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wallwriterstuff · 3 years

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Found Family ||Demetri Volturi x Female!Reader||

Part 2 found here: Baby’s First Christmas

Warnings: Anxiety and panic, mentions of child endangerment

Words: 7565

Summary: A request for @kpopgirlbtssvt

There are things Demetri never thought he could have, things he had never dreamed would be within his grasp ever again. He has plenty of experience with newborns…just not your kind of newborn.

He was absolutely perfect. You couldn’t imagine anyone better for you than Jeremy. He had always been the sweet kind, the kind that complimented you when he held doors open and gave you his jacket when you were cold, the kind that paid for one date if you got the next. He was a hit with your parents and your friends. You were just so sure about him, more sure than you’d ever been about any of the other idiots you dated throughout university. That was why you were confident it was going to be okay when you missed your period that month, because this baby was Jeremy’s and he was your perfect match, your partner for life, so wasn’t it time to start living it? You’d told him the same night your first pregnancy test came back positive.

You’d never seen a man pack so fast.

Everything that was his in your shared apartment was gone and with no one to fill the space you had been forced to move home. Moving home meant telling your parents you were pregnant and that your baby daddy had run off into the wind, and that had gone down about as well as sticking a fox in a henhouse would. For the past eleven months it had been constant snubs, snide little remarks and complete overreaction to everything you did from your parents. How were you supposed to learn how to be a mother if your own constantly hovered and took over at the slightest perception something was wrong? Your daughter had been in this world for two months and she had most likely been held by your parents more than she had you. The timing of your friend’s sudden job offer was perfect for you.

She had planned a holiday in one of the more scenic cities of Italy, shutterbug that she was, but the job required her to move across your home city post haste. With her holiday deposit on the line, everything had been transferred into your name and the ticket dropped off at your doorstep. Your parents had done their best to convince you to stay of course.

You’re not ready to go on a holiday alone with her.

What’ll happen when she gets fussy on the plane hmm? You think she won’t? How will you handle all the people looking at you then?

We still help you with night feeds, how are you going to do that on your own?

You ignored every single one of their pleas and got yourself and your daughter out of there. The moment the heat and the sunshine and invaded your senses you knew you had made the right decision. Lyra wasn’t sure what to make of the sunglasses you put on her little face, and more often than not she pulled off the wide brimmed hat on her head, which left you in a very cyclical routine of putting hats and glasses on whenever they came off. There was lots of green space in Volterra, and so many beautiful alleyways hiding quaint little shops to wonder about in. Your spending money was limited but it didn’t mean you didn’t splurge on a few treats. Your favourite place by far though had to be the fountain in the centre of the square.

Though it was often bustling in the daytime, come the evenings it was calmer and quieter, cooler to. Laying back in the crook of your arm, Lyra seemed to find the splashing sounds of water and the way the light reflected off of it absolutely fascinating. If you had had a full day she sometimes napped, but when she was awake her little eyes were wide with wonder and she looked between you and the water a lot, trying to communicate with you exactly what she thought about it. You pandered to her of course, rocking her gently as you had a one-sided conversation about how beautiful Volterra was. If you didn’t have responsibilities back at home you could happily see yourself adapting to this slower pace of life. As it was, this small dose of peace in your newfound haven was all you would get, so you decided to make the most of it.

It was one of your last days in the city when you were approached by her. She was Aphrodite incarnate you were sure, statuesque with flawless skin shrouded in shadow, yet her hair couldn’t hide from the sun. No, it caught the beams and threw them back at the world with a dazzling amount of shine that left you utterly awed as she approached you. She looked down at Lyra, plush lips pulling into a smile and revealing perfectly white, straight teeth.

“Buon pomeriggio, hai bisogno di assistenza?” she asked. Her voice was like honey, sweet and smooth, trickling through your consciousness until all other noise simply faded away. You blinked yourself out of your stupor, your brain scrambling to try and translate what little Italian you had picked up over the past week you had been staying here. You could hazard a guess at the last word, and you knew the greeting well enough, but you weren’t sure about the rest.

“I’m sorry, erm, I don’t know that much Italian, Er…erm… non capisco?” you tried. Her laughter was as sweet as angel song, as feather light on your ears as a lover’s whisper.

“I see. I asked if you need assistance. Are you perhaps waiting for someone?” she questioned. Her accent was thick but oddly out of place, seemingly a mix of many different accents mingled into one. It wasn’t unpleasant to listen to however.

“Oh, no we’re okay thank you.” You smiled up at her, squinting slightly in the harsh sunlight. Her head tilted, glossy waves of caramel falling like satin over her shoulder, one strand slipping over the next in a gorgeous waterfall that left you more mesmerised than even her voice could.

“Then perhaps I might interest you in a tour of Castello Volterra? It’s so hot out here, the ancient stone will keep you cool and give you chance to take many more marvellous pictures.” Her head turned, a silent indicator that your camera had taken her interest. Your cheeks flushed pink – how much more obviously a tourist could you be? Lyra had yet to stir in your arms and you glanced down towards her, biting your lip. She’d been asleep for quite a while now and had been safely in the shade of her hat, but a cooler indoor climate would probably do her some good.

“How much?” you asked, cautious of spending your remaining money. She trilled a laugh.

“I’m looking to make up numbers, some turiste dropped out and I have spaces spare.” She waved you off with ease and, well, who were you to look a gift horse in the mouth? It never occurred to you in that moment that you hadn’t even caught her name or asked for a badge; the woman was enigmatic and honestly you were more than a little enamoured so her name seemed quite irrelevant as you hurried to gather your things and walk after her. You left Lyra’s buggy at the front desk with the secretary, your daughter finally stirring some and grumpily making her displeasure known with quiet half-cries and a pouty lip. The rocking movement as you walked and the strange décor of the place was slowly drawing her attention, your hand patting her back while your free one held your camera aloft.

When you had been told you were going to tour a castle you had expected more opulent decoration, tapestries and chandeliers, maybe some plush carpets. At first you had seen what you expected, a grand library decorated in deep reds and blacks with a stain in varnished wooden flooring that came with a ghostly story of blood spilled within medieval walls. You were thrilled, your eyes magnetised to your tour guide as much as they were too any painting or gilded book cover. It wasn’t until Lyra began to fuss and take up more of your attention that you started to notice how…odd, the place felt. The stone walls did little to keep heat in and compared to the outside the castle itself was freezing. Lyra had nestled into her shawl, sharing body heat with you, but you were starting to feel goosebumps pebble your flesh now.

It was not just cold but dark too. Very little natural light entered the castle’s rooms, and on the odd occasion you found a square patch of sunlight streaming through admittedly pretty windows, your tour guide avoided it with effortless grace. The further into the castle you went, the colder, darker and less extravagant it got. Bare stone walls were embellished with little decoration and the warmth in your guide’s voice was now gone, her pace hurried and heels clacking off the stone as though she was impatient to get you to the end of this tour for some reason. You struggled to keep up and quickly fell behind, Lyra’s fussing growing worse as she too started to feel the chill in the air and odd atmosphere. Her wriggling grew more intense and you had to lower your camera to tighten your grip on your daughter, hushing her gently when she began to snuffle, huffing breaths through her nose.

They were signals you knew well. With the nappy bag over your shoulder, you slowed your pace and started to rummage through the contents of the large satchel, producing a cloth for Lyra and settling it beneath her chin as you pulled her upright somewhat, pausing in the corridor to readjust your grip on her lest you drop her. A soft cry escaped her, face scrunching in the build up to something louder when you felt the ominous presence behind you. Turning around you were face to face with a man at least a head taller than you were, dressed entirely in black with dark dreadlocks hanging over his shoulders. He radiated something dangerous, made every instinct in your body scream at you to turn and leave him be. Lyra seemingly sensed it to, letting out a wail on demand. In the brief moment where you turned your head to look at her you swore a flash of dark red, the same kind of colour as wine, caught your eye. It wouldn’t have been so strange to you if that flash of wine hadn’t appeared quite high up, at eye level, say.

Lyra was far more important though, her cries cutting off into a gurgle as she spit up just as you had expected her to. The warm vomit splashed onto the cloth, dribbling down as you scrambled to catch it and wipe her mouth. Her screaming grew louder at that, the horrible smell of bile and acid reaching your nose and making it scrunch.

“Keep moving.” The man’s voice was deep. It rumbled in his chest and shook you to your core.

“Is there a bathroom up ahead? Somewhere I can clean her up?” you asked.

“Keep moving.” He repeated, closing in on you with slow, deliberate steps that set your nerves jangling. Holding Lyra closer to your chest you clasped the back of her head tenderly, bouncing and rocking her to try get her to calm. Your daughter was here in your arms, unsettled and in need of your comfort. You had to be calm for her, even if your heart was racing in your chest.

“I need to see to my daughter.” Your voice was firm and left little room to argue, but he didn’t stop moving towards you. Heart leaping into your throat you took a step back, shaking your head and struggling to calm Lyra as you tried to remain firm and not give anymore ground. Your heart raced, a hot flush overcoming you as anxiety made itself present in a sudden, nauseous wave. Why wasn’t he stopping? Why wouldn’t he listen? Couldn’t he see your daughter needed your care? See he was scaring you?

“Keep moving and you can see to her then.” His voice wasn’t comforting in any way and it was difficult to believe a man so intense. He was twice your size and built well, very capable of man-handling you if he so chose to. You had tried to avoid looking, tried to play it off as a trick of the light, but when you looked into his eyes it was plain as day that you had been correct. His irises were the colour of rich red wine, and to your astonishment they only seemed to darken as they stared back into yours with such intensity your thundering heart was all you could hear for a moment. There was no ring around the colourful part of his eye. Nothing indicated that he was wearing contact lenses, but he couldn’t have had red eyes could he? It wasn’t possible…

“I think I better leave. Where’s the exit?” you asked shakily. Something was wrong here, wrong wrong wrong. The corridor was long, not a single door in sight. You could navigate the hallways again right? There had to be an exit somewhere close. Lyra was only growing more unsettled, screaming now at the top of her lungs. People were whispering behind you and the man was growing ever more annoyed, shooting your daughter a disgusted glare as if she had physically offended him with the noise. You instinctively held her as close to you as possible, turning slightly to shield her from him.

“Keep. Moving.” He ground out.

“My daughter isn’t well, we just need to leave! There has to be an exit near here!” you snapped. It was more fear than anything else that had made you snap, desperation more so than anger, but the man seemed to take it as such. He seemed to inflate somehow, shoulders squaring and lips pulling back over his teeth as he stalked ever closer when a pale hand intervened, gripping his arm. Given the way the man flinched, you guessed the newcomers grip was hard. Head snapping to the left, you turned to try and convince our saviour to help you, only to freeze at the sight of apple red eyes. They were the same red eyes, just different shades. He inhaled sharply as he locked eyes with you, his expression somewhat distant for a minute as you tried to make sense of the sudden and inexplicable relief. It was small, barely made a dent in your anxiety in the grand scheme of things, but it lessened some of your nauseous gut feeling to simply lay eyes on this man even if he was clearly a part of this strange tour company.

“Is the little one alright?” he asked. His voice was smooth and rich, the deep bass reverberating through your head. He had the kind of voice you could listen to all day, the kind you could envision being good for audiobooks. Lyra was still screaming in your arms, her wailing echoing back to you off the walls. You bounced her again, rocking her side to side with a shake of your head.

“No, no I need to take her back to the hotel, please, tell me where I can find the exit?” you were almost pleading with him at this point. He nodded slowly, his gaze strangely intense, unwavering and unblinking. On one hand you didn’t mind it; you liked the way he looked at you actually, with a hint of wonder and trepidation, as if you were the thing in the room to marvel at and the expensive paintings on the wall weren’t worthy of a second glance. Given the general atmosphere of unease that you had picked up on now however, his stare also left you feeling minorly uncomfortable. He held a hand out towards you, his arm open and separating you from the man with the dreadlocks.

“Allow me to escort you to a quieter room so you might tend to her needs.” He said. You swallowed thickly, itching to agree despite barely knowing him or his intentions towards you and Lyra. It felt safe, like his waiting embrace was something you could depend on. Getting you away from the strange man had to be your new priority, but could you really trust a stranger?

“Demetri, what are you doing?” your tour guide was back, her musical voice distracting you somewhat from the beautiful man before you. He was made with the finest of nature’s ingredients you were sure, with high cheekbones and a jawline that could have cut steel. His hair was the most beautiful shade of chestnut brown, his stature tall and lean, posture exuding confidence and grace. His smile was dazzlingly white and so very comforting as he ever so gently guided you towards him.

“Escorting the young lady to a room where she might see to her daughter. I will join you momentarily for the…conclusion, of the tour.” He seemed to choose his words carefully and despite how much more on edge that made you, you still stepped into him with a nod. Your eyes were drawn back to your tour guide again, unable to stray too long as her gaze turned somewhat dangerous.

“The child will be cared for as always.” Her voice was like wind chimes and you unknowingly leaned closer to hear it. The man, Demetri, immediately pulled you back and began to lead you down the hall.

“Indeed, by her mother.” He spoke as though she was still stood right beside him, yet you were sure she shouldn’t have heard anything given she was already four steps behind you both. His pace was quick, only slowing when he realised you were struggling to keep up. You could see the way his jaw clenched as Lyra screamed and you tried to shush her again, swallowing past the lump in your throat as your clawed fingers held tight to your baby.

“Where are we going? Surely there’s a bathroom or something near-“

“Somewhere we will not be disturbed, can you soothe her?” he asked, looking at your daughter with a grimace. You stumbled over your own feet a little.

“I – I’m trying.” Your stammered. He gave a terse little nod, eyes flitting about as he led you down a maze of corridors. By the time you emerged at the top of a flight of stairs you had no clue what way was up and what way was down. Perhaps that was what he had intended. Demetri quickly pushed his way past a heavy looking door made of dark, expensive looking wood; surprise flooded you, and it melted into horror as quickly as it came. A bed, you were looking at an extravagant, four poster bed, a room with a desk and a bookcase and a fireplace. This was a bedroom. Why would he bring you to a bedroom? Was it his? You shouldn’t have followed him. Tears welled in your eyes as you imagined all the horrible ways this once nice trip could turn out, and when Demetri caught sight of them he quickly shut the door with the most pained expression you’d ever seen on a man.

