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writtenbyvenus · 4 years

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What We Do In The Shadows

Werewolves and vampires: two species that are mortal enemies. But in a small town in Upstate New York, they seemed to find a way to co-exist by staying out of each other's way and minding one's business. However, the dynamics of the local pack of werewolves and coven of vampires would change when a certain pair got too close for comfort. Alfred is an over seventy-year old werewolf posing as local law enforcement, while Ivan is a centuries old vampire working at a blood bank. Both try to get through the struggles of being immortal creatures, who find themselves in a cultural and family struggle when they fall for each other. Between an anti-vampire pack leader, suspicious in-laws, and a death that could nearly tear two families apart, the pair questions if a relationship is a reality, or if they are too much baggage they carry.

Chapter 1: How To Get Blood Stains Out

Ivan checked the time, it always moved expediently quick, so fast that a whole hour slipped between his undying fingers. It was inevitable, the changes in wardrobe, the action of scenery. Recently, he and his sisters had moved off and out of the country. With the endless amount of time in their collective hands, moving was simply vacation. They've spent twenty short years bundled up in the upstate part of New York together. As the only living company they own, it was only befitting that they clung to each other but only separated by a few blocks. Close but not too close to disturb or hover over each other. The middle of the three, Ivan, lived in a sizable apartment by himself. It was refreshing for him to try out new and different parts of the world every once and awhile. They were a quiet and reclusive species and he had plenty of words to say about the compact population density that came with the city. It was almost worth it to him to catch others of his kind when he's out on a walk, but the pure odor of his neighbor could give him a headache on the warmer days. Werewolves, he's never been that fond of the creatures, but he's grown accustomed to this certain neighbor's charms. He pondered on the idea that if their landlord implemented a no pets policy, what would come of Alfred and his fur-coated clothes. As for Ivan, he was sure his turtleneck sweaters wouldn't be a cause for alarm; though they may be wildly out of style for the time and a few drenched in the blood may catch someone off guard. Even if it was considered primitive to him, he still went out on the town scouring out fresh blood now and then, but that's only when his job didn't pay off and that was rare. He landed himself a plentiful gig working at a blood bank and for untrained customers, he would sneak out an extra pint just for himself. The blood packs were like caprisuns that he'd suck down to stay as youthful as he was.

There were alternatives that his family would cook up, but it didn't stand a chance to the rich milky serum of type B-negative or the popular O-positive. Getting ready to head out, he plucked up one of the various plastics packs he held in his fridge to quench his salivating mouth. His pointed teeth slipped out from their sleeves and punctured the bag in one fell swoop before guzzling it down. Crumpling up the remains, he wiped his lips and tossed it out. He perked up instantly, scooping up his laundry basket and walking out the door, locking it behind him. On most of his free days, he would invite Alfred to come down to the laundromat with him. The company was always nice, someone to talk to as he waited for his clothes to dry. Knocking on Alfred's door, he adjusted the sweater collar shielding his neck. It isn't much of a secret to other vampires or werewolves about what he is, the DNA imprinted in his scent, his natural code. Yet, when talking to Alfred, he didn't do much to state the fact or pry on the canine's own identity. He's seen too many of his kind staked through the heart to risk talking to someone so casually about being a vampire.

Alfred had started his day late, a habit of the man. Being a night owl, from either running around in the woods with his fellow pack members or being forced to change forms due to the shift in the moons. Working the third shift became needed for him, desperate for a job that would allow him to sleep in on mornings. In the countryside town, there aren't too many cops interested in working nights, so he easily found a job there. Members of his pack always knew how to work the system, being the immortal creatures that they were. Move every few decades, don’t make yourself super popular, don’t keep in touch with friends when you move. Alfred being the youngest member of the pack and was still getting used to not aging. Quite a weird reality, but one he’d have to accept. The constant moving never bothered him, but he did hate always lying about himself and his background. One of the older members of the pack said next time they move, he needs to change his name. He kept Alfred for his move, but his elders found it risky, however, let it slide since it was such a woodsy, small area. There was slight loneliness to being a supernatural creature, but Alfred found comfort in knowing that there are more of him out there. He isn’t truly alone, they were just hiding plain sight.

Ivan was one of those, his neighbor obvious being non-human to him. Alfred could smell Ivan when he was down the street, let alone when he was at home. Vampires had that smell- extremely strong depending on each vampire. It was always weirdly sweet, but not in a good way. More like burnt, overdone sugar. Werewolves never cared for it, and he guessed vampires probably thought the same. On the other hand, living next to Ivan got him used to the smell, and he’d come to not find it horrible. It was just a tad bit too sweet, instead of sickly. His attraction to Ivan probably helped, his scent ability closed up when he saw Ivan. Perhaps it was his body doing him a favor when he saw the beautiful vampire. Members of his pack had warned him about them: Vampires, they are beautiful but dangerous. Don’t be charmed. Nevertheless, Alfred found himself charmed and enjoying his time alone with Ivan. He wouldn’t dare tell any of his packmates that, even if some would question why Alfred sometimes smelled like he had helped a vampire fold laundry. Whatever, it’s his life and his life alone. If he wanted to befriend one vampire, it couldn’t hurt. Their status of immortality and not spreading it is an unspoken rule, even among themselves. They both knew who each other were, but no one would speak on it. Alfred never asked Ivan what was his favorite blood to drink, and Ivan would never ask why he had stuff covered in fur in his house at times. A fair exchange. Ivan’s presence would gift Alfred when he knocked on the man’s door. Picking his head from the pillow, he got up from his sofa that he rested on. Attempting to catch up a season's worth of not watching, Game of Thrones played in the background. Already smelling Ivan coming up the stairs, he knew it was him. Stretching out his arms, he yawned and walked to the door. Opening it, he showed a toothy grin when he saw the tall vampire. “And I was just thinking of you. What’s up?”

The aroma hit his nose like a sack of bricks when the door cracked open. It wasn't an entirely unpleasant smell, but it could be strong and reek of wet dog in the worst cases. If he ever wanted to sniff out Alfred's blood type, there was a mask of different smells that blocked him. It would frustrate him. Ignoring the clear indicator, he adjusted the basket to his hip and patiently admired the smile. Cheerful and lively just like a mutt- he wasn't jealous of how werewolves morphed. He could barely handle his fangs let alone a full bone-cracking experience. He wasn't well versed in the world of the age-old rival species because he didn't grow up near very many of them. Vampires plagued eastern Europe in his old home, they fended off other creatures from their territory so spotting any other supernatural being was unlikely in those parts. Werewolves were a more western-based species, thus, he wasn't surprised to find one living so close to him. Nevertheless, he heard tales of their sharp teeth and their bright eyes that seemed to shine even during the day. He found it precious, the encased youth. "I was about to head down to wash my clothes. Do you want to gather up your own load and go down with me?" Asking felt more as he was inviting Alfred on a walk, the scent was just that hard to press through. Mentally shaking off the speciesism, he suppressed the sense just to have a normal conversation with his friend. "Unless, of course, you're preoccupied." He could only pick up on the faint mumblings of the television, his head wouldn't be able to dip in any further than the doorway.

Nine hundred years and he still hasn't managed to stumble into someone else's home without being invited in. It was especially frustrating when family-owned businesses didn't have a sign to welcome him in. Restaurants were a nightmare for him, but he was happy to see himself in reflections other than a camera or glimpses of the water. Once they took silver out of mirrors, he was ecstatic, but completely terrified the first time he caught himself in one. Come to find out that the curse was still wrapped around his frame like an infected vine. He didn't wish for immortality, but he found himself lucky to have family still with him. Most vampires didn't have the luxury of having someone by their side. It made him curious to find out Alfred's situation. Yet, it would be too rude for him to simply ask. "You probably want to rest up some more, don't you?"

The werewolf could only grin at the invitation. He found it humorous to always be invited by the vampire for outings because he couldn’t go into homes without being invited. Ivan would never cross even his feet past the doorway, as if a magical force was around Alfred’s door, keeping the vampire at bay. His pack had warned him to never have a doormat or sign that said ‘Welcome In!’ As it would give a vampire the clear ability to come inside. Even if being the friendly type, Alfred still followed the advice of his pack. Looking back on his sofa, he knew he had no plans later in the day. It was his day off, as he had work tomorrow. He planned on spending the day bumming around, so why not do some cleaning. “I’ll go with you. I got nothing better to do, honestly.” He teased, stepping back. “Give me a second.” Leaving Ivan’s side and going into his apartment without inviting him in, he forced the vampire at his doorway. It was sort of ‘fun’ to make the man wait at the door for him. Alfred was a playful man, nothing was ever too serious with him. Going to his room, he had a tall basket filled with dirty clothes. Ivan had come during a perfect time.

Picking up the laundry basket, he carried it to his front door. He slipped some sneakers on that were sitting next to the front door, excusing himself past Ivan. He didn’t bother locking the door behind him since he was only going downstairs. “I guess you came during a perfect time, huh. You are always like that you know. Always at the right moment.” He joked, walking to the elevator with him. “I wonder how you always know when I have a pile of dirty clothes. Must have superpowers.” Alfred’s tone was even more sarcastic, acting as if he didn’t already know Ivan was a vampire. Or that Ivan didn’t know that he was a werewolf. He wondered if they ever acknowledge their supernatural status, or if their friendship will always be based on mutual respect for their secret and the privacy of it. There were some lonely nights when he wanted to throw that out of the roof. Perhaps he’d be drunk or smoked too much weed, and inner emotions and wish would overcome logic. He’d wish to invite Ivan over and talk, but, wasn’t their thing to act as if they were just, normal? It was a difficult thing to balance. His fancy for Ivan, but not wanting to risk the interesting friendship the man brought him. He’d spent too many nights heart-broken over losing friends due to his werewolf immoral status, why do it again for lust? The tall, pale vampire would stay a foreign beauty, but a good friend for now.

There was plenty of love that went into making friends, but Ivan never had the knack for it. His longtime friends, and a few still living exes, scattered across the world. He had trouble keeping up with them because he traveled so much, but he couldn't say anything different for them. It didn't help that he never stayed long to talk. With a few of his past mortal companions, he could have taken a slumber and wake to find them dead. It was a while until he learned to not sleep for so long, but that was just his earlier days when he was first adapting to vampire life and society. Since then, he's become an expert in retracting his teeth and calming his cravings. Languages, landmarks, he's been around to study them all. He's been through ten different lifetimes in the same recurring body. It was hard for him to refrain from being downright miserable with the process. Each day was repetitive, every love faded and grew old. It brought him the slightest amount of joy to see someone else like Alfred still living life normally. Something deep inside of him hurt to think about how he could be wrong about the werewolf being a werewolf. It was selfish of him in many ways, he wanted someone else to suffer in the endless immortal cycle with him. He wasn't deeply in love with Alfred, but the man was pleasant enough to keep a smile lifting upon his face. Nothing made him happier than to hear that his offer was accepted by his new curiosity. Yet, he was only left to let the grin drop once Alfred walked off. He'd follow the man in if he only could.

Once the small adventure started, he narrowed his eyes to the observations. Picking up on the satire, he laughed. "Yes, I have a power called sensing Alfred's dirty laundry- never did I think it would come in handy... and it still has yet to help me." He smashed the down button for the elevator, the technology still intriguing him to this day, but somehow just as dangerous as when they were first introduced. The machinery in an elevator has stopped on him at least four times, he's grown to hate them. It was hard to explain why he survived the numerous crashes and why the remaining passengers had mysterious wounds. He couldn't deny free snacks like that; they were already dead or bleeding out, he had to put them out of their pain somehow. There was no pleasure in it, he did what he had to not suffer. If that were to happen with Alfred riding with him, he wasn't entirely sure what he would do. His bat form wouldn't be adequate to support a grown beast. "I suppose it does serve some purpose... I mean, if I don't remind you to take after yourself then who will? I know you certainly won't." The words bounced off the elevator walls as playful as they could be. After stepping off and into the foyer, he repositioned the basket back between his hands. "It's not as if you'll live forever, after all. People need maintenance."

Alfred walked down along with Ivan, enjoying the playful banter they had. Who knew that he’d get along with a vampire out of all people? Let alone have a small crush on the man. It was entertaining at the least, getting to laugh over his friendship with the man. They were both creatures of the night, perhaps it’s why they were able to bond. Even if they were different creatures, they still were ones of powers. Some would say they were works of the devil, that satan had inspired evil into their souls. But Alfred didn’t have a mean bone in his body, even in werewolf form the man would act as more of a puppy. The transformation to another creature didn’t have a huge effect on his personality like most. There were changes, of course, but he wasn’t a new person. He was still Alfred, just a tad bit more aggressive. Ivan had an interesting way of calming the wolf, he’d rather roll on his back and yawn in front of Ivan then growl and show off his toothy grin. “It’s nice being reminded that someone cares about if I have clean clothes or not.” His smirk grew at the word forever. Being an immortal being, it was his reality. Ironic to hear Ivan saying that he wouldn’t live forever- he wondered how old Ivan was. His dressings weren’t modern, far from it. He dressed like an old man, even if he was rather young-looking. And the way he spoke, it was as if he learned English in a different period. There was something uncanny about Ivan, and Alfred wanted to figure it out. Throwing his clothes into the washer, he poured the soap on top, closing the lid afterward. “Yeah, forever. You’re right.” He lied, still grinning as he turned on the water. He hopped on top of the washer, taking a seat on it as he watched Ivan finish his clothes. “Anyway, how’s work been? Does the blood bank have any drama going on? Or is it the same old same old.”

A few machines down, Ivan stowed his garments into a washer with a glimpse of a smile to his face. He always fell peacefully in the environment of laundromats; everyone kept to themselves and the air carried the alluring smell of softeners. There was a time that he helped his sisters tend to their dirty laundry. He didn't miss washboards or clotheslines; they ended up leaving his clothes cold. Nowadays, he couldn't survive without some clean warm fabrics wrapped around him when he finished folding. His body had been naturally frozen to the touch during the winter months as if he had become cold-blooded. It was one of the many things he missed about being human, the ability to keep warm or stay cool. The sun would burn and pierce his skin like knives if he stayed out too long as if chemicals were melting him down to the bone. While the chill stung and sent him shivering easier than before. He was curious to find out what Alfred's limitations were if werewolves had that kind of disadvantage, but the neighbor seemed to be even more distant than himself and that was anything but noteworthy. "I wish you would talk about your job more. You should know by now that nothing interesting happens at blood banks except for donors fainting and twisted veins." The real concerning bits he would leave out were his scandal starting to be investigated by the rest of the staff. None of them were nearing his trail, but it was entertaining nonetheless. Telling that part of his week would require acknowledgment of what he was and he wasn't fully able to trust Alfred like that. For all he knew, his cute little neighbor could be a vampire hunter hiding out as an untouchable breed of the werewolf. The idea was too outlandish for him to believe, but he couldn't be too safe when he had two of his family members hiding out with him. "You work in the middle of the day, don't you?" He moved back over to Alfred, watching how his legs dangle and bounce off the machine.

Transforming from human to werewolf had the opposite effect on Alfred. His body temperature was a few degrees hotter, making himself warmer overall. The cold didn’t have the same impact as it did in his human years. Being shirtless when it was snowing wouldn’t make him shiver. He went from loving tropical, warm climates, to preferring chillier places. He could still handle the sun and heat, his body just needed more time to adjust to it. With modern-day air conditioning, he was fine visiting hot places. It was now just a preference to live in an area with a cooler climate. Like a dog, he did enjoy laying out in the sun when it was warm, soaking up the heat. That habit was something he wouldn’t give up soon. The comment about his job kept the grin, as he knew more than Ivan might give him credit for. “I work the third shift. So, seven PM to seven AM. Three times a week, and I get the rest of the week off. Really, dreams come true. A mix of weird shit and serious stuff happens during those times, but this is such a quiet town, that a lot of calls I get are domestic or random crackheads acting up in public. Buttttt-'' He leaned back, looking up at the ceiling of the laundry room. “I do know all about the weird cases. Some shit we don’t want the public to know... Like this one- A couple of months ago, we found a body. Some middle-aged man, near the forest. We think he was homeless since no one came to claim his body and no one was looking for him. Anyway, his whole body was drained. No blood at all.” He looked at Ivan, still smirking.

His eyes didn’t go wide telling the story, he only just raised a brow as a cocky smirk stayed on his face. His expression read, ’I know you know’. “We didn’t let the media know about it since we don’t want anyone to think some crazy conspiracy up like as if there are vampires in this town or something. Sucks to say, thankfully the man was loved by no one, so no one’s looked into it.“ Alfred raises his hand, pointing his finger up in the air as he brought it to his lips, the classic ’It’s a secret’ sign. “But, don’t tell anyone I said that. Just keep it between you and me, okay?” Alfred adored the teasing, letting Ivan know that he knew. Alfred would bet his life and his pack that Ivan or one of the other vampires associated with him had to do with the murder. Alfred could smell another vampire like a scent on Ivan from time to time, and their scents were even stronger when they came inside the apartment. There were more of them, Alfred knew. His inner cop wanted to snoop and find out who these little vampires were. He knew one of them, but were the others? He guessed two, but there could be three. If he sniffed around more to look. “There’s a lot of weird shit that goes around in this town, for real. Someone once came to our station, a hiker, swearing that they saw a group of humans transform into wolves. They were high off of shrooms, though, so I don’t know how good their... uh references are.”

