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coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe · 3 years

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The Salem House or The Scottish Cottage

Quick Tag List: @kuruumiya @spacelizardtrashboys @stupidbluegirl @enigmaticandunstable @nattinngrst

This Passage Contains Potentially: swearing, violence, blood, angst, whump, fluff and smutty content.

Summary: Rod and Kirby move in to their new cottage home in Salem, Oregon.

Kirby's POV:

Rod blindfolded me with one of his ties and drove our rented van out to the property, taking off my blindfold in front of the house.

"There it is, our new home," he twirled the keys around his index finger, "all ours now, Kirbs."

There it was, white panel exterior with fancy windows and lights along both sides of the gravel path towards the house. Without thinking I pulled Rod into a hug and kissed him, tears of happiness rolling down my cheek.

"Woah, baby, are ya alright sweetheart?"

"I love it, and I love you and-" Upon hearing that, Rod hoisted me over his shoulder, "Woah, Roddy, what are you doing?"

"Taking you inside and carrying you to the one room I know you're gonna love."

He carried me through the front double doors, through the foyer and then the kitchen, before carrying me past the television and sofa, past what I believe is the ground floor bathroom and up the stairs, letting me get a glance at the basement staircase as we went up to the top floor of our new home.

He then put me down in front of a pale green door with a childish or childlike, chalk or pastel drawing on the front.

I turned the handle slowly, not knowing what to expect.

Then I saw it.

The lone white bassinet.

Surrounded by soft toys and things you'd assume would be in a nursery.

"The former owners said that they're daughter was gonna move in before she moved to L.A. They knew she had a baby and set this room up. I'm gonna be honest with ya and tell ya that I let a couple tears slip when I saw this room ma-self, so I completely understand if you need a moment alone."

"Rod, Roddy, as much as I hate the weird wallpaper in the foyer, this room is," I took a second to compose myself, "It's perfect."

"Do ya wanna see our bedroom?"

"Yeah."

Rod showed me around the rest of the house before going into the basement.

"There's no attic, so the basement will have to do if we want to store anything anywhere."

The basement was large, the only room separated off from the rest of the basement was another bathroom. I walked to the opposite side of the basement and stopped in my tracks.

"What's wrong babe?"

"They have a hot tub?!"

"What?"

Rod walked over to me, also stopping upon seeing the hot tub in it's own corner of the basement, separate from the gym equipment and rugs and the very empty basement.

"What d'ya reckon they use that for?" Rod asked, teasing me slightly.

"No, Rod, eww, that's gross, you wouldn't dare suggest that!"

"Hot tub sex, babe, it's a thing."

"We are not doing that. Ever!"

"We are alone in the house, you know." He started unbuckling his belt, chucking it as well as his sporran down at his feet, "I know we've gotta fly back to the other side of the country later, but, right now, we're home, honey," He started walking towards me, whipping his jacket and shirt off, leaving him in his kilt and boots as he ran his hand through his hair, letting out a deep guttural sigh.

"I guess we could test out the new bed, Roddy." I started unbuttoning my shirt, exposing the peach toned tank top underneath.

"Or, We could have sex right here and now," He suggested, whipping his kilt off and in true Scottish fashion, revealing nothing but his bare body below.

He unclenched his hand, showing off the fact that he had brought a condom with him.

By the time we got to Taunton, Massachusetts on the first of March, Roddy had set aside some time for us to redecorate the house, and by the time we actually got around to redecorating, Roddy had recruited the rest of the D.O.D as well a Schultz, Orton and Orndorff to help us. We had met back at the house on the Eleventh (of March) and unbeknownst to me, Piper had made a couple calls to his friends from back in his NWA and Mid Atlantic days.

"Woo!"

"He didn't." Schultz grunted out, partly worried and partly surprised.

"He didn't do what … David?"

Schultz guided me outside to meet the guys.

"Piper! introduce ya wife to the boys, I'll go grab us some beer."

"I'm not his wife," I called after him as he walked back inside, "So, Roddy, who are these guys."

Rod leant up to kiss me, he would have backed me into the nearest wall if I didn't pull away immediately after, concern taking over any hint of a flirtatious mood in me.

"Who's this fine female?"

I recognised the voice from the yell earlier.

"Ric, this is my girlfriend, Kirby. Kirby, this is Ric Flair. Over there," he gestured to the other four, "Are Tully Blanchard, with the black hair, JJ Dillon, the other blonde looking one and Ole and Arn Anderson."

"Are they here to help or are they here to distract you?"

"The only thing distracting me is the idea of seeing you na-"

I covered Rod's mouth with my hand and gave Ric a sheepish smile, "I apologise for my hus, I mean boyfriend's attitude Ric."

"You almost said husband, Kirbs." Rod whispered to me as we led the boys inside, before he took me aside.

"It was a slip of the tongue."

"I'm sorry, about the kiss, I got a bit jealous because I know what Ric can be like, with women in particular."

"Rod, you shouldn't have to apologise for that, I love ya. I was going to start looking for you anyway, what d'ya want for lunch?"

"Don't you worry about that, I'll go grill those hamburgers we have in the fridge and … hey look, beer."

"Thank you, David."

"Anytime, Tall-ass."

"Look, babe, I'll deal with it alright, you stop worrying and I'll deal with it. I'm the man of the house so I'll deal with it."

I came up behind Roddy, putting my head on his shoulder and wrapping my arms around his waist, kissing his neck.

"I'm gonna go rest for a bit Rod, my head feels funny."

"Baby, baby come here."

Rod helped me upstairs, making sure I didn't fall over and letting me lay on the bed.

"We have today and tomorrow here baby, relax."

"Rod, you know me, you know I wind myself up with worry."

"I know," He brushed his thumbs over my knuckles, "I'm gonna get you some hand wraps or something, stop punching things until ya knuckles bleed."

"I thought you were gonna go cook."

"I am, but, right now, I'm taking in every little detail of the woman I love."

"You softie."

"Oh really? I'm soft. You worry way more than me baby."

"I love you, Roddy."

"I love you too, Kirby."

I slept for a short while until I was woken up by Piper and Schultz yelling obscenities at each other. I ran down the stairs and outside the house to see the two grown men squabbling like children.

Without saying anything I picked Roddy up by his midsection and took him back inside, chucking him down on the sofa.

"I'm gonna fuckin-"

"Roderick!"

"Yes, baby."

"You are drunk, and shut up."

"Yes, Sweetheart."

I helped Roddy up, almost gagging at how strong the smell of alcohol was coming from him, swiftly avoiding his attempts at kissing me and placing my hand over his mouth.

By the Thirteenth we were back working and Rod had started to get fidgety around me until things came to a head on the Thirtieth.

"Rod, are you alright, you've been awfully quiet today."

"I'm fine baby, actually, Kirby?"

"Yeah?"

"Would you like to be on Piper's Pit?"

"When?"

"Sunday, Yes or No?"

"This Sunday?"

"Yeah."

"Well, there's your answer."

"Wait, you'll do it."

"Of fucking course I'll do it. I don't give a fuck what Damien says."

He let out a chuckle as I pulled into the hotel parking lot.

"How's the Visa status going?"

"It's good, I'll hopefully be a US citizen before the end of May."

"So, May, you'll be a citizen, so," He mumbled to himself for a short while, "Alright, cool."

Before long it was time for me to be on Piper's Pit, fully expecting Roddy to do something and cause a ruckus to occur.

"Well, I'd just like you to know, it's a pleasure to have our first, female, guest on Piper's Pit. I want you to know that I asked every single female in the entire WWF if they would be on the Pit and only one of them said 'yes' to me. The only woman with enough guts to face me with 'Gluttony' herself, Kirby Lucifarian. Kirby, I would like to thank you for being brave enough to come out here and face me. I had Captain Lou on here last week and he said something vague about you and your sisters protecting Lauper. Why would a woman like you, someone who doesn't smoke, doesn't swear, doesn't drink, or shack up with skinny little idiots like Dave Wolff, Why would a great and accomplished female wrestler like you offer her protection to Lauper?"

"First of all, Piper, thank you for having me on here."

"My pleasure."

"Secondly, I was going to let you unmask me, but you showed support of Big John Studd, A man I greatly despise for his disrespect of both me and André."

"I am sorry for going back on that unspoken promise, Miss Lucifarian."

"Thank you for the apology, Roddy, Thirdly, may I say that I did not offer my services of protection to Miss Lauper, instead that was my father who told, Miss Lauper, that the D.O.D would protect her. Why on earth would a woman with an intelligence that rivals, yours for example, protect a girl like Cyndi Lauper?"

"I don't admire a lot of women, but you, I like you. I admire your intelligence, your ability to strike fear into the hearts of men with your words alone. I know that you have been searching for your next challenging opponent, and I for one don't wanna offer myself up, I just want to know how difficult it has been for the past few weeks going without a challenging enough opponent for your skill level?"

"Well, Piper, it's been tough, honestly, I think I may have scared everyone off. As someone who has previously been banned from women's competition, I find getting any support in the ring quite hard at times. I find your lack of fear quite charming, honest to the Lord above, you charm me, boyo."

"Thank you, you're a real sweetheart. Quick question, why do you call me 'boyo'?"

"Don't you call men 'lad' in Glasgow?"

"Oh, I see, anyway, before you go, one last thing."

I wasn't expecting this, the rest me and Rod had planned in advance, but not that line, he said he wasn't going to pull anything, he gave me his word.

Then, before I knew what was going on, he unbuckled my mask, pulling it down for a moment and kissed me square on the lips, in front of the cameras and the fans.

I tried to stand up and he dipped me down into the kiss, much to the enjoyment of the fans, who were hooting and hollering, obviously this doesn't happen much in the WWF.

Roddy kept his right hand intertwined with my ponytail and had his left arm around my back, supporting most of my waist as he brought me back up and helped me re-fix my mask into it's rightful spot.

After the show I tried to avoid Roddy for a couple minutes, trying to make sense of why he would do such a thing knowing full well we were not an 'out' couple or even an 'in' couple with the fans, sure the fans enjoying the moment was nice, but we were both heels, we were not supposed to do that off-screen, let alone on-screen and in front of a full crowd of fans.

I came to the decision to drop it for now and wait for Rod to hopefully explain his actions or somehow work it into a programme.

My mind started to wonder, maybe he would try to use that as blackmail against Damien, or even against me.

The D200's door opening and slamming shut caught me off guard, making me jump a little.

"I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to scare ya."

"I'm fine, Roddy, just caught up in my thoughts, that's all."

"What were ya thinking about?"

"Nothing important, mainly just what happened earlier."

"Ya mean, me, Orndorff and Schultz winning the match?"

"No, Roderick, the kiss, we didn't plan that."

"Oh, yeah. I forgot to clear that with ya, but Orndorff and Schultz said that it would get the fans interested."

"Hon."

"Yeah?"

"Next time, please clear everything we do in a promo or interview with me first, so I don't start wondering if you'll blackmail me."

"I would never blackmail ya, maybe Damien, but never you."

"I love you, ya hot-headed, kilt wearing idiot."

"I love you to, ya blonde, gothic, tattooed Ivory tower."

"Did you call me an 'Ivory tower'?"

"You're tall and pale, what d'ya want me to say?"

END OF THE SALEM HOUSE or THE SCOTTISH COTTAGE

#wrestling fic #Lucifarians

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artistic-writer · 4 years

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The Contract :: CS Omegaverse :: Ch 6

Title: The Contract Rating: E Summary: Emma had never wanted much in her life, despite being married to one of the richest men in the world. For ten years she has felt like a prisoner in her own marriage, denied the one thing she wants the most, but her husband cannot help but bargain her want like a cheap business deal. Enter Killian Jones, the Alpha her husband has hired to make sure she gets what she wants. And then some.

A/N: I know I only posted a snippet yesterday, but i wasn’t expected to be done so soon! Yay! Also, I think writing Liam, Killian and Will slightly drunk is my new favourite thing. This chapter takes off where #5 left off, so enjoy ;) Thanks to @hollyethecurious who was my beta for this little adventure. I would also like to give a MASSIVE thank you to @itsfabianadocarmo for her beautiful artwork that she so graciously allowed me to use from now on! <3

ALSO A MASSIVE HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @shardminds (for tomorrow) - IT’S EARLY BUT ITS HERE!

This is an Omegaverse fic featuring A/B/O dynamics. Whilst this varies from fandom to fandom, for the purposes of my fic, there will be no mpreg. Just so you know. There will however be knotting, breeding, heats and other delicious things that come along with A/B/O. If you do not know what A/B/O is, feel free to message me :) Many thanks to @hollyethecurious @shardminds @kmomof4 @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke and @effulgentcolors for letting me bounce my complicated ideas of you lol

If you wish to stay away from this fic, blacklist the A/B/O tag.

Taglist: I’ll be honest, i have lost my taglist for this fic, so if you want a tag, please message me here on on discord (Salem #5158/ [email protected]) and I’ll add you! I’ve tagged the following people i KNOW want to read this, but i don’t want to accidentally tag you if you do not like ABO.

@hollyethecurious @shardminds @kmomof4 @resident-of-storybrooke @darkcolinodonorgasm @thisonesatellite @xemmaloveskillianx @hookedonapirate @teamhook @winterbaby89 @carpedzem @courtorderedcake @profdanglaisstuff @itsfabianadocarmo @donteattheappleshook @ultraluckycatnd

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The ferocity of his kiss made Emma swoon, her heart fluttering just under her skin. She had never felt such a yearning, such a need, and as soon as his knot had receded and they had left the car, Killian had cemented her animalistic want even more when he had hoisted her up onto his shoulder and carried her to her apartment. It thrilled her to no end, being carried, overpowered and yet cared for at the same time. Killian, growling deep in his throat as he crossed the threshold, slammed the door behind him and set her feet firmly back on the ground.

“How long is your refractory period?” Emma smirked salaciously, her fingers caressing the lapels of Killian’s blazer. He gave her a raised eyebrow as she arched into him, her fingers gripping the soft, cotton material and giving it a tug as she spun them around.

“Such a needy girl,” Killian growled, walking towards her and pinning her to the cold surface of the door. The sizzle of her skin was almost audible and her sharp intake of breath made his cock hard.

“I can’t get enough of you,” Emma whispered, pulling even harder on his jacket until Killian’s forehead touched hers. Their lips were so close, the breath between them all that separated her from the feel of his mouth on hers. “I want you all the time, Killian.”

“You shouldn’t,” Killian ground out, his entire body screaming at him to kiss her. His tongue darted out and he tasted her lips, the sweet taste of her ever present in his memory intensified in that moment.

“Why?” Emma breathed, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

The way she was acting was unlike any of their previous encounters and it was awakening something very primal inside of him, his hands skimming down the sides of her face and down the column of her neck. Killian paused, his thumb resting over the pulse there, the elevated rhythm of Emma’s heartbeat quickening even more when he stroked the skin where her Omega scent gland would be were she anything but Beta. A heady mixture of arousal and confusion coursed through him, his throat closing up around a lump there and the strain of his erection a painful reminder of what he could never truly have.

Emma was married. The fact that her husband was an arsehole was irrelevant, and the fact that Killian wanted to wring the Beta bastard’s neck was even more of a moot point. It didn’t matter to him what gender class she belonged to because at the end of the day she would never be attainable. He had let things go too far, let his feelings for her develop into something far greater than even he could control and if a day with Emma had shown him anything, it was that he wasn’t ready to let her go.

But his feelings could wait. Right now, the only thing more important to him than his own arousal, was Emma’s. She was especially wanton today and it hadn’t escaped his notice. First the lingerie, of which he had just reminded himself, then the panties, oh god, the panties, and then the very idea of a blow job which had the blood rushing to his cock from the memory alone, and, to be fair, what sort of Alpha would he be if he didn’t indulge Emma’s deepest, most baser urges?

He surged forward and pinned her to the door with his weight, making sure she could feel the length of his hardness pressed against her. Emma let out a gasp of surprise and her scent immediately changed, her sweet, subtle hint of what Killian had once known making way for a strong, spicier taste that had his blood boiling in his veins. It was familiar but overpowering, the low rumble of a growl crawling up from his belly as he raised her arms and she let him, rubbing herself against his length and biting her bottom lip.

“You want me too,” Emma surmised with a hint of glee, writhing her body against his even more. “Tell me you don’t.”

“That’s not fair,” Killian said gruffly. He pressed into her harder, resting his head on her collarbone and tasting her intoxicating skin with a quick peck of his lips. “You smell different, love,” he rasped. “I can’t think straight.”

“So don’t think at all,” Emma whispered, slipping her hands from his grasp and pushing the blazer off his shoulders. The muscles along Killian’s jaw tightened and the green of Emma’s eyes darkened with her lust at the sight. The cotton jacket fell to the floor and Killian kicked it away, closely followed by his shoes, his toes scrunching inside his socks in an attempt to ground himself.

“Emma, I-,” Killian began again, his vision blurry from whatever Emma had bewitched him with, her fingers tracing the v-neck of his t-shirt that had suddenly become clammy and clung to his body. He swallowed thickly, blinking to refocus the blood flow from his cock to his brain, a futile attempt if ever he’d known one.

“Don’t. Think.” Emma pressed her finger to his lips, halting any further interruptions from the Alpha before her. “Just, fuck me,” Emma purred, holding his eye contact when his stare bore into her. His eyes were the darkest Emma had ever seen and her skin flushed hot with the idea of what he could do to her. She knew, after all, exactly what Killian Jones was capable of. “Fuck me, and knot me like you promised in the restaurant.”

“Oh, my sweet,” Killian smirked, dragging his fingers down the length of her arms, lightly gripping her wrists. He held her gaze, unashamedly moving her hands to his chinos, encouraging her to unbutton them with a reassuring nod. “I’m going to fuck you, and will knot you, but be warned,” he paused, allowing her to lift the weight of him out of his underwear after she had pushed his chinos to the ground. As soon as she was done, he slapped his hands to her arse and hoisted her into the air, ignoring her squeak of joy as she wrapped her legs around his waist, and let her sag into his hold. “This is going to ruin you.”

“Too late,” Emma rasped, clutching his face and finally planting her lips firmly on his.

If he hadn’t had the strength of an Alpha, Emma might have knocked them both to the ground with the force of her kiss. Killian wrapped his arms around her, tightening his hold on her body as he stepped from his chinos and flicked his foot, tossing them aside on his way further into the apartment. Her lips were sweet, like a drug he couldn’t get enough of and he’d be damned if he wanted to let up kissing her back for even a second.

“What about the lingerie?” Emma pulled her lips from his in a daze, her fingers interlocked behind his head and his neck muscles there straining against the edges of her palm.

“Nope.” Killian shook his head and Emma frowned at him. He set her down, much to her protest, but soon his intentions became clear when he reached behind her and unzipped her dress.

“No?” Emma asked salaciously, letting the material of her dress flutter to the floor once Killian had slipped it off her shoulders. It left her naked, gloriously bare and exposed to his hungry gaze, and Killian licked his lips with delight.

He shook his head again, crossed his arms over his body and Emma felt a surge of wetness between her legs when he lifted the last remaining remnant of clothing up and over his head and his arm muscles rippled deliciously under his skin. “Anything that blocks my view of your absolutely perfect body is not welcome here.”

Emma blushed and without even realising it, her hand had found his bicep where her fingers gripped the muscle in anticipation. “You said you liked it in the store.”

Killiam grinned darkly, stepping into her space and forcing her to retreat backwards until her thighs touched the huge bed behind them. “You weren’t naked in the store.”

Emma let out the longest breath as she fell backward and bounced on the mattress, turning herself onto her stomach whilst airbourne. She tried to crawl away with a giggle, Killian hot on her heels as he clambered onto the bed behind her and grabbed her by the hips. Emma wasn’t sure what had come over her, playing this little game of cat and mouse all day, teasing him to within an inch of his life, but she was enjoying it like nothing else they had ever done. His hands on her skin felt like red hot pokers, searing his fingerprints into the flesh there, the warmth between her legs igniting once more and causing her to clench her muscles.

“Ah ah, love,” Killian teased, giving one of her arse cheeks a playful slap and sending her crashing flat onto the bed. “Don’t you dare hold that wonderful nectar in.”

