makes a sound of affirmation, hiding his grin immediately beneath grim seriousness.

“Befitting the son of a so-called liberator and champion of omega rights. Well then, shall we proceed to the order of duels?”

The Master of Ceremonies continues to break down the code duello, all of which were bitterly familiar to you from the Academy. In the absence of anything resembling a body of justice to address the constant infighting amongst the Alpha progeny of the clancorps the honorable method for resolving conflicts was through combat.

“Any insult to an omega under an Alpha’s care or protection to be considered as, by one degree, a greater offense than if given to the Alpha personally, and to be regulated accordingly.”

“Offenses originating or accruing from the support of omegas' reputations, to be considered as less unjustifiable than any others of the same class, and as admitting of slighter apologies by the aggressor: this to be determined by the circumstances of the case, but always favorable to the omega.”

You watch the screen manifest the series of trials, heart sinking at the sight of the names and portraits listed against one another in opposing blue and red, the choice of weaponry and terms bookended by positive and negative numbers you can only imagine are related to the odds.

Seo Youngho, with a negative score of at least a 100 beyond the other ranks, is pitted against the pack in multiple confrontations. But the one that twists your stomach the most to see is his latestage match against Mark's principal.

Jeong Yuno barely affords a ranking.

“Parlays will close within the next five minutes but action bets will be accepted throughout the event. Please continue to submit those wagers and participate in the voting for our environmental controls and hazards as so generously provided by our board and sponsors. May the punishment match the crime!”

“Environmental hazards?” You hear Yangyang ask, drawing your attention.

“Don’t they have those at the Zoo?” Renjun sighs, giving you a sidelong glance. “He and Zhong live in District Four when they’re off-duty.”

The home of unofficial, underground Alpha matches for Beta entertainment, you know from media rather than experience.

“It's all fake. For show,” Yangyang assures you. “Not like here. Real death matches are outlawed.”

“It’s not always death matches, here,” Renjun adds. “Just . . . most of the time.”

“If the Syndicate sentences you to death, this is the most honorable way to die,” you say quietly.

A fate you wouldn't wish on anyone.

“Is that why you claimed a fatal offense?” Tenth Prince's voice is bitter, but you can hear his veiled smile beneath his fan. “An honorable death?”

“I did,” you nod, feeling Renjun and Yangyang’s actual shock at the news. “Against my first claim and true bonded. The man who scarred me and took my innocence.”

“Who?” Renjun asks, quietly.

You don't answer.

“Child, you certainly never took any of my advice not to play with fire lest you be burned.” Your uncle sighs. “What a waste of a perfectly fine specimen.”

You're not sure which of the two Alphas slated for a death match he means, but you suspect the words are more for the Felid blinking against the lights to try and find your face in the crowd, his own expression unreadable.

Your heart clenches in your chest as you turn away, unable to meet Johnny's eyes even at this distance.

“Prepare yourself to give him a proper send-off when the time comes. We wouldn't want anyone to doubt your conviction in accusing bonded mates of such grave offenses.” Tenth says, placing a clawed hand over your own.

You hear the warning spoken plainly: you had to present as innocent or earn the enmity of the other Syndicate Alphas. Omegas executing their claims was unheard of, a precedent much more dangerous than one of your kind seeking emancipation.

No, their sympathies would never lie with you. But tonight had never really been about what you wanted.

“I do suppose eliminating Suh will resolve the rumors of whether or not Nyctos is led by a foreign-born mongrel rather than your own blood.” Tenth's head of security hasn't spoken until now, voice calm and quiet, but he sounds as bored as your uncle at the spectacle. You fight to keep from reacting, narrowing your eyes at his handsome face.

He smiles at you widely, almost shyly.

“That will be quite enough, Sicheng.” The Prince admonishes him. “Do not imply that our clan can not maintain dominance over its own servants.”

Renjun bristles visibly, eyes darting between the three of you, as if seeing you in a new light.

You can sense the new discomfort of your guards, themselves under the command of said mongrel, now fully aware he's been gravely accused. But this isn't the time or place to explain, not with the beginning of the trials.

“We will now commence the first duel,” Master Key announces, spot-lit from below, along with two others. “May the strongest beast survive.”

“I'm trusting that you three actually have a plan besides my execution,” Johnny says with typical gallows humor, hanging over the wall separating the weapons racks and waiting area to try and make out the stats on-screen.

It’s hard to read if only because there’s a montage just as eye-catchingly bombastic as the Lottery ads played street side, for the first time in history introducing their pack. Whatever media production crew they had operating this event was well-read on Nyctos history, accomplishments and training, as well as family backgrounds by several generations.

Of course they’d still gotten his background wrong–just like Yuta’s–his origin somehow now the Western Free States instead of a Midwest Combined Operational Group enclave south of the Occupied Great Lakes. He’s not surprised considering NUSA didn’t register as much more than a lawless wasteland after the Fifth Corporate war.

“We’re playing it by ear just as much as you suspect,” Doyoung says. “I tried to match rank and ability as closely as possible.”

“By fighting Yuta?” Jungwoo asks, smirking as he leans against the wall. “Good luck.”

“I'll ignore the implication that I might lose,” Doyoung snaps back.

“You must think I would have if you put me against Haechan.” Jungwoo huffs.

“Yes,” Johnny says, turning to meet him levelly, as equally matched as they are in height. “You are going to minimize harm in your fight and accept your punishment. The next time you hesitate to deal directly with a threat against a lower rank you won't be facing them. You'll be fighting me.”

Jungwoo swallows, mouth twisted in a wry smile as he turns away to join Taeyong on the side of the field, where a small crowd of Syndicate-approved media spokespeople are interviewing the pack leader.

“Was this her idea?” he asks, looking up again through the haze of the containment field at that bright spot, your profile visible behind delicately embroidered organza as you nod at something Tenth Prince says.

Doyoung squints, looking around with the implication that nothing is private here. Even so Johnny senses a shift in his aura, less anxious and more approving, as if the Lepid is experiencing a sudden surge of pride.

“Her testimony is entirely her own. She understood what the stakes were more clearly than even I had anticipated.”

“What is her goal, exactly?”

“She truly just wants her freedom,” Doyoung answers with a soft exhale. “By any means necessary.”

Any means. It nags at him deeply, after everything, that your aim would be so simple: mated and bonded Alphas forced to eliminate one another over an accusation of pack disunity. There was a certain poetry in it, in the sense that you'd accounted for every wrong, not-withstanding your own.

I want us to live.

He has a choice. Believe what you'd said in private, in the dark, in the moments when the stakes were truly never higher. Or believe you now, with your doublespeak and carefully-constructed artifice.

No, he thinks. He's lived with Taeyong too long to ever believe royal lies. This had to be the natural conclusion of whatever Imperial scheme had started before you even fell back into their hands. A long, circumnavigating path back to zero.

He watches Yuta lean into Haechan's ear, instructions given to him. Here in the open stage he looks younger than ever, shoulders hunched with hidden tension, sharp eyes scanning the crowds past the lights.

“The first of many of tonight's little squabbles, between our lowest-ranked. According to the Princess Consort there is a private grievance to be settled here, would our combatants wish to make a statement?”

Key's nod is to Jungwoo, deferring to him as first-ranked and the challenged faction. The young Alpha stands tall, clearly in his element, his preferred weapon of a nightstick now tapping against his shoulder in a familiar beat.

“I submit my performance as testament to the honor of my clan and pack, and hope our Princess Consort accepts my apology in advance for my victory,” the younger Kim states. “Would my lady bestow me with a token of her affection? For luck?”

The theatrics are generously received, an attempt made to focus on you in the stands finds you shaking your head, ears back.

“Clearly you have yet to earn your Princess's regard. Oh well, not unexpected for a mutt,” Key laments, earning the laughter of the crowd. “Does her Highness bestow a favor upon her preferred champion?”

Johnny can't help but tense, seeing you turn your focus on the other Alpha. Haechan's posture is abnormally stiff as you produce something from your sleeve. You flash the illustration on the fan's paper before snapping it closed in an elegant fashion, tossing it through the containment field.

It passes through without any register of the security, landing on the stage. Key retrieves the small offering when Haechan makes no effort to take it, flourishing it with a gesture upon standing up, long white-and-silver tail balancing the line of his body.

“Such a sweet token–do I detect a lover's quarrel between you by the sincerity of this gesture met so cruelly?” He gently waves the fan towards his target, letting the Valentine's day colors of the dianthus illustration be seen by all.

Rather than answer Haechan snatches it closed, awkwardly tucking it into his pocket.

“Let's get this over with,” he says, brandishing the yellow-marked electric baton he's chosen.

“Not too hasty, not too hasty,” Key says but the traditional drum beats cascade over the room, lights dimming as the softly illuminated forms of the two men move quietly and slowly around each other, sparks snapping from the active rods of their nightsticks.

It's clear within moments who will have the advantage as the two Alphas circle one another on the glowing field, the floor shifting as applause and cheers take over, almost masking the sound of rushing water that erupts from a moat falling around the central ring.

“We've of course added our own hazards here, but let's explain the rules. No fatalities are allowed with the exception of incidental and accidental. Stun levels have been set to disable only. Leaving the fight area past the moat will be considered an automatic forfeit. May the Heavens provide justice, and may the punishment match the crime.”

A tense quiet settles over the combat zone. It's more than a little surreal for him to witness the two like this–after countless trainings and similar play fights. The two Canids may be unequal in size but Haechan is faster, more aggressive when cornered.

Jungwoo makes no attempt to break his defense, lazily feinting when the other comes too close. Even dimly lit he can see the smile breaking on the Canid’s face, a fear response. The scent suppression here can’t hide the flare of Alpha pheromones, just as sharp as the burnt air smell of electricity.

“Get him in the water,” Doyoung mutters beside him.

Johnny growls instinctively, startling his partner.

“I mean disable the weapon,” he adds.

“I got that.” Johnny moves closer, sniffing at the moat's pure water. No surprise chemicals in that mix, at least.

“They’ll want blood,” he says.

Jungwoo lashes out, finally, quick arcs that miss Haechan's duck and weave away. Jungwoo has to step back quickly when Haechan counterattacks, almost tipping a foot past the breach and stumbling forward away from the edge.

Haechan pounces on the opening, thrusting out with the yellow nightstick.

The crackle of electricity is echoed in a collective gasp as Jungwoo takes a knee, immediately set on from behind with the thin metal rod against his long neck, Haechan dodging careless swipes backwards to pull tighter against his throat.

“Yield,” Haechan growls. Johnny realizes how close to jimseung the youngest already is. That sentiment is matched by the swipe of Jungwoo’s claws across the back of Haechan’s wrist, forearm torn to the sinew as Jungwoo takes advantage of the opening to smash his head backwards into the younger’s face.

Haechan yelps, dropping his weapon as blood gushes from his broken nose. His bloodied fingers slip on the handle of his stun baton as Jungwoo kicks it away lightly, the spin of the handle catching on the moat’s edge a few yards away.

“Oh, did you need that?” Jungwoo taunts, shaking himself loose on the rise up. “Don’t you have fur under that skin? C’mon, show me your teeth.”

