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hollenka99 · 3 years

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Whenever and Wherever

This is ridiculously late because I didn’t have much time to work on it thanks to irl stuff so sorry about that but happy (belated) birthday @bupine. Have some bench trio.

The first time their paths cross, it's in the tailor shop run by Tommy's family. Tommy seems to be manning the counter while his brothers and father are supposedly in the back. The customer is clearly an enderman hybrid if his facial features are anything to go off of. He's just here to order a suit for a new job as a stenographer for the mayor apparently. Ranboo lingers longer than he likely expected to when he walked in as the three of them make conversation together. Before their latest acquaintance heads off, they decide to meet up again outside of work hours.

Talking to Ranboo comes easy. Before too long, you could tell Ranboo's work schedule based on where he was found lingering. At the tailor's shop? Well, it was likely one of his days off and he wanted to keep Tommy company for a while as the owner's son worked. At the bakery? That usually meant Ranboo was on his lunch break and hoped to sneak something sweet into his midday meal. He occasionally buys a few flowers for Tommy with the excuse of 'livening up his workspace' and offers Tubbo his attempts at baking. Whenever possible, the three of them either made time during lunch or in the evening to hang out together.

Then Ranboo seems to realise he gets off work around about the same time the bakery owned by Tubbo's family closes for the night. That mixed with the fact he really isn't the best with anything kitchen related... Listen, Tubbo was simply being a good friend by helping him out. Plus, who wouldn't want to take advantage of an excuse to spend more time with one of their best friends? It becomes a... thing, their evening practice sessions. Tommy once comments on it during a lunchtime meet-up, only to tease them but it kind of hits Tubbo how often Ranboo swings by so they can bake together.

It becomes blatantly clear everyone knows what's going on between the two of them when they hang around at the back of the tailor's one afternoon.

"If one of you doesn't ask the other out, I will break into your homes, steal your clothes and alter them so they're unwearable. Then I will make you pay to have them fixed."

"We... We uh, aren't-" Ranboo begins defending.

Tommy glances up from his sewing machine as he switches it off. "Fucking hell, just kiss or something, I don't know. But please stop forcing me to watch the two of you make eyes at each other whenever we hang out. We haven't been 16 for years. Sort yourselves out or whatever."

So they clumsily arrange a 'date' and let things go from there. It goes... well. A second attempt to make sure the first wasn't a fluke wouldn't hurt, nor would a third. It soon gets to the point where this new dynamic feels entirely natural. Tubbo's only worry is that Tommy might feel like a third wheel. Their mutual friend assures them he doesn't care about that. Besides, they know him, if he was actually bothered by it, he would have complained a ton by now.

Getting engaged isn't a big affair. In fact, it is a complete mess that occurs on Ranboo's sofa following a lull in conversation. He trips over his words, segues into various rambley detours and eventually manages to get to the point where he asks the all important question. Tubbo knew his answer the moment he realised where his boyfriend was headed with the conversation.

"So Tommy," Tubbo leans over the counter. The way he very blatantly holds Ranboo's hand only causes his attempt at acting nonchalant to come close to failing. "How much for a couple of wedding suits?"

"You're not getting a friend discount. In fact, I think I'll double the typical asking price purely because you are my friends."

"I hate you, you know that, right?"

"Hmm, might even make it triple."

"I will personally uninvite you."

Tommy and Tubbo maintain straight-faced eye contact for all of five seconds before the taller of the two breaks into a grin. Before the new fiancees can react, Tommy has his arms around both of them, drawing them in closer.

"How could neither of you tell me you were looking at rings? Absolute crime, that, if you ask me. Especially since I'm obviously the bestest man around. Disgraceful, the both of you. How can you sleep at night knowing you left me out of the loop? Gonna have to quadruple the price as punishment."

An elbow to the ribs leads to a slightly pained inhale before the three of them descend into snickers.

Is it bad that he forgot land-dwellers need air?

Tubbo had been watched the two of them from afar. The one with sand-coloured hair makes himself round as he falls a significant distance towards the water. After a few repeats of this odd practice, he decides he will greet the human when he next appears in his domain. Tubbo grabs him by the arms with a friendly smile but it doesn't seem the human is so keen to befriend any merfolk. In the struggle, he gets a weird appendage to the face. Not one to be easily put off, Tubbo swims to the surface in time to see the boy communicating angrily with one whose hair colour resembled those of a beast he's been warned about. He thinks he'll dub them Sand and Orca for simplicity.

Orca spots him watching their conversation and walks over, positioning himself close enough to include Tubbo in any discussions they may want to have with him but far enough that Tubbo couldn't physically reach either of the boys with his arms. Sand greatly disapproves of this supposed fraternising with the enemy. Orca keeps attempting to communicate but their languages are vastly different so all it amounts to are gestures. When they leave, Tubbo finds it funny how the one named after a deadly predator is the most willing to be friendly while the one whose namesake he loves lounging upon occasionally had a tendency to come off as hostile.

The pair of humans don't visit him everyday and even on the days they do, the position of the sun isn't always the same when they arrive. Nevertheless, they continue to come as often as they are able and Tubbo appreciates that. He can't replicate any of their human vocalisations and though they try, neither of the human boys are particularly great at whistling and chirping properly. The constant gesturing seems to be the only way for them to communicate but they somehow manage to become firm friends despite it all.

One thing Tubbo definitely understands is fish. He is perfectly capable of getting his own food and honestly prefers catching it live anyway but if they want to offer him a snack as a sign of friendship, he's hardly going to say no. There's always the option to share the food with his family later. He brings Sand his namesake as a way of thanking them. Even if he knew a good place to observe orcas so he could extend a similar gesture to his other friend, Orca apparently can't swim. At least, that's how Tubbo interpreted it when his friend once pointed to himself, motioned as if he was pulling himself forward in water and shook his head afterwards. So Sand is the only one who sometimes joins him in the shallower water. And Tubbo has learned from his mistakes now, he makes no attempts to keep Sand below the surface longer than the human boy can manage.

One day not long after they meet, Sand tries to tell him something he can sense is important. He gestures between himself and Orca, points to the sun and makes a wide circular motion with his finger, extends his arm so it rises above their heads then ends the message by pointing to the shore. It takes another round of reiterating before Tubbo begins to potentially understand. They will get big with the sun and be here? It sounds odd but he supposes he can't physically stop them from leaving.

The sea grows warmer and cooler then back again over and over. He visits their spot each time the temperature rises. They never come. Or maybe he just keeps missing them when they do show up. He's not sure. Either way, he gets older and grows into young adulthood as the years continue to pass. He hopes the same is happening to them. They did promise to return once they got bigger too, after all. Although, the thought he might have wildly misunderstood Sand's parting message isn't always easy to not dwell on.

His waiting finally pays off and he couldn't be more ecstatic. They've both grown weird shells on their backs that he feels would be ineffective at defending them, their feet are disproportionately longer and their faces are practically unrecognisable with protective shells around their eyes and mouths. They are much larger than the last time they all saw each other too. But it's them, it's really them! Not to mention them seem to have developed the ability to breathe underwater somehow. Unsure how to greet them properly after all this time, he rushes off to the seabed with a grin and presents them with a fish as well as a fistful of sand. They look between themselves before accepting the gifts gratefully.

As the sunlight wanes on the surface, the humans sit on their familiar secluded spot of a caved area while Tubbo lets the water lap around him. The human duo have suddenly lost their strange shells now, both on their backs and faces, as well as returned to having better proportioned feet. Orca offers his own reunion gift. If Tubbo were human, he might have made use of non-existent tear ducts to inadvertently express how moved he was by the object. Because oh wow, he was never able to communicate Orca's

Tubbo knows what it is like to be displaced by war. He'd been born in a time of technical peacetime, though everyone knew this would change sooner rather than later with all the tension.

He's 9 when the war seems to decide it's time to directly come for him as the son of the president, more than the resource shortages or street violence ever could. An attempt to assassinate his father that he'd been too close to lands him in hospital. It's officially too dangerous for him to remain a symbol of how safe their country was. All those not old enough to potentially enlist get evacuated, Tubbo especially.

Snowchester is... alright. It's isolated and out of the way, which is probably for the best in the general scheme of things. But at his age, all he really cares about is making the most of the snow before the novelty wears off and questioning how long it will be before he can go home to his family again. The answer was less than a month and 'we don't know so you'll just have to sit tight. Okay?'. So he reluctantly settles into his new life. He makes an effort to get to know the handful of other kids from the village in the hopes of gaining at least one friend to help him through this, he wanders around the marketplace on Tuesdays to find the sweet highlight of his week and for the hell of it, he challenges himself to become a master snow sculptor. Tubbo also writes to home to let his family know how he's doing but it feels like it has to go through 50 hands just to reach them for the sake of maintaining his secrecy which really sucks. By the time he celebrates his first birthday without them there, he had given up on arguing about the risk of just ringing them.

Then when he's 11, men posing as sea merchants arrive on their frozen shores during the night. Before he's even fully woken up, he's on a horse in his goddamn pyjamas and clutching a pitiful bag filled with whatever he and foster father had managed to stuff into it in 2 seconds. He doesn't get to bid Snowchester a proper goodbye. They're already on a rowboat they'd kind of stolen after racing through the trees when reality finally begins dawning on him. The man who'd looked after him explains they were headed to a new place that would hopefully prove to be safer than his old home.

He's used to the cold of a tundra by now. This place is more landlocked than Snowchester but not everything can be on the coast. He guesses the isolation and lack of enemy reinforcements arriving directly at a village is a good way to decrease the risk of attack. He hates it here. Snowchester might have been a fair distance from other places but at least there had been a bunch of people around. This was literally one guy looking after two kids, now three, in the middle of actual nowhere.

Phil does his best to be accommodating, he will give him that. And the other boys he's living with aren't too bad half the time. But it's too much. He decides he'd rather keep to himself. Ranboo, like Phil, is a bit more patient with him than Tommy is. Ranboo is willing to play a chess game he has no chance of winning or solve the same jigsaw for the 5th time that week. Tommy, on the other hand, will talk at him or encourage him to go outside.

"If nothing dangerous happens, you have to... make me a hot chocolate. Yeah, that seems like a decent payment."

"Payment for what?"

"For getting you to stop sulking and enjoy the snow obviously."

He humours him but he makes sure his reluctance is unmistakeably evident. It turns out Tommy has excellent aim when it comes to throwing snowballs. When Tubbo complains about this, Tommy simply shrugs and reveals his brother is the commander of the army so what did he expect? It doesn't matter whether you're hunting for food or stopping the enemy from getting you first, precision and accuracy are important for survival. That's part of the wisdom Wilbur had bestowed upon him before going off to lead their side to victory anyway. Tommy then ends his speech by standing next to Tubbo in order to cram a previously concealed handful of snow down his back in a surprise attack. Tubbo swears he is going to work out how to dislodge half the roof's worth of snow on Tommy's head tomorrow for that. When they finally head back inside, Tommy lets him know he'd like his drink to include whipped cream and those tiny marshmallows if they still have some lying around.

In time, he learns Tommy had been sent far from home the same as he had. Logsted had been 'a tiny shithole with nothing on offer to do' that eventually fell prey to the same exploitable feature that Snowchester had. Phil had been an old contact of General Soot's so when the initial relocation efforts fell through, Tommy was sent to Phil. No big deal. Well... listen, Tommy can act like a prat at the best of times but he supposes it is nice knowing he's not the only one paranoid this will abruptly end terribly one night.

The days, weeks, months roll by swiftly. The three of them have snowball fights at least onc

Technically, it's Tommy's fault they nearly die. He'd been so insistent on fighting the dragon like his father once had that Tubbo had lost the will to try dissuade him. To be fair, he was all for it. It was only that Tommy was eager to jump right into the challenge while Tubbo… would prefer to actually survive.

They agree it will be an 'in and out' affair. They'll sneak down to the nearby portal at night, kill the dragon and hop back to the Overworld before their absences are noticed. If their families are unaware, they will never get in trouble for this. It can be an epic tale to impress future acquaintances but one to keep to themselves within earshot of those who'd scold them for it.

So that's what they do. With diamond armour and arrows they 'borrowed', the pair of 15 year olds face the dragon. They've already assigned themselves roles with Tubbo being in charge of destroying the crystals and Tommy tackling the dragon as a distraction. The plan is to take on the beast together once Tubbo's initial objective is complete.

It goes to shit when Tubbo barely makes a water clutch after being pushed off a tower by the force of an exploding ender crystal. Tommy had tried to get closer to him to provide support but ended up getting caught in the dragon's toxic breath. And then one of them must have accidentally triggered hostile attention from the surrounding endermen. A perfect example of sod's law, everything that could go wrong seemingly does. They tire themselves out too much by trying to return to more neutral odds. It doesn't happen. The cherry on top was the dragon knocking Tubbo into a pillar with her wing.

He's definitely had enough of this bullshit by the time he lets the developing concussion steal his consciousness. Let them just respawn in the bed they'd set up right outside the stronghold's portal room so they can be done with this. He really doesn't want to lose a life, especially not to a stupid stunt like this. But by this point? Fuck it.

When he wakes, it is not on the ground. It seems to be in a building on some sort. Has someone taken him home to work through his injuries? Tommy couldn't have since the next time Tubbo sees him, he has a haphazardly constructed splint on his leg. They bicker about their disastrous exploits until Tommy grouchily alerts them to the presence of their host, a young looking enderman.

It passes them a written message and Tommy, being the son of someone who is pretty much a jack of all trades when it comes to learning about other cultures, has a go at reading it. It's nothing too elaborate, just a summary of what happened while Tubbo was unconscious. The End native had spotted their plight as Tommy continued to get bombarded by aggressive endermen and toxic fumes courtesy of the dragon. All it had done was bring them home and attempt to give them medical assistance. Now here they were. At the bottom is a word Tommy's never seen before.

"Dunno what the fuck a Ranboo is."

"Maybe it's his name, idiot. Look at where it is, it's a signature."

"Oh, yeah maybe. What kind of stupid name is Ranboo though?"

They can't go back without the dragon dying and neither of them are in a position to make a second attempt, especially at the start when they are still both recovering. With no way home, they resign themselves to their new reality of living permanently in the End. The least they can do, in Tubbo's opinion, is try their best to communicate with their host by learning enderspeak. That goes... very slowly. Even with Ranboo helping out and Tommy's head start, it's not the easiest thing for them to learn. The humans share some of their language with the enderman in return.

Either way, they start living in their new home as Ranboo's guests. Their diet becomes saturated with chorus fruit and the first time either of them accidentally teleports during a meal, it's a shock. Their new friend waits until Tommy's broken leg heals before occasionally showing them around the islands that make up this dimension. They visit an end city that happens to have a ship nearby at some point and Tubbo resists the urge to lightly smack Tommy at the back of the head for acting like he's not impressed. They may possibly never be able to go home but come on. there is a literal massive ship floating in the sky.

Phil comes for them as soon as it feels like they might finally be getting used to their new way of life. They get the scolding of a lifetime mixed in with Phil making his relief and worry painfully obvious. They introduce Phil to Ranboo and of course the guy is conversational in enderspeak. At one point, Tubbo catches Tommy making a jabbing motion towards his father with his thumb incredibly subtly before rolling his eyes. As deeply in trouble as they are, as much as they were settling into what they believed to be a more permanent life change, the promise of home fills Tubbo with anticipation. He can't wait for the four of them to return to the Overworld.

Because you're coming too,

+1.

He's never been so eager to go to an airport in his life. His mum half listens while concentrating on the road as he rambles about all the plans the three of them had started making for the upcoming two weeks. There were so many games on their list for them to try. And yes, he knows they won't be able to get around to them all but they'll be damned if don't make an effort to dent it. Oh and then also all the stuff that got picked on the spinning wheel from Ranboo's stream a while ago.

Tubbo is beside himself as they wait in the arrival meeting area. There's no word of delays so come on, get here already. Then there he is, wearing his signature sunglasses and mask in the midst of the emerging crowd. Once the pair are close enough to do so, Tubbo throws his arms around his friend. And god, he knew Ranboo was much taller but he doesn't feel he'll hear the end of this, especially not once Tommy shows up.

They've already established this in preparatory voice calls but as they head towards the car, Tubbo explains that Tommy isn't due until tomorrow. So maybe they could watch one of those Starkid shows tonight since Ranboo's internal sense of time will be screwed by the long journey and Tubbo's hardly the best at maintaining a circadian rhythm as it is. His parents and sisters will go to bed and that's when the party can really start. Ranboo suggests The Trail to Oregon purely because the scene where Slippery When Wet threatens to murder god lives rent free in his head. But it would ultimately be up to Tubbo when the time came tonight.

Just outside the car with Ranboo's luggage in the boot, he asks his mum to take a picture of the two of them. He dms it to the missing member of their trio with a smirk.

Tubbo: Bet you're so jealous right now

Tommy: No because he's going to hang out with me more after I get there

Tubbo: As if

Tubbo: Can't wait for this week

Tommy: Same

Tubbo: Ranboo says hi btw

Tommy: Wow cringe

Tommy: Can't go on call rn but I say hi too

Tubbo: Whos cringe now?

Tommy: Shut up

He and Ranboo spend the entire journey home chatting about everything and nothing. Oh, these next two weeks were going to be amazing. Tubbo can't wait.

Tubbo wakes slowly. He doesn't tend to be startled by Ranboo's lack of eyelids as often nowadays. They may not share a bed that frequently, separate homes and all that, but he's seen his husband crash on his sofa after an exhausting day enough times to gradually get used to it. Michael had managed to snuggle up between them at some point in the night too. The little zombie piglin boy is fast asleep as well. Tubbo readjusts his arm so it encompasses their adoptive son, drawing him closer slightly.

Distantly, he recalls he's planned to meet up with Tommy later and it makes him think. A husband who cares about him enough to make Tubbo one of people whose side he'd stand by if necessary, a son whom they both love and would defend with their lives and a best friend who still stuck by him despite how much they've changed in the several months since they first met. He'd like to think that regardless of the timeline or universe, he'd always have them or close enough copies.

Content with his situation, he lets his eyes slip close once more and drifts back to sleep.

#dream smp #tubbo #tommyinnit #ranboo #my writing

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mercuryislove · 3 years

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Which of your characters did you create first? Is that character significantly different now compared to when you first created them?

okay i wrote this at like 3am last night when i couldn't sleep and it makes absolutely no sense but i figured if there was anyone on this earth that would appreciate it, it might be you lol

It's kind of funny you should ask this because the last few days I've been reading the stuff I was writing when I first picked it back up this time last year and like. shit's changed a lot lol

Of like. the stuff I'm writing now uh TECHNICALLY Yixing came first because when I was first toying with the idea of running a dnd campaign of my own, I started coming up with some npcs just to like. get some inspiration I guess? (I'm pretty sure I've talked about this before...) So I didn't really have any ideas about a setting or a plot or anything but I had two very specific characters, and one of them was like. a classic drifter/outlaw type character. And his two defining features were that he had really long black hair and was covered head to toe in tattoos. And uh. Only one of those stuck lol (though in my dnd campaign he still does have the tats! And they are plot relevant lol) OH also it stands to say that in my campaign Yixing is a MONK WITH A GUN because he was originally a gunslinger but I didn't really like any of the way the gunslinger homebrew options worked, and a lot of them were basically monk adjacent so I turned him into a monk and made his fucking monastic weapon a GUN.

Also the other npc I made was a really bonkers woman that lives in the woods and thinks the world is about to end at any moment and is extremely magically adept and eats a whole lot of shrooms lmao. idk if she'll actually show up in the campaign but she has a character sheet ready just in case

anyway. Yes Yixing is WAY different. He still has the yeehaw flair but he was originally intended to be shady and self-serving and standoffish and the kind of person who will play all sides but still find a way to come out on top. (he is still like that in my campaign..... he's like a quadruple agent lmao SPOILER for my dnd campaign that nobody cares about: he CLAIMS to be working for Anwei but he's actually working for Ciaran who knows he's also working for Anwei but he's actually double-crossing them both AND someone else that he's working for because he has his own side hustle and honestly he may or may not end up being the actual Big Bad of the campaign. I don't know yet. I hope my sister isn't reading this lol) anyway again, in the context of my novel he's now only a little bit self-serving and he will probably complain if he's super inconvenienced by helping out other people but he's still going to do it. He's a GOOD PERSON and even though I still have an extremely detailed outline of the idea I had where the plot is basically the same but he's a real shithead instead, I can't bring myself to really entertain the idea because I like him being nice. :( the whole point is that he's been through hell and back and has had a really shitty life but still finds a way to be kind and to see the good in people in spite of it all!!!! I get like. really passionate about this. Like truly agonizing about it to no one but myself. I'm the one writing the damn thing I can do whatever I want so why do I care so much about an alternate reality where Yixing is a real bastard??? I do not know.

ANYWAY AGAIN. (now here is where we really lose the thread of the original question lol) This all goes back to dnd lol because as someone that is a hard atheist, it's like. tough for me to get into the whole uhhh god thing in fantasy settings (but in this case I'm talking dnd). Like they EXIST FOR REAL in the context of the game so when your cleric or paladin prays, someone is really listening. And I was like... hm. What if I want to write a campaign where they just aren't there? (and some of my friends said I couldn't because that's breaking the rules which is stupid.. I do what I want!!!) Or that they had otherwise abandoned humanity? So then because I played final fantasy x too much in my formative years, I had the idea of “what if the gods got really fucking mad about people forsaking religion and punished them?” which turned into “what if the gods just DIED suddenly and the world fell apart in the wake?” which turned into “what if the gods realized they sucked at their jobs and that humanity was unintentionally destroying itself so they made a pact to start over but when they tried to do just that, they accidentally killed themselves?” and that is........... mostly the so-called lore now (but there is definitely more but I can't say at this time because spoilers lol) uh. I forgot where I was going with this. OH. How the characters changed. WELL. Anwei has probably changed the least lol. She is still kind of mean and weird and thinks of herself and the others like her as Far Superior to everyone else, but she's no longer downright evil. At one point she was intended to be the villain!!! but I changed my mind because I love fellow mean lesbians so much. Also it was kind of uhh. low stakes with her as a villain/antagonist. She's a little shady and definitely still very manipulative and she gets mean when jealous but not like in her first iterations.... she does still sort of try to get yixing killed though lmao

Oh also Ciaran was the last of the three that I came up with lol which is funny considering he's like. such a big deal. The only reason he exists at all is because I wanted to come up with a real Corruption Arc kind of Guy because I am a big fan of those. Also I wanted the Big Bad in my campaign to be related somehow to the Big Good. And like. what better way to do that than siblings! And then I needed a way to make my Very Cool New npc connected to both of them somehow to make the whole uhhh revolver ocelot style mind games work so I sat down and was like. well. time to tell a tragic love story lol. soooooooooo uh Thank you dnd for inspiring me to write a trilogy of novels because I wanted to do a SINGLE basic worldbuilding exercise for my dnd campaign (that even now has only had uh. four sessions ever) while I was sad and lonely last summer.

I totally went off the rails with this question and I am sorry for that :( also I could write a thousand essays about how much I love Yixing and also how many versions of him there are in my mind lol he's like that one oc that everyone has that they find a way to put in everything always. he is my alternate universe oc. very versatile

#oc talk #really really really really went off the rails here #me at 3am: uhhhh what was the question again?#as i'm sitting there READING the question #i had a tough night sleeping last night lol #ALSO the thing about him being a bastard in an alternate reality is true yes but there's way more to it than just him being rude #which is why i cant bring myself to abandon that concept altogether but it's hard to make it work ._. i can't just mesh the two concepts #i mean. i guess i could but it would require a LOT of work and a huge conspiracy theory style corkboard. lots of red string

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kit-kat21 · 4 years

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The Perfect Mixologists (from Castle Black Bar) Jon x Sansa

By no means did Jon consider himself to be a mixologist. There are people who studied that craft seriously; who went to bartending schools specifically for that and worked years to perfect the skill. Jon just stood behind the bar, knowing how to pour and mix the drinks someone else had already created.

But, he admitted. He did like to play around sometimes.

A little bit of this; a little bit of that. Tuesday nights had become insanely busy for them. Jon had taken Castle Black Bar’s slowest night and made it their most profitable – even more profitable than a Friday or Saturday night, which were usually the go-to nights for bars and drinking. Every Tuesday, Jon showed old VH1 shows – Flavor of Love, Rock of Love, I Love New York and Charm School. Profits for that night just about quadrupled and the crowd at the bar was at least three or four people deep. Other bars in Winterfell tried to copy Castle Black Bar’s success and at first, Jon freaked that they were going to steal all of his customers. But for the most part, everyone seemed to want to come to the home of the original VH1 night.

When Jeor Mormont passed away and he had left Jon the money for him to open his own bar, there had been some rules that Jon always stuck to.