His hands were on her arse once more, long, lithe fingers kneading the globes with a growl. Emma smirked, her face buried into the thin sheet that covered the bed and she rolled her shoulders, and hummed contently. Killian was not about to let her out of his grasp, dragging his fingertips down the back of her thighs and pushing her legs together once he reached her knees, pinning her to the bed with his own weight as he straddled her legs. Before Emma had time to react, his fingers were tracing the crease of her behind, pushing between her legs and fishing around in the wet heat that was currently soaking the sheet underneath them.

“My word, aren’t we wet,” Killian rasped, teasing his finger around her entrance.

“Killian-,” Emma began in a breathy whisper, but Killian covered her back with his own body and canted his hips until his erection eased itself into the crease of her arse and had the rest of her words stolen in a gasp.

He let his weight envelope her, mindful not to crush her, but instead apply just enough pressure so that she was safely in his hold. Huge hands found the mattress beside her head and Emma felt dizzy with need, inhaling hard and smelling herself on his fingers. She couldn’t speak, she couldn’t move and she had never felt so loved in all her life.

“Please,” she begged, turning her face until her head lay sideways on the mattress and she could see the dark wisps of his hair falling over his forehead. Her hand reached behind her and clutched at his hip, a desperate please further enforced by her unadulterated need to feel his cock inside her. One of his hands brushed her hair aside, tucking it behind her ear before his tongue licked the outer shell with a husky moan.

“Gods, I love it when you beg,” Killian growled, his lips right next to her ear and his words sending shivers down her spine.

The sound that left her mouth was unlike anything Emma had ever heard from her own lips. She felt hot, her body melting into the mattress, the garbled mess of sounds tumbling from her throat just making Killian chuckle. His hands were on her, skimming over the curve of her hips that were pinned under his, his own enthusiastic panting turning her on even more. Emma tried to wiggle, to do anything to encourage Killian’s length where she wanted it, but he was steadfast, pressing his hands into the small of her back and pushing himself back into a sitting position.

His lips were on her instantly, tongue darting out to taste her as he kissed his way down her spine. It was agony, slow, torturous pain that fell just on the right side of pleasure and made Emma’s skin tighten over every single muscle in her body. The hair on the back of her head prickled to attention, her neck arching outward in an attempt to tempt his lips closer, but Killian just continued his journey down her back, making sure each and every bump of her spine was paid the utmost attention.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered between kisses, his hands placing featherlight touches after his lips to smooth away her trembling. “You’re so, so…” He stopped, fingers digging into her flesh in an attempt to stave off something Emma couldn’t make out, the feel of his jaw muscles clenching against the divet above her behind. Killian’s words were taken from him by the scent of her, her body making far more lubricant that he had seen before, cementing in his mind the idea that despite being Beta, Emma was made just for him.

“Taste me,” Emma whimpered, drawing his attention to her aching core with a lift of her buttocks. “I know you want to.”

“Oh, love,” Killian hissed, the softness of her cheeks rubbing over his sensitive tip. “How is it you know exactly what I want?” His lips were on her again, the skin of her arse cheeks rippling with goosebumps under his kiss. “What I need,” he added with a feral growl.

He sat back up, unable to take it anymore, taking himself in hand and stroking his length quickly. Emma grinned salaciously, her eyelids fluttering closed in anticipated pleasure she knew was coming. She eased her behind into the air which allowed for Killian to slide a pillow under her stomach. This had become a dance she was familiar with, the silence between them the only communication they needed, this position perfect for his cock to find the exact right spot over and over until they crashed in euphoria together.

Killian eased backwards, drawing his hands over her skin in a circular motion, encouraging her to relax that little bit more. Emma wasn’t sure how much more relaxed she could be. She felt like her body was floating already, the room spinning and her finger scrunching the material of the sheet in her grasp to ground her, but when Killian nosed into her folds from behind, there was nothing that could hold her steady. His tongue was scalding her, burning her from the inside out, the cool air in the room her only relief between his hungry gulps of her and the too long time he spent savouring the taste on his lips.

“How do I taste, Alpha?” Emma cooed, watching him lift his head at his title on her lips. They locked eyes and she bit her bottom lip coyly, flashing him a cheeky smile that was equal parts blissful and testing, his inner animal fighting to be free.

Any other time, Emma’s teasing would have been welcome, exciting even, but for some reason, Killian was overcome with the need to claim her. It was illogical, he knew that, but there was something about the scent of her, the remnants of her juices on his beard and those covering his tongue that made him roar inside. His skin felt like it was about to melt right off his bones, an itch that he couldn’t scratch just under the surface, but Emma was the remedy for his ills, his aches and his yearning and so, Killian was done being patient.

“Yes,” Emma hissed when she felt him position himself at her entrance.

Without preamble he was pushing home, entering her with one swift thrust of his hips and a sigh of relief. His body began to quake, the muscles in his upper thighs twitching when he tried to find his equilibrium. It was difficult, considering Emma had the ability to knock him for six simply by smiling at him, so the feel of her around him was almost suffocating. He froze, fighting off the maddening urge to pound into her relentlessly, aware that while she was very wet, and was already becoming accustomed to his size, the true Alpha nature that was clawing its way to the surface, or trying to, might scare her off.

Killian shifted his position, making sure he was seated inside of Emma as far as he could get, loving the way she pushed back onto him in an attempt to pull him in deeper. He clawed down her back, angling his hips upward, waiting for Emma to adjust her own body to where she felt most comfortable with his ever welcome intrusion. After a gasp and a shudder, Emma was lifting one knee, sliding her leg across the sheet and forcing Killian to roll over to the side so he was resting on his side behind her. Reluctant to slip from her tight heat, he followed the arch of her spine with more searing hot, open mouthed kisses, eager hands grabbing any part of her he could.

Silently, Emma moved his hand from her waist to her breast, flattening her palm over his and forcing him to knead the aching flesh. Her nipples hardened even more, the skin pulling tight around them, the bullet like buds telling Killian exactly what he already knew. Emma wanted more, breathless pleas leaving her mouth in nothing understandable, but her body crying out for what only he could give her.

Killian shushed her, soothing her need with more tender kisses, his length rooted inside of her as far as he could possibly get except for the swell of his knot. He repositioned himself so that he could kiss her face, one hand stroking the slightly damp side of her brow whilst the other held her still beneath him. Killian slid his lips to her cheek, placing soft kisses to the raised apple of it when she smiled. He loved her smile, and could lose himself in it forever, and with a smirk of his own, he planted his lips firmly on the corner of her mouth.

“Love,” Killian whispered against her lips, the corners of her mouth ticking up with pleasure at his endearment. He was drunk on her scent, the strength of it overpowering his brain as he dragged his forehead over the bare skin of her shoulder, and couldn’t stop the words before they slipped from his mouth. ��I wish you were mine.”

Emma’s skin sent a ripple of anticipation through her entire body and all of the hair on her arms stood to attention at his words that she just knew weren’t said flippantly. Killian had never been one to confuse his words, but this was the first time she had ever heard him speak what was in his mind. She didn’t respond, afraid of him realising that she had heard what he had said, instead, rolling her bottom lip under her teeth, and flattening herself to the mattress where his engorged cock rubbed her in all the right places.

“Oh, fuck,” she whimpered before she could stop herself.

Killian was reluctant to leave the warmth of her skin but he did, forcing himself up on his forearms and pulling his hips back. His cock dragged against Emma’s insides, deliciously working her up, causing her body to coat his length in even more glorious wetness. It made him growl, a low gutteral sound from deep within him, and he slammed himself back into her with a stiff, clenched jaw. His nails raked down her ribcage, over each bump with increasing intensity to match his thrusts, one after the other that forced her legs open wider and expelled all the breath from her lungs.

“Knot me,” Emma whined, her words desperate and almost painful.

She was so close to coming, balancing right on the edge of her orgasm, but she just needed that little push to achieve what was fast becoming her favourite feeling in the world. The burning stretch of Killian’s knot as it entered her was addictive, all of the blood rushing to her stretched muscles and providing her with pinprick sensitivity through her entire core. The hair on his stomach rubbed at her buttocks, his cock so deep that he barely left her skin to cant his hips, and it was just the way she liked it, pressing on her pleasure center repeatedly.

“Are you sure?” Killian grunted, the bulb of his knot exposing itself at her words alone. She hadn’t come yet and he was afraid of hurting her, but the way she was writhing against his cock, hungry for his knot told him that he should trust her. She knew her own body far better than anyone, and if she wanted his knot, who was he to argue.

“Yes,” Emma hissed. “I need all of you.”

“Alright, love,” Killian purred with a grin. “As you wish.”

Soft, manly hands were heavy on her back but felt as light as air, almost invisible with how they were escorting her through the clouds of her mind. Emma was boneless, her soul on the outside of her body and the room around her faded away to reveal nothing but white hot bliss. She went limp, flattening herself against Killian’s hand that had found its way to her clit, rubbing herself in one direction against his fingers in a steady rhythm whilst he countered in the opposite. She was coming, the inside of her bones fizzing with pleasure, and the press of Killian’s bulb against her entrance made her whimper.

Killian leaned harder into her, his jaw clenched tightly and sweat beading his brow under the loose hair that flopped there. His thighs burned from the tempo of his love making, and the muscles in his back rippled with each thrust, his knot exposing itself to the cool air of the room just before slamming into Emma’s core, sending her into oblivion and the contractions of her muscles around him pulling him with her. Killian’s legs trembled and he grabbed at the flesh of Emma’s behind hungrily, letting out a groan of pleasure as he emptied himself inside of her and felt his inner beast howl with delight. It was a few moments before he realised he might be hurting her and relaxed his grip on her skin, smoothing his palm over the area before giving her a playful slap.

“Mmmm,” she hummed with a smile, enjoying the way Killian was seated inside of her.

Killian pulled the pillow out from underneath her and arranged them into a more comfortable position. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into his embrace and kissing her quickly. Small tiny pecks along the width of her shoulders made her arch into him even more, the throb of her muscles around him massaging his knot bulb and making sure he didn’t slip from her body. A shiver prompted Killian to pull the sheet up over them, something that had been pushed down to the foot of the bed by their vigorous activities, and he smoothed it down over the curve of Emma’s body to make sure she was fully covered and would feel no chill as her body temperature returned to normal.

“Is that what you needed, my love?” Killian’s words were but a whisper, mumbled into the back of Emma’s ear and were followed by him nuzzling into her neck. He buried his face in her hair, unaware of what he had let slip in his own selfish error, until he felt her stiffen in his arms. Killian frowned, unsure what was wrong for a second, still lost to his own euphoria, but when Emma began to quake and sob, his panic soon chased away his pleasure. “Emma, love, what’s wrong?”

Emma couldn’t hold in her emotion any longer. A combination of the flutters of orgasm and the pain in her heart was just too great to contain any longer. Emma enjoyed seeing Killian, more than she liked to admit to herself, and of late she had felt an almighty draw to more than just the idea of sleeping with an Alpha. Emma was pulled toward Killian by a connection she couldn’t explain, by one she didn’t want to understand anymore than at its most basic level. She craved him and needed him more than she thought possible, and Killian’s words had opened up something inside of her that she had been trying to hold back.

It wasn’t for the sake of her marriage, because that was as good as over in her eyes. No, it was more than that. Emma had been trying to convince herself that a loveless marriage would be what she could settle for if she got what she wanted out of it, the Alpha experience she had been so intrigued by her whole life, but all finding Killian had shown her was what she was actually missing from her life.

Love.

“Emma?” Killian pried again, a little gentler than before but with no less panic stricken words. “Please,” he begged her, his own emotion creeping up his throat. He ground his teeth, wishing that he had waited to bury himself inside of her but also wishing he hadn’t, cursing himself for rushing after her high as eagerly as he had. “Did I hurt you?”

“No, nothing like that,” she assured him quickly, shaking her head.

“Then what, my sweet?” Killian soothed. His hands found her face, as awkward as their position allowed in their current join, and he wiped away her tears with his thumb.

“That,” Emma sobbed, turning her face further into the pillow. “My love, my sweet, Killian, you can’t say these things-.”

“And if I mean them?” Killian interjected her quickly, swallowing the lump in his throat. He tucked a crooked finger under her chin and tilted her face back towards his.

Emma’s breath hitched in her throat and she pinched her eyes closed even tighter, scared to look him in the eye. “Do you?” Her eyes fluttered open and met his, the darkened greys fading away to the beautiful shade of blue that she now saw.

“Aye,” Killian said with a nod and the small tick of a smile. He had never been much of a gambler, or been so apprehensive to say the next words out of his mouth, but with a small lick of his lips, he laid all of his cards on the table. “Emma, I love you.

Liam threw down the cards in his hand again, a disgruntled huff leaving his mouth through tightly pursed lips. He had never had much luck when it came to playing poker, or gambling of any kind really, but his brother had insisted on a game or two after hours. The bar had been closed for an hour, way into the early hours of the morning now, and all Liam had found was that Will Scarlet was either very lucky or with each hand he had something up his sleeve to guarantee his victory. Literally.

“You’re cheating,” he accused, narrowing his eyes as yet again, Will pawed his winnings towards him with an excited chuckle.

“Oh, come now, brother,” Killian teased, collecting the cards from each of them and setting them back into a pile. “That’s not very sportsmanlike.”

“Yeah, Liam,” Will added, stacking up his ever increasing pile of chips. “Where is your dignity in defeat?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t been defeated,” Liam groused. “I’ve been cheated out of my hard earned money by a thief!”

Will hurled himself back in his chair and the whole thing skidded across the floor. “Your words wound me, sir!”

Liam blinked. “But you are a thief, Scarlet!”

“Former thief,” Will corrected.

“Now, now, gents,” Killian bellowed above them, his voice echoing ever so slightly in the now empty bar. At his words, Liam crossed his arms over his body and twisted his mouth as if trying to stop the words he wanted to say from coming out. “Would you like to shuffle the deck, Liam?” Killian offered as a means of placating his brother.

“I don’t know what good that would do,” Liam huffed, ignoring the outstretched hand of his younger brother.

“Yeah, it won’t help how shite you are,” Will grumbled under his breath.

“Right!” Liam bellowed, slapping his hands to the table. “You are barred!” He pointed a menacing finger at Will, a vein bulging on his forehead.

“Again?” Will smirked cockily.

“Alright, Will, leave the man be,” Killian told his friend with a playful grin. “And, Liam? You and I both know Will spends more money than anyone else in this place, so in reality, isn’t he just taking back his own hard earned money?”

Liam was silent. His brother, although younger, was often much wiser in how he saw the world. Where Liam saw good and bad, Killian saw circumstances, especially when a person was one or the other based on what kind of hand life had dealt them. Will had been a thief, it was true, but where Liam had only ever seen their mutual friend as that which he was, Killian had seen the why and the how, and it was all down to circumstance. And now, due to a change in his circumstances, Will was no longer a thief.

Technically.

Killian knew that Will had hidden cards up his sleeve, literally, but he saw no point in ever calling him out on it. Their games were less about playing poker and more about being with like minded Alphas who just wanted to get their heads down and get through life as unnoticed as possible. Killian ignored Will’s sleight of hand, Will never mentioned Killian’s confidential life problems and Liam was none the wiser to either.

Except tonight, because Will Scarlet was also a chatty drunk.

“So, still dreaming about the wife?” Will teased, his words only a little bit slurred as he lifted the remainder of his pint to his lips.

“What wife?” Liam frowned, reaching for the cards he had been dealt.

“Little Miss Confidentiality Agreement,” Will said with a gulp of his drink.

“Seriously?” Liam shot Killian a look and his eyes went wide.

“Yeah, Killian can’t say anything or he doesn’t get paid,” Will giggled.

“Will,” Killian warned, trying to ignore the way his brother was boring a hole into the side of his head with his stare.

“Relax,” Will said cheekily “I’m not going to tell Liam how much you got for last night or anything.” He took another long gulp of his beer, barely swallowing the fizzy drink before he coughed out a number. “Fifteen.”

“Hundred?” Liam looked up from his cards.

“No, Thousand,” Will said gleefully. “Hey, we both thought hundreds, isn’t that funny?” He noted, giving Liam a drunk smile.

“Killian!” Liam shrieked, his knees bumping the underside of the table. Will’s stack of chips toppled over and he tutted under his breath, scrambling to right the towers in front of him.

“What?” Killian gave Liam a sheepish look.

“Do you think it’s because we are both so modest?” Will continued, prattling away to himself.

“Tell me our drunk magician here is lying,” Liam implored his brother, pointing his thumb in Will’s direction.

“Is it so hard to believe a woman would pay that much for sex?” Killian asked, trying to dodge Liam’s question.

“Uh, yes!” Liam yelled.

“Exactly why her husband is paying,” Will snorted through his laugh.

“Her husband?!” Liam coughed, eyes wide and hands forgetting the cards he had been dealt. He tossed them to the table and leaned closer to his brother.

“Will, can you just shut up, for one second in your life?” Killian growled.

“Oh, right, bite my head off! I’m only the one who got you the gig,” Will snapped defensively.

“I’m sorry, Killian, did he say her husband?” Liam blinked again, trying to comprehend Will’s little slip of the tongue.

“Yes,” Killian nodded, closing his eyes in anticipation of Liam’s inevitable rant.

“Is paying you fifteen thousand dollars to sleep with his wife?” Liam could hardly believe the words that were coming out of his own mouth, but here they were, discussing his little brother making more money than either of them could ever hope to comprehend in their lifetime. And for what? Fucking a rich wife?

“Yes,” Killian sighed.

“That’s each time too,” Will chimed in, peeking at Liam’s discarded cards.

“Who is he?” Liam squeaked.

“He can’t say. He signed a thing.” Will waved his hands, slumping back in his chair. “Are we going to play cards, or what lads?”

“WILL!” Killian and Liam bellowed in unison.

“Alright! Bloody hell,” Will scoffed. He crossed his arms over his chest and took a deep breath. “Didn’t want to make any money tonight anyway,” he muttered under his breath.

“You should see her, Liam,” Killian told his brother eagerly. He shuffled forward in his chair, finally discarding his own cards now he had no reason to need to distract himself. “She’s so unhappy in her marriage, I just wish I could take her away from it all.”

At Killian’s rambling confession, most likely because of the way his own alcohol intake has loosened his lips, Will choked on the last gulp of his beer.

“Woah, easy there, studly Jones,” Will warned with a cough.

“Should you be thinking like that? About a married woman, I mean,” Liam clarified but he already had his answer, it was plastered on Killian’s face.

He’d seen love once, had it even, but he never thought he would see the day that he saw it on his own brother’s face. Killian had never been the biggest, most imposing Alpha in the room, and he had never really so much as sniffed at a relationship before, but there was something about the way his eyes glowed, as if sparked to life by a divine light, that told Liam his brother might have just found his soul mate.

“All I've done is think about her,” Killian breathed, his heart constricting at the thought of Emma in his arms.

“Killian,” Liam said low, his voice even. He moistened his lips and rubbed the patch of stubble under his lip.

“I know, I know, but-” Killian protested.

“No buts, mate, love ‘em and leave ‘em, that’s the job,” Will reminded him with an arched brow.

“Maybe you just always want to ‘leave ‘em’ because ugly women pick you?” Killian snapped.

“Hey!” Will objected with a frown. “I’ll have you know I’m very popular.”

“Only because you’re an Alpha, mate,” Killian teased.

“And because you’ll stick your dick in anything,” Liam added with a grin.

“Yeah, remind me, how much to sleep with you again?” Killian smirked, ribbing him further.

“Alright, alright!” Will huffed, side eyeing both the brothers with a scowl. “I get it, I’m not as pretty as a Jones.”

“It’s alright, mate.” Killian leaned towards him, clapping his friend on the shoulder. “There is nothing wrong with that, right Liam?”

“Of course not,” Liam said as sincerely as he could, fighting his urge to crack a smirk as he rested his elbows on the table and leaned closer to Will. “One day you’ll find a woman who will leave the lights on,” he sniggered.

“Fuck off,” Will scoffed, laughter erupting from his mouth on his next breath.

Both Jones’ laughed with him, and he knew there was no malice behind their words. There never had been, throughout all the years they had known each other and through the entire duration of the same joke; Will was not, and never would be, as handsome as a Jones. But he had never minded, because the fact he was an Alpha was all he needed to excel in life. Even if most of his clients did, in fact, leave the lights off. Not that he was about to tell either Jones that.

