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oh-for-fic-sake · 3 years

Text

Deliverance Chapter Three

Masterlist

Summary: That time has come to sort through the artefacts that have been sent to earth with you, and Clark finds he is less and less impressed with how krypton was governed.

Warnings: Suggestive themes, Fluff,Angst, A/B/O, Mating mentioned, Heats mentioned, Swearing

Wordcount: 14000+

A/N; so this chapter is mostly information and backstory. I rewrote kryptons history becuase... I wanted to? Yeah any way i hope you all enjoy even it it drags.

Taglist: in reblogs

The days that followed were strange, you had gotten used to earth and its strangeness. You were also spending as much time outside as you could, soaking up the sun rays and laying in the grass, sometimes walking through the fields. Martha even had you helping her with some flowerbeds 'weeding' humans were funny creatures. The white and pink flowers were acceptable but the little fluffy yellow ones and tiny blue ones were not? They were 'weeds' and had to be pulled from the ground. Martha had given you a strange look when you asked to keep them but got you a little trough all the same and helped you plant your weeds. They lived on your windowsill and you watered them every morning. Clark found it cute and even added some to it wanting to help.

You felt much better now and your breathing had settled. It was bliss residing with your alpha. You'd learned that he had a job as a reporter- a news writer. Those things weren't really mentioned at home which surprized you when you realised just how important they were and how much time it took up. And speaking of importance, you got your papers! Your official human documentation. A certificate of birth, because humans rewarded their young with paper on their birth you found it funny but your new family had been adamant you were given this reward for being birthed. You also got a number for social security recognition, a schooling achievement diploma? And a passport? So you could fly? Which didn't make much sense to you when you could do that anyway... Or would be able to once you were completely acclimatised to this planet. It had been Clark's friends- A bat who arranged it all, which was nice... If not odd you thought a bat was a winged mammal but perhaps there was a different bat hybrid you wasn't aware of. You were now unofficially, official in your human life.

When Clark was away you missed him, but didn't? Martha kept you busy, filling in the holes of your earthly education. You found her to be a sweet and funny woman, she was wholesome and kind. Never once shying away from you like you had expected. You lived with her for the moment a spare room in the farm house had been converted for you. For some reason she would not let you stay in the same room as your mate, she said it was a human thing. Not that, it stopped Clark from sneaking in at night and curling up in the bed with you soothing you and kissing you. He would always chuckle with you stating 'he wasn't human so its okay' whilst snuggling you sweetly scenting and murring at you until you fell asleep. You never felt safer then in the arms of your alpha, snuggling tight against him pressing kisses to his chest and rubbing your cheek on the curls that covered it, digging your nose into them and sniffing, breathing him in falling asleep.

Your bond was growing stronger and stronger as the days past, even if you only managed a few hours at night and in the morning with him. Clark had to explain some strange things, for some reason you were both to wear a ring? When humans found their mates they gave each other rings and wore them on the left ring fingers it meant they were mates? Married? Martha had been a little upset over it at first but Clark said it was best to do it this way, you could have your wedding later, for now he will wait. Martha had been persistent but in the end gave up, it was hard for her to face the reality that her son was not human and he was trying his best.

You were happier then you thought you'd be on a alien world, you'd acclimatised for the most part and found your own earthling way. Even if Martha and Clark found it strange you refused to eat anything brown or plain. Or meat.

The concept of eating animals was very disturbing for you. On krypton animals were not eaten, well not animals like on earth. Kryptonian's ate what earthlings would call insects, non sentient beings. But then again the insects here were... Tiny, surprizingly so. But Clark had taken it in his stride, if you didn't want to eat meat he wasn't going to force you... But he made you eat lots of what he called your 'leafy greens'... Which didn't make sense to you because many of the leafy greens should just be called greens because brocca-broccile- baby trees! Didn't have leaves neither did the little green balls! P's? You think he called them p's. Just when you began to loose hope for delicious sustenance he surprized you. Mangoes. You loved mangoes and grapes and apples! Fruit any fruit. Martha and your mate had taken you to a human grocery store and you'd been drawn to the fruit section.

You walked into the store clutching at Clark's arm terrified, it was the first time being out and mingling with other humans. Once inside you looked about seeing a few humans scattered about the isles and relaxed. A wave of smells hit your senses making you cough.

"Breath, breath through it love... That's it good girl, good omega. Now hold on to me or the cart and stay with ma and me" Clark said rubbing your back leading you behind Martha walking past some special buys. After a few short minuets you relaxed and released Clark looking watching as the other humans walked about some with children some teenagers and even a few alone. The children drew your attention. Boys. Real little boys. Flesh and blood male children in little hats and shorts- clothing with cartoon race cars on them. You froze looking in awe. Felt the stutter.

"love?" he asked feeling you halt and tense. He instantly looked up and was on alert every bone in his body itching to protect you. To destroy what had spooked his tiny mate. He looked around for the danger but there was none, just a mother and her sons further down the isle.

"Look... Boys, young boys" you uttered slowly looking to the children holding a brightly coloured packet up to what you presumed was his mother pleading for the packet. The woman smiled and nodded letting them throw the packet into the cart and they continued down the isle.

"Yes love. I forget you've never seen a young boy have you" he hummed wrapping his arms around you from behind kissing the top of your head. You melted into him and shook your head still watching as the humans rounded the corner at the end of the shop.

"what do you think?" Clark whispered sweetly, amused and struck by the way you'd reacted to such a simple sight. A mother and sons, he forgot you'd never seen a boy before. He had been the last one on krypton.

"They... He was beautiful." you uttered slowly blinking still registering the image of a real live breathing male child.

"Ours will be better~ perfectly formed kryptonians a whole swarm" he said making you feel light and carefree, the thought of a litter- a true litter of your own pups made you quiver in anticipation.

"You-you'll give me pups?" you said softly trembling from head to toe. Clark hadn't made any inclination to wanting pups or to take your bond any further then the sweet caresses and cuddles he'd been gifting you. You'd not once spoke of anything beyond getting you settled into human life. Clark grinned awkwardly and nodded, he wasn't used to children being called pups and such, he was still coming to terms with the? Miscommunication between worlds and terminology.

"I will try my hardest, sons and daughters" he chuckled squeezing you tightly and pressed a long kiss to your head nuzzling your hair watching as the family disappeared. His heart swelled. A family, a real family. Children of his own in your little belly, with out fear of them being too much for you to handle. He could relax knowing you could handle their tiny kicks and nudges. You could survive a pregnancy and birth him healthy full term children. He had so many niggling little fears over trying to create himself a family with a human. Humans were weak, fragile, but with you? With you he could be exactly what he was. A kryptonian. A god among men. It was refreshing having someone he could truly relax around.

"Promise?" Came the tiny voice, breathless and pleading, huge doe like eyes blinking at him hopefully glazed in tears. He could feel the tremors through your bond, like someone twanging an elastic band, the vibrations of relief and excitement reaching him, tugging and pulling. It was as if you had feared he wouldn't give you children. And finally he had confirmed it.

"I promise little omega, as soon as I'm able you will be round and heavy~" watching as your eye grew wide and you purred at him rubbing your cheek to his as he craned down to kiss you, then scented him under his jaw. With an adorable flush and melodious gasp you pulled back looking around worried someone would know you'd scented your alpha.

"shh remember humans don't understand, they don't know what you did sweet pea" he uttered trying to sooth you. You had explained that scenting was seen as very private. It was... Like mating- the prequel to meeting, scenting was strengthening your bond and extremely intimate. To be caught doing it out side? It was very frowned upon, on krypton you'd get less disapproval if he fucked you out in the open!

"do not call me a p.. They are wretched things!... Call me... Something yummy" you complained not yet being aware that a sweet pea was a flower... And he wasn't calling you and actual pea.

"I apologise... You can be my little cookie?" he chuckled slowly it wasn't that he was laughing at you but he found it endearing how straight forward you were. If you didn't like something you told him out right. It was a nice change, you didn't seem to understand the whole human political correctness and subtlety. Your reasoning with Clark was that you could both feel the others feelings through the bond, so what was the point in lying. That would just complicate things. And he couldn't argue with your logic.

"what is a cookie?" you asked tipping your head to the side curiously. He did burst out laughing at that and shook his head squeezing you tight. Tighter then any human could handle, but that was part of the beauty in your relationship. You wasn't human, wasn't breakable. He could fully relax and touch you without fear of harming you. You were impenetrable... Well in that sense anyway~

"Something very sweet and delicious I promise~" he said kissing your head once more and ushered you down the isle slowly trying to find his mother, but still let you look around. You were curious and wanted to explore your new home planet and he wont ruin your first venture.

"Clark? Clark come and help me- I cant reach the milk! Its at the back again!" Martha said quietly you smiled. It took a lot of coaxing but you had indeed tried what Clark had explained as 'cow juice' and had developed a taste for it. So Martha had promised you milk every day if you liked. Which you did like. A lot. Clark pressed another kiss to you and walked off towards the milk refrigerators expecting you to follow.

You made to follow but a sweet scent hit you and you stopped mid step. It was wonderful and ripe, sweet and succulent. You pivoted and followed without much thought. Your feet found there way twisting around the display of 'leafy greens' to a bright colourful isle. You salivated at the smells. There were so many intoxicating scents you didn't know what to look at first.

You pressed a hand on a small net package full of strange green fuzzy balls. Kiwi's? You read and scrunched your face up at the peculiar name. Then plucked the bag up and held it to your nose sniffing. They smelled divine, like a type of food from home. Okriin a small sour sweet treat given to children on their birthing date. You sniffed again and almost cried. It was so similar but so different sweeter and fuller in the scent. You cautiously sniffed again and closed your eyes before tentativly prodding it with your tongue wanting to see if it tasted the same.

"y/n? Y/n?!- oh god there you are? What are you doing? You almost gave me a heart attack" Clark said racing towards you his mother behind him with the cart. He slid to a stop and blinked at you. As you scrunched up your nose.

"The texture of these are... Not very nice?" you said naively moving for the fruit again sticking your tongue out once more trying to discern if it was edible like this. Clark moved quickly gasping holding your hands that had the.. Kiwi's in it.

"no, no.. No we- you don't eat them like that... You peel them and eat the inside, and we don't lick things in the shop okay?" he explained with a teasing to his voice. Martha chuckled into her chest she couldn't help it, you were extremely cute.

"But? Then how do you know if you like it if you don't taste?" You frowned as Martha stifled a laugh. But she quickly curbed herself when you looked serious and a little upset. You didn't find it funny food was serious and had always been rationed, you were allowed only the portion you needed to stay healthy back home. Nothing more unless you could grow it.

"You buy it and eat it at home, then we can come and get more" Clark said drawing your attention once more. Your frown deepened. More? You could come back? That didn't sound right... or fair, Martha normally made one trip a week on the same day... wasn't that her alotted time for food shopping? Or was it by choice?

"More? But isn't there rules on how many trips a household makes?" You asked genuinely confused looking from your mate to his mother then back again. They both looked a little shocked by the idea of not being allowed to get food when they needed to. Martha even looked sad, shaking her head looking down.

"No love, there isn't... is there on kry-back home?" Clark asked, he almost sounded offended by the thought of being told when you can and cant go shopping.

"Yes. We have fifteen minuets for every member of your house hold that your shopping for and an alotted time every two weeks to pick up your rations" you said without batting an eyelash. Clark drew a deep breath, he had to admit he didn't like what he was hearing about your shared home planet. He found himself more and more relieved you were here with him and not in that? Authoritarian place.

"Did you lick anything else?" He said trying to move away from the topic, he was trying to get you used to this planet and this was your first time out and about in town. He wanted to move on, to let you be free and explore... preferably with him beside you.

"...If I do can we take it home?" You said tipping your head to him with a cheek grin. He chuckled and rounded you placing an arm around your waist and pokeing under your ribs in a freshly discovered tickle spot making you giggle.

"Silly thing you don't have to lick things for us to buy them, I suppose you liked the smell huh?" He enquired nodding to the Kiwis still clutched protectively in your hands.

"Yes it.. Its like something from home- a treat we had on our birthing day..." you nodded looking down plucking at the bright orange netting that kept four of the fuzzy fruit together.

"Then we shall get two packets love" he said plucking another pack of kiwis and placing them in the cart, he then looked to you as you scanned the isle still indulging in the amazing mix of smells and colours.

"Pick out a few more things to try, the mangoes are nice and juicy I think you'd like them." He said motioning to the colourful sweet smelling displays.

"R-really I can pick some?" You asked nervously twiddling your fingers and pulling onto the sleeves of your top.

"Yes love we don't ration here you can pick a few things to try, just promise me you wont lick any of it... at least not until we get to the car" he said grinning as you nodded enthusiastically looking around suddenly full of childish glee. God help him when you try some candy, he has the feeling you'll have a sweet tooth.

"I promise!" You said happily and ran off to some of the other fruit that smelt divine and quickly picked a few.

Once you got home you watched Clark and Martha make a small platter of fruit for you. And you'd fallen inlove! Mangoes and pears were your favourite, you didn't like grapefruit and should have listened when they told you not to eat a lemon... lemons were for juicing and flavouring other food, not for eating.

You smiled as you mulled over the day, that was the first day you saw the civilisation of your new home. Humans were free and unorganised. Chaotic but at the same time had made their own way to navigate the chaos of their world and one another. They were very similar to your kind. But it was hard, frightening! Suddenly you could do what you wanted when you wanted. Krypton in its desperation had taken many choices away, even the basic ones. Like how much food you could have per household, how many times you could visit the shopping districts or medical bays. You had laws on how much water you used, who could go where and when. and suddenly all that structure- all those rules were gone. You were to do as you pleased?

It was a frightening concept.

You padded across the small space to the barn with tentative steps, quivering knees. Clark was behind you a few feet trying to give you space, yet at the same time he was pressing himself though the bond. Warm and comforting reassuring you. He had learned in the past week that he could send messages through the bond. Almost whispers it was weird you didn't hear anything but you could feel his words, feel his probing. His soul was apart of you and your soul apart of him now. And you could communicate in such a deep way it- you almost felt as if you were one being.

Today you had decided to go through the ships cargo hold and start removing some things up to your room. It had been something you put off but it was time to begin answering more questions, time to give our alpha his heirlooms and books. Your job now was to help him learn all about krypton and its past.

Clark darted forward opening the doors to the barn letting you and Martha in. You'd decided to let Martha help, she deserved it she was your surrogate mother now after all. Last week she'd started asking you to call her Ma too.

You moved towards the tarp covering the ship and pulled at it making the crinkling plastic fall the inched forward pressing a hand to the door to the pod. You froze, flashes of the moment you'd been wrestled into the pod crossed your mind. The fear and agony of knowing you were going to be there end. Kill your parents. But it was to late, it had been too late then and it was too late now.

"Omega? Are you alright?" Clark said standing behind you curling one arm around your frame, the thick forearm resting over your tummy at your waist.

"Yes, its... The last time saw this was when" you trailed softly, you knew he could feel the fear and despair as you replayed those final moments with your family over and over. You hand been strong enough to hold on to your mother or father. You hadn't had enough grip to pull them into the ship with you, and your lack of strength cost them their lives.

Clark murred into your shoulder, his other hand stretching out smoothing his palm over yours pinning it you the surface of the door. He could taste the anxiety, the overwhelming frantic terror that had overcome you as your bond soured your memories haunted you. In the night you'd cry out for them and jolt awake sobbing your heart out. But you'd never spoke about what ha actually happened.

"D-do you want to talk about it?" He said quietly pressing his chest to your back needing to touch his sweet omega, the overwhelming drive to comfort you was almost painful.

"I don't think it would help... I shouldn't feel bad, its what i had been commissioned for. We all new our purpose" Clark paused. What? You had barely spoke about krypton, but from what you had mentioned he had a very... unimpressed view of it. The world sounded totalitarian and harsh everyone leading a hard life of duty. But he had never pushed you, he could tell you still mourned the planet despite its shortcomings.

"C-commissioned? Purpose? What do you mean?" Martha muttered moving closer to you both. She too was curious, her and Clark never thought they would have this chance, that they could learn everything about the planet of his birth or his race. But you were it. Their answers a living breathing kryptonian that had resided on krypton! You knew everything they wanted to know and probably more. They had been trying to hold back their questions it would seem that you may finally be up to answering them.

"Krypton is... Was like... North Korea? The one shut off from the world? But... stranger, its hard to explain without knowing our history we had our reasons and failures" you trailed off, you was unsure where to start, the troubled past of your race was woven into its present, well not present as today but... the final era of krypton. Everything leading up to the day you were shipped off from the planet. There were complications, twists and turns that you might not be able to explain properly.

"Please, I'd like to know" his voice was small and sweet, almost naïve in a sense. You got the feeling of a curious desperation from your bond. It made you grin, he was trying so hard to hold back for your sake, he truly was the perfect mate both considerate and loving, there was a gentleness about him that many alphas are said to have lacked. It must come from being raised on this planet, growing up around being so much weaker then he is that has moulded him to hold such a sweet sense of nurturing. After all your mate was the golden son, a living breathing god on earth.

"I know... come I have books and artefacts in the cargo hold, I will give them to you and you can read" you said with a shy smile, you warm giddy feelings traveling along you bond making him murr once more managing to hit the all important melodious sound that was the unique soul song you'd both began naturally harmonizing. You stood and pulled from Clark and walking a small way down the ship. You pulled a hidden hatch open jerking a lever up and then pulled and twisted before releasing. You were quite impressed at how easily you'd done it. The suns rays had made you immensely strong already. Soon your be flying hopefully!

Clark hovered over you, making sure to stand in between the ship and his mother. A large gust of air and a whirring sound resounded and you stepped back. There were several clunk's and metallic creaks then the whole side of the craft pealed away like a set of curtains a thick corsetina of metal revealed a large cargo hold the three of you could just fit in.

There were shelves and cases piled high inside. All of krypton's most valuable artefacts, your whole history in the small stalagmite keys. Just like the one Clark had been sent to earth with. But these held information, schematics of incredible tech, medicines and encyclopaedia's. Not only about krypton but other planets and races that could cause a threat.

The there were the texts for your pups. The very same you had used to study as a child. You tip toed inside looking around feeling your heart break. This was all that was left of a whole civilization. A case of ceremonial robes, some crown jewels. Seeds for a few important plants- even a small rack with some mature plants that were being grown in a small self sustained pod. It was a true treasure trove.

"Wow this is? Incredible"

"Everything in here is... significant to our kind- here these are the books to start with they will tell you what krypton went through... a child's guide to our history" you said scooping up the books you'd studied and handed them to Clark. He moved slowly taking them from you running his fingers over the image on the book.

You walked off around a small shelf trying to find your chest- the things your parents had been allowed to pack for you. You had to find it and get over those emotional tugging in your chest. You had a lot to explain and had to have a clear head on your shoulders.

Martha stood close by the exit as she watched the two of you potter about the ship. It was both frightening and exhilarating for her. She was glad they had thought about all this, about giving both you and Clark things to remember krypton by. She moved to step behind Clark peeking at the book he was flicking through and was surprized to find she could read it. Everything was in perfect English.

"This is? Are they all in English?" She asked turning to you who was still wandering around becoming upset clearly looking for something in particular.

"Yes, they needed to make sure kal-clark would be able to read it" you said comeing around the other side of the shelves and stood beside them both. Clark turned around eyeing the book seeing what looked like propaganda filling the pages. It was disconcerting he was slowly becoming aware that krypton was not the magical place he had envisioned but a very draconian type of civilization. He didn't want to read pages of scripted drivel. He wanted the truth. He closed the book and eyed you then held to book out to you.

"I'd like to learn from you... if its not to much to ask love? These books will paint a rosey picture, I want to know the reality what people actually thought of our planet" he said still offering you the book. You held your breath debating for a moment, but finally breathed out a sigh and took the book from him. Agreeing.

You moved to the side of the ship and sat down letting your feet rest on the steps. Clark and Martha followed your lead taking seats beside you.

You kept quiet for a moment pondering over what was most important to start with. Your evolution. Then your genealogy, the great mistake and population crisis and the laziness that followed. The selfishness and finally his own story, the story of the golden sons escape and the new age. The final short 31 year age. And your delivery.

You opened the page showing some images of the first ever 'proper kryptonians' and held it open letting both Martha and Clark lean over to see. It was like a family story time.

"Okay... So kryptonians evolved just like humans did millions of years ago. But unlike humans we kept more of our animal like instincts, we retained pack mentality" you said pointing out the different images of the evolution.

"Alpha and omega's?" Clark asked curiously as his eyes scanned the page. There was a list for each. Alpha were bigger and stronger, more dominant and protective, fierce and very potent. They were more economic and able to draw more power from little radiation. Omega petite, defensive, skittish and shy. Nurturing and extremely fertile. Submissive.

"Yes and betas they aren't an extreme like omega and alpha. They are more balanced but much less fertile. We have one mate, one soul bond once its made you cant deny it, but its also a problem." You flipped a few pages to the mate bond section where there were a few images of couples and some more little bullet points. Of which you covertly covered, they didn't need to know about sex or knots or heat yet... you would explain to Clark later... alone.

You flushed unable to stop your mind wandering. Images of you finally bonding with Clark, the undulating hips and breathy moans resounding in your ears. All leading to a great finale of his bite, his canines would prick your skin clamping down not only marking you but to hold you still as his cock swelled and pressed your walls tight trapping you to his huge frame. It was said to be painful and euphoric the feeling of absolute unity. Apparantly omegas can panic when their alpha knots them for the first time, the bite would make you freeze and still for him enough to fully penetrate you. He'd knot you for a long while tying you to him both mind body and soul as he saturated your insides claiming your body for himself. You swallowed, nervously. You couldn't wait to finally be claimed, but you were also nervous. He was large even for an alpha and there was no doubt in your minds he was well proportioned.

Clark noticed you begin to blush and squirm, your scent changing becoming both sweeter and musky he leant over you trying to peek at what you were hiding. He snuck a hand around behind you and tried pulling on your elbow to see what your were trying to hide.

"Oh no come on love what are you hiding there?" He teased and pulled tugging you closer making you whine and pull back.

"No that's nothing just its err our sex education and we don't need to go into that yet!" At the mention of sex Clark stiffened and released your elbow but remained wrapped around you.

"Oh right well then.. we know all about that so there no need to... explore that topic" Clark said flushing brightly but you paused... should you tell him?

"Well err you... you will have to there are.. some difference to having sex with... others then your mate, things are... different when your body knows it can impregnate its partner. So you need to err... I've got books for you to read in private" you flustered flicking your eyes quickly from Martha to your mate trying hard not to imagine him but ass naked stroking his cock readying himself to mount you. Clark didn't seem to realise you were becoming nervous and quickly spoke up slightly confused by the way you'd worded your statement. But then again he found a lot of the things you said strange. You wored things differently, and sometimes used the wrong words altogether! As much as krypton prepared you it sort of hadn't? Your English was good but... Not completely accurate.

"Different when you can impregnate? What's that supposed to mean, I've had sex... It was normal human sex" you whined and lowered your head feeling a little upset. Your mate almost sounded offended, like you'd undermined him or doubted his ability... You felt a little shamed over it, you hadn't intended to insult him. You turned to him your panic of displeasing him washed away your nerves of having the sex talk. You rested a hand on his thigh squeezing it before beginning to explain that you wasn't belittling him it was just genetics.

"You cannot conceive with anyone other then your soul mate... It just doesn't happen. Is impossible, we were taught that its because your genes are only compatible with that of your mate, your other half. Pairings aren't always omega and alpha either, they can be anyone with anyone, but most alphas have an omega" you said trying not to go into detail but Clark merly blinked at you nodding wanting you to continue as he soaked up every word.

"And there are... Things that... Happen during sex with your soul mate, your err... Anatomy changes... And err expands? I suppose? Our bodies do what they must to... To try and... Conceive.." you finally stuttered through the images your mind conjured. Mind drifting to all the uncomfortable classes full of giggling girls and unamused teachers explaining knotting and ejaculation with a huge image of a penis on the board... You flushed word on the school playground used to be the size of a balled fist was the size of your mates knot. You swallowed eyeing Clarks hands, though not balled up he had then curled up loosely. You clenched, for some reason the thought of him being such a large male made you very ,very excited and anxious. The larger a male the more chance there was at having a successful mating because he would be deeper and nothing would escape. Fuck.

You shook your head swallowing dryly. Now was not the time, thoughts like that were dangerous and could trigger a heat, something you didn't want to happen until he was aware of what was to come. You wanted him to be fully aware of heats, ruts knotting the full process before in sighting anything. He was still immensely stringer than you, if he were to have you now and panic whislt knotting he could pull free and tear you. And you didn't want that.

"soo i get a... Super erection or something?" he said with a huge smile both teasing and boasting, sitting up straighter unknowingly posturing, preening like a little peacock as humans would say. You made to reply flushing a deeper red, beginning to feel a tad dizzy with all this blood rushing to your head. But luckily Martha interrupted and waved her hands making a slicing motion trying to literally cut the conversation short.

"Right okay! Enough of all that" she said managing to move your arms that were still covering the very crude generic drawings of an alphas cock, you moved letting the human turn the page which lead to the next stage of your peoples history.

"But Ma?!" Clark complained eyes loosing their amused shimmer only for him to pout at the human clearly upset that he wont be having a full sex talk with you. And you couldn't be more thankfull because you only had books and a school sex education to go by, you'd never actually seen a real one before, so didn't really have any grounds to be teaching anyone anything about them. Least of all your much older, more experiance alpha mate.

"But nothing Clark, she said she has a book so you can read the damn book! There will be no hanky panky anytime soon do you understand me?" she scolded in a final motherly tone making you giggle into your hand. Your alpha was very cute when he pouted, blue eyes wide and a perfect downturned frown on his lips, the pink bottom lip pressed forward in a sweet gesture. How the perfectly masculine sharp angular male could be both stunning and adorable was beyond you. But he was just perfect.

"Yes Ma" he sighed looking more and more disheartened but then nudged your side and sent you a wink before raising his brows suggestively. You squeaked and looked to the book in your lap once more feeling your ears go red under his provocative gaze. He huffed a quiet chuckle and purred low in his chest. You felt it the warm yet prickly sensation of your mate. Is was playfull, like when someone lightly ghosts a finger over your inner arm? A slight tickling sensation that made your skin goose bump and tingle. You knew this feeling well, you had been pleased to know your alpha wasn't all work and no play. He was actually a very fun loving man, he liked teasing you playfully and always managed to make you laugh or blush. He enjoyed you being both happy and flushed they seemed to be his favoured reactions and he would go out of his way to cause them.

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Martha had said he just seemed happier, younger like a little teenager again. But this time without all the angst. Like you had somehow drawn away the worries he had. Apparantly as he took the mantle of superman he had lost himself along the way. He wasn't cruel or mean but he was stressed. Martha had said he was beginning to question himself, ask if it was worth it, if anything was worth it anymore. He took on more and more responsibility and was working himself into the ground. But now he wasn't?

He had you to come home too, he had something more to fight for. She said Clark saw you as his reward in a sense. You were his future, the life he had always wanted but could never hope for. Martha said you'd saved him. You wasn't sure if you really believed her, how could you save him when all you have done is sleep and refuse to eat anything other then fruit.

"Clark you might be more convincing if you wiped that smirk off your face... I'm serious, let y/n settle before risking any children okay?" the woman deadpanned making him shrug and chuckle at her.

"Aw that's no fun I already promised. Didn't I sweetheart?" he teased still eyeing you managing to ignore his mothers scathing look as he tried to get you to look at him again. And like an idiot you did spare him a quick glance, well you thought it was quick but somehow he managed to wink at you again blowing you an over exaggerated kiss.

"Clark Joseph Kent!" Martha snipped quickly a much firmer warning in place making him sigh and roll his eyes at his mothers use of his full name. He could see her point but he had to admit he was a little put out with her.. His mother had an issue with your age, even though your twenty two in earth terms you still did look the part of a teen all be it a nineteen year old, but teen none the less. She was uncomfortable with the idea of him bedding you and wanted you both to wait. But Clark didn't have an issue with it, you were his omega. He was your alpha and neither you or he were humans. So why live your lives by human rules? Besides the paperwork was all set up. Legally your not a minor here you just look young, many women did.

"Yes, yes fine, no sex yet jeez" he acquiesced giving in for the moment not needing another lecture. As much as he loved his mother; and he truly did. But his sex life was none of her business and he will fuck you when you were ready and willing and there was nothing that will get in the way of that. Not even the woman who raised him.

"Glad to hear it son. Oh don't give me that look you know it makes sense... Now dear why don't you continue, both Clark and i would love to here about your history" Martha scolded then rolled her eyes at her supposed 'adult' son who was pouting. You smiled uneasy but nodded. You learned quickly that Martha ruled the roost, but it was still strange for you to watch. You'd been raised to see Kal as a god- a saviour and your races true hope. Watching the man you'd all but worshipped be scolded by a human was... confusing. But you just let it be, you were realising humans were much more complicated then you were lead to belive.

"yes of course..." you paused clearing your throat quickly looking at the open page then flipped it seeing the next images. The ships, and graph of births declining... the population crisis, the beginning of the mighty kryptonians demise.

"When our people began scouting the galaxy less and less found their soulmates because we were soo scattered and so pairings dropped and so did births which began effecting economy and age gap parings suffered because their mates werent being born. Suddenly things took a nose dive mates weren't being born families were suddenly being cut short and many bloodlines died off... Over sixty percent of noble houses were wiped out in three decades, suicides were on the rise there was no point to life if you couldn't be happy or have a family" you explained flipping another page letting the both of them get their fill. Both pages were full of house crests and a little information on what each one represented, what their houses did for krypton notable mentions and such.

You flipped again this time showing images of the amniotic chambers. Huge glass towers that grew 'artificial' kryptonians. It was a leap forward in science. They had learned to play god, create life without any comprises. Your own eyes scanned the image a small foetus in a sack and a few around it larger and more developed. It was how your own life began.

"We turned our attention to a amniotic chambers, scientists and doctors could suddenly make anyone children! Mates or not. There was a huge baby boom but, it did nothing for the planet or its people" you explained slowly even saying it sounded strange now that you were older, but then again you'd been taught that this had been wrong. This it was the mistake that had started krypton's downfall. You'd been raised in the old ways, with old values.

"Over time it was seen as primitive to actually seek out your mate and birth a child naturally even having sex became pointless. Why go through that pain when you could have one made and delivered to you when its born?"

"So they were farming babies?" Martha asked incredulously unable to fathom such a thing. It was far fetched, the idea to make fake children? To be able to have a child without carrying them or birthing them but they were your own flesh and blood?

"Yes Ma, but more then that... when we turned our back on natural birth and mates we lost a lot of ourselves and had to use a codex to give the new generations traits and keep some semblance of our race instincts... but even that became political all birthed children had to become more beneficial to society. Loyal, strong, intelligent, beautiful, compassionate, nurturing. And at the same time you could choose the look of your child, their sex, their presentation." You explained voice getting smaller as you spoke it was uncomfortable to talk about parents could determine everything about you. Your sex, pigmentation personality, hell your parents could choose specific moles and birthmarks of they wanted a late 'morphing' session a few weeks before you were born.

"Presentation?" Martha frowned not fully understanding. You nodded to her sparing a glance before quickly looking away. It was strange explaining anything that remotely eluded to pairings and mating with her. She was a human and didn't understand. You found it unnerving, everyone just knew these things back home.

She didn't understand it and sometimes it frustrated her making her snip at you and Clark. She didn't mean to but it was just hard for her to fathom a race evolving and still retain some animal primitive instincts. Humans didn't keep much of theirs, the only ones you were aware of was their self preservation- their undeniable need to stay alive for as long as possible apart from that? They had escaped everything else. The bottom line was humans didn't have soul mates and Kryptonians did, and no matter how much the woman wished Clark was a human, he wasn't and he never would be. Martha had been able to ignore it on a day to day basis. To all intents and purposes when Clark wasn't in his suit she could pretend he was normal. Until you came along.

