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mackeydoodledoo · 3 years

Text

The Fifth Lord: Chapter 6

Pairing: Alcina Dimitrescu and (Fem!Dragon)Reader [non-romantic], Bela Dimitrescu x (Fem!Dragon)Reader

Summary: Your name is Y/n Dracul; The only ‘mutant’ that doesn’t have the Cadou Parasite. You already have some sort of power that impressed Mother Miranda; you were the first known Human-Dragon Hybrid. Although you have your own house, “House Dracul”. Your ‘house’ itself is basically an unused wing of Castle Dimitrescu.

Warnings: Heartbreak, sadness, game spoilers [I’m sure everyone has watched or played Village]

A/N: So, Shit’s about to go down here!

“Three Dragon Slayers” - Yasaharu Takanashi [Play this when Y/n says: “You’re wrong Miranda.”]

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As you watch Heisenberg lose to Ethan Winters. You had the moment of realization that you were truly alone; The Last Lord standing. However, it didn't hit you as hard as it did when Ethan killed Alcina and her daughters. You decided to find Duke so you left, flying about until your wings got sore from the cold.

"Lord Dracul," The Duke calls out to you

You look up and see him, "Duke... I need you to give me Lady Bela's remains..."

"I’m afraid that comes at a high price my lord," he sighs, "However since you are a lord and she is your love..."

He reaches back into his carries and lugs out a Crystal Torso. You look down and notice Bela's fly squirming around.

It's Bela's scent....

You immediately reach for the torso and let it fall into you.

"Thank you Duke," you say, calmly

"What is your plan Lord Dracul?" He asks

You stop in your tracks and turn your head, your mouth visible to Duke.

"Paying Mother Miranda a visit," you say, more sternly, "Someone's gotta pay..."

You make your way to the bridge and you set down Bela’s torso. You take off your jacket and place it around the torso. Bela’s fly peeks its hear out from your inside pocket.

“You’ll be okay,” You gently pat the fly, “You’ll be warm. Keep your body safe until I return for the both of you okay?”

The fly submerges itself into the sherpa-lined inside pocket.

“You have your body back...” You slightly smile

However, right as you stand up, you meet Ethan. Who cocks his gun at you.

“Listen,” You sigh, “If I help you get your daughter, you help me kill Miranda...”

“I-I thought you were on her side?” He asks

“Not really,” You say, looking across the bridge, “Though it was true she did spare me. But it was Dimitrescu who had raised me. I only trust her and her daughters. But with what you did- I’ll let it slide this once.”

You almost got your vengeful self get the best of you but you knew he was the only one who could wound Miranda enough for you.

“Deal,” He says

“One condition,” You add, “If I ever see you step foot into the castle again I cannot guarantee that I won’t kill you.”

He nods at your condition. The both of you walk across the bridge where you are met with some of the ghouls Miranda had reanimated to keep the both of you stalled.

“Go forward,” You tell him, “I’ll keep these fools busy...”

You press your palm against his back and push him forward as your fists begin setting aflame.

“I’ll meet you there!” You yell at him

“Thank you, Lord Dracul!” He says, referring to you for the first time

You smirk at his gratitude. But, you notice some ghouls beginning to reach Ethan before he could walk through Miranda’s vines.

“Oh no you don’t!” You roar, breathing fire

It felt like grueling work when you finished off the ghouls. You manage to blast through to them however, a bunch of them guarding the entrance.

“You guys don’t know when o give up huh?” You ask them

You squat down, your feet beginning to create two circles of fire. They began growing to for around your body. You sprung your legs to give yourself a propelled launch, singeing the reanimated ghouls.

“MIRANDA!!!” You scream, your fist setting aflame once more

You used the fire emitting from your feet in an attempt to send a painful punch to Miranda’s face. However, in that attempted punch, Miranda catches it.

“I thought you were killed in the Castle” Miranda taunts you

“You were mistaken,” You growl, “I’m going to make you pay for what you did to my family...”

“‘Family’?” Miranda laughs at your comment, “You’re saying- that tall vampire woman and her three rabid children are your family?”

Both of your fists ignite and you roar. You fly over to her and again try to punch her for what she told you.

“They raised me!” You scream, “They gave me what you did not!”

“And what is that?” She asks, still trying to taunt you, “They were nothing but pawns to my entire plan. They never loved you.”

That’s not true...

You and Miranda stop fighting and look around.

Alcina?!

Miranda punches your gut and you let out a pained grunt. You clench at your gut and stagger back.

“Agh!” You cough out blood

You suddenly feel four different palms against your back.

We got you love.

Bela?...

Kick her ass for us!

Daniela?

Make her pay!

Cassandra?...

You smile, for the first time in hours, you smiled genuinely.

“You’re wrong Miranda,” You say, a circle of fire forms from your feet up, “They gave me the family I never had. They’ve shown me... Even as part monster, they’ve shown me love. You? You gave me nothing...”

Your eyes spark fire in their reflections once more and you launch yourself at her. Your first emits more fire than the last time. Miranda once more catches it in her palm, but she was struggling to hold it back. You could feel the shakiness in her arm as you try to punch her with more force than the last.

“This-this is betrayal!” Mother Miranda yells, trying to hold back one of your flamed fists, “I am the Black God! My power is immeasurable compared to yours! You are a weak dragon!”

You smirk, “Is that so?”

Your entire body begins setting aflame, a bigger one than you could ever emit, “Then I’ll just have to prove you wrong right now! Let’s see how much of a ‘god’ you really are shall we!?”

You yank your fist away from Miranda’s grasp. Before she could send you a punch out of fight or flight instinct, you simply catch it and hold it in a single hand. Unlike Miranda, whose arm was shaking as she tried to hold out your punch, you stand there; solid as a rock. No movement in your body what so ever.

“This cannot be!” She yells at you, “I am far more superior in power than you could ever be! This is the power I used to control all of you!!”

“Didn’t you forget?” You ask Miranda, “You didn’t experiment on me! You have no control over me!”

“Alcina and her daughter Bela do!” She tries to taunt you again

“You keep their names out of your mouth!” You snarl

You foot turns ablaze and you try to leg swoop her. She blocks your foot with slight ease and throws you back. You’re thrown into a tree trunk and you fall onto the ground; chest first. You wheeze out for air as you struggle to stand up again.

“My power is complete y/n!” She tries to intimidate you, “This is the power I will use to kill you since you no longer serve any purpose to me!”

You force yourself to stand up and you begin walking towards her, slowly and menacingly.

“Well then,” You start, smirking and setting your entire body ablaze, “I’ll use my power to fight for my family that you killed!”

You dragon roar, breathing fire. You roll dive when Miranda uses her other clawed hand as a spear in an attempt to impale you. You breathe fire once more, setting fire to one of her arms.

“You’ll pay for killing the people I’ve ever loved!” You scream, “The only ones who accepted me as I am; The Devil’s Dragon!”

“I should have infected you with my parasite!” She says, regretfully, “I should have had you brainwashed when I gave you a second chance!”

“You did give me a second chance, you are right about that,’“ You say, “But- it was Alcina who had raised me as I am... Bela was the one who loved me as I am... Cassandra and Daniela never saw me as a monster! Unlike you?... You used all of us! I’ll never forgive you for using them!”

Your roar was loud enough to shake the ground.

“Fire Dragon’s Art! Exploding Flame Edge!” You yell, your fire turning into spiked strings of fire, beginning at your clenched fists

You whip them around and it creates an exploding edge. You let them settle around Miranda as she begins being set ablaze. You listen to her scream in agony as she begins to crystalize.

“You- Betrayed the lords!” She yells

“I’m the last lord standing!” You scream

She lets out one final scream in an attempt to get you however she only crystallizes. You let out a cough of smoke. You sigh in relief but clench at your stomach.

“Damnit...” You growl, noticing blood seeping through your shirt and the feeling of your shirt sticking to your body

You turn around and notice another man, his gun pointed at you. You were prepared to fight him too before Ethan grunts.

“Let her go Chris...” Ethan wheezes for air, “She helped..”

Chris places his gun back in his holster.

“Fine, we have to get you and Rose out of here,” He says, forcing Ethan to stand, “I’ve planted a bomb nearby. It shouldn’t blow the castle. I’d suggest you get back there as soon as possible because when I pull this trigger-”

Chris holds up a detonation device to show you, “This place is going to blow. But- I thought you were working for Miranda.”

“Things change when she kills the family that accepts me as I am,” You explain, “Good luck you two.”

You nod to Chris as you didn’t want to stick around to find out how the device worked. You begin flying back across the bridge to get Bela’s remains and go home. However, with one last effort, Miranda pierces and rips a small slit in your wings. Making you stagger fly a lot worse compared to when Ethan had shot a hole into the same wing tissue. Miraculously, you crash landed right in front of the torso. You immediately wrap your jacket in it and warm it as you begin running into the direction of the Castle.

“Lord Dracul!” Duke calls out for you, “Into my carriage!”

You practically dive into the back of his carriage and he begins motioning for his horse to ride back to the castle. It was a bumpy ride however, you still held onto the torso for dear life, not willing to let it go. Even though you were the one getting tossed around.

“My Lord, are you alright back there?” He asks

“As well as I can be,” You groan from the bumpy ride

“My apologies My Lord,” He says, “I didn’t want to get caught up in that explosion there.”

“Yeah, me neither,” You sigh, “Hey, how long until we’re at the castle?”

“Almost there my lord,” He answers

As you wait for him to tell you that the both of you had arrived, you peek into your inside jacket pocket. Sighing in relief when you see Bela’s fly peeking back up at you.

“You’re safe,” You smile, tearing up, “Thank god...”

You pet its head as it tries to snuggle into your warm finger. You and the fly continue fueling each others’ comfort until you felt the carriage stop.

“We’ve arrived my lord,” Duke calls to you

Chapter 7

#daniela dimitrescu #resident evil village #bela dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #female reader #alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu x reader #house heisenberg #house moreau #house beneviento #house dimitrescu #donna beneviento #salvatore moreau #karl heisenberg #mother miranda

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inkformyblood · 3 years

Text

looking means remembering

Day 04 of @bobadinweek Prompt: Family Warnings: none

“How would you do that?”

Boba pauses at the sound of Din’s voice, unmodulated and cracking whenever the words caught in his throat and tips his head back to inspect the other man, blinking away the rolling scrawl that had imprinted on his gaze from the screen.

Din catches his gaze for a moment, his eyes large and dark, his mouth drawn into a tight frown that seems out of place despite how easily he wears it, and turns away, inspecting the tangled mess of wires Boba had drawn from the central console. It takes a moment for Boba to drag his thoughts away from the loose curls of Din’s hair, floating free around his face, and the pale silver patch of hair at the curve of his jaw.

“We already stripped this ship,” Boba begins, unsure at which point his thoughts had shifted from his mind to being spoken aloud, an old habit to fill the silent air of the ship as he drifted alone and grieving as a child. “Peli was more than happy to help with that.”

Din laughs, a barely-there exhalation, and Boba lets his eyes drift out of focus as he studies the datapad, bringing Din into sharp relief through his peripheral vision. It highlights the exhausted slope of his shoulders, constantly in motion as he fidgets with the edge of his gloves, his armour a smooth burnished silver against the dark metal walls.

Boba grins, disguising the gentler than usual expression as he lowers his head to peer at the lines of programming again. His ascension to the throne had caused many people to treat with a certain level of nervous respect in the beginning, cautiously relaxing when Boba hadn’t descended into the tyranny they had all been expecting. Peli was someone different. It was hard to argue with a woman who, when she looked at him, still saw the too-slight figure in armour that was hanging off of him that had stumbled back into her workshop with cuts and scrapes and burns after jobs that had gone right and jobs that had gone wrong.

“I’d thought that had gotten all the hidden triggers out but it’s looking like there’s some coded deeper than that. Maybe on the actual core. It’s tricky and hasn’t been done in years. Too dangerous, you see. There’s not many left now but have you ever seen spacers who have large shimmering burns on their arms and chest, maybe their face?”

Boba sees the tremor in Din’s hands steady as his thoughts turn away from the planet they were approaching and what possibly waited for them there, warm satisfaction flooding through Boba’s chest. The annoyance of having to take the refurbished ship apart for a second time and hearing Peli’s comments on his work as she watched him would be worth it in the end.

“Some. Scars are their own story but those seemed…” Din trails off and Boba watches the gleam in his eye, the starlight through the viewscreen casting him in ethereal silver.

“Core burns do funny things to skin. As does Sarlacc acid as it turns out.” Boba’s grin tightens, becomes sharp, and Din turns towards him, stretching out and down to catch one of Boba’s hands in a loose grip.

“Is it hurting?”

Boba opens his mouth, a reflexive denial rising to his lips, but Din’s thumb slides over the curved edge of one scar, his mouth set into a flat line.

“A bit,” Boba says finally, the smallest concession he will allow himself for the moment. The burning pressure of Din’s touch solidifies as he works, his thumb pressing into the corded and damaged muscle until it leaves behind the shadow of his skin and a sense of relief.

“And your leg?” Din shifts in the seat, wriggling forward to brace his boots against the floor. There are imprints in the plush carpet, deeper around the toes where his heels had bounced for most of their journey, unable to settle but unwilling to pace like a caged animal. Boba understood his nerves, but hyperspace was his one true comfort, the limitless rush of stars past the window a balm on his exhausted mind. When he had been younger, hyperspace had been the only place he could sleep and, while he had broken himself of the habit years ago, old memories still remained draped around his shoulders.

“There’s sand in the joint again.” Boba stretches forward to tap his boot against Din’s, judging the motion with his memory and the soft smile on the other man’s face and he wants nothing more than to kiss him.

So, he does.

It isn’t sustainable for long. Boba can tell that in an instant from the immediate aching increase in pressure on his knee, an answering burn in the small of his back, but it was enough for the moment. Boba drinks Din in, revelling in the soft noise the action still shocks out of the other man, even after all this time. Din presses closer, his grip tightening on Boba’s hands as if reassuring himself that he was real, their noses brushing together as they parted for a moment. Din’s eyes are blown wide, brown and beautiful, and he stares at Boba, truly still at last from the nervous energy that had rumbled through him like the aftershocks of a quake ever since they first heard the rumours. Boba kisses him, unwilling to let him go but knowing it was inevitable.

“Ready?” Boba’s voice is steady even as his heart twists at seeing Din’s hands tap over his weapons again, a rhythmic jump of a brush of his fingertips over his blasters, a pause at his wrist, a shift of his shoulders to check the blades hidden in their holsters.

Din nods, his brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth downturned as he glances towards the planet in front of them. Boba scoops up the wires, hearing their hum sharpen and rise in frequency as the ship begins to land. The sharp slam of the open hatches in the depths of the ship makes them both jump, blasters flying to their hands as they whirl around.

“Karking smuggler,” Boba growls. “Of course he rigged the hatches to slam closed when the ship lands.”

Din laughs, the sound tight and the edges sharp, but he leans into Boba to press his helmet into the signet on his pauldron, his shoulders rounded with relief. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“Anytime, kar’ta. Your family is my family.”

Din didn’t speak any further, but he presses his hand into Boba’s, curling their fingers together and squeezing tight.

Din’s grip doesn’t lessen the closer they get to the small settlement, growing tighter and tighter until Boba can feel the minute tremors from the force of it tremble through him and his HUD flashes with a warning.

“Look at the houses,” Boba murmurs into his internal comms, his heart twisting in his chest as he tries to remain focused. He can dissolve into his own worries and concerns when they are tucked away on the ship and in the safety of hyperspace. He feels rather than hears Din’s exhale, slow and shaky, as the man sags against him for an instant.

“Those symbols…” Din’s fingers twitch around Boba’s, an instinctive want to stretch out and trace the symbols he likely ran his hands over as a child, learning his way around his coverts new location again and again. “We used them to mark out locations and see the ones lower down?”

Din indicated one of them with the barest tip of his chin — a purple spiral twisting in on itself in concentric circles. Boba’s gaze flitted over the other houses, each one sturdy despite their ramshackle appearance, and saw more the same symbol leading away into the distance.

“That’s for the younglings in case of evacuation. It marks out a safe way for them to run.”

They were being watched. Boba keeps his face turned forwards as he glances to the side, past Din and into the muffled shadows in between two buildings. Amid the twisted groups of wire that hung like banners, disappearing into the roofs and coiling down the walls like vines, a tall Zabrak man stood, his skin a dark grey and his tattoos branching across his cheeks and bare shoulders like lightning. His face is slack, every flicker of emotion bright and clear in his eyes as he stares at them. Boba turns away before he realises it, old shame burning in his gut even as he pulls them both to a halt.

“Din. On your left, the alley.”

Boba had seen Din without his helmet, but he knew the sacrifice the man had made for that. Neither Din nor the stranger was the same as when they left the covert.

Din turns, his grip loosening before returning in force. Every scrap of fear and worry, concern and delight since they first heard the rumours poured into his voice, erupting in a single shout. “Paz!”