No special cocktail nights, no ladies’ nights and no karaoke nights.

Jon had never had ladies’ nights or karaoke nights (and Jon didn’t consider the private karaoke nights he had for just his friends went against that). But special cocktail night… Jon couldn’t help it. He had learned everything about this bar business from Jeor Mormont. The man had been his mentor and for the most part, Jon still thought of what the man would say before he made any kind of decision in regards to his bar.

But Classic VH1 Night at Castle Black Bar every Tuesday was a little different. Besides, he wasn’t a professional mixologist so him making up a special drink to feature every Tuesday night didn’t really count.

Sansa was his taste tester. Jon would crowd their dining room table up in their flat above the bar and her dress shop next door with all sorts of liquor bottles and he would pour this and that, shake and mix; play around and figure it out. And when he thought he had something, he’d pour it into some kind of glass and find his wife somewhere – either in the living room or in the kitchen or in their bedroom.

“Captain Morgan, rum, and pineapple juice.” He said, handing her the glass and Sansa sat up a little bit, smiling at him before taking a sip.

“Very good,” she said. “The color though… do something about the color. It looks too much like brown water.”

Jon nodded and taking the glass, he returned to the dining room, returning a few minutes later. “Blue curacao syrup,” he said, handing her back the glass so she could take another sip. The way her eyes lit up made Jon think he might have to keep this drink permanently on the menu.

The next week, “Fresh strawberry juice and vodka.”

“Just have a big bowl of this at my birthday this year,” Sansa said after her first sip.

He knew Sansa wasn’t a fan of gin – at all and in fact, she almost always gagged when taking even a sip – but he played around with those bottles, too, because he did have gin drinkers in his bar and Sansa always tried his drinks – no matter what; though with the gin ones, she did her best to not wrinkle her nose too much.

“Tanqueray Gin, lime juice, blackberry syrup.”

“It’s a pretty color at least,” Sansa commented before taking the smallest sip and with a nod, she gave him back the glass and as Jon left again, he heard her give a cough.

The next week, Sansa was in the kitchen, standing at the calendar they had hanging on the side of the refrigerator, and she seemed to be counting weeks.

“Something a little different this week. Smirnoff vodka, Bailey’s Irish Cream and a splash of half and half.” Sansa looked at the glass and visibly hesitated. “No gin in this one.”

“I heard,” she nodded. “It’s looks beautiful,” she then commented and Jon smiled proudly. Slowly, she took the glass and took a small sip. “That’s really good, Jon. Really good. I’m tempted to have the entire glass.”

Jon smiled and leaned in, giving her a kiss. “It’s all yours.”

He left the kitchen to go clean up the dining room and didn’t see that Sansa slid the glass onto the counter and didn’t touch it for the rest of the evening. The next week, Sansa was in their bedroom, sitting up on their bed with her sketchbook open in front of her. She had a few cloth scrap samples with her – mostly blues and pinks.

“I feel like I don’t play around enough with bourbon,” Jon said, coming into the room and sitting down next to her on the edge of the bed. “Bourbon, blueberry syrup, lime juice and I slapped some mint leaves. You have to have bourbon and mint together.” Again, Sansa hesitated. She sat up, hugging her sketchbook to her chest. “I thought you would like the color,” he said. He was always aware of how “pretty” Sansa wanted her drinks.

Sansa was looking at the drink and at his words, she lifted her eyes to him. “I love the color, Jon,” she smiled. “I’m just not able to drink this one. Or any other one you come up from now on.”

Jon began to frown. “Are they getting worse?” He wondered. “Should I stop? I should stop, shouldn’t I?”

Customers seemed to love his special Tuesday night drink, but maybe they were just being nice; or maybe they were just drunk and he couldn’t necessarily believe their opinion. He trusted his wife’s opinion more than anyone else’s and he had fun making up his own drinks and mixing things together, but if they were truly that awful, he wouldn’t do it anymore.

Sansa looked at him and smiled. “Your drinks are wonderful and I was serious about that strawberry and vodka drink. In about a year, I expect a whole punch bowl of it.”

“A year? But your birthday’s in two months.” He felt the need to remind her because she had obviously forgotten that. She didn’t have to wait a year for that drink. Hell, he’d mix a glass for her right now.

She was looking at him and it seemed like she was about to laugh. For what reason though, he had no idea.

Sansa didn’t say anything. Instead, she pulled her sketchbook away from her chest and turned it around so Jon could see what she had been sketching. He looked at her drawings closely, trying to figure out what she wanted him to look at it. Sansa had just had her spring show so he assumed she was already working on her line for the fall season. But he didn’t see her usual dresses of ruffles and ribbons. Instead…

Instead…

Jon’s eyes flew to Sansa’s face as if checking with her that he was seeing what he thought he was seeing.

“I know pink and blue for a girl or boy is completely typical, but I was just playing around for starters. You make drinks for fun and I am going to start sketching onesies for fun.”

Jon just kept staring at her. He had no idea what to say. Was there anything to actually be said when a man just found out that his wife was pregnant with their baby? He really did need to say something, but what?

Reading his mind, Sands set aside her sketchbook and moving forward, she slipped her arms around his shoulders. “You’re a fantastic mixologist, Jon,” she said with a smile – somewhat joking – and her eyes were dancing with a brightness he should have seen straight away.

Jon leaned in and kissed her. “We made a baby, Sansa. We’re both great mixologists.” That got a laugh out of her and he leaned in for another kiss. “I love you and I’m going to make you the prettiest non alcoholic mixed drink you’ve ever seen,” he promised her and Sansa just beamed as he stood up.

Leaning down, he kissed her again and then left the bedroom to return to the bottles on the dining room table.

Ridiculous or not, Jon didn’t care. His wife was pregnant with their baby and he was going to start practicing. He had to think of and create as many blue and pink non-alcoholic drinks that Sansa could stand over the next few months.

#jonsa #jonsa fanfiction

32 notes · View notes

dresupi · 4 years

Text

The Man of My Dreams

For: @ibelieveinturtles Ship: Brock Rumlow/Darcy Lewis Sweetheart Prompt: Heart Throb Word Count: 4,641 Rating: E Other tags: SHIELD Agent Darcy Lewis, Dreams, Crushes, Bachelor Auction, Snark, Companionable Snark, Flirting, Smut, One Shot, POV Darcy Lewis, POV Brock Rumlow, POV Alternating

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DARCY

“So, like… I was having this dream, right?” Darcy began, reaching over to steal a chip from the bag Bobbi had in front of her. “Like, you know I don’t normally have dreams that make any kind of sense. Or that I even remember usually.”

“Right, yeah…” Bobbi nodded, snatching her chip bag out of Darcy’s reach. “But judging by your tone, this one was neither nonsense nor forgettable?”

“Correct,” Darcy said. “It was neither of those things. It was a…” She lowered her voice for the next part. “Sex dream.”

Her friend had no reaction. “So? I have those all the time. Me and Timothy Olyphant tear up the sheets on a regular basis. Sometimes Uma Thurman joins us.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “It wasn’t about a celebrity though. It was about someone I know.”

Bobbi’s eyebrow twitched an almost infinitesimal amount. “Someone you know?”

“Someone I see on a regular basis. Someone who comes into my office on the regular.”

“You’re about to say it’s me, and then we’re going to find out this has been some straight dude lesbian porno the whole time, aren’t we?”

“No,” Darcy sighed, kicking her under the table. “It’s Brock, you goober.” She’d meant to whisper that last bit. But it all came tumbling out without preamble. “It’s Brock, and I think… I think I’m having feelings.”

Bobbi’s jaw dropped, which was a helluva reaction to get from her assassin-friend. She also scooted the bag of chips back over for Darcy to reach. This was chip-sharing news. It was serious.

“You’re not. You can’t have feelings for Brock. You said it before. He’s hairy and icky.”

“I only tell him that in order to keep his ego in check. Do you know how impossible he’d be if he found out I thought he was attractive?”

Bobbi groaned. “Only too well.”

“Okay, so you know this obviously has to stay between us, right?”

“Obviously.”

“Okay, well…” Darcy chomped down on another chip.

“So you’ve got the full-on hots for Brock now?” Bobbi teased. “Not just an aesthetic appreciation for how long he spends in the gym?”

“I don’t care if he’s shredded like a bag of cheese at a Taco Bell, the most aesthetically pleasing thing about him is that fucking jawline.”

Bobbi inhaled sharply, nodding. “That jawline’s what shreds the cheese at Taco Bell.”

“Okay, so I thought the feelings I got after the dream would go away, but it’s been like two weeks, and they haven’t.”

“You want me to ask Hill to send you to Hawaii or something? You could get a suntan, forget about old whats-his-name. Find yourself a cabana boy. To mix your drinks and toss your salad.”

Darcy had to admit, the offer sounded tempting. But she was happy with what she was doing now. Which was training with Bobbi to become a better field agent and get sent out on more missions. She had the brain for hacking, but she needed the strength so SHIELD would actually send her out to do it. If she asked for a fluff assignment just because she was all gaga over a sex dream where Brock went down on her like it was his job, then well… she probably needed to reevaluate what she wanted out of this job.

There were far worse reasons to ask for a fluff assignment. Hot and horny for Agent Rumlow wasn’t one of them.

“Nah, I should be fine. I might need to go get a massage or something. I could be stressed. They say that sex dreams are never about sex, right? It’s about… something else I’m lacking.”

Bobbi stifled a laugh, but not very well since Darcy could very well hear it. “Yeah. Something you’re lacking.”

“Stop it,” Darcy grabbed the last chip. “I’m gonna book a massage, wanna come with?”

“You know I won’t say no to a spa day.”

“Didn’t say anything about a spa day.”

Bobbi shot her a look. “You’re just gonna get a massage and not get a wrap and a facial?”

“Well, when you put it that way…” Darcy pulled out her phone to book appointments on the spa’s app. “Under the usual pseuds?”

“You know it.”

“So, uh… speaking of people upon which we have crushes…” Darcy said, dragging it out in a sing-song way that was annoying Bobbi. She reached for her bag and slung it over her shoulder.

“Just say it, you know you want to.”

“How many bachelor raffle tickets are you buying now that Lance is up for grabs?”

“Zero,” Bobbi said with a smirk.

“What?” Darcy followed her out of the cafeteria. “What do you mean, zero? Are you guys over again?”

“Again. For good. Good riddance. I heard Simmons is selling a romantic picnic. I might go for that,” Bobbi said with a shrug.

“Oh? You and Simmons?”

Her friend smiled and mimed zipping her lips. “Nothing to talk about yet, so…”

“Fine, fine. I guess I’ll just languish away in the land of the unknown gossip.”

“Guess you’ll have to,” Bobbi replied, linking her arm with Darcy’s to hurry her up towards the parking garage.

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RUMLOW

Rumlow knew he probably should have either made his presence known or somehow left the cafeteria before Darcy got started in on the meat of her story. But every time he started to move, his chair would squeak, and he knew she’d hear him. Then she’d turn around and be embarrassed. Because, by the time he figured out he should leave, she was already spilling to Morse about her sex dream. About him.

Did it make him a pig if he preened a little because of her dream? Her dream about him? He couldn’t imagine any man in his position could hear Lewis talk about her nocturnal fantasies and not square his shoulders a little. That didn’t make it okay and he knew it. Most men were not the type of person anyone should aspire to mimic. He probably shouldn’t be taking the easy way out and using them to gauge where he was on the dickhead meter.

He stayed stock-still like his years of training prepared him to do. His back was to the two of them, but he could see their reflections in the shiny mirrors placed all over the lunchroom. Probably due to some rule that served to make everyone a little less nervous. Ever since that whole Hydra incident, everyone had wanted eyes in the backs of their heads. Everyone had also given him dirty looks for an entire year after he’d come back to the organization. Even after he’d been outed as a triple agent, they still didn’t trust him.

It didn’t seem to matter if the logistics of him being a quadruple agent were close to nil. But he was digressing.

The task at hand was to wait until Lewis and Morse were finished with their discussion and keep both of them from seeing him folded into a table at the corner, trying to look smaller than he was and blend into the wall.

He was far from the only other person here. In fact, one could wonder why Lewis chose such a crowded room to talk about her little clandestine crush on him.

“So you’ve got the full-on hots for Brock now?” Morse teased.

Rumlow couldn’t see it, but he was fairly certain Lewis was rolling her eyes now. He would be.

They talked for a while longer before they left for a spa day. He had to say, he was relieved Lewis wouldn’t be transferring. He very much doubted a sex dream would account for a transferral across the country like that. Plus, SHIELD allowed inter-company relationships. As long as they were disclosed to HR.

What, did she not think he’d reciprocate? Did she really not know how much he’d give to have her return one of his heated glances? Just one?

He picked up his fork again, swirling it through the leftover mashed potatoes on his plate. Before he could do anything, he’d have to come clean to her. After years of lying to everyone he knew, being truthful was very important to him.

So he’d have to tell her the truth, then he could gloat all he wanted about Darcy liking his chiseled jaw. She liked it a lot, apparently. Even more than his abs. Which he kind of thought was one of his better features. But whatever. He wasn’t about to argue with a lady he found one-hundred-percent fuckable in every single way. Hell, he’d even call her pretty if she asked. How’s that for a supposed dickhead.

Yeah, that didn’t really change anything, now that he thought about it.

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

DARCY

Darcy was minding her own business while losing a staring contest with the vending machine because while she was indeed focused inward, it wasn’t on what snack she wanted. Because truth be told, she didn’t really want a snack at all.

Well, she did want a snack, but the snack she wanted was obnoxious and conceited and knew he was a snack and who wanted a snack that knew he was a snack, right?

He is not the snack you’re looking for… she thought, her mental-voice wavering and her mental hands shimmying. She’d make a good Jedi, dammit.

“Hey, you got a second?”

She turned, halfway through assuring the person standing behind her that she’d almost made her selection when she realized that wasn’t what they’d asked at all.

And besides, the snack she wasn’t looking for was behind her. Brock Rumlow and his should-be-illegal jawline were standing there, looking at once lickable and slappable in that confusing way he had.

Sighing, she nodded. “Yeah, I got a few. Whatcha need, Stallone?”

He smirked a kind of a half-cocked, half crooked sort of expression that made him even hotter. If that were possible. Which it apparently was. “Stallone’s looking pretty rough these days, can I choose another actor?”

She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “You don’t get to pick ‘em, sorry bout it.”

“Yeah, whatever. Listen… I need to talk to you about something,” Brock began, lowering his voice in a way that both made Darcy have to lean forward, and also tickled her in places she wasn’t about to admit to being tickled by a voice.

“What’s up?” she asked, leaning against the side of the vending machine.

“Look, I saw you in the cafeteria the other day… with Bobbi?”

Alarm flared immediately, her skin heating up and cooling just as quickly. “Oh?” Maybe he hadn’t heard it. Or at least hadn’t heard the whole entire thing.

Oh please Thor, let him not have heard the entire thing. Let the sound of air whistling between his ears have drowned it out or something… please?

“Yeah, I, uh… I should have told you I was sitting there, I’m sorry…” he said, reaching up to scratch the back of his head in a way that at least felt contrite.

“Sitting where?” Darcy asked, her voice sounding shrill and a touch panicky.

“Behind you. I couldn’t see you, so I didn’t even know it was you and what you were talking about until it was too late. I didn’t want to embarrass you so--”

“So you just sat there and listened? Dude! Not cool!”

“I know, I know… I’m sorry.”

“Oh, I’ll bet you had a good little laugh at my expense didn’t you?” Darcy asked, her tone icy and cold. “So funny how I’m all warm for you, isn’t it? Well, suck a dick, Rumlow! You’d only be so lucky.”

He rolled his eyes and sighed heavily. “Are you done? Because I wanted to have an adult conversation about this and--”

“And nothing. I am done. Do you know? Because it’s not a real crush. It’s just because of the dream. That’s it. It’s going to go away.”

“Oh, is it?” he asked, sounding very much like he didn’t believe her.

But Darcy didn’t really care. Anything was better than having him make fun of her, or worse… having him ‘let her down easy’ or whatever it was he was trying to do.

“Yup. It’s gonna be gone by Valentine’s Day, I can guaran-damn-tee it.”

“By Valentine’s huh? You’d better go out and snap up a date then,” he sneered.

“Maybe I will! Hell, you know what I’m gonna do? I’m gonna buy ten of those bachelor raffle tickets they’re selling around here. I”m gonna buy ‘em, hope and hope and cross my fingers, and if they call my name, I’m gonna hook up with a hottie. You know anyone who’s selling them?”

“I am,” he said smugly. “I’m one of the bachelors being raffled.”

“Awesome. Put me down for ten. I’ll Venmo the money to wherever.”

“They set up a fund. I’ll message you the information…” He pulled out his phone and swiped around until Darcy had a link in her DMs. She immediately sent the money, not looking up at him once. “Thanks. I’ll see you there,” he ventured.

Darcy chuckled. “Not if I see you first, Stallone.”

She wasn’t sure what that was, exactly. But she was embarrassed and had just spent a thousand dollars on bachelor raffle tickets. Someone should take her debit card away when she was like this.

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

RUMLOW

The raffle took place the week before Valentine’s Day, and Rumlow had worn his formal wear, like he’d been instructed to. He thought he looked pretty good. He’d even spent extra time on his hair. Well, more time than usual, and that was saying something because he was not born with this volume naturally. It took work.

Raffle cards were drawn by Agent May. With her smirking face, she drew card after card. Some men, some women. Some were people he knew, some weren’t.

And one by one, the bachelors and bachelorettes were chosen, until there were only about five of them left. Himself, Lance Hunter, Mack, May herself, and Simmons.

May drew the next raffle card, and her eyes widened, grinning as she read the name.

“Darcy Lewis.”

Rumlow’s stomach dropped down into his gut. She’d said she wouldn’t choose him. That’s what she’d said.

So why was he so nervous? He shouldn’t be nervous.

Except he didn’t want to see her pick any of the others up here. He could see her picking Simmons just so Fitz wouldn’t have a conniption. Simmons wasn’t a threat per se.

If she picked Hunter, though. Or Mack. Or May.

Rumlow’s stomach settled like a stone in his gut as he watched her make her way up from her seat to the stage to take her pick.

May was grinning between him and her like she was expecting something to happen. He was almost sorry to disappoint her. But it would also be fun to watch Darce subvert May’s expectations.

Darcy was looking between the five of them up here. Rumlow subconsciously reached up to straighten his collar and someone catcalled. At him? He couldn’t be sure.

And when she opened her mouth to speak, he was dreading what she’d say.

“Agent Rumlow, I guess.”

His eyebrows raised in pure surprise, but he was the only one who seemed surprised.

“Certainly seemed to deliberate on that decision,” May teased and nodded in his direction. “C’mon, Rumlow. Tell her what she’s won.”

“I uh… I’ll take her out dancing and for a five-star dinner. I’ll be the perfect gentleman,” he added at the end, to another round of catcalling. He wrinkled his nose. People were gross. “I mean it,” he added. “No sarcasm.”

Darcy tilted her head and held out her hand. Realizing belatedly that he was supposed to take it and vacate the stage, Rumlow stumbled a little as they left the stage and walked back behind the makeshift curtain they had up.

“I thought you weren’t going to pick me,” he said, smirking a little as Darcy rolled her eyes.

“Don’t make me regret my decision. You promised to be a gentleman.”

“On the date.”

“Fine, but no funny business or I’ll cancel the date. I don’t mind donating a thousand bucks to charity.”

“That you didn’t have to bother, I’d have taken you out for nothing.”

“Yeah, I know. But at least this way, you can’t make fun of me for falling for you.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” he countered.

She shot him a look.

“I’d barely do that.”

“I’ll see you on Valentine’s, Rumlow.” She turned to leave. “You’ve got my number.” It was a statement, not a question.

He did have it. And he’d have complained more about their short convo if he hadn’t gotten to watch her walk away. She was wearing a pair of tight jeans and a ruffled blouse.

Fuck, she was pretty.

There. He was getting better.

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

DARCY

Darcy shifted in her seat after Brock had pushed her chair in behind her. The food was already ordered, she’d just come back from the bathroom to find out it had been served.

Prime rib and sweet pea risotto.

Hers was untouched, which… was kind of a given considering that even at his worst, Brock wasn’t an animal who would steal his date’s food. But his was untouched too, which meant he’d waited for her to return.

He’d just taken his seat and scooped up his fork and steak knife, holding them poised as he looked at her expectantly.

“You want me to say grace?” she asked, quirking an eyebrow expectantly. He was Catholic. Or he pretended well. He had that saint on the dashboard of his car. Why did she know that?

He chuckled and shook his head. “Not unless that’s your thing. I was just waiting for you. It’s the polite thing to do.”

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed. “Yeah, it is.” Her voice sounded sour, but she wasn’t sure why.

The date was everything he’d promised it would be. And maybe that’s what was wrong. He was being a total gentleman. And this wasn’t what had attracted her to him. This weird Ken-doll approach to a romantic evening. Hell, she half expected him to have a hot pink Jeep Wrangler when he picked her up. Everything he did felt forced and plastic.

Dancing had been fun, but he had held her a respectable distance away, the only heat she felt was from his hands on her waist. He had this way of looking at her sometimes. The heat barely contained behind those dark eyes of his, and she felt like she was about to combust.

That look was gone. Or hidden, at the very least.

And now they were eating dinner. Well, they were about to, and he was waiting for her to start before he even so much as cut his steak? This was weird. Too weird. She didn’t like it.

“Eat when you want, dude. No skin off my nose,” she reached for her steak knife and began to slice through the prime rib.

It was good. It wasn’t like she was expecting aged prime rib to be bad or anything, but it was really good. She ate too much. But she still tried to eat some of the dessert. It was chocolate lava cake with vanilla ice cream and some kind of cherry cordial on top. They lit it on fire before bringing it to the table.

And as she and Brock shared it, she caught his eye, their spoons clinked, and she saw an inkling of that heat she’d been missing. He was looking at her like he usually did, not like Date-Brock had been. “You wanna go back to my place?” she asked.

“Well, the date officially ends when I take you to your door,” he said warily.

“Okay, so the date ends and then my good friend Rumlow comes in for coffee at eleven at night for no reason other than I have coffee to make and he’s in the neighborhood? Sound good?”

She happened to know she was fresh out of coffee, so she really, really hoped he’d either settle for tea or realize this wasn’t actually coffee she was asking for.

He swallowed visibly, his throat bobbing before he nodded. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

They left after he paid for the meal. He offered his arm after they put on their coats. She hung on with both hands and could feel his muscles flex even through his coat and suit jacket. The cab ride back to her place was kind of quiet, except for the occasional throat-clearing sound from their driver, who looked as if she was about ten minutes past ready to be home.

Darcy kind of knew how she felt. But for different reasons.

Brock joined her on the ride up to her apartment from the lobby, standing a respectable distance away from her in the elevator and pressing his hand against the doors to allow her to exit first. They arrived at her front door and he held one hand out to kiss the back of hers. She gave him a sweet smile, thanked him for the lovely evening, and disappeared behind her door.

She counted to ten and opened it again. “Heya Brock, wanna come in for coffee?”

“Absolutely.”

She reached out to close her fingers around his tie and drag him back into the apartment after her.

Her heart was thrumming, beating hard and fast as she pulled him close enough for his lips to finally crash over hers. “I promise I wasn’t trying to do this tonight,” he whispered between kisses and shrugging out of their coats.

“Why not?” she asked, grinning against his lips when their teeth clacked once.

“Was trying to be polite,” he replied, kicking off his shoes and following her lips first into her apartment, never breaking the kiss even to talk.

She was working her fingers in his tie to loosen the knot when she spoke again. “I didn’t like Date-Brock, so I hope he’s gone for good.”

“Oh thank god, I didn’t like him either,” he murmured, following her towards the stairs. “Holy shit, your apartment has two floors?”

“Yes, I bought the one above me when it vacated. Now shush and stop being so polite, Rumlow.”

“Look, sweetheart, I’ll manhandle you if that’s what you want, but I ain’t ever gonna shush.”

“Ah, so you’re a screamer?” she teased, inhaling sharply when his hands fumbled at her back for her zipper, found it, and slid it deftly down her back.

She stepped away, her dress pooling around her feet as she stepped back up the stairs, turning at the last second because falling on her ass wasn’t the way she wanted this evening to go.

Maneuvering the stairs was kind of tricky, especially when Brock couldn’t keep his damn hands to himself. He kept running his palm over her ass when she turned to climb up a few steps, popping the elastic in her black lace panties and saying shit in that raspy, sex-drunk voice of his.

