#like. if you raised someone. wouldn’t you hope that they’d take what they learned from you and become better? not repeat your mistakes?
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look there r critiques to be made abt the characterization of movie!Faramir but he’s actually so important to me. the fact he Is tempted and that his temptation mirrors Boromir’s in that they’re both centered around love means so much to me, actually
#Boromir’s love for his people vs Faramir’s desire to be loved by Denethor#showing how much Denethor Had whittled away at Faramir.#*would* he have been tempted by the ring if he hadn’t been constantly belittled by his own father? I think that’s a valid question#or even if Boromir had been alive#in that moment Faramir had lost the one person in his direct family that cared for him genuinely and openly#like Denethor is all he had left. and Denethor cannot stand him. Denethor wishes he was dead.#*but maybe if he returns with the ring* <- and that is like. soso important to me for realsies#not to mention the arc of him overcoming the temptation before it’s too late and sending Frodo and Sam on their way#which like. As A Boromir Enjoyer. I think is so critical#like. if you raised someone. wouldn’t you hope that they’d take what they learned from you and become better? not repeat your mistakes?#Boromir adored his brother and Faramir was tempted but he didn’t fall. he learned and he became better. he didn’t repeat Boromir’s mistakes#idk I think obviously there are things that work in a book that don’t work on film and I really do enjoy movie Faramir I think they#crafted a very cool little guy#lotr
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Unrequited (Yandere! Ticci Toby x Reader) Part 9
Links to Previous Chapters: Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8
Author’s Note: I've been rereading this chapter for about a week trying to edit it, but decided I'd just go ahead and post it. Happy holidays everybody!
Cross-posted on my Ao3 account, which I update more frequently.
Warnings: Swearing. Descriptions of Gore. Some threats of violence. (2,070 words)
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Leaves crunched underneath heavy boots, ragged and irritated breaths came out in clouds against the cold.
Toby was not pleased.
Not pleased with how things were going with you.
And not pleased with being texted by Tim.
Apparently there was some work to do and he had to ‘get his lazy ass over there’. The young proxy didn’t even know the details of what needed to be done. A supply run? Some more random campers in the area? Either way Toby was itching for a fight.
He could feel anger in his system bubbling and ready to boil over. Just imagining Tim’s smug face waiting for him, probably ready to spat some nonsense about how ‘he’s late’ or make a snide comment on his appearance. His face twitched furiously at the idea, and if anyone was unfortunate enough to see the way he walked through the woods now, they’d surely run in the other direction. There was murder in the man’s eyes.
It wouldn’t take long for Toby to find his teammate. That’s how things always worked though, they had a connection to find each other when they were supposed to, all he needed to do was walk mindlessly in a direction and let the forest guide him.
“Someone’s in a pissy mood.”
The smell of smoke let him know he found who he was looking for. Tim leaned on a tree, a wry smile on his face, a lit cigarette burning away at his fingertips. It was practically an extension of his hand at this point, the fucking chainsmoker. Toby learned to hate the scent of tobacco.
“Where’s Brian?” Toby frowned, ignoring Tim’s comment.
“Had something he needed to do.”
Tim looked disinterested in the conversation. Getting him to actually tell Toby what was going on was like pulling teeth. And Toby knew first hand how hard that could be.
“Suh-so? Why’d you cuh-call me out here?” The younger proxy fidgeted with the ends of his gloves.
Tim sighed, letting the last part of his cigarette drop to the ground, putting it out with his boot. “There’s been some weird things happening out here. Brian said you should come with me to investigate.”
Toby made note of how he said ‘Hoodie’. Tim’s way of hinting that he didn’t want him there. Typical.
“Wuh-what do you mean weird things?”
Tim motioned with his head for him to follow, walking away into some bushes, Toby raised one of his eyebrows before complying. There was a rancid stench in the air when he started following him, like something died. Not uncommon in the forest, but it was hard to stomach even for the most experienced woodsman.
They followed the smell of rotting flesh, down a small embankment. The dead leaves on the ground made it hard not to slip and fall, and Toby snickered when Tim lost his footing a couple times, making the older proxy shoot him a dirty look.
“There up ahead.” After walking a few paces, Tim pointed to a mangled pile of fur splayed out against a group of pine trees.
Toby’s eyes narrowed at the bloody mess in front of him, turning to the other man in irritation.
“You dragged me out here for a duh-dead deer?”
“Take a closer look, Rogers.”
Toby shoved past Tim, making a point to bump into his shoulder for using the nickname he hated. He pulled up the mouthguard hanging from his neck to cover his nose, but it didn’t block out the smell nearly as much as he’d hoped. It took a lot of willpower not to gag.
He scanned over the remains noting different sized bite marks and scratches that tore through the animal's belly, viscera pooling out and its black lifeless eyes staring up at the sky. A swarm of maggots had already started the process of decay.
Toby could see the red of Tim’s flannel out the corner of his eye.
“Well?”
“Okay, it’s a luh-little strange. I’ll give you that. The bite muh-marks look like they came from a human.”
“Anything else, detective?” Tim mused, clearly noticing something else but liked toying with the kid.
“Just fucking spit it out.”
The older man kneeled down, motioning to two different spots on the deer's hind legs. “They’re all different sizes, meaning more than one person did this.”
“Cuh-cool.” Toby deadpanned. “So what does that mean for us?”
“It means we need to keep an eye out for groups of ravin’ lunatics.”
“Don’t we already duh-do that?”
Tim rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean. This is the second animal we’ve found like this in a week.”
“And yuh-you only thought to tell me now?”
“I was busy.” Tim shrugged, the corner of his lip curling up slightly. The man did not give two shits about warning Toby sooner. Probably didn’t even want to tell him now. If anything, Brian most likely had to convince him to.
The younger proxy scowled at him, tempted to escalate things, to cause another one of their fights ending with the two trying to claw the others' eyes out. Not that it would hurt him, and Toby always got some sick amusement seeing Tim in pain. But it would be dark soon, and he was itching to get back home. The thought of you back there tied up on his bed was making him scratch at his scar.
He needed to spend more time with you. The look in your eyes as he paced around the cabin…. The look of fear and hatred. It wasn’t unexpected, but it still bugged him. You were… a bit more of a firecracker than he’d hoped. And level-headed unfortunately. You were catching on a little too quickly, to just how…. Temperamental he could be. The memory of you staring at his hatchets came back to him. He needed you to see his softer side, needed you to warm up to him before the truth, the real truth, about what he was came out. Maybe if he stole an old TV and got some of those movies you liked….
“Rogers!”
A finger snapped inches from his face. Toby blinked.
“Wuh-What?”
“I told you we need to get goin’” Tim pushed Toby forward impatiently. “It’s almost night time. Come on.”
He could hear Tim muttering “Fuckin’ useless kid.” under his breath as he led the way.
Toby’s stomach twisted. That phrase got to him. Was something he’d heard a lot, from somewhere before, something in his past. Something familiar. Tim taunted him in ways that sparked a deep resentment, like an itch he could never fully scratch. A scab that wouldn’t heal.
They walked back the way they came in, up the hill and through the thick bushes, without saying a word. One thing they could agree on was the less they talked, the better.
Luckily Toby’s cabin wasn’t too far. Fiddling with the ends of his jacket, combing his hair, absentmindedly, he was glad to be rid of the old fucker finally and get back to what was important.
But things never worked out the way he wanted.
Toby felt a hand on his arm. Tim lit up another cigarette, his eyes narrowed at Toby, before taking a long, deep, drag into his lungs. .
Smoke billowed from the man’s mouth, surrounding him in a thick cloud as he spoke.
“Before you go, I need somethin’ from your cabin.”
Fuck.
Toby stared at him for a moment. His mind went blank, before finally speaking up.
“Wuh-what do you need?”
He’d just act normal. It wouldn’t be a big deal. He could figure something out.
“Hoods and I are running low on some supplies. We know Kate keeps some of her stuff in your basement. Figured we’d borrow some things.”
The boy twitched and fidgeted under the pressure, trying to come up with ways to get out of it. If Tim saw you… Toby didn’t even want to think about what he’d do. He honestly didn’t know.
“What… kuh-kind of things-sss?” Shit. His stutter was getting worse.
Tim raised a brow. Likely annoyed by how standoffish the other proxy was being at something simple.
“Like food n’ ammo. We’ve been too busy to go into town.” Tim paused, and looked almost accusingly at him. “And I know you’ve been leaving the forest a lot recently.”
Toby chewed on the side of his cheek. Of course the other proxies sensed his disappearance. He’d been too preoccupied with you to even think about that being a possibility. That didn’t mean they cared when he was gone, they weren’t his babysitter. But now Tim had him over a barrel. There was no way he could deny him supplies now, without admitting the reason he went into town was for… something out of the ordinary.
“Fuh-fine.” He sighed, trying to collect his thoughts. “Just duh-don’t touch any of my stuff.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
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The cabin was just up ahead. Toby kept glancing back at Tim who seemed too preoccupied in his own thoughts to notice.
“Whuh-wait outside for a second. There’s suh-something I need to take care of first.”
Tim eyed him carefully. They both stood on the porch, tension rising, Tim’s body stiffening and his hands balling into fists for a brief moment. Toby fully expecting him to lash out.
Tim always thought the boy was weird. Fucked up in the head. Overly-emotional, unstable, obnoxious, and he’s seen the worst of Toby’s manic episodes. He was almost certain the kid engaged in some light cannibalism, from the way he mumbled to himself in his delusional states. He was so fucking glad they didn’t live under the same roof anymore.
Finally, after a few moments of staring the other down, Tim relaxed. “Whatever, just don’t take too long.” The older man decided he’d do whatever it took to get the fuck outta there, even if that meant having to obey. Despite how much that bruised his ego, he just wanted to go home and sleep.
Toby quickly went inside, slamming the door behind him, and Tim sat on the steps of the porch with a reluctant grunt.
Twitching anxiously, he ran into the room where you were tied to the bed. You jumped, obviously startled, by the door aggressively being opened. Normally he’d mock you, wanting to give a fake ‘awwww’ at how freaked out you were by his presence. He was still mad about how you've been treating him. But he didn’t have the time for that right now.
He opened the drawer to his nightstand, getting out an old t-shirt.
“Wha-” You started to question, but he cut you off by shoving the cloth in your mouth painfully. He tied it around your head, a little too tight, but he needed to make sure you were properly gagged and wouldn’t be heard.
Toby leaned down to your ear, speaking in a low hiss. “You nuh-need to be fucking quiet. I have a guest. He’s dangerous, so don’t get any ideas. No one’s coming to save you.”
He gripped your jawline tightly. “Do you uh-understand?” You stared back at him. Toby narrowed his eyes, tightening his hold on your face even more, until you finally nodded your head.
He released his hand and exited the room, mentally preparing himself to interact with Tim again, and with a deep breath, opened the front door.
“Okay, you can cuh-come in now.”
Tim groaned as he got up to follow him inside.
Toby couldn’t help letting his eyes dart to his bedroom door when they walked past. He led Tim down the hall where the basement stairs were, which he started keeping locked the day he captured you. He didn’t need you to see what was down there. Hopefully not ever.
After Toby unlocked the door and showed him the various backpacks stolen from victims, Tim rummaged through a couple before collecting the items he needed. Mostly food, a couple old boxes of ammo. Nothing special.
His heart was pounding when they climbed the stairs again, so close to getting this over with. Wanting nothing more than to have him out of the house. Away from you.
But without warning, Tim stopped in the hallway,
It was so sudden Toby almost bumped into his back.
“Whuh-what is it?”
There was a dangerously long pause, before Tim’s head turned to look behind his shoulder. Toby's eyes widened in fear.
“Did you hear that?”
#ticci toby#creepypasta#ticci toby x reader#toby rogers#yandere creepypasta x reader#yandere ticci toby x reader#unrequited#yandere#fanfiction#my writing#masky creepypasta#ticci toby creepypasta#ticci toby x you#yandere creepypasta
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Prey!Series - Part Two: Mentality - OA Zidan x Reader
Tagging: @trublu2u @mrspeacem1nusone @greenies-green @rosaliedepp @whateversomethingbruh @anime-weeb-4-life @daydreaming-belle @burningpeachpuppy @scarlettsakura @divergent146 @upsteadlogic @malindacath @skyesthebomb @kilikonakapamana @yezzyyae @redpool @stxrryswvrld @district447 @soultrysworld
Prey!Series:
Part One: Trafficking - It's during a human trafficking case that Omar meets you.
There’s a wealth of information that Omar doesn’t know about human trafficking, and he discovers that the longer the case goes on. He doesn’t think of himself as naïve; he has an awareness of it, he’s read the literature, but he isn’t prepared for the extent of the misery, the impact of it.
The two of you are standing in the JOC, in front of the huge array of screens. On the first screen are the images of the girl’s visas from the employment agency. Every single one of them is fresh faced and hopeful. On the second screen are the images from the ‘Just4Johns’ website. They’re sultry boudoir images, lots of flesh on display. The text written across each picture invites the johns to come and play.
It's the eyes that get him, the deadness in them. Every single ounce of their hope has been stolen away, depleted. Omar doesn’t understand how a man can look at any one of these women and not see that they’re being coerced.
He raises it with you when the two of you sit down for lunch together. This case is moving a million miles an hour and there’s barely time to sit down and eat. He’s graciously loaned you the corner of his desk because it’s an all hands on deck situation and there isn’t space anywhere else. The two of you are crowded in close, his knee bumps against yours for the umpteenth time and he apologises yet again. You give him a look and a blush creeping up his cheeks.
“The men that are paying for sex with these women, they have to know that they’re raping them.” He says as he takes a bite out of his sandwich. The case is making him sick to his stomach but logically he knows he needs the fuel, so he persists.
“They don’t see it like that.” You tell him, opening your pack of chips and tilting it towards him. You’re a sharer, he’s learned. Food, stationary, mints. If you’re having something, you offer him one too. It’s the sign of someone who’s used to caring for others. “To them they’re paying for a service, it’s no different from hiring a plumber, they’re taking care of a need. They choose not to see the reality of it. They don’t question where these girls came from, or why they’re there, it’s a transaction to them.”
It makes Omar think back to that night in Germany, a few guys had come back to base late after visiting a brothel. He’d never reported it, they were shipping out to Iraq a few days later. What’s the harm he had thought at the time. It was a couple of months later they’d heard the place had been raided, every single one of those girls had been trafficked.
There’s shame in him when he tells you that story. You can see it in the slump of his shoulders, the way he hangs his head.
“It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d reported them or not.” You tell him, leaning forward so that you’re within his proximity. The scent of your perfume floods his senses as he looks into your eyes. It’s something floral with a hint of nectarine, it reminds Omar of walking through the park in spring. “Stuff like that isn’t in the militaries purview.”
Your hands come to rest on his, his own are clasped together as he peers up at you with sorrowful dark eyes.
“It’s not on you.” You reassure him, your thumbs ghosting over the grooves of his knuckles. “I think this case is throwing up a lot of things that you haven’t had to deal with before and that’s ok, it’s a bad one, it’s jarring but you have to learn how to compartmentalise that otherwise it bleeds into your personal life.”
“Yea.” He says, bowing his head. “I have three sisters; I keep thinking about what you said back at the hospital about it being one in five…”
“It might not be any of them.” You remind him and he swallows hard against the ache in his chest before clearing his throat and pulling away.
“Yea.” He says quietly, his palm rubbing over the line of his jaw. “That’s what I’m praying for.”
***
It’s the basement that gives Omar nightmares, he sees it in his dreams for months afterwards. Filthy, stained mattresses all pushed together in order to maximise the space. The bedding is unwashed, tossed carelessly across them. The whole place is damp, he can feel the moisture in the air as he listens to the sound of the droplets impact the concrete.
The reality of what these girls endure is staring him in the face and it’s harrowing, it makes his stomach twist because no one should live like this.
It’s the wall that breaks him, the one out back next to padlocked exit. The cream paint is peeling but it’s the only surface that even closely resembles a canvas. The girls have drawn all over it, there are hundreds of images, depictions of their hopes, their dreams. Some of the drawings are more childlike that others and it’s those that hit him the hardest.
“Is it paint?” He asks you, his voice rough as he studies the wall.
“No. It’s make up.” You say quietly, the back of your hand brushing against his. “They used the only thing they had.”
His fingers capture yours and he finds himself squeezing your hand tightly because this, this is too much. He can feel their anguish seeping through the walls, their horror, their suffering and something inside of him just breaks. He doesn’t realise he’s crying, not until he tastes the salt on his lips.
“I know.” You say softly, your thumb chasing over the hollow of his wrist. “I know.”
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Political Pawn AU 2
You can find Post 1 here.
Findekáno does not go to bed
Turukáno finds him brooding on the lake shore, stone eyed and tense
“You’re rethinking things you ought not rethink,” Turukáno says, though he knows it is in vain
“I am trying not to,” Findekáno tells him, folding his arms tighter against the wind. “Whatever he did, it doesn’t change the outcome. Those who suffered still suffered. Those who died still died. I can think better of him for trying to speak on our behalf before the betrayal became irreversible, but not for helping kick it off by taking the ships at Araman, nor his foolishness in thinking the situation would be otherwise.”
And he does think a great deal better of Russandol, for trying. Fëanáro’s wrath had proven no small thing to risk. He failed to stop what he himself abetted, and in his failure rested the horror of trekking the Helcaraxë
But still, knowing someone tried to protest, knowing someone didn’t forget them, that Russandol didn’t forget him...
It’s something
“Father and Aunt are already embroiled in plans for how to use this,” Turukáno says dully, settling next to him on the grassy bank. “I left because I couldn’t stand listening them anymore.”
“What are they thinking?” Findekáno asks, half-fearing the answer. Too many have waited too long for the slightest crack in Fëanáro’s defensive stubbornness, and the feud the eldest sons of Finwë wage has always driven them to unreasonable heights. He doesn’t delude himself into thinking the next move won’t be stunningly vicious
“Father’s hoping to foment Fëanáro’s own people against him by suggesting Nelyafinwë is the only of their House deserving of the crown, seeing as he doesn’t agree with abandoning his people,” Turukáno says bitterly. “He’s hoping it will galvanize those who didn’t agree with their traitor king’s actions into... I don’t know, forcing Fëanáro to do something about them.”
Findekáno huffs a disbelieving laugh, voice cracking. “The man is being tortured in Angamando, and Father would make him king? What is he thinking? This is going to rend the Noldor worse than we already are!”
It wouldn’t just be the Fëanárian Faction tearing into itself over this, it would be their own people too. What cohesiveness they’d held onto all this time would dissolve as the question of Russandol’s actions and what they were worth became a Kindred-wide debate
In Valinor they could get away with that. On Angamando’s doorstep?
Death would come for them in their distraction
“You know how Father gets when Fëanáro’s involved,” Turukáno says, and they share such a look of deep commiseration
“I also know how you get about Nelyafinwë,” Turukáno continues, and Findekáno hunches his shoulders. “You’re just like Father, you know. Not an ounce of objectivity in either of you.”
“I am trying to be better,” Findekáno protests defensively. “I know I... I ruined so much acting out of love instead of wisdom.”
“You are not the only,” Turukáno says heavily, “who has made ruinous choices out of love.”
“I think, at some point, we two, it stopped being about love and more about pride,” Findekáno whispers. “It was love when I raised a sword at Alqualondë. It was pride when I helped them steal the ships; too much pride to stop and repent when I learned the truth.”
“I should hit you for being right,” Turukáno sighs, leaning back on his hands. “I can not separate the love from the pride since the Darkening. I only know we, none of us, acted with wisdom when we had the chance. And now we must live with it, and hope to be wiser in the tribulations to come.”
“Like this harebrained plan of Father’s. He’s not going to get reparations if he’s just going back to undermining Fëanáro. I want to tear the man down from his high horse as much as anyone, but I’m so sick of the feud, Turvo. Hasn’t it taken enough from us?”
“It will only stop taking when we all stop feeding it.”
“Might as well ask the both of them to starve themselves.”
“Hah!” Turukáno laughs. “That will be the day!” A pause to let the mist billow by. “Brother. You’re thinking about doing something.”
Findekáno doesn’t deny it. “Someone has to check Father’s worst impulses.”
“Whatever you do,” Turukáno says, “I beg you. Act from love. Not pride. I can forgive you for love. I am not sure how much more I can for pride. For anyone.”
“Even yourself?”
“Perhaps especially myself.”
Findekáno leans over to bump his forehead to his brother’s. “For love,” he agrees. Leaning back, he admires the sight of the unvarnished stars, Rána in its dark phase. “If anyone should ask, tell them I left early on patrol.”
“And if I should ask?”
“I will say only that I promise to return.”
“Heartening.”
In the morning, Turukáno indeed tells any who ask that his brother is on patrol, though he is sure to put up his most dour of expressions to dissuade any who might try to ask him. Easy enough, with the speech his Father starts the morning with
Itarillë, nearly full grown now, finds him halfway through and threads her fingers in his
Glancing down, he finds her pensive, brow furrowed in a mirror of his own expression
She was born during Fëanáro’s exile. Half her life has been spent on the Helcaraxë. She only knows her half-relations through stories, and glimpses during the march to Araman. They are as strangers to her. He wonders what she makes of this speech upholding a man she would only ever have heard cursed
He feels her mind brush against his, a wisp of winter wind carrying the scent of evergreens
The townsfolk are listening, she tells him
And do they agree? He asks
Her head turns to regard the mingled Lestorodrim and Fëanárian Loyalists. Some of them, maybe. The Lestorodrim have minds as girdled as their homes, but ultimately Noldor matters are Noldor matters to them. The Fëanárians are... split. I see much shame and regret in them
Not so much they’ll act on it of their own volition, Turukáno retorts. He recognizes the pride that refuses to humble itself in the face of wrongdoing as easily as he sees it in his mirror
He’s not blind. He sees the shame in their faces too
If they want forgiveness they’ll have to humble themselves first
Itarillë elbows him
Following her intent gaze he sees one of the Ambarussa in the crowd, face going pale and intent
“Which one is that one?” She murmurs
It’s difficult to gauge at this distance, what with the mist making everything perpetually damp, but he thinks that dark shade of red denotes Pityafinwë, the elder twin
“Well,” Turukáno murmurs back. “Your grandfather has garnered the attention he wanted.”
“But is it the attention the rest of us need?”
“That remains to be seen.”
As Finwë-Ñolofinwë wraps up his speech on Fëanáro’s flaws as a leader so far (many), Nelyafinwë’s virtues in comparison (anyone would come out smelling like roses compared to Fëanáro), and the obvious disregard of the people’s will displayed in Fëanáro’s refusal to repent, Amabarussa takes off to Barad Eithel
They would have Fëanáro’s response soon
It will be ugly. Turukáno doesn’t need foresight to predict that
“What do you think of all this, Father?” Itarillë asks, jarring him out of his dire thoughts
“I spent far too many times telling you as a child that it’s important that you tried, even when you failed,” Turukáno says after a moment. “Sometimes, especially when you failed. I am loathe to make a mockery of yet more of the virtues I tried to raise you with. Yet my heart is broken. Whatever healing or amending I may find in the future, it cannot make that fact not be.”
“I do not think you make a mockery of anything,” Itarillë says. “You raised me to believe in the importance of trying, even in the face of failure. You also raised me to contend with the consequences of failure. I expect no less maturity from my elders.”