“I mean you no harm, truly, but there are things I am not at liberty to explain right now that you cannot conceive of. Use whatever you require from my bathroom to tend to your daughter but do not leave this room. I beg of you.” The urgency in his voice shook you to the core and your tears spiled over. His room? Why was it so imperative you not leave? What was wrong with this place that it was so dangerous to you you couldn’t leave this strange man’s room? His finger was as cold as marble and just as hard when he wiped the wetness from beneath your eye. You recoiled with a soft whimper.

“Please, just let me-“

“Stay, here. Please tesoro…Per il mio bene.” His finger delicately trailed your jawline before he was gone, the door closed behind him. It was like you had blinked and missed him. Lyra was quieting a little in your arms, though still crying she seemingly had run out of energy, not bawling anymore. You slowly sank to your knees, fresh tears springing to your eyes. You had doomed you both. What kind of irresponsible mother followed a strange man to his bedroom? Rocking back and forth, you shakily stroked the soft tufts of hair on her head, trembling and praying to a God you hadn’t really believed in before now that somehow, you would be okay.

With a quiet sniffle, you wiped your eyes hastily with your hand. Your daughter needed you to be strong right now, so even as you crumbled inside you pushed to your feet and paced towards the large bed, setting the pillows up in such a way Lyra would be securely confined away from the edges of the mattress. With quick, practiced movements, you cleaned her face with a baby wipe and changed her pretty little dress into a loose top and shorts combo, one you had packed for occasions just like this. Lyra wriggled, not enjoying the changing procedure and reaching for you. Maybe she was just as perturbed by the situation to, wanting your embrace, your comfort.

“It’s okay, we’re going to be okay, we’ll be alright baby.” You whispered shakily. You could make no such promise. Time seemed to drag by slowly, seconds feeling like eternity dripping by through the thin neck of an hourglass. Lyra had calmed after a few minutes of you rubbing her tummy, now enjoying the feel of the soft sheets maybe and being in fresh clothes, and her big eyes watched you as you paced beside the bed. It took a long time for you to pause, your mind coming to the shocking and horrific realisation that just because this Demetri fellow had told you not to leave, it didn’t mean you couldn’t.

Dashing to the door, you pushed down on the handle. Relief swept through you when it went all the way, the door clicking open, and with a soft gasp you raced back to the bed to collect your daughter. Her bag was of little consequence, though your purse and phone were so you pocketed these as you picked her up, cursing your old school phone and it’s poor battery life. With Lyra swaddled to your chest again in her shawl, lips smacking and a serious little frown on her face, you turned back towards the door only to find it closing behind the one man you didn’t want to see.

Your heart sank.

“You stayed.” He sounded surprised.

I didn’t mean to you thought hopelessly. Shaky hands came up to hold your baby girl again, Lyra sensing your obvious anxiety and beginning to shift again restlessly. She tried to turn her head, find the source of the noise, but you wouldn’t let her. Whatever he was about to do to her, you silently vowed your daughter wouldn’t see. You would suffer in silence, your lips pressed together in a firm line and your will caging your voice if only so Lyra wouldn’t suffer with you. Demetri held his hands up in front of him but the gesture was meaningless and empty – his eyes were now a vivid ruby red. The brightness of his irises frightened you. Deep down, you doubted he had simply gotten his irises retattooed in the time since he’d separated from you.

“I did, I did everything you asked, now please let us go.” You tried to keep your voice steady but the slightest warble gave away your fear. Demetri’s expression twisted into regret, an ugly expression his godly face somehow made it impossible to look away from, like you were the one who needed to comfort him, as though he was the one suffering and you weren’t.

“Next time you ask me something please, try to make it something it is within my power to do.” He said softly. Tears welled in your eyes, one spilling down your cheek.

“Okay,” you swallowed, “Then whatever you can do, are going to do, please don’t make my daughter watch. She’s so young, please-“you choked, cutting yourself off with a sharp inhale as you tried desperately to hold in the sob building in your throat. Lyra let out a noise of discontent and you immediately loosened your grip. Demetri shook his head.

“Nothing is going to happen to you tesoro. My oath was true, I mean you no harm,” he promised, pausing slightly as his eyes flitted to Lyra, “Neither of you…how old is she?” his question caught you off-guard. It was such a mundane thing to ask, given he’d more or less kidnapped you from a tour group to steal you away to his bedroom it seemed out of place almost in the conversation. You swallowed.

“That’s of no concern to you!” you snapped, turning to shield Lyra from his view some. He winced slightly, stepping closer to you.

“Will you let me explain?” he questioned, “The things I wish to tell you, need you to know, are not easy to digest, but perhaps if you know them you might yet change your opinion of me.” He ventured. His voice was casual, as though he was discussing the weather with you and was not trying to beguile you into trusting him. In truth, part of you already did, and that part had made you lean towards him ever so slightly, your ears so focused on the sound of his voice your eyes hadn’t noticed how close he was until he was mere feet away. You backed up immediately, scolding yourself for being distracted by the honeyed words of a pretty man; last time that had happened you had ended up pregnant in your childhood bedroom while your parents lectured you about condoms for three hours.

“And why would my opinion matter to you?” you demanded, cringing when your back hit stone. A window to your right gave you a beautiful view of a garden, a garden with high walls and vibrant flowers and…a disco ball? No…no wait that was…a man? You were sure the outline of a man was quite literally glowing in the sunlight, his skin reflecting the warm rays and turning them into the most beautiful diamonds that scattered along the wall he stood by. As if he sensed your eyes the bulky figure turned his head, and though his features were too far away for you to make them out you were certain he was looking at you.

“There are things in this world you dismiss as fictious but should know are very much real, tesoro.” Demetri’s voice was soft by your ear and you jumped violently, whirling around to face him. His skin did the very same thing. He stood before you, an Adonis carved straight from marble that shone bright in pure light, his room lit up by rainbows that bounced off of the prism of his skin. You reached your hand out without thinking, pure instinct driving you to both fear and question this beautiful man. When your thumb came back glitter free, your stomach churned in silent horror. There was no make up, no illusion of any sort you could see or imagine, so how was it possible he could literally shine?

“What are you?” you whispered. Demetri’s eyes never left yours, his gaze soft and somewhat sad, as if he already knew you wouldn’t like the answer.

“Vampire.” His reply was simple, yet it set off a chain reaction in your head. Every instinct that had screamed at you to run before was now screaming that it had been right and you should run again, but your rational mind scoffed and forced those feelings down even as you tried to put more distance between you both. Vampires weren’t real, and so far he had kept true to his word. Demetri had yet to hurt you, though he seemed plenty ready to lie to your face.

“They aren’t real.” You denied.

“Because my coven made you believe so,” Demetri countered, following you with slow, cautious steps, “Look at me. What man do you know of that has skin like mine? What man has these eyes? Your body knows Tesoro, it’s been telling you all along that I am wrong, has tried warning you that there are differences between us your brain cannot put a name to.”

“Stay away from us!” you warned. He froze in place, letting you put as much distance as you could between you both. With your back to the wall you stared him down, afraid to move for fear he would to. Within a blink he was in front of you, and you were falling to your knees, like he had almost anticipated your obvious collapsed. With the way your knees were knocking together it shouldn’t have been surprising really. He had moved so fast and with such startling efficiency you were left completely in awe of the smooth series of actions that led him to catch not only you, but Lyra as well. She squealed in delight, the first time you’d ever heard her make such a noise, while you could only stare with wide eyes at the man who had yet to take his arm from around your waist. He was busy watching Lyra with his own wide eyes.

“Take her,” he whispered, giving you a little nudge to get you upright, “Take her now, please, before I drop her!” he insisted. You hurriedly made a cradle and accepted your daughter back into your embrace, somewhat spellbound. Demetri had moved faster than any human could, had horrifically red eyes and skin that literally glowed…yet a baby had undone him? There was literal panic written all over his face the minute his arm had curled around your daughter and he looked quite relieved you had her now. You could only stare at him as he carefully guided you back towards the bed. Once Lyra was settled back between the pillows again you sat and listened to every tale he wished to tell you, your mind spinning.

He spoke of where he had come from and how he came to be, your mind reeling as he told you of a far off, sunny land where the Gods had ruled his life before he was given life anew. He spoke of Aro and Marcus and Caius, and the war with Romanians that had ended the slavery of your kind and sparked the dawn of an era of secrecy. He chuckled as you tentatively listed off myth after myth, taking great delight in your obvious amusement that he had been the one to circulate the rumour vampires were weakened by garlic simply because he didn’t like the way it smelled. As impossible as it all seemed, you believed him. Demetri had maintained a respectable distance from you at all times, looking more relaxed and at ease the longer you spoke. Not a toe out of line.

The cadence of his voice had lulled Lyra to sleep, your own nerves soothed by the rhythmic rise and fall as he told his stories with the kind of expertise only extensive practice could bring. The wonder couldn’t last however, not when you remembered there were other people beyond the door to his room.

“Our tour guide…” you trailed off, shifting uncomfortably. Demetri looked regretful.

“Less a tour guide and more a fisherwoman. Heidi is like me, as is the man who dared try to confront you in the corridor.” His eyes narrowed a bit, the memory clearly unpleasant to him. You swallowed, your heart skittering in your chest.

“A fisherwoman?” you questioned, your voice weak. Demetri observed you carefully, looking reluctant to speak now. You were by no means stupid; you had a fairly good idea what he had meant but you wanted to hear him say it. He seemed impossibly perfect and as silly as it sounded, hearing him admitting to this one great flaw might actually soothe some of your own insecurities you were struggling with by just being near him. You were still losing a baby fat after all and the stretch marks…well your skin was not as unblemished as his.

“I think you know.” He said finally. You exhaled in a rush, fingers curling into the fabric of your skirt so tightly your knuckles turned white.

“She’s not even a year old,” you whispered, “My daughter isn’t even a year old, and you were going to…she brought us here to…” you couldn’t even finish your sentence, squeezing your eyes closed as you thought of the rest of the people in your tour group and the fate they must have endured. There was an elderly couple, Americans you thought, talking of how their history loving granddaughter would adore the pictures they were taking about the place. A young couple of Indian origin you guessed who were speaking their native tongue as they walked arm in arm, their gazes adoring as they stared at each other, a honeymoon couple perhaps whispering sweet nothings and fantasising about the life they were embarking on together.

“We would not have laid a hand on her,” Demetri swore, his voice somewhat cross, “We are not monsters, tesoro. Your child would have been taken to the authorities and given a good home.”

“Without me. You would have killed me and let my daughter grow up, without me.” Your voice was rising in pitch now and you pushed to your feet as the hysteria began to rise once more. Demetri shook his head.

“I would have done no such thing!” he snapped, losing his temper with you for the first time since you’d met. You took a hesitant step backward, afraid now you knew what he could really do but reluctant to leave him so near Lyra. Lyra…so small and vulnerable and still utterly asleep. He took a breath, running a hand through his hair.

“Why not? Why would you save us?” you couldn’t wrap your head around it. Your tour group had met a grisly end so why hadn’t you? Why had you been spared this fate? Why did he favour you? Demetri looked saddened again, his entire expression crestfallen, like a puppy who’d been scolded for being too close to the Christmas tree.

“I had hoped you would feel it, that you would know, at least on some superficial level.” He seemed to be speaking to himself, distracted by watching Lyra’s chest rise and fall as her mouth moved, eyelids fluttering. It was your favourite expression on her, the one she wore when she dreamed. For a moment Demetri looked wistful, as though he was watching something he desperately wanted but was out of his reach from a distance too great to cross.

“Feel what?” you groaned, your exasperation now obvious. It was difficult to be afraid now he’d told you everything. It didn’t make sense for him to spare you just to kill you now, especially not now he’d divulged what you guessed was a great secret to you. What exactly did he expect you to feel that you hadn’t already? The whole afternoon had been a roller coaster that left you thoroughly exhausted; fear, anxiety, awe, disbelief, scepticism and more had all been prevalent in your heart today and you weren’t sure how much more it could take.

“The mate pull,” Demetri said finally, tearing his eyes away from Lyra to look up at you, “My kind, we feel so much more deeply than humans do. Some people appeal to us so much it sets a bond. Fate has a hand to play in this to of course, making a pair so compatible that neither can deny the other was made for them.” You stomach dropped, mouth forming a perfect ‘O’. Without thinking your hand whipped up to slap him, your hand almost breaking on impact with his cheek. His head barely moved, though he did blink a bit in shock, something you had yet to see him do despite the time you spent together. The sharp sound woke Lyra up and she let out an abrupt, piercing cry, startled and upset while you hopped up to shake your hand out with a curse.

Demetri looked absolutely flabbergasted, his head turning between you and your daughter as if trying to figure out which one of you to approach first. His hand reached for Lyra, his lips protruding in the perfect pout as he tried to shush her.

“Keep your hands off of her you pervert!” you cried, hurrying forward to scoop her up and taking a few steps back from him. There was no fear anymore, just pure rage. It boiled in your veins and curdled in your stomach, the intense disgust you felt towards him unparalleled by anything else.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me! I don’t care what you are or what your world’s rules are but in mine, you keep your ancient ass hands off of my infant daughter!” you warned. Demetri paused, his eyes widening slightly before he recoiled from you with an obvious shudder.

“You think I – no! Gods no tesoro! Your daughter is not – I do not – it was you! I meant you!” he hurried to amend himself as your glare grew more vicious, and the simple confession made your mind fritz. There was nothing for a moment, a blissful few seconds of pure silence in your head, no frantic thoughts or feelings, just pure nothingness as you tried to comprehend what this gorgeous stranger was telling you.

“You…what?”

“I meant you, tesoro. The moment I laid eyes on you I was sure…do you truly not feel it?” Demetri asked, hesitantly stepping closer. You let him this time, swallowing thickly.

“What should I be feeling? Beyond confusion, there’s…there’s a lot of confusion.” You mumbled, cheeks flushing in embarrassment. His lips pulled into the slightest smile, but it quickly disappeared when Lyra let out another piercing cry. Neither of you had seen to her yet and you quickly set to work making sure she could see and hear you as you rocked her, patting her bottom as you swayed side to side. As she began to quieten down once more, looking confused and tired and grumpy with you for the long day you had turned out to be having, Demetri very hesitantly moved closer to you both again.