“Bastard,” Haechan spits out a gob of congealing blood from beneath the steady flow, favoring his right arm.

“All's fair in love and war,” Jungwoo taunts. He switches his baton between hands as he circles the younger, taking his time. Haechan sweeps a kick to upend him but it’s easily avoided. He tries to seize the grounded end of Jungwoo’s baton next, earning a low-level stun that has the jackal seizing and twitching on the floor.

“Would you really do anything to protect her? Or are you losing so you can keep her all to yourself?” Jungwoo asks, watching patiently for his victim to recover.

“Shut up!” Haechan roars, rising up from the floor to roll the taller man down, defending against a stun with his claws embedded in Jungwoo’s shoulders and neck. The fight on the floor lasts only as long as it takes for Jungwoo to smash his forehead against the other’s face, again, Haechan letting out a gurgling snarl as he lets go–twisting away before the baton can smash down on his shoulder.

Sparks skitter across the floor, arcing across the flickering portion of the broken screen.

Jungwoo laughs even as blood oozes between fingers clamped to his neck, snapping the telescopic end of the baton open again with a spray of red. There’s a sinister quality to the way he’s taunting the younger, more like a cat with its prey.

Na’s influence, Johnny thinks, holding back the order he wants to shout at his subordinate. Even if he had a right to under the circumstances, Jungwoo was taking the act too far.

“Always pretending to be a little puppy nipping at our heels. Did it feel good to get to rut her first?” Jungwoo's sing-song voice is the only sound in the room besides Haechan's wet coughs and frustrated grunts as he tries to pick himself up.

Jungwoo's claws embed in the younger man's scruff, pulling him up, fielding off the weak blows from his left hand and the attempts to kick his legs out from under him. It's clear from the boy's pallor he's lost more blood than expected.

“Fight back,” Doyoung whispers. Johnny breathes, finally, realizing the air has left his lungs minutes ago.

“Fight back, kid,” he murmurs.

“Did you tell her you loved her? Or did you take what you could get and run away with your tail tucked between your legs?”

“I’ll kill you,” Haechan whines pitifully, pummeling Jungwoo’s wiry arm as he’s dragged towards the edge.

“Do you think you have it in you?”

Jungwoo doesn’t go for the final blow immediately, waiting until Haechan has been released and made it to his knee to push forward with a direct attack to the chest, just a tap but reinforced by the full unload of the stun.

Haechan tips back, paralyzed, crashing into the waters as the crowd erupts violently with a mix of cheers and boos.

“Did you plan that?” Johnny asks, icy rage in his tone.

Doyoung shakes his head, swiping a hand over his face. “No.”

You haven’t even realized you were standing, horror and pain blotting out any thought in your head–to the point you don’t even realize you’re being addressed.

“What's the verdict?” Jungwoo looks up at you, drenched in gore, his clawed thumb held horizontally from his closed fist. The crowd erupts, chants alternating between the desire to drown or electrocute the loser while messages and emotes flash across the privacy screens of the upper booths.

You watch the Canid move at his leisure around the field, even taking the time to dip his bloodied arm in the water to cleanse it.

“Such a young life, and a fellow Lee,” Key says with faux concern. “Would you really see this child consigned to death?”

There's a weighted pause as you regard the scene, as you lift your head and wipe your tears away. You lift your own hand in answer, thumb held upright in a mirrored gesture to the one before, shaking in the spotlight.

“I would have mer–” your words are cut clean by a horrible sound, Haechan's yell more howl as he finally pitches forward from the water, a yellow rod between his teeth. Jungwoo can only brace himself so much with the impact to his gut, pitched into the void beside him.

He has a moment to surface, scrabbling for the edge–

“NO!” you shout.

“No mercy,” Haechan repeats the crowd's line, activating the device and pitching it into the water below his feet.

Screams erupt in the sudden darkness and the spider-webbed fingers of lightning reaching halfway around the dark pool, the central light extinguished with a horrible snap and a flicker.

By the ringing in your ears you’re sure the scream was from you, hands grasping at you as you take advantage of the darkness and chaos to run.

Anguished murmurs follow, medics rushing in to the arena as the overhead lights illuminate the stage, water bleeding away from the rising floor.

What little of the screen still working is darkened by the arterial blood pooling around the figure who’s collapsed in the middle of it. Haechan holds his dripping head in his hands, healing slowly.

You make it to the edge of the arena, held back by Imperial guards as you reach for the body being pulled from the receding water by uniformed medics, shirt torn open to place electrodes on his unmoving chest.

“No,” you weep. “Please. Why?”

The defibrillation is heard throughout the room, beeps and shocks repeating until Jungwoo arcs upwards with the kick, twitching back to life with a matching signal from the monitors strapped to him.

You're finally able to wrest out of your captor's hold, falling ungracefully at the Alpha's side as his mouth is cleared of blood-tinged phlegm, unconsciously reaching to clear the damp hair from his forehead.

“Why?!” you repeat, louder.

It was supposed to be me, you think.

“You did this,” Haechan says, bitterly. The damage to his face is severe, both eyes blackened, claw marks leaking rivulets of red.

“You didn't have to–you didn't have to kill him!” Your sobs are amplified over the same frequency, keening along with the breaths rasping out of Jungwoo as he slips back into unconsciousness.

“YOU MADE ME!” Haechan shouts at you, making the whole room go still.

The Canid weakly pulls your token from its place in his saturated clothing, tossing it back on the ground to smear in the blood-dyed water. His eyes find you, finally, hollowed of everything human.

“I challenge you, next,” he says.

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thethistlegirlwrites · 3 months

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Blood Stained

Joey unzips the blue canvas duffle bag that’s sitting on her coffin-bed, ignoring high-pitched singing from the hallway bathroom and the sounds of someone in the next room over slamming drawers. She’s one of five vampire mentees living in this halfway house, eligible now that she’ll be participating in an apprenticeship. She’s one of the lucky ones. Her counselor said before Chimera got grants for halfway housing options, vamps in the mentor program were stuck finding their own accommodations. And places that will take vampire tenants at all often charge exorbitant rates for the privilege.

Inside the bag, on top, is the folder that holds her copies of the mentor program agreement, the list of expectations and terms, and her visitation plan. She pulls out the plan and pins it to the corkboard over the head of her bed. The first three weeks are solid red, but there’s a yellow bar halfway through week four. Conditional potential to see family members in a controlled environment.

She’ll take it. Video calls with Mauri and Via are more contact than she thought she’d ever be able to have again, but now that she knows there’s the possibility of more, waiting three weeks’ probation feels like an eternity.

She tacks up the stained, creased photo of her family beside it. Over the years and miles, the corners have gotten blunted, the color has flaked away on the fold lines, and the faces have changed. But she’s held onto it this long, and it’s a reminder of what she’s going through all this for. She’s absurdly grateful someone chose to tuck it into her coffin with her.

Everything Josefina Quintero has done for the past six years has been to protect her siblings.

Even, if necessary, from her.

There’s another folder in the duffle bag, this one with a company’s logo on the front. The same logo that’s on the azure sweatshirt and t-shirts folded up inside below it. Even on the pen clipped to the front.

Joey sits down on the bed and starts filling out the employment papers for Nico’s Custodial Service. She can even answer the work authorization honestly for once. Chimera’s legal team got her provisionally cleared to work while Carmen Stoker of all people is using Joey’s case to make an argument for citizenship status for vampires based on location of home earth.

As far as starts to an un-life go, this isn’t the worst.

She isn’t counting the two weeks she spent locked in a crypt trying to keep herself from feeding on humans after her first fledgling hunt, or the next ten days in Chimera’s infirmary with their medics treating her blood-starvation and throwing her a lifeline in the form of the synthetic replacement.

She takes two easy-open packs from the mini-fridge in the corner of her room and tucks them into the insulated lunch bag that was folded under the shirts. Eventually, she’ll only need one, but her body is still riding the peaks and valleys of the newly fledged.

By the time a blue-and-white van with the cleaning company’s logo pulls up in front of her building, she’s checked off nearly every item on the paper at the front of her personnel manual.

Long hair out of the way; braided in a single tight French style down her back.

Wearing the company t-shirt and sweatshirt (if desired, and apparently most vampires appreciate the extra warmth), as well as the grey cargo pants that were folded up below them, and the sturdy ankle-high work boots she found in a box under that.

Copies of her work authorization documents to be filed with her I-9, made at Chimera’s office this morning.

Signed front page of the personnel manual.

Signed technology policy and her new (very basic, very locked down) cell phone in one pocket. There’s only three numbers in it right now. The cleaning company’s office line, her mentor’s personal cell number, and the Chimera number that will take her directly to the department that deals with anyone in the mentor program.

She’s met Nico Pontevecchio a couple times before this. Once in one of the interview rooms at Chimera when they were determining if the two of them were a good fit for each other, then again in Huntmaster Lawson’s office when they signed the mentorship agreement.

The vampire in the driver’s seat is wearing the same sweatshirt she’s seen every other time, a faded version of the one she was just given, with bleach stains (that seems like the wrong word, but she can’t come up with anything else for it) on the stomach pocket and grimy, frayed wrist cuffs.

He’s chomping away on another of what seem to be ever-present sticks of gum as he reaches across the front seat and opens the passenger door for her. Joey climbs in, looking for a place to set her paperwork. There’s invoices stacked on top of the dashboard, and the console is a clutter of rubber gloves, empty sanitizer bottles, and gas receipts.

She’s not sure how much faith she has in the professionalism of this cleaning company.

“Sorry for the mess,” Pontevecchio says, grabbing the invoices off the dashboard and setting them down somewhere between the backs of the seats and the grating that keeps the cleaning supplies from coming up into the cab with them at any red light. “I’ve been keepin’ all my stuff on the passenger seat. Haven’t had anyone in here in a bit, and last night was crazy. Wish it was cleaner for ya.”

“I don’t mind.” Joey sits down and straps in, and they pull away from the curb.

“Nervous?” Pontevecchio asks as they make their way through evening traffic.

“Kind of. I’ve never done this before.” It sounds like cleaning for a janitor service has a lot of different responsibilities.

“Don’t worry about it. You’ll catch on quick. Once you learn your building layouts, you’ll get a feel for it. You can start making a sort of pattern.” He hands her a flat plastic clipboard, also blue, with a stack of papers on it. One is a list of addresses. One is a list of tasks. “Some of our clients have in-house janitors that they’re just supplementing, and we do a little less at them. Those are the places we’re going to start with.”

He reaches across the dash and opens the glove box. “There’s a pack of gum in there if you want some.”

“No thanks.” Her stomach is tied up in enough knots.

“Ok, so here’s the deal. My first mentee said it was just me being an enthusiastic Italian, but I will talk your ear off today if only to keep your mind on something other than getting overwhelmed by a new job. You can be getting overwhelmed by my inability to shut up instead.”

Joey actually laughs at that one.

“So ask me anything you want. Otherwise I’m just going to start rambling about weirdest work stories.”

“Why did you start a cleaning company?” She’d sort of figured a former hunter would have opened a private investigation service or done something similarly…cool.