“Fuck, honey, you look even better going than you do coming…”

Darcy arched her eyebrow at him. “You haven’t seen me coming yet, don’t get ahead of yourself…”

They were finally at the landing on her second floor. Brock laughed and she tugged him by his waistband into her bedroom. She made quick work of the button and the zipper on his suit pants, and he slid out of them like he was made to do it, crawling up after her on the mattress.

Okay, so his abs were definitely something she’d write home about. Grammy Lewis would have some words about Mr. Brock Rumlow, and none of them were fit for children to hear.

Grammy Lewis wasn’t the mental image she really wanted in her head right now, so she laid back on the pillows and watched Brock’s muscles ripple as he moved above her.

She’d like to climb on top of him, but he never let her get that far, hovering over her and rutting against her hip while his lips did absolutely sinful things to hers. And then down the column of her throat. And then down over her collarbone and then…

He pushed one hand under her breast until the nipple just popped over the lacy edge of her bra. He licked it roughly, wetting the lace in the process and making it rasp over the sensitive peak. Her hands tangled in his hair and he grunted. Growled. Rocked his hips against her until she could feel the stiffness of his cock sliding against her mound.

“Fuck,” she whispered, yanking on his hair and causing him to release her breast. His dark eyes searched hers and she reached down to shimmy out of her panties.

He followed suit, pushing his jockeys down over his hips and kicking them off.

Brock ran his fingers over her pussy, tucking two fingers inside and wriggling them in a very pleasing way. “Fuck me, you’re soaked…”

“I’m trying to fuck you,” she whispered, biting her lip when he pushed one of her legs up at the knee and lined himself up. He was thick, so he pushed in slowly, but when his hips met hers, Darcy gasped.

“You okay?” he asked, his eyes scanning her face.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just fuck me,” she commanded, reaching around to sink her nails into his ass cheeks, relishing the hiss that resulted.

He sat back and extended her leg up so her ankle rested on his shoulder and leaned forward again, his hips setting a grueling pace that rocked her so hard, she had to moan. She couldn’t not moan at this point. One hand snaked between them to her other breast, to push it up out of the bra as well. Once they were both out, they bounced, nipples brushing over lace and making her breath catch as his hips hammered into her.

Their skin slapped and the bed hit the wall, her headboard rattling in time with his hips. He was hitting that spot inside her, the one that made her toes curl and that she couldn’t reach herself unless she had some sort of toy. But this was… god it was so much better.

“Brock,” she hissed. “Please, please, babe… I’m--”

“Almost there?” He grinned and slid his hand down between them to thumb over her clit and push her right over the edge without hesitation.

He must have finished soon after because he was pulling out and ducking down between her thighs to flick his tongue over her clit and make her back arch. His tongue dove down into her opening and when she realized what he was doing, it just made her clench her thighs all the more tightly around his head.

“Jesus, Brock…”

Her second orgasm wasn’t nearly as intense as the first, but she was shaking when he pushed up on his elbows and leaned his head against her bent knee.

“You want one more?” he asked, licking his lips in an obscene way that made her want to say yes, even if her clit couldn’t possibly do anything else without hurting.

“Maybe later,” she said with a sigh, falling back on the pillows as he crawled up beside her.

“You’re right, you know.”

“What?”

“You look better coming than going.”

She would have swatted him, but she had no energy, so she just rolled over and cuddled against his side.

“You’re gonna stay, right?” she asked, jutting out her bottom lip when she looked up at him.

“Not sure it’d be polite,” he teased.

“Definitely stay then. Because your rudeness turns me on.”

“Was I rude in your dream?”

“Yes,” she said with a giggle. “Not as rude as you were just then, though.”

“Sorry, I’ll always ask before oral.”

“You’d better not,” she warned, hiking her leg up and over his hips before settling down.

#Taserbones #Darcy x Rumlow #Rumlow x Darcy #Darcy Lewis #Brock Rumlow #lemon #Sweetheart Prompts #ibelieveinturtles #My writing

29 notes · View notes

jj-lives · 5 years

Text

Inktober - Freeze

Again, all my Inktober pieces are part of the same verse and I hope to piece them together in a cohesive manner after I am finished, but for now enjoy the confusing time skips.

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Holding the door she let Blake enter first. As always, Yang received a grateful smile in return for her chivalry. As Blake brushed passed Yang hurriedly followed intent to remain close. They’d been separated for far too long in her mind and she yearned to make up for lost time.

“You find a table and I’ll get our order?” Yang asked rocking back and forth, heel to toe. Why the hell was she nervous?

“Sounds good to me.” Blake scanned the establishment for an empty table and Yang watched on knowing she’d be looking for one out of the way of most patrons. When Blake’s eyes returned to find Yang’s feet still cemented to the floor she chuckled. At least she found her antsy behaviour more endearing than annoying. “You going to actually place the order or should I do that too?”

“Oh, right.” Yang quickly stepped past her. “No. No, I’ll get our order. You just continue scrutinizing every table. Hopefully you find a suitable one by the time I get back.”

“That’s rude.” Blake deadpanned.

Yang spun on her heel, surprised at Blake’s affronted appearance. It was a joke. She hadn’t meant it in a negative light. She actually thought Blake’s over analyzation on certain things adorable.

“I’m s-”

The corner of Blake’s mouth twitched catching Yang’s attention. It was only then that she noticed the sparkle in her amber eyes. Blake was toying with her!

“You’re so easy!” Blake broke character seeing the realization take over Yang’s features. “You are totally off your game Xiao Long.”

“You will pay for this,” she said with narrowed eyes.

Rolling her eyes, Blake moved to step around her heading for a table that must have checked the majority of her personal requirements. Yang’s arm shot out to block her way.

Her brow raised as she turned her perplexed gaze on Yang. She couldn’t help herself anymore. Blake had been very sly and playful since Yang picked her up. She might play up her exasperation whenever Bratty Blake showed herself but honestly she fell even more in love with Blake in these moments. Who else could keep her on her toes like this. It amazed her how in the first few months of their acquaintance she had pegged Blake as a quiet, shy bookworm. The reality was quite the opposite. Actually, that was a lie. Blake could be shy. She could be quiet. She was most definitely a bookworm, but those things were just a small portion of who she was. It astonished her with how much she knew about Blake that the other was still able to surprise her. Blake was still able to throw curveballs at her.

And maybe that’s why that magnetism never went away. Yang was happy to find that the pull she’d felt in the beginning of their friendship never once faded.

Her patience wore down as Yang continued to stare at her unmoving. When her mouth opened to form a question Yang made her move. She leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on Blake’s right cheek, barely skimming the corner of her mouth.

“Oh!” Blake exclaimed, eyes widening in surprise and delight.

Yang left her standing dumbstruck just inside the entrance and made her way to the counter. They’d been here so many times in the past it was useless asking if Blake wanted to try something new. Once that girl decided on something she liked that was it. There wasn’t anyway anyone could change her mind.

Order in hand she made her way to the table Blake selected against the far back wall.

“Strawberry and Lime milkshake for milady.” Yang set the cold glass on the table by Blake’s elbow before falling into the booth across from her.

“Why thank you…” the last word trailed with an air of slyness which caught her attention. “My peasant.” Blake finished with a wide smile.

Yang’s jaw dropped, but Blake seemed not to care. She pulled the frosted glass gift Yang brought her closer and took a sip. She moaned as the flavours hit her tongue.

Yang wasn’t about to let the comment go though.

“Peasant? Really?”

Blake nodded resolutely.

“But, a peasant? That’s so mean.”

“Hey, the world was built off the hard labour of peasants.” Blake explained. “Besides, if you are going to be my chauffeur, call me milady, hold doors open for me and bring me food and drinks, -basically be at my beck and call- all I’m saying is if the shoe fits.”

“Brat.”

“What was that?” Blake questioned. “You were kind of mumbling.”

“I called you a Brat with a capital B.”

“So much for milady, huh? Too bad. I think I could have gotten used to that one.”

Yang rolled her eyes as she took a sip of her raspberry shake. She watched as Blake sucked back a good portion of her glass.

“You should slow down with that,” she warned.

“Why? Afraid I’m going to get fat?” She queried as she took another large sip, challenging Yang with a glare.

“Hardly.” Yang responded shaking her head. “That kind of thing doesn’t matter to me.”

Blake took one more sip before pushing her half empty glass to the side. She smiled softly at Yang, her teasing mien disappearing at her words. A drop of cream clung to her bottom lip and it took all Yang’s willpower not to lean over the table to lick it clean.

A twitch at the corner of Blake’s eye was Yang’s first clue something was wrong. The hiss that escaped through Blakes gritted teeth was the next.

“What’s the matter?” Yang leaned forward, reaching her hand to take a hold of Blake’s elbow in support.

“Brain freeze,” Blake wheezed and Yang could feel her knee jump under the table as it brushed against her own.

“And this is what I was warning you about.” Yang tsked. The next moan to leave Blake’s lips was not one of pleasure and it nearly broke her heart. “Oh, Blake.” Yang hated to see her in pain, even if it was only due to ice cream. Even if the pain was self inflicted and totally preventable if she’d just taken her advice. Yang pushed her glass out of the way to get better access as she placed her palm along the side of Blake’s neck. “Stick your tongue to the roof of your mouth and breathe through your nose.” Pressing her index and middle finger she drew a small line into the hairline at the back of Blake’s neck. She continued until Blake’s knee stopped tapping her own.

“Thanks,” Blake voiced meekly. “Guess it’s my own fault for being a brat again, huh?”

Yang released her hold to the back of Blake’s neck and traced her fingers along her jaw in their retreat. She took this moment to take in the other’s beauty. She still felt like some sort of stalker when she stared too long, but sometimes she just couldn’t help herself. Her fingers dipped to cup Blake’s chin and Yang allowed her thumb to trace the length of Blakes bottom lip. Blake must have been short on breath after the brain freeze; if the gasp she took in was any indication.

Releasing Blake completely she brought her thumb to her own lips. Humming as her tongue flicked out to taste the drop she’d collected from Blake’s lips.

“I can see why you like that flavour so much.” Yang smiled as Blake tucked her chin in, staring down at her hands in embarrassment. “And you have nothing to apologize for.”

Blake scoffed.

“I’m serious. I love your bratty side, even if it seems to be the bane of my existence some days. You keep me guessing and I wouldn’t trade it for the world, okay?”

Nodding her head, Blake picked up her glass to bring the straw to her lips. Yang raised her brow quizzically.

“Don’t worry,” she said taking a small sip. “I will be careful. I do not want a repeat of that.”

“Can I have a taste?” Yang asked, staring at what was left in her glass.

“Didn’t you already get one?” Her teasing smirk returned, but she pushed the glass towards Yang in silent acquiescence.

“I wouldn’t mind a repeat.” Yang shot her own teasing smirk across the table.

Blake roared in laughter. “There’s the Yang I know and love. Where have you been hiding?”

“I was just silently enjoying your company.” Yang said quietly. Honestly.

She took a sip, letting the flavours swirl around her tongue before swallowing. She approved. It was definitely a good combination. Blake’s countenance turned serious as Yang passed the drink back.

“Blake?”

“I missed you,” she almost whispered. “Is that weird?”

“Why would that be weird?” Her hand tightened around Blake’s elbow, silently encouraging her.

“I’ve not been gone a full week, but I missed you so much.” Blake looked like she was upset with herself over the confession. She wouldn’t look Yang in the eye no matter how far Yang dipped her head to try and catch sight of their beautiful amber tones. “I’ve never missed anyone like that before. I-” Her eyes darted to anyone in earshot, anyone but Yang. “Is that wrong?”

“Is what wrong?” Yang wasn’t sure if she meant missing her or not missing others in the same way.

“Missing you. Like that.”

“Does it feel wrong?”

Yang could feel her heart hammering in her throat. She swallowed to force a blockage down that didn’t exist. Anxiety over Blake’s next answer creeped up on her causing her nerves to turn jittery. Why was she taking so long to answer?

“No.” Blake finally responded and Yang was able to breathe once more. “That’s the thing. It doesn’t feel wrong at all.”

“I missed you so fucking much” Yang laughed. “Ruby kicked me out twice this week because I was annoying her with how much I spoke about you.”

“Seriously?” Skepticism apparent in her tone.

“Ask Ruby yourself. She came up with this whole theory that since I couldn’t see you I quadrupled the amount I’d say your name to fool myself into thinking you weren’t really gone.” Yang’s laughter died. “So if it’s wrong to feel this way we can be wrong together.”

“I like that.”

“Good, that’s settled.” Blake moved to grasp Yang’s hand in her own, squeezing it firmly three times. “Just,” Yang squeezed back three times, “don’t ever go away again.”

Blake smiled at her childish wish. “I can’t promise that.” Yang pouted. “But I can say you are more than welcome to join me next time.”

“You mean…” Yang trailed off as the blood drained from her face.

“Yup, my dad is particularly interested in meeting you.”

#bumbleby #inktober #day 4 freeze #my writing

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stereksecretsanta · 4 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @dearericbittle!

Merry Christmas and Happy whatever Holiday you may celebrate! Hugs!

Read on AO3

*****

Oh Shit!

Oh Shit. Stiles takes a moment to revel in the fact that this is his oh shit moment. Not, oh shit, a dead body in the woods. Not, oh shit, werewolves. Not, oh, shit, Derek wants me to cut off his arm. Not, oh shit, kanimas, or hunters, or any other of bevy of supernatural fuckery. No, Stiles’ oh shit moment is walking past an alleyway and having his Derek Hale spidey tingle go off. His oh shit moment is seeing Derek Freaking Hale crouched in an alley trying to coax a completely demonic looking cat with a massive gash across it’s forehead out from behind a dumpster. Stiles assumes so that Derek can help getting Demon!cat treated.

Stiles oh shit moment is oh shit, I’m in love with this asshole.

Stiles would like to think that he is fairly self-aware but this knocks the wind right out of him. His stomach does a full loop-the-loop and his heart does a quadruple staccato for long enough that Derek looks up from his save the cat mission to meet Stiles’ eyes.

Derek’s eyes widen in apparent surprise before a grin spreads across his face. This does not help Stiles’ heartbeat situation, especially when paired with his recent oh shit revelation. The warm welcome fades on Derek’s features, replaced with a look of concern. Derek reaches out his arm as if to steady Stiles, though the only stumbling that is going on right now is emotional. Stiles rallies himself, before Derek can touch him - who knows how his traitorous body would react to that!

He gesticulates just a little too wildly with his hands, and bumbles further into the alley a little too dramatically before managing to get some words out of his mouth.

“Whatcha doin’, Sourwolf? You gonna put that poor cat out it’s misery with your teeth?”

Stiles cringes. It’s been years since any “rip your throat out with my teeth” jokes have really been appropriate or funny.

Derek has yet to speak any words but his eyebrows scrunch together in question.

Stiles takes a deep breath and shakes his head.

“Nevermind, Sourwolf. Weird kind of day. You ever learn something that kind of shifts your whole world view? Did you know that squirrels are behind the majority of power outages in United States, Derek? Because, let me tell you, I did not.”

Derek shakes his head with what Stiles would define as fond eyebrows and proceeds to ignore everything that has come out Stiles’ mouth since “Whatcha doing, Sourwolf?”

“I tracked this little critter from near that bakery over on Main St. She’s bleeding and smells afraid. I’m having trouble getting her to trust me.” Derek’s voice stays soft and even while hes’s talking with Stiles. He’s crouched near the ground again and while his eyes are locked on Stiles’, his hand is reaching out towards the injured cat with feigned nonchalance.

Mirroring Derek’s tone of voice, Stiles asks, “What were you doing at the bakery?”

“Picking up cupcakes for Laura’s birthday dinner tonight.” He pauses, “You didn’t forget about that did you?”

Yes, yes Stiles had forgotten about that. In his defense, he’s been working nights the last week and days of the week are a nebulous thing when one is working the night shift.

Derek interprets his pause accurately. “Don’t worry about it. If you’re back on days, come over around 6 and we’ll feed you. Don’t worry about a present.”

Stiles is about to respond when he sees that cat has finally made her way to Derek’s outstretched hand and has deigned to be picked up.

Stiles thought that he’d gotten the whole loop-the-loop, crazy heart beat, oh shit moment stuff out of the way, that he’d managed to get a handle on it during his brief stint in the alley. But, no, he was a self-deluded idiot.

Seeing Derek cuddling a dirty, possibly mangy, blood soaked cat while whispering sweet nothings into her ear like she was a small child, disabused Stiles of the notion that he had any control over his bodily functions when it came to Derek Hale.

Stiles lived with his internal crisis for a few more seconds, until Derek stood up.

“I’m going to take this little beauty to see Scott. Will I see you tonight?”

Stiles mumbled what must have been some sort of affirmative because Derek said goodbye and left the alley.

When he got back to his baby, he collapsed in the front seat and banged his head against the steering wheel a couple times. He did not need this kind of complication in his life right now.

*******

Stiles can’t remember the last time he found himself banging frantically on Scott’s door. Probably high school sometime. With the distinct lack of big bads of the supernatural variety in the last few years, there hasn’t been much need.

Now, however, he finds himself banging on the door to the apartment Scott shares with Isaac, hoping the curly-haired menace is currently elsewhere. Don’t get him wrong, he’s square with Isaac now, friends even. It��s just, he’d like to have his mental breakdown in the presence of Scotty and Scotty and Scotty alone.

Thankfully, it appears Scott is home alone when Stiles walks in and collapses in flail of limbs on the couch.

“Scotty, my brother, my friend, my bro, my wolfy companion, the world as we know it is over.”

Completely unfazed by Stiles’ declaration, Scott sits on the coffee table across from Stiles and puts his hands on Stiles’ knees before speaking. With a gentle squeeze, Scott says, “The squirrels?”

“Yes, Scotty the squirrels. There’s an acronym. TSql. You know how I get about acronyms Tee-squill or The Squirrel Index.”

Stiles makes a concerted effort not to be sucked into an ADD fueled rant about squirrels and power outages before he can backtrack to what he came here to talk about.

“I’m in love with Derek Hale.”

This statement is greeted with complete silence. He risks a glance at Scott to see if maybe his declaration had somehow caused him to die of shock.

Nope, Scott is just looking at him with confused puppy dog eyes.

Finally Scott speaks. It’s slow, like he’s talking to a toddler or scared dog. “Are you okay?”

A noise Stiles can’t even begin to describe or categorize emerges from deep within his being. The gist of the noise was, “How can you ask me that? I don’t know. I don’t even recognize myself anymore. And when the hell did this happen?

Scott, blessed, wonderful, fantastic Scott seems to read his mind or possibly his noises. Maybe his noises are to Scott like Derek’s eyebrows are to Stiles. Aaand, that is a thought for another day.

“Well, it’s not the most terrible thing. I mean, Derek is a really good guy, You guys have been working together a lot lately what with working on the remodel plans for the house. Maybe it just happened naturally.” Scott says.

“Hmph. Naturally, you say.” Stiles pauses. Now Scotty is not always the brightest crayon in the box when it comes to analytics or plans or anything GPA related but Scotty has heart. When it comes to relationships and emotions, he’s usually right.

He things back to the first time they had to hit the road to visit some lumber distributor 3 hours away. The silence had started out extremely awkward. Stiles had fiddled with the radio and half-heartedly tried to comment on the passing landscape.

But then he had flicked the radio station through some kids station and Let It Go started playing. Somehow in the fraction of a second before Stiles was able to change the station again, Derek starts singing along. It’s under his breath, Stiles isn’t even sure if he realized he was doing it.

The ended up bonding over Disney leading ladies (not just princesses, thank you very much) for the next 2 hours. It seems like maybe that was the beginning of it all now that Stiles thinks about in a more calm state of mind. He should have figured it out when they gave each other nicknames. Derek is Elsa, Stiles is Mulan. And yes they actually call each other those names, unironically on occasion.

“…earth to Stiles….” He comes back to the present with Scott’s fingers snapping in his face.

“Sorry. You’re right.” Stiles feels himself smiling a little as his heart does a weird happy lurch in his chest. “Shoulda realized after our shared love of all things Disney.”

Scott nods, “And a relationship built over the years based on trust, respect, and a terrible sense of humor.”

“Okay, okay. So not a surprise and probably not as life altering and world changing as I may have first thought. But, still…” Stiles trails off. His oh shit moment blindsided him so much that he hadn’t actually thought about what came next. Does he declare his love? Or maybe just ask Derek out of a date? Or just pretend nothing has changed? Or die of embarrassment when Laura finds out that Derek said no? Or yes - he’s not sure which would cause Laura to dole out the worse punishment.

Scott, again with his uncanny ability to read Stiles’ mind, says, “You know you don’t have to decide what to do right away. The question to ask yourself is, what do you want?”

“I don’t know what I want. I hadn’t really thought beyond hoping Derek doesn’t think I’m dying of a heart condition every time he walks in the room.”

“I hear you, buddy. I’ve got to go to work. Think about it.”

Scott grabs his keys and his wallet and is about to head out the door before he turns back towards Stiles, “You coming tonight?”

Already lost in thought, Stiles replies distractedly, “Yeah. I’ll probably just crash here until then. Ride over together?”

“Yeah, see you then.”

Stiles barely notices the door slam behind Scott. What does he want? He’d always imagined himself in a marriage with kids like his parents. Then werewolves happened and it was hard to imagine past the next week, much less into a future with kids. He’d had a few brief relationships during nursing school but no one he could picture a future with. Now, since he’d come into his spark and they’d managed to bind the nemeton? Not to mention, Laura back from the dead and taking her place as Alpha? Beacon Hills was stable. Nothing had come rampaging through and killing people in almost 3 years.

He hadn’t realized it, but he’d sort of been cruising through on auto-pilot just waiting for another shoe to drop the past few years. Not doing noher, just not really having any intentionality about anything either.

This oh shit thing, this being in love with Derek, maybe that made him think about a future. Stiles isn’t ready to picture being married with 2.5 pups yet. But, walking down the street, holding Derek’s hand for all the world to see, that he could imagine. Sharing curly fries at the diner or going to see a movie, cuddling together under a blanket on the porch swing - those thoughts made him feel warm all the way to his core. Just thinking about made his lips twitch towards a smile and his heart race in anticipation.

Ok, he now knows what he wants. Now, what to do about it, that is the million dollar question.

*******

He ends up bailing on Scotty and going over to the newly-remodeled (with his help!) Hale house early, hoping to catch Laura before everyone started piling in for her birthday dinner.

Luck must be on his side today because for the second time in one day the person he wants to see is home and alone.

He finds Laura in the garden out back singing to the vegetables, She claims it makes them taste better - and veggies can use all the help they can get in the taste department, so she sings.

She waltzes over to him and takes his hands to lead him a rousing dance through the tomatoes as she sings highly altered versions of the VeggieTales songs. Stiles knows better than to try and escape the song and dance so he bears up manfully until Laura ends her song in a fit a giggles.

“What brings you to see your favorite Alpha, today?” she asks when she finally catches her breath. She folds her legs under her gracefully sits in the grass as she asks her question.

Stiles sits beside her and takes a deep breath for courage.

“I’m here to give you your birthday present.”

A grin spreads across Laura’s face as she does gimme hands towards Stiles.

He swats her hands away playfully, before speaking, “Alas, not that kind of gift.” He smiles, “What is your absolute favorite thing to do in all the world?”

Stiles pauses for a moment but before Laura can respond, he adds, with a pointed look, “You actually favorite thing, not some sentimental drivel cause it’s your birthday.”

Laura blows a raspberry at him, “Fine. But only because you’re my favorite.” She wiggles her hands like she’s a puppeteer and cackles before saying, “Meddling”

Stiles gives an exaggerated nod. “Thus my gift to you. First - information no one else but Scotty has”

Her eyes light up and her grin widens.

“Then, I’m going to ask for advice. Now, in the spirit of birthdays, I’m allowing you to meddle. I ask in return, good faith advice, not advice to make me do what you think would be funniest.’

Her grin doesn’t fade but a hint of seriousness comes into her eyes. Stiles can tell she understands even before she nods her head.

Stiles looks down at his hands. He had decided to come and talk to Laura but he hadn’t really figured out how he wanted to start. Well, he figured it worked for Scotty so he might as well just try ripping the bandaid off.

“I’m in love with your brother.”

Laura didn’t do anything so ungraceful as gape like a fish but the phrase, you could have knocked me over with a feather came to Stiles’ mind as he watched her reaction.

Stiles forges ahead before Laura has a chance to reply. “Our pack being what it is, we don’t stand on werework tradition very often. But I was wondering if there was a traditional way to court a werewolf? A wooing ritual or something?

Stiles can tell Laura is trying really hard not to laugh - not out of meanness but out of the sheer ridiculosity of what he is saying. Stiles waves her off.

“I know. I know. I’m the last person to care about tradition. But, you know, Derek has had the best track record. First Paige died, then Kate, and Jennifer. Braeden wasn’t so bad but it also wasn’t so serious. I want Derek to know I’m serious and that he has a choice. If there were a traditional way of doing that, then that is what I’m looking for. If not, I’ll figure something else out.”