“I’m happy when I’m with her and at a tremendously sad loss I can’t explain when I am not.” Killian scrubbed his hand over his stubbled jaw, recognizing his dilemma. “I know it sounds crazy, but I feel a connection with her, like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”

“Like what? A mate connection?” Will frowned.

“I don’t know.” Killian shook his head, running his hands through his hair. “Gods, this is a mess.”

“Too right, mate,” Will scoffed, trying to dry off his chips.

“And this isn’t some sort of saviour complex. She doesn’t need saving, I just-.” Killian paused, a sad smile briefly gracing his face as he looked at his brother’s compassion. “I feel like I’d die without her, Liam, I truly do.”

“I’d prefer you alive, if that’s at all an option,” Liam told him softly but with a slight warning to his tone.

Killian balked a laugh. “I don’t think the husband has the time to do anything between work and his mistress.”

“How do you know that?” Liam challenged.

“What, that he has a mistress? He told me,” Killian shrugged. He reached for his beer, the chilled glass wet on the outside, and took a sip of the now warming liquid. “He’s a pig, Liam, an utter wanker. He doesn’t deserve her.”

“What a bastard.” Liam ground his teeth in anger. “Is she an Omega?”

“She isn’t.” Killian shook his head and Liam frowned, confused. “But there is something about her, Liam, I just know-”

“Shall I tell you what I know, little brother? She is a married woman, affluent by the sounds of it, and you are probably nothing more than her plaything.” Liam pushed himself to his feet and Killian watched him with utter sadness on his face. “But let me tell you what I don’t know.”

Killian’s head snapped up, as did Will’s, albeit with a little bit more of a sway. Liam paused, pinching the bridge of his nose and exhaling hard, causing Killian and Will to share a confused look as they waited for the rest of his words.

“I don’t know how she feels,” Liam smiled at his brother, who looked visibly relieved to know his brother was accepting his words.

Killian was more than confused by what his body was telling him and to know his brother was on board was a weight off his mind. Alpha’s were more attuned to their bodies and drawn to a mate based on scent, but Emma wasn’t anyone he should have been attracted to in the way an Alpha was to an Omega. There was her beauty, which was nothing to be scoffed at by any means, but it wasn’t the usual Alpha draw, and Killian couldn’t find what made him so attracted to Emma as hard as he tried.

“I told her I love her,” Killian confessed drunkenly.

“You did?” Liam’s eyes went bright.

“Oh boy,” Will gasped, then blew out a whistle.

“What did she say?” Liam asked earnestly.

Killian sighed, scrubbing his hands down his face. “She didn’t.”

“I guess that means you’ll have to ask her,” Will noted.

As if Killian needed any more of a sign, his cell phone started vibrating in his pocket and once he had retrieved it from the confines of his jeans, and seen Emma’s name on the screen, he paled and swallowed hard.

“It’s her,” he breathed.

“Well, don’t just stand there like a Beta, answer it!” Will yelled.

With a nod from Liam, Killian swiped his thumb across the screen and pressed the cold glass to his ear. For what felt like forever there was a pause and what sounded like a dead line, until he heard her smile and turned to walk away from his brother and rowdy friend.

“Hey,” he said softly, pushing his way through the empty tables towards the back of the bar. He had one finger in his ear to drown out the sound of Will cackling with glee.

“Hey,” Emma replied quickly, but her voice was filled with trepidation.

Killian frowned and he felt his stomach fall away from him. Worry overtook him instantly. Was it what he had said? Something her husband had said? Something changed in their arrangement that would stop him from seeing her again? “Are you alright, love?”

“Yeah, it’s just,” Emma paused, the silence on the line deafening. “Can you meet me? Like, now.”

“Of course,” Killian agreed without a second thought, his feet already taking him towards the exit.

“At the apartment,” Emma said softly.

“I’ll be right there.”

#A/B/O #cs fic #cs au #a/b/o dynamics #the contract #ch 6 #alpha!killian #omegaverse #fanart for fanfic by the love fabiana

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alleiradayne · 4 years

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LONG JACKET A DESTIEL-ISH SERIES

Over the last few years, I’ve seen some of the craziest shit hunting with the Winchesters and their angel, Castiel. But this story right here? This isn’t about monsters. This isn’t about the battle between good and evil, heaven and hell. I understand all that.

It’s people I don’t get. People are crazy. And we do crazy things when we’re in love.

PART IV - UNDERSHIRTS

Summary: A lot of investigation, a little bit of a lead, and some personal time between Sam and Y/N. Warnings/Tags: Seriously, more awkward flirting, mentions of missing persons, investigations Characters/Pairings: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Female!Reader Word Count: 1,656

“This doesn’t make any sense.”

In a rare display of emotion, Sam tossed the dossier onto the dash of the Impala. “Why in the hell did five random dudes just… disappear?”

The Impala rolled around a corner as Dean turned down a residential street outside of Salem proper. “Maybe they were rushes? Initiation gone wrong…”

“They’re twenty-seven. If you’re going back to college at that age, the likelihood of joining a fraternity is very slim,” Sam replied. “I doubt a group would even rush them.” His chin dropped into his right hand, elbow propped on the sill of the passenger door. “None of this makes sense. I don’t even think it’s a case.”

There’s a reason I don’t play poker. Dean saw my reaction clear as day in the rearview mirror. “What’s up, Y/N?”

“I’m not sure anything up our alley is going on here,” I managed. “So I dunno. Vampires? Draining young, healthy guys and discarding the bodies?”

Beside me, Castiel shrugged. “It’s unlikely. There’s no other vampire behavior. These people went missing in the middle of the day.”

Sam whipped around to face him. “What?”

“The last time they were seen was the middle of the day,” Castiel stated. “You read the reports, right? That’s the only common thread I found.”

“Son of a bitch.”

Dean’s exaggerated gasp rent the air as he gawked at Sam, then laughed when he saw Sam’s flat stare. “I can’t believe it, the great Sam Winchester, investigator extraordinaire, missed something.”

“Shut up. It’s not like you noticed either,” Sam retorted.

As hard as I tried to hold back, unbidden laughter shook my shoulders. Between Sam’s irritation—I never wanted to annoy him, but as of late, it seemed relatively easy to get under his skin—Castiel’s impatience, and Dean’s one-track mind, my ribs burned with the effort to keep quiet.

“Hey,” Dean admonished as he slowed the Impala in front of a pale blue house. “I don’t hear you offering up anything besides lame-ass vampires, Ms. Y/N.”

“That’s because,” I started as I opened the door, “I bet you won’t like my best theory much.”

A metallic crunch echoed through the neighborhood as Dean exited the Impala and rounded the front-end. “Oh, I’ll take it,” he continued. “Twenty bucks says you can’t piss me off.”

Halfway up the walk to the house, I rounded on him and said, “I don’t think there’s a case here, and I think Detective Williams’ called you to get laid.”

If anything, Dean was, at most, mildly offended. He knew we weren’t dumb. Maybe he had hoped we wouldn’t figure it out. When the subtle pink blossomed on his cheeks again, he attempted to side-step me for the house, but Sam grasped him by the shoulder and pointed at me.

“Pay the lady.”

That indeed seemed to piss him off. Dean shoved a hand in his pocket, tore out his wallet, and shuffled through it. Then he smacked an old twenty-dollar bill into my hand and grumbled to himself as he stalked past.

“I think there’s actually a case here,” Castiel said over my shoulder.

“How so?”

He gestured to the house directly ahead. “I think we’re about to find out.”

Too many hours in and out of the car had stiffened my legs and knotted my neck. Not to mention all the sinking sofas, worn-out chairs, and leaned on countertops at five different interviewed homes. But it had all been worth it.

“Groceries.”

Dean kept repeating himself the entire way back to the motel.

“Groceries.”

“Dean, we get it, the last thing they told anyone they were going to do was grocery shopping,” Sam barked. “Why is that so weird?”

When the Impala lumbered over the driveway and into the motel’s parking lot, I decided it was time to play the game. “They all went to the same store. Could have been one of the employees.”

“That’s… a possibility, sure,” Sam started as he exited the car. When I followed, he continued. “But it’s just as likely that they were randomly targeted on the way to the store. Or out of the store.”

“Which store?” Castiel asked at the door.

Dean unlocked it and strode through. “L&M Foods.”

I had made it across the motel room and withdrawn my pajamas from my bag when Sam said, “We should take a look around tonight. When there aren’t so many people around.”

My chin slumped to my chest. “I guess I’ll sleep later.”

Castiel rushed to my side and touched my forehead with no warning. Warmth spread through my entire body, but when he withdrew his hand, I still ached. “You need to rest. We can check in the morning.”

Sam regarded Dean, who shrugged, then turned back to me with a worrying twist to his lips. He closed the space between us, then asked, “You gonna be okay, Y/N?”

The aching muscles in my neck screamed out for relief in the nearness of Sam. But I kept that to myself, despite my staring at his massive hands. “I need to get some sleep.”

Either he could read minds or body language. I’d bet on both. Sam’s soothing touch rubbed my shoulder. Perfectly innocuous, and every bit the caring friend he seemed determined to remain.

Except Dean knew otherwise. At least, I assumed he knew how I felt. When I spotted his crooked smile, I dug as deep as humanly possible for every ounce of resolve to not blush.

“Cas and I can—,” Dean started, but he froze when he turned to Castiel. Again.

Castiel had removed his suit jacket, tie, and button-up before anyone had noticed. “I… thought we weren’t going anywhere until tomorrow morning.”

To that day, I had never seen Dean’s face turn so red so quickly. And then it finally dawned on me. Where I had saved face—albeit a fraction—when caught pining for someone, Dean openly blushed, stared without reservation at the object of his affection.

Look, I am the first to admit that I know next to nothing about flirting. Hell, half the time, all I did was irritate the piss out of Sam. But Dean and Castiel knew fuckall. And at that exact moment, as Dean stared at Castiel in suit pants and an undershirt, everything made sense.

“You know, now that I think about it,” I started far louder than I had intended. Dean startled as he averted his gaze, and Sam snatched his hand from my shoulder. “We should get a look tonight.” Though I tried to fight it, a wide yawn interrupted my statement, and Sam’s touch returned.

“No, Y/N, you need rest,” he insisted. “You two can go tonight yet, right?”

Castiel shrugged back into his shirt. “I don’t need to sleep, but are you—”

“I’m fine!” Dean barked as he grabbed his jacket and rushed out of the motel room.

The dejected sigh from Castiel as he tossed on his suit jacket—he had forgone the tie, left in a pile on the table—followed him to the door.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Yes, Y/N?”

“Give him some time,” I said. “He’ll figure it out.”

He smiled at that. “Thank you.” Before heading through the door, he regarded Sam with an equally fond smile, then left.

When the door closed, I turned to Sam, but he spoke first. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?”

The perfect opportunity had presented itself, and I wasn’t about to waste it.

“You know, riding in the backseat of that car all the time really does a number on my back.”

“Oh,” he quipped as he sat on the bed. “Here, sit in front of me. The only spot in the Impala that is remotely comfortable is the driver’s seat.”

Well, shit. Can’t say I didn’t try. I did as he said and sat on the edge of the bed. Deft hands and precise thumbs started in on the knots of my shoulders with expert accuracy. “I guess you would know.”

“My neck is constantly killing me,” he agreed. “I usually take a couple tennis balls in a sock to my shoulders. Hurts like hell, but the relief is worth it.”

A momentary silence filled the space as my mind slowed to nothing and sleep threatened. Before long, I slumped over, and only Sam’s gentle shake woke me. “Sorry. Castiel wasn’t joking. This exhaustion is fucking terrible.”

Sam squeezed my shoulders one more time before motioning towards the bed. “You should change and get some rest. When we get back to the Bunker, I can really take care of these.” He prodded the lingering knot at the base of my neck.

“I could return the favor, too,” I suggested as I stood.

It wasn’t until I turned to him and found a blush on his cheeks, similar to Dean’s, that I understood. “I mean, only if you want, just thought I’d offer, you know, it’s fine if you don’t, I get it, it’s kind of weird—”

“I would enjoy that very much.”

If I hadn’t been so damn tired, I might have made another move. But sleep beckoned—no, demanded—my attention. I offered my best beyond-exhausted smile as I turned for the bathroom and, once there, shut the door.

I didn’t bother locking it. I knew Sam wouldn’t come in unless I explicitly asked. And even then, knowing how I’d burned the wick at both ends for far too long, he would merely drag my dead weight into bed to sleep. And sleep I would. Dear Lord, I never knew the human body could experience such draining exhaustion.

After a quick change of clothes and a brushing of teeth, I left the bathroom and found Sam at the table pouring over dossiers. His brief smile faded the second he returned to the profiles, eager to get to the bottom of the case.

As I curled into bed, I convinced myself that he wanted to get back to the Bunker sooner than I did.

Reblogs and feedback are awesome. If you want in on the tags, send me an ask or a DM!

LONG JACKET MASTER LIST

ALLEIRADAYNE’S SPN MASTER LIST

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #castiel #castiel fanfic #castiel fanfiction #dean winchester #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester fanfiction

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derryhawkins · 4 years

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Life is a Highway [3/49]

summary: The seven of them made a plan in middle school: use the months between high school and college, and take a road trip through all of the states. Their twelve year old minds didn’t think it would actually happen, but six years later with enough saved up money, they’re going on an extremely long trip together in a large van. pairings: reddie; benverly; hanbrough; stanpat chap word count: 6.5k a/n: hopefully i remembered everyone who wanted to be tagged! if i didn’t/if you want to be added to the taglist just send me an ask x

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chapter three: rhode island

Ben wakes up half on the row of seats and half off, arm and leg hanging off and onto the floorboard of the van. A body is pressing against his own a little bit. He turns his head a little bit to see the back of Mike’s head. Mike is still asleep, laying on his side as he’s squished between Ben and the backrest of the seats, and they’re sharing Ben’s pillow, making them awfully close. At first Ben feels bad, but Mike doesn’t look uncomfortable so Ben just turns his head back around and stares at the back of the row of seats in front of him.

It’s day three of the road trip. After Salem, they spent one more night in Massive Two Shits, and then drove to Rhode Island early in the morning. It was a calm drive. Not very lively, actually, since they were all still half asleep during it. Yesterday, after getting into Rhode Island, they didn’t do much. There was a cliff walk thingy they decided to do, and after seeing they could go to the beach, they went shopping for swimsuits for whoever didn’t bring anyway (AKA Richie, Mike, and Bill) along with sunscreen and towels. They didn’t go to the beach though, because by the time they wanted to all the public ones were closed. So, that’s what they’re doing today. That is, if anyone else can wake up.

Ben turns and lifts his head to look out the window. The sun isn’t too high up in the sky, meaning it’s still early in the morning. The inside of the van is filled with sounds of sleeping. Bill’s loud snores that they’ve all gotten used to, Eddie’s occasional sleep talk, Mike’s soft snores (Ben didn’t even realize he snores until this trip), and Richie’s random hums of content (nothing sexual, thank God). Last night, no one really wanted to find a hotel or motel to stay in, so they found a safe place to park the van and got situated there. Mike and Ben got one of the middle rows, and Eddie and Bev got the first row – they’re in no doubt a similar position to him and Mike – while Richie took the floorboard in front of it. Bill leaned back the driver’s seat almost all the way, and Stan did the same with the passenger’s seat; the two of them fell asleep there, everyone with their own pillows and blankets – except for Ben and Mike, who somehow ended up sharing a pillow.

Some minutes later, Ben slides onto the floor and just lays there for a moment or two before carefully sitting up. He then grabs his wad of clothes from under the seats and carefully and slowly slips on the shorts he wore the day before. He then grabs his shoes and the shirt, and made sure his wallet is in his shorts’ pockets before standing up and getting out of the van as quietly as possible. Ben rubs at his face and runs his hands through his hair after putting on the shoes and shirt outside, only to freeze as the van door slides open again to reveal Eddie, half asleep with wild hair but fully dressed. They both just stare for a moment.

“Uh. Morning?” He winces as it came out as a question and not a greeting, but Eddie doesn’t seem to notice. He grunts in response and rubs at his eyes. “How’d you sleep?”

“Terrible,” Eddie mutters. “Not because of any of you guys, but just…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, and sighs. “Sorry, I don’t feel like talking about it right now.”

Ben nods. “That’s alright, man.” He guesses that it has something to do with his mom, or maybe he’s homesick; either way, he doesn’t push into it. “You can sleep on the beach later – I’ll make sure you’ll wake up from time to time to put on sunscreen.”

A smile – albeit a tired one that doesn’t reach his ears – forms. “Thanks, Ben. Where’re you going?”

He motions down the road vaguely. “To the gas station for some coffee. Wanna come with?” Eddie gives him a grimace, and he doesn’t need to say a thing for Ben to know what he’s thinking. “It’s good!” Ben promises. “Nothing like hotel coffee, I swear.” Still, Eddie stares at him with the grimace expression. “You don’t have to get any.”

Eddie then looks offended. “Of course I’m getting some!” He whispered-shouts, glancing shortly at the van, and they both know that if he had been any louder he would’ve woken some of the others. “But if I get some disease because of you-.”

Ben’s hands move up in mock surrender. “Eddie, if you get sick from the gas station coffee, I give you permission to do anything you want to me.”

Instantly, they both freeze, both thinking how wrong that sounded, and it doesn’t help that an amused snort comes from inside the van. Eddie rolls his eyes, and Ben shakes his head as the shorter boy tells Richie to shut up. Then, the two are off to the gas station. They’re both still mildly half asleep so the conversation is minimal, but the company is appreciated – at least on Ben’s side. He likes spending time with Eddie – even though he can be too much sometimes, but in certain degrees, that can go for any one of them – and, unfortunately, the two haven’t spent one-on-one time together in a while.

It’s not until they’re in the gas station and making seven coffees when they really talk again, just so they can make sure they’re making everything okay enough for the others.

“Bill likes a lot of creamer, right?”

“Yeah, the weirdo.”

“I literally just watched you dump a shit ton of sugar in your coffee, Eddie.”

“Okay, and? Wait- does Stan like coffee?”

“Black.”

“Great, okay.”

“Richie likes is black, too, yeah?”

“Yeah, but with some sugar. No creamer.”

“Mike?”

“Honestly, he drinks anything. Bev likes hers strong, right?”

“Yep, with only a little bit of creamer, and some sugar.”

When they’re done and are standing with seven cups of coffee on the counter in front of them, they hi-five, proud of themselves. Eddie then grabs a pen out of his fanny pack – which Ben doesn’t even notice until then – and he puts everyone’s initials on the lids. Ben pays for all of them, mutters a sorry to the cashier as he does so, and then thanks the employee after it’s all done. On the walk back to the van, Eddie carries three and Ben carries four with ease.

They got there only to see everyone else already up and about. The two slow down as they get closer, matching expressions of confusion on their faces because usually it takes a lot for everyone to be up at the same time this early. Sure, it’s not extremely early, or anything, but the chances of everyone getting up at the same time is slim. Their confusion quickly morphs into amusement as the Piña Colada song meets their ears.

Richie and Bill are on top of the van, loudly singing along. The two are barely even dressed for the day; Richie is wearing one of his Hawaiian shirts, unbuttoned, with a loose pair of old gym shorts he slept in, and Bill is just in boxer shorts and socks, a baseball cap backwards on his head. Mike is trying to take a picture with Bill’s camera, but both Richie and Bill are moving too fast to get a good one. Beverly is sitting on the edge and dodges one of Richie’s legs, and then Stan is standing a little ways away, arms crossed and trying to not look amused. No one is dressed properly, Ben realizes, as he looks at his friends. Everyone minus him and Eddie are still in what they slept in. He glances around at the few morning runners, and gives a sorry smile as one in particular glares at them.

“Yes, I like Piña Coladas!” Richie belts out along with the van’s radio and slings an arm around Bill’s shoulders. “And getting caught in the rain!”

Bill laughs and leans into Richie. “I’m not much into health food, I am into champagne!” He puts an arm around Richie’s waist, and they sing loudly – correction: terribly – through the rest of the chorus together.

“I’ve got to meet you by tomorrow noon, and cut through all this red tape—.”

“How long were we gone?” Ben leans down to speak to Eddie, neither taking their eyes off of their, quite frankly, embarrassing friends.

Eddie shakes his head. “Like… Forty minutes? What the fuck. They could’ve changed – Bill could’ve put on clothes!”

“Bill streaked through one of the high school’s football games,” Stan states as he walks up. “I’m honestly not surprised by him being half naked in public.”