"What a luxury, I wish I was that free to roam." There was no permanence to Ivan's footsteps, he was a nomad. Any obstacle that stood before him was merely an inconvenience unless it involved a sharpened piece of wood aimed at his chest. The only place he wouldn't dare step foot in again was Italy. He was perfumed in the nastiest garlic and swathed in the constant heat of the sun while mirrors were targets he dodged to avoid suspicion daily. The northern half of the states wasn't as unpleasant, he could feel the cold more often, but the climate gave him the excuse to cover and shield his neck from wandering eyes. Two puncture marks rest on the nape of his neck like scarred up craters. He wasn't entirely sure as to how werewolves get their roots, but he assumed it was something similar. A bite was sure to do it like an infectious disease passed from vessel to victim. His attention peaked with the mention of a corpse being discovered on the outskirts. He nearly cracked a smile remembering tackling the crude drunken man to the ground. Mercy wasn't something he divvied out very often, but it was especially not reserved for those who were asking for trouble. He did his best to not be cruel to strangers who didn't wrong him when he had to decide to starve or kill. The case revealed by Alfred, in particular, was one of revenge and bloodlust. He had to stand his ground when a man like that approached his family with a predatory look. It almost made him giddy to hear that the incident went by nearly unnoticed. He glanced back over to Alfred's face to assess the room. It didn't startle him to find a smug accent to the man's face, he learned early on how to stay inconspicuous in the presence of conjecture. Even seemingly friendly inquiries were something he had to manage with a steady tongue.

Still not entirely proud of his way of life, he simply listened and checked the time left on his wash. Keeping a straight face didn't last long when he heard the idea of vampires lurking around town. He laughed and drummed his fingers across the metal behind him. The warm welcoming feel crept upon him. He found the unlikely relationship to be beneficial to the blindspot he had when unleashing mayhem in the streets at night. It was clear to him now, Alfred was aware of his identity. He gave a nod, winking Alfred's way as if to seal his secrecy on the subject. The talk of supernatural events was taken a lot more seriously back in his day, he's relieved to see that people have faded away from the topic. Not many vampires are being produced anymore, all the originals who could pass on the serum to transform humans into vampires have gone into hiding. Genetically, vampires can still be birthed into the world and he's met plenty of bonded vampires who have children, but he's not sure if the process is even worth it to curse your own children. "People turning into wolves? I can't believe that either... You seem to encounter plenty of drugged out people, but that's just the gift of the night shift." Hearing a beep and the mechanisms in his washer coming to a halt, he stepped back over and swapped his clothes into the drier. "I'm lucky enough to catch you walking around during the day." Rolling his eyes, he fed the machine some leftover damp socks lingering behind. "I guess I should take advantage of the moment and ask you if you believe in vampires and werewolves... like some deranged person, do you believe?" Smiling away, he lightly slapped at Alfred's calf. "Are you scared of vampires? Do they really frighten you?"

There was something bold about Ivan. Here he was, instead of showing fear that Alfred knew about his status as a vampire, was smiling and joking with him. Perhaps it was Ivan’s way to save face, and he was hiding all of his anxiety about the situation. But Alfred’s inner wolf could smell fear. Even if a person was trying to hide it, their scent would be real of it. He couldn’t smell it on Ivan, the man was truly brave. Not many vampires could show a type of nonchalant attitude about people knowing who they are. It’s how they get a stake in the chest and burnt. Alfred kept away from the silver bullet by keeping low and not making trouble, but there was something that pulled Alfred closer to the vampire. His guts and playful nature was alluring, even if he’s been warned about it. Vampires were known for their beauty and charm, about to seduce someone into their death of two fangs in their neck. Alfred had been warned about it, but that warning was kept in the back of his mind, as the rest was pulling towards the vampires who were beautiful and playful. Alfred wouldn’t fall, victim, he wasn’t silly, but a part of him let himself go closer and give trust to a man he should have killed a long time ago.

Once his calf was slapped, he gave a toothy grin. “No, I’m not scared of anything. They should be scared of me.” He licked his teeth, going over his sharp canines. Showing off his white, strong teeth was a bit of a symbol to Ivan that he shouldn’t think he’s a harmless, playful puppy. If Ivan ever stepped out of line and was being a danger to his pack or this town, he knew how to rip a vampire into half, burn the body, and make sure that the creature stays dead. But he didn’t like having to do it, he wasn’t a violent man. The transformation did put some aggression on him though, made it easier to get mad and push someone around. Alfred would not be pushed around when it came to Ivan. The vampire would need to know it’s place. Sure, he was cute and charming, but Alfred would never let him endanger the pack of his town. He’d keep up his flirting and fun times with the man as long as he never crossed that line. But the vampire was undoubtedly sexy, he’d have to admit he did a few things to see him in his bed. So he’d play nice, keep his aggression at a low point. Part of him was trying to charm Ivan too, play his game back. It was a game to him, how sweet and kind and flirtatious did he have to be, to get a vampire into his bed. He just had to wait and see.

Ivan forced back a flinch from twitching through his eyes, still gazes and anxious taps of his fingers sounding off. There have been times where he had to throw everything on the line and rip one of his own to shreds. Beasts, creatures, werewolves, vampires- he's had to claw and bite his way through a few fights even with people he used to call friends. The situation between him and Alfred wasn't to that point, but it still worried him. He didn't trust cops in general; his experiences with guards weren't pleasant, but Alfred was more friend than authority. There was nothing that scared him about the man, he liked him too much. He didn't want to see Alfred hurt, but if it came to it. There was nothing that he couldn't block off in his mind to keep his kin safe. If he had to lose some he wished to be closer to then so be it. He wouldn't show any sign that he was intimidated. The flash of pearly whites only made him roll his eyes. There was a reminder echoing in his head telling him not to do the same for it would be too revealing. "Oh? Is that really so?" He was entertained by the watered-down threat, a smile standing strong into his cheeks. "Well, I'll be sure to ring you up the first time I see a vampire and see how you end up handling it." A lie that he didn't even bother hiding, it was as clear as day while his sight on Alfred faltered.

"Well, I won't lie to you... I would be scared of vampires if I was you. I heard that they like hunting down cute, oblivious, and lively fellows." It wasn't a guarantee or something to put Alfred on his toes, he intended to be just as playfully. He didn't have to be threatening or territorial, he enjoyed the talks with his little neighbor. It still piqued his curiosity to see what kind of blood type the werewolf was even if he wasn't entirely too interested in killing the man off. Alfred, in Ivan's eyes, was a gourmet meal with legs he couldn't touch. Succulent and youthful individuals were a delicacy for him because he found it hardly fair to kill someone so youth. He restrained himself around people who still had time, older folks and jerks were nearly all of his meals. "Speaking of that, maybe you should come by the blood bank some time and donate? I'm sure you have plenty to spare." It was a complete win for him. He'd get to see Alfred and talk to him, figure out his blood type and get a chance to sneak a bag home. If it ended up being O positive, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to keep his teeth sheathed around Alfred. "I'm sure you're too busy to come to visit your neighbor at his job though. I wouldn't blame you if you didn't want to show your face in a place like that- I hardly find it worth my time." Pretending that he was heartbroken already, he took his eyes to his nails as his fingers twiddled around each other.

“Call me. I’ll handle it really well,” he said, still smirking but somewhat threatening. He was also giving Ivan the approval to call him if he needed to handle a vampire that was bugging Ivan. He’d do that in a heartbeat, kill off someone who was bugging the cute man. It was a win-win situation, he’d get to hunt down and kill a vampire, and get brownie points with his crush. The transformation gave Alfred a new love for the hunt. When he was younger, he remembered being scared of hunting, and even throwing fish back into the water once he caught them. He was more delicate, rather not seeing the process of killing his meal. But the transformation had killed that part of him. Now, he lived for the kill. When he was in wolf form, his favorite thing to do was tear apart an unaware deer to pieces. An easy, fun meal for him. He was thankful that his urge to hunt and kill was for only animals and not humans. He did not need to tear down a human, there were plenty of animals and wildlife around here. His bloodthirst spared humans, and he was grateful for it. He couldn’t live with himself if he killed humans for fun. It’s why he’s thankful for being a werewolf instead of a vampire. He couldn’t imagine a life that depended on taking someone else’s. That was Ivan’s sin to bear, not Alfred’s, and he thanked God for it.

Alfred rolled his eyes, still smirking. “Huh. Maybe I will one day. When I have free time. I’m busy napping and going to the gym, you know?” Alfred wouldn’t in a million years go to Ivan’s blood bank. Let that vampire taste part of his blood?! He wasn’t sure if Ivan was simply humoring him, or he had plans to see what he tasted like. If his blood was good, would he kill him afterward? He wouldn’t take the chance. ‘I’ll keep my blood, no thanks sucker.’ He thought, unsure if he should trust the vampire. Sure, he was cute, thick in the right places, and had clear skin, but who knew what happened behind closed doors. But his inner animal wanted to see what things he could get anyway with the vampire on a personal level. “Maybe I’ll visit you and bring someone else who wants to donate. I’m not a fan of needles.” Alfred lied, not being terrified at all, just wanting an excuse to hint to Ivan ’not in a million years’. The only time Ivan might get blood from him if they got intimate. Maybe he’d let Ivan take a bite, but no, not for free. Ivan would have to try harder to taste his blood type. Which was a delicious O-positive.

Ivan wasn't the biggest fan of actual threats, especially from someone opposed to his own species. There wasn't much room for judgment when it came to bloodlust, but having it directed at him raised his defensiveness by tenfold. His feet even pointed and aimlessly propped his body away from Alfred. The werewolf was charming, but not precious enough to let him ignore such words. He stopped smiling beyond that point, his once pacing hand tucked away into his elbow. It wasn't in him to keep the lightheartedness going after something like that, but he tried not to let it get him down even though his crush just openly admitted to some form of eagerness in killing him. He was undoubtedly disturbed and discouraged by it. "Oh. Okay. I'll definitely keep that in mind every time I talk to you." He remained calm, his eyebrows lifting with criticism. The negative responses only continued when his advances were waved off. He respected it, his convincing skills weren't ever to be enough to anyone knowledgeable on the truth. His hypocrisy was recognized by himself as his own invitation to donate could have come off as threatening. For a moment, he pouted and studied the floor tiles before standing up straight to look over at Alfred. "It's fine, I'm only asking because I'm encouraged to at work... I don't know what it is, but I can never seem to get anyone to agree." He caved and slipped back into a playful mood, he didn't have the endurance to stop smiling around Alfred. "I guess everyone is just a big baby like you... scared of a little needle." His lids hooded his eyes as he teased the other with a smirk. If guilt didn't reel Alfred in, he would try challenging him. "Which is okay, of course, I hate dealing with squeamish people when I have to line them up anyway."

Alfred could tell that Ivan was somewhat offended by the comment, but he needed it to be. Alfred wasn’t stupid and needed to let the vampire know that. That he wasn’t going to become an easy meal for the man. While Ivan's intentions could be pure, and he truly wanted him to donate, Alfred saw past that. The man wanted his blood, and if just for a snack, or see if he’s worth a whole meal, that was unknown. And he wasn’t going to figure it out. Ivan charm and good looks wouldn’t fool Alfred, he wouldn’t be his next dinner. Even if he was cute. It was sick to say, but he enjoyed seeing his body language change from comfortable to unsettled. Yes, he had a crush on the man, but they were not close enough for Alfred to truly feel safe around him. He still needed to test the waters, if he wanted to make it further. His inner wolf could smell his emotional change, and he did feel slightly guilty for it. He could tell he might have hurt the feelings of the vampire, but he wasn’t eager to kill him. As long as he wasn’t threatening the town or his pack, he had no lust for tearing him into shreds. Violence would only come if Ivan brought issues into his loved ones, then he would be eager to tear him into pieces. But for now, Ivan was a non-threatening vampire who was quite cute, and he rather kept it that way. He enjoyed having a vampire who instead hated him, sought out his company. “Yeah, keep in mind. If any vampires are trying to hurt or bother you, I’ll handle it. No need to fear, cutie.” His tongue rubbed over his sharp canine, still smirking as he watched Ivan smirk himself “Anyway, these clothes are gonna take probably an hour to wash. I’m rewatching Game Of Thrones because of the series finale. Wanna watch it with me?” He offered, smiling as if he waited to see if Ivan would take the bait.

If Alfred was to deny his invitation then he would decline his too. He planned on having lunch with his sisters anyway so he didn't have the time to watch a whole series. "No, thank you... Maybe some other time." As if he was about to walk into a wolf den and sit down amongst the clinging smell of a werewolf. His sisters would be scolding him about it for the rest of his undying days. If he were to be mauled in the own apartment complex he lived in, it would be embarrassing. Even the investigation unit was something he didn't put his faith in. Corruption in American police forces was something he was warned about before he traveled to the new world, but he didn't expect appealing werewolves to be a part of the problem. "I have company coming over soon, I really should be cleaning up my place." He remained general as he didn't want to give any details and out any other vampires that could fall prey. "I hope that you enjoy yourself though." Still a little shaken up, he eyed Alfred down before taking a seat on one of the working machines himself.

Being rejected, Alfred simply smiled. Even though Ivan sat down, he took the chance to get off of the washer. “Oh, I see. You got plans, that’s alright. Well, I don’t want to steal your attention if you’re busy and are gonna have company over. Go worry about that, I’ll just be upstairs..” And with that, he left the basket and started to walk off. “But if your plans cancel, you know where to find me. My sofa is very soft, and I always have snacks~~~” He sang, leaving Ivan alone in the laundry room. Usually, Alfred was the type to chase. Go after someone if he liked them. But he couldn’t be his usual self with Ivan. He couldn’t chase after the vampire so soon, he had to let the man come to him. He had too much on the line to make the vampire think that he had the upper hand. Not in a million years, if the little bloodsucker wanted some cozy up time with Alfred, he’d have to make the first step. Yes, once Ivan made some moves, he’d let himself chase the pretty boy, but Ivan wasn’t just any type of cutie. There was a danger to even being his friend, and with his pack, he couldn’t go after one so eager. Play it cool, let him come to you. It was the opposite of what he usually did. But Ivan was like a challenge to him. Landing a vampire would be an ego booster at that. Let his prey come to him, that was Alfred’s plan.

Ivan nearly gagged at the display, the show of continued insinuation wasn't needed. Being patronized by a werewolf wasn't on his list of things to get done today. Just to bite that ego out of Alfred for the moment would be a load off him. He wanted to keep the banter going and nudge at his neighbor when he made a joke, but he didn't allow himself that. The man had put him on edge and he wasn't ready to risk putting his trust in someone who flashes their teeth at him. If he could just get Alfred alone and defenseless then his problems would go away, but he'd hate to do that. He wants to keep getting along with the werewolf. If the threats became more severe he'd have to do something about it. The man made him uncomfortable at the worst of it. He couldn't help but wonder if his sisters were right- maintaining a relationship like that was more trouble than it was worth, but he enjoyed a good chase, just not one that involved malicious intent even from himself. It was a game he was willing to play, one that he needed to win for his own pride. Tame a feisty little wolf into a domesticated dog. If not in a million years, then he decided that he'd just have to wait a million and one years. He had the time and patience, but not the will to stay hooked on a simple werewolf. The time he had wasn't scary, but knowing that he was safe gave him some peace. He's been through the motion of loving someone a thousand times over and it has worn him out. There wasn't any urge for him to play tug-of-war with some flea-bitten flirt, but he found the slow process to be almost fun. For now, he would just have to wait and hold his ground until he could halfway trust Alfred without worrying if he'd end up like the deadweight he tossed into the woods.

He'd just have to stand by his convictions and watch the near pain of a charmer's head back up the elevator. "Don't wait up." Was the last thing he called out before the steel doors shut. His demeanor instantly changed when he was left to his own devices. He let the nervous lip biting tear off his skin as he watched quietly while his fingers picked at each other. The only thing plaguing his mind was the fresh blood on his hands from a couple of months ago. His tracks weren't covered properly, he was under the influence by the time he finally led his victim out that night. It was troublesome because Alfred most definitely knew and he wasn't sure if that was something he could keep hiding so meticulously under the constant nose of a cop acting as his own K-9 unit. If the man ended up prying even further, he might just have to end him. He didn't want to worry his sisters too much with it, he didn't plan on telling them until he deemed the situation dangerous. Even now, it was nearing that point. He didn't trust Alfred despite how much he enjoyed him and that was a problem. The neighbor was certainly up his alley. A grinning, handsome, little canine. Groaning, he hopped down from his ledge and walked off to the elevator himself. He refused to sit there letting his dick think for him. Once on his floor, he paced off to his door and scrambled in. It wasn't long before he went to cleaning as the frustrating image of Alfred remained in his mind. He liked the werewolf, but he wasn't going to give in to temptation so easily.

[ Link to my Ao3- leaving comments and hits will light up my day.

Thank you for reading, chapter 2 comes out in a few days since I have 416 pages :’) have a nice day.

P.S. This is based off an RP me and my friend have been doing about a year, if anyone has confusion on the formatting that is why. She prefers to stay anonymous but I just would like to make that clear <3 ]

#rusame #amerus #aph russia #aph america #what we do in the shadows au #to anyone who gets the title reference: you have culture #chapter 2 comes in a couple days since i have like over #416 pages written #lmao

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

Text

Onion Tears || Morgan, Ariana, Deirdre, Lydia

TIMING: The recent past, not long after Morgan took care of the murderous alchemist Jo, before Lydia’s attack.

LOCATION: The woods

PARTIES: @deathduty @inspirationdivine @letsbenditlikebennett @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan and her friends mourn the dead.