Not that you think she didn't like you, because she loved you, you were sure of it. It was just, sometimes Martha had to look away as you and Clark bonded. She didn't see mates, she saw her adult son fawning over a love struck teen.

"Will they be alpha, beta, omega or a new non-type" you hummed quietly trying not to dwell on the subject not wanting to upset her. Martha drew in a deep breath and nodded to you soaking up the information. You could see she was trying, she wanted to understand it was difficult for her.

"So if I wanted a blue eyed blonde boy I just had to say?" She said veering off topic slightly wanting to move on swiftly but didn't want to out right say 'lets talk about something else'

"Sort off, eyes can only be dark. Blue, green, pink, grey and amber eyes were traits only found in true borns, these traits died out. Everyone had a dark brown or black eyes occasionally you could have a very dark blue or green but bearly noticeable" you brushed over the topic as quickly as you could whislt still giving a few extra details. Clark grinned at you and made a passing comment of 'that's why my eyes fascinated you soo much?' Both he and Martha chuckled as the comment made you flush and nod slightly. It was true, you'd been enamoured with his eyes never having seen blue before... and they were soo blue it was like looking into the purest cleanest pools of water your ever seen! Gorgeous and vibrant. it had been a little ongoing tease of Clarks commenting that you were 'staring again' when ever he caught you gazeing at his azure crystal clear eyes.

"Krypton was quickly overpopulated and began draining our planets resources quicker, then they looked to the core... the beating heart of the planet" you said turning the page adamant you were not going to be caught up eyeing him again for the hundredth time today.

"And they drained it?" Clark said leaning mover your shoulder looking at the diagram of krypton that briefly explained how the core was depleted and what a calamity it was.

"Yes. It took a millennia but we bled our planet dry... It became a dry desolate place but had huge glistening cities! Technology you could only dream of! Krypton was the envy of many other planets, our military might alone ended wars in days..." Clark frowned. Military? So not only did krypton become a harsh dictatorship they had been going to war? Enough that they were a feared adversary?

You winced as Clarks face darkened at the mention of war. He didn't like fighting and killing but krypton? In its hay day was the front runner. Its military protected the planet but also dominated. It you wanted to win a war it was the kryptonians you wanted on your team, your soldiers were bred for war, just like the omegas were bred for breeding. Clark growled, eyes skimming the page that praised and boasted about the great many wars that they had won, the enemies they had crushed. You swallowed and flipped a few pages quickly skipping the small chapter on the military past.

You skimmed the next page quickly, there were no images on the next few pages. You paused remembering when you'd first worked studied this chapter. You'd been around eight years old, sitting in Mrs Nirn's class chewing your pen as you read ahead zoning out.

You had wanted to understand why things were so different from what your parents upbringing had been. You wanted to know why there were no little boys in your class, why were the lights off? Why couldn't you have a little sister like your father? Everytime you asked an adult they always vaguely mentioned 'things aren't how they were before' but no one had ever answered your follow up questions 'before what? What happened?' And this was the chapter that explained everything, that shed light on your peoples recent history.

"Love? Mate are you okay?" Clark asked worriedly watching as you seemed to drift off into your own little world. You jumped and faced him as his warm palm met with your back, slow soothing circles rubbing your tense form slowly. You smiled uneasily and nodded to him before taking a deep breath. He had to know, it was your duty to teach him what happened. It was your place to enlighten him on his own importance, he had a right to know how he got to earth.

"W-We began racing towards calamity there was huge protests, people realised we were not going to last and there would be no escape. But the government decided to call a meeting over it- Jor El decided to plead the council to stop the mining but he was ignored the meeting was just for show a ruse to try and quell the masses... Then Lara began pleading with them to think of the consequences" you said quickly finding your voice again recounting the events that began his own story, the role his parents had played in the prolonged survival of the planet and that ultimately lead you to him.

"My parents?" He said slowly recognising their names once more. You nodded glancing to Martha, you didn't really want to keep bringing up your alphas birth parents in front of the woman you didn't want her to get upset or think she was any less significant. Lara may have birthed your mate. But Martha had raised him, shaped him into the glorious gentle and caring male that he was. Martha seemed to know you were worrying over upsetting her and smiled encouragingly before placing a reassuring hand on your back below Clarks patting you sweetly.

"I'd like to know too dear, I want to know about the people who gave me my son" she cooed slowly making you bite your lip and take a deep breath muttering a meek 'okay if your sure' under your breath.

"They were strong and kind, serious though and realistic. They both avidly protested about the continued abuse of the planet and warned about the imminent destruction of krypton... it wasn't until to coup that anyone new why."

"Why? What was the reason?" Clark said eagerly paying you his full attention. He was both excited and anxious about learning of his actual parents, everything he thought about krypton seemed to be wrong. On a whole he'd convinced himself that his home planet was almost a mythical place that was good and pure perfect! But it was the complete opposite, he didn't want his fantasy of perfect parents to be shattered too. And there was always the fear he'd been abandoned simply because he was an unwanted child or defective in some way.

"She was pregnant with the first natural son of krypton. They didn't want you to be born just to die after a few weeks of life. You were born in your family home. No doctors or machinery, nothing but your mother and father." Clark let out a breath soaking in the information. Zod was right. Jor was telling the truth? He truly was the first natural born kryptonian? It was there in black and white! Not hear say! He didn't have much time to relish in the relief as you continued quickly.

"A few days after your birth Zod made his move to attack the council, his move was partly spurred on by the civil unrest and protests all over the planet." Another few pages were turned as you bypassed all the nitty gritty details of the coup and violence, the protests and downfall of many proud houses dragged out of their homes, the riots and looting as the military began fighting internally and the police force all but abandoned their duty.

"My birthday?" Clark said lightly dragging his fingers over an image of himself. A still taken from the footage of his birth, he was in a small oval crib with a blanket over his waist and lower half. Beside him was Lara and Jor watching over him. And at the top of the page a date. Both in kryptonian and earths calendar.

"May? I was born in May? Ma look!" He said sniffing quietly looking at the page in awe. That was him, his parents! They were there! He gazed at the image excitedly, he never new his real birthdate, his parents had guessed but here it was. The exact date! His actual real birthday. He wasn't an Aries. He was a Taurus. He never believed in star signs but, somehow he felt better knowing.

"I see that son, you were perfect and so tiny~" she said slightly tearful herself. This was bittersweet, she had to listen and watch as her son, the boy she raised found out the truth of how he came to her. She didn't doubt he loved her but she was always frightened of him leaving her behind in a way, the terror of him forgetting her and choosing someone else replacing her was almost too much. But at the same time Martha owed a lot to the couple that had entrusted her with their son, she would be lying if she wasn't curious about them and the reason Clark was here.

"Your father in an effort to protect you entered the amniotic chamber and stole the codex. He was hunted for it but by the time anyone could intervene or arrest him it was to late. He had sealed the codex inside of his son. He was the final kryptonian so should be able to carry all traits." You explained turning the next page seeing the image of the chamber Jor ha infiltrated. The codex sitting proudly in place.

"He.. he risked his life? To save me?" Clark breathed out barely whispering the words as he leant forward clasping his hands together tightly. You faltered and looked to him shocked, he hadn't known? You all new that Kal was sent to earth with a stalagmite key with his fathers conscious, had Clark not managed to activate it? Here were ships all over this planet, kryptonians had tried to settle here but... For some reason they just couldn't seem to survive for long. No one knows why, connection was lost.

"He... Gave his life to save you. Zod was the one who caught onto your fathers plan and... He confronted him and your mother. Tried to kill you, your existence; the proof of a natural born was... it would have destroyed his cause... it would have proved him wrong" you uttered slowly unsure how you could tell him the truth without upsetting him, it was a delicate matter. Clark ushered you closer managing to tuck you under his arm holding you as close as he could to his side, then began murring out at you as he felt the nerves, the tangled feelings of fear , grief regret and sorrow. Each one coiling around the other making for an uncertain overbearing pull.

You didn't mean to but you were tugging the bond, looking for approval. Nervously searching for some inclination that he was alright. Prodding at him tentatively trying to peak at his feelings. But you were still uncertain of how to do it without being pushy? On krypton it was said to be unseemly to pry at your mate, normally things flowed freely to forcefully take a look deeper into your mate was... rude and could be construed as not trusting your mate.

Clark didn't know that though. Was it bad? Cruel of you to omit that little social detail so he wouldn't be annoyed at you for it? Was it manipulating? Clark hummed leaning his head ontop of yours, resting his cheek on your crown and placed a sweet kiss to your hair.

"I know... I- he told me on the ship when I found out about krypton... when he told me of mates" he said calmly. You released a low whine nodding to him purring up at him as your shoulders relaxed, slumping once more in relief. You'd been wound up over that. It wasn't like his father would be alive now anyway, but telling him of his families demise wasn't really something you took pleasure in.

"O-oh.. okay well then...err your father was a warrior and fought him, he gave your mother enough time for her to launch your ship. Zod finally over came your father but it was too late, you were almost out of the atmosphere." You swallowed steeling yourself as you continued your tale, recounting the incredible events that had taken place, changing history and the fate of your race.

"Zod instructed all his units to shoot you down, but your mother had used a incredibly illegal amount of resources to make sure your ship's boosters and armed defences were at peak and you made it out"

"So That's really how I left? During all that? I thought Jor had dramatized it... but he hadn't and.." Clark trailed off in thought. He was telling the truth he had been a little sceptical, he couldn't help it he had over thought it afterwards. Managing to think himself into doubting Jor's story picking at it, almost convincing himself the story was a little too convenient.

"It got worse, zod and his men were sent to the phantom zone and your mother was tried for treason. But everything stopped when the footage came through." Martha who had remained quiet listening to you patiently taking in the new information.

"Of what?"

"Clarks birth, it was the first time in centuries anyone had managed to naturally birth a son, a true born son. It was big news and that when the council began to listen, really listen" you shrugged unsure how to explain the magnitude of what Clarks birth actually meant. Unless you were a krypton native you just didn't get it. You finally closed the book and held it in your lap eyeing both Clark and Martha.

"Then the laws changed krypton accepted its fate, it would die. But not without hope for its race to continue. And that's how we ended up as we were... the draconian backwards planet." You didn't go into detail, over the past few weeks you'd let things slip. Martha and Clark both shared a look. You were almost ashamed of your home. The differences between the totalitarian measures your people resorted to were frowned upon in this country. You felt stupid in a sense. You knew it was only natural to be slightly out of touch on this new home but? You just hadn't realised how much. The freedom and basic human right's you'd been denied! You were taught to belive in Kal. He was effectively used as propaganda, as a reward. If your good and obedient he will accept you. If not? Then you will fail both him and your race.

"The council watched you used as much energy as it could spare to watch you grow. Then you presented! Alpha, just as we'd hoped. Overnight everything changed again, we had hope and direction. Children were commissioned once more females only, and only women that have a recessive omega gene were allowed to have a child..." you reiterated the fact that females were the only gender allowed to be created. It was the most important rule of your people in the end. Only a female omega could replenish a race.

"But couldn't you make them omega? You said you could choose things like that?" Martha asked frowning not following. You cursed and shook your head you knew you'd confuse them somehow by leaving something out. It was difficult trying to remember all the details about the last chaotic years of krypton.

"No, with the codex gone we couldn't control the genes as much, we could force the child to be female but that was about it. They tried but it was hard creating a definite omega no one could really tell until we presented many were betas or the non type there were very few of us. It was just pot luck." And it was pot luck, out of one hundred girls only fifteen to seventeen would be omega. If the percentage were over that in a generation then it was seen as a 'bumper crop'

"We were made and raised to be your omega. Every one of us was taught about earthling ways. Taught about how to birth and raise pups."

"You were raised to be my mate?" Clark said frowning. He found it strange. You bit your lip chewing on it. You debated on how much he really needed to know, because honestly now you were here? And experienced earth first hand, now you'd met and spent time with your alpha. You understood how... creepy it would be? But then again if you lied he could realise you had when he reads more of the books here. You drew another breath releasing your lip from between your teeth and hissed quietly deciding it would be best to tell him.

"Yes. Our whole education was based on you and was meant to prepare us for life on earth. You have to understand, you were worshipped like a god. You had the abilities of our earliest ancestors." You began trying to dull down the in depth education you'd received about his upbringing and family. Yet still make him understand just how ingrained he was in your upbringing.

"You are? The epitome of the perfect kryptonian, proof of how great we once were! Your the perfect male. Being your omega was-is the greatest honour any kryptonian could have. And the only way to survive, only Kal's omega would have the last of the cores power used on her to move her off planet. Her saftey was the most important thing" you explained finally petting him see just how incredibly precious he was. His eyes grew wide as he truly began to understand. This wasn't all talk, and you hadn't been joking when you called him the golden son god among men. That's what you all believed. He was worshipped. It was a sobering thought.

Clark tightened his hold of you hand trembling, palm a little sweaty against your hip. He made to speak but didn't seem to be able to find any words. He couldn't make a sound. It was too surreal for him. Some called him a god here, but he was able to just brush it off, ignore it as an exaggeration. But on krypton? They had meant it. Literally.

"So every girl was raised to... Become Clark's wife? To have children? That's it? No ambitions of your own just... grow up and have babies?" Martha uttered quietly but there was an underlying sadness, she seemed to be offended for you. Which you found peculiar, here the lines of gender were blurred. Krypton raised females to breed, then once they present they were taught other skills to be useful and pay their way.

"Yes. It was... Just how things were, we were taught how to raise children and what to expect with Kal... taught to cook and earthling ways to an extent mainly laws and language but mostly our education was about history and child rearing." You said of handedly trying not to incite anger from the woman. You knew it was hard for her to imagine your homeland. It was harsh and soo different from here. There were regimes like krypton on this planet but they were seen as hostiles and stood against everything this country stood for.

"How did they know? I mean with you? How did they know your were mine" Clark said quickly managing to intercept what he believed to be a long rant from his mother. She had already made up her mind about krypton, she hadn't said it but she didn't need to her face said it all.

"Your mark apparently we share a mark which is unique to our bond and yours had activated. The council called all the omegas that had presented and searched for your mark. I was the one to have it. I was your mate" you said vaguely to be honest you didn't even understand it properly yet, it was one of the things you were hoping to find out looking through these books.

"And then after finding it they sent you here?" Clark uttered quietly. He was soo wrapped up in loving you, understanding these instincts and just basking in your presence. That he hadn't really stopped to think about the actual journey, surely it had been your choice? Especially when the cost was soo great. But there was a foreboding in your demeanour it left a heavy cold feeling in his gut.

"Yes. My parents- they had five minuets to say good bye and load me into the ship. The council didn't want to cause a panic and wait, I was wrestled into the ship by my father" you spoke weakly. You hadn't thought much about it, you had nightmares. But that was it, you tried avoiding it, blanking it out... not unlike the adults as you were growing up. In your head there was here and now on earth with your alpha and then before. Before became the codename for life on krypton. Before meant your parents, the rules, pain and fear! Before meant anxiety and death.

And now? Now was the time to let them know. Sure they understood the logistics. You were sent here to your mate. But they didn't know the actual story- the chain of events that lead to your arrival. And for the first time since getting here you needed to get it off your chest. Let it out and be done with this chapter finally let go of the fear and guilt you'd bottled up.

"I was terrified, and I fought but? Not hard enough I couldn't hold on to them either of them! The told me that they loved me and everything would be okay but it wasn't- I was about to kill them... I just" your bottom lip wobbled and your voice came out strained, you fought to get the next words out. Clark murred and tried to comfort you, feeling the fear and anxiety. The guilt and devastation in your bond was... it sickened him feeling such sorrow. But it did no good, he tugged you up and sat you on his lap curling around you, holding you to his chest desperately wanting to sooth you. Ever ounce of him was trembling the need to cheer you up and tend to you was astounding.

But even through all that need and instinct, he knew he couldn't. You were mourning, not only you parents but your race, way of life, your home, your planet! It would be a heavy blow to anyone least of all his delicate young omega. He didn't speak, he didn't want to interrupt, you needed to get this out. He needed to know what happened so he could help you.

"Then my dad... He was the one to strap me i-in... he was the strongest there... the others couldn't have held me down long enough. The ship closed... locked and that was it I was off to earth." Silence reigned as your new family took in what you'd said. They hadn't realised how you'd come here... Clark thought you came willingly, happily boarded the ship to get here. He hadn't even considered your fear and the weight on your shoulders.

"I felt it. The planet die. All the teachers said that you'd be asleep before it happened but I wasn't. It was the loudest and most frightening thing I'd ever heard. It rocked the ship, then the debris... it was like a monsoon, a deafening rain storm of rocks the earth and foundation of krypton itself." Your took a deep breath leaning against Clark pressing your back into him twisting your head slightly resting on his shoulder trying to tuck your face into his neck. Seeking him as your only comfort. .

Clark was finding it heard to hear. He was ecstatic you were here, he didn't care the cost. Now he felt like a bastard. He couldn't imagine hearing and entire planet die. And entire race. You must have felt so scared and alone. He wasn't sure he could handle that type of trauma. Its one thing to be alone hoping you had a homeland. Knowing for certain? That was another thing entirely. Martha hummed watching as Clark got upset and scooted closer placing her hand on your knee while throwing her arm around Clarks back rubbing slowly.

"I p-panicked and tried to change direction, tried rerouting the ships pre-set destination... But it couldn't find krypton. The planet just? Wasn't there anymore, it was so surreal. Instead it continued on to earth, and the onboard computer said I was too panicked to travel at hyper speed so it put me to sleep... the next thing I remember is waking up here... it felt like minuets but had been six months." You ended. It didn't seem right, such a long historic tale ending with you walking up on an alien planet.

All those failures and mistakes rolling one after the other after the other. All the power hungry fools and scientific breakthroughs for nothing. In the end your race had come full circle. An alpha and his omega. Two intertwined souls. The very last paired kryptonians. It was almost ironic, for all the advances and medical wonders in the end nature triumphed.

"I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry that you had to face that alone... if I'd known I would have come and got you, I would have never let krypton die-" Clark started apologising holding you tighter dipping his head to yours resting his nose on your hair breathing you in swaying you sweetly.

"No. Krypton had to. We couldn't risk another Zod on your new planet. Your abilities in an evil power hungry kryptonian? It would have been chaos. We knew that we had to start fresh but cohabit a planet. Not rule it. That's why we needed kryptonians to be birthed here." You cut him off quickly. He didn't have to feel responsible, krypton made their bed and they could lie in it. They strayed too far and had failed, destroyed themselves.

"Zod came. He tried to take over but I... I killed him, id found a ship and my father explained a few things to me, told me about my mate that would be sent to me I looked for you in zods men. But he laughed saying id never find you- the final straw that made me kill him was when he laughed saying you were dead." Clark hissed voice becoming dark as he remembered Zod. The cruelty the man had, the utter madness was something that ha7nted him. He feared that was the true nature of kryptonians, that one day he would become another Zod.

"You did the right thing. Zod was corrupt. The codex can sometimes corrupt a child and feed them too much. His loyalty and strength were... maddening. He was meant to be a soldier he wanted to be a dictator, even on krypton. That's what the coup was about. He was trying to overthrow a high ruling government" you said before slowly untangling yourself from your mate. He released you, hands still hovering as you stood and brushed yourself off. You sniffled and wiped your eyes before excusing yourself scaling the small steps of the ship. Clark made to follow you as you disappeared into the ship needing a few moments alone. Martha held him shaking her head understanding you needed a little breathing room.

You couldn't help it, the feelings came back, the terror and anxiety panic and self loathing. It was nauseating, you'd not really managed to come to terms with the deaths of your family, deaths that you caused. You'd managed to ignore it? Being in a completely new environment you'd almost convinced yourself you were on a trip, a holiday and that your parents were at home safe and sound. It probably wasn't healthy but its what had managed to get you through all this. But saying it outloud? Recounting it had brought everything to life.

You huffed rubbing your eyes as they teared up, seeing all this in here was hitting home. The priceless artefacts and wealth of knowledge surrounding you only solidifying the fact krypton was gone. That it was your duty to keep all this heritage alive. Your job to birth a race and find a way to integrate into this alien world. It was a terrifying prospect, soo much responsibility for a single young female. And you had to bare it alone along side the guilt of being your planets demise.

You quickly wiped at your face sniffling as you felt Clarks approach. Ducking down you looked into the satchel that you recognised as your fathers old pack. You jumped as Clark crouched behind you pressing two heavy hands on your shoulders massaging them before dragging you back to him. You sighed hanging your head as he plastered you to his front, strong arms slowly winding around your waist.

"Its not your fault, you couldn't have saved them." He said softly pressing a chaste kiss to your neck breathing you in, scenting you. It was something else that was strange at first but Clark had mastered quickly. He noticed that if he gave in to some of these... instincts he could calm you down. Scenting you, coupled with touching you coddling and holding you close seemed to be the most effective way to sooth you when things began to get too much. When you got overwhelmed, but he held back in front of his mother. She was still uneasy about the age difference.

"I could have fought harder-" you whined feeling yourself tremble, the severity of what happened the reality of it crushing you. You began huffing, taking deeper breaths holding them trying to fight the fear and sobs. You couldn't afford this self pity you had a job. A duty to your people and you cant fail! You wont because then it was for nothing-

"Omega." Clarks voice grunted, snapping you out of your thoughts. It was strange, he sounded firm and stern. A real alpha reprimanding, commanding you. You shivered. It was both frightening and sexy. Perfect. You peered back at him, a few tears escaping followed by a single mewl as you tried to stop yourself from crying.

"Nothing you said would have stopped them. Nothing. From everything you've told me, the one thing that stands out is krypton did as it pleased. A tiny thing like you never would have stood a chance" he cooed down at you somehow maintaining his authority but in a gentler way. The light growl almost soothed you, it sounded like his murr but deeper and had more conviction.

"I... I know but it... It wasn't meant to be me. Wasn't meant to happen, they always said it was the end but?" You tried to get out the feelings but for some reason you couldn't put words to them. It came in waves, as ecstatic as you were to be here with your mate, relish in the presence of your incredible alpha. You also wanted your parents, your home and all the things you'd been brought up with. You were selfish, you'd wanted it all.

"No one ever really believes a world can end love" he breathed out slowly. Still pressing close to you sniffing and kissing at you, tucking his hands below your tshirt rubbing the warm palms on your flat tummy making you relax.

"So what's this then?" Clark said motioning to the satchel you were fiddling with. You cast a glance to him and smiled sadly.

"My dads... they were allowed to pack things before we got tested... just incase and...They didn't have long to gather things- god I hope there's a photo! And my-" you were cut off as he chuckled and moved closer hooking a finger around the opening tugging it lightly.

"Jurashnir stuffie?" He said making you flush and gape. You were surprised he even remembered. But it warmed your heart that he did remember such a small detail, a passing comment really. It showed he really did listen and take in what you said, even if it was silly anxious prattle.

"Yes that" you hummed face glowing in a sweet blush. And began pulling the bag open fully digging you hand inside.

"I hope she packed it too" Clark chuckled holding the bag open wider so you could see more of the things inside. You already recognized some things, your mothers perfume she used on the rarest of occasions. Your fathers military id pin some clothing and jewellery that they treasured the hair ornaments your mother wore on their ceremonial binding. Then there was the all important photo, you closed your eyes glimpsing the image. No, it was too soon for that, you couldn't look at their smiling faces yet, not after killing them.

Then you felt it. Your stuffie the one that had been with you since you were brought home as a new babe. You yanked it out eyes watering as you pulled out the toy. Clark eyed it with a smile, it was like a chinchilla small round and cute, huge eyes and adorable. You held it close overwhelmed by it, which was stupid, it was a bloody toy, but brought so much comfort. You nuzzled it, rubbing the tiny ear between your fingers like you had thousands of times before.

"I- sorry it..." you breathed out quickly pulling the toy to your lap twiddling the fur on it humming. Your cheeks glowed feeling embarrassed from being so childish, getting so caught up in having your treasured toy with you.

"No. Don't apologise" your alpha was quick to argue with a wide grin eyeing the toy himself with a relieved expression.

"I'm glad you have something from home to comfort you" and he did. He wanted to help make you more at home here, and if a little stuffie did that he wont complain. It will have pride of place on the bed both here and when you finally return to Metropolis with him.

You smiled slowly bringing to toy to your chest clutching it close with one hand almost afraid of releasing it now you'd been reunited. You handt realised just how much it meant to you until you face not having him. Your other hand felt around inside the bag and come across a small book. You frowned and pulled it out then flushed seeing what it was. Who had popped that in your bag?! Surely not your parents, there must be a mistake.

You flipped it open and froze seeing your fathers broken English scribbled on the inner cover. A note to Kal.

'This help read. Kal be happy with mate, love her make family' you drew a deep breath and smiled nodding understanding what he meant. Be happy with each other, become a family.

"Ah and Clark... here this is our erm... my dad left this to you mating book... it has everything you need to know about... that" you uttered handing him the book. He froze not expecting to have anything from your parents. He looked over the words and smiled. It was your fathers blessing something he thought he'd go without. Before you could stop him he was flicking through the book scanning the pages and flushing slightly before laughing boisterously drawing his mother into the ship finally giving into her curiosity.

"Well I'll be damned you actually gave me a guide book for sex! Does it have pictures?~" he smirked closing the book and levelling you with a playful stare. You shrunk back squeezing the stuffie in your arms feeling embarrassed pursing your lips cutely.

"Oh god I don't err? Look just read it okay! Alone!" You growled at him as he still laughed finding it amusing just how flustered you got. He winked at you before quirking a brow at you then peered at the book once more.

"Oh so it does have pictures! Hmm? Must be my lucky day being given free porn" he exclaimed teasing you happy that you'd seemed to cheer up, even if you were now a little sheepish.

"I-its not porn! Its realistic sex education!" You said flapping at him well aware of the critical look Martha was casting you both.

"Well sweet heart trust me when I say I don't need much tutoring... actually I do... I need lots! But I'm better at practical~ perhaps you could squeeze in a little one on one session?" He purred leaning closer pushing his chest against you humming biting his lip nuzzling you. You shuddered and stuttered tripping over your words. It was at that moment Martha jumped into action.

"OKAY! Right that's enough lessons for one day Casanova, we can leave that conversation there" she huffed standing behind him placing her hands on her hips taking a stern stance.

"What? But ma i was just about-"

"Oh i know very well what you were just about to do son! Behave. And be glad she gave you a raunchy book." The human countered none to impressed with the way Clark seemed to be turning into a cheeky horndog.

"Its just sex education... not raunchy" you muttered quietly hanging your head with a sigh still glowing brightly at the fact everyone seemed to think you'd given him porn.

"I believe you sweety... Come on Clark lets get a move on, we will sort one shelf today then we can relax in the garden" she assured you before ordering Clark nudging him with a foot making him pout.

"But ma?" He whined suddenly transforming from eager alpha to leading child that made you giggle. He really was cute, cuter then you'd thought he'd be.

"No buts. You want to take this stuff to your little club house today don't you?" She snipped prodding him harder with her foot with a smirk.

"Fortress Ma. Its a fortress" Clark huffed rolling his eyes sending you a wink only to yip as Martha toe punched him a little harder in warning.

"Mm hmm call it what you want, when a son builds himself a hidden little mancave and only lets certain friends in, its a clubhouse. No matter how big or high-tech it is" she drolled making you chuckled at the two. It was nice having the motherly woman around even if she was struggling with the new situation you and her son were in.

"Its not a... whatever, come on you lets sort through this shelf first" Clark finally caved and stood helping you up deciding to pick his battles... he had to keep his mother sweet if he was going to convince her that you could move in with him, be it his room here or his appartment in Metropolis.

#henry cavill #clark kent imagine #clark kent x reader #alpha clark kent #clark kent x you #superman x reader #superman imagine #alpha superman #superman x you #fic: Deliverance

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waywardrose13 · 3 years

Text

Night and Day

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4263

Warnings: Language, witch!reader, mentions and implicaitons of sex, angst, some fluff, not enough editing to satisfy me

Summary: You hid the fact that you were a witch from the Winchester brothers for years. After a run in with an old mentor of yours causes your secret to be revealed, the brothers find out that not only are you a witch, but one of the most powerful in the world. When Dean is given the task to kill you in exchange for his brother’s life, you must face the fact you lied to the man you loved- the same man who hates witches with a burning passion.

A/N: My tags haven’t been working lately. I’m going to put my tags in a reblog. Comment or shoot me an ask letting me know if you got a notification or not. Oh, and also- surprise!

“Dean, I’m serious. We gotta get up.”

You gently nudged at your boyfriend. A smile played on your lips as you felt his arms tighten around you. He whined and let out a long sigh.

“Five more minutes.”

“You said that twenty mintues ago,” you scoffed, smirking down at him. He groaned and lifted his head to look at you.

“You’re a joy killer,” he said.

“A joy killer?” You asked. You raised a brow as your smirk grew. “Really?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dean said.

“Right. Okay big boy, up and attem, let’s go. We’ve got that case in Ozark.”

Dean groaned again. “We just got back from a case two days ago.”

“Comes with the job description, honey,” you said. You swung your legs out of bed, placing your feet onto the floor. As you stood up, Dean suddenly wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you back down onto the bed. You squealed as he squeezed your sides, his lips latching onto your throat.

“Wanna stay here with you,” Dean said. He raised his head to kiss your lips. You ran your hand through his hair, his fingers running up your side, raising to cup your breast beneath your shirt.

“Dean, we don’t have time for this,” you said. He peppered kisses along your throat and collarbone, settling on the pulse point below your ear. “As much as I love doing this, we really need to get up.”

Dean halted his movements and lifted his head to scowl at you. He pushed himself up and off you, walking over to the dresser.

“Alright, fine,” he huffed. “Joy killer.”

***

“Of course, it has to be fucking witches.”

You winced at his words. You had been in Ozark for nearly a day now. After interviewing two of the victims who survived the attacks, you had also spoken to the detectives on the case before investigating the victims’ homes. The victims claimed to have been attacked by a shadow figure. The other three victims had been slaughtered in their homes, while the two survivors suffered severe lacerations and what seemed to be burns. You and the brothers were stumped for a while, until you found a hex bag hidden in a vase in one of the homes, and another hex bag stuffed in a couch cushion in the other.

You always hated witch cases. Not only were they dangerous, but they were also conflicting. You were a natural born witch, coming from a long line of witches on your mother’s side of the family. You had the gift of sight, also known as psychic abilities, and you had practiced witchcraft since you were thirteen.

When you had met Dean Winchester, it had been on a ghoul hunt. In those three days, you instantly felt an attraction to him that you couldn’t describe. You never thought he would be interested in you. You saw the women he’d frequent, and you weren’t like them. You were in shape, hunting keeping you fit, however you had some stretch marks, love handles, and thicker thighs than you would’ve liked. You also weren’t the prettiest woman in your opinion. You weren’t ugly, but you were always self conscious of the way you looked. You were sarcastic, cursed like a sailor, and reserved. You had always kept a wall around yourself ever since you were younger, sprouting at early ages due to things you had experienced and seen. You were twenty-four, a virgin, and a bit awkward at times.

Not at all Dean Winchester’s type.

But after meeting up with the Winchesters a few more times, you and Dean slowly became closer, until one night after a hunt, Dean had confessed his feelings for you. He was hesitant at first due to the ten year age difference, but your relationship had quickly blossomed. He was your first real relationship, the first person to ever be with you entirely, the first person to ever hold your heart.

Which is why you never told him about yourself.