Ben holds out the four coffees he’s holding and lets Stan take his, and then Beverly is sliding down the van and rushes to them, grinning as she goes to Ben as well, taking her own coffee after looking at the initials. “Wasn’t that for a dare?” He asks Stan. “By you?”

Stan hides his smirk behind the coffee while he takes a sip.

“—and we laughed for a moment, and I said, ‘I never knew’—.”

Beverly giggles as she holds her coffee. “I think we shouldn’t give them their coffee,” she says, and the three of them watch as Richie dramatically sings a song about piña coladas while dancing terribly, and as Bill does everything equally as bad without a care in the world about being in just boxer shorts and socks. Ben honestly wonders how a cop hasn’t walked up yet and taken them in for public indecency.

“They’ll be worn out by the end of the day because of the sun,” Ben says.

It’s said in hope, though. Nothing has really ever stopped the duo on the van from doing chaotic, obnoxious, stupid things before – and Bev knows that, too. So when she gives him a look of disbelief, silently saying she doubts that’ll happen, Ben can’t argue with her. Not that he would argue with Bev, anyway.

Mike walks up, then, with an amused smile. Eddie hands him his coffee, to which Mike takes with a thanks, which then prompts Bev and Stan to thank the boys as well since they had forgotten to earlier. “Should we stop them?” He asks.

“Hey, eyesores!” Stan shouts above the playing music and singing. Richie and Bill stop almost instantly. “Ben and Eddie brought coffee, and if you want some before I throw it away, I suggest you stop embarrassing yourselves.” A pause. “And put some fucking clothes on, Bill.”

Ben watches as Bill looks down at himself. Blue eyes grow wide, and suddenly he’s sliding off of the van and diving into it, shutting the door behind him. Richie gets off and comes over next.

“You could have invited me to come with, y’know,” Richie says as a thanks when he takes the cup from Eddie. “I was awake, too.”

“We know,” is all Eddie replies with. The words quickly start their daily routine of bickering, and Ben steps away from them.

He takes a sip of his own coffee as Mike takes Bill’s from his other hand. Mike and Stan begin to talk, sipping their coffees, and soon enough Bill is joining them – fully dressed now with the cap still backwards on his head – and he takes his cup from Mike, the two sharing smiles.

Ben turns to Bev and motions to her coffee with his own. “How is it?”

“It’s good, actually,” she says. “I never expected gas station coffee to be this good. And you made it perfectly. Thanks.”

He sheepishly shrugs. “Ah, it’s nothing, just some coffee.”

“Maybe but I’m still thanking you for it. Hey, are you ready for the beach today? I know that, uh…” Bev trails off and paused for a short moment, clearly figuring out the right words to say. “You’ve said something before, a few times, about not being body confident and I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

Warmth spreads through his chest. He knows that the others know about him being self conscious and all, but for some reason he hadn’t been expecting anyone to bring it up. To make sure he feels comfortable. Let alone that person being Bev. But at the same time, it makes sense that she’s the one making sure he’s alright. She did the same thing with Stan and his route when they decided to go to Salem.

Ben feels himself fall a little.

“I’ll be fine,” he assures her with a smile. “Most likely I’ll just wear a shirt that I don’t care too much about with my swim trunks.”

The thing is, Ben knows he’s not fat like he had been as a child. Overweight and chunky. He actually used to be fine with his weight until middle school came around, and that’s when the self consciousness came into play. And at first he wasn’t even going to lose weight. Eventually he did, most for himself but also to spite the bullies, and the fact that he did track helped out; as did eating healthier. Now, he’s still got some fat on him. He doesn’t have a ‘perfect’ male body, that’s for sure – the only one closest to that is Mike – but he’s got descent muscle and all, and he’s at a healthy weight that fluctuates. Still, he feels insecure sometimes. Not as often and not as much as he did in his early teen years, but it’s still there.

Bev looks up at him and nods. “I figured. Just wanna make sure you’re comfortable – and I’m sure the others do too.”

“Hey, if I wasn’t comfortable, I would have asked if we could do something else.”

She raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Ben, honey, you ate oysters last year because you couldn’t say no to Mr. Denbrough. You hate oysters.”

Ignoring the term of endearment – mentally, at least, because physically, his cheeks turn red – Ben winces.

“You puked after.”

“A lot can change in a year,” he defends himself poorly, because he knows that Bev knows that he wouldn’t have suggested a different place if he wasn’t comfortable with the beach.

Bev just gives him a tiny smile and squeezes his upper arm. “You’re a sweetheart, Ben,” she says quietly. “But maybe learn to say no?” Her nose scrunches up at the suggestion.

He chuckles. “I’ll try,” he promises. “Also, I swear I’m comfortable with the beach.”

“I know, I believe you. I just care about you.” There’s a small pause, and her cheeks turn the slightest pink. “We all do,” she adds quickly.

“Bev!” Eddie calls, now by the van, waving to get her attention. They both look at him. “Can you help me find my old Thundercats shirt?”

Bev smiles and nods. “Be there in a second!”

“I’ll help too—.”

A chorus of, “No, Richie,” is heard from Eddie, Bev, and Bill. Richie gapes at them and dramatically huffs, eliciting a small laugh from Ben.

+++

“Kowabunga, dudes!”

From behind the group, Richie dashes forward, yelling in pure excitement. Bill is right after him, and so is Bev. All three run down the wooden ramp and take off their flip flops to run easier through the sand to get to the chairs and two umbrellas they rented – and they weren’t too expensive, thank God. And before Stan knows it, Eddie is chasing after the three of them as well, equally excited, but pushing that away for the time being to make sure they put on sunscreen; they have, everyone has. Stan watches them and cracks a smile as Bill faceplants into the sand right behind their chairs. He can hear Bev’s laughter mix with Richie’s almost instantly, and Eddie freezes where he is before laughing as well. A few groups of families and friends look their way, amused at Bill as well, before moving on with their lives.

Mike chuckles beside Stan as they get off the ramp. Behind them, Ben carries a backpack that was carefully packed earlier with some sandwiches, water, and fruit.

Stan steps into the sand and slips off the flip flops with ease. He grimaces a bit. He isn’t fond of sand – it gets everywhere so easily – but he can tolerate it enough to enjoy some time with his friends. By the time he gets to the four chairs with Mike and Ben, Bev has chucked off her coverup and hung it over one of the chairs with her towel and is now standing ankle deep. The waves, which are a bit rough but nothing huge, crash onto the shore and her ankles. Richie isn’t too far behind. He takes off his shirt with ease and lets it fall on the sand by his crumpled up towel and flip flops before running to stand with Bev.

Stan carefully puts his towel on the back of one of the chairs that’s directly under one of the two umbrellas. “I can already see Richie trying to go out to the other sandbar and drowning,” he says to Mike, light hazel eyes going over the choppy waters and cloudy sky, anxiety starting to bubble up.

It probably isn’t the best day for a beach trip, but they’re here anyway so they might as well have some fun.

“He won’t drown,” Mike assures.

“We’ve all been to the beach only, like, a handful of times during our eighteen years of living. If at all! What if he doesn’t know about rip currents? How strong are the rip currents today anyway? They get pretty strong, y’know, and—.”

“Stan,” Mike interrupts. He lays a comforting hand on Stan’s shoulder, tilting his head down the littlest bit to see under the umbrella. “It’s Richie. He’s a dumbass but he’s not stupid. Also, Eddie is with them.”

At that, Stan looks back to the shore. Sure enough, Eddie is standing a few feet away in the damp sand with crossed arms. It’s then that Stan notices Eddie’s things in the chair beside his own.

“Y-Yeah, Rich isn’t gonna swim too far with Eddie, especially since Eddie’s never been to the beach,” Bill speaks up.

“All the more reason for him to go to the sandbar,” Stan says. He knows Richie. But so do Bill and Mike. They also know Eddie. If he isn’t doesn’t want to go to the sandbank, they won’t; but if he does… Stan doesn’t think about that. At least, he tries not to. He doesn’t need to become so worrisome so early. “But, really, how strong are the rip currents?”

“They’re there but not too strong,” Ben says from a few feet away. “Only thing we gotta worry about is the possible storm that’s coming in. Heard some locals talking about it.”

All of them make faces of disappointment. “That sucks,” Mike mutters. “Well. Better make the most of it while we can!” And then he’s slipping off his own shirt and racing to the ocean like some sort of model.

Stan stares for a moment. He’s expecting himself to blush deeply and feel the familiar fast beating of his heart and a swarm butterflies in his chest. And he does. Except it’s not as strong as he distinctly remembers it being two days ago. As he slips off his shirt, Stan thinks to himself. Well, he tries to, because those feelings towards Mike certainly aren’t as strong as they had been and—

And then Richie is running up to him.

Stan yells as Richie wraps his arms around him, throwing the boy over his shoulder. Stan tried to push himself away. “Richie, let me go! Rich- Ben! Hey, help me, please! Richie, I am going to drown you!”

Richie laughs. “No you won’t!”

“Sorry, Stan!”

“Richard! I will— .”

Richie lets go and Stan falls into the ocean. As a wave goes passed them, Stan makes a move to his friend but then Eddie is tackling the lanky boy into the water. It’s a familiar sight. Except this time, instead of the green and calm waters of the quarry, it’s in the choppy and blue waters of the ocean. Stan snorts, then stumbles as a weight is on his back, water splashing into his face thanks to Eddie. He spits out the salt water with a look of disgust.

“Sorry, Stan,” Bev laughs in his ear, repeating Ben’s words.

He hummed. “No, you’re not.”

She laughs again and slides off. “You’re right, I’m not. I was trying to knock you over.”

Stan turns and playfully glares at her, paired with his middle finger. “Fuck you.”

“Fuck you!” Bev retaliates with, still smiling.

“Fuck b-both of you!” Bill shouts and does what Bev couldn’t. He knocks Stan over, but brings Bev with them both.

Stan kicks Bill away underwater before popping above the surface again. He’s smiling, though; he’s happy to be with his friends, and he notices that the more fun he’s having the less he’s worried about something going wrong. So, he keeps at it. He jumps with the waves, and they play chicken the best to their abilities. Ben eventually joins them, joining in on the fun.

At some point, Stan ends up holding Richie like a baby. He looks down at his friend with a raised eyebrow. “Why.”

Richie shrugs. He situates his arms and hands around Stan’s neck better. Stan rolls his eyes and lets go, but Richie lets out a small shout and scrambles to wrap himself around Stan like a koala, refusing to touch the ground. Stan stands there with wide eyed, arms spread out. He looks over at their friends. Bev and Bill went to the sandbar. They’re standing over there, pushing each other around like everyone had been earlier. Ben is with Mike, the two closer to the shore. Eddie is close by, floating on his back as he looks at the clouds.

Stan then looks back at Richie. “What the actual fuck, dude.”

“I am not stepping in the sand,” Richie says hurriedly and quietly.

“What?” Sometimes, Stan doesn’t understand Richie. This is one of those times. But as he recognizes anxiety on his features, Stan lets the judgement go away. “Richie, seriously, you’re making me worry.”

“Okay. Don’t freak out,” Richie starts.

Stan tenses up. “Oh, my God, there’s a shark, isn’t there?”

“No! No, if there was, the lifeguard people would’ve told us to get out by now. But…”

“Richie, I swear to fucking—.”

“There is a stingray.”

Stan takes a breath. He’s ready to scream out a ‘what’ but before he can, Richie is covering his mouth with one hand and glaring at him. It comes out muffled.

“I said not to freak out,” he hisses.

Stan bats Richie’s hand away. “Not freak out?” He repeats. “About a fucking stin—?”

“I don’t want Eddie to find out,” Richie rushes out in a whisper and motions to his crush. “He’s having fun.”

And, that’s true. Eddie’s not simply floating and looking at the clouds anymore. Instead, he’s just swimming around with Mike, and diving into the bigger waves to avoid them crashing on him. Stan sighs and looks at Richie.

“And, like, stingrays aren’t that dangerous, we just can’t step on them. But he won’t listen to that, he’ll just freak out, and I don’t want that.”

“Then why tell me? Why even bring it up?”

“Because I think I just discovered a new fear.”

Stan bites his tongue and tries not to laugh. He really tried to hold it in, but the laughter bubbles out anyway. Richie’s frowning, almost pouting, and it just causes Stan to laugh harder. “I’m- shit, I’m sorry, but. Richie. Seriously?”

“It’s rational!” He defends himself.

“I know! But this is so ironic. You’re basically doing what you don’t want Eddie to do.”

“...No I’m not.”

“Then get down.”

“No.”

“Fine.”

“Wha- Ah!”

Stan cuts Richie off by shoving him off and into the water. In an instant, Stan is swimming away as fast as he can. Richie yells at him but Stan ignores it, and jumps behind Mike.

“Mike, move!”

Mike doesn’t move. He stands there, thoroughly confused. “Why?”

Eddie looks between them all, amused. Dark hair flat on his forehead, the ends curly slightly now that whatever product he puts in has been washed out thanks to the ocean water. No one says anything as Richie lunges to jump over Mike. He fails terribly. He doesn’t even get over Mike; his arms and chin land awkwardly on his left shoulder as Mike catches him, and Stan swims backwards a little bit.

“Dude, what’s going on?” Mike asks with a laugh.

“He shoved me into the water!”

“We’ve been doing that, Rich,” Eddie says. “Idiot.”

Richie moves away from Mike and huffs. He grumbles something none of them can hear and fixes his glasses – something that everyone is very surprised that he hasn’t lost yet.

It doesn’t take long at all for Richie to get distracted by Eddie. Stan looks around. The clouds are darkening the slightest bit, but other than that the weather hasn’t exactly changed. He then looks in the water. Richie’s comment about there being a stingray makes him wonder if being in the water is a danger. He doesn’t say anything about it, though, especially with Eddie close by. He truly is having fun, and other than a rant on the way to the beach about the different germs that could possibly be in the ocean, Eddie hasn’t freaked out much over anything. So, Stan just stands a bit straighter, which catches Mike’s attention.

“Are you leaving me?” Mike asks, feigning a pout.

Stan glances away from his face for a moment. Yeah, his crush is still there, alright; the feelings just aren’t as strong as they have been. “I’m getting too pruney,” Stan says, rather than mention the anxiety Richie accidentally planted in his head about the oceanic wildlife. He lifts his hands out of the water as if to show a point.

Mike nods. “Alright. I’ll herd everyone in to get something to eat in a few.”

Stan gives him a small smile. Then, he’s going to shore and he makes his way to the chairs, careful not to get too much sand on him on the walk back. He grabs his towel once he’s there and wraps it around himself. Ben is sitting in one of the chairs that’s out in the sun, flipping through one of Bev’s fashion magazines extra carefully so he doesn’t ruin the pages. Stan doesn’t want to abandon his friends – you’re not abandoning them, the rational part of his brain chastises, barely heard over the thoughts diving into what might happen if someone got stung by a stingray – but at least Ben is with him.

+++

Two hours later – after eating some snacks and drinking water and putting more sunscreen on – a few of the Losers go back into the water while the rest stay by the rental chairs and umbrellas. Eddie is passed out in the sun as he lays on his stomach, his towel between his body and the sand, and Bev sits in the chair beside him, sunglasses over her eyes as she soaks in the sun. Stan lays under one of the umbrellas, the chair leaning all the way back, with a towel over his head and face as he sleeps too. Then there are Bill, Ben, Mike, and Richie. The four of them went back in the water the moment they were able to, and went back to the sandbar once Stan fell asleep, and now they’re back, looking for seashells and sand dollars blindly since they don’t have goggles.

Bill sucks in a deep breath of air and squeezes his eyes shut before diving back into the water. Blindly, he digs around in the sand as long as he can, staying under water until his lungs are burning for oxygen. He pops above the surface with a gasp of air and shakes his head as if he were a dog. Ben comes up a second later, doing the same thing, but pushes his hair from his forehead unlike Bill.

“Anything?” Richie asks, glasses gone. Mike made sure he left the glasses with the others, and the three boys take turns making sure the boy doesn’t do anything stupid or harmful with his blurry sight.

“It’s hard,” Ben says with a shake of his head. He lifted up a severely broken seashell. “Without any goggles, we aren’t gonna find anything good.”

Bill frowns and takes the broken seashell from Ben. “I mean, it’s still pretty,” he tries.

Richie rolls his eyes. “We’re missing three-fourths of it, dude.”

“How can you tell? You’re fucking blind without your glasses!”

“Billiam, I can still see shapes, you dumbass.”

“Oh, right.”

They all laugh.

None of them stay in the water for too long after that. Bill quickly notes the darkening sky and clouds, but doesn’t say anything about it. He knows everyone else can see it, as well as the locals who are starting to leave despite the day not being over at all. They soon get to their other friends again, and they take their towels from where they left them and start to dry off.

Bill turns to where Richie stands. He’s about to ask if they have any other plans for the day, but stops as he realizes the teen is staring intently at something. Bill moves to stand beside him and follows Richie’s line of sight. Two girls around their age stand not so far away, holding hands, smiling. It’s clear that they’re together romantically and Bill can’t help but be surprised that they’re being even the slightest couple-y out in the open like this. He hears Richie sigh, so he looks back at his friend and watches as Richie fosses his towel on his head, attempting to dry his wild mess of hair.

“You okay, bro?” Bill asks.

Richie shrugs. He lifts his head, the towel only allowing the other to see the bottom half of his face. His lips curl into a goofy smile. “Never better, Billiam!”

Bill slowly nods. He lays a hand on Richie’s shoulder and squeezes it, a silent touch of comfort. He removes it soon after and goes to step away, to give him some space, but halts as they both notice that a girl is walking their way. The friends share a look once Richie pulls off the towel. He fixes his glasses.

“I saw your staring at that couple,” she says. She has blonde hair and bright green eyes, and she looks less than pleased.

“Uh–.”

“Have something to say about it?”

Richie holds his palms up after setting the towel around his neck. “Whoa, blondie, you got the wrong idea here,” he tells her.

She lifts a brow. “Do I?”

Bill nods. “Y-Yeah! It’s not- we weren’t-.”

“Weren’t what?” Blondie asks. “I know their relationship might not seem okay in the eyes of the majority, but that doesn’t give you a right to stare.”

That takes the boys by surprise. They both quickly start to talk, voices overlapping. Richie tries to explain that he’s not, that he’s very much into boys, but he doesn’t exactly want to out himself to the stranger so not much of anything came out. Bill tries to tell the girl that he doesn’t have a problem with gays and lesbians and bisexuals and everything else, but at the accusation has him stuttering a bit too much.

“What did you two do now?” comes the exasperated question from one of their friends.

Richie perks up and turns. “Eds! Tell this girl we aren’t homophobic!”

Eddie blinks, taken by surprise. “Uh. What? I mean!” His eyes widened dramatically at the girl’s unimpressed look. “I mean, yeah, we- we- none of us are like that. I ho- I think.”

Blondie looks even more unimpressed. “You think?” she asks.

Eddie nervously chuckles. “Yes?”

Bill facepalms.

Richie winces, but he quickly recovers with a sigh and looks to the girl again. “Listen, I’m sorry for staring. I come from a small town, we all do,” he motions vaguely to his friends behind them, not paying too much attention, “so seeing same-sex couples aren’t exactly a norm for us. Just, please, trust us that we’re not like that. I shouldn’t have stared, so. Sorry.”

Bill nods along. “I- It was rude. I’m sorry too,” he says.

The blonde’s brows knit together. “It’s alright,” she eventually tells them. “Mistakes happen. I just know those girls. They’ve been through a lot shit and are finally in a good place. I don’t want anything ruining that.”

Bill smiles. “That’s alright,” he says. His gaze shifts over to Richie, but quickly moves to Eddie instead. His expression is unreadable. “It’s not f-fair how the world s-s-sees same-sex couples,” he says and looked back at the blonde.

Eddie shifts in the sand, arms crossed over his chest as he keeps his gaze down. He mumbles something but none of them catch it.

Blondie nods sadly. “It really isn’t.” She smiles. “I’m Sandy, by the way.”

“I’m Bill.”

“Richie,” the lanky teen introduces himself with a wide grin. “And that’s Eds.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Eddie,” he corrects with a small glare to Richie. There is no heat behind the action, and Richie just grins some more. “It’s nice to meet you, Sandy. Sorry about them being dumbasses.”