“Perhaps you feel curiosity, a desire to know me better. You may feel something when I am close to you, that tries to keep you near to me. There are many things you might feel, I could not possibly guess all of them as we all react differently to the mate pull, but I know I feel it quite acutely when I look at you.” He confessed freely, his eyes fixed on Lyra’s head. He lifted his hand, pausing to look at you for permission as his fingers neared her head. You glanced between them, finding Lyra looking at him with big eyes, no doubt confused as to why his eyes were a vivid shade of red while yours were a bright Y/E/C. If Demetri had proven anything to you so far it was that he really meant to uphold his oath, he wasn’t going to hurt either of you.

When you nodded, he ever so gently began to stroke her hair like he was touching the most precious and delicate of diamonds. Maybe it was this so-called mate pull, maybe it wasn’t, but your heart almost burst in that moment as you watched him share such a tender moment with Lyra, a moment her own father couldn’t even be bothered with. He looked absolutely enraptured with her, murmuring soft things in Italian you couldn’t hope to understand with the faintest wisp of a smile.

“Would you like to hold her?” you asked. The thought had escaped your mouth before you could fully process it and it made Demetri pause, his expression twisting quickly into concern.

“I better not, I fear I might hurt her.” he frowned. Lyra’s lips smacked, a slight huff escaping her – she clearly didn’t enjoy not holding his attention.

“I think she might hurt you if you don’t. It’s easy, I’ll show you.” You encouraged. Demetri was still shaking his head when you expertly jostled your daughter in one crooked arm and used the other to start moving his.

“Tesoro I think that I shouldn’t-“

“So long as you remember to support her head it’ll be okay, she’s only two months old, the support is key for her right now.” You explained, already handing him Lyra. There was no hesitation there, not anymore, you knew he wouldn’t hurt either of you. Demetri let out a small, panicked huff as he tried to settle his arms somewhat, relax into letting Lyra fit there. She looked thoroughly perplexed for a moment as he did his best to adjust his grip, head turning to you as if to say ‘what’s with this amateur Mom?’ before she lifted a tiny hand to place it against his chest, snuggling down into the cradle of his arm.

“Is this okay?” he asked. You nodded, unable to fight back your smile. He was adorably flustered, something you were surprised the suave vampire could be. All wide-eyed with awe you had to wonder if this was the first time he’d ever held a baby before. He stood still as stone, afraid to jostle her it seemed as they had an intense stare off. Lyra was the first to break it, a wide yawn splitting her face as her blinks grew longer. You watched her fall right asleep in his arms, slowly perching yourself on the edge of his bed to contemplate everything this meant. Demetri was a vampire, something out of your wildest imaginings, maybe a nightmare even. He had been going to feed on your tour group, on . He had been going to feed on your tour group, on you, but some supposed bond between you had made him save your life instead. Now, he held your daughter like she was precious gold in his hands, whispering sweet nothings to her in a language you couldn’t understand with eyes as doting as any father’s should be.

Did he already see himself that way? The thought made you mildly uncomfortable. He had a lot to prove to you before you’d even consider giving him the title of boyfriend, never mind father. It clicked suddenly, the realisation that your heart had already decided and was waiting for your brain too catch up. Demetri had captured your attention in more ways than one and his world sounded…fascinating.

“What if you stop feeling this pull? Are we in danger then?” you asked finally. Demetri seemed to struggle to tear his eyes from Lyra for a moment, but when his eyes met your’s they were flooded with sincerity.

“Vampires mate for life tesoro…even if I wished to fall for another in the midst of an argument perhaps, I physically no longer have the capacity to. It is you and only you who was made for me.” He vowed, moving at a snail’s pace to carefully sit himself beside you.

“We’re a bit of a package deal.” You pointed out. Demetri nodded.

“It was not expected, that I might find my mate with a child, but I confess I find myself in awe of her. Two months, did you say?” he questioned, glancing briefly at you. You nodded.

“Yeah, yeah two months old.”

“So she will not stay this small for much longer?” he sounded almost sad and you giggled slightly.

“Believe me, the sooner she sleeps through the better.” You lifted your hand to gently run a fingertip down her cheek.

“If you stayed I have no need for sleep, I could see to her in the night with some guidance, but I know I cannot ask that of you.” He sighed. You swallowed, the nerves fluttering in your gut. He was already asking you to move in with him? You wanted to see a red flag but you couldn’t. Demetri clearly wanted to look after you both. Why shouldn’t you let him?

“My parents would go mad.” You agreed hesitantly. Demetri chuckled.

“I shall have to win them over then. A child complicates matters, buys us more time to figure out exactly how we might proceed. She is a blessing, tesoro.” He promised you. Your brows pulled low together.

“What does Tesoro mean?” you asked.

“Ah, it means darling…I may have neglected to get your name.” he admitted bashfully. Your eyes widened, mind replaying all the time you’d spent with him that afternoon. He wasn’t wrong, you hadn’t introduced yourself once.

“It’s Y/N. Y/N L/N. That there, is little miss Lyra.” You told him. Demetri sighed.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful pair…her father must be missing her, no?” he was clearly hesitant to ask and you didn’t blame him. You couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be to just…walk into someone’s life, knowing they were made for you and find they already had a child that wasn’t yours. Come to think of it could vampires even have children? You had so much to learn…

“He left the minute he found out I was pregnant…you’ve spent more time with her than he ever has.” You informed him, the bitterness in your voice obvious. Demetri looked upset by that but you didn’t question or comment on it. With slow, careful movements, he gently began to rock her. You doubted he would relinquish her to your grasp anytime soon.

“He is a fool…but I’m not.” He whispered. You smiled slightly, a strange warmth filling your gut. Who’d have thought you’d find your very own Prince Charming while touring a castle?

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #demetri volturi #demetri volturi x reader #female reader #volturi #heidi volturi #newborn #fluff #so much fluff #you could make a build-a-bear factory with it #single mom reader

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aivaehdaevis · 4 years

Text

The More Things Change: Ch 5

The More Things Change

by Aivaeh

Disclaimer: Familiar characters, plot elements, and settings belong to L.J. Smith, Julie Plec, and the CW. The author of this work of fanfiction has made no money from it. Summary: I have no idea how it happened, but one morning I woke up in the world of The Vampire Diaries. Which, aside from the insanity of waking up inside a television show made real, might not be so bad—if I weren't stuck in the body of vampire magnet and doppelgänger herself, Elena Gilbert. Pairing(s): OFC x Damon, OFC x Stefan, OFC x Elijah, OFC x Klaus Rating: M Warning(s): Graphic descriptions of violence on par with the show itself. References to sex and drug use. Mind control and all the issues of consent that go along with it. Character death. Author's Note: I know there are a ton of these fics out there. Still I recently got into the show, and I can't get enough of these types of stories. The urge to write my own wouldn't leave me alone so here it is. Hopefully someone enjoys reading it as much as I enjoy writing it. Master List External Links: AO3 | FF.Net | Wattpad

Chapter Five

I woke up in Elena's bed, drenched in sweat. The slanted ceiling occupied my blank stare for several minutes while I laid on my back. I was well and truly stuck. How?

There was no figuring it out. If the show were real, maybe this was some sort of parallel reality. Yes, because parallel realities—as opposed to just losing my mind—made perfect sense.

I covered my—or Elena's—face with my—or Elena's—hands and concentrated on breathing and not, you know, screaming. It took a while. The alarm clock went off.

Dragging myself out of the bed, I went on autopilot. Bathroom. Shower. Brush teeth. Get dressed. Makeup.

By the time I was finished putting Elena's hair up into a ponytail, I had a good hour before I'd have to leave for—ugh—high school. That gave me some time to snoop before anyone might expect me for breakfast. Not that Jeremy would care, but Jenna would probably notice if I skipped another meal.

I went to Elena's desk and pulled her laptop over. While her diary would probably tell me more about her, it felt wrong to dive into a teenage girl's private thoughts. Her search history was fair game, though.

What I found was that Elena spent a lot of time reading fashion blogs, following models and designers on their facebooks—when she wasn't looking over the hundred other pages of people she apparently knew—and browsing the online sites of high-end fashion stores. She also had a large collection of links to blogs by and for writers. A quick perusal of her drive revealed a folder full of original stories and poems. I didn't have time to read more than a few of the latter. While poetry really wasn't my thing, what I saw was pretty good.

She also had a bunch of pirated music and shows. Tsk tsk.

Shutting down the laptop, I sat back and thought. Far as fashion went, my knowledge was limited to reality game shows—and that was about it. I was going to have to be careful not to bring it up around Caroline or Bonnie, because I'd probably sound like an idiot. At least I had an idea of her taste in music and movies. We shared a love of Pop, which was good, though Elena had a more extensive collection of Indie rock. We liked a lot of the same movies and shows, too. Except she had a noticeable lack of horror in her collection which—was hilarious or sad, depending on how you looked at it, I supposed.

I had enough time for breakfast before I had to leave.

Jeremy's room was quiet as I walked by. I glanced at the door, at the sign warning others to stay out, and wondered if I should knock and see if he was awake. Elena probably would've.

But I wasn't Elena. I didn't know Jeremy beyond what I'd seen on television, and the kid was not coping with the death of his parents all that well. If such a thing could be said of any kid who'd lost their parents. He also probably knew his sister pretty damn well. I didn't want to risk saying or doing something wrong around him. Jeremy was clever. He'd put together the existence of vampires for himself. No need to go stirring up his curiosity if I didn't have to.

I decided to leave it to Jenna, his actual guardian.

Unfortunately, all there was of Jenna was a note on the fridge saying she'd had to leave early to work on research. I helped myself to some cereal and started a pot of coffee for Jeremy. Provided he ever woke up.

As the time crept closer to eight, and he still hadn't made an appearance, I muttered a quiet, "Dammit." After rinsing the bowel out in the sink, I made my way back upstairs and to Jeremy's door.

I knocked. "Jeremy?"

Nothing.

Blowing out a breath, I knocked harder. "Hey, Jeremy? It's getting kind of late."

"Go away."

Alrighty then.

I wandered back to Elena's room for her bag before going downstairs. I was about to head for the garage when I heard a car rumble up the driveway. Had Bonnie thought she still needed to pick me up?

Switching tracks, I went out the front door and into a neon-bright Virginia morning. This time, I locked the deadbolt behind me. Who knew what Jeremy was going to do? Shaking my head, I started down the porch.

Only to stop at the last step.

Damon. Seated behind the wheel of a top-down convertible. Lips already twisted into that ever-present smirk. He lowered his head until his eyes peeked over the rim of his sunglasses. "Morning Elena."

Leather creaked in my grip. Over my shoulder, the front door tempted me.

"C'mon. I'll give you a ride to school."

"I can drive myself." I'd never make it before he was in front of me. And he could get in.

His grin suggested that was the most amusing thing he'd ever heard. "Let me get this straight," he began before pulling off his sunglasses, "I am offering to take you to your little podunk high school in a classic american sports car, and you'd rather go in a—" he squinted, "Ford SUV."

Since there was no way to get away and I didn't want to keep shouting across the lawn, I walked from the sidewalk to the driveway. I stopped a good few feet from the car. "That's right."

Damon rolled his head back until it was resting against the leather headrest. "Hm." Icy eyes flickered down. "And where did that come from, I wonder?" he asked, staring at Elena's bag.

"Your brother," I bit off. "And he said he found it in the woods."

"Found it?" A side of his mouth crooked into a grin. "Good ol' Saint Stefan." He slung an arm across the passenger seat. "C'mon, Elena. Let me take you to school."

"No, Damon." I sucked down a breath and made for the garage.

And there Damon was, right in my personal space. "Wow. You didn't even take a moment to think about it." He leaned even closer, eyes big and intense. "That really hurts my feelings, Elena."

I gasped. Dry grass crunched as I stepped back. "Don't do that!"

"If you did what I asked, I wouldn't have to," Damon said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world.

"You don't ask, Damon. You demand."

"Fine," he said in the surliest tone imaginable. "Elena," his lips stretched into a shape that technically met all the requirements for a smile, but was too grudging to truly qualify, "will you please," he pressed his hands together, "let me drive you to school?"

I squeezed the bag's strap. "No."

Damon's breath blasted through his nose. "You have to make everything so much more difficult than it needs to be, don't you?"

"I didn't ask you to come over."

"That's what makes it a surprise." His brows shot up. "Surprise!"

Lips mashed into a thin line, I glared.

"Fine. We'll do it the easier way." Ducking his head, Damon stare bored straight into mine, until I could make out the fine flecks of silver growing around his iris like frost crystals. His pupils contracted to points. "You want to ride with me to school."

Was he trying to compel me? "No, I don't."

He went still as night, pinning me beneath narrowed eyes. "You don't," he murmured.

The gentleness of his voice made the fine hair on my arms and neck stand on end. "No."

Damon's hand flew to his mouth, fingers rubbing across his lips as he stared. "Hm." His eyes were fever bright, like two chips of ice reflecting the winter sun. "Alright." His hand fell away. "We'll do it the hard way."

"What do you mean—"

"The blonde. Caroline, isn't it?" He smiled, and this time, it was closer to genuine. "She's cute."

My guts twisted.

"Mm. Yeah." Closing his eyes, Damon stretched his neck to the side. "I bet she'd like to take a ride with me." Eyes meeting mine again, he folded his arms and pursed his lips for a moment before wondering, "Or your other little friend. Bonnie." Damon's black shirt stretched as he shrugged his shoulders. "Personally, I could go either way."

Static filled my ears. Heart speeding up, my chest turned to ice that spread outwards all the way to the tips of my fingers. I didn't know what Damon had planned for Elena—for me—but I was pretty sure he'd do worse to Caroline or Bonnie. I knew what I needed to do, but it was hard. My knees trembled. I had to move, but every instinct in me screamed to stay. I was pulled in two directions, unable to move in either. I stood still and hated myself.

"Just tell me what you want from me, Damon," I asked—pleaded—quietly.

"I already have. This is not a difficult concept, Elena." His smile was all teeth. "I want you to get into the car so that I can take you to your boring little high school. And when you're finished, I want you to get back into my car, so I can take you home."

"Why?"

Damon shrugged again. "Because I want to."

It couldn't be that simple. Damon had to have some ulterior motive. I just couldn't figure out what it was. Unless toying with me was that fun to him. "You swear that's all."

"Mhm." He lifted his hand, two fingers up and the rest curled down. "Scouts honor." His grin returned with a vengeance. "You can do that if you eat one, right? It still counts?" At my horrified expression, he rolled his eyes. "Oh, ease up, Elena. Just a little vampire humor."

"Eating people. Hilarious."