Dean hated witches. It was a fact everyone knew. If you were to tell him that you were, in fact, a witch, he’d not only break up with you, but you were afraid he’d hunt you. Although you had never used your abilities for anything other than good, you weren’t entirely sure Dean would be able to trust you after you kept it from him for so long.

You were one of the most powerful witches in the world. Numerous covens have tried to recruit you, but you turned them all down. You were nomadic by nature, a free spirit, and you didn’t want to use your abilities to do someone else’s bidding. So you stuck to yourself. You kept off the radar and hoped your protective hex bags shield sigil tattoos worked. When Dean asked about the tattoos, you had simply told him they were more sigils for protection- like the anti possession tattoo. He believed you without a second thought.

“Okay, so now that we know what we’re dealing with,” Sam began. “We need to find out who. After doing some digging, I found that all of the victims attended the same addiction recovery group.”

“So you think the group is somehow linked to the murders?” Dean asked.

“It makes sense,” you said. “They all had this one thing in common. That’s what we always look for, right?”

“Right. There are only three people left in the group who have not been attacked. Since it’s a support group, anonymity is a requirement. But luckily for us, we have fake badges,” Sam said. “Marcus Wainwright, Brienne Tarly, and Astrid Waters are the only people who haven’t been attacked.”

You froze at Astrid’s name. You knew that name. She was the leader of a coven who tried to recruit you years ago. You turned them down because of the craft which they practiced.

“Who’s the leader of the group?” You asked.

“Uh…” Sam looked at the files. “Astrid.”

“I think it’s her,” you said. The brothers looked at you in question. You mentallykicked yourself. You said it before you could think. “She’s the leader, right?” You tried to cover yourself. “What if she used this group as a way to make sacrifices to whatever that shadow is?”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Sam said. “Carla, one of the victims I talked to today, said that Astrid would always try to get the group attendants to recruit more people. Apparently Astrid was always trying to bring more people into the group. Almost like she was obsessed with it.”

“She was trying to get more people to sacrifice,” Dean said.

“Exactly,” you said.

“Okay, let’s find this bitch.”

***

Astrid still lived in the same cottage as she did all those years ago when she tried to recruit you. Cobblestone walls covered in climbing ivy. Black shutters hung off the gothic windows. Various leafy plants grew around the sides of the house. The broken path led to a great wood door. The negative energy rolling off the house made you nauseous, and it took everything in you not to pass out.

You were only sixteen when you met Astrid, only just beginning to truly tap into your true potential when other witches began to feel your energy.

“You’re strong,” she had told you. “Stronger than me. You would be a valuable asset to any coven. A threat to witches below your strength. Others will want to harvest that power for themselves. We can keep you safe. I can keep you safe.”

You could feel her energy was dark. Her aura was an ominous black, a stark contrast from your pure white. You knew she was lying immediately. You threatened her. You were stronger than Astrid, and that pissed her off.

“I can fend for myself, thanks,” you had said.

Astrid had simply smirked at you, patting your hand gently. “We’ll see about that, my dear.”

You never thought you’d run across her again. You had hoped that you wouldn’t run into her again. Not only was she incredibly dangerous to you, but there was a high chance she would spill your secret, and you would not only lose Dean forever, but you would lose your life.

Swallowing back your fear, you trudged through the woods alongside the brothers. You knew you needed to do this. Innocent people were dying. If this was your last night on Earth, you wanted to be able to save them at least.

The three of you ducked below one of the windows. Dean peeked inside, trying his best to stay as hidden as possible.

“She’s in there,” he whispered. “She’s… at an altar. She’s chanting something.”

“Guess we found our witch,” Sam muttered. “Nice, Y/N.”

You gave him a weak smile.

Dean got up in front of the door, gun in hand. You and Sam waited for his call.

“Okay, on three,” he said.

“One… two…”

“Three!”

A new voice echoed around you, the door of the cottage violently swinging open, a gust of wind knocking Dean off his feet. Astrid’s cackle filled the air, and suddenly you began to feel woozy. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, Sam falling down next to you. You knew it was Astrid, and you tried to fight it off, but soon succumbed to her power as well, your world going dark.

***

“How exciting!”

Head pounding, you awoke to the sound of a female’s voice. Trying to move, you soon found yourself unable to. Your eyelids felt heavy, and your limbs felt numb.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling of the cottage. Astrid’s silver head was bent over you, bright emerald eyes staring into yours, a crooked, elated smile on her face.

“My oh my, I never thought the day would come,” she muttered to herself. A long nailed finger stroked your cheek, and you flinched away.

“Don’t touch her, you bitch!” You turned your head at the sound of Dean’s voice. You smiled weakly immediately at the sight of him, finding yourself incredibly tired.

You felt drained.

You tried to move your hands, finding them strapped to the table you were currently laid out on. Your flannel had been removed, as were your jeans, leaving you in only a tank top and panties. You shivered in the cool air. You hated being exposed like this in front of anyone that wasn’t Dean.

“What are you doing?” You asked weakly. “Let me go.”

Astrid laughed. “Please. You fall right into my hands and you think I’m going to let you go?” She asked. “You’re smarter than that, little fox.”

“Why are you doing this?” Sam asked. “Why did you kill all those people? Why did you sacrifice them?”

Astrid looked surprised. “Oh my, you’re a smart one, aren’t you?” She smiled at Sam, holding a mortar and pestle up over you. She crushed something inside, muttering a few incantations.

“The shadow makes me stronger. The more it's fed, the stronger I become,” Astrid said smoothly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m a strong witch. Stronger than your average natural born, much stronger. However, there are only two people in the world who are stronger than me.”

Astrid gave you a pointed look.

“The shadow makes me stronger, as I said, but without the power of the other two witches, I will never be the strongest. If I were to siphon their energies from their souls, I would be the strongest witch there ever was and will ever be.”

“Pretty egotistical, eh there, granny?” Dean said. Astrid sneered at him.

“You’ll be the first one to die once I’m done with her, honey,” Astrid said.

“That is if I don’t kill you first, sweetheart.”

“If you only knew what I would be capable of,” Astrid snapped. “One witch has kept herself hidden. The Scottish bitch never can be found.”

“Rowena,” Sam said.

“Oh, you know her?” Astrid said. “Yes, Rowena. Now, the other witch. Well, I met her years ago. She was just a wee lass of sixteen at the time, but she was already so strong. I knew she was going to be a problem for me. I tried to recruit her to my coven, but she was smart. Too smart. I’ve been trying to track her down for years, and I’ve never been able to find her.”

Astrid let out a dreamy sigh. “And then, by the grace of God, she fell right into my hands.”

“If you’ve already killed her, why take the souls of innocents?” Dean asked.

Astrid scoffed. “Oh no, dear. I haven’t killed her yet.”

“Well what’s the hold up? One less witch to worry about. You’ll stop killing innocent people.”

Astrid laughed. She looked down at you. “No idea how you’ve been with the man as long as you did. If I heard that, I’d run for the hills. Or stab him in his sleep.”

“Don’t touch him,” you hissed. Astrid grinned.

“There’s that fire,” she said. She smeared the green paste she made over your chest. You let out a small cry as it burned your skin. She painted a pentacle on you, muttering more incantations.

“Unfortunately, to siphon all of a witch's power, the siphoner cannot kill the siphonee,” Astrid said. “Someone else has to do it after I prepare her, then I could siphon it.”

“Well let’s make you a deal,” Dean said. Your lip wobbled. “If I kill the bitch, letting you siphon her power, you will never kill another person.”

Astrid smiled wickedly. “Really?”

“Sure. One less witch and we save some people.”

Astrid laughed. “Oh that’s too good. I’ll make a blood vow. If I break it, I die.”

“Fine.” Dean nodded at her.

“Give me your word, hunter,” Astrid said.

“I give you my word.”

“That no matter what, you follow through,” Astrid continued.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, fine.”

“Dean,” you said softly. A tear leaked from your eye. “Please.”

He looked at you curiously. Astrid cut his bindings, letting him free.

“He’s not the brightest bulb, is he?” She asked you, laughing.

“Where do I find her?” Dean asked.

Astrid handed Dean a knife. It had a curled handle, various sigils carved into it. She stepped back, folding her arms over her chest.

“Go ahead.”

“You deaf?” Dean asked. “Where do I find the bitch?”

Astrid smirked, running her tongue over her lips.

“Right in front of you.”

The blood drained from Dean’s face. Tears streamed from your eyes now, leaking down your temples onto the wood beneath you. Astrid killing you was one thing. Dean killing you? There was nothing worse you could think of.

“Y/N?” He said. “No fucking way. She’s not a witch.”

“Isn’t she?” Astrid asked. “Go on, Y/N. Show us a little trick.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing this was all a dream. Wishing that you would wake up and you’d be back at the bunker in Dean’s arms.

But when you opened your eyes, Dean still stood there, that curved knife in his hand, Astrid’s evil grin plastered on her face, a shocked Sam watching from his confinement on the wall.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“If you don’t show him-” she walked over to Sam, hand on his head- “I blow his brain apart.”

You took in a shaky breath, eyes focusing on the windows. Suddenly, your eyes glowed purple, and the windows shattered. The glass floated up into the air, spinning around and around, wind whipping everyone’s hair. It only lasted a few moments, and when the glass stopped spinning, a heart floated six feet off the ground. It slowly moved towards Dean, and once it reached him, you blinked, eyes going back to their normal E/C, the heart falling to the ground, glass shattering once more, mimicking your own heart.

Dean looked up at you in shock.

“You did that?”

“It’s her best party trick,” Astrid said. “Y/N here is an artist. Unless, of course, she’s blowing a werewolf to pieces with a simple flick of her wrist, or growing a thirty foot tree with the blink of an eye.”

“No,” Dean said lowly. “You lied to me.”

“I was afraid,” you said. “You hate witches. I thought you were going to kill me.”

“You fucking kept this giant ass secret from me!” He yelled. “You lied to me for years! All that time we’ve been together, you’ve been fucking

“Dean, please-”

“How do I know anything you said was true?”

“It all is! You know everything about me, Dean! I just never told you this!” You urged. “Please, Dean. You know me. You know I’m a good person.”

“I don’t know shit,” he hissed. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

“What?” You asked.

“Have you ever killed someone?” He snapped.

“No! I’ve never-”

“Eh, eh, eh,” Astrid said. “Don’t lie to the poor man anymore, Y/N.”

You let out a sob. “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” Astrid exclaimed. “Bursting a man into flames was an accident? Killing a father of four was an accident?”

“Yes!” You said. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know how to control myself, I-”

A sharp pain suddenly seared inside your head. You gasped, eyes squeezing shut.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked. Astrid grinned.

“Punishing her,” she answered calmly. You screamed as the pain became so intense, white flashed behind your eyes and your whole body went rigid.

“Stop!” Dean yelled.

The pain was gone instantly. You panted, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, sweat mixing with your tears.

“Slit her wrists, Dean,” Astrid whispered. “You swore.”

Dean took the few steps he needed to be right next to you. He looked at the knife, then at your wrist, then at your face.

“Won’t she just heal herself?” He asked.

“Those cuffs around her wrists contain sigils that will prevent any self healing or harm to another person,” Astrid said. “It limits her power. It’s why she hasn’t broken out yet.”

Dean swallowed thickly. He looked at you, eyes searing deeply into your own. An anger burned behind the green you loved so much. It scared you. That anger had never been directed towards you before.

But there was something else as well. Despair. Dean was torn. You were a witch, a powerful one, and you had lied about it for years. On the other hand, Dean was in love with you. He loved you so much, it scared him.

“Do it,” Astrid said. “Do it, or I kill him.”

She was bent down beside Sam now, lips near his ear, eyes burning purple. Dean looked between you and his brother. You knew he’d never choose you over Sam.

“Do it,” you whispered. You nodded at him, giving him a soft smile. “It’s alright.”

“How can you say that?” Dean asked.

“I’ll find my way back to you someday,” you told him. “If not, I’ll simply wait for you.”

Dean bit his lip. “I wish you had told me.”

“I thought you were going to kill me,” you admitted. He shook his head, leaning against the table. He cupped your cheek, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“Baby, you’re a good person,” he said. “Sure, I hate witches.”

You winced.

“But I could never hate you.”

You blinked a few times. “Even though I’m-”

He pressed his lips softly to yours. His eyes were misty, brows pulled together.

“I could never hate you,” he whispered against your lips.

“Do it, Dean!” Astrid urged. “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Dean, don’t do it,” Sam said.

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “I’ll wait for you, my love.”

Dean shook his head.

“Five seconds,” Astrid warned.

“I love you, Dean. It’s okay,” you whispered.

Dean looked down at the knife in his hands. He caressed your wrist, bringing the knife down against your skin.

“Three seconds!”

He gave you one last look, moving the knife back-

“Two-”

He jerked the knife-

“One!”

You expected the sting of the blade, but only felt the release of the cuff.

“Man, you should have had some sort of spell on that shit,” Dean said. He smiled darkly at you, giving you a wink. Using your other hand, you flashed your eyes purple, burning the other cuff off.

“No!” Astrid yelled. “What have you done?”

With a simple flick of your wrist, Astrid was flung away from Sam. She crashed into the opposite wall. You slipped off the table, bare feet hitting the cold floor. A wind blew through the cottage, blowing your hair back from your face. You stalked towards her, all the while a smirk grew on your lips, your fingers tingling.

“I haven’t let myself go in so long,” you said. You lifted your hands, seeing the purple glow in your palms and beneath your fingertips. You cocked your head. “All this pent up energy…”

“Y/N-”

“It’s almost like snapping a rubber band,” you muttered.

“Y/N,” Dean said slowly.

Using a blast of power, you forced Astrid’s arms against the wall. Keeping them there, you raised her up until her feet dangled off the floor. You did the same to her ankles, the strain causing her skin to bruise immediately.

“Y/N, wait-”

You forced her head back, a sickening crunch resonating inside the cottage.

“So much power… can be dangerous,” Astrid gasped. Blood dribbled from her mouth and nose, pouring out of her eyes like tears. You forced more pressure upon her, crushing her further. “I was your mentor once… don’t let it consume you… keep your soul pure…”

You crushed her further, your brow raising slightly. You smiled wickedly at Astrid, a dark chuckle leaving your lips. “Rich coming from you,” you said.

“I let it consume me,” Astrid told you. “Don’t… follow in my footsteps.”

You hadn’t used your power like this in years, not since Astrid was your mentor. It sizzled in your veins and made you feel more rushed than ever. It was almost euphoric, the way your body burned with power, power that came from the Earth beneath your feet.

You missed that feeling.

What you didn’t miss, however, was the creeping feeling of darkness. It would intrude your thoughts and darken your mind. The risk of using that much power was the potential that it could consume you, and you would flip darkside.

Like Astrid did.

“See you in hell.”

Using once last surge of power, Astrid let out a guttural scream as her whole body turned an odd shade of red, eyes nearly popping from their sockets, blood streaming from any open source, before she stopped moving.

Letting your power retract, she slumped to the floor.

Dead.

You blinked, letting your eyes return to their natural colour, turning to face Dean.

“You gonna kill me now?” You asked.

Dean swallowed thickly, giving you a small smile.

“No.”

“Why not?” You said. “I’m a monster, right? You hate witches. I am witch. Pretty self explanatory.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean said.

“You can’t pick and choose the monsters you kill and don’t kill,” you said. “You came here to kill a witch. I killed her, now it’s your turn.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean repeated.

You gritted your teeth, sighing deeply. “Fine.”

You walked over to Sam, looking over your shoulder at Dean. With a simple flick of your wrist, Sam was released from his bindings.

“Do it, Sam.”

“Why?” He asked.

“I haven’t let myself go like that in a long time,” you said. “I forgot how tempting it is to give in. I want to do it, Dean. You need to kill me before I do.”

“No,” he said.

“Do it!” You yelled. “Do you really want me to flip? You want me to become like her?” You pointed to the woman you had just killed.

“You won’t,” Dean said. “You’re not like her.”

“Yes,” you whispered. A single tear slipped down your cheek. “I am. I killed that man when I was sixteen because I almost let it win. Who knows what else I could have done if I did.”

“Then we lock you up in the dungeon,” Dean said. “And we bring you back. But you’re good, Y/N. I know you better than anyone.”

Your lip wobbled.

“You still love me?” You murmured. “Even after finding out?”

Dean smiled warmly at you. He took your hands in his, massaging the backs of yours. “Sure, I was pissed you didn’t tell me. Still am, quite frankly. But you’re my girl,” he said. “I know you. I know the kind of person you are.”

“You hate witches,” you pointed out.

“Eh, maybe they’re not so bad,” Dean said, giving you a lopsided shrug. “I mean, I know this one witch. She’s pretty hot, really good in bed-”

“Dean!” You exclaimed, slapping his chest playfully. He laughed, kissing your forehead, bringing you into his chest.

“What can I say? What you did was pretty badass. Not my fault I’m into that.”

You shook your head. “Okay, big boy. If you’re not gonna kill me, let’s go home.”

Dean took a deep breath, leaning down to pick you up bridal style. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

“Come on, Sabrina,” he said. You gave him a bitch face, making Sam laugh.

“Really?” You asked.

“Oh, I’ve got more,” he said. “Do you have a pointy hat? Or a broomstick? Were you always this color, or were you born green?”

“Yeah, this is gonna be a long ride home,” Sam muttered.

Did you like it? What was your favorite part? Send me an ask with your thoughts! Feedback is loved and greatly appreciated:)

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#one shot #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural #fanfiction #jensen ackles #waywardrose13 #one-shot #fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #spn #angst

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bailey-whalieee · 3 years

Text

Things Are Different Now

(So sorry this took so long, I had major writers block and graduation and goodness life got in the way, it’s been a mess, but I am back!! Look out for regular updates!)

THREE

✮

A week had passed and still the DA and the investigation officer had absolutely nothing on the shooting or why it happened. Meanwhile, Steve and Bucky decided to pull Maggie from school for a few weeks to help her process what happened and her anxieties.

Maggie’s nightmares from the night of the party progressed into night terrors and her dad’s would awake to her screams and pleas. It was another reason why Steve and Bucky made the executive order to pull her out of school.

Steve and Bucky laid awake at 3:45 am, awaiting the heart wrenching screams that would soon emit from just down the hall. “Buck, you still awake?”

A sarcastic chuckle fell from his lips, “of course I am, punk.”

His hand intertwined with Bucky’s metal one, seeking comfort from the man. The nightly routine completely broke the men and it made them relive the first months after adopting their sweet girl.

Like clockwork, her screams echoed down the hallway and the two men rushed out of bed. Bucky and Steve felt as though there was something missing. It didn’t make any sense to them why her nightmares were so vivid and petrifying.

Her bed covers were tossed on the floor and Maggie thrashed violently on her mattress, pillowcase stained with tears.

“Maggie, sweetheart, hey, wake up. You’re okay, shh..”

The whimpers didn’t seem to want to stop and neither did the panicked breathing. Her own hands fought theirs as Steve and Bucky tried to wake her, fragments of sentences fell from her lips.

With a choking gasp, Maggie flinching away from the figures before realizing it was only her father’s.

“Hey, hey, doll.. Just breathe,” Bucky reassured, seeing the terrified glint in her eyes.

She locked eyes with Steve and immediately her bottom lip trembled and tears spilled down the red flushed cheeks. “Maggs, darling, what is going on? Honey, you haven’t had nightmares this bad since you were young. Are we missing something? You gotta start talking to us about this,” he coaxed, sitting on the messy bed.

“I-i…”

She drew a blank.. Not only did she have to make up another lie about the nightmares, but now she was just lying. “I don’t know.. Just scared okay?” she shrugged, her doe eyes irritated and puffy.

Bucky wanted to call her bluff.. He knew his daughter especially when she was hiding something, but it was four in the morning and the tiredness showed in her eyes. Maybe she needed to be pulled from school indefinitely, he thought..

“Okay honey.. Just get some sleep,” Steve sighed, smoothing down the mess of blonde curls.

As the two men turned to leave, Maggie whispered, “dad, papa, I’m sorry..”

Puzzled, they both turned around confused with the girl.

“For what maggs?”

“For being like this.. I know you guys are tired, and that you guys never asked for this,” she softly murmured out.

Steve and Bucky paused, before they sat back down on her bed. “Maggie, sweetheart, you are our daughter. Nothing is ever going to stop that from being true. We are here till the end of the line even if it means being here at four in the morning reminding you that whatever is going on in that pretty little head of yours isn’t true,” Steve spoke gently, wiping the fallen tears off her face.

“Plus, your father had to deal with me when we were younger. This ain't nothing, doll,” Bucky chuckled, kissing the top of forehead.

“Get some sleep kiddo, we are going to go do something special today,” Steve winked, ruffling her hair once more.

Confused, she bid her goodnights and tried to lay back down, but the nightmare had reminded her of all the things she never used to be scared of.

✮

The morning came rather quickly and so did the smell of a familiar scent of something Maggie remembered from her childhood.

Bacon & chocolate chip pancakes.

The soft sound of 1920’s music played from the record player in the living room and her two father’s chuckling softly as they flipped pancakes and bacon. Stretching, Maggie made her appearance in the kitchen.

“What’s the occasion?” she yawned, finding her seat on the island.

Huffing, Bucky pointed the wooden spatula at his daughter accusingly, “can two loving father’s make their daughter her favorite breakfast without there being a catch?”

Rolling her eyes, she snickered, “oh may we not forget the time you made this breakfast when my fish died, or the time you guys made it when I failed the spelling bee. Or the time I broke my arm and you guys were trying to cheer me up.”

“Buck, she’s got a point..”

“Okay fine, we are going to take you to the botanical garden,” he smirked.

Maggie’s jaw dropped and her eyes widened, “wait seriously??”

“Yes Maggs, go do your thing and breakfast will be ready by the time you're done,” Steve chuckled, watching his daughter race back upstairs with a squeal.

Shaking their heads, Buck had one thought, “Stevie, I think we won’t have to worry about our daughter having children.. I think we are going to have to worry about her being a plant mom for the rest of her life.”

“I’m just glad she’s not interested in boys,” Steve laughed, “one less ass I have to kick.”

“Agreed, Stevie, agreed.”

Meanwhile, Maggie had decided on her outfit, settling on her all time favorite pants and a butterfly shirt she got for christmas one year. Steve often said her pants reminded him of a hippie and she would roll her eyes.

Practically, running back down stairs she skidded through the threshold of the kitchen excitement beaming from her body. Bucky and Steve’s face both held grins as they took in her outfit.

The yellow socks peaked through her cuffed jeans, a vivid reminder of sunshine and sunny days. They hadn’t seen her smile like this in weeks and to be honest, they never wanted to see it go away.

After breakfast, and lots of hippie jokes from Steve and Bucky, they finally decided to pile into the large Ford Expedition. In all honesty, Maggie had forgotten about the horrors that had happened over the past couple weeks and the weight of it all disappeared for just a moment.

“So, does this mean I get to buy plants while we are here father’s?” she asked wiggling her eyebrow as they all stepped out of the vehicle.

Taking a long sarcastic breath, Bucky sighed, “I suppose so, doll.. If you really need them.”

“Rookie mistake, Buck.. Now she is going to say she needs them all,” Steve chuckled, shaking his head at the man.

Maggie ignored their bickering and awe took over her features as she walked around the planted sanctuary.

Bucky and Steve smiled watching their normally tense daughter return back to her calm self. “Maggs look at this long leafy thing,” Buck pointed, inspecting the plant.

Turning on her heels, she examined what seemed to be a spider plant and spilled the useless information about plants and she gushed about the types of spider plants and how they are useful.

A cold feeling washed over her body when she caught out of the corner of her eye, the same military style boots from that night. Stopping mid sentence, Maggie froze. All of the air expelled from her lungs and both of the super-soldiers noticed the shift in the air.

“Maggie?”

No.

Not again.

“I’ll be right back,” Maggie breathed, not wasting a second before practically running to the bathroom. She could hear Steve and Bucky calling out her name, but she ignored them, only allowing her feet to carry her faster.

Steve and Bucky looked at each other with confusion, how odd?

Her breaths came out rushed and rugged as she entered the bathroom, not knowing exactly if he was actually there or if she had just imagined the combat boots.

She had to calm down. It may not even be him? Maggie couldn’t help, but think about all the what if’s that could happen. Her phone buzzed in her back pocket alarming the already shaken up women.

Unknown

you ought to be more careful. you never know who is lurking about.

1:26 pm

A chill ran up her spine as she sat in the bathroom stall, tears begging to be set free. She couldn’t just sit in the bathroom stall, knowing full well that Steve and Bucky would burst through the door not giving two shits about it being a women’s bathroom if she tried.

Gathering herself back together, she wiped the smeared mascara off her cheeks and took a deep breath.

Gods, why couldn’t this just be over?

‘Should I confess? Maybe I should tell them..’ she thought to herself exiting the bathroom searching for two pairs of familiar blue eyes.

Finally she spotted her two fathers, leaned up against a metal pole admiring the pond with bountiful amounts of fish. Making a beeline for them, she wrapped her arms around Bucky taking in his cologne.

He shot a glance at Steve, raising an eyebrow but nonetheless returning the hug back to his daughter. “Maggs? You okay, darlin’?” he asked, concerned with the surprise hug.

Sighing, she gave him a small smile, “just needed a hug.”

She turned to her other father wrapping her arms around him, and Steve chuckled shaking his head at her antics.

“Papa's, can we just go home and watch a movie or something, there’s a lot of people here?” she asked, knowing that it wasn’t the people it was just one person who might be lurking closer than she wanted.

Steve’s face scrunched up at her announcement, “I think you have been spending too much time with your father.”

“Hey now punk,” Bucky jokingly warned, “c’mon Maggs we will leave pop’s to his own devices since he doesn’t want to hang with us.”

Letting out a laugh, she shook her head at their jests at one another pulling on Bucky’s gloved hand as a sign it was time to go.

Staying high alert, she almost searched for the boots hoping that maybe she would have the courage to go after him. Deep down she wasn’t ready to face what was waiting for her on the other side of those damn combat boots and she knew it.

M&M

maggie, we need to talk asap.

1:41 pm

Furrowing her eyebrow, Maggie’s stomach almost dropped just by looking at the text. It felt like she couldn’t escape that feeling anymore.

Maggs

meet me at my house in ten.

1:43 pm

Clicking out of iMessage, she sighed trying not to allow her anxious thoughts to take over. Gods, she prayed that it was anything, but the shooting or related to the shooting. Maggie had bit off more than she could chew of this damn accident.

“Maggs, you okay? Look a lil’ bummed out, doll?” Bucky looked up into the rearview mirror the vehicle.

She smiled tightly, “yeah, Em is coming over. It’s an emergency.”

Steve turned around from the passenger seat looking concerned, “everything okay?”

Nodding, she shrunk more into the leather seat hoping to just disappear before shortly saying, “boy problems.”

Bucky and Steve almost choked on the air they were breathing. “W-what? Boy problems? Doll, you're not talking to boys yet, right? I mean, don’t get me wrong.. Papa and I won’t stop you, but they really do suck and…”

At this point, Maggie zoned out not even listening to anything Bucky panickingly stuttered out. Emma’s text burnt itself in the back of her mind and the thoughts were relentless.

‘Gods please let this be a boy problem… please.’

✮

When they arrived back, Emma’s car parked itself by their mailbox and she practically darted out of the car and into the house. Maggie knew exactly where she would find Emma.. Either curled up on her bed under the mounds of pillows or on her carpeted floor.

Pushing the bedroom door open, Maggie found Emma holding several envelopes and swollen red eyes.

Emma’s eyes were sunken in like she hadn’t slept very much and her face flushed a deep red. “Em..?”

She shoved the envelopes into Maggie’s hands, before a new wave of tears overtook the girl. Not knowing what to do, she opened the already torn envelopes wordlessly. Countless photos of her best friend, laid in her hands with several letters all written with the same message in fancy red ink.

‘This isn’t over Emma Anderson, this is only the beginning. - black wolf’

“Em, who is this?” Maggie uttered, speechless.

She looked at Maggie absolutely floored by her question, “are you fucking kidding me, Maggie? Do I know who this is? No, Maggie. I don’t fucking know who the hell it is. I’m going to guess it was that little prick who almost killed us, and thanks to you, I can’t tell anyone.”

“Emma, I didn’t know-”

“You know what Maggie Rogers-Barnes, how about you take care of this? Since you wanna be like your daddies and save the fucking world, fix it. You’re going to end up just like those kids. Dead. Fuck you for getting me into this mess and not letting the cops do their jobs.”

Every word hit Maggie like a slap in the face and her jaw went slack.

“You know what Maggie, just forget it. You’ll never be that hero you told me about, cause you’re too much of a damn coward to tell anyone about what happened at that damn party. Don’t text me again. Fuck you, fuck this friendship,” and with that, Emma walked out of her bedroom and back to her car.

Breathing harshly, she allowed the tears to freely fall down her face. This could not be happening. No, the one thing she wanted to keep until she died just walked out of her life.

Hearing the loud footsteps rushing up the stairs, Maggie hid the envelopes under her laptop trying to cover up her tears.

“Hey babydoll, everything okay? We heard some yelling and then Emma just left,” Steve furrowed his eyebrow noticing the wetness of her cheeks.

Clearing her throat, “yeah, just a little fight over something stupid. Can I ask you guys an irrelevant question?”

“Of course doll.”

“Shoot, honey.”

“You guys always told me that I should stand up for what I believe in and that I should fight for something even if it is hard, right? Because, I am so scared that people will be mad if I do,” she ended, feeling tears prick in the back of her eyes.

“Maggs, one of the hardest fights will always be following everyone else or you can take the hard path that won’t be easy and do what it is right,” Bucky spoke, watching his conflicted daughter.

“When I didn’t sign the Sokovia Accords, it was the hardest thing I had done, but Maggie I stood up for what I believed in and I did it. I fought a lot of pissed off people and faced criminal offenses, but it was so worth it. Don’t let anybody tell you what is right or wrong. Figure that out on your own,” Steve concluded with a soft smile, “besides, I got your dad through the deal.”

Bucky rolled his eyes, shoving him lightly.

Smiling gently, she mumbled a small, “thanks dad’s.”

And with that, Maggie formulated a plan in her mind.

She would fix this no matter what it took even if it meant her own life. She screwed it up. It didn’t matter if it took hell freezing over to make amends, Maggie made the decision that night that it was time to fix it.

✮

#stucky x daughter!reader #stucky x reader #stucky x oc #bucky x oc #bucky x reader #steve x oc #steve x reader #Steve Rogers #Bucky Barnes #avengers x reader #agnst #fluff

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oatmilkslytherin · 4 years

Text

the one that got away pt. 2 (d.malfoy)

description: with blaise’s vicious secret unfolded and the help of y/n’s best friend,draco does everything he can to get his lover back no matter what the cost is

pairing: draco malfoy x anyhouse!reader

requested: yes / no

warnings: light cursing, blaise is mega antagonist little bitch boy in this sorry again !!

taglist: @killiansawyer @potatothingsz

draco’s pov:

my heart thudded heavily out of my chest, both from blood-boiling anger as well as heart-wrenching sadness. i stalked through the corridors with my hands balled into fists at my sides, so tight i could feel my nails just about to break the flesh of my palms.

i hadn’t the slightest idea where they might be, but searching every inch of the castle seemed to suffice for me. pansy trailed a few paces behind me, still muttering strings of curses followed with blaise’s name as her head snapped towards every source of movement around the halls. the energy radiating from the both of us was purely fuming rage; at this point, i couldn’t tell who was more excited to get their hands on blaise.

after what felt like hours of pacing every corridor, pansy and i finally came to a halt in the courtyard. our breathing was heavy as our eyes landed upon blaise and y/n sitting under a large, leafy tree. she had her knees brought close to her chest, cradling them in her arms as she looked at blaise blankly and emotionally. blaise seemed to be rambling on about something “amazing” he did, or at least that’s what it looked like from his grand hand gestures. he was always a bragging git.

pansy was able to move her feet before i was, immediately stalking up towards them with her hand gripping at her wand. her face was flushed red with anger as she closed in on them. i began to trail behind, keeping pansy in the middle of me and them.