“My great-great-grandmother cleaned rich people’s mansions in New York City after my family came over from Italy. If it was good enough for her, it’s damn well good enough for me. Runs in my blood. And it’s a good job for young vampires. Little to no interaction with humans on shift, and all night hours.”

“That makes a lot of sense.”

“We advertise we’re 100 percent vampire owned and staffed. Bleeding hearts who wanna put their money where their mouth is are honestly competing for contracts right now. There’s more people on our side in LA than it feels like sometimes.”

It takes Joey a few seconds to remember that ‘bleeding hearts’ isn’t an insult to vampire supporters anymore. They’ve sort of commandeered the term, deciding it’s pretty accurate, and made it a rallying cry instead.

He digs around in the tangle in the console, pulls out a cigarette-lighter phone charger and tosses it up on the dash, and eventually comes up with a pen and a small rectangle of label paper. “Your ID’s got all your info on it, but if you don’t want anyone you bump into knowing your last name and all, you can just make your own nametag. We had some trouble with one of our employees getting harassed, so now I offer everyone this option. As long as we still have the work IDs to show building security, no one minds.”

Joey wouldn’t have thought of that issue, but she’s glad her mentor did. She unclips the badge with her whole name, photo ID, and a little strip like a credit card on it, slips it into her pocket, and starts writing her nametag out.

“We’ll get you a real nameplate ordered, just let me know what name you’d like on it.”

She looks at his own, a plain white plate with smallish blue letters spelling out Domenico P.

“Is it better to use our full first names?”

Pontevecchio laughs. “I just do this so no one knows I own the company. They don’t usually bother readin’ all the way to the end.”

“Why, less people harass you about how you’re doing the job?”

“Actually more like the opposite.” He shrugs. “I work the first few nights at any new location. They can be perfectly respectful when they’re talking to the company owner, but what matters to me is how they’re gonna treat my people.” He taps the nametag. “But you can call me Nico.”

“In that case, I’m Joey.”

He pulls into the parking garage of a tall office building. Joey feels like panicking for a second, until she realizes the garage is shared with the low building next door that advertises itself as the HR software company whose name is on their list. Okay. One floor. One building. She can do that.

They climb out of the van and start unloading the equipment they need.

“Three pairs of gloves, in your pockets, at all times.” Nico hands her a box of bright green ones. “You didn’t indicate any known allergies to the supplies we use, but tell me right away if something starts bothering you.”

She nods and tucks the gloves into one of the big leg pockets. She’s starting to understand the specific clothing choices whoever put together her work bag made.

He talks her through the rationale behind every other piece of gear they collect, and then they’re headed in through the back door.

“This one’s easy. We deep clean once a week, but that’s not today.”

Joey picks up her clipboard to double-check what her checklist for this building will be, and then realizes this isn’t her clipboard at all.

There’s a photo of a kid with braces, floppy hair, and a lopsided model volcano taped to the back of the clipboard under the list of addresses, checklists, and cleaning supply order forms.

She’d known Nico had a kid. She was told upfront that the best mentor-mentee matches share something deeply personal in common. Wanting to get their lives together to be part of their families’ again, well, it doesn’t get a whole lot more personal than that.

“That’s Ricky,” Nico says. There’s an undercurrent of hurt in his voice.

“He’s sweet.”

Nico just nods. She has the feeling there’s something there that hurts. Something that, for all his enthusiastic rambling, he can’t bring himself to talk about.

She doesn’t talk about her family. She never has. It was safer for them all. No one knew she had younger siblings unless it was absolutely necessary. Not when they were trying to cross the border, and definitely not when she was trying to pay for Via’s seizure meds with her bookie gig.

Nico folds the papers back over the picture, tucks the clipboard into a side pocket of the trash cart, and reaches for the trash can near the door while Joey unwinds the vacuum’s cord and searches for a wall plug.

For a while, the whine of the motor is their only background noise, and then Joey shuts it off and fights with the catch holding the dirt cup in place so she can empty the astonishing amount of grit and hair it’s collected into the trash cart.

“I bit him,” Nico says, out of what seems like nowhere.

But Joey knows exactly who he means.

“My family knew what I was gonna be, and buried me anyway. I guess they wanted another chance. They were there waitin’ to help me dig myself out. And…I attacked them.” He looks down at the gloves on his hands. “I almost strangled my wife, and when Ricky tried to pull me off her I bit his arm. I’m just lucky I didn’t infect him. But…he’s been terrified o’ me ever since. For good reason.”

Joey knows fledgling hunger. She knows what it did to her, what she was afraid it might lead her to. He’s lived her worst nightmare come true.

“I’d just gotten my feet back under me and started figuring out how to control myself when I found out he’d gotten himself accepted to an oceanography program in San Diego. I had to get out of New York anyway. My old agency was hunting me down, and they were closing in. So I moved out here. It was about as far away as I could get from my old life.”

“Have you two reconnected?” Joey asks.

“We’re still…workin’ on things. This is the best compromise, gives him some distance but if he wants to get together on weekends, I’m close enough for it. And Lawson and I had crossed paths a few times before this. I knew she was starting a mentor program here, and I figured I might as well be useful to someone else. No one should be doin’ this alone.”

“Yeah, it kind of sucks.”

He laughs. “Lawson helped me get this business started on the condition I’d be another mentor for people when she needed it. It’s worked out pretty well so far.”

“How many mentorships have you done?”

“Two so far, you’re my third. It’s picking up now, I guess, after everything with your friend Barrett.”

Joey nods. She’s still shocked he went to the trouble to track her down. They’d been friendly enough when he was an underground fighter and she was taking bets on the action, and she’d never believed what the news had said about him killing those people, but she’d never expected him to remember her, much less realized she’d been infected.

Apparently, according to his partner, he’d put her name at the top of a list of likely candidates for a pilot program the agency is running with people who are infected, but haven’t turned.

He found her too late for that one, but at least there was still an option.

If it’s working for him, she’s pretty sure it’ll work for her too.

“Okay, that’s it for this place.” Nico hauls the trash cart out back, and the two of them reload their van and pull out.

The next location is a resource center that caters to people recently released from prison, connecting them to housing, food, and employment options. It isn’t so different from the office Joey was sitting in just this morning, getting the keys to the halfway house, her few possessions she’d had on her when she was brought to the clinic, and the blue duffle that contained everything else she currently owns in the world.

She walks into the bathroom to start cleaning, and stops cold.

The floor is covered in red smears.

There’s a coppery scent in her nose, a ringing in her ears, and a tingling in her jaw.

Blood. Fresh blood.

Someone touches her shoulder, and she spins with a snarl. This is hers. She found it. Her food.

“..ey? Joey?” The threat to her meal resolves itself into Nico’s worried face, accompanied by the strong smell of wintergreen, overpowering the metallic tang of blood.

“I told them to stop using kill traps,” he says apologetically. “They’ve been having issues with rats since they set up the food pantry in here, so they’ve been setting traps, but these kind make a mess.”

A rat. A rat is what bled all over the floor.

And she’s so out of control that the blood from some dead vermin would have been enough for her to tear into Nico over.

She chokes, pushes her way out the door, and rushes into the corner behind a rack of business suits with a faded sign that says “Interview Closet” on it.

She’s not sure how much later it is that Nico wheels aside the rack and crouches down beside her.

“It’s all taken care of,” he says gently. “I threw the rat out, cleaned up the floor twice, sprayed the whole room with wintergreen, and threw out every kill trap I could find in this place. They can bill me for it if they want, and I’ll bring by some live traps tomorrow.”

Joey doesn’t answer him. She can’t.

“It’s okay. You’ve barely been a vampire two months,” Nico says quietly. “Nobody expects you not to react to blood.”

“What if I never get better?”

“You will. It just feels impossible right now.”

“But I thought I was controlling it, and then this happened. What if I only think I am when they let me see my family?”

“No one is going to let you hurt your family. I promise. We know what we’re doing.”

“I was only ever trying to protect them,” She whispers. “My mother was a reporter, back home in Venezuela. She went after a powerful man with dangerous friends. When he had her killed, I was afraid to stay in the country. My aunt had married an American businessman years before and gone to live with him in Los Angeles, and my sister needed good medical care. I thought Tía Patricia could help.” What none of them had known at the time was that the marriage had lasted three years, and ended in a messy divorce that left Tía Patricia barely scraping by on an office assistant’s salary. They’d only found out after they made it to the city.

Our family isn’t really much for sharing our failures.

“We didn’t have enough money for most of the coyotes making border runs. I was told about one man who would do it for cheap, but he wanted more than money. I thought I knew what he was asking for.”

She still remembers that night like it was yesterday. The blood-red semi. The flickering halogen lamp with moths fluttering around it. The sting at her wrist and the chill in her blood.

The last thing she remembers from her human life is a pair of bright headlights, coming straight for her.

“He was a vampire. Did border crossings for blood.” They were lucky he wasn’t one of the sort who kept his human cargo as a food source. She was in the Chimera infirmary when a raid team brought in some victims of one of them. “He must have lost control and infected me when he fed on me.” She shakes her head. “Mauri and Via didn’t know what he was. I should have told them but I didn’t want them to know what I’d done. I didn’t want them to think it was their fault. It was stupid. I was stupid. I thought there would be time, when they were older, to tell them everything. So they’d know what to do when the time came. But I was wrong.”

Red lights reflecting off the hood, painting the car the same blood red as that semi.

And in the split second before impact, the oddest feeling that she’d seen moths clustering around the lights, narrowing them down to searing pinpricks of brilliant death.

“They didn’t know I was going to turn, and they buried me.” She chokes back a sob. “I made some bad decisions. Some really bad decisions. But I was nineteen and I was scared and I didn’t want to lose the only family I had left.” She looks down at the floor, seeing those smears of red all over again. “But it didn’t matter what I did. I lost them anyway.”

“You haven’t lost them yet.” Nico puts a hand on her shoulder. “Come on. We’re done here. Let’s go out to the van and eat. Even I’m not immune to smelling blood. I feel like I’m starving.”

She’s not sure if he’s just trying to make her feel better, or telling the truth, but it sort of helps.

Maybe he’s right.

Maybe, someday, she’ll be okay.

(You can read this story and more from this universe on my WorldAnvil here!)

@catwingsathena @nade2308 @the-one-and-only-valkyrie @telltaleclerk @ettawritesnstudies @writeouswriter

#febuwhump #febuwhump2024 #febuwhumpday14 #blood stained tiles #lady whump #sort of #mostly angst here #tw: animal death #josefina quintero #domenico pontevecchio

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transdunbar · 8 months

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happy birthday @thiamsxbitch !! i told you i had more content for thiriam :) so, behold: theo, kira, and liam get arrested

Scott shouldn’t have been surprised. Really, he shouldn’t have; it was only a matter of time before he was woken up at 3 am by Parrish calling him to have him pick up some pack members from the holding cell. And yet, when it finally did happen, it wasn’t who he expected to find. Upon entering the Sheriff’s Station, he was greeted with the sight of Kira, Liam, and Theo behind bars, all three of them soaking wet and as naked as the day they were born. Scott’s eyebrows raised slightly in shock; Liam and Kira flushed with shame, but Theo only raised an eyebrow back at Scott. Parrish had told him who he had arrested, but it still shocked him to see them— well, it shocked him to see Kira and Liam, anyway. He was pretty used to seeing Theo behind jail bars at this point.