#bobadinweek2021 #bobadin #boba fett #din djarin #paz vizsla #my writing

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gossip-girl-of-middleearth · 2 years

Note

Did you ever tell us the full sneaking through a mansion with your cat story? I mean if you can’t for privacy reasons don’t obviously, but if you have any juicy details about how you disabled the burglar alarms and let your cat down out of the window tied to ripped up bedsheets I’d love to hear them

Oh my, this is indeed a story and a half.

The Short Version™️:

The Long Version™️, of which was written in my “End of Year Review” to be sent to my wizard friend — aka the Gandalf to my Frodo:

The first dark, vine-covered path I trekked through on my mission to find the sun again was the one that began in April. Not unlike stumbling through a groaning forest, I returned home to my mother with the knowledge that something akin to an exploding catalyst would happen in June. I just didn’t know my mother would be the trigger.

Granted, with the introduction of her new boyfriend, whom she often, and unbeknownst to me why, favoured over myself, things had been rocky in our relationship. It seemed as if it were only me stumbling over all these rocks, where she and him danced above me without so much as a trip downwards.

I quickly learnt of my unsafe circumstances, and began making preparations on the side should I ever need a quick escape. Lo and behold, trusting my instincts appeared the correct turn on this path, for came a night when I needed exactly that �� a quick escape.

After said catalyst erupted with my mother, I set an alarm on my phone for 3:00am and slept at midnight for a few hours. When my alarm awoke me, I packed what was needed for the journey to come – all my books, my bric-à-brac, and Buddy (Buddy is my cat, whom I’m certain is an angelic being sent in a feline’s body from above.)

Knowing I’d done all I could for the last year to mend things with my mother, and also knowing it was to no avail, I, at the ripe age of 19-years-old, left in the night with no plan on coming back. It turned out to be the best decision I’ve ever made.

I had, by chance, stumbled upon a lady in (redacted city’s name) a few weeks earlier, needing a nanny for her four, very bratty rich kids, as well as a vengeful calico kitten, who often chased me and bit my ankles. Okay, maybe not perfect nor ideal, but it was a start outside my stone tower, and who knows where it could lead me?

She had at some point mentioned I would be making $350 a week and that Buddy could stay with me. It appeared both these facts were inaccurate, or at least, a lure to trap me in another stone tower, for both never manifested.

Aware that the locks had both been metaphorically and literally changed behind me, I hid Buddy in the small granny flat dedicated to me at the rich family’s house.

I woke up every day before the sun and took care of four kids, whom I sure were critters sent from Hell itself, right through until sundown. All for a measly $200 a week.

I lasted a month.

After pouring my heart, soul, and will to live into this nannying role, my second vine-covered path presented itself to me – somehow darker, and harder to trek through than the first.

You mentioned something “unexpected” occurring on my 20th birthday this year.

Perhaps the most unexpected thing to have happened on the (redacted date) of July was the fact that I completely forgot it was my birthday at all.

There I was, changing a diaper – my hands covered in the gooiest baby shit I’ve ever seen – when I receive a text from my friend wishing me a happy birthday. I promptly told her that it was the next day, not today. She insisted I check the date.

True enough, it was in fact my 20th birthday that day.

My mind was in such a disarray of emotions and fog, I’d forgotten my own birthday.

Understanding this was simply unacceptable, I began making arrangements on the side again – more backup plans.

Oddly enough, I did mention moving to (redacted island) to you, in the hopes of pursuing studies. Although this seemed out of reach stuck in that second stone tower, the chance to work on a railway in the (redacted island) mountains appeared.

I pursued it, and before I could wipe the baby shit from my hands, I was being offered a position to work on a steam locomotive 4,000kms away. Okay, again, not exactly ideal nor perfect, for I am a seafaring person, as you’ve recognised, but who knows where it could lead me?

It was around this time when the government decided I wasn’t living up to my “potential”, for my current job was cash in hand – not that the said measly $200 a week was heavy in my hand in the first place.

I was ordered to attend a Job Seeker appointment, where there’d no doubt be much jumping through hoops. I just don’t think they expected I’d be the one holding the hoops.

With the railway job offer in my pocket, I found a moment away from my nannying role in the day and attended the Job Seeker appointment.

Sat in a little grey cubicle, learning the definition of “courage”, “confidence”, and “dreams” from degrading posters on the wall, as well as the fact that I never wanted to work in a corporate office, I was met with my “case worker.”

A nice enough chap, but misinformed on whom he was about to deal with. I almost pitied him. You mentioned my connection to (redacted) – I’m sure you can imagine what this poor guy was in for.

Before he could begin sliding novels on work ethic over to me, like a game of chess, I moved my own pawn forward and checkmated the whole company, using only my job offer on the (redacted) railway.

I was legally their client. I knew of such a thing as a “relocation fee” existing from prior research. They now would have to fund my entire move to (redacted island), which worked well for me, as the nannying paycheque wasn’t exactly balancing the books.

So, I now had that in the works. Behind the scenes of the nannying job, I had this government outlet reluctantly scraping a case together in which to grant me a relocation scholarship to (redacted island).

However, it would not come in time.

On the 21st of July, after a day of running around after children who thought it was hilarious to attempt stabbing me with kitchen knives, I was settling into bed when I heard a knock at my granny flat’s door.

Knowing the drill, Buddy ran under the bed to hide, and I hid his litter box and bowl.

I cracked the door open a little, aware of the late hour it was and the fact I was clothed in not much more than a dressing gown.

The mother, my boss, asked if she could watch television with me in my room, since hers was broken. I would’ve said no anyways, even if I wasn’t hiding one tabby under the springy bed frame.

She leaves, disappointed and a little suspicious, and I’m naïve enough to think I’m in the clear.

Before my anxiety even had a chance to dissipate, half an hour later, there’s another knock at the door. It’s her again, but this time she’s sporting a sour look on her face.

Somehow, I already knew what she was here for. I don’t think it takes clairvoyance to guess, though.

“Do you have your cat in here with you?” she asks me, sharply.

Figuring lying would only bury myself deeper into this pit I seemed to be descending into anyways, I fess up and tell her the truth – the whole entirety of it, something I’ve never done again.

I explain I had to leave my mother’s, as she had plans to kick me and my cat out, resulting in me simply leaving myself before she had the chance (the night I left, I heard my mother on the phone to her boyfriend, whispering she was going to change all the locks behind me when I left for work the next day – funny enough, our first argument ensued because she suspected I was considering leaving, and in retaliation she stole all my baby albums and hid them at said boyfriend’s house. The argument revolved around me asking for them to at least be back in our own house, not her creepy boyfriend’s.)

My boss doesn’t care for this. Despite the fact that I’ve been, dare I say, a fantastic nanny otherwise, giving back more than criminally low wages on her end wasn’t in her to do, so it seemed.

I received a late-night berating, similar to things my mother would’ve said. She warns me her husband would be extremely irate over this, and there’d be “bigger” trouble for me in the morning. She then informs me they’d probably have to give me to another family whom I could nanny for, one who’d maybe accept my cat.

Suddenly aware of my predicament, as if I was some mail-order nanny that could be shipped off between the Stepford Wives of (redacted city), I ended the night with an empty apology.

After she left, I sat on the floor with my head in my hands, unsure of what to do. The feeling of no safety net beneath my feet was crushing. I didn’t have anywhere to go.

Or, not anywhere I felt safe, at least.

Having been slowly regaining contact with my older brother the past few weeks at this point, and being aware that he lives with my father, I message him in a panic.

I’d never faced anything like this on my own before, so I sought him for protection and guidance. He didn’t offer much of the sort, other than my father’s phone number. I hadn’t spoken to him in two years, and last time I did, he kicked me out of his house in my pyjamas on a school night.

Again, it may have not been the safest option long-term, but my father is a competitive man, and any chance to gain the whole porcelain “collection” of kids over my mother was a chance he’d leap at, if for the bragging rights alone.

So, gathering up my courage again, I ring my father. By fate or fortune, he was in (redacted city) that night with his girlfriend (the same girlfriend who’d shared intimate details of my private life with a girl at my school, whom she worked with and previously was a step-mother to – resulting in nasty social fallouts and rumours at my high school spreading like wildfire.)

My father drives half an hour to meet me at the fence of the alleyway behind the mansion of the house I worked in. I barely have a moment to discuss the past seven years with him before I start throwing my gear over to his car.

The most delicate of items I deliver is Buddy, who’s no doubt regretting his choice of kid to bond with.

Once my father has all my belongings, I’m met with the terrifying realisation that there’s no way I can get myself over the fence. If I want to drive away from all this, I’d have to walk through the mansion house.

My father drives around to the front of the house, waiting on me to meet him.

Like a deer in headlights, I realise the rich father, my other boss, has awoken, for a light turns on in the house. Suddenly feeling like a secret agent in an action movie, briefly wondering why I ever envied them growing up, I stick to the shadows of the wall – waiting for him to turn the lights off and go back to sleep.

Once he’s gotten what he needs from the kitchen (a glass of water), the lights go out and I sneak through.

Thankful the floor was made of tiles and not floorboards, I soundlessly make it to the sliding glass door, which leads outside to my escape route. However, I quickly recall it makes a God-awful squeaking noise when drawn back.

On top of this, that dreaded calico kitten from Hell runs out meowing, as if my main priority that moment was fetching an overpriced sashay of salmon for her to consume.

The kitten awakes the guard dog, and it all happens at once. I slide that door open and close it behind me fast, beginning my sprint across the large expanse of lawn in the dead of night to reach the front gate – battling sprinklers in my pyjamas, as I manoeuvre through them and wonder where all this chaos was leading, and why it always occurred when I was in my nightwear.

Cursing rich people and their need to have large plots of land, the adrenaline in me fights off the fatigue, and I finally reach that fence. I can’t remember how I got over it, but I’ll chalk it up to adrenaline once more.

I finally reach my car and turn the key; unaware it was still attached to the chain containing the rich family’s housekeys. This is important for later.

However, I paid this no mind at the time, as I gave my father and his girlfriend the signal, where they then promptly drove off and led me half an hour away to my grandmother’s house.

~fin~

Well there you go! Gods, that was a fucking hectic period of life. So glad that’s all over. Was crazy, man. Then she threatened to call the cops on me, and all my friends from class who I hadn’t spoken to in months messaged me, because she’d found them through my Facebook friends list and had messaged all of them this big lying essay about me. I haven’t had social media since!

Shit was wild, and I can never show my face in that state again, considering I left and became a missing person ✨

#xoxo gossip guy

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brax-was-here · 3 years

Text

Scarlet Briar: The Seeds of Life Chapter 2

Chapter 2: You Don’t Control Me

Sometimes life is full of surprises

Something was tickling her nose, and Ceara instinctively brushed it away before awakening suddenly. She quickly glanced around at her surroundings. Plants and trees surrounded her in every direction. Looking down at herself, she realized she was lying naked on moss-covered ground. She immediately stood, almost losing her balance in the process.

“Where…where am I?” The lush of vegetation of the jungle stretched out all around her. The air, thick and humid, was filled with the sounds of the jungle’s animal inhabitants. Various exotic bird calls she had never heard before echoed through the canopy that blocked out the bright sky. The sounds of chirping insects rose from the ground level, some spreading their wings and taking flight, flittering about the various plants.

“No…this isn’t happening…not again.” she muttered. As she stepped forward, something snagged her foot tripping her, causing her to crash to the ground. She turned swiftly, glaring at the lone vine that caused her to stumble, withered and aged as it writhed through the damp moss.

“No…I beat you…” she whispered to it. Rumbling could be heard in the distance. She quickly got to her feet as the ground around her exploded. Numerous thorned vines of various sizes sprouted forth, whipping at her.

‘NO!” she screamed. She turned to run but she was surrounded. They knocked her to the ground, coiling around her body.

“NO! I beat you! You’re dead now!” She screamed with everything she had. “YOU DON’T CONTROL ME!” The vines stopped moving and slowly crystalized. She watched as tiny fissures formed throughout them. Within moments they shattered into a fine crystalline dust that filled the air. She dropped to the ground with a thud.

“You…you’re nothing now…” she muttered, catching her breath. Slowly she got to her feet, brushing the dirt from her. She glared at the path that had opened before her as the dust slowly dissipated in thousands of tiny sunlit sparkles.

She cautiously followed the path forward as it twisted and turned through the jungle’s foliage. She would catch images in the trees, but when she focused on them, they would disappear. She took pause as a playful giggle was heard on the wind.

“You’re nothing.” Ceara spoke loudly. “Come out now. I am not afraid to face you.”

“But I’m in your head…” the playful voice mocked her.

“No. No you’re not.”

“But don’t you want to play?”

“I’m through playing.” Ceara marched forward along the pathway. It emptied into a clearing with the sun shining brightly in the area. Opposite of where she stood, a group of thorned vines had jutted from the ground, twisting and interweaving together, forming a small crudely shaped structure. Ceara approached them cautiously. As she neared a small section of the vines parted, revealing a bright glow from the interior. The glow blinded her at first, but as her vision cleared, she gasped at what she saw. Floating in the air before her was an image of Avatar of the Pale Tree, her mother. But its face was different. Its appearance seemed like a child. Ceara stared at it for a moment before its eyes grew wide, its mouth opened in an inaudible scream as a blade of dark energy seemed to slice it down the middle. The blast knocked Ceara backwards. Quickly regaining her balance, she looked at the space where the image had just stood, but now it was replaced by a blackened black. A seemingly dark version of the sword Caladbolg. Ceara stepped forward ever so cautiously. As she drew near, the vines of the sword started writhing, launching themselves at her.

Ceara awoke with a start. She was curled up in a ball laying on the makeshift cot in the community tent. The light of the morning sun was piercing through small openings throughout the leathery canvas ceiling of the structure. She stared out of the open side of the tent, the far cliff walls painted bright reds and oranges by the rising sun. Other visitors to the camp were slowly stirring awake as well. Sitting up, her mind wandered to the dream she just experienced.

“Could it be?” she asked quietly.

“Could it be what?” she heard Liathlas ask from the cot next to her. Ceara turned to see the dark skinned sylvari looking at her.

“It’s nothing. Just…just a dream.” Ceara replied sharply, turning to stand from the cot, stretching as she stood. “This cot was the most uncomfortable thing I have ever slept on.” She complained while strapping on her shoulder armor. She locked her gauntlets on and grabbed her rifle, slinging it over her shoulder.

“It is a centaur camp. Did you expect a lush bed in a fancy part of Divinity’s Reach?” Liathlas remarked, sitting up from her cot. Ceara seemingly ignored her as she started making her way out towards the sunlight.

“We should get something to eat before heading out.” Liathlas suggested as she stood and stretched. “I do believe there is a merchant here at the camp.”

“Perhaps.” Ceara said as she stepped out into the morning sun. She scanned the area noticing an asura with what seemed a small booth of simple foods.

“There.” Liathlas pointed as she walked up beside her. Ceara nodded. The asura took notice as the duo approached.

“A lovely morning to you lovely ladies. What can I do for you?” he asked, wiping his hands with a stained cloth.

“Yes! We’d like to make a purchase!” Liathlas expressed excitedly.

“Excellent! I will say I am sorry for my low volume. My source seems to be running late, which is quite infuriating.”

“It’s quite alright.” Liathlas assured him as the pair looked over the vendors wares. A myriad of fruits and vegetables accustomed to being grown in the desert heat, some breads, and casks of water.

“Not much of a choice here.” Ceara remarked, grabbing a couple desert pears, and a small canvas bag filled with jojoba nuts. Liathlas grabbed some fruits as well, and a small bag for herself. Ceara handed the merchant some coins, noticing the dry skin of the asuras hands.

“You’ve been here awhile.” She commented.

“Indeed, I have.” He replied. “Not many people supply food along the trade routes in these areas. Plus, I don’t think many people prefer centaur delicacy.” He remarked, placing the coins in a small pouch in his belt. Ceara nodded lightly.

“Well, good luck in your travels.” He said to them as they turned to leave.

“What’s on your mind, secondborn?” Liathlas asked Ceara as they walked towards the gate of the camp. “You seem to be preoccupied.” Ceara glanced at Liathlas as she bit into one of the pears.

“It’s nothing. Just thinking about the trip ahead.”

“It will take us a day at least to reach the pact camp.” Liathlas mentioned. “Maybe we could ask the centaurs to take us there?”

“It’s worth a shot.” Ceara replied, stopping. “It will save us some time.” Asking around the inhabitants within, it wasn’t long for them to find a pair willing to take them northward into the Silverwastes area of the desert region.

A few hours passed as the centaurs had taken Ceara and Liathlas as far as they would through the canyons to the desert regions to the north. The Silverwastes was a stretch of arid rocky desert terrain that once was part of the jungles of Maguuma. Over the centuries, the thick jungle vegetation gave way to the creeping desert sands. The pair continued their journey as the canyons slowly turned into a rough desert terrain filled with great buttes and mesas standing tall above the desert floor. Giant thorned vines marked the terrain, remnants of the jungle dragon Mordremoth’s advancement on Tyria. Now they lay dry and gnarled by the desert air. The life gone from them when the dragon was defeated.

“Do we really need to visit Camp Resolve?” Ceara asked, taking a drink from her canteen as they passed under a high arcing vine. Liathlas picked up on the reluctance in Ceara’s voice. “And why couldn’t the centaurs have taken us all the way there? And furthermore, are we even heading in the right direction?”