“this little charade is over, zabini. we know what you did to y/n,” pansy spat at the duo. y/n looked entirely unfazed by her words, looking up at her best friend with no definable emotion reaching her features. blaise unwound his arm from y/n’s shoulders, pushing himself off the ground and crossing his arms over his chest. he had a look of cockiness plastered across his face; a look i so desperately wanted to hex right off of him.

“do you, parkinson? well, she doesn’t,” blaise cooly said back as he gestured to the small girl who was still sat behind him. pansy took in a sharp breath at his words, her eyes glazing over with tears.

“how could you do this? to her, to me, to draco? you’re shit, zabini,” pansy spat through a few fallen tears. blaise chuckled darkly at her tears, and i wondered how someone i once called my best friend could be so cruel and vile. the thought purely disgusted me.

i glanced at y/n briefly between pansy and blaise’s exchange. she was staring right back at me, her y/e/c eyes staring into mine with pure confusion and hesitation. i could swear i briefly caught a glimpse of the subtle sparkle in her eyes before they turned dull and emotionless when she reverted her attention back to blaise.

“what are you gonna do about it, darling? cry?” blaise snorted as he mocked pansy’s overwhelming anger. i stood at pansy’s side now, my own anger coaxing me into throwing any hex i knew at his smugness. pansy on the other hand, had other ideas.

a wicked smile shone through her reddened eyes. i glanced at her quizzically, praying to merlin this wouldn’t end up with me helping her find a spot for blaise’s body. before i could even comprehend her actions, pansy muttered a quick ‘petrificus totalus’ with the quick wave of her wand.

blaise’s body froze in its spot. his eyes were slightly wide with shock reaction, his hand petrified in air as he attempted to reach for his own wand just before pansy’s spell. she let a laugh escape her mouth as she paced over towards y/n, who now sat with furrowed brows and tense shoulders under the tree. she took a last glance at blaise with a dangerous smirk on her features.

“not so smug now, are you, darling?” pansy spat.

“pans, what are you doing?” i questioned, suddenly remembering my ability to speak and move. pansy gave me a small, relieving smile.

“don’t worry, draco,” pansy assured me, fiddling with her wand in her hands. she turned her attention back to y/n, exhaling deeply as she raised her wand in her direction, “surgito.”

y/n’s pov:

it felt like nothing and everything at the same time. cool wind flowing into my lungs with a surge of fire coursing through my veins. i sat startled, my hands in the grass below me with my heart beating rapidly in my chest. my vision was blurred and hazy, my eyes falling to the tufts of grass below me as my pulse quickened through the tips of my fingers.

my body felt stiff and sore, as if i had not been in my body at all. as if someone had been holding onto me like a puppet on a string.

my vision slowly came to, my eyes focusing on the two pairs of feet that stood before me. i looked up slowly, my breathing shallow and stagnant. my eyes first fell upon draco’s, who looked at me with wide, teary eyes. next to him was pansy, who was biting down viciously on her lower lip with a sympathetic look strung along her features.

“y/n?” draco’s voice croaked out with a slight rasp and crack. my eyes snapped back to his.

“yes, dray?” these simple words seemed to set him off. he threw himself on the ground next to me, wrapping me in his arms with his face buried in my neck. i jumped slightly at his action, but soon melted into the sweet, confusing embrace of my loving boyfriend. my neck was wet with his tears as he sniffled lightly. i brought my hands up to rub the small of his back.

“sweetheart, what’s going on?” i questioned, my mind still reeling with unanswered questions. last i could remember, i was with draco the night before, and i had woken up and walked with blaise to breakfast. now, here i sat under the tree with my sobbing boyfriend and best friend in my midst. it couldn’t have been more than a few hours without them, right?

draco pulled away from me slightly, his eyes red and puffy but the clear smile still on his features. he brushed a stray strand of hair from my face, cradling my cheek softly in the palm of his hand.

“i thought i lost you forever,” draco choked out. i stared at him in confusion, my eyes now darting to pansy who stood with a relieved expression on her face.

“come on, love. we’ll explain everything,” pansy stated, reaching her hand out to me. i grabbed it, steadying myself on draco’s shoulder as they pulled me off the ground. i groaned at the slight pain and soreness that shook through my body, letting myself lean into draco as we walked towards the castle.

i sat cradled in draco’s embrace, listening to the subtle beating of his heart through his school robes mingling with the soft flicker of the fireplace in front of us.

“i can’t believe blaise put me under a spell for three months,” i muttered, nuzzling my head further into his chest. although it hadn’t felt like more than a few hours to me, it had apparently felt like a lifetime to draco. my heart wrenched at the thought of him seeing me with someone else, completely consumed with the thought that i loved another. sitting here with him, i knew i could never love another quite like this.

draco placed a soft kiss to the top of my head, pulling me impossibly closer to his body as he wound his arms tighter around me.

“i’m just glad you’re here now, darling,” draco mused, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke. i shifted my gaze up at him, his bright blue eyes boring lovingly into mine with a soft smile strewing upon his face.

“and i’m never leaving,” i whispered, craning my neck up to place a soft kiss on his cheek. he smiled deeply, pulling my lips against his own in a mix of love and longing. i smiled against the feeling of his lips on mine, wondering how i could’ve gone so long without his warm embrace and sweet words.

“i would never let you go. not again.”

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nelllraiser · 3 years

Text

garlic dread | milo & nell

TIMING: the middle of spring, before the portals opened. PARTIES: @wickedmilo & @nelllraiser. SUMMARY: milo just wants to help nell with her plants, but nell has other plans.

With spring coming into its prime, Nell’s garden had been thriving in addition to her greenhouse. During the time she’d been struggling to pay off her hospital debt, watching the numbers of new flowers in her garden dwindle had been one of the hardest cutbacks, the blooms and otherwise being one of her simpler joys in life. But now that her father had paid off the hospital without the witch’s permission, it meant that she was able to spend a little more money than usual on some new little plants and the like. Which was how she found herself walking home with a plethora of green and leafy friends in her arms, barely able to see over the lot of them as she made her way out of the plant nursery. She was nearly out of eyeshot from the other townies— which meant she was only steps away from being able to freely use her magic when another person caught the corner of her eye. Where the hell had he come from? She was instantly annoyed despite the fact that the young man couldn’t have any inkling of his unintentional meddling. Hopefully with any luck he’d disappear soon enough of his own accord, and then she’d be able to hover her new plants home with minimal effort. Another look towards the guy had her brow scrunching up in thought. He looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place why.

Milo wasn’t sure he would ever get used to smelling people before he saw them. It was a strange, and uncomfortable instinct. Usually he discovered he wasn’t alone through sight, or through sound. The regular ways. But when the fresh scent of vegetation and potted soil managed to reach him on the evening breeze, he glanced upwards, curious to see where it was coming from. There was a woman on the other side of the road, walking towards him with her arms full. He could only assume she was an avid gardener, nobody else would buy quite so much when they knew they needed to carry it home. For a while, he was too distracted by her plants to pay any real attention to her face, but as she grew closer he began to recognise her from high school. What was her name? Was it Penelope? He felt sure it was, but he also had a feeling nobody ever actually called her that. Jeez, it was so difficult remembering back on a time where he had barely been present. Always high, or on the verge of inebriation. If somebody wasn’t his friend, they faded away almost immediately after graduation. Regardless, it felt rude not to offer his help. He had been meeting so many people from his past, as of late. This could be an opportunity to make a new friend, somebody who didn’t know what a mess he was. “Hey!” He called from where he was standing across the road, there were no cars, so he knew she would have no trouble hearing him. “Any chance you want some help?”

Highschool maybe? Was it highschool that she knew him from? Nell didn’t really want to ask, not when she was trying to hurry home, and get this guy out of her hair so that she could get her magic up and going. “Yeah- no thanks,” she dropped her reply quickly, taking on a fairly dismissive tone, hoping he’d catch the hint and leave her alone. Still...it was nagging her that she couldn’t place his face. It was definitely from highschool, but she’d had barely a handful of friends back then, and everyone else knew well enough to just leave her alone. Even though the normies couldn’t have known she was actually a witch, that didn’t stop the age-old fear of things they didn’t understand from settling in when it came to Nell Vural.

At first, they’d been taught it by their parents at the hands of a disastrous childhood birthday party where a kindergarten aged Nell had accidentally summoned a swarm of Wolpertingers out of her birthday cake. From then on, all it’d taken for her schoolmates to avoid her was a couple of violent altercations born of shitty people and her temper, and a few more mystic incidents for them to steer clear and whisper behind her back. But they’d had no problems coming to her when they wanted something more salacious, hook-ups underneath and bleachers and in empty classrooms. Apparently it had been fine enough to screw the creepy magic girl, just not get on her nerves or be her friend.

Milo faltered as Penelope turned down his offer, both surprised and irritated by the way she casually brushed him off. He was trying to be friendly, not to mention the fact that he recognised her from high school. She had every right to say no, of course. But he felt like he had decent grounds to be annoyed. If anything, it was an opportunity for good company, a mutual opportunity. Crossing the road without looking, confident he would hear any cars if they got too close, he raised his eyebrows at her. “I’m going to assume you have no idea who I am.” He half teased. “But I swear I’m not a creeper about to follow you home. Come on, let me help.” He gestured to the plants in her arms, knowing he didn’t need to point out how overwhelmed she was by her load. “I’m trying this new thing where I’m not an asshole, you know? This would really help my credibility.”

Nell. The name came back to him suddenly, along with the reputation she had once managed to build for herself. He had stayed largely out of her way, watching her arguments in the corridor from afar, listening when people whispered about her while making no move to acknowledge the rumours. Honestly, anybody willing to say ‘fuck you’ to societal standards and enjoy sex for what it was had his respect. But it made him wonder why he had never gotten to know her back then. Given what was so often said, she seemed very much like his kind of person. Had she changed since? He definitely had, in more ways than one. “Nell, right?” He asked, unable to help himself. “It’s Milo… Summers. I used to hang around with Kyle.” He had no idea whether she even knew who Kyle was, but given they had both spent most of their days filling the boy’s bathroom with smoke, he figured she had probably heard of him.

To be honest, Nell didn’t entirely mind if some random guy from highschool got caught in the crossfire of her impatience— especially when she was over eager to get home, and get her plants all settled in. Was it rude? Probably. Would she ever see the guy again, and did she really care when she hadn’t even known him well enough to properly attach a name to face? Probably not. She simply raised a brow as he confirmed that no- she couldn’t quite place him within the confines of her highschool memories. “I’m not worried about you following me home.” It most likely wouldn’t turn out great for someone anyway if they decided to follow a girl back to the house where three witches, a reanimated corpse, and a literal demon dog lived. He was trying not to be an asshole? Why did she have to be a part of that when she just wanted to get home as fast as possible?

Popping her mouth open to give him another denying reply bordering on rude, surprise flit over her face when he managed to remember her name— which quickly turned to intrigue as he mentioned the name Milo in conjunction with Kyle. Oh shit, this was Milo. The same Milo that had been hanging around the werewolf during the time he’d been turned. Along with his name came a few more vague memories from her school days, finally recalling him to be someone along the lines of a stoner who was often in detention. “Oh- Milo, right,” her expression instantly shifted into one that was much more open now that she realized he was actually someone she wanted to talk to. “That’s funny- I was actually just talking to Kyle the other day, and he mentioned you.” Milo didn’t need to know that it had been in the middle of Nell’s moonsitting. Ugh, she supposed this meant she should let him carry a couple things. “Sorry- I was just excited to get home.” She could be perfectly amiable when she wanted something, and she definitely wanted to know more about Kyle during his days around being bitten.

Milo could pinpoint the exact moment Nell began to realise who he was. He had no doubt in his mind her memories were vague, or based primarily on hearsay, but it would be hypocritical of that to bother him when his memories of her were the very same. “That’s me.” He agreed. “If you ever caught me in any compromising positions, now is the time to forget- you know, for the sake of my dignity.” He teased, laughing at his own joke. “I’d rather be judged on my new mistakes, of which I’m sure there will be many.” Her expression was far more open now, almost warm as she observed him, he wondered what she was thinking. It didn’t take her long to sate his curiosity. “Oh, you were?” He asked, his smile growing at the mention of his friend. He had only recently learned of Kyle’s lycanthropy, but strangely he found the knowledge comforting. He felt closer to him now than he had when they were at school together, despite seeing him then on a near daily basis. “What did he say? Good things, I hope?” Grinning easily, he glanced down at the plants still balanced in her arms. “Excited to get home because of this? Isn’t it a little late to be buying vegetation?” Holding out his arms, insisting she pass over some of her items, he caught her eye again, hoping she could see that he was trustworthy, and being sincere in his offer. “Here, come on… I swear I really do just want to help.”

Had she caught him in compromising positions? Maybe once or twice when they’d shared a detention, but highschool seemed so far away by now that sometimes it felt like an entirely different lifetime all together. “Sure- the sake of your dignity,” Nell echoed, biting off a teasing remark about how she wasn’t sure she could spare something he didn’t have. But she was going to be nice, she reminded herself. People didn’t talk to women about their werewolf friends if they thought they were an asshole. “But yeah- I just saw him right around the full moon,” she dropped casually, wondering if the phrase would trigger anything in Milo. Did he know about Kyle and his wolfy tendencies? “Honestly, it was so late when we were talking I barely even remember what we were saying,” she lied easily, not missing a beat. “But I doubt it was anything good if you’re that concerned,” she teased, testing the waters of what she could get away with. While he held out his arms, she let out an internal sigh, knowing she’d have to let him help if she wanted to get information from him. “I have a greenhouse,” she explained while carefully handing him a few of the plants, already feeling rather overprotective about letting him carry them. “It’s not too far from here.”

Milo grinned, glad Nell was willing to play along with his joke. “Much appreciated.” He replied, nodding his head with mock sincerity. But his smile quickly faltered as the conversation circled back around to Kyle. The full moon. It was such a specific thing to say. It jumped out at him, almost startling him out of his lighthearted demeanour. Did she know? He couldn’t see any other reason for her to mention the lunar cycle. So was she testing him? Trying to figure out whether he had also been trusted with the information? Hurrying to compose himself, he could only hope she hadn’t noticed his expression slip. “That’s a weird fucking way to measure time.” He teased, doing everything he could to sound casual. “Do you not own a calendar? Like a normal one, without moons on it?” Forcing a quiet laugh, he actually wouldn’t be surprised if Kyle had nothing decent to say about him. He wasn’t particularly worried, the reason they got along so well was due to that very fact.

Feeling a strange sense of triumph when his company finally handed over some of her plants, despite not knowing much about her, he could see how much she cared for them. He made an effort to be gentle, holding them as though they were delicate, and breakable so that he wouldn’t cause any damage. Despite genuinely wanting to be of assistance, it would also help to earn her trust, and for some unknown reason, he found he really wanted to. “Define not too far?” He prompted. “Did I accidentally volunteer to walk miles with this stuff?”

The hesitation in his smile was caught by Nell’s sharp eyes. She might not have noticed it if she hadn’t been looking for any hitch in Milo’s demeanor, but the falter was more than enough for Nell to continue her digging. “You know how White Crest is-” she began, careful to keep the levity in her words. “-always obsessed with the moon and her cycles along with ten million other weird things that wouldn’t fly in other towns. So what if my calendar has moons on it?” She didn’t need to get into the fact that Milo would be hard pressed to find a person that adored the moon more than a werewolf or spellcaster did. The two were generally unified in their waxing poetic of the big, powerful, and glowing lady in the sky. “Kyle didn’t think it was weird that I like the full moon.” Perhaps she was coming on a little too strongly, but if Milo didn’t know what she was referring to, it wouldn’t matter. Normies didn’t generally assume that any mention of the full moon and a person meant the guy in question was a werewolf.

The greenhouse was Nell’s haven, a place that only a select group of people were allowed to enter, and she already had plans to leave Milo at the door of it once they arrived on property. “Are you gonna complain after you did this to yourself?” she teased back, her steps taking them further into the dense trees of the nearby woods. The Vural home was a part of the Outskirts and the forest that made up the less populated area. “It’s just through the woods a bit.”

Milo wanted to counter Nell’s point, to tell her she was being ridiculous, and laugh at how pretentious she sounded, like he might have once upon a time. But now he knew she was right, now he knew far too much about what happened below the surface of his sleepy, unassuming hometown, and he couldn’t bring himself to disagree. “Said you and every other tumblr girl obsessed with astrology.” He muttered, figuring that would have to be enough. If he abruptly dropped his teasing then she would notice, he knew she would. “Maybe Kyle is also a tumblr girl obsessed with astrology.” He countered, his mind still working to process the strange words leaving Nell’s mouth. It all felt calculated somehow, as though she was carefully choosing them to elicit some form of reaction. But what did she want from him? What was she expecting him to say?

“Oh, I complain no matter what.” He insisted. “Did Kyle not tell you? It’s one of my more favourable traits.” He followed her as she led him into the forest, wondering where her house was located. He only knew the houses in town, and maybe a few of the buildings on the outskirts. He felt stupid for not realising some people needed to walk through wooded areas to get to their homes. “It’s just through the woods a bit sounds like the last thing somebody hears before they’re murdered.” He pointed out, offering her a smile over the plants in his arms so that she would know he wasn’t being serious. Besides, he had already been murdered once. Surely that lowered his chances of being murdered for a second time. That or he had the worst luck in the history of mankind. “You aren’t luring me out here to kill me, are you?”

Nell’s eyes rolled seemingly without command, all too used to being compared to the cottagecore girls that love to emulate spellcaster culture and teachings. The humans loved to play pretend until a real witch was staring them in the face, and they realized their fear of the unknown outweighed their desire for crystal and starry aesthetics. Subtly was not her aim while she continued on, wondering if she could simply pressure Milo into revealing whether he knew Kyle’s secret or not. “That’s why you think Kyle has a glowing moon lamp on his wall? He’s a tumblr girl? I wouldn’t be surprised if I caught him howling at it one day,” she finished with a laugh, still waiting to see whether Milo would connect the dots.

“Kyle told me lots of things,” Nell answered cryptically, having quickly abandoned her ‘nice girl’ act. Not that she wasn’t being nice anymore, just that she was letting more of her edge shine through. After all, fear could be a decent motivator as well. Of course she wasn’t actually here to murder the young man. She just wanted to know more about the time Kyle had been turned. With a laugh she shot Milo a coy look over her shoulder before answering his next question. “Oh no, I’m out of the human sacrifice phase right now.” It’d only been once that she’d spilled a human’s blood for magic, and she’d do it again if the situation was as dire, but for the most part she had no interest in taking human lives in exchange for magical power.

Milo laughed, unable to help himself. “I’ve never been to Kyle’s place so I have zero knowledge of moon lamps. I have, however, seen them advertised on Instagram, so it still fits with the aesthetic.” Keeping his expression neutral at the mention of howling, it was becoming very obvious to him that Nell knew Kyle was a werewolf. He almost wanted to ask her how she knew, but if he admitted to also knowing then he would come very close to outing himself as a part of the supernatural world. Nell wasn’t his friend, this was the most they had ever spoken, so he refused to willingly make himself vulnerable. Raising his eyebrows in a show of polite interest, despite attempting to seem casual, his gaze was sharp, watching Nell for any sign or tell that might imply she was aware of his ‘undead’ status.

“He did?” He asked, almost daring her to tell him what was said. Surely Kyle wouldn’t have confided in her like that. There seemed to be an unspoken rule among the people he had met so far; you never told somebody else what a person was if you didn’t have permission to do so. Maybe there were exceptions to the rule, things he didn’t understand just yet, but he trusted Kyle not to out him. In the same way he hoped Kyle knew he could be trusted not to tell people he was a werewolf. “Hm, good to know.” He muttered in response to the joke on human sacrifice. He was glad they were able to move back into familiar territory. He enjoyed teasing, he was good at teasing. And it carried them further away from both Kyle’s predicament, and his own. “Because I’m sure I’d be a pretty useless sacrifice. Whatever demon you worship would probably send me back and ask for a working replacement.”

“Really? It sounded like you were good friends the way he told it,” Nell commented smoothly, not actually having all that much interest in the closeness of their friendship at the moment, but figuring she should at least pretend. But her patience was wearing thin, and either Milo knew what she was speaking of or he didn’t. So with a huff and turn of her heel, she would have folded her arms over her chest if she hadn’t been holding the plants. Fixing Milo with her hardest stare, she carried on nonetheless. “Look- you either know what I’m talking about or you don’t. So just tell me if you know or not, and then we can move on.” If he thought her weird and demanding he wouldn't be the first, and most certainly not the last, but she didn’t really care about the opinion a random person from highschool might form from this interaction as long as she got to ask the questions she wanted answers to.

“He sure did,” Nell replied with the beginnings of a smirk, giving Milo nothing when he seemed determined to do the same. Let him wonder at what Kyle had shared. Maybe he’d reveal too much by asking his own questions. “Why? Were you worried he said something about you?” It was a stab in the dark, and she had no real reason to think Milo might be worried about things he’d rather keep private. But she knew most people had something they wanted to hide. Milo most likely wouldn’t be an exception. She let him laugh at what he perceived to be a joke, waiting with a natural face until he was done, making no effort to join in. “I’m glad you thought it was funny. Demons don’t work like that, though.” Still, she was somewhat amused that he'd managed to stumble onto the demon portion of her magic. Not that he knew that.

They were close to the Vural property now, and the moonlight could be seen glittering on the glass of her greenhouse in the backyard of the house as the woods began to open up.

“We were.” Milo clarified. “Way back when we were at school. I ran into him the other day but… that was the first time in years.” He couldn’t understand why Nell was taking such an interest, but every word out of her mouth seemed to set him more on edge. There had to be an ulterior motive here, only he couldn’t understand what it might be. His eyes widening as she suddenly decided to take a direct approach, one he definitely hadn’t been expecting, his step faltered. He wasn’t able to hide his surprise, but he did everything he could to compose himself quickly. A few beats of silence passed before he managed to find his words again, and he knew it was essentially too late. But if he admitted he knew what Kyle was, he admitted to knowing about the supernatural. That was one step too close to her realising he was a part of that world too. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He snapped. “And you’re being really fucking weird.” He gripped at her plants, angry at himself for offering to carry them. If his hands were free he would be able to walk away from this, remove himself from the situation.

Glaring at his company, his chest tightening at her words, he wondered whether Kyle really had told her what he was. For all he knew, she hated vampires. Maybe she really did intend to kill him out here in the middle of nowhere. Who knew of his location? Nobody, and he didn’t have time to shoot anyone a text. If he disappeared now, he disappeared forever. Only Nell would ever know what happened to him. The thought caused his stomach to churn uncomfortably. “Why should I be worried?” He demanded, kicking at brush, and brambles as he passed through them. “Forgive me for not knowing how demons work.” He added, more convinced than ever that this might actually be the end for him. Surely she wouldn’t risk hurting her plants though. At least he had that. She needed to wait until he put them down, and then he could reevaluate the situation. Maybe even make a break for it.

“Really? Why’d you guys lose touch?” Did it have to do with the whole werewolf thing? Nell continued to pry, her nosiness knowing now bounds as she tried to learn more about Kyle around the time he was bitten. If she understood him and his control then, maybe it would help with teaching him control now. The second show of surprise on his face only made the witch feel even more confident about her choice to confront him, even if he wasn’t giving anything specific away. She supposed if there was one thing to be said about Milo— it was that he was loyal. Which was unfortunate for her in this situation. Still, it was good that Kyle had friends who wouldn’t easily out him. Not that she should care about Kyle and whether his friends were suitable. His snappy response had her lips pursing, her temper flaring for a moment even though she knew she’d been the cause of Milo’s new shortness. “And you’re being really fucking rude.” She was used to being called weird, and though she’d set herself up for it, the word still held the gravity of all the times she’d been ostracized for being ‘weird’ while growing up— especially when coming from the mouth of an old classmate. “But if you wanna be a little shit about it, be my guest.”

She rolled her eyes at his comment about demons, no longer interested in curbing her words or being overtly nice now that it seemed he wasn’t going to give her any information. Nell hadn’t meant the words in a correctional way. They’d been more along the lines of informational. “Maybe you should be worried cause you’re acting exactly how people who have secrets would act.” Finally they’d arrived at her greenhouse, and she set her own plants on the ground so she could raise a charmed key to the door. If Milo hadn’t been here she would have used her magic to undo the lock that would respond only to her magical signature, but it’s be difficult to explain such a thing away. “You can put the plants down now,” she commented dryly, suddenly eager to get rid of the guy.

“We used to smoke in the bathrooms at school together. That’s not exactly something you keep doing after you graduate.” Milo pointed out. Not every friendship had a foundation strong enough to last. He knew Kyle because they shared a passion for breaking trivial school rules, and often wound up in the same detentions. Spending time together because you were essentially running on a schedule wasn’t quite the same as actively arranging to stay in contact. He was incredibly glad he had run into Kyle outside of the university, more than grateful considering Kyle was a part of his terrifying new world. But had they not crossed paths again, reaching out probably wouldn’t ever have crossed his mind. He wasn’t ashamed to admit that. “I’m being rude for pointing out you’re being weird?” He asked. “That’s bullshit.” Maybe he should feel guilty for being so cold, it was very possible Nell had good intentions. But until he knew for sure, he wasn’t giving in. And if he genuinely didn’t know about Kyle then this defensive anger would be coming very naturally to him. “I’m not being a little shit about anything, you’re the one demanding information I don’t fucking have.”

Narrowing his eyes as Nell came to a halt in front of the door to a greenhouse, he couldn’t exactly tell her she was wrong. He did have secrets. But then again, so did everybody. He definitely wasn’t alone in that fact. “Or maybe you’re projecting.” He countered, though he had no reason to believe she was. Watching as she opened the door, it suddenly struck him that a greenhouse might count as a part of her private dwelling. There was little chance of him being able to set the plants down inside if she didn’t first invite him in. He wasn’t sure whether she would be content with him putting them down on the floor, so he hovered awkwardly in the doorway, realising after a few moments had passed that she really wasn’t about to invite him inside. Despite him carrying her plants for her, despite him trying to make polite conversation. He had only been met with a confrontational attitude, and apparently now a distinct lack of thanks. Finally putting down the plants in his arms, lining them up beside the doorway he was trapped in, when he straightened up again, he was more than ready to shoot his company a glare. “What?” He demanded, unable to help himself. “You really aren’t going to invite me in?”

“Yeah, it’s fucking rude,” Nell shot back, her own temper stoked by the appearance of Milo’s. “You think you can just go around calling people weird?” It was more the principle of the matter than anything, the fact that Milo seemingly thought he had a right to call her names and get away with it. She snorted at his claim of ignorance, still not entirely sold when it came to him knowing nothing. “I’m asking, you’re the one getting all offended about it. Which makes you a little shit,” she replied snarkily, a smugness entering her voice.

A roll of Nell’s eyes, and she was fixing him with a withering glare from inside her greenhouse. “I don’t give a shit about people knowing stuff about me.” Or at least she specifically didn’t really mind if someone knew she was a witch. In honesty she thought it beneficial that people knew of her power. If people knew she and her sisters had power, they’d be less likely to mess with them. As for the more personal feelings in her life- those were the things she was bad at sharing, and letting people in on. She might have thanked him if she’d wanted his help in the first place, but now she wasn’t all that keen on giving him the satisfaction. At first she was pleased, and now surprised that he hadn’t walked into her greenhouse of his own accord. Had the guy finally decided to show some manners? The choice of his words were rather specific, and had her head cocking to the side with intrigue. He wanted her to invite him in? Arranging her new plants on a nearby worktable, a bulb of garlic caught her eye, and a flicker of connection fired in her brain. Well...there was only one way to find out if her newest suspicion was anything of substance. With a quick and easy flick of her wrist, she launched the garlic towards Milo without warning, savoring the flash of satisfaction she felt from the childish move. “No- I don’t think I will.”

“I mean, if they’re being weird then I don’t see an issue with it.” Milo countered, an edge to his voice to match the edge in Nell’s voice. He wasn’t exactly sure how they had ended up where they were but as far as he was concerned, she was entirely to blame. Maybe if she hadn’t pushed him, maybe if she wasn’t so desperate to talk about Kyle. “I’m not getting offended.” He added, crossing his arms over his chest as he continued to wait in the doorway. “I’m getting annoyed, there’s a distinct fucking difference.” Letting out a huff of breath, he didn’t care how she felt about people knowing her information. Even if she was projecting, he was hardly interested in learning her secrets. They were probably more akin to which manure makes the best fertilizer, anyway. Something he would be more than happy to tell her.

In fact, he was in the process of opening his mouth to do so when he was distracted by her suddenly, and very pointedly throwing an object at him. Instinctively, he reached up to cover his face. But it wasn’t until the object hit him that he was able to discern what it was. If his body’s reaction to the plant wasn’t enough to give it away, the scent was very nearly overwhelming. It was a bulb of garlic. An actual bulb of garlic. Who even grew their own? He couldn’t understand why Nell would go to the effort when you could literally buy it pre-crushed in jars. Immediately feeling a jolt of disorientation, he scrambled to bat it away, fangs protruding, eyes flashing red as the skin it made contact with began to sting. “What the fuck?” He demanded, righting himself to stare at Nell with open disbelief. He wasn’t sure whether she had chosen the garlic on purpose, or accidentally stumbled upon what he was, but he wasn’t an idiot. He knew there was no point in trying to hide from her. Not now. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He raised his voice, his indignation only growing as he was given time to fully process what had happened. “Did you just- you just threw garlic at me!”

You really aren’t going to invite me in? Milo’s words were thrown into clarity as she watched the flash of his fangs appear, and his apparent aversion for the plant became clear. “You’re a vampire.” Nell’s words weren’t so much a question as a means of telling him she’d seen the changes, and put the earlier and smaller hints together that she hadn’t thought to put as much stock in. Her stance took on an even more guarded pose, not knowing Milo well enough to feel confident in making a judgment on whether he was a vampire more along the lines of someone like Harsh, or someone more murderous or bloodthirsty. Either way she certainly wasn’t going to be inviting him into her greenhouse now. The witch’s arms folded across her chest, cocking her hip to the side as she gave the young man a thorough up and down, sizing him up in that same way she used to measure threats in the Ring. “So that’s why you were being so squirrely?” Did Milo being a vampire mean he was more likely to know of Kyle’s werewolf status?

“No shit. What gave it away?” Milo bit out, brushing himself down as he retracted his fangs, making a point of continuing to glare at Nell. He watched her as she shifted to take a more guarded stance, one that made it clear she was now actively scrutinizing him. He wasn’t entirely sure what she was looking for, but he felt himself shrink a little under her gaze regardless. It was impossible to know what she was capable of, it was impossible to know what anybody in White Crest was capable of. Though he wasn’t exactly holding a torch for self preservation, if she decided to attack, his only real option would be to run. So he opted to stay where he was for now, awkwardly rubbing at his wrist where it had come into contact with the garlic. All he could do was stay silent, and hope she wasn’t trying to figure out where best to plunge a wooden stake. His skin was no longer stinging but the ghost of the feeling was there, he tried not to let it distract him. “I wasn’t being squirrely. Fuck you. You’re the one asking weirdly specific questions about somebody who isn’t even here!” He pointed out, indignant in the face of the accusation. “I know why, by the way. You’re not being subtle.”