Laura scoots around so they are facing each other and practically mirrors Scott from earlier when she puts her hands on his knees before speaking.

“I don’t know if Derek feels that way about you, I don’t know what his reaction to you will be. But I do know this. He could never confuse your intentions with any of those who came before.” She sat up and put her hands back in her lap before continuing. “There is not a wolfy-wooing ritual per se. At least, not one that I am aware. But there is this nursery rhyme or poem kind of thing that our mom used to say to use about the one we would eventually fall in love with. Let me think for a second and try to remember it.”

Her brow scrunched slightly and he eyes drifted to the left as she thought, Okay. It went something like this: Each wolf is whole in itself but there are those who are created to walk beside in perfect harmony. A mate to write their name on your heart will make you safe by watching your back, give you peace by travelling beside you, bring you joy by smiling back at you, and join hands with you so will never be alone on your life journey. You know Derek has the Triskelion tattoo on his back and that can mean a lot of things. But he also has a Triquetra tattoo on his hip. It comes from this verse. The three points are behind, beside and in front of, joined together in the center, together forever. It’s not a ritual or anything but it might help you figure out what you want to do.”

The whole time Laura had been talking, Stiles paid rapt attention. He wasn’t crying by the end but he was certainly moist in the region around his eyes. He had an idea.

But like all great ideas, life interrupted.

******

It was about halfway through Laura’s birthday dinner. Everyone had had one plate of food and most of the wolves had had a second plate but no one had even mentioned cake yet.

Stiles noticed the cat first. He nudged Derek. “You didn’t tell me you brought that cat home.”

Derek turned towards Stiles, confusion clear on his face, fork with potatoes stabbed through on it hanging in the air halfway to his mouth, “I didn’t”

Stiles chuckles slightly and nods in the direction of the cat which is now in the doorway to the dining room. “Then she followed you home.

By this time, the rest of the table has quieted and turned to see what Stiles and Derek are looking at. The cat continues walking towards but with each step, she gets larger and larger until when she reaches the table it is but a small step to climb up on the table and continue walking down it’s center.

The cat, now roughly the size of a miniature pony, walks past Lydia and Jackson, then Erica and Boyd, and Scott and Isaac, and completely ignoring Laura and Stiles before she stops in front of Derek. All of the sudden there is a naked lady instead of cat sitting in the middle of the dining room table.

“Kind one,” she hisses, “You have saved my life this day. You have shown your worth. In the name of Samaoth, High Priestess of the Sable Court of Fae, you are granted a boon.” She waved her arm in a graceful arc around her head somehow managing not to have any other part of her body move a single muscle. You’d think the naked part would be the most eye catching part of the naked fae sitting on the table but it was more like a statue that didn’t really know how a human body worked. It looked right - sort of. But the more you looked, the more wrong you felt on the inside.

When her arm was in front of Derek one, it held a plain manila folder in it’s hand. Derek was just staring.

With a slight hint of impatience, Samaoth hissed, “Take it now mortal. Do as it says and you will be granted your heart’s greatest desire.”

Derek reached out and took the folder. Before his fingers had even fully closed on the edges, Samaoth had vanished into thin air. He didn’t quite have hold of it yet and the folder dropped to the table, relieving itself of a single piece of paper.

It was a simple piece of printer paper. Across the top it read, “Booking Confirmation for Sable Court Representative to the Greater Northwest Region Supernatural Symposium: Derek Hale, plus one.”

After about 30 seconds of stunned silence, every single person at the table began speaking at once.

*******

An indeterminate amount of time later, Laura’s alpha roar breaks through the cacophony of shouts coming from the rest of the pack.

Once everyone is quiet, Laura turns to Derek, who is still sitting in silence and staring at the innocuous looking piece of paper on the table in front of him.

Laura asks him, with slightly forced calm, “Der-bear, what’s going on?”

Derek opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. Stiles doesn’t even recognize Derek’s current eyebrow configuration.

Derek swallows and tries again. “Well,” he pauses, “there was this cat and it was bleeding and I took it to Scott to get fixed up.” He looks helplessly around the table. “It was a normal cat.”

The focused attention of the whole pack swings around to Scott. He shrugs sheepishly. “It was a normal cat. I gave her stitches and left her in the kennel overnight. Though, it seems like she got out.”

Laura rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay. Normal cat. Got it. Except your normal cat is apparently the High Priestess of the Sable Court of the Fae. Derek, what does the paper say?”

Derek looks at Laura and startles like he hadn’t thought to read past the bold heading. His eyes rapidly scan the paper. “Apparently the Greater Northwest Regional Supernatural Symposium is being hosted in Seattle this year at the Fairmont Olympic Hotel, ummm, next weekend. Registration starts on Thursday afternoon at 4 PM. It has a confirmation number, address, phone number and whatnot and a link to app download and password to download the app for the symposium.”

Stiles decides that now is the time to speak up, “For those of us who are new to werewolfly culture, what exactly is the Greater Northwest Region Supernatural Symposium?

Laura sighs before she answers. “It’s going to be a shitshow, that’s what. Wolves aren’t usually invited. We’re too volatile or something. It is mainly run by the fae and other ‘more evolved’ supernatural beings. The get together to schmooze, make treaties and listen to presentations on things like ‘Kobolds and cleaning: an analysis of practices through the ages’ or ‘Pixies in the modern age: pesky or pragmatic?’ It’s pretty much a chance for the hoity toity of supernatural society to get together and bond over how superior they are to the rest of us. For a wolf to show up, and not even an alpha will be an insult to every single being there.”

Stiles feels the need to pipe in again, “Great. So this is the gist. Derek saves this cat’s life, he gets a boon - supposedly his greatest desire but only if he goes to this conference of supernatural one percenters. This is ridiculous!” Turning to Lydia, he continues, “Is this even possible? I thought we had a big do not touch sign over us after our last dealings with the fae.”

Lydia responds quickly, “You’re right. But, Samaoth didn’t seek us out. Derek sought her out - albeit unknowingly - so that may cancel the binding. Let me see if Illirial is available speak with us.

Lydia’s eyes turn milky white as she chants under her breath. The wolves can probably tell what she is saying but to Stiles it just seems like a low susurrus. After a few moments her eyes return to normal and she holds out her hand.

A moment after that a small hologram - Princess Leia style - appears in her hand. Stiles hates dealing with the fae. It makes his brain hurt. But they all owe Illirial and he seems to make an effort not to be purposefully obtuse when speaking with them.

His voice is slightly tinny when he speaks, “Greetings Hale Pack. It is a pleasure to be with you once more. For what reason have you requested my presence this day?”

As Lydia was the best at untangling the vagueries of fae speech, Lydia replied. “We call upon you as a friend, with no obligation attached, to ask of you some information. Under what circumstances might this be amenable to you?”

Illirial appeared to think about it for a moment. “As friends, it would be in my heart to give this information, if I am able. Perhaps one day I may come to you, with no obligation, for the same, until such time as we have shared information of equal value. If I am unable to share what you ask, we will speak of this no more and part again as friends.”

Lydia nodded and continued, “This is generous of you, Illirial. You confirm yourself as friend of the Hale Pack. What can you tell us of the Sable Court of the Fae? Specifically of the priestly order attached to it.”

“As you know, generally, the fae owe allegiance to either the Seelie or Unseelie court. This is balance, as it should be. You mortals may believe one to be good and one to be evil but we fae do not ascribe to that kind of moral judgment. Seelie and Unseelie merely are. WIthout the balance of the courts, the world would fall apart, in a most literal sense. But we fae, while bound to our courts, do have free will. In times when balance is threatened, the fae turn to the Sable Court. They are judge; they are arbiter; and if need be, they are executioner. The high priestess has final say in all decisions made by the Sable Court.”

When it was apparent the Illirial was done speaking, Lydia spoke again, “If the Sable Court High Priestess were to offer a boon, with an obligation attached, what should one take into consideration while deciding on a course of action?”

Illirial responded immediately, in almost a panic, “Only the recipient of the boon can make that choice. Only five times in our history has the Sable court been known to offer a boon. Each time the obligation was how the boon was revealed. While danger might abide within fulfilling the obligation, the Sable Fae are straightforward. There will be no hidden knives or truthful deceits as you might find with some of the other fae.”

Lydia nodded again and replied, “Illirial, the Hale Pack thanks you for the information you have shared so openly, which we acknowledge is beyond your natural state. That which we do not speak of will remain private and you may feel free to call upon the Hale Pack for an exchange of information equal in value to what you have offered us. Go with peace and the blessing of Mother Moon.”

Illirial bowed and vanished from Lydia’s hand.

Stiles turned back towards Laura to see how she would respond to this information and saw his Alpha was white as a sheet. All the blood had drained from her face and she looked like she was about to fall over.

“That’s who did it?” she asked.

Stiles startled. He didn’t know how but he’d forgotten that Laura had never met Illirial before.

Derek grabbed her hand. “Yes.” He looked like he wanted to fight the binding for a moment but then his features calmed. “You know we can’t even speak of how it happened. But yes, it was Illirial who brought you back from the dead.“

Stiles suddenly realized that it was probably the Sable Court that had dictated the binding of secrecy around that whole fiasco. Even now, it was hard to think back to that couple of months when the fae had descended on Beacon Hills. If he tried to pin down the memory too specifically, it would slide away like trying to hold fast to a thousand strings being pulled in all different directions.

Laura seemed to come back to herself. “I know Der-bear. I understand.

Derek stood up. “Well, I guess I better get packed to go to Seattle.”

Stiles made the decision in an instant and stood up as well. “Me too.”

“What?” Derek replied.

Stiles picked up the sheet of paper and waved in front of his face. “Plus one, Sourwolf. I’m going with you.”

He looked like he wanted to argue but was cut off when Laura said, “Good idea. I’ll book you both flights up for Thursday morning.”

*******

2 Days Later (aka Thursday)

Stiles settled into the first class seat Laura had sprung for with a wiggle of his hips. He turned towards Derek, still grinning, when he heard him groan under his breath.

“None of your groaning or sighing is going to ruin this for me, Derek. First class! I’m going to get a hot towel. And free snacks. This is awesome.”

“Sorry. I don’t mean to spoil your fun. It is pretty awesome.” Derek smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes - or his eyebrows.

Stiles turned serious for a moment, “Hey. Sourwolf, I know you don’t like not knowing what’s going to happen but your heart’s desire, that’s gotta be exciting to think about.”

Derek gave another half-hearted smile. “Yeah, I guess.”

“What do you think it will be?”

“I don’t know. I do kind of wonder about whether it’ll be something that I go, ‘oh, of course’ or if it will be something I didn’t even know I wanted. Or if Samaoth can somehow look into the future and know what domino to knock over now that will result in a chain reaction that will make me happy down the road.”

“Whoa there, Derek. That is a lot hamsters running around on their wheels inside your head.” Stiles pauses. “Seriously, though, would any of those options be a bad thing?”

Derek’s eyebrows morph into thinking position #2 and he is silent for a while.

This time, the smile on Derek’s face is genuine. “You’re right. We go to this conference. We come home and then I get my heart’s desire.”

Stiles heart does a little lurch at that. Right now, he knows what his heart’s desire would be: to build a life with Derek. He hopes that spending this weekend alone with Derek will help him think about what Laura said and decide how he wants to woo Derek.

Because Derek deserves ALL the wooing.

*******

Stiles flops on the bed as soon as they get to their hotel room. He blows out a frustrated breath and closes his eyes. Landing in Seattle had started off on the right foot. They had both fallen asleep on the flight and Stiles woke up with Derek’s head resting on his shoulder and their hands pressed together on the arm rest. However, it had all gone downhill from there.

Getting their luggage, getting out of the airport, and the ride to the hotel don’t bear mentioning beyond the word torture. But, then they had finally gotten to the check in desk and the finish line was in sight when Stiles tuned into what the customer service representative was saying:

“Mr. Hale and Mr. Stilinski, welcome to the Fairmont Olympic Hotel. I hope you enjoy your stay in Seattle. You have been booked in one of our honeymoon suites. This includes a complimentary bottle of champagne and chocolate covered strawberries. Please, just let room service know when you would like them delivered. Here is your room key.”

Derek quickly responded, “We were booked in the what?”

“The honeymoon suite, sir.”

“We are just here for a conference, A room with 2 doubles or 2 queens will be sufficient.”

“Sir, we are completely booked. There are no other rooms available.”

Derek looks like he wants to argue with her but instead puts on his big boy pants and says, “Fine. But, you can keep the champagne. I don’t drink.”

The woman’s smile brightens. “Thank you, sir. And please accept this voucher for a free spa treatment instead of the champagne.”

Derek stares at the woman until Stiles reaches out and takes the voucher. “Thank you ma’am. Have a wonderful day.”

So, the bed Stiles has just collapsed on is the bed he is going to have sleep in tonight. With Derek.

Now, apart from the initial freak out, Stiles thinks he’s dealt with his oh shit moment like a completely mature adult. He listened to his heart, decided what he really wanted from the situation and is setting about figuring out how to get there while respecting the other person involved. But none of that mature adult thinking included having to share a bed with Derek Hale.

Also, until now he had somehow managed to not really think about the physical ramifications of being in love with Derek Hale. He didn’t think that Derek was asexual so that meant that somewhere in the future, if his wooing was successful, their would be sex. Sex with Derek.

His face burns just thinking about it. But also, his pants parts are also thinking about getting excited as well. Pants parts… Stiles groans internally. He’s not twelve anymore. If he can’t say the words he’s not mature enough to do the deed.

His brain spirals a bit as it starts to list all the names of things he needs to be mature enough to say. Penis. DIck. Cock. Asshole. Balls.

He is interrupted in his reverie by Derek clearing his throat. “I don’t know what you are thinking about right now but could you please not smell up the bed we both have to sleep in tonight with those thoughts?”

Stiles almost chokes on his own tongue. “Ye…YEa..yes. Sure thing. Sorry.”

He stands up and wipes his hands on his jeans. “I’m going to go to the bathroom.” He groans. “That just made it worse, didn’t it.”

Derek chuckles. “Yes, it did. Don’t worry about it. I’m just teasing. I am not sure that there is any smell you could make that could be worse than the airplane.”

Stiles felt his face heat up for a different reason. He knows Derek is just trying to make him feel better, but he thinks he maybe just gave Stiles a compliment or said that he doesn’t mind what Stiles smells like when he is aroused.

Stiles shuts down that train of thought immediately and goes to throw some water on his face in the bathroom. When he comes out Derek is sitting on the bed like he was waiting for Stiles.

Stiles jitters nervously around the room, touching everything and generally berating himself for not being able to act normal.

FInally, Derek speaks. “So, I know we don’t spend a lot of time with supernatural beings outside of our pack. There are some rules of politeness that it would probably be good for you to know.”

Derek talks for awhile and Stiles tries to remember all the protocol that Derek is telling him.

“Finally, with me not being the Alpha and you being a human spark, we will need to ramp up the appearance of our pack bond.”

“What exactly does that mean, Sourwolf?”

Derek stands up and walks towards Stiles. He stops just inside a normal human’s comfort zone for being a near another person. Derek looks Stiles in the eyes. They stand there for about 5 seconds that felt like 5 years before Derek reaches out and cups Stiles face, rubbing his thumbs over the apples of Stiles’ cheeks. He raises his eyebrows like he’s asking permission.

Stiles has no idea what is going on here but he really doesn’t care. Derek can do what the hell he wants to right now. Stiles nods.

Derek steps closer and leans towards Stiles, coming even closer.

Stiles closes his eyes. His heart is rabbiting out of his chest. He opens his mouth to gulp in air as he thinks he might be drowning. Surely Derek can tells what kind of effect he’s having.

Just when Stiles thought he might die of anticipation, Derek ducks his head and rubs his cheek on Stiles’ neck and shoulder.

Stiles lets out a high pitched squeaking noise. He realizes that Derek meant pack scenting. They needed to touch each other so the pack bond was more apparent in how they smelled.

Derek is still rubbing his face on Stiles’ neck when Stiles breaks. He lets out a almost hysterical sounding burst of laughter and sways backwards away from Derek.

“Stiles, are you okay?”

Stiles wheezes. “Yeah, of course. Scent marking. Pack bonds. Got it. That’s all.”

He knows he’s not making any sense but oh shit Stiles wants to climb Derek like a tree. I mean, he always know Derek was attractive but this kind of visceral physical reaction is a whole new thing.

Derek takes a step forward, confused eyebrows returning, and asks again. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Stiles begins to nod like a bobble head dolls, preparing to reassure Derek that he is indeed fine. Instead, he says. “No, nowhere near fine.”

Concern painting Derek’s features, he starts to talk but Stiles cuts him off.

“Scent marking makes sense now that you say it outloud. But seriously, before you saying it, it felt like you were going to do something completely different. I mean I know it makes no sense but I’ve been kissed a few times and I know what it feels like coming on. I mean I know that doesn’t make any sense but I don’t think my heart could take thinking you were going to kiss me and then you don’t but you’re still rubbing all up on me.”

Stiles knows he’s rambling. It’s the ADD and the stress but he can’t seem to stop himself. Finally Derek just slaps a hand over his mouth, forcing Stiels to stop.

Derek looks almost bewildered. “Is kissing me something you want?”

It’s Stiles turn to feel bewildered. “How do you just ask that? That’s a crazy kind of a question.”

Derek raises one eyebrow and says, “Stiles, answer the question. I’m not going to make fun of you.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and looks up at Derek, feeling shy for the first time in a very long time. His voice comes out like a whisper. “Yes. I think I do. I mean it’s a pretty recent development and I had planned on wooing you before i told you, but since you ask, yes, kissing you is something that I want.”

Derek is silent for awhile before Stiles eventually begs, “Come on, Sourwolf, put me out of my misery here, one way or the other.”

Derek looks up again, his face vulnerable in a way that Stiles isn’t sure he’s ever seen. “I’ll be honest, I’ve never thought of you in that way before. But now that you bring it up, it seems like maybe it could be worth thinking about. I don’t want to kiss you on an experient, with us wanting different things out of it. Maybe we could talk more about it when we get home and give me a little while to think it over.”

Stiles isn’t really sure how to process what Derek just said beyond it wasn’t no. Stiles smiles, a little hope seeping into his own thoughts on the matter.

“Yeah, Derek. That sounds good.” He looks helplessly around, not really sure how to start a different conversation and not really having any thing else to do in the hotel room.

Derek saves the day. “Look, they have registrations times in the morning as well as tonight. What do you say we go and see a movie tonight instead of sticking around the hotel? We can grab some dinner too.”

“Yeah. That sounds great.” This is not a date, Stiles repeats to himself in his mind over and over again. But at the same time, he can’t keep the goofy smile off his face..

*******

The not-a-date was amazing. Somehow, they had both been able to just have fun together and not get stuck dwelling on to kiss or not to kiss question. Stiles was floating on cloud 9 until they got back to the hotel room. More specifically, the bed.

Stiles and Derek have both changed into sweatpants and t-shirts and are standing on opposite sides of the bed, just staring at it and not getting in.

Finally, Stiles looks up and tries to school his face into a serious demeanor. “Now look here. I have already admitted to where I stand on the whole kissing question. I am a virile young specimen of a human being. This” he says pointing a finger around the bed, “is a no judgment zone. You ignore any bodily functions that may happen in this bed, because of how I feel about you.”

By the end of his speech, Stiles’ cheeks are burning and he doesn’t know why but he is having trouble catching his breath.

Derek blinks like an owl. “Feelings?” He’s sounding a little breathless himself.

Stiles shakes his head in frustration. “Yes, Derek. Feelings! I thought we already had this conversation.”

Derek shakes his head. “No. We had a conversation about kissing. Not a conversation about feelings.’

“Yeah, well, for me there the same damn conversation. The feelings came first. Then the wanting to kiss you.”

“Oh.”

“What, oh?” Stiles bites out, beginning to feel annoyed. And embarrassed.

“In my experience, that’s not always the case. Not with Kate or Jennifer or Braeden.” Derek replies in a very small voice.

Stiles annoyance falls away and his heart breaks, just a little. Stiles walks around the bed so he can at least be near to Derek.

“I know we haven’t worked the whole feelings/kissing thing out but can I give you a hug?”

Derek doesn’t even reply. He just reaches for Stiles and wraps his arms around his entire torso. Derek practically collapses into the hug and Stiles does his best to channel everything he learned about hugs from his Mom and Mama McCall into this hug.

Stiles thinks this might be the longest he’s ever hugged anyone for and he doesn’t ever want to let Derek go. But eventually their arms naturally drop. Stiles puts his hands on Derek’s cheeks, and looks him in the eyes.

“Listen to me, Derek. I love being your friend. I love being your packmate. I love getting to spend time with you. Me being in love with you won’t change any of that if you don’t want it to. It’s like an A and an A+. Both are awesome. One is just a slight improvement over the other. I don’t want the A+ unless it is going to make you happy too. I’m here for the A no matter what you decide about kissing and feelings.”

Derek closed his eyes before he started speaking. Stiles can feel each movement of his jaw as he chokes out a response. “The last time I tried kissing and feelings together, I ended up having to kill her. I don’t know how to do this like a normal person.”

“Derek, look at me. Do you think that I know how to do this like a normal person either? There is no normal. There is just whatever we decide we want.”

In a barely audible whisper, Derek says, “I think I’d like to try this with you. But slowly. Definitely feelings, but maybe no more than kissing for awhile.?”

Stiles can’t imagine what the sheer joy that sweeps through him must smell like to Derek but Derek sniffs the air and a grin breaks out across his whole face, eyebrows and all.

Stiles is practically vibrating in place. “Can I kiss you now?””

Instead of answering, Derek leans forward and gently presses their lips together. Despite how chaste the kiss is, Stiles feels it to the very core of him. His heart is doing things he couldn’t eve describe and his knees are about to buckle.

Without thought, his arms wrap around Derek’s neck and his hips press forward. He stops himself short of grinding because that would not be taking it slow. But, as it is, he and Derek are touch from head to toe, wrapped in each other’s arms and more deliriously happy than Stiles knew was possible.

Derek ran his fingers through Stiles’ hair as he pulled away from their kiss. Stiles didn’t have scent to go by but he thought that Derek was just as happy as he was.

“Alright, lover boy or lover wolf? Is that a thing. It should be. Lover-wolf, let’s go to bed.”

“Not a thing. Don’t make it a thing.”

“Too late, lover-wolf, its a thing.”

They both climb into bed and Stiles stalls out for a minute but then he reaches out and takes Derek’s hand. By the time they fell asleep, Stiles had claimed the position of big spoon and had Derek wrapped in his arms.

*******

The first thing Stiles notices when he wakes up is that he is wrapped around a furnace. Then he realizes that furnace is Derek and his brain shorts out in pure bliss for a moment. But as soon as the warm fuzzy endorphins finish blazing through his system, he begins to take note of other things.

The muscles of Derek’s arm under his head. The roughness of the hair on Derek’s chest, where Stiles’ arm is rested. The tangle their legs have made. The insistent pressure of Derek’s hip bone against his rapidly hardening cock.

Stiles moans almost unconsciously as his hips jerk forward a few times, chasing that beautiful, wonderful pressure. It takes more willpower than he knew he possessed to stop and cant his hips away from Derek. Rubbing off on Derek after sharing one chaste kiss was not taking it slow.

Instead, Stiles scritched his fingers over Derek’s chest where they lay and was about to wake Derek up. Before he can get ‘good morning’ out of his mouth, Derek is on the other side of the room, wolfed out and panting like he just ran a marathon. His eyes are wide and wild - almost like he is somewhere else and not here in a hotel room with Stiles.

Stiles sits up in bed, not sure what just happened. “Derek, what’s wrong?” he asks, voice taut with false calm. He has to stay calm.

Derek hunches further into the corner of the room when Stiles speaks and doesn’t respond.

“Ok, Sourwolf. I’m going to get out of bed slowly. I’m not going to hurt you. You are safe.” Stiles keeps talking, low and calm, while he slowly walks towards Derek with his hands out.

Stiles stops just inside arm’s reach of Derek. He curses himself for his stupidity in what he is about to do. He takes one step closer to the frightened, wolfed out werewolf, not really sure what his next step will be. But when Stiles gets closer to Derek, Derek sniffs the air and that seems to break through whatever Derek had been experiencing.

He manages to pull back the shift and lurches forward into Stiles’ arms, pulling him into a desperate hug and burying his nose in Stiles’ neck. He is pulling in deep breaths of Stiles’ scent and trembling in his arms.

Stiles is at a loss but does his best to hold the man he loves through whatever’s happening right now. He ends up sliding to the floor so he hold Derek better as he is rocking back and forth.