Overhead, the sky is clouded
#silmarillion#political pawn au#I meant to follow Fingon but Turgon had Things To Say#Maedhros soon Maedhros soon Maedhros soon#things are really heating up#let the tug of war begin
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caught red handed showing feelings
Steve pretended to hate gossip. He rolled his eyes and scoffed whenever the girls got started — and boy, with Robin and Nancy together, did they get started — but he always found himself listening in. He couldn’t help it.
Besides, his childhood nanny practically raised him on gossip, teaching him how to listen to the conversations around him without making it glaringly obvious.
“You know, I heard that Eddie’s been sleeping with Jenny Nicholson,” Robin whispered conspiratorially to Nancy, leaning over to where she sat to keep the younger girls from overhearing.
Steve had been invited to girls’ nights since the beginning, since he’d offered to pick up Max, El and Erica and drop them on Nancy’s doorstep so that she could “set up”, whatever that meant.
He later learnt that it meant organising snacks and pampering supplies. And hey, Steve was secure enough in his masculinity to enjoy a face mask every once in a while.
Or once a week.
Steve couldn’t hold back his scoff at the topic this week, wondering if it counted as gossip if it was simply untrue.
Robin and Nancy whipped their heads around to Steve, pulling apart where they had been leaning just a little too close together to be considered friendly. Nancy raised a single eyebrow at him, inviting Steve to elaborate.
“Come on,” Steve scooted closer to the girls now, done with pretending that he hadn’t been listening intently to begin with. “He’d never go out with someone like Jenny Nicholson.”
The way that Steve said her name conveyed enough of his reasons, or he’d hoped so, until Robin turned to him and asked, “Why not?” with an eyebrow raised in a mirror of Nancy’s expression.
“She’s — she’s—” Steve floundered for the reason, he knew there was a reason. He just needed to find it.
“Yes?” Robin was smirking now.
“She’s too preppy,” He started with. “He wouldn’t like that. She listens to the wrong music. And she doesn’t even play the little nerd game of his. Or read the books he likes!”
“And you care because…” Robin pushed.
“I don’t care!” Steve insisted, raising his hands in his defence. His raised voice earned a judgemental look from Erica, who quickly went back to painting Max’s nails, El braiding her hair. He realised how guilty that made him look, and what did he have to be guilty for, really? He didn’t care, but Eddie was his friend, and he knew what he liked, and –
“Steve…” Nancy started, finally doing more than just watch the chaos unfold.
Steve crossed his arms, “I don’t.”
Robin’s expression shifted from mocking to outright mischievous; Steve held his breath.
“And does this happen to have anything to do with the copy of Lord of the Rings beside your bed,” she tilted her head as she talked, her smirk only growing. Steve didn’t think it was possible for a smile to be that big. “The one that has Property of Eddie Munson scrawled on the inside cover?”
Steve tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, but choked instead. Why was his throat closing up right now?
“I see,” Nancy mused. “And would this also be why you suddenly stick around to watch the guys play Dungeons and Dragons?”
If Steve had known this was what they’d be like together, he wouldn’t have told Robin he was okay with her crush on his ex-girlfriend. He was going to have to rescind his blessing.
Except for the fact that they weren’t entirely wrong. This was the first time he’d put so much effort into learning someone’s likes and dislikes since Nancy, since he’d gone out of his way to integrate himself into their hobbies.
And sure, Nancy’s hobbies at the time mostly involved studying, which helped him too, but still.
He’d never paid attention to this stuff before. Not even for Dustin. And Dustin’s the kid brother he never had.
What made Eddie so different?
Deep down, he knew.
It was too much. Too much to take in and inspect and assess on what was supposed to be a relaxing Sunday evening. He felt it when his heart started to race, when his breaths became more shallow.
Robin placed a hand on his arm, instantly soothing him, even in the midst of the biggest crisis of Steve’s life.
“You know Eddie’s gay, right?” she asked, her voice much softer and full of sincerity.
“He – what?” Steve frowned, keeping his eyes on the floor. “No. He’s – no.”
“He clocked me right away,” Robin insisted. “I’m so bad at knowing who’s gay or not, but apparently Eddie is great at it.”
Steve took a moment to think over that, to think what it might mean for his current realisation. He didn’t speak for what felt like forever, words and epiphanies flying around his mind.
“Steve?” Robin broke through his haze softly, concerned eyes boring into him.
“Mhmm?”
“You should talk to him.”
***
Crossposted to AO3 here
I may write a part two...
#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie drabble#steve's bisexual awakening#fluff#steddie fluff#minor ronance mention#zo writes
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Primrose Gray’s Legacy, Act One: The Younger Years, Chapter Four: The Arrangement
A/N: Finals are finally over and holidays are over the horizon, so this series will get my undivided attention. Expect more of this series after the long radio silence!
Summary: Primrose’s life takes a drastic change that will mark her youth
OCs featured: William Devlin ( @unfortunate-arrow ) Henry of Alderly ( @gaygryffindorgal ) and his family
OCs mentioned: The Stolberg-Burkes (also Gryff) the Coventries and the Hastings ( @camillejeaneshphm ) the Aldens ( @cursed-herbalist )
Warnings: A bit of classism of the era
Word Count: 2.2k
Taglist: @gaygryffindorgal @nicos-oc-hell @slytherindisaster @camillejeaneshphm @hphmmatthewluther @thatravenpuffwitch let me know if you want me to either add you or remove you!!
1889
Vincent Gray had been invited to a gentlemen-only soiree, and wanting to escape the women’s scheming, he was gladdened to accept. It seemed like finally he was being accepted in high society by his fellow male peers, a bit tired of ambitious mamas.
Especially he was escaping his wife’s machinations. He could still recall their argument later in the morrow.
“Why can’t you see how advantageous this match could be?!” She shouted “Our daughter would be protected and no one would doubt her claim! Maria Elisabeth married a duke herself.”
“Yes, and that duke ruled her and Winbourne! Just like Frederick was the one taken into account while Henriette remained in the shadows.”
Victoria looked at him “What do you have against the Alderlies, exactly?”
“They are Hanoverians, Vicky!” He cried out “You know what happens to their wives! Everybody does!”
“Are you implying that Henry is not enough husband for our girl?”
“Henry’s a good lad. I’m more worried about his parents and close peers. And the fact that they’d likely swallow the estate into theirs and centuries of work would go to the seven hells!”
Victoria raised her hands “What do you suggest, then? Anyone in mind?”
“Yes. Someone who doesn’t have ties or a title to tend. Someone who will not stand in the way of her claim. Perhaps in the Wizarding World.”
Victoria turned back at him and slowly came close to him “I am the viscountess here, and our daughter will marry whom I say, end of the discussion.”
Vincent sighed, rubbing his temples. Then, suddenly, a thump woke him from his trance and saw a rather tipsy Lord Carlisle greeting him “Ah, Lord Vincent, what a surprise!”
“My lord. What brings you here?”
“Well, I’ve heard that you are looking for a groom for your girl. I have a ward her age. Shy, likes drawing and quiet. His name is William.”
Vincent’s eyebrows shot up in amusement “Are you proposing your… ward for my girl?”
He nodded, gulping another drink “You see, I’ve heard, and correct me if I’m wrong, that you wish for your daughter to marry someone who won’t stand in the way of her claim. The boy has no noble ties, no title or a name to tend to. I’m happy to educate him to be her shadow and know his place as her future husband.”
“People will talk.” Vincent remarked.
“And will you listen to what they say, my lord? It could be an advantageous match…”
Vincent observed the man for a minute, taking in everything he said. The rumours were everywhere that he was the boy’s father, and it’d cause some trouble for Primrose, but perhaps, if they were engaged, the people wouldn’t doubt him as much.
“Lord Paul, how about if you come see me this Tuesday at four o’clock so we can discuss this properly?”
He smiled, shaking his hand “I’ll be there.”
“Let us hope you remember.” He joked.
For the next months, Paul and Vincent discussed back-and-forth how their engagement would work.
“…Of course, Primrose will be the head of the house.”
“…It’ll be wise that they have separate bank accounts.”
“…Won’t have any obligations until they’re introduced in society.”
“…Eighteen would be a good age for him to propose.”
“…Must learn in the meantime the history of the Somersets.”
“…In exchange for her hand I can give you…”
Right a few weeks before the boy’s ninth birthday, they had already settled a contract and would meet to sign it properly, everything planned and agreed. But secretly, he had been in the lookout for any other bachelor who’d pop up.
On Victoria’s point of view, not only the Alderlies had proposed their son, the Coventries and the Aldens had proposed their respective sons. Victoria had rejected the second, for he was a bit old for her tastes and had heard that he had already picked his future bride. When the scandal of the only Coventry boy and heir being homosexual came out, Victoria wrote to them rejecting their prospect.
Another families had stepped up, offering their sons that were her age. Vincent had investigated the Greek boy, Adonis, and Victoria had liked the di Napoli boy, Ernest, if she recalled correctly. But Ernest’s family was problematic and the Greek boy didn’t have the qualities he looked for a groom in his daughter, so they were rejected as well.
In the end, he was where he started: with the Devlin boy as the final prospect. Legitimacy controversies aside, they were a good match: he was just as intelligent, knowing French as well, a capital student and in the way of becoming a sportsman. It was definitely better this way, with someone unimportant in the eyes of society so he wouldn’t outshine his girl, the important piece in the chess.
Soon, Paul called proposing a dinner at his estate to see if they’d match after their speculations and also have a celebration for their ninth birthdays, since they were very close in age. He was quick to accept and told Victoria of his intrigues. The response was a Romanian vase being thrown to his head, which he hardly missed.
“YOU ENGAGED MY DAUGHTER TO A BASTARD?! WITHOUT CONSULTING ME?!” She screamed at the top of her lungs. He had never heard her scream like that ever since last year, when she had miscarried their last child.
“I know how it seems, but we must see the bigger picture here—,”
“Oh, and what would that be?!”
“He is a good boy! A good student, intelligent, with no ambition or ties to any sort of state or title, the perfect husband that won’t outshine the important person here: Prim!”
“I don’t see why she shouldn’t marry someone of rank! Or with an actual fortune! Last night the Stolberg-Burkes called. They consider their son a worthy groom of our daughter, and so do I! And it’s never too late for Henry!”
“Please, give the Devlin boy a chance.”
Victoria scoffed “You’ve made your decision. Go on, tell me what the hell have you plotted now.”
He looked down, ready for the shouting “We have signed a contract. We only need your signature.”
Silence. Then, ruffling movement of skirts. Then, another vase was thrown, and he had to duck this time “Victoria, enough!” He cried.
“YOU SIGNED A CONTRACT WITHOUT MY KNOWLEDGE?! WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE TO DO ANYTHING WITH MY HEIR WITHOUT ME?!”
“YOUR HEIR?!”
“YES!” She yelled “MY HEIR, MY HOUSE, MY BLOODLINE.”
He nodded, anger and bitterness building up “And I am just the lucky sperm-man who gave you what you needed to continue it, am I not?”
Victoria realised what she had said, and started to try form a sentence. He didn’t give her a chance. He instead left, slamming the door close. He didn’t hear Victoria’s sobs, but could tell that he’d be sleeping in the guest room.
8th of July, 1889
Victoria had dressed in the Somerset blue and black, while Vincent had dressed the Slytherin green and both seemed distant to one another. Many children had been invited to their joint birthday party. Primrose, thankfully, was a good girl and was happy to share her birthday bash with someone else and make a new friend. They were now speaking to one another in French, and while weary of her presence, he seemed to like her well enough. Primrose, was, of course, intrigued by him and why the sudden interest on a minor noble family. Henry was quick to snatch her to play, and invited William along.
They ran off to the gardens, which weren’t as grand as the ones in Winbourne, but still nice to look at. Lord Paul was, of course, trying to win over Victoria, showering her with compliments and the sort of flattery, but Victoria was as cold as the Antarctica itself, offering cold and calculated smiles and dry ‘thank you’. She glared to her husband from time to time, muttering things about the decoration of choice and how one could tell that the place lacked a woman to take care of things properly.
“I’d be much obliged to tell you all about the bachelorettes who are in the lookout for a… humble husband like yourself, my lord.” She smiled, clearly trying to get a raise out of him, but it seemed that Vincent had warned him. He smiled tightly, raising his glass.
Louise leaned and whispered something about a portrait of the late viscount and Victoria laughed coldly. She looked back at the garden, where Georgia helped Primrose up and observed a quiet William drifting away. She wondered why wasn’t he following probable orders to impress the girl.
“Vicky, dear, have I ever told you about my nephew Caspian Hastings? He is available, a future marquess to the Hastings line and very much a bachelor…”
Primrose had decided to follow the Devlin boy into a hayloft and observed he was drawing something under his shirt, focused on it.
“What are you drawing?” She asked.
The boy looked up and cleared his throat, raising a bit his sketchbook “Nothing. Aimlessly drawing.”
Primrose showed her hands “I understand if you don’t want to show. I know we’ve been introduced, but with all that noise… I’m Lady Primrose Gray of Winbourne.” She extended her hand.
“William Devlin.” He shook her hand.
She sat in front of him, a respectful distance between them “It seems like our fathers wanted us to meet. Do you think he’s fishing for allies?”
“He is… that is, he is not my father, he is my guardian.”
“…Of course, my apologies. What are your theories on this whole soiree?”
1892
There had been several events, and Primrose had seen for herself some suitors from her mother, and had done her best to impress everyone with her piano and harp skills, which she had practised. According to Bea, men were inclined to women who had a good sense of music and who looked pristine and put-together, so she always chose sensible colours for her presentation. The Devlin boy had been invited, but he was not present. Probably sketching somewhere.
Someone went to fetch him. Her father was going to make an announcement. Primrose looked at Henry, and he looked at her too. Perhaps they’ve finally reached an agreement? Everyone looked at her father expectantly, a choking silence filling the room.
“As you know, my wife and I have been looking for a suitable groom for our little treasure, and we like to think we’ve found the perfect man for it. Hence, I have decided to announced the engagement of my daughter, the Lady Primrose… to William Devlin, Lord Carlisle’s ward.”
Her mother said nothing, perhaps bracing herself for something.
“I’m sorry?!” Duchess Louise cried.
“This is outrageous! Victoria, you told us that we were your first priority!” Duke Thomas argued. Henry just sank in his seat.
“Hah! I can think of better men here than that—,”
“THAT’S ENOUGH!” Primrose cried. William, who had been trying to withdraw, had been seized by Primrose’s hand, and she looked defiantly at the adults. She was playing a big gamble, but William did not deserve this “It was my choice,” she declared “my father presented me with all of the candidates and I chose Mr. Devlin. I chose him, not my parents. I understand your anger, but I will not allow you to insult my bridegroom.” She lifted her chin, and William looked at her, bewildered. Everyone sat down, and she swore the duke downed his glass. “From now on, you will speak to him with respect, for my sake and Winbourne’s.”
Henry stood up and lifted his glass “To Lady Primrose and Mr. Devlin, then.” The other candidates soon followed.
As they began whispering, William finally left, taking the chance that her grip had nearly vanished and Primrose followed. She chased him to the gardens. He noticed her and turned around “Why did you do it?”
“They were insulting you, sir. I couldn’t allow it. The choice is made. We will marry when we are older, and it is our duty to look out for the other.”
Something in his face flickered, and his shoulders softened “Thank you. I don’t think anybody has defended me that way before.”
Primrose smiled tightly, and nodded “I will leave you to your own thoughts. You know where to find me.”
Primrose walked to her room, already retiring to bed, when she found her mother there. She looked like she had aged a thousand years. She motioned her to sit with her “What you did today was brave. Not many would’ve defended a boy like him with such fierceness and bravery. But we can put an end to this if you wish. The Stolberg-Burke’s offer still stands…”
“No. I want it to leave it the way Papa has done. Besides, I think that I can finally do something good with my title. I think that his tie to me protects him from rumours.”
Victoria smiled widely and kissed her head soundly “When did my girl become so benevolent and wise?”
Primrose leaned on her mother and didn’t hear Victoria mutter “I will find a way out of this farce. You will marry for love, even if it’s the last thing I achieve, so help me God.”
#hp victorian era#hp fanfiction#primrose gray's legacy#pgl book one#the younger years#oc: primrose sabrina gray#vincent gray#victoria gray#william devlin#henry of alderly#mywriting*
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For @whumpers-monthly's current prompt, which is "Bitten" (I hope this still fulfills the requirements of the prompt, I... may have gotten slightly carried away (pun possibly intended, and if you want to know what I mean by "pun", read the fic :P) with the story at some point, you know how narratives have minds of their own sometimes...)
Whumpee: Meldie (fantasy elf oc)
Tropes: Bitten by a monster, poison, broken bones, female whumpee
A/N: I may write a second part to this, focused on like, healing and stuff, if people are interested and/or if I happen to feel like it, but we'll see
***
She was never taking another fucking adventure job ever again. Never. Sure, they paid well, but not well enough for dealing with castle ruins where a flock of wyverns had made a nest.
Wyverns were dragons’ smaller, annoying cousins. Not that Meldie had ever seen a dragon, and she hoped she’d never have to, because wyverns were bad enough.
Sure, one of them wouldn’t be much of a challenge, but wyverns weren’t solitary, oh no. They lived in flocks of ten or so, carving caves into rock faces in the mountains or on high cliffs above the sea. Or, occasionally, made their nests in ruined castles and fortresses. And then someone decided that oh, actually, they’d like to have those ruins for whatever reason, and a hapless group of idiots in need of money would be sent to deal with the beasts so that some nobleman could do whatever they were going to do with the property.
It had started well enough; Meldie had shot at a couple of the wyverns with her crossbow, and managed to off one of them and wound another. One of her comrades, who was, she had to admit, the better archer between them, had got three. But by then the rest of the flock had been alerted and four healthy wyverns and the wounded one were all descending on the intruders together.
And that was when they’d learned that wyvern skin was too thick for a silly little fireball spell — that would easily kill thirty men in one go — to do them significant harm. They’d managed to kill the wyvern before it had quite mauled their wizard to death, but now the wizard was out of the game, and their healer had her hands full trying to ensure he stayed not dead. Which left three of them against the five wyverns, and none of them with any magic. The archer at least was good at what they did, but the big guy couldn’t aim for shit, so the only way he ever hit them with his javelin was by pure luck. Meldie was a decent shot with her crossbow, but she couldn’t draw it fast enough for it to be practical anymore.
The wyverns were now directly above them. Their tactic, if it could be called such, was to fly up high and then dive quickly down, lash at the party with claws or tail, or sometimes teeth, and then pull back up out of the reach again.
Fuck it. It was impossible to draw a crossbow and dodge the buggers at the same time, so Meldie hooked the crossbow on her belt again, raised up her shield, and stood still waiting for the next one that’d dive for her. When it did, she leapt away from the claws at the last minute, and slashed at the creature’s wing. Once the thing was grounded, she made short work of killing it.
And then there was a lightning-fast shadow dropping downwards in the corner of her eye, and a piercing pain in her right arm, and she was lifted upwards before she could do anything. A wyvern had clamped its jaws tightly around her arm, and was flying back up again.
Meldie tried to swing at its head with the edge of her shield, but it was damn hard to hit or reach anything when she was dangling from her right arm with nothing under her feet, nothing she could lean onto, and nothing she could grab a hold of. Her right shoulder felt like it was on fire. The arm itself was somewhere beyond pain; whether thanks to adrenaline or nerve damage, she no longer even felt it.
She swung her entire body, and somehow managed to get her legs clamped around the wyvern’s neck. She nearly blacked out as pain flared from her shoulder, but by the time her vision cleared, her grasp still held. She smashed at the wyvern’s head with her shield again, and this time she hit. The wyvern screeched in pain, and her mangled right arm fell from its jaws.
Which only meant that Meldie’s full armored weight and the weight of her pack of supplies was supported by nothing but her own strength, and she was hanging upside down seventy feet in the air, now above a forest beyond the ruins.
Somehow she managed to pull herself up enough to reach at the wyvern’s neck with her left hand. She cut her hand on the scales, but held onto them anyway, pulled herself upwards, let go and quickly reached further up, grabbed a hold despite the sharp edges of the scales, and did it over and over again.
When she finally found herself on top of the wyvern’s neck, she wanted nothing more than to collapse from exhaustion, but she couldn’t. The wyvern was writhing and bucking, now more interested in shaking her off than dragging her to wherever it had intended to take its would-be-prey. Meldie really, really didn’t want to fall off, so she held on as best she could.
But she couldn’t stay in the air forever, and she really didn’t want to know where she’d end up if she held on until the wyvern was forced to land. If her strength would even last that long.
She needed to get down, and jumping wasn’t an option, so she’d have to force the thing to land now. She reached backward, and once more brought her shield down, this time onto the wyvern’s wing. She hit it again and again, her strikes fueled by desperation, until finally something gave way under the shield’s edge.
The wyvern dropped a good few feet, and Meldie almost fell off then and there. The creature tried desperately to compensate, to stay up in the air, but it was going down. It was slowing its descent somewhat, and Meldie was counting on that to be enough to keep her alive, but they were still falling fast.
They crashed through the dense canopy of spruce trees at a speed that made the wood crack and splinter and fly everywhere. Then, finally, the wyvern met the ground with a thud. As the impact went through Meldie’s body, she knew she’d be bruised for a week, but she was alive.
So was the wyvern, but it wouldn’t survive those injuries for long. Meldie had lost grip of her sword when the creature had grabbed her, but she still had her dagger. She took it in her left hand, stumbled up to the still-stunned wyvern’s head, and put it out of its misery with a dagger through the eye.
Then she started prying off the scales. The big ones especially would fetch a pretty price when one knew where to sell them, and even the small ones were worth enough to buy a hot meal and a room for the night. The claws, too, but she didn’t feel it was worth the trouble trying to turn the creature over to get at them.
After gathering enough of the scales to ensure herself a few days of comfortable living in the next town she’d stay at, Meldie left the wyvern carcass and staggered off northwards. There was a village some way roughly north of here, she knew, and it was her best bet right now. She didn’t even know whether her companions had survived the rest of the wyverns, and if they had, she doubted they’d bother looking for her. They surely thought she was dead, and it wasn’t worth the time and effort to look for the body for any kind of burial, when they’d barely known each other a week, anyway.
The village wasn’t in sight yet when the sun began to set. By then Meldie was exhausted, and dizzy, and knew she could go on no longer. It was only when she fell on her knees in a little, sheltered ditch under a huge, ancient spruce tree that she realized that half the dizziness was probably due to blood loss, rather than exhaustion.
Her right arm was a mess; the bones had been crushed by the bite, and it was bleeding badly. Elves were a little more durable than humans, but Meldie knew she’d been seriously pushing her luck. She dug up a spare shirt from her backpack and didn’t even bother tearing it to strips, just wrapped it around her arm as tightly as she could manage. She tore off a strip of another to tie around her left hand, over the cuts the wyvern scales had left in her palm.
Exhaustion and blood loss were pulling her into darkness. She fought them just long enough to take a swig from her waterskin and choke down a bit of hardtack before sliding into sleep.
— — —
When she woke up, the pain was even worse than when she’d fallen asleep. She found she could not move her right shoulder or arm at all, and the pain radiated to the rest of her body so that any movement in general left her gasping and with tears in her eyes. Her vision was blurry, all detail lost, but when she glanced down at her arm, the blood soaking the makeshift bandages was now bright purple.