Nell didn’t hesitate to return Milo’s glare, still not even entirely certain how they’d gotten to this point in the first place. Maybe she’d pushed too hard, but that wasn’t anything new for her. It was another one of the many reasons people in highschool had avoided the witch. There weren’t many people who took kindly to her abrasive personality, and it had been even more extreme back in those days. “Well most vampires walk like they have a stick up their ass so that was probably it.” Sorry Harsh. She made the mental apology to her friend, not actually believing the words, but wanting some childish way to retort Milo’s snark. Nell didn’t actually have anything against vampires so long as they weren’t witch hunters like Miriam, or lacked control in a way that made them a constant and active threat to others. “You were being squirrely. Basically dancing around my questions and shit, and getting all uppity.” Her eyes rolled again. “I gave up trying to be subtle about fifteen minutes ago, I’m not stupid enough to come on that strongly without being aware of it.” She’d learned that well enough through her time as a monster catcher and bounty hunter. “So you know Kyle’s a werewolf, then.” At least they’d gotten it out in the open. “Did you know when he was changed?” Now she could ask her questions point-blank.

Milo let out a huff of breath. “Oh, yeah? Have you ever thought maybe that’s just the vampires having to deal with you?” He countered. He wasn’t sure how they had managed to go from a genuine conversation to what could almost be considered an argument. But he wasn’t about to back down, it wasn’t in his nature. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure she wanted him to. “Because you were trying to get me to out a friend!” He explained, wondering whether she might be able to understand his reasoning, maybe even appreciate it. She had made it relatively clear she knew what Kyle was, but she could have been using him to get confirmation, to go behind his back. He would never forgive himself if he gave information to the wrong person, especially information that wasn’t his to give. “Without knowing what you know, did you honestly expect me to just come out and just say it? We aren’t friends, Nell. We said like two words together throughout the whole of high school.”

Narrowing his eyes when she brushed off his comment, insisting she hadn’t been aiming for subtlety, he waited, wondering whether she was going to say the words out loud. Say what they both knew, what he was continuing to carefully dance around. And then she did, and it was as though a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Yes.” He said finally. “Did he tell you that?” It still felt strange, talking about it with a stranger. The least he could do was find out whether Kyle had confided in her, or if she had somehow pried the information out of him. If he had willingly been honest with her then he would begrudgingly accept the fact that she could be trusted. “Why?” He asked, some of his anger beginning to fade away. He was curious now, more so than anything else. “Do you mean did he tell me when it first happened? Or just… do I know when it happened in like, the timeline of our lives?”

“No it’s definitely a you problem,” Nell quipped back, unwilling to take any responsibility. “And I wasn’t trying to get you to out a friend. I was seeing if you already knew. It should have been obvious that I knew by the way I was asking- so you wouldn’t have been ‘outing’. Unless you’re too clueless to connect the dots between me talking about the moon and Kyle. You literally just said I wasn’t being subtle, though.” She rolled her eyes at the mention of them not being friends. As if she cared about something like that when it came to the random guy from highschool.

“Yeah, we talked about it.” That’s all Milo needed to know when it came to what she and Kyle had spoken of, the deeper conversation they’d gotten into with sleep still tugging at their eyes and the sun barely glinting over the horizon on Kyle’s patio. Her stubbornness made her balk at Milo’s request for why she wanted to know, but she doubted he’d answer her questions if she wholly refused to reply to his. “I’m trying to help him,” she supplied vaguely. “And I mean the second one- do you know when it happened in his life and stuff.”

Milo narrowed his eyes, but stayed quiet, allowing Nell to answer him despite her attitude making him want to interrupt. It would be so easy to cut her off, to argue, but he held his tongue. Resisting the urge so that he could hear what she had to say to him. It didn’t take long for his patience to falter, though. For his frustration to grow exponentially. Could she really be so oblivious? “You weren’t being subtle.” He bit out. “But for all I knew you only suspected Kyle. Isn’t that the oldest fucking trick in the book? Pretending someone confided in you so that you can get information on them from the people they actually trust?” Letting out a huff of breath when his company rolled her eyes, it was everything he could do not to turn around and leave. He only had two reasons to stay. He wanted to know more about Kyle, more about Nell, about the friendship they apparently shared. And he was also incredibly confident his continued presence would annoy her. If he left now he would only be giving her what she wanted, and he was petty. Undeniably so.

“That’s all you’re giving me?” He asked. “You talked about it?” Coming to realise she was never going to give him the information he wanted solely because she knew he wanted it, he decided to focus on what she was telling him. Or more accurately what she was asking him. “Do you think he needs help?” He hadn’t considered the fact that maybe his friend wasn’t coping. His version of support usually consisted of sharing a drink, and talking until the sun began to rise. What if Kyle needed more than that? Mechanisms that were actually considered healthy by society. He wasn’t any good with those. “Yeah, I know when it happened. I mean, obviously I didn’t at the time. I knew something was up, but it was only after seeing him again that he told me why he started acting so shady way back...”

“Oh my god, I know I wasn’t being subtle. I literally just said that was the point- that was I was doing it on purpose.” It was becoming rather apparent that something just wasn’t aligning all that properly between Nell and Milo, and the witch was starting to wonder if perhaps they were two people who simply tended to get along like water and oil. Or maybe it was just the conversation they’d chosen. Either way, she was annoyed. She mirrored Milo’s huff, while her eyes gave yet another roll. Nell had lost count of how many times she’d done it since their conversation had begun. “You’re the one who came up to me, remember? If I was actively trying to find out if Kyle was a werewolf, I would have orchestrated some way for us to meet. Not some stupid chance thing.” She’d done it countless times while she looked for bounties.

“I’m not telling you what we talked about,” Nell replied haughtily. It wasn’t any of Milo’s business, and it wasn’t as if she was going to tell a guy who’d only annoyed the shit out her thus far about the traumas she and Kyle had shared. “It’d be shitty when it was just for Kyle and me.” As for Kyle needing help...that was a question Nell was more willing to answer. Even though Milo was unbearable, he was Kyle’s friend. Someone that might care to help. And Kyle needed all the help he could get. But she didn’t want to outrightly expose Kyle, and she remembered how he’d wanted to set the boundary of requesting help from others. But still...she worried. “It’s...not easy adjusting to being a werewolf on your own.” That was the most specific she could get without outrightly saying he suffered with control. “He hasn’t had anyone to teach him.” She was disappointed that Milo hadn’t known at the time, but intrigued by the mention of Kyle having acted differently. “He started acting shady, how?”

Milo set his jaw. He was over Nell’s attitude, much like he suspected she was over his own. And his desire to hear what she had left to say was infuriating. Why couldn’t he just turn and leave? It should be easy to abandon their ridiculous conversation. “Yeah, I was trying to be nice. That might be a foriegn concept to you.” He snapped. It wasn’t fair that he was being blamed for how their interaction had played out. He had approached her with good intentions, it was utterly undeniable. “How am I supposed to know what he’s told you and what he hasn’t? Jeez.” He ran a hand through his hair, doing his best to expel his agitated energy. “I don’t need to know what you talked about. I think I just need to get out of here.” The longer they spoke, the more apparent it was becoming that they weren’t going to find a common ground. Maybe in another situation, under a different circumstance. But certainly not here, and certainly not right now.

He actually turned to leave, finally finding the motivation, before Nell hesitated. He noticed it, noticed the way she faltered at his question, and it made him wonder just how much he had yet to learn about Kyle. “No shit.” He muttered, stopping in his tracks. “It isn’t easy adjusting to being a vampire either.” His heart ached at the thought of Kyle, so young and scared. But there was nothing he could do to change the past. All he could do now was focus on the future, on being there for Kyle in any way he was able. “I know how that feels.” Pushing his glasses further up his nose, his expression momentarily softening, he caught Nell’s eye. Sharing in her concern, in her obvious affection for the werewolf. “It doesn’t matter.” He brushed off her request for him to elaborate, knowing the information wasn’t important. It wouldn’t help anybody now. “Just- I don’t know, be there for him, I guess. And I’ll do the same. We don’t have to like each other.”

Nell didn’t bother even considering that he’d claimed to be making an attempt at being nice, past the point of caring either way. And if he wanted to leave she certainly wouldn’t stop him. But then again...she hasn’t quite gotten to ask everything she’d wanted to. And though she was more than willing to try and bully the answers from him, she tried to think of Kyle— how upset he might be if he heard that she’d done her best to force answers from his friend. So she bit her tongue— quite literally digging her teeth into it in an attempt to exercise the very limited restraint she held. “Then go,” she replied, trying her best not to reignite the animosity in their conversation.

But then Milo had to go and insinuate that...perhaps he related a little more to Kyle than not. A reluctant prickle of sympathy flickered in her gut, and she did her best to squash it down for the time being. She was already barely treading water when it came to helping Kyle, and she shouldn’t add a vampire who had proven annoying as hell to her plate. Still...maybe she’d message him later, and try and figure out just how much Milo was like Kyle. But being there for Kyle was something she could do. And despite her argument with Milo— she was glad to hear it was something he was planning on as well. “Great. Then we’ll...watch out for Kyle.” Her stubbornness and petty nature made it hard to agree with the vampire who’d been a frustration. Still...in the end Kyle was more important. With a still angry shake of her head, she watched Milo as he left the property, and waited until he was out of sight to turn back to her greenhouse. She’d bother Milo later.

#// shoutout to jessie for being literally the most patient person in the universe <3 #ch:milo #chatzy #garlic dread

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jooneggs · 4 years

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Rain, Forever | Namjoon ☁

⤑ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader ⤑ SUMMARY: Since the lack of rain and the coming of Winter, Namjoon hadn’t been the same. He didn’t seem to smile much and his grin never quite met his eyes. He’d lost passion for everything he once loved. Well..everything but art. Specifically that one black and white watercolour painting in the Seoul Art Gallery that resembles a lonely figure standing in the rain.. ⤑ Genre/AU: Fluff + Angst / non!idol Joon + alt!universe Joon ⤑ Warnings: The main component of this story mentions depression and suicidal ideation*, swearing, burglary, suffocation and a sprinkle of magic ⤑ Word count: 7.4k

⤑ Rating: +14

*This story, in no way, attempts to romanticize or idolize mental health issues. I can only say it comes from a personal perspective which is somewhat unique and subjective to every individual.

A/N: A song that touches the crest of my soul and speaks to so many others. I hope this helps, heals and warms many people who, like myself, miss the rain.

☁

“I don’t know whether I should take you seriously or not..”

“C’mon it’ll be fun!”

“You’d better not make me regret this, Kim Namjoon.”

“As long as you trust me, it’ll be fine.”

It was October of last year and you and Namjoon had found yourselves in Haneul Park.

Standing under the shelter of a bleak cafe, he had been tugging at your sleeve, urging you to run out into the open with him. But you hadn’t the slightest clue why you’d want to be anywhere else but under the shelter. It was cold enough in the cafe, but outside it was completely meek. It had been windy yet pleasant just an hour ago, but now the wind was just pelting rain drop after rain drop at the windows.

In a light cardigan and an impractical corduroy skirt, you dreaded the prospect of having to run through the rain to get to your car. You’d taken shelter, narrowly avoiding the rain, and now you’d practically holed yourself up in the cafe after downing two mugs of tea and a triple chocolate cookie. Namjoon, however, was quite the opposite. For the past thirty minutes, his eyes had been glued to the window. Despite his lack of warm-clothes, he seemed more desperate than ever to get outside. While you had finished your cup of tea in just over ten minutes, he’d simply downed his, pouty cheeks sloshing with liquid before swallowing the beverage in one ecstatic gulp.

Now he was standing right by the window to which you’d hesitantly joined him. The rain fell harder that day than it ever had before. Namjoon absolutely loved it. You never quite understood his thinking, but he’d always be willing to explain it to you. He’d said tt was the way the trees moved to the sound, the way the clouds gathered, watched, hovered over you, better than any shelter. It was the way the grass leaned, succumbing to its force, the way the pavement shimmered in its grasp. It was the way it felt to be amongst it all, like an unknown spectator, just a pair of eyes. It satisfied more than any drug could, oxytocin soaking through your pores, melding flesh and bone like a soldering iron.

You wished you could feel just as excited about all these small droplets of h20; you were desperate to make sense of it. Especially when it came to Namjoon.

“Well..I do want to understand.” You spoke, leaning into his pull. At that he only tugged your sleeve further.

“C’mon then, Dew-Drop!”

He walked you toward the door with an overwhelming sense of eagerness. You thought yourself to be mad, but still your hand remained in his.

“So we’re running to the car?”

“Running, walking, admiring the view; whatever you want to call it.” He said, pulling the door open, taking you with him.

“Ah!” You yelped as the first draft of rain lashed out on you “I’d much prefer to just run Joon.”

He couldn’t hear you though, almost dancing ahead. Namjoon was fervent in the rain; he always had been. You remembered meeting him like that, when you used to teach and he came in as a motivational speaker to talk about his career as a musician.

After his speech, you’d been given the duty of cleaning the chairs in the school hall. Eager to finish, you began to stick them out in stacks in the courtyard, and that was when you saw him, far off in the distance, leaning against the rails of the basketball court, rain pouring down his face.

Like the feeling you felt looking at him now, you were magnetized, curious.

“It’s fucking freezing!” You began, clenching at your sides, hopping on the spot “Can we run now?”

“You, miss l/n, are no fun.” He chimed.

“And you’re a polar bear!”

“An endearing term, but i find my pace akin to a cheetah.” He joked “Now chase me!”

Before you could blink, he had bolted across the grass, down towards the car park.

Now, you not only had to fight the rain, but focus on keeping up with your long-legged boyfriend.

They say girls are good at multi-tasking - and they are - they just struggle with things like this because it involves the tedious process of thinking and being sensory-aware all the time; something which lengthy boys like Namjoon don’t take into account.

“A fucking polar bear isn’t this fast!″ You puffed, circling a bed of drooping flowers to further keep up with him,

As the rain pelted heavier, giddiness overcame you. You couldn’t help but laugh, thinking of yourself (merely a few years ago) watching this man, as a primary school teacher, from the playground - almost untouchable, unreal - now encouraging you to chase him, soaking wet, through the rain like lovestruck youth.

“Catch me if you can.” He laughed.

☁

That was three months ago..

Today was March 13th. 2020.

Friday the 13th...

The balcony of your third floor apartment was glowing that day. As you sat on its cobblestone base, dusting your plant pots, you felt the sun cast warm rays on your neck.

Friday the 13th, that one day that came up so seldom, never seemed to hold any negative connotations for you. Every day you felt lucky: to have a quaint little flat, thriving plants, an endless supply of herbal tea at your feet, and of course Namjoon.

Right now you were tending to his favorite small bonsai, gently seated between two lucky bamboo plant pots, shaded by a leafy green hanging plant. You polished its black base, sprayed some water on its soil stones and gently trimmed any stray stalks growing from its arms. Namjoon had called him ‘peet’, an affectionate name that often made you forget that this plant was more an inanimate object than a human body with full-functioning organs. You were often reminded of this when he’d catch you in lengthy conversations, strewn across the balcony floor at night, bonsai leaves tickling your cheek as you tried to lean back further to watch the stars. But these plants were a huge healing tool for you; something that kept you occupied, just as well nourished as them, and excited to see how they’d blossom each day.

Finishing off by cutting the last wandering stalk, you gently got to your feet and headed for the kitchen. Only 11am, you’d had your breakfast but felt slightly parched for a drink. Fortunately enough, when the clock struck 11.10 every day, you’d find yourself coincidentally hunched over a mug of steaming green tea; you knew there was no coincidence, just the pure, unrelenting fact that you loved the warm, floral taste it brought you. It gave you just the right amount of energy each day, and it was always a wonder to watch Namjoon puff his cheeks like a hamsters as he’d swallow a cup whole in one go.

You’d left him asleep this morning, waking at 9am to grab some groceries and sort yourself out. You hadn’t disturbed him since, knowing he was a heavy sleeper and knowing he really needed some rest since working the past few weeks. Night after night he’d been slaving in front of a laptop, attempting to draft and file possible lyrics for his upcoming album. It wasn’t helping that his producer had him on a leash and under a constricting time limit. What could you do but give him the time and space he needed to get things done.

Sealing the kettle and the tea bags, you lifted Namjoon’s mug and carried it over to your bedroom. Approaching the door, you listened carefully for the sound of snoring, aware that waking Namjoon wouldn’t do any good for the level of guilt you felt entering the room anyway.

When all you heard was silence, you decided to nudge the door open and slip through into a darker room.

“Joon, I've made some tea for you.” You approached the bed and placed his mug on the bedside table, anchoring it away from him so he wouldn’t hit it off with his elbow when turning; he was clumsy like that. You watched as he shuffled in response to your entrance, the caramel of his skin sliding against the sheets as he adjusted his neck to gently turn to you

“Mmh Morning.” He yawned, his eyes forming crescent moons as they squeezed shut before opening to clear the haze from his vision. He was a beautiful little shape of a human, shrouded in cosy bedding as he watched you in the dim light.

“You coming out today Joon? I’ve got some exciting things up my sleeve.”

“I can’t..I'm sorry.” He replied, a certain lifelessness in his tone.

“Are you sure? I can make us some cake and we can go to some park. It’ll be nice.”

“I don’t feel like it.”

“Oh, okay..”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine!” You whispered, bringing your palm to his cheek, feeling its heat coarse through your fingers. “We’ll try another day. Don’t feel bad about it at all. Have a nice rest Joon.”

With that, you slowly turned from him and made your way back out into the living space. You let a sigh wash over you and attempted to rejoice in the fact that at least you had a warm mug of tea ready for you. Swigging it down, you sat in silence, watching the outdoors from the distant balcony window. It was still just as bright outside, much brighter than the bedroom, clouded by dark curtains. You felt sad for Joon, powerless even. How badly you missed even the simple things like swigging tea with him. How long had it been since you’d done that?..

Too Long.

☁

The rest of the day painted itself in a slow and monotonous fashion. It wasn’t unbearable - you got things done - but it all seemed watered into the same actions, the same meaning, the same routine.

It started with finishing your tea, slower than you had intended. Lost in monotonous thought, before you knew it, it had gone cold so you had ended up pouring the remaining portion down the sink. You then went on to finish the laundry, have lunch, check on your beloved plants, read a book, watch TV, yawn and sigh a countless number of times, and take a quick nap.

Before you knew it, the room had darkened and the sky had taken on a delicious yellow tone. Before you knew it, the whole day had almost passed.

You didn’t want to lie to yourself, this is the way the days had gone for the past few weeks. It was just you, the sun, a cup of tea and the rest of the world. Namjoon, every day, had been stuck in the bedroom, occasionally popping out each evening to say hello. Now that was something you had a problem with confronting. You felt it was appropriate for him to get some rest, especially after the few weeks he’d spent finishing up his work. But it had reached a turning point now. One which you didn’t know how to address.

You weren’t too happy about it, but Namjoon was clearly broken. Were you scared to face the extent of his unhappiness? You never wanted to see the one you loved so much feel so hollow. At least that’s how you assumed he felt. You’d felt a similiar emotion before, but never to the extent Namjoon was experiencing. How badly you just wanted to rip the shreds of dread from him like a stuffed toy, or hug him to death and fill him full of love, stitching him back up to like he’d been before.

What could it be that made him feel like this? Perhaps it was nothing at all, just a fragrant aroma of unease that settled upon him - something he couldn’t shake off. When would you build up the courage to ask him? Talking to someone might free him from his bonds, but you couldn’t force him, you just couldn’t.

He had to be the one to make that choice.

Shifting on the sofa and taking a rather taxing stretch, you moved from your napping position and onto your feet. You stepped out onto the balcony, greeted by a golden radiant light, seating yourself on the heated stone floor, your feet nudging blooming plant pots.

You watched through the rustic balcony bars as the air grew wispy and chill around you, a harsh brick wall supporting the stability of your back. The clouds were starting to fade into the distance as stars pushed forth through the air. Was it time for another cup of tea yet? Probably. You felt spurred to go and get one.

“Morning.”

“N-namjoon.” You turned in surprise from the gruff voice to be met with his tall figure slouched against the door frame. “Evening, sleepy-head.”

He yawned in response, ruffling that luscious hair of his that now seemed so tangled through his fingers.

“Come sit down.”

Shuffling, he came to a seated position, one knee bobbing against yours, the other scraping the soil surface of his bonsai. Another yawn again, and his knee was now fully perched on your thigh, his back hunched over, shoulder nudging yours. You watched him as he shook out his tawny hair and took in his features in the setting sun.

“What’s up?” You smiled, your hand resting on his leg.

“Wanted to see you, dewdrop.”

“If you aren’t the biggest charmer.” You grinned in response “I’ve been missing you all day.”

“Yeah..i know.” He whispered.

“Then what’s up? I’m always here for you Joon.”

He sighed, fingers now raking into his scalp. Moon pools, darkened and tenebrous sat under his eyes, his thick lips chapped and his face a starker cream against the fading light. You turned to him, watching more closely, waiting for him to open up, praying that he would just open up.

“If you’re not ready that’s fine, i don’t -”

“No, no..I need to.” He shuffled nervously “I know things haven’t been the same since a few weeks ago. I’ve been pouring all my energy into my work and now I've been pouring it all into sleep and it feels like I've finally used up all my resources - like i’m at a dead end for solace, for what to do.”

“It started a few weeks ago. Things were fine, then all of a sudden, it stopped raining. It was probably just one of those years where the weather just wanted to let up and stay sunny, but for me, it felt like the first. It really did feel like the first time it hadn’t rained. I didn’t know what to do. I was at a loss. All my fondest memories, all my comfort and all my shelter came from the rain - it was a thing I could not deny, and I'm still desperate to get it back.”

“I just..I wish it rains all day. Cuz i’d like someone to cry for me. Cuz then people wouldn’t stare at me. The umbrella would cover the sad face, people would be busy minding themselves. I felt like i just needed to stop, I needed to breathe a little slower because my life and my rap, they’re usually too fast.”

“Yeah..that’s it..”

He let out a strong exhale, letting the air around him encourage the entire earth to fall silent. With that breath, his hand found yours on his thigh, his fingers lacing into your own. A strong thumb pawed across your palm, pressing softly into the flesh, the ultimate grounding tool.

But it wasn’t you needing to be grounded, it really wasn’t. It was him, the friendly giant who had lost all hope and solace to the power of the rain.

“Thank you for telling me. Really thank you.” You squeezed his hand “It’s you i want to protect. If I could hang clouds in the sky and make it rain for you I would..you know that.”

“If only I could find something else to make me just as happy..”

“Hey..” You chirped, a thought springing to your head. “You know i checked on you this morning to see if maybe you wanted to do something? Well..maybe we could go to the Art Museum on the waterfront tomorrow?”

“Okay. Sure.”

“It might help. And maybe we could get a coffee as well and see if we bump into any visiting artists.”

He grinned at you, a sense of adoration and respect filling the lakes of his eyes and the hollows of his dimples. You smiled back, a slow and affectionate grin that you hoped could transcend from your heart, right into his to fix him completely.

“Cool. Well, lets get some dinner on and look forward to a beautiful tomorrow.”

☁

That night, with full stomach’s and a coruscating sunset washed over your bodies, you lay in your bed, arm in arm, the night falling into the next day. You slept on your side, your arms crossed over your chest. Namjoon rested behind you, his stomach against your back, hands set in the violin crests of your waist, his head latched against your neck. Perhaps this was the first time, you thought, in weeks that you’d layn like this. The past few days, you’d been laying in bed alone, or an oceans distance from Joon, leaving him to get the best rest possible without your heat leaching onto him. This felt nice. It felt so much more than natural. He smelt of vanilla, and long nights and restless days. It reminded you of the angel you’d met so long ago.

The only thing you missed was his damp, fresh, rain water scent.

☁

“Catch me if you can.” He laughed.

Running further down the hill of the park, you felt your feet race ahead of you, almost slipping, as you begged yourself to catch up to him. Oaks, maples, alders, zelkovas, and birches all fade into one collective tincture as Namjoon dominated your vision. Despite your distance, his smell, his touch and his colours blocked out all sensory notion and summoning around you. You would not be held by the bounds of nature, he was yours and you were his, and in this race all there was, was blank space and the two of you.

“We’re nearly there!” He yelled again, bringing you from your thoughts.

“I’m -” You huffed. “I’m. So. Close.”

“Ah. So now it is about the race and not the rain. Perhaps you have a newfound love for it?”

In response, you slammed the brakes, watching him as he skipped into the car park, unlocking the doors to your vehicle and climbing in, beckoning you over.

“In your dreams.”

☁

“For this week, to celebrate the Seoul Arts Festival, we are holding a two for one deal for all art lovers. Therefore, your ticket entry to the art museum is only half price! Enjoy your visit.”

The gallery was lit with stars this afternoon. In awe, you walked through the reception and into the main hall to peer at the strings of golden paper in the shapes of stars decorating the ceiling and the walls. Clearly, this week was a week to be celebrated in the arts community.

You hoped Namjoon felt as excited as you to spend this time with him and on such a special day. You watched him, a small smile poking at his cheeks, not giving away whether he was displeased or not. You took the nervous drum of his knee to be the latter.

You always spent a lot of time in each room when you were with Joon. In love with his adoration for exhibitions, each time you joined him, you simply stuck to his side, viewing every single detail of every single painting.

At first, you felt the visits to be somewhat taxing - much preferring living, breathing art such as himself. Eventually, however, you succumbed to his ways - finally realizing that all exhibits were living things with their own lives and stories behind all their individual brush strokes. Like most things, it was him who taught you that, with his silent yet ethereal way of just being and learning and loving.

“Okay..wow, so this is the central room for this real highlight exhibits.” You breathed, Namjoon echoed your awe with a slow nod.

Now this was a room you felt you could really spend hours in. From Eunho, to Hye-Sok, to Eungro, to Jiho, you span around in a flurry of colour as you attempted to absorb the true joy of being amongst all this art at once. You knew Joon felt it too, immediately joining him by the first exhibit to gape at the thatched lines and geometry sitting on the canvas before him. You wondered how long he’d felt this way about the things before him: from paintings, to people, to the rain itself. Had he always been so sensitive and in-tune with his environment? Did he always care so much concerning the life buzzing around him?

After crowding around a few of the exhibits, you decided to head to the bathroom and grab a drink for the two of you. Almost ten minutes in, you’d realized you would probably need a drink to support your long and meticulous visit. Now was the perfect time to head off and grab one.

“Joon, I'm going to grab us a coffee, okay? Don’t go too far.”

“You know i won’t.” He chuckled “This room is way too fascinating.”

Almost fifteen minutes later, and a large queue for the cafe, you hurried back to the central room with two piping cups of pure vanilla fuel. Walking through the doorway, you searched for him in the crowd, but to no avail. You’d told him to stay put, and you were convinced he would do so, but now he’d ran off, almost as if your exit was the perfect opportunity to get away from everything that bound him. It was the perfect inconvenience.

Walking through the room, you decided to take the door to the next section of the exhibit and see if he was there. Entering into a more low lit space, you squinted your eyes, looking for him in every corner of the room. After a short amount of time, you came across his figure, hunched by an exhibit in the far left hand corner.

Positioned diagonally, you could see the features of his face in pure scrutiny. His eyes, wincing, paced back and forth across the painting, his teeth sandwiched between his lip, chewed at it gently.

You’d watched him before like this, staring at paintings, watching life go by on the apartment balcony, tending to his plants, but it had never quite been like this. You stood there for (what?) ten to fifteen minutes, simply wondering when he would stop staring at the canvas..if he would move on. Was he waiting for you to join him? Was the painting simply that jaw-dropping?

“Joon..”

He turned in surprise, immediately standing straight. You smiled at his action, and approached him to look at the painting further. From a distance, in the dim light of the room, the painting was a monochromatic smudge with the tall figure of Namjoon shading its central half. Now, up close, it looked much different.

A figure in a long white trench coat and cap stood in its centre. Beneath him, a flowing stream of black ink submerged the better half of his shoes, meandering forward through the painting and toward a large black hole hanging in the sky ahead. Black arcs of rain shot through the surrounding sky like hasten sparks, falling into the reflection of the figure wavering below in the light of the tenebrous stream. The painting, as a whole, had been crafted in monochromatic watercolour, its brush strokes melting down the canvas like tears to paper. It was a sad yet inspiring vision, you thought.

“It’s beautiful.” He answered, a tear pooling down his cheek.

☁

That night you lay awake for a while.

A long while.

At 9pm, you turned to your side, and slipped out of your bed to sit on the balcony. The weather was tinged with cold, but you brought a blanket to shawl across your shoulders and drape under your naked toes.

You’d tried getting to sleep that night around 8pm. Joon had huddled against the corner of the sofa before bed and downed a mug of green tea, before watching you finish yours, lacing your hand with his and heading for dream-land.

But as soon as you hit those warm, delicious covers, you knew there was something much more pressing calling your name.

Ever since leaving the museum that afternoon, you couldn’t draw your mind from that watercolour painting. Like an obnoxious poster of propaganda, or an inviting store-front display, the picture sat in your mind, a prized possession, and mocked you your entire journey home. You thought about Joon’s face viewing the canvas, the time he spent simply looking at it and the silence and serenity that followed him afterward.

He wanted the rain, he yearned for it, he called for it ever since its disappearance. You only realized this last night, once he opened up to you, but it had made sense. The long showers he took when you were distracted at the grocers and would come home to him singing away to the sound of the running water in the bathroom. The way you would sometimes wake just as he was heading to sleep and watch him kiss the sky goodnight with a certain desperation for the rain to come. Even the long, delicious sips he took of green tea, feeling the liquid wash down his throat and cleanse him of his doubt. It all made sense.

He was waiting for the rain to answer him and it was that singular painting that seemed to pick up his call.

It was that realization, again, on the foot of your balcony at 9pm at night that made you stoop through the house, throw on your shoes and run back to the museum to bring home that painting.

Racing down cobblestone streets and narrow lanes, you found yourself driving all the way back to the museum with only yourself and the headlights of the car to guide you.

All your life, you’d learnt better from the mistakes you’d made and soon realized it was best to follow a calling and take an opportunity when it came to you. Even if it ended up failing. This particular calling was stronger than ever, a migraine in your head, an instinct that screamed that there was more to this painting than what meets the eye. You knew it would help Namjoon.

On special events, the museum closed at the ripe hour of 10pm: in just fifteen minutes time. What on earth were you doing? You didn’t know. You would enter the museum, visit the catalyst that stuck itself in your mind and hopefully the answer would come to you.

Jumping out from the car, you ran toward the entrance, bursting through the doors like some crazed artist, desperate for information.

A man halted you just as you were headed through to the main hall, his gentle touch on your shoulder.

“Ma’am, this gallery is closing in ten minutes time.”

“I-i understand. I just need to take a look at one of your exhibits.”

He nodded, an uncertain look crossing his features “Of course..go ahead.”

And with that notice, you sped walk to the dim lit room without a single thought but of the canvas in your head.

“Good evening, this gallery will be closing in five minutes time. Can all remaining visitors please make their way to the exit on the lower floor. Thank you for visiting.”

With the echo of the final closing announcement following you into the dark exhibit room, you had to make a decision. A dangerous decision.

With no rational thought, plan or hope in mind, you would decide to stay at the museum past its closing time. Searching the room, you peered for somewhere to hide. Unfortunately, galleries never really delivered in this particular apartment, often baring clean white walls and flat floorboards. In your case, frantically scouring the room, you had found an exhibit sitting on top of a white box with a possible way to unfold itself and hide you in it. With urgency, you got to your knees and tugged at the side of one of the corners, digging your nails in, in an attempt to open up one of the sides and slide inside.

And just as if it really was your calling, one of the sides slid open - albeit with a tremendous screeching sound against the floor - but it still very much opened. With that, you were asking no questions, simply bending yourself into a rectangular shape and sliding back into the box, closing the side behind you.