“Secondborn, of cour-“ Liathlas cut herself off as the duo spotted a set of creatures on a ridge in the distance. Ceara recognized them immediately.

“Mordrem.” Ceara whispered. “Thorns...”

“Indeed. We’ll need to be cautious.” They circled around the area in a wide berth, using the rock filled terrain as cover.

“Somethings not right here…” Ceara muttered.

“What?” Liathlas whispered back. Ceara unshouldered her rifle.

“We’re not alone.” They heard a slight rumbling in the ground before them. “Run!” Ceara shouted. The ground exploded behind them as the pair turned and bolted away. A great screech pierced the air as the sounds of heavy footfalls galloped behind them. Ceara turned in time to see a creature of Mordremoth leap at her, raising its giant pincer-like arms in the air. Ceara dodged out of the creature’s path, bringing her rifle to bare. Pulling the trigger, a thunderous boom was heard as the ley energy powered the projectile through the barrel. The shot severed one of the creature’s pinchers from its body, causing it to screech in pain. Liathlas, who had managed to teleport to a ridge slightly above, brandished her staff and motioned for a set of illusions to appear around the beast. They proceeded to attack it. Bewildered, the creature lashed out at the illusions as Ceara fired another shot, hitting the creature in its head. It dropped immediately. Their victory was short lived as more of the plant-like beasts started erupting from the ground.

“Run!” Ceara shouted. Liathlas opened a portal that Ceara dove through, appearing on the ridge next to her. The creatures approached quickly, climbing the side of the rocky incline to get to their prey. The duo turned to run, only to be stopped by a giant flower-like creature with long tentacles hovering in the air before them.

“Really!?” Ceara said disbelieving. It approached fast, lashing out at them. They both evaded the attacks as Liathlas launched a mystic bolt at it, and Ceara firing her rifle. Both attacks landed on their marks, injuring the creature. It growled in pain, as it turned towards Ceara. More rumbling was heard as the ground seemingly started to shift.

“Oh no…” Ceara muttered looking at the sand, which was shifting before her. “Please no sand worms…”. Liathlas conjured more illusions to attack the floating creature, seemingly oblivious to what was happening. The other mordrem started cresting the ridge, standing ready to chase down the sylvari. As they started moving towards the duo, rumbling filled the air as the ground cracked open. Sand shifted and before they knew what was happening, the pair found themselves falling uncontrollably. Liathlas quickly grabbed Ceara’s arm and opened portal after portal falling through each, quickly placing the each one farther and farther away from the falling debris, until they finally tumbled out of the last portal across the sandy ground. The thunderous crash of the limestone boulders that had made up the ground above echoed through the air as the pile smashed into the sandy ground, throwing sand and debris in every direction. Ceara stopped rolling, laying on her back, her ears ringing from the turmoil. She stared at the ceiling of an enormous cavern that lay under the sands of the Silverwastes.

Liathlas shakily stood on her feet, using her staff to balance herself. She stumbled over to Ceara and flopped down next to her.

“Are…are you ok?” she asked, her voice quivering.

“I’m going to lay here… until the world stops spinning, no matter how long it takes.” Ceara replied, steadily staring at the hole from which they fell.

“Ok.” Liathlas gasped before falling over, seemingly passing out.

Ceara laid in the sand as the silence of the cavern became deafening. She watched the steady stream of sand fall from the opening above. Her thoughts drifted to the dream she had the night before.

“Another pale tree…” she thought to herself. “Does it exist? Is it true?” She focused on the image of the younger looking Avatar that appeared in front of her before being cut down.

“What was that blade? A dark version of caladbolg? Has that tree fallen? To Mordremoth? Or to nightmare? Or something else?” So many questions passed through her mind. “I have to find the answers…” she thought as she slowly sat up.

“Well, this is quite interesting.” she said quietly as she scanned the distant darkness. She pulled out her small lantern and set it on the ground in front of her, then proceeded to check her equipment for any damage from the fall.

“Well, everything seems in order.” She sighed, checking the barrel of her rifle. She started returning everything to their appropriate satchels. “Now, how do-“

“Shinies…” a rough voice growled in the darkness. Ceara rose to one knee instantly with her pistol drawn, holding the lamp in such a way that allowed the light to illuminate the area in front of her.

“Skritt?” she called out.

“You have…shinies…yes?” the voice asked. Ceara heard the sounds of movement against the rocks as a shadow darted away from the edge of the illuminated area. She quickly tried to follow the sounds, tracking them with her lamp.

“Give shinies to me…” it growled.

“Show yourself!” Ceara shouted. She heard more movement to her side. Turning, her light caught the creature perched on a nearby boulder. She gasped at what she saw. It was indeed a skritt, but not like any she had seen before. Its fur, discolored and full of mange, was covered in vines and small flowers.

“This can’t be real…” she muttered. The creature bared its teeth, hissing at her. It let out a loud screech as it launched itself at her. She instinctively fired a shot, knocking the skritt from the air. Hitting the ground, it writhed in pain. Ceara stood and cautiously moved towards it, her pistol at the ready. It turned and looked at her, the vines growing from its body, whipping back and forth.

“Shinies…” it growled one last time before Ceara shot it in the head.

“Even the skritt weren’t safe from it.” She said to herself glaring at the creature. Slowly she turned, shining her light around the area, scanning for anything else that might be a problem. Satisfied nothing else was out there she slowly made her way back to where Liathlas lay in the sand.

“I guess we’re stuck here until you decide to wake up.” Ceara sat down next to her, taking out the small packet of nuts she got from the centaur camp.

It wasn’t long before Liathlas stirred awake.

“Good morning, princess.” Ceara said as she closed a panel on one of her gauntlets.

“Ow…” Liathlas groaned as she slowly sat up. “What happened?”

“You saved the day, don’t you remember? Sadly…you didn’t return us to the castle.” Ceara stood. Liathlas looked up at her as Ceara extended her hand to help her stand. Liathlas glanced around.

“Where are we?”

“A cavern under the sands. We had an interesting visitor while you slept.”

“A visitor?”

“Yes.” Ceara moved over to the corpse that lay not far. Liathlas trailed behind her slowly.

“Is that…a skritt?” Liathlas gasped.

“Indeed, it was. Killed and resurrected by Mordremoth it seems.”

“Oh my.” Liathlas said apprehensively. “Are there others?”

“None that I have seen…so far. We should get moving before anything else decides to pay us a visit.”

“But where do we go?” What direction?” Liathlas asked, rubbing the back of her head.

Ceara sighed as she pulled out her waypoint device. All of the closest waypoints she had stored were all back in the direction she had travelled.

“Thorns…” she muttered. She looked around the cavern, feeling a slight breeze in the air. She turned to the direction it seemed to be originating and pointed. ”That way.”

The cavern seemed never-ending as the pair made their way through. Ceara using her lamp to illuminate the way. The end of Liathlas’s staff also glowed to help assist in lighting the cave.

“It seems to go on forever.” Liathlas stated. “Do you think we’ll ever get out?”

“We will. The breeze moves. Something is disturbing it. And hopefully we’ll find out what that something is.”

“I hope so.” Moments passed before Liathlas spoke again. “Ceara?”

“Hmm?”

“What is it you seek in the jungle?”

Ceara paused a moment, images of her dream quickly flashed through her mind. “Im looking…I’m looking for something important.”

“Well, I figured that. Won’t you tell me what it is?” Ceara motioned for Liathlas to stop.

“What is it?” Liathlas asked quietly.

Ceara extinguished her lamp. “Dim your light.”

The light from her staff slowly faded. In the pitch darkness, the pairs bioluminescence glowed softly.

“Look. Far up ahead.” Ceara said quietly. There was a soft glow in the distance of the cavern.

“A way out?” Liathlas asked.

“Possibly. We should move quickly but be cautious.”

Ceara reignited her lamp. “Let’s go.” They quickened their pace. The ambient light of the cavern slowly grew brighter as they approached. It opened into a massive area with a pool of water in the center. The pair looked to the ceiling. In the distance, they could see structure, and small lights flickering about.

“Torches?” Liathlas asked.

“I think so. We need to get up there. Look around for anything that looks like a path!” The pair scrambled about searching along the rock walls.

“Here, I think I found something.” Ceara shouted across the cave. Liathlas rushed over to where Ceara was climbing over a pile of rocks. “There are stairs carved through here.” Liathlas climbed over the pile as well. They both stood staring up the incline. “Well, let’s go.”

It wasn’t long before one of the rock walls of the stairway gave way to the emptiness of the cavern.

“This is scary.” Liathlas muttered, glancing over the edge to the ground far below.

“Indeed. Who in Tyria would have made this?” The existing rock wall would soon start to show signs of previous habitation.

“Someone lived here?” Liathlas asked inquisitively. The pair stopped at the first door they found. An old wooden door connected by crude made iron straps showed little signs of deterioration in the dry desert air. Ceara slowly pushed it open, aiming her lamp inside. A simple room with no furnishing.

“Nothing.” Ceara said, looking over the room.

“Who would live in a place such as this?” Liathlas asked.

“I don’t know, but someone is here. Let’s continue.” The duo trekked up the stairs, passing more rooms like the first. Something fell past them as they continued the climb.

Liathlas brandished her staff. “What was that!?” Ceara pulled her pistol.

“I don’t know.” They slowly continued along the path upward.

“Too small, don’t need it.” They heard a meek squeaky voice higher up the stairway in the distance.

“Skritt?” Liathlas asked.

“I think so.” Ceara responded. They quietly crept along the route, slowly rounding a long curve as they heard more skritt chattering up ahead.

“This piece just right.”

“This piece in my room!”

“Bent metal. Good for support.”

Ceara extinguished her lamp as they came upon an area lit with torches. They found a group of skritt steadily searching through a pile of random wooden planks, bent metal and various other random items. Ceara stowed her lamp in her satchel, before stepping forward into the torchlight. The skritt turned to them.

“Visitors! This our pile! You leave now!” One yelled at the sylvari.

“We’re not here to take your things.” Ceara held her hands up in front of her. “We just want to leave this cavern and get back to the surface.”

“Oh, we take you! When Topsy-Turvy finished! We take you out of cavern!”

“Topsy-Turvy?” Liathlas asked as the pair looked at each other.

“Yes! Our ship! We build it! Soon it will be finished! And we leave! Sail to meet or brothers and sisters to the south!”

“Sail a ship? In the middle of the desert?” Ceara was slightly dumbfounded. “Where is this Topsy-Turvy?” Ceara asked inquisitively. “This is something I must see.”

“Come! Come! Follow!” One of the skritt started running up the stairs. Ceara and Liathlas hurried after him. As they rounded the bend, the two stopped, awestruck by what they saw. Indeed, there was a ship in the cavern. Precariously perched upside-down on ridges spanning the chasm. Skritt clamored all over it as they busily attached planks and random pieces of metal to the hull of the ship, chattering constantly as they worked. Ceara’s mouth hung open as she stood in silence.

“What…how?” Liathlas asked.

“I…I don’t…I don’t know…” Ceara said quietly, before busting out in laughter. “This is…this absurbly amazing, and…ridiculous at the same time!” She hurried up the rest of the stairs.

Liathlas followed grabbing her by the arm. “You shouldn’t berate them. They believe they can do this.”

Ceara snorted in laughter. “I’m not berating them. It’s just…I wish them well in their endeavor!” She said with a large grin on her face.

“Here! Here! Topsy-Turvy!” the skritt called out.

“I see…and you plan to sail this out of this cavern and across the sand?”

“Indeed! Here is plan!” he ran over to a giant board nailed to some makeshift posts. Various drawings and documents hung precariously by bend nails. Ceara looked over it all in amazement.

“This…this is…You actually have all this planned out?” she bit her bottom lip, stifling her laughter. She took a crude drawing of what she determined to be a plan to launch the ship out of the cavern. “I wish you good luck in your mission.” She said taking a deep breath turning to the skritt. “I think you will be able to make this happen. But my partner and I must be off. We have urgent matters to attend if you could show us a way out.”

“Yes! Yes! We will!” He ran towards another set of stairs. “Here! Here! Will take you up to surface!”

“Thank you kindly.” Ceara said to him. Liathlas waved to him as they started up the stairs.

“I can’t believe the way you belittled them.” Liathlas chided her.

“I didn’t belittle them. I simply wished them good luck in their impossible mission.”

“I could tell by the tone of your voice.” Liathlas criticized. “But still…how did such a ship even get into this cavern?” she asked perpelexed.

Ceara laughed as they continued up the stairs. “I don’t know.” It wasn’t long before they saw hints of sunlight, as well as voices further up the incline.

“Do we really need to be here?” a woman’s voice was heard faintly.

“We were told to guard this stairwell.” A male voice returned.

“From what? The skritt?”

“You never know. Filthy rodents could end up stealing everything in the camp.”

“That’s unlikely.”

The sylvari once again extinguished their lights and crept up the stairs, settling low once they saw who the voices belonged to.

“Hmm…” Ceara thought to herself. “Krytan bandits.” She whispered.

“What do we do?” Liathlas asked. “I’m sure there are more of them outside.”

Ceara nodded. “Can you cloak with your abilities?”

“Yes, but not for long.”

“I have a plan. I’ll activate my own stealth shield and sneak past them. Once I get past, I’ll distract them, and you hit them when they aren’t looking.”

“Ok. Seems easy enough.”

“It’s a classic.” Ceara pressed a small button on her gauntlet and disappeared. She slowly crept past the guards, careful as not to brush against them. Once past them, she turned and shut off her field.

“Hello, pretties.” She said smiled at them.

“What the?” the male asked as he drew his sword, the woman pulled out a pair of daggers.

“Who in Tyria are you!?” the woman asked.

“Oh…really?” Ceara glared at them shaking her head in disappointment. “I’m so let down that brigands such as you don’t recognize the…” she sneered. ”Terror of Tyria.”

“What? You’re de-“ A field of eldritch energy appeared below the bandits feet, shocking them as a pair of Liathlas’s illusions made short work of them.

“Well, that was easy.” Ceara smiled at her partner. She knelt and checked the two. “Still alive, but I am sure they are going have a nasty headache when the wake.” She stood and looked at Liathlas. “Shall we?

“Let’s” Liathlas smiled back.

They neared the top of the stairway, the blue sky a welcoming site. But they also spied two more humans standing near the entrance to the cave.

“Who knows what lies ahead. Depending on what is out there, this could end very badly.” Ceara muttered. Liathlas nodded her head. They laid low on the stairway as they peeked over the steps the best they could. They found a small area with what looked like old mining equipment in major disrepair as well as a few ramshackled structures that looked as if they were about to collapse.

“This does not look promising at all.” Liathlas groaned. Ceara nodded in agreement. “Any plan?” Liathlas asked.

“We could go back and get the skritt. Tell them there is a pile of fresh shinies up here.” Ceara suggested.

“Are you mad!? That would surely send them to certain death!” Liathlas protested quietly. Ceara turned slowly, giving her a dirty look.

“What!?” Liathlas asked bluntly.

“Your choice of words hurt, Mesmer.”

“What are you talking about?” Liathlas replied. Ceara just shook her head and took a deep breath.

“Fine. We won’t get the skritt.”

“Can we just stealth ourselves out of here?” Liathlas asked.

“Would our stealth fields last long enough?”

“Hmm…but it might be our only chance. At least to get past these two guards so we can at least see if there is a way out of here.”

Ceara thought for a moment. “Ok…let’s do it.”

“Wait…” Liathlas grabbed Ceara’s arm.

“What?”

“How will we be able to see each other if we’re both cloaked?”

Ceara stared at her blankly before speaking. “Just…keep ahold of my hand.” She activated her stealth field as Liathlas cloaked herself. The duo crept up the stairs and hurried from the cave, ducking behind a pile of boulders nearby moments before their fields faded.

Ceara breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, first part is done.” They both peeked from behind the rocks. “I see the way out. Over there.”

“Ok.” Liathlas looked over the direction Ceara was facing.

“Too far for our fields to last.”

“What about illusions?”

“Can you project them that far?”

“I don’t think so.”

Ceara drew a deep breath as she tried to come up with a plan.

“Couldn’t you just shoot them with your rifle?”

“No. The noise would draw attention to us. What if…we stealth as far as we can, and as our fields wear off, you cast that stun field you have, and I’ll use my holograms to strike them. Should be quick enough to take them down and not draw any unwanted attention.”

“Ok.”

Ceara opened the panel on her gauntlet. “Ready…3, 2, 1…now.” She pressed the small switch and disappeared from view. Liathlas cloaked herself as well and the pair started their way towards the opening in the rock wall.

“Stun field now.” Ceara said quietly.

Liathlas’s eldritch field appeared below the guard’s feet, stunning them. Ceara’s stealth field waned and she summoned two holograms which attacked the bandits. Liathlas’s stealth cloak faded as well.

“WE GOT A PROBLEM OVER HERE!” a voice shouted from outside the wall.

“THORNS!” Ceara cursed as a handful of more bandits rushed through the opening. Liathlas summoned her illusions as Ceara quickly unslung her rifle and quickly fired a round at the oncoming group. The leyline powered bullet tore through them, dropping two instantly.