He seems to be inhaling huge breaths of Stiles scent. When Stiles focuses enough to tell what Derek is muttering, he hears, “It’s Stiles. Stiles not Kate. Stiles is safe” over and over again.

Once he picks up what Derek is saying, Stiles heart breaks even more. He leans back a bit and tries to get Derek to look at him, “Sourwolf, your’re safe. I promise.”

Derek won’t be moved. “Need to smell you. Eyes can lie. Need to smell you.”

“Okay, Okay. At least come to the be…couch with me. We can be more comfortable.”

Derek shook the whole way to the couch and immediately curled back into Stiles’ space when they sat down.

It was almost an hour before Derek calmed himself down enough to unwind from Stiles. Stiles arms and legs were so cramped and he had to pee so bad he thought he might actually wet himself. He’d kind of thought they might have gotten through a few dates and make-outs before he was hit over the head with the ‘worse’ part of ‘for better or worse’. Not that he was thinking about marriage already. Oh shit! He might be thinking of marriage already.

“You gonna be okay if I go pee real fast?”

A ghost of a smile flashed across Derek’s face. “Yeah, I think so.” He paused, “But hurry, please”

Stiles peed the fasted he’d ever peed and went back to sit beside Derek.

He gets a good look for the first time since they moved to the couch. Derek’s face is pale and drawn with tear tracks streaking his cheeks. His eyes look hollowed out and exhausted. His whole body is hunched over like he is ashamed.

Stiles gently lifts Derek’s chin so he can look him in the face. “What happened?”

Derek opens his mouth like he was going to talk but instead ends up shaking his head. “I don’t know. I’m so sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you deal with that. You didn’t sign up for that. Just sorry.”

“Hey, hey. No. Before anything else, I am your friend and packmate. Which means I absolutely signed up for keeping you safe when you are terrified. I absolutely signed up for being there when you need me. The kissing and feelings has nothing to do with that. And I did sign up for that.”

Stiles thinks he must look strange because the way Derek is looking at him is like he’s never seen Stiles before. It almost makes Stiles embarrassed for how fierce he just was. But then Derek whispers, “Thank you.” And, that’s it. Stiles knows he said the right thing.

“Anytime. Though I do hope not all the time.” Stiles takes a moment to choose his next words very carefully. “If you don’t quite know what happened or don’t feel ready to talk about it yet, that’s okay. I’m not going to press. But I think you should consider talking about it. I mean, maybe with a professional. I’m always happy to listen but that was a really big reaction to I don’t know what. I am here for you and I will always be here for you. However, a professional might make it so you get better instead of just having support when it’s bad. I don’t know if I said that right or not.”

Derek’s voice is back up to normal volume. “You said it just fine. Maybe. I’d have to find someone supernatural. Maybe Laura knows of someone.”

Stiles is full to bursting with pride when Derek says that. The pink on Derek’s cheeks tells Stiles, he can probably smell that on him. He replies to Derek’s cheeks instead of his eyebrows like usual, “Yes, I’m proud of you. Get used to it, Sourwolf.”

*******

It takes awhile for them to finally get around to taking showers and getting dressed. By the time they are ready to leave the room, there is only about 15 minutes left of registration. Stiles is about to open the door when Derek grabs his hand and stops him.

He fumbles for his words for a moment before his eyebrows become determined and he looks up at Stiles. “So you know rank and protocol can be very important to supernatural beings.”

Stiles nods.

“As an unmated wolf representing a pretty powerful group, I will be considered fair game.”

“Fair game for what?”

“Wolves have a lot of behaviors surrounding smell because that sense is enhanced for us. For the fae, touch is very powerful. They can read auras, map bindings and relationships, heal or harm based on intention, enact treaties, and so much more. They understand enough about wolves to know not to touch a mated wolf without permission but an unmated wolf is fair game.”

“What are you saying? Cause it almost feels like you want me to be your mate so you don’t get touched too much while we’re here. And that feels like you are manipulating me because you know about my feelings. I don’t think you would do that so please tell me what you are saying.”

Derek looks horrified as he talks again, “No. Nonono. I just meant, maybe we could pretend to be mated. Maybe engaged to be mated or something. We wouldn’t smell right to other wolves but for the fae, they might believe if we were convincing enough.”

“I’m not sure that would be much better, Sourwolf. I don’t want you kissing me and touching me if you don’t mean it. That would be too heartbreaking for me.”

“What if we just didn’t say anything but did some of the stuff we’ve already done, just in public - holding hands, hugging, ummm, small kisses.”

Stiles thought about it for a moment. “Just make a promise. Don’t do anything with or to me that you don’t have feelings behind. I mean maybe you wouldn’t have thought to do it at just that moment except us being here but in general, it would make you happy to do it with me…”

Stiles huffs out a breath. That didn’t even make sense to him and he said it.

Derek takes a step closer. “I’d be happy to hold your hand all the time. Being surrounded by your scent is amazing. It’s like no matter what else is going on, no matter how crazy or dangerous things are, I can find peace if you are nearby.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yean, okay.”

Stiles turns to the door of their hotel room again, about to open it. And, again, Derek stops him. “Umm, before we go down there, can we do one more thing?”

Stiles tilts his head in inquiry.

“Can I kiss you again?”

Stiles’ breath whooshes out of him and his heart beats in that quadruple staccato as he nods his head.

Derek crowds him against the wall, boxing Stiles in with his whole body before he leans in and presses their lips together.

Stiles doesn’t know and really doesn’t care what to do with his hands. They flail up and land somewhere on Derek’s back as his legs give a wobble under him. Oh God. This is like a perfect moment.

Then, Derek opens his mouth just a bit and lets his tongue lick at Stiles’ lips. That sends a shock right to Stiles’ heart and feels warm through his whole body. Another lick and shock lands a bit lower. There’s nowhere for him to move that doesn’t involve rubbing against Derek.

This time, Derek rubs back and Stiles thinks he might die of sheer pleasure. He opens his mouth, letting his tongue meet Derek’s. At Stiles’ acquiescence, Derek growls, eyes flashing blue, and grabs Stiles’ hands. He slams them against the wall above their heads and presses hard into Stiles’ whole body.

Stiles whines and tries to reciprocate as much as possible but Derek has complete control over him. And, oh shit, does that work for him. HIs brain is rapidly dribbling out his ears, being replaced entirely by the pleasure of Derek pinning him to a wall.

All of the sudden Derek lets out a frustrated groan and Stiles’ front is freezing. Derek takes a step back, chest heaving and eyes blown wide. Stiles is sure he looks about the same. Maybe with a touch more confusion.

“Wha…why did you stop?”

Derek practically growls out his answer and his eyes flash blue again, “The first time I make you come, it won’t be pinned against the wall in a hotel room that smells like about 10 other people.”

Stiles thinks if he were five years younger, hearing Derek say that might have made him come untouched, standing against a wall in a hotel room. As is, he presses a hand against the base of his cock and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before grunting, “If you don’t want me to come, then you should probably stop talking about it.”

Derek is flushed and beautiful and his eyebrows have gone a bit sheepish. “Yeah, for me too.”

Stiles puts his full weight back on his own feet (and not the wall, or Derek) and looks at the clock on the bedside table. “Aannd, we now have 5 minutes left to register.”

“Then we better hurry.” Derek smirks at Stiles and grabs his hand to drag him to the elevator.

*******

The rest of the weekend was amazing. It turns out being the Sable Court representative meant they had to show up at a few seminars, make sure everyone knew they were there to represent the Sable Court, and attend the Banquet on Saturday night. No one made treaties with the Sable Court so there was very little politicking to be done. Every so often folks with grievances would try to get Derek to settle it between. Derek made a point of never giving a direct answer but he did keep note of a few situations that had the potential to blow up and made sure to pass that information on to whatever being was the equivalent of their Alpha.

Mostly, Stiles and Derek got to wander around a beautiful hotel, holding hands and reveling in just being together. The banquet had been the highlight of the weekend. Derek grumbled the whole time that he didn’t want to dance. But Stiles eventually convinced him, leading Derek onto the dance floor with a mischievous grin on his face.

Stiles proceeded to do the Macarena to every song that the string quartet played. Derek’s sour face barely lasted one song, by the end of the second song, he was laughing, By the end of the third song, he even had some of the other attendees who were around his age trying to get the pace of the Macarena right to match Liszt’s Angelus.

Derek pulled him close, laughter still in his voice, “You are ridiculous. Now you’ve got the whole place doing it, can we go?”

Stiles felt a pang of disappointment. He’d thought they were having fun. He quirks a half-smile at Derek. “Not having fun?”

Derek pressed a hard, quick kiss to Stiles’ lips. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? When you laugh, the joy in your scent is all I can focus on. I just want to slam you against some vertical surface and kiss you until it is as much a part of my scent as it is yours..”

Stiles’ eyes widened and yep, his whole body was on board with that idea. His voice cracked when tried to talk. Finally, he got out, “Yeah, that sounds like more fun than this. Let’s go do that.”

Later that night, after a good amount of very awesome making out, followed by two long, separate showers that would have taken all the hot water had they not been in a hotel, Stiles and Derek found themselves lying in bed together again. The heat from earlier in the evening has been banked and they are cuddled together, completely boneless.

Stiles is almost afraid to break the perfect atmosphere by speaking but he does. “You know I went and talked to Laura before her birthday dinner? I asked her whether there were specific werewolfy mating rituals. Or a specific way I should woo you.”

Derek looks at him, slightly horrified. “You didn’t!”

Stiles grins. “I did. I told it was her birthday present - that I was voluntarily letting her meddle.”

Now Derek looks worried for Stiles’ sanity. “What did she say?”

“I made her promise she would take the piss or get me to do something stupid before I asked her. She seemed to get that I was serious. She told me about this quote about mates that your Mom used to tell you.”

This time Derek smiled and recited from memory, “Each wolf is whole in itself but there are those who are created to walk beside in perfect harmony. A mate to write their name on your heart will make you safe by watching your back, give you peace by travelling beside you, bring you joy by smiling back at you, and join hands with you so will never be alone on your life journey,”

“Yeah, that. I started out thinking I was going to try to take that quote and prove to you that I am your mate, through wooing. But I realized there is no way that I would be able to convince you I am your mate, if I am not. Instead, I’ve realized that I want to tell you how you are my mate. From there, it is up to you where we go.”

Stiles swallows. “Derek Hale, I know that I am always safe with you. If we are in danger, I know you will be there, making sure that we both get out alive. You also make me feel safe sharing who I am with you. You’ve never made me feel bad about myself or how I was feeling. They say peace isn’t the lack of conflict but rather it is an inner quality that allows you to maintain equilibrium even in the midst of conflict. Now, equilibrium is not something I am much talented at. But with you by my side, I can find that calm. I can find my way out of calamitous thinking. You make me feel grounded. You’ve got a wicked sense of humor when you choose to let it out and you are the most fun to be goofy around because you’ll pretend to be annoyed but I know you really love it.”

Stiles stops for a moment, and takes Derek’s hand before he continues. “I know this isn’t really taking it slow when it comes to the feelings side of kissing and feelings but I want you to know, I think you are my mate. I hope one day you will decide that I am yours”

All of the sudden, there is a cat on their bed. It begins to grow and then transforms into a naked lady, just as it had at Laura’s birthday party.

Samaoth greets this with a hissed murmur, “Kind one, your obligation is fulfilled and your boon is granted.”

Stiles feels sick. Derek looks like he is about puke. Derek rasps out, “Not like this. I don’t want it like this. You can’t make him feel like this and then expect it to be okay.”

Samaoth arches one eyebrow. “Make him? I did not make him. This was a boon of revelation not a boon of creation. Maybe a slight nudge so that you were in a situation that would encourage you to share your feelings with each other. But the feelings themselves, they are yours, and yours alone.”

The pit in his stomach closed up and he was able to breathe again. But before Stiles could speak, Samaoth continued, “You know, not having to attend this thing was wonderful. Would you be willing to attend as my representative every year, Kind one?”

Derek appears to still be reeling, so Stiles answers. “Perhaps we leave it open for you invite us each year, while we retain the right to accept or refuse as we are able.”

Samaoth nods, “This is acceptable. Enjoy your mate, Kind one.” Samaoth then disappeared into thin air between one breath and the next.

Stiles and Derek look at each other. Derek finally speaks, “That was exhausting. Can we just go to sleep and talk about it tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Stiles kisses Derek’s forehead gently and then whispers, “Sweet dreams, Lover-wolf.”

*******

Traveling home was almost as exhausting as traveling to Seattle in the first place. But at least Roscoe was waiting for them instead of a taxi.

When they had both climbed in, Stiles tapped on the steering wheel a couple of times to relieve the nervous tension.

“We haven’t really talked much about what Samaoth said. I thought we might at least talk about what we wanted to tell the pack when we get home.”

Derek nods. “That’s a good idea.” He pauses. “I think I should go first.”

“Okay.”

Stiles is confused when Derek starts how he does but listens without interrupting. “Kate liked to play sexual games. She was always pushing me further than I wanted to go. I think Friday morning happened because you used your fingernails to wake me up. She used to scratch me, until I would bleed. She would start soft, almost tickling and gradually get harder and harder until I would beg her to stop. She would only stop if I did something for her, like go down on her or play with her nipples.”

Derek takes a deep breath in and out through his nose. “I thought I loved her. I thought she loved me. I thought that was just how sex was. I didn’t know how bad she was until it was too late. You know the rest of the story. But I think she really messed up how I think about feelings and kissing as we’ve been calling it. I think you’re right. I probably need to talk to a professional to get it all sorted out in my own head.”

Stiles nods and makes an encouraging noise because it seems like Derek isn’t done talking yet.

“I want that with you. I want the whole thing: mates, married, growing old together, everything. The feelings are there. But I think I also need time to work out my own head before we go any further than the kissing.”

When Derek looks up at Stiles, his eyes are pleading with Stiles, like there was anything other than yes that Stiles would say to all that. “Derek, I am here for you, however you need. As long as we can talk to each other, it will be okay. I can’t promise to always do or say the right thing but I want this too. I want this in a way that is healthy for you. And in the mean time, kissing you is no hardship.”

To demonstrate, and because he wanted to, Stiles leans forward and kisses Derek, once on the lips, once on the forehead, and then once on each cheek.

Stiles leans back, and asks, “What do you want to tell the pack?”

“The truth.”

*******

Everyone is gathered at the Hale house when they walk inside, hand in hand. Laura squeals and jumps up to hug them both as soon as she notices. Scott grins and gives Stiles a thumbs up while everyone else takes a moment to catch up.

They sit down together in one of the love seats, Derek on Stiles’ lap.

Lydia starts of the friendly interrogation. “I’d ask how it went but it appears to have gone very well.”

Stiles is grinning and Derek has a soft happy smile on his face. They look each other in the eyes and both say, “Yeah,” at the same time.

Laura throws and throw pillow at their heads. “Stop being so sappy and tell us all about it.”

Derek throws it back at his sister and Stiles starts to talk. “The conference was a conference. Nothing exciting there except, we kind of both decided that we are mates.”

The whole room erupts in shouts and wolf whistles.

Once they settle down, Stiles continues, “Samaoth doesn’t like to go so she used this as an excuse to get out of it and give Derek his boon. Apparently, we have always been each other’s mates and might have figured that out on our own eventually but Samaoth’s boon was one of revelation. The time alone together, along with a small nudge from her, helped us to be able realize our feelings for each other.”

“Congratulations, guys,” Boyd says when Stiles stops speaking. The rest of the pack echoes the sentiment.

Derek nudges Stiles, “Can you tell them the rest too?” Stiles startles slightly. “You want to share that part?

“Yeah. I don’t know that I can say it again but they’re pack. It’s safe.”

Stiles smiles, pride and happiness leaking out everywhere. “Part of us deciding what it means for us to be mates is that we decided to take it really slow. Derek shared some things about what Kate did to him that have messed up how he sees the physical aspect of relationships. He’s decided to talk to a professional about to get things straight in his own head. We’re still mates, we’re just taking it really slow.”

Derek stared at his shoes the whole time Stiles was talking. His embarrassment is bright on his cheeks and the rest of the pack must be able to smell it.

Laura stands up from her seat and kneels on the ground in front of Derek so she can look him in the eyes. “I am so proud of you. You have nothing to be embarrassed about. We all love you and want you to be happy.”

Erica yells from across the room. “What she said.”

Lydia replies, “I might have said it with more tact, but I agree too.”

Isaac, Boyd, Scott, and Jackson are quick to follow with their own reassurances.

There is a bit of awkward tension in the room like no one really knows what comes next, until Stiles declares, “It’s time for Frozen and a puppy pile.”

Derek smiles and says, “Yeah, that would be great.”

Three disney movies later, Stiles falls asleep with Derek sitting between his legs, back resting against Stiles’ chest. He’s never been so happy in all his life. Maybe he should be looking forward to his next oh shit moment.

The end.

#dearericbittle #stereksanta19 #*fics19 #*gifts19

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victuurikatsu · 5 years

Text

Traditions were something Victor never followed through with before. He once told Yuuri that one never celebrated birthdays too early in Russia, and there wasn’t a grand gesture for Christmas either. So while he wasn’t well-versed in following tradition, he was very in sync with the element of surprise. And how could he not be when the one who was tethered to his heart constantly gave him reasons to keep up with surprises?

Yuuri was the one who made it a new tradition to have a new piney Christmas tree up in their place. He was the one who urged Victor to decorate and use his wildest imagination in order to encompass what he felt Christmas was, while also preparing two meals: a Christmas dinner and a birthday dinner, always ending the night with a cake.

When Victor thinks about Christmas, he thinks of how he’s snuggled up by the fireplace with Yuuri in his arms and Makkachin splayed over both of their laps. He thinks of the smell of fresh pine and hot cocoa and rum swirling around while the warmth of Yuuri’s lips pressing against the inside of his wrists brings him back to earth. It’s truly blissful.

Read more under the cut, or over at AO3

As for the birthday portion of the day? He runs like hell, because Yuuri decides it’s a great time to poke him in his hair whorl in the amount of times that equals his age. It feels like a ridiculously overdrawn game of hide and seek, but their home is filled with groans and a chorus of giggling. Irregardless of how much it made Victor pout, over the past few years, it stayed on as their latest tradition.

Yuuri kept good on his promise to Victor, working hard to secure a five-time World Champion status under his belt. Currently he’s at his 4th consecutive win and Victor has never been prouder to take silver, with Yurio begrudgingly at bronze. The banquets were always traditionally proper as sponsors and the art of etiquette were of utmost importance, however, that didn’t stop one Japanese skater being coaxed by a certain Swiss skater to indulge in some champagne for their yearly dance battles, their favorite way to unwind.

Every year Yurio tells them they’re idiots for disrupting the banquet that way but still finds himself in an enraged state of competitive mindset. He’s literally among the top 5 ice skating champions in the entire world, how were they all collectively STILL beating him when it came to dance battles? Victor of course looks on with absolute glee, cheering on Yuuri the deeper he lets loose. The collective amount of photos and videos he has of a drunk Yuuri as always surprising the hell out of everyone with the moves he’s capable of, is completely priceless but now familiar.

Victor’s favorite part of the battle is when Yuuri beckons him to put his phone away as they paso doble the night away, always ending with Victor being dipped down, his hand firmly on Yuuri’s back, and Yuuri’s hand tenderly caressing Victor’s face. To end the night off, there’s a slow dance, and naturally Victor and Yuuri choose each other, but at this point Yuuri is draping his arms around Victor’s shoulders while Victor steadies him as they sway to the music.

“Ne’ Victoru?” Yuuri drunkenly giggles softly into his ear.

“Hmm?” Victor pipes in curiously.

“If I can manage to keep upright for the rest of this dance, won’t you reconsider the five-time champion rule? I’ve won enough gold at this point to prove myself worthy of you right?” Yuuri continues.

Victor’s gaze falls upon glistening honey brown eyes, that same hopeful gaze from before, around a time that felt like it was just yesterday. He rests his forehead on Yuuri’s, a mischievous smirk laced on his lips.

“What are you suggesting, Yuuri?” Victor asks, feigning nonchalance.

Yuuri stumbles slightly at the last note of the song, his grip around Victor’s waist tighter as he finds the courage to utter the following wish: “Be my husband, Victor.”

It’s enough once again to make Victor’s heart swell. How many times in this lifetime would Yuuri cause his heart to stop dead in tracks, to illicit an honest to God gasp? Victor’s lost again in Yuuri’s presence, amazed by how far they’ve come together in life and in skating. Yuuri doesn’t wait for an answer and simply blushes harder, the alcohol taking complete hold of his mind. Victor waves Chris over to help him escort Yuuri back to their room, the same as they always have.

“Ah, Victor, I think I’ll miss dragging your sweet boyfriend to your room most of all when I buckle down on retirement.” Chris teased.

“Perhaps the next time you’ll be dragging him along with me, he won’t be my boyfriend.” Victor replies, smitten.

Chris genuinely curious, rests his hands on his hips. “I’m certain you don’t mean you’re splitting up. What’s up your sleeve, Victor?”

Victor smiles as he caresses Yuuri’s hair back, his soft snoring starts to fill the space as the alcohol has taken him out cold. Blue eyes filled with so much anticipation and sweetness meets Chris’ and he suddenly feels like he’s 12 again, watching the amazing junior Victor Nikiforov illuminate.

“The plan I’ve been working on, I can finally execute it.” Victor says, excited.

Chris’ eyes widen, as he immediately pulls out his phone. “Shall I let the rest of the group know?”

Victor nods, placing a kiss on Yuuri’s forehead before ushering Chris away. “We have some last minute arrangements to pull off. Come, we should do this somewhere privately. I don’t want to risk ruining the surprise.”

The following morning, Yuuri wakes up with a killer hangover and a sense of dread. The exhibition is tonight and he desperately needs to feel better. Luckily, Victor is one step ahead, presently by his bedside nursing a glass of water and aspirin in his hands.

“Good morning, моя любовь*.” Victor says softly *Translation: My love

“Ah, Vitya, spasibo!” Yuuri exclaims.

He peers behind Victor and can see a hotel cart filled with breakfast foods, the aroma overpowering his very empty stomach. Victor fluffs up pillows for Yuuri to sit back as he adjusts to the new day, carefully feeding him fruit and bites of bacon and eggs. Yuuri sighs in relief as he catches up to the present, the pangs of last night’s bender slowly leaving. He blushes as once again this year, he can’t remember anything past Chris handing him a flute of champagne.

“Anything new and embarrassing to report?” Yuuri asks, tenderly peppering a kiss atop Victor’s head.

Victor shows him the photos and videos that are less raunchy and revealing than previous years but still equally alarming. Yuuri ducks his face into his hands, how did he get that flexible while drunk? He pulls back and stares at his hands, noticing something gold is missing. His ring! He immediately jumps out of bed feverishly looking. Was it taken off? Did he lose it? Did someone steal it? He notices Victor calmly getting up and sees that his ring is missing too. He gasps, thinking of the worst possible scenario when Victor finally calms his nerves.

“They got dirty last night so I’m having them cleaned, I don’t think they’ll be ready in time for the exhibition, but we’ll make do, won’t we?” Victor says, taking his hand carefully in his.

Yuuri’s nervous at first, feeling bare and naked without the weight of the ring on his finger, but with Victor tracing around the outline of where it usually would be, he knows he can wait.

As they make it back to the rink to perform for the exhibition, Yuuri is left in a state of confusion wondering a couple minutes in where Victor could have gone. Disappeared without a trace. Yurio is the one who guides him to sit directly at the kiss and cry but offers no other explanation. Lights dim and a flurry of different lights cascade across the ice, a clear signal that Victor is next.

“Silver medalist Victor Nikiforov’s theme for this season has been new beginnings. But tonight’s exhibition piece he says will take us all the way back to the beginning of his coaching days.” The announcer begins.

The beginning of his coaching days? Yuuri looks on amused. Was he doing the Eros or Agape routine? Suddenly, a singular spotlight shines brilliantly on Victor’s face, his costume for the evening was an exact tailored replica of Yuuri’s free skate outfit but in hues of fuchsia with navy blue, jade, and gold sequins. The first few chords of the piano piece strike a nerve down his spine, Victor was skating to Yuri on Ice!

“Victor Nikiforov will be performing all four quads, reminiscent to Katsuki Yuuri’s past Grand Prix Final days, a feat he has never done or featured in his own routines before!” The announcer exclaimed.

Yuuri, along with the rest of the audience are completely enthralled. Captivated by the way Victor drew attention to detail and gasping at the ease of how he was completing the technical aspects of his jumps. Though Yuuri worried about Victor overexerting himself he couldn’t help but being simply amazed. This was the Victor he loved for so many years, the one who surprised him day after day, and this particular surprise was already bringing him to tears. He physically clutched at the space above his heart, making sure it wasn’t threatening to spill over.