Shit. Was wyvern-bite poisonous? She hadn’t known that.
She needed to get out of here, she needed to get somewhere with other people. With a healer. She couldn’t die like this, not alone in the forest on as stupid a quest as this had been. The village. It couldn’t be far now, could it?
It was only because of her memories from last night that she knew which way was north. She couldn’t see much right now, and as soon as she stood up, she felt dizzy again. Her legs felt like they could give out at any moment.
In a fog of pain and dizziness, seeing nothing but vague, blurry shapes and colors, Meldie stumbled and staggered and sometimes just crawled onwards through the woods. She didn’t know how long it had been, but eventually she came to a smoother bit of land, a worn path through the forest. She staggered on along the path, her breathing now coming in painful, ragged gasps.
When she felt a hand on her left arm, her first reaction was to fight, but she was slow, and too weak to even pull herself away. Her vision was now entirely gone, and most sounds drowned in white noise, her entire world had been reduced to nothing but pain and fear.
The hand gripped her arm more firmly, and another wrapped around her waist. She was vaguely aware of human voices, but they were distant and garbled and she couldn’t make sense of them.
She was aware of her legs failing, of a falling sensation, slowed by the hands around her. Then someone was laying her down, she felt fabric underneath her, and was lifted up again on the fabric…
After some indeterminable amount of time, it might have been seconds or minutes or hours later, there was more indistinct talking, and hands grabbed her again and lifted her onto some hard surface. She felt someone tugging at the straps of her breastplate, opening the laces of her gambeson, taking away her clothes and armor. What were they doing to her? She tried to writhe and struggle and fight against it, but nothing seemed to have any effect.
Someone held up her head and put something cold on her lips. Bitter-tasting liquid trickled into her mouth. She tried to spit it out and felt it dribble from the corners of her mouth and down her chin, but the cup at her lips wasn’t taken away and finally it was either swallow the liquid or choke on it, so she swallowed and felt it chill her throat on the way down.
Everything had been getting darker and more distant for a while now, and finally darkness took her again.
She woke up to the sound of approaching footsteps. When she opened her eyes, her vision was still blurry, but she thought she could make out the log walls of a small room, and a low ceiling above her. She was lying on a straw-filled mattress in a narrow bed, covered with an itchy wool blanket. Her arm — now covered in actual bandages rather than the first bit of cloth she’d found in her pack — and her shoulder still hurt terribly, and the pain radiated from there to her side and her chest. She laid as still as she could, knowing that to move would be to cause herself more pain.
A figure appeared in the doorway. Meldie couldn’t make out much of his features, not even when he came further into the room, only the faded gray-blue color of his tunic and the white, shoulder-length mane of hair. He came to stand by her bed, put something down on the small bedside table, and bent down towards her.
Meldie flinched back as far as she could. Her vision flared white with pain. She hissed and snarled, as much in fear as in pain. The man drew back, shook his head, and said something.
It took a moment for Meldie’s mind to figure out the right language and local dialect, and by then she could no longer recall what the man had actually said. She managed to find the word for “what?” and asked it, hoping that this time she could understand the reply.
“Calm down”, the man said gently. “You have been hurt badly, and lost much blood, and the poison still has hold of your body. Spare your strength, do not waste it like that.”
Meldie nodded weakly, and the man bent down again. Even this close she could not make out the details of his face, but he helped her sit up, supported by the wall behind her. He took the cup he’d put down on the bedside table, and lifted up her left hand and pressed the cup into it.
“It’s an antidote to the wyvern-poison”, he said at her questioning look. “Drink it. I have already given you some, but you need more, and may need for some days still. It is a stubborn poison, hard to purge from the body.”
Cautiously, but knowing she could do nothing else, Meldie obeyed. She did not like how her hand shook as she brought the cup to her lips and how heavy it felt in her hands. She did not like being weak and at the mercy of strangers, and was more than a little afraid at finding herself in such circumstances. Still, she choked down the cold, bitter drink, and let the man take the cup from her hand and ease her down to lie on the bed again.
***
@evilwriter37 and @wolfeyedwitch you asked to be tagged so here you go! :D
#whump fic#whumpers monthly#issue no 9#whump#lady whump#female whump#fem whump#my ocs#my writing#bleeding#poisoned#broken bones#meldie
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How to Not Get a Date Pt17
Beginning Previous
Awkward. That was the only way to describe the atmosphere in Chloe’s room a week later. Marinette kept looking between Chloe and Damian, hoping one of them would actually speak. She knew exactly why Chloe was freaking out and not making eye contact, but it didn’t seem like Damian was much better. She finally gave up.
"So, Damian, what did you need to talk to us about?" He looked her way, but didn’t actually look at her. What the hell?
"Our parents have decided to let us figure out these dates and the timeline we want the ‘relationship’ to follow. We’ll just need to let them know when we’re going out so they can leak it to specific news organizations."
"Oh, that’s good at least. No offense, but I was kinda dreading going to a bunch of upscale establishments that charge more for a meal than my parents make in a day. Audrey doesn’t know how to do low key." Damian’s face went a bit pink and Mari had a feeling he didn’t know how to either. "But you seem upset. Did you want them to do everything?"
"I am not upset, merely annoyed." Mari raised an eyebrow at him, and Damian clicked his tongue in aggravation. "My father decided to tell the rest of the family what was going on since it will be in the media. I’ve been getting calls and texts from my more idiotic siblings trying to ‘help’ me." Mari winced.
"You have my sympathies on that. Maybe we could take a look at some of them when we’re done and pick them apart to show them how flawed they are." that got the barest hint of a smirk.
"That might be acceptable." His expression turned into a frown again when he looked over at Chloe. She was still fidgeting and refusing to make eye contact.
"Chloe and I have something to discuss with you as well." That got her attention, and full on panic.
"No, we don’t!" Mari just sighed and gave her a flat look. "We’re good. Everything’s good."
"You want to try that again to see if you can make it more believable, or do you want to get to the point so we can all get on with things? You can’t even relax enough to help with this right now."
"I can’t." Poor Chloe. She really couldn’t do this. It was one more thing Mari blamed her parents for. Andre and Audrey hadn’t bothered to help Chloe learn how to deal with her feelings at all, especially when it came to someone she liked.
"Do you want me to do it?" They’d practiced what she wanted to say to Damian, so Mari knew what to do, but it really should come from the source.
"You shouldn’t be pushing the issue if it upsets her this much." He was being protective, which was a good sign.
"It’s stressing her out, and will just get worse the longer this goes on. Chloe." The other girl flinched and Mari took her hands to give a comforting squeeze. "You can do this."
"I want to go out with you!" Chloe had her eyes closed and basically yelled the words in Mari’s face.
"I thought you were already going out with her." Damian just sounded confused, and with good reason.
"You Damian. She wants to date you." He just frowned at them, and Chloe still wouldn’t open her eyes. She had an impressive death grip on Mari’s hands as well.
"When did you two break up?" It was probably best to not confuse him more with the whole story.
"We didn’t. She wants to date us both." That got a scowl.
"I barely know you. Why would I date you?" Chloe’s grip tightened even more somehow, and Marinette shot Damian a glare.
"Chloe, he was talking to me, not you. And to answer your question, you wouldn’t be dating me. Her relationship with you would be separate from her relationship with me. Well, as much as it can be with what’s going on, at least." On the plus side, it didn’t sound like he had an issue with multiple partners. "We would all need to sit down and figure out basic rules and guidelines for how things would work, but beyond that, you and I will just remain… acquaintances." She wanted to say friends, because she thought they were headed in that direction, but at this point he might argue the label and Chloe was already about to have a heart attack.
"I have never heard of such an arrangement before." Well, he didn’t say no.
"You should look up ethical non-monogamy when you get a chance. Just be careful which sites you visit." She’d learned that one the hard way when she was looking information up for Kagami a year before. Someone had been trying to pull her into their relationship as a third, and everything about the way they acted was a red flag. "But in the meantime, could you tell Chloe whether or not you’re interested in her, so she’ll stop cutting off circulation to my fingers?"
She couldn’t help the exasperation in her voice. Chloe had been panicking on and off all week, and Damian was just drawing out the conversation. If he didn’t say something soon, there could very well be an Akuma on the way.
"I moved to Paris." He said that like it was the answer, and if Chloe weren’t so far gone, it might be. It was one of the many arguments Mari had used to convince Chloe that Damian liked her. Mari rolled her eyes at him, and his cheeks darkened before he mumbled. "Dating would be acceptable." Acceptable? She knew Damian wasn’t great at expressing himself, but come on.
"Really?" Chloe’s voice was softer than she’d ever heard it, and she still hadn’t loosened her grip, but she did manage to actually look at Damian. He cleared his throat.
"I had planned on bringing up the subject myself before I found out you two were in a relationship." Marinette tried to hold in a laugh and ended up in a coughing fit instead. None of this would have happened if Chloe hadn’t freaked out and asked her to go to the Gala. Chloe rubbed her back while Damian just frowned at her. She hoped he would see the irony if they ever got around to telling him everything. "And you’re actually fine with this arrangement as well?" She understood his skepticism, especially given the way jealousy was constantly overblown in the media.
"I am. I understand why some people wouldn’t be, but I think the only thing needed for a strong relationship are trust, communication, and respect. As long as everyone involved has all the information and chooses to proceed, I’d say it’s healthier than a lot of regular relationships. For me personally, I want the person or people I’m with to be happy. If that requires other people, so be it." He was still frowning at her, but it looked more contemplative than anything else.
"How exactly would this change our current plans?" Mari just cocked her head at him. "I'm supposed to break up with you for Chloe. If we're both dating her, it could cause problems when it gets out." Yes, let's shoot straight past the emotional part and jump into problem solving. It took everything in her not to roll her eyes.
"This type of relationship isn't likely to play well in the press, regardless of anything else. I can always bow out of the relationship to let you two be together publicly, and everyone will assume Chloe and I are still just friends." It was the least complicated way to do things.
"But then we can't go on dates." Chloe's concern was cute, if unnecessary.
"I'd rather spend time with just you than be stared at by people, anyway. Not to mention as long as we're careful about what we say and don't make out in public, no one is going to think twice about two friends spending time together." It was another reason for her to be the one to back down publicly. No one noticed two girls being close, physically or emotionally. Granted, with how Damian acted in public, it might not be an issue either, but it was better to be cautious.
"I don't want you to feel like some dirty secret. And what about if you two decide you want to date other people? You're perfectly fine with having to hide relationships?" Damian scowled at her.
"What other people?" Mari couldn't tell if he was confused or offended.
"Well, given that I'm dating both of you, it's only fair that you could also date someone else." That got a more contemplative frown.
"I have no wish to date other people. I think it's best to leave any discussion of it alone unless that changes."
"But-"
"Chloe, he doesn't have to date other people." Mari took her hand and rubbed soothing circles on it because she looked like she was about to panic. "I just meant that we would be allowed the option if we wanted it. It doesn't mean either of us is going to take it. Honestly, I've got more than enough on my plate as it is. Looking for another relationship right now just seems exhausting. Damian's right, we'll worry about it if it happens." She still looked worried.
"It just seems selfish."
"You're not forcing us to be in this relationship, and you're not saying you'll dump us if we decide to date other people. This is our decision." Chloe looked like she wanted to argue, but her phone beeped. She looked at it and sighed.
"Daddy wants to talk to me. I'll be back."
"Take your time. Damian and I need to discuss some things anyway." Chloe just blinked at her before nodding. Once Chloe was out of the room, Damian scowled at her.
"What exactly do we need to discuss?" Well, this was going to be fun.
"Boundaries for one. Chloe told me about how you didn't like me touching Adrien. I'm a very tactile person, so I need to know how much I should tone it down when the three of us are together. I would be fine seeing the two of you be affectionate and kiss in front of me, but I have a feeling us doing it would make you uncomfortable. If this is going to work, we need to be on the same page."
"I see your point." He sounded extremely unhappy about that, and it took everything in her to keep a straight face. He would be so much fun to tease. "I do not know how I would feel about such things. It might be best to address issues as they come up."
"As long as you talk to me, or us, instead of yelling or storming off. I don't want Chloe stressed about how one of us is going to react to things. This is new territory for all of us, but she's the one in the middle. Any issues you have with me, or vice versa, we need to handle without making her feel like it's her fault."
"You don't like me." He said it as a fact and she let out an annoyed sigh.
"I don't like that you hurt Chloe because you don't take her feelings into consideration before you speak and act."
"I do not intend to hurt her."
"That really doesn't make it better." Mari wasn't sure what to make of the expression on his face.
"How do I fix it?" It took her a moment to realize that was a serious question. One she had no idea how she should answer.
"How do you... You care about her feelings." The way he frowned at her made her feel like she was speaking a different language.
"I do care." She could tell he meant it. Unfortunately, that put her at an impasse.
"You need to care before you hurt her. You need to think about how what you say will make her feel."
"How am I supposed to know how she'll feel about it?" Oh. Well, that presented a problem.
"You need to get to know her better, I suppose. When you understand someone, you can get a good sense of how they'll react to things. You know how your actions or words will affect your family, don't you?" The way his nose crinkled in confusion worried her. What kind of person had to think about that? She was starting to think there might actually be something wrong with him.
"I suppose, but I always considered it a survival necessity because we live in the same house." There was more to that he wasn't saying, but she had no idea what. She was also far more worried about what he did say.
"Survival?" He just nodded. Okay... she could work with that. "Well, consider this the same thing. If you want the relationship to survive, you need to know the other person well enough to anticipate their needs and emotions." It was extremely over simplified but she figured it was best to start slowly. He just gave a thoughtful hum. "Is... is everything alright at home?"
"Of course." That was less than convincing. One more thing to worry about.
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@peachedpocky @ladybug-182 @moonlightstar64 @smolplantmum
#maribat#polyamory#chloe bourgeois#Damian Wayne#marinette dupain cheng#hot mess chloe bourgeois#Damian doesn't know how to people
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A Chance to Fly Ch.3
Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. I knew what needed to happen, but my muse was not cooperating with me.
Thanks again to @spartanguard for being my beta! And thanks to the @cssns for this event!
Hope you all enjoy!
Chapter 1 2
Or read on Ao3
Tears blinded Emma’s eyes as she and Hook took to the sky. She knew her mother had held back the truth about many things—she’d spotted the lies since she was a little girl—but her whole life? Kidnapped from her true parents. The woman she’d thought was her mother’s enemy actually innocent. Queen Regina not caring for her at all. She really was just a pawn to her. Someone to help her make an alliance with another kingdom in her quest to take down Snow White. It was like she’d been sucker-punched in the stomach.
“I can’t breathe!” she yelled, hoping Hook could hear her. They were above the clouds, much higher than they’d been before. She was sure it would have been a beautiful sight if Emma could just catch her breath.
“I can’t breathe!” Emma yelled again. She thought she might faint. The air was too cool on her skin and it was making her shiver. Too many revelations running through her mind was giving her a headache.
She slumped over and felt a weightlessness take over before everything went black.
She awoke to warmth all around her. It radiated throughout her entire body, like sparks dancing along her skin. It was comforting. The pillow she was on seemed to move in time with every breath she took, and a constant drumming was making her feel safe and secure. Emma tried to burrow further into the blanket but noticed the blanket wasn’t covering her the way it should and that gave the safety she was feeling pause. Emma blinked awake. Her ‘pillow’ was actually Hook; she was laying in the crook of his wing, the other wing serving as her blanket. She realized the drumming was actually Hook’s heartbeat. She gazed around her surroundings and noticed there was a fire burning not too far from where they were lying. The ground felt like rocky terrain, and when Emma looked up into the blackness, she could just make out jagged stone. They were in a cave, Emma realized. She wasn’t sure how far they were from Sherwood Forest, but this must be Hook’s lair.
She slowly dragged Hook’s wing off of her body, not wanting to wake Hook who was still asleep. She’d never seen a sleeping dragon, and it was amazing how peaceful he looked. Like a sleeping puppy dog, not a ferocious dragon. Emma knew in her heart he wasn’t ferocious. Only if he had to be, she was sure. Maybe it was her bond as his dragon rider, but she could sense this about him. She walked over to the fire, amazed at how well it was constructed. She wouldn’t have expected a dragon to know how to put kindling together. Nemo had said he raised Hook, so maybe that was something he had taught him. Emma knew next to nothing about how intelligent dragons were. She was very eager to learn.
The fire was hot against her skin, but it felt good. Like it was burning off the old, naive Emma and replacing her with the new, informed Emma. The one who could now see her mother—Queen Regina—for who she truly was. The woman had never been kind to her, Emma realized. Sure, she had provided for her. She had given her everything a little girl could dream of, but she’d never given her love.
The flapping of wings shook Emma out of her musings. She turned toward Hook, expecting to see him awake and stretching his wings out, but he was still asleep. Confused, Emma followed the sound around the corner and followed a tunnel until she found the large mouth of the cave. From the positioning of the sun, Emma could see she had slept all night. The sun was on the horizon and the sky was slowly turning pink and orange, shaking off the inky blackness of the night. In the distance, she looked for the flapping of wings that she had heard. She could see something flying toward the cave. At first Emma thought it must be a large bird of some kind, but she quickly realized it was another dragon approaching. Dragons were rare; another dragon around here seemed very unlikely. She started to run back to wake up Hook until she heard her name being yelled in the wind.
Turning back, the dragon, which Emma could now see was an iridescent blue, had a rider on it who was yelling her name. As the dragon got closer, Emma could see how similar it looked to Hook. It had the same ridges along its jaw, similar ridges along its back, and almost the exact horns (straight, not hooked) protruding from its head, except all in a shimmering, jeweled blue instead of the red and black Hook had. The dragon’s head was blocking the rider, so Emma could not see who had been calling her until the dragon landed practically at her feet and Belle slid off.
She looked much different than when Emma had last seen her in the forest. The blue dress with tights and black slippers had made her look very young, almost childlike. Her dragon rider clothes consisted of brown leather pants and leather knee-high boots, a burgundy, velvet, lace up corset with gold detailing that had slashed sleeves with gold fabric underneath, and brown leather that went the rest of the way down her arms. A cotton gauze modesty piece that matched the gold fabric in her sleeves came up from the corset and turned into a hood that covered her hair which Emma could tell was pulled back into a low ponytail. She looked almost regal, like how her mother looked when riding her horses. Not a mess like Emma was looking in her torn and ragged dress, which, as she looked down at it, was completely covered in dirt. The braid that Nemo had wrapped her hair in earlier that day practically all fallen out.
“Emma! We were so worried about you!” Belle ran toward her, throwing her arms around her as if they were old friends and not two people who had barely met just a few hours ago. Emma wasn’t sure how to react, her mother—no, Queen Regina—hadn’t exactly been the hugging type. “You just ran off. Thank goodness Hook found you!” Belle said as Emma pulled away. It really hadn’t been Hook finding her. She had called for him and he’d come. But even before then, Emma realized that the voice in her head had led her to him.
“How did you find me?” Emma asked, slightly distressed.
“Jewel, my dragon.” Belle responded as it was completely obvious. Emma had not seen another dragon in the forest. She wondered where Jewel had been hiding when she’d visited the tree hut village. “He’s Hook’s brother.” Belle continued as if that was enough explanation to how they’d found her.
“You’re a dragon rider?” Emma asked incredulously. She wondered why no one had mentioned this before when Nemo had introduced her as Hook’s ride, and then, “Do they live in this cave together?” Emma wondered. And why hadn’t Nemo mentioned his daughter was not only a dragon rider, but also the rider of Hook’s brother?
“Yes.” Belle laughed. “ And…. sometimes.” she continued ambiguously. She lowered her hood to get a better look around before resting her sight back on Emma. “Oh!” Belle pulled something out of the rucksack that Emma hadn’t noticed before. “I brought you something.” She handed a burlap wrapped package to Emma and when she opened it, saw that they were clothes, boots and accessories.
“Thank you!” Emma said, probably giving Belle her first smile all day. She immediately found a shadowy corner and went to change. Emma relished untying the front corset of the dress she had been wearing. She imagined throwing it into the fire once she was fully dressed. The pants she pulled up her legs were made of soft, blue leather. Emma wondered if it was dragonhide or just leather that had been dyed. There was a matching tunic that she put on over a puckered white chemise. She was relieved that the tunic had hook and eye closures and was not something she had to lace up. Black boots, a leather belt with flower embellishments, and soft, dark gray gloves rounded out the ensemble. Before putting on the final pieces, Emma pulled the ribbon holding what was left of her braid from her hair. She ran her fingers through it, getting as many knots out as possible, before braiding the sides and pulling the rest into a ponytail, securing it as best she could with the ribbon. She felt more herself than she had in her entire life.
Emma came out from her corner, expecting to find Belle waiting for her, but instead she found absolutely nothing.
“Belle?” She wondered if Belle and Jewel had gone to see Hook. She hadn’t heard any roaring, although Emma wasn’t entirely sure how dragons communicated with each other either. She walked slowly to the inner cave where she’d woken up earlier. She hadn’t realized how deep the cave was previously. Emma was surprised she’d been able to hear Jewel’s wings. It didn’t make sense. At the moment, she couldn’t hear anything from where she was, even though she’d heard the dragon wings perfectly before. Her ears pricked up when she started to hear what sounded like muffled talking, which was impossible as Belle was the only other person in the cave.
“You have to……brother.” Emma could barely make out what was being said.
‘It’s….and ….we’ve had time…..ran away.” Said another voice, this one sounding vaguely familiar.
“She’s….finished getting…..second.” The voices still sounded like they were underwater to Emma’s ears. Closer and closer she crept all the while feeling a sense of dread coming over her.
“I’ll tell her, brother. Of course I’ll tell her.” Emma’s heart jumped into her throat. She recognized that voice!
“Killian?” She rounded the corner back into the farther cave. Hook was no longer there. Instead, Killian, Belle, and a man she’d never seen before were standing around having their conversation as if it were perfectly normal to talk in a cave. “You’ll tell who what?” she asked, referring to the last thing he’d said. Killian, for his part, looked startled that Emma had so blatantly called him out on whatever he’d been talking about. He actually looked like he was blushing, but Emma chalked it up to the fire. He scratched the back of his neck adorably (no, not adorably, Killian was not adorable in the least).
“Where are Hook and Jewel? How did you get here?” Emma asked, panic overcoming her again. Without Hook she was trapped in this cave. The stranger shot Killian a look at Emma’s question.
The nervous, (not) adorable neck scratch was back, and then Killian’s whole demeanor changed. His back straightened, his arms crossed over his chest (Emma wondered if he owned any shirts that didn’t show off his chest hair), and the smirk was back on his face.
“Why princess? Are you afraid to be alone with me?” His voice dripped pure sin, and Emma gave a slight shiver despite the fire to her back. But she wouldn’t be backed into a corner. She scoffed.
“Please, someone with an overinflated ego like yours must obviously be compensating for something.” She didn’t know what made her say it. She’d heard her Regina say it to someone once; a king from a neighboring kingdom who thought he’d be able to conquer the queen. Regina had spit that out to him and then threw one of her signature fireballs at him, not enough to kill him, but his leg would definitely have a nasty burn on it for the rest of his life.