Sandy laughs. “It’s fine. I’m just glad you’re not homophobic, that it was just a misunderstanding.”

“So… Do you like sand?” Richie asks.

Lightning goes across the sky in the distance right then and it’s followed by a crack of thunder.

“I think the universe wants you to shu- shut up,” Bill teases, making Eddie and Sandy both laugh.

The laughter gets cut off as drops nod rain start to fall. It starts off as slow but then in a blink of an eye, the rain pours down harshly. More lightning goes across the sky, and the thunder is louder this time around. The Losers scramble to gather their belongings.

“Shit,” Bill hears Sandy mutter. She rushes up to the group. “Can you drive me home? I walked here.”

Mike nods instantly. “Of course. Care to help us get our things to the van?”

Sandy nods in return and grabs whatever she can. Then, they all run.

+++

They end up all staying at Sandy’s home. The Losers, after they all made it safely to the van and squished in like a can of sardines, explain to Sandy their road trip and how, right now, they didn’t have a place to stay other than the van. She quickly offered her home, said her parents wouldn’t mind, and so they went.

Richie suddenly wants a hotel room. Sandy’s home isn’t bad. It’s actually rather on the bigger side; there is a second floor, along with a basement, and there’s a balcony on the second floor as well. The living room is huge, there are two guest rooms, they have two TVs, and the kitchen isn’t too small. It’s rather that her parents are two women and after getting over the initial shock and awe and the want to bow down to them, in comes the dreaded panic of his own sexuality.

He knows he’s bisexual. He knows he likes Eddie. He knows boys liking boys isn’t exactly a good thing to a society. He knows seeing Sandy’s moms be affectionate to one another – way more affectionate than the couple he stared at on the beach – has an effect on him he doesn’t expect. All he can think about is him and Eddie, and truthfully Richie wants to combust. The women are so close and loving, and they’re sweet and kind, and the looks they give each other makes Richie realize he might give those looks to Eddie without realizing it, and it…

It’s scary, simply put.

He can handle liking Eddie. He can’t handle the realization that he might be in love with Eddie.

Barb and Diane share a quick peck in the kitchen before Barb walks out. Richie quickly looks away from Diane before she can catch him staring and goes back to eating the pizza.

“You okay?” Ben asks from across the table.

Other than Diane, who is making sure the third dozen pizza doesn’t burn in the oven, they’re the only two in the kitchen. Stan is down in the basement with Sandy, Bill and Beverly, while Eddie is taking a shower, and Mike is currently using the home phone in the hallway to talk to his parents.

Richie nods, but doesn’t say anything.

Ben frowns as he chews. Thankfully, he doesn’t press on the matter.

“Oh, pizza!” Eddie excitedly yells as he enters the kitchen.

Richie whips his head to the entrance of the kitchen. Eddie’s hair is damp, the ends curling since he has yet to put product in it. A few strands still stuck to his forehead. The sun today, despite it being cloudy, Richie realizes, did the shorter boy some good. He’s already tanner. The sun exposure has already caused a few freckles to show up, and his cheeks and nose may be a little pink but they all know it isn’t something to worry about. Eddie always seems to burn slightly before getting really tan; it freaks Sonia out, and for a bit of time Eddie wore long sleeves even during the summer time because his mother worried about him getting skin cancer. Now, he doesn’t.

Richie suddenly stands and picks his plate up. A piece of cheese pizza sits on it, untouched. “There’s no more cheese left,” he explains and hands Eddie his.

Eddie takes it, albeit hesitant. “Did you do something to it…?”

He smirks. “Yes, I replaced the sauce with my spit.”

“Richie!”

“I’m joking! Geez, Eds.” He laughs slightly and messes up Eddie’s hair, earning another shout. Truthfully, Richie reached up to push some hair from Eddie’s face, but decided messing it up is the better way to go. “Go eat so we don’t have to deal with your hangry gremlin side.”

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Stop comparing me to those ugly things.”

“But they’re cute! Just like you!”

“Fuck off,” he mumbles, and gently punches Richie’s arm as he walks by.

Richie rubs the spot with a smile he knows is full of fondness. But it drops as he realizes that Diane is subtly watching them, and he straightens a bit. He clears his throat and leaves the kitchen as quickly as possible without it looking weird. He makes his way to the basement and falls face first into the small couch against the wall, ignoring the short pause in conversation the other four are having as he did so.

“You’re subdued today.”

Richie shrugs but doesn’t move at Stan’s statement.

Stan sighs. He sits on the floor by the couch and when he speaks, it’s low so Sandy and Bev don’t overhear. “Is it about Eddie?”

“I’ve got it bad,” Richie mutters back. He shifts around so he’s looking at his friend. “Like, mega bad. I don’t even think it’s just a crush anymore.”

Stan smiles. “Congratulations,” he whispers, “you finally realized your own feelings.”

“It’s not a good thing.”

The rips Stan’s smile away. “What? Why? I thought seeing her aunts would make things better.”

Richie shrugs. “It does, a little. Still scary.”

Stan pats his friend’s back in comfort. “I’m sorry, Rich.”

“How’s your crush going?” Richie asks after a few moments of silence, but makes sure that he did it quietly so the others can’t hear.

His best friend shrugs. “I think it’s actually starting to go away,” Stan says honestly.

Richie stuffs his face into the cushion again and groans. It just causes Stan to laugh a little, both out of pity and amusement. He pats Richie’s back again and then stands up.

“Alright. Play pool with me, it’ll cheer you up.” When Richie doesn’t move, Stan sighs. “That’s an order, Richard.”

This causes Richie to move. He sits up and smirks, and Stan's previously amused face falls. “Oh, bossy. Just how I like it!”

“Nevermind. Rot into the couch.”

TAG LIST: @samanthador1205 @snapmyneckandcallmeloki @eddiekazier @burningpersonflapsuitcase

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searchingwardrobes · 5 years

Text

An Education in Southern Gothic: 2/2

Here it is, the second chapter where things heat up and then take us full speed to the dramatic finale! Much thanks again to @snowbellewells for being an awesome beta and @hollyethecurious for the art. I also thank my fellow @cssns writers for all the help in the discord chat. “Ya’ll bloody wankers” ;) You know who ya’ll are!

Summary - Fact: there’s a graveyard between the football field and the science building. Debatable: A ghost haunts the halls of Misthaven Hills High. Emma Swan is about to get an education. Killian Jones is about to get a whole lot more.

Rating: T

Chapter one on tumblr. Also on Ao3.

Tagging the usuals: @welllpthisishappening @kday426 @jennjenn615 @let-it-raines @kmomof4 @teamhook @whimsicallyenchantedrose @wellhellotragic @optomisticgirl @distant-rose @shireness-says @xhookswenchx @ohmakemeahercules @thislassishooked @winterbaby89 @branlovestowrite @snidgetsafan @delirious-latenight-laughs @gingerchangeling @mythologicalmango @vvbooklady1256 @ultraluckycatnd @revanmeetra87 @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bethacaciakay @profdanglaisstuff @spartanguard @thejollyroger-writer @nikkiemms @courtorderedcake

Chapter Two: Theories of Exorcism

Killian sits in his classroom, a stack of essays on the Roman Empire in front of him, his red pen tapping pensively against his jaw.

He’s not thinking about the papers.

Emma has been worrying him since Friday night. He tried to brush off the odd way she was speaking, the slightly unnatural way she was holding herself. She had been camping out with twenty one teenage girls in a cafeteria, after all, and it had been the middle of the night. But the next morning, she had scooped a few pieces of fruit from the tray they had picked up at Chick-fil-a and completely ignored the chicken biscuits and the hash browns. Emma Swan choosing healthy food over greasy food was cause for genuine concern. When he made a joke about the hash browns she had twisted his arm for, she had looked at him in utter confusion.

Killian sighs as he looks down at the essays in front of him. His planning hour is half over, and he told his sophomores he would have their essays graded by tomorrow.

Suddenly, his door flies open and Killian startles, dropping his red pen. And his jaw. He feels like one of those old cartoon characters when their jaws hit the ground and their drooling tongues go rolling across the floor. He’s never denied that Emma Swan is attractive - he would have to be blind and a complete idiot for that - but he’s never seen her quite like this. Her usual ensemble for work is casual and professional - some slacks and a blouse - and her hair is normally pulled up. Today, her golden locks are carefully styled and tumbling over her shoulders. And her dress . . .

It’s tight. It’s red. It short. It shows off her cleavage. It’s completely inappropriate for a high school teacher.

And his body is reacting whether he wants it to or not.

So did the bodies of the boys in her first period class, he’s sure. Wait a minute . . .

“Your second period class, Emma?” he asks in alarm, rising from his desk.

She’s still leaning seductively against the door frame, one arm draped over her head, the other propped on her hip. It should look ridiculous, but it just . . . doesn’t.

“What about it?” she asks flippantly.

Killian stops a few feet away, thinking that’s probably the safest distance. “Um, you’re supposed to be teaching American Lit right now?”

Emma pushes off from the door frame, pulling the door shut behind her and leaning against it. Her chest heaves in a very distracting way in her tight dress.

“It was incredibly dull, so I told the children to read quietly.”

Killian arches a brow. “Incredibly dull?”

“Yes,” Emma pouts, coming closer.

Her legs go on for days in that dress and in those heels. He looks out the window quickly and thinks of England. He swallows, trying to remain calm as her hands reach out to rest upon his chest. Incredibly dull? He has never heard Emma talk that way.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Killian bites his lip as he turns his gaze on her. “Sure, love.”

Her hands slide up his chest and wrap around his neck.

“I’ve had a little crush on you for a long time.”

The breath rushes out of his lungs. He’s longed to hear her say that for so long, probably since that stupid faculty meeting back in July when he’d been a complete wanker trying to get her attention. Despite the euphoria he feels at her words, alarm bells are going off in his brain. He glances over Emma’s shoulder at the door, which is mostly glass. Anyone walking by could see them.

“Emma,” he says gently, removing her hands and taking a step back, “this is neither the time nor place.”

Suddenly, her expression shifts, and her eyes widen in sudden rage. “What are you? Some kind of Puritan? What man turns down a perfectly good proposition?”

She whips around so fast, he gets a mouthful of her hair.

“Emma,” he says, stopping her with a gentle hand to her elbow, “this isn’t you. What’s going on?”

She grins slowly as she turns back around. Before he can register what’s happening, she’s shoved him backwards against his desk, sending papers flying. He catches himself, bracing both hands on the edge of it. Emma presses her entire body flush against him, grinning at his length that she can easily feel through his dress slacks.

“See?” she purrs, running her hands up and down his chest before grasping his tie in her fist. “You want me.”

He’s tempted for one excruciating moment to give in, to grab her in his arms and kiss the living hell out of her. But then he looks into her eyes, and once again, something just isn’t right. He pushes her away roughly and moves to put his desk between them.

“Not like this, Emma,” he tells her, praying she won’t notice the tremor in his voice.

She scowls at him, yet another foreign expression playing over her features. “Well, Mr. Jones, I suppose we’ll save this cat and mouse for another day.”

She saunters out, her arms crossed over her chest, her long painted nails tapping at her biceps. She glances at him once before walking out the door.

Once she’s gone, Killian falls shakily into his desk chair. He’s practically sweating and moves to loosen his tie. He glances at the clock and groans before picking up his red pen.

Nothing like sophomore essays to douse his arousal.

*****************************************************************

If anyone at his old high school had suggested that Killian Jones would one day be a high school history teacher, everyone would have assumed it was a joke and burst out laughing. Bad boy, smart ass Killian Jones who liked to argue with the teachers, got into almost daily fights, and got caught drinking rum behind the bleachers, a future high school teacher? His teenage self had been well known by the principal, and not for good reasons. He spent an inordinate amount of time in the woman’s office, much to her irritation.

So getting called into the principal’s office was something he grew used to, and those old demons probably account for the sass he doles out to Regina on a regular basis now. He admits whenever she asks to see him, he can’t seem to stop the proverbial chip from resting on his shoulder.

Yet never in all his life, as a student or a teacher, has he been physically yanked into the principal’s office. Until now.

The embarrassing yelp he emits when Robin yanks him by the arm and drags him into the office is half due to his friend’s upper body strength (he isn’t the school’s archery coach for nothing) and half due to his almost constant state of distraction since Emma became . . . someone else.

“Bloody hell, Robin, what are you? Your wife’s personal henchman now?”

He turns to find a small group gathered around Regina’s conference table: Mary Margaret, David, and Jasmine. The principal herself stands in front of the framed painting of Misthaven Hills Plantation circa 1885, the focal piece of art in her largely austere office. Her eyes are focused, her perfectly manicured nails tapping at her forearms where they’re crossed at her chest.

“This is an emergency meeting, Mr. Jones,” she tells him cooly, “to discuss what’s happening in your department.”

“My department?” Killian asks incredulously, pointing at his own chest. Mary Margaret is the department chair, if they want to get technical.

Regina rolls her eyes. “The humanities department, Jones, now sit.”

She uncrosses her arms to point at the last empty chair, and Killian obeys. He almost asks what Robin is doing there when he teaches PE, but Regina doesn’t seem to be in the best mood. She sits, adjusts the jacket of her sensible pantsuit, and folds her arms upon the polished surface of the conference table.

“We all know why we’re here,” she says archly.

“Because Emma has started dressing like Substitute Barbie?” Jasmine ventures.

Killian swallows back a defense for Emma. Jasmine isn’t off base in her assessment, unfortunately.

“Let’s not bring my sister into this,” Regina snaps.

“Well she did wear a skintight dress with a plunging neckline last time she subbed for me,” Mary Margaret says, “with no bra.”

Regina rubs her head wearily, then shoots a glare at her husband. “Don’t you start!”

Robin lifts his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say a word!”

David covers his mouth, clearly stifling a laugh. Another department member, but oh well, it’s a small town, and Killian knows David is probably more worried about Emma than he is. For some reason, he and Mary Margaret have practically adopted her old roommate.

“The point,” Regina sighs, “is that Emma is being unprofessional, not only in her wardrobe choices, but also in almost every area of her job for the past two weeks.”

Killian thinks back to when she showed up in his classroom when she was supposed to be teaching. As a matter of fact, Emma has been practically stalking him since that night in the cafeteria. The most embarrassing was when she sauntered right into his class in the middle of his lecture on the Salem witch trials and perched on the edge of his desk in a tiny black leather number he assumed was supposed to be a dress.

“Killian, you have to talk to her,” Mary Margaret puts in.

He swallows nervously, scratching behind his ear. “I, um, don’t think I’m the best person for that.”

“What do you mean?” Jasmine exclaims. “You’re the one she’s spending all her time with.”

“When she’s supposed to be teaching,” Regina adds.

“You’re her boss!” Killian argues.

The only way he’s survived the past two weeks is by avoiding Emma at all costs or at least ensuring they’re not alone. So he doesn’t do something stupid like shove her against his whiteboard and have his way with her. He rubs at his neck - is it hot in here?

“I’ve called her into my office twice,” Regina tells him with a shake of her head. “The first time she blew me off. This morning . . . I can’t explain it. For some reason, I ended the meeting apologizing to her.”

“She’s not herself,” Killian tries to explain. His colleagues might think he’s crazy, but his gut tells him that this woman is not his Emma, which is precisely why he’s fighting his libido at every turn.

“I agree with Killian,” David speaks up, “something’s wrong.”

Killian points at his friend, “See? I knew it wasn’t just me. She hasn’t been the same since the cheerleaders had their overnight in the cafeteria.”

Regina narrows her eyes. “What are you suggesting?”

Killian presses his eyes closed for a moment. Please don’t let them think I’ve lost my mind. “When I say Emma isn’t herself, I don’t mean that figuratively . . . . I’m talking about the curse of Cora Mills.”

Regina snorts out an incredulous laugh. Jasmine lifts her eyes heavenward, and Robin shakes his head.

“You can’t be serious,” David mutters.

“You said yourself something is wrong!”

“I thought maybe . . . “ he squirms in his seat, “that the two of you finally, I mean . . . “

“Oh God, are you serious right now?”

“There has been sexual tension,” Jasmine points out.

“This is Emma we’re talking about!” Killian yanks at his hair with both hands. “The most I’ve gotten out of her all this time is witty banter and subtle flirting. She’s not the type to go zero to sixty, especially with me, her co-worker and friend!”

Everyone starts to talk at once, until Mary Margaret’s voice rises above the others. “Killian has a point.” Everyone falls silent to gape at the brunette. “I’ve known Emma longer than any of you. She may lay it on thick at a bar for a one night stand, but not when it’s someone she actually may . . . care for.”

She looks at Killian apologetically, and he gets it. Talking about his feelings for Emma is weird in this setting, even if he’s been walking around with his heart on his sleeve since July. No one wants their love life discussed in a department meeting. Yet he’ll gladly endure a bit of embarrassment if they can figure out how to help Emma.

“But a ghost, sweetheart?” David asks.

“There was something in that kitchen, I’m telling you,” Mary Margaret insists.

“This is the most ridiculous meeting I have ever led!” Regina exclaims in frustration, rising to her feet. She leans forward, resting one hand on the desk, and pointing the other at Mary Margaret. “Department chair, get your English teacher to stop dressing like a hooker. I’m getting complaints from parents. And all three of you better get a handle on the homecoming issue of the paper since Ms. Swan isn’t doing shit with it.”

Jasmine’s and Mary Margaret’s voices rise in irritation about Emma carrying her weight with the paper. Jasmine is particularly peeved since she got stuck with the back to school issue and the football season kickoff issue. As for Killian, his blood is boiling, and he jumps from his seat.

“Are you all kidding me? That’s all you people care about? The school paper and Emma’s wardrobe?”

“What do you want us to do, Kil? An exorcism?” Robin asks, and when Killians sees the little smirk on his face, he has to clench his fist to keep from punching his friend in the jaw.

“Ya’ll bloody wankers!” he shouts, stomping out the door and slamming it behind him.

Robin looks around at his wife and stunned coworkers. “Did he really just put those three words together?”

Killian’s chest is heaving when he walks out into the hallway, and he wasn’t imagining things, Regina’s office was stuffy. He takes big breaths of the cooler air, pacing in agitation. He kicks a bottom locker, swearing.

“I can help.”

Killian jumps at the sound of Henry Mills’ voice. He spins to see the freshman sitting in a plastic chair beside his mother’s office door.

“Apologies, lad,” Killian says, unclenching his fists and relaxing his shoulders, “I didn’t see you there.”

Henry shrugs. “Mom cusses at home, so she’s kind of a hypocrite about that language rule.”

Killian chuckles and comes to lean against the wall next to the boy. “I take it you heard some of that meeting just now?”

“Try all of it,” Henry says, leaning over to yank a folder out of his bookbag, “and you’re not crazy. Ms. Swan is one of my favorite teachers - besides you, of course - and she isn’t the same person lately. She doesn’t care about us kids at all anymore, and she’s never like that.”

“So what’s your theory?”

“Just like you said, the ghost of Cora Mills.” Henry opens the folder on his lap. “Know that project you gave us on American ghost stories and urban legends?”

“Yeah?” It was an assignment Killian had given his freshmen every year since he started teaching. He was always trying to find ways to get kids excited about history, and this particular project was always a hit. Henry Mills, however, wasn’t the average student, and he wasn’t surprised to hear the passion in the boy’s voice.

“Well, I’m doing mine on the ghost story right here at this school. Cora Mills - no relation by the way -

Killian chuckles as he takes a seat next to the boy, and Henry smiles.

“Well, anyway,” Henry continues, “Cora’s ghost supposedly seeks revenge on men -”

“- by possessing a woman and then . . . “ Killian trails off, his face warming at having this conversation with a student.

Henry just rolls his eyes. “Seducing the guy and killing him? Don’t patronize me. I’m fourteen, not ten.”

“Touche,” Killian grins, “but, why aren’t there boys dropping dead every other day around here?”

Henry sorts through his papers. “Because there’s a pattern to the deaths.” He shoves some papers in Killian’s hands. “See?”

Killian’s eyes widen as he skims over the old newspaper clippings from the Misthaven Mirror. Henry leans over to point at the dates.

“See? The first case of a man dying in the company of a woman with no memory of what happened occurred in 1899. The next one in 1909 -”

“Then 1919, 1929, they’ve happened every ten years!”

Henry nods. “Cora Mills murdered the LaTours in October of 1889. Every ten years since, she’s possessed the body of a woman and murdered the man she loves. Pretty creepy, huh?”