“What did they do?” he asked, turning to Parrish, who was standing a few paces behind him.

“We picked them up for public indecency and intoxication. Caught them skinny dipping in the lake.”

Scott sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. There was already a headache forming, and he knew he was going to have to raid Stiles’ stash of ibuprofen later and hope it worked. “Do any of you want to explain what happened?”

“We wanted to see if Kira needed wolfsbane to get drunk!” Liam chirped happily.

“I do, apparently,” Kira giggled. Seems being arrested and freezing cold did nothing to deter their alcohol-induced good moods. The beta and the kitsune huddled together, heads bent and blanket-covered shoulders knocking together as they laughed at something only the two of them found funny.

“So you kept drinking after you found this out?”

“Yep!” Kira said, the exact same time that Liam snorted and said “Obviously.”

Scott sighed again, turning to Theo for his next question. The chimera was the only one sitting down, with a deputy’s jacket spread out across his thighs but otherwise still exposed. He also smelled the least like the damning mixture of wolfsbane and alcohol that was starting to make Scott's nose wrinkle in disgust.

“How did you get involved in all of this? The other two I can sort of understand, but you?”

“They wanted to get drunk and then decided to skinny dip in the lake. I wasn’t about to let them go unsupervised,” Theo said with a shrug.

“Theo here,” Parrish said, a small smile forming on his face as he spoke, “decided to full shift to avoid being arrested. He couldn’t shift back without being naked, though, so we booked him as well.”

“You arrested a wolf?”

“Yeah, not my finest moment. Bringing him in was an experience and a half. He only shifted back when he was in the holding cell, hence why he has my jacket instead of a blanket.”

The chimera’s smirk only grew, almost as if he were proud of being a little shit. Which, Scott knew from experience, he was.

“Okay, but isn’t it weird to skinny dip with your friends? Like, seeing your friends naked is just… weird, right?”

“Oh, Scott…” Theo sighed.

“What?” Scott asked, furrowing his brows as he turned to look at Parrish, who had started to chuckle. The hellhound’s bemused expression turned into one of confusion when he met Scott’s eyes, and then realization, and then… embarrassment?

“Based on the position I found them in, I don’t think seeing naked friends was an issue they were really concerned about,” Parrish finally explained.

It took Scott a second for his brain to catch up, and then he let out a small “oh” as his cheeks turned a bright red.

“Well, uh… wish I would have found out differently, but congratulations, I guess.”

Kira and Liam had the audacity to look embarrassed, their faces heating up just as Scott’s had, but Theo only howled with laughter and doubled over so hard that the jacket slid down onto the floor.

“Okay, I’ve seen enough! Parrish, can you let them out so I can give them the clothes I brought?”

Parrish sighed, averting his eyes as he moved to unlock the cell. Scott shuffled forward, avoiding looking at Theo’s naked body as he handed the pile of clothes off to Kira. Liam, however, had no problem ogling his friend’s— boyfriend’s, Scott’s mind corrected him, in a voice that sounded suspiciously like Stiles— bare thighs; Kira was having a similar issue, since she nearly missed grabbing the clothes from Scott because her eyes were drifting over to the chimera.

“We’ll let you three have some privacy,” Scott said after the kitsune had secured the clothes. He put a hand on Parrish’s bicep and led the deputy out of the room.

“Are you sure leaving them in there alone was a good idea?” Parrish asked warily.

“They’ll be fine. We have supernatural hearing, and they know it. I know Theo is at least smart enough to not risk it when we’re right outside the door,” Scott said. True to his word, a few minutes later the three of them strolled out of the holding cell area, fully clothed and not fully debauched like Scott had still half-expected. Liam’s eyes were a bit unfocused, and Theo’s bottom lip looked like someone had been biting at it, but other than that Scott could confidently say his pack members hadn’t fucked in a holding cell. Small victories, the little Stiles in his mind supplied, and he smiled.

---------------------------------

“Okay, you three. If I see you again tonight, not even Scott can save you from the wrath of the Sheriff,” Parrish warned once the paperwork had been processed, flashing his bright orange eyes for good measure. Kira squeaked, nodding and thanking Parrish and Scott profusely before slipping out of the front door. Liam was quick to follow her, not even sparing a glance at his alpha as embarrassment rolled off of him in waves, and Theo gave them each a terse nod before he, too, exited the building.

Or, at least, he tried to leave. Scott reached out and gently yet firmly grabbed his shoulder to stop him from moving. Theo could have easily torn himself out of Scott’s grasp, and yet he stayed, watching the young alpha looking like he was trying to find the right words in the soup that was his brain.

“I don’t know how the three of you happened, but… Take good care of them, alright?”

“Are you sure you trust me with your pack?” Theo snorted. He said it mostly as a reflex— even though he was the most sober out of him and his partners, that didn’t mean he was entirely sober, and falling back on old habits and cutting remarks was most likely alcohol-induced— but Scott just scrunched up his face, his scent going bitter a bit.

“Of course I do, Theo. You’re a part of this pack, just as much as Liam and Kira are.”

Theo nodded again, trying to subtly wipe his eyes as tears suddenly and violently sprung to the surface. Scott released his shoulder with a smile and finally allowed Theo to leave the building. His partners were waiting for him, huddled together again under a large oak tree and their hands linked between them.

“Babe, are you crying?” Kira asked as soon as he approached them.

“I’m fine,” Theo said, but still accepted the kitsune’s gentle hands coming to rest on either side of his face. The concern that was so clearly visible on Kira’s face, added to the warmth of Liam’s hand coming to rest on his shoulder and Scott’s earlier admission, was enough to make him smile— a genuine, actual smile, not his usual smirk.

“Come on, let’s go,” Theo said, gently removing Kira’s hands from his face to turn and walk into the dark, nearly silent night.

“Where are we going?” Liam asked, even as he and Kira eagerly trotted behind him.

“Back to the lake,” Theo said, as if it were the most reasonable answer ever. When he sensed that the other two had stopped, he turned to look at them with a raised brow. “I left the alcohol there, and I know for a fact Parrish didn’t confiscate it. Do you guys want to have some more fun or not?”

Nothing else was said as his partners’ minds caught up with what he was saying, and the three of them took off running.

#theo raeken #liam dunbar #kira yukimura #thiriam #theo raeken x kira yukimura x liam dunbar #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #scott mccall #jordan parrish #kinda accidentally added some platonic sceo in there so i am sorry fjkghdkjgh #happy birthday bestie!!! i really hope you like it <3 #they are my favorite chaotic trio and i love them so much

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forasecondtherewedwon · 3 months

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lullaby for a rottweiler

Fandom: Percy Jackson and the Olympians Rating: G Word Count: 1116

Summary: There isn't exactly a Protector's Handbook with a chapter on what to do if you find yourself trapped in Cerberus's mouth, so Grover decides to tackle the problem the best way he knows how: by singing the consensus song.

What Grover never mentioned to the others—what he never felt he had to confess might be a better way to say it—is that there’s a reason he was glad they didn’t take a plane to California. Another reason. A reason that has nothing to do with the three of them spending the flight huddled anxiously in the bathroom until lightning bolts blast the wings off and Percy has to save them with airplane toilet water. Which Grover, who may have dreamed that exact scenario on the train to St. Louis, doesn’t doubt Percy could have done. For the record.

The other reason he was happy not to take a plane is turbulence. He’s super not into it. Rough travel can be fun when it’s his hooves over uneven ground. It’s not even the worst, in terms of messing with his inner ears, to be on a bus during a Fury attack. Or on a train with a rampaging Chimera. A car being rammed by a Minotaur! If Grover were to explain, if he had to tell Annabeth and Percy, he has quite the portfolio of turbulent travel situations to use as proof that he’s fine 99% of the time.

Boy, it really feels like the gods are laughing at him for managing to skip the plane only to end up bouncing along in one of Cerberus’s three mouths.

This is a heavy dog, and he takes big leaps. Grover is lofted up against the solid roof of the dog’s mouth, then dropped back down on its warm, rubbery tongue. And the whole place stinks. Hades can’t get in here with a toothbrush every once in a while? It smells like Cerberus has been using the Styx as his own personal water bowl. (The scent is misery with base notes of the abandonment of all hope.) Numbed by the stench, all Grover can do at first is subject himself to a mental montage of the greasy diner food and convenience store snacks he’s been living on. Not even the good stuff, like soda cans and tins of peanuts with the peanuts dumped out.

What breaks through his fixation on the contents of his churning stomach is one word: bumpy.

Because he’s not really big on self-pity, Grover scrambles to his knees between bounds and does his best to brace himself inside Cerberus’s mouth just enough to feel like he has a little bit of control. Hey, he feels less nauseous already!

“Oh golly!” he shout-sings, and immediately regrets it; Cerberus cocks his head at the noise and jerks to a stop. Grover cringes as he’s tossed against the dog’s teeth.

“Sorry,” he says, softer. “I guess six ears are more sensitive than two, huh?”

Cerberus’s answering whine vibrates Grover bone-deep before the dog starts moving again—a jaunty walking pace that’s ramping back up into a full-out run.

“Let’s try this again,” Grover says to himself, getting situated between tongue and palate.

He clears his throat.

“Oh, golly, the road’s gettin’ bumpy ’cause I got me…” He considers the dark, reeking cavern in which he crouches. “…a hound dog who just won’t slow down. Oh, dear. When the heads are gettin’ bouncy, the trick to settled tummies is…”

Is??? Grover thinks, because it’s a lot harder to come up with rhymes when you’re lurching down the bank of the River Styx in something’s mouth than it is when you’re packing a bag at camp based on what you think your co-questers are most likely to forget.

“…a trip to singin’ town,” he picks up.

Percy and Annabeth never let him get to verse two (where you say nice things about each other, building goodwill on the path to consensus). Cerberus hasn’t spat Grover out or tried to swallow him, so, honestly, after having his friends interrupt his debut performance, he’s taking it as encouragement to keep singing. He claps a hand against his opposite arm steadily until the words come to him. It’s weird but either he’s matched his claps to Cerberus’s footfalls or the dog’s running to his beat.

“Oh, Cerby, you’re good at bein’ grumpy, you make a great guard dog, your fur’s all black and brown.” The last one’s more of an observation than a compliment, and Grover winces, hoping Cerberus is more affected by his happy tone than the exact words.

“Good boy,” Grover sings, not meaning it. “You don’t need to run fast. (In fact, slower’s prob’ly better.) A trip to singin’ town.”

His eyes widen as, miraculously, Cerberus slows. Grover lets his clapping trail off. The dog stops, he sinks. Though it feels like this mouth-elevator has reached the ground floor, he’s not opening up to let Grover out. Suddenly, a snore rumbles through him. Seems like it’s probably now or never; Grover wriggles out between Cerberus’s huge teeth, getting a thorough slime bath as he pushes past the dog’s slobbery jowls.