Killian’s eyes went wide at her banter. It actually filled Emma with warmth that she’d managed to shock him. She’d show him that under this innocent exterior, Princess Emma was no wilting flower. She’d been chosen as a dragon rider; that had to count for something.
From behind Killian, Emma heard laughter from Belle and the stranger. The man had lighter hair than Killian’s, and was curly instead of straight. He came up to Killian and pounded him on the back in jest. “She’s got you there, little brother!” the man guffawed.
Brother?
“It’s younger brother!” Killian said, quite annoyed, slapping his brother’s hands away from him in a way that suggested to Emma that this was something that occurred often. “There’s nothing little about me, so I’m not compensating for anything, princess.” He was right in her face now, that stupid smirk that showed all his teeth just a breath away.
“Leave the poor girl alone, Killian,” Belle said, clearly exasperated by his antics. “She’s been ripped away from everything she’s ever known and told her whole life has been a lie. I think she deserves some more answers, don’t you?” She fixed him a look that said she meant business, and Killian backed down. Emma had known she liked Belle the first moment she saw her. Anyone that could put Killian in his place was okay by her.
They all seated themselves on various rocks near the fire, and it appeared to Emma as if they knew exactly where to seat themselves. As if they spent a lot of time in this cave. Which was strange to say the least. But then, they also lived in tree huts in a forest, and Emma was apparently a kidnapping victim that just happened to be raised in a castle, so who was she to judge where they liked to spend their time.
“Who are you?” Emma asked the man who she now knew was Killian’s brother.
“Liam Jones, at your service,” he said, giving a little seated bow. Belle giggled at his antics while Killian huffed and rolled his eyes.
“How did you and Killian get up here? And where are the dragons?” Both Killian and Liam looked slightly stricken at this question. Belle seemed like she was going to answer, but then thought better of it and clasped her hands in her lap. The whole interaction was odd. Emma was about to ask her question again when Killian spoke up.
“When Liam and I were younger, our mother died and our father abandoned us.” He began in a low tone. “I couldn’t have been more than five and Liam just thirteen. I can’t even imagine how Liam must have felt to have had a family one minute and then nothing the next. I don’t remember much of our parents. Probably couldn’t even point out my father if I were to meet him in the street, I just know that once Nemo found us a few years later, I felt a father’s love for the first time that I could remember.” Belle took Killian’s hand in hers as he remembered his childhood in a soothing manner. A spike of jealousy sprang up inside her, and Emma squashed it just as quickly. Just because Killian was a good-looking man didn’t mean she had any feelings for him. Besides, he and Belle both considered Nemo their father, so Emma was sure they just had sibling-type feelings for each other. Just a sister making her brother feel better by stroking the top of his hand.
“There’s a reason he is called Captain Nemo. He used to be a Navy captain in Snow White’s kingdom.” Emma raised her eyebrows at this, but realized it wasn’t that much of a surprise since they’d been part of the tree hut village. “I’d always wanted to sail on a ship. Imagine my surprise when I found out he didn’t sail a ship but captained a submarine!” Emma wasn’t sure what a submarine was, and it must have shown on her face.
“It’s a ship that goes underwater. Like a big metal tube.” Belle offered. Emma just nodded as if that made sense. For as much as she snuck out of the castle, there was still so little she had seen in the world.
“It was just meself down there,” Killian continued. “Liam couldn’t go down there having already hit puberty. Nemo paid for him to apprentice at a swordsmith shop until I also hit puberty and wouldn’t be able to travel under the water anymore.”
Emma was still thoroughly confused. Did Killian and Liam have some ailment which made it impossible for them to travel under the water when they hit puberty? Wasn’t puberty just a man’s voice deepening and growing taller and getting body hair ( thank you, Anne for telling me what was happening with my body when it started to change )?
“I still don’t understand,” she was getting frustrated now. Emma understood that she was uneducated about many things in the world, but she felt like she was missing something really big.
Killian snuck a look over to Liam and Belle who seemed to give him their own looks of encouragement to go on. “The dragons, Hook and Jewel, are still here.” He said, exhaling a long breath. The change of topic didn’t help Emma understand anything any better.
“Where are they?” She asked. Goosebumps were forming on her skin despite the fire next to her. This whole situation made no sense to her. “Are they further down the cave?” Emma wasn’t even going to address the fact that Liam had appeared from nowhere until Killian gave her answers about the current predicament. She rubbed her arms even though she was wearing long sleeves and Killian couldn’t see the raised bumps.
“No,” the smirk was back, but this time it gave off an air of him knowing something that she didn’t. “The dragons are right in front of you.” Emma did not detect a lie, but it also wasn’t the whole truth.
“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Killian,” Liam said in an exasperated tone. He gave his brother something akin to a death glare (Emma had seen these types of glares from the queen right before she threw a fireball at someone she was annoyed with—Liam wasn’t anywhere in her league). “Just tell the lass. Stop dragging it out, and stop flirting with the poor girl.”
Emma’s whole body stiffened. This was Killian flirting? This childish behavior with the snide comments, and…
Oh.
Oh.
He’d been flirting with her this morning too. She’d caught the whole two ships passing line, but she thought he was being facetious about the whole ordeal. Emma could feel a blush creeping into her cheeks and down her whole body. Hopefully, the glow of the fire would mask it. But she could see Killian rubbing the back of his neck, something which looked like a nervous habit on his part. Was he nervous? He hadn’t seemed nervous a moment ago
Killian closed his eyes and licked his lips. Emma knew he was trying to get the courage to tell her whatever he was trying to get at, but it was the single sexiest thing she had ever seen in her life. She was definitely overheating now and it was not from the fire.
“Look, I quite fancy you. When you’re not yelling at me.” Emma was shocked. Absolutely gobsmacked. This was not the Killian she’d encountered the past few times. He’d seemed like he enjoyed taunting her, riling her up. He did not seem one to make heartfelt confessions. But he wasn’t quite done yet. “Please don’t yell at me for what I’m about to show you.” He took a deep breath and Emma immediately started screaming.
Horns started to jut out from his head which was rapidly becoming covered with black and red scales. His nose, mouth, and chin had elongated themselves into a snout. The rest of his body started to extend as well, with black scales becoming more prominent than his skin. Large wings popped from his back and extended down his arms, and claws protruded from his fingers and toes. Killian Jones stood in front of her no more. Hook was now staring at her intently with his blue eyes as Liam and Belle tried to calm her down.
“He’s a…he’s a…” Emma couldn’t even get the word out. Her brain could hardly perceive what she had just seen.
“It’s alright, Emma,” Belle said, trying to soothe her. “I know it’s a shock, but you’ll get used to it.”
“Get used to it?” Emma went from freak out to angry in two seconds flat. “I just found out that the man I loathe is also my dragon! How would you feel if that happened to you?” She screeched.
Belle and Liam gave each other a look and Emma knew they knew the feeling all too well. Killian’s memories of Liam not being able to go on a submarine because he’d hit puberty made more sense now.
“Liam’s a dragon too,” Emma said, finally catching up. “He’s Jewel.” Emma didn’t even know what to do with this information. She’d learned so much in the past two days that she didn’t think she could handle anymore.
You alright, love? Came a voice that was distinctly in her head.
“Who said that?” The thought that she might pass out again was definitely crossing her mind.
Belle looked as though she were about to answer, but Liam gave Hook a kick in the shins. “Turn back and talk to her normally, you bastard.” Hook grimaced at this, which was a bizarre sight to see, and it almost calmed Emma to see human attributes on such a vicious-looking creature. Hook immediately started morphing back into the human form of Killian Jones.
“Sorry, love,” Killian said almost sheepishly. “I can’t do more than roar when I’m a dragon, but I can speak to you telepathically.”
“It was you,” Emma had just connected the dots. “It was you I heard when I was running away in the woods. That’s how you knew to find me. You led me straight to you.” The hand was back behind his neck again.
“Aye,” Killian responded, his eyes sparkling, almost glowing in the firelight. “There are a few areas in the woods that are suitable for me to transform. Once you ran off, I went there and guided you back to the clearing we had landed in.” He looked at her earnestly, like his only goal was to make sure she had been safe. It confused her, the way he could turn the swagger on and off. One minute he was all sex and the next he was overly attentive. And speaking of attention…
“So when you met me in town, did you know who I was? Where I was from?” she asked accusingly. It seemed highly unlikely that this band of rebels randomly picked her to be Hook’s dragon rider. Getting her alone as vengeance against the queen would make sense in the grand scheme of things. Liam and Belle immediately left to go to the other area of the cave. Killian’s eyes went wide and looked almost desperate, and Emma could see her accusation was a mistake.
“We don’t make it public…. how the dragon riders are chosen,” he began by way of explanation, watching as his brother and Belle left the conversation. “Most people assume that the dragon picks someone at random. The truth is, I knew you were my rider the moment we met.” He was walking closer to her now, the distance between them becoming almost next to nothing. He stopped with barely an inch to spare between them. Emma took in a sharp breath and could smell his unique scent, leather and sea salt, and it gave her an odd sense of calm. “When we had our little…encounter in town, did you not feel our connection immediately?” Emma started to shake her head in protest. Sure, they’d flirted briefly, but it had turned to anger the moment he’d tried propositioning her.
Killian tried again. “Did you not see it?” He grabbed her hands desperately and pulled her closer, forcing Emma to look directly into his eyes that were shining in the firelight, and for the first time, Emma realized they were actually glowing, not just reflecting off the light. They were calling to her like a beacon.
“I don’t understand,” Emma said for what felt like the millionth time in the past two days.
Killian’s fingers lightly caressed her cheek. “Have you ever heard the expression ‘eyes are windows to the soul’?” Emma nodded as Killian’s fingers continued to explore her face, then her ear as he brushed back an errant hair, and then swept down her neck. She had never felt this way in her life. Her blood was practically singing and she felt like she would explode the way his fingers barely grazed her overheated skin (that she could not blame on the fire).
“In a dragon’s case, the eyes show us who our mate is. Who our soul is bound to.” His eyes were boring into her, his deep stare causing goosebumps to spread over her entire body. “You caught me completely off guard with that ridiculous apple.”
Emma couldn’t take it anymore. She almost laughed. But between his voice and his radiant eyes, she felt like her body was about to combust. She grabbed him by his shirt and pulled him toward her until their lips met. Emma had, of course, been kissed before. As much as her mother had tried to keep her sheltered, there were still stable boys and smith apprentices, and even an occasional bodyguard, but none of them felt like what kissing Killian felt like. The immediate spark between their lips was like a current running through her. It went from her head to her toes and threatened to burst out of her. When Killian recovered from his shock of her making the first move and finally started kissing her back, she could have sworn she felt a wave of pure energy explode from her.
Killian stumbled back slightly, his eyes wide as if he had felt the energy explosion too. The blue of his eyes were so bright she thought she might be blinded by them. Killian looked adorably confused at what had just happened (apparently she was using adorable to describe him now). He squinted at her as if her eyes were also blinding him (maybe they were), and then swept his eyes down the rest of her. His eyes got comically large again. Emma was about to remind him where her eyes were when Liam and Belle rushed into the room, their faces stricken like they were panicking.
“What the hell was that?” Liam’s voice boomed throughout the cavern. Killian immediately jumped in front of her, though Emma had no idea why.
“What the hell was what?” Emma asked, genuinely confused, again.
“That big rush of rainbow light that just rushed through here?” Belle asked. Her face was one of concern that they didn’t seem to know what she was talking about.
“Killian, what are they talking about?” Emma whispered from behind him. A second ago this would have been sexy as hell, but now she was afraid. She wasn’t sure what was happening. Surely Liam and Belle couldn’t have felt the energy she’d felt from the kiss.
Killian turned slowly to face her. He slowly cupped her face with his hands and gave her a chaste kiss on the lips. His hands came down and she expected him to grab her hands, but instead, they slid down her arms and stopped at her wrists.
“I think,” he said, stopping to mull over his words as if thinking of the right way to say what he needed to say. “I think the queen may have cursed you, and,” he took a deliberate breath before delivering the next piece of information, “I think we just broke it with True Love’s Kiss.”
Tag List: (Let me know if you want to be added or removed)
@profdanglaisstuff @thisonesatellite @mariakov81 @hollyethecurious @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @kmomof4 @superchocovian @lfh1226-linda @ilovemesomekillianjones @itsfabianadocarmo @xsajx @qualitycoffeethings @snowbellewells @courtorderedcake @klynn-stormz @tiganasummertree @therooksshiningknight @teamhook @deckerstarblanche @onceratheart18 @the-darkdragonfly @wefoundloveunderthelight @earanemith @cssns
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next time something like this happens, you have to promise to tell me.
PATCHING UP WOUNDS // @herosace
More often than not he was painted a villain, for it was much easier to put hatred to a face and a name rather than a concept that lingered from some years ago. It was something he’d grown accustomed to, knowing that despite the rights he tried to wrong, there would always be those who hated him for a cause he no longer worked for. A ghost from his past he’d never outrun, despite trying time and time again. Yet through the hatred, the cruelty, he held strong- not just for himself, but for the man he’d come to adore. Even as he took to their cause, played by the rules, took up a life of trying to fix what he’d broken so many years ago- there were those that would rather see him dead to avenge those he lost.
It would happen at the times he’d least expect it. Be it coming and going from work, a midnight coffee break, or even out with his love on a Friday night, attempting a life of normalcy with his partner. Some faces he would know from passing, mainly field men working for the government, or the BSAA, those who took up arms to help the cause to avenge those they lost. It was often those that held anger when they’d learned of his past, thinking that maybe if they raised a fist or had a chance to spit in his direction it would bring peace to the dead that were long since gone. And what was worse, was that he never knew when it would happen.
How it started with a cigarette, the day having shifted to night with hardly any notice as he’d work. It was only when he needed a moment of relief that he’d make his way outside, still in a fine pressed lab coat, name tag on with his lighter twirling in hand. At times he’d forget what significance that red and white logo held as it was engraved into gold. Certainly the last thing on his mind when he’d be approached for a light, another soldier in need of someone with a flame- and how he was more than willing to oblige. Frightening, the way light conversation could quickly turn sour, like watching a flame ignite in a stranger’s eyes, the rage that would overtake them happening in an instant as they’d realize who he was.
The rest was always history, ending up on his ass as a flash of white pain would overtake him. A single swift punch, and he’d be laid out on the floor, ears ringing as he’d clutch his bloodied face, scrambling for his lost lighter as he’d take a walk of shame back to his laboratory to smoke in peace. Though blood still stained his lab coat, and his head would ache for a while, at least in there came privacy, attempting to hide what was done before Chris would arrive to drive them home for the night.
It was the sound of his voice that would raise his head from over the sink, the blood mainly clean from under his nose, lip slightly split as it held the cigarette loosely to a side. Given the chance he’d die with smoke in his lungs, so the sting was hardly noticed as he’d turn to greet the other. Hoping he wouldn’t notice- but the man was far too keen, too quick to catch on. All it took was a weak smile, and the cheery expression he often was met with was quick to disappear off his lover’s face. Concern mainly, as he’d feel him pluck the cigarette from his lips, never wanting to be the cause of the crease between his brows. “It was nothing, a misunderstanding-” so quick to brush off any worries he may have had. Yet still he was adamant, eyes never leaving his, feeling as though he could see right through his playful act to the fear he held inside. What would happen when one day someone would go too far?
‘Next time something like this happens, you have to promise to tell me.’
Hands raised to gently take hold of his wrists, removing worried hands from his face. Instead he turned, lips meeting his palm in a tender kiss to soothe his troubled mind. “I promise, next time someone tries something, I’ll call you first thing. Then you can come down here, be the big man and scare them off for me. You’re good at that.” To think, he was just one more thing for the man to worry about- he never wanted to be that. Eyes dropped at the thought, attempting to try and shift the mood around to something lighter. “I was hoping you might play nurse for me- help take my mind off the pain for a while. I wasn’t done working- but I’m thinking I’ll cut it short, if you were planning on calling it for the night.”
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To Be Careless - Flash Fiction Friday
[Image Description: A banner with diagonal slashes of pink and orange over a grey background. Black text in the center of the image reads: “#FFF167 LEAP OF FAITH” / End ID.]
Finally participating in @flashfictionfridayofficial again!!! I really love the prompt for this week and wanted to give it a shot :> I hope y’all like it!! I took a bit of a loose approach to this prompt, I think, focusing on my OC Sol and their lack of trust in others after everything they’ve experienced. Here, the ‘leap of faith’ is their ability to trust anyone but themself. Might not be what y’all intended, but I hope you like it!!
Fandom: Original Work, inspired by the game Biomutant
Words: 984
Content Warnings: Semi-graphic descriptions of violence, including specific mentions of blood, broken bones, and fire; mentions of murder and death, as well as implied/referenced kidnapping; in general this is a whole thing about trauma and a lack of trust.
--
“Be careful.”
These were once the most important words in Sol’s life.
They first heard them when they were just a kidling, tottering around their parents’ paws. Their caretakers told them time and time again to watch their step, to tread lightly, and to always keep their wits about them. However, young Sol never listened, always brushing off others’ concerns easily. The world was too big, too exciting, and too full of endless possibilities for them to spend time being careful.
They didn’t know the world could hurt them, then, and they trusted the creatures around them to catch them if they fell.
This was a mistake that cost them everything.
They were nineteen cycles old when their fur was torn from their body, their bones shattered and their flesh torn by cruel claws. The world they had trusted had turned on them, and they paid the price for the trust they showed it in the first place. In the end, Sol was left a broken thing, alive only due to the cruel whims of an uncaring god and their own determination to drag their body out of hell.
In the aftermath of the assault that tore Sol limb from broken limb, Crane found them a. He was a gentle creature, all warm russet fur and shining blue eyes. Crane had known a life of hardship and pain, but instead of allowing it to harden him like it had hardened Sol, he chose to be kind.
With Crane’s strong, supportive hands holding them, Sol learned how to walk again, how to navigate a world that wanted them to hurt. They were no longer naive and careless, but Crane’s support gave them the confidence to try again, to take the leap of faith and trust someone once more. He would be there for them, no matter what happened.
Crane would catch them when they fell.
The two fell into a new life together, a comfortable routine cobbled together from the rubble of who they each used to be. They made their home in a cave, a tunnel beneath the cool earth lit by glowing moss and shielded from the elements, and they took odd jobs to support themselves.
“Be careful,” Crane would always tell them softly, pressing his muzzle to theirs, each time before one of them left for work.
“I always am,” Sol would always reply, bumping their head against his in turn.
It was different, unlike anything Sol had ever thought they would have, but it was good, and it was theirs.
A few cycles into their new life, Sol and Crane had a son, and they named him Harvest. Having a child was another leap of faith for Sol, but it was one they took gladly. Raising Harvest was one of the most difficult things they’d ever experienced, but they wouldn’t trade it for the world.
However, nothing good in Sol’s life was meant to last.
All too soon, Sol’s new life was torn from them in a flash of fire, violent and all-consuming.
They were thirty-three cycles old when their home was destroyed and the one they trusted most stolen from them. Crane’s death was swift and brutal, his dark blood staining the earth beneath him as he fell. His eyes would never shine as he smiled at them again, now forever bound to stare lifelessly upward.
Sol felt a part of them die with Crane, but no matter how much it hurt, they kept fighting. The fire around them lit a spark inside them, and for the second time in their life, they dragged themself out of hell. With their son, only twelve cycles old himself, held tightly in their grasp, they fought their way out of the roaring flames.
After Crane’s death, Sol became a vicious, cruel thing, all sharp teeth and jagged talons, unwilling to let themself be hurt again. They never turned those claws or fangs towards their son, but they refused to trust anyone again. They’d been protective of Harvest before, but now they would burn the whole world to the ground if anything came near him.
Nothing would take their happiness from them again, as long as Sol had something to say about it.
“Be careful,” they told him, their voice low and serious, every time he left the den.
“I will,” he replied, rolling his eyes. He reminded them so much of themself, and they felt a pang in their chest at the thought of what might be awaiting him.
Only three cycles into their new life, Sol’s worst fears came true. In the dead of night, right under their nose, Harvest vanished without a word.
Sol searched high and low for him, the shattered remains of their heart hammering in their chest. They couldn’t lose Harvest, not after all they had done to keep him safe, not when he was all they had. The world couldn’t take this from them, not after everything.
For a time, Sol was overcome with despair, but it wasn’t long before the spark that had been lit inside them with Crane’s death became a snarling, crackling fire. They had decided long ago that the world would burn to the ground before they’d let anything happen to their son, and it was time for that promise to come true.
“Be careful.”
Those words had been said to them and by them so many times in their short life, and Sol was done following them now.
A few short months after Harvest’s disappearance, Sol took a leap of a very different kind as they threw themself headlong down the warpath. Their claws were sharp, their teeth were sharper, and they would never let anyone take anything from them again.
Trusting others had brought Sol their greatest joys in life, but it had also brought them suffering greater than anything they could’ve imagined.
It was time for them to strike back.
#flash fiction friday#multi's writing#heheoheo#i had a lot of fun writing this!!!#very happy to write again :3#sol whitetail#biomutant rewritten#wahoooo#that's the tag for this at least
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Hello friend! Do you have any thoughts on how (if in any way) Turin's personality might've been different if he'd been raised to adulthood by Hurin and Morwen?
I have some Thoughts on it but I'd very much like to hear yours! --tolkien-feels
oh this is a question that involves having to break it down into like twenty alternate scenarios
do you mean if say, the Nirnaeth had been a victory? or if Húrin hadn't been captured and had returned? Or hadn't gone to the Nirnaeth at all? I have a few verses with those scenarios!
There's also just general psychological and neurological analysis but I don't know if you wanted me to get that technical (I'm happy to though)
I'll share some general ideas though and if you want to hear about a specific verse let me know! It was harder to do this without knowing what timeline to work with because I have so many!
Húrin I think would grow closer with his son. They'd grow to understand each other more. My controversial opinion is that Túrin is as much (if not more in some ways) like his father than Morwen. I do not say this to mitigate his relationship or similarities to Morwen, I think their similarities are fascinating and obviously Morwen is my very favorite character. But there are some key differences between them
emotional sensitivity and emotional expression is probably the main one. This is more or less said in canon "and in this way he was like his father for Morwen was as stern with others as with herself". There are several times where, from a young age, Túrin identifies and addresses the emotions of others and their hidden worlds.
the earliest example is when he tells Sador he won't be afraid like his father or he will not act afraid like his mother does not.
( this bothered me at first since I read it as a - possibly gendered- commentary on Morwen's courage but, whether Tolkien intended it or not, I think it can also be a comment on Húrin's optimism and sincere belief in the possibility of victory in the near future as opposed to Morwen...not really seeing that. Húrin's lack of fear isn't that he's more courageous than Morwen, who is stated in that same chapter to have great courage, it's that he doesn't see what she sees to fear. Which would make sense given their different backgrounds and childhoods. )
Túrin is also far more emotionally expressive. I imagine in a much, much lighter verse him and his father could bond over that though Húrin is somewhat more casual with his expression.
Túrin also seems to desire connection more than Morwen and has a very different relationship to the elves.
Anyways, rambling aside, I think that the distance between Húrin and his son that was caused by Húrin having to be away so much could possibly be mended and they could grow closer. Túrin might find himself more torn between their differing view points, wanting so much to believe his father's idealism but also keeping close to his heart the words of Morwen and Sador.