CONTAINS: Mild gore, ritualized self-harm

The moon smiled down from the pink sunset sky, pale and slight as a white shadow. Morgan hoped that if there really was such a thing as a caring universe, it approved of the proceedings. The much decayed remains of Coraline Adams had been wrapped in a cotton shroud and bundled onto the wood pyre, the rest of the remains recovered from the storage unit were strewn around her. In another world where supernaturals could bury their dead properly without raising brows or suspicions, there might have been separate ceremonies and rites for each of them. But the alchemist hadn’t cared enough to label her specimens by the person she gathered them from, only by material. Banshee nails in one jar. Nix scales in another. Vampire teeth, Mara eyes, wolf pelts, and fused bones, all ordered except in a way that would help Morgan make them into people again. Morgan circled the clearing again for unwanted mushrooms and teenagers daring each other to go deeper into the trees. Gulls squealed, squirrels foraged, life went on. But there had been enough of humans bumping and breaking their way through life for one stretch. Morgan wanted to give them a reprieve from watching their backs all the time, and for the dead to have a moment with their own.

She spread out a tiered tray of refreshments, kindling, and the nice big matches she had once used for her own sacred rituals, scented to help guide what was left of the dead’s souls to wherever they needed to go. It felt wrong, somehow, to slip into a hospitality mindset, but if Ariana and Lydia were going to help witness the rites and pay their respects as much as anyone could, they might as well be comfortable.

One of their guests approached the clearing. “Hey, we’re almost ready,” she said.”But you should come in and have some water or wine if you want any.”

Hearing of another dead werewolf only made her heart feel heavier. After Ariana had discovered werewolves were being killed for their organs, it only furthered her sense of unease to know someone else was doing weird magic experiments. What the actual fuck was wrong with people? It wasn’t something she could wrap her head around, but she hoped paying them respects would help them find peace in their afterlife. The setting sun painted the sky in colors she couldn’t quite distinguish, but the moon was rising. Perfect for the wolf of the bunch, All the fellow supernatural beings who had been killed for whatever this witch was doing deserved better. Maybe they couldn’t change the past, but they could try to keep their memory alive. Help them find peace. She walked to their meeting spot and saw Morgan was the first one there. Not at all surprising. There were even refreshments set up though she found she wasn’t entirely hungry at the moment. She gave a small wave as she approached, “Hey, Morgan. I’ll pour some water for myself. Save the wine for Deirdre. She really loves wine.” The words felt awkward and it was hard to navigate through what she was feeling.

Lydia almost paused when she saw Ariana, the wannabe thief that had been snooping through her property that one time. Mutual friend or not, Lydia did not like the girl in the slightest, even at a funeral. As such, she immediately decided to ignore her for the whole evening, walking over to Morgan with a small smile. “Wine would be lovely. I’m grateful you put in all the effort.”

Morgan opened her arm out to the young wolf when she arrived and wrapped her up in a hug. “That she does,” she agreed. “But, tiny exceptions can be made for you if you change your mind after. Thanks for coming.” She didn’t know what else to say, if wolves had a kind of kinship between each other that made condolences appropriate, or if it was just the chill of seeing the remains of someone who could have been her.

At the sound of Lydia’s approach, she released Ariana to hydrate herself and turned to her fae friend. “I’m glad you came,” she said, pouring a glass and carrying it over. “This is the least I could do. If things were different, maybe there’d be more. But if things were different, maybe there wouldn’t be a need for this kind of service in the first place.” Her eyes flitted to the pyre, gauging the arrangement of the remains. Should she space them out more? Or arrange them more artfully? The nails should probably be laid out, instead of clustered, maybe… Morgan stopped herself with a tight smile. It did not matter. It absolutely did not matter. She knew better than anyone how much it didn’t matter, knew that it was just the last moment, terrible or not, and then sleep. This was just for their own guilt and sorrow, their own intentions in the universe. “Deirdre’s just getting ready to perform the rites. And I’ll spread the ashes myself later. Oh, and you should meet our friend Ari! She’s here in honor of the wolves we’re laying to rest today as well.”

Somehow, despite her cool skin, Morgan always had a certain warmth to her. It brought a small smile to her face and Ariana welcomed the hug from her. Once she stepped back, she laughed weakly and answered, “I think I’ll be okay without the wine. But I am sorry you had to find all of this. It’s really… Upsetting.” She looked down at her feet and heard someone else approaching. Sniffing the air she realized it wasn’t Deirdre, but it was familiar. Her eyes widened when she realized it was Lydia. Her heart sank. The actual last person she wanted to see. Especially at a funeral. Especially when she was slowly killing someone she’d grown to care for. It took a conscious effort to keep from balling her fists, from glaring. Today wasn’t about Lydia. Hell, it wasn’t even about Ace. It was their duty to honor the fallen members of their community in hopes of them being able to find some sort of peace after their violent deaths. “Maybe one day there won’t be a need for services like this,” she said quietly. Part of her wanted to slink away as Morgan introduced her to Lydia. It was hard to pretend she didn’t hate her with every fiber of her being. It was doubtful that her feeding had to include keeping humans for prolonged periods of time until they finally died. Through gritted teeth, she responded, “We know each other already.” She tried to soften her features, but it came across a bit awkward. “But thank you, Morgan. I really appreciate you and Deirdre for doing all of this.”

Deirdre knew better than most what a fae funeral should have looked like. There should have been more in attendance, the sound of instruments trilling through the air under the sound of sombre lilting. She had whispered her apologies to Coraline’s body on the way to the clearing, and she whispered it by her again. This observance would have to be stripped, for the sake of safety--the fae could not be made privy to the horrors committed, their penchant for vengeance would prove too reckless. And the other supernatural reduced to their parts had practices and rites that Deirdre wasn’t the faintest bit familiar with. She pulled at her funeral dress---once white, now stained with the soot of every funeral she’d attended---was a muddy grey, patterned in blotches. The delicate lace detailing was a stark black, and the only thing about the dress she liked. Deirdre tugged at it again, then pulled her dark robe tighter around her, trying not to drop the rod of iron she held wrapped up in cloth in one hand, and the knife she had in the other. She slipped the rod back into the pocket of her robe, and approached the rest of the group silently. “There will always be a need for services like this,” she hissed, irritable under the stress of autumn. Irritable given the event they were all in attendance for. She would apologize to Ariana for her shortness later, but for now, she didn’t bother. “No matter what this world is. There will always be death, and where there is death, there is suffering.” She nodded towards Lydia, and noted Ariana’s tenseness. “You’re supposed to drink at these things. Like Lydia.” She spoke almost with an air of resentment, an air that reared itself now, and had neglected to show on the way over. The forest held the faint drift of mushrooms, she would explain to Morgan later in apology, but for now, she didn’t bother. For now, she wasn’t happy. “You’re supposed to do a lot of things…” Deirdre sighed, “are we good to start?”

“We met through one of her pack members, as it happens,” Lydia replied airily, much better at faking politeness that Ariana did, the little minx. She was practically showing the whole world how much she disliked Lydia, when Lydia was the one who had been trespassed on! She hadn’t been the most enthusiastic at Ariana’s soccer game, but then who would have been? She hadn’t earned this animosity in the slightest. Noting Morgan’s tight smile as the way her gaze flitted around the pyre, Lydia tilted her head in genuine concern. “How are you holding up, Morgan?” The person Lydia was really interested in, though, was Deirdre, in her murky grey dress and her dark robe. She looked irritable in the same way that Lydia’s chest ached every time she glanced at the pyre. Her comment to Ariana was strange, certainly, even more so with that tone, and Lydia couldn’t help but gravitate closer to her. “I think so, my dear,” she said softly, standing at Deirdre’s side.

Morgan gave Deirdre a look as she chastised their young friend. You’re doing it again. Bring it down. She had been warned about what the forest might do to her banshee this time of year, and on some of their walks she had grown peevish, but Ariana was special to both of them and-- Morgan put the thought aside. Fucking mushrooms. She gave Ariana’s shoulder a squeeze. “You’re doing everything just fine,” she said softly. “Don’t mind her today,” she added in a whisper. She smiled with relief and gratitude at Lydia, who was handling the pull of the mushrooms much better. Two grumpy fae were more than she wanted to contend with. “Well as can be expected. My condolences to you and your people.” She did not know if all fae believed as banshees did, that there was nothing after except the comfort of darkness and nothing, or if it would make anything better for Lydia to know that’s just what she’d experienced before she came back. Smiling again--she didn’t know what else to do--Morgan sidled up to Deirdre’s other side. She touched her arm gently for a moment and nodded. “We’re good, babe,” she said.

In the past, Deirdre had always discouraged her drinking as she was underaged and it left Ariana very confused. At least being left perplexed by Deirdre made it easier to ignore the fact she’d very much like to rip Lydia apart. She turned to Deirdre, eyebrows knit together in confusion, and answered, “Sorry? You usually don’t like me having alcohol since I’m underaged.” Then it was very apparent her words were entirely misinterpreted. Death would always be part of life and Ariana knew that, but against all reason, she had hope that maybe one day the supernatural and humans could coexist. “That’s not what I-- nevermind,” she began and decided against trying to explain herself. Today wasn’t about her. Today wasn’t about any of them. Today was for those who fell before their time in a manner that was far too cruel. It was a little easier to relax and let Deirdre’s odd behavior go with Morgan’s always comforting words. Somehow, she always knew just what to say. Even putting this whole thing together was something that seemed so incredibly… Morgan. She hugged her leather jacket around herself more tightly trying not to look to Lydia again. Trying to ignore her presence for Morgan’s sake more than anything else because surely she couldn’t interact with her and pretend like everything was fine. Not when she had Ace locked away in her home like that was just a totally okay thing for people to do. She wondered if Morgan and Deirdre even knew. She took a few steps towards the pyres and asked Morgan, “So how are we doing this?”

Deirdre grew angrier every time her eyes fell to Coraline’s wrapped body on the pyre, then as she glanced around at their empty funeral. Coraline died wrong, would she be honored that way too? Those people in jars; would their memory be the four people who dared to remember them? She boiled as Lydia moved to her side, reminded of what injustice she was committing to their community, and then how badly she wanted to ask how she’d met Ariana, exactly, and why the younger girl seemed so tense with her. I think Ariana is jealous of your beauty, she would offhandedly remark to Lydia later, finding it the only logical explanation. But if Lydia served as a reminder of all that she was doing wrong, Morgan was the opposite. Deirdre relaxed reflexively near her, anger dissipated. She took Morgan’s hand and squeezed it, then she took a step forward, glanced at Coraline’s body, and thought of everything that was wrong again. Her mind continued to plague itself with questions even as she pulled a large purple onion from her robe. “Normally, there’s a human sacrifice. Or--punching bag, if you will. So the fae can exact their anger, right the wrongs, have fun, harvest an arm to use at their next poker game---that sort of thing.” She shook the onion, the pupils of its misplaced googly eyes bobbled. The lips Deirdre had painted on were beginning to flake off. She hated this just as much as she thought it was stupid; which was very. “Considering humans and onions have about the same mental capacity, and taking into account our present company, I thought I’d forgo the human and just use this instead.” She held the onion out, “before I begin the ceremony, would anyone like to partake in hurting the sacrificial onion? And if you will please, just imagine it’s begging for its life and for you to stop. Which, coincidentally, is exactly how Coraline died.” She shook the onion again. “Any takers?”

In the mirrored district, for that poor, nameless Lampade, they had done this with the human. Lydia hadn’t taken a shot then - that kind of violence didn’t bring her any pleasure, it never had, and she’d been to more such funerals with the sacrificial onion in its place. Unfortunately, she had been to many funerals that required such a sacrifice in the first place. She looked to Deirdre, trying to read all the facets of her face right now, all that pain and anger, and the tension in her hand as she squeezed Morgan’s. Lydia wondered how often, exactly, Deirdre had had to do these rites. How much she’d seen while handling the body and these jars. “I’ll start,” Lydia said solemnly, taking the purple onion in her hands. She looked at the googly eyes and lips, the corner of her lips twitching. As far as she knew, the googly eyes were not tradition, but they did add a certain something to the proceedings. She shook the onion once, until the eyes were roughly pointed to her. Raising one hand, Lydia stabbed one googly eye with her golden acrylic nail. The eye popped off, lost into the woods. The onion skin crackled and crunched as she sank her nail deeper into the flesh of the onion, and then dragged it down, leaving a long slit in her nail’s wake. Lydia twisted her nail, and pulled up at the seam, tearing up the onion. She ate the onion parts she’d torn off the onion, as was tradition, and handed it back to Deirdre. “May Coraline find peace in this onion’s suffering.”

Morgan couldn’t name what it was about how Deirdre handled the sacrifice that filled her with pride and affection. Maybe it was the earnestness of the googly eyes and the painted lips, trying to fill this need for adequacy, for giving enough to the dead. Maybe it was the way she squeezed her hand, emerging from the haze of her grief and the mushrooms hiding deeper in the forest to be herself, to feel and to try when she felt some of these losses as if she’d known them herself. Whatever the reason, it was almost enough to make Morgan feel like this was going to be okay and everything had been fixed fair. She took the battered onion gently from Deirdre, fingers brushing hers, and cradled it against her chest a moment, the juice dripping down the front of her white cotton dress. Her thoughts were with the dead supernaturals, the comfort they could not have and the hours of pain they could not be saved from and the days of recovery that they could not get. She had to turn down towards her shadows to remember Jo. Remember how she’d thrashed in Miriam’s grip. How she had called them pigs. How close she had been to taking another supernatural who’d trusted her. And as she thought, she dug her hands deeper into the onion flesh. Deeper, as she tried to imagine what exactly Miriam had done to the woman, exactly how long she had lasted in the two days she was kept, and whether any of it was close to enough when there weren’t even enough remains left for separate pyres.

Half the onion exploded in her grip, spraying skin and juice and soft clumps of fresh into the air. They landed in her hair and dress, sprinkled down on the earth like rain. At any other time, Morgan would have been embarrassed, but it wasn’t that sort of occasion. She took a piece from the clumpy wreck in her hand and chewed it thoughtfully, wiping her face and hair from the mess. She held out the remnants for Ariana or Deirdre to have a turn with, murmuring, “May Coraline find peace in this onion’s suffering,” And in the suffering of her killer.

While Ariana wasn’t sure what to make of the customs Deirdre spoke of, she could definitely get behind murking an onion right now. Especially if it meant honoring the fallen fae, werewolves, and other supernatural creatures they had pieces of in the pyre. Now wasn’t the time to pay Lydia any mind at all. She didn’t deserve any of the focus that was intended for the deceased. Twigs cracked underneath her combat boots as she reached to take the mostly exploded onion from Morgan. The half that was still intact was now in her hands now. The googly eyes were long gone now, but the painted on lips were still half there. To honor the wolf here today, she’d have to embrace the wolf in herself. Not that this differed from any other day, but there was no pressure to live up to human norms around Deirdre and Morgan. A low growl echoed around their clearing and Ariana gave the onion a stern look before sinking her teeth ferociously into it. While she kept her human form, she mimicked the way she tore into a deer’s throat every full moon. She ripped away at the rest of the layers of the onion with her teeth, living bits and pieces on the floor. There was little care for the fact her black dress now smelled like onion. Onion juice dripped down her chin and she let it. A deer would be more appropriate, but she’d treat the onion with all the ferocity she had in her. Only small, jagged pieces of onion remained in her hands. Her gaze remained stony as she solemnly said, “May their memory and fierceness live on in all of us.”

Ariana looked to Deirdre momentarily before adding, “I’d like to add a bit of werewolf tradition in.” While she didn’t know the full ins and outs, Ulfric had explained his moon shrine to her as well as some of the aspects of the religion his pack back in Norway had followed. She looked up to the moon, softly glowing in the sky with sunset hues she couldn’t perfectly make out all around it. She raised her onion soaked hands and recited, “O Great Diana, goddess of the moon, night, and hunt-- please guide those who have fallen to peace. May they find enlightenment under the soft glow of moonlight from here on out.” It wasn’t perfect and she wasn’t sure she got the words right. Actually, she was positive she hadn’t. She made her own prayer loosely based on ones Ulfric had shared with her previously, but she hoped it helped their souls find peace in death.

What Deirdre hadn’t expected was the seriousness with which her admittedly idiotic sacrifical onion was taken with. She expected some resistance to which she could explain her train of thought: they couldn’t use an animal, because animals were inherently innocent and that would defeat the point. But she watched instead, humbled, by Lydia, Morgan and Ariana all harming an onion in Coraline’s name--she did imagine that an animal would have been tastier than a raw onion though. She reached out to pick bits of onion out of her girlfriend’s hair and off her nice dress. “Beautiful words, Ariana,” she smiled, having forgotten her earlier animosity. Funerals were not merited by their turn out, she remembered, but the compassion of those who did observe them. Odd as the onion was, Deirdre could only hope that Coraline would see three people who were angered for her, and desired to bring her peace. With her thoughts at peace again, she remembered why exactly she was here to begin with and her anger with herself disappeared. She had an onion to thank for that. The banshee shook her head, drawing her hand back from Morgan and pulling a small rod of iron wrapped up in thick wool out of her robe. “I think I can start now.” She stepped back and moved to the pyre. “Coraline Adams died at the hands of someone she trusted, her skin transmuted to iron,” she began, then tapped the jar with the banshee nails. “The two in here were tortured by a warden for forty-four days before they succumbed to their injuries.” Deirdre went on, listing the ways each part and piece had died, filling in names where she could and omitting gorier details out of respect. “Some of these people had died by Jo’s hand, others were simply her property by trade---bought or bartered otherwise. They will rest easier knowing Jo suffered as she should, and that no more harm can come from her. We remember their deaths.”