Now to wait.

For a few minutes, you sat in silence, wincing at a cramp in your ankle. Suddenly, you were hearing footsteps and jangling keys announcing themselves in the room. With a held breath, and extreme concentration, you sat rock solid as the steps circled, stopping occasionally to scent out a visitor, and continuing before finally click-clacking goodbye. If there was any time you thought you would be in need of an oxygen tank (surprisingly not in 50 years time) it was now. You were never one to break the rules or to find yourself being ridiculously spontaneous, so this was really a first. You felt on edge, yet devious and buzzing with an electric pulse of energy. It really was time for you to try something new, and for Joon to finally get his dose of happiness.

In a succession of fox-like footsteps, you peeled yourself from the box and made your way over to the painting. You thought, standing still, that the answer of what to do would just come to you.

Certainly nothing had happened straight away, but you were definitely taken aback by the painting in this light. With only the back-up lighting on, a shadow was cast on the canvas before you, washing the monochromatic tone over in a blue haze. Things looked even sadder from this angle, but ever more fascinating. Almost unconsciously, you leaned forward and traced the painting with your finger, letting your palm slide flat against the cold canvas. So melancholy and so mysterious, the longer you stared, the more you fell. Before you could even comprehend your actions, you were again applying another hand to the canvas, feeling its ridges and bends. Slowly, you came closer to it, pushing forward past the small rope barrier to reach nearer in its gaze.

Black, white, grey, it all melded into one in a romantic and tragic spiral of colour. Your eyes fell onto its detail, its strokes, its edges, and soon you couldn’t even tell what you were looking at anymore - simply a puddle of water absorbing your interest, absorbing all consciousness.

☁

“Hello”

“Hello..”

“Are you okay?”

In a buttery, and gooey, and delicious state of silence a voice filled your ears. Slowly you felt your touch, your scent, your taste and everything return to you. You were a warm body on a cold floor, palms clawing roughly at its spongy surface. You were a clouded head, lost in direction, coming to your senses with the figure above you.

Eyes squinting and pleading to open, you heard his voice again. It rang a deep, husky, baritone chill through your spine and reminded you of someone oh so familiar. As you squeezed your eyes open again, everything came into view.

The figure above you was a tall, looming shadow. Dressed in a long white trench coat and cap, with loose trousers and messy black hair, he stared ominously into your eyes, confusion and worry painting the slight lines smudged across his face.

It only took you a second, but before you knew it, you were free of numbness and doubt, standing to your feet and cradling the shadow in front of you.

It was your Joon.

Well, it was him, but rather a slightly altered version of him. A small wedge of his collective person so to speak. In fact, to put it definitely, it was the figure that stood central in the watercolour painting.

And now you were in the painting itself. Standing with him as if you’d never left the house, as if you hadn’t ever had a care in the world. But you most definitely had; in fact, the biggest question shrouding your brain was how on earth did you end up inside the canvas? Was this a dream?

“I’m sorry.” You whispered into his shoulder.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay Dewdrop.” He replied, leaving you frozen with the familiar nickname. “I missed you.”

“Joon..” You mumbled, a hand lacing itself against his collarbone “Hey..this isn’t some weird calling is it? Or some nightmare that will leave me on my knees in penance?”

“No, no. I know this feels weird and I know this was the last place you expected to be in order to help the one you love..but it is. And you won’t be here forever, don’t worry, I just need to explain things.”

“Okay okay.” You nodded, pulling back from him to fully process the situation.

Viewing him from such a close perspective, and viewing the strange yet ethereal world floating in your peripheral wasn’t even the weirdest thing. The weirdest thing was how quick you had been made to suddenly process this all, as if it were foreshadowed in the flecks of your bloodstream.

Always one for make-believe and skipping class in favor of daydreaming dungeons & dragons, this would seem custom for you. And it was in a sense. Crossing that initial bridge of fear and the unfamiliar, you felt strangely calm in this new world’s clutch.

“Y/n? Are you alright?”

“Sorry.” You pulled yourself from your sudden thoughts. “I was just..i’m just a bit taken aback that’s all.”

“It’s fine, honey. Come here, let’s walk.”

In the still slight state of shock, you took his hand and walked. Before, the world feeling silent, you could now hear rain. Long flecks of it smashing against the ground like fireworks bouncing beyond the stratosphere. In some strange way - like everything that had happened to you this evening - you felt calm.

In the weeks it hadn’t rained, you forgot what it had felt like to hold Joon’s hand, to hug him, to really feel him near you. In the early hours of morning, you had missed his warmth, his feathery kisses, his pleasure that was true sin of the flesh. Feeling him here, being next to him now, you had a hope that his more unfortunate, lonesome counterpart would soon be reunited with his true-self again.

“It was a few weeks ago, when the rain halted all action. When the skies fell to rest. A part of me left and found itself here, a strange deity of happiness, an outlier in a world of strangers.”

Looking around, you felt his words. To your left, and to your right stood figures masked with umbrellas, floating in the inaudible wind. Some figures had their umbrellas angled so you could see their faces. Strange features marked the upper half of their torso: hollowed cheeks with eyes sitting in the banks of their flesh, botanical hair, melding into faces, blossoming into sharper spikes. Some figures were full of expression and stories, others were simply black smudges, scribbles atop slouched shoulders moving with the current.

“When it rains, I get a little feeling that I do have a friend. Keeps knocking on my windows; asks me if I'm doing well. And I know that when Namjoon’s at home, writing his music, waiting, he will answer: ‘I’m still a hostage of life. I don’t live because i can’t die, but i’m chained to something.’” Joon responds, talking about the physical side of himself, the man you’ve left sleeping at home, dreaming of the rain. You sense a sadness in his tone, a longing to be reunited with his other half. To make him whole again.

“What can i do? Please tell me?”

“We need to get out of here; but i can’t do it without your help. You need to help pull me out through the other side, to set me free, to help me reach him.”

You take a fresh gulp, anticipating instructions, waiting for an order of where to go, something to help you complete your task. But nothing.

“Where do i take you?”

“Through..through that black hole over there.”

With an unsteady, ghostly white watercolour finger, he points ahead of himself, toward a tenebrous pool of ink, hanging in the sky. Walking with hope, an inkling of dread at your side, you tug further on his hand to approach the crevice, the tear in the seams.

Approaching nearer, you feel your feet start to become submerged in a tar-like substance. Upon looking down, you notice that your wading further out into a lake of ink. But there’s no way out. Stepping to the side to try and climb out of the stream is no use. You are not the floating figures around you, you never will be and neither will Joon; you are simply grounded, falling deeper, yet becoming more assured of the goal you must now reach.

Before you even comprehend it, your right up against the hole, your vision shrouded in darkness and dripping ink, like a fountain from the devil himself. But you know on the other side that there’s the gallery room, and you know that a stone's throw from there, is your home, and your safety again.

“When i count to three, we’ll jump in.”

“Okay..” You breathe.

“Just help me through once you're safe and sound.” He grins, dimples kissing his cheeks.

“Of course I will, silly. We’re in this together.”

“Okay. One..”

“Two.”

“Three!”

The first thing you feel is damp wet sludge, then the tugging sensation of being pulled through a tumble dryer.

The next thing you know: you’re out the other side, and he..

..he’s gasping for air,

tugging onto your arm,

and gurgling.

And - oh god - you don’t think you’ve heard such a sound before, but it terrifies you and leaves bile pooling against your gums.

Against the arcs of rain spilling from the painting, his arm shakes further, fingers gripping so hard you’re afraid they’ll simply shrivel to bone. He’s screaming now, low and hollow and you’re teetering on the decision to just denounce this is a bad dream, pinch yourself and wake up. But you know this isn’t.

You feel you’ve had nightmares similar to this one before. Visions of losing him to a pool of ink, watching him fade into just an image. You’ve tried to imagine life without him, taking long walks and cold showers to prepare for the worst, but you had never wanted this.

“H-elp, PLEASE, he-”

“It’s okay!” You felt breathless “Joon, stay with me, please!”

What on earth would you do if you couldn’t get him out of here? Would the Joon at home you knew so well forever lose his spark? Would you get to try again the next day? Or would the love of your life simply fade away forever..

With that thought you tugged harder, putting all of your energy into the pull. Grounding one foot in front of the other, you leant back against the rope barrier of the exhibit and fastened your grip further up his arm. With excruciating strength, and the need to make sounds akin to an engine revving, you pulled further and further. Further and further, until you could see his shoulder, then his neck, then his head, the waist, the thighs, the knees, the ankles..

All of him.

In an instance, he was falling into your arms, your grip fervent and desperate on him, cradling his body as if he would melt away.

Little did you know, he would melt away if you weren’t fast enough.

“We need to be quick. I’m so so sorry. You need to hurry before i gradually fade; i can’t exist in this world normally as a painting, you need to get to him. Now”.

☁

Racing down empty streets, steering near desolate corners, your car drove with the solid ambition of getting to him.

The longer you rode, the harder you found it to look across to the passenger seat at him. Every single minute, he was fading away. First it was his shoes when you first fastened the seat belt, then his ankles, and now the evanesce was reaching toward his thighs. There was no point in looking a little further or breathing a little faster or thinking a little longer. It was your eyes, ahead, on the road. Just you and the world.

And soon it would be you and him.

Turning another corner, you felt the engine stutter and pool to a stop. With a long, steady breath, you pushed at the pedal again, urging it to move,

“C’mon just a little more -”

But to no avail.

Again you pushed and pushed, just like how you pulled and pulled earlier, but life could only give you so much, it would only give you so much.

A feeling of despair overcame you, throwing you instantly onto the bed of the steering wheel. You lay there silently for a while, face nested against the cold fabric, questioning it all.

Did you do enough? What would Joon think of you? Why were you so hopeless? Did you really think you could finish this on your own?

You had to finish this on your own.

...

....

......

*pit*

*pat*

*pit-pat*

You blinked, lips brushing the wheel in an attempt to shut your mouth and hold your breath.

*pit-pat*

*pit-pat pit-pat pit-pat -*

It was raining.

Looking up, flecks of water were falling from the sky. They were landing like confetti and surging through the air in the trillions. The ground, in seconds, had become a stone riverbed, and the car windows a submarine tanks.

You’d be damned if this rain wasn’t going to turn into the most magnificent storm you’d ever seen.

“C’mon Joon, we’re nearly there!”

With a thrust, you pulled yourself out of the car and up into the rain. Following your steps, he trailed behind you as you stepped out into the cold, exposed to an onslaught of flood.

Out in the open, and with one more step to complete, you took your hand in his and began to run.

If tears were rainy days, you think you’d have experienced a drought. But now, you were crying, crying like there was not enough rain in this world, like there couldn’t ever be enough.

Ushering a melting figure through the torrent of rain, you’d become desperate to reach home. Looking back, you saw the rain was having its effect on him. Every second now, he was simply being washed away.

You turned the final corner to your apartment, readying yourself to rush down a long street to reach the end of it and enter dry-land. To run back home with the risk of turning back and no longer seeing a figure following behind you.

But was it luck, or the final piece in this discombobulated puzzle, that Namjoon was standing right there, at the end of the street, waiting for you?

Now you were running even faster, your legs pacing ahead of the rest of you before you could even think.

Closer and closer and you could start to feel Joon’s grip in your hand fade away, only urging you to hold on stronger.

With watery, shut eyes, you made the final distance and collided with a strong chest, sending Joon forth into his physical counterpart.

Pulling apart from him suddenly, you watched to see his watercolour other-half melt into the crest of his heart. With no urgency, he was sucked in, and you stared in awe as Joon slowly stood straighter, grew brighter, felt happier.

It was a gasp of air that finally brought him back to you. You saw it before you truly felt it: lips on your own like soft, rubbery buds. He kissed you with tenderness, with concern, with desire. Kissing you further, the light poured into you too. You felt it in the way he held your waist, in the way he held your face, in the way he made sure the both of you were never ever ever displaced.

He sang against your lips,

“Please don’t ask any questions.”

“But do keep pouring forever.”

#ficswithluv #luv library #btswriterscollective #bts #bts fanfic #bts oneshot #bts fluff #bts namjoon #namjoon x reader #kim namjoon #kim seokjin #bts imagines #jung hoseok #min yoongi #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeon jungkook

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algandarsplaguepositive · 3 years

Text

“Take Note”

A/N: This is a story I wrote several years ago partly for myself and partly for my friend Sammy and it was originally based on a post talking about how if Zane were to ever permit Genius into the City of Flowers it would probably end in disaster. I won’t say anything more to spoil the story but content warning for descriptions of blood and violence. That alone probably spoiled it but oh well.

I did make a few small grammatical revisions and changed the dagger to a letter opener because it makes more sense in context. Also, on an unrelated note, I wrote this with the initial assumption that Zane was taller than Genius but upon seeing their character models next to each other (which the game seems to be pretty good about keeping their in-game character heights true to the heights in their bio), I discovered Zane is actually shorter than Genius which takes away from the intimidating vibe but hey, he can always hover to make himself a few inches taller to tower of Genius and scare him, right?

Despite how grateful the young scientist was at having the privilege to live such close proximity to the City of Flowers, one thing that Genius could not stand was the humidity. Being in a marshland, it was to be expected but nevertheless, he preferred days in which the air was cold and dry, especially in his long overcoat.

It had been a particularly nice day as Genius decided that he wouldn’t spend it cooped up in his shack but rather take his research outside. It was a perfect day to study the flora and fauna of the region, so he packed a rucksack with some of his many notebooks, scholarly texts, and of course his precious microscope along with a pack of slides to keep specimens.

Once he was all packed and ready, he headed up the path with the intention of visiting the swamp north of the City of Flowers. To his surprise, however, he didn’t have to walk far before finding himself face-to-face with the light elf leader himself, Lord Zane.

Genius suddenly became flustered. The only time he had ever seen Lord Zane was from afar, through a telescope. This was the first time ever he ever made it this close to the elf lord. He looked… different than Genius expected. He was definitely taller than the other light elves he had encountered during previous attempts at the gate. The boy was both intimidated yet charmed at the same time.

Knowing about Lord Zane’s disdain for humans, he expected their first encounter face-to-face to be met with something along the lines of a cold glare along with some harsh words from the elf leader but to Genius’s surprise, he was…smiling?

“So…” Lord Zane began, a smirk upon his lips and his hands behind his back. “You must be the human who has taken such a keen obsession with my City of Flowers. Would you care to give me your name?”

“P-Professor Genius W-W-Weisheit, sir—err your lordship.“ Genius stuttered.

“I see.” The elf lord nodded. “Now, I might as well get straight to the point. I know you’re watching my city. I know you’re watching my citizens. But most importantly, I know you’re watching me.”

Genius’s face turned beet red, “W-Well…I-I-I have asked Shin and Fan to…uh… let me in but, you know, they’ve always refused. B-But let me assure you that never have I once—”

“Do you think I’m blind?” Lord Zane scoffed, “I know what’s going on. Don’t try to act like that giant, invasive telescope of yours doesn’t stick out like a sore thumb.”

“It’s not pointed at the City of Flowers!”

“True. It’s not. At least not all the time.” The elf lord maintained a calm voice, his hands still behind his back. His composed expression soon changed into a glare, “Sometimes it’s pointed at the waterhole that I bathe in.”

Genius’s face burned with humiliation.

“I suppose I shouldn’t be too angry. The fact that a human—and an esteemed scholar at that, has taken such a fascination with me is flattering. However, I hope you understand that this can no longer go on.”

Genius gazed down at the ground and sighed.

“I’ll make you a deal; I’ll let you into my city just this once. I’ll let you see everything that you need for the sake of this research of yours. Be sure to take plenty of notes because this will be the only time I’ll let ever let you in. I’ll let you gather all the information you need regarding my city, my culture, and my people on the condition that you promise to never come to this region ever again unless you’re willing to suffer dire consequences. Well, does that sound good to you?”

Genius was silent. He couldn’t believe he was actually being offered an opportunity like this from elf leader of all people. Completely startled, he forgot that Lord Zane was waiting for an answer.

“Well, Genius? Yes or no?” Lord Zane spoke up.

“Absolutely!” Genius caught himself. He was ecstatic. For so long, he had only dreamt about entering such a place as the City of Flowers and now it seemed like all his hard work was finally about to be paid off.

The enthused scientist eagerly followed the elf lord back to the city gates. Shin and Fan were guarding it as usual but instead of being met with hostility, he was greeted warmly as he and Lord Zane walked past them and walked through the entrance. The crevice they walked through was pitch black. Following the light of the elf lord’s wings, he worried that he might get stuck between the wedged walls.

Finally, there was a light at the end of the tunnel and upon entering the light he was met with a breathtaking sight. This was it--the forbidden elven city that he had strived so single-mindedly to see firsthand. It was everything he thought it would be and more. His dreams had finally come true.

Wooden huts of varying sizes with grass roofs that lined the cliff, glowing white evening blooms that lined the walkways to light up the path at night, spectacular waterfalls leading into flowing rivers of pristine water— it was all there. The sweet smell of flowers and grass was overwhelming. It was as if he had entered heaven itself. Genius wanted to write down in his notes everything he was seeing. He even wanted to draw pictures of it but he was positively entranced by the very thought of being there.

“I suppose you would like a tour.” Lord Zane turned to face Genius.

“I would like that very much, your lordship.” Genius tried to hold back his tears of joy.

~~~

The day eventually drew to a close. The sun was beginning to set and Genius was satisfied with how much he had filled up his notebook with information and sketches of everything he saw and learned that day. He felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. This was the most progress he had ever made in his research on elves and the entire day, he felt like a kid in a candy store. However, there was one place he had not yet gotten a chance to see but couldn’t bring himself to ask Lord Zane for because he felt like it would come across as ungrateful.

“You want to see my house, I assume?” Lord Zane turned to Genius.

Genius grinned and nodded. Containing his excitement was nearly impossible. Lord Zane drew back the leafy veil in the doorway to his house and beckoned the boy inside.

His house was much like some of the other buildings he had seen but much larger. There were plants growing from every surface, it seemed. One thing he had taken note of was that the elves didn’t seem to feel the need to destroy nature in order to build a home of their own. They tended to let nature grow around them. If it wasn’t already apparent in the other buildings he had seen, it was definitely so here.

To the right, Genius saw a large table that had various papers scattered about on it in addition to other miscellaneous clutter. To the left, a couch and in front of him was a throne. There looked like there was also an upper level to the house but he hadn’t cared to ask what was up there.

“Well, I suppose now you’ve seen everything.” Lord Zane made his way to the table, his back to Genius. He didn’t bother to turn around as he continued, “Did you take a lot of notes?”

Genius smiled, “Yes, your lordship. I did.”

“Have you written down everything you wished to record?”

“Yes, sir.” he nodded proudly.

The tone in the man’s voice seemed to change, “You possess some valuable information. You’ve learned everything there is to know about us. I hope you’re satisfied now because unfortunately for you…” Lord Zane slowly turned around, revealing a sharp, silver letter opener gripped in his hand that he had kept concealed under the mess of papers, “The only place you can take this information is to your grave.”

Genius peered down at the blade in both shock and horror. His adrenaline rushed and his heart pounded loudly in his ears. In a panic he barely realised that he had dropped his notebook as he was backing away from the armed elf lord.

Some loose pages from the notebook fell out and scattered about the floor. Lord Zane stepped on them as he advanced toward the boy with his blade raised, light gleaming from the reflection. Closer and closer the elf lord came and louder and louder the boy’s heart pounded. The sound of it deafened everything else around him except his own shrilling cries which were soon turned into muffled screams. The pages, the notes, the sketches were now ruined by blood stains.

#radiata stories #zane's writing #cw blood #cw violence #cw death #long post

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hollerace · 3 years

Text

Mrs. Wahlstrom--Feb 5, 2021

How do you get into a fight the first time you see someone? When you’re the ripe old age of six? That’s the way it happened with Lloyd Tichey and me. We had just moved in to Midfield Avenue. I saw a kid across the street, playing between the two garages that took up the block. I crossed the street to inspect and got pelted with a clod of dirt for my trouble. I found a hiding spot and armed myself. After a brief fusillade, I poked my head out; so did Lloyd, who said, “My mom’s got iced tea.” Within first sips, our friendship was cemented. Lloyd was younger than I, not by much. He was a bit taller (who wasn't?) and better at sports and games. The surrounding streets were our arena, with plenty of kids and fewer cars. Were moms really allowed to drive? Not in our neighborhood. It didn’t take us long to confront a common enemy. Mrs. Wahlstrom lived next to me and anointed herself the personal enemy of kids having fun. She appeared regularly in attempts to quelch our enjoyment. Some of the games could attain high volume levels, particularly kickball. The sport was similar to baseball. An inflated ball would be rolled to the “batter.” You can figure out the rest. Four bases, hits, runs, enjoyment. Wacky Wahlstrom, as we called her, used her porch as her pulpit. Fortunately for us, she was a native Swedish (we guessed) speaker. Diatribes, accompanied by boney, croney finger-points, began with, “You keeds,” followed by screechy, unintelligible syllables, accented with various avian screeches, hoots and gabbling. Since she was a grownup, we didn’t sass her back, nor did we listen to her admonitions. Occasionally, a ball would find its way onto her porch. The nearest kid would race up there to retrieve the precious piece before she could confiscate it. Lloyd Tichey (pronounced “Ticky”) feared her least. He would march right up to Mrs. Wahlstrom and face her down until she surrendered whatever she had just nicked from us. One time, during a game break, I opined, “I wonder if there was ever a Mister Wahlstrom?” Several theories ensued. Lloyd’s stance was, “There was a guy, once. He musta killed himself.” We howled. Lloyd had an older brother, Barry, who was in my grade. He was quiet, virtually tacit, forever riding his bike down to Birch Creek to fish. An even older brother (Jimmy, I think) lived elsewhere. He was wild-eyed with bushy uneven hair and given to loud forms of addressing anyone. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING, TIMMY?” he would shriek as he raced from his car to the house. I never knew how to answer him. Mr. Tichey was a dapper, tanned, mustachioed man who travelled for work. His wife always looked furrowed; she seemed to worry a weathered washcloth in her hands as she walked about the neighborhood. She was followed everywhere by Baby Myra, a rotund little girl whose face needed constant swipes by her mom’s accessory. Their house smelled of cabbage. All the kids looked to Lloyd for leadership. He was a skilled organizer of games--a natural arbiter. If there was ever a problem, Lloyd seemed to rule. For a time, Dark Mark Longuiel, who lived down by The Field, started hanging around our street. He readily disagreed with anyone, and always seemed champing for a dispute. He even got mad at Ellen Botsford, who was far and away the prettiest girl who played with us. (Yes, we needed no Title IX; we just naturally went co-ed.). Lloyd Tichey got in his face. Harsh words, no blows, no Mark. As we grew, street play lost its popularity. We rarely saw Mrs. Wahlstrom. Once, when she was inching her ancient DeSoto down the driveway at a glacier’s pace, little Martin Botsford yelled, “Hey, Wacky Wahlstrom!” Lloyd immediately shut him down. “Leave her be,” he said sharply. Little Martin was already growing into quite the pain. But the little old lady seemed to fade into her dun, once-burgundy house. “She must have eighty Wiffle Balls in there,” remarked Lloyd one time. He remained an untitled leader in the ‘hood, but I was his consigliere, so to speak. Lloyd would ask me Big Questions. Many of these were about the aforementioned Ellen Botsford.

We were approaching the age where kickball dimmed in intergender activities. Most summer evenings, we played a game of Chase. This was a sort of an offshoot of the classic pastime, but much more hiding was effected as opposed to any seeking. I was just emerging from one of my favorite lairs, behind Crabby Creiner’s shed. I just happened to spy Lloyd Tichey and Ellen Botsford sneaking out of Muldoon’s lot, which provided excellent leafy cover. They were holding hands.

Wait! What? Suddenly, the rules of every game changed. Such manual interlocking was a brave, new world to a pre-shaving Catholic boy, at once exciting and terrifying. But Lloyd and Ellen? No way! No wonder all the questions.

I guess I liked some girls. There was a brief crush on Lisa Longborg, who was our eighth-grade lunch monitor. A veritable amazon at five-seven, she would camp at Sister’s desk while we ate on days too wet for recess. I would invent reasons to approach the desk while she sat there, imperious over her bologna-on-Wonder (pencil-sharpening was a good one), managing to sneak glances at her ever-burgeoning mammarial development. I wasn’t the only boy to attempt this ruse.

There was also the exotic, raven-tressed Ann Marie Pandolfo, whose glamour faded for me when she ironed a Paul Anka image on the back of her coat. This also garnered the disapproval of The Good Sisters.

I barely had the chance to recover from this tectonic shift in my life-views when another tremor hit. Lloyd announced that his family was moving up to Northfield, a suburb some ten miles north of town.

It seems Mr. Tichey had earned some sort of promotion at work, enabling his brood to improve their lifestyles. I was forlorn at first, then resigned.

The school year was bearable (Lloyd went to the public school), but that first summer loomed dusty, empty and stifling. There was the LAG (Lark Avenue Gang) for fun, just a couple of blocks away. Games of Chase still took place. Again I hid alone, noticing that more and more couples were pairing off.

My father even drove me up to Northford once to visit. The streets had no sidewalks or phone poles, with names like Chipshot Road or Rolling Mews Lane.

The Ticheys had a big, split-level ranch, a bigger yard. As neat as it was to see Lloyd, the entire scenario loomed disjoint, foreign. Even Baby Myra seemed clean, and the house didn’t smell of cabbage

.I didn’t realize our city was slowly draining. People, stores and services were migrating. And a friendship faded, tattered pages of memories from a book hidden away on a musty shelf.

Not long after, I went off to Campion Prep; Lloyd ended up at Northfield High. I found the drums and Lloyd did the same for basketball. Our teams never played each other, for my school kept an urban schedule. But the Despatch would cover Lloyd’s games, where his star would shine brighter as we neared graduation.

No sports legend, I even took Ellen Botsford to the movies once. She later ditched me for a Campion U. guy who had a sleek Honda bike. Who could blame her?

When I returned home after my freshman year at Sacre Coeur College, I fielded an odd phone call. It was from Mrs. Tichey. Her voice trembled as she told me how Lloyd had joined the Marines right after graduation. This unnerved me. I had thought for sure that a hoops scholarship awaited him. I asked for a way to get in touch. She gave me an FPO address. I wrote to him in vain.

Two summers later, I was rehearsing nightly with a local band, awaiting our maiden visit to a recording studio. One evening, a long Cadillac convertible pulled up to the house. Inside was Lloyd Tichey, in civilian clothes, but looking every bit the cut-and-pressed Marine.

Surprised, I hopped in, and we drove down to Lady’s, the seawall where Park Terrace met the Sound. It was his father’s ride, but Lloyd produced some cold Schaefers.

“I’m sick of this Honor Guard, shit, Timmy,” he began. An influential state senator from Northfield had arranged for Lloyd to secure this light-duty post at the governor’s mansion in Hartford.

“But, Lloyd,” I said, “this keeps you out of the war. Easy going.”

“Bullshit. Anyone can carry a flag. I’m a Marine; I want to fight.” I saw this was no time to voice my concerns over the Viet mess we had gotten into. His anger blossomed: sharp eyes, tightened features. I felt the tension.

We drank in silence. We both knew an argument was futile. As he dropped me off, we shared a brief hug, something we had never done as kids.

Our lives, like two opposing streams, changed courses, each divining its own path, surging forward in separate worlds.The ne

xt May, I read in the paper about Operation Georgia in Viet Nam. What made me notice was that the 9th Marines were involved. Lloyd’s unit.

I didn’t get a phone call. Reading the article in the Despatch galvanized my spine. I didn’t care about the heroes in Quang Nam province. But the article did include that a Lloyd Tichey of Northford wouldn’t be returning home. His remains, however, would.

I gleaned that there would be full military honors at Quantico, but not until a viewing was scheduled here in the city.My mom had sold the house by then, but on the day of the wake, I drove down Midfield Avenue. Why? An unseen force directed me down our old street. Maybe I wasn’t that surprised to see a cab pulled up next door to my old house.

I parked and walked over to the cabbie. “What’s the fare?”

“Some Mrs. Wallstorm. Goin’ ta Wolke’s funeral parlor. Sposta wait.”

I tipped him and told him to grab a better fare. Soon, she appeared on her porch. Hunched over like a question mark, she made for the stairs. I hustled over to help her. How old could she be? She seemed ancient when we were kids. I cradled her elbow as she descended.

“I gotcha, Mrs. Wahlstrom,” I said. She finally looked up, peering at me through veiled, powdery crinkles. I was afraid her arm, impossibly frail, would collapse under my grip.

“Oh,” she said, “leetle Teemy. We go see Lloyd, no?”

We drove the mile or so in silence. Every other time I had listened to her, she was yelling at me. This, somehow, seemed more appropriate.

My buddy, Juice Staley, worked at Wolke’s, so he procured a wheelchair for my passenger, who seemed grateful. We briefly stood beside the closed casket, bedecked with Old Glory. We were greeted by a forlorn Mrs. Tichey, looking uncomfortable in a dress. No husband in sight. She was propped up by Myra, now a young woman. I could see Mrs. Tichey’s washcloth lingering on a nearby chair. Jimmy, no longer wild-eyed, comforted Barry. The scene was fraught with an uncomfortable confusion.

No one seemed to recognize Mrs. Whalstrom, and I saw no fruit in explaining who she was. Some folks, obviously from the suburbs, entered to pay respects. This eased my tautness. Mrs. Wahlstrom gave me a look that said, “Enough,” and we made our way out.

We passed a Marine officer, all gussied up in his dress blues. He said, “Folks, you might want to stay. We are having a color guard, and an armed salute…”

Mrs. Wahlstrom, still in her wheelchair, was having none of this. “YOU GO TO HELL, MEESTER! ALL YOU KNOW IS FIGHT! FOR WHAT? TO KEEL YOUNG BOYS LIKE LLOYD!”

The man bristled and said, “You best get her out of here, you damned hippie,” he said. I answered with a mock, left-handed salute.

All Mrs. W. could manage on the drive home was, “I guess I told heem!”

At her house, she said, “You come in for tea, Teemy. You must.” How could I refuse this?I had never dared to venture through the door before this moment. I was a bit frightened as I did so. “You seet, Teemy,” she said, leading me into a living room. I rested, cradled in comfy cushions bedecked with lace antimacassars. I could smell the furniture polish and soak in the patina of age that seemed to settle on everything.

Then, I shot out of my seat, drawn to an opposite wall. It was covered with decorations, almost a shrine. There were dreamed newspaper clippings (“Tichey Scores 38 in Tourney Win”); pictures of Lloyd as an All-Stater. Handshakes, trophies: a celebration of Lloyd’s career. Looking further, I could see clips from my Who’s Who in American Colleges honors. Even that shot from an old Billboard when they handed out those Sesame Street gold records.

I stood there, in awe (was it joy? terror?) as she brought in the tea. She sensed my questions as we sat.“

I had no keeds, Teemy. You and Lloyd--good boys. Noisy but good. So I follow you, like you was my own boys.”

As the murky, late-afternoon sun slithered through the blinds, I could hear the thump of a ball and the shouts of youth. I fought tears mightily.

Somehow, it all made sense.

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helaintoloki · 5 years

Text

Season of the Witch | Michael Langdon

chapter five: Bad Boy Binx

masterlist

pairing: Michael Langdon x witch!reader

warnings: language, angst, violence, graphic descriptions, adult content, deception, toxic relationships, abuse, death, witchcraft, satanism and all that other good ahs stuff

notes: I literally updated yesterday but I was too excited about this chapter hehe

summary: y/n’s powers are beginning to grow, but will they be sidetracked by a new face?

Three Years Before the Bomb...

“Concentrate. Feel the energy flow through you. Focus on the task at hand,” Zoe’s soft voice echoes in y/n’s ear as she shuts her eyes and lets out a deep breath. Her fingers twitch and tremble as she holds them over the stuffed animal cat.

“This is so stupid,” y/n mutters, and Zoe shakes her head.

“Ah,” she interrupts, “a woman will never get anything done with an attitude like that.”

Y/N lets out a huff of air and concentrates again, eyebrows furrowing and hands seeming to spasm. She doesn’t notice Cordelia enter the room, watching from the doorway with curiosity and a sense of pride at how far her daughter has come.

“What is it?” Zoe whispers.

“We’ll be leaving to Hawthorne soon. The warlocks have called a council meeting,” Cordelia responded.

“Can I come?” Y/N asks, chair turned to face the two older witches.

“It’s a council meeting, my dear,” Cordelia sighs, “I’m not sure if it’s appropriate to bring a witch not on the council.”

“But I’d like to see California,” y/n insists. “I won’t be a bother, I’ll stay outside the meeting. Please, mother?”

“Well,” Cordelia sighs in defeat, a small smile playing at her lips, “I suppose that would be alright.”

“Oh, thank you! I’ll be on my best behavior, I promise! I’m so excited, I could- well, I-“

Meooooow.

All three witches turned wide eyed to face the black feline that sat on the table where the stuffed animal once was, quietly licking its paw and ignoring the women’s presence.

“Holy shit!” Zoe exclaims. “She did it.”

“That... I’ve never seen such a thing in my life,” Cordelia whispers in awe. And y/n, too distracted by the new furry friend, didn’t seem to comprehend just what this meant for her and the coven’s future.

“What do we do?” Zoe asks, and for once Cordelia doesn’t have an answer.

“Dear, we should be going soon,” Myrtle sighs as she waltzes into the room. “The sooner we get to Hawthorne the sooner we can leave that wretched place. Delia, you look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Not a ghost,” Cordelia shakes her head, all three women now gazing at the seventeen year old who sits with the black cat in her lap.

“I’m going to name him Binx.”