Killian narrows his arms as he regards Henry. “You seem to be getting a little too into this.” The boy grins. “What can I say? This town is so boring! This ghost story is at least interesting!”

Killian frowns. “But how do we help Emma - I mean, Ms. Swan?”

“You mean how do we help you? Cora Mills won’t leave Ms. Swan’s body until she’s killed you.”

******************************************************************

The clouds above Misthaven Hills High are dark and threatening rain. There’s a strong wind, yet the air is still heavy with humidity. The weather only adds to the ominous feeling pressing on Killian’s chest. His hands are shoved into the pockets of his dress slacks as he crosses the lower classmen parking lot. Belle is a few feet away, chatting with Henry beneath the enormous branches of the ancient live oak tree that shelters the old plantation cemetery. The wind keeps sending her auburn curls swirling around her face, but her face is serene as she smiles at Henry. Belle’s calm amidst any storm is one of the reasons he had become friends with her so quickly when he first arrived at the school two years ago. David is like a brother, Mary Margaret like a doting mother, and Belle? She’s like the sister he never had, someone who allows him to be himself while simultaneously never hesitating to call him out on his bullshit.

She’s also the only adult on campus who didn’t bat an eye at he and Henry’s ghost possession theory. She had jumped at the chance to help them, and whatever she has in that heavy messenger bag slung over her shoulder will hopefully save Emma.

And him, by extension. Killed by the woman he loves may be at least a dramatic way to go, but he prefers surviving, thank you very much.

“Killian!” Belle exclaims, greeting him with a smile and a friendly hug when he reaches the graveyard.

“Now can we see what’s in the bag?” Henry asks, shuffling his feet in excitement.

Belle kneels on the ground and begins removing the items. He immediately recognizes the large, ornate crucifix and the dozen votive candles. Killian frowns as he picks up a small, white plastic bottle.

“Is that . . . Jesus on this label?”

“Yes,” Belle says a bit defensively as she snatches it away from him, “you order Holy Water on the internet, and that’s what you get okay?”

“Don’t we need a priest?”

“This is a tiny town in the middle of Georgia, Killian. The nearest priest is seventy miles away. Why do you think I had to order Holy Water on Amazon?”

“Wow,” Henry says without a trace of sarcasm, “you really can buy anything on Amazon.”

Killian’s brow creases with worry. “We can do this without a priest, though? I mean, will it work?”

Belle shrugs as she stands up, brushing leaves from the tights beneath her houndstooth skirt. “I hope so. It’s the best we can do. Some protestants believe any Christian can dispel demons.” She crosses her arms as she regards Killian with a tilted head. “How’s your soul, Mr. Jones?”

“Uh,” he chuckles warily as he scratches behind his ear, “my mother and brother after her tried to raise me in the faith, God rest their souls, but I’m afraid . . .” he rocks back on his heels. “If you need me to prepare my soul, it may take a while.”

Belle laughs easily and reaches to squeeze his hands in hers. “I’m teasing. Exorcising a ghost from a friend isn’t exactly an exact science. I’m guessing, anyway.”

“And Ms. French and I will be here to help,” Henry speaks up.

“Ms. French will be here to help,” Killian corrects, “you’re getting the hell out of here.”

“Aw, man, why?”

“First of all, I just don’t know what may happen, lad,” Killian explains, clapping a hand on the boy’s shoulder, “and secondly, you have a dance to take that sweet lass Violet to.”

“I’m going to the game first to watch her cheer, actually,” Henry replies, a blush reddening his face.

“See? You don’t want to disappoint her.”

“If you don’t see us at the dance,” Belle adds, “then and only then can you come look for us.”

Henry nods, then reluctantly heads for the stadium where students are already starting to gather. Once he’s out of earshot, Belle turns to Killian with a serious expression.

“Are you sure you can lure Emma here?”

Killian nods grimly, though he knows there are multiple landmines to avoid along the way. Four of the five murders since the school was built revolved around the homecoming game and dance, so they had come up with the theory that Cora Mills preferred to lure her victims to the grounds of Misthaven Hills Plantation. They were pretty sure she would jump at the chance to attend the dance with Killian, and once on school grounds, all Killian had to do was find a romantic excuse to come down to the old live oak and the graves littered around it.

He just had to remember that Emma wasn’t Emma right now - she was Cora Mills. He had to resist temptation until he could get her to the base of the tree.

God prepare his soul, indeed.

******************************************************************

Killian’s knuckles are practically white on the steering wheel. The looming thunderstorm still hasn’t been unleashed, and the humidity has just kept climbing. It’s only 75 degrees, but it feels like its 90. He loosens his tie, thankful he at least tossed his jacket in the backseat.

Of course, the woman in the passenger seat is affecting his core temperature even more than the humidity. She keeps crossing and uncrossing her legs, her tiny silver dress inching up every time. Soon he swears he’ll know the color of her underwear.

If she’s wearing any. He wouldn’t put that past her.

She’d tried to kiss him when he picked her up, grabbing his tie with one hand and the lapel of his suit coat with the other. Extricating himself from her embrace had been a herculean effort. And not just emotionally; ghostly possession evidently comes with increased strength. He almost panicked, thinking she was going to physically haul him inside, but the way he pulled away so violently had irked her into releasing him. She had been more annoyed than anything as she grabbed her purse. Maybe a man had to be willing before the murder took place?

He bit the inside of his cheek as he took the next turn. Strength, Jones! We’re almost there!

“You seem so tense, darling,” Emma coos, sliding across the bench seat of his 1970 Chevelle.

Here hair is done up, but not in the tousled, casual way of the Emma he knows. This hairstyle is sleek, her hair gathered into a bun of perfectly coifed curls. It isn’t his favorite look on her, except . . . her neck. It’s on perfect display, begging to be kissed. Especially with the dangling faux pearl earrings teasing him with every turn of her head.

She rests one hand on the back of his neck and begins to run her fingers through his hair. She sets her other hand on his thigh and begins to rub circles there, her fingers inching their way subtly closer and closer to his crotch. He swallows hard as he attempts to shift away from her.

“Do you not like me?” she pouts, rubbing her nose against his stubbled jaw.

“Of course I like you,” he answers hoarsely with a nervous laugh, “I asked you to the dance, didn’t I?”

“Then why do I make you so nervous?” she asks, whispering in his ear.

The way her lips brush the tip of his ear makes a shudder run through him involuntarily, and he can feel Emma’s lips curl into a smile. His reactions to her body and her advances clearly haven’t gone unnoticed. This isn’t Emma! He reminds himself. It’s Cora!

He almost weeps with relief when the stadium parking lot comes into view. “We’re here!” he announces, a bit louder than necessary. God, all he needs is a crack to his voice, and he’d sound like a bloody teenager. He parks and practically scrambles out of the car, Emma crawling after him over the bench seat. When he turns to offer his hand to help her out, she’s still on all fours, her breasts almost spilling out of the top of her strapless dress. Her lips curl suggestively at the look in his eyes. He swallows. Again. God, getting her to the damn tree is going to be the biggest challenge of his life.

Wait . . .

Deciding to change his tactic, he gives the woman before him (NOT Emma, this isn’t Emma!) a cocky grin.

“Actually, my dear, I’ve been teasing you,” he swipes his tongue along his bottom lip as he regards her.

“Oh,” she purrs as she takes his hand and steps out of his car, “and how so?”

He grabs her around the waist, and pulls her flush to him, eliciting a growl from deep in Emma’s throat. Against her neck, he breaths out the next words.

“I have a private place for us,” he turns his head to gaze deeply into her eyes, “to get to know one another better.”

“Really?” she asks, and he exults at how breathless she now is.

His eyes glance down at her lips, then up to her eyes again. “Before the dance.”

A smile slowly spreads across her face, and for the first time since that night in the cafeteria, it seems like one his Emma would offer. Genuine, yet slightly hesitant, with a touch of awe. His arm around her tightens against his volition as he takes in her light jade eyes, that shade he has seen in his dreams so many times. His eyes flicker again to her lips, pink and so perfect. Cora luckily hasn’t messed with them; covering them with nothing more than shimmery gloss.

Cora!

Killian shakes his head and takes a step back. He covers it with a flirtatious smile and his touch as the tips of his fingers slide down her arm and grasps her hand. He won’t let their first kiss be tainted like this, especially when he knows Emma won’t remember it tomorrow.

Because hopefully I’ll still be alive tomorrow.

He takes her across the stadium parking lot, along the covered walkway that connects it to the science building, then down the hill and across the lower classmen parking lot. His eyes scan the cemetery and the base of the oak tree. There’s no sign of Belle, but a blanket is spread beneath the tree, and the votive candles have been lit.

He turns to Emma with a smile he hopes is seductive as he leads her to the blanket. It must work, because she bites her bottom lip and presses herself against his side, snaking her arm around his waist. He clenches his jaw as his body reacts to her nearness, and he prays fervently that Belle doesn’t waste too much time intervening. He forces himself not to pull away as Emma rises up on her toes and slides her arms around his neck. Maybe just one kiss, not a deep one -

“In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost, I command you to leave this woman!”

Belle’s sudden appearance and shouted command snaps Killian to his senses, and he stumbles backwards, narrowly avoiding the candles. Belle is flinging Holy Water into Emma’s face, and she’s stumbling away from her, squeezing her eyes shut. Killian takes the crucifix from Belle’s other hand, and they both advance on Emma. She flings her head back and screams. At the same moment, a loud clap of thunder rumbles across the sky followed by a jagged streak of lightning. Killian isn’t sure if it’s the storm or the exorcism.

Emma doubles over, clutching her stomach, and he and Belle wait breathlessly. Yet when she stands up again, she’s laughing hysterically. He glances nervously at Belle.

“You thought that would work?”

The voice has never in the last two weeks been so clearly different from Emma’s. Her eyes as she stalks towards him are no longer that light shade of green, but pitch black. The wind whips around her, yanking at her hair. The thunder rolls, the lightning strikes, and the skies choose that moment to open up. Rain pours down, drenching them all. Emma is close enough now to touch him, and Belle lunges between them, shouting again and flinging the Holy Water. Yet what good can it do in this downpour? Emma flings her arm outward, and though she doesn’t even touch Belle, the other woman goes flying through the air, hitting the ground with a loud thud.

“Belle!” Killian screams, racing towards her, but his legs won’t cooperate. He feels a force he can’t fight turning him back towards Emma.

But it isn’t Emma. Her hair is completely free of the hairspray and pins, blowing wildly around her. The blonde is streaked through with darkness, and a blue tinted light emanates around her. She curls her lips as she bends her finger coyly.

“Come here, loverboy,” she spits out in that same voice that isn’t hers.

His feet lift off the ground, and Cora is pulling him towards her. He lifts the crucifix, shouting for Cora to leave Emma’s body, but it does no good. She laughs that bone chilling laugh again, and he shudders at the sound even as the cold rain soaks through his suit. When he is close enough, she roughly grasps his face in her hands.

“Such a pretty face,” she says as she studies him.

“Emma,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

She blinks, and for a split second, her eyes are green again. A tiny flicker of hope swells in him even as the black fills her eyes once more.

“Emma, fight it!” he begs.

“Emma isn’t here!” she screams, flinging him down to the ground.

He tries to scramble away from her, but she’s once again holding him in place. The lightning splits the sky again, illuminating the tree behind her, the Spanish moss almost like a living creature in the violent wind of the storm.

“Emma,” he tries again, “this isn’t you.”

Her face relaxes for a heartbeat, but then she shakes her head. “Well, at least now we’re getting somewhere,” she snarls as she stalks closer, almost straddling him now, “it’s Cora Mills, used and abused by the opposite sex. My revenge can never be sated, boy!”

Killian takes a deep, steadying breath, and when he gazes into the face of the woman before him, he softens his expression. When he speaks, he tries to infuse his words with the depth of his feelings.

“Emma, I love you.”

She shakes her head as a furrow of confusion creases her brow. He smiles softly at the tiny bit of Emma he can see shining through.

“Yes, I love you,” he continues, his voice rising above the pounding of the rain, “and that’s why I know this isn’t you. The woman I love is the one who rolls her eyes at me every time I use an innuendo.”

Emma stumbles backwards at his words. The storm increases in its rage, yet the unearthly blue light around Emma begins to fade, her hair slowly turning gold again. Killian rises to his knees as he continues to speak.

“The woman I love is the one who kicked me in the shin when I tried to hit on her at a faculty meeting. She’s the one who stayed up all night binge-watching Sherlock with me, drinking rum. The one who wears sweats in my apartment with messy hair and a tub of rocky road on her lap. The one who sticks her socked feet in my face when she thinks I’m hogging the couch. That’s MY Emma. Not this.”

Emma doubles over again as a scream tears through her. “NOOOOO! SHUT. UP!”

Killian rises to his feet, stepping forward to cup Emma’s face in his hands. “I am in love with Emma Swan. The one with sarcasm and bad eating habits and walls around her heart. And I want her back. I want my Emma back.”

She presses her eyes shut, and when she opens them, the black is seeping away. “Killian,” she whispers through her tears, and it’s her voice saying his name.

He grins and bends to kiss her, thinking she’s done it; she’s won. But before their lips can meet, Emma shoves him to the ground. She screams again, throwing her head back and shaking all over.

“I . . . won’t . . . let . . . you hurt him!!!”

As the words leave her mouth, Killian’s eyes widen to see a dark haired, ethereal figure literally ripping itself away from Emma’s body. Both women - ghostly and corporeal - seem to wrestle against one another until suddenly a bolt of lightning strikes the top of the live oak tree. Killian shields his eyes, certain the tree will burst into flames, but it doesn’t. The Spanish moss is no longer merely being whipped by the winds, it’s writhing and twisting like snakes. The tendrils of moss reach out, wrapping themselves around the form of Cora Mills. With one final other-worldy scream, the ghost is ripped completely from Emma’s body and yanked into the branches of the tree. The oak seems to envelop Cora in a supernatural embrace until the ghost is absorbed into the very branches from which the murderess’s body was hanged over a century ago.

The cemetery goes eerily quiet then; even the storm subdues into more muted tones. Killian rushes to Emma’s crumpled form and gathers her into his arms. Her eyes blink open, and she lifts a trembling hand to cup his face.

“Emma,” he breathes, “are you okay?”

“I . . . I think so.”

He runs his hands through her hair, trailing his fingertips over her cheekbones. He wants to memorize every inch of her face after so many days gazing into a countenance that wasn’t fully hers.

“What do you remember?”

“Not much really,” she says, her brow furrowing, “except . . . “

The light spilling from the parking lot and the open doors of the gym are enough to illuminate the blush upon her face.

“Except what?” he asks, unable to keep a roguish smile from his face.

“Did you . . . say that you love me?”

His smile breaks into something more ridiculously happy as his thumb rubs circles over her cheeks. “I did.”

“Okay,” she says with a pensive nod, then she surprises him by lunging forward and pressing her mouth to his.

He melts into the kiss, gathering her against his chest and tilting his head to taste her more fully. She digs her fingers into his hair, letting out a little mewling sound that sets his heart pounding. He begins to pull away, not wanting to rush this, but Emma will have none of it, pulling his head back down to hers and swiping her tongue across his lower lip. He devours her then, giving in finally to the pull he’s felt towards her for so long. When they finally part, gasping for breath, Emma presses her forehead to his and his eyes slide closed.

“I love you too, just for the record,” she breathes against his cheek.

“And I, just for the record, am perfectly fine, thanks for asking.” Another voice above them interrupts.

“Belle!” Killian exclaims, rushing to his feet to embrace his friend. “I’m so glad you’re okay!”

“Of course you are,” she quips, but she smiles up at him fondly.

“Thank you, Belle,” Emma adds as she scrambles to her feet, “and I’m sorry about -” she cuts off as she looks down at herself. “What the hell am I wearing?”

Killian and Belle both chuckle.

“You’ve um . . . been making some pretty bold fashion choices the last couple of weeks,” Belle explains.

Emma’s jaw drops as she covers her face with both hands. “No,” she groans, “in front of the kids?”

“I’m afraid so, love.”

“I’m practically naked!” She scowls at him when he can’t help laughing. “This isn’t funny, Killian!”

He pulls her into his arms and presses a kiss to her temple. “Everyone knew you weren’t yourself. Although I would check your credit card statements. Cora may have had a bit of a shopping spree at your expense.”

Emma lets out a huff of breath against his collarbone as she turns her head into his rain-drenched shirt front. “Great. How am I exposed to explain that to Visa? It wasn’t my fault, I was possessed?”

“Identity theft?” Killian jokes.

Emma pulls back to look at him with humor in her eyes, her hands fisted around his ruined suit coat. It’s the look he’s used to; the one that is so patently Emma that his heart swells in his chest to see it again. He can’t help himself, he surges forward to claim another kiss.

As it grows more heated, they both hear Belle clear her throat.

“Okay, you too, keep it PG. We still have a dance we signed up to chaperone.”

“Henry!” Killian exclaims. “He’ll be worried if we don’t show up soon!”

Emma steps out of his embrace to look at herself. The rain has abated, but it’s still coming down steadily, plastering Emma’s blonde hair to her face and chest. Her dress, which was never appropriate for a chaperone, is smeared with Georgia red clay. More mud is streaked across her legs, and at some point, she lost both of her high heel shoes. He looks down at himself and over at Belle. They don’t look much better.

Emma catches his eye and smiles slowly. “You did say the Emma you love wears sweats and has messy hair.”

“Sounds perfect,” he tells her, punctuating the words with a soft kiss.

***************************************************************

The kids of Misthaven Hills High weren’t sure why two of their teachers and the librarian showed up to the homecoming dance wearing MHHS sweats swiped from Mr. Locksley’s office (though Henry Mills could guess). That wasn’t what caused the buzz of gossip that lasted all weekend and into Monday, however. No, the gossip was caused by the way Mr. Jones dipped Ms. Swan at the end of a slow song and kissed her (with tongue, many kids claimed).

The students of Misthaven Hills High also continued to tell the tale of the ghost of Cora Mills, especially every October. For without fail, every October since homecoming of 2019, rain or shine, the Spanish moss on the old live oak dripped with fat drops of water. Some said they were tears. Something, the kids said, made the ghost of Cora Mills begin to weep. Another lost love, some claimed, a heart too strong for her to steal because it already belonged to Emma Swan.

Decades later, when Emma Swan had been Emma Jones for many long years and she and her husband had moved away, kids claimed that in October every year, a name could be heard on the breeze around the old live oak. In a wailing, anguished voice, it cried “ Kiiiliaaaan . . .Joooones . . .” as tears dripped from the Spanish moss.

The name of the only man who saw past the facade of Cora Mills and into the soul of the woman he loved.

#cs ff #cssns #cssns 2019 #captain swan supernatural summer #cs modern au #ghost possession #teacher!killian #teacher!emma #ouat in the South

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angrylizardjacket · 5 years

Text

’cos i don’t believe in ghosts {Joe Mazzello}

1. Salem

Chapter Summary: SUPERNATURAL CREATURES AU; In which Joe (a demon) agrees to go on a ghost hunt with you (an oblivious human) in Salem because it seems like a good idea, and Lucy (a witch) also comes along because it actually seems like a terrible idea, and knows Joe’s nature far to well to leave him with you unsupervised in this sort of situation.

A/N: Concepts at play; Lucy is a witch and works with sigils and can set up telepathic links between herself and others. Joe is a demon. Gwil, Rami, and Ben, are all also supernatural creatures, but we’ll find out more about them later. Possible Lucy/Reader as well in some chapters maybe. feedback would be appreciated!!

“Text presented like this is a telepathic conversation.”

After a long day of sight seeing and interviews, all you wanted to do was flop onto your nice, comfortable hotel bed and watch tacky ghost-hunting shows. Socks and shoes off, snuggled under the covers with a waterbottle on your bedside table and the overhead lights off, you plugged in your laptop and opened up Netflix, scrolling through your recommendations. There was a surprising wealth of conspiracy theory documentaries, ghost-hunting shows, and sensationalised pieces on proof of supernatural creatures all over the world. You, of course, held your own beliefs about this sort of thing, but even though you were travelling all over America for work, and had ample days off to explore the sights that so intrigued you, you knew you were too nervous to go on your own.