Deirdre turned back towards the other, rolling up her sleeve with one hand as the other unwrapped the iron rod carefully. She gripped the iron with her hand safely behind the wool, searching her forearm for the scar that seemed to grow every couple of years. She pressed the iron to it. “As the living, we will know their pain. And may they rest knowing that we carry it with us, and the pain of every injustice like this we cannot stop.” Her skin seared, blistering and peeling under the iron. Deirdre didn’t flinch and her face remained impassive. She would hold the iron there for as long as Coraline burned. “The house of winter is dark, and you may rest in its shadows. But your blood was spilled by the undeserving,” her voice dripped out steadily in Gaelic. “So I hold your pain in my heart, I hold it with my life. It is with each who watches me, each who knows. You can rest now, free from it. You can rest, by the decree of fate’s faithful, you can rest. The house of winter cherishes you now; to your home your body returns.” She pulled the iron away, bits of her skin were still stuck to it as she dropped the rod to the floor. Blood ran down her arm, dripping carelessly to the earth. She turned to Coraline’s body, dropping to her knees and pulling the cloth away from her face. “Take my blood for all that was taken from you.” She carefully lifted her head, delicately wrapping the wool around it before finally pulling her ceremonial knife out. There, she cut across her palm and dripped the blood on to the white cloth holding her body. Deirdre’s voice surrendered to a low hum, softly singing her family’s lament as she moved through each piece of the ceremony---from the wool wrappings to the cut palm. Eventually her singing trailed away, and she stepped back. “You can light it,” she told Morgan, “with any luck, her skull will be preserved enough to keep with the ashes. They can rest now.”

Deirdre had explained to Morgan what happened at a fae funeral and how it was her duty, as the officiant, to carry the pain of those who had died. She had known what the rod was for and how long it had to be held against Deirdre’s skin. But solemn discussions in the night didn’t come near to preparing her to see Deirdre’s skin melt off in red, gummy layers, steam rising from beneath. Nor was she prepared for the monstrousness of Deirdre’s silence. Her face looked like stone for all it moved, some hollow, unreal nightmare.

The burnt spot on Deirdre’s arm popped with heat and blood simmered and ran in thin sticky lines around the wound. Morgan had to cover her mouth to keep from screaming and running over to her. A muffled whimper escaped her lips and she clamped down harder, reaching for Ariana’s shoulder to keep herself still. This was part of a banshee’s role when a community was lucky enough to have one. This was what fae did for each other. Morgan knew this. She knew this. But she trembled with the urge to intervene as Deirdre cut her arm open, spilling more blood for the dead.

When she was called to light the fire, Morgan shuffled forward, fumbling for the long matches in her pocket. She had lit enough fires in her day, even without magic, to handle this with the kind of grace the situation asked for, but her arms were stiff and trembling. It took her three tries to get the end lit right. She held her gaze over the flame as it ate the wood one inch at a time and laid the flame over each bundle of kindling she’d laid on the pyre. She circled the structure til she came back to Coraline’s head. When it was done she flung the match into the blaze and stepped back, reaching for Deirdre. She slipped her arms around her waist and pressed them close together, her head resting on Deirdre’s chest. “I hope that was okay,” she whispered.

Ariana had never been to a fae funeral before and she had a bit of a hard time keeping a close eye on Deirdre. She couldn’t understand the parts that were in Gaelic, but she imagined there was some sort of explanation for why Deirdre had to put herself through physical pain for the ritual. Instead, she watched the pyres burned and wished that their souls would find peace. The circumstances surrounding their deaths had been bleak. More so than anything probably should have been, but more and more she was learning that’s just how the world worked. The smoke began swirling above them into the sky that was becoming darker now. The flames glowed around them and the smoke began to overtake the smell of the onion though she still tasted it on her lips. She remained silent as Deirdre continued on with the ceremony and refrained from wincing at Deirdre’s pain.

Lydia had last been to a funeral with a banshee officiant when she’d been a young child. While the human sacrifice (or onion sacrifice) was a common one, somehow, other species of fae were not as keen to take on pain in honouring the death. Lydia had only ever seen instead the damages transferred to a chicken. Deirdre was not a chicken, and she didn’t remember that childhood funeral right until the second Deirdre pulled out the iron bar. She steeled herself, staring at Coraline’sbody as Deirdre’s skin began to burn. If Deirdre wouldn’t flinch, nor would Lydia. It was an honour to suffer for the dead, as much so for the chicken as the Banshee. It wasn’t until Deirdre spoke, in a beautiful clear form of Gaelic that was so different to Lydia’s own tone, that a single tear rolled down her cheek. The witch’s death did not undo any suffering. It still lingered in the air, in their hearts, and in the skin on Deirdre’s arm that would take time to heal. When Deirdre’s voice dropped to a hum, Lydia found the rhythm and joined it too. The heat of the flame licked Lydia’s skin, uncomfortable without burning. She set in the fire five pieces of canvas, each made with ecstatic inspiration. So much that no image on them was legible, but for a funeral that was what was desired. Art in its purest, least dilute form. They burned, and in each carried the hope that the people cremated would find joy in the life hereafter. “Let nothing hold you to this earth. Your word has been kept, and you have been relinquished of what holds you here.”

It was a battle of wits and long limbs as Deirdre tried to navigate wrapping her arms around Morgan without getting blood on her. She was bleeding far too much for this to be accomplished, and so she remembered that white dresses were worn specifically to be sullied and she wrapped her arms around Morgan, staining her back with blood. "I think it was," she replied gently, "I think it really was." She bent down to kiss Morgan; first on her cheek, forehead, nose, before she eventually settled on her lips, capturing them for as long as she could. "Thank you," she mumbled as she lingered close. "For doing this. You really have brought them all peace, Morgan. I know it." There were no ghosts that lingered, and so it must have been true. "You did good, my vigilante zombie." She kissed her once more before she retreated, approaching Lydia and Ariana. "Your words were beautiful, and your voice is too. You should sing more," she smiled at Lydia, pulling her close—this time she took great care not to get blood anywhere, knowing Lydia didn't seem as strong-willed at the sight usually. She pressed a kiss to her temple and thanked her for giving that canvas, then for coming. The funeral was over, more or less, but Deirdre would stay until the flames died and help Morgan collect the ashes. She turned to Ariana next, forgetting whatever strangeness plagued her and Lydia earlier, or even her own actions. She wrapped her arms around the young girl, careful again with her bleeding arms. "And you, young wolf, have greatly honored us today. Thank you for sending that wolf to peace, and for observing the rest with us." She pressed a kiss to her temple too before releasing her. The funeral pyre grew steadily, the sound of cracking wood painting the air. The flowers laid atop did what they could for the smell, but to a wolf like Ariana it might not have mattered what they put. The funeral was over, technically, and all guests were free to leave—though this portion was usually colored with drinking and merriment. But watching the embers pop and disappear, the flames consuming all within with, she didn't think that they would. Not yet.

It wasn’t until Deirdre pulled her into her arms that Morgan released whatever she’d been holding onto of the dead girl she’d first found in a pile of garbage with Kaden, of everything she’d seen in that awful storage unit. For a moment, she could even release the unfairness of being supernatural in a world where your history and identity had to stay some stupid, deadly secret. For a moment, as the flames surged in the twilight evening, everything felt like it was enough. Morgan sagged into her banshee’s grip and hugged her back just as tight, kissed her just as long. The forest was quiet except for them. The birds, sensing something amiss, stayed away or else hid in their roosts. The deer watched from a safe distance and closed ranks around each other, grateful for another day to come. Morgan released her hold and watched Deirdre give her parting kisses to their friends, then followed behind to slip her arms over both of them at once. They came together easily, with only a few inches of height difference between them. Morgan held them tight in their group hug, murmuring, “Thank you, for doing this with us. And thank you for being my friends.” She pressed a kiss to each head and held them a moment longer. The moment was fading, the weight of the world beyond them pressing in as surely as the night. “You can sit with us and watch awhile? But I understand if you want to get back. I know someone still has a coaching gig in the morning.”

It was a relief to see that Deirdre no longer seemed annoyed with her though she didn’t love the sight of her bloodied. Ariana welcomed the hug and told her, “Thank you to both you and Morgan for putting this together. I like to think it helped all of them find peace.” Her voice was wistful as she continued to try and put her hopes for those lost out into the universe. When Morgan came over to her, she still kept her features gentle. There was no use to acknowledge Lydia at this point. The moon was higher in the sky now and the stars twinkling above the smoke that was still present in the air. “Of course,” Ariana started before she realized what Morgan was doing. Her stomach flipped and her entire body tensed up despite their now serene surroundings. Morgan was pulling her and Lydia into a group hug and she wanted to rip herself away, but Morgan didn’t deserve that. She was actually pretty sure Morgan had no idea just who Lydia really was. Being fae was one totally cool thing. Keeping people you fed from hostage in your home-- totally different ball game. Lydia was nothing but a glorified serial killer in high heels that had someone very dear to Ariana trapped in her home. It left her feeling disgusted as she awkwardly let herself be enveloped in the hug. She did her best to keep close to Morgan, but she could still feel Lydia’s body against her own. Ugh. It was hard to ignore the discomfort and urge to fight, but she did. This wasn’t the time or place. Still, it left her skin crawling even as she pulled away. Even though she hadn’t been sleeping well, Lydia being out of the house meant maybe she could see Ace tonight. “If I didn’t have such an early day with the kids tomorrow, I’d definitely hang around, but I’ll come by soon. I do believe I owe Deirdre a strawberry rhubarb pie,” she said with a grin before offering a final wave and getting the hell away from Lydia.

“I’ll sing more with you,” Lydia replied softly, taking Deirdre’s healthy hand for a quick moment, a gesture meant just for the two fae women, only for Deirdre to pull her into a hug a moment later, and Lydia squeezed her back tightly, for as long as she was allowed before Deirdre moved on to Ariana. She turned to the flames and didn’t look away from them until Morgan’s arms slipped around her. “Oh!” She gasped, suddenly pulled tight against two of her favourite people and an annoying brat. She hugged Morgan back at the very least, and smiled as they were let go. “I’ll stay-“ she was cut off by Ariana’s quick reply and equally quick disappearance. She eyed the young girl until she was out of sight and sighed. Shaking her head, she looked back at the others. “I’ll stay and sit for a while.”

Morgan gave Ariana one last squeeze as she departed. She floated slowly to the ground by the wine service with the two fae, pressed in close to Deirdre. Around them, smoke fine as mist rolled through the air, carrying the smell of char and death with it. The smell was so rich it penetrated the haze around Morgan’s senses. As she breathed it in, she imagined that the dead were with her and knew her in a way most of the living could not. Morgan looked into the fire with its blinding yellow core, with its desperate hunger. Was their rest in the pop of flesh going up in smoke or the cooling of the bones? Was it when the smoke kissed the tops of the trees, or when the embers died? If the dead had the answers, they couldn’t give it to her. Morgan huddled closer to Deirdre, stretching a hand out for Lydia as well, squeezing her hand. If peace was something the universe granted to zombies, it would be something she had to make for herself.

#onion tears #wr chatzy #wr deirdre chatzy #wr ariana chatzy #wr deirdre #wr ariana #wr lydia #wr lydia chatzy #self harm tw #self-harm tw #wickedswriting

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sugamoonv · 5 years

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You Had To Open Your Mouth

Like A Mate Should

Summary: Namjoon and Jin see you being attacked as a godsend. You see your attack and meeting them as a series of unfortunate events. How unfortunate that you’re their mate.

Pairings: established NamJin / Namjin x Reader/ Jin x Reader

Word Count: 3,321

Masterlist > Previous > Next

The house is eerily quiet when you leave the room the next morning, the complete opposite from the loud, boisterousness of the boys you’ve already come to expect. A mop of dark hair peeks over the back of the couch as you walk into the living room. Jungkook is sitting, a small gaming device in his hands that has his whole attention.

“Where is everyone?”

The game flies from hand to hand as Jungkook jumps in his spot and loudly curses before the device finally falls onto the carpet with a dull thud. Jungkook rushes to pick up the device and he sets in on the coffee table before turning to you. He stares at you until you raise your eyebrows in a silent question and he’s reminded to speak.

“Oh, uh, Jimin and Hobi went into town. Suga’s probably still sleeping, and Tae probably went to the pond, and I um- I don’t know where Namjoon-hyung and Jin-hyung are.” He says the last bit of information as though he’s trying to keep a secret. An awkward silence blankets the both of you so your standing facing each other, eyes shifting around the room.

“I’m the one that’s bringing you back to town,” Jungkook blurts out. “Not that I asked to. That would be weird of me to ask because, you know, Jimin. Not to say that you’re not pretty-because you are- it’s just that I don’t really go that way and even if I did, it wouldn’t matter because Jin and Namjoo-wait.” The entire time Jungkook spoke, he kept his eyes to the floor and suddenly looked up as he remembered something halfway through his speel, face mortified.

You bit your lower lip before pursing your lips and standing on your tiptoes to lower yourself flat-footed again.

“....Okay. Are you good to go then?”

Jungkook rapidly nods, glad for the break in the conversation. “Are you okay to walk?”

“Uh, yeah,” you look down at your ankle mumbling, “I don’t think it’s fully healed but I should be good walking on it.”

Jungkook nods again.

You follow him out of the door onto the front porch. There’s a large space cleared that you assume is used as a lawn before the grass becomes shaded by trees. You see a large garden on one side of the yard and next to you on the porch is a dark, oak bench swing with a pastel blue cushion. You grip onto the railing as you limp down the small set of stairs onto the stone path leading into the woods. Jungkook watches from the bottom with worried eyes.

You’ve barely been walking for five minutes before you want to punch the younger man in the face. He’s already asked you about twenty times how you were feeling and if you were okay to keep walking. If it weren’t for his red face and the way his gaze would flicker to the ground whenever he caught you looking at him, you might have actually thrown hands. The tension between you and Jungkook built and there were only so many trees you could distract yourself with as you walked by.

“So how did you all meet?”

Jungkook stumbles in the path.

His lips split into a wide, nervous smile. The chubbiness of his cheeks with his slightly oversized front teeth and the softness of his nature at that second make you forget what exactly he is.

“Um, I’m half shapeshifter so my mom sent me away to school so I wouldn’t be seen in the clan and I met Taehyung there and he introduced me to everyone.” Jungkook’s eyes light up despite the heaviness of his words, perhaps from the opportunity to talk to someone new.

Jungkook takes a full breath before his face lifts and he begins speaking again. “I was really nervous at first because they were all older than me but Jin-hyung and Namjoon-hyung became like parents to me. Jin-hyung would actually drive me to school most days-Yoongi would sometimes drive me when he felt like it or he had to pick something up in town.”

Jungkook is looking at the ground as he talks but his expression is comfortable. You didn’t expect him to open up like this to you but his youthful aura begs you to stay silent and let him take advantage of you listening. Besides, it’s better than the solitary silence of the plant life around you.

Jungkook’s eyes squint in happiness as he reminisces, “It actually took me and Jimin awhile before we realized we were mates.” He looks up at you, a glint in his eyes. “I would annoy him a lot and I always looked up to him so I would copy him and for the longest time, I thought he was mated to Yoongi-hyung but then one day when he went into heat, Taehyung came running to me, yelling about Jimin was asking for me.” He laughs at the end as if he were sharing an inside joke with you.

Memories pop into your brain of the lessons your own mother taught you about werewolf mating and the brief touch on the topic in your high-school health class.

Jungkook hasn’t taken any notice to your mind drifting away. “And then it turned out that Yoongi-hyung and Hoseok-hyung were mates but they’re not as affectionate as Jimin and me and they completed their mark so they didn’t need to be around each other all the time when I joined the pack….You okay?”

Jungkook looks at you with wide, inquisitive eyes.

Your face flushes. “Yeah, I just- I just thought that it was uncommon for two werewolves that were the same gender to mate?”

If Jungkook has any issue with the word ‘werewolf’ or the question itself, he doesn’t show it. Instead, his eyes softened in understanding.

“I think it’s about the same as humans.”

“Yeah, but I thought you guys chose mates based on reproductive purposes.”

“Humans do the same thing, don’t they? And if you’re talking about us having mates based on how well we’ll be able to have children with them, then that’s a myth.” Jungkook sees your confused expression and continues on. “We don’t get to choose our mate, it’s just kind of, instinctual to us? Our nature subconsciously chooses partners it knows will most compatible with us based on scent so that doesn’t always mean whoever will give you the healthiest pups. It’s just who you’ll be most in sync with physically and emotionally, and then typically because of that our pups are extremely healthy and grow up sturdy.”

You silently nod in confirmation, absorbing all of the information thrown at you. Jungkook’s taught you more in 10 minutes than what you’ve learned about shapeshifters your whole life.

“Do you humans not feel the same connection?”

The innocence of his question draws out an unnatural amount of maternal sympathy. “Not really, no. Relationships like that usually take us a while to build.”

“In every movie with humans, they always find their mate though.”

“Yeah-those are just movies, Jungkook,” you look him in the eyes. “Nothing about them is realistic, especially the falling in love in three weeks.”

“So you’re telling me humans feel nothing when they meet their mate?”

“Nope.”

“I feel bad for Jin-hyung and Namjoon-hyung now,” Jungkook pouts at the ground and continues his trek.