~~~

Y/N was bored out of her mind. When Cordelia had said they’d be going to California, she had pictured a trip to Disneyland or Venice Beach or Hollywood. Instead she was stuck in a stuffy underground school that smelled of boys and firewood. The boy part would have been fine, but every warlock knew better than to try and talk up the supreme’s daughter. So y/n and Binx, who entered much to the Grand Chancellor’s dismay, spent their time aimlessly wandering around Hawthorne.

It was a cozy little place, she had to admit. But it didn’t seem as big or feel as welcoming as Robichaux, and y/n felt a sudden pang of home sickness hit her stomach. Maybe once the meeting was over she’d turn to Zoe for company, or call Mallory and ask how things were going back home.

Y/N still couldn’t believe she’d made a living being out of an inanimate object. Binx had a heart, had a soul, had a life she’d gifted to him. Although she didn’t understand what this meant for her as a witch or the coven as a whole, y/n knew her powers were growing, preparing her for something bigger than herself. But what?

Binx began to groan and squirm in her arms, restless and anxious.

“What is it, Binx?” Y/N cooed, scratching behind the feline’s ears. Binx hissed, and before she could stop him he pounced out of her grasp and sprinted down the hall. “Binx! Binx, you naughty boy, come back here!”

Y/N lifted the skirt of her black dress and rushed after the cat. Cordelia would not be thrilled to know that the cat was on the loose and capable of causing a ruckus, and the Grand Chancellor would surely have her head if Binx got into trouble. “Binx!”

Turning the corner, y/n bumped into something hard and stumbled backward, the wind slightly knocked out of her. Her gaze rose to be met with the questioning blue eyes of a boy, and she felt meek and sheepish under his burning gaze.

“I’m sorry, I- Binx!” Y/N exclaimed, watching as the boy silently held the cat out towards her. He was grabbing Binx by the fat of his neck, dangling the cat in the air and swinging his body slightly as he shoved the feline towards her.

“Thank you,” she murmured sheepishly, taking the cat back. The boy made her feel nervous, and how could she not be? Growing up around only women, y/n had never really interacted with the opposite gender. Even in the orphanage the boys had stayed away. And this boy, well he was tall and he was beautiful, and his aura held that of power, made her knees weak and her tummy feel funny. She wanted to run away from him and towards him at the same time.

He didn’t respond, and her cheeks burned in embarrassment. You’re an idiot, she thought to herself, a fool.

“Binx is a dumb name,” he uttered, and the words took her by surprise.

“No it isn’t, it’s clever. I named him after Thackery Binx, the cat from Hocus Pocus.”

“Never seen it,” he said bored, and her face grew hotter.

“Then you must not have good taste,” y/n retorted, and the corners of his lips twitched as if holding back a smile.

“Why are you here?” He asked, sizing the witch up and down. She didn’t look too bad, adorned in a silk black dress, fish nets, a pair of doc martins, and a silk shawl to keep her covered. Her hair was braided and her lips painted a shade of black. She dressed in a way he knew Miss Mead would like, and it made him fond of the bumbling girl.

“My mother and sisters are in a council meeting.”

“And you?” He asked expectantly.

“I haven’t earned a place on the council. I was asked to wait outside.”

“With Binx?”

“With Binx,” she nodded in affirmation, a smile on her lips.

“I’m Michael,” he stated formally, and she smiled. He took note of the fact that she smiled too much. It made him uneasy.

“Y/N,” she replied, and when they shook hands both were stunned by the jolt of electricity shared. In y/n’s mind images of Michael flooded past: flower fields, children, love, romance, delicacy, devotion, sex, promises, and warmth.

And Michael? Michale saw destruction, chaos, death, blood. He saw dead witches, a mangled Binx. He saw a child born of darkness, a black wedding, sex, domination, devotion, submission. He saw himself as the ruler of an apocalypse, and a woman beside him, bloodied and malevolent and carrying a child in her arms. He saw y/n.

Both visions were abruptly destroyed as Binx yowled and lunged at Michael, clawing at the boy and successfully slicing the skin of his cheeks in the process.

“Binx!” Y/N cried horrified, pulling the cat away and setting him down so he could run off into the shadows. “I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into him!”

Michael silently reached up and ran a finger along the gash, admiring the blood stained onto his fingers before popping them into his mouth and sucking the substance off. Y/N wasn’t sure if she was disgusted or aroused at the display.

“Here, let me help,” she said, one hand gently grabbing his face while the other hovered over his wound and slowly stitched the flesh together until it was brand new and untouched by cat.

And as Michael watched her, her eyelashes fluttering and brows furrowed in concentration, he decided then and there that he would add a new mission to his to-do list: corrupt the little witch.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/tag list: @ticklish-leafy-plant @gx-nji @anacerta @bluebirdbts @heda-mikaelson @redlovett @fuck-yeah-bruno-buccerati @ateliefloresdaprimavera @quechulitaaa @theeonlyroman @hecohansen31 @frenchzodiacgirl

#american horror story #michael langdon #michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x witch!reader #michael langdon fic #ahs fic #ahs apocalypse #ahs coven #cordelia #witches #season of the witch

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jpstandsforjustpatches · 4 years

Note

📰 - I will write a drabble that’s happened in my muse’s past or a memory.

Patches was young but had seen plenty of hardships. Being a rare magical creature in a world where magic wasn’t commonplace led to more than her fair share of demonic accusations. Even more so in the late 1700s when most maladies were still blamed on the supernatural. Particularly harsh winters or poor harvests? Well, they had seen that clown demon around, it was obviously her fault.

Of course, she never did anything to try and dissuade the rumors. Why would she? She never knew anything else. All she knew was that she was a scary monster with sharp claws and sharper teeth. Those claws and teeth were how she managed to scrape by and survive. With no guidance, she raised herself on stolen goods and eavesdropping. It was no way to learn. Through this she learned to speak, to read, all the basics that could have been a great foundation for growth. But she also learned that magic was evil, it was to be feared, anything magical was the work of the devil. Which naturally must have included herself.

She clothed herself in pilfered scraps of fabric cobbled together into clothing. Her favorites were always the ones with patterns on them so she took as many different patterns as she could. It was her literal patchwork clothing that earned her the name “Patches”. A name that quickly grew in notoriety over the years.

Most of her early interactions with other living things tended to be food related. Either she was chased for stealing food, or she was doing the chasing, hunting down her prey. Sometimes the two overlapped. Sometimes, she would be cornered, and the butcher had such large knives. Sometimes they managed to catch her by the tail and tried to kill the evil monster. It was only natural for a cornered monster to defend itself, right?

Patches had learned quickly where to bite to disarm, where to bite to slow something down, and of course, where to bite to kill. The last quickly became her preference. Whenever she just fled, there tended to be people looking for her. When she didn’t leave the person alive? She could move on before anyone came to hunt her down. Plus she had the added benefit of more free food.

So it was that she developed a routine. Patches would find her way to a new town, somewhere she didn’t have a reputation yet. She would hunt and steal whatever food she could. Her favorites were pies cooling on windowsills, but those were a rare treat. Usually it was small animals or whatever morsels she could take from pantries without getting caught. She slept in dark alleyways or up in trees, very much like a feral cat. Eventually, as winter would start to creep up, supplies would run thin and temperatures would drop and she would be forced to grow bolder. Winter was when fresh kills were the best, but also when they were the hardest to find. Unless of course, she hunted prey other than wild animals.

In her early years when she killed it had been more based in self defense, but the self hatred of “evil” magic was deeply rooted. She had known killing to be wrong, but... She was wrong wasn’t she? She was an evil monster. Wrong is what she’s supposed to be doing. She was a monster, a wild beast. Besides, was it wrong of the wolf to kill a deer? Not at all. As she reached her teenage years, it became easier and easier to embrace being the wolf, the monster, the thing they feared in the dark.

When she embraced it, it became so much easier to hunt. Who needed to keep to the shadows to steal just enough to get by? Not her. The drunkard sleeping off too many drinks in the alley? That was an easy way to make off with a week’s worth of food. The wandering merchant, stopped on the side of the road to repair a broken wagon wheel? Nobody knew him, nobody would notice him missing. It could have just been a robbery gone wrong, after all. And if it was food they had been transporting? Even better.

Winters became easier. Patches stopped fearing her own magic as much and learned to utilize it to its full potential, discovering new tricks as she practiced. Shape shifting was the most fun. Nobody ever expected that one.

Eventually, enough of the townsfolk would grow wise to her tricks. Whispered rumors of a demon turned to warnings, everyone had a sighting and knew it to be more than a rumor. It wouldn’t be worth the trouble to remain and she would move on to the next unsuspecting town.

Patches should have known that eventually her reputation would precede her.

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

Magic was a big secret and if anyone found out, they’d be ostracized or worse. It was only natural that those with magic would band together to form communities and look out for each other. Word of some magic clown beast that could pull itself back together after being sliced up? Oh yes, word of Patches made its way to them very quickly. They were ready when she drifted their way.

At face value, the small town looked no different from any other. Why would it? They didn’t want to attract suspicion from outside. When Patches arrived, nothing seemed amiss to her. It was a quaint little community, perhaps more friendly than anything she’d encountered before. The few adults she ran into on the streets didn’t seem to fear her like usual, if anything, they were polite, downright hospitable. It was... Weird. Different.

Patches felt uncomfortable. She didn’t trust it. Nobody had shown her real kindness before, they always wanted something out of it, why would it be any different here?

Her usual hunting tactics weren’t successful there. Everyone seemed to be watching out for each other, nobody was ever alone for long. Why were they so nice to each other? Why were they being nice to her? Sure, nobody was falling over themselves to offer her food, but even the bare minimum of not chasing her away with pitchforks was something she considered a nice action. When she did get caught snitching food, she got scolded, but never chased down. Even the children in town seemed more interested than afraid. Still, she did notice a few suspicious looks, whispers as soon as she was out of earshot. That seemed more normal to her.

When one of the children approached her in the nearby woods, it caught her off guard. The boy was alone, he’d be easy prey. No different from a stumbling fawn who wandered too far from mother. But the way he walked right up to her, no fear in his eyes, just wonder. It was enough to give her pause.

“What do you want? I’m busy.”

“You’re spooky.” Was the boy’s very astute reply, “Momma said to stay away from you cause you’re a monster.”

Patches stared down at him, unsurprised that parents were warning their children against her, even if she hadn’t done anything yet, “Then why are you here?”

“Cause you haven’t done anything bad... And you’re neat.”

Patches was sure that stealing food was something they’d consider bad, but no, she hadn’t done any murders or hurt anyone in the town... Yet, “Neat?”

The boy nodded before looking around to make sure they were alone. Once he was sure he motioned for her to bend down so he could loudly whisper, “Can you do magic too?”

This was the first time Patches had encountered anyone who wasn’t afraid of magic. He wanted to see it? Well... Maybe it wouldn’t hurt. What was a toddler going to do anyway? She straightened her back and tilted her head in thought.

Oh she had the perfect idea! Her cat-like tail twisted around, splitting into a cartoonish mouth with chunky, sharp teeth. Instead of terror, she was met with a delighted shout and clapping. It was nice...

“Can it eat?” He sounded so excited to test this out.

Patches laughed, it was one of the few times she’d ever genuinely felt amusement like that, “Of course it can!”

The boy had already scampered off to pick up leaves even before she’d given him an answer. Why leaves? He returned with fistfuls of them and a hopeful look in his eyes.

Well okay then. Patches’ tail mouth opened wide. Please deposit leaves.

The first fistful of leaves was tossed in and he giggled in excitement as she comically crunched on them. They didn’t taste good, of course, but this was just a game wasn’t it? It was good harmless fun. Maybe.. If she met the right people, people who weren’t afraid of magic, things wouldn’t be so bad. It was a nice thought that warmed her heart.

“Again, again!” The boy hopped up and down, waving the other hand full of leaves around.

This time she danced around him, making it more of a game. If he wanted to feed her tail more leaves, he was going to have to catch it first. He obliged, chasing around her tail with delight. For once, the game of chase was an actual game, she wasn’t afraid of being hurt, unafraid of what happened if she got caught. It felt good to let go and just play for once.

The boy practically threw himself at her tail, the sudden extra weight threw her off balance and sent her tumbling to the ground. She just laughed as she got her reward of more leaves pushed against her tail’s jaws. Okay, okay. She parted the jaws and accepted her leafy fate.

A distant shout interrupted their fun. The boy’s name, she guessed, based on how he reacted.

“Can we play again tomorrow?” He didn’t even hesitate to ask as he scrambled up to brush the dirt and leaves off his clothes.

Patches smiled, this was completely new, but didn’t feel uncomfortable at all, unlike all the adults being so weirdly polite. It didn’t feel forced, it felt genuine, “Yeah.. I’d like that.”

The boy ran off with a wave, leaving Patches alone in the woods yet again. She was still hungry, he’d interrupted her hunting, but for a change, she didn’t mind. They probably scared off any nearby animals with all the ruckus, though. Ah... She realized she’d have to seek food elsewhere now.

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

The next morning, she meandered back to that same area of forest, hoping to see her new friend again. He didn’t show. She waited through the afternoon, ears perked at every young voice shouting and playing in the distance, but still nothing.

Patches started to think she’d been lied to. Just as she was about to give up and leave, a rustling caught her attention followed by a whisper, “Miss spooky clown?”

“It’s.... Patches.” She hesitated to give it, but it was the only name she’d ever really known. Patches crept towards the brush. That sounded like the boy from yesterday. “Miss Patches you gotta run.” The warning was urgent but something sounded off.

She didn’t heed the warning and pulled the brush back. She needed to know more, “What are you talking about?”

There she found the boy, huge tears running down his cheeks, “I told my momma... T-That you weren’t bad and we played and stuff. I- I thought if she knew you were nice that she wouldn’t be so scared.” He sniffled and rubbed his nose on a sleeve, “But she got really mad and said I couldn’t come play with you anymore. And- And there’s people looking for you. I think they wanna make you go away.”

Sure enough, Patches heard voices in the distance. They sounded like that of a hunting party, nothing she hadn’t dealt with before. She wasn’t afraid, she knew she could handle herself. It wasn’t like they could kill her anyway.

“I’m sorry... I- I gotta go. Before momma knows I’m not home.” The boy scampered off and just like that, she was alone again.

The voices drew nearer. They had heard the boy running through the underbrush and followed the sound. A shout rose up as one of them spotted Patches, her loud wardrobe giving her away easily in the greenery, especially when she was just standing there.

Patches locked eyes with them, taking note of her current predicament. Four townsfolk stood there, she recognized them as the ones she saw gossiping about her the most Each of them came armed with a rifle and each had theirs pointed right at her. That would hurt a lot, if they managed to hit her.

If they managed to hit her.

One member of the group spoke up, “We know what you’ve done... The trail of destruction you’ve left behind in every community whose doors you’ve darkened.”

“We’re not going to let you ruin what we’ve built. This is a safe haven. You’re not welcome here.” Another agreed.

Patches frowned. How did these people know what she’d already done? Did someone guess where she’d go next and warn them? She only did what was necessary to survive.

It wasn’t wrong of the wolf to kill a deer... But a wolf hunting sheep or cattle tended to come to a head the same way things had now, angry people with guns.

“I’m just trying to survive...” She took a slow, careful step forward, hands raised placatingly, “I’m-”

A bright glow flashed down the neck of the rifle as one of them pulled the trigger. In an instant, half her vision went black, much like the blood that dribbled from her face. The pain that blossomed in her skull was unlike anything she’d felt before. Sure, she’d been shot, it hurt, but not like this.

Patches fell to her knees, her head was spinning and her vision swam. She could see smooth fragments of white in the dirt among the globs of black ichor. A shaky hand reached out to them, was that..? Were those pieces of her face? Her remaining eye frantically fixed itself on the hunting party, terrified. What did they do to her?

One of the others held up her hand. It glowed with a light Patches had never encountered before. As fire sprung forth, it clicked. Magic. This was magic. Different from her own, but magic nonetheless, and it hurt. The flames burned worse than any candle or campfire she had ever touched.

Patches knew now that she had to leave. She knew how to handle the mundane, the weak. This was a whole new animal and she was so scared. As she turned to run, another shot rang out behind her. It missed, but she could see the faint glow on the tree it struck as she passed by.

A few more shots sounded off behind her as she ran. Though she couldn’t tell anymore if they were trying to hit her or run her off. It had worked regardless. She found herself scared out of her mind, half-blind, and running like a bat out of hell.

The clown didn’t stop until she ended up miles from the town. She slumped against a tree to try and catch her breath. Blood and tears trickled from her respective eye sockets. Her eye hadn’t come back yet. Why hadn’t it come back? It never took this long before. A knot formed in her stomach as realization dawned on her.

Magic.

That town had been full of magic folk. That was why they didn’t attack her immediately. That was why the boy had asked if she was magic too.

That boy.. That child. He had been so young and innocent, he hadn’t feared her. For one brief moment, she had known what it was to just be another person instead of the monster everyone wanted to destroy. But then... That same child had led those others right to her. All his innocence and kindness got her hurt... It took her eye.

The cold bitterness that dwelled within her grew.

The only time she had ever let her guard down and she ended up literally burnt and half blind.

Kindness never led to anything good.

And children? Well clearly they couldn’t be trusted, not even the ones who meant well.

#manwhospeaksinshitposts #blood #gore #eye trauma #head trauma #guns-#(( i think that's the common content warnings tagged but lmk if there's anything else i missed ))#drabble #(( held onto this idea until after i'd developed her backstory more 8>c ))

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foreveralwaysanauthor · 4 years

Text

How the Cookie Crumbles

Monthly Prompts Day 31

August 31st - Cookie

*This takes place at some point in between Broken Record and Creating A Rift*

Characters: Multiple characters (Teen Beach) Miles and Mick (OC)

Notes: I’m thinking of putting all of these together in a story on my fanfic account and adding more “chapters” of these when I come up with more ideas, does anybody think that’s a good idea?

Mick had been spending time in Wet Side Story for almost a year, bouncing back and forth between worlds frequently. She had found herself adopted by both the surfers and the bikers, getting tossed back and forth at parties and invited to every sleepover under the sun. The surfers had taken her in as a friend quickly, inviting her to parties and bringing her to their favorite, secret, surf spots. She’d even been invited to hang out with some of the Rodent boys as they liked to have her input on things and she wasn’t afraid to get her hands - and occasionally, clothes - dirty. All around, both gangs seemed to like having her around.

Ten months after Butchy had given Mick a promise ring, the couple decided to go out to dinner giving both the Rodents and the surfers time to get together without Mick or Butchy’s knowledge. The two groups hadn’t needed to meet for long, coming to a decision that Mick needed a party. The seventeen-year-old had been with them for just shy of a full year and, normally, a new member to the Rodents would get a big party where they’d get their first leather jacket or vest. Surfers, on the other hand, were more laid-back about who they let into their group, but still threw a party for whoever was joining.

Mick was a part of both groups. She’d been raised in a surfer household, with both of her parents loving the ocean, but knew how to take apart motors and loved working on machines with the bikers like her father, Brady. The party for Mick would have to be twice as big as a normal party would be for just one of the groups.

Butchy had found out about the party by complete accident; some of the guys were working in the shop, talking away with Tanner, Giggles and Rascal about what kind of songs would be played at the event and Butchy had inadvertently eavesdropped on the conversation. He promised to keep it from Mick as long as they would give her the jacket he’d bought for her at the party, a pale blue leather jacket with the Rodent emblem already stitched onto the back. Giggles had taken it from Butchy, insisting on adding a few extra details to the jacket with her sewing machine and telling him it would be ready before the party the upcoming weeked.

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The night of the party, Tanner and Lela told Mick they were going to have a get together at Big Momma’s to see how everyone was getting along with the groups now intermingling, asking the brunette if she’d mind coming to keep people in line. Mick had, of course, bought the fake story, wanting nothing but happiness for her friends. The look on her face when she showed up and found that the party was for her and her alone, made everyone in Big Momma’s excited for her.

Butchy had ushered her to the table in the middle of the room, warning his girlfriend that she had a few gifts from her friends that she had to open before everybody could start eating. Mick had initially refused, adamently stating that she didn’t deserve any gifts at all for being their friend, but all it took was Miles forcing a piece of fudge into her mouth for her to stop talking and begin accepting her gifts.

First off was a gift from Giggles and Kiki, a blue and white swimsuit with a leafy design and tons of fringe that Mick had liked when the girls had gone shopping along with little surfboard earrings that matched the set that both Giggles and Kiki owned. The biker boys were next, a group consisting of Skids, Mudflap, Sparkplug and Tailpipe, pushing their way to the front and forcing a heavy, yet small bag onto Mick’s lap. Inside of the bag was a set of tools Mick had told them she’d needed, a pair of sunglasses with a checkerboard pattern on them, and a set of dogtags with her name, birthday and phone number on one and a blank second tag. Most of the bikers had a set that they wore when they went out for races, but their secondary tag had their chosen nickname on it. A nickname Mick didn’t have just yet.

Struts and Cheechee were next, handing Mick a small, long box that opened up to reveal a pair of bracelets. One bore her initial, M, and the other had a B stamped onto it. The girls explained that the bracelets were a gift for both Mick and Butchy, so they could keep a part of the other close at all times. After giving hugs to her biker friends, Mick was handed a bag with a tag on it that read, “Your pain in the ass. -M.” Mick shook her head, sending a knowing smile in Miles direction before opening the bag and pulling out a book she’d talked about wanting and a hoodie. Mick had put on the hoodie immediately, noting that it faintly smelled like Miles’ house before sticking her hands into the pocket and pulling out a set of keys. Miles announced to the confused crowd that it was a set of keys to his house so she could visit whenever she liked.

The last gift was a brown box that Miles had vaguely remembered seeing in Butchy’s room a while before Mick had come around. Inside the box was the blue jacket Butchy had allowed Giggles to touch up. Now, one of the lapels had Mick’s initials sewn into it and a small, red crown had been embroidered above the rodent’s head on the gang’s emblem, replacing the normal piece of cheese that hovered on the top of the critter’s helmet on most of the biker gang’s jackets.

Mick had loved all of her gifts. She’d made sure to give out hugs to everyone who would accept them before packing the gifts back into the packages they’d come in. It wasn’t long before everyone was eating from the grill as well as the snack table. Mick had been cornered off and on throughout the party, conversing with nearly everyone in attendance by the time the grill had closed and Big Momma left Kiki in charge of closing up when the party was over. Thankfully, Butchy and Miles had set aside plates for Mick, making sure to guard them in increments so that both of them had time to steer Mick away from the sea of surfers and bikers. By the time the crowd had dwindled, Mick had only eaten one half of a sandwich and only a third of her soda was gone.

Once she was able to return to the table her friends were sitting at, all Mick wanted was to eat and sleep, resting her arms on the table and relaxing her head onto them. Miles couldn’t blame her for being tired, he’d felt the same way after his party but had gotten over it quickly when Butchy told him he could borrow Butchy’s infamous red and black Harley for a little bit after the party had ended. Mick, on the other hand, had no real passion for riding a motorcycle yet as she had only just purchased a 1956 Plymouth Belvedere to ride around in. Miles had realized, as of late, that she had an affinity for sweets, so he used that information to get Mick up and going again.

Lightly kicking Butchy under the table, Miles pointed to the snacks on Lela’s plate before pointing to Mick. Butchy nodded, waiting for Lela to turn away before grabbing a cookie off of his sister’s plate and placing it in front of Mick. Miles looked at Butchy, giving the older biker a disbelieving look before shaking his head and putting his forehead into the palm of his hand with a sigh. Mick lifted her head, quickly spotting the cookie and popping it into her mouth. Butchy gave a soft chuckle at his girlfriend, rising from his seat so he could retrieve a replacement cookie for his sister and some more sweets for Mick.

By the end of the night, Mick had ended up eating more cookies than she knew how to count. It wasn’t her fault that cookies just seemed to keep reappearing on her plate! They were good and Mick just couldn’t seem to get enough of them, so Miles and Butchy took turns getting her more of them. She had gone through most of the cookie trays by herself that night, only offering some to others when she decided she’d had her fill of cookies.

It didn’t take long for the bikers to decide what nickname to put on Mick’s extra dogtag. That night, they had retrieved her tags from the bag they’d given her and had a friend of theirs put her nickname on it. The originally blank dogtag had, from that night onward, the nickname of “Cookie Monster” engraved into it.

#ForeverAlwaysPrompts #writing #writing prompt

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pastthevaulteddoors · 4 years

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Yugioh/Stardew Valley euroshipping drabble. I don’t think I’ll actually finish/edit this but wanted to at least share the idea.

Everyone was always excited to meet the new neighbors in Pelican Town. Elliott was still getting curious glances and he’d been living in his shack on the beach for over a year now. Ryou could still remember when he first arrived; Abigail had taken a keen interest in his work in the mines, and Penny instantly offered up her spot in the library for his studies.

It was like a small town welcome wagon and all the singles in town needed to have a peek at the new guy. Although, that was over five years ago and Ryou remained rooted in the single territory. He was far more interested in the dig sites in the mountainside than spending time gossiping with Pam and Gus at the tavern every Friday.

Professor Ryou Bakura liked his isolation at the dig site and only came to town once a month to resupply his cabin and maybe collect his latest intern. The old human burial grounds kept most of the villagers at bay, and gave Ryou a lot to do all on his own.

Heading to Pierre’s Store was a bit of a chore, and Ryou was always polite if distant to the locals. The interns never lasted long, so lugging all his supplies for the month wasn’t the most pleasant thing to look forward to. The town was so small all the roads were beaten down dirt paths that hardly no one owned a car and relied on the bus to swing through every few days.

“Welcome to Pierre’s!” said Pierre as Ryou came into the shop. Ryou smiled and waved politely before turning right to start loading up with essentials; canned vegetables and spam. Eh, who ever said the life of a archaeologist was glamorous?

“Did you hear about the new farmer in town?” Caroline asked casually as she stocked a shelf nearby. “He came in last month just after your last supply run.”

“I haven’t heard,” Ryou said, again with his sweet politeness that hadn’t waned over the years in the dirt and isolation. “I hope they make good use of the fertile soil.”

“Oh, the new guy?” Leah’s voice came from the isle over and she peaked her head around the corner. Her basket was full of fresh veggies and a goat cheese. “Ha! You should have seen him and Elliott go at it last time we went to visit,” the red head grinned wickedly. “It was an epic pissing match; I couldn’t tell if they were going to kiss each other or punch each other.”

Ryou smiled to himself. It took him awhile to get past the arrogant flare of Elliott’s vocabulary, unlike Leah, who was far easier to chat with if she weren’t zoned in on her latest art piece.

“Leah! That’s not a very polite thing to say,” Caroline chide the artist. Leah in turn shrugged and walked with Ryou to the check out counter.

“Going to stay down in the valley tonight and meet him?” Leah asked, setting her basket of leafy greens next to Ryou’s pathetic display of canned and preserved foodstuffs. “He likes to huff at the tavern on the weekends.”

“I really should get back to my work...” Ryou tried to decline politely.

“You can always stay in our spare room if you want to hang out at the bar tonight,” Pierre got into the conversation as he rang him up. “Instead of heading up the mountainside in the dead of night. I know Abby would happy to catch up and see what you’ve excavated recently.”

Ryou waved his hands, trying to decline yet again. It felt like high school all over again, except instead of fawning girls it was parents and friends trying to hook him up with someone. “I’d really rather get back to my-”

Just then the door opened, filling the otherwise dull shop with a cheerful jingle of a bell. Ryou turned quickly, hoping that whomever entered could be his escape to get them to lay off when he suddenly felt like he was punched in the stomach and all the air whooshed out of his lungs.

It had been over ten years since they saw each other in person, and otherwise Ryou had only caught clippings of articles about Duel Monsters and KC’s expanding empire. And yet...

And yet the Seto Kaiba he knew then was nothing that he saw now. Standing in the dusty doorway, yellow light holding up a halo of unkempt brown hair. His eyes weren’t easy to forget; hard and blue and guarded, but his pristine aura of steely white suits and perfection built from hard work and tragedy was gone. Kaiba was, well, absolutely filthy!

The holes in his jeans weren’t designer made, and his tshirt had pit stains. Kaiba had certainly remained as strong as before, as Ryou eyed his bare arms and the deep curves of his muscles and veins, and yet he had filled out. He wasn’t as thin as when he was at seventeen, screaming at Yugi across an arena.

As Seto approached, looking off to the side at a line of seeds for sale, Ryou noticed the mud stuck under his fingernails, the smudge of dirt across the bridge of his nose, and the pink of a too much late spring sun on his cheeks. Ryou felt suddenly very self-conscious of his own appearance, which was a very odd thing to feel. He reached up and grabbed at the split ends of his hair--it was growing past his ears again and he couldn’t remember the last time he had it cut--and wondered if the trek down the mountainside left him smelling of BO.

Because, despite how absolutely filthy Kaiba appeared, he was ten times more handsome that Ryou remembered. The rugged farmer look cloaked him in a masculinity that sent a pleasant shiver down Ryou’s spine.

“Perfect timing!” Caroline’s voice sounded far away.

“We were just talking about you,” Leah chimed in, smiling wide at Ryou for some reason. “We’re trying to convince the Professor here to stick around tonight for a drink to meet the new farmer boy.”

Kaiba finally turned his attention to the townsfolk with a look of vague familiarity, until those stunning blue eyes landed on Ryou. He froze, and Ryou was sure that was a flash of panic before he schooled his expression. Then, he grunt in greeting.