“What in Tyria was that!?” a woman shouted as she dove into the dirt. One of the bandits pointed his pistol and fired multiple shots at the sylvari. One round struck one of Ceara’s shoulder pauldrons, the other barely missed her. She instinctively pulled the trigger of the rifle, sending another charged bullet at the bandit. The round missed its mark, but the energy of the bullet knocked him off his feet as it passed.

“Fight fair!” another bandit yelled as he tried to fend off Liathlas’ clones. “Man to man…or whatever you are!” He slashed at the clones with a pair of knives to no avail. Liathlas heard gunshots behind them.

“More incoming behind us! Seems they heard our party!” she shouted.

“I figured that would happen. Get ready to run.” A bullet hit the ground next to Ceara. She spun around and fired another shot, causing the approaching group to scatter.

“Go now!” Liathlas bolted for the opening. Ceara activated her force field and ran behind her. Liathlas tripped and fell as the woman lying in the dirt reached for her ankle as she passed. Liathlas sneered at her and she drove the end of her staff into her forehead, sending a bolt of energy into the womans face. Ceara grabbed Liathlas by the arm and pulled her up and they headed through the opening and back out into the desert.

#Guild Wars 2 #GW2 #Scarlet Briar #AU Ceara

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thewickedkings · 4 years

Text

Tell Me What You’re Thinking ~Part 2~

Part 1 || Masterlist

A/N: You asked for part two, and you shall receive. If you haven’t read part one, it’s linked above! This may or may not be more than two thousand words, but I couldn’t help myself. I really wanted to explore Jude and Cardan’s struggles and insecurities in their relationship post QON. Hope you guys like it :)))

Trigger Warnings: Mild Cursing (Let me know if there is anything I missed)

~~~

Jude wraps her hands around the warm tea Vivi made for her.

Vivi watches her expectantly. “So?”

Jude sighs. “Just… give me a second. I need to think.”

Vivi nods and moves to clear away the dishes drying next to the sink.

“Cardan and I got into a fight.”

Vivi snorts. “No shit.”

Jude massages her temples. “I know, but I think I really messed things up. God, I’m so stupid.”

Vivi doesn’t say anything, waiting Jude out.

“I- I just, I don’t know how to tell him things, things that are messing with my head, you know? And he could tell I was being distant, and I hurt him.” Jude squeezes her eyes shut.

“You aren’t the best at communication,” Vivi hedges. She looks up, eyes searching Jude’s face. “What couldn’t you tell him?” she says slowly.

Jude’s neck heats up, and she sips her tea to avoid the question.

But maybe if she can tell Vivi, it will be easier to tell Cardan. “The people, they’re talking about a-” Jude clears her throat. “An heir.”

Vivi’s face softens in understanding. “And what exactly about that is bothering you?”

Jude swallows. “I don’t even know if I want kids yet.” She pauses. “But if- if there were to be an heir, it would be half-mortal.”

Her skin feels tight, the fierce urge to flee and protect herself running through her at the confession. She forces herself to push through, staring intensely at her tea.

Her voice is rough. “It would destabilize the rule. You know how the fae are, they wouldn’t take the heir seriously with mortal blood running through his veins.”

Vivi finishes drying the dishes and pulls out the chair across from her. “Jude, you are their queen. If they have a problem with that, put them in their place.” She pushes a strand of hair behind her pointed ear. “That’s not the issue though, is it? At least not why you can’t talk to him about it.”

Jude takes a sip from her tea, studiously avoiding a response.

“Jude, if you don’t talk to anyone about it, you won’t be able to move forward.”

Jude’s hands clench around her mug. “I know.” Her voice lowers, barely a whisper. “What if he doesn’t want a half-mortal child?”

Vivi’s voice hardens. “Then screw him. But Jude, if there’s anything I’ve learned from seeing the way he is with you, that won’t matter to him.”

“You don’t know how he was, before. He always brought up how mortal, how weak I was. I know he’s changed, I know that, but I still-” Her voice breaks.

Vivi sighs. “Jude, this is something you have to talk to him about it. You can’t just keep avoiding it like you always do. Trust me, I know. You’ll just hurt both of yourselves.”

“How?” Jude rasps. “How do I tell him that?”

“Just like you did. I know it’s hard, but it will be better after you do.”

“But he was so angry. He couldn’t even look at me. What if he’s still mad?”

“He was mad because you weren’t talking to him. I can see how much he loves you, and you probably hurt him. You have to at least talk to him. You owe him that.”

Jude nods, shutting her eyes and letting out a soft breath. “Okay.” She gets up, her motions jerky. “I need to- I need to go. I need to tell him.”

Vivi puts an hand on Jude’s shoulder. “You need some rest. I know you feel like you should go, but you should get some rest before you figure this out.” Vivi gently tugs Jude into the living room and onto the couch. Jude is too exhausted, both emotionally and physically, to protest. Vivi pulls a blanket over Jude, her hand resting on her shoulder for a beat longer than normal.

Before she’s pulled into the welcoming tendrils of sleep, Jude reaches her hand out, fingers grasping Vivi’s arm. “Thank you. For helping me.” She falls asleep before she hears Vivi’s response.

~~~

When Jude returns to the palace, something immediately feels off. The flowers outside the palace are wilted, and prickly vines have encased the walls. The air is taut with tension, and Jude hugs her cloak around her.

Instinctively, she knows Cardan will be in the throne room. But instead, she makes her way in the opposite direction to their chambers to wait for him. It seems fitting, to work through this where it started. She gets ready for bed and slips into the blankets, picking up a book to distract her thoughts as she waits.

When Cardan returns to their rooms, it is late. The telling glaze of alcohol is absent from his eyes, yet Jude gets the sense that he had drunk after she left. He pulls off his intricate doublet, leaving only the undershirt beneath, exhaustion marring his actions.

She resists the urge to wrap her arms around him and rest her head in the junction between his neck and shoulder, to relieve some of the burden she had placed on him. He gages her wearily, opting to sit on the armchair next to the fire. He remains silent, and Jude realizes he is waiting for her to speak.

Jude moves to the chair across him. “Cardan, I’m sorry.”

He barks out a laugh, sudden against the steady crackle of the fireplace. “For what?”

“You were right. I was being distant. I wasn’t telling you things.”

His jaw ticks. “I know I was right.”

He has every right to be angry at her. “I’m not good at this. I don’t know how to-” Jude shrugs helplessly, “I want to try to be better. I know I’m not the best at showing it, but I love you.”

Cardan swallows. His gaze is trained on the fire, shadows jumping across the smooth planes of his face. “You left.”

“I was scared.” She says, her voice small. “Sometimes it’s easier for me to go back to hiding.”

Cardan finally turns to look at her. The vulnerability, the openness in his eyes, even after everything she said to hurt him, rocks her. Despite everything, he is still trying with her. And she… well, she had run away at the first sign of trouble.

Jude reaches out hesitantly for his hand, and Cardan doesn’t pull away. She wraps her fingers around his, and Jude’s words stumble out. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I lied. The break was a lie.”

Cardan sighs, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. “I want this to work, Jude. But you have to talk to me.”

“I know,” she says, voice small.

“I know what I want. What is it that you want?” Jude opens her mouth to respond, but Cardan continues. “I cannot… I cannot keep playing these games with you. If you do not want this, then tell me and leave me in my misery. Do not give me hope.”

He rises from his chair and gets on his knees in front of her, clutching her hands between his, his palms warm against hers. His eyes are gazing into her with determination. “You must know I want this future with you Jude. I want everything with you, everything I never thought I could have. You must know...” His voice changes then, something a little like yearning slipping in. “You must know that I want to spend my whole life with you, even have a family with you, if you’d want that.”

Jude flinches slightly, and Cardan catches it.

His gaze roves over her, assessing. “You do not want children?” he says slowly.

“No, that’s not what I… I don’t know Cardan.”

His jaw clenches. “You do not want children with me.”

“Cardan, that’s not what this is about.”

His voice softens, a tinge desperation sifting through. “Then tell me, Jude. What is it? Let me in.” In this moment, he is not the High King of Elfhame. He is her husband.

Jude tightens her grip on his hands and averts her gaze, unable to look Cardan in the eye as she lays herself bare. “The people- they are talking about an heir.” She feels completely and utterly foolish, yet she continues, forcing the words out. “And if we were to have an heir… it would be half mortal. If you do not want that, I understand. It would be smarter for the kingdom, and the people…” Her voice trails off.

Cardan’s hand reaches up to gently cup her cheek. “Jude, look at me.”

She grudgingly lets her gaze return to his, something inside her feeling scraped raw.

“I do not care that our child would have mortal blood. Mortal blood does not make you weaker. You are the strongest person I have ever known, and you are a mortal.” He pauses, his next words tentative. “I know… I know I have said things in the past, but Jude, believe me.” He presses a kiss to her knuckles. “If you wanted a child, with me, I would be the happiest man alive.”

Jude feels as though the weight of mountains has been lifted off her shoulders. Some irrational part of her thought that he would prefer to have children with one of the fae, all her old insecurities still lingering inside her despite everything.

“Okay,” she whispers. “Okay.”

Cardan‘s next words are hesitant. “So that is what this was about?”

She nods, a little ashamed. “What did you think?”

His jaw clenches, and his eyes focus on the wall behind her. He removes his hands from hers and gets up, turning his back to her as he fidgets with papers on the desk. She waits, letting him gather his thoughts. His next words are quick, as though he forced them out. “I assumed you didn’t want me anymore.”

She opens her mouth to protest and then shuts it. It’s his turn to speak. She knows that no matter how irrational his thoughts may seem to her, they are there and it isn’t her place to dismiss them.

His speaks in a rasp. “I think I’ve been waiting for you to leave, because that is how it has always been with me. Why would you want to stay, when you can do so much better?”

Jude’s thoughts start piecing together what he’s saying. His mom, his dad, even Nicasia. They all left him eventually or didn’t even want him in the first place. Something inside her breaks knowing that she had done what everyone else in his life had. Yesterday, he had told her to leave before she could leave him, protecting himself in a way. And she had listened, like an idiot.

The way he gotten on his knees in front of her, telling her how much he wanted her, suddenly made sense. He was genuinely scared she was going to leave.

Jude moves towards Cardan and slowly wraps her arms around him, leaning forward so her head rests against his chest. He shudders and sags against her, his breath warm against her hair. His arms grip her like she’ll disappear if he lets go. The fierce urge to ward him from any evil overtakes her, to keep him here in her arms forever.

“Cardan,” she whispers, pulling back and pressing her forehead against his. “I’m not going to leave. I’m staying right here with you. You are better than anything, anything I could have hoped for.”

His dark eyes bore into hers, searching for the lie. When he finds none, his palms reach out to cup her face, and then he kisses her softly, so softly. She sighs and tangles her hands in his curls, kissing him deeper.

The connection between them, the string that has always been pulling them towards each other, strengthens until it’s almost tangible, an ethereal soft glow. The prickly vines that had grown around the edges of the room begin to soften, jasmines blooming on the stems, their soft scent wafting around them.

And Jude knows, in that moment, that what they have is irreplaceable, the love between them is more valuable than anything in her life. She cannot let him think he is undeserving, that she does not want him.

“You deserve to be loved, Cardan. You do. More than anyone. And- and- falling in love with you is the best thing that could ever happen to me.”

He smiles softly against her lips. “Your love is the greatest treasure I possess,” he murmurs. He pulls back and gazes at her, as if to commit this moment to memory. Slowly, his grin turns playful as his hand reaches for hers and pulls her with him as he walks backwards to the bed. “You are my greatest treasure. And I would very much like to cuddle with my treasure.”

She giggles, stumbling into his warm chest. “Treasure? That’s new.” The seriousness of the moment fades into this, this wonderful thing between them as he pulls her onto bed and into his arms and peppers her face with kisses.

He pulls back teasingly. “Is it not to your liking? I have several others.”

“Hmmm, I guess I’ll have to hear them.”

Cardan presses his lips to her jaw, whispering against her skin. “My sweet villain.” His lips move to her nose. “My darling wife.” To her cheek. “My love.” And finally, finally, to her lips.

Thank you for reading!! If you have sent me a prompt, I have them written, I just have to edit! Thank you so much for your patience <3

Tagging:

@jurdan7 @cardan-greenbriar-tcp @ireallyshouldsleeprn @woodsbeyond1 @st00pid231 @thefolkofthefic @alittledribbledrabble @nomotivation-lads @afexiss @herladyshipxx @aelinfeyreeleven945tbln @fandomfanatic987 @judiecardan

Let me know if you’ve liked to be added to my general tfota tag list! (It’s separate from my Between the Two of Us tag list, just FYI)

#tell me what you're thinking #part 2 #wow i actually wrote something #jurdan #jurdan fanfic #tfota #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #the folk of the air #jurdan angst #jurdan fluff

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darkhymns-fic · 3 years

Text

Rescue Mission in a Shadowy Wood

Lloyd and Colette leave for Gaoracchia Forest together to rescue a lost dog, but the creepy place seems to be even creepier when it's just themselves...

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters/Pairing: Lloyd Irving/Colette Brunel Rating: G Mirror Link: AO3 Notes: Written for Colloyd Week, Day 2: Sidequest! This isn't referencing any specific sidequest in-game, but just making one myself because I've actually had this silly idea in my head for a while. Fair warning that a certain point of this fic might have a claustrophobia trigger? It's mainly emphasizing an action that happens in battle actually and is mostly brief, but just to be safe. (I'm sorry, Lloyd) :'D

It all started with a lost doggy.

“Tiggy!” Colette called out, walking in-between the thick roots that snaked across the forest floor, completely unmindful to the chill that whistled through the boughs overhead. “Where are you?” Her shout reverberated against the trees, echoed back at her like a wandering ghost in search of something precious.

Such a sound would usually send a shiver down one’s spine, but Colette happened to enjoy the acoustics, calling out another “Hellooo Tiggyyyy!” When she heard her own voice come back to her, warbly and almost breathless, she giggled against her hand. “It sounds so silly! Don’t you think so, Lloyd? …Lloyd?”

The usual red she was used to seeing was nowhere near her, and so she had to look farther down the path that led out to Mizuho. Only a little bit away, but right there, in the middle of the path, Lloyd was standing, rubbing an arm as he gazed up at the curled trees that lined the road.

“…Huh? Uh, y-yeah, yeah! Definitely…um…”

Though just a few steps back, he was looking wistfully from the path they came through. The sunlight was just out of reach, gliding along the ground before being abruptly stopped by the shadows of Gaoracchia Forest’s trees.

From where he stood, he looked towards Colette as if he were a lost doggy himself, making her heart flutter in her chest.

“Oh! Are you scared, Lloyd?”

“No way!” Lloyd answered instantly – with maybe a little squeak to this voice. “I mean… nah. I go through these kinds of woods all the time!” He then flinched when he heard a particularly weird-sounding bird call from above them, complemented by the rustling of leaves. “Just…not usually at night…”

“It’s okay to be scared!” Colette walked back to him, taking a hand of his gently. “You’re still thinking about Zelos’ stories?”

A grumble as he instinctively tightened his fingers around hers. “…Maybe…”

It was natural for their group to go off on strange little tangents on their journey all the time, and Tethe’alla provided a whole new place for them to explore. From the sprawling roadways of Meltokio, to the steep cliffs that had made up Mt. Fooji, and now here, in a forest that could have been like Iselia’s woods if the trees didn’t continually block out the sun, or that the pathways didn’t keep being blocked by vines that refused to budge.

“It was really creepy, wasn’t it?” Colette said, gently tugging Lloyd along as they walked deeper into a place that few people dared to tread through. “But also very sad too. All those poor ghosts…”

“Geez, Colette, if you thought it was scary, you sure don’t act like it!” Lloyd’s foot stumbled against one such root – which he was sure hadn’t been right there before! – and had to rely on Colette’s grip to keep himself balanced. “You just clapped when he finished telling!”

“Hm, but he told it very well! Don’t you think?”

Going by how both he and Genis had run away in fear after hearing it, he sighed. “Guess so…”

“But I’m happy you wanted to come here with me, Lloyd. It’d be hard to search through this forest for Tiggy by myself.”

“Well, I couldn’t let you go alone.” And also, Colette had already been rushing for the forest once she heard about the Mizuho shopkeeper’s little dog that had wandered in here, so Lloyd didn’t exactly have much time to wait behind. “But we probably should have told the others we’d be gone, too.”

“I’m sorry,” Colette voiced, and in her tone was complete sincerity. Still, she directed her gaze forward, through the darkness. “But I don’t want to leave a poor doggy out here all alone.”

“I know.” For a moment, Lloyd’s fear of the forest was forgotten. He held back Colette’s hand tightly, giving her a wide grin and a thumbs up once he caught her attention. “Well, four eyes are better than two! So don’t worry. We’ll definitely find Tiggy no matter what!” Lloyd felt proud then, and brave! He stood up tall, keeping Colette’s hands in his. “That’s just math!”

Her smile back was full of hope at the idea. “Thank you, Lloyd. I’m sorry to always be so much trouble.”