Your eyebrows pinch as you follow behind him, mindful of the small boulders bulging from the section of the path you’re currently on, “Why?”

“Because Namjoon-hyung came back home when he ran into you and he couldn’t stop talking about you. I’m pretty sure him and Jin stayed up all night talking about you.”

You reach out and grab Jungkook’s arm to make him stop again. This time he looks just as confused as you do at your ministrations. “Wait, what? When did Namjoon run into me?”

“When he went into town.”

You shake your head to convey you still have no indication of when you and Namjoon crossed paths. “When did he go into town?”

Jungkook’s eyes flicker up as he thinks back a few days ago. “About two days before we found you and brought you back home.”

Your mind replays the week's events back to you until you get to the last time you were in town but your mind comes up blank. The only thing you can remember is the lunch you had with your friends and talk about the date before the date itself.

“We thought you were in the forest because you were looking for them.”

“No?” your eyebrows further deepen upon your face and Jungkook’s expression moderately shifts to mirror yours.

Both of you stand in front of each other, unsure of how to respond. Without saying anything, you come to a silent agreement when you look at your befuddled faces then with a shrug, begin walking again.

The rest of the walk is short and you and Jungkook don’t make much conversation for the remainder of it. You can’t get the thought of all that he’s said to you about Namjoon and Jin out of your head, especially the fact that you and Namjoon apparently already having had a run in before you ended up at their house.

There’s a park that the path opens into. It’s empty except for the woman jogging, pushing a stroller and another woman off in the distance untangling a leash from around the legs of her dog. The breeze is stronger here without the trees to halt it, but it’s still soft. You look behind you to see that the space you just came from is practically non-visible, as though you walked through a portal and the path was a mirage conjured up from days wandering through the woods hungry and dehydrated. But Jungkook is still standing beside you and the bandage is still snug on your ankle.

“So this is the central park. We’re pretty close to town,” Jungkook captures your attention, “You’re able to make your way back okay, right?”

“Mhmm.” You eagerly nod at him, ready to escape from the strange energy built between you two.

Jungkook takes a slow step backward, “Cool. Well-uh, stay safe and it was nice meeting you.”

He snaps his fingers and spins so he’s walking forward and you watch him disappear into the thicket back onto the pack. The moment you’re alone, the past week begins to feel like a fever dream.

Despite the plethora of questions from your friends once your phone was charged and you saw them in person and dodging demands to see pictures or souvenirs, the past two weeks have been relatively normal. Well except for the fact that no matter how busy you keep yourself, you can’t stop thinking about the pack of shifters that saved you. More specifically, Namjoon and Jin.

Jungkook’s conversation with you had been ringing in your head since the day he led you back. And the fact that he was the one to lead you back when Jin was the one that insisted that you stay. You would have thought that he would have wanted to be the one to see you off and make sure that your ankle was good before you departed for good.

You heavily sigh and drop your head back when you see the sign on the elevator letting all know that it doesn’t work. Of course, this would happen the day you have tests in all your Tuesday classes. You roll your shoulders as much as you can with the backpack containing your textbooks, planner, and laptop resting on your back.

You drudge your feet over to the paint chipped, metal door that opens to a shady staircase. You wish you could say you were the type of person who’s thighs didn’t burn after climbing three flights of stairs. The minute you enter your apartment, you throw your bag onto the small couch and make a beeline straight to your room. The promise of loose pajamas and a night in made you giddy and for tonight, you were allowing yourself a break from school.

You scroll through your social media and answer the occasional text as the characters on screen whined about the new issue of the episode. The acting was bad but the familiarity of it was comforting. You want to laugh at how close to home the current episode hits. It was a show from before the discovery of shapeshifters, where werewolves were seen as mythical commodities for entertainment and so anyone had free range to voice their interpretations.

The male lead of the show was fighting a group of people when hair started growing on his face and his eyes turned a bright yellow. As you watched the character’s claws swing at the faces of the other people, the now completely healed bite on your ankle began to ache. As though seeing an aggressive shifter on the tv screen was a trigger to your ankle, saying, “you should be in pain”.

You reach down and delicately rub the two puncture marks that were left behind. And with the reminder of your old wound comes the reminder of the creatures that caused it and the shifters that healed it. With the reminder of the boys comes the reminder of Jin and Namjoon. All that they did to help you and how they wanted to get to know you, the conversation you had with Jungkook about them and the conversation you had with Namjoon before you left.

A strange feeling bubbled inside your chest; something akin to guilt mixed another feeling you can’t quite determine. Now instead of your attention being put on the show playing in front of you and your phone face down on the arm of the couch, your legs are restless to move.

You sit up straight, leg bouncing and face screwed in concentration as you think to yourself.

“This is such a bad idea.”

You were able to maneuver through the park with the night sky blackening the sidewalk that ran through it. Yet here you are, in front of the mysterious hidden path Jungkook had led you out of some time before. You can’t see where the entrance is but you know you’re in the right space. The emptiness of the park around you is eery and sends chills up and down your spine so you have to swallow the thoughts of all the ways you could die being alone outside at night. What you wouldn’t give to see the woman from before whose dog got itself caught in its leash.

You almost turn around and go back home. In fact, you do that a couple times. Caught in a loop where you stare at the path then go to walk away only to swallow your nerves and turn back and be caught frozen before repeating again. You take in a deep breath and puff your chest to prepare to walk into the dark, unknown path when all of a sudden a loud rustling comes from in front of you and true fear clogs your throat. You want to turn around again but now you can’t.

You keep your muscles tense despite their natural shaking to prepare themselves to help you flee. Your heart has dropped into your stomach and your mouth is dry as the rustling grows louder and your mind conjures up images of red eyes peering from behind the fauna. You feel the phantom sensation of blood running down your ankle and you want so badly to look down to see if the intense ache felt is real.

“Y/N?”

If it weren’t for Jin saying your name, you would have no idea who’s standing in front of you due to the tears blurring your vision. Your diaphragm reanimates, allowing your lungs to expand and take in a deep breath of air that somewhat immediately stops the dizziness in your head.

“What the hell Jin? What are you doing here?”

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

Each of your words become jumbled as you speak over one another. Jin reaches forward and places his hands on your upper arms as he checks over you for any injuries. You take a step back out of his grasp and his hands drop to his sides, but his eyes remain concerned on you.

“You scared me! Why are you even here!?” you scold Jin and place a hand on your chest over your frantically beating heart.

“I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Why are you here?” you repeat yourself, exasperated and drop your hand from your chest.

Under the dim street lamp, you can see a blush forming on Jin, starting from his neck and coloring his face.

“There was something I needed to do,” Jin tries to deflect the question, “Why are you here?”

You don’t want to admit that the reason you looked for the path to their house was to see them. Admittedly, sputtering at Jin’s question probably didn’t make you seem un-suspicious.

“It doesn’t matter why I’m here. What is it you needed to do at 11 o’clock at night?”

Feeding into this game of deflection probably didn’t help your case either.

Jin rapidly blinks as he formulates what answer to give you. Eventually, he resigns himself to telling you the truth and squares his shoulders to make himself appear taller and more confident. “I was looking for you actually.”

“Why?”

Jin sharply inhales then clears his throat a few times. His shoulders now appear more tense and uncomfortable than those of a confident man.

“I wanted to ask you on a date.”

Your lips slightly part as you gape at him. Nervous energy fills the quiet air and Jin shifts from foot to foot as he watches and waits for a response. His eyes have begun to rapidly blink again.

“You came all the way here to ask me on a date!?” your hands thread themselves through your hair and you half spin away from Jin. “You walked all the way here at nearly midnight so you could ask me on a date!? You don’t even know where I live! How were you going to find me? What were you even thinking? Are you insane!”

Jin visibly flinches back as each question is thrown at him and by the time you run out of breath, his face is a raging red and his eyes are wide. His lips move on their own accord trying to speak the words caught in his throat.

At last, he’s finally able to respond to you staring at him aghast.

“I know Jungkook told you how mating works and I just couldn’t let this be a missed opportunity.” Jin goes from bordering on terrified to pleading. “Let me and Namjoon take you o just one date,” when he sees your eyes grow wider, he quickly corrects himself, “Just me! Let me take you on a date. I promise you won’t regret it and if you do, I’ll leave you alone and you can completely forget about me.”

Jin takes a hesitant step towards you so he’s almost directly under the dim light. His eyes softly bore into yours. His voice becomes soft as he drops it to whisper, “Please.”

It feels as though your mind is completely blank. You never expected anything that happened tonight to happen and yet you’re even more surprised by Jin’s appearance and request. It seems to be a pattern with him and the other boys to make every interaction with them feel like something straight from a movie. And you don’t know whether it’s the way the light hits Jin’s face or the fact that your brain hasn’t fully comprehended what he asked, but you nod yes. You don’t exactly mind the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach when he smiles at you as though you made him the richest man on Earth.

Tags: @detectivebourbon @omgsuperstarg @eshika0102 @delightfulyoongi @boononx

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slothgiirl · 6 years

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Little Red Riding Hood

theo raeken imagine (smut)

theo goes into heat and it’s all your fault.

crossposted on ao3

With only the vaguest plan to find Liam as soon as possible, you set out to find the only other person who might know where one of your best friends and pack mates was, Theo Raeken.

He and Liam had been getting along now if very tensely and most of their time spent together was them both working off their aggression and breaking each other's noses. And now you were desperate to find Liam, desperate enough that you'd go ask Theo for help.

The only times you'd ever talked to him had been around other people, never like this, never alone.

You hesitate outside of his apartment door, Derek having turned his old abandoned warehouse into decent housing in between alpha pack attacks and hunters. He probably already knew you were here, heightened senses and all, but you couldn't bring yourself to knock on his door now that you were standing outside.

Would he even help?

You shake your head and knock loudly. It doesn't matter. You'll make Theo help because Liam needs it. Because Liam's running wild in the middle of a heat and he could get hurt or hurt someone and he'd never forgive himself after.

“I was starting to think you'd never knock,” Theo says as he opens the door, leaning against the doorway with his shit eating smirk in place. No matter how good of a liar he was, that smirk was always on the verge of giving him away, his lips always lifting up ever so slightly.

Of course Stiles has caught on.

You don't bother with pleasantries, “Help me find Liam.”

Instantly he tenses, “hunters?”

“No,” you hastily add, “nothing that bad. He's in heat and gave us all the slip this morning. Kira fell asleep while on watch. Now we don't know where he is.”

Theo snorts, “why didn't you just chain him up. He told me that Scott locked Hayden in Lydia's basement.”

“Yes well,” you said with a shrug, feeling awkward as you stood in the hallway without being dismissed or invited in, “If there's no unbonded werewolves around, a pack is enough to keep a werewolf in heat in control. Or at least that's what Lydia and Deaton were on about. Besides when does chaining someone up ever work around here. Liam always breaks free.”

“Scott's too soft,” Theo says without any real bite behind the words. He isn't a threat anymore you remind yourself. And if he made himself one again Stiles wouldn't hesitate to murder him regardless of Scott's stance.

He'd saved Liam’s life.

“then you’ll help me?”

He shrugged, “I don't see why I'd be more help then-,”

You roll your eyes, not willing to waste another second exchanging witticisms with Theo, “think you asshole or track him down with those heightened senses of yours,” you tell him as you turn an walk back down the hallway, not bothering to check if he's following. “We're on preserve duty.”

He laughed, catching up to you quickly, “are you always this bossy.”

“When it come to my friends safety then yes,” you say, glancing over at him as you both make your way down the stairs. His eyes are the deep blue of oceans that are only ever seen in documentaries, unscathed by civilization as they meet yours.

“Should you even be out looking for him,” Theo questions, “he is in heat after all.” The slight upturn of his lips gives him away.

“Shut the fuck up,” you snap, not in the mood for Theo and his games. Unlike Scott, you'd chosen to believe Stiles’ hunch about Theo. “We’re pack and it's Liam. He would never hurt me. We’ve been friends since our moms met at those maternity class things.”

Theo simply arches a brow but says nothing as he leads you both to his truck, cleaner inside than you'd expect from a teenage boy.

It's daytime so there's actually people in the preserve. Not many, but those people who exercise and actually go into the woods to enjoy nature and not track down the latest supernatural threat.

What had your life even become.

You don't even pretend that you can keep up with Theo. It's something you'd come to terms with quickly. Your pack but going up against a werewolf or whatever head on would never work. So you improvised.

Without you having to say anything, Theo slows down, keeps pace with you. It's nice.

The sun is shining but it's not hot and the trees provide plenty of shade.

But no Liam.

“Do you hear anything,” you ask, glancing over at him. The plan was to split up and cover as much ground as possible as fast as possible, but the preserve was huge.

Theo closes his eyes, head tilting to the side as he focuses. Being a chimera his senses aren't as heightened as Liam’s or Hayden’s but they're still much better than yours.

The act of focusing has softened his features, shit eating smirk gone flat, the arrogance and patronizing expression that is all Theo is gone for once. You know he's hot, you've always known that. But the way the sun hits his face, he looks like a boy you might kiss.

You look away. It's Theo. You can't think like that about him.

He opens his eyes back up, looking down at you by his side, sighing, “I don't hear or even smell anything. Are you sure he'd come here?”

Shrugging and aggressively ignoring how close to him you were standing you respond, “we have no clue where he'd even go. Mason’s at his house and Corey went to go check at his old school. Malia and Lydia are on Hayden duty. Stiles is checking in with the station. Kira's at the school. And Scott's running around town.”

“Your his pack,” Theo states patronizingly, “shouldn't you know where he'd go.” Anyone else and you'd be offended but much like Malia’s bluntness, Theo’s always being a smug little shit.

“That's kind of his problem,” you retort, “he doesn't have anything to anchor himself or did you forget what you did so quickly.” You don't mean to sound so harsh, it's just not in your nature to stay angry for long, but you’re frustrated. Liam and his IED while in heat sounds like a ticking time bomb.

Flatly, Theo replies, “No,” before turning around and continuing down the path.

He doesn't wait for you to catch up, just keeps walking.

Now you've done it. If he does anything stupid in a temper tantrum it'll be your fault.

God.

“Theo,” you call out breathlessly, nearly running to catch up to him, “Theo I didn't mean it. It was a shitty thing to say especially after everything you've done since then.”

He stops abruptly and you nearly run into him. “But that’s what your always thinking right? No matter what I do that's always what you all will think of me. Right,” he spits out his hands gripping your arms.

“I’m sorry,” you repeat. It doesn't feel like nearly enough.

“Don't,” he says coldly, still holding you in place, “don't apologize for saying what your thinking.”

You pull away and he lets you go. His features are twisted into bitter anger, but you've known Liam your whole life and you can see the hints of disappointment in Theo’s eyes. “Don't say that,” you tell him softly, like you would a wounded animal, “I wouldn't have asked for your help if I really thought that. I wouldn't have asked for your help if I didn't trust you.”

Neither of you says anything, merely studying the other.

You meant what you said. It's surprising, but it's true. He can't change the past, what he's done, but since coming back from wherever the skin walkers sent him, he's helped.

And that had to mean something. It had to or all Scott believed, all you believed about people being able to change, about choosing to do the right thing was wrong and you just couldn't accept that.

“Let's go,” Theo finally says, “Liam’s not here. I would have caught his scent by now. He's in heat after all.”

“Do heats really smell that bad?”

He smirks as he looks down at you, “I wouldn't say bad-just distinctive.”

Theo’s turning the key when he shouts, “I know where he is!”

You raise a brow, “where?”

“The old zoo.”

You shake your head. Liam hates it there. It was where he'd go when he felt so angry and didn't want to hurt someone before he was diagnosed. “He wouldn't go there. He gets triggered there.”

Theo shakes his head, running a hand through his hair, ungelled for once. You wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers through it. “He's there.”

“No.”

“Just trust me on this,” he says quietly, subdued for once. It's jarring enough that you nod.

“Okay.”

The drive is short and tense. You want him to be there. He could be there. God, you need to find Liam and no one’s texted yet so no one has any leads.

Malia has been a nightmare when she was in heat before bonding with Stiles. She had smashed a television and rolled around half naked in the woods before Scott and Kira had been able to find her.

What state would Liam be in?

“Split up,” you ask as you go to step into the horror movie waiting to happen that is the graffiti covered zoo.

Theo grabs your arm, “be careful and call for me when you find him.”

You roll your eyes but end up smiling anyway, “right back at you,” and then you take the stairs by twos. Your feet automatically carry you to all the spots you've found him in before.

God it had been so scary. Liam’s hands bleeding and unable to do anything. At least you'd had Mason to talk to.

Mason who ultimately convinced Liam to go to therapy like his step-dad wanted him too.

The further in you go the more you’re reminded of why you hate abandoned places. It’s dark, with only the light peaking in through the cracks. Every sound sounds sinister as it echoes throughout the passageways.

You really hope you find Liam soon so you can get the hell out of here, pulse raising as every shadow takes on a terrifying form like the ghost riders before them.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” Liam is siting on the dirt coated floor, hugging his knees to his chest, eyes glowing in the dim light. There’s dried blood on his knuckles and you feel all of nine years old all over again, helpless when your friend needs you most.

“Liam,” you say as relief floods your body, “come on let’s get you back to Scott’s.”

“No,” he utters, shaking his head as he looks up at you, hair curling around his ears. Mason and you had been making fun of him for weeks now about getting a haircut. “No. You shouldn’t be around me. I’m-“

“If you think I’m leaving you here alone you’re insane,” you state before he can finish. You sit down next to him, wrapping your arms around his body, holding him close.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” he whispers, sweat gleaming off his skin. He’s feverish hot against your body.