He watched as Victor reached the portion of the program where he realizes he’s found an emotion close to love, however his eyes aren’t closed at this part of the performance. Yuuri realizes Victor is staring directly at him, eyes warm and filled with a love only he has ever known. As Victor neared the step sequence, Yuuri felt compelled to join him in the ice, a passion that only Yuuri knew was exuding from Victor. Oh, what he would give to leap out there now to embrace him.

“Last up is Nikiforov’s signature move the quadruple flip. He’s never attempted this jump so late into the program let’s see how he manages it!” The announcer spoke.

As fatigued as he was, Victor was determined to show not only the world but also Yuuri the lengths he would go to prove how much he adored this program, how much he adored Yuuri. And he delivered, the jump is seamlessly perfect.

“The quadruple flip is complete! He’s done it! What a beautiful culmination of history we’re experiencing here tonight folks! Four quads with a signature move on the latter half of the program! Most have wondered how much farther Victor Nikiforov could go, but it appears he’s letting us know not even the skies are a limit!” The announcer exclaims.

The roars of applause and screaming is deafening and Yuuri is desperate at this point for the program to end. Towards the end of the skate, the flurry of lights dimmed till the original spotlight stopped on Victor again, his final spin ending in him gently positioning into a kneeling glide back to Yuuri at the kiss and cry, his hand extended out for him. Stunned, Yuuri looked at Victor who was panting for his life, not used to the stamina that’s needed to complete the program with all four quads but he had done it. Overcome with joy and gratitude, Yuuri takes a step forward until the lights suddenly go out.

When they’re back on again, Yuuri notices a red carpet has been strewn across the ice, and in front of him is a white banner with pink lettering held up by his loved ones reading “Congratulations on your next level, Victor and Yuuri!” Next level? Yuuri peered down to see Victor still kneeling, the sound of the audience gasping and squealing in delight, and he sees it carefully tucked in a black box, two silver bands.

“Eh?! Ladies and gentlemen, it appears this exhibition is a proposal!”

“Not just a proposal,” Victor thinks. “It’s a proclamation that this man right here, he’s mine. And I am his.”

Victor looks on at the bewildered Yuuri who is wrapping his head around what’s happening, when he takes his hand in his and tenderly kisses his knuckles. Yuuri’s eyes spill over with tears, this exhibition was an ode to him, he knew that much. But a true proposal? Victor peers over to the banner made especially for the moment and Yuuri’s gaze follows, noticing each person out there is holding onto a gift wrapped in rice paper.

“Victor…” Yuuri whispers.

“It’s a yuino ceremony, in our own special way, Yuuri.” Victor chuckles in delight.

They glide over to the center of the rink, cameras ablaze as they capture the scene. Yuuri is situated in front of his parents who are holding onto to shiraga(white thread of hemp), representing the wish that the couple grow old and gray together. Next is Mari who is waving around a naganoshi(clam shell), representing longevity, she is swaying with an inconsolable Minako who is holding suehiro(fan), representing a happy future.

Next to them are Yakov and Lilia who are also holding onto shiraga, Yuuri looks over at Victor who shrugs and says, “They’re the closest I have to parental figures.”

Yuuri squeezes Victor’s hand, as he gazes at Georgi who is also holding on to a naganoshi his eyes transfixed on Mari. Mila and Yurio are holding onto surume (dried cuttlefish) representing the wish for a long marriage. Last but not least are the Nishigori’s holding onto pieces of konbu(dried kelp) to represent healthy children. With a flourish Chris and Phichit are beside them, Chris is handling a bottle of sake’ while Phichit is waving a fan of yanagi-duru(cash gift). Everyone is present, the audience is captivated, and all Yuuri can do is revel at the beauty of it all. Victor caresses Yuuri’s face tenderly, dropping down once again onto one knee.

“Yuuri,” Victor spoke, voice filled with love. “You asked me if you did anything weird last night. And truthfully you didn’t, however you asked something of me. Something I’ve been waiting to hear forever. And I’m answering with this, please give me the honor of growing old together. Stay with me always, even after we leave the ice.”

Victor carefully takes Yuuri’s hand, waiting for an answer. Yuuri gives him a squeeze, an affirmation of consent. How could it not be yes? It’d always been Victor for Yuuri.

“Of course, Мой один единственный*” He replies in delight. *Translation: my one and only

Victor rises from his kneeling position, eyes watering from how perfect the sentence that Yuuri had spoken to him was. Where did he learn that? Yuuri coyly peers over at Yurio whose arms are folded together.

“Thank me later, old man.” He stiffs.

Yuuri’s hands shake as Victor places the silver ring over his ring finger, he takes Victor’s lithe hands into his, pressing a kiss into his palms before returning the gesture. This grand gesture was more than enough to take the original and personal declaration on the steps of the cathedral in Barcelona from something that was like a proposal to something real. They embrace each other, both overcome with the explosion of life and love merging into one. Their union finally merging into one. Yuuri not giving it a second thought pulls him in for a kiss. Somehow it still elicits a gasp from the audience, but they are delighted.

“Congratulations on your marriage, for real this time! Everybody! My best friend is finally marrying the love of his life! Please congratulate them!” Phichit exclaims before going back to snapping as many pictures as humanly possible.

#katsuki yuuri #victor nikiforov #victuuri #yuri on ice #yoi #victor x yuuri #yoi drabble #yoi drabbles #yoi ficlet #ficlet #my writing #s o f t #f l u f f #remember that be my husband victor teaser #here it is!#this is one meaty ficlet so I put the rest under a read more to avoid clogging

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shaylybaby2032 · 5 years

Text

Let Me Be Your Lighthouse

Fandom: Supernatural

Rating: Explicit/18+

Pairing: Gabriel x OFC

A/N: Please do not copy my work to any platform without my permission, even if giving credit.

Warnings: Eventual smut, physical/mental abuse, angst, fluff, language

Summary: A Duke of Hell wants to use Gabriel for his own nefarious plans and makes a deal with the Empty Enitity to bring the Archangel back from the dead. But, when Gabriel escapes, the Duke must reach deep into his arsenal to try and track him down. Not long after Gabriel's great escape, Sam and Dean race to save a fellow hunter who has been captured by demons and, after rescuing her, convince the woman to let them help her get rid of the demons hot on her heels. While the two occurrences seem unrelated at first, they may have more in common than any of them realize.

"A wise man once told me, 'family don't end in blood.' But it doesn't start there either. Family cares about you, not what you can do for them. Family's there; for the good, bad, all of it. They got your back, even when it hurts." -Dean Winchester

Chapter 1: Unexpected Return

The full moon hung low in the night sky over the large patch of deserted dirt in Fort Collins, Colorado that had once been an attempt at a cornfield. The former owner of the land hadn't expected this particular patch of land to be so deprived of the nutrients required to grow grass, much less the crop he had staked his financial well-being upon. He had become quite aware of the losing battle when the ground had all but spit out the yellow kernels as black and hollow husks. If he had been aware of the door that laid deep below the surface of the ground he had been trying to grow the plants in, he would probably have gone running for the hills, or the nearest church.

Unfortunately, there was no way he could have known that the very energy seeping into the ground making it volatile would find its way in to his own mind during the single year he spent trying to make the decision to dump all of his money into the plot a worthwhile choice. There was no way he could have known that exactly one year after he first set foot on to the place that he would be sitting in the local mental institution staring blankly at a wall mumbling about a void no human was ever meant to see.

When he died less than three weeks later, the bank had put a “For Sale” sign on the land. It stuck up from the ground until the elements faded the bright writing away, and it became one of those properties that fell through the cracks as it shuffled around in the system of more appealing purchases.

That was, until almost a decade later, when a man in an expensive five-piece suit walked into the bank asking to speak with the president of the establishment. The man was charming enough to disarm anyone he was speaking with in a way that, had anyone really been paying attention to the ease in which it happened, would have made them fear for their very souls. They hadn't noticed, however, and before long the engaging man with professionally short midnight hair and piercing, dark brown eyes had the female bank president completely enthralled.

It wasn't the sharp and attractive features of his face that drew her in. No, she was far too smart to be taken in by a pretty face and a fancy suit. Years of dealing with business men and women had sharpened her skill of rifling through bullshit and pipe dreams. It was his confidence that drew her in at first, and it slowly mixed in with an attribute she couldn't quite describe. After having checked the credentials he had given her, she discovered he had more than enough money to pay the offer he had presented to her for the property. It was an offer that was more than quadruple the listing price.

While she couldn't see the appeal of the dead piece of land that sat on the outskirts of her town hidden by brush and now overgrown woods, she had finally accepted his offer. When he smiled his approval, her stomach dropped to her feet. The gesture had sent a sense of unnerving through her that had her hair standing on end, and could only be described as wicked. He hadn't given her a chance to go back on her acceptance of his offer, and he grasped her hand in a handshake to seal the deal. She had fought with everything she had not to jerk away when she came in contact with his cold skin. The connection made an overwhelming sense of dread crash over her so hard that she could have sworn the light in the room hit his eyes in way that made them appear to be deep black orbs, threatening to drag her down.

As the suited man walked out onto the moonlit field, that same wicked smile was painted on his face. After all these years he had found the doorway, one that he was sure God had loathed having to make after his Archangel had fallen and created those first dark beings. His eyes flashed to black again as he pulled a glass jar of dark red liquid from a pocket inside his suit jacket. He walked in a circle as he poured the thick substance onto the ground in the shape of sigils that predated even the earliest Sumerian cuneiform. All the while he chanted a language long since dead enough to not be in any written form. When he had completed the circle, the ground beneath him began to rumble and he stepped outside of the markings just as they began to glow with an eerie black hue.

Thunder rolled above his head and lightning lit up the sky as the dirt within the circle began to shift and swirl. A thick tar like substance started to bubble up from the dirt, jerking and spasming as it was drawn to the center like metal to a magnet. The substance pooled and started to build on itself, slowly forming a humanoid shape. With another crash of thunder, the vile liquid crashed back into the ground to reveal an exact copy of the suited man standing in the center of the circle with pure loathing etched into his features.

“Eligos,” the copy growled, addressing the man that summoned it. “To what do I owe the annoyance of being called on by a mighty Duke of Hell.” it's voice held a disgusted tone as it mocked the being in front of it. “Had I been sleeping when you called I would have dragged you down to my domain on sheer principle, so I advise you to tread lightly.”

Eligos bowed respectfully as he spoke. “Oh great being of the Empty, please, pardon my intrusion, but, I am in need of your assistance.”

“MY ASSISTANCE?!” the Empty Entity barked. “WHAT MAKES YOU THINK I WOULD WASTE MY TIME WITH THE LIKES OF YOU?!”

“Because I will make it worth your while,” Eligos said cooly, not even phased by the primal shout that had come from the being in front of him as he straightened his posture. “I have discovered that you know a good deal when one presents itself.”

The Empty Entity regarded the Duke with interest, though it's ire was still prominent. “What is it that you want, Eligos. My patience is already thin. Don't make it worse.”

“The Archangel, Gabriel.”

The Empty threw it's head back in a spurt of laughter so sinister that the wildlife around the area, had there been any dumb enough to wander close, would have scurried away in haste. “Why would I even entertain the idea of freeing an Archangel?”

“Because I offer two of my sixty legions of demonic soldiers for him.”

The Empty scoffed at his bargain. “Twelve thousand demon souls for an ARCHANGEL?! Even one as broken as Gabriel is worth far more than that.”

“Then name your price,” Eligos insisted, his calm exterior never faltering.

“What use could you have for an Archangel with low grace and a hefty dose of PTSD? Your superior really did quite the number on him. But, you know that. Asmodeus confided in you and you alone about his pet, among other things.”

For the first time Eligos’ still presentation faltered as his eyebrow arched in questioning.

“I receive the memories of each being that comes to my domain,” the Empty explained before he could ask. “Asmodeus was sick, even by my standards. I will only ask one more time why you want one of his broken toys.”

“Gabriel's low grace makes him vulnerable and open to... persuasion.”

“I see. You understand how devastatingly wrong darkening an angel can go, correct?”

“I have the means to control him once he's mine.”

The Empty crossed it's arms over it's chest as the being contemplated the request made by the Duke. “I want half.”

“HALF?!” Eligos spat, his tranquil demeanor completely falling. “You want HALF of my army?!”

“Yes,” The Empty confirmed. “A hundred and eighty thousand demon souls should fit the bill.”

Eligos snarled as he bit back on the expletive words on the tip of his tongue. He took a second to center himself again before he spoke. “Deal.”

“Not quite. You still need to...what's the saying? Ah, yes, sweeten the pot.”

“What else could you possibly want?!”

“Oh, you know exactly what I want.”

Realization crashed down on to the Duke and he glared at the entity before him. “You know I can't give you that.”

“I'm well aware of the rules, Eligos. I am, however, the one that had to agree to them all those eons ago with that pompous idiot that plagued the universe with his perverse creations. I am also very much conscious of your connection with what I want. If anyone can make it happen, it's you. Or...do you doubt your control over the abomination?”

“No!” Eligos spat. “She will do as I say. But, only after I have Gabriel how I want him.”

“Fair enough,” the Empty said as he closed the distance between them and extended his hand toward the demon Duke.

Eligos grasped his offered hand and shook. Thunder crashed as lightning streaked the sky, the sound causing the ground to shake. Swirling black smoke filled the air above their heads as the sound of desperate screaming ripped around the area. With another clap of thunder, the black cloud was sucked into the circle on the ground and disappeared beneath the dirt.

***

Gabriel sucked in a harsh breath as his eyes shot open. Pain seared through his skull as his blurry vision started to focus on... nothing. A complete black void surrounded him, yet somehow he laid on a sturdy surface. He jerked to a sitting position as he clutched at his chest, searching for the wound that he was sure had ended his life. He was shocked to find his body free of blood or the hole he knew he should have. He was certain he had died. Wasn't he?

“Yes, you are definitely dead,” a voice drawled from behind him.

A voice he knew well, and the sound of it took him completely off guard as he scrambled to his feet to whirl around. He then came face to face with... himself?

“What the hell?” Gabriel whispered.

“Not exactly,” he watched the other him say. “Just your friendly neighborhood primordial being.”

It finally dawned on the Archangel with whom he was speaking to. “You're the Empty Entity.”

“DING DING DING! Give the angel a prize!”

“Why am I awake?” Gabriel asked, then rolled his eyes as a thought occurred to him. “Winchesters. What have those idiots broken now?”

“Oh, trust me angel, you are going to wish it was those boys that bargained for your broken being.”

The next thing Gabriel's mind registered was the feeling of being thrown to the ground as his body forcefully coughed up the dirt that had somehow found its way into his lungs. Slowly he started to realize there was a breeze. There had been nothing but stillness in the Empty and the sudden change had his head jerking up even as his coughing persisted.

He was back on Earth.

His Earth.

He was alive.

Why?!

That's when fire erupted in a circle around him, flames he quickly recognized as holy fire. A growl rose from his chest as he pushed himself to his feet, facing the figure that was now illuminated by the flames. Rage rushed through the Archangel's system at the sight of the Demon Duke.

“Eligos,” he snarled.

“Gabriel!” Eligos retorted with mock excitement. “So nice to see you up and moving, though I think I preferred you chained with your mouth sewn shut.”

“I swear I'll incinerate you where you stand-”

“And how do you plan on doing that while you are trapped in holy fire with low grace?”

Gabriel's eyes flicked up to the sky at the dark storm clouds that had moved in. He turned back to the Duke with a smirk on his face. “I do believe it looks like rain.”

As the last word left his mouth, mother nature smiled on him and the first drops of rain started to fall. They landed on the fire with a sizzle that caused the flames to jump.

“Only a matter of time,” Gabriel continued. “Even low on grace, I'll have no problem doing away with you.”

Eligos barked out a laugh as he gestured to the Enochian symbols around the outside of the fire that the Archangel had missed in his anger. He studied the symbols closely for a moment. They had been altered with dark magic, a sinister power that he hadn't seen since before Lucifer had been locked away. His stomach dropped as he realized what the Duke intended to do and his eyes shot back to him.

“You see, Gabriel,” Eligos started, “that fire won't matter once I've darkened what little grace still resides within you, because then you will be mine to control.”

“NO!” Gabriel shouted, frantically looking around for a way to deter the Duke's plan.

“Yes!” Eligos said as an evil cackle started to flow from him.

He started to chant in a language that was a mix of Enochian and Latin, causing the sigils around Gabriel to glow and the holy fire to roar to a size that towered over his head. Immense pressure punched into his chest, sending him to his knees. He could feel the magic seeping through the fire and into his vessel. He fought against the parasitic force with every ounce of strength he had, but he could feel it invading into the very sense of who and what he was. Could feel it twisting around his grace, forcing the shadow of his large wings to blaze forth into existence. The flames licked and sighed at his shadowed feathers and an idea formed through the suffocating pain it caused. He had no choice. He couldn't allow himself to become what this magic was trying to drag him towards.

He wouldn't allow it.

With a renewed strength he contributed to the pure adrenaline of the moment, he reached behind his back and grasped at his own wing. His fingers knotted into the soft shadowed feathers, and with one last breath to accept what he was about to do, he pulled. With twisting and wrenching motions he jerked on his wing with all his might, the pain exploding into his being and blurring his vision. A feeling like magma being poured into his vessel stampeded through his body, making his throat constrict and his feathered appendages jerk of their own accord almost like they were trying to escape. He was vaguely aware of Eligos’ failed attempts at coming through the amped holy fire to stop him, but when the base of his wing separated from not only his vessel but his very being, a scream of agony ripped from his lips that sent the ground trembling. The blur of his vision turned to complete darkness for a split second before he pulled himself back from the edge of unconscious by pure will alone. He wouldn't succumb and let this demon win. Not again! Not ever again! Eligos crashed to the ground as Gabriel started the same process with his other wing. When it, too, was torn from him, both wings burned to ash as his grace shot out from the gaping wounds in his back. The ash and grace swirled around him, dousing the flames with a force that sent the Duke flying through the air out of sight and leveling everything within a twenty mile radius.

There was silence, then, as his grace shot into the sky and vanished.

Gabriel was left lying flat on his stomach, gasping for air. The wounds on his back had somehow been healed, but he still felt the agonizing emptiness from what he had done. His skin was covered in a thick layer of sweat as nausea rolled through his stomach threatening to spill the bile that his stomach now created. His body trembled as he forced himself to roll to his back, trying to control his breath and attempting to grasp what he now was.

Human.

Chapters 1 through 3 are up on Ao3. Continue reading here...

#gabriel spn #gabriel #gabriel x ofc #gabriel smut #gabriel fanfic #gabriel supernatural #spn fanfic #spn #supernatural #fanfic

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connywrites · 5 years

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of flesh and blood 11

start - part [10]

Honey, I wanna break you, I wanna throw you to the hounds. Yeah, I gotta hurt you, I gotta hear it from your mouth. Boy, I wanna taste you; I wanna skin you with my tongue. I'm gonna kill you, I'm gonna lay you in the ground.

“Now. Care to explain the situation from earlier?”

Gavin’s eyebrows twitched as they furrowed into his usual scowl, a predictable response that the RK900 completely anticipated.

“Wh-“

“You know precisely what. Or rather, who. You were ready to swing at Lieutenant Anderson and we both know that.” Gavin narrowed his eyes and felt exactly as he did then; challenged, agitated, with a twitch in his lips as they curled back in a snarl.

“You heard him. The way he was talking about you, about me.” RK900 remained unmoving without so much as a flicker in its expression.

“Why do you think I would care what he was saying at all?” Gavin felt his body recline on itself as he realized that it wasn’t only the truth, but the fact he’d nearly started a fight over what the android would have seen as something miniscule and unimportant brought back the embarrassment he hadn’t felt for a couple of days now.

“No words of defense?” Gavin stared at it, and his aggression didn’t leave. The irritation had lingered within him, swirling with sparks in his mind ever since he stepped foot into the meeting room. A frustrating irony as it had gone better than any he’d attended previously, yet he wasn’t satisfied – he’d felt worse.

“Ah. Wait. It was not him you were angry at.” Gavin blinked, and in a moment of confusion, his offensive stance faltered.

“It was the fact he pointed out what I’m doing, and that it’s working. Yes? Or at least, combined with your oppositional nature with him. Chen mentioned similarly and it didn’t bother you at all…interesting, the differences in human relationships. So perhaps you were further triggered because you dislike him, but nonetheless, that behavior is inappropriate, and especially in that setting. How is anyone going to take you seriously if you--“

“Maybe I don’t want them to take me seriously!” His voice raised with a bark, wrinkles forming around his nose as it scrunched, the man baring his teeth not unlike a threatened dog.

“I didn’t ask for any of this. If I asked you to hurt me, whenever the fuck that was, haven’t you done it enough already?”

Reaching forward, RK900 gripped the simmering tie and pulled Gavin forth by it with a vigorous yank, though its eyes remained steady and its expression nonchalant.

“Some seem to believe I am helping you, and this is how you treat me?” Anxiety crawled down his back again as his muscles stiffened in the action of being afraid rather than provoked.

“Do you want to revisit the other night?” Gavin’s expression dropped almost immediately as he stared into cold, slate eyes with his own, not quite brave enough to say no.

“Your day was great. Your meeting went fantastic. You got the raise you wanted and you’ve contributed to the Department with advice that they took rather seriously, to everyone’s surprise, even your own. You want to go back on that because of a few words a man said to you?”

“Well, when you put it like that…” RK900 allowed itself to feel the emotion Gavin was currently under, calmly settling into the strange, foreign discomfort that made it feel something similar to what it imagined Gavin might have the night he killed its previous chassis. It presumed he still didn’t even remember the event, considering how far under the influence of the medication he had been.

“Indeed.” There was a bite to its tone as an idea bloomed in its mind, tilting its head with a glare that held more bite than Gavin had seen to date. Suddenly, he was trying to pull away, feeling his stomach knot as something like horror struck him, the innate urge to run making him panic and wrench in a way that encouraged the tie to constrict tighter around his neck, making him bring his hands up to claw at the 900’s hands the same way as he had when it was choking him before.

“Let—go—” In response to that demand, it pulled him closer, nearly bumping his nose to its own as it brought him near until there was half an inch between them. A different idea followed a different sensation, one that would seem rather random if it didn’t already have a secure database for human psychology, deciding to follow through for the pure sake of instigation.

In what was a pair of seconds for the android and a startling eternity for Gavin, their lips met, and there was the taste of coffee on its mouth in the moment that was shared. Letting go of the tie, it let its arms fall to its side, making no movement to pull away but letting Gavin regain full freedom as he stepped backward so fast he almost lost his balance, smacking a hand to cover his mouth in a moment of combined shock, embarrassment and lingering fright from the way the 900 spoke, looked at him, yanked at him, dragged him, threw him—an image of the android with eyeless sockets pouring shimmering blue blood flashed into his mind, and for a moment he thought he might retch. Why was he seeing things like that, and why at a time like this?

What the hell flared in his mind, a vibrant neon sign that flashed red flags, and suddenly he felt himself against the wall.

RK900 licked its lips like a hungry wolf, savoring the taste and storing the memory into its hard drives.

“W-wh—what was that about?!” Eyes dilated, his body vibrated with the shaky desire to flee, but all of his proper thinking was thrown out the window with the rush of alarm flashing through his mind. Walking closer, the entity settled its hands on his waist, glancing down at his midriff as its thumbs brushed under the fabric of his dress shirt, tucking it upward as it rubbed small circles along the inward curve of his hipbones.

“You didn’t like that?” Gavin felt his heartbeat race in his ears at what seemed to be quadruple the rate, feeling ultimately helpless as he stood in place with no idea what to do. Every instinct in his mind warned him to fight back and try to push the taller male away, but there was no use as he knew he would easily lose at best, and end up hurting himself again at worst.

“Hm. Interesting. Again, your response seems to depend entirely on who is touching you.” Tilting its head, its demeanor was suddenly soft, tender while its hand slid up under his shirt, running over the warm, clammy flesh of his muscular stomach, seamlessly sliding apart the buttons with dexterous movements while it traveled its touch up his chest. Once it was halfway and felt the hair of his chest, it curled its fingers, trailing synthetic nails along the flesh of his torso, soft at first, before digging harder until it left whitened streaks behind that quickly turned red in their wake.

Sighing, as if bored, it let its hands fall away again, feeling no desire to pursue its actions as it stared at Gavin and soaked in the frightened expression on his face, awakening something else in the darkness of its programming. With one hand dipping to the inside of its jacket, it pulled out something Gavin couldn’t see, even when his eyes followed its movements; he only felt the cold, sharp metal when it was pressed against his neck, and without a moment of thought, he yelped as soon as the keen blade nudged against his skin.