Except that Salem was only half an hour away from your next tour stop, and you had a full day free while there, and yes the witch trials were awful, but part of you feels like it’s the perfect ‘first haunting’ location to visit.

“What are you watching?” On a break between interviews, it’s Joe who spots you staring at your phone, completely invested in whatever’s going on on-screen, one headphone in.

“Oh, I-” quickly, you remove the headphone, a little flustered at being caught, “it’s just Buzzfeed thing I sometimes watch.” You’d been mentally preparing yourself for going to the Witch House the following day, and had tried to go the lighthearted route of video research; somehow the duo who ran Buzzfeed Unsolved: Supernatural managed to ease your nerves more than any straight-laced documentary would ever manage.

Joe smiles a little at that, at your sudden fluster, and he raises his eyebrows at you, moving to your other side to pick from the plate of sandwiches that had been provided for them.

“Anything interesting?” He asks, his voice surprisingly casual, and you hum for a moment, deliberating on whether or not to tell him what exactly you were watching.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like him, quite the opposite in fact, as assistant to the PR Manager you’d managed to form quite a solid friendship with the cast on this leg of the Press Tour for Bohemian Rhapsody.

“Depends on what you find interesting,” you give a small smile back, and Joe raises his eyebrows, perhaps in challenge, perhaps in amusement, but you conceded after only a few moments, tilting your phone to show him where the two hosts of the show were trooping towards the Witch House. “They’re, like, semi-professional paranormal investigators.” Is how you chose to describe it. Joe couldn’t hear the audio, since it was still feeding through your earphones, but his lips quirked in a grin. After a moment, the video has a close up of the taller of the two hosts, Shane, and Joe makes an indecipherable noise in the back of his throat that edges on amused.

“Salem?” He asks finally, and looks up from the phone to meet your gaze, “spooky.” He’s holding back a laugh, you just know it, and you rolled your eyes.

“Yeah, well, it’s nearby, I thought I might check it out tomorrow.”

“Extra spooky, a little solo field trip?” He’s grinning like he’s genuinely intrigued, like he’s invested in the idea of your ghost hunt. You tip your head from side to side, deliberating for a moment, before nodding.

“I mean, you’re always welcome to tag along,” you find yourself offering, and Joe’s eyebrows rise in both surprise and amusement, “I just never pictured it as your scene.”

“If you’re offering, I’d rather come along than have you possibly get haunted on your own.”

“You’ll protect me from the ghosts?” You half smirked, and Joe snickered.

“And anything else that might be lurking in the shadows,” it sounds like a joke, and you laugh it off easily, a little bit flustered that he’d agreed to come along so easily.

By the time the cast had reset for the next interview, you were back by the PR Manager’s side, and Joe was sitting on the edge of a sofa, though his expression had gone strange, his smile a little tight.

Unbeknownst to you, there was a voice that was not his own filtering through in his mind.

"You shouldn’t play with her like that.”

“And you should know better than to be in my mind like this right before an interview.”

“What? Are you begging to be caught?”

“Are you? At least look at the camera. Anyways, she’s a fan of the supernatural.”

“She’s a fan of ghosts. You’re not a ghost, Joe, incase you forgot.”

“Yeah, I’m painfully aware of being corporeal- I’m hungry.”

“Focus. You can’t go ghost hunting with her, it’s a recipe for disaster.”

“I thought Rami would be much more likely to lecture me.”

“Rami’s not telepathic.”

“Fair point. Listen, if you’re so worried, you can come along too. It’ll be a fun little field trip, team bonding!”

Joe looks over to Lucy, whose eyes have glazed over. She’s got her hands clasped in her lap, but he can see the subtle way her index finger was tracing patterns in the air repeatedly. Though the minute he catches sight of her, Lucy’s attention snaps to Joe, and she gives an eye roll.

“Ghost hunting and team bonding don’t exactly go hand in hand, but fine.”

Joe could almost hear her sigh, despite the smile she wore, and after a beat, she chimed in again.

“You know I hate Salem.”

You’d take any opportunity to hang out with the cast, you adored them all individually, so when Lucy made mention that she’d heard you and Joe were going to Salem to do some ghost hunting, you were eager to invite her along. In fact, you’re fully intending to extend the offer to the rest of the cast, but without prompting, Lucy makes mention that the others probably wouldn’t be into it.

“Ben’s afraid of ghosts,” Joe adds, slotting himself into the conversation, and the idea alone of Ben’s weakness being the concept of ghosts is funny enough that you don’t care if it’s real or not.

But then it’s settled; you, Joe, and Lucy were going to head to Salem the following evening. You didn’t really have anything planned, you were just going to bring your camera and just go exploring, not really expecting to find anything. You’re also not quite sure if either of the cast members are going to show up, but you’d cleared the excursion with your boss, and now it was edging on twilight and you were sitting in the lobby of the hotel you were all staying at, nervously jangling the keys of one of the rental cars the studio had outfitted you all with.

But, just as the sun was sinking below the horizon, both Joe and Lucy step out from the elevator, quietly arguing with each other, though that quickly comes to an end once they spot you. Both of them smile, and you feel the relief course through you, and you lead the way to the parking garage.

“You expecting to find anything?” Joe asks during the drive, leaning forward from the back middle seat where he’d been annexed at Lucy’s insistence, while she took the front passenger seat.

“Not sure,” you replied honestly, “I don’t think I’ll catch anything on film, but I’m hoping something spooky might happen.” Laughing a little, you keep your eyes on the road, though you hear Joe snort. “What about you guys? You fans of this supernatural sort of stuff, or just along for a joy ride and to make sure I don’t get mugged while on my lonesome?”

“Honestly, can’t say I’m not a fan of a bit of supernatural shenanigans, but I’ve never held much stock in ghosts,” Joe’s voice has a surprising air of authority on the subject, and Lucy actually has to hide her laughter behind her hand.

“Just because you’ve never seen a ghost,” she snips back at him, and Joe shakes his head.

“If ghosts were real I definitely would have seen one,” he says, voice lofty, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Well maybe they just run whenever they see your face,” Lucy teases, and reaches back to pinch Joe’s cheek. You’re still laughing, but Joe’s gone quiet, contemplative. “Cheer up,” Lucy adds, “maybe tonight’s your night.” But there’s a strange quality to her voice that you can’t quite identify, and before you can even try, she reaches over to turn on the radio.

Salem is quiet as a grave. Bring the car to a stop a few blocks away from The Witch House, and it finally hits you where you are, and how strangely dark it’s already managed to get. Your grip is white knuckled on the steering wheel, and it’s all you can do to sit in silence for almost three full minutes.

“If you’re not up for this, we can go back,” Lucy’s voice is gentle, but Joe’s already unbuckling and practically pitching himself from the car.

“This place has such a weird energy, you know?” He announces, hands on his hips, looking down at the street towards the House itself.

“Are you- are you for real? Or are you taking the piss?” You call out the door that he’s left open, and he spins, grinning.

“No, I’m like, being for-real. You know in like, ah, fuck I can’t remember which movie it is, but like, the guy leans down and he touches the dirt,” Joe bends at the knee, kneeling on the soil, his fingertips brushing the ground, “and he’s like, ‘something terrible happened here’,” he grins, looking far chipper than he had any right to, given the circumstance, “you know, it’s like that.”

“Maybe we should go home,” your brow creases in concern, and you shift your grip on the steering wheel nervously. Lucy rests a hand on your shoulder, and you can feel her thumb gently brushing against your jacket, though it goes a considerable ways to calming you down.

“You’ll be fine,” Joe calls back, and his smile is bright and yet reassuring, “I was kidding; I told you ghosts aren’t real.” He hums as you unbuckle your seatbelt, “and what are they gonna do anyways? Be mostly see-through and wiggle at us? Tell us to get out? Joke’s on them, I have selective hearing and I can’t hear ghosts.”

The two of them walk either side of you, Joe with his hands in his pockets as he observes the scenery with a smile, and Lucy with her arm tucked into yours, absentmindedly tracing patterns on the palm of your hand as the two of you chatted. Neither of them really looked at you, though you were feeling relatively calm and secure. The surprise comes when you finally realise how tense and on edge Lucy was. When you ask, she gives a tight smile, and says something about how she can’t stop thinking about the atrocities committed here.

“Fair.” You agree, but try not to think about it.

“You see anything?”

“You mean anything extra spooky? No; I told you, ghosts aren’t real.”

“Joe, I know they are; I genuinely think you scare them off. Witch-spirits especially are very aware of vibes-”

“Are you saying I have bad vibes?”

“I’m saying a demon like yourself isn’t one to be messed with, and everything less than corporeal sped off the minute we arrived.”

“Was that a compliment I heard?”

“It was just a statement.”

“You think I’m spooky.”

“I think you’re going a good ways to scaring off Y/N.”

“She’s fine, she’s a champ, and it’s not like she has anything to worry about with us around, even if there was something that wasn’t scared off by my ‘bad vibes’ or whatever you called it, we could take them.”

“I still hate this place.”

“You see any old friends floating around?”

“Shut up. No.”

The tense set of Lucy’s shoulders doesn’t get better, in fact, she glances over at Joe after the two of them had been quite for a very long time, and her jaw clenches. Her grip on you gets just a little bit tighter.

“Anyone specific we’re looking for?” Joe asks out loud, as if it’s a normal conversation to have, while the three of you stood at the gate of The Witch House.

“Tituba,” Lucy answers automatically, much to your surprise, and you extract yourself from her grip gently, stepping down the stairs and into the trench where the house once was.

“You’ve done your research,” you say, a little preoccupied as you move through the space, phone camera held out in front of you.

“What about Hecuba?” Joe asks, sitting himself by the edge of the fence, while Lucy perched herself on the railing itself, the two of them sitting sentinel, like guard dogs against anything that might try it’s luck against your sweet, human soul.

“Hecuba was just a person, I think you’re thinking of Hecate;” Lucy corrects, and Joe nods, thoughtful. However, a moment passes where Lucy turns as white as a sheet, not that anyone else notices, at the idea of Hecate herself appearing in this glorified grave yard. But then again, the Goddess of Witchcraft did both adore and abhor this little town, she had no time for tourists, this Lucy knew. Even tourists with a spicy companion such as a demon.

For a few moments, they just watch you, sitting as still as possible to not interfere with your work, watching how fascinated you get with each little sound and movement. There’s nothing there, not really, but your nervous faith is so enthralling.

“You see anything?” Joe calls, and you tell him you haven’t. He repeats the question to Lucy and is met with a hum of hesitation; when he looks at her with his true sight, he sees her tracing sigils into the air, quiet, disciplined movements. To the natural eye, the sigils are invisible, but when he looks at her like this, he can see them glowing bright in precise shapes and symbols, beautiful in their own way. She’s watching you intently, and when Joe follows her gaze, he sees a translucent dome glowing around you, somehow managing to radiate ‘don’t fuck with me’ vibes. Even Joe feels his skin itch just being in close proximity to it.

“No.” Lucy answers, though her hesitation had given you cause for concern, she’s quick to cover, “but it’s pitch black out here, I can’t exactly see anything.” And you have to agree.

It’s been, well, interesting to say the least. You drive back, and thank god Lucy seems to get more relaxed with each mile that you put between yourselves and that town.

“Do you plan on doing this sort of thing again?” Lucy asks as the three of you ride the elevator from the parking garage to the lobby. You hesitate for a moment.

“I mean, yeah, if I get the opportunity,” you say, a little tentatively, “you guys don’t have to come along, I can-”

“Nah, this was fun,” Joe grins, cutting you off before you can finish your sentence, your attempt to unburden them of your presence, your little side project, “now I wanna see a ghost by the time the tour’s up.”

Lucy raises her eyebrows at him. Joe shrugs helplessly, still smiling.

And you, you sweet, oblivious human, don’t know why but you feel safer knowing they’re coming along with you on your supernatural side quest.

#joe mazzello #joe mazzello x reader #joe mazzello imagine #Lucy Boynton #lucy boyton x reader #lucy boynton x reader #lucy boynton imagine #queen #bohemian rhapsody #bohemian rhapsody imagine #BoRhap #BoRhap cast #borhap cast imagine #the angry lizard writes

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darkling-er · 4 years

Text

Piety Knob || Chapter 1

Summary: In 2017 Juniper Blackwood moves into a small town with her aunt because of a job opportunity thanks to distant family. Juniper was always homeschooled so she's unfamiliar with everything at her new town, and a new school to fit in with strangers. With noone to really talk to, she dwells in the mysteries of the town, while finding out secrets about her family and herself as well..

Parts: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 coming soon

Characters: Piety Knob OCS (see under Piety Knob intros tag)

The car ride from the airport is longer than expected. It's not like I didn't google the whole trip and count how long it would take, but actually experiencing a 16 hour long car ride is way different from theory. Perry, my aunt, is being cheerful without a stop since we packed our things in Chicago to move to the distant little town in Oregon, Detroit.

"We should be near to family, Juniper, you'll see how good it will be for you!" she said when she announced that she got a job in my hometown. I was excited for her, truly, she had such an awful job back in Chicago, her boss was mean to her all the time and she recieved a way too low paycheck after the plus hours she was working.

Finally she got a chance to start over in a small town, with people she already knew and liked so I guessed why not. Why not leave behind the town I grew up in and mostly loved to a place I hardly even remembered other than from my aunt's tales when I was little. At the age of four when people only remember insignificant events like there was a time when a butterfly flew on my mom's shoulder and my dad tried to catch it. Or when I hurt my knee in the backyard and my aunt scolded me for being so wild when playing. Not Perry, mind you, my other aunt, from my mother's side, Primrose.

And here I am in the overheated backseat of my aunt's old station wagon. It smells old, mixed with smells of used leather, overheated plastic and the burgers we ate a couple hours ago for lunch.

It's close to noon, which I can tell from the direction of the sun in the sky - I had to rely on such primitive modes since both my and my aunt's phone died due to lack of charge - which greets us sometimes when it reaches over the tall pine trees that sorround the main road to Detroit.

Perry promised to take me on many trips after we moved in to the Stantiam State Forest.

I look from the phenomenal view to the front seat and ask Perry:

"How is Church doing?" I look to our old tabby, who sleeps peacefully in her carriage.

"Wonderful, after he puked on my best traveling shoe back at the drivers' parkinglot."

Perry says sarcastically but looks lovingly at the cat for a second before turning her attention back to the road.

"How are you darling?" she asks looking at me through the rearview mirror.

"Good." I smile and I believe I manage to convince her because she smiles back and drives happily towards that hellhole.

I practiced smiling like that for a long time before talking to aunt Periwinkle about moving to Oregon. It's not the nature I have the problem with, the lack of city noise. I actually love the idea of being somewhere quiet and nice. Somewhere I can actually breath clear air.

But the thought of leaving my home and the place I was so used to terrified me in a way I never thought it could.

Maybe a repressed childhood fear, I reckoned. Moving meaning to lose something I love, just when I was four. Losing both my parents than having to move to my aunt Perry, who was my closest next to kin. Meanwhile my sister stayed there with Primrose. I never understood why was that, and truly Perry couldn't explain it either, it was some mix up with my father's and mother's last will. That's why I've barely met my sister, Betty or my other aunt. I got a card and some cash for my birthday from them always, with some petty excuse of not being able to visit me and meet. On Christmas it was our turn to go to them, but Perry having terrible pay at her work made that difficult as well.

I'm not saying it's all their fault. We could have called or texted any time, it's 2017 for God's sake. But it was too awkward and forced so we stopped trying to connect with my sister.

Now that we'll move there, I don't really know what to expect from this sudden change. I would prefer to skip any small talk with them, but if Perry will persist, which I know she will, I will try for her sake.

She always put me in first in her life since my parent's accident, it's only fair I try and make it up for her.

Doing all this thinking I only realize that Perry was talking as she calls my name probably for not the first time:

"Juniiii? Earth to Juniper, is anyone home?"

I roll my eyes and smile.

"Of course, sorry I was daydreaming."

She dismisses it with a smirk.

"I was only saying now that you'll attend high school maybe you'll get a chance to meet a boy."

I make an annoyed sound and bury my head in my hand.

"What? Stooop, no!"

She shrugs in reply.

"Or a girl, I don't judge, you know me."

I shake my head and look out the window again.

"I'm going to pretend that you didn't say any of that."

Perry chuckles with amusement then turns her attention to the road.

"Whatever."

The rest of the trip is boring, we almost hit a deer at one point, which freaks Perry out the most, then Church, who acts wild in her special carriage 'cage'. I on the other hand just want to catch some sleep and recharge my phone so I can return to socialization. Jeez, I'm really one of those people who can't live without their phone for a longer period. Longer meaning hours, it's ridiculous.

I would read something, but all my books are in the new house, we sent the moving truck way ahead so at least when we arrive in the new house all our things will be there.

After what seems like ages I notice an old, mossy sing with the usual welcome messeage. 'Welcome to Detroit, Oregon. Stay for a while.'

"Well that sounds like what a desperate husband would say to her wife when they are having a divorce." I let the comment slip out of my mouth and Perry shushes me but I see her trying not to let out a chuckle.

When we finally reach the house it's already dark and I feel terribly tired after the long drive.

"I want to sleep for a month." i comment as Perry parks the car in the driveway. She nods in agreement and we step outside the old station wagon.

I breath in deeply the summer warm but fresh air and let my body to be free from sitting all day long. I strech my arms and legs with a low growl, then take out Church's cage from the front seat.

Perry is already at the door, all fast and excited even after the trip, like it was nothing to her, just a five minute trip to the store or something.

She lets out an excited squel searching for the right keyes in her hand as I close the car with an exhausted sigh and join her at the doorway.

She looks at me with a grin excited for both of us.

"This is gonna be so great, sweetie! I'm going to make you something for dinner, maybe you can unpack a little in your room?"

"Sure thing, Captain."

She doesn't mind my sarcastic tone as she lets the front door fling open so our new home can greet us.

Periwinkle steps in first and I follow her inside, locking the door behind me.

It's a two story building, all wooden and bricks. It looks cozy, it's definitely bigger than our flat in Chicago.

It has a half-deck to the front door. A garage and an attic. Basically the attic is the second store to the house. My room as Perry told me. Two bathrooms, one downstairs next to Perry's room and one upstairs next to mine.

The living room is open and is connected to the kitchen. Other than that it looks pretty simple, no guest rooms or a cellar. We don't need them anyway.

I like the style of the house. It's like the one from Oregon Trail. The window shutters and doors are painted to a deep green, like the color of the pines around the house.

The moving company did a great job with the furniture, though we mostly left everything behind. We only brought the old couch and the Perry's wardrobe with us. I didn't need anything in my room, all my stuff could fit in three boxes and that was pretty much all I really cared about. Things are just things, the people around us is what matters. My mom used to say that, according to Perry. I like that thought.

I set down Church in the living room and let her out of the carrier. As soon as she knows it's freedom for her she runs to Perry in the kitchen.

I hear my aunt chuckle from next to the stove as I go upstairs towards my room.

It's a narrow stair, followed by a similarly narrow hall which ends in two doors. First I assume is to my room and next to it is the bathroom.

I open up the door which creaks with an eery sound. From the pictures Perry showed me it looked a lot smaller but now stepping into it I immediately smile. It's small alright, but looks cozy with the two windows looking down to the small town and lake, somewhat covered by the pine trees.

My bed is right under those windows, and it has a wardrobe, a desk and a small bookshelf.

I can already imagine stacking up the walls with polaroid pictures I took ages ago in Chicago with the posters of movies I always watch with uncle Gabe. He lives in Salem, so I'm also excited to meet with him more often.

He couldn't help us to move from the airport because he was out on a job, but he called us and said he would visit next thing tomorrow.

I look at the boxes that the moving company put down in the middle of my new room and I start to open the up and unpack my things. Just some clothes, I never was really that into fashion and having a lot of clothes to wear. My books are the next, which I immediately put on the bookshelf above my desk, and some other trinkets, such as my laptop and charger. I search for a place to plug it in my phone.

"Arise!" I say dramatically and put it down to charge on it's own.

Now my main goal is to put on something comfortable and go down and eat whatever is smelling so good downstairs.

I put on a button up shirt which is way too baggy for me, I got it from my dad. Well I found it in a box that had my dad's belongings in it. My mom's stuff stayed with my sister and aunt Primrose.

It covers the short I'm having on and in this summer heat it's perfect and comfy. I run down the stairs towards the kitchen and meet my aunt with a new sense of energy.