“You won’t. Just let me call the others,” you tell him, feeling for your phone as Liam finally relents and hugs you right back. It’s honestly gross because his shirt is damp and you don't want to think about that too much. “You’re going to be okay. And if you think about it,” you say shifting so you’re sitting next to him, making yourself comfortable on the cold ground, “this is so freaking funny. Like now you know what having a period is like but like ten times worse.”

“You’re the worst,” he mutters back, but his eyes have stopped glowing so progress. “This isn’t funny,” he protests as you shake from silent laughter.

“It kind of is.”

“Y/N-.” He stiffens, eyes glowing as he growls. “You brought Theo!”

You shrug, “Beacon Hills isn’t the type of town to go wandering around alone. I mean we could give Derry Maine a run for their money.” If you thought you could ease the tension you were wrong because Liam just gets angrier, teeth lengthening into fangs.

“Liam?”

He roars and you scramble back and away from him, not being able to help but flinch. “Liam,” you cry out, “stop you’re scaring me Liam.”

“Why did you bring him!” He says as he grips the rusted bars, hands warping the metal as he tries to keep himself together, claws cutting into his own skin.

“I thought he could help,” you respond as edge to the exit, reluctant to leave but also terrified of one of your closest friends. He’d never been this bad before. “And clearly I was right Liam! You’ve got to calm down. We’ll go to Scott’s and chill until this is over. It’ll be just like with the full moon. Spending it with your pack’s way better then spending it in chains,” you say with an uneasy smile.

“No,” he snaps, making to grab your arm as you scramble back and away from him. “Y/N,” he growls.

“Liam,” you say meeting his burning gaze with more confidence then you actually feel, back against the wall. Maybe if you don’t back down he will. Isn’t that how you train dogs? Just show them who’s boss.

He roars and make to grab you again. You scramble out of the way, running for it and hoping to buy time and figure something out.

The sound of bone cracking echoes throughout the hall and you stop, turning around.

Theo stands over Liam’s body, limp on the ground. He looks up and meets your gaze, “your welcome,” he says so smugly you could hit him.

Heart still pounding in your chest, you reply, “We need to call Scott,” after swallowing thickly. You’d never been scared like that before. Not with the berserkers, not with the ghost riders, not even with la bete. This time it had been your friend and somehow that made it a thousand times worse.

“I thought I told you to call me,” Theo says, turning his back on Liam’s passed out form to reach you.

You curl your hands into fist to stop them from shaking. “We need to call Scott,” you repeat, gaze pinned to the ground.

“Hey,” Theo says, his hand tilting your chin up so you’re looking at him, “it’s okay,” voice softer than you would have thought possible for him. “That wasn’t Liam. He isn’t in control. He’d never hurt you.”

“I know,” you snap back, because you do. You aren’t scared of them. You aren’t. “I know he wouldn’t, but knowing and,” you take a deep breathe, “I’m okay Theo.”

He studies your face for a long moment before pulling away and grabbing onto Liam who’s started stirring, his fist cracking once more against Liam’s head. “I called Scott. They’ll be here soon.”

You've been stress baking, pouring over all the online recipients you've bookmarked and meant to make but not really because once you read through the instructions it seemed like too much work when you could spend five dollars and have a whole box of cookies in hand.

But the past week has been rough what with Hayden going into heat which started a chain reaction in the whole pack and you've still not talked to Liam mostly because he's been avoiding you instead of apologizing. He's dumb like that.

Any day now, Mason will invite you both over to his house and you'll end up playing fallout or mario cart for hours like nothing ever happened.

But for now you have way more bread, muffins, and cookies than any sane person could need or eat before they went bad. So you decided to drop them off to someone who could eat that much and deserves all your hard work because Stiles is an ungrateful little shit. Theo.

He's not one to accept or even ask for help in the first place but seeing as he had helped, he'd probably accept you're bagful of bread without argument.

And if you were being honest, you wanted to see him. Had been thinking more about him then you had in all the past months combined. Heart speeding up in anticipation as you walked down the hallway to his apartment door.

Derek really had done a number on this place, not resembling anything like it had the last time you'd been here with Scott and Mason to chain Liam up for the full moon.

This time you didn't hesitate to knock on the door, sound echoing out in the hall.

Theo opens up after a long moment where you contemplated just leaving the bag outside his door and hoping he wouldn't immediately think hunters and just avoiding him for the rest of your life. Maybe running away to canada and becoming a caribou farmer. That sounds very canadian.

“Y/N,” he says through the crack of the door, not fully opening up or coming out. His hair is a mess, some of the strands falling into his face, a slight sheen of sweat on his skin. “Don't tell me you lost Liam again,” he says with a smirk.

“Nope,” you reply easily, “He's all better and just in time to help deal with Scott.”

“Well fuck.”

“You can say that again,” you say with a sigh. You loved your close knitted friend group, your pack, but they can be a lot to handle. Especially when you and Kira went out with Malia. There was no telling what she could get up to after spending years as a coyote.

“I baked way too much bread after the week I've had and thought you might want some. You did help with only minimal complaints,” holding out the bag.

Theo reaches out to grab the bag from you, your fingers brushing his warm hand as you do. “Thanks,” he mutters, but doesn't meet your eyes.

“We can't all have enhanced metabolisms and I worked too hard to have it all go bad just because I can't eat it all,” you add, trying to play down anything Theo might be reading into.

He swallows thickly. “Want to come in?”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You weren't expecting to be invited in. Theo doesn't seem like he gets much visitors but he could have a very rich social life for all you know.

“Okay,” you respond and follow him inside, closing the door behind you.

His apartment is sparse. An old couch but no tv. There's no table from what you can see and it doesn't have anything that makes it feel like a home.

It's sad.

“I finally made that monkey apple caramel pull apart bread that looked heavenly fucking good in the photos and I can say that it's as good as it looks if a lot messy,” you say just to fill the awkward silence.

Theo doesn't respond just places the bag on the countertop.

You go and make to open the bag because it's awkward and you hate that. You hate feeling awkward and are not on a one person mission to fix that because last time it had been easy and now it's not and you didn't fret over what to wear for a full hour just for this.

“Y/N,” Theo groans as you step into his space, your shoulder against his side. You can feel his whole body tense up.

“Can you just let me do this thing for you and say thanks? It's not that hard man,” you tell him.

Instead he takes a deep breathe, “Y/N, you need to go now. I only have so much self control.”

“Theo,” you utter his name, unable to keep the hurt out of your voice. “What's wrong?”

“Get out,” he states again flatly, leaving no room for argument. Too bad you can be stubborn as hell.

“What's wrong?”

“Y/N!” His gaze is hard as he stares you down.

“Theo,” you say, meeting his gaze, refusing to take a step back from his side even as he steps back. “Just tell me why?” You thought you two were getting somewhere.

“I’m in heat,” he finally admits, subdued, as he looks down at the wooden floors. “You need to go because there's only so much I can take when all I want to do is fuck you so hard you won't be able to walk tomorrow.”

A shiver runs down your spine at his words. But your feet are rooted to the floor. You don't even know where to start, how to even begin to respond.

“Y/N,” he finally says with a sigh, “just please go.”

“Shit. I’m sorry Theo this is all my fault isn't it,” you start to ramble despite yourself, “if I hadn't asked you to help you'd be fine and-,”

He cuts you off with a kiss, his hand caressing your cheek as his other hand settles on the small of your back, pressing your body against his. Theo’s lips are soft against yours even as he kisses you hard.

You kiss him right back. Hands resting against his firm chest.

“Y/N,” he utters, breathe heavy as he pulls back but doesn't let you go. “You really need to leave. It's not your fault. It would've happened sooner or later.”

“Theo,” you manage breathlessly, heart beating rabbit fast in your chest and wanting more, “just kiss me again.”

He laughs bitterly, his hand tilting your chin up tenderly as he rests his forehead against yours. “I won't be able to stop myself. Do you understand that? I don't want to hurt you.”

His admission makes your knees weak. Theo Raeken who had done so much harm, who cared about no one but himself wouldn't hurt you. Because he cared, he'd just admitted as much.

“I want to stay,” you say before pressing your lips against his, skin growing hot in anticipation because staying would mean-

Theo kisses you back hard, pulling you lip with his teeth. You open your lips up to him, fingers clutching the soft fabric of his shirt as you kiss him back, his tongue warm against yours.

True to his word he doesn't stop when you pull away for air, his lips trailing kisses down your throat, nipping at the crook of your neck. It leaves you whimpering his name.

“Theo.”

He pulls you along with him, leading you to his room as his hands push your shirt up, sending your heart racing as his fingers trail over you skin.

“Y/N,” he whispers against your skin before coming up to kiss you again, your lips meeting his again. You’d be content to lay in his bed, so low to the ground being just a mattress, and kiss him for hours. His hands on your sides.

There's a softness to his face that you normally never see. It makes you weak, heat pooling at your core. “Tell me you want this as much as I do,” he asks with a slight whine to his voice, eyes hungry as you lay down and pull your shirt off.

You hadn't even bothered to wear a bra.

“You're just saying that because you're in heat,” you say instead. You've never really felt pretty, not with Lydia around. But you'd at least managed to stop caring.

He smirks down at you, pulling his own shirt off and tossing it aside. “I might be in heat,” he tells you all arrogance that used to annoy you but now just makes you want to laugh, “but I still wouldn't fuck just anyone. I want you.”

You do giggle as he leans down, pressing his body against yours, the skin on skin contact driving you mad as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Wow,” you tell him, “just what everyone wants to hear right before they sleep with someone.”

He shrugs under your arms, pressing an open mouthed kiss on your collarbone. You moan, “Theo,” as he rolls you nipple between his fingers, his hips grinding against yours, so fucking hard your toes curl up.

“Mhm,” he groans against your mouth, hand caressing your breast.

You whine, digging your fingers into his shoulders, “let's just fuck already.” You can't take much more of his teasing, you just want him already.

Theo leans back, easily breaking out of your hold on him. “What was that,” he says with his usual shit eating smirk on his lips. Same old Theo. Too bad you know how hard he is.

Reaching up, one of your hands goes to undo his jeans while the other palms his dick through the fabric of his jeans, your own smirk meeting his as you feel him twitch in your hand.

Theo’s eyes flutter closed as he moans loudly.

You swallow hard, hand trembling as you help him out of his jeans. It’s quick work and then his own hands are on your shorts making quick work of them, his lips meeting your own even as his other hand brushes over your core with his fingers, so warm and not enough and you writher under his touch.

You need him.

Now.

“How are you such a little shit even during sex,” you mutter as your own hands pull at the hem of his boxer briefs, which isn’t surprising.

You gasp as he slides a finger into your wet folds, just deep enough to tease in the worst way, your fingers dig into his hips, pulling at him, need friction, wanting him to get on with it.

“Ah,” he says with a laugh against the shell of you ear, “but you love it. Look how wet you are for me.”

A shiver runs down your back at his words, his breath tickling your skin. Your hot and bothered and this boy isn’t fucking you already, skin burning with desire.

“Yes,” you manage, as he nibbles on your ear lobe, “now are you all talk or are you going to put your money where you mouth is?”

Theo growls, his eyes glowing gold as his hand grabs yours both by the wrist, pinning them down, his other hand ripping your underwear and tossing the fabric aside before turning you over.

Your body buzzes with anticipation, Theo moves behind you, your heart pounding in your chest.

His hand grips your hip, his cock hard against you and then Theo pushes into you, your hands clutch at the bed and you both moan.

“Fuck,” Theo groans, “Y/N.”

One hand on your hip, the other holds you against him, resting on your chest, Theo thrusts into you roughly, groaning as he does, his face buried in the crook of your neck. It hurts in the best way as he stretches you, his thrusts rough and hard and quick as he fucks you against his mattress.

Fingers digging into your hip.

Your chin tilts up to give him more access to your neck, bruises blooming across the sensitive skin, as you whimper against him.

“Theo,” you utter, voice shakily as you finally what you’ve been wanting. Theo against you, Theo in you, “harder.”

He complies, a growl emanating from his chest as he does. His thrusts growing faster and sloppy as need overwhelmed thought, his hand pressing you back against him as he thrusted forward.

Your arm reaches behind you, curling into Theo’s soft locks. You preferred them to his usual gelled style, not that you’d ever told him as much.

Theo whines against the crook of your neck, “Y/N.” His nose rubs against your skin and your insides turn to mush.

You wish you were facing him.

Theo.

“Just like that,” you urge him on as he thrusts against you, grinding once he’s balls deep in your soaking wet pussy.

“Mine,” Theo states breathily against you, pressing a kiss to your jaw, “you’re mine.”

You shiver at his words, a heavy longing you hadn’t even know was there shaking through your skull, body tense as you await release, and respond, “Yours. Only your Theo.”

With a roar he comes, his fangs elongating against your neck and you don’t have a chance to do much before Theo bites down into your shoulder.

You tremble, pain and pleasure overwhelming you, blending into each other and you come, clenching around his cock, eyes squeezed shut as the built up pressure finally seeps out of you, exhaustion and satisfaction that make you feel light as air, a high so deep it reaches your bones, blissed out.

Sharp stinging pain emanating from the crook of your neck, Theo’s body warm again yours as he collapses onto of you, spent.

You ride out your own wave of pleasure, feeling too hot and sweaty and gross the way sex always is.

His fangs retract and you whimper in pain, warm blood slowly oozing out onto your skin. “Did you have to bite me with your fangs,” you groan, but you don't have it in you to be mad at him, your body exhausted and wanting nothing more than to close your eyes and sleep.

His answering smirk is sheepish, his eyes closed as he rolls off of you, the light casting a golden glow onto his skin, “I did say I wouldn’t be able to help myself.”

You roll your eyes, smiling slightly to make sure he knew you were only teasing, “freaking werewolves.”

“Chimera,” he says, chest rumbling, the gold returning to his eyes as Theo pulls your body towards him, careful with your shoulder as every movement causes the bite to throb, already half hard again.

You curl into him, resting you head against his well defined chest, his arm pressing you close. “How are you already hard again,” you mutter, you body still limp from before. He was going to be unbearable later when he realized how much your thighs ached from how hard he’d fucked you.

And still wanted to apparently.

“I’m in heat,” he teases.

“And I’m exhausted.”

With a laugh, Theo responds, “Then let me put you to sleep,” and rolling you both over, sliding between your thighs.

You giggle, “god you’re such a dick.”

“Ah, but you like my dick.”

It just makes you giggle more. He slides into you, kissing the corner of you lips as you grip your fingers into his back, digging in as he pounds into you erratically, your body throbbing with pleasure that sends you squirming under him, eyes squeezed shut.

It’s too much.

Your still too sensitive from before, skin feverishly hot.

Over stimulated and you come again, seeing starts in the base of your eyelids, crying out Theo’s name, fingers digging into his back.

It leaves you breathless.

Theo’s own thrusts grow sloppy, hips pressing desperately against yours, as he presses soft kisses against the bite on the crook of your neck, so carefully his lips are no more than a whisper over your skin.

Your hand caresses his jaw, the slight scruff tickling your skin as you do, bringing his up to you, pressing his lips against yours, hungry for the taste of his mouth on yours.

Theses a desperation and neediness to his kisses, wanting to claim you in every which way, as if he could kiss you hard enough to make you his forever.

You pull away for air, Theo resting his forehead on yours, your body trembling with too much pleasure coursing through you like a live wire, his blue eyes deep pools you could drown in peering down at you.

Your fingers trace over his features, sending his eyes fluttering shut and you feel the hitch in his breath, the jolting in his muscles as he comes again, against you, collapsing on top of you once more.

You prefer him like this, where you can see him, see the way his face moves as he’s overwhelmed, ecstasy etched onto his features.

Neither of you move for minutes after, the sound of his heavy breathing lulling you ever closer to sleep.

“Y/N,” Theo finally utters, gaze soft as he caresses your cheek.

“Shh,” you reply, “let me sleep.”

He smiles as he watches you curl up on your side, ready to drift off into dreamless slumber. “I’m sorry about biting you. I shouldn’t have.”

You shrug which sends you wincing in pain, “shit.” You take a deep breath, “it’s fine,” you feel him. “It’ll heal and don’t laugh but it made me orgasm.”

The bastard laughs, lips twitching up into a slight smirk, far too pleased with himself and you find your self smacking his muscled arm.

“Don’t laugh,” you protest, “I’ll call Stiles and he’ll finally get to make good on his crazy specific threats.”

“I’m more worried about Liam.”

Your nose scrunches up, “don’t talk about Liam after we’ve fucked. He’s like my brother.”

“Does he know that?”

“Are you jealous?”

His jaw tightens as he swallows.

“Oh my god,” you say, trying to smother a laugh, “you are.”

“Shut up Y/N.”

“It’s funny,” you say as he pouts, “he’s like my brother. It’d be weird. Trust me, Liam’s only been crushing on Brett right now.”

“Good,” he mutters, scouting over so he can pull you into his arms again, tucking your head under his chin, “because your mine.”

#theo raeken #theo raekan imagine #theo raekan x reader #theo raeken imagine #teen wolf #cody christian #theo raeken x reader #mine

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wxldchxld · 5 years

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Unpopular Opinions as Told by Mary

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Ummmm Daenerys’ dragons look really fuckin stupid. Yeah. Sorry. This one isn’t going to be super in depth or really even justified by any arguments. I respect the Game of Thrones developers for going for it, and like the execution of it graphics wise is actually really impressive given its a TV show and all, but the model is so bad. Did GRRM make it? I really fucking hope not. From a distance when I see them in shots I’m like “yo cool” and then I see their faces and they look so stupid to me and it just ruins it. I’m really picky about dragons so this probably doesn’t come as a surprise.