He's relieved to see Percy, but he directs his first words at Cerberus: “You are a bad, bad dog!”

And he is a good, good singer, he thinks, even after he realizes Annabeth has literally scaled the side of Hades’ hound to give the dog neck scritchies. And maybe Percy helped too, fearlessly standing his ground in the path of the charging dog. Three heads are really better than one! Grover glances sideways at Cerberus. Three heads are better in some circumstances.

There’s not much time, so he listens to the others’ plan, using the shoes to lift Percy off the ground and fly him up the cliff. But the dog’s getting restless; Grover can hear growling noises that do not indicate peaceful slumber. After a harrowing minute of separation and a squeak of the red ball, Annabeth joins them at the top of the cliff. She launches the ball and Cerberus gives chase. The three of them stand there for a moment, breathing hard. But Grover just can’t keep it in.

“I GAVE YOU COMPLIMENTS!” he shouts after the dog. “YOU DON’T JUST ATTACK A GUY AND HIS FRIENDS RIGHT AFTER THE CONSENSUS SONG!”

Still outraged, he turns to his friends.

“What was that thing the Oracle said about betrayal again? Percy?”

But Percy isn’t listening, so Grover looks to Annabeth for support. The scrunch of her eyebrows and the slant of her mouth say she has no idea why he’s bringing up the consensus song right now (and why would she? Grover doesn’t mind that a ride in Cerberus’s mouth is one part of this quest he experienced alone). Regardless, Annabeth pats him on the shoulder.

“Yuck,” she says, withdrawing her hand and staring at her drool-slicked palm.

Grover sighs.

“Yeah. Tell me about it.”

#my writing #PJatO #PJatO spoilers #Grover Underwood #Percy Jackson #Annabeth Chase #PJO series #Percy Jackson fic #PJO fic

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strawberrygrapesandcherry · 5 months

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(Current wip for chapter 3 of the red means I love you. Hope y’all like it. Let me know what y’all think, if you want to that is. Anyways, enjoy these idiots)

“You know if you keep making me drive you to places, you’re going to need to start chipping in for gas,” Theo says while he looks to his right at the annoying beta in his passenger seat.

“This is only like the third time I’ve asked you,” Liam argues back.

“This week. That’s how many times you’ve asked me this week,” Theo corrects while both his eyebrows rise higher up his forehead. “Actually it’s in the last three days.”

In Liam’s defence, his parents couldn’t pick him up after lacrosse that week so why would he take the bus when he knows the chimera would pick him up. He could also argue that he doesn’t make Theo do anything. He only asks, so it’s’ not like he’s holding him at gun point.

“Okay but it still isn’t that much, and most of the time you’ve just driven me to where we needed to go.”

Theo chuckles at this. “You’re quite the freeloader aren’t you?”

“Well does it even count if we’re going to the same place? Because technically the car doesn’t care how many of us are in it.” He might actually have a point on that because it’s not like he’s asking Theo to drive him to the mall or something. They have a pack meeting to attend and while Theo was cautious about going because he’s not pack, Liam had insisted. That and Argent who was arguably more terrifying than Liam could ever be.

“Still treating me like a chauffeur Liam,” he points out, and he knows he’s right when Liam levels him an unimpressed look.

“Okay but you have to admit you like my company.” Now Liam’s face was over taken by a small gotcha kind of smile.

“What makes you think that?”

“Because if you really wanted me gone you would have done it by now and I wouldn’t be in the car.” Again, Liam might have a point here, but Theo is more likely to accept Malia beating him to death, than the implication that he enjoys being around people. Especially Liam.

“Is that so? What if I just pullover now and drop you on the side of the road?”

Okay, that actually makes Liam scoff in disbelief. “You won’t,” he says in absolute confidence.

“You wanna test me on that?” Theo quips while raising one brow.

“Maybe I do."

Now its Theo’s turn to scoff because he knows Liam has him backed up. It was obvious from the moment he suggested kicking Liam out that it would never work. Even now he can’t get himself to chase Liam away.

“You’re lucky we actually have to go to the station right now,” Theo says while hoping to establish that he is not surrendering. Liam is wrong.

“Yeah right, cuz that’s the only reason,” Liam teases.

“It is.”

“Nuh uh,” Liam counters in mocking tone as he smiles all smug and slowly nods his head.

“Liam are you serious? Fuck do you mean nuh uh, what are you a child?”

“For the love of god, I cannot listen to you two anymore.” Poor Mason has been sitting there— and Corey but he’s been quiet— listening to these two goons going and fourth with their bickering. He should really make a note of not sharing a ride with them ever again.

(Ahhhh I’m so excited to finish the next chapter!!!!!)

#thiam #theo raeken #liam dunbar #thiam fanfic #ao3 fanfic #i love these idiots #Theo has no backbone and can’t say no to Liam #Thiam wip

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raekensarcher · 1 year

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All snippets for my current WIP’s as requested by @thiamsxbitch

All about control (posted, four chapters up)

Snippet (future scene)

Theo is capable of maintaining his composure, it’s something he’s spent years perfecting. Something he had to perfect, to be in control of. He’s able to keep his heart beat steady, face blank and void of any emotion, careful not to give anything away. But, Liam makes it difficult for him, because Liam makes him weak. Not in the physical sense, never in the physical sense. Being in Liam’s presence, give them hunters, give them a bullet ridden elevator, give them danger, Liam makes Theo feel invincible.

But, having Liam pressed to his side, Liam’s intentionally outstretched pinky giving a barely there pressure to Theo’s own that’s resting limply at his side, like he knows it’s going to help Theo calm down from being in Scott’s house surrounded by pack. Even though none of the attention is on him, it’s all on Stiles yelling at the Tv about someone cheating in Mario kart.

Theo feels a little undone by it all. It takes everything in him to stay calm, keeping his face blank as his eyes scan the room to make sure no one else is looking when he lets his pinky fall to the side to land on top of Liam’s own. He tears his eyes away from the scene in front of him to look at the beta, as if asking if this is okay, like Liam wasn’t the one to initiate contact in the first place. He looks up to see Liam already looking back at him, a soft smile on his face, one that Theo has come to recognize as the one solely reserved for him. It just makes him a little breathless is all.

Drive (WIP, one shot)

I don’t have a desc for this one yet, but i do know that i want this fic to be based around the fact that Theo’s truck becomes a shared space for the two of them. kind of a sanctuary in its own way.

Ghost on the dance floor (WIP, one shot)

inspired by the line “It’s like the universe has left me without a place to go.”

"You're a hard man to find these days."

Theo hums from his place on the tailgate, legs swinging slowly back and forth, his eyes trained on something in the distance, not fully there.

Liam's feet stay planted where they are, eyes trained on the way Theo's hands have tightened their hold on the metal surface of the tailgate at the sound of Liam's voice. He tries not to think too hard on it, knows it probably has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the fact that Theo has been avoiding him and life itself for the last three weeks.

Theo had left his place three weeks ago after his meltdown, after telling Liam he didn't know where else to go, after trusting Liam to know the answer- to somehow help.

Liam's just not sure how to do that: not sure how to handle Theo when he's like this. Though, he knows it's the only way he seems to get the chimera these days: distant, out of reach, cold. It upsets him more than he's willing to admit.

“Theo, what’s wrong?”

#question; why can’t i stand angst but it’s the only thing i can write?#the world may never know #WIP #thiam #thiam fics #theo raeken #liam dunbar

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rotisseries · 8 months

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it kinda all started when theo was 9. these three immortal doctors , nicknamed the dread doctors (the surgeon, the geneticist, and the pathologist), chose him to be their experiment. he honestly didnt really know what was going on (thats what he told stiles and i believe him) they chose him because the dread doctors wanted to create chimeras they wanted to Make People Supernatural using science (they're only immortal bc they figured out a way. they were obsessed with it. also theres a reason why they wanted chimeras.) anyway. theo was the first. they picked theo. and to be a supernatural chimera you have to be a genetic chimera. two sets of dna. this can come from skin grafts, organ transplants, etc. theo had an older sister, Tara. idk how much older maybe 11-13 . they used to play by this creek that has a bridge over it in the woods. the story goes is that she froze to death in the creek, she fell in (or was pushed) and broke her leg and couldn't climb out. they didnt find her in time. It was the coldest night of the year, she got hypothermic. There's a flashback of young theo looking down at the creek while tara looks up and holds her hand out for him and he just watches. no flashback of him pushing her, no flashback of her falling. he probably doesn't remember because the dread doctors take memories of your time with them. or maybe it's just trauma. he seriously didn't know what was happening. annyyywayy. the dread doctors took her heart, and preformed open heart surgery on a 9 yr old. they put her heart into his chest. saw a brief flashback of this. idk what happened to his parents. i do know he probably didnt live with them anymore, or they died(maybe killed), or moved. because he stopped going to school with scott and stiles. and they didnt see him for years. like 8 years if he's 17 in season 5. they practically raised him. groomed him even. the surgery was . obviously without anesthesia, hes definitely awake, there is no where to sleep in the tunnels the dread doctors are in, no clue what kinda food he ate. so it's pretty clear that the part where theo says he wants a pack wasnt a lie. he was probably lonely. he was the only chimera for aWHILE. anyway the dread doctors did all kinds of experiments on him to make him supernatural(half werewolf half werecoyote), all the terrible mistreatment the chimeras got in s5 (the mercury poisoning, the pain, the discomfort, the horrifying realization you're a monster now) is what theo got, and younger. he's regarded as the first success because he didnt die like the other chimeras did (when he returned to beacon hills and they picked new ones) but the dread doctors, after theo stood up to them (ish), called him a "true failure" we can talk ab that one later.

that is literally so fucked up what were the teen wolf showrunners ON????

#I THOUGHT IT WAS A SILLY FUN WEREWOLF SHOWWWWW #the heart surgery part is really killing me like. he carries her with him all the time.... she's a part of him now....#ask #ghoultaffy #hi jayme!

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pffpth · 9 months

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Unusual Muse Associations

tagged by @alaraxia ! and i thiiink i'll tag @the-cooler-sidestep if they haven't done it already (if you have then uh. i tag the Fandom, Generically)

Morgan Walsh — Shiver — Fallen Hero

Seasoning: cinnamon

Weather: rainy and foggy days. he prefers a layer of weather between himself and other people.

Colors: deep, forest greens and ocean blues. colors that you can feel yourself sinking into.

Sky: the inky black of a 2 am clear night. It’s the only time he likes a non-cloudy sky.

Magical Power: easy to default back to telepathy, but morgan was always envious of shapeshifting.

Plant: Purple Hyacinth

Weapon: his whole body and environment. he's scrappy, and more than willing to find advantages.

Subject: neuroscience

Social Media: several burner emails. cycles through them for picking fights on twitter (he's one of those guys). debating making a 'fan account' for shiver on a neocities equivalent as a honeypot (he tells himself).

Makeup Products: moisturizer and concealer.

Candy: peanut butter and chocolate pieces.

Fear: dying suddenly and randomly.