He would have learned more from both of them, their (sometimes, maybe even often) conflicting philosophies and also more tangible things. He’d know more about his heritage and his family.
Túrin would probably feel more of a sense of security. Losing Lalaith and then his father especially how he questions what happens after death and doesn’t know specifics about Húrin’s fate. Not having this second loss would strengthen his sense of safety, security and confidence. He might be less defensive and volatile. (He still wouldn’t take kindly to someone insulting his parents like Saeros did but if he still lived with them, he might not feel obligated to defend them so violently and at the very least they’d be there to discourage him from that dffafdads)
@tolkien-feels I'd love to hear your thoughts too! I hope this is ok! It was somewhat difficult because I wasn’t sure what verse to focus on!
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How to Get Unlimited Sleepovers
It took a minute, but suddenly Stiles froze and felt his stomach plummet. Hale. He’d heard that before. He’d heard it recently. It was the center of conversation in passing with his dad, asking why the older man looked so tired and the reason he gave as to why Reese had to spend more time with Mrs. Barker the past few days.
Leo Hale was missing. Or well, he wasn’t missing, he was obviously in Stiles’ living room. But no one else knew that! And oh god, Leo Hale - the Hales. They were werewolves. And he had accidentally-not-really-but-kinda-sorta kidnapped said werewolves’ kid. Oh shit.
+.+.+
OR: Accidental kidnapping, lack of communication, and odd soul bonding happens! I got really carried away with the kidnapping and kid aspects so there's Gentle Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski but it's there!
Archive of Our Own Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43913400
“Reese!”
Stiles glared up the stairs, his daughter’s head poking out around the corner and looking at him with wide innocent eyes. He would not be fooled by that look. Stiles invented that look. He used that look all the way through high school and then some (even though it stopped working before he even hit middle school).
“Yes, Papa?” Reese asked sweetly, her voice soft and gentle. She was laying it on thick - and that just made Stiles’ radar go way off.
“Why are there muddy paw prints all across our dining room floor?” he asked pointedly, his hands coming up to brace themselves on his hips. The little girl at the top of the staircase seemed to shrink in size, an air of defeat already clouding the room.
“No reason…” she mumbled, staring at the floor. Stiles raised an eyebrow, humming as he stared her down. She was his kid. He knew if he gave the ole stink eye he’d learned from his own father long enough she’d break.
“Well…” Reese finally spoke up, “it was raining! And it was cold, Papa! If you didn’t want me outside, why should he have to be out there!”
Stiles groaned as he saw a furry little head poke itself around the corner right under his daughter, the eyes almost as wide and innocent looking as his own daughter’s. After staring down the (admittedly cute) furry little creature, he sighed in defeat. As if to drive the final nail into his crumbling resolve, a loud crack of thunder echoed throughout the house. He wouldn’t want anyone out in the current storm - even if it was a four-legged little beast.
“Reese, bubs, someone’s probably missing him-”
“But they’re not, Papa! We play every day, he’s here all the time,” Reese argued, “he’s just… inside this time.”
Huffing, Stiles shook his head and admitted defeat with a wave of his hands. “Fine, I hope your furry-headed little friend likes grilled cheese because that’s what we’re having.”
Stiles really should be used to this by now. His daughter was a creature of the forest herself, born of magic and mischief, her heart rooted next to the oldest tree in the forest and her mind swimming in the highest clouds above it. She brought home more animals than he could possibly name - though rabbits, frogs, and (unfortunately) raccoons seemed to be the most common. His daughter couldn’t just find a stray cat or two - no, she had to attract the lost souls of the woods right up to their doorstep.
At least, Stiles thought graciously, they were all well-behaved. It was Reese’s connection to nature, he knew. The way she seemed to tame and befriend any and all animals. They all acted as if they’d lived with her their whole lives. Deer ate from her palm, raccoons snuggled in her lap, and birds sat happily on top of her head. They were all primed and ready for a Disney movie, not a single one missing a beat on the How to Be Polite checklist.
This, however, was pushing it. Having gotten used to the wild animals roaming around his life, Stiles’ only rule was that they stay outside. An occasional bird had flown in through the window, and a deer once stuck their head through the back door, but Reese seemed to take to heart the ‘no wild animals in our house’ rule.
At least she only brought a dog inside, Stiles grumbled to himself mirthlessly. At least he wasn’t dealing with a yipping fox or a stomping deer or a pecking woodpecker. Small miracles, right?
Stiles was abruptly yanked from his grumbling when he heard his daughter giggle excitedly, a small rumble of footsteps sounding from overhead, and a small, soft yip from the dog echoing throughout the halls. Despite himself, Stiles smiled and shook his head, grabbing out the ingredients for grilled cheese and tomato soup.
+.+.+
In retrospect, he should’ve seen this coming. It had been two weeks since the storm and slowly but surely, the dog had wormed its way into their house on a near-daily basis. It had started as the pup just following Reese inside for snacks and water, wandering back outside to continue playing right after. Then, it became normal to see Reese curled up in a huddle of blankets in the living room, dog beside her, reading her books.
But this? Stiles hadn’t even fully realized it until just now but the dog (Mouse, he’d begun to call him in his head, as he seemed to love cheese and was none too shy about snagging it when left out in the open) had been at their house for three days. Day and night, it would seem.
Stiles hadn’t initially noticed, used to seeing the two of them in the backyard and even in the living room, but when his dad asked about the new “four-legged addition to the family” when he got off of work, Stiles had a sudden realization. Mouse had been at breakfast both yesterday and today. He had noticed an uptick in giggles and rumbling footsteps upstairs the last couple of nights.
“Yea… I… Reese found him and I guess we adopted a dog,” Stiles groaned, explaining to his father as he saw him out the door. John simply grinned wryly at his son, enjoying the payback his son seemed to be getting in exchange for the troubles he himself experienced with a once 7-year-old Stiles.
John laughed, clapping his son on the shoulder before seeing himself out. Normally he’d swing Reese around and kiss her silly upon departure, but even he sensed how inseparable the girl and dog were. Stiles ran his hand through his hair, huffing a quiet laugh as he watched them play in the living room together.
It could be worse, Stiles thought, at least his daughter hadn’t brought home any stray raccoons or random deer in a while. He could handle a dog in exchange for not dealing with the plethora of woodland creatures that used to take up his backyard.
+.+.+
Unfortunately, as with most things in the Stilinski household, all good things come to an end. Abruptly.
It had only been another two days of Mouse living with them (Reese had readily agreed to the name Mouse, giggling wildly, while the dog seemed put out - how a dog could look put out, Stiles wasn’t sure). It had been fairly anti-climactic. Since it was spring break and Reese was out of school, he and his dad had been taking turns watching Reese while the other was at work, occasionally Mrs. Barker next door would come over and watch Reese for a few hours when their shifts ultimately overlapped. It was normal (seemingly).
But by that Thursday, five whole days of Mouse properly living with the Stilinskis, shit hit the fan.
“Reese, if you want to keep Mouse he needs a collar, bubs. It’s how others will know where his home is,” Stiles tried to argue, the new collar still in his hands. Reese seemed distressed by this new development. Stiles thought she’d be over the moon, taking the gesture for the acceptance of their apparent new pet, but his daughter was instead fighting it.
“No!” she screeched, her eyes wide. Stiles was beginning to get concerned, unsure as to what the actual problem was at this point.
“Reese, sweetheart, here let me show you,” Stiles tried to soothe, now kneeling down and gently reaching for the seemingly equally terrified dog. “It won’t hurt him, I’ll make sure it’s loose and everything! This way we can even take him on walks to the park - dogs need collars and leashes at the park, Reese.”
Stiles had gently guided the dog towards him but once he began to close the collar around its neck, the dog began to thrash wildly, backing up with haste as if trying to escape. Stiles, instinctively, grasped the squirming animal to avoid it thrashing into something and also to try and soothe it. The dog was whining and whimpering, Reese was hiccupping gentle sobs, and Stiles was lost.
Just as he was about to admit defeat (again) and let the animal be free of a collar, the suddenly furry, squirming bundle in his arms was… not so furry. No, it was human. With plenty of human skin. And big, wet, tearful human eyes. Stiles watched, bewildered, as the once-dog shifted into a human child. A naked human child.
“No!” the boy wailed, pushing at the hand Stiles still had the collar gripped in. Stiles immediately dropped it, staring at the child in his lap now. Stiles let the boy go who squirmed out of his lap and curled into himself, hiding partially behind the chair in the living room.
Glancing to the side, Stiles saw his daughter with tear-streaked cheeks. Her bottom lip was wobbling and she was looking at Mou- the boy with a mournful expression. She knelt down and crawled towards him, apologizing and trying to console him. It took Stiles another minute or two before his brain came back online and he pieced things together, getting himself moving into action.
“Ah… Reese, babydoll, M-... your friend needs clothes. Can you go get him some so he can get dressed?” Stiles softly asked, his hand resting on his daughter’s back. She looked at him, pausing as if she was going to deny the request, before slowly nodding.
With Reese clamoring up the stairs, Stiles squatted down closer to the boy, trying to look into his eyes and remain as calm and collected as possible.
“Hi there,” he started off, trying to be cheerful, “we haven’t properly met. I’m Stiles, Reese’s dad. I know we met when you were a do- uh… a wolf, but, uhm, I never got your actual name. Not that Mouse isn’t a cute name but I’m sure you have a much better one, one better suited for, a uh… person.” Stiles winced, embarrassed by his own rambling and stumbling over words. To his credit, however, the child before him seemed to relax ever so slightly, his wide green eyes now poking above his arm and looking back at stiles.
“Leo,” the boy murmured, and Stiles grinned widely at him. Small victories.
“Leo! What an awesome name. How about your last name, Leo?” Stiles asked.
“Hale.”
It took a minute, but suddenly Stiles froze and felt his stomach plummet. Hale. He’d heard that before. He’d heard it recently. It was the center of conversation in passing with his dad, asking why the older man looked so tired and the reason he gave as to why Reese had to spend more time with Mrs. Barker the past few days.
Leo Hale was missing. Or well, he wasn’t missing, he was obviously in Stiles’ living room. But no one else knew that! And oh god, Leo Hale - the Hales. They were werewolves. And he had accidentally-not-really-but-kinda-sorta kidnapped said werewolves’ kid. Oh shit.
“Hale,” he repeated, mumbling it, “Your family has been looking for you, Leo. I’ve heard about it - they’ve been quite worried. They must miss you quite a lot.”
At this, Leo sniffled, a small whine echoing from the back of his throat as he looked up at Stiles, his eyes filled with fresh new tears. Thankfully, it was at this time Reese decided to return. She had a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt of Stiles’ that she liked to sleep in in-hand, rambling about how she wasn’t sure if they’d fit but she found the biggest, comfiest clothes for Leo that she could so he’d be comfortable.
Letting out a breath, Stiles quickly launched into action, standing up and gently coaxing Leo up as well, trying to discreetly maneuver him to the bathroom so he could change. He paused in the hall, grabbing Reese’s discarded pair of flip-flops and a jacket left on the stairs, adding it to the pile in Leo’s arms. The kid needed shoes, and the jacket would probably be comforting at the very least if he wasn’t cold.
Once dressed, Leo came out, his eyes red and puffy but no longer filled with tears. He stared at the ground, mumbling a string of apologies and minutely waving his hands at his sides as he tried to explain to Stiles how he just wanted to play with Reese and have sleepovers like the other kids at school but both his parents and Stiles didn’t like sleepovers (Stiles, assumed, for the same reasons - their kids were supernaturally inclined and sleepovers were a bit of a safety risk).
“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Stiles soothed, laying a hand on the boy’s shoulder as he knelt in front of him. “How about we finish off the cookies in the kitchen and you tell me where your home is, hm? I’m sure you’re family would love to see you and you must miss them, too.”
Leo sniffled and nodded, obediently following Stiles into the kitchen. Reese easily chattered enough for all three of them, filling the silence and pulling half-smiles out of her friend. They had a more-than-an-appropriate-amount of cookies with a couple of glasses of milk and Stiles was able to coax out the general location of the Hale house from Leo. He didn’t provide an actual address, but Stiles also assumed there wouldn’t be that many three-story houses in the middle of the preserve with a red mailbox at the end of the driveway (at least, he hoped).
+.+.+
Approximately twenty minutes later, after reassuring both children and rushing to get them in the car (and trying to conceal Leo as best as he could to avoid being stopped - because that was the last thing any of them needed), Stiles found himself parking in front of aforementioned three-story house in the middle of the preserve.
There were several cars out front but the house seemed oddly quiet. Stiles was hoping someone was home despite the silence as he climbed out. He no sooner pulled Leo out of the backseat of his Jeep, Reese expertly clambering out herself, that the front door slammed open.
Stiles whirled around, Leo’s hand in his, and winced when he saw not just one or two people emerge, but an entire housefull. No less than a dozen people now filled the porch and one woman was flying down the steps, arms outstretched and grabbing at Leo before Stiles could even introduce himself.
“Leo! Oh my god, where have you been?!” the woman cried, crushing the small boy to her chest. She stood in front of Stiles for only a second before her eyes snapped up and narrowed at him, backing up and shifting the small boy to the side, acting as if Stiles was going to attack at any moment. Why would he have bothered to bring Leo back if he had nefarious plans afoot? Seriously?
Backing up a step, Stiles raised his hands as if in surrender, trying to give a welcoming smile and missing by several hundred miles. The rest of the family was glaring at him and one man, in particular, was shoving his way to the front, stomping towards him. His face was downturned into a murderous glare, his shoulder set and taut.
“Hi, hi, hello!” Stiles spoke up quickly, taking another step back and pulling Reese behind him. “I, uhm, found your son uh - Leo! I found Leo.”
“Found?” the man ground out, his voice more a growl than anything else. He’d stopped just a couple of steps short in front of Stiles, glaring him down as if he could kill him with just a look. And honestly, Stiles was starting to think that was a very possible scenario.
“Uhm, well…” Stiles let out a big huff of air, glancing to the side as if looking for the words, “found is… a bit of a stretch, but not inaccurate!” Stiles reared up, meeting the man’s eyes and ready to fully explain himself, the slightest falter in his stance giving Stiles just enough of an in to hopefully fully explain himself.
“I’m sorry, Momma, I’m sorry,” Leo was crying again, seemingly shaken from the spell of silence he had been carrying since before they left Stiles’ house. “I didn’t mean to tell them but the collar scared me and I had to shift and I didn’t mean to I’m sorry, they won’t tell anyone, I promise! I’m sorry, Momma, I didn’t mean to!”
Stiles closed his eyes, sucking in a breath of air. While that string of words was not incorrect in any way and indeed told part of the story, it sounded bad. Very bad, actually.
“Collar?!” the man hissed, taking another step towards Stiles. A growl left his throat and Stiles saw his eyes flash, teeth elongating just the smallest bit. Reese, who was still behind her father but peeking out, whimpered as she sensed the growing tension.
Stiles tried to step back but felt himself and Reese collide with the Jeep. The man before him took another step and without any other options, Stiles waved his hand in an arch, pushing it forward and effectively shoving the man back until he was almost back on the steps to the porch. Stiles could feel his magic singing in his veins, could feel the rise of it in his body, the atmosphere becoming almost clouded as he draped it around himself and Reese in a cloak of defense.
“Witch,” someone growled out, several members of the family now inching back on the porch. Though, Angry Brows (the official name of the murderous man in front of him) was undeterred, simply making another step toward Stiles and Reese again.
“Look, I know how bad this all looks, and admittedly it is quite bad, but if you’d just give me a chance to explain-” Stiles tried, rushing his words.
“Leave,” a voice spoke up from the porch, drawing Stiles’ attention. He was met with a woman with a stern face, dark hair framing his sharp features, and her eyes shining a bright red. She was descending the steps, coming to stand beside Angry Brows.
“Really, please, I just want to-”
“Leave, or I’ll make you,” Angry Brows growled out. Reese was whimpering behind him again and Stiles gripped her shoulder, trying to reassure her as well as defend her through the action. He was making no headway with any of the Hales and he was beginning to fear for Reese’s safety. If they thought he’d kidnapped their child, they may not be as so kind as to treat his own with any niceties.
“Fine, okay, fine - we’ll leave. Just… let us leave, we’ll leave you alone,” Stiles placated, once more raising a hand in surrender, his eyes darting to glance back at Reese. The woman - alpha, Stiles mentally noted - grabbed Angry Brow’s shoulder, pulling him back just a step, and nodded once at Stiles. Taking it as the best form of reassurance he’d get, Stiles quickly turned and picked up Reese, sliding her into the passenger side of the car as she sniffled. Laws be damned, he wasn’t dealing with shoving her in the backseat and having his back turned to an angry pack of werewolves for more than a second.
With that, Stiles was sliding into his car and promptly drove off, his eyes flicking between the road in front of him and his rearview mirror, making sure no one was moving towards them. Once he got far enough away that he could no longer see them, Stiles pressed his foot to the gas peddle a bit harder, driving as quickly as he could back home.
Reese, for once in her waking life, remained quiet the entire time - the only sounds being her sniffles as she rubbed at her puffy eyes and her snot-ridden nose. It broke Stiles' heart, weighing him down even further with guilt. But he had other things to focus on right now; such as watching their backs for any revenge-seeking werewolves.
+.+.+
After the whole kidnapping mishap, Stiles filled in his dad (“Werewolves? We have werewolves now? For Christ’s sake…”) and made the executive decision to bring Reese with him to work for the rest of Spring Break, doing the bare minimum at the library as he kept his eyes glued to Reese who sat behind the desk in the corner, her quiet spell everlasting.
He warded their house to hell and back, lined the doors with mountain ash, carved runes into doors, chanted protections until his voice was almost gone, and then repeated it all.
No one reached out, called, or showed up at their house. John confirmed the missing person’s case had been called off, the family claiming that they found him out in the woods in an old treehouse, spinning a tale of the boy getting lost on a forest adventure. John said that aside from a side glare from the boy’s mother, she said not a peep to him nor did she mention any of the Stilinski family members - though her realization of John being related to Stiles was obvious.
It seemed like nothing would happen, though Stiles continued to ward and line the house just in case, only letting Reese out of his sight once school started again the next week. He had almost begun to believe things were cooling down, had slowly started to consider how he could try to explain all that happened (a phone call? No, they’d hang up. A letter perhaps? They could just throw it out…) when, once again, shit hit the fan.
“Papa!” Reese half screeched, half whimpered as she launched herself at her father. He had to leave work early, the school called and said his daughter was having a meltdown (though the lady at the front desk put it much nicer). When he arrived in the front office he was to see a downtrodden child, head hung and sniffles coming out. Once she became aware of his presence, Reese launched herself across the room and hugged him tighter than she should’ve been able to, crying loudly.
“What happened?” Stiles asked, alarmed. He was staring at his daughter but the glance thrown to the receptionist at the desk indicated who he was really asking. The woman, in turn, gave a half-hearted smile, concern edged into her features.
“Well, we received a call from another student’s parents requesting that their child and yours be… separated. He was transferred to a new class this morning and during recess one of the teachers saw them together and had to separate them per the request. Their child spent the remainder of the break in the library and well… that’s when this started,” the woman explained, gently gesturing at Reese towards the end. “I’m not sure what may have happened between, a uh… the families, but both children seemed very upset at being separated. Reese’s teacher said they always got along and worked together every chance they got - it was a shock for her.”
Stiles groaned quietly, running his hand down his face slowly as he pushed out a long breath of air. While he hadn’t not expected this, he also didn’t expect this exact scenario. It seemed a bit excessive, though they didn’t know the full story, Stiles had to remind himself.
“Leo Hale’s family?” Stiles asked miserably, his eyes never leaving Reese as he tried to pet her hair and shush her in as comforting a manner as possible. Predictably so, none of it worked. She was inconsolable, apologies slipping out, pleas for Stiles to fix everything, promises to be good - the whole chimichanga.
“I cannot confirm, but I’m sure if they were as… close, as it appeared, you already have your answer,” the receptionist said gently, an apologetic smile on her face. Stiles sighed but nodded, understanding. He picked Reese up, slinging her backpack over one shoulder, and signed the appropriate forms for early release, wrestling his ID card out one-handed to confirm identity.
As he turned to leave, he saw out the long windows of the office one dark-haired young woman carrying her own child out. When the child looked up, Stiles’ heart broke. It was Leo, face equally tear-stained, eyes puffy and red. He locked eyes with Reese after seeing Stiles, and Stiles faintly heard an echoing sob before they were out the door. Reese herself whimpered, curling further into her father.
With a soft thank you and goodbye to the receptionist, Stiles was carrying Reese out to the parking lot. He tried to walk slowly and linger in the corridor in front of the front entrance just a bit, hoping he would miss the Hales driving off and avoid further turmoil. Only when he got to his car, not a single other car in the visitors' parking in sight, did he let a sigh of relief out. Reese was still crestfallen, crying and hiccuping as they walked.
“Papa…?” Reese asked quietly after a few silent minutes in the car. Stiles’ eyes shot up, meeting her’s through the rearview mirror. Reese had been nearly mute the past few days since the whole scene occurred at Leo’s house. She stayed in her room instead of going outside, she mumbled instead of shouted, and she constantly looked down - she was the opposite of herself, all in all.
“Hm?” Stiles hummed out gently, not wanting to spook her as if she was a skittish animal. It seemed the only approach recently - soft words, gentle voices, slow actions.
“If I apologize to Leo’s parents do you think they’ll let us play again? I didn’t mean to get him in trouble… we just wanted a sleepover, Papa, I promise,” she whispered, eyes downcast once more. Stiles felt his heart cracking in his chest, a sob of his own threatening to tear out of his throat. Instead, he clenched the steering wheel tighter and stared down the road, trying to pick out his next words carefully.
“I don’t think Leo’s parents want to talk right now, Ree,” Stiles began, “they were quite scared when he was gone. Maybe we can try to talk to them again later. But… for now, they need some space, okay?”
Reese nodded silently. Her cries had stopped and the silence was almost worse, leaving a buzzing in Stiles’ ears. It had never been this quiet. When he was younger, he filled the silence between him and his father. Then, once Reese came into his life, she filled the silence when Stiles was unable to. They were alike in that way, always moving, always talking, noise following their every step.
But not now.
Stiles sent a silent prayer to whatever entity may be above, begging that the Hales allow an explanation. For some reason, his daughter and their son were attached at the hip and this separation jig was causing a disturbing level of upset and actual pain.
He didn’t know how much longer he could take it, and Reese seemed like she’d already been enduring it for too long.
+.+.+
The absence of Leo continued for two more weeks. Reese had to be picked up from school two more times and Stiles was beginning to consider switching her schools, despite the next closest one being almost thirty minutes from their house. Anything to try and give her some sense of normalcy.
Sheriff Stilinski had attempted to call the Hales twice, the first time he got hung up on before he even finished his introduction, the second led to a dead ring - he’d been blocked. Stiles was becoming desperate enough that he even considered driving up to the house again, preparing to ramble until his lungs gave out to try and amend the misunderstanding between the two families.
It was two weeks later on a Friday and Reese had stayed home - ‘sick’. She’d barely been sleeping, eating the bare minimum, and crying. When she woke up that morning, voice barely a croak, eyes rimmed in dark circles, and limbs sluggish, Stiles didn’t have the heart to send her to school. Mrs. Barker, ever too kind and overly concerned about the suddenly recluse child next door, didn’t hesitate to agree to stay at the Stilinski household for the day.