“I could cut you like tissue paper. Do you want that?” Perplexed and ultimately terrified, wide eyes glanced down towards his own neck, then back up at the 900 as he felt his entire body begin to shake against its own will. He didn’t want to speak, he didn’t want to move, lest he shift too rapidly and add another scar to the pile in favor of a healing wound; but there would be no subtlety in going to work with even a cat scratch streak on his neck.

“N…no.” The flow of its own thirium pump seemed to increase as another sensation steamed up from within; excitement.

“Beg.” Wincing, Gavin wasted no time in swiftly forming the words and exuding the emotion in his voice as he spoke.

“P-please. Dear god, please, d-don’t hurt me,” he murmured with frightened breaths, a flashback in his mind of the android in the interrogation room that had belonged to 28-stab-wound murder victim, Carlos Ortiz. The way it shook and stared with fear and couldn’t speak, so his suggestion was naturally to try and rough it up a bit.

Suddenly, he understood how it felt, and it wasn’t a comfortable sensation at all.

“W-we’re partners. Friends. Remember? Th—there’s no need for this,” he murmured, squinting one eye shut as half his mind tried to escape, the other still peeking at Nines in fear.

“Is that how you felt when you slew me in cold, blue blood?” Eyebrows twitching, they slowly knit together in confusion, but the acknowledgment was apparent as his eyes lit up with recognition.

“I—you—this is why…” A sly, predatory smile crossed the 900’s features as it let the realization sink in.

“Nines…” Unsure of what he was really going for, he felt the prick of the sharp blade press against the skin of his neck, nicking it open just enough to sting.

“You—” Catching himself in an accusatory statement, he paused, swallowing briskly as he swallowed it down.

“I didn’t mean for that,” he said in a whisper, all too aware of the blade against his neck.

“Oh, I doubt that,” it responded, and in the blink of an eye, the blade struck a diagonal line across his neck – nearly parallel to the indented scar on his nose – cutting deep enough to spill a pleasant stream of dripping blood. Tears stung his eyes, and Gavin was quick to find himself sniffling in an attempt not to fully cry.

“You’re a terrible liar, and pathetic at trying to cover your own hide. At this rate, I should fire you.” Surprised, then agitated, then returning to being afraid, Gavin’s face contorted with disbelief.

“You can’t—”

The large hand was tangled in his hair and his skull smacked against the wall, before his balance was thrown and he found himself tumbling to the ground, not unlike it had happened the nights before.

“We really need to work on your phrasing, hm?” Bringing a hand to his neck, Gavin tried to press it to the wound as his breathing quickened and he hyperventilated, trying to ignore the salt water trailing down his cheeks, first in a trickle, then in a flood as rather than trying to flee entirely, he scrambled for a place to hide, ducking down behind the arm of his couch to nestle into the space between the furniture and the wall, bumping the base of the tall floor lamp as he remembered being thrown into the end table mere days ago.

“Oh, how pathetic. Tsk, tsk. You think you can get away with being an aggressor, then cower away when the tide shifts against you?”

The next thing he felt was the now well-acquainted yank of his hair, but nothing else, scalp stinging as he was pulled by the fistful of strands alone and scurried to his feet so as not to be simply dragged by the 900 while following wherever it was leading him.

The next thing he saw was the bed as he was forced to face it, then shoved down into it. His arms were behind his back, his tie was pulled undone, and the nice, freshly ironed shirt was pried off his body as the buttons popped off with the motions.

Then, the pain, similar that of the shattered glass, but more intense as the cuts were much deeper. One, then another, then another, initiating pained screams in response, but it was muffled within seconds as his face was shoved down into the pillow. The weight of the body pressed against the small of his back as RK900 sat on him, keeping his head shoved down and holding his body still while the other continued to carve in fine, shallow, slow lines across his back.

“Don’t worry. I’ll bathe you and bandage you up.” It’s voice was unnervingly soft, as if it were speaking from the point of view of a tender lover, a stark contrast to the pain he now felt in the front of his neck and scattered across his back.

“Maybe this will be a consistent reminder not to talk back. To anyone.”

Once he was out of the bath, he was given a few moments of peace while the android went to make coffee, taking advantage as he shamefully wiped the tears from his face and glanced into the mirror, turning around and casting a glance over his shoulder while he tried to make out how bad the damage was. Another wave of shock that immediately sunk a weight of foreboding into his stomach struck him as he recognized a pattern in the bright red, swollen lines: RK900 could be made out in reverse from the mirror’s reflection, perfectly carved in the all-too-familiar Cyberlife sans. Guilt welled in him, sinking into fear, then depression and raw self-loathing as he stepped back from the mirror, placing a hand against the wall in attempt to stabilize himself as he sunk to his knees on the floor.

He sobbed. For how long, he couldn’t be sure, taking the freedom of isolation to let himself break down, body shaking while any and all coordination and motor function gradually left him, growing unsteady all over again the tremors revisited him, shaking his entire form in heavy waves of emotion.

“You don’t have to shower this morning since I cleaned you up last night. But I do request you give your hair a swift wash and rinse before you put in the product.”

Gavin’s eyes stared at the ground, chin dipped to press against the top of his chest as his head hung, shoulders squared with his hands behind him, fingers interwoven in a polite posture.

“Yes sir,” he whispered just barely loud enough for its microphones to pick up on. With a snap of its fingers, it pointed to the bathroom, glaring with its usual cold stare as it silently demanded him to get moving, and so he did. As if on cue, it continued to hover close behind while it followed him to revisit the bathroom.

“Do you know what day it is?”

“October 7th, 2039.”

“That’s right. Do you know what that means?”

“It’s my birthday.” It wore a sarcastic smile, pretending to be proud of him for grasping such a basic concept.

“Thirty-seven years old. How do you feel?”

Once he was done making swift work of his hair, a quick and easy routine by now, he turned to face 900 with his arms stiffly returned to his sides. If he told the truth, the response wouldn’t be good, so he made a point to lie through his teeth.

“Fine.”

“It’s Saturday. You have the whole day to celebrate.” Reaching forth, it placed a hand to his cheek – he barely winced, now able to predict and somewhat expect when it was going to lay hands on him, and the times the touches would be gentle rather than abrasive.

“What would you like to do?” Sleep.

“I don’t know. I don’t usually celebrate.” Tilting its head back, it cast him a downward gaze before pulling its hand free again.

“That’s a shame. You have so much freedom now,” it cooed with a generous amount of irony in its tone.

“You have no idea what you’d like to do?” I haven’t seen my favorite TV show in a week.

“I’d like to stay home for today, if you don’t mind.”

Perfect.

“Alright, then. You can change into your more comfortable clothing and spend the day in bed.” The undignified feeling of foolishness rose up within him again as he was treated like a child, but his responses were all but naught.

“Thank you, sir.”

#rk900 #gavin reed

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bluerosesburnblue · 5 years

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Liz Liveblogs Bravely Second: Chapter 6, Part 2/2 *FINALE*

Well, nothing left for me to do now. I guess it’s time we finally hunker down and beat this game. I started this liveblog series on January 14, 2017 (July 23, 2016 if we include the Demo) and now, almost two years later, we finally see the end (layer) of Bravely Second

Before we get to the actual story I’d just like to say that I currently have five level 99 Apparati hanging out at Fort-Lune. FIVE. Jeez, somebody share something else for a change! This is why I share any Redshirts, Urchins, Goldies, or Turtle Doves I see! It’s also why I hate it when games make you rely on communication features for 100% completion. Stop that. It always goes poorly

Well, regardless. There’s a certain fairy waiting for... well, not us, but someone down at Norende Chasm and I intend to finish what I started. You got me into this series, Anne! You did this to yourself!

Feels weird to be back at the first ever dungeon in the series. I don’t know if it’s new for this game or if it’s always been there, but if you look off the edge of Norende Ravine you can see a river flowing at the bottom, beneath the fog. And “Dungeon of the Nature” is a great scene-setter, as always

This Party Chat is certainly something. Tiz is just reminiscing about being back and how as kids they were told to stay away due to monsters, but of course everyone played there anyway. And then when Norende was swallowed by the Chasm, he raced through here to see it with his own eyes, and there met Agnès, who would change his whole world. And they came back, again and again in each world. Finally, this was the path they took to the end last time. The place they went to reach the Dark Aurora to chase down Ouroboros. Norende Ravine is the most visited spot in the game in terms of plot, and you’d think it would get old but it doesn’t. “How many more times... will we walk down this road?” And Edea replies “As many times as we have to! Until we’ve wiped away those terrible memories once and for all! [...] The next time we walk down this road, it’ll be to visit the new Norende Village - the one you helped rebuild!” I never expected the game to bring up the Norende Village... minigame, I guess you could call it? I’m so glad they did, and I’m so glad that Magnolia and Yew declaring that all four of them would visit it together is what cheered Tiz up

...I didn’t realize I had 99 X-Potions? I guess my healers have just been really good so far

Oh Aaaaaaaaanneeeeeeee~ Guess who’s heeeeeeeere~ I’m gonna straight up kick your ass for what you did last timeline! And, presumably, whatever you were up to last game!

How predictable that we’ve come to stop you? Do you know what we’ve done since I found out you were here? You had every opportunity to disappear and didn’t! What, have you just been sitting here for a week? I think you’re the predictable one

Also, nice demonic cloud cover. I’m really feeling the glowing red mass underneath these near-black stormclouds

“Your master? But the kaiser is... Denys is gone...!” Bold of you to assume Denys was actually in charge of anything. I thought it was pretty obvious he was out of his depth when Anne mentioned her master and even Denys was confused by it

Hm. “Lord Providence, ruler of the Celestial Realm!” I’d heard that name thrown around before I even started playing the game, but “ruler of the Celestial Realm” is new. Given that his name means “God’s protection,” I guess you mean ruler as in “a deity” and not “a high ranking political figure”

Man, at the angle her head’s at, Anne’s hair protrusions really do look like antennae. It just hasn’t been obvious before I got this angle on her

How the hell is Providence supposed to enlighten anyone if they’re dead, Anne? That’s dumb. Your master’s dumb. Death isn’t enlightenment, it’s just death.

And Providence got all upset that the Moon people were killing his Ba’als, so he sent Anne to deal with it by destroying the moon. But screw that plan! There’s a Celestial shortcut right here! But you know, if something can get from the Celestial Realm to Luxendarc, then I don’t see why the opposite can’t be true, too

And, well, shoot. If Providence is the “ruler of the Celestial Realm” then we couldn’t have Ouroboros getting in! So Anne had to deal with Airy. Or rather, have us deal with Airy. And then she had to get someone to summon the Holy Pillar to take out the moon, and found Denys. Both games have all been thanks to her manipulations. Man, fuck Cryst-Fairies

“Hold it right there! That’s my brother you’re talking about!” You tell her, Yew! Rip her a new one! I’ve got your back!

Fuck, she did the same thing to Denys that she did to the player at the start of Bravely Default. Read us like a book and played to the key aspects of our personalities. Denys’s sense of duty and idealism, the player’s sense of duty and determination to see things through... hell, it’s almost like she read into my completionist tendencies and knew I’d do dumb shit like grinding to max level and job levels and getting the best equipment. Ouroboros didn’t stand a chance once that was thrown into the mix

“Why, he was even ready to kill his own precious little brother for his ‘duty.’” Can I take the use of “precious” as confirmation that it was actually a hard choice for him? Because Denys isn’t here to defend himself and never did get around to talking about it when he was here

I don’t think I’ve ever heard the word “dupe” used as an adjective. Most people go with “dope.” You’re weird, Anne! You’re weird and also a huge bitch!

“Denys died to save this world...” Is he actually dead though!? Like, no seriously, is he? Or is he just stuck in a situation that he will probably die in? Because one of those is potentially fixable in a sequel. ...actually, maybe both of them are fixable in a sequel. Situation’s unclear at the moment

“When Lord Providence descends, Luxendarc as you know it will be completely and utterly destroyed.” If he descends. If.

Yeesh, Anne, cool it with the shade! I know Denys’s kind of an idiot, but you don’t need to say it every other line!

Oh wow. Whoah. This... everything on screen is gorgeous right now? The glowing blue and gold bits on Anne’s final form, the translucent pink butterflies in the background against a starry night sky... yooooooooo. And I thought Airy’s final form was pretty

“Wicked Flight” is still a better boss song, though. Heck, the music right now isn’t even as good as Anne’s last battle theme, and it’s just a remix. I think removing the Spanish guitars and replacing them with a wailing rock guitar really does the song a disservice

That T-pose looks real dumb, Anne. Knock it off

It’s really fascinating what she says here. Humans are born without purpose, so they spend their lives lost and weak, constantly searching for something to live for. She, however, was made with a specific goal in mind, and always feels fulfilled because of it. And I don’t think she’s entirely wrong to observe that human beings spend so long looking for acceptance and purpose, and that the struggle to find some is central to most people’s lives. Heck, I don’t feel like I have a purpose most of the time. But I think, until I find one, if I just keep trying to do good then it’ll be enough. And the good thing about being born without a purpose? You get to find one you like, eventually

Cryst-Fairies are created by the gods to serve them. Anne is the older sister, but never really cared much for Airy, since Airy served someone who would destroy the Celestial Realm, where Anne’s master resided and controlled. Which... I suppose leads me to believe that they were created by different entities, and yet all Cryst-Fairies see themselves as siblings, regardless. Maybe it’s because they’re made of the same stuff? Like a half-sibling thing? Where one “parent” is the magical essence that they’re made of, and the other is the god that used it to create them?

Did Airy even know she had a sister? Like, was she even aware Anne existed? I don’t think she ever, once, mentioned her

Man, this game has a weird theme of “older siblings attempting to murder their younger siblings for a cause”

Oh, good. She can set someone’s max HP to 1. And she used it on Edea. Because even at level 99, Edea has to die at least three times per fight

I don’t think she expected Quadruple Meteor Rain Yew, though. That’s what you get for shit-talking a Geneolgia’s family

Oh. She didn’t even revive. Nice

Funny enough, Anne, Yew learned that secret technique after I knew you were here. So, you know, you had plenty of time to avoid that

If Lord Providence is gonna be here any moment now, then he is really taking his time meandering down the Celestial shortcut

Oh, geez! Altair, don’t sneak up on me like that! Holy shit, the sound of his voice startled me

There’s no need to apologize for Providence using Vega to create the Ba’als. You’re both just victims of an uppity god. Though, as a Celestial, I don’t suppose you have any info on your supposed “god,” Providence?

I love how on the same page Yew and I always are. Altair is family now, of course we’re gonna save Vega. Even if none of us know her, she’s special to Altair. And family of our family... is as good as family, too

Ahahahahah! “Yeah! We’re going to crush a god!” Never change, Edea. We’re upgrading from Ba’al Busters to God Crushers!

Altair just called them “my children”! Team Dad! Team Dad! Team Dad!

“Come, Yew! Let us deliver our pièce de radicchio!” ...let us deliver our piece of leaf chicory? Excuse me? Is that supposed to be like “Let’s serve Providence a bitter meal he’ll regret eating?”

Altair, normally I can at least follow your vegetable proverbs, even if they fall flat, but that one was really... uhhhhh?

So the evil fog in the Chasm is a sign that the Dimensions are in flux. “A holy battleground and an angel’s descent. A chasm of darkness and a glimmering ship.” Would that be the Ouroboros fight, or whatever Sylvie was prophesying about?

Clear the mists and reveal the path to the Celestial Realm. Hey, can’t all of us summon Hresvelgr right now? Can we get him to blow it away?

Ah, we’re using Agnès’s pendant, which can connect people between various worlds. It’s already a spacetime anomaly. Neat! I love it when they use lore, especially something like this, which has been established since the start of Default!

And now they pray, with the help of the pendant, to lift the fog. It’s not enough, so they call Agnès to pray, too! It’s still not enough. Yew cries out for help, for anyone to give them strength. In other games, I could see this leading to a pan-out where everyone in the world prays with them...

But here, they just need me. Time to mash “X” like the good old days and clear the clouds away for my favorite team

Aaaaahahahahahahahah. Ahahahaha! Oh. Oh god. So they use the 3DS camera to put your face in the Chasm once the clouds are cleared but oh man. Oh nooooo, that angle. That was not a good look. At all. I started laughing so hard I had to put my 3DS down. Ohhhhhh. Oh man, that’s a heck of a look for the first time the party gets to see my face. Imagine the first time you get to see your spirit guide and it starts cackling and the connection dies for a few minutes. I’m sorry, guys! I’m really - ahahahaha - really sorry!

I do adore how the Bravely series utilizes the fourth wall. The Celestial Realm is (or is at least based on) our world, and every time they depict it (so, this scene and the Ouroboros fight in Default), they use the 3DS camera. The player is every bit a real character in this game’s universe, and they do a hell of a job merging the two using existing elements of the 3DS hardware

God, nope. Still can’t look at it. It’s like a fun house mirror in there! I get that it’s supposed to be at the bottom of the Chasm, so that’s the angle it’s at, but it looks freaking funny!

I’m glad you’re all so focused on Vega and none of you are reacting to my mug plastered at the bottom of the Chasm. It’s still there, even after the cutscene

Oh. I know that place. That’s the background of the Snowcap Ba’al fights. Welcome to the Via Celestio, path to the Celestial Realm, altered based on Vega’s memories

And I guess Altair is going to explain what each Ba’al represents as we go though, which he’s only willing to tell us because we’re all pals now

Ba’al vi: Snowcap - Represents the day that Altair and Vega met, with ski lifts as its background. Altair was vacationing at a ski resort, and sat next to a young woman on the chair lift. They got stuck up there when the weather got particularly bad, and Altair noticed how scared she was, so he picked a flower from one of the trees their lift stopped near (good reach, buddy) to cheer her up. Despite that moment, though, Altair never got her name, and never saw her again before his vacation was over

Oh, don’t be so cheeky, Magnolia. “Though some might say giving a flower to a girl you just met might be a bit forward.” It worked on you, didn’t it?

So, I guess Altair and Tiz are going to be switching back and forth for this dungeon. And Tiz is conscious when Altair’s in control, since he heard that? That’s existentially terrifying

The glowing gold platforms, surrounded by the already very pretty Ba’al fight backgrounds makes for a gorgeous area... but I’m not feeling the music at all. It’s way too dramatic, with blaring sounds, militaristic drums, and weird wind ambience. I get what it’s going for, since this is the final dungeon and should be suitably intense, but it’s really incongruous with the location’s aesthetic, and also doesn’t fit the emotional tone of Altair nostalgically recounting his life together with Vega as we go to free her spirit. Something like this would fit better in a final dungeon like the Dark Aurora, where we were in an unearthly void on our way to the Infernal Realm. I know I mention “Dungeon of the Nature” a lot, but I really wish the Via Celestio music was more similar to that than, say, “Tower,” which is the music they used for locations like Eternian Central Command, like what we got. I’d actually have really loved if the music here was just Altair’s theme, but with the larger, orchestral sounds of “Dungeon of the Nature.” Something melancholy and soft, but no less grand. Altair’s theme played on piano, but with chimes and a string backing track

I actually don’t like “Tower.” At all. I think it’s probably the worst track in the game. It’s just so dissonant, and I turn my sound off every time I go into a dungeon where it’s playing

Alright, kids, it’s been fun, but you’re gonna have to turn off Obliterate for a sec so we can get those last three Catmancy skills

Okay, I don’t get Luxendarc sometimes. You kids have ketchup and baseball, but Altair had to explain what skiing was? You mean to tell me someone figured out how to make a specific type of tomato-based sauce and independently came up with the rules for baseball, but no one thought to tie planks to their feet and slide down a snowy hill with them on? Seriously, guys

Yew asks everyone what their plans for the future are. Edea says she’s gonna help with the Eternia-Orthodoxy peace talks, so she and Yew will probably still be working together. Tiz just wants to retire to Norende at age... 19? I mean, I don’t really blame him. He did die several times and kill multiple gods. I’d want a break, too. And Magnolia feels she has to return to the Moon and finish helping everyone there recover. Yew is disappointed. It’s a hard position to be in, you know? He loves Magnolia and will miss her dearly, but he also knows how much the people of her home mean to her and he would never come between her and them

Ba’al v: Urchin - Represents the day Altair and Vega met again in the spring, when Altair was transferred to work at the place Vega did, with its background being the rainy exterior of an urban office building with a couple that occasionally passes by, sharing an umbrella. There are little flower gardens, and a city skyline can be seen in the distance. As Altair tells the story, we see silhouettes of himself and Vega acting it out. Or at least, I assume it’s them, since “Altair” looks a lot like Yew in an ankle-length trench coat and “Vega” is just Magnolia’s researcher costume. Altair was an extremely successful scientist, but his superiors grew jealous of his skills and transferred him to a remote, less prestigious location. Altair was so distraught to be there that he ran right out into the storm. Right into acid rain, due to severe pollution in his homeland. Unbeknownst to him, however, he had been transferred to the very place Vega worked, and when she saw him run out, she followed him and offered to share her umbrella. Altair muses how this means that at the time, Vega must have remembered their first meeting on that ski lift, since it became a Ba’al, and he chuckles quietly to himself. Fate, indeed

So the last room had little snowy trees peppering the walkways, and here it’s rainy streetlamps and road signs. God, I love the visual design here. And now that I’m not fighting the Ba’al, I can get a better look at the gorgeous backgrounds

Ba’al iv: Goldie - Represents Altair’s first date with Vega that summer, where he confessed his growing love to her, with an absolutely gorgeous background of a Japanese festival. Lanterns and trees surround a single torii as fireworks go off in the sky above. The appearance of Goldie comes from their attempts to play the goldfish-scooping game they have at Japanese festivals

This is all coming across as so incredibly sad. Altair loved Vega with all his heart, but it sounds like he didn’t even really realize how much she cared for him until right now, where he’s seeing exactly what memories she treasured. And is seeing them twisted and used against the both of them

And Edea’s noticed something else. Meeting in the snow, sharing an umbrella, goldfish scooping... Yew and Magnolia have been unintentionally reliving Altair and Vega’s romance. No wonder he’s so adamant that Yew confesses sooner, rather than later. Altair knows how this story ends

Our little set dressings this time around are floating lanterns. I’m actually surprised there aren’t mini fireworks bursting around them

Most of the enemies in the Via Celestio don’t add a heck of a lot to the lore, but one does: the Spartan. It’s the final variation of a specific type of automaton we’ve been seeing throughout the game, that Altair comments on every time they show up. Turns out, Altair invented them to be caretakers for the Celestial Realm! They uh... I don’t think they did that great a job, but it’s the thought that counts!

And the Bestiary entry is basically “Okay but how do rocket punches and optical camouflage... help? With caretaking?” “I dunno! But isn’t the technology awesome?” Altaiiiiiiiiir

Ba’al iii: Apparati - Represents the struggle Altair and Vega faced together as they tried to continue their research despite the improper equipment and poor funds afforded to them, enhanced by the depiction of the interior of a laboratory with static-y, crackling monitors all over in the background. If we’re following the pattern, then the falling leaves and bare trees outside the window indicate autumn. Vega really kept Altair’s project going, by sneaking restricted data out of the archives for him and coming up with creative solutions whenever he hit a mental block. And when their hard work paid off and Altair’s hypothesis was accepted as scientific fact, then he knew he was absolutely in love with Vega, the woman who supported and aided him and who constantly encouraged him to be his best self. He was a different, better person around her, and he knew it

“If attraction is gazing into one another’s eyes, then true love is setting those eyes on the same shared goal... or so my theory goes.” I can’t say I have a lot, or really any, romantic experience, but this is something I believe strongly. A romantic partner is someone whose skills and personality differ from yours, but also complement yours, and yet who strongly value the same things you do. If you can’t agree on what’s most important to you, then you can’t connect on a deeper level. And I’m not saying, like, find someone who thinks exactly as you do! Because that’s not healthy. But find someone who you can agree on the important things with

Also, love that Altair distinguishes between “attraction” and “love” because they’re very different things, and I so often see people conflate the two

Seriously, guys, leave Yew alone! He’s 16 and this is his first foray into romance. That’s scary and overwhelming!