"You'd be surprised. I'll tell you some stories sometime."

"Please don't."

"Spoilsport." He plucked his sunglasses from his collar and slid them on. "So, c'mon now. Wouldn't want to be late." His brows drifted up. "Unless you actually don't like your friends and won't mind if I eat one of them." His grin took on a sardonic twist. "And I'm not joking this time, bee tee dubs."

I sucked down a deep breath and managed to slide a foot towards the car. The second step was easier. The one after that even moreso, as if the momentum was building once I got going. So it went, until I had made it all the way to the passenger side of the convertible.

Damon appeared in front of me again, making me jump. He ignored my startled breath, opening the door for me. Peering over the rims of his sunglasses, he wiggled his brows. "Miss Gilbert."

If my heart kept jumping whenever he got near, I was going to have a heart attack before the day was out. I slid inside and let him shut the door. He appeared at the other side of the car. Sitting inside and pulling his door closed, Damon looked over and said, "Seat belt."

I pulled the strap out and buckled in, trying not to feel as if I were wrapping a chain around myself.

Damon grinned and started the engine. "Now this, Elena," he started before the engine suddenly roared, startling me into gripping the edge of the door, "is a nineteen sixty-nine Chevrolet Camaro." He shifted the car into reverse and backed out of the driveway. "Try not to look so terrified." He threw the car into drive and took off down the street. Even though we were just cruising down neighborhood streets and not going very fast, the wind still picked up. I was glad I'd tied Elena's long hair back into a ponytail.

"Can't imagine why I'd be scared. Who wouldn't love a joy ride with a psychotic vampire."

"This isn't a joy ride. You'll know when I take you on one of those."

I noticed he didn't dispute the psychotic part. And I didn't like his use of when instead of if. I hoped he was talking about the trip to Georgia he drags Elena on later.

He didn't have a modern stereo in his dashboard. Instead, it looked like the original radio that came with the car. It was tuned to the classic rock station. I was somehow unsurprised that Damon liked eighties hair bands. I tried to picture him with a mullet and nearly broke into peels of nervous laughter.

"Cute turtleneck." The high collar of my shirt pulled slightly out, right where I'd put a pair of band aids over the puncture wounds.

My heart rabbited. I jerked aside, slapping his fingers away before I could think better of it. "Don't touch me."

He smirked as he took his hand back, holding it up.

My heartrate stayed elevated. I leaned slightly towards the door instead of settling back into the leather seat. As the neighborhood houses morphed into brick storefronts, I wondered what the point of this was. Damon wasn't talking. He seemed content to just soak up the sun as he navigated the streets.

I wasn't about to break the silence. Who knew what he'd start talking about. One of his 'funny' stories?

I let out a relieved sigh as soon as the school appeared. Not that I thought Damon was taking me somewhere to murder me, really. He wouldn't have needed to leave the house for that. But it was still reassuring to know the ride was almost over.

The camaro purred like a sated tiger as it glided into the parking lot and rolled up the lane. Damon, arm slung over my seat and sunglasses on his face, soaked up the stares of the students like an attention starved sponge. I hugged my bag tighter. "See," he said as he pulled near the curb, "that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Yeah. It's been great." I had my hand on the door handle as soon as the camaro rolled to a stop. "Bye."

His hand landed on my shoulder, a firm warning grip keeping me in place. Suddenly he was leaning into me, his face right next to mine. I stared, wide eyed, as his breath stroked my lips. He stayed like that for a moment and then, ever so slightly, tilted his head to the side and stared over the rim of his sunglasses at something behind me.

"Have a lovely day, Elena," he murmured into my ear. Straightening back into his seat, he winked.

As soon as his hand let go of my shoulder, I was shoving the door open and jumping out.

"I'll see you after school," he added as I shut the door. My answering glare bounced off his smirking face.

Head down, I quickstepped away. I was up onto the sidewalk when I heard the convertible's engine growl as he pulled away. Sighing in relief, I lifted my chin.

And immediately saw Stefan.

Jaw clenched, backpack strap straining in his white-knuckled fist, he glared at the shrinking camaro.

Damon had been taunting Stefan. Damon had threatened Caroline and Bonnie, manipulated me into getting into a car with him, so he could put on a show for his brother.

Bastard.

My anger started as a smoldering heat in the pit of my stomach, climbed up my spine and set my cheeks on fire. Flushed and quivering, I struggled against the childish urge to kick at something, shout at someone. Mostly a certain smug-faced blood sucker.

While I silently fumed, I realized that while Stefan may have been Damon's intended audience, he hadn't been the only one. Half the school must have noticed—or so it looked like from the crowd of teenagers who had nothing better to do than stand around and gossip.

Including Elena's friends. I could see Tyler and Vicki over on a nearby bench, watching me and trading words that made each other snicker. Matt was frowning from his spot beside his truck. Caroline had been holding court by the doors but was now marching across the grounds towards me. Bonnie, who'd also been arriving from the parking lot, was the first to reach me. "Who was that."

"Trust me, you don't want to know."

Surprised, Bonnie fell in next to me as I headed for Stefan. "No, pretty sure I do."

I realized she wasn't going to let this drop. Why would she? Her best friend had just arrived with a hot mystery guy in an expensive sports car. "Damon Salvatore. Stefan's older brother."

"That's Stefan's brother?" She shook her head. "Wow. The gorgeous gene must run in the family."

"Yeah, well. He's nothing like Stefan. He's arrogant. Selfish. Cruel."

Bonnie's eyes widened with each cutting, nearly-spat out description. "Then how'd you end up with him?"

I didn't know what to say. Bonnie didn't believe her grandmother yet. At the same time, she'd have to work with Damon—would even one day become best friends with him. Say the wrong thing, and I'd poison the well.

On the other hand, Damon had threatened her, and she wasn't able to defend herself yet.

"Because he's good at getting what he wants," I sighed. "Try to steer clear of him, Bonnie. He and Stefan have issues. And he's not beneath using people. You don't want to get into the middle of it."

"But you're in the middle?"

"Apparently."

Caroline had reached us. I could see the questions forming as she took a breath to speak. "I thought you weren't going to need any more rides."

"So did I," I muttered.

Hands on her hips, Caroline ordered, "Spill."

"His name's Damon. He's Stefan's older brother," Bonnie answered for me. "And he's a jerk who we should stay away from."

She gave a disbelieving huff. "We should, should we?"

Oh no. "Caroline, he's bad news."

"Then why are you riding around with him?" Caroline demanded.

"Because he's using me to get to Stefan."

Caroline's lips mashed together before she said, "That doesn't explain why you got into his car." She turned suspicious. "Unless you're trying to make Stefan jealous?"

"I'm not," I said flatly. "There's nothing to be jealous of. Besides, Stefan and I are friends."

"Friends."

"I mean, we just met, but I'd like to be. I think we are. He agreed to hang out."

Caroline stared. "I don't even know where to begin," she declared, throwing her hands out to the side. She strode back to the small gathering of girls she'd been talking with.

Frowning, Bonnie and I shared a look. "She'll get over it," Bonnie soothed.

I grimaced and rubbed at my forehead. "I'm messing everything up."

"No. Care's being Care."

"I better explain things to Stefan," I muttered.

"Okay. Meet you at my locker?"

I nodded. Bonnie headed off to the doors, parting with an encouraging grin. I couldn't wait till she could give Damon aneurysms. It would make dealing with him so much easier. At least until he got over his fixation with Katherine and started giving a damn about Mystic Falls.

Stefan was seated on top of a picnic table that had been set up beneath a giant maple. Patches of sunlight and shadow flitted around him like butterflies. He'd had his head down in thought but straightened up as he noticed my approach.

His stare was searching, wandering all over my face. "Are you alright?"

It was on the tip of my tongue to say no, but then what? Stefan would try to enact his, 'Lock Damon Up,' plan early? All that would accomplish was getting Zach killed sooner than it had happened on the show. I don't think Zach had even shown him the room of vervain yet.

But Damon was a problem. Something had to be done.

I settled on saying, "Your brother is an ass."

Stefan cracked a slender little smile. It was the barest lift of his lips, but it eased some of the lingering anger from his face. "Yeah. Sorry."

"It's not your fault."

Brows furrowed, Stefan glanced down. I remembered he did, in fact, blame himself for Damon. "But you're okay?"

"Aside from a bad case of windswept hair," I patted at the loose hairs that had fallen out of my ponytail, "I'm fine."

"Your hair looks lovely."

Fighting the urge to look away from the intensity of his stare, I swept a few of the strands behind my ears. "Well. It was a lot neater before Damon insisted on driving me."

That little smile ticked a bit higher. "I stand by my earlier comment."

Grabbing my upper arm, I turned to side to look at something other than his earnest, handsome face. I settled on the line of buses dropping students off.

"I looked for your phone this morning." Stefan said, drawing me back. "I'm sorry but I couldn't find it."

"Oh." I adjusted the bag's strap before letting my hand fall. "It's alright. Thank you for going to all the trouble."

He shook his head. "It wasn't."

"I guess I'll have to talk to my Aunt about getting a new one." That would be a fun conversation.

He nodded. I noticed the crowd of students around us were starting to thin out as more trickled inside. "I better go. I promised to meet Bonnie before class."

Stefan hopped off the table. "My locker isn't too far from yours. Mind if I walk with you?"

"'Course not."

As we walked, we talked about the reading list for our upcoming English class. We had both read everything on it, not that the news surprised me. He'd probably read most of it when it was originally published. Stefan and I went our separate ways once I met up with Bonnie, and after we headed towards my locker, went on to class.

The rest of the morning passed a lot like the first. Well, there was more discussion and lecturing. I knew the way to English and was able to find a better seat—which happened to be near Stefan and Caroline. A pop quiz in Biology really made me regret not doing the homework the night before.

Which led to History before lunch. Stefan again sat fairly close, and it wasn't long through the lesson that I was glad for it. The instructor was really on a tear about a Civil War battle called the Battle of Willow Creek.

After he'd subtly insulted Bonnie and Matt, it was my turn. "Elena. Surely you can enlighten us about one of the town's most historic events?"

I glanced down at the textbook, flipping through a few pages, skimming for Willow Creek. Would this even have been in the reading? I thought it was a general American History course. Was the Battle of Willow Creek so pivotal that it'd be in a standard textbook?

"Willow Creek?" I asked, squinting.

"Yes, Elena. It was fought right here in Mystic Falls."

Oh. Well then it must've been bullshit, because Mystic Falls wasn't a real place. Annoyed, I pressed my lips together before admitting, "I don't know."

"I was lenient last year, Elena. For obvious reasons." Oh. Wow. Right. This guy. "But that ended over summer break."

I wanted to ask if it was because her—my—parents magically came back to life, but I kept my mouth shut. Let the asshole dig his own grave.

Wait. Damon kills him. Bad metaphor.

"There were three hundred and forty-six casualties, unless you're counting civilians," Stefan interjected. And Stefan would know.

The whole class looked from him to the teacher. "That's correct. Mister—"

"Salvatore."

"Any relation to the original settlers here at Mystic Falls?"

I couldn't help but turn to watch Stefan, careful to keep my amusement from showing. He glanced aside before answering, "Distant."

Liar.

"Very good. Except there weren't any civilian casualties in this battle," he said before moving around his desk.

"Actually, there were twenty-seven, sir," Stefan corrected, halting the teacher in his tracks. "Confederate soldiers fired on a church. They believed it housed weapons. They were wrong." Stefan's voice was the embodiment of confident. No wonder. That was the night he was turned, and the other vampires entombed. "It was a night of great loss."

And then Stefan delivered the knockout. "The founder's archives are stored at Civil Hall if you'd like to brush up on your facts, Mister Tanner."

You could hear the 'ooo's throughout the room. The teacher, Tanner, could only respond with an attempt at a face-saving smile. Didn't work.

I glanced at my notes, grinning. That was beautiful.

Tanner flipped open his book. "Thank you, Mister Salvatore. Everyone, page thirty-three."

I flipped forward the required pages before peering out the corner of my eye. Stefan met my glance. His mouth lifted into that small smile I was really beginning to adore.

The rest of the class was filled with history that was actually covered by our textbooks. I made a mental note to memorize dates and figures. It seemed like he'd be one of those history teachers. I was good at the cause and effect when it came to history, remembering the context and environment and the events themselves, but I hadn't been wholly lying when I told Stefan I was terrible with numbers. I was horrible at remembering dates, too.

Wouldn't that make the rest of my time here fun. Monsters and sacrifices and homework. Oh my.

When the bell rung, I was happy to stand and get out of there. I waited just outside the door for Bonnie and Stefan. I didn't miss the look Tanner threw him as he walked out, either. Stefan had not endeared himself with that little stunt.

I remembered there would be another incident between them. Stefan rattling off dates, showing Tanner up again. Tanner wouldn't be a Stefan convert until he saw him play football.

And then Tanner would die.

My buoyed mood fell. If I knew about it ahead of time, did that make me responsible for it if it happened? This seemed like one of those Good Samaritan debates.

"Right, Elena?"

Bonnie and Stefan watched me with expectant looks on their faces. I had no idea what they'd been talking about.

I offered an apologetic smile. "Sorry, can you repeat that? I kind of spaced out for a minute."

Bonnie's brows pinched together in concern. "I was telling Stefan he should join us for lunch."

"I don't want to intrude."

I wondered if he was being polite or looking for an excuse to go hunting. I decided to reassure him. "You wouldn't be intruding. But if you have other plans, that's fine."

"No." He shifted his bookbag higher up his shoulder. "I'd like to sit with you."

We headed to the cafeteria, picked our food up from the line and ended up at the same table with the same people as the day before, plus Stefan. Caroline made the mistake of asking Stefan about his brother.

"We don't speak." Stefan poked at his salisbury steak. I wondered if he regretted his choice to follow us.

"Ever?" Bonnie asked, surprised.

Stefan paused in his inspection of the food to look up and add, "Whenever we have to talk, we end up fighting." He accepted the packet of ketchup I handed to him and looked to Caroline. "Wherever my brother goes, someone ends up hurt. Take my advice and avoid him."

"Elena doesn't seem eager to take your advice," Caroline said.

"You should," he said quietly to me.

I folded my arms and stared down at the rest of my lunch, appetite gone.