“You’re not! Besides, we’ve gone through this forest so we can do it again-”

Lloyd expected a lot of things, especially in this forest. He expected another creepy noise just at his ear, like a whisper which he swore he had heard a few times now, or the cold wind suddenly blowing and biting at his neck, or even maybe just some scary-looking rabbit to jump out at him – which would at least be familiar to him and something he could fight against.

He didn’t expect the horrific, high-pitched screaming that seemed to echo all around them, from every tree on the path, until it felt like they were surrounded by the sound completely.

Lloyd immediately jumped, tripped over another root, then brought Colette in a protective, but very much shaking hug, looking all around them. “W-w-what was that?!”

Colette blinked, her hair just brushing underneath Lloyd’s chin. She could feel the rapid beating of his heart through his jacket, the warmth of his arms around her back. She almost didn’t want to answer to break this nice moment…

“Hm, was it Tiggy?” At that, she got excited. “Maybe he heard us!”

“That…was not Tiggy! No way was that Tiggy! It sounded like… like a person!” Lloyd slowly panned his head around them, at the trees overhead that seemed to somehow shift in closer, their boughs reaching out like broken arms. “The thief from the story…?” Lloyd shook his head. “No way. That story was fake! …Wasn’t it…?”

“Hm, if it’s not Tiggy, then maybe whoever screamed is with him.” Colette reluctantly pressed her hands against Lloyd’s chest. She didn’t really want to leave this place of warmth in Lloyd’s arms, the safe way he made her feel just then, but when a doggy was in trouble… she couldn’t sit back! “They’re probably both lost. We need to hurry and find them!”

Even though Lloyd’s face looked very pale, and that he couldn’t seem to stop shivering (maybe he was also cold?), he nodded, then took a deep breath. “You’re right… Okay! Let’s go! I even got the Sorcerer’s Ring to help out if any weird plants get in the way!” Such a ring was over his finger, having changed it to give light instead of fire. “It’s a good thing I never gave this back, huh.”

She was always so happy to have Lloyd’s full support. With more confidence than before, Colette headed once again down the path, deeper into the forest. “It sounded like it came from this way!”

“Yeah! Right.. right behind you!”

The blood-curdling scream hadn’t happened again (to Lloyd’s immense relief) but the forest sounds grew louder the more they went in. The creaking of the branches in the wind, the snap of the leaves as they stepped over them on the path, and loud calls from birds that Lloyd couldn’t exactly place… The problem was, it was easy to get lost inside, and soon enough, both found themselves passing by the same fallen tree log to their right for the fifth time in a row.

“I could try to fly up and look around?” Colette suggested, knowing their predicament was not exactly in the best light. “The branches are a little thick but maybe…”

“Wait, don’t leave!” Lloyd instantly squeaked before clearing his throat and smiling like nothing was wrong at all. “I- I mean, with the way this forest is, it’s probably harder to see from up there. Also, we should stick together!” If Lloyd at least had his Rheaird, he could have flown up with her, but he had left it in the wingpack with the others…

“Ah, you’re right! Then maybe we can-” At that, Colette stopped, tilted her head, then turned to her left, looking down past a thick underbrush that deviated off the road.

“Colette? What’s wrong?” Lloyd asked, hands on the hilts of his swords, momentarily forgetting he was scared out of his mind.

“I hear a doggy whine...” She turned to Lloyd with wide eyes, fists clenched near her chest. “I hear Tiggy! He’s frightened, Lloyd!”

Before he could even get a word out, Colette had rushed off, straight into the darkness and in-between two closely-knitted trees.

“Wait! Colette!” He dashed after her in the same direction, trying his very best to ignore Zelos’ stories so that he could stop shaking and run faster! But catching up to Colette proved to be a bit more difficult than he anticipated…

The thing was, when it came to doggies, no matter how big or small, whether nameless or not, Colette could hardly focus on anything else. He watched as she expertly dodged any forest debris on the ground, her clumsiness suddenly vanishing. “Tiggy!” she called out, using her hands to throw out her voice more. “Tiggy! Please come home!”

“T-Tiggy!” Lloyd called out too, a little tired with how much he had to run just to be on Colette’s same pace. Shadows kept dancing at the corner of his eyes, and never was he able to catch their shape as he turned his head. But, surely it was nothing? They’ve already fought weird monsters in this place before… He had no reason to be scared!

And then, at a certain point, Colette no longer wanted to just run. It must have been by instinct, for she summoned her wings with barely a flinch, using them to flutter behind her and float over the dips in the forest floor, over any roots that were too high up.

Colette kept flying faster and faster, until Lloyd nearly lost his breath. Which was odd because he was quite used to running around! But Colette moved so fast! Her dedication to dogs was truly admirable “Hold on! I can’t…fly…”

“Ah, sorry!” Even in her pursuit, she slowed down just a bit, looking back to Lloyd. “But, I think I’m getting closer to him now!”

“Would a dog really run this far out?” he asked, unsure of the answer to his question. Even Noishe wouldn’t wander this far in… But then again, Noishe wouldn’t get close to such a forest in the first place.

“Ah, I see him!” And it was times like these that Lloyd wondered if Colette also had angelic sight along with her hearing! “Tiggy!”

All he could last see was the flutter of her pink wings, quickly swallowed up by the dark as she turned a corner. At the last second, creeping vines and brush covered up the way she had just vanished through.

“No! Colette!” Lloyd’s first instinct was to whack at the vines with his swords, yet the steel bounced off the brush as if it were made of stone. It only took him a moment to remember what he should do instead. With shaking hands and trying to hold one of his swords underneath his arm, Lloyd activated his Sorcerer’s Ring to point the sunlight at the thick leaves. “Come on, hurry up!”

Of course, it didn’t exactly work right away. (It never did!!) First, he held the ring at the wrong angle somehow, and then the ring just wouldn’t turn on, and then the ring had run out of the necessary sunlight, so Lloyd had to go back a-ways to a meager spot where the sunlight beamed through and absorb it through the ring like he was a flower reaching for the sun.

“This thing is so stupid!” he grumbled, then marched back to the vines that were in his way. This time, he directed the ring at the exact right spot, and the leaves retreated into the shadows, giving him room to move through. “That took forever…”

But he had no time to keep complaining! Running as fast as he could, swords unsheathed, he stumbled right into the dark, seeing only the outlines of overhanging trees, the breaks of blue sky overhead… and then pink light.

“Lloyd! Hi!” she waved at him cheerfully from a distance. “Look, I found Tiggy!”

And there she was, with the missing dog cradled in her arms. Paws were hanging upward as she held him facing up, a tongue lolling out of his mouth with happy panting. The two-colored fur coat, of white and gentle brown, let Lloyd know that this was the right dog!

That, and they were both surrounded by a group of monsters that looked quite ready to charge at them.

Even from their distance in the darkness, Lloyd could still see her smile apologetically. “It’s a bit hard to fight them while carrying Tiggy though…”

Lloyd only had a quick second to see what monsters they were dealing with; a couple of those weird looking pumpkin trees, a ghost that looked a bit lonely ( and he was sure it wasn’t the thief’s ghost from Zelos’ story so he could deal with it!) one of the horned animal-skull spellcasters that always spoke so loud, and what Professor Sage had termed a Coffin Master, and with the way they hunched over in their dark shroud where only pinpricks of red light could be seen, they looked as if they would be squashed by the quite literal coffin they were lugging around.

This one was closer to Colette, and was slowly lumbering towards her.

“Watch out!” With a well-timed Demon Fang, he got the Coffin Master to stagger, getting its attention. Lloyd felt his fear leave him. Sure, these things were still really creepy, but if he could fight them, then it wasn’t an issue!

Colette took the opportunity to fly just to the side, closer to Lloyd, then depositing Tiggy back on the ground behind them. “Now just stay right there!” she told it happily as she got out her chakrams. Already the monsters were surrounding them. They’d have to fight their way through to escape!

“I got your back, okay, Colette?” Lloyd said, moving close to her as he held out his swords. “Let’s get rid of these guys and get Tiggy out of here!”

“Okay!” Colette smiled as she was already throwing out a chakram at the spellcaster’s head before he could finish his chant. Lloyd rushed straight at the pumpkin trees that were waddling towards them. It would be harder without the others, but they had this now!

“I wish we didn’t have to hurt them still,” Colette softly spoke, all as she threw a Pow Hammer right at the ghost and making it dizzy from the contact. “Those pumpkins are really cute.”

“Colette, I don’t get how you find these cute! They keep making those weird faces at us!” And Lloyd had carved plenty of pumpkins for the holidays back at Iselia… and even he had never been able to make as scary of faces in his pumpkins as these ones did. He parried one that lobbed one of the massive gourds at him.

“It’s the way they walked! Didn’t you notice?” A flash of Angel Feathers, and the lonely ghost vanished from the angelic magic to be lonely no more.

“It’s kinda hard to…” Another thrust, and finally the last pumpkin tree fell over. But that was when he noticed the lumbering Coffin Master again, heading once more towards Tiggy who had wandered to the left just a bit, sniffing at an errant clump of grass.

“Tiggy, no!” Lloyd rushed over to stand in-between both monster and unaware dog, preparing a strong attack to keep it protected!

He only noticed too late how the Coffin Master turned around – but not to run off.

“Hunting Bea-!” Lloyd’s voice was quickly cut off once a weird tail-like appendage burst out from the coffin that had opened so suddenly, wrapping around his torso. “Ack!”

“Lloyd?” Colette could barely have time to turn, busy trying to ward off the last spellcaster who kept trying to pull off at least one successful magic arte.

Lloyd couldn’t even shout, the air already leaving his body once the tail lifted him off the ground, then dragged him closer and closer to a dark void that was…“Wait wait wait Colette help let me go LET ME GO-”

“Huh?”

“COLETTE!” Lloyd’s voice vanished once he was pulled into the coffin, the lid locking tight with a loud click!

Finally able to defeat the spellcaster who fell to the ground with a loud, “NooOOooo..!” Colette turned around, only to find Lloyd was gone, a few remaining pumpkin trees, and maybe a zombie, in his place. “Lloyd? Where are you? Are you okay?” Maybe he had gotten so scared that he ran away…

That is, until she heard the muffled screaming. It sounded familiar! And it wasn’t too far away!

She turned her head to see the coffin on one monster’s back shake. “Are you in there?”

Another scream, followed by desperate knocking against the lid so much that it shook from its hinges.

“Oh good! I thought you’d gotten lost too!” That was a big relief to her. With a nod, she readied herself for one last thing she’d been preparing for. “Don’t worry! I’ll get you out!”

The coffin kept shaking and screaming. Maybe he couldn’t hear her…

Meanwhile, the dog was still sniffing around and scratching at an occasional itch, but luckily the monsters were no longer paying attention to it. Colette quickly whispered the ritual prayer that she had repeated many times before, her wings lifting her and lighting up the dark forest, all as the remaining monsters headed for her. “Cast thy purifying light upon these corrupt souls… Judgment!”

A dazzling brilliance of magic illuminated the area, making the shadow-soaked plants curl up, and making the dog’s eyes blink a little in surprise. Beams of light rained from above to strike at the mob of monsters, including the one with the coffin on his back.

Once all fell, the coffin fell too – and with the force of its impact to the ground, busted the lid open.

“-OUT LET ME OUT!” Lloyd fell to the grass in mid-shout, panting heavily, still clutching his swords with shaking hands. He looked like he was trying to get something off of him until he realized he was free and no longer confined. His face was entirely pale as he looked around in barely concealed shock. “Wh-wha…I … man…” He dropped his swords, blinked once more, then dropped backwards in a heap.

“Lloyd!” Colette rushed up to him, and so did Tiggy, who caught up to him first and was now curiously sniffing his cheek. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“Not… not physically…” Lloyd heaved out, still trying to catch his breath. “I’m… probably gonna have nightmares for weeks and… not want to be in small spaces for a while… but…that’s okay…”

Colette looked at him with guilt, reaching for one of his hands and clutching it tight. “I’m sorry. I made you come with me…”

“Colette… don’t think that.” He looked to her and to Tiggy who was now pawing at his shoulder like he was holding a secret treat from him. “We found Tiggy. That’s what’s important. I’ll.. be okay!” With his free hand, he held up a shaking thumbs up. “See? No….no problem…”

Still, she worried. His face was as white as Genis’ hair, so much so that she felt compelled to brush her hand against his cheek. At least he still felt warm. “Lloyd, you were so brave for protecting Tiggy.” The mentioned dog was now sniffing her hand along with his face, the feel of his wet nose making her giggle. “I think he knows it too.”

Lloyd’s grin was a little shaky, but it was real. “We can’t let any dog get hurt, can we?” She felt his face press into her hand, though maybe that was just because he was tired. “That’s what I learned from you… and what I admire about you so much, Colette.”

The words sent a flutter through her chest. Even in this dark forest where creepy denizens of the world lived in, she had never felt as warm and as bright as right now. If only she could keep staying in this moment, with both Lloyd and doggy by her side…

A strange cawing echoed above them, and she felt Lloyd flinch. “Er, think we can leave this place actually?” He sat up, though kept close to her as much as he could.

“Oh, of course!” And as she helped him up, making sure to carry Tiggy in her arms so he wouldn’t get lost again, both made their way out of the area and stepped around fallen monsters. “Sheena gave me directions around here earlier, so we shouldn’t get lost!”

“That’s good…” Lloyd still breathed a little heavily, but he held her hand, slightly leaning against her as they walked. “Also, I… think I know where that scream from earlier came from,” he said with a shudder. “We should probably walk a little faster..”

“Yep!” And though Lloyd didn’t expand much further about the scream (maybe when they were with their friends again, she could gently ask him about it) they made their way through the darkness until the break in the forest trees showed them open skies and fresh air.

She was happy that Lloyd would follow her, even into the darkest woods imaginable - but next time, she’d make sure they’d go somewhere with a little more sunlight.

#tales of symphonia #colloyd #lloyd irving #colette brunel #colloydweek2021 #fanfiction #one shot

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awkwardbluefish · 3 years

Text

Hearts of Passion

Summary: Pamela Isley didn't know what to expect when she felt someone else in her orchard. She isn't expecting a skinny kid dressed up as Robin, picking fruit from her trees without a care in the world. He's an interesting Sapling, that was for sure.

Warnings: Swearing

Pamela Isley didn’t know what she was expecting when that distant tug in the back of her mind caught her attention. Someone was in her orchard and that someone was shifting through her garden, through her mind.

Not many people knew that the plants Pamela grew were a part of her. They were attached to her, to her mind and to her very being. She felt them grow, felt them live. She also felt them die. It was never a pleasant experience, and she doubts it ever would be. But now someone was in her orchard, in her garden. They trekked along the grass, boots scuffing at the back of her mind. They weren’t hurting her plants but there was always the possibility. Blood red hair brushes her shoulder as she cocks her head to the side, lips pressing together in a purse as her eyelids hide her irises in a wary slit. Her plants, and therefore her, wanted to investigate, to ease that twitch of curiosity thrumming in their shared veins. What on Earth was this person doing?

Very few people trekked through the groves of Robinson Park. It was common knowledge that Pamela Isley, no, Poison Ivy resided among the vines and moss at the depth of the parks. The only ones that willingly entered Ivy’s mangrove were Harleen and Selina, the two woman Isley has reluctantly grown attached to throughout the years. There were two other visitors her garden has grown familiar with, two which were not welcome but seemed to welcome themselves in either way. Batman and Robin.

Herleen, the idiotic woman, was currently in Arkham. The joker had once again twisted her thoughts, manipulating the blonde in such a way that Harley felt like she had no free will, felt like she couldn’t disobey her puddin’. Isley wasn’t happy, far from it. Despite being a psychiatrist Harley could never seem to pick apart that things mind enough to understand he was using her. He didn’t love her and he never would. Not like she could. If Joker ever came within the range of her and her plants, Ivy would choke him.

Selina and herself were planning to get Harleen out. Normally they wouldn’t go near Arkham with a ten foot pole, but Harleen was family and right now she was being exploited by a man that wanted nothing but chaos and destruction. They had to get her out, to help her. It would take a while and Harley would go through relapses but she was family, their friend, so they would try. For her.

Her mind tugs, pulling in the back of her brain. Her plants were curious, thrumming with energy. The need to know, to touch, to understand flowed through the link with such a searing intensity that Isley felt her pulse buzz and heighten in response. It was clear to her now that this being wasn’t here to hurt her babies, they were searching for something, exploring. Interesting. She lets the vines tug at her mind, their desire to investigate just as intense as her own.

She hums softly, the sound bubbling in her throat and echoing quietly around her. Each step she took were careful but graceful as she follows the tugging on her mind, letting the ebb pull her to the source. Flowers curl around her ankles, a soft sensation enough to tickle at her skin, vines brushing along her collar bone in a warm greeting before retreating, blending in with their own kind. Her babies part for her, green leaves tickling her cheeks as they make an opening for her, a door to the source of their excitement today.

A boy, young and far too skinny and dressed in familiar colours stare up at her, white lenses wide and muscles coiled. This was Robin but the small sapling was new, smaller than the first. It seems Batman has gotten another flower to blossom in his slowly but surely growing garden. Interesting indeed.