Stiles left for work, hearing Mrs. Barker make promises of cookies and brownies and cartoons, her voice kind and cheery. The woman may have been moving up in age with the white hair to prove it, but not even Stiles could doubt the magic of her baking and the comfort of her voice. He hoped she could get Reese to eat, even if it was pure sugar. He’d take anything he could get at this point.
At work, Stiles felt robotic. He did front desk duties, looked over reports and documents that needed proofing before being sent out, and drank cup after cup of coffee. He had become the main librarian just a year prior, Mr. Wilkins having officially retired and being much too cheerful to hand over the reins to one freshly graduated Stiles and his enthusiasm for literature. As such, he was able to push off most of the public-facing duties onto the clerks, library assistants, and all the others in between. He was thankful for that saving grace as he had seemed to lose the ability to speak, his own spell of silence overtaking his life in the wake of Reese’s own.
The day dragged on, piles of paperwork, mountains of books, loads of coffee - all of it in abundance and all of it repetitious. It wasn’t until around 3 o’clock that things became hairy.
Answering a sudden phone call, Stiles listened as a frantic Mrs. Barker unloaded a string of sentences, explaining that Reese was missing. She apologized profusely, gentle sobs heard down the line, swearing to Stiles she had double-checked all the doors and they were all locked and that she’d been keeping an eye on the stairs but never once saw Reese slip out. Stiles was sure his magical little offspring had no need to use a door, but he couldn’t very well explain that to Mrs. Barker despite his desire to reassure her he knew it wasn’t her fault.
According to Mrs. Barker, Reese had choked down a couple of cookies and stared through the TV for several episodes of whatever cartoon they found. Around 11, after denying any and all offers and suggestions of lunch, she asked to lie down and claimed she was tired. Mrs. Barker could see the dark rings around her eyes and gave in, letting her go back upstairs. She checked on her once around 12 and then left her be, keeping an eye on the stairs in case Reese slipped back downstairs as she cleaned up the mess in the kitchen and tidied up a bit.
After three more hours of silence, she climbed the stairs only to find the girl missing. After checking every room, closet, and available square inch of space in the house, Mrs. Barker called Stiles. He could hear her opening cabinets and doors, shifting around their house as she spoke on the phone. He felt a surge of anxiety for his daughter and also a pang of guilt for the concern and anxiety his neighbor must be feeling. None of that could be good, especially for a woman her age.
“Thank you for calling,” Stiles interrupted her, tone clipped and wobbly, “I’ll call my dad and I’ll go look for her right now.”
Brushing off the concerned looks of the clerks, Stiles swiftly moved to grab his keys and wallet. He paused momentarily to check in with Kira - the assistant librarian who wasn’t meant to start for another thirty minutes but had come in early with baked goods for the staff - letting her know a rundown of the situation.
Kira gasped, her eyes immediately filling with tears. She loved Reese and had been all too happy to help Stiles watch after her when Reese was younger and he more regularly brought her to the library, back when she and Stiles were both just clerks. Kira had helped raise Reese and become good friends with the Stilinskis over the years, so the heartbreak on her face when Stiles gave an excuse for his hasty retreat was all too genuine.
Giving a tight, anxious smile to Kira who squeezed his hand before he left, Stiles dashed out to his car, already dialing his father. When he didn’t pick up the first or second time, Stiles called the station directly and demanded to be redirected, the words “the sheriff’s granddaughter is fucking missing” getting him bypassed the parade of excuses and niceties he knew the guy at the front desk had to spew.
“Have you checked at the Hales?” his father suddenly asked, after he momentarily tried to console his son and listed off the first handful of obvious places a 7-year-old may run off to.
Stiles' heart stopped. He had been on his way to his house, preparing to dive into the woods and seek out his child. The most logical place for her to be was somewhere amongst the trees, perhaps holed up in a fox’s den or piled up with some coyotes, knowing her. But the Hales…
“I’m going there now,” Stiles said, tone hard. He ended the call just as his father began to try and dissuade him from going alone, the phone being tossed haphazardly into the seat next to him and the subsequent ringing calls all ignored. Stiles had a one-track mind at this point: Reese.
Going a bit (a lot) over the speed limit and almost (just barely avoiding) crashing his car several times, Stiles arrived in front of the Hale house. His car was pulled too far up, possibly crushing a random plant or two, and he was jumping out faster than he probably should have. He actually almost beat whoever it was on the other side of the door, but not quite.
Once again, he was met with Angry Brows, a glare immediately fixed on him.
“I thought I told you-” the man began, but Stiles cut him off.
“Do you have Reese?” he asked, tone begging. The man actually faltered, but quickly picked himself back up, crossing his arms across his chest tightly and throwing yet another glare at Stiles. At least he wasn’t charging him.
“Your kid?” Stiles nodded. “Why would I have your kid? Unlike you, we don’t go around stealing random children. Is she even actually yours?”
Stiles felt his veins surge with anger, his eyes light with fire, and his magic itched at his palms. However he looked - pissed, deranged, depressed, all three - it was enough to cause Angry Brows to widen his eyes ever so slightly and back up just a half step.
“Are you- no, you know what? No. I don’t have time for this. I didn’t kidnap your kid, I don’t go around stealing random children, and I don’t have time to try and explain how fucking crazy you and your damn family all are!” Stiles half yelled, taking a step closer each time he punctuated a word until he was almost chest-to-chest with the man in front of him.
“My daughter is fucking missing - yes, my fucking daughter - and unlike Leo, who ended up nice and cozy at a friend’s house, eating grilled cheese and chicken nuggets to his heart’s content and sleeping in an actual bed every night, my daughter is somewhere with no one she knows, probably alone, in just her pajamas, and has barely eaten a full meal within the last week. So if you have any idea where she is or happen to get a whiff of her, give the fucking sheriff a call,” Stiles hissed at the end of his rant, chest heaving. His glare was icy and the man before him looked shocked.
Not wanting to waste any more time on someone who couldn’t be reasoned with, Stiles turned away sharply and started making his way back to his haphazardly parked car. That is until a hand gripped his arm.
Turning, Stiles saw Angry Brows - who now looked like Confused Brows - looking at him, his throat clicking on an audible swallow as he seemed to gather his words. Stiles let out a noise of frustration, pulling at his arm so he could leave and find Reese.
“I don’t know where Reese is,” he finally spoke up, his hand tightening ever so slightly on Stiles’ arm to prevent him from pulling away, “but I’ll help look.”
“Oh?” Stiles laughed, cold and without any actual emotion, earning him a flinch from the man in front of him. “And why would you do that? Huh? You don’t even think she’s my actual daughter-”
“You didn’t lie,” he spoke quietly, letting go of Stiles’ arm finally. “Just now. And before. You never lied. And… you wreak of anxiety. Just like Laura did. When Leo was missing.”
Stiles stared, bewildered, before rolling his eyes heavenward and drawing in a deep breath. He’d take any help he could get - and this help came with a super sniffer and expert tracking capabilities. He couldn’t turn that offer away, not when it was Reese on the line.
“Fine,” Stiles said curtly, turning away. “I assumed she was out in the woods, probably holed up in… I don’t know, a fox’s den or with a pack of coyotes or… or somewhere out there. It’s where she always goes so… I guess we start there.”
“Do you… do you have a jacket or something? With her scent? It’s hard to pick up her scent from you when you…” Angry Brows vaguely gestured a hand, words falling away. Stiles huffed but nodded in understanding.
“In the car. We can go back to my house and start there. The woods lead into the preserve and connect somewhere around here but I don’t… I don’t know where and she couldn’t have gone that far I don’t think I…” Stiles was staring at the ground now, hands shaking in front of him. She could be anywhere.
His daughter had magic in her veins. She was the byproduct of Stiles’ magic, the grace of the moon, the wisdom of fae, and the heart of the woods. She was just like Stiles but also so much more and he didn’t know what she could do. Maybe she could teleport. Maybe she could grace herself with supernatural abilities. Maybe-
“Hey,” Angry brows spoke, grabbing once more at his now-shaking arm, “let’s start here. If the woods behind your house connect to the preserve then I should be able to catch her scent if she’s been in them recently. Not like you can drive right now anyways.”
With a glare, Stiles shook off the other man’s hand before stalking over to his car. Just because the guy was right didn’t mean Stiles would give him the satisfaction of agreeing - besides, he was kind of an ass about it too. A passively, seemingly caring ass but an ass nonetheless. Instead, he pulled out the jacket Reese had left in the car after school the day before and shoved it toward Angry Brows.
Stiles watched as his nostrils flared, head cocked slightly to the side, and he began to move towards the tree line on their left. Stiles wordlessly followed, unable to do much else. He could perform a tracking spell, but that could take up to a couple of hours and he didn’t want to do that right now with how soon it would be dark and especially if Reese was just out hiding in the woods near the house. It would be the next step, however.
It was silent save for the crunch of leaves. The two men tread through the woods, pausing occasionally and switching directions minutely. Angry Brows would sometimes pause, knit his eyebrows in either confusion or concentration, then keep moving.
It wasn’t until nearly half an hour, just as Stiles was about to call bullshit on this whole thing, that the other man suddenly stopped. He circled around, confusion etched on his features.
“She’s… gone,” he stated, a confused lilt to his words. Stiles’ heart plummeted.
“Gone?”
“Her scent it just… it’s gone. It seemed faint before and I thought maybe she had gone through one of the streams or was surrounded by animals before like you mentioned, dulling and covering her scent, but it’s… gone. Even the trail from before isn’t there,” he explained, looking at Stiles with an arched eyebrow. Stiles, in turn, closed his eyes, a quiet count down from ten in his head as he pulled himself together.
Gone. Not gone as in dead, but gone as in disappeared. Maybe she… teleported. Maybe she learned to mask her scent maybe… maybe something. All Stiles knew was that scents didn’t just disappear, not that quickly. It had to mean she did something and was nearby by or had been. She was okay enough to use her magic. She was okay. That’s what was important, he reasoned.
Instead of responding to the silent questions he felt directed at him, Stiles turned and began walking back. Angry Brows matched his pace, gently redirecting as needed. This continued for several minutes before he once more broke the silence.
“Why didn’t you tell anyone you had Leo?”
Stiles paused, but only for a second, eyes never straying from the invisible path in front of him. He huffed a breath of air, shoved his hands in his pockets, and decided he might as well answer the question while they had the time. No one was trying to Main him this time around, so that was an improvement.
“Because I didn’t realize it was Leo until just before I brought him here,” came the response. Angry Brows squinted his eyes, head cocked in confusion.
“How can you… not realize?” he asked, his tone slow but not accusatory. Stiles assumed he was listening to his heartbeat again, detecting no lie. At least that was one benefit of the whole ‘being werewolves’ thing.
“Because,” Stiles sighed out in annoyance, “Leo was a pup- a wolf. He was a wolf the whole time he was at my house. He only shifted back when I tried to put a collar on him. I thought he was a stray dog - Reese bringing home random animals is normal. I thought getting the collar would show her that we were keeping him or… whatever. He’d been around for several days, with no attempt to leave, so I assumed he was staying. Then…”
“Then I had a random crying child in my lap, and that’s when it hit me,” Stiles finished, finally finding the words to finish off his sentence. He was suddenly stopped when a hand grasped his shoulder and whirled him to the side.
“That’s impossible,” the man argued. Stiles narrowed his eyes and ripped his shoulder away, moving to leave and continue walking, but the hand returned and Stiles gave a hiss of annoyance.
“My daughter is still missing,” Stiles growled out, then rolled his eyes and added, “and it’s not impossible. You’re - what? - listening to my heartbeat? Scenting my intentions? Whatever it is, you can tell if I’m lying, okay? So listen carefully. Leo was shifted, a full-blown wolf cub assumed dog, and living with us as such. The aforementioned collar was a dog collar, a yellow one with a name tag. I did not kidnap him, I did not withhold him, I did not know he was a human child or werewolf or anything besides a dog, and I did not attempt to hurt him. Okay? Great, now let’s find the actively missing child.”
Stiles launched himself out of Angry Brows’ grip, propelling himself forward. After a beat of hesitation, the man followed, quiet once more. It was only when they were approaching the treeline, Stiles’ blue jeep faintly visible through the leaves and branches, that he spoke up again.
“Full shifts are rare… and they don’t happen until a ‘wolf is fully mature and anchored. He shouldn’t have been able to do that… that’s why we thought…”
Stiles huffed, shaking his head, and emerged through the treeline, already pulling out his keys and preparing to go back to his house and scour the woods there after checking up with his dad. He didn’t have time to explain this whole shitstorm that led to his daughter disappearing. He didn’t have time to explain to the family of werewolves how he was not some monster out trying to kidnap children (which, by the way, if he was - why would he have even brought Leo back? Did they ever ponder that angle? Stiles was willing to bet not!).
“What is he doing here?” came a growled out voice. Stiles shifted and glared, meeting eyes with the same woman who had picked up Leo from school a couple of weeks ago - the same one who flew down the stairs and gripped him so tight that first day that Stiles was sure she’d crack a rib or two.
“Laura. Don’t,” the man said, walking up beside Stiles. Stiles shook his head and turned to climb back in his Jeep, unwilling to waste any more time on the jerks behind him.
“No. He needs to leave, he isn’t-”
“Cool your fucking jets, I wasn’t planning on staying,” Stiles cut her off, throwing a nasty glare over his shoulder. He watched as the woman’s eyes flared and flashed at him and she made a step towards him, only to be cut off by Angry Brow’s arm wrapping around her stomach and anchoring her in place.
“Derek, let me go!” she shouted, and Ang- Derek. Derek muttered something in her ear, all of which seemed to go out the other if her expression was anything to go by.
“The nerve you have,” Laura growled out, “taking my son and-”
“I didn’t take your son!” Stiles shouted, turning around. He had better things to do but if taking two minutes to angrily shout out an explanation would get the feral werewolf pack off his back, maybe it was worth it if only to stop slowing him down. He was willing to take the gamble. Or maybe he was just angry and frustrated enough to not give a damn anymore.
“Your son showed up, fully shifted, and was an assumed stray! My daughter brought him in. I fed him fucking chicken nuggets and Reese read bedtime stories to him. I did not know he was a werewolf, I did not know he was a human child - I thought he was a dog! We named him Mouse because he ate so much cheese! I bought him a collar - a dog collar - and that’s how we found out! Because he freaked out. So cut the bullshit, get off your high horse, and leave me the hell alone because my daughter is missing and you and your family are wasting my time.”
Stiles huffed out a breath, his second rant of the day both taking his last bout of energy and simultaneously giving him a boost through pure, unadulterated rage. At least Laura had the decency to look chastised, but she quickly picked herself back up, throwing on a scowl to rival Derek’s own murderous expression.
“Then explain why you blocked out his scent for five days, you witch,” she hissed out, and Stiles was suddenly pulling at his hair, a dry, humorous laugh bubbling out of him a bit manically. Both Laura and Derek seemed taken aback, their stances going from guarded and ready to pounce to wary and ready to bolt in a second. Stiles shook his head, laughing and tugging at his hair.
He didn’t know. He didn’t do it. He didn’t kidnap a kid. He didn’t force a shift on him. He didn’t hide his scent. He didn’t even know there was a shift to force or a scent to hide or anything else! He thought his daughter found some poor abandoned puppy and charmed it into their house before charming Stiles into keeping the damn thing. He didn’t know what the hell was going on at this point, similar to the rest of the time.
“I… I can’t do this right now,” he laughed out, dropping his hand and giving the duo in front of him a wide grin that probably looked insane, “I can’t… deal with any of you. My daughter is missing and I’m standing here trying to defend myself against something I didn’t do. I… I have to go, this is ridiculous.”
Stiles was rubbing two fingers to his temple, posture deflating as he turned, moving towards his car with noticeably less energy and drive. He was desperate to find Reese but he felt like he was drowning. She wasn’t at the house, he’d already had his dad check his own house, she wasn’t at the station, if she’d been at the school a teacher would have called, and the woods were a miss.
It was all turning up dry and Stiles felt like he was trying to build a bridge with sand, everything slipping between his fingers before he even got a proper grip on it all.
As he opened his car door, a new voice spoke up. “Mr. Stiles,” Leo’s voice came hesitantly, and Stiles dropped his head. He couldn’t deal with this. He knew Leo wouldn’t be shouting accusations at him like his other family members, but he couldn’t… do this. But he’s a kid too, Stiles reminded himself, he needs to know it’s okay and it’s not his fault. With that in mind, Stiles turned back once more, plastering a tight smile on his face, trying (and failing) to look as approachable and kind as he could. The last time he saw this kid, he was crying. Similar to the time before that as well.
Stiles wasn’t having the best track record with Hales.
“Yes, Leo?” he asked softly, trying to make his voice as smooth and even as he could. It felt jagged in his throat and sounded even worse even to his own ears, his voice sounding like it went through the garbage disposal a time or two.
“I… I know where Reese is, Mr. Stiles,” Leo said quietly, now looking at his feet. At this, Stiles straightened. He saw from the corner of his eye that Laura looked shocked and Derek had a strained expression on his face, both seemingly out of the loop on Leo’s own knowledge.
Without care of the repercussions and ignoring any and all survival instincts he possessed, Stiles rushed towards the small boy who was now hovering at the top of the steps, looking down slightly at the small group of adults on the lawn. He dropped to a crouch, bracing one of his feet a step a few from the top so he would be directly looking up at Leo from his crouched position.
“Leo,” Stiles said, voice strained, “please, you need to tell me where Reese is. She can’t shift and protect herself, Leo, and she doesn’t run hot like you do. She’s going to be getting cold soon, she can’t defend herself, and she isn’t as good at navigating as you and your family - she might be lost-“ Stiles cut himself off, realizing he was rambling. Collecting himself momentarily, he spoke the only words that were important currently.
“Where is she?”
Stiles was pleading with a child, on the verge of begging, and Leo must have sensed it because his bottom lip began to wobble. Sniffling once, loudly, he scrubbed a tiny, balled-up fist across his face to rid it of the building tears. A stern look came over the 7-year-old's face and he nodded once, looking like he was about to brave some sort of war.
“I’ll take you. I can smell her still,” he said. Derek made a noise of protest behind them and Stiles swiveled around, ready to plead once more - get on his knees and fucking beg if they so wished.
“Lee… her scent is gone. I can’t even get a track on her,” Derek explained quietly, looking at the boy in front of him with a strained sort of expression. It seemed like he was silently begging the boy not to get Stiles’ hopes up and if Stiles wasn’t dealing with earth shattering trauma right now he may have been moved by the sentiment and the notion those words offered. Instead, he was ready to send out a plea that he was willing to take up any possible lead.
“Yea, and Uncle Der is the best tracker, remember?” Laura softly added on, her eyes darting to Stiles and sending him a… sad look, oddly enough.
“After Uncle Peter,” Leo added, scrunching his eyebrows. He abruptly shook his head, looking at his mom and uncle, before looking back to Stiles with a stern look. “I can smell her, she promised I could always find her - she doesn’t hide from me.”
Stiles choked a bit, reaching both hands up this time to rub at his temples. He’d have to dig into that can of worms at a later time. After a few seconds, he instead nodded slowly, leveling Leo with a look, “Okay. We’ll follow you.”
Casting a look behind him, Stiles saw no protests from Derek and Laura. Looks of bewilderment and doubt, but nothing indicating they’d stop them. Leo must have deduced the same thing because he was clambering down the stairs, spinning around a bit, and his nose held high in the air, taking an exaggerated deep breath of air. Nodding to himself, Leo turned and began walking toward the back of the house, the three adults following dutifully.
It was quiet as they walked, Leo pausing and scrunching his eyebrows as he looked around. He alternated between looking like he was trying to remember a path and sniffing at the air a bit dramatically, but he kept moving.
Stiles saw Laura open her mouth beside him, about to speak, but he absently held up a hand - the appendage shaking as he did so. Laura furrowed her brow, seemingly contemplating if she was going to listen, but eventually cast her gaze forward again and allowed the silence to continue.
They seemed to walk for a long while, though in reality, the trek was just slower, Leo’s legs not moving as fast as Stiles and Derek had on their lonesome previously. But eventually, he paused at the base of a tree and looked up before looking back at Stiles.
Looking up, Stiles saw nothing. Derek and Laura seemed equally perplexed, but Stiles was resolutely not going to take a first glance as his answer. He learned the hard way that magic had a funny way of encompassing the “seeing is not believing” notion. Instead, he stepped forward next to Leo and placed his hand on the tree. He felt the ripple of magic, a tingling running across his skin and zapping him straight to the core it felt. He was pushing against a spell, another’s presence. It wasn’t a ward, not a protective spell…
“An enchantment?” he mumbled quietly, looking up. “Reese?”
Silence. They all waited a moment, and just when Stiles was about to call out again or maybe ask Leo if he was absolutely sure, he heard a sniffle. He snapped his eyes to look at Leo who simply had his eyes fixed up on a tall branch, not a tear in sight, before looking back up.
“Claudia Reese Stilinski, so help me god if you don’t get down here,” Stiles called up, looking up and giving a pointed look towards the higher-up branches. A small whine came in response but almost instantly, Reese appeared, jumping seemingly out of thin air and onto a lower hanging branch. Stiles could barely reach the bottom of the branch, but Reese dove off and into his outstretched arms, clinging to his neck once he got a proper hold on her.
“Don’t you ever run away like that again,” he whispered harshly, squeezing her tighter, “and don’t even think about trying to hide from me with an enchantment like that. I will bind your magic I swear, Reese.”
Reese gave a weak giggle, sniffling as she did so. Once Stiles had squeezed her impossibly tight and reassured himself ten times over that she was right there, he finally set her on the ground. Immediately, Leo reached out a hand and grasped hers.
Giving a weak smile to him, Reese turned back towards her father, head downturned. “I’m sorry, Papa. I… I just wanted to see Leo again, but everyone was so mad and- and you said to wait! And I did, Papa! I waited and I waited but they took him out of class and we couldn’t be on the playground together and… and,” Reese broke off into a sob, slipping her hand out of Leo’s and falling against Stiles’ chest as she heaved. He felt the tears drench the collar of his shirt, snot leaking onto his neck and surely dirtying his shirt. He didn’t care, not when those broken sounds were coming from his child.
Squeezing her tight, Stiles shushed her and rubbed her back, trying to reassure her that it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t until he felt a hand on his shoulder that he remembered they weren’t alone and he startled.
Looking up, he was surprised to see Laura, giving him a grimace that was supposed to be a smile as she knelt beside the father-and-daughter duo.
“Reese?” Laura asked softly, drawing the attention of the small girl. Reese hiccuped a sob, wiping away the snot and tears with the back of her hand as she tried to meet Laura’s eyes. “I’m sorry - for separating you from Leo. It was nothing you or Leo did, we…” here she paused, looking at Stiles guiltily, “we should have taken the time to try and talk with your dad. We were all so scared when Leo went missing and-”
Laura never got to finish her speech, her arms soon filled with a shaking child, thin arms wrapped tightly around her neck, and a tear-stained face pressed into her neck. Stiles grimaced, knowing Laura would have a nice collection of tears and snot in that exact spot when Reese pulled away.