Sensing the disquiet, Bonnie thankfully changed the subject back to classes. Which was how Stefan and I got back to our earlier conversation about books we'd read. That led to a discussion of our favorites. And while Elena was a Victorian romance lover, at least on the show she'd been, my tastes were more for modern historical romances and thrillers. Stefan and I got into a discussion of which was the better book: Red Dragon or Silence of the Lambs. I was firmly on the side of Red Dragon, he stuck with Lambs.

The rest of the day passed too soon. By the time the last bell rang, and I was done dragging my feet to my locker, it felt like only a few minutes had passed instead of hours.

Outside, the parking lot was filled with cars backing out and lining up for the exits. I scanned the front of the school, where a line of cars had parked along the curb in front of the entrance. Damon's car wasn't among them. I wondered if he'd forgotten.

I should have known better.

The distinctive growl of the camaro's engine came rumbling down the lane. He parked alongside the curb. The car's sleek sky blue lines gleamed in the sun. Damon's arm was draped over the wheel, his sunglasses tilted down as he met my nervous gaze. His lips curled.

I managed a tight smile at Bonnie. "See you tonight."

Bonnie, shielding her eyes against the sunshine, smiled back.

"Elena." Stefan placed a hand on my arm. "You don't have to do this."

But right as he said that, Caroline strutted past us and walked right up to the passenger door. "Hi. I'm Caroline. Elena's friend."

Damon tilted his head, sights roaming over Caroline. "Damon."

"This is a really amazing car," she said while leaning forward, forearms resting on the door.

"Why, thank you. It's nice to know there are people who appreciate her." His hand ran along the wheel with a lover's caress.

I rolled my eyes. I appreciated the car. It was the driver I had a problem with.

While Caroline continued to flirt, and Damon replied in kind, I met Stefan's concerned stare. "I kind of do." I mustered another smile for him. "See you at the Falls."

He nodded. I adjusted my bag's strap and, as if going into battle—which I kind of was—marched over to Damon's car.

Caroline was laughing at something Damon had said as I approached. Damon's sights flicked over her shoulder to me. He winked. I frowned.

"I like your friend, Elena," Damon called.

I fixed him with another unamused look before shifting my attention to Caroline. She straightened back up, smile stiffening as she regarded me. "So where are you going?"

"Home," Damon and I answered simultaneously.

I started, looking over at Damon. He turned his head to stare out the windshield. "I did say I'd take you home."

"Sounds boring," Caroline pouted.

Damon rolled back around. "So boring."

"You should come to the falls tonight," Caroline went on.

My eyes widened as I attempted to get her attention. "No way." At their combined stares, I forced my cheeks to pull the corners of my mouth up into something resembling a smile. "I'm sure Damon doesn't want to waste his time at some high school party," I tried to keep it light, but ended up sounding frantic.

"Don't be silly, Elena." His lips twisted. "I love high school parties." He focused on Caroline again. "You'll be there, won't you?"

"Obviously," she laughed. "I'm helping set everything up."

Of course she was.

"Then I'll definitely be there." His smile was a wicked thing. His sights shifted to me. "Better get going."

"Aw. So soon?" Caroline pouted.

Damon sighed. "'Fraid so. Elena made me promise. There and back." He crooked a finger at me.

My frown deepened, but I did as he bid. Sliding around Caroline, who glowed with triumph, I pulled open the car door and lowered myself into the leather seat.

As soon as the door was shut, Damon sent a sinful grin Caroline's way. "See you around, Caroline."

"I'll hold you to that," she replied, flicking her blonde curls back behind her shoulder.

Damon's grin widened before the engine growled and the car took off.

"You said you'd leave her alone if I rode with you," I accused as he swung into one of the parking lanes that headed back out of the lot.

"I didn't do anything. She came to me." Damon sighed. "These looks. They're a curse."

Sonofa—

"But don't let it be said I'm not a man of my word." I eyed him doubtfully. He lifted a hand. "I won't touch a blonde hair on her head. So long as you remain—" he pretended to think about it, "agreeable."

"Fine," I all but growled.

Damon turned out of the lot and onto the main road without signaling. "Jealous?"

"Concerned." I fell back against the seat and folded my arms. "Caroline doesn't deserve to be the rope in the Salvatore brothers' latest game of tug-of-war."

"There's a simple solution to that. Don't give my brother the time of day."

I'd rather not give him the time of day but had enough sense not to say it. "Why do you really want to go to a party full of drunk teenagers, Damon?"

"Because it's a party full of drunk teenagers." His eyes sharpened, like a pair of slate flints. "And I'm thirsty."

I swallowed and slid further down in the seat. "Please don't hurt anyone."

He hummed. "Hurting is kind of necessary."

"No, it's not. You could drink out of blood bags."

"And deny them to the poor soul who needs a blood transfusion?" His nose wrinkled. "Besides, blood tastes differently when it's been refrigerated."

"But you could do it."

He sighed. "I could. But why should I?"

"Because it's not right to attack people." I couldn't believe I had to spell this out.

Damon shrugged. "Don't care." He stretched his other arm out over the wheel before drawing his right back. "That's the best part about being a vampire, Elena. The old rules just don't apply anymore. Do what you want, whenever you want."

"And you want to hurt people."

"I want to quench my thirst." He glanced over. "I'm a vampire. I drink human blood to survive. It's natural."

"But you can do that without hurting or killing."

"But I don't care."

I thought for a moment, weighing the risk. But, hell, I had to push on his rusty moral compass at some point. "I don't think that's true."

Behind his shades, Damon rolled his eyes.

"I think you do care. You're just determined to pretend you don't."

"There's a switch we have. We can turn our emotions off like," he lifted his hand and snapped his fingers, "that."

But I remembered the look on Damon's face when he'd finished feeding. How tender his gaze had been, his expression wistful as he lost himself to a memory. "Except you haven't."

"'Course I have."

"If that were true, you wouldn't care about what your brother thinks so much."

"We all have our hobbies."

"Say whatever you want, Damon." The car turned into Elena's driveway and idled. Damon lounged in the driver's seat, an arm stretched over the wheel as the other rested across his door. I took in the way his posture screamed indifference and saw it for the act it was. "But you don't fool me."

"Or maybe you want to believe I'm capable of caring whether people live or die to convince yourself I won't kill you," Damon suggested airily.

I forced myself to smile, even though he probably heard my pulse racing. "You say the sweetest things."

He turned his head and grinned. "See you tonight, Elena."

I worked to stay calm as I got out. His stare followed me all the way to the door. As soon as I was on the other side, I fell against it, sliding down to the ground, bag dropping beside me. He pulled out of the drive, and only once the rumble of his car disappeared down the street was I able to breathe freely.

Sinking my head into my hands, I wondered what I was going to do tonight. Both Salvatores at a party full of rowdy, drunk teens. Damon still trying to make life hell for Stefan.

It sounded like a recipe for disaster.

#fanfic #the vampire diaries #tvd #damon salvatore #stefan salvatore #the more things change #ofc #damon x ofc #stefan x ofc #elijah x ofc #klaus x ofc #klaus #elijah mikaelson #elena gilbert #bonnie bennett #caroline forbes #jeremy gilbert

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vagrantblvrd · 5 years

Text

It Goes Something Like This (1/1)

Summary: It’s hard to say how the hell this even happened, but Michael’s not going to complain. (Or, okay, he is, but only because everyone is so fucking stupid.)

Notes: I've been rewatching the Criminal Mastermind videos and fell in love with the idea of these four becoming crew of their own before meeting Geoff and Jack and all the FAHC shenanigans that follow. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

AO3

Technically, Michael meets Jeremy first.

“You fucking shot me!” Michael yells, because he and Jeremy are drunk as fuck and recounting to the others how they met.

Opposite sides, Romeo and Juliet kind of bullshit and Michael running into a short fucker with dyed hair and this shitty little gun.

Michael carrying an equally shitty assault rifle that fucking jammed on him, giving Jeremy enough time to pop off a shot that grazed his shoulder before he bolted. (Insert short joke here.)

“I panicked!” Jeremy yells back, because he remembers that night just as clearly, and he knows Michael now. (Goddamned short jokes.)

Michael starts cackling because he’s got a shit-ton of short jokes all saved up just for Jeremy and Jeremy knows him now.

It’s no surprise when Jeremy yells incoherently and fucking tackles Michael off the couch, mouth crashing into his like he thinks he can stop Michael, the others laughing helplessly at them.

========

Ryan is...he’s this fucking bogeyman haunting Los Santos and whatever hellscape he came from remembers him because pieces of it come looking for him from time to time.

Michael heard about him before he met him, which is something that just happens in Los Santos.

You hear about fuckers like the goddamned Vagabond and either shit your pants at the thought of running up against him, or don’t really think about it because what are the odds, right?

If you’re Michael, though, you end up with a crew that hires Ryan on to help with a job and have the shitty luck to have someone from Ryan’s past catching up to him. (Worst timing really, and Michael caught in the middle of the whole mess.)

They’re waiting for the timer to hit zero before they kick things off and Ryan’s being a little too smug about things again. (Not dangerously so, no. Just this side of irritating, which means someone needs to remind him the Vagabond is really just a huge dumbass.)

There’s a certain kind of silence over the comms, not quite judging, because God knows their own pasts have caused them trouble in the past, but -

“In my defense,” Ryan says, sounding less like the soulless monster he’s supposed to be, and more like the hapless idiot he is. “I thought Carl was dead.”

The silence this time around is absolutely judgmental because Ryan is an idiot who slips up from time to time.

“Yeah, well,” Michael says, remembering the nightmare chase through the streets of Los Santos while being chased by an asshole bent on revenge. “You’re a surprisingly shitty driver for someone with your reputation.”

Michael grins as Ryan sputters, and outright laughs when Gavin starts squeaking and Jeremy wheezes.

“Oh, you are in for it when we get home,” Ryan says, and it isn’t the Vagabond or hapless idiot Ryan making the threat, just that dumb bastard Michael’s more than a little in love with.

Michael grins at the chorus of ooohs from Gavin and Jeremy and Ryan’s fondly exasperated sigh.

A soft ding sounds over the comms signaling the start of this little heist of theirs, and Michael cheerfully breaks out the explosives to start things out the right way.

========

“Fucking Battle Buddies!” Jeremy yells, because he’s an idiot.

“Battle Buddies, fuck yeah!” Ryan yells, because he, too, is an idiot.

Idiots who refuse to tell Michael and Gavin how they met, just come out with the Battle Buddies shit like that’s a thing normal people do.

They even have matching tattoos on their biceps. Michael likes to run his fingers over them, tracing the lines of stupid hardcore design on the dumbest people he knows, and feeling their muscles flex under his touch.

========

Gavin -

“Ryan was supposed to kill me,” he says, tinkering with some gadget or whatever Ryan got for him on his latest job. “Didn’t do it, though.”

It’s an idle comment, lazy day for them with the rain coming down steadily outside and things going well for them at the moment.

Michael looks up from the deathmatch he is handily losing while Jeremy and Ryan hunt each other in-game, every bit as creepy as the rumors say the Battle Buddies are.

“Fucking surprise there, Gav,” Michael says, as though Ryan’s the only one in the room who’s tried to kill him.

There was a time Michael was ordered to kill Gavin too, and Jeremy has a similar story of his own, because apparently Gavin’s just that annoying.

Makes a habit of making enemies easy as breathing and getting clear of them by the skin of his teeth one way or another. (They weren’t the first to hired to kill Gavin, and knowing him they won’t be the last.)

“Hey,” Ryan protests, not looking away from the screen. “I almost killed you.”

Gavin snorts, like Ryan’s blowing things out of proportion there. (Honestly given the way things went when Michael was sent to kill him, it’s possible.)

Twisty little fuck with a love of traps and clever as hell.

This scar on Michael’s back from one of them, and Gavin patching him up when Michael realized his boss was a lying fuck and maybe keeping Gavin alive was in his best interests after all. (Which, you know, considering how things worked out, it definitely was.)

========

Lester’s the reason they started working together, all that time ago. Called them in for a job he didn’t want to trust to anyone else for whatever reason, and things just sort of...happened from there.

Jeremy eyeing Michael warily, eyes darting to Michael’s shoulder and the graze long since healed. Michael snatching the keys out of Ryan’s hand with a scowl, because he’d be goddamned if he let the asshole drive anything he was in ever again. Gavin with this bemused expression on his face as he looked to Lester as though wondering what the hell the man was thinking.

Lester not giving a shit about any of that as he laid out the particulars of the job and chased them out of his place to get things done.

The four of them staring at each other because really, and finding out through a series of misadventures along the way that they actually worked well together. (Somehow didn’t get each other killed, but that’s one and the same sometimes in Los Santos.)

Lester kept calling them together for jobs, and eventually they figured hey, why the fuck not and formed a crew of their own, and that slid into something else because hey, why the fuck not?

Jeremy’s terrible fashion choices and worse puns and shy, sweet smile when they kissed for the first time. Ryan’s stupid everything and strong hands cradling Michael's face so, so gently after a close call and lips against his, something desperate to it. Gavin’s reckless bravery and blood on his face, crooked little smile and quiet “Hey,” after endless days tearing the city apart to find him like he’d never doubted they’d be looking for him.

The four of them figuring their shit out like complete idiots. (Which meant it took them fucking forever to do it, but when they did it turned out to be the best fucking thing in the world.)

Lester still goes to them when something big is happening, and for better or worse, Agent 14 trusts them too. (As much as an asshole like him can, at any rate.)

========

Gavin is the one who finds out about them. Pair of idiots making like they’re here to take over Los Santos, one step at a time.

Asshole in a tux and his partner in crime known to favor gaudy Hawaiian shirts, and ties to the Roosters.

Looking to carve out a space for themselves here and putting out feelers for anyone willing to take some risks for major rewards.

“No,” Ryan says, because Gavin has that look in his eye again.

The one that says he’s fascinated, and he’s always been a bit of a risk-taker, and they’re a little too invested in the stupid fuck to let him get himself killed.

“I mean,” Jeremy says, icing his shoulder after a sparring match that got a little too spirited, while Michael presses a bag of frozen peas to his jaw. “It could be a good thing?”

Michael leans against Ryan, feels the tension running through him because he’s a pessimistic bastard. (No surprise considering the road that led him here to Los Santos.)

They’re doing pretty well for themselves, when all is said and done.

Have a nice place to live and a few fancy cars, a bike or two. All the tech Gavin could ever want and contacts all over the city.

Lester hates them a little less than he hates most people, and Agent 14 is willing to look away if they get into things they shouldn’t when he isn’t involved. (Hasn’t called the FIB or IAA down on them anyway.)