Ice cube shape: that really small crushed ice that looks closer to snow than proper cubes.

Method of Long Distance Travel: a ducati monster 696. Something he can tuck away from view if needed.

Art Style: still lifes with charcoal

Mythological Creature: chimera

Piece of stationary: a ridiculously full pencil case. contents include pencils of various lengths, stolen diner pens, two erasers (one with questionable teeth marks), a near empty pack of gum, and a single electric blue gel pen.

Three Emojis: 💬🥱✋(ones he'd use) 💣🚬🎂(ones i associate)

Celestial Body: mars

#fallen hero #fh: r #oc: morgan #fh oc: morgan #sidestep #hiiiiiiii i wanted to try and emulate hotel dusk's style a lil bit #and honestly i'm pretty pleased with how it turned out #*so i'mma do it again*

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shieldhero-brainrot · 1 year

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AU where Naofumi gets the BioPlant shield and its related shields and starts thinking about that long-dead alchemist and their miracle seed. How he was able to make a better miracle seed within eighteen hours of learning about the problem. Sure, it’s because of the shields he unlocked, but they’re his shields. His to use however he sees fit.

And maybe he sees fit to try his hand at some plant alchemy and mad science of his own.

—

He runs his fingers along the edge of his small shield and ponders.

They’re currently traveling to nowhere in particular, weighed down by extra carriages packed to the brim with miracle fruits and potatoes. By Naofumi’s estimates, it’ll feed Filo for a week. Maybe two.

Raphtalia is in the back of the head carriage, reading up on light magic from a grimoire the witch gave them. She’s read it from cover to cover twice over, but even if she finds magic more intuitive than he does she still needs to work at it. And with her motion sickness being a thing of the past (usually), she’s able to read as they travel.

Which leaves him holding Filo’s reins with a lot of time to think. Normally he’d be thinking about what accessories he can make with what he has, if they’re going to need to stop and forage for stuff to compound with, or even that it’s odd being bored with how wild his life’s gotten.

Today he’s not thinking about any of that. He’s thinking about his new shields. He’d unlocked several back in that famine town and their abilities are useful. Intermediate compounding recipes 2, plant appraisal, and plant reform.

Plant reform. Every time he turns it around in his head he can’t help but think about the implications.

His first instinct on getting the BioPlant Shield was to use it on the BioPlant Seeds he picked up. Because that felt like a good thing to try it on, even if he needed the Mandragora Shield’s plant appraisal skill to really know what he was doing.

But the skill isn’t called BioPlant Seed reform. It’s called plant reform. And the mere thought of being able to control the stats of other plants has entertained him for hours already.

It’d keep Filo from eating them destitute, for one thing. He’s come to care deeply for her but with her appetite she might as well be living on a diet of monster meat and silver coins. If he could get her to eat only miracle food that he can make by dropping a seed into the dirt and covering it up, he’d save hundreds of silver.

And he’d be able to make hundreds of silver too. They wouldn’t need three whole carriages to transport all the produce they could sell, he’d be able to create it on-demand. It’d always be fresh and in-stock.

Why stop at produce, actually? He spends hours a day foraging for stuff to compound with. Being able to grow stuff like aelo in a crate of dirt in the back of the carriage whenever he needs it? Or even just miracle plants that have the same properties and react the same way with other ingredients? Game-changing.

He changes his shield to the BioPlant Shield and looks at its stats again. Its defense isn’t anything impressive on its own, not when compared to his Chimera Viper Shield, but its equip bonus has so much potential.

And having a hook as a skill isn’t too bad either. He doesn’t use the one on his Chimera Viper Shield that often, though, and this one doesn’t seem to come with poison. He’ll have to test it out to see if it’s worth his time.

He takes a hold of the fruit he was going to have for lunch and opens its reform menu. Even when it’s not just the seed, he can edit its stats it seems.

It’s as he reads through the stats again that he thinks about the plant monsters that the alchemist’s version could make. Their attacks couldn’t pierce his defense at all, not with Gurihosato Shield’s equip bonus reducing the damage he takes from plants and his already high defense.

They were wild, uncontrolled, and didn’t have much intelligence. But even still, the lesser plant monsters spawned by the original BioPlant were able to coordinate with each other. Their attacks were varied and could be great against hordes of enemies.

And now he’s thinking about how difficult it’d be to train a plant monster. Giving it too much intelligence would be a disaster, obviously, but not giving it enough would mean it wouldn’t be able to learn or understand him.

Hm. He could always experiment. If he keeps their immunity low then it’d be easy to kill any failures off with herbicides and the boost his shield gives them when he uses them would make quick work of them. It already has.

Four to intelligence, five to mutation, and seven to growth? Somewhat smart but not clever enough to try anything underhanded, enough room to mutate into something more than just a plant, and something that will grow quickly but not too big to handle.

Would it be better to have his experiments grow slowly, though? If he raised them from seedlings would that make it easier to teach even the less intelligent ones their place? Having higher plant appraisal doesn’t mean he actually knows what these values will look like until he tries them, even if he does have a better understanding of what each stat means.

What happens if he drops the stats of an already grown plant monster? Would that be a faster way to deal with them than just dumping herbicide on them?

He could always start off with his more profitable ideas and work his way up to instant armies of loyal plant monsters. His failures will be less destructive and will still teach him things while his successes will make them more income.

He tosses the fruit and activates his shield’s hook. Vines shoot out from his Shield and wrap snugly around the fruit, keeping it still even as Filo pulls the carriage quickly over bumps on the road. With a thought, the fruit gets reeled in and he looks closely at it. Either the vines have a very tight grip or the miracle fruits bruise easily. He’ll have to check with a fresh fruit.

“Here, Filo, have a snack.” He takes hold of the bruised fruit in one hand and tosses it forward.

Filo snaps it up without breaking stride. “So yummy! Thanks, master.”

Yeah, he’ll work on making more edible miracle fruit variants first.

#bio speaks #bio writes #alchemist naofumi iwatani #naofumi iwatani #bioplant shield #rising of the shield hero #rotsh #shield hero #the rising of the shield hero #Raphtalia rotsh #filo rotsh

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theroyalsavage · 2 years

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heyoo!! sorry this is kind of an annoying ask so feel free to ignore but I loved all your thiam fics and they characterizations you have for everyone especially theo is so spot on and perfect so I was wondering if you could do a character analysis on any of them?

hi anon!! thanks so much for your kind words! i’m 99% sure this unhinged rant is not what you were hoping for but bestie my professors chose violence this week and my brain is made of soup so please. bon appetit

i really think the thing that's so compelling to me about theo is how fundamentally his character arc captures the themes of change and redemption that are at the center of teen wolf's dna as a show.

pretty much as soon as his betrayal is revealed in 5a, theo's framed as a figure whose very survival has itself become a selfish act. tara's heart is an obvious and visceral symbol of what he's taken from others in order to survive, but her death is also a direct parallel to what he does to tracy and josh, and what he tries to do with scott. like corey and mason and the rest of the chimeras, theo is a victim of the dread doctors - perhaps even more so. he was a child, taken from his family, raised in an unloving and unsympathetic environment for almost ten full years. as a result, his primary defense mechanism has become a twisted sort of ambition. gain more power, and no one can hurt me. gain a pack, and i won't be alone anymore. become an alpha, and i’ll never feel helpless again.

in 6a, after he's brought back from superhell (rip), theo immediately declares himself to be the same person he was before he was sent away. joke’s on him, though, because within three episodes he’s actively sacrificing his life for someone for the first time that we're aware of. when he throws liam into the elevator and stays to hold off the wild hunt, there is absolutely no reason to believe he’s getting out of there alive. nobody else has up to this point. s5 theo wanted liam to kill scott - kill his alpha and his friend, scarring himself permanently in the process - so that theo could kill liam and gain both of their power. s6 theo, unprompted, makes the choice to put his own self-preservation on the backburner in order to give liam the chance to survive another day. setup, meet payoff.

i really think a lesser show might've killed him there - redemption complete, a selfish existence thrown on its head and then ended. when it’s not doing the Absolute Most, though, teen wolf actually kind of slaps really hard. so instead, we get s6e10 the wolves of war (complimentary). this episode is a mess and i understand why people have issues with it, but i'm a wolves of war apologist just because of theo's final scene in the hospital. that shit is such immaculate character work. i cannot shut up about it. s6e10 tells us that what theo needed to be redeemed was never to die for someone - it's to fight with someone, to live with someone, to reframe existence and life and growth in terms of support and mutual benefit instead of selfishness. theo’s able to take gabe's pain, in the end, because he's no longer putting his own self-preservation first. but he doesn't need to die to prove that - instead, he fights at liam's side, and eases gabe's pain as he dies, and proves his survival does not have to be a selfish act.

theo proves the point scott’s been making for the whole fuckin show. he's not only capable of change, but he does it - and he does it because he decides to. because he finds something - someone - worth fighting for. it doesn't erase the things he's done, but it does recontextualize them. i believe that in life we do the best we can with what we're given. theo was given tara's heart and a chimera's body and then - finally - liam's outstretched hand. good is a verb, not an adjective. theo is redeemed because he's given the opportunity to, and because he actively seizes that opportunity.

theo raeken is when dove cameron said “so you wanna talk about power? / well, let me show you power.” and when mitski said “open up your heart like the gates of hell / you stay soft, get beaten. / only natural to harden up.” and when khalid said “sister, sister, please know that i’m sorry; / i wish you could’ve stopped me.” and when mary oliver said “you do not have to be good... / you only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.” and when rina sawayama said “i’m trying to be normal / but trauma is immortal... / i don’t wanna be a monster anymore.” and when silas denver melvin said “you are not as damned as you think you are.”

#anons #oooooh boy theo raeken u live rent free in my cranium #he's like a marble inside the pringles can that is my skull and the universe is shaking it vigorously #i didn't even mention this but cody christian is fuckin phenomenal in this role. he did what he had to do he gave what he had to give.#i got a lot of shit to say about liam too but like. i've subjected you to enough here #sorry this is absolutely unhinged and also if this isn't want you had in mind anon dsfjghgk i have 400 pages of reading for this week #if i see another acronym my brain is going to implode on itself

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spookyblazecoffee · 1 year

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Tracy and Donovan, T-posing in the doorway: Greetings, mother. Theo, not looking up from their coffee: Good morning, problem children.

#Tracy Stewart #Donovan Donati #Theo Raeken #Theo Mom friend Raeken #I'm honestly only thinking about the Lahey brothers and the Chimera Pack recently #Incorrect Chimera Pack quotes #The Chimera Pack (but only three of them)#I don't know what else to put

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amatchinwater · 2 years

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When Trust is Earned

Warnings: nightmares, blood, trauma, PTSD,

Ch 14/14 (Ch 13)

Epilogue (ao3)

---

White gauze soaks to crimson as the wound in the Nogistune’s neck stains the fabric wrapping its chin. The features distort, Stiles huffing with blood caking his claws watches as the body before him becomes Theo. Bloody and dying by the chimera’s own hand. Stiles’ lungs constrict and his eyes burn with tears when his knees slam against the concrete floor. His mate gurgles one, final breath and his blue eyes lose their shine.