“I’m sorry Miss Laura, we just wanted to have a sleepover, I promise! Papa didn’t know, we made sure Leo was a pup the whole time Papa was there and- and-” she broke off again, lip wobbling and arms tightening around Laura once more. “We won’t do it again, promise. We just wanna be in the same class again and play at recess, I won’t ever play with Leo after school again I promise. He won’t come over ever again!”
Laura was already rocking her and hushing her softly, the expertise of the motions done in a way only a parent could mimic. Any resentment or upset previously held seemed to melt away the longer she held onto Reese.
Reassuring her once more, Laura pulled back, smiling at Reese and then at her own child. Stiles was anxious to hear her next words but they seemed promising enough, so he simply sucked in a deep breath and stood up, moving to settle his hand on the top of Reese’s head once she let Laura go.
“I don’t think we’re quite ready for another sleepover,” she glanced at Stiles, “but I also can’t and won’t separate you two anymore. I’ll talk to the school and see about getting Leo back into his old class.”
Reese looked up at her dad, a wide grin taking over her face. It was as if a switch was flipped and his previous version of Reese was back. Without hesitation, Leo was barrelling into Reese’s side and their arms were wrapping around one another, both smiling widely at the revelation.
After the tearful, strained, and joyous reunion, the group began to walk back to the Hale house. Reese was happy to fill the silence, babbling and raving to Leo about the family of squirrels she made friends with in the woods and asking him question after question as if they hadn’t seen each other in years. Stiles just smiled, listening to his daughter as he sent off several messages to his dad and Kira, asking one of them to call Mrs. Barker and reassuring them everyone was okay.
Once back at the house, Laura invited both Stiles and Reese inside, promises of dinner and a clean set of clothes for Reese (“Since someone looks like they rolled across the entirety of the forest floor,” Reese giggled loudly at this but denied nothing).
Stiles hesitated, unsure if he could handle explaining (again) this whole mess of a situation. His hesitation must’ve been apparent as Derek laid a hand on his shoulder and gave a slight smile, nodding as if in reassurance. And yea, okay, he couldn’t really say no to that face. That oddly kind, if not a bit awkward, smile and those mesmerizing eyes and-
Okay. Stiles was going a bit overboard. He could pick apart that train of thought… not now.
“Uh… okay,” he mumbled. Reese squealed with delight, racing into the house before even being properly invited in. Stiles let out a long-suffering sigh. Yea, she was his kid alright. Laura just laughed and Derek gave a too-well-knowing smirk.
Once inside, it seemed none of the other Hales had issues with the two newest additions to the mix. His confusion was short-lived as he realized they must’ve heard his explosive rant earlier and his confusion soon turned to embarrassment, head ducked down. Derek nudged his shoulder and laughed, seemingly knowing his exact train of thought.
It didn’t take long for Stiles and Reese to be enveloped in the folds of the Hale family. Reese was promptly re-dressed in some clothes of one of the other small girls running around, Stiles was promptly sat in the living room between Derek and Laura, and everyone was easily chattering.
Stiles remained quiet, not wanting to disrupt the peace and he was, after all, properly drained by now. Reese, on the other hand, seemed to have not a single trace of her tiredness or melancholy left, racing around with the other kids, hands clasped with Leo, laughing up a storm and playing to her heart’s content.
Everything was easygoing, and then Reese brought up a couple of big topics everyone had either seemingly forgotten or were dutifully ignoring. Because of course she would.
“Papa, can we take Leo to the caves? If he’s a wolf, he can fit into the small ones! There might be treasure or another den or more coyotes, maybe even some raccoons,” she said excitedly, bracing herself on his knees and looking at him pleadingly. “We can go tomorrow! You don’t work on Saturdays, Papa, and you like the caves.”
Stiles smiled tightly at his daughter, trying to suppress his grimace. He and the Hales had just barely met eye to eye, best to not ask about dragging their previously-assumed-kidnapped son out for a hike in the woods.
“Wolf?” came a voice, and Stiles recognized it as the strong-featured woman from the first day at the Hales - the alpha. “How does Leo become a wolf, Reese?”
At this, the room seemed to quiet down, some leaning forward and everyone looking interested. Reese turned around, leaning against Stiles’ knees and looking at the older woman across the room with a tilt of the head as if pondering.
“Like normal?” she asked, confused. “He just… becomes a wolf. But Papa thought he was a puppy, but he’s really fluffy and soft as a wolf so he kinda does look like a puppy!” Reese seemed to entirely miss the point of the question and the confusion clouding the room. Stiles wanted to sink into the couch and disappear. Promptly.
“Reese,” Laura interjected, “Leo can’t… do that. It’s very rare, a special talent. And he’s too young to do it yet. Did… you help him?”
Reese rolled her eyes as if Laura was asking the most obvious of questions. “Of course! He could do it, he just needed a push! But he can do it, Miss Laura, he does it all by himself, I just help. Leo said I’m like a ship, weighing him down closer to his wolf or something. I thought that would be bad but he said it helps make it easier to shift! Sounds more like I’m a cloud than a ship because clouds are light and make you relax, but that’s what he said, though it sounds funny.”
Stiles covered his face with a hand. Anchor. The word his daughter was looking for was anchor and he didn’t need to look at anyone else’s face in the room to know the looks they had. His daughter just admitted to them all that she was Leo’s anchor at the ripe age of 7. His own knowledge (albeit limited) led him to understand anchors didn’t independently form until closer to puberty and teen years, most reverting to their packs as an anchor. He could only imagine the uproar about a 7-year-old having another 7-year-old as their anchor, let alone one with ticking time bomb magic.
“Did I say something bad, Papa?” Reese whispered. Stiles removed his hand, giving her a tight smile. He cast a glance across the room and sure enough, looks of surprise and slight concern were etched across many of the faces. Derek had the audacity to actually look amused, however.
“No, bubs, nothing bad,” he reassured, “but… that’s, that’s a big responsibility. It means you help Leo with his wolf. It’s… it’s like how you make the raccoons calm so they can play on the porch, yea? If you get too distracted they get scared, remember. Anchors are important that way, they help keep people calm and you have to be a good anchor otherwise they may get scared like the raccoons.”
Stiles was stumbling over his words. He was not the one to explain this. He was not a werewolf and his knowledge was limited to books and he was trying to explain it in a way a child would understand it while simultaneously not offending anyone in the room (and okay, maybe using the raccoons was a bad choice but they were the most skittish and scared the easiest!).
Reese got a serious look on her face and nodded in understanding. “It’s important because it’s his balance, right?” she asked, Stiles nodded. “Like Leo being my guide is important and can help me but can also be dangerous, because it’s about balance, right?”
Stiles paled. He stared at his daughter for a minute before slumping back into the couch, hand coming up to cover his eyes as he groaned.
“Please tell me Leo isn’t your guide, Reese.” Silence.
“You told me lying is bad, Papa,” she replied in a small voice. Stiles heard a laugh turned cough to his right and he immediately threw a glare at Derek. Next, he turned towards Laura, who was looking at him with wide eyes and an apprehensive expression. He gave her a cheerful smile in return, his anxiety surely seeping out in all ways possible and ruining any possible facade of cheer he was portraying.
“So my daughter…” Stiles began.
“Is my son’s anchor,” Laura finished, “And my son is-”
“My daughter’s guide,” Stiles finished for her, miserably. “It doesn’t look like we’ll be spending much time apart unless we plan to deal with the next world war.”
Reese giggled and Laura rubbed a hand down her face. “What… what’s a guide? Is it the same as an anchor?” she asked apprehensively, and Stiles laughed, slumping further into the couch.
“You wish,” he muttered. “Anchors, from what I’ve read and come to understand, center you. They bring out your humanity and also strengthen your wolf,” Laura nodded an affirmative, “Guides, however…”
“Guide lead us!” Reese announced loudly, a proud grin on her face at being able to add to the conversation. “Guides were mostly familiars but Papa says they can be anyone and even anything! They guide our magic and lead us on how to use it. Good guides make sure your magic is good and helps, bad guides make your magic bad and can hurt people. Guides are promises and can only be changed if the-”
Stiles wrapped a hand around her mouth, giving her a stern look as he continued. “Guides are our indicators. They don’t control us, but they center our motivations, they’re the focus of our magic and the source of our intentions. While anchors can change over time and it’s normal for them to change especially for kids, guides… don’t. It’s possible to have more than one, but guides usually aren’t developed or found until much later in life. They can be removed but not… naturally,” Stiles finished, attempting to skip over the more gruesome details.
Nonetheless, Laura looked dutifully horrified. Stiles understood her pain.
“Don’t worry, Momma,” Leo suddenly piped up from the side of the couch, “I promise to be a good guide! I’ll help Reese’s magic to be helpful, pinky promise!”
Laura, without much else to do, wrapped her pinky around her son’s. Her smile was tired but neither of the children seemed to notice, promptly disappearing and forgetting the initial question that started this all. The room remained quiet for a minute, everyone apparently mulling over the new information.
“Did your children just soul bond or something?”
The question came from a girl who looked similar to Laura but whose hair was lighter, her build broader and stronger compared to Laura’s narrow and lean one. Stiles was willing to bet sister, otherwise a freakishly similar-looking cousin.
Laura growled at her possibly-sister while Stiles just nodded, groaning.
+.+.+
After that point, Stiles was blessed with the presence of Hales on a near-daily basis. He no longer had to worry about having to juggle schedules to pick up Reese every day from school - which was a major benefit of the new Hale additions - because one of Leo’s family members was happy to grab her too if he was busy. Stiles also found himself picking up Leo most days he was free to get Reese, despite the Hales having a seemingly flexible schedule between them all. It was ultimately due to the fact that Leo and Reese wanted to milk their time together and no one was about to try and stop that again.
Stiles and Reese went over to dinner at the Hale’s almost every week without fail, and almost every weekend Reese and Leo were taking turns in weaseling their way to each other’s houses. More often than not, Leo ended up at the Stilinski household, Derek almost always in tow as his designated chauffeur.
When the question of sleepovers came up (again), Stiles quickly settled the argument by explaining that sleepovers were only for family and even though they were close with each other’s families, they weren’t all actually family. It just didn’t work that way, he explained matter of factly.
It was a flimsy excuse, but it seemed to stump the mischievous duo, for the time being, and questions of sleepovers since halted. That is, until they came to a sudden realization.
Stiles was sitting on the couch with Derek, having long since gotten used to the other man’s presence in his house when Leo was over. Often, Derek brought Leo over and he and Leo stayed for a few hours, and then they’d take off back to their own homes. Apparently, Derek worked early mornings and Laura worked later into the evenings, leaving Derek a prime suspect to childcare for her in particular (although he was also the one who more often than not picked all the kids up when no one else could - Stiles would feel bad if it wasn’t so funny to watch Derek drive Laura’s minivan when he dropped Reese off).
While the two sat on the couch, they held a steady conversation, pausing to cast looks at the TV and keep an eye on the game as they took sips of the beers in their hands. It was more often than not baseball on the TV, but Stiles indulged Derek’s love of basketball and put it on when there weren’t any new games on for baseball.
The relative peace was suddenly shattered as two overly innocent seeming children sat on the coffee table in front of them, pleased smiles on their faces.
“What did you little monsters do this time?” Stiles asked warily, moving to the edge of the couch. He was nervous about the response but wanted to ultimately get it over with. He was willing to bet his child instigated it, after all.
“So sleepovers are only allowed with family,” Reese began nonchalantly as if confirming. Stiles nodded slowly, squinting at her.
“No, I am not adopting Leo, and no, Laura cannot adopt you. You’re both stuck with the families you got,” he answered, but Reese giggled and shook her head. Leo grinned widely, turning to look at his uncle with gleaming eyes.
“When Uncle Peter married Aunt Marissa, she became family, right Uncle Derek?” he asked sweetly, earning a slow nod from the man in question.
“So that’s it then!” Reese squealed, grinning at them a bit too widely.
“So what’s it?” Stiles asked, scrunching his brow and looking at his child with an apprehensive look. This couldn’t be good.
“You and Uncle Derek can get married and then we’ll be family! Then we can all have sleepovers whenever we want because you’ll be family once you marry Uncle Derek and if you’re family then so is Reese!” Leo supplied. Derek promptly choked - on nothing - and stared at his nephew with wide eyes. His ears began to turn a bit red as he stuttered on the beginning syllables of a word, an attempt at a response.
Stiles was equally dumbfounded, frozen to the spot. He’d be laughing at Derek’s reaction and his brightly colored face if he wasn’t sporting his own blush and unable to find his voice.
“Lee, that’s… not how that works,” Derek hedged, glancing at Stiles and then giving a pointed glare to his nephew. It had no effect, as Leo simply rolled his eyes in response, seemingly exasperated by Derek’s inability to grasp the simple concept of marrying Stiles so he and Reese could have sleepovers.
“Yea it is! You can get married! Momma married Daddy, grandma married grandpa, Uncle Peter married Aunt Mari-” Derek cut him off with a noise of protest.
“No, Lee, I meant… you marry someone because you love them. A special love, like your mom and dad or grandma and grandpa. You can’t just marry someone for-”
“Sleepovers,” Stiles finally spoke up, shaking his head slightly. Derek nodded in agreement.
Groaning, Leo narrowed his eyes at Derek as if in a challenge. “Momma said she loves Daddy because he’s funny. Stiles makes you laugh all the time!”
“And Grandpa said he loved Grandma because she was really smart. Derek knows about all the books you always talk about!” Reese added in.
“Uncle Peter says Aunt Marissa is the prettiest woman he’s ever seen, and you told Momma you thought Stiles was pretty! You said he had pretty eyes and that you like his m-mu-moe… his moles!” Leo continued, much to Derek’s horror.
“Uncle Scott loves Aunt Allison and he talks about her ALL the time, just like you talk about Derek ALL the time! You even told Uncle Scott that-” Stiles slapped a hand over his daughter’s mouth, mortified for what would come out next. He was not ready to know what she overheard or what she thought she overhead, much less was he ready for Derek to know.
“Okay! Great examples, a lot of compelling evidence but, uh, well… you have to date before you get married! So we can’t get married because we haven’t dated, so no sleepovers, okay? Okay,” Stiles rushed out, looking for any kind of out to this slightly mortifying experience that was unraveling before him.
Leo got a thoughtful look on his face before he brightened and straightened up. “Uncle Derek can take you on a date! Daddy and Momma go on dates all the time, they drop me off at grandma’s or Uncle Derek’s. Reese can stay at grandma’s too and he can take you on a date, Stiles!”
Derek groaned, leaning forward to bury his face in his hands.
“Uncle Scott says you should go out, Papa, Derek can take you out! Last week Aunt Allison said you should get lai-” Stiles’ hand clamped back down on Reese’s mouth and she glared at him before moving her face away. “It’s just a nap, Papa, you can just lay in bed if you don’t want to sleep, that’s what you tell me,” she grumbled, and yep. Okay. That just made it worse. Stiles couldn’t help the pained noise that came out of his mouth.
Neither he nor Derek spoke up, and both children took it as a triumph. After a couple of minutes, Reese turned to Leo. “They can totally get married!” she said, before jumping off the coffee table and pulling Leo with her, already chattering about their next sleepover and what movies they’d watch, and how Stiles could make them grilled cheeses again. Leo was agreeing happily to all the suggestions, simply content with the idea of there being another sleepover in their future.
Stiles sat staring straight ahead, unwilling to turn and face Derek. He wasn’t sure who was more mortified and he didn’t want to see the look on the other man’s face. Maybe they could play this off, the old ‘haha… kids!’ excuse, maybe they could just ignore the whole thing and pretend it never happened, maybe they could just focus on the game, maybe if Stiles drank the beer in his hand really fast he could-
“I wouldn’t be opposed to it,” Derek suddenly spoke up, surprisingly breaking the silence. Stiles froze up again, then slowly turned to look at Derek. “Going on a date. With you. If… if you wanted to… go out. With me,” he clarified, stumbling on the words, his eyes unable to meet Stiles’ own.
“Are… did you just ask me out?” Stiles asked, bewildered. Derek’s ears turned impossibly redder and he gave a stiff nod. Stiles simply stared before breaking out into a laugh. Derek looked at him, a bit annoyed, but Stiles waved away the expression, gasping on a bout of laughter.
“No, no. I’m- I’m not laughing at you, I just… I’m laughing at us,” Stiles explained, prompting Derek to grumble in response.
“Because that’s so much better,” he huffed.
“No! Not- okay, first,” Stiles said, huffing out his last laugh before shifting to face Derek fully, holding up a single finger, “first, I would love to go out with you. Second, I’m laughing at us because how did me accidentally kidnapping your nephew and you passively threatening to kill me turn into… this!” Stiles emphasized the ‘this’ with a bit of a wild hand gesture, encompassing the whole room. The whole situation.
Derek cocked his head, finally looking at Stiles head-on, before a grin broke out across his own face slowly and he began to laugh. Stiles easily joined in once more, the two of them laughing and leaning into one another as they doubled over.
After laughing perhaps a bit too long, Derek straightened up, leaning a bit more closely into Stiles. Stiles sobered up from his laughter, looking at the man next to him as his breath hitched at the newfound proximity.
“At least we know there’ll never be a dull moment between us,” Derek mumbled, quirking a smile. Stiles gave a grin in response, leaning further in himself.
“Yea, I guess you could say that,” he murmured in response.
Derek raised a hand to Stiles’ jaw, pulling him in the last couple of inches. Stiles let one hand slide up to grip Derek’s waist, balancing his weight against the other as he pushed forward to kiss him. Derek replied in kind, holding Stiles’ jaw firmly and maneuvering them into a deeper kiss after the initial soft press of lips.
If there was any possibility of it going further or anything else happening, it was interrupted by giggling from the staircase, causing the two to pull back ever so slightly just in time to hear the excited whispers.
“They’re totally getting married!”
“We’re gonna have sleepovers all the time!”
#derek hale/stiles stilinski#derek hale#stiles stilinski#sterek#teen wolf#teen wolf fic#teen wolf fanfiction#ao3#ao3fic
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Against All Odds
Part 183
McCoy
Leah was waiting when they pulled up in front of the palace.
“I’m glad to see you,” Leah said as she hugged her brother. “I need to talk to you later,” she whispered in his ear.
“And Spock! I’ve missed you so much!”
Spock raised an eyebrow at Leah. “I’m sure you haven’t,” he replied.
“Oh,” Leah said as Jim got out. “Who’s this?”
Jim grinned. “Jim Kirk your highness. A pleasure to meet you.”
“Hello Jim Kirk,” Leah grinned back.
McCoy suddenly doubted if they should have brought Jim home. The grins on the pairs faces matched and McCoy knew that meant trouble.
“Hello Father, the trip was easy?” Leah asked, taking her father’s arm as they began to walk.
“Of course sweetheart,” David answered.
“Hi Sarek,” Leah called back over her shoulder.
“Come on Jim,” McCoy said, following his father and sister.
“But our stuff…”
“It’ll be in your room before we finish saying hellos,” McCoy replied. “There’s still Mother and Amanda to greet.”
Inside the great hall the two women were waiting. McCoy and Spock were smothered in hugs and kisses. Eleanor trailed her hand on McCoy’s face.
“I’m so glad you’re home,” she said. “But we’ve heard such good things about you from school.
“And Jim,” Eleanor said as she turned to him, “it’s so nice to meet you again. I hope you’ll feel welcome here. If there’s anything you need, please just ask.”
Jim nodded slowly. McCoy had to hide a laugh. He’d never seen Jim at a loss for words before.
“We put Jim in the suite just down from you Spock,” Amanda said. “You’ll show him where? I’m sure you boys would like a bit of a rest before dinner.”
“Yes Mother,” Spock said.
Eleanor couldn’t resist one more hug to McCoy.
“We’ll see you at dinner,” she said when she let him go.
McCoy entered his own room and sighed happily. His trunk was in the corner waiting for him to unpack. It felt good to be home, where he was known and wouldn’t have to deal with special treatment from people who didn’t know him.
He flopped back on his bed and let the familiar scents drift around him. He pushed his shoes off. The last time he’d been in this room was the morning he’d left for the school. He had left breakfast in a huff and had wanted to be alone in his misery.
Now his misery was different. His chest ached with missing Scotty. They were so far apart, not just down a hallway. His fingers brushed over the ring again. The time would pass and two weeks would be up and they’d have the rest of the summer.
A knock made him raise his head from the bed.
“Come in,” he called.
Leah entered and closed the door securely behind herself.
“I’m glad you’re home,” she said absently as she sat down next to him.
McCoy sat up and looked more closely at his sister. Something was off, but he didn’t know what.
“Is something… is something wrong?” he asked gently.
It had been a week or two since he had last spoken to Leah. What could have happened?
“I…” Leah let out a sigh. “I think they found me someone.”
“What?” McCoy exclaimed, jumping up from the bed. “Who?”
“I don’t know,” Leah shook her head.
“How do you know?” McCoy sat back down next to his sister.
“I’ve overheard Mother and Amanda… they were talking about an engagement and stopped talking when I came in the room. What else could it have been? Why did they change subjects when I entered?”
McCoy saw the shine beginning in Leah’s eyes.
“I thought… I thought I was fine with it. I’ve always known it would be arranged… but…”
The first tear fell from Leah’s eyes. McCoy reached over and hugged her.
“Robbie?” McCoy asked gently.
Leah nodded against his shoulder.
Part 184
Scotty
They ate dinner together, talked about school and exams. Scotty finally found his smile again as he told his mother and grandfather about how he had finally learned to swim. Leonard had taught him so well... and, even though it was hard for him to admit it, Archer had played a big part in it too.
After dinner they watched a movie together. It was a funny one. One that Scotty loved very much. He knew why his brother had chosen it. Robbie wanted to cheer him up. It had always been like that. Since they were children, he always had tried to be the funny little brother. He couldn't stand his brother being sad.
When Scotty looked around and watched every single member of his family closely, it really warmed his heart. He loved his mother for being understanding, his brother for trying to raise the spirits, his grandfather for just listening. They didn't have much. No big wealth, no big house, no big car. But they had each other. And that was enough for him. It had always been enough.
Maybe people would think that he was only after Leonard, because he was a prince. Maybe they would think that he wanted to climb up the social ladder. But they knew nothing.
Scotty had always been happy with what he had. And it wasn't wealth or money which made him happy. It were feelings, little gestures, small smiles and touches. It was the feeling of knowing someone was there for him, no matter what to come. It was the feeling of warmth.
And Leonard gave all that to him. He was there. He loved Scotty for who he was. He made him laugh. He made him feel comfortable.
And Scotty loved him for the person he was. He loved Leonard's smile. His courage, his strong-willed nature. He loved Leonard's eyes and the way he held him close to his chest.
"I'll be up in my room. Thanks for the evening," he eventually said and got up.
He wanted to call Leonard. He wanted to see him. And tell him everything. He highly doubted that Leonard would ever think he was after his money, but still... he needed to tell him.
"Night Monty," his mother waved her hand and he gave her a kiss to the cheek.
"Good night mum."
He said his goodnight to Robbie and his grandfather, before he moved up to his room where he got out his PADD and fell onto the bed.
He really hoped that Leonard was still awake. After all, they were two hours apart. Maybe Leonard was already sleeping...
"Hello?"
Scotty's heart jumped at the beautiful sight suddenly in front of him. Leonard looked like he had been asleep, but he was smiling.
"Oh, I'm sorry mo gràdh, did I wake ye?"