Absolutely no reason to look into these two idiots, or too closely at the way they’re all feeling a little restless where they are now, too big for the small-time crew they used to run with and the kind of shit they’re involved in, and not big enough on their own for some of the things they’d like to try their hand at. (No reason at all, if they want to stay where they are.)

========

“Huh,” Ramsey says, eyebrows raised as he gets a look at them. “I, uh. Huh.”

Michael glances at Ryan who is menacing as ever while working. At Jeremy who has traded in that brown cowboy hat of his for a blindingly white one apparently as a fuck you to any other cowboys roaming the streets of Los Santos, like that’s a thing that happens.

At Gavin, smug as fuck as he takes a delicate sip of his drink, because he’s got three of Los Santos’ more notorious figures at his back, and loves the reactions it gets from people when they realize. (As though Gavin isn’t as well known as they are, or his work, at any rate.)

The bar is quiet for this time of day, the six of them in a booth at the back and Patillo eyeing them appraisingly while Ramsey -

“You said you were looking for people for this job of yours,” Gavin says, eyebrows raised. “We’re interested.”

Ramsey sits back, gaze flicking between them and this frown between his eyes as he considers. (There are new rumors about the four of them these days, and he’s sure to have heard them by now.)

“We are,” he says slowly, as though he’s realizing the things he could do with them on his side, a light in his eyes alarmingly like the one Gavin gets.

Gavin smiles, just a hint of teeth, because he’s always a step ahead of them in matters like this.

========

Ramsey becomes Geoff, Patillo becomes Jack, and Los Santos never really recovers when the six of them decide to make their mark on the city.

Infinite Possibilities

#jeremavinwood #ragehappy #vagrant fic #¯\_(ツ)_/¯#Teeth Like Razor Blades

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prompt-master · 7 years

Text

SQUIP Strikes Again

Anon asked: Would you be up for writing a fic where Jeremy’s squip issues start acting up badly when he’s in a very public place, and Michael has to get him out of the situation?

No offense but I love this and I wish there were more fics of it??

“Dude have you even seen the new Space Invaders game in this place? It’s a sick contender to the retro aesthetic. I got a bunch of one dollar bills for us to waste away, just me and my player two!”

Jeremy let out a breathy laugh, a smile tugging at his lips as Michael led him through the mall. As he talked he moved like an animated character, but a poor budget one. His hands spasmed in random directions, trying hard to express his excitement for the big Space Invaders game recently set up. Apparently Michael had stayed till closing yesterday to get top on the list of highscores. Now that it was Saturday Michael had decided that Jeremy must also see this marvelous peice of art. At 9 O'clock, which was way too early for Jeremy’s sleep deprived teenage mind.

‘Jeremy, this game is a waste of time and even worse, in a public space. You’ll be seen making an embarrassment of yourself as per usual’

Jeremy rolled his eyes at the obnoxious voice of Keanu Reeves. Their voice was a touch more faded since the play, but recently it has been getting stronger. Jeremy quickly looked down at the sprite in his hand, wondering if other sodas could affect the squip. If it did, they didn’t decide to let Jeremy know. Jeremy took a deep breath and focused on Michael instead, who was smirking down at a bunch of one’s in his wallet.

’ You say you’re going to ignore me, Jeremiah, but you can’t, I know you’re thinking about me, I’m inside your mind.’

'Shut up. Don’t call me that.’

'Stop slouching’

'I don’t have to do anything’

Out of spite Jeremy arched his back even further, not caring about the chiropractor he was going to need in the future. Michael hopped up the stairs, knowing fully well Jeremy felt uncomfortable in the confined space of an elevator. At the top of the stairs Michael quickly scanned Jeremy with his eyes before his smile grew, showing off crooked teeth.

“Glad to see you relaxing, Heere!’”

Jeremy laughed, “Yeah man, I’ve been looking forward to hanging with you all week.”

Michael smirked, grabbing onto Jeremy’s hand. They walked past Newbury comics, Hot Topic, and the food court. Michael didn’t stop once, determined to get to thus game.

“Well, I am your favwioute pewrson, so I get that!”

“Ugh shut up man”

’ Jeremy, stop slouching.’

'Can I install a mute button on you?’

'I’m being serious Jeremy.’

Something about the SQUIP’s tone made Jeremy falter in his steps, Michael’s grip on him the only reason he kept walking. He shouldn’t have anything to worry about. The SQUIP can’t control him, and they can’t hurt him anymore. All they can do is act like an annoying 3 year old who’s been told they can’t have candy.

Michael, bless him, took his mind off his worries once again.

“Here she is!” He yelled, throwing up his hands in front of a tall thin display, in front of it two seats with gun launchers to take aim at those damn Space Invaders. It really..did look awesome, Michael was right.

“Woah.”

“Dude I know! It’s so much fun, I never thought a retro game could be remade well!” God, Michael’s smile is so contagious. Michael stood up on his toes to be able to point to the top of the leaderboard “and here is moi!”

Jeremy raised an eyebrow at the first place holder, leaning back against one of the seats “RAD?”

Michael frowned “RAD? What no it’s- oh come on!” Michael had been brought down to second place, with his initials MOM, “I left not even 5 minutes before closing! Damn you RAD, whoever you are. Come on Jereny let’s kick their ass.”

“I’m with you man”

Jeremy took the right seat with Michael in the left, they gave each other an all knowing 'game mode’, ready to fully immerse themselves to beat this score. Michael dropped in 2 dollar bills, game on.

It was a blissful, yet intense experience. They really gave it there everything. Usually Jeremy would feel embarassed being out in the open, gaming so that any pair of eyes can watch him, but now he was having so much fun he didn’t care at all. Even as more and more people piled into the mall, and even as the SQUIP continued to harass his mind.

“Oh come on!” Michael swore, slamming back against the chair in frustration “we were so close!”

“RAD has a pretty good score.”

“We can do better, come on Jeremy put yourself out there yourself out there!”

“S-sorry man”

The truth was he had impulsively listened to the SQUIP on how to win, thus ending with him losing his last life.

'It would have worked if you could do anything right. Don’t blame me for your incompetence.’

Michael’s thigh brushed against his, “ready to go again?”

'Stop playing this game, Jeremy. This goal is a waste of time, I’m warning you.’

Jeremy took a deep breath, his eyes watching people casually walk between stores. He was glad there was no one waiting to play the game, just so he could spite the SQUIP some more. He met Michael’s eyes and nodded with a determined smile.

Michael placed two more dollars in, “last bucks Jer, let’s throw RAD’s ass to the floor!”

But when Jeremy placed his hands on the red gun a sharp bolt in his bones had him pulling back “ow!”

“Jeremy?! Dude don’t leave me hanging we just started!”

“Sorry sorry!” Jeremy tried to put his hands back on the gun, only to have another wave of pain jolt from the base of his neck down to his wrists, “what the hell?!”

'I told you to stop playing jeremy.’

'Dude knock it off!’ He yelled out at as another wave electricity ran through him, getting a bit stronger.

He opened his eyes to find the game over screen. Shit he ruined Michael’s day again. When he turned to apologize Michael was staring at him, eyes filled with pure concern. He threw the game the instant he realized Jeremy had cried out in pain.

“Jeremy..? Dude what’s going on?”

“Nothing I-” another zap, Jeremy could feel his skin tingling strangely afterwards, he curled in on himself, “fuck, stop it!”

“Stop what? Jeremy, buddy, you’re scaring me. What’s going on?”

“I- Michael I’m sorry it’s the- AUGH!” Rather than the usual quick shocks Jeremy was used to, this time he was hit with one continuous rush of pins and needles. Jeremy curled up, his arms twitching at his sides as he tugged his hair.

'Do not tell Michael Mell about this.’

Michael watched his friend with wide eyes, his heart pounding loud enough to take up every single sense. What was going on? He put a hand on Jeremy’s shoulder, flinching at the static shock he got. He bit his lip at the attention they were starting to attract, every eye in the mall on them. All he cared about though was the fact that his best friend had his head between his knees, making pained noises and twitching every now and then. It was obvious he was trying not to scream.

Jeremy took advantage of a break in the shocking to look up at Michael, he hated that scared on-the-verge-of-panic-attack look he had. He swallowed down the pooling spit in his mouth, ignoring the echoes of the SQUIP telling him to sit tall.

“Jeremy…? Is…is it the-”

“Excuse me?” Michael looked up at a young female who had ran over, Jeremy continued to stare off. “Hi, I’m first-aid certified. Is your friend ok?”

“I-”

“Does he need an ambulance?” Another person asked.

“Wait I don’t-”

“Young man” another said, this time to Jeremy, “can you hear us?”

Michael couldn’t help but wince when Jeremy failed to contain another yell of pain, this time louder. All the people now gathered around them clearly wasn’t helping his situation, Jeremy curled further into himself which resulted in more shocks from an unhappy SQUIP. Michael gave off the best glare he could over his panicked emotions, protectivly hovering over Jeremy “give him space dammit!”

People backed off a little at that, slight murmers still coming off the crowd. Michael gently brought his hands down to Jeremy’s chin, lifting the boy up. His face was contorted in pain, and his lip was now split and bleeding under the tooth that was biting it.

“Jeremy…?”

“…nngh…S-SQUIP. it’s the- fuck!”

Michael then stood up, grabbing Jeremy’s shoulders and lifting the boy up, supporting his weight. “Alright that’s it, we’re leaving”

“Son you really should leave him there and call an ambula-”

Michael shoved past the crowd, too caught up in his worries to focus on being polite, “I said we’re leaving”

The way down to Michael’s car was painful to sit through. Jeremy grunted through grit teeth, his nails digging feverishly into Michael’s sleeve for any sort of help to ease the pain. Michael felt every twitch and jump Jeremy’s body made, and it was clear Jeremy wasn’t able to support even the slightest bit of his own weight, he was basically carrying him. He opened the pasaanger door to the car, not liking the pale look on his face or the small gasps for air he took in.

Michael swirled around to his trunk, grabbing out a bottle of Mountain Dew Red, then hopped back to the drivers seat. Jeremy was laying there in a cold sweat, his eyes blinking slowly as he began to heavily zone out.

“Hey- hey no Jeremy” Michael gave a light pat to his face, causing him to groan and look over, “stay awake ok? Here drink this”

Michael didn’t wait for a response, tilting the drink into Jeremy’s mouth. He screwed the cap on, hands shaking from adrenaline.

“Sweet mother fucking Jesus, Jeremy you scared the shit out of me!”

Michael leaned his head against the steering wheel, taking a few ground deep breaths. He looked over at Jeremy, “are you ok?”

Jeremy nodded shortly, looking and feeling so exhausted and drained. His body aching as he heard the SQUIP’s voice distort away, they’d be gone for another week or so.

“My…” his voice cracked, dry from all the yelling. He shut his eyes, “My head just hurts.”

Michael placed a hand on Jeremy’s thigh, “let’s head to my place, ok? We have some ibuprofen. And then you’re gonna tell me more about what the fuck the SQUIP did”

Jeremy once again shortly nodded, not having much energy for anything else. His body felt drained, skin numb and crawling. His head pounded in pain that left Jeremy against the door of the car. He took a deep breath in as the roaring of the car left vibrations down his back. He fell backwards into the fading energy and call for sleep, his last thought being about how they never kicked RAD’s ass.

#be more chill #bmc #fanfic #boyf riends #electrocution #not graphic tho

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mcmadcanvas · 7 years

Text

“Beanbagging” SFW Preview

Hey, dudes. I’ve been working on a fic and figured I’d go ahead and put out a preview for it while I plan the end of it. This is all of the relatively SFW content before we bring out the big guns. If you want to read the full fic, in all its NSFW glory, it’ll be tagged as ‘Beanbagging’ if you want to look out for it. It will also be on AO3 under the same name!

(LINK TO FULL NSFW FIC HERE)

Enjoy reading!

The little pixelated man jumped up and down on screen, dodging monsters, grabbing coins, and putting his life on the line, while Jeremy Heere sat in the comfort of his room. He was doing pretty well, actually. He almost always had a lower score than Michael, who seemed to be having a bit of an off day in Apocalypse of the Damned. Jeremy heard the tell tale 8bit whoops of a fallen comrade as the other character on screen twirled head over heels and died.

Jeremy looked over to his best friend in the beanbag beside his own, with a look of concern. Michael was never this bad at Apocalypse. The last time Jeremy could remember Michael being this off in a game was the day Michael had first asked him out on a date five months ago.

Red had painted his face before he could even register what his best friend had even said. Wanted to go where!? On a what!? With who!?

"I- what do you- uhh- what?"

Micheal pulled his hood down to cover his eyes. "I just- I don't know man, I've kinda liked you for a while and I just thought I should ask. I'm sorry I'll just- I know we're best friends, and there are boundaries. Like, 'Why did I just ruin this?' Haha. Nevermind we can just go back to the game, or I could uhh, just leave."

Michael stood up to leave and started to make his way towards the door before Jeremy could come to. Jeremy lunged toward Michael, grabbing his pantleg with an abrupt, "Gah- wait!"

Michael looked down at Jeremy, eyes wide and mouth open ever so slightly. Jeremy met his eye and suddenly looked down at the shag carpet, which really needed to be vacuumed. When was the last time he vacuumed?

"Umm... How long?"

"What?"

"How long have you uhh... liked me?"

Michael looked out of the corner of his eye at the scoreboard of Apocalypse of the Damned. He hadn't had a score that low since he was 8! Lame.

"I don't know. At least a year and a half. Or, well, that's when I kinda realized you we're kinda... the best."

The best!? What kind of confession was that?! Jeremy was the greatest, most beautiful boy he'd ever seen! He was one of the only people who accepted Michael for all he was, and never once bagged on him for practicing his voice, or wearing his binder, or coming out of either closet that he was in for so long. Jeremy knew he was gay and knew he was trans and still stayed his friend. That's more than most people gave him, even his parents. And he just had to go and ruin it! He crossed the line and now their friendship was going to trickle down into nothing while Jeremy's new friends ask if that guy trying to get his attention was the same one that asked him out and ruined his life. And he'd say 'Yeah, we were best friends for years, but he crossed the line like an idiot and now it's weird to be around him.'

"Its been about a month for me."

Michael snapped right out of his little nightmare scenario and back into Jeremy's room, where it sounded like this perfect boy might actually feel the same.