“Theo!” Stiles screams, clutching the bloodied fabric of the Alpha’s shirt, resting his head on Theo’s chest as he wails.

“Stiles!”

The chimera wakes with a start, sweat coating his skin, his throat replaced with sandpaper. Stiles’ chest heaves, trying too hard to take a proper breath, fill his lungs and expel them. It’s not that hard. He can do this. Hands cup his face, lifting his head until the chimera is looking into Theo’s blue eyes. His mate’s features are soft, caring and gentle. This isn’t the first nightmare either of them have had since being back. Three weeks isn’t really that much time when it comes to healing yourself mentally.

“You with me?” The Alpha asks quietly, rubbing his thumbs against the chimera’s cheeks. “You’re safe, Stiles. You’re home.” Theo’s eyes demand contact, his words helping slow Stiles’ breathing and heart rate. “I’m right here,” his mate assures, “it was just a nightmare. I’m here, okay? Come on,” Theo grabs one of Stiles’ hands, bringing it to his own chest. “Feel my heart? I’m here, I’m alive. Stiles, you didn’t kill me.”

The chimera lets out a puff of breath, leaning into the hand still cupping his cheek. “I’m sorry,” he closes his eyes, sighing. Sliding his free hand around the Alpha’s neck, Stiles rests his head against Theo’s.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Theo scoops the chimera up, curling him in his lap, tucking Stiles under his chin. “Believe me, I get it,” the Alpha rubs Stiles’ back while he speaks, “I know it wasn’t exactly real, but it felt real. It looked real. You are the one person I would never hurt and that place fucked with my head. It fucked with both of our heads. But that’s all it was. In our heads.”

“I still can’t get it out of my head,” Stiles whines into his mate’s chest, clinging to his skin. Grateful Theo sleeps without a shirt on, the skin to skin contact is settling the weres in the Beta’s chest. “It’s getting better, I know it is. We’re both waking up like that a lot less than before. But fuck, Theo,” the chimera looks up with wet eyes, “how the fuck am I supposed to erase the memory of killing you?”

Theo smiles softly, delicately brushing the matted hair from the Beta’s forehead, “by waking up. Opening those beautiful brown eyes and seeing me right here next to you and knowing that you didn’t actually kill me. We’ll always be okay as long as we’re together. So wake up from the dreams haunting you and see that’s exactly what we are. Here. Together.”

“Thank you,” Stiles whispers, a small smile pulling at the corner of his mouth.

“Always,” the Alpha cups his face, bringing Stiles closer to press their lips together softly. “Want to take a shower and go back to bed?”

“No,” Stiles huffs, getting out of bed, “I don’t think I can go back to sleep just yet. I feel kind of restless.” The chimera cracks his neck, “I’m pretty sure exhaustion is the only way I’ll be going back to bed.”

Leaning his head back against the headboard, Theo turns to look at him, “we could go for a run. That always helps clear my head when I can’t sleep. Being my wolf, running through the woods, it’s the best medicine.”

“You haven’t had the chance to teach me how to shift yet,” Stiles reminds his mate, “and there’s no way I’m running as a human. On purpose. We got lucky that the Hunt wasn’t actually showing up. But still, it’s not like we’ve had a lot of down time. School and helping my dad at the station and looking after the pack,” he smiles, “we’ve had our hands full.”

Tossing back the covers, Theo rises up to meet him, “so I’ll teach you how to shift.”

“At two o’clock in the morning?”

“No time like the present, right?”

Stiles smiles, licking the corner of his mouth, “okay.” He settles his shoulders, shaking out his arms, “teach me,” the chimera says. Theo bites his lip, putting his hands on his hips. “You don’t know how to, do you?”

“Well, I know how the Doctors taught me,” the Alpha winces, “and I definitely don’t plan on doing that.”

“What’d they do?”

“Broke my bones until I was distressed enough that it just happened,” Theo shrugs.

“They what?!” Stiles shrieks. He always knew that his mate’s upbringing wasn’t the best. But fucking christ. The three people- if you could call them that- were supposed to raise him and more or less take care of him. But all they did was find ways to abuse and torture Theo. It’s really fucking aggravating. “Okay,” he huffs, waving his hands around, “I shouldn’t be surprised and I’m really glad they’re dead or I’d fucking kill them myself.”

“Hot,” Theo grins devilishly.

Stiles rolls his eyes at the Alpha, earning him a laugh. “So, how do you shift now? I mean,” the chimera scratches his jaw, “you didn’t break your bones when you turned into your wolf in front of me.”

“I kind of just,” Theo makes a weird gesture, “do it.” His mate thinks for a minute, “I could try and make you shift.”

“Make me?”

“Betas listen to their Alphas when they use their authoritative voice,” his mate explains. “What if I tried to use my Alpha voice on you? You may be my mate, but you’re also my Beta. It could work.”

Stiles sputters, “so…you’re just going to…yell at me to shift?” The chimera laughs, “I mean, yeah,” he chuckles again, “go for it. Give me your worst, Raeken.”

“Take your shirt off,” Theo states. Stiles’ eyes bulge, making the Alpha laugh. “You don’t want to try and get wolf legs out of a t-shirt, trust me." Fair point. The chimera does as told, yanking the thin fabric off and tossing it in the hamper. “Okay,” his mate cracks his neck, stepping closer and putting his hands on Stiles’ shoulders. Staring at him, Theo’s eyes bleed red and he rumbles in his chest, “there’s a wolf inside you, sweetheart, let it out.”

Nothing happens. Stiles doesn’t even feel a tingle. “I think you might need to be a little more assertive-”

“Shift,” he roars, ruby eyes burning brightly in the room.

Stiles shivers, his vision getting a hazy red, his eyes undoubtedly glowing blue. Then he gets warm. Really warm. To the point that he wouldn’t be surprised if there was steam coming off of him. Looking at his arms, gray and black fur is sprouting over every inch of skin and he’s shrinking. Dropping to all fours and staying there, looking up at his Alpha. Dragging his gaze back to the ground, Stiles sees paws and he jumps.

Literally jumps back and tangles himself in his sweats, all the while Theo laughs.

“You did it!” His Alpha crouches to the carpet to help Stiles out of the clothes. “You are beautiful and not a wolf,” Theo scratches him behind the ears and fucking hell does that feel good. His mate’s words cause the chimera’s head to cock to the side. Not a wolf? "I guess some of the Nogitsune is more prominent than I thought. You're a fox." Stiles’ tongue lolls out the side of his mouth and he rumbles in his chest from the head scratches. “I’m so proud of you,” his mate smiles, rushing up to open his bedroom window. “You ready?”

Stiles yips, hopping on his front paws.

“Good thing we’re at my house,” Theo notes looking out his bedroom window. “My window is a lot easier to jump out of than yours.” Very true. The Alpha has an awning outside of his that drops fairly low. Two supernatural creatures can make that jump with ease and not get hurt. “Let’s go,” Theo grins, shifting into his wolf effortlessly. His mate bumps his head with Stiles’, growling softly when the Beta nuzzles his neck.

Carefully, Stiles hops out of the window onto the awning, waiting for his mate to join him. Once Theo’s outside, the chimera bounds off the edge landing softly in the grass. The moment Stiles’ paws hit the earth, he takes off. Surprised at how easy it is to run on four legs. Like there’s no learning curve to be had, it’s just pure instinct driving him. He wishes he could talk to his mate, but Theo’s right. Listening to nothing but the sounds of the preserve around them and their paws crunching leaves and twigs, Stiles’ head is clearing beautifully.

No thoughts of the Nogitsune or Void. No flashing images of Theo dying by his hand. Or of his mate blindly killing him thinking he’s not himself. Eichen’s basement is far from the chimera’s thoughts. There’s not a single bad thing on Stiles’ mind right now other than running through the woods with Theo. His mate. The one who came back for him and keeps coming back for him. He has no way of knowing what lies ahead or how long it will take for them to heal. But it doesn’t really matter.

As long as Theo’s by his side, Stiles will be just fine.

To make it even better, tomorrow morning, they head for the desert to save Kira and bring her home. Soon enough, their pack will be whole.

Fin 💚

Thank you to all who've read, I appreciate every one of you!!

#teen wolf #steo #stiles stilinski #theo raeken #theo x stiles #stiles x theo #ao3 fic #Match Writes

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shinigamimailjeevas · 1 year

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For the WIP tag game, all your WIPs look amazing but 1, 5, 8 and 16 have me intrigued 👀

1: A Million On My Soul– so I first started noting this April 2022 and it has 27 pages of notes/half written scenes. But it keeps getting put on the back-burner for other projects.

Eyes parted into slivers, unblinking, unmoving—lifeless. “Liam?” he tries to scrape the blood and wolfsbane from Liam's face, only managing to streak purple dust down his cheek and across his lips instead. “Liam?” He listens for the heart that had become as familiar a tune as the one that rested in his own chest; one that he had fallen asleep to for many nights only to hear silence.

“Liam!” Shaking the beta sharply, his lips curl into a facsimile of a snarl, all teeth and trembling lips. Tears form and fall as he pulls Liam into his arms, Theo hiding his face in the ruin of that stupid Beacon Hills hoodie. The one with a hole in the sleeve that constantly caught on any edge encountered and had more bleach spots than maroon color anymore. Deaton finds him minutes, perhaps even hours later. He'd heard the former emissaries footsteps long before he spoke.

“You know it is not safe to still be here.” The chimera lifts his head to look at the haggard man, face sticky with more than tears. The war had touched them all in different yet equally draining way.

“Nowhere is safe anymore.” The unspoken 'I will not leave him' hangs between them. The last light disappears with the sun as it dips below the horizon bringing shadows forth to cover part of Deaton's face. He sighs. “I really did not want to do this.”

Theo feels the jab before even noticing Deaton's hand move. As his eyes slip closed and he falls forward, the last thing he sees is the apologetic expression.

5: Learning Your Worth (Argent sells Theo) – so this oneeeeee. The basic premise is that Argent agrees to hand Theo over to another pack in exchange for information on Monroe, including hideout locations, her supporters etc. The notes are split between three documents but I have not sat down to write it out yet. It's also meant to be Thiam (with a twist pairing in the tiny sequel, entirely my beta MelMat's fault.

Alvarez—as Theo has been calling him since he refuses to call him Alpha, or any name that gives him power—paces the length of the room, hand resting on his left hip, gait throwing to the same side as the weight of his single arm messes with his balance. "I am so tired of you special bloodline folk. Or the ones who are handed abilities on a silver platter. You know nothing of what true struggle is." His red eyed gaze snaps between his beta—a rust colored shifter who Theo has never seen outside of her wolf form, who is always at Alphas heel—and Theo, who despite the continuous need to heal, is bright eyed and as smart mouthed as ever.