A vine curls around her wrists, cold leathery skin reassuring. Ivy doesn’t move, watching the boy with interest. The young sapling had been careful with her babies as he tugged fresh juicy fruit from her trees. Pamela liked this one already. The other Robin was far too energetic, not seeming to care for the babies that provided life to their world. Sure, the first sapling didn’t seek out to hurt her plants, only when he deemed it necessary, therefore when Poison Ivy was using her babies for revenge against the chemical companies. Still, he had hurt her babies so maybe Isley was being bias.

“Those are my fruit young Sapling.” She waves her palm, the vine slithering away from her wrist to wrap around the boys’ basket. An indignant shout escapes the boys lips but Ivy has to give him credit when its due, he doesn’t go after the basket.

The vine places the wooden basket down by her feet. Cherry red apples shimmer under her gaze, as well as blood red tomatoes. What on earth was the young sapling doing?

“You may control the plants but that doesn’t mean you own them!” Robin grumbles, lips twitching into a frown. The boys shoulders were tense, arms crossed tight to his chest. A barrier made instinctively between them, covering his heart as well as other vital organs. Smart. He was subtly defensive, as if to not to trigger her. Now that was interesting. Not that it would do much if Isley wanted to attack.

Isley chuckles, curiosity peaked as she lowers herself to her knees. She reaches into the basket, plucks out a tomato that sinks into her palm. Ripe and just perfect to be eaten. But the boy wasn’t eating, he was collecting. “Oh contrary little sapling. You are right, I do not own these babies or control them. I protect them and they let me. Now would you like to tell me why you’re collecting fruit from my garden?”

Robin frowns, face flushing red, a stark contrast to the black domino resting along his cheekbones. A foot begins to bounce and Isley watches the boy flounder with cool green eyes, seeing his limbs lock up in a freeze, sees his chest raise in slow controlled breaths. He was trying to get control of his anxiety; he was a smart one. He sure did hide his emotions better than the first one, but he was still a child and they were as plain to read as an open picture book. Isley lets him think, rearranging the fruit to prevent bruising. No need to bruise perfectly good food because of the packaging.

“And I should tell you why?” The boy grumbles, a chin jutting out and arms tightening around his chest. Isley snorts softly to herself, understanding the kids’ wariness but finding it amusing all the same. Unlike what the media likes to portray, Isley does not attack innocents, especially children. The first Boy Wonder however hadn’t left her too much of a choice. Its survival of the fittest in Gotham and there was no way she was being sent back to Arkham simply because she wanted to protect and grow her babies. She made sure to never seriously harm the older Robin though. Despite his treatment to her babies, he still managed to wiggle a way into her green heart.

“I’m just curious sapling,” she continues to kneel, willing moss to grow beneath her. There, now that was much more comfortable. “If you have a good reason, I’ll let you take the fruit home. I don’t just let greedy little children take my freshly grown produce only to waste them.”

The boy bristles, shoulders tensing in anger. The arms tighten before throwing down to his side, foot flattening the grass beneath his pixie boots in the stomp of anger. Ivy was expecting his defiance but she assumed it would be on his own behalf. But that wasn’t the case. Robin was angered over someone else’s behalf. Interesting.

“The kids in crime alley aren’t greedy little children!” He roars, words laced in that familiar Gotham drawl Ivy has gotten used to since moving here from Seattle. “They’re just trying to survive! They’ve been left on the streets to die and without nutrients in their systems it’ll be sooner rather than later! They are the farthest thing from greedy when referring to fuckin’ food! Yes, they steal, yes they might be pests but it’s not like food is handed to them on a silver platter like the majority of the people in this selfish city!”

Ivy hums, throat vibrating as a smile pulls at her glossed lips. She stands up, gripping the basket handle as she goes. Robin goes stiff, attempting to cool his features from his righteous fury. It doesn’t quite work but the effort was valiant if nothing else.

“That’s quite a statement little one. A statement I’d have to agree on,” Robins jaw drops and Pamela chuckles, a familiar warmth bubbling in her stomach. She was getting fond of people far too easily these days. “You have passion in this subject so I guess asking your opinion on an upcoming project of mine would be best.”

“What project?” Robin growls and Ivy’s smile goes a little less mischievous and a little more warm. She wasn’t only passionate about plants after all.

She strides forwards, makes her form lax. She didn’t want to frighten the child; she was not about to harm him. Robin still tenses and Pamela can feel his gaze making holes through her body. “I’ve been thinking of this little project for a while now. Of course, if I just begun it without consulting with a trusting authority then it would be a mere waste. I wish to grow fruit and vegetables in crime alley. Of course, that’s only the beginning, I hope to grow food for anyone in need in Gotham where they have free access.”

Isley meets his whiteouts in a gaze, knows the boy is assessing her. His shoulders are tense, muscles once again coiled but he doesn’t run. He doesn’t attack either. He’s interested, hope taught in his form. But he won’t bite, not yet. If he had Pamela would call Batman herself, demanding the boy to be put under more training. To not trust so easily, not without all the details. This sapling was a bright one.

“What do you get out of it?” The kid demands, once again coming in defence to protect the street kids. Interesting. There just had to be some history there. No one was protective of street kids, not unless they were one, had been one or had enough compassion and sympathy that just did not belong in Gotham.

Isley hums, a small smile twisting at her strawberry coated lips. she would have to dig into that later. “What do I gain hmm? I gain nothing. Nothing but being relieved at not seeing children die, to see kids fight over a mouldy piece of bread. If I’m lucky, I’ll also be able to see these children smile, live like the children they are. But I cannot do that by myself.”

Robin doesn’t take the basket, not yet, but Isley can see his form relaxing, melting at her words. He wants this to, with a burning passion that Isley feels towards plant life. It was important to this boy. There was definitely some history there that Isley was just dying to find out. Later though. Right now, was a chance to put her long waiting plan to action. A chance to put her gifts to good, to use her powers in a way the was seen as socially acceptable. There was a need within her that never seem to abate, the need for acceptance. This need couldn’t just be filled by her babies, no matter how hard they tried.

“Why not?” It’s snapped out, words meaning to be harsh but Isley smiles. He couldn’t quite be menacing when the hope in his voice seemed to outshine even the sun. Cute.

“People would stop me. They would believe I was up to something, that I plan on poisoning innocent children or wanted something in exchange. The police would blow up my babies, maybe even arrest some street kids on the way if they were near. Batman would cut up my babies, arrest me too most likely. Despite the medias propaganda, I do truly wish to help.”

Robin’s expression had lifted, lightening during Isley’s small speech. The frown had tugged up, not quite a smile but definitely not a frown either. His head had tilted, much like a curious puppy as she talked, relaxing in an open body posture. He wasn’t tense, wasn’t in defence. He was completely curious, interested. Eager almost.

“To help plants,” Robin points out and Isley smiles.

“They’re one in the same, are they not? I wish to help plants to help people. I wish to help plants to help the Earth. Plants are being killed off and so are the oxygen supplies, the food. Plants are what I’m passionate about but they lead into so many other things.” Isley admits. She always wanted to help people and plants could do that. Humans were too dense to make sense of it, however.

Robin gazes at her, past her walls and her crimes. It was like being truly seen for the first time, by someone other than Harleen and Selina. It was frightening but it also felt undeniably good.

“You really mean it don’t you? You just want to help.” Robin’s expression is open, cheeks flushed and lips parted. He gazed up at Isley in awe, as if she were a one of a kind. She almost felt embarrassed. The kids shakes his head, a grin full of teeth. A smile, full of childish wonder nearly blinds her as he takes the basket from her outstretched palm. “Next time maybe don’t attack big companies? It might do some good for your image!”

Isley laughs, chest rumbling and a warmth coiling its way around her heart. There was no doubt about it, in a few minutes she had grown undeniably fond of this kid, the new Robin. Harleen and Selina would never let her live it down.

“Thanks Dr. Isley! I’ll talk to B-Man and sort something out! Just don’t go attacking anyone and I think he’d be okay with it!” A flutter of a cape and the click of a grabble gun and Isley is alone with her babies once again.

She smiles, pets a vine curling around her wrist. “He’s a cheeky sapling, isn’t he?”

Her babies agree and Isley knows she isn’t the only fond one of the boy.

#robin #jason todd #pamela isley #poison ivy #dc #mine #my writing #not beta read we die like robins #fluff

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eerythingisshaka · 4 years

Text

Weeding It Out

[Groundskeeper!Chris Evans x Reader]

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: just a roll in the hay

Your patience wore thin as you sat in your backyard. The goal before summer set was to get your vegetables planted and sprouting by fall but nothing could be done with the yard overrun by a thicket of poison ivy. Your mother had already gotten her steroid shot after showing you where the best area is to start growing, unbeknownst to her that she waded through a gnarly amount of poison ivy. You saw the blisters form on her arms and neck, you weren’t risking it.

You could use a nap though, feeling your head jerk backwards under the weight of sleep as the afternoon warmth lulls you. But the gardener was supposed to be here an hour ago to spray the necessary elements that kill the weed. If you weren’t so desperate to get it over with you would’ve cancelled long ago but luckily you cleared your afternoon for this.

Your phone dings with a message:

Your groundskeeper, Chris, will be arriving shortly. Please remember to have someone 18 years of age or older present on the property while the maintenance is performed.

“Finally.” You get up and make your way to your front door, noticing a truck parked outside.

You squint through the living room and notice the company name on the side. What he was doing, you couldn’t tell, but you are more than ready to get this show on the road.

You walk towards the truck and knock hard on the passenger window. The burly looking white dude peers over at you and rolls down the window.

“Ma’am?” he asks.

“Yeah, are you Chris? Supposed to have been here an hour ago?”

His face freezes in slow motion, looking at a notebook in his passenger seat and back to you.

“Yeah, sorry about that. The last job-”

“Ok, it’s fine! Long as you come on, I don’t have all day.” You stand outside his truck waiting on him.

Chris squints, anxiously biting his lip. “Ma’am, I gotta do some paperwork first, then I’ll be right with you.”

You bend into the window. “You had over an hour of time to do paperwork. And as a PAYING customer, I expect timely service or I can just find a manager who can serve me better.”

Chris rolls his window up and gets out of the car. This comment may have struck a nerve in him, but you don’t care. He struck your nerve first, why be polite when the rudeness arrived on time by being late.

He goes to the bed of his truck digging out a tool box and some hose contraption.

“You have big arms for a gardener,” you say matter-of-factly to him, lingering your gaze along sculpted mounds that make up his biceps. Of course gardeners lug bags of soil and work with tools and heavy machinery sometimes, but dude was cut.

He closes the back of his truck, stopping short in front of you. “What is that supposed to even mean? You think I just pick flowers all day?”

You raise your hands in surrender. “Isn’t that a compliment in the end? You’re giving this attitude that I cannot be receptive to, despite how pretty you are.”

He scoffs, looking off toward your house. His jawline is strong underneath the chestnut collared beard, it’s so obvious he is fine with or without it. Quite the unicorn. Even his odd length locks give off a vibe that tempted you to pull it back and give those baby blues more spotlight.

“Is the problem this way?” he asks, pointing to the gate leading to the backyard. You nod and follow behind his perky behind.

Entering the backyard, Chris lets out a whistle.

“And remind me how much work I’m doing in this jungle today?” He walks slowly around the overgrown parts, shouldering his way past some vines.

You stammer past your embarrassment. “I have added plants for aesthetic, thank you! All I need is the poison ivy knocked out in that corner. I can’t have that shit turning me into a mess.”

Chris looks back at you sarcastically. “Right, that'll do it. And these are all just weeds-”

“No opinions! Get to work!” You command, sitting back on your wicker seat to watch him work. Chris sets down his box and pulls out gloves, a solution bottle, some handheld clippers, and a mask. Putting it on, he looks toward the corner you pointed out and meanders over there carefully. You can tell he lifts something other than flowers with a wide back like his and shoulders giving you more views than the nature surrounding him.

The ivy falls to the ground as he snips away at it. You sigh happily feeling your ancestors pride at the white man tilling your grounds.

As he pulls out his bottle of solution, hooking it up to a hose he says, “You may want to step inside. This isn’t safe to inhale and any wind could blow it on you.”

You shrug, getting up cheerily. “Fine with me. I needed a drink anyway! Like I said, just don’t get into my other plants please.”

In your fridge you pull out a pitcher of lemonade you made fresh from powder. You pour a glass for yourself and walk back to the sliding glass door to check out his handiwork. Chris certainly came off as a professional, spraying only the necessary amount on certain parts of the plant. His brow furrowed as he kept track of each misting of his equipment, working deeper into the brush.

You hadn’t seen a man of his pedigree in a while. Fit, fine, and fixes shit? That checks your most important boxes of what stirs your pot in a partner. You take a slow sip of the semi sweet drink and let the chill liquid do its work on cooling your thirst as Chris walks back out from the poison ivy area to take his shirt off.

You almost spat all over your glass as you stood further to one side so you weren’t fully visible. As he peels his shirt off, you got the behind the scenes look of what he had to work with. His pants ride low on his hips, exposing the dips in his hips that naturally lead your eyes to what his zipper hides. The feathering of hair that outlines his pecs and down the middle of his stomach forced you to bite your fingernails to keep from reaching through the glass. He folds his shirt hastily in a ball form and tosses it on his toolbox, resting his hands on his hips until he looks over at the other side of your yard. He struts over to some of your vines, showing off his back end some more, giving them a once over before getting down on his knees taking off his gloves and pulling at the roots.

Your instincts jump into action as your set aside your drink and rush over to him.

“Hey! I said no!” When you reach him he is still pulling at the ground. You feel like it’s a trap to tap him on the shoulder since his skin is exposed and you weren’t shy about how you thought he looked earlier, but to hell with it.

Tap Tap. “Chris! You’re ruining my flower bed.”

Chris stops with a huff before looking at your and pulling you by the hand down next to him.

“You haven’t done anything to this ground, have you?” He asks, digging his hands deep into the soil.

You smack off the excess dirt he got on you. “I spread some seeds once a while back,”

He chuckles, stopping to look at you like a lecturing parent. “If that’s how the world worked, it would look a lot like your backyard.”

“My yard is fine! And what do you mean, it’s growing,” you say with a pout.

“No, it’s suffocating. That’s why you need to weed all this, it will overpower what you want to grow and kill it. Look…” he firmly grasps your hand and sticks it in the soil, making you snicker.

“See how dry the top layer is? And I even see some seeds that barely sprouted and aren’t worth growing. But dig a little deeper and you see those roots that are thick and long? Those are weeds. They survive on almost nothing because they parasite off of anything.”

You feel the cool soft soil he dug up, squishing it in your fingers. “That really is nice soil.”

Chris scratches his neck. “Yeah, it’s just bad when you don’t treat it right. I can come back and show you if you want? Make up for the trouble of being late.”

“Thanks, I would like that.”

You both sit in silence a minute, digging around the dirt for weeds and things, running across a snail shell.

“Ooh! Look!” He crawl on your knees toward him holding the delicate artifact. “I loved finding these when I was a kid.” You took his hand and dropped the shell in his palm. “But Lord forbid if I ran across a snail in one, I flipped my wig!”

Chris holds it between his thumb and index finger, looking at you inquisitively. “They don’t bite, you know.”

“I know, they were just slimy and gross. Keep that one, I’ll find another I’m sure.” You get back to tearing into the ground.

“Why did you laugh earlier when I pulled you down? I thought you would snap my head off for putting you in the dirt,” he asks.

“Well I was startled at best, but it reminded me of how my Grandmother taught me about yard work and her flowerbed and shit. I wouldn’t get near it if she wasn’t dragging me to it.”

“And how would she feel about your yard now?” Chris asks with a slight smirk.

“WOW! Yeah she is rolling over in her grave, thanks Chris!”’ You say in a serious tone but smile the whole way through it, bringing out his laugh. “And put your shirt back on, you ain’t that hot out here. I mean, it’s not that hot out here.”

Chris shakes his head. “I didn’t take it off for you...poison ivy can affect you if you touch anything that touched it, hence my shirt.”

You give a guttural laugh. “Uh huh, likely story.”

Chris smacks the dirt off his hands, resolving himself. “Then go get the damn shirt if you’re so confident. See what pops up in the next morning or two.”

You cross your arms indignantly. “I ain’t doing shit for you. You work for me! Think you so cute, probably pull shit like this on old white women but I ain’t-”

Chris pulls you closer to him by your wrists, saying in a tone coming from the depths, “You’re a little stuck up for my taste.”

This sudden change in his demeanor triggered your fight response. You wrangle your wrists free and start to get up but trip on a hole in the dirt, falling partially on Chris as he tries to catch you. You knock some wind out of him as he lets out an oof.

“Ow, shit. Are you ok?” You ask with a wince.

Chris holds you in his arms staring up at you with a wide eyed wonder. You feel his heartbeat under your hands thumping hard.

You look down at his hairy chest and paw at its texture curiously.

“What do you want to do?” he asks.

You plant your lips on his right pec, feeling him inhale against your mouth. You let out a deep satisfied moan for having achieved one desire.

Chris’ hands feel down your back and across your shorts, pulling your upward.

“Take them off,” he commands, helping you with the button and zipper.

You stand over him, pulling down your shorts and panties. “I have wanted to put your face in the dirt since you came here.”