"What?"

Jeremy stood up from his sprawled position on the floor to stand next to his best friend of 12 years and crush of one month.

"You were- uhh- you were playing that game on your DS with the town? And all the little animal people? And you had just caught some fish, a Great White Shark, I think, and you were just so happy? You showed me and your smile was just... the best I had ever seen and I don't know what happened I just..."

Michael was suddenly grabbed and squeezed so tightly he though he was going to burst from pressure or joy, whichever came first. He confessed his feelings and the boy was actually hugging him! Truly a miracle! He could feel God in this Jeremy's tonight.

"So, yeah. Lets go out!" Jeremy lightened up his grip and brought his face back to look at Michael. "I don't know what would really be different about 'going out' than what we already do now, but I want to!"

Michael was beaming at him, like Jeremy had just given him a limited edition 64 controller still in the packaging on Hanukkah. Or Pasko, if it was for Michael. Anyways, it was like he'd gotten a really nice gift.

"I know one thing that will make it different!" Michael took Jeremy's face in his hands, while Jeremy's eyes widened and his heart raced. "I get to do this!"

Michael's lips smashed against his with so much excitement, it was a miracle Michael actually hit what he was aiming for. Jeremy could see everything, eyes wide open from being surprised with his first kiss by his best friend. He could see Michael's eyes closed, with the corners pinched up from smiling. He could see, in the corner of his eye, the screen of his TV going dim from being left on idle for so long, game forgotten. He looked back over to Michael and finally closed his eyes, sinking into the kiss, the only thing he could hear was 8bit music and the squeals of Michael's excitement coming up from his throat.

So what could it be that has him so distracted he can't even beat Jeremy in Apocalypse?

"Hey man, that's like, the third time you've died. Whats up?"

Micheal sighed and put his controller down. "I just... don't really feel like playing, I guess." He pushed the controller away with his foot as he got onto his hands and knees to crawl over to Jeremy's beanbag chair and sit sideways in his lap, head resting in the crook of his neck.

"You don't feel like playing?" Jeremy craned his neck to look at his boyfriend, who NEVER wasn't in the mood for video games, seeking an answer to this mystery.

"You can keep playing, just... I want to do this.", he said as he began to fiddle with Jeremy's shirt.

Jeremy let out a light chuckle as he looked back at the screen. "Ok, man. You can do whatever you want."

"I can do whatever I want?"

Jeremy looked down at deep brown eyes. Bit of a weird question. "Sure, just don't spill the chips. I just vacuumed."

Michael grabbed the chip bag and placed it behind him, so he had no chance of getting crumbs all over Jeremy's clean floor (since when did he vacuum?) and settled his head back into Jeremy's neck. Time to do this.

Jeremy went back his now one player game, Michael's breath tickling his neck where stubble would be if he could actually grow any facial hair. He could feel Michael rubbing the cleave of his chest slowly with his thumb; it felt nice. Everything just felt so nice; Michael's weight on his lap, his breath on his neck, the sounds of retro video games being played, and Michael's subtle, unique scent of weed and cherry slushie.

He could feel Michael's nose start to nuzzle him, paired with a sigh of breath. And then he pressed a quick kiss onto his neck. Followed by another. And another, a little bit longer this time. Michael's hand had traveled from Jeremy's chest up to the other side of his neck, running through his hair as Michael's kisses started lasting longer and longer.

Jeremy let out a light, and a little bit sigh-y, chuckle.

"'Just want to do this.', huh?", he said as his character onscreen took damage from a monster he hadn't even been paying attention to.

"Is it ok?", he heard Michael ask, voice muffled by Jeremy's neck.

Jeremy took his hand off of the controller, moving it up to run his hand through the back of Michael's hair.

"Do you even have to ask?", and Jeremy tilted his head to the left, letting Michael have a little more room to work with.

Michael wasted no time in getting to work. He immediately planted an open mouth kiss on Jeremy's pulse point, licking the vein and nipping lightly down his neck. He could hear Jeremy let out a small gasp, followed by a slightly shaky sigh. He began to suck on Jeremy's vein, starting up a new bruise over an old, fading one.

Jeremy gave him permission to give him hickeys way in the beginning of their relationship. Jeremy loved how they felt and Michael loved to have an excuse to have Jeremy wear his hoodie to cover them up. And Michael took advantage of that permission every chance he got.

He popped off of Jeremy's neck, licking over the red oval and moved his head back to admire his work. The mark was nice and red and he knew it was going to look beautiful by tomorrow. He leaned back down to nip at the mark one last time with his teeth, tugging at Jeremy's hair just a little. Enough to let him know that this is going somewhere; that this isn't over yet.

He moved up to nibble on Jeremy's ear. As soon as his teeth hit the lobe, he heard a sharp intake of breath and the light rattle of a controller hitting carpet. Jeremy's hand was immediately on Michael's thigh, squeezing it as the video game whooped its death whoops, telling Michael that their game was now long forgotten.

#bmc #bmc fanfic #boyf riends #beanbagging #meremy hell #fic #mcfic #michael in the tagroom

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riotboysrequests · 7 years

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So this is a request from Castle000. Normally I’d post it with the ask but for some reason it’s disappeared from my inbox. The request was the reader being a younger sister to one of the boys and either Guy or Dimitri [I chose Dimitri because Guy is too precious for this world XD] basically attempts to assault her. Of course there are strong themes at the end part of this request. My requests will most likely differ from first person and third person as I’m still attempting to get my head around the whole ‘Y/N’ aspect of things as this is my first ask blog.

Strong language throughout, and I hope the first person narrative isn’t too grating. [I am so sorry for arrogant arsehole Dimitri. It hurt to write it. He’s one of my favourites]

Enjoy! -------------------

Ever since I was a little girl, some of my brother’s friends unnerved me. It wasn’t something I could put my finger on or explain—I mean, if he asked me I don’t think I’d ever be able to give him a straight answer.

But that was just the thing with Harry. He never asked.

It wasn’t that he didn’t notice, I think he just assumed I was behaving how any girl would when coming downstairs in the summer holidays to a room of ten older boys. A reaction of sheer awkwardness that seemed to wash its way up and down my body about twenty times within the first six seconds of standing in the room. But that was the summer before I finished college. When I could easily shut myself in my room to get away from it all.

Harry had always been the kind of elder brother that would be one way when it was just the two of us, and another way entirely when he was with his friends. Our parents divorced when we were very small. Mother didn’t want anything to do with us and Father was always away with work, despite the fact that we allegedly lived with him. So we had spent most of our lives living in each-others pockets.

It had been that way for some years now. Harry, Uncle Jeremy and myself. Which was one thing when we were young and chasing each other around the grounds as children and another when we were both university students that rarely sought each other’s company.

But it just happened to be a chance encounter that set my life spinning in a whirl. It was my first year at Oxford, and for one of the first times in my life I felt that everything was going right for once. I was on one of the finest classics courses in the country, I had all my own space and ; of course I could spy on my elder brother. Blackmail material was extraordinarily hard to come by these days. Within the first week of freshers I had already found a small group of friends and we had decided which pub would be deemed as our ‘local’. It just so happened, much to my irritation, that it was also the favourite spot of my brother and his friends.

I was trying to be inconspicuous. I really was. But I could still hear their little quips behind my back.

“Fuck. Villiers is that your little sister?” Despite all of his crude comments and badly timed jokes; Toby Maitland had always been one of the nicer ones. It’s not that they were all horrible people. I’m sure if I sat down and actually spoke to them all, I’d realise that they were all relatively nice, maybe even genuinely kind. But that’s the problem. There’s such a thing as being too nice. A point where ‘niceness’ in itself becomes artificial. A sort of distraction while they focused on something else. Call it a gut instinct if you want, but that was just the sort of atmosphere they gave off. An atmosphere that I had to constantly remind my friends of whenever I caught them gazing over at the boys.

“Oh my god it is his little sister.” “Oh don’t. Little tart was meant to go to Cambridge but she had to end up here and ruin all the fun.”

Ah yes. My lovely, charming big brother. A glance in my peripheral vision showed me Harry, sitting between James and Dimitri, shaking his head at me as he held his glass to his lips. James tutted, smacking his friend on his arm. “That’s your sister mate. Why are you being so harsh?” “Because she’s an invalid.” Knobhead.

There was a line, and as always my elder brother had flung himself over it. With a small sigh, I turned on my heel and shot him a blank look.

“When you’re quite finished talking out of your arse, Harold.” “Oh don’t full name me you little—“ James just rolled his eyes, shoving his friend in the side to make him shut up. He smiled at me, moving Ed along by his collar to make some space. “Y/N, come and sit.” I sighed, taking another sip of my wine. “Sorry, I’m with my mates tonight. I think we’re heading to a club in a second so I don’t think there’s much point in me hanging around.” James didn’t look the slightest bit phased, he simply shrugged. “Bring them along. More the merrier and all that.” He said nonchalantly, leaning back in his seat again. Seemingly at the mention of girls, both Ed and Toby were suddenly paying strict attention to me. Apparently there is no limit to how cringe you can get.

A glance to the other end of the pub showed me that my so called ‘mates’ had moved themselves as far away from me and my brothers’ group of friends as humanly possible, nearly standing outside of the pub itself. “Actually,” I began, feeling the usual apprehension wash over me once again. “I think it’s just me.”

Guy stood with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, offering me his seat next to Harry instead. Despite our differences, I’d rather sit next to my brother than anyone else. “So,” Guy began, pushing George out of the way so he could sit opposite me at the table. “How are you finding University?” I paused, not entirely sure if any of them were genuinely interested or not. I knew for a fact that Harry wasn’t. He never was.

“Um,” Finding my voice, I shifted in my seat. “It’s good actually, yeah. I’m really enjoying my course. I’ve actually got quite a lot of work done.” “Oh great.” The nod from Guy was all too hollow, and in a matter of seconds he had returned to chatting idly to George. I leant back in the booth, focusing on nursing my glass of wine to my lips every now and then. I looked around the bar, attempting to ignore the glances from other girls. I must have looked a right tart, sitting with a group of boys. Harry was at my side, muttering insults to Ed and Toby as they attempted to come up with convincing pick-up lines. Most likely for my friends.

It was when I turned my head to look out of the window that I was met with Dimitri. That gut feeling was back again. Holding my drink to my lips again, I managed a somewhat crooked smile.

“Hi.” “…Hi.” He repeated after a second. “It’s been a while.” “It has hasn’t it.” I could already feel that the conversation was drying up before it had even begun. Suddenly drinking a large mouthful of wine seemed like a brilliant idea. The last time I had properly seen Dimitri he had been over from Eton with my brother for the weekend. Back then I was a short and slightly chubby 14 year old with braces. “…You’ve certainly changed.” Admittedly I had to bite back an indignant laugh at that. There was no doubting it, my brother Harry was pretty. Handsome didn’t cut it, he was pretty. However, I for one, inherited none of that gene. At least I don’t believe I did. I look decidedly plain when I stand next to him. It’s amazing what a crush it can have on your self-confidence when you have to navigate through your awkward teenage years with a brother who will always always be prettier and more flawless than you. Arrogant arsehole.

I had long ago gotten used to the whole ‘you’ve changed’ spiel. It usually came when you were known to have braces for the extent of your life and suddenly didn’t have them anymore. I understand the shock. But it didn’t make having it said to me any less irritating. “I guess I have. It’s been a while.” I nodded twice, swirling my wine in my glass, keeping my eyes focused on that and that alone.

It had already occurred to me that he wasn’t looking at my face. Suddenly, letting my friends convince me in to a tight red dress before we came out wasn’t a good idea anymore. I didn’t feel comfortable. Not one bit. But here I was, stuck between my oblivious idiot of a brother, with his annoyingly perfect teeth and a boy who I hadn’t seen since I was 14 who was currently staring at my chest without a care in the world.

“Y/N I must say, you’re looking rather different tonight.” Guy was half smirking in to his drink when he spoke to me. I shifted in my seat, a little closer to Harry without thinking.

“Someone learnt how to put on a dress.” Ed tittered, slinging an arm around Toby as he raised his brows at me. Guy just chortled. “Knows how to work one too.” Before their laughter had even started, Harry had spoken up. “Don’t be disgusting prats, alright?” It was nothing much. It certainly wasn’t a Shakespearean act of heroicness but this is Harry I’m talking about. It was as close as I was probably going to get. Dimitri rolled his eyes indignantly. “Oh and you haven’t said worse things? You’re horrible to girls. You’re always coming out with dirty shit.” “Not to my fucking sister though.” All the humour was out of his face when he spoke. Dimitri just held up his hands. “I’m just saying mate. The double standards are there. You can’t talk shit to women and then get arsey when someone does the same to her.” Part of me wanted to lean across and pour his drink on to his head. But I realised that it wouldn’t be the best plan of action seeing as I was still very much stuck where I was.

Harry had flipped Dimitri off. I could hear him muttering obscenities in to his drink as he sipped at it. There was a pause, and then he looked to me. I could almost see a flash of concern in his eyes.

“You okay, Nemo?” He whispered, loud enough for me to just hear him. It was as if I had just been slapped in the face with nostalgia. I was sure that if I closed my eyes I’d be a little girl who had scraped her knee in the garden. Nemo. A pet-name I hadn’t heard in a long time. Because I was small, stubborn and always getting lost and needing to be found again.

He likes to think he’s funny.

With a smile I hadn’t shared with him for a long time, I managed a little nod. It was my third glass of wine that night, I could already feel it all going to my head. “I’m fine, H.”

I could feel how close Dimitri was to me. His leg was resting against mine in the booth, but I didn’t let it get to me. Knowing my brother’s friends, they’d probably get more of a kick out of it if I reacted. Harry’s eyes flicked to Guy and Ed once again, before he looked back at me. “If you want to go you can.” Apparently I looked more visibly uncomfortable than I was letting on. He slid along the booth, standing with his pint in his hand.

It was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I don’t think I’ve ever moved faster in my life. I mumbled a simple and brief goodbye to my brother, and a little wave to a drunken Toby before I exited the pub as quickly as I could.

So much for friends. I had hoped they would wait for me outside. But all I was met with was the dark cobbled streets of Oxford. I could hear students chatting and shouting around the corner, near the main entrance to the pub. But where I was standing at the side was desolate.

When I was just about to consider phoning one of my friends and asking where they were, I heard the door open again. I would have turned to look, but by then I had already been pushed in to a wall. It didn’t take me too long to figure out who it was. Even if the darkness of the street. Dimitri.