“Don’t be a grump,” Pierre leaned on the counter, beaming happily at Seto like he were an old friend. It was bizarre seeing the Great Seto Kaiba, Prodigy and CEO of the one of biggest companies in the world being addressed so casually. Even Yugi couldn’t coax a casual conversation out of him. “Seto, meet Professor Ryou Bakura, he’s the one living up by the mines working at the excavation site I told you about.”

“Professor?” Kaiba said, his guard still up with a muttered question.

“Mmhm, and Professor, this is Seto Isono, the new farmer,” Leah chimed in, something excited buzzing in her voice.

Isono?

Kaiba said nothing but stared openly at Ryou. It was almost a pleading look behind all the hard exterior, until Ryou realized it was actually a warning. There was no negotiations here about playing along with the false name.

“Right,” Ryou finally said, slowly with a little nod. “Seto Isono.”

Silence fell that could only be called awkward. Ryou wasn’t sure how to move forward, he hadn’t a clue what Kaiba... Isono was playing at and remained quiet to let the other take the lead. If anything, at least Ryou understood the need for privacy.

“You two, ah, know each other?” Caroline piped up, breaking the silence that lingered. She looked between the two with a curious gaze.

Still Seto remained quiet, his glare set in stone, so Ryou began speaking slowly... carefully. “We, ah, went to high school together,” he said. “Isono and I were in the same class.”

Seto seemed to appreciate that answer and grunt in agreement.

“What a small world we live in,” Pierre said.

“That’s perfect then!” Leah piped up, slapping a hand on Ryou’s shoulder, jostling him out of the staring contest. “Then you have to stay the night to catch up.” A grin turned to Seto then. “I’ll tell Elliott to come by the tavern. I’m sure he’ll want to hear all your high school hi-jink!”

A withering look was turned her way, the first non-Kaiba expression Ryou had seen him make.

“I’ll have Abby make up the spare room,” Caroline said as she trot away to find her daughter.

Ryou felt himself deflate. Great, he had no idea what Seto ISONO’s deal was, and what they could possibly ‘catch up’ on? Aside a few death-defying duels and that one time he was trapped from the Plana, he wasn’t sure that Seto even knew who he was.

#euroshipping #seto kaiba #ryou bakura #yugioh

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taehyungsgrowl · 5 years

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Sweet Creature - Michael Langdon x Male!Reader

it’s your girl! Back at it with shy!hawthorne!michael! This prompt is actually very near and dear to my heart (and has been promised for a long long time haha.) also i got the name for this bc i was listening to harry styles but it has nothing to do w that. also i got the gif from google and the source took me to the FX website so if its yours LMK so i can tag you!

This is dedicated to some some pretty special people 🖤 @wvntersldr along with @1-800-bitchcraft @ticklish-leafy-plant because well, they also appreciate talking about Michael in panties with me. Thank you guys. And sorry for putting it off for so long, but it’s here now and I hope y’all enjoy this so much. Thank you Liliana and Ava for your DMs about this topic. This is for you.

Warnings: Smut (duh), Fluff probably

Y/N missed Hawthorne. No, he missed Michael. All warlocks were sent home for spring break (if they had a home - many weren’t as lucky as Y/N. Michael being one of those many who didn’t have a place to go. He would stay cooped up in his dorm, sulking at the thought of having to spend his whole week without seeing Y/N. Living at the same school, he had access to his boyfriend whenever he pleased. He missed him a lot.)

Y/N tried to make the best of his time with his family. He’d gone fishing with his dad (although he might have used a little magic to get the fish to bite), and now he’d join his mom on a little shopping spree.

His mother took a large pile of clothes into a fitting room to try on and left him to wander off on his own.

He passively wandered around the huge department store, always glancing at his phone to hear from Michael. As if on cue, Michael pressed send from his dorm and texted Y/N.

I’m so sad. I miss you.

His poor sweet baby. Y/N knew how hard days like these were for Michael. He never talked much about his family which made him assume it wasn’t pretty. He could see the shift in Michael’s attitude any time someone brought up talk of his mom or dad.

Miss you too, baby. I’ll be back tonight <3

He shoved his phone back in his pocket and continued to trail through the store. Before making his way back to his mother - a large array of soft pastel colors caught his eye. Looking up, he came face to face with a wide selection of lingerie displayed neatly.

Lace, satin, silk, chiffon. Panties, baby-dolls, bodysuits. The options were endless.

Y/N picked up the first pair of panties that caught his eyes; a delicate baby blue lace garment. Feeling the bumpy pattern between his fingers, he was taken back to an overheard conversation in the boys’ room.

“My girlfriend looked so sexy in her lingerie.” a boy bragged to his friend washing his hands in the bathroom. “I’m telling you. Buy your girlfriend some pretty panties and she’ll thank you like crazy.”

Of course, Michael was on Y/N’s mind. The blue panties matched the shade of Michael’s eyes perfectly. And Michael was feeling so down over having to spend his break alone.. maybe a little gift would help raise his spirits. How could Y/N not buy them with all those factors in place?

He hurried to the checkout station and made his purchase. He swung around the little white bag he got them in all day long; he was nervous and excited to see what Michael would think about them. He always did have a penchant for pretty things.

Before Y/N could even get his door open a pair of arms were wrapped around his neck and pulling him into his room.

“I missed you so much..” Michael mumbled into his neck.

“I missed you too, baby.” his arms were secured around Michael. He missed this; missed the way Michael smelled and the way he clung to him like a baby koala. He missed his baby.

“I got you something.” he smiled as Michael pulled away and plopped down on the bed, waiting patiently. Michael’s pretty blue eyes lit up as the mention of a gift. He’d never been a person who received much during childhood. Between Constance and the constant shuffling and planning with Ms. Mead, and now here. Someone thinking of him enough to give him something always made him giddy. He carefully eyed the little white bag in Y/N’s hand with dark cursive printing on it.

“Go on, open it.” he was handed the bag.

Y/N felt like Michael pulled the panties out in slow motion. Michael held them up by his fingers, his expression awed.

Cheeky sky blue panties; something so small (because, they really did leave little to the imagination) caused a peachy pink glow to Michael’s face.

“T-these are for me?” he asked, not taking his eyes off of them.

“Yeah,” Y/N stepped closer, “Don’t feel like you have to wear them if you don’t like them. They just made me think of you.” he chuckled.

Michael didn’t think he could blush any further, “They’re so pretty. I love them.” he placed them down on his lap, imagining what they would look like on.

“I’ll let you try them on while I wash up real quick.” he bent down to kiss Michael before scurrying off to the washroom.

Michael quickly stripped himself out of his pants and boxer briefs; he kicked aside the boring gray pair of underwear and picked up his new pretty pair. He slid them up his legs, feeling them cup his cheeks securely. He was still wearing an old tshirt that came down midthighs for him - he examined himself in the full length mirror. He slowly lifted the tshirt to his tummy to see what the panties looked like on.

His large cock was snugged tightly into the adorable blue underwear; he could see traces of his pink skin through the lace. Turning to his side, he caught a glimpse of the curve of his ass in the mirror. He thought it looked plumper than usual, but that was due to the figure hugging cut of the panties.

“Y/N.” he called out, his heart beating faster. He wanted Y/N to think he looked pretty. And how could Y/N not? With Michael’s stunning gold curls, delicate pink flushed face, and dainty blue lace? He was what dreams were made of.

Y/N caught Michael staring at himself in the mirror. He stood at the frame of the door, letting his baby take in how good he looked. He loved seeing Michael appreciate himself. Too often, he lost himself in feeling self conscious.

“Oh my god.” he let out more to himself than anyone else, “so fucking pretty, baby.” Y/N said just above a whisper.

He closed the gap between him and his boyfriend and wrapped his arms around Michael.

Y/N pulled Michael’s tshirt off, discarding it on the floor. His hands found Michael’s hips as his eyes wandered down Boy Wonder’s body. A barely there happy trail drew into his new gift, fleshy thighs on display. Michael felt more nude than when he was actually naked in front of Y/N.

He placed a series of wet sloppy kisses to the corner of Michael’s mouth, sweeping to his jaw and neck. Michael hummed in content of feeling his lovers lips on him.

His fingers dug deep into Michael’s hips, pulling him closer. He could feel him growing harder. Y/N had to pull away to see him. Michael’s cock was stretching the thin fabric even thinner. Y/N dragged a finger over it, feeling him twitch under his touch.

Before Michael’s breath could catch in his throat, Y/N dropped to his knees. His came face to face with Michael’s full glory. He felt like kneeling before an angel.

Again, with a barely there touch, he traced the outline protruded by Michael. Michael’s eyelids fluttered; he was so sensitive down there - even a feather light touch was enough to light him on fire.

“Did you miss me, baby.” Y/N asked, peering up at Michael.

“You know I did.” Michael tries to keep a steady tone, but Y/N hear the quiver in his voice.

“I wanna hear you say how you missed me. How you missed my.. touch,” he pressed a little more force on Michael, “Did you touch yourself when I was gone, baby?” he kissed right above the delicate little bow adorning Michael’s panties.

“I missed you so much, Y/N,” he whined, “No. I’ve been waiting for you.” he confessed.

Y/N licked the same spot he kissed, watching the way Michael reacted to his wet tongue on his skin, “Good boy.”

He pressed a kiss to the pretty pink tip of Michael’s length. He could taste the oozing precum through the fabric. “Hmm,” he hummed against it, “I missed this too, baby.”

“Let’s take these off, okay?” he hooked his fingers in the waistband, slowly peeling them down.

“Made me put them on only to take them off?” Michael blushed, adjusting his thighs to ease the panties down his legs.

“You knew where this was going, Michael,” his boyfriend winked before biting into his thigh, playfully. Michael’s stomach dropped at the name; he loved the “baby”s and the “sweetheart”s but when Y/N pulled out his name it was almost enough to make him cum untouched. Almost.

Maybe it was the tighter fit of the underwear, but Y/N almost flinched back with he way Michael proudly sprung out of his panties. Bright red and glistening; it made his mouth water.

His large hands grabbed at his base, slowly stroking up to meet the head. Small whines falling from Michael’s mouth only made him smile. His poor baby.. all alone for over a week. He needed to take care of him; make him feel loved.

Michael hissed at the sudden contact of his thumb running over the slit of his cock. “Y/N,” he sighed, “I missed you.” and Y/N knew he meant. Not only did he speak it, but the grip Michael held on his hair made him think Michael never wanted to let go. Y/N made a mental note in the back of his head to drag Michael out of this prison for their next break. Maybe they’d go to the beach or something. He’d kill to see his baby sun kissed and thriving.

Surprise washed over Y/N when his teasing was cut short - Michael tugged his hair and pulled him closer to his crotch, pleading, “Y/N please, it’s been too long.” his crystalline blue eyes sparkled so much, Y/N though he was on the verge of tears. And maybe he was.

“Shh, I’ve got you, baby.” needy little thing, Y/N thought to himself. But he didn’t mind. He’d do anything for Michael. He knew it from the moment he laid eyes on him. Stuttering mess, always hidden in his sketchpad. Michael had such magnetism, it always astounded him how shy he was upon meeting him.

With his lips already completely pressed to Michael’s cock (thanks to Michael’s almost forceful pull) he opened up and took as much as he could in one go. He sucked deeply, hallowing his cheeks, taking in Michael.

“Y/N..” Michael growled through clenched teeth, “Fuck,” Y/N heavy tongue massaged up and down his shaft, tracing every vein and pulse point.

Y/N snaked his hands around Michael’s legs and squeezed his ass, all while letting his cock hit the back of his throat. He gave him one firm smack and pulled his lips up and down, bobbing his head.

“I’m-” Michael couldn’t deliver a fair warning. Not that Y/N needed one. He knew his baby like the palm of his hand and knew exactly what flipped his switch.

Hot spurts of his cum flew into Y/N ready mouth. Y/N swallowed all he could while still letting his hands play with Michael. He got him all cleaned up, licking the mixture of saliva and cum off his lips.

Michael held his eyes shut, chest panting hard, and a flush of color that had washed down his neck and chest. Y/N kissed at his penis, taking any left string of cum and picking it up with his tongue, until Michael’s breathing began to regulate again.

“I hope you liked your present, baby.” he winked and gave Michael’s cheeks one last squeeze.

okay y’all. i’ve been talking about michael in panties... for months and i finally wrote it vnfjdksveafjvas soooo i hope u guys like it.

tagging: @langdonsdemon @lathraios @1-800-bitchcraft @michael-langdon-appreciation @ritualmichael @codyfernss @cryptid-coalition @russianspacegeckosexparty @starwlkers @langdonsoceaneyes @infernal-langdon @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @mega-combusken @maso-xchrist @bbyduncan @vampirefairyestelle @ticklish-leafy-plant @wvntersldr @rocketgirl2410 @langdonshell @jim-mason2 @venusxxlangdon @queencocoakimmie @lvngdvns @americanhorrorstudies @divinelangdon @missantichrist @nana15774 @sammythankyou @flowersiren @langdonsrapture @langdonsinferno @littledemondani @lathraios @kissydevil @langdonsfeed @ms-mead @langdonsplaytoy @wickedlangdon

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thaisibir · 4 years

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La Vie en Rose (Bede and young!Opal time travel fic)

Here’s the fic I’d been promising to write about Opal’s past, based on my prior headcanon posts. Though this fic will explore Opal’s life, it’s all from Bede’s POV. Enjoy!

La Vie en Rose (Life in Pink) Rating: T (for character deaths and language) Chapter 1/10 - Fairy Tale (length: ~4k words) Summary: Bede doesn't get why that loony old bat Opal wants him to be the next Fairy-type Gym Leader. To help him understand, Opal has Celebi take Bede back to the time of her youth.

(For other chapters, look up the tag “pokemon la vie en rose” or go to my profile)

For what seemed like the hundredth time that day, Bede thought about making a break from Opal, that loony old bat. Nothing could stop him. She wasn't gripping and pulling him along by the arm, like a parent dragging an upset child through the grocery store. In fact, he fought a hard battle with impatience to match her stride. The oldest Gym Leader in Galar walked at the pace of a Chewtle on a cold day. It wasn't like she could chase him down if he took off. Her heart would probably give out first if she tried.

Before they had set off from the sprawling castle-city of Hammerlocke, Opal had insisted on walking, turning down chances to take the train and the Flying Taxi. The train made sense, since there were no railways leading through the dense Glimwood Tangle and into Ballonlea. But not taking the Flying Taxi perplexed Bede.

"We'll get there much faster if we take a taxi," he told her.

"I'm not hopping on that bloody death trap," she replied with a snort.

"So you want to get blisters on your feet instead?"

"I very much prefer that to crashing and dying."

Bede rolled his eyes. "We won't crash and die. Those taxis are very safe."

"Rubbish. My boy, you have no idea."

Bede gawked at her. More like she didn't have any idea. There had never been reports of Flying Taxi accidents on the telly. Not that Bede expected an ancient fossil like Opal to keep up with news on the telly, anyway. Did she even own a telly?

Opal wouldn't budge on her decision, so they ended up walking all the way from Hammerlocke to Ballonlea. They had walked side by side, making no physical contact at all, yet what Bede felt between them was the alluring, arresting air of her authority and of course, her very strange, out-of-the-blue offer.

He wasn't a Gym Challenger anymore, so could Opal really pick him to be the next Gym Leader? Was that allowed? Opal seemed like the kind of woman to turn her big nose up at the rules and do whatever the bloody hell she wanted, anyway.

She had declared that he had the "right amount of pink." What did that mean? That was the first question he popped just after she had swooped in on him at Hammerlocke, but she refused to tell him, only that "pink isn't a color easily explained." Bollocks, you couldn't explain color. Blue is blue. Green is green. Red is red. And so on. Bede couldn't make heads or tails out of this lady clearly off her rocker.

Chairman Rose had disqualified Bede from the Gym Challenge at Stow-on-Side, so Bede had never reached Ballonlea to challenge the Fairy-type Gym. Though he tried to keep his face impassive, his first visit to the town enchanted him.

A spectrum of colors from glowing mushrooms abound under the shade of towering trees. Some mushrooms were so big that they loomed over the cottages. Bede didn't know that they could get that tall. Burbles of a brook winding through the leafy floor filled his ears. From their perches on the Pokemon Center, a pair of Hattrem tittered at Opal and Bede. Farther away, Chinchou bobbed their angler lights overhead. A little girl sitting on a large boulder played with two bobbing Inkays, and as Opal and Bede climbed the stairs, she waved at them.

"Hello, Ms. Opal. Welcome, Trainer."

Opal smiled at the girl and gestured to her young traveling companion. "This is Bede. He's going to be the town's next Gym Leader."

The girl's eyes lit up and she fidgeted in her spot on the boulder. "Oh, that's so exciting! This will be the talk of the town for sure. Good luck, Bede."

"Er, thanks," he stammered, then as they walked away, he muttered to Opal, "You have an awful lot of confidence to say that."

"I am rarely wrong in the choices I make," she replied. An impish glance peeked from the brim of her hat. "Don't prove me wrong, child."

Though she had a jovial tone, his stomach twisted in nervousness as if she had said it ominously. Why was he nervous? Why did he care? He didn't really want to be a Gym Leader. He hoped to just glean whatever information Opal had on the Wishing Stars, then be on his way. If there was a second chance to redeem himself in the Chairman's eyes, then he would seize that chance by the throat.

Opal led him down a winding path away from the Gym. Bede frowned. "Wait, where are we going?"

She quirked a white eyebrow at him. "You're not living at the Gym. Don't you want to see where you'll be living?"

Bede nearly stopped in his tracks. She was taking him to her house. It looked like the other cottages in town, timber-framed and dotted with cascading plants. A wooden armbench occupied the tiny front yard. A door flap took up a third of the whole door.

Suddenly a Mightyena bounded through the door flap with ferocious barks. Bede couldn't help jumping back in alarm. An Obstagoon opened up the wooden door to occupy almost the entire threshold and crossed its arms. It leered at Bede with bared fangs and through red eyes narrowed in suspicion.

Opal waved a placating hand at the pair of Dark type Pokemon. "Oh, hush now, my dears. The boy's all right. He's with me."

Bede's hand flitted to the Poke balls on his belt, not to send them out, but to protect them. He had a team of Psychic types, after all. "What are they doing here? Aren't you a Fairy type Trainer, Ms. Opal?" He hated how his voice got high and cracking when he gets scared.

Opal patted Obstagoon's arm with one hand, then ruffled Mightyena's mane with the other. "These are my husband's Pokemon. Descendants of them, anyway. They keep good company. Sometimes good protection." At her touch, the two Pokemon relaxed and looked to her with undisguised affection.

Bede tried to relax, too. "You have a husband?"

"Had."

"Oh, so he's—"

"Not around." She gestured to another path with the tip of her umbrella. "If you want to meet him, take the trail to the Ballonlea Cemetary."

Bede rubbed the back of his head. What should he say? "Er, I'm sorry."

Opal gave him a toothy grin. "No need to be. He left me ages ago. Now come inside and have some tea."

"Yes, ma'am." Bede stepped inside the house after her, followed closely behind by the vigilant Mightyena and Obstagoon. He was not surprised in the least to find the interior painted in cheerful pastel colors, shades of purple, pink, and light blue. He felt like walking into a child's dollhouse. Every piece of furniture—the sofa, the dining table, the armchair, the nightstand—looked like it was made for one. Excluding the company of Pokemon, clearly Opal had been living alone for a long time.

As Opal went straight to brewing tea in the kitchen, her following remark confirmed his suspicions. "It's been a while since I've had visitors in here. Mostly because this place has been a righteous mess."

"I...I can see that," Stacks of papers, discs, and tapes were piled halfway to the ceiling, on the verge of toppling over if Bede carelessly bumped an elbow or his hip against them.

Opal set two steaming teacups on the table, then turned to pull a book from the nearby shelf. The thick weight of it bent Opal over and nearly made her drop it, but she managed to heave it over the table and place it with a solid thump before Bede.

"Here, a crash course on the care and training of Fairy type Pokemon. Written by my own mum."

Bede peered at the cover. "By Ruby Roy," it said. He looked up at her with a frown. "You want me to read all of it, Ms. Opal?"

"From front to back until you have it memorized," she said firmly. "Mum made me do that, so I'm passing down the same regimen."

Bede bit back a groan. He wasn't one to sit still and hunched over a book for a long time. As he sipped at his tea, he found her unblinking gaze of intense scrutiny on him unnerving, so he tried to avoid staring back at her by leafing through the Fairy Pokemon training manual.

The pages were Butterfree wing-thin, aged from lengthy ownership but evidently cared for since there were no holes or stains. Bede kept the teacup a fair distance from the book. Somehow he didn't want to risk pissing off an old lady like Opal.

"I notice that you favor Psychic types," She remarked as she sipped from her own teacup. "The jump from using Psychic to Fairy types isn't a terribly big one. I know many Pokemon that are Psychic-Fairy, like Gardevoir, Hatterene, and Galarian Rapidash. You would do well to start using them."

"I already have a Galarian Ponyta and a Hattrem," Bede said.

"Splendid. You'll still have to make some switches to your team, though. Go for a few runs through Glimwood Tangle to catch and train your new Pokemon. But first, before any battles, hit the books." She seemed to notice his dismay, and the corners of her puckered lips twitched upward, though not apologetically. "I'm an old-fashioned gal."

Opal had Bede read through one chapter for the day, then asked him to help her tidy up the house. "We'll need to get the clutter cleared so you can have your own space," she said. "I only have one bedroom, so you'll have to make do with the sofa."

Bede shrugged. "That's fine. I'm used to sleeping in chairs."

She thrust a feather duster into his hands. "You're a tall boy for your age," she remarked as she looked him up and down. "You can dust the shelves that have been out of my reach since my back got bad." She grinned. "How handy."

Bede resisted heaving a sigh, otherwise he'd get dust up his nose. He pulled up the sleeves of his pink oversized coat and got to work. The stacks of papers, discs, and tapes turned out to be years worth of audition material, records of thousands of candidates Opal had been considering to be her successor. She had kept them around for reference, or in case she had to contact anyone she changed her mind about. Now that Bede was chosen, she had no more use for them. Her Mawile proved to be a big help in shredding up the paper and chomping the discs and tapes into pieces in its big jaws. Bede noticed that Opal kept her Pokemon team, along with Mightyena and Obstagoon, out of their Poke balls while she was at home. Weezing floated and puffed in content around the front yard, while Togekiss nestled in the sofa, and Alcremie, due to its creamy body and high-maintenance care, was kept away from the furniture and could be in the kitchen where messes were more tolerable.

"I use the Poke balls only during battles," Opal said. "Just for show, like a stage prop. This may boggle your young mind, but back in the day, I grew up in a time before Poke balls were invented."

Bede paused in collecting scrap from Mawile to stare at her in disbelief. "No Poke balls at all? How did that work?"

"Oh, we simply kept our Pokemon around. Sometimes people kept them on leashes, though I'd rather not do that to my own. Imagine having a full party of six Pokemon and each went its own way!"

"That's crazy," Bede agreed. Weren't Poke balls invented fifty years ago? The remark slipped out of his mouth before he could stop himself. "Wow, you really have been around forever." She squinted at him and he quickly added, "Forever sixteen, I mean."

She leaned back in her armchair and giggled. "That's the correct answer."

Bede resumed his chores with relief. That peppy little brother of the Champion's annoyed him to no end, but he had Hop to thank for the warning: "When the Gym Leader Opal asks you how old she is, whatever you do, don't ever say that she's really bloody old!"

Once Bede threw out the clutter, Opal's house became much more manageable to navigate through. Bede had to fetch his own blankets from the attic himself, since Opal was no longer in good shape to climb up and down the ladder. His feet hung over the edge of the sofa whenever he stretched out to sleep on it. At first he was embarrassed when Opal made him borrow her purple fuzzy slippers, but he got over it because they kept him warm at night.

Bede learned over the next few days that Opal followed a rigid routine. At seven in the morning, she got up to have scones or oatmeal with a cup of hot tea. At eight, she went for a walk around town with Mightyena. Because the trees gave protection from the rising sun and kept the place cool and fresh, Ballonlea was the perfect place for a morning walk. Those who didn't know Opal well, like visitors and foreigners, would be surprised to see her, a Fairy type specialist, strolling through town with a Dark type Pokemon. The locals didn't bat an eye at this. If Opal wasn't seen with Mightyena on the trails around eight, that was worrying. By around eleven, she returned home to break for an early lunch of salad sandwiches prepared by Obstagoon. In the afternoon, she would take a nap, go outside to smoke a pipe on the armbench, or read the local newspaper Mightyena would fetch for her. Otherwise, on days that the Ballonlea Theatre was preparing a play, Opal would be over there from afternoon to late evening to manage the stage and cast.

Her current project, however, was Bede. So she stayed at home to make sure that he got situated, and kept the Gym closed to challenges in the mean time. While training in Glimwood Tangle, he evolved his Ponyta into Rapidash, his Hattrem into Hatterene, and acquired a Ralts. As for his fourth Pokemon, Opal gave him her Mawile.

"Though I haven't handed the title over to you officially, I still consider myself retired," she told him. "My battling days are over. You and Mawile seem to take a liking to each other well enough. She's yours now."

Mawile chirped happily at Bede's side. "Y-You don't have to do that," he stammered. "I can go catch another Pokemon..."

Opal waved a dainty hand. "Why go through that trouble when I can simply give you one? Like I said, I'm done battling. But not Mawile. You've seen how she has been chewing away at that audition scrap. She's still itching for battle. She's better off with you, my boy."

Bede had no choice but to reluctantly accept Mawile as a gift. This wasn't supposed to happen. He only trained in Glimwood Tangle to get stronger, and lived with Opal to cozy up with her so she could spill whatever she knew about Wishing Stars. Now he'd feel like scum if he hightailed out of Ballonlea with her Mawile in tow. And something about leaving an old lady alone again stirred up guilt he didn't expect. Besides, he didn't even have time to stop and ask about the Wishing Stars. Opal kept him busy.

It took Bede several days living with Opal and cleaning her house to realize that she had no photos whatsoever. No photos hanging on the walls, or sitting around on stands. Any hints of a past and a family were nonexistent. That baffled him, but he remembered the brief mention of her husband earlier, and he hesitated on bringing that up again with her.

Bede was getting used to the temperature in the cottage. He didn't need the extra blankets, so one day, while Opal went for her morning walk with Mightyena, he climbed up the attic to stow them away. But he forgot which chest held the blankets. He batted away cobwebs as he rummaged through the many boxes and chests that littered the floor of the attic. In his search for the right place, he fumbled in the dim light and bumped into a cabinet. Something flat and hard toppled off to fall straight on his head. He stumbled back and swore, clutching his throbbing scalp. A large oval portrait clattered to his feet face down. Still rubbing his head, he turned the portrait face up with his other hand.

Bede blinked in surprise. It was a woman, a young and beautiful one. Short dark curls framed her face. She wore a white blouse with a large frilly collar about her neck. She seemed to exude a cheeky, almost flirty air, with a hand propped on her hip and a wide grin as her gaze was directed just off to her left, probably at the artist who did the portrait.

"Who's this?" Bede muttered.

A relative of Opal's? A daughter, or a granddaughter? Or could that be Opal herself? Curiosity overwhelmed him and made him put aside his initial quest for the chest of blankets. He had a new quest. He opened up lids and dug into the confines of whatever he opened, hoping to scrounge up more hints of the old woman's past. He didn't know how much time passed. The attic had no windows. Bede got pulled into his new quest like an Electric type Pokemon drawn to a magnet.

After some effort to open up trunks at the deepest part of the attic, he managed to find stacks of photos with the same young woman. This time she posed with other people, mostly with an older, bearded, yet handsome gentleman and a boy with the same dark, curly hair that she had. In almost every photo, the man and boy had an arm around her. The young woman smiled widely, radiantly, through the sepia-toned dimness of old pictures. None of the photos were compiled into albums, for some reason. Bede spread them evenly and carefully on the attic floor, contemplating over his discovery.

"Bede?"

Hearing his name made him jump. Opal was home? He hadn't heard the door swing shut. How long had she been inside?

"Where are you, boy?"

Bede scrambled to gather the photos back into stacks. There were a lot of them. He wasn't fast enough to gather them all. Heavy stamps up the ladder made him freeze and whirl around. Obstagoon had climbed up the attic carrying Opal in its strong arms.

"Bede, thank goodness you're all right," she cried out in relief. "You didn't answer when I came home, so I thought something terrible had happened to you, and I—What are you doing with those?"

Her question cut through the air and made Bede cringe.

"Bede, where did you find the pictures?"

Opal's voice had always been soft and thin. The uncharacteristic sharpness to it now startled him.

"I-I was just coming up here to put back the blankets," he stuttered. "I-I found these by accident."

Opal tapped on Obstagoon's arm so the Pokemon could gently set her down. She closed the distance between herself and Bede with the same unusual quickness back at Hammerlocke, and snatched the photos from his hands. "I forgot where I had these. Now I remember where I've put them away, and I did that so I could forget."

Bede had never seen Opal so upset, and that terrified him. "I'm sorry," he blurted out. "I'm really, really sorry, Ms. Opal."

Not only did she look upset, she looked like she was in pain. A few photos slipped from her grasp and back onto the floor. Opal looked down at them, then her eyes scrunched shut and her lips drew into a thin, hard line.

Obstagoon let out a growl of concern and reached out with both paws to steady her. Bede tried to approach her, but the Pokemon bared its fangs at him. For a split second of dread, Bede wondered if she was having a heart attack. At her advanced age, that guess wasn't unreasonable.

Opal sucked in a long, shuddering breath, then let it out in a gusty sigh as she looked up back at Bede.

"You want to know, don't you?" She said softly, the angry light out of her eyes now. "I can hear you asking that question even if you're not asking it out loud." She beckoned at Bede to come closer, and pointed at the topmost picture of the stack in her hands. "That woman here...that's me."

"That's you?" Bede exclaimed.

She nodded. "That man is Roger, my husband. And that boy is Jasper, my son."

Bede's head spun from the weight of the revelation. He noticed that there were no pictures of Jasper beyond the time he was a boy. No pictures of Jasper in his teens, or older. "What happened?" He whispered. He feared that she would snap at him again.

Instead her shoulders sagged. "Where do I start? There's so much to tell." She buried her face into the crook of her thin arm to cough into it. "Blimey, this attic is so dusty. I'd much rather carry on the conversation over tea and better air. Bring the pictures down."

Bede blinked at her in surprise. "I thought you didn't want to see them, Ms. Opal."

"I didn't want to see them for almost sixty years," she murmured. "Times have changed. Now you are going to be the next Gym Leader." She rested a withered hand over Bede's. "Not only that, but you are practically under my care, like family. And since you're like family, I owe you my story, because soon it will be yours."

Opal, with Obstagoon's help down the attic, left him with that. Finally, Bede shook out of his stupor to gather up the photos of Opal and her family. For the first time in many, many years, he brought them downstairs.

Notes: On Mightyena and Obstagoon being descendants of Pokemon belonging to Opal's late husband: There's no canon on Pokemon lifespans, so I thought that relying on lifespans of real-life animals would suffice. At least, for the Pokemon whose designs are inspired by real-life animals. I used the average lifespans of dogs and badgers for Mightyena and Obstagoon. 70 years seems like too long for the original Mightyena and Obstagoon to stick with Opal. Same goes for her own Pokemon.

Musical inspiration for this chapter was "Concerning Hobbits" from The Lord of the Rings.

For voices, I imagine Bede to sound like Tom Felton as Draco Malfoy in the 1st and 2nd Harry Potter movies, and old Opal sounds like Maggie Smith as Lady Violet from Downton Abbey.

#pokemon sword and shield #pokemon swsh #opal pokemon #bede pokemon #pokemon fanfiction #pokemon fic #pokemon headcanon #swsh opal #swsh bede #pokemon opal #pokemon bede #pokemon la vie en rose

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