Chris looks up at you with one hand behind his head, smiling. “Oh yeah?”

“But this seems like a better idea, just don’t get cocky about it.” You hover yourself over him before settling knees, sitting your pussy right on his mouth, beard tickling the inner softness of your thighs. You rode your lips over his, using his hair as your reins. His hands grip your cheeks sturdily as he works his tongue over your labia liberally, then finding your center to tongue fuck your walls.

You sit up, resting yours hands on his chest behind you. “If you don’t suck my clit, I swear to God.”

His eyes smile at your before your lips surround your clit and put in the work you required all this time. So much for not getting cocky. You buck against his mouth, fighting your body’s desire to flee from the over stimulation but Chris’ forearms lock your thighs down to keep you in place. Your climax ran over him several times as you shrieked to the sun without a care of who heard.

Before you knew it, Chris rudely flips you off of him, turning you over in the dirt.

“Just so you know the feeling is mutual.” His hand lifts you ass up as you sputter weed clippings from your mouth.

“I knew you weren’t shit,” you say, looking back at his to see him having pulled down his pants, stroking his fully ready member and headed straight for you-

Your phone rings, waking you up from a deep nap.

“Shit! What the fuck!” You curse in confusion as you drunkenly reach for your phone that fell off into the grass.

“Hello!” you say loudly.

“Yeah, sorry for the late arrival, but I am at your front door. This is Chris with the grounds keeping company.”

You almost drop the phone and run to the door. How was that dream so vivid to not be real?

You peek through the front door but the guy is facing away, so you open it reluctantly.

“Sorry, I dozed off there,” you say meekly.

The deja vu you feel when he turns around almost knocks you backwards. The same hair, beard, wide shoulders. But this time he was a lot more smiley on introduction.

“Hi I’m Chris. You needed help with your back garden?” he asks.

You lick your lips, put on a smile and ask, “Yes. But how about a drink first?”

Masterlist

Tag

@chaneajoyyy

#chris evans x reader #shakafic

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stereksecretsanta · 3 years

Text

Merry Christmas, negativenorth!

For @negativenorth <3

Read On AO3

*****

This is Our Last (First) Christmas

The Hale Pack survived junior year. Miraculously. The troubles that surrounded them sophomore year brought on by their sacrifices to find their parents were increased by the cleansing ritual in the spring Stiles and Deaton did. It cleansed the Hale Territory-including Beacon Hills and the Preserve-The Pack, the air, the ground, even the humans of all the remaining darkness; reawakening the hibernating Ley Lines and brightening the light of Beacon Hills.

The summer was strangely terror-less. Deaton explained the cleansing happened like and earthquake, the energy radiating out and it would take some time until the epicenter was found but once things found it, everyone would tune into it. The Hale Territory was highly desired by many supernaturals for many reasons. Derek (under the advisement of Stiles) began a training regiment for the pack, humans included. Derek focused more on the wolves-Scott, Jackson, Danny, Isaac, Erica, Boyd, and Ethan and Aiden-who deflection helped defeat the Alpha pack and Derek welcomed in with open arms. The humans trained too, but with Melissa on first aid and field trauma medicine and Chris and John with hand to hand and gun and knife combat training. Stiles had added training with Deaton on magic. Eventually, The wolves joined the humans.

"Why do we need medical training?" Isaac asked, diligently paying attention to proper stitching technique.

"If something happens, yeah you may heal but that doesn't solve blood loss. Or if a human is out. Or you needed to be inconspicuous about lycanthropy. Technically you don't exist." Stiles said. "Or a broken bone that heals wrong."

"He's not wrong. I agree." Derek chimed in.

"You're only agreeing because-"Erica was cut off by a hard nudge to the ribs from Allison and a heated glare from Scott. Stiles was confused but let it go, only to silently agree with the Mate-Marks on their right arm-a vine of bright red thorny roses.

"Well, if Mom says and Dad agrees then I guess we have no choice." Jackson sneered. Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Excuse me for wanting you to stay alive, dipshit. These aren't bad skills to have in general even. My first aid saved your fucking ass more than once." Stiles practically snarled. This pack was made up of his friends but that didn't mean they were easy to get along with. Jackson opened his mouth to retort but was cut off by Lydia's hand on his arm. Stiles always smiled softly when he got a glimpse of their Mate-Mark behind their ears, the chemical formula C43H66N12O12S2 also known as oxytocin.

A week during the fall of junior year, Stiles felt a chill go down his spine. One of the wards he spent several long days putting up with Deaton's teaching had been triggered. He had put up a dozen or so of varying intent, getting stronger and closer together the closer to Derek's loft they got. Stiles had a list in his journal of placements to recharge them if needed but Deaton had told him with his Spark and use of Ley lines, they will stay charged and operational until removal. Stiles texted to Derek to warn him of the visitor and he with Boyd checked it out.

That was the first of almost weekly trespassers of the creatures-that-go-bump-in-the-night variety. The pack had their training, their strength, their determination to survive but they didn't have their teamwork, their trust, their knowledge to win. Stiles and Lydia and occasionally Allison worked to compile as much information as possible from Deaton and Chris and Derek and independent research as possible. The Pack grew smart but they still couldn't click, they used too much brawn not enough brain.

"You would think, with werewolves needing packs, they would innately understand teamwork." Stiles said. He was at the Argent's house looking at few of Chris's books. He had become more helpful since Allison and Scott finally told him the truth about their Mate-Marks. He didn't like it but he know helped as much as he could knowing that was the only way to get his daughter safe.

"You have to remember Stiles, they may be werewolves now but they are teenagers first. High schoolers. Derek isn't that much older than you all. You somehow see the bigger picture but they can't." Chris said.

"I have always had to see the big picture. No one else was looking at it at the beginning. I was trying to keep everyone alive, not just-"Stiles cut himself off. "You are so right. You always have the best ideas." Stiles sagged a little with relief. He was glad he'd been able to convince Chris to help them, join them. "I have to go." Stiles left the kitchen, uncharacteristically leaving the books scattered on the table. He hopped into his jeep and headed straight to Derek's loft.

"Derek, are you home?" Stiles opened the door to the loft with the only spare key Derek ever made.

"Hey, Stiles. Surprise seeing you here, everything okay?" Derek popped out from the kitchen. "I am making dinner, care to join me?"

"Oh, that would be nice. Everything is okay, I just have something to talk to you about." Stiles sat at the island rubbing a thumb against the glass Derek handed him and the other rubbed the spot behind his ear.

"Okay. If you are this serious then it probably has some merit." Derek said. Stiles felt proud of the growth Derek had gone through. He had become a better man and Alpha since the pack had grown and settled and he was able to grieve properly. Stiles, however was confused at his statement. Derek looked up to see Stiles looking back with his head tilted and eyes narrowed. "You have tells just like the rest of us. You may know all of ours but you don't know your own. You have gotten good at lying to us weres but you forget that some of us? We know you. Like me, you rub behind your ear when you are thinking about something and it may upset the balance of things." Derek explained. Stiles didn't know how to answer, wasn't sure what to say, Derek studied him? It made sense in Stiles' head, at the beginning Derek needed to know everyone's angle even his.

"I didn't know that." Stiles said. He decided to ignore the other parts Derek said until later. "I know as a pack we have strengths and weaknesses. We need to work on those weaknesses, our biggest one? Teamwork. This pack is holding the strongest territory in the Northwest right now, and it is made up of young werewolves and several humans and a Banshee who all happen to be teenagers in high school. We had a social hierarchy and it worked until you bit several of them. Now they have to relearn that, everything is discombobulated causing tensions, and second-guessing and we may have survived until now but eventually that won't be enough. We may be a pack but we won't be a family until that happens." Stiles paused realizing how that sounds. "Not that I want to replace yours. I just want-I don't mean to-I get it. I don't want you to be alone anymore." Stiles finally spit out.

"I know what you mean. I would never think that you of all people are trying to somehow push away my family. You have too much resect for others to even think that." Derek said. His face was relaxed and open, the skin around his eyes wasn't even tight. You probably love hearing this from me, even though I say it a lot. You are right. We don't know each other well enough to know what we'd risk for each other. So what is your idea?" Derek turned back to the stove.

"What makes you think I have an idea?" Stiles asked. Derek just threw a look over his shoulder at the young man.

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't have an idea." Derek said.

"I was thinking of having the pack rebuild your house. It would give them a safe common goal and outlet. It would reestablish your territory ad strength pack bonds and the bond with the land. it would give us a den. I know I just said I don't want to replace your family. And that is true. I don't want to because I know I can't. I can however make the pain less, the burden lighter and you happier. We can do this together Derek. Me and you. like always.

"I. I will think about it." Derek said very slowly. Stiles nodded. Derek said nothing else, instead finished up dinner and Stiles took it as a sign to get place settings ready and switch to lighter topics.

The winter of junior year was made up of blood, sweat, tears, anger, resentment, claws, teeth, bullets, arrows. The pack was surviving, but barely. Stiles could see the fault lines forming, the glares more frequent. He never pushed Derek, only waited and hoped. He knew that the Hale Pack had the potential to be amazing once again, but only if they worked for it.

The spring of junior year bloomed with hope, filled with finals college preparation and a wendigo or two. March came and went but April came in like a lion. Derek had made his decision, rebuilding the Hale Manor is needed and would do them some good. The pack had too many issues amongst themselves to work through, if they didn't settle as a whole and members of that whole, then more people would die and the pack would fall apart. Derek's decision came instinctively, The young betas had been arguing over who was to land the first hit, the baddy of the week threw Erica into a tree skewering her on a branch. Derek saw it happen in slow motion, anger thrumming in his veins. That second she impacted the tree Derek knew. He would make a pack out of these teenagers or die trying. They needed the pack as much as he did.

Derek stood over his pack watching them cuddle each other from a distance. They were on the floor of the loft spread out, but unable to ignore the need to touch. Lydia had a leg curled with Allison, tucked under Jackson arm. Isaac bridged the space between Erica and Boyd and Scott and Allison. Stiles was sitting at the island still working. Always working. Derek had actively tried to not look at Stiles, the few glances he allowed had the same results, heart pounding breath catching results. Stiles had showered and was wearing a pair of sweats he'd left here some day and a shirt of Derek's, who's scent of pine and leather mixed deliciously with Stiles' own scent of lemon and honeysuckle. Derek was glad the rest of the pack was sleeping, unable to witness him softening. Stiles was the only one to bring it out. He sat down next to Stiles, pulling his feet into his lap, rubbing lightly.

"I've been thinking...about what you said a while back." Derek couldn't look at Stiles. He instead focused on his feet. "About rebuilding."

"Oh? Did you come to a decision then?" Stiles kept his face turned to the books in front of him, side-eyeing Derek. He knew that staring would only cause Derek to shut down harder. Stiles could feel his heart pounding, knew Derek could hear it but tried to project calmness.

"Yeah. I did. I want to do it. I need to do it. The last step of grieving and the first step of acceptance. This pack needs a fresh start. You are right, like always. I only want to do this if you help me every step of the way. I can't do this by myself. I don't trust anyone else to help." Derek admitted. Stiles beamed. The absolute joy and pride on his face made Derek almost forget that he had just agreed to tear down the last standing reminder of his family.

As if Stiles could read his mind, "They'd want you to be happy. I would be honor to help you.

The decision to rebuild the house triggered something in Stiles. He began working with Deaton, honing his sputtering spark into a full-fledged flame. Deaton was impressed with his strength, commenting the flame was more like an inferno. Stiles did his school work on top of learning magic and keeping a pack of rag-tag teenagers alive. Deaton explained that Sparks were common but without proper training burned out, with proper training Sparks became witches or varied magic users, they often became emissaries to those in need or ran shops. The idea of being a pack emissary resonated with Stiles and that became his goal. He learned moon phases, herbs, spells, enchantments, crystals, sigils, runes, ancient languages. As he learned, he wasn't the only one to grow emotionally. The pack began to pull down the old Hale Manor. Piece by piece, they pulled it down. The beginning was hard-insult were thrown without care for where they landed, more than one fight broke out usually but they worked together and talked and learned about each other. The insults lost their thorns, the glares lost their heat and the smiles lost their fangs.

During the days between the too-hot spring days and the too-cold summer days, the last dumpster full of the remains of the Hale Manor vanished down the road. Derek watched feeling numb. Stiles stood by in quiet solidarity. All that was left was the scorched earth and a smattering of rubble, the grass was stained gray from ash and fire, the foundation crumbling into itself. There would be a specialist coming to demolish and redo the foundation, that was something Derek requested. The two men looked at the now empty clearing, Stiles pretended not to notice the trembling of Derek's fingers. Stiles simply took his hand in his and pulled him down to sit, letting Derek lean against him and grieve.

"No one likes it when strangers speak for those who you have lost. I know I hated it. I also know what it is like to an extent." Stiles paused. "They would be proud of you. You were in a down really low, and you brought yourself back. You did it." Stiles pressed himself into Derek's bulk.

Thanks. It has meaning coming from you. I know you understand. You know loss, not like Scott. You don't pretend to be unaffected like Jackson." Derek sat for a bit, letting the Stiles' strength soak into his bones. He wasn't alone anymore. He could do this. He wasn't 16 again pushing away Laura in a fit of survivor's guilt. He had Stiles. He had his pack. "Now what?" Derek turned to face Stiles, looking like as lost as a child after a nightmare.

"Now we build your house. Together." Stiles said. "And watch YouTube. Lots of it."

The summer between junior and senior year was the best Stiles had in a long time. He and his mother always had adventures and busy days. Then one year it was just him and Scott. It was only the two of them for years, neither popular enough for summer plans. The others in the pack in similar circumstances. Allison didn't stay around long enough to make plans and Lydia and Jackson's families made plans without consent. Stiles and Derek read and watched and googled for hours before getting the materials. The did it step by step from framing to electric to plumbing to hanging drywall to building stairs to putting in windows. Derek bought the supplies, secretly pleased that the insurance, investment, assess money was getting some use, not just growing interest, coming into several millions of dollars was daunting without a purpose especially when part of the blame fell on his shoulders. With every step of the way, Stiles and Derek worked together to make the idea into a house into a home. Stiles layered charms and spells and enchantments and runes and straight ingredients into everything. Protection from water, fire, illness, bad luck, ill-intent, accidents, death, and anything Stiles could think of was woven into every step, from the frame to the paint. The house was built by Stiles and Derek for the pack, for the future, for each other.

"Derek, we need a bigger kitchen. And I think a mudroom will be a good investment with a lever handle door. We have a nice entrance way, where people came come in and hang up their jackets and put away shoes but the back entrance doesn't have anything." Stiles was looking over the blueprints with Derek. He was making notes for when they finalized some decisions.

"Why?" Derek asked.

"You will be housing a pack of teenage/twentysomething werewolves. You need a big enough kitchen and matching pantry to feed a small country." Stiles said, still scribbling notes.

"No." Derek growled. He was running out of patience. He wanted to make this house with Stiles but everyone seemed to have an opinion on something. Which would be fine it he had asked, or if there was some logic but the majority was just annoying.

"You don't want a big kitchen? I mean it is your house." Stiles looked confused but his voice seemed blank, undermined by his pounding heart and cold brittle scent of sadness.

Derek wanted to growl but held back. Derek didn't want to push him away. Derek liked how close they had been getting, his wolf was pleased as well. His wolf had been unusually attached to the young man since the beginning and was originally satisfied but as time went on both Derek and his wolf wanted more and more, not sure what they were asking for. The concern for Stiles' wellbeing, high sensitivity to Stiles' emotion and heartbeat, The willingness to entertain Stiles' commentary and personality and enjoy it, his gaze lingering on Stile' fingers and throat, reveling in the challenges he offered all resonated with Derek as signs pointing to Stiles being his mate but if that was true they would have Mate-Marks.

"It is our house." Derek said. It was all he could give right now, a house where Stiles could be relaxed and happy, Derek would have to accept what he had for right now.

"So, yes big kitchen?" Stiles looked up, Derek just stared back waiting. "Oh! The lever handle is so you can open it with paws."

That is humiliating. And smart. Make it so."

"You did not just make a Star Trek: The Next Generation reference. Are you a closeted nerd?" Stiles poked Derek in the ribs, peering at him suspiciously. Derek stayed silent, glad Stiles couldn't hear his pounding heart. Stiles laughed, head tilted back, cheeks crinkled and mouth open. Derek could only stare and memorize the moment, proud he got Stiles to laugh that easily. Derek could hear the thoughts in his soul: mine, claim, mate. The possessiveness and softness was happening more and more but only around Stiles, further adding to the mate checklist. Derek just enjoyed the moment.

Come on. Let's finish this. I do eventually want to move in, ya know?" Derek tapped the paper with a single claw, trying to remind Stiles-ineffectually-he could rip his throat out with his teeth.