The stench of alcohol and cigarette smoke on his breath was almost unbearable, especially when he had his face this close to mine. Try as might to wriggle my way out, he had his hands tightly on my wrists.

“What the fuck are you doing---“ “Isn’t it obvious what I’m doing?” Before I could even reply I had been forced in to an unwanted kiss. The stench of alcohol was stronger now, and his hands were moving down slowly. I twisted my head away, trying to kick at his legs. Nothing was working. “Get the fuck away from me!” It must have been how loudly I shouted. It must have been the sudden realisation that people would hear. Something made him panic. Something made him shove me back suddenly, regardless of the fact it made my head smack in to the corner of the wall.

A harsh white pain flashed in my mind. The adrenalin rush and the alcohol were making my mind reel. I could still taste the smoke on my tongue, feel the hands in places that I didn’t’ want them to be. I slid down the wall, already feeling the tears running down my cheek uncontrollably.

I could hear shouting, lots of shouting. The sounds of a scuffle, and the unmistakeable noise of my brother swearing.

A hand was on my shoulder, and a deep voice in my ear. “Sweetheart. Can you hear me?” Despite the pain it caused me, I managed to crack open my eyes. Only to see a very concerned Hugo looking down at me, his hand on the back of my head. It took a few moments for my vision to adjust to the darkness but when they did I saw all too much.

Dimitri Mitropoulos was leaning against the opposite wall, Guy at his side. He was holding on to his nose and blood was seeping through his fingers. I couldn’t exactly hear what was being shouted but I knew it was very colourful. So colourful, in fact, that a crowd of students were rapidly gathering around the scene.

There, standing in the centre of the street, was my big brother. With his fist clenched at his side and blood staining his knuckles. His chest was heaving and his eyes were dark. He had never looked more like our Father in his life. There was another scuffle which consisted of Guy tugging his best friend away down the street, and Ed and Toby attempting to hold Harry back from storming after him with all their might.

“You’ve just hit your head a little bit.” Hugo’s voice brought my attention back to my current predicament. “Am I bleeding?” “No. Just swelling up a little that’s all. Can you see?” “Mhmm.” I managed, bringing a hand to my face.

“Fuck. Fuck. Y/N.” Harry had skidded to his knees. In a flash he was cupping my face, tilting my head up so he could look in to my eyes. It was strange, seeing someone as calm and collected as Harry look as if he was about to break down at any moment. He was shaking his head over and over again. “Are you alright? D-Do you want me to call an ambulance—“

“Villiers. Calm down.” Hugo began, ever the voice of reason. “She just bumped her head. We’ll call the nurse, get her to give her a once over. She doesn’t need an ambulance.” Hugo mumbled, his hand still on the back of my head as George and Ed knelt down around me, all of them asking if I was alright hurriedly.

Ed looked owlishly from Hugo to Harry. “S-Should we help her up?”

Harry shook his head, taking Hugo’s place after a second. “No. No I’ve got her.” He slid his arm under my legs, his other tucking across my shoulder blades. “Come on Nemo. Up you come.” He mumbled, lifting me up in to his arms. And once again, I was back to being the little girl with the grazed knee.

I heard Hugo bark something about the campus nurse to Ed and Toby, but I didn’t pay much attention.

“When did you get strong?” I mumbled, in a somewhat dazed state. He laughed, though it sounded more like he was gasping through shaking breaths. “I was always strong.” He shot back, still holding me in his arms as he walked. “Just like you were always pathetic.” “Sod off.” I attempted to pull a face at him, but stopped when I felt the pain in my head again. Harry blinked, the concern back on his face in seconds.

“Nemo?” “M’fine I’m just…just hurts a little bit.” “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry this happened Nem---I’m gonna kill him…I’m going to fucking kill—“ “Harry. Leave it. It isn’t worth it.” I squeezed his arm a little, quietly resting my cheek on the crook of his shoulder. “Just,” Harry swallowed, and I felt him shift me in his arms as he carried me towards my accommodation. “Just try and rest. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

#The Riot Club #riotboysrequests #Harry Villiers #Dimitri Mitropoulos #Dimitri Riot Request #Harry Riot Request #ben schnetzer #Douglas Booth #y/n #Castle000

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redvsvblue · 7 years

Text

This is all @lilred-fighting-hood‘s fault. More nsfw Jeremwood, this time with actual demonic dick.

Jeremy glares at the demon that appears in his circle, crossing his arms and staring it down as it cocks its head.

“Hello, Jeremy,” Ryan says.

“You fucked up my fence,” Jeremy growls. Ryan teleports to the table a few feet from Jeremy and leans casually against it, raising an eyebrow.

“I guess you didn't...express your wishes carefully enough,” Ryan says, crossing his arms with a smirk.

Jeremy fumes for a moment and then fucking gives up and strides over to him, pointing angrily at him as he approaches.

“You put a fucking barbed wire fence around my garden! The neighbours think I'm crazy! You know perfectly fucking well I didn't want that! And now it's covered in tarp and for god's sakes, Ryan, there's children next door!” He jabs at Ryan's chest, now almost nose-to-nose with the demon, and Ryan simply smiles.

“You better fuckin' fix it,” Jeremy snarls.

“Oh, I can,” Ryan says.

“Do it, then.”

“Jeremy, you know I can't just give out favours,” Ryan replies with an innocent little pout – yes he fucking can just give out favours, Jeremy knows. Ryan sits on the desk and spreads his legs around Jeremy, settling his hands on Jeremy's hips and pulling him in with one harsh tug. Jeremy sighs and shifts a leg back to sink to his knees but Ryan stops him with a firm hand on his shoulder. Jeremy eyes him skeptically.

“I'm not letting you fuck me,” he says.

“Who said I was?” Ryan replies smoothly, urging Jeremy back to him. He presses a kiss to Jeremy's cheek, presses more in a soft trail until Jeremy freezes, Ryan's lips just barely to the left of his own. Jeremy turns his face away an inch and Ryan's grin touches his skin.

“Not that, either,” Jeremy says. He knows the rules. Demons can't do anything without full consent anyway – so even if Ryan did plant one on him, it wouldn't have the binding demonic effect. Just a pissed off Jeremy. Still, he's not taking any fucking chances no matter how tempting the prospect is.

“Worth a try.” Ryan pulls back and curls his fingers around Jeremy's wrists, tugging his hands over until Jeremy hesitantly rests them on Ryan's denim-covered thighs.

“Come on, I can be anything you want,” Ryan breathes, nudging his forehead against Jeremy's. He morphs, suddenly, into a woman, blonde and buxom and pretty and very scantily clad. Like something out of a Playboy magazine.

Jeremy doesn't react and Ryan morphs back into his original form, grinning wide.

“Mm, you like older men,” Ryan says knowingly, a sly smile slanting his mouth. Jeremy's about to scoff and protest but then Ryan pushes him back a step and slides off the desk. And then turns around and fucking bends over and Jeremy can't quite hold back his sharp inhale. Ryan rests his elbows on the desk and glances over his shoulder, arches his spine into a slight curve and playfully shakes his hips.

“Go ahead,” he purrs. Jeremy's throat dries up a touch and – and, well, fuck it. He hasn't got laid in a while. Ryan's glamour is hot. Fuck it. He's too lazy to summon up a different demon. He places his hands on Ryan's waistband, tucks a couple of fingers under it to snap the elastic of his briefs. “Punish me,” Ryan teases with a waggle of his eyebrows.

“If I – do this, then you'll fix my fence?”

“Specifics, Jeremy.”

“Which part?” Jeremy asks, letting himself smile at the short huff of laughter that earns him.

“Either.” Ryan glances at him again and smirks. “But you should probably start with the fence.”

“I want a fucking – brown solid wood fence, six feet high, no goddamn hazards on it. No spikes. No metal. In fact, I want it sanded to perfection. We clear?”

Ryan nods and Jeremy shifts to squeeze his hips.

“Say it.”

“You want a Stepford wives fence,” Ryan says, pushing back against Jeremy's hands. “Got it.”

“Good.” Jeremy reaches around and unbuttons Ryan's jeans, eases the zip down to find him already hard under the briefs.

Ryan shakes his hips again and Jeremy roughly tugs his jeans and underwear down to his thighs, not really feeling exactly generous right now after Ryan fucked him over and nearly got the cops called on him. Jeremy spreads Ryan's ass with his fingers to find – oh fuck – to find him already lubed up, slick and shining under Jeremy's fingertips. He carefully slides two fingers in and discovers immediately that Ryan's already loosened up, clenching softly around his knuckles and sighing happily against the desk.

Jeremy doesn't really want to admit how hard that makes him already, even though he knows it's from nothing more than a snap of Ryan's fingers and the fact that's he's, well, definitely a creature of the sins of the flesh. According to something. Whatever.

So, Jeremy unzips his jeans, takes his cock out, and spends a few moments stroking himself, smearing the touch of pre-come down the length. Ryan shuffles his legs further apart and bucks up impatiently – Jeremy grunts and holds him still with a hand on his hip, lining himself up with the other.

Ryan moans into the table when Jeremy eases in, sinking in all the way a lot quicker than he would with a human, but Ryan's slick and open and so fucking eager that Jeremy has no problem burying himself in the demon. He curses breathlessly and tries a shallow thrust and Ryan's hand sweeps out to curl around the edge of the desk, his moan deepening into a growl when Jeremy repeats the move.

Jeremy settles his hands more firmly on Ryan's hips and pulls out as Ryan presses his cheek to the wood, slides back in slow to feel Ryan stretch around him. He bites down the urge to pin Ryan down with a hand on his back and instead starts rolling his hips in a steady pace – Ryan groans attractively and rocks back to meet him, panting harshly into the air while Jeremy steps up the pace to hard and fast.

Ryan moans openly as the table starts rocking, Jeremy tugging him back to meet his thrusts and uncaring of the way his nails dig into Ryan's hips. He reaches around to touch Ryan's dick and finds it hard and leaking, bobbing with every thrust and only narrowly missing the edge of the desk – but instead of touching Jeremy goes back to Ryan's hips, gritting his teeth as the erratic clenching sends shivers all through him.

Ryan's glamour starts slipping as Jeremy fucks him, his eyes blazing blue and moans edged with demonspeak – next to go is the horns, and then the tail, waving in the air and flicking wildly, restless and twitching and Jeremy wraps a hand around it with a growl and tugs a little in warning – Ryan breaks into a high whine and fucking melts against the table, his tail coiling around Jeremy's wrist and squeezing when Jeremy pulls again.

Jeremy discovers that he finds that incredibly hot and he keeps tugging gently on Ryan's tail while he fucks in, watching in quiet fascination as each shudder bows Ryan's spine and makes his jaw drop open. His next guttural groan trips into a broken whine and then wood splinters under his fingers as he grips the edge of the table hard enough to destroy it – Jeremy snaps his hips in hard and Ryan's voice drops into demonspeak before pitching back up into a human moan.

Jeremy decides he's feeling generous enough to now to help Ryan out a bit and reaches down to wrap his fingers around – the fuck? – around what must be Ryan's cock, with ridges and a strangely spongy head. Must have been able to keep it glamoured when he was balls-deep in Jeremy's throat.

“What the fuck?” Jeremy murmurs – Ryan jumps when he prods around the unnervingly soft head, shivers when he trails his fingers down the length.

“I can - “ Ryan breaks off with a groan and then his dick morphs in Jeremy's hand back to a more human one, smooth and familiar.

“It's okay,” Jeremy says, and it hardly matters because with the next harsh thrust Ryan's glamour fades again, and he's caught between fucking Jeremy's fist and rocking back onto him.

Jeremy thumbs briefly over the odd ridges and slides his hand back around to play with Ryan's tail, tugging in time with his thrusts and a couple of pulls later Ryan groans loudly and comes, clenching hard around Jeremy. Jeremy hears it – it being Ryan's fucking demon come - drip to the floor and he really just doesn't even give a fuck anymore, purely using Ryan's body now as he chases his own orgasm.

Jeremy starts muttering low, choked curses under his breath, thighs tightening up as he buries himself in and comes, closing his eyes with a shudder. Ryan squeezes him all through it, his tail curled loosely around Jeremy's arm and lazily rubbing his elbow.

When he pulls out – with a probably-gross, loud, wet noise – Jeremy groans at the mess that leaks out of Ryan and impulsively, boldly pushes it back in with a thumb. Ryan pants against his table and slowly unclamps his fingers from the wood, his demonic features disappearing again as he regains his breath.

Jeremy rubs a hand over his mouth and tucks himself back in while Ryan slumps over the table. A moment later Ryan reaches down to tug up his jeans and lifts his hips just enough to button them before rising up off the table, raking a hand through his hair as he turns to face Jeremy.

“Not bad,” Ryan says with a crooked grin as he perches on the table. Jeremy scoffs. Not bad his ass. Ryan waves a lazy hand and the wood of the table creaks back into place – the come on the floor disappears, too.

“Fence,” Jeremy orders, crossing his arms again. Ryan does a little flourish with his fingers and smirks.

“Brown, sturdy, wooden, six foot. Just like you asked for.”

“Good.”

“No 'thank you'?” Ryan asks with a cheeky grin, dropping his hands to rest on the table's edge.

“No.”

“Not even a goodbye kiss?”

“Nope.”

“Aw, you're cruel, Jeremy,” Ryan teases.

“You're a literal demon,” Jeremy points out. Really, by all rights, he should hate Ryan, not be standing here bantering with him. He knows the banishment spell. Hasn't used it yet, though, not any of the times he's summoned Ryan.

“You're literally soulless,” Ryan counters.

“Didn't have much of one to begin with.”

Ryan laughs brightly and abruptly teleports back to the circle, still smiling as he looks at Jeremy. Jeremy can't help returning it, allowing himself a small grin as Ryan lifts a hand.

“By the way,” Ryan says. “You should probably check your fridge.”

He winks at Jeremy, snaps his fingers, and disappears in purple smoke. Jeremy furrows his brows to himself and rubs out part of the summoning circle before going to his fridge – when he opens the door he finds a new case of Coke on the second shelf with devil horns and tail drawn on the box.

Jeremy smiles to himself and shakes his head fondly, tearing open the box and grabbing himself a can before he walks outside to inspect his new fence.

#ragehappy #jeremwood #fanfic #mine #my jeremwood #demon au #canon demon

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