Leonard shook his head, though he was yawning.
"Nah, I... I was just about to go to sleep."
Scotty blushed. He felt sorry for calling at that time of day.
"Oh uhm... I can call tomorrow morning if that's better."
Leonard just chuckled.
"No, it's fine. It's fine. It's good to see you."
A smile formed on Scotty's face.
"Aye, ye too. So... got home safe and sound?"
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For the Prinxiety Week, how about 2(Swap), 10(“(character c) is going to kill me.”), and g(Mistaken identity)? Don’t rlly have an AU in mind so u can pick one!!
Ok I am not as happy with this one as with the rest. But they can't all be winners. Hope you enjoy.
Finally Roman was off the plane. It hadn’t been a pleasant flight. But there was no flight hellish enough to put him in a bad mood if it meant seeing his bibi and baba.
Roman's family was an interesting mix. He himself was Hispanic that much he had always known. When he was a baby he was adopted by his mom, a wondrous woman and the well-respected ambassador of Angola. And her partner, a French non binary badass. His parents were awesome and shared their culture with him while trying to help him understand his own. His paperwork prior to being adopted was nearly nonexistent though. So when he turned twelve they let him do an ancestry test. Learning that he was Mestizo was actually pretty cool.
He'd done research and stuff of course. He was raised speaking French, Bantu and English and had started learning Spanish from age 10. He had been excited to learn the native tongue of his people.
He hadn’t had the courage to try and reach out to his blood family yet though. He wanted to. Of course he did…
Anyway. He was now on vacay to visit his grandparents on his mom’s side. They’d come to live in the states shortly after his mom got positioned here. It was going to be awesome. A little break before his big break.
Roman was an actor and finally got a starring role in a big production. It'd been hard work but also super exciting. Two weeks from now he'd be going down the red carpet for the premier and after that… well the sky was the limit really.
He didn’t have his luggage with him. Again it’s been a bit of a mess getting here. His stuff should arive with the next flight though.
Roman adjusted his facemask and his hat as he looked around for familiar faces in the crowd.
He was pretty sure Daniels, head of security for his grandparents, was supposed to meet him here…
Suddenly someone he’d never seen before approached him and handed him a thick envelope.
“Take this to V at exit 3B. Don’t open it. Hand it to him sealed,” the mysterious individual instructed briskly before leaving.
Clearly he had the wrong guy. But Roman didn’t get the chance to alert him of that.
Roman looked at the envelope. It was sealed and it seemed pretty important that this V person got it. He wasn’t supposed to go anywhere without an escort. Son of an ambassador had it’s downsides.
And if he made it as an actor that part of his life wouldn’t get any easier.
Roman was not known for his impulse control though. And with his curiosity piqued and figuring this might be something time sensitive, he made his way to exit 3B.
V combined with he/him pronouns, might not be much of a hint as to who he was supposed to be looking for, but when he got there his eyes found someone staring at his watch and looking around impatiently. When the man spotted him he perked up. That might be the guy.
And man, was he kind of happy that the other dude had mistaken him for someone else. This ‘V’ person was really handsome. And it only got better as Roman approached and got a better look at him.
He had style too. Dark ripped jeans, paired with a white jack Skellington t-shirt and a dark jeans jacket. He had an undercut, purple bangs, a piercing through his lip and one through his right brow, and light eyes, though Roman couldn’t tell what color exactly due to the distance.
He knew that the dude was probably in a hurry. But maybe he could manage to be charming and slip him his card so they could meet up for coffee or something while they were both in the area. He was a romantic at heart and an encounter like this had to be fate at work. At least in his opinion.
Before he could properly greet the handsome stranger though, finaly close enough to see his steel grey eyes properly, he was grabbed by the arm and lead towards the parking lot. “Thank God you’re safe,” the man muttered. What?
“We’ll be at the safe house in an hour. Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he rushed out as he glanced around. Roman had seen this sort of behavior before. There was a threat. Had he been mistaken? Did the man intend to give him the envelope? Was this V a new member of staff? Had something happened while he was in the air? Was his family okay?
His throat closed off as the different possibilities ran through his head. One thing was clear to him though. ‘V’ was not a threat to him. Though he looked ready to deck anyone who made the wrong move.
He was led to a car and made to sit in the passengers seat. That was unusual. Normally he’d be made to sit in the back no matter what.
He didn’t protest though, his mind still processing this worrying turn of events.
“Okay, I’ll need you to be quiet for a bit while I get us there okay? I need to focus,” the man spoke in his low gravely voice.
If Roman hadn’t been so worried, he’d probably be swooning over it.
He made himself take deep breaths. Maybe it was nothing too bad. Maybe there was just a threatening letter and they were being overly cautious. It wouldn’t be the first time. Especially if this was a new hire. And he had to be fairly new for Roman not to recognize him.
Yeah. He would’ve said something if something had happened already.
The drive was quiet. Only interrupted by V muttering that things were alright, that he’d be safe. Roman appreciated it, honestly. He’d prefer more information than that though.
Finally they arrived. V parked the car inside the garage of an isolated two story house.
It looked fairly modest, but that didn’t really matter. All that mattered was that Roman could get information now.
He took of his mask and handed V the envelope. “Tell me what happened. Are my parents okay? And my grandparents, are they unharmed?” he asked urgently.
V’s eyes widened, but no sound left his mouth.
“Please, just, just tell me why I need to go on lockdown,” Roman pleaded.
“You’re not Remus,” was his only answer.
“Wha… Who is Remus?” Roman asked.
“My foster brother and the one I was supposed to meet at the airport. You look identical but… You’re not him,” Virgil whispered, almost more to himself than to Roman.
“… So… Nothing bad happened to my family?” Roman concluded.
“No. Not that I know off anyway. God damn it! Lo is going to kill me… And no one is going to find the body.” V stepped out of the car and started pacing.
Okay, he looked like he was about to freak out.
Roman got out and walked over to V and stopped him in his tracks. “Hey, um. I’m sorry about your brother. But, it’s okay you know? I’ll call Daniels, my grandparents’ head of security, and tell him there was a mix up and I’ll probably get an earful and then we can meet somewhere and switch back,” he explained. V frowned.
“You have a security detail?” he asked.
Roman nodded. “My mother is ambassador of Angola. Comes with the territory,” he explained.
“Hm…” V sank into deep thought.
“Um, so. The dude who gave me that envelope called you V. Are there any more letters to that name or…?” he pressed carefully.
V looked up with a quirked brow.
Roman shrugged with a coy smile. “Least you can do after kidnapping me and making me think someone was trying to harm my family is give me a name.”
That got him a single chuckle. “Agent Storm. I’m FBI,” he told him as he opened the file and read through it.
“Okay, agent Very stormy knight. Can I ask why you were bringing your brother to a safe house?” Roman asked, genuinely curious.
“Very stormy knight…? Whatever Princey.” Roman smiled at the nickname. He liked it. “Let’s just say I need to keep him safe for one week from someone who can’t take a hint,” Virgil muttered as he frowned at the papers in his hands, his eyes shooting to Roman and back.
“It’s not high priority so I got limited support and had to pull a lot of strings to get this much, it helped that Logan…” He shook his head and looked up at Roman.
“Listen. I’ve got a favor to ask… Can he borrow your security detail for a week? I’m pretty confident I can keep you safe here. If we get found though, he won’t waste time on you. I’ll make sure of that. He won’t harm you and risk getting a bigger spotlight on him either. You’re a big shot right?”
Roman frowned, a prince and the pauper switch? “Well… I guess. Something happening to me would be an international incident… heh, I think that case would be under your jurisdiction,” Roman chuckled awkwardly. “Wouldn’t you get in trouble though? I could just tell my family the situation and they’ll keep this Remus guy safe,” he pointed out.
Virgil nodded biting his lip. “Yeah, yeah you are right I guess…” he wasn’t too excited about it though.
“But I guess having the bad guy wasting his time trying to find this safe house would have its advantages…” Roman allowed. “Can I call with my family though. I doubt your brother would fool them for too long, and I don’t want them to panic.
Unless he can communicate with my grandparents in flawless Bantu. They speak English but they will mix it up.”
Virgil nodded. “Yeah, I didn’t intend to mislead them. Just our bad guy. Moving you risks someone spotting me… I just hope your team gets it… wait a minute. You’re down for this? Just like that? No asking for ID, nothing?” V wondered, baffled.
Roman nodded. “Of course. I would be a massive jerk if I ignored someone in distress while I can help. And from how you acted, your brother needs help. I wouldn’t be able to tell if any badge you got for me was fake anyway and your behavior up till now has been on the mother hen side of things.”
Storm didn’t appreciate that last remark but he didn’t deny it.
“I see why you need a security detail now.” Roman let out a dramatic gasp, making V chuckle.
“Guess that confirms it though.”
Roman cocked his head curiously. The agent wordlessly handed him the file. He took it and looked at the papers.
There was a picture of him with some stuff about him anyone could find out. Like his birthday, or at least what they thought his birthday was. He tended to celebrate the day he was adopted instead. The names and occupations of his parents, his home address, dumb stuff like that. There was also a page with a lot of numbers on it. The words DNA and alleles jumped out at him.
“Long story short, Remus got fake arrested to get him away from the target. If all goes well he wont even find out Remus left the state for a good while. Anyway, Remus' DNA was supposed to trigger the FBI system and give the cops instructions that would put the whole operation in motion. All strict need to know basis. But while it did what it was supposed to do it also gave another ding. You, apparently, are in the system. Some high profile families do that in case it is ever needed to help find you or whatever… point is… Remus' DNA was a perfect match for you. The only way that can happen is…”
“If we are twins…” Roman realized breathlessly. His mind was racing. “I have a brother…” he muttered.
“Don’t get too excited Remus can be a hand full,” V pointed out, indicating their current situation.
Roman shrugged. “He must have his charm too. You are sticking your neck out for him after all,” Roman reasoned. V chuckled. “Guess you got me there.”
Feeling emboldened by now multiple successful attempts at making him laugh Roman made a bow. “It seems we'll be roommates for the coming week. I am Roman Caballero-Belerose. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Agent storm rolled his eyes but looked amused. “Fine. Agent Virgil Storm. Let’s get inside so we can call your team… I’ll be doing the talking though.” Roman nodded and gestured for Virgil to lead the way. The phone call was brief and heavily coded. But it sounded like there were no objections to the plan. Though Daniels didn’t sound very happy. He was definitely going to get an ear full.
“I hope Remus will be ok,” Virgil muttered after they hung up.
“I wouldn’t worry. Worst that van happen to him there is my grandma's cooking being too spicy.,” Roman told him as he looked around in the living room. It was a small room. There was a couch and a TV and a movie collection. Upon inspection he saw to his delight that most were Disney movies. Though there were a good number of horror and thrillers in the mix as well.
Still, he was glad he’d have something fun to watch.
“Hey… I’m sorry about all this. I’m sure you had plans with your grandparents that were much more fun than anything that I can offer here,” Virgil said, sounding genuinely regretful.
“It is no matter. He’s my brother too. And even if he wasn’t, I wouldn’t be deserving of the title of Prince, as you so generously called me, if I ignored your troubles,” Roman pointed out, though part of him did wish he was currently hugging his family and being ushered to a warm meal and his familiar room.
Still he had no doubt that this was the right thing to do. Though, if Virgil felt bad about this situation, he could always let him make it up to him.
“Though… If you want to compensate me for my trouble, I have an idea,” he smiles as he looks up at Virgil.
The agent in question looks at him cautiously. “State your terms…” he said carefully.
Roman chuckled, though he was getting nervous. “I have an event to attend in two weeks. All I ask is that you attend it with me. I’ll probably drag Remus along as well if its safe. But if you show up I’ll consider us even,” he pointed out.
“… That doesn’t sound too bad… What kind of an event?” Virgil asked.
“Movie premier,” Roman shrugged, wanting to wait a bit before he revealed that he had a decent role in that movie.
“That sounds like I’m getting a way better end of the bargain. What’s the catch?” Virgil asked.
Roman shrugged. “People might assume we are dating I suppose,” he admitted. Though he secretly hoped that they wouldn’t be far off in those assumptions.
Virgil was handsome, clearly caring and brave. He was a bit rough around the edges, but Roman didn’t think that was off putting.
“… Well… you could also tell me a bit about Remus. I’d like to learn about my brother. Does that sound fair?”
Virgil sighed but nodded. “Sure. I can tell you about that trashman,” he allowed.
“Let’s get dinner started first. It’s not going to be fancy. Just microwave stuff,” he warns.
“I’ll live,” Roman assured him.
And he did. Over the next few days Virgil told him about the force of nature that was his twin brother. The pranks he’d pull, his disregard for safety of any kind, his all or nothing attitude and his eagerness for violence.
On the whole, he sounded pretty fun to have around. Though, Roman must agree, an annoying thorn in the side at times.
Roman learned that the Disney movies were mostly there to help Virgil calm down after a horror movie binge. He liked them fine, but he needed something a bit less intense to cool down after.
And he was a massive Disney nerd too. They debated the mouse company for a whole day.
On day 4 things shifted between them. It was late and Roman was homesick. Virgil picked up on it and tossed a wad of paper to him.
“Hey!” he’d complained.
“Follow me. I’m going to show you what Rem and I did when one of us felt low,” he told him as he showed him a bag of chips and headed for the stairs.
He kept climbing until he reached the bedroom Roman had been using and climbed out the window. Roman followed him out the window and let him help him onto the roof.
“Can’t believe we did this all the time. This crap is seriously dangerous,” Virgil muttered under his breath.
“We can go…”
“Shut up and lay down Princey,” Virgil snapped.
Roman quickly followed his orders and found himself gazing up at the stars.
He heard the bag being opened. “We’d climb the roof of our foster home and just lay there eating snacks until we felt like talking,” he told him.
Roman couldn’t help a little smile as he took a few chips.
“I… It’s just a bit of homesickness. I’ll be okay. Just three more days right?” he asked.
Virgil nodded. “Yeah. Lo said he’d need a week to make sure that dude goes to jail for ages.”
“Hmmm… This Logan person. Is he your boss or something? You said he’d be upset with you over the mix up. Is he leading the mission?” Roman wondered. That didn’t seem right.
“No… I lead. Logan… He and I met in high school. He helped me get to where I am. He… He liked me well enough. But I think he liked Remus best if you know what I mean. He was pretty upset when Remus chose to run away with his no good boyfriend after graduation… I hadn’t seen Rem since that day. We had a fight about it because I was becoming a goodie two shoes and no fun. I had a bad feeling about his boyfriend and stuff. It got bad. I’m just glad I told him to call me if he needed help. That I’d keep the I told you so for after he was okay again. A month ago, he called…”
Virgil trailed off. Clearly this was a rough topic.
“Why do you call me Princey?” Roman wondered, changing the topic.
“Cause you talked fancy and you had a little crown on your cap,” Virgil shrugged.
Roman blushed. “Right…”
“Can I ask? Why didn’t you try to look for your blood family before?” Ah, well that was a fair question Roman supposed. “I… It sounds silly. But I thought… They didn’t want me, or us, I should say… They didn’t want us when we were babies. I just, didn’t want them to reject me a second time or something. So I wanted to give them a reason to want to know me… God that sounds terrible when I say it out loud,” he muttered. It really did.
“Hey no. I get that… I mean. Foster kid. Rem and I were lucky enough to spend a good 8 years in one home, but… You know. We both had our fair share of false alarms so to speak. So I get not wanting to be rejected. You are super valid. But honestly? If they don’t want you as you are, they are missing out,” Virgil assures him passionately.
Roman glanced at him. “Well, all those supposed parents who didn’t take you in sure missed out too. You are a great guy,” Roman assured him. “And when this is all over, you’ll come stay with my family for a bit. After all you did for Remus, I’m sure I speak for all of us when I say that they’ll want you to stick around. And you’ll like it I promise,” Roman said before going off in a long rant of what it would be like when they went back to the civilized world.
Virgil just listened to him and smirked the whole time. When it got too chilly outside they headed to Roman’s temporary room where they kept talking about silly and less silly things.
Eventually settling in next to one another, and after that, falling asleep like that.
Things were going to be alright. And then, it’d be Roman’s turn to show Virgil what his life was like.
@moonlightshow00 @naturallyunstablegamer @m-i-r-p @meowthefluffy @frida0043 @angelic-cali @selenechris @theblackveilinreverse @prinxiety-week-2022
#sanders sides#ts sides#virgil sanders#roman sanders#prinxiety#remus sanders#logan sanders#tw food mention#foster system#long post
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˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ @everyoneismytoy wanted a starter for the Valentine’s from Chucky!Felix
Having someone that reminded her a lot of Chucky back into the life of the Valentine’s was strange but at the end of the day she had to learn to forgive the father of her children soon enough. As much as Tiffany wasn’t the type of person to forgive and forget everything that happened in the past and learned to hold grudges against people - for the sake of Glenda and Glen there was a slight forgiveness thrown the man’s way.
But she knew he should consider himself lucky that at first she didn’t hesitate to try and kill him like he did when it came to their lives as dolls, but what sort of example would she be setting her children if she murdered her father almost in front of them? Tiffany wasn’t bothered about how Glenda would react since she was known around town to be the more scarier twin and someone who shouldn’t be fucked with when it came to stuff that involved her or her family but Glenn was a whole different story - the main difference that people could spot out between the twins was that, Glen was the more calming one out of two except for the fact that he was the one to look out for.
Even when it was back in their last lives where they were all dolls, at the end of the day - it was Glen who she thought killed Chucky but clearly, the ruler of hell had other plans for her ex-husband to always come back as if this was a game that she was one of the main characters in. Glen might look like he wants to hug you and not act the way that Glenda does most days but it doesn’t mean that you’re not on his kill list whenever he’s been pushed way past his limits to not think about what he’s doing next.
Tiffany was driving for once in her life since the former Jennifer Tilly was used to having someone else drive for her when it wasn’t something that Tiff could see herself doing with managing two kids on her own as well as working and trying to look for a chaperone; it was too much hassle when she could just learn how to drive herself.
So, one afternoon, she gathered her ex-husband since she wanted to try and at least clean this tension between both of them even if Tiff wanted to rip his head off as soon as he opened his mouth about her - but in her mind, she knew that it wasn’t right to keep the father of her children hidden; she just wouldn’t tell Glen and Glenda the exact background of Chucky.
They had planned to take their children to an amusement park hoping to look like a proper family instead of the broken people they were deep inside because of certain actions determining how everyone else would be affected by that situation, what Tiffany was going to do to stop her from running her mouth was not talking to the other figure that was next to her for too long otherwise one wrong word and it wouldn’t end nice for anyone. It was a different life for the former doll but she enjoyed being human for once and raising her children the way that she dreamed of even if it was a fucked up paradise, it was the Valentine’s fucked up paradise - just without Glen and Glenda knowing what exactly happens in this paradise.
Her thinking process was interrupted when Glen was telling Glenda to stop hitting him simply because she got bored, that didn’t sit right with Glenda and they ended up fighting causing Tiffany to pull over the car and turn to the twins, hoping that they’d listen to her since most of the time, they do - but this time their father was involved and she didn’t want him to pipe in otherwise she’d end up jawing him.
“Right, what’s been going on between the two of you? Have you’s been getting bored? We’re almost at the amusement park and I don’t want you guys fighting over something stupid so could you please apologise to one another and become friends again?”
Glen was prepared to make up with Glenda but the girl was about as stubborn as anything whenever she got told to apologise to her brother for something that was blown out of proportion in her eyes - that was, it was difficult managing two children especially on her own but when it came to the question on what she liked most about being a mother, Tiffany would answer with everything except for the little fall outs they’d have and the interrupted sleeping patterns.
“Mom! Glenda’s not apologising to me, she’s just sat there with her arms folded while I’m trying to make up” here we go, starting with the constant nagging that she would get from one of her children really got on her nerves but she still had to resolve this childish issue that was happening in the car. “Glenda sweetie, please apologise to your brother otherwise you won’t be able to go on the rides if you’re being a naughty girl” of course that wasn’t true but what could one lie do?
“Fine..” was all that Glenda responded with before pulling in her brother for a hug and calling it a day with her stubborn attitude, once that was resolved - Tiff started the car up again and they were on their way again, hoping not to get anymore interruptions that distracted her from her thinking process tow chin she had done to keep focus and block out anything that people were saying to her that wasn’t important or relevant at the time. She kept on flicking from the backseat to the front of the car to see if the twins had started again but everything was civil for now between them.
Once they arrived at the amusement park, Tiffany had to park up and wait for the right time to get the twins out since it was the type of day where this certain park was busy because of the weather and the time that they decided to come here. She waited for everyone to get out of the car so she could lock it making sure to leave no one behind accidentally anyway, but she grabbed ahold of Glenda’s and Glen’s hand before walking to the entrance of the amusement park.
“Right, when we get in there I want you guys to be on your best behaviours so we have enough time to go on as many rides as we can before this closes - okay?” Tiff said to the both of them which resulted in a head shake from Glen and Glenda, and she had hoped that this was something that they promised to do for the entire day otherwise she’d drive them home.
But first, she needed to get the tickets so they could actually be able to go in the rides before anything else happened that could potentially stop the family from doing their day out which could lead to Glenda having a massive hissy fit over not going to the amusement park since she was very much like that - a mixture of stubbornness with a hint of childish mixed in with it.
When she first possessed Jennifer Tilly’s body, everyone would know that it was the famous actress who went to the stores to get things for her children when that’s not who she wanted to be referred as by people anymore since Tiffany was a completely different person from the actress so, hoping not to cause too much upset with people; Tiff decided to change her looks so she looked more like her doll version without anyone else noticing that she came from a doll basically.
Holding her children’s hands, Tiffany approached the ticket stand with Chucky or Felix or whatever he was called and wanted to know how much the tickets costed so that she could get a right estimate on how much of the pocket money that Glen and Glenda had saved up throughout the years to go into arcades and buy things like cotton candy or donuts if they got really hungry and it wasn’t time for them to eat yet. “Hello, I’d like to get some tickets for the four of us; so could I have two adult tickets and two children tickets for our two children please?”
It was weird saying our children when it came to Chucky, Felix whoever he was since the last time they spoke - the two weren’t together before getting herself killed over arguing about getting her ex-husband to stop killing for the sake of their child with also finding out that Jennifer Tilly had given birth to twins and it surprisingly happened quickly compared what Tiffany thought would originally happen in her mind, but she had to say that they were their children instead of hers incase the person questioned her on who the guy was.
She was given the tickets and then had to pay to make sure that she wasn’t trying to get in for free - which is a thing that Tiff would try for sure, indicating for Glenda to go over to her father while Tiff was grabbing the wristbands as well as the tickets that she had payed for before getting ready to tell Glenda that she needed to wear a wristband otherwise she wouldn’t be able to get onto the ride, “thank you very much - have a good day” Tiffany said just in time for the family to walk away.
#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 // Tiffany Valentine#Glenda Valentine & Glen Valentine#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 // 𝓖𝓸𝓸𝓭𝓫𝔂𝓮 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 - 𝓣𝓲𝓯𝓯𝓪𝓷𝔂 • 𝓖𝓵𝓮𝓷 & 𝓖𝓵𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓪#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 // The Valentine’s + Chucky!Felix#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 // My ride or die and my everything - everyoneismytoy#𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪 // Don’t stop me now { queue }
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