"I've heard of you 'chimeras'. Spliced together genetically, held together by means most have no hope of understanding." Alvarez stops, suddenly, his entire being locking up, still. So very still. Theo grinds his teeth against the spike in his instincts, the one that pleads he flee from the threat. Alvarez turns toward him, slow with movements jerking like a broken marionette; his lips are pulled back into a monstrous grin, wide, feral. "I am not most," he motions to the stump of his missing arm, flesh a gnarled white with groovespetering the end—claw marks, Theo realizes when he focuses on it, "your secrets will be uncovered. With it. The return of what is mine."

8: Asher/Liam- :) yeah. I really couldn't help myself here. Started off as a smutty oneshot idea and then kinda kept growing. A lot of the notes are not typed up yet though. But here is the opener:

Liam meets Asher at a club. At first he confuses him with the missing Chimera, but after taking an open mouthed breath—while stalking over, trying to conceal glowing eyes and lengthening teeth—he notices the lack of the soap Theo uses. This person's scent is all wrong. The look-alike smells sweeter. Like ripe pears and summer sun, whereas Theo is earthy, like really good potting soil and pine. The guy arches a brow, smiling easy and confident as Liam stops short, realizing his error but still confused because, hello, he looks almost exactly like Theo.

“Can I help you?”

Liam shakes his head.

“Sorry, You just really look like someone I know.” He smiles awkwardly back and wishes he were still across the room so he could observe not-Theo a little longer.

“Is this ‘someone’ you like to have fun with?” Not-Theo asks and Liam can smell his curiosity…and arousal as he eye-checks him. It makes him blush, but he manages not to stutter as he usually does in these situations. “Ah, no. Not like that.”

Not-Theo’s expression falls the tiniest bit in disappointment. Liam licks his lips nervously. He shifts his weight foot-to-foot and his heart starts to beat fast. He is curious. Feels kind of bold too, for once. “But maybe you could be that kind of fun.”

And not-Theo’s expression turns into a wide smile, carefree and interested. Charming, in a different way than Theo, and sincere. “Well then, shall we get the hell out of here?”

16: Beast Flesh (Scott ruins Liam) – This is pretty much smut. With an amusing ending.

"Don't give me that look," he glares down at the alpha, knowing that if Scott really tried he could overpower him unless it was a Supermoon. "You are always telling me to control myself. To keep my emotions in check. Keep the wolf in check." Clawed hands press harder against Scott's shoulders but do not dig in. "Your problem is you never let go so you can't actually help me." Liam leans in with eyes blazing gold. "Let go. For tonight, let go." Scott freezes. He doesn't even breathe.

"You don't know what you're asking." His body remains stiff under Liam, as if moving means he will give in. Liam realizes he wants that more than anything. "I want you, Scott." lips a breath from touching, Liam whispers his next words. "To. Let. Go." He kisses him and for a terrifying moment he fears he's majorly messed up, until Scott's eyes bleed a deep satisfying red. Liam has no time for a reply as his arms are pushed to the side and a clawed grip holds them tight as he is swung underneath the alpha. Scott grinds their hips together, nosing at his neck, scenting him as Liam lets out a shuddering gasp. Parting his legs, Scott falls into the welcoming space, "Liam".

His name, said like that, tightens something in the betas chest. He needs more.

#answered #teen wolf

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itsme-basil · 2 years

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Blackmail - read on ao3

Tags: steo, dub-con, biting, blood, knotting, mating

Tagging: @therogueheart

"I know what happened to Donovan," Theo had said. "I know everything."

Stiles had denied it, too shocked to come up with anything more elaborate than: "You don't know anything."

But Theo had known everything. He'd seen Stiles climb up the scaffolding, heard Donovan's threats to eat his legs. He saw the scaffolding fall. Stiles pinned him to the chain link fence, gripping his clothes in hands that trembled as he tried to catch his breath. Beside them both, blood was beginning to pool from the body.

"What do you want," Stiles sneered, so much like a 'wolf. His upper lip pulled back to show dull teeth. Theo let him shove him around, the smug look never leaving his face.

"I want in the pack," Theo said. Stiles scoffed, pulling his hands away from Theo after a final shove into the fence. The metal rattled loudly in his ears as he took a step back.

"That's not going to happen," Stiles remarked coldly. He didn't trust Theo. Hadn't since he walked his stupid face into Beacon Hills. Something was off about him, and Stiles was the only one who could see it.

"Not without you," Theo agreed, taking a step away from the fence. Stiles didn't step back, even though he wanted to. He didn't want the proximity.

"You're going to get me into the pack," Theo told him, with all the confidence of a man who already knew he'd won. It made Stiles want to hit him. "Or I'm going to tell everyone what you did."

Stiles felt himself freeze at that. His mind raced with every outcome. Theo would manipulate the story. He'd make Stiles the bad guy.

"They won't believe you," Stiles managed, though it didn't sound as confident as he'd hoped. Theo tilted his head patronizingly.

"No?" He asked. "There might not be a body, but we all know it's not going to take much to convince the pack you've gone bloodthirsty. It's not the first time it's happened."

The nogitsune flashed across Stiles' mind's eye in rapid succession, his friends' distance since Stiles had woken up possession free.

Scott and his relationship was rocky at best at the moment, and dealing with the chimeras wasn't helping. Fighting about Theo wasn't helping. And Stiles was right about him. He was always right about him and Scott refused to see it. Stiles knew. He knew that if They got to Scott first, the true alpha would believe him over Stiles.

"Do you really think Scotts gonna let that slide, Stiles?" Theo continued.

"It was self defense," Stiles said, throat tight. It was the only argument he had, and it was shoddy. They both knew it. Theo smirked. He was three inches shorter than Stiles, but Stiles had never felt smaller in his life than in that moment.

"And once word got out, what's gonna happen to your dad?" Theo asked. "Can you even count how many times you put your father's job on the line?"

Stiles felt his heart sink to his gut.

"No one would ever want a sheriff who's son murdered a student in cold blood. He wouldn't be able to find work as a security guard at the mall if anyone ever found out about what you did."

Stiles licked at his lips, struggling to come up with anything he could use as leverage, but he couldn't.

"You'll be packless," Theo sneered, stepping closer. "Your best friend will hate you, your dad will be unemployed, and let's face it, Stiles, you're way too pretty for prison."

Stiles pulled his arm back and swung when Theo got close enough. Theo reared his head back and reached for Stiles, fisting Stiles' hoodie and yanking him forward. Stiles staggered, not able to keep his feet under him. Theo had him pressed against the fence in seconds, a growl in his chest. His eyes flashed gold.

"It's your choice," Theo snapped, teeth a little sharper than they were a second ago. Stiles held onto Theo's shirt, trying to get his feet back under him, but Theo didn't budge.

"What do you want," Stiles conceded. He couldn't let Theo tell anyone about what happened. Not his dad, or Scott. He didn't trust them not to react badly, not to believe Theo. He had to take care of this on his own.

Theo's sneer turned into a smirk, his grip on Stiles loosening. "The only way to ensure my place in the pack is to be mated to the left hand," Theo said.

Stiles knew all about werewolf mating. He knew what it meant, and he also knew he'd rather die than be mated to Theo. But that wasn't an option. Because Theo would tell his dad and Scott what he'd done.

Stiles didn't say anything. He couldn't. Agreeing would mean he agreed with mating, but turning away would mean so much worse.

But Stiles didn't need to say anything. Not with the way Theo's smirk widened slowly, victory glinting in his too sharp teeth.

There was no ceremony like a normal mating had. Stiles was shoved over the thrumming air conditioner and his pants were yanked down with little care. Theo held his wrists between his shoulder blades with one hand. Stiles couldn't fight back.

"You made the right choice, Stiles," Theo said from behind. Stiles could hear his zipper being yanked down. The gravel crunched under their shoes.

"Fuck you," Stiles seethed, his cheek pressed against the cold metal.

Theo didn't respond. He spat on Stiles, a thick glob of saliva landing just above Stiles' asshole. He spat again, and Stiles could only assume it was in his hand. Stiles yanked at his arms, but the iron grip Theo had on his wrists were too strong.

He felt the full head of Theo's cock against his asshole and tried to kick out. Theo pinned him further with his own legs, making it impossible for Stiles to do anything as he sank into him.

Stiles yelped and thrashed at the stretch. Unprepared and nearly dry, even with spit as lube. It hurt, and Theo kept going. He shoved in until Stiles' ass was flush against Theo's hips.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," Theo chuckled, pulling nearly completely out before slamming back home. It set off a brutal rhythm, and Stiles was helpless against it. He found no purchase, he couldn't get used to it. The pleasure never came and Stiles bit his lip hard enough to draw blood to keep from crying.

"Look at you," Theo continued. "The boy who runs with wolves, who survived a nogitsune, bent over and powerless. All mine to use and control."

Stiles growled as best he knew how, struggling against the werewolf behind him. His ass burned, his insides stretched. He was sure he was bleeding, and the edge of the air conditioner bit into his hips with every thrust. He couldn't catch a breath, and all the whole, he could stop thinking about what would happen if Theo ever told anybody.

So he pinched his eyes shut and he took it, because the alternative would kill him.

Theo let go of his wrists and grabbed his hair, yanking his head back until Stiles was forced to lift his chest off the air conditioner. His arms shook with the effort, his head pulled back so far he couldn't close his mouth.

He panted into the night air as Theo pistoned his hips, uncaring of the pain he caused. His breath was hot against the side of Stiles' neck. He tried to push the werewolf back, but he couldn't hold himself up with one hand, his body trembling with the effort, the position Theo forced him into.

"You're mine, Stiles," Theo growled low into his ear. "I knew you'd be a challenge from the start. Without you, I'd never be able to get close to Scott."

Stiles choked on a pain filled sob as teeth bit into his skin, slowly adding pressure until finally, the skin burst and blood flowed. Stiles' vision went white with pain and something else. A bond.

Theo pressed Stiles further into the air conditioner, jaw locked around his neck as he rammed into him, the base of his cock expanding until Theo couldn't pull out.

Stiles' arms buckled and Theo wrapped his arms around him, holding him up. Blood soaked into Stiles' shirt and hoodie, his body stretched tight around the knot in his ass, and his mind clouding.

Theo pulled them away from the air conditioner, releasing his neck and licking at the wound. Stiles could do nothing against it, his head lolling to the side, chest heaving. Was he hard? He could feel Theo cumming inside him still, it all locked away behind his knot.

Theo smirked against his neck, continuing to lap up the blood that oozed lazily from the mark. The book Stiles had read had mentioned the effects of the bonding bite, but he hadn't believed it. An over exaggeration at least. But it wasn't.

Theo wrapped his hand around Stiles' cock and stripped him until he came against the gravel at their feet. He was limp and powerless against Theo as the bond took hold, his mind unpleasantly blank.

"There," Theo murmured, voice strained in the throes of his long orgasm. "All mine."

Stiles found himself nodding, allowing Theo to take all his weight. He knew he should be worried about something more important than how much cum Theo had left in his sack, and how much Stiles could hold, but whatever it was wasn't coming to him. The bond dang through every part of him, too bright for him to focus on anything else. But he'd figure it out once they seperated, he was sure of it.

The idea of ever separating from Theo made him whimper. Theo shushed him with a kiss to the bite mark on his neck.

#steo #teen wolf #kinktober #my writing

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