Also side rant, why is it so popular to give dragons a weird bottom jaw where it like, protrudes. They did it with Smaug and to a lesser extent they do it with Dany’s dragons. What the fuck is that modeled after? It’s not a snake. It’s not crocodilians. The only thing I can think is maybe some species of monitor lizards? And I’m only granting that bc I really don’t know due to the fact that there are a lot of monitor lizard species. Including this dope one that I’ve modeled dragons after on my dragon blog.

I guess what drives me nuts is like I feel like there’s no originality in the design. I haven’t read Dany’s parts in the books but from what I have been told at least the coloration is more intense. There are so many species of reptiles, real and extinct, that they could have pulled from to make something that looked really cool…but they didn’t.

🔥

The words “alpha wolf” need to die in a fire. And I’m not trying to come at some of the people I know follow me that use that term. It’s just become this really huge thing that infects so much of lore that has to do with modern day werewolves (such as in The Originals) and even bleeds over into things like the Game of Thrones/A Song of Ice and Fire fandom and just about anywhere you see wolves you eventually hear the term alpha.

The term in and of itself is annoying because it’s not a thing that exists. Wolves don’t live in a pack where they just automatically submit to the strongest wolf, nor do they live in social structures that cause them to battle with one another to see who is on top. Wolves live in family groups usually run by the breeding pair and the offspring of the last few years. The only reason we ever really thought that “alpha wolf” was a thing was because a couple of researchers massively popularized its usage after studying primarily (in fact I think it was exclusively) captive wolf packs where individuals were brought in from various places in the world and forced to live together. And while I’m not saying that all studies should be thrown out if they’re done on captive bred wolves, I think it’s poor practice to say “this is how all wolves are” when you haven’t taken into consideration what natural family groups do.

So it’s annoying, because it’s not a thing, but it’s also—-really boring to me. We miss the fact that these incredible animals have evolved to have things like a sense of fairness and the ability to cooperate, but the thing that we focus on is that “this is the alpha and its very important to them.” Family is important to them. I’d love to see more media that involved wolves that represented not only how their family groups actually work, but also didn’t make that such a central point for their plots.

I’m not going to go into uses of the term outside of fiction or address the A/B/O fanfiction. My point is that I personally as a reader find it overused and boring. I understand that since its fiction, there will be inaccuracies in order to fit your narrative. Hell, I have some with Beck and the animals that pop up on this blog. My problem isn’t the inaccuracy alone, it’s the inaccuracy being used to beat a long dead horse (and occasionally as a method of god modding but—I won’t go further into that either).

🔥

And since I’m just going all in on the GoT shit tonight (sorry guys) Also this is going to make an already very long post massive, and I’m sorry.

… Yara Greyjoy is actually a good character and her book counterpart isn’t nicer nor is she just “better” for some vague undefined reason. She’s not a perfect character, she’s not a necessarily nice person, but Yara Greyjoy is arguably one of the better characters on the show IMO and I wish that she would have gotten way more screen time than she really did.

The worst part of this weird like #notmyAsha argument (and I’ve seen that tag used before it was hilarious) is that people complain that she’s not nice to Theon and that because she either doesn’t have or cannot convey compassion and empathy regarding his trauma, that it’s somehow a valid plot point for her to be tortured so they can bond over mutual trauma. This is gross and I hate it.

Full disclosure Theon Greyjoy is one of my favorite characters in show and book canon, but he is kind of a garbage human being and I love him in spite and often because of that. Now onto our feature presentation:

Yara Greyjoy doesn’t owe her brother shit. Not even a little. She has zero reason to do anything other than perceive him as unstable and a threat to the position she hopes to claim. Don’t complain to me about how mean Yara is to Theon while simultaneously ignoring the fact that he only stopped treating her like garbage once he’d been horribly traumatized. He was TEN when he was taken from the Iron Islands, and she was older than him and he—didn’t recognize her. So yeah she manipulates him, but he could have very easily put a stop to it if he remembered her or if he just wasn’t such a horny prick in general. He tries to demean her in front of their father, insults her, and shouts at her. Not saying she didn’t deserve it, but you can’t exactly paint him as the saint in the situation either.

I could go on with a million reasons Yara is actually a lot nicer to Theon in the show than the books, and why she’s not obligated to do anything for him at all, but I’d be here for hours.

What bothers me is the conclusion that because Yara has been mean to him that she somehow deserves to be punished by being tortured or that she needs to be tortured in order to ever like understand her brother. Both of those things are like the craziest logic in the world to me.

First off: no. Yara tried to save Theon. It’s not Yara’s fault he got in that situation, it’s his own, and she tried to rescue him. Then she allowed him back into her home at a critical time, and rather than being ashamed of him for being “weak” she brings him with her to political meetings and presents him as what is essentially her version of a “hand.”

Second: y’all that’s not how mental health works. Theon’s not ok, and if they write him as ok they’re bad writers. You don’t get over trauma that fast. Especially not because of like one conversation you had with your sister while she made out with a topless hooker in a brothel, and a fight on the beech where you got kneed in the balls you don’t have. Theon is still traumatized and he deserves a plot where his sister learns to see that, acknowledge it, and try to understand him. You don’t throw two traumatized people together and just say “well they have both been horrifically abused… they understand one another.” and then things get better. If anything those people are more likely to be self destructive and dangerous because neither of them are in a good place mentally to make sound and rational decisions.

So yeah, the point I was trying to make but got really distracted from because I’m very salty about all the Yara hate I see is that she’s actually a good character in comparison to the others in the show and it’s not ok to wish she would be tortured just for the sake of making Theon ok bc a) that won’t work and b) for the millions time: it’s gross.

#ooc #agentharrisonofshield

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aiimaginesbts · 7 years

Text

Hide and Seek (M)

Namjoon x Reader

Genre: Werewolf!Namjoon, smut

Warnings: Outdoor sex, a little predator/prey kink

Word count: 2,855 words

A/N: This is an accompanying piece to Temptation.

Disclaimer/Copyright

"Namjoon," your call to your boyfriend was half amusement, half frustration. "Where are we going?"

"You'll see," his bark of laughter drifted back to you from somewhere ahead.

You huffed a little from his teasing but plodded on, almost wishing that he hadn't taken the heavy picnic basket with him so you'd have more to complain about.

After marking you as his mate – after the first time he'd asked you out, actually – all you'd had were hurried lunch dates and the occasional dinners. Your working schedule had been tight for months with the big project that you were working on, leaving you too busy to spend much time with him. Namjoon never complained – he understood the importance of responsibilities better than anyone, and you loved him for that – but you still wished you could have an entire day with him without worrying about work. So as soon as you'd gotten the chance, you took a week off for a well-deserved rest.

Namjoon was ecstatic when you told him of your holiday, and made plans to go on a picnic the very next day. You'd agreed with his idea; frankly, you'd say yes to anything as long as you were with him. He had tried to help you with filling the picnic basket with food but his clumsiness meant more work for you, so before long you had asked him to check on the car instead and leave you to finish packing your lunch.

What you didn't expect was the hike you'd had to take to get to the spot he'd had in mind. You'd thought that he'd bring you to someplace like the beach or a park, but no, of course he had to choose to lead you somewhere completely isolated and, if he was anyone else, make you wonder if he was going to kill you. Luckily for him, you trusted him with your life, even if you were not too happy with him at the moment. When he had parked the car at the entrance of the national park, you had no idea that he meant to venture in a lot further than that – into the part of the forest that was private property. As you looked up to see that he had disappeared from view again, you wished that their land wasn't so far inside.

"Namjoon!" That had to be the fourth time that you'd called for him. He constantly forgot that his legs were a lot longer than yours, and therefore, his strides far wider, and you didn't fancy getting lost in this place. You suspected that you've crossed into their land by now, but the whole trek had been challenging and you didn't see any other hikers. Who knows how long it would take to find you if you got lost?

"Almost there!" He shouted from not very far ahead and you scrambled to follow the direction his voice came from. The trees thinned until you saw him standing in front of a river, waiting for you.

"Oh, wow," you breathed at the magnificent sight. The water was clear, sparkling blue, scattering the light from the sun. Namjoon was already spreading the large blanket on the grassy river bank and setting the large basket to pin the cloth in place.

"What do you think?" He asked, but from his dimpled grin, he already knew from your expression that you loved it.

"Worth the effort to get here," you answered, plopping on the blanket next to him. His smile widened at the confirmation and he dug around the basket to inspect the contents. The two of you dug in; the exercise had worked up your appetites and the meal was enjoyed mostly in silence, simply enjoying each other's company and occasionally punctuated by discussion about life and friends.

"Have any of the boys been here?" You asked, referring to the other werewolves in his pack.

"Most of them," Namjoon answered. "Jungkook hasn't gone this far though."

"How is he?" The mention of the youngest of the group prompted you to ask. "Isn't he starting work soon?"

"On Monday, actually," Namjoon confirmed. "Poor kid's scared to death."

"I'm sure he'll do fine," you slapped Namjoon's arm for laughing at the thought of poor Jungkook being nervous about his first job.

"He will," he said with conviction. "But maybe I should go see him tomorrow, soothe his nerves a bit."

The statement tugged on the corners of your lips. Namjoon's caring attitude for his family was one of the qualities that endeared him to you so much, especially since you came from a broken, problematic home. It had surprised you when the members of Namjoon's pack had accepted you as their own so easily and readily, but they never failed to make you feel like you belonged.

The conversation trailed off into companionable silence until the beautiful, running water's call became too hard for you to ignore. "Let's go in for a swim!"

Namjoon was quick to nip that suggestion in the bud. "No. The current is too strong. I don't want you to get swept away."

You pouted, but didn't argue. When it came to your safety, Namjoon would never budge on his standpoint. Whipping your head around to look at the woods, you threw another idea out. "How about we play hide and seek then?"

This new proposition clearly amused Namjoon, if the glint in his eye was any indication. "You want to play hide and seek?"

"Yeah!" You exclaimed, taking his attitude as agreement to your childish idea. "And since I suggested the game, you have to be It."

"Okay, if you say so," he said gamely. "Are we starting now?"

Nodding and standing up, you gestured for him to face the river and cover his eyes. "Count to a hundred before you start looking for me. And no peeking!"

His deep chortles accompanied you into the cluster of trees, but it slowly faded away, drowned by the other sounds of the forest as you looked for a good place to hide. There wasn't much undergrowth that you felt confident hiding in, and the trees were too high for you to climb. Before you knew it, you'd spend a while traipsing all over the woods, losing track of time.

Until a swift movement out of the corner of your eye caused you to pause. Had he counted to a hundred already? Most probably. The rush of the running river could barely be heard from where you stood. You quickly made your way to press yourself against a thick tree trunk, looking around to try to determine the direction he was coming from.

However, try as you might, you couldn't see him anywhere. You tried to listen to any sound that he might be making but nothing was louder than the crunch of the leaves underneath your sneakers and even when you stood still, you couldn't hear anything out of the ordinary. "Namjoon?" You called for him quietly, fear overriding the point of the hiding game. No answer.

Another cry for him garnered no answer, and panic began to seep in. How far exactly did you wander off? Would Namjoon be able to find you? You looked around, but everything looked the same and you had no idea how to get back. What if there was someone or something else around? What if it meant to hurt you? A soft rustle of dried leaves that didn't come from your feet sent you running towards an unknown direction.

As soon as you took your first running step, the footsteps pursuing you became more pronounced. You were definitely being chased. Too scared to look back, you ran with all your might, wishing that you'd never left Namjoon. The lighter, animal-like steps of your chaser was approaching you, and your heart sank to your feet. Whoever or whatever was running after you was too quick for you to outrun, and just as you thought of this, it caught up to you, pressing you face-first into a tree with a satisfied grunt.

"I thought we're playing hide and seek?" Namjoon's deep voice reassured you of your safety before you could scream in terror. "Why did you run from me?"

If he hadn't been holding you up against the tree, you were sure you would have collapsed in relief. You were still panting from the frantic run but he wasn't even out of breath. "I thought you were something else... I got scared. You were so quiet."

He hummed his understanding. "Of course I was quiet. I'm a hunter by nature, and I can't catch anything if I'm making a racket like you were," he teased, but you were too busy calming down your frazzled nerves to admonish him for it. "You shouldn't have run away from me though."

"Why not?"

"Do you know what a rush it is for me to chase after you?" He whispered in the shell of your ear and ran a hand up your waist. That was when you noticed his huge hard-on pressing against your buttocks, and your heart rate tripled, for different reasons this time. "Seeing my gorgeous mate running away from me, challenging me to catch her, thinking about my reward when she's in my arms again..." his sentence trailed off as his excitement upon catching you mounted, not-so-subtly humping himself against your ass, and it was affecting you.

"Namjoon..." you moan, the movement of your hips to rub against his erection was more out of reflex than anything. No one else could reduce you to a moaning, wanton mess within seconds. You wanted to see the look on his normally cute and friendly face, but he had you pressed against the tree so hard that you couldn't even twist your head around to get a glimpse of him.

Even as he bent down to yank your shorts and panties down to your ankles, a strong palm remained on your back to keep you in place. A small gasp tore from your lips as you felt the cool air meet the damp surface of your inner thighs, making your center even wetter. At his insistence, you lifted your feet one by one so he could slip your shorts and panties around your sneakers, off of you and spread your legs apart.

Part of you thought he'd start fucking you immediately – hoped for it, even – but instead of tugging down his own trousers, he jerked your hips away from the wooden pillar you were holding on to and shuffled himself around so he could plant his face between your legs. Embarrassment rushed to your cheeks as you looked down to catch the sight of him smirking menacingly between your legs from behind you just before he latched onto your wet center.

Immediately your knees buckled and he had to hold you up so he could keep eating you out. He usually had more finesse but the exhilaration from the chase had brought out the more animalistic side of him. Opening his mouth wide, he was practically devouring your pussy, his rough tongue laving against your weeping slit, teeth grazing against your folds and nipping on your sensitive clit, but the aggressive way he was attacking you only turned you on more.

In no time he had brought you close to the edge, and you were moaning his name with abandon, not even caring that even though you were on private property, you were still outdoors. In your pleasure-filled haze, you started moving against him, but he wasn't happy when you tried to ride his face. Tightening his grip on you, he sucked on your clit with renewed vigour and slammed two fingers inside your wet heat, making you squeal with pleasure. He spread his fingers as he fucked you with them in a scissoring motion, then crooked the digits to brush against the sensitive spot in your inner walls, and you came undone.

Namjoon refused to let you go, helping you ride your high until your violent shakes were reduced to slight tremors. Only then did he got up on his feet and grabbed you by the waist to turn you around and face him. Your legs weakened even more when you saw his face. None of his adorable features remained, the dangerous gleam in his dark, blown out eyes was a reminder of the beast in him and it sent arrows of arousal straight to your core.

No words were uttered, only a deep growl as he slid his pants down and hoisted you up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. Namjoon was not keen on waiting any longer; you felt the pressure of the tip of his cock for only a fraction of a second before he was pushing himself into you, drinking in the way you reared your head back, groaning loudly as your walls stretched to accommodate his large size.

You were so wet that he didn't need to give you much time to adjust. When he started rocking his hips almost immediately, all you felt was a rush of endorphins into your system. Your moans encouraged him to slam into you without holding back, and soon you were crying out with every vicious pounding, each thrust hitting you deep inside and pushing you up the tree trunk. The coarse bark of the trunk was chafing and ruining the back of your shirt but you didn't care in the least, not when Namjoon was filling you up to the brim relentlessly.

In this position there was not much you could do but grip onto his shoulders – tense with the effort of holding you up – for support as he rammed into you over and over again. His name escaped you in between pants and moans while your name was falling from his lips like a mantra as he brought you closer and closer to another high. Pushing you harder against the tree for balance, he shifted his hand to your clit. The rough pad of his thumb pressing down on your swollen bundle of nerves was more than you could bear.

You pulled him into a kiss that was almost desperate, smashing your lips against his just as your release hit you harder than the previous one. The exquisite sensation of your walls clamping down on his cock made him groan loudly and lose any semblance of control he had. Hitching you up more securely on his hips, he wrapped his arms around your lower back and pounded into you even harder and faster than before.

Each brutal thrust was now causing you to cry out in extreme pleasure and more than a little pain but you didn't want him to stop. You dug your nails into his shoulders, a gesture that only egged him on, and soon his inconsistent pace clued you in on his impending high. With a loud grunt and a moan of your name, he thrust into your wet heat one last time before he released deep inside you.

The orgasm was a little too much for him, so he carefully lowered you down onto the ground with him so both of you could recover. As much as you'd love to bask in the post coital bliss in his arms forever, it wasn't very comfortable sitting on the ground. Thus as soon as your heart rate was back to normal, you got dressed and he coaxed you onto his back so he could carry you back to your picnic spot. It turned out that you weren't that far from it as you had thought.

"Still, how did you find me?" You asked Namjoon. "I could have gone in any direction."

"Baby, I'm a werewolf, remember?" He teased you with a playful jump in his step that made you squeal as you bounced on his back. "I have a good sense of smell, and I could never stop hearing you. You were being so loud."

Thinking back on the game that you suggested, you frowned and pouted. "Well, that's not fair at all. Werewolves shouldn't become It in hide and seek games!"