The weekend before senior year found the pack piled in the living room of the recently finished Hale Manor. The pack was well-protected and well-stablished now with Stiles' magic and the 'den' and the bonds that were solidified over the summer. Deaton said the terrors of the years past will not go away but would drastically slow down. The Hale Territory was claimed and the others would understand innately. The plan worked, the band of high school students thrown together by happenstance became a pack, a family. And it showed, in moment like this. They were tightly woven together on a bed of pillows and blankets with a Disney movie playing softly on TV. Stiles looked on and felt his chest warm and his heart flutter. He pulled out his phone and making sure the shutter and flash were off took a few pictures, trying to shove away the sadness and nostalgia. He had been slightly obsessed with taking photos lately, needing proof that the pack had come together, they now had a home not only physically but in one another too. He had done it, he had somehow kept them alive through all the bullshit. They only had one year left together and he didn't want to look back and regret not capturing the memories or being unable to remember the normal days. One day, a year from now he would look up and realize everyone had scattered like seeds on the wind, he wanted to remember. Stiles got up from the chair he was curled up in, he was feeling melancholy didn't want to ruin the mood. Even Derek was on the edge of the puppy pile. He decided to use his favorite goodbye tactic he borrowed from the Irish.

"I can hear you thinking too hard from over here. Come join us. Get comfy. And we can talk, I know something is on your mind." Derek ungracefully shoved the others to make room. It isn't pack night if one person leaves."

Fine." Stiles was a sucker for the pack card. He knew he was pack but not being a wolf meant he couldn't feel the bonds as strongly as the others so he needed reminded sometimes. Stiles slipped in between Derek and the pack, thoughts like: safe, pack, mate, mine. After a few seconds Derek pinched him lightly. "I just don't know hat I am to do next. I did what I was supposed to do. I kept Scott alive, I helped you, I healed the land, solidified the pack. My job is done. This time next year, the pack might be tossed across the country and then what? We come back for weekend and holidays? For how long? Then we just fall apart and I never have this again? I made this family just like each of them did. I can't lose another one." Stiles felt his stomach drop at the cold, bitter, sharp feeling his own words gave him.

"That isn't how this works. A pack this established only gets stronger. No one gets out. There may be distance but not much and not for long. We are too new of a pack for that. You certainly don't get to leave, you are my emissary. You are connected to me and the pack and the land. Don't force ties to break when you don't know the future. There is time, there are options. Enjoy now, before fretting about the future. Talk to them, You'd be surprised to hear you aren't as alone as you think." Derek pulled Stiles closer, tucking him tightly into his embrace. "That is why you get sad after taking photos. You think old memories are all you will have left."

"I would rather leave then be left. I have grow weary of being left." Stiles tried to shrug.

"Don't look too far ahead, you'll miss the now. Make memories to enjoy the moment not resign yourself to only having memories." Derek said. Stiles nodded and snuggled closer, Derek's body heat and voice rumbling in his chest soothing his anxiety. "Go to sleep, Stiles. I'll be right here."

Fall of senior year was calm, content. Stiles and Lydia and Danny were in a heated competition for valedictorian, a contest that was a secret to everyone in school but no one in the pack. Some filled out college applications like Danny, Jackson, Lydia. Some decided to go the technical route like Erica, Boyd. Isaac and Scott were looking at community college. Stiles adopted a forget about it and it doesn't exist attitude. He often pulled out pamphlets or packets only to sort them into piles and then put them away again. He changed the subject when asked about anything dealing with after senior year. The closest he got to talking about it was with Derek one day, by themselves hanging out on a Friday night. He told Derek, he liked magic and the supernatural and being a witch, he might open a shop, take over for Deaton who wanted to be a vet and only a vet. That was the last time he seriously spoke about it. The pack spent full moons together, running and eating dinner and then a sleepover. Slowly each pack member added their own things to the house, a blanket here, a favorite mug there, A sweatshirt draped over a chair, a forgotten pair of shoes left by the front door. Stiles took pictures and cleaned and tutored. He talked a lot without saying much. Derek knew something was on his mind.

"I want you to come over tonight. I told everyone to stay away. We have some things to talk about." Derek texted him one day in October.

Stiles went over, slouched over like the weight of the world rested on his shoulders. Derek felt sympathy for the kid.

"Stiles, I know you have been struggling a bit. Understandably so. A lot has happened these past few years. I want you to sit here with me, all night if we have to, and talk over your options. I want you to do what you want to do. I know your dad wants you to go to college and I know you want to open a shop. I think you can do both, and with the way the world works, I think you could make it work. I would gladly help, we can build you a small shop here or something." Derek said. Stiles sagged, eyes lit with relief.

"You don't think it is a dumb idea? Magic isn't well known, and I won't be successful." Stiles said.

"You are right, But people from all over will come if you are good. You will gain a following. I believe you would be a great successor to Alan, if you so choose. I will gladly help you get to that point." Derek said.

"What? I don't even know what I am doing." Stiles rubbed his face. "I can't let you...support me while I decide what I want to do."

"You are running out of time. You didn't hold me up in a pool for two hours for me for me to not learn what kind of person you are. You already made up your mind. You have helped me over and over and over again. Let me help you!" Derek demanded. Stiles threw up his hands, groaning loudly.

"What do you want me to say? That I want to learn all that I can to help you be the best alpha you can be? of the best pack we can be? And if I help other people with things around town or even farther, that would be perfection? That I have no idea what I want to do, but I can't see myself going to university and getting a typical 9-5 job and having 2.5 kids? That you coming in all dark and broody ruined me for all normalcy." Stiles ranted. He was gesturing wildly, pacing in short burst.

"Yeah. That is all I want. Feel better?" Derek, pulled Stiles close, rubbing his nose into his hair. Stiles leaned against him, this time borrowing strength.

"A little. I am glad I finally got to say it aloud. now I have to convince my dad." Stiles said. Derek squeezed him in a side hug.

"We have to convince your dad. You aren't alone, I'm not going anywhere, ever, We're a team." Stiles smiled softly and nodded, relaxing into Derek's grip.

The days and nights grew colder, the wolves handing full moon runs when the humans got the food, hot chocolate and movies ready for their return. Or rather Stiles did, the others just laid about, studying or figuring out how to move into Derek's house without their families noticing. November was quickly finishing and Stiles' favorite time of year was approaching. He had already pulled out the containers of decorations for his own house, trying to figure out how to bring it up to Derek. He wanted to have a pack Christmas, wanted to go out and pick out a tree together, and hang the garlands and argue over where the lights go on the tree, hang up ornaments and behind everyone's back rearrange them. He wanted to get presents for everyone, wrapping them with paper and ribbons and bows.

"Stiles, is something burning?" Scott said coming into the kitchen, kissing Allison on the temple. The other Mates sharing in similar displays of affection. Jackson and Lydia cuddling on a large chair, Erica and Boyd sharing a chaste kiss. Derek walked up to Stiles simultaneously pulling the pan of bacon off the stove and trailing a hand down his jaw to latch into his hair.

"Shit! The bacon. I was distracted. Sorry. It should be fine, I am mixing it to make perogies for you tomorrow. Its Sunday after all." Stiles said softly. He still looked a million miles away, Derek pulled him around ducking slightly to make eye contact.

"Stiles, is something the matter? Are you okay?" Derek asked. After they talked about Stiles' future Stiles had been coming to Derek more and more for support. Derek was more vocal with his thoughts, trying to verbalize emotions. The pack was close, a family but only because the two of them were a solid unit. They knew each other in and out.

Stiles looked nervous, like he didn't know how to ask. Derek just raised an eyebrow. "I want to decorate for Christmas. Here. I want to go and pick out directions and a tree and argue over lights and rearrange the ornaments when no one is looking. I want to agonize for days over the prefect presents. I want to do that, if you are okay with that." Stiles said, in a round of word vomit.

"Okay. I want that too, I was going to ask soon, you just beat me to the punch. How about we pick a day after Thanksgiving to pick out a tree and maybe you can come with me a few days to pick out Christmas decorations, without the children." Derek huffed a laugh into Stiles' temple. "This is your house too, You'll be here just as much as I will be. I want you to do what makes you happy."

"Okay. I'd like that. We can talk about it more later. Let's eat and then tomorrow we can look at some ideas, I want you to be the end all, end all on decisions." Stiles beamed at Derek. He went back to making dinner, leaving the slightly burnt bacon cool off to the side.

Thanksgiving was spent with their families, Derek did join the Stilinksi and McCalll's and Isaac for the big meal, finalizing plans with Stiles on decorations and tree-hunting. They decided on a red, green, gold scheme and more traditional type decorations, simple and minimalistic. Stiles used his internet skills to get some deals on older decorations on craigslist and facebook. They had a few pick-ups scheduled and the time for tree-hunting at a local christmas tree farm. Derek's only request was it had to be a big tree.

The pack three days later met up and began discussing trees. They were all in agreement, for a tall bushy tree but they couldn't pick a species until an employee showed them the examples and explained the difference. Three hours later and they finally agreed on the perfect tree and were on the way to the house. Stiles made them help him put it up right away so it warms up and the branches drop. The pack then scatters and Stiles and Derek head out and got decorations.

Derek watched Stiles spend the next few days putting the inside decorations in places. Derek helping with a comment here or there, but staying quiet, enjoying having someone to share the holiday with. "Thank you Stiles. I am glad, even though we've been through some shit together, that I have met you. I found myself because of you. I am glad that you are happy here with me." Derek told him.

"Me too. I feel safe here with you. Like I belong here, with you." Stiles said. "I know that wolves have mates obviously when they get introduced to each other, but sometimes when I am with you...you look at me and see me and I feel you..." Stiles shook his head.

"I do too. I am more attuned to you and your scent and heart than anyone in the pack. I can only chalk it up to you doing what would be my mate's job if I had one. I am not sure Stiles but I am not mad about it. Maybe after the holidays we can figure it out." Derek said.

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan." Stiles agreed.

The almost confessions triggered something, Derek became more tactile and protective than ever towards Stiles, Stiles made sure the betas were fed and the house was clean and tutored when needed and gave advice. They had been a unit before but now, Stiles and Derek were barely apart, only for school hours. Stiles' dad at one point asked if he was moving in and Stiles took that as permission and did just that (practically) moved in and also used the opportunity to tell John about his post-school plans. John was hesitant and needed some time to think it over before he could agree and support his son. Stiles did as promised and agonized for days what to get each of his friends. He meticulously wrapped each and every one of them. The one that took the longest to put together was the most important.

Stiles had learned many things over the last two and half years, about the world, himself, his hometown, his local vet. One of those things was his most important secret-he had been in love with Derek Hale for two of those years. It wasn't anything grand or extreme, one day Stiles saw him smile at a joke and decided he needed to do that all the time. Stiles knew that Derek needed somebody in his corner and chose to be that person. He didn't know spending all that time with his dry humor and caring nature and supportive personality would result with him falling in love with the older man but he wouldn't change anything that happened for anything in the world. 'except getting his real family back.'Stiles thought. 'That is it! A photo album. The Hales are a very old and well known family, there should be some photographs floating around.'

Stiles got to work. He went to the library and school paper archives, pulling out back issues of newspapers and yearbooks. He called into several nearby packs, opening the Hale pack up to negotiations in the future and even searched through Beacon Hills residents photos to find any and all of the Hale family memories. He also searched the star registry for a bright one towards the north and named it Talia Hale, so Derek would be able to find a guiding light for the rest of his life.

Stiles spent days putting the album together, finding near 75 photos and newspaper clippings for it. He also framed the star certificate and got a observatory to take very good photos of the star. and framed those as well. He was so focused Stiles forgot that his dad told him family was coming over. He obsessed over ever little detail for his present.

Derek did not fare much better. He had decided on a two part present for Stiles as well. One was a greenhouse/workshop Derek was having built for Stiles and a small business front to turn into a shop. Derek bought the shop and added Sties name to the deed so it was legally his. The greenhouse was going to be built in the spring so it could be used over the summer. Derek knew it might be too much for a friend but Stiles saved his life. Without Stiles, Derek would be alone and devastated and family-less. He fell in love with the whiskey eyes and contagious laughter and selflessness and love and compassion. They may not be Mates but Derek wanted no one else with him in the future, not only as a pack member or an emissary but even more than that. Derek kept his feelings a secret not wanting to push Stiles away.

The 23rd of December was the pack Christmas day. They had a wonderful breakfast and were in their PJ's getting settled and waiting for everyone. Everyone go a seat and the presents were sorted. They went in a circle.

"Derek, can you open my last? I...um..." Stiles said. Derek nodded not commenting on the obvious nerves.

"Only if you open mine last too." Derek said. Stiles nodded smiling gratefully. They went around and opened presents; clothes and make up and a few books for the girls, the boys got video games and comics and clothes. Honestly it was a good first Christmas as friends.

all that was left was Derek's present from Stiles and vice versa. The pack watched in silence. Neither moved.

"Please go first." Stiles pleaded. Derek looked between the presents left on his lap and Stiles. Derek picked up what Stiles knew to be the album. Derek gently pulled the paper off pausing in confusion. He looked up at Stiles again who waved at him to continue. He opened the book, the front page being a family picture of the Hales for the work Talia did to create the preserve.

"Stiles, is this..."Derek couldn't finish.

"Yeah It is. A Hale Pack photo album. Took me a while to make it. Think it was an idea even before I knew it." Stiles explained. Derek thought of the all the photos Stiles had taken recently and flipped to the back pages, glossy photos of his current family lined the pages. The last phot was a picture of him and Stiles cuddling on a pack night, the note below was in Allison hand, You both deserve love and happiness no matter who it comes from..

"Thank you Stiles. Thank you." Derek knew somehow in his soul, that was Stiles showing his love for him, without saying. Words took courage, and that wasn't easily found in front of others. "Open yours. The bottom one. Please."

Stiles did as he asked, opening the bottom one, a square shaped box. He opened it to see a copy of a building deed sitting in tissue paper. "Der-Derek. You didn't...Not the-" Stiles' voice broke. He scent blooming with tears and pleasure.

"That place on Pine you've been dreaming about for two months? Why, yes it is." Derek tried to play it off as funny.

"This isn't funny. I told you I didn't want you help." Stiles tried to sound stern. Derek only shook his head.

"I told you to let me help. I did. Also it is technically half mine. But you have a place now. You can actually do it." Derek said. The pack made noises of confusion.

"I am not going to university. I am doing online classes but I am opening a magic shop and taking over for Deaton and becoming Hale Pack Emissary. Derek just bought my dream location." Stiles announced to cheers from the pack. Stiles knew in that moment that is how it felt knowing someone loved you enough to give you want you needed not just what you wanted. He knew how it felt to know someone loved him enough to stand with him not out of obligation but actual love and desire to do so.

They opened the other presents with similar reactions.

"A greenhouse? Seriously? and a workshop?" Stiles was dumbfounded.

"You named a literal star after my mother. A. Star." Derek was flabbergasted.

The rest of the pack sensed it was time to leave, the two men had a lot to discuss-least of all their emotions. The pack began piling out trying not to overhear the conversation.

"Derek, I can't accept this. I really can't. It may be all I ever wanted but I can't let you give it to me. We talked about this, I am filling in. If I was meant to be this important, we'd be mates." Stiles said.

"You aren't a fill in. Do you think I would give you up for someone I don't know? I would never. No relationship will ever be more important than our to me. You say this is all you ever wanted? You can have it!" Derek said.

"This isn't something I can take, you may change your mind, or find someone better. This is something to dream and hope for. Let me dream and hope, so I don't get hurt." Stiles sounded sad and broken. Derek made a soft wounded noise.

"You are it for me. I built you a goddamn house Stiles. I tore down my last memory of my family for you. We have almost died for each other too many times to count for you to back out now." Derek said. Stile growled and shuffled trying to think of an argument. He was saved by his dad coming down the road in a hurry. The pack was spilled on the porch trying to look like they hadn't been listening.

"Scott, where is Stiles?" John called. Stiles and Derek came out at the sound of his voice. "Mieczyslaw Stilinski! You were supposed to by home an hour ago! We have family coming in today remember!" John yelled, standing against his open car door.

"I'll be right there!" Stiles blanched. "I can't believe I forgot." He turned to Derek. "We aren't done here, mister."

"Your first name is really Mieczyslaw?" Derek asked. He didn't want Stiles leaving while angry, it made it anxious.

"Yep! Mieczyslaw Stilinski. Please to meet you Derek Hale!" Stiles understood what Derek was going for without him saying like most times.

"Please to meet you too." Derek chuckled before a sharp pain brought him and Stiles to their knees.

Several painful minutes later, Stiles was laughing hard enough he had tears streaming down his face. He left hand was clamped over his shirt collar, knuckles white. Derek stared openmouthed. John and the rest of the pack stood confused and worried.

"Did what I think happen just actually happen?" Scott asked.

"We'd never been formally introduced. Definitely not with my first name. Mate-Marks only form when properly introduced." Stiles moved his hand to show the large wolf print marking his upper chest and collarbone.

Derek laughed. and laughed and laughed before swooping down and pressing a slightly desperate kiss onto Stiles' lips. "Guess we won't have to discuss the shopfront or greenhouse later, mate." Derek grinned goofily at Stiles who could help but smile back just as dopey.

"Guess not" Stiles said. "I guess not."

Both of them could feel the calmness and happiness in their souls for finding their mates. Derek's wolf stopped shifting anxiously as it had been for months, finally calming down for Derek to relax. Both of them filled to the brim: safe, mate, mine, forever.

#negativenorth #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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