And there’s bookshelves and stacks of books with desk lamps on top littering the pathways

Ba’al ii: Redcoat - Represents the night that Altair proposed to Vega over dinner. Honestly, this is my favorite Ba’al fight background. It’s just a very pretty, snowy, city skyline with a tall tower and a suspension bridge in the center, but there’s something so beautiful about how simple it is and the shade of light blue they used for it. Altair describes it as a holy night, and since Redcap is a demonic Santa hat tangled in lights, I can only assume he means Christmas. Poor Altair, however, couldn’t afford a wedding ring. Their program funding was awful, after all, and what they gave him for personal pay, he spent on more research to make up for what they didn’t give him. Vega told him she didn’t mind, but he still felt incredibly guilty about it. They married with a small ceremony, and Altair eventually bought her that ring... right before the trip to Luxendarc that tore them apart forever

Altair tells everyone not to despair, since he lived a good life and had goals that he truly believed in that he knows he gave his all working towards, and I can’t help but think back to Anne’s speech about purpose. Altair isn’t technically human in the Luxendarc sense, he’s a Celestial, but he managed to find his own greater purpose and it made him stronger

“You must all live your own lives as well. Have courage! Be brave enough to default on the expectations of others!” WE DID IT BOYS, PACK IT UP, WE GOT A TITLE DROP. In all honesty, though, I love what the games say the symbolism of each title is. To “Bravely Default” is “to have the courage to go against the expectations of others” and to “Bravely Second” is “to have the courage to try again,” and by doing each of those can you get the best ending in each game, further enforcing their message (even if I thought it was a little botched in Default. You're supposed to be going against what Sage Yulyana says... by following Airy, who you were going along with from the start, so there’s really no “courage” involved. Gameplay-wise you never actually disobey anyone, because you completely obey Airy, though I suppose you still have to disobey Sage to an extent, who you trust more at that point)

Tiz has a point, too. Maybe Altair is content with the life he had, but it’s still not fair for all of his efforts to be rewarded with his and Vega’s suffering

Our road-markers in this room are banquet tables with a nice Christmas dinner on them. I was hoping for Christmas trees, but that’ll work, too

Seems like this is our final Tent Event. Magnolia’s cooking is fantastic as always, but the stress is getting to Edea. She’s so worried she can barely even eat, and Altair’s story has really shaken her. Of course it would effect her the most. She knows better than anyone what it feels like to be separated from someone you love across time and space. They’ve packed the leftover food for sandwiches. They’ll eat when they’re ready. One more megalixir, as a gift from our fox friend who I notice found his way into a dimensional rift, and we’re on our way

The final room is a straight bridge, adorned with roses, candles, and floral archways. The background is a church on a hill, blossoming trees on either side and doves soaring across the sky in the background. Ba’al i: Turtle Dove. Altair and Vega’s wedding. This one doesn’t need an explanation from Altair. Just one last save point between us and the end. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you’ve somehow gotten in here, too, Adventurer.

“This is it... our final battle!”

“Let’s do it!”

We’re in a chapel, with nothing but soft wind. Unlike the silhouettes of the Ba’al backgrounds, this is undeniably physical. And gorgeous. Very Baroque in its architecture

Vega’s voice is so much softer than I imagined it would be

I thought she sounded familiar. It’s Eden Riegel, who also voices Anne, so her range is commendable. For those curious, she also voices Iris in Final Fantasy XV, Devola and Popola in NieR and NieR Automata (I think what tipped me off was how similar her Vega and Popola voices are), Marie in Persona 4: Golden and its spinoffs, and Estelle in Tales of Vesperia. And those are just the ones I recognize! Her older brother is Sam Riegel, also a voice actor of renown and player on the D&D show Critical Role, which exclusively stars voice actors. Sam’s great, and probably one of the funniest people on that show. Good to see Eden’s doing great work, too

I guess the thing of note, though, is that she is NOT the voice who narrated the ends of Chapters 1-4 as I had suspected. Her voice is decidedly softer and not British. But if that wasn’t Vega, then who?

She’s so lost in her despair. She’s begging Altair to explain why he left, and why he didn’t come back. She won’t even listen to him explain that he tried, that he died and just couldn’t make it back

Someone told her the wrong meeting place to meet Altair that day. The reason she wasn’t on the ship was because someone didn’t want her on the ship

Ohhhhhh I did not like the voice distortion on “Why didn’t you protect me? Why didn’t you keep me safe!?”

Fuck, Altair? Altair! He just collapsed screaming with black and purple mist coming off of him. Black and purple mist that just formed a robed raven-faced humanoid with the worst voice distortion I’ve ever heard

Hey, are you Providence!? Get off of my weird vegetable-proverb spouting friend, jackass!

I can’t tell if that’s Vega’s voice layered under Providence’s or just another feminine voice. Could be Anne’s, too, since they’re both Eden Riegel

Also, Providence’s theme is pretty great? It’s got hints of the Ba’al music boxes, with a one woman wail in the background

“I’ve never tasted anything so exquisite!” Were you eating her despair? Of course that’s all she was to you. A food factory. And the sadder and more hopeless she got, the better for you, right? God, you’re like depression made physical. I’ve always wanted to punch the concept of depression

She’s held on for so long because she desperately hoped to see Altair one more time. And you used it against her!

And you saw Luxendarc, the world that was intended to be her safe haven and the place Altair was, and decided you were going to use her to power its destruction to break her further by making her feel guilty. What did she ever do to you!?

Okay, two things. One, you’re a fucking dick and I’m gonna strangle you with your own ribbons. Two, the T-pose doesn’t look any better on you than it did on Anne

That’s my boy! “We deny you because we are mortal! [...] our emotions, the memories we create with others - good or bad, this is all we have! I deny your right to claim them for your own!”

“I’m done letting you use the hearts of our friends as your personal plaything! We’re gonna send you flying to the edge of time and space!” Crush a god, Edea! This jackass has no place ruling anyone

Oh, Tiz. “He might be goofy on the surface... uh, like a cantaloupe? But inside is a sweet and sensitive soul! He’s suffered long enough, Providence! It ends today!” This is as much for Altair and Vega as it is the safety of Luxendarc. But, like, I am especially going to kill you for what you did to Vega. No one deserves God Depression

“Nothing is ever hopeless! It’s never too late, you’re never too weak to fight for what you truly believe in! I believe in a world ruled by hope, not despair. And thanks to my friends, I have the courage to fight for it!” Bravely Second, Magnolia. Bravely Second

Oh, poor baby. The light hurts your eyes? Shut them and make it easier for me to end you

That fight background is awesome! We stand in a grassy field, surrounded by telephone lines. A city skyline in the distance. A freaking GALAXY in the sky, with red-violet clouds. And this music is perfect. So perfect! Grand orchestral scores, with sections of electric guitar and lo-fi beats, all held together by sweeping chants. Holy shit, Providence may look pretty dumb, but this fight’s oozing style

What... so Providence can force a party member to do do his bidding? Like having Magnolia try to strike Yew down. That’s not great, but your first instance of doing so is using my healer to attack. And I’m supposed to be scared of you!?

Get him down enough and he starts consuming Vega’s energy to heal up 10,000 HP every few seconds. Fucking rude. Altair’s so upset he took over Tiz and is screaming for Vega... who can hear him. And she’s fighting back! All Altair had to do was tell her the compass was completed and their dreams could come true and her hope reignited!

This ass can still cast Doom, though

OR HE CAN JUST SAY “YOUR LIFE ENDS HERE” AND WIPE THE PARTY. God... dammit. Like, actually damn this god. What a dick. This is what I get for trying to have Yew conserve his MP. Chainspell Meteor Rain is prepped for next round, bitch

I could easily skip replaying this scene, but I wanted to watch my kids trash-talk Providence’s ideals again

God, I forgot to take Obliterate off of Tiz AGAIN. I know it won’t ever work and it’s just wasting a slot right now. I’d still die laughing if it worked, though

That can’t be the end. This is a JRPG, there’s at least one, probably two more forms coming. And come on, you only drop 980pg? What, are you a broke god? What an ass

Vega’s pink soul seems to be freed, though. And Altair’s spirit finally leaves Tiz, his color being blue. They’re really cute together, even if they are just floating, colored orbs

Is... is Tiz gonna be okay, though? Altair’s soul was kinda fueling his... everything

We shouldn’t keep them, though. I think it’s time for both of them to move on. Gonna miss ya, Altair. I know I’ve made fun of you in the past, but I’m glad you were part of this journey

“Keep your hearts like chamomile!” Just had to get one more in there, huh?

I’m so glad Vega’s here to make sense of this. “Chamomile is said to grow best and strongest when trodden on, you see.” So learn from our hardships, and continue to grow ever stronger. Stay stalwart in the face of adversity. Can do, you crazy, crazy Celestial man. Can do

Oh, so I have Vega to thank for your absurd produce tirades? She started the proverbs to get him to eat vegetables. Jeez, Altair, you sound like my dad. The man’s in his mid-50s and still refuses to eat any vegetables but corn and peas. Which SUCKS because I LOVE vegetables, and we only get to eat a bunch of ‘em at family dinners if he’s not around. I had a vegetable burger last night and it was GREAT

“And eat your vegetables.” YEAH, THANKS. I will! Somebody get me a carrot right now! (I’d get one but I don’t feel like peeling one at 9:30 at night, which is when I’m typing this)

Awwww. Altair finally ate vegetables once he got to Luxendarc because they reminded him of Vega

Yew should confess to Magnolia, WE GET IT. Let him figure out his own emotions! Stop pressuring my boy!

Bye, you two! May your afterlife together hold only the best!

Ohhhhh that’s what happened. Okay. So when Providence used Mandate of Heaven to have Magnolia attack Yew, she wouldn’t actually do that on her own. I had to make her do it, and because I didn’t in the set timeframe he used Divine Punishment to wipe the party. I totally misunderstood what was happening there, since Magnolia had negative BP and couldn’t move, and the very next turn was when I triggered the mid-boss cutscene with Altair. The second time I simply killed him on the turn after he cast it on Tiz, so it didn’t matter. That’s a very bullshit tactic and I am eternally grateful to Meteor Rain Geneolgia over there for ending the fight in a timely fashion

WAIT. Remove Obliterate from Tiz, genius. And heal. Trust no one

Hahahahaha okay, yeah. Yeah. I was expecting a cutscene before round two, and I’ll admit the harsh cut to the screen-shattering battle intro when I tried to leave the room made me jump a bit

This is what I saw a screenshot of before I played the game. Before the game even came out in English, even. I was looking up Airy’s sister after beating Default, because I saw the art of the Kaiser and Anne, assumed she was Airy’s sister, and wanted to know if she had a name. Saw the line “Anne works for Providence” and a low-res picture of Providence and clicked out immediately, but was left with the knowledge that the final boss was a purple pyramid named Providence. Seeing it now, there’s so much more to it than I remembered

We cut to the sky, a brilliant blue galaxy that the party is floating in. Magenta clouds adorn the top and bottom of the screen, and from them semi-mechanical, semi-organic looking hands of magenta and black descend, fingers wiggling. An inverse pyramid comes out of the cloud, and the gigantic eye in the center opens and glances around manically. An inverse Eye of Providence, that grants only poor fortune

Tiz, you should know better than to think this was the end. Ouroboros had, like, two forms and five phases

Providence’s voice is distinctly feminine now. And now that he’s unchained from Vega... there’s no internal fight to hold him back

“Who is it that controls you?” *Providence’s eye looks directly at the camera* What? What? I’m his aunt/mother figure/big sis/etc.! And I’ve done a hell of a job keeping him alive, thanks. I don’t see you standing against that Meteor Rain for long!

Man, what is up with this naming scheme? The hands are labeled Providence B and Ab, and the pyramid is labeled Providence Aa

O-oh? Providence can use its own Bravely Second while I’m in the menu? It... did barely any damage, but that’s startling

He’s pulling a *redacted character* Undertale and I will not stand for this! (I actually super love Undertale and I’m excited that Bravely’s pulling the same meta nonsense in battles that the final Genocide run fight of Undertale did)

I... You’re talking to me? Me, Liz, the person sitting here. I... look, I know these kids don’t actually know who I am, that all of the affection I have for them is one-sided. I know my poor decisions have gotten them hurt on occasion. Would you rather I have never played the game? What would that have gotten them? Sometimes you have to struggle for a resolution that benefits everyone, for a good resolution. I will never regret getting Tiz out of that Chasm. Or saving Yew from Denys. Because all of those kids standing there deserve a happy ending and I want to see them get it!

“Persist in this battle, and Yew and his friends will only feel more pain.” Said in a tutorial description box. Look, I want Yew Geneolgia to be happy, okay!? I’m gonna get him a good end! If I stop he ends up stuck in the Via Celestio for eternity! I’m getting him and Tiz and Edea and Magnolia home and you. Can’t. Stop me.

“Isn’t it enough? How much more must they suffer to satisfy you?” Ideally, none! I don’t want to see them hurt, but I want to see them fail to save their world and lose everyone they love even less. Tiz is gonna retire, Edea’s gonna be Grand Marshal, Magnolia’s home is gonna be safe, and Yew is gonna make a new family legacy that he can be proud of! That’s all I want out of this!

You think you can make me feel bad by treating me like I’m just here for the gameplay? Because battles are fun? Joke’s on you, I don’t really care about gameplay! I’m here because I love these kids and I want to spend more time with them! I want to see them grow and find their happy endings, and they give me hope that someday I can find one of my own. SO FUCK OFF

You aren’t my god, bitch

It... means you can cause screen and audio static? Hey, idiot, I do that to myself, accidentally

You don’t control me! You control my input device at best!

Stop that. Stop making my kids hurt each other. I’m not the one who wants them to suffer, that’s clearly you. I would never have the game play at normal speed. 4x or bust

Despair? Oh, this isn’t despair. I’m just fucking pissed. Sorry. I don’t really get sad when there’s a target to take my anger out on actively taunting me

Yeah, fine, just boot me to the start screeeeee-NO. Hey. NO. Take that cursor off of delete. I’ve accidentally deleted save files before don’t do that! Mmmmmm every button just makes it go closer to “Delete All” come onnnnnnn. I will replay this game over if I have to, Providence! I’ll be back in another two years you can’t stop me

I don’t want to press the button. I know I have to. I know the game devs couldn’t possibly be so cruel as to actually erase the files. Not to constantly bring this fight back to Undertale, but it didn’t get me when your save file got “deleted” at the end of a neutral run. It’s so much worse in this game when you have to press the button multiple times and inch it ever closer to delete, knowing full well that the only way to avoid it is to give up and turn the game off

...I hope the game, like, records how long it takes me to finally press that button. I’m just making entries here to stall at this point

Changed into pajamas, went to the bathroom, and messed around with the current timed quest in Hogwarts Mystery for a bit and they still want me to press the button, huh?

...fine. Supposedly there’s a shield that you can only get if you play through the whole game on Hard (EDIT: Nope! The wiki was wrong again) so I’d have to go another round, anyway. Do it, Providence. I dare you

JUST LET ME PRESS “NO” YOU WIGGLY FINGERED BITCH

Yew! Yew, buddy, I’m trying!

THANK YOU MY PRECIOUS BOY. I DID NOT EQUIP YOU WITH A SWORD BUT THAT WAS STILL BADASS AND I’M SO PROUD OF YOU

Ahhhhh! Orchestral version of his theme! I’m actually crying I love this boy

“There’s someone who’s been here, supporting me, all this time.” Yes, hi! Hi, kiddo. You’re great! You’re so wonderful. You probably didn’t see me wave at you when my face appeared in the Norende Ravine, but you’re awesome and I’ve never been prouder of someone

“I’m fighting for you, too!” And I want you to be happy! (I’ll be honest, having Yew talk directly to me is really powerful. I just wanna, like, poke the screen where his hand is and high-five him. Best boy)

YEW GENEOLGIA LOVES ME MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD DOES

Nope, I’m actually crying. Hahah. My favorite character thinks I’m cool. That’s a hell of a self-esteem boost

“It’s your will, and mine! We’re in this fight together!” Always, buddy. Whenever you need me

He used the letters SP from the title screen to activate the hourglass. That’s so smart I love the nerd kid

Yeah, Agnès, I love you guys! I’ll always come back to defend your world, even if just to see you again!

Janne. Janne, I really do not like you. Please shut up. Your encouragement is just making fun of me for helping Yew? Wow. Okay. I see you’ve learned nothing

At least Nikolai is grateful for me giving even the empire’s people a second chance

You know what, Minette? I’m glad you’re happy. I hope you get therapy! But a new dad is okay for now

Bella is... smiling? AND HELL YEAH, MAN. I’ll keep fighting for you, Cú! Some conceited eyeball ain’t gonna stop me!

Norzen you-you had glasses this whole time? Wow, I could not tell from a distance! Sure, cloud grandpa. Stars. Yes

Aimee did you and Angelo... really do anything? A’ight, sure, I’ll save your romantic future

Yeah, I can make it as if Providence never existed, Geist. “‘Cause this is our world, right? And you were a part of it, too!” Yeah, I was, Rev. Thanks, kid

So the screen shattered and... DENYS! Hey! Hey someone grab his ass right now! Someone save Denys please he’s right THERE!

“Promise me... that you will watch over my brother. Farewell, my friend... and thank you!” You deserved so much better, Denys. Sorry it doesn’t seem like saving you is in the cards right now. The second I can, I will. Then we can look after Yew together!

My emotions hold power... OH I’M PRETTY SURE BOTH MY RIGHTEOUS ANGER AND LOVE OF YEW TRANSCEND TIME AND SPACE. That’s MY BOY!!!

...oh shit he’s out of MP uhhhhhhhhhhhh

Thank god I never use items and had Elixirs

Get. WRECKED. Singlehandedly. By Yew Geneolgia triple-casting Meteor Rain after Tiz and Edea took out the hands

Also, I didn’t mention, but the music for this fight does exactly what I adored in “Serpent Eating the Ground” last game: most of it is clearly the boss’s dramatic song (already really great, as mentioned in Providence Round 1), but then partway through it cuts to remixes of each party member’s Special Attack song, melded together into one flowing number that completely overrides the Boss’s sound, in a musical indicator of our triumph. There’s some of the main theme of the game, in a sense, I guess you could say representing the player. And I think I heard a bit of Denys’s boss theme in that section. Fitting. He did send me back to the party, after all. And this section only starts up once Yew cuts through Providence’s manipulation, furthering the sense of triumph as the party actively overrides Providence

Well, that’s that, huh? Everyone’s back on Luxendarc, the path to the Celestial Realm is closed, and Altair and Vega have finally moved on together. Seems... there’s not much more I can do for you guys, huh?

...where’s Tiz?

Nonononononnooooo I knew he wasn’t gonna be okay without Altair. No, come on. Tiz, you can’t do this to me again! He just wants to retire

I... should we hang up on Agnès? I don’t know if I want her to watch this. Can’t we just shove me into Tiz again? I can keep the game running until my 3DS’s inevitable complete destruction

Y-y- ...I see. Vaguely British female voice? It was you all along, my Adventurer friend. Or should I say, miss Narrator? By what strange trick of fate do our paths cross anew?

No, Magnolia! She clearly knows... something. And I can tell she’s more than what she seems. How else... could she have made it into the Via Celestio on her own?

I can’t watch Tiz go comatose again. If you’ve got a way to save him, do it already

“But what is a soul? But the embodiment of our wishes, dreams, and desires.” Ummm... the metaphysical culmination of a person’s being? I’ve never quantified a soul before

Fill Tiz’s body... with the dreams needed to bind his soul. And uh, Yew? Yew. Is dumping the hourglass sand on him the best idea?

Oh. That’s how you ended up in those dungeons. You can just open warp gates. I see.

And she handed the hourglass to Tiz in the past... on his way to the Norende Chasm, where we first got the ability to use it in Default. And she was wearing green. I can’t for the life of me remember if she ever wore green in Default, but it wouldn’t surprise me given the amount of sequel nods there were in the international release. What, do you just change into green when you go to the past so your past self knows what’s up?

So ideally, we now have an hourglass with two games, or two and a half years’ worth of dreams in it

Did you create a time loop where the hourglass didn’t exist until Tiz had it and won’t exist after, or did we have two hourglasses and never notice?

Where would that even be hidden on Tiz’s body!? He was in a medical jumpsuit! ...oh, ew. I really hope it was in his pants legs and not... elsewhere

Oh, good, Agnès has it. Whew. Crisis averted

And the Adventurer finally introduces herself. A long, silver-haired woman named Deneb. One of Altair and Vega’s old friends. And, most importantly, probably another Celestial. Possibly the last one alive on Luxendarc

*Great Distance starts up for one last go* Run Agnès! Run with all you’ve got!

Credits are rolling. Let’s see those happy endings we all worked so hard to get

Nikolai is back in the priesthood, preaching to the New Crystalguard, of which Janne seems to be a member. I’m happy for Nikolai, still mad Janne never got over himself, but we can’t win ‘em all. Best of luck, gents! Call me in a few years when Janne has finally grown up

Bella and Cú are just walking around in... Eisen? Ah, well. They’ve got each other. Hope they find a home that accepts horsemen. And I owe you a two a special thanks! The Spellcraft and Triple Wield abilities carried this team, and the Yew Meteor Rain strategy couldn’t have happened without it!

Norzen is back to teaching, and Rifa and Pudgius are glad to have him there

Minette’s happily sailing with her new dad and his cat in his little rowboat. Remember what I said! Therapy!

Aimee and Angelo... did not set up shop in Gathelatio. Or they just haven’t moved locations yet. Pancake business is booming either way (You guys should seriously move, though. If more adventurers find out that Obliterating Chompettes is some of the best experience in the game, they’ll just loiter outside your shop all day and scare away customers! Customers that I’m surprised you even have at the deepest spot in a high level dungeon. ...maybe that’s the actual problem with your current location)

Geist and Rev are... standing around posing in the old seaside shack that was sold to Profiteur? He’d better not have gone back on his deal after I defended him like that!

Aw, Lotus is teaching Sakura to fly the Rubadub. I’m glad those two were with us through this journey

And Great Distance fades out as Agnès arrives, no more distance between her and Tiz any longer

“Good morning... Agnès.” Don’t ever scare us like that again, buddy. Happy retirement

*Great Distance back for Round 2* And now we’ve got the party epilogues!

The new Grand Marshal of Eternia contemplates what to do next, her second-in-command Alternis at her side. When faced with a conflict between two factions, Edea decides she has to go herself, because if anyone can make them see eye-to-eye, it would be her. And I believe her. Alternis declares that he would go to the ends of the world for her, in a way that makes you question whether it was Ringabel or not. Given the way Edea looked forlornly down at her feet, I’ll say “not,” making this a bittersweet end for her

With the peace talks over, Agnès has resigned as Pope, leaving everything to the Matriarch and new Vestal, Sylvie. No longer a Vestal, she has no reason to cling to the surname of those wed to the Crystals, Oblige. No, she’d rather be Agnès Arrior. And now she and Tiz are engaged and planning to move to Norende as farmers. I’m happy for you kids! Enjoy retirement with your sheep. You’ve both earned it

Music fades out again as we cut to Magnolia in the Buster Ship, musing about how wonderful Luxendarc was. Yew races to where he first met her... but her ship is already blasting off back to the Moon. And a ballad starts up as Magnolia walks up to him after he laments that he never confessed. That confession is as awkward as I hoped it would be. And then Magnolia winks at the camera (hi!) and muses about how love really can transcend time and space. Turns out, people on the Moon only tell their true names to the person they wish to marry... and she just whispered something into a very red-faced Yew’s ear. Cute! Just remember he’s 16. Give him a few years to get his bearings, Magnolia. I have no idea how old you are, but maybe take it a little slower. Best of luck, you dorks

One final shot. The Geneolgia mansion foyer, but this time Foundar’s portrait is gone. Now it’s a portrait of Yew, Tiz, Edea, Magnolia, and Agnès eating dinner together... with Denys standing behind them. This is the real Geneolgia family. The one that deserves to be celebrated.

And there goes my name in the credits. Thank you, Bravely Second team. It was a hell of a time and a hell of an undertaking. Almost two years since I started this liveblog, and it evolved rapidly from just a few reactionary bullet points to a full on analysis/reaction. And I’m really glad I did it. I’ve gotten to talk to some cool people thanks to this, and I hope they enjoyed the ride as much as I did!

I really wish I could stick around, kids, but I guess that’s just not how games work. Just let me know if you ever need me again, and I’ll be there. And this time maybe it won’t take me two and a half years to get to it. I’ll do my best!

One final scene, post-credits. Ringabel narrates that they found “the third key,” The Sword of the Brave, to a Vice President over a hyperrealistic shot of the moon

And now we have the final, true New Game+. I love the sparkly little border on the cleared file. But, hey, this isn’t the end yet! The Bestiary isn’t complete! We’re still missing items! And it’s all thanks to the three postgame dungeons! ...but I won’t bore you with that unless there’s demand for it

That being said, there’s still going to be one more update! I plan to do one final retrospective on this game as a whole. What it did wrong, what it did right, and my overall thoughts on the experience. I understand if that’s not everyone’s cup of tea, though, so for those who won’t be joining me, I hope you had a good time reading and thank you for spending the time to look at my ramblings on games I like. For those joining me for the retrospective, thanks for reading! Until next time!

#bravely default #bravely second #liz liveblogs bravely second

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