"Hey, you suggested it, not me," he stated as he set you down on the blanket. Most of the utensils and leftovers were already packed inside the basket.

"Well, I guess if it led to such amazing sex, I don't have anything to complain about," you confessed a little bashfully, earning a smug smile from Namjoon.

"Well, I wouldn't complain about getting another round," he said lasciviously. You laughed at his request, but you could already see a tent forming in front of his pants, and suddenly it didn't seem like such a bad idea after all.

"Maybe..." you toyed with the idea, plucking the front of his shirt between your fingers playfully. "But I won't have any energy left to walk back to the car."

His grin widened at your answer and he promptly got you onto your back on the blanket, his body covering yours completely. "I won't mind giving you a piggy ride back."

"Deal," you said as you pulled him into another heated kiss.

#NamMonth #namjoon smut #bts writing squad #armiesnet #noonanet #hyunglinenetwork #bangtan bookclub #bts smut #namjoon scenarios #bts scenarios #managed to finish this yay #temptation #hide and seek

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gaysparklepires · 6 years

Text

20. Vow

Everything was ready.

I was packed for my two-day visit with “Alice,” and my bag waited for me on the passenger seat of my truck. I’d given the concert tickets to Angela, Ben, and Mike. Jessica’s vacation had gotten delayed, which caused me some panic, but Mike ended up buying a fourth ticket to invite Jess which made me feel relieved. Billy had borrowed Old Quil Ateara’s boat and invited Charlie down for some open sea fishing before the afternoon game started. Collin and Brady, the two youngest werewolves, were staying behind to protect La Push—though they were just children, both of them only thirteen. Still, Charlie would be safer than anyone left in Forks.

I had done all that I could do. I tried to accept that, and put the things that were outside of my control out of my head, for tonight at least. One way or another, this would all be over in forty-eight hours. The thought was almost comforting.

Edward had requested that I relax, and I was going to do my best.

“For this one night, can we try to forget everything besides just you and me?” he’d pleaded, unleashing the full force of his eyes on me. “It seems like I can never get enough time like that. I need to be with you. Just you.”

That was not a hard request to agree to, though I knew that forgetting my fears would be much easier said than done. Because it was more than just my fears for the coming battle.

As I had sat gazing at the moon the night before—resting against a werewolf, no less—I had been thinking about my life and the path it had gone down. I was thinking about humanity. Mine, to be specific. I considered what it meant to be human, especially being human in a world surrounded by non-humans. I was thinking about what I had missed out on and what I still had a chance to experience. Human experiences. Edward was always so quick to push me into human experiences.

I thought about what my life would be like constantly on the run from the Volturi, or if we ran out of places to run and the only option was to change me. What would those new lives look like? What human experiences would I be able to have? What would I miss? Most importantly, which would I be willing to give up?

I had to prioritize.

I thought about Charlie, Renée, and all my friends at school. I thought about all the memories we could make together. Try a fishing trip with Charlie, go on another road trip with my mom. Go see a concert with all my friends. I thought about Jacob and the La Push pack. I thought about my days in Jacob’s garage laughing over warm sodas from brown paper bags. Could I let go of all of that?

I thought about my aspirations, I thought about what I desperately wanted. I thought about staying human and going to college. Part of me wistfully imagined going to culinary school. I did love to cook. I thought about traveling abroad and seeing different sights. I even, briefly, thought about marriage. As frightening of a notion that was to me, part of me wondered if maybe I needed to get over my aversion to the idea. I certainly wasn’t opposed to the idea of being with Edward forever.

All these thoughts had been racing through my head since the night before. All pushing and pulling against each other, vying to be in the forefront of my mind.

What would I give up, and what would I insist on? I wasn’t totally sure.

If I had to let go of things, move on, and create a new life for myself, it needed to be worth it. More than just worth it, it needed to be amazing. I needed to make everything count, and I needed to seize every opportunity when I could, because I was running out of time to do so.

I was confused by how nervous I felt as I drove down the long path to Edward’s house—I didn’t know why I suddenly had such serious jitters. Edward sat in the passenger seat, fighting a smile at my slow pace. I was surprised that he hadn’t insisted on taking the wheel, but tonight he seemed content to go at my speed.

It was after dark when we reached the house. In spite of that, the meadow was bright in the light shining from every window.

As soon as I cut the engine he was at my door, opening it for me. He lifted me from the cab with one arm, slinging my bag out of the truck bed and over his shoulder with the other. His lips found mine as I heard him kick the trucks door shut behind me.

Without breaking the kiss, he swung me up so that I was resting in his arms and carried me into the house.

Was the front door already open? I didn’t know. We were inside, though, and I was dizzy. I had to remind myself to breath.

The kissing did not frighten me. It wasn’t like before when I could feel the fear and panic leaking through his control. His lips were not anxious, but enthusiastic now—he seemed as thrilled as I was that we had tonight to concentrate on being together. He continued to kiss me for several minutes, standing there in the entry; he seemed less careful than usual, his mouth cold and urgent on mine.

I felt a wave of refreshed nervousness and I realized what made it different; it was an excited nervous.

With a low chuckle, he gently pulled me away.

“Welcome home,” he said, his eyes liquid and warm.

“That sounds nice,” I said, breathless.

He set me gently on my feet. I wrapped both my arms around him, not wanting any space between us.

“I have something for you,” he said, his tone conversational.

“Oh?”

“Your hand-me-down, remember? You said that was allowable.”

“Oh, that’s right. I guess I did say that.”

He chuckled at my reluctance.

“It’s up in my room. Shall I go get it?”

His bedroom? “Sure,” I agreed, feeling a flutter of excitement in my stomach. “Let’s go.”

He must have been eager to give me my non-present, because human velocity was not fast enough for him. He scooped me up again and nearly flew up the stairs to his room. He set me down at the door, and darted into his closet.

He was back before I’d taken a step, scooped me up again, and set me down on the edge of the bed.

“Okay,” I raised an eyebrow. “Let me have it.”

Edward laughed.

He climbed onto the bed, and I felt my heart thump unevenly as a new wave of butterflies fluttered through my stomach.

“A hand-me-down,” he reminded me sternly. His hands went behind my neck, and before I could react I felt something slide down the chain of my necklace.

I examined it cautiously. Next to the little wooden wolf, there now hung a brilliant heart-shaped crystal. It was cut in a million facets, so that even in the subdued light shining from the lamp, it sparkled. I inhaled a low gasp.

“It was my mother’s.” He shrugged deprecatingly. “I inherited quite a few baubles like this. I’ve given some to Esme and Alice both. So, clearly, this is not a big deal in any way.”

I smiled ruefully at his assurance.

“But I thought it was a good representation,” he continued. “It’s hard and cold.” He laughed. “And it throws rainbows in the sunlight.”

“You forgot the other similarity,” I murmured. “It’s beautiful.”

“My heart is just as silent,” he mused. “And it, too, is yours.”

I twisted the chain of the necklace so the heart would glimmer. “Thank you. For both.”

“No, thank you. It’s a relief to have you accept a gift so easily. Good practice for you, too.” He grinned, flashing his teeth.

I leaned into him, ducking my head under his arm and cuddling into his side. It probably felt similar to snuggling with Michaelangelo’s David, except that this beautiful marble creature wrapped his arms around me to pull me closer.

I realized what I wanted tonight.

“So, can we discuss something? Please try to be open-minded and hear me out.”

He hesitated for a moment. “I’ll give it my best effort,” he agreed, cautious now.

“I’m not breaking any rules here,” I promised. “This is strictly about you and me.” I cleared my throat. “So… I was thinking… about human experiences. Specifically, ones that you wanted me to have, and ones that I wanted to have.”

“Go on.” He said, a smile in his voice.

“Well, I think it’s fair to put… marriage on your list of human experiences.”

“I suppose it’s a partial human experience,” he mused. “Given that only one of us is human. But, yes.” He smiled.

“I still have my problems with that one.” I said.

“Actually, if it helps, I did have a compromise for you regarding the marriage.”

“A compromise?” I asked, eagerly.

“Yes,” he stroked my cheek. “I understand you don’t like making a big fuss, you don’t care for parties, and you have your trepidations about everyone knowing you’re married.”

“All correct.” I nodded.

“So, what if it doesn’t have to be a big production? I don’t need any fanfare. You won’t have to tell anyone or make any changes. We’ll go to Vegas—you can wear old jeans and we’ll go to the chapel with the drive-through window. I just want it to be official—that I’m yours, and you are mine.”

“Okay, that’s a fair compromise.” I cleared my throat again, trying to change the subject. “College is on your list, too?”

“It is,” he said, but his eyes narrowed slightly. “And if marriage comes first, then what’s mine would be yours… like tuition money. So there would be no problem with Dartmouth.”

“Well, I think I’d need to actually have the grades to get into Dartmouth, not just the tuition money.”

“Alright, well, how about we discuss the marriage idea further.” He grinned widely.

“Okay, okay,” I was starting to feel flustered. “Here’s the deal.”

“The deal?”

I got to my knees and tried to look him in the eye but my face was red. “Okay, so we’re alone. In your bedroom.”

“Yes…” his eyes were cautious.

“And, yes, we have to be careful.”

“Yes…” he said it slowly, his body was starting to tense.

I leaned in closer to him. I put my arms around his neck.

“Beau…” he breathed.

“So there are a few human experiences that I would really like to have…” I mumbled, “Number one tonight is… Um…”

I took a deep breath, and swung my leg over his so I was straddling him. His hands moved quickly to my hips, and I could feel the tension in them. I leaned in and kissed him. My hands ran through his hair and I felt his grip tighten.

I started feeling dizzy from the lack of air. I pulled away from him for a second, his eyes were still somewhat cautious, I went in again for another kiss.

This time when I broke the kiss, I moved my lips along his jaw to his ear.

“I really want…” I felt my face go red. “I feel stupid saying it.”

“Tell me,” he breathed.

“It sounds so… dumb,” I murmured. “But I just want to have a crazy, intense… make-out session with my boyfriend in his bed...”

My face was burning red. It felt stupid saying it out loud. It felt juvenile. But it’s what I wanted. It was a human experience, one any teenager should have at least once in their life, right? And when you’re on the run there probably isn’t time for stuff like that.

His grip was still tight on my hips. I cautiously leaned back to look at his face. I expected him to look anxious or reproachful. Instead, all I saw was desire.

“Do you think,” I began quietly, “we could try that?”

A wickedly devious grin slowly spread across his handsome face.

“Oh, yes sir.”

Before I realized what was happening, he had spun me over onto the center of the bed. This time he was on top of me.

He began kissing my neck, slowly moving his way up to my jaw. My heart was racing. His lips found mind and the kiss was intense and passionate. One of his hands was still firmly on my hip, but the other slid up my body towards my chest. His hand went under my shirt and the touch of his cold skin against mine caused me to involuntarily arch my back.

My hands shot up and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him deeper into the kiss. I felt his smile against my lips and my grip on his collar tightened.

I finally broke the kiss, purely for need of oxygen. Our eyes locked, I could only imagine the expression on my face was as intense as his. I tugged, too hard, on his collar, coaxing him to turn over. He understood what I wanted and, in a flash, I was on top of him. Somewhere in the movement, I had accidentally ripped off a few of the buttons of his shirt leaving his stunning chest exposed.

I dove in, kissing my way up his chest to his neck. One of his hands was on my hip, the other was in my hair. While I kissed his neck, I tried to covertly unbutton the rest of his shirt. He realized what I was doing, and I felt his body tense up slightly.

I moved quickly to his lips again, this time I teased the outline of them with my tongue. He exhaled a moan of pleasure.

We were spinning again, and he was on top of me once more.

His mouth was not gentle; there was a brand-new edge of conflict and desperation in the way his lips moved. I locked my arms around his neck, and, to my increasingly overheated skin, his body felt colder than ever. I trembled, but it was not from the chill.

He didn’t stop kissing me. I was the one who had to break away, again gasping for air. Even then his lips did not leave my skin, they just moved to my throat. I couldn’t keep myself from gasping. One of his hands gripped the wrought-iron bar of the bed’s headboard above us, and the other pulled at my shirt. My fingers tangled in his hair.

“Edward,” I moaned his name.

I suddenly heard a keening groan and a sharp snapping sound from above me that made me jump.

Edward froze.

My eyes shot up to his hand above me.

He had pulverized the metal bar of the headboard in his hand. I stared at the twisted metal in his vice-like grip with wide eyes. We both lay perfectly still, panting.

“Are you… okay?” I finally breathed.

“I think,” he said slowly, “we need to stop.”

His eyes met mine, and though he looked anxious now, there was still desire in his eyes.

“Probably,” I said. “But,” I took a deep breath, “you want to go further.”

It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. I could see the look in his eyes and I knew that I wanted to.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath himself.

“You can’t possibly imagine how very much I would like to.”

“So…” I trailed off suggestively.

“I don’t think that’s possible now.” He said it slowly, like he was trying to convince himself. “Later, when you’re less breakable.”

“If I become less breakable.”

“Beau, I don’t—“

“Do you… want to?” I breathed.

His closed eyes tightened. He paused for a long moment.

“Yes.”

“Well, so do I.”

“Beau, I could kill you,” he whispered.

“I don’t think you could.”

Without opening his eyes, he carefully extended his arm out over the side of the bed. He opened his hand and the twisted hunk of metal clattered to the floor.

“Okay, obviously we got a little carried away,” I said quietly. “But you don’t want to hurt me… so much so that I don’t think that you ever could.”

He started shaking his head before I was done.

“It might not work that way, Beau.”

“Might,” I pushed. “You have no more idea what you’re talking about than I do.”

“Exactly.” He opened his eyes and they bored into mine. “Do you imagine I could ever take that kind of risk with you?”

I considered that for a moment.

“Maybe, if we were more careful?” I offered. I moved my hands to his shoulders, and I gently coaxed his open shirt off, sliding it slightly down his arms. “Took it slow?”

“Beau,” he breathed. “You will be the death of me, I swear.”

I chuckled. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to try and force you into something you don’t want to do.”

He managed to laugh then. “Believe me, Beau. I want to.”

I smirked and tugged at my shirt, trying to lift it over my head. His hand caught mine and his lips were at my ear.

“Beau,” he murmured, his voice warm and velvet. “Would you please stop trying to take your clothes off.”

“Would you like to do that part?” I asked, confused.

He chuckled. His lips kissed gently along my cheek and jaw. “I would…” he trailed off.

“But?”

He sighed, and moved to lay beside me.

“I think it’s my turn to be embarrassed,” he smiled his crooked smile. “Because your vampire boyfriend is rather old fashioned.”

I curled into him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“I want nothing in this whole world more than I want you.” He said, stroking my cheek. “But there’s just one rule I would like to leave unbroken.”

“I’m confused.”

“I want you, in this way,” he began, “But I want to be married to you first.”

I shot straight up in the bed, my eyes wide.

“Wait, what?”

“I don’t think that’s asking too much.” He smiled.

“It’s… a little old-fashioned.” I finally said.

“As I said, so am I.”

I stared at him, I felt like I was short on breath. When I didn’t speak, he sat up.

“Beau, you believe I have a soul.” He said quietly.

“Yes, I do.”

“I don’t know if I believe that, at least I didn’t before I met you. But now, because of you, I’d believe that maybe I do have a soul. You’ve made me feel like so much more than the monster I am. You’ve made me feel… human again.” He smiled. “And, if I am going to try to be as human as I can be, if I am to believe I have a soul, then I want to do things the right way.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but he continued.

“I’m from a different era, Beau. Things were… much less complicated.” He took my hands in his. “Thankfully, we live in a time where I can even entertain the notion of marrying you. A time where I can hold your hand, declare my love for you in public without fear.”

I nodded, unsure of what to say. He laughed.

“But, Beau, if I could have done things the way they were back then, I would have courted you the proper way. I wouldn’t have coveted you so desperately, reached out and selfishly taken you. I would have sent you flowers and gifts every day. I would have gotten down on one knee.”

He slid off the bed then, down onto his knee. My heart started pounding.

He reached into his pocket, “And I would have presented you with a ring.” He pulled out a small black box.

I held my breath as he opened it. Nestled into the black satin inside the box, was the most beautiful ring I’d ever seen. The face was a rounded square, set with a large sparkling square stone in the center, surrounded by a border of smaller round stones. The band was silver—delicate and narrow, coming into filigree-like points holding the face. The silver made a fragile web around the diamonds. I’d never seen anything like it.

Unthinkingly, I stroked the shimmering gems.

“It’s beautiful,” I murmured.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

“It was my mother’s. I suppose it’s a little outdated.” His tone was apologetic. “Old-fashioned, just like me.”

“No, it’s beautiful, Edward.”

“Beau?”

I looked up to meet his gaze.

“Beauregard Swan,” He looked at me through his long lashes, his golden eyes soft but, somehow, still scorching. “I promise to love you forever—every single day of forever. Will you do me the extraordinary honor of marrying me?”

He took the ring from the box, and gently slid it on my finger. My eyes were wide. There were so many things I wanted to say, so many words that were caught in my throat. I felt my emotions bubble up and spill over as tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t find many words, so I said the only one that really mattered, “Yes.”

I could see the absolute elation fill his face as he rose to his feet. He scooped me off the bed and spun me in his arms. Then he kissed me, deeply and passionately.

#3.20 #Eclipse Revamped #The Twilight Saga Revamped #The Twilight Saga #Beau Swan #Edward Cullen #twilight: life and death #Twilight reimagined #Twilight Rewrite

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