"What are we eating, I'm starving!"

She looks at me with a smile and holds up the plates.

"Bacon and eggs.. Right from the locals."

"My precious..." I make a lame impression and we eat our food in less then a couple of minutes.

"I'm gonna go wash up. You should too, and get ready to bed. We have to go into town tomorrow, I have to meet with my new boss and we have to sing you into high school before august starts!"

With no time to argue she heads into the bathroom downstairs and I hear the water starting. I sigh and look at Church who is already licking up our empty plates. I pet her and say to her.

"You are very lucky to not have to go to work or school."

With no response other than some purring I fill up the washer with the dishes. Just as I would head back upstairs to have a quick shower then hit the sack there's a knock coming from the door.

I look toward Perry's bathroom then I sigh and put on a tired smile before going to answer the door.

As the front door swings open the cool air comes inside the house making me have goosebumps all over my body. I hear the sound of crickets and I look upwards to meet the eyes of a stranger.

He looks to be in his late thirties, with slicked back short hair and a small mustache above his mouth. He wears a suitjacket with a v neck grey shirt and some very 'important looking shoes'.

His salesman smile falters for a moment when he looks me up and down and I realize I look like a girl with only a shirt on. I immediately feel uncomfortable for multiple reasons.

"Umm... Can I help you?" I ask because he hasn't said a word yet and I want to close the door on his face already.

"I hope you can. I'm Damian Forrester, mayor of the town. And hereby welcome you and your lovely family to our community."

I nod but I find it extremely odd that he came all the way up here to just introduce himself in the middle of the night.

"I see..." I say clearly uncomfortable under his eyes. It's like he's a robot, his smile never fades or changes on his face.

I'm seemingly being rude as he raises his eyebrows.

"And you are.."

I try to conjure some politeness up, even though I'm feeling grumpy and tired by late night smalltalk. You never see the mayor of Chicago knock at your door to introduce himself and welcome you to town.

"Juniper Blackwood." i say standoffishly.

"Ah. Yes! Rose talked a lot about you coming to town... And your other aunt of course."

I look at him weirdly before asking.

"Then why did you ask my name if you already knew it?"

There's a moment of awkwardness and his unfaltering smile starts to scare me. I can almost see a twitch in his eye like I made him mad, but it's gone before I could interpret it like it was never there.

I hold the door awkwardly and I can't stand his gaze any longer so I look behind him. It's only then when I notice the very expensive looking car and next to it the presumed driver. He looks out of place, wearing similar clothing to a car mechanic, with a name tag on it. I try to read it from the distance but it only has a handdrawn smiley face on it. The wearer himself looks in his thirties, his hair buzzed at the sides, but letting it grow longer. Like he regretted the hairstyle and wants to regrow it. The rest is slicked back, but not like Mr. Mayor here, but more messier, like he used the product on his hair days ago and it's use is growing weaker.

He leans on the car door, looking bored and off to the distance.

Mr. Creepy smile notices my sudden change of attention and looks back at the driver as well.

"Don't mind Marcus, he doesn't have any manners."

At the mention of his name he lazily looks at the mayor and then at me. He doesn't come up to introduce himself or even just to break a smile, he just stands there looking.

Okay, this is getting creepy, it's like looking at Frankenstein and Igor. I think.

As if I had said the joke out loud Igor 'Marcus' shakes his head with a chuckle and looks at his wrist to check the time. Yeah, I would like you two to leave as well.

"So.. You need anything, Mr. Mayor?"

I turn my attention back to Creepy Smiles. He looks surprised at the title.

"No, I just wanted to welcome you to town... Is your aunt in?"

He tries to look inside the house and I know he wants to get invited in, but I am not going to do that. Even if I get a scolding for it later from Perry.

"She's having a shower. We are both very tired actually. We have to do some paperwork tomorrow and unpack as well, so.."

He looks from the house to me again, not forgetting the salesman grin.

"Of course, I'm sorry for the late intrusion. I'm sure we'll meet soon again. My wife is inviting you two to the ball we are having this weekend. Please come, have a laugh. I'm sure you would like my son, he's similar to your age."

I fake a smile, in my head already planning to forget to mention this invite to Perry.

"I surely will." I lie. "Goodnight."

He's ready to leave the porch as he waves goodbye and gets inside the car. The driver looks at me again before entering the vehicle.

"Nice legs." He says with a cheeky grin and I can't help but make a face and shut the door.

Who the fuck... I think angrily and go up to my bathroom. Who the hell invites people to a ball in the 21st century anyways.

With those thoughts I lay in my bed after the quick shower and I quickly fall asleep.

tags: @onl-you

A/N: hope anyone who sees this likes it even just remotely. 😂💕 SORRY ITS ON MOBILE I COULDNT ADD KEEP READING LINK

#piety knob chapter 1 #piety knob #piety knob ocs

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silver-wields-a-pen · 5 years

Text

Illthdar High: An au fan fiction

Friday

Zercey’s cheerleading uniform was clean and pressed to perfection, her ponytail was extra high and fluffy and her sneakers where stark white. She looked perfect. Pep rallies were the most important event of a high school cheerleader’s life and everything would go well or else. She’d already reminded her squad that anyone who messed up would warm the bleachers for the rest of the year. Failure in any form would not be tolerated, not today. “He was really sweet when he asked me, he brought me roses and everything,” Zercey declared, talking loud enough so that everyone in the immediate area, including Lerki, could hear her. The cheerleaders and athletes from the various sports teams were in the gym, running through some last-minute details for the upcoming pep rally. She focused on her task, but if she could make Lerki jealous while pulling off the greatest cheer routine in Illthdar High history then why not?

“Are… are you going to go with him?” Anna asked cautiously, eyeing Lerki over Zercey’s shoulder. “I think Lerki can hear you,” she added in a whisper, not realizing that Lerki hearing her was the entire point.

“I might!” Zercey chirped. “James is a doll, and he’s hot too. He’d be a fun date. I might even let him take me back to hi….”

“I thought we were going to the dance together?” Lerki’s angry voice cut into the conversation and Zercey carefully didn’t smirk.

Hook, line and sinker. “Are we?” She turned around pretending shock at the news. “I didn’t know, since you didn’t bother to ask me or anything.”

“I didn’t think I had to ask my girlfriend to go to the dance with me,” Lerki all but growled, annoyed with her attitude.

“You thought wrong,” Zercey informed him, turning on her heel quick enough to send her ponytail smacking right into his face. She left him standing there, stewing in his anger and being snickered at by his meathead friends.

~*~*~

Loud cheers from the rally filtered through the empty hallways and Rhoe rolled her eyes as she heard the cheerleaders start their stupid routine. She never understood the point of cheerleaders, they didn’t really do anything except walk around in miniskirts and blow the football team when they needed it. It was a waste of time and school money in her opinion, but then she also believed that school in general was a waste of time and money.

“How long does this take?”

Rhoe made an annoyed sound as Salem’s voice rang out from behind her, urging her to pick the lock on the school council’s door faster, as if she was going slow to spite him. “Shut your trap vampire boy. Remember that I’m doing this for free and if you don’t want me to turn your ass in then you better stop annoying me.” Picking the locks on the school was a delicate process, and it took time and the more he whined about it, the more frustrated she would get and the more time it would take. “Cowan, next time Sparkler opens his mouth to speak, punch him.”

The threat and Cowan’s evil smirk made Salem shut his mouth and Rhoe, finally able to work in peace, got the door unlocked for them.

The student council office was more like a closet with a few desks shoved inside. There were boxes of old decorations stacked in one corner and the entire room smelled like must and Febreze. How Imogen worked in this dump was beyond any of them. It looked like a room Miss. Trunchbull would lock students in for punishment.

“What’s gonna happen if Imogen is the one to tally the votes?” Salem asked as Rhoe zoned in on the massive box used to gather the votes for the homecoming court.

“My sister? Do grunt work like counting? HAHAHA no.”

Imogen was a president mostly in title, she had minions to do the technical stuff for her and Rhoe had no concerns about their plot being foiled by the ‘perfect’ child.

They upturned the overly decorated and sparkly box onto the floor and sorted through the countless pieces of paper as quickly as possible. Dozens of new votes for Seth and Scyanatha got removed and replaced for the other participants, all courtesy of Khrome. The boys had spent a good portion of their night writing the new votes and while the hand cramps probably wouldn’t help them in their performance later, it would be worth it to see Seth and Scy’s face when they realized they lost.

“Who did you guys decide for the winner?” Cowan asked, stuffing all the Scyeth votes into his bag to dispose of when they left the school as throwing them away anywhere inside the building was too risky.

“Xyl picked Nina and Richard,” Salem explained. “Those two have been together since elementary school and they’re liked enough for it to be believable they'd win.” He didn’t know the couple himself and it didn’t matter as long as Seth and Scy didn’t win then all was well.

“How about you shut your mouths and sort through these papers faster?” Rhoe snapped at them, shutting them both up instantly. “We have a limited time here so less chatter and more sorting.”

~*~*~

Wearing Illthdar High's turquoise and purple, Imogen was on her feet, whistling and clapping with the rest of the school. The cheer squad’s latest routine had just finished with a bang. Literally. They tossed Zercey toward the ceiling and kicked out with her arms and legs just as the song’s apex, an explosion sound effect, rang out. The things her petite friend could do were impressive, even to someone as physically adverse as she was.

Zercey and the rest of the cheerleaders smiled and waved as they picked up their pom-poms from the floor and headed towards the left wing of the gym. Now that the special homecoming cheer was out of the way, Principal Chiyoko made her way to the microphone in the middle of the court.

“What an––” Ms. Chiyoko’s face was too close to the mic, and the piercing shrill of feedback rang out. “An exciting performance,” she finished squeakily, hastily moving back and giving a small, apologetic smile. “Really wonderful. Homecoming is such a fantastic time of year. A time for new beginnings and electrifying victories...”

Imogen rolled her eyes as the older woman continued. ‘Chiyoko’ was right: everything about the woman said she'd choke in any situation. She wished the principal would just get on with it already before she killed the energy in the room and let everyone’s minds wander.

Thinking along the same lines, Principal Chiyoko continued, “And now to keep this party going,” she gave a quick chuckle, “your student body president, Imogen Kallder.”

Imogen walked towards the mic with a confidence she didn’t feel. She hated public speaking, but knew if anyone would take her seriously down the line as a career woman, she’d have to get over that. “Good afternoon Illthdar High!” She had been practicing with her note cards all last night and now knew every beat, every gesture, in her speech. She managed to get through it flawlessly. That is, until the very end when she caught her sister and her friend sneaking into the gym. She wasn’t surprised that Rhoe or Cowan came in late – the fact that they bothered to show up at all was almost a compliment – but trailing a couple feet behind them and acting shifty was Salem. “Our, er...” Imogen stumbled, momentarily distracted by the sight of her not-boyfriend hanging out with her obnoxious sister and her tag-along. Shit. Pull yourself together. She hastily slapped a smile on her face. “Our football team has had a fantastic season so far, with five wins and no losses. Give it up for the Fighting Veikos, and their captain, Lerki Birch!” Imogen led the room in applause as Lerki and his team lumbered onto the middle of the court, each player looking cockier than the one before him. “Tomorrow’s game will be against the Midraert Wanderers at two pm,” Imogen continued, “followed by the homecoming dance tomorrow night from seven till midnight, where the Homecoming King and Queen will be crowned. And now, Mr. Bracken will introduce the extracurricular clubs.”

Imogen waited until Mr. Bracken came up to the microphone before heading to take a seat in the bleachers, finding an empty spot next to Miu in the second row. The last part of her speech had been rushed, but she was more focused on the late arrivals than she was on the rest of the pep rally. What were those three up to? Both of her siblings had been acting weirder than usual since she caught them and their friends all together in her living room last night. She narrowed her eyes and craned her neck, searching the crowd for her brother’s lanky form or his friend’s artificially blue hair since those two were the easiest to spot.

Towards the back of the room and in the corner, another person had noted Salem’s late entrance. Vyxen frowned from where she sat between Raemina and Nyima. She knew her brother well enough to realize when he was up to something and he was definitely up to something. If it involved Rhoe and Cowan, then nothing good could come of it. Unfortunately, it was unlikely that she’d have time to talk to him again until tomorrow night and so she just hoped that whatever tomfoolery he had planned would not take place at the Talent Show or the dance. She would see Date and maybe he knew about it. Her eyes scanned the crowd, looking for an all-black, bored looking figure. She found him across the gymnasium and jumped when she realized he was looking right at her. He grinned when he caught her eye, licking his lips and winking. It was enough to short circuit Vyxen’s brain and momentarily make her forget that her brother was being a sketchy weirdo. Oh well, it couldn’t be that bad anyways.

~*~*~

Scyanatha waited at the judging table inspecting her perfectly manicured fingernails. She sat beside the stage along with Zercey and a surly senior named Flynn. Why in the world anyone thought a social nobody like him was fit for a job as important as this was beyond her. Unfortunately, that giant dork Mr. Culvers and the sputtering Mr. Uwe were also judges, so Scy didn’t have the highest hopes for the outcome. If the way the talent show participants dressed were any sign, they were all losers, and she was wasting her time.

First onto the stage was Miu, the resident emcee. Beyond Scyanatha’s comprehension, they usually picked Miu as the hype-man for things like this and everybody seemed to love it. These peasants really have the worst taste, she thought arrogantly, as she took in the other girl’s shiny black hair and smooth dark skin.

After Miu blathered on more, the first act was up: two girls from the Sketch Comedy Club, walked onto the stage with a box of props. After several minutes of mind-numbing ‘jokes’ about the different groups and cliques at the high school, they exited to polite applause.

Scyanatha looked down at her score sheet in front of her, and then glanced over to Zercey, who asked, “So what did you think?”

She pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows. “Tacky,” she responded before jotting down the number 4 next to the girls’ names. Zercey nodded in agreement, but gave them a 5.

She looked up as the next person took the stage: an orange-haired girl Miu introduced as ‘Avari.’ Wearing a flower crown and long, lacy vest. She walked up to the mic and recited a poem she wrote. “He wrapped his love around me/ Like a bow/ As if/ I was a Christmas gift...”

Scy nearly choked.

In the audience, Jingyi sat beside Nyima and grimaced every time he noticed Scyanatha roll her eyes. He didn’t think some acts were great, but he had to give them credit for getting up on stage and doing their thing. He couldn’t imagine performing in front of people, he thought they deserved credit for their bravery. Scy would give them terrible scores just because she could and that wasn’t fair. Who on earth invited her to be a judge, anyway? He caught sight of long red hair out of the corner of his eyes and sighed. It would be Imogen. It sucked when the person who should have the most concern about student activities and wellbeing was friends with the worst person in the entire school. Jingyi just tried not to pay attention to her, he shifted, so he stood a little closer to Nyima and was debating reaching out to hold her hand when the next act was introduced. Nina and Richard came out, dressed in matching outfits, and performed a song they had written together. It was a love song, one they sang while staring at each other and Jingyi could hear every girl in the immediate area sigh happily, as though they were watching their favorite romance movie. His eyes turned to Nyima again, she had one of her hands on her chest and she was watching the performance with a dreamy look on her face. He wondered briefly if he should take up singing and then abandoned that idea just as fast, remembering he sounded like a dying seagull whenever he tried to sing. He doubted he’d get the same dreamy look from her that Nina was. If anything he’d probably send her running for the hills the moment he started his squawking. Nyima looked pretty with that faraway smile on her face though and so he bundled his courage, took a breath and grabbed her hand. He didn’t release it until he felt her fingers curl around his own. Her hand was warm and soft and being able to hold it made him feel like he was on top of the world. He probably had a dorky, faraway look on his face now too but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was Nyima and how awesome it felt to be beside her.

The illusion broke when Nina and Richard exited the stage to monumental applause and Seth came out. Scy jumped from her seat to clap for him and then she sat back down and stared at him as if he was a king while he belted out the worst rap lyrics Jingyi ever heard. He'd never been into rap music, but he was sure it should sound a little better than this. Most of the lyrics revolved around how hot and rich he was, some people were bouncing to his inexistent rhythm but Jingyi figured that was mostly to stay on his good side and not because they actually enjoyed his spitting. It was a relief when his ‘performance’ was done, ending with him walking off stage and Scyanatha loudly declaring that he was the best act of the night so far and sketching down what was likely a perfect score. Zercey looked less convince beside her. Her smile a little strained at the idea of complementing Seth’s horrendous rapping, but she gave him a high score. She didn’t really have a choice when Scy was looking over her shoulder to make sure of it.

~*~*~

The backstage area was a mess, people were running every which way as they collected their things and headed out to take their seats. Date had ensured that Khrome would be the second to last ones to take the stage, the visiting middle schoolers being the final act of the day, since it would give them a little extra time to rock out and their music would be the last thing in everyone’s memories as they went home. Hopefully it would stick with them and they’d start selling some CDs and merchandise.

They were all dressed in black, with thick liner around their eyes and body glitter to make them stand out on stage. Salem had all but forced the glitter on them and he was doubtlessly the one wearing the most. Together, they looked like the poster children for Hot Topic and that was exactly the look they were aiming for. They did each try to customize themselves in small ways though. Date had feathery black wings attached to his back, Rhovan was wearing a neon blue belt and several neon bracelets, Salem had in contacts that made his eyes look red and his signature fake fangs were in place and Xyl had painted designs on his guitar with glow in the dark nail polish to give it a little ‘oomph’. They looked ridiculous, but the crowd ate it up. The cheer was resounded as they walked on stage. They had a small group of followers in the high school and everyone else was so drunk from the liquor they snuck in they would cheer on a deranged looking clown. Regardless of their reasoning, the cheering and the energy was infectious and it just got louder and more energized when the band started to play. Despite the fact that they looked crazy in their get-ups, Khrome wasn’t actually all that bad. Xyl, Rhovan and Salem all knew how to play their instruments well and Date had a really nice voice. The lyrics could use work though, since most of it sounded like the poetry of a sad, lonely Emo kid who was trying to be metal and ultimately failing.

Unbeknownst to Salem, Date had changed a line slightly to call out to his ‘moon haired muse,’ his dark eyes finding her in the crowd so he could ‘bore into her soul’ as he sang it. At least he imagined he was boring into her soul, in reality he looked constipated. It had Vyxen blushing all over though, so it served its purpose.

Salem tried not to swing his bass around and smack Date in the face, but it was a hard urge to resist. He specifically warned him NOT to sing about his sister in a creepy way and Date did it, anyway. What a jackass. The only thing he could do is to press on and hope no one noticed who the song was referencing. He strummed on his blood-red bass and walked forward to the edge of the stage. A few Khrome fangirls screamed and reached out their hands to touch him. One of them calling out that he was better than Edward Cullen and he flashed her a grin with his plastic fangs. He felt like an undead rock lord and it was amazing.

Xyl was throwing his head back and forth as he played, his curls bouncing around in a way that was more adorable than it was hardcore, but he was trying. Somewhere in the crowd, Rhoe and Imogen both rolled their eyes at him and hoped that no one would remember they were related. Cowan smiled though, thinking Xyl was kind of cute with his ‘rocker’ get-up and wondering how pissed Rhoe would be if he made moves on her brother.

Rhovan was in the background beating on his drums with his glittery sticks. He didn’t know how, when or why Salem had bought him glittering drum sticks but he knew better than to argue with the idiot. At least it made him slightly more visible, he tried to find Rae in the crowd but he couldn’t see through the masses. He hoped she was watching him and even if he knew it wouldn’t happen, he would have loved to see some lacy underwear thrown his way from the crowd. Maybe the exact set she was wearing when he saw her dancing the other day. The thought warmed him and had him smiling stupidly and hitting his drums harder, he would definitely find her after the show, maybe if he was lucky he’d get to see what panties she was wearing today.

As the final chord from Xyl’s guitar slowly faded out, Date spoke into the microphone again. “Good evening, everyone. We’re Khrome.” He paused for a moment, trying to look cool and intimidating. He wore wings to take up more space on stage. Since he still hadn’t gotten his growth spurt, he needed all the help he could get, especially standing next to Xyl who was as tall and co-ordinated as those balloon people used for advertisements outside car dealerships. “That song was called ‘Carve Out My Jasper Heart,’ and is available on our new EP, which you can get from one of us after the show. This next song is ‘A Masked Man Hidden in the Shadows.’” He looked back at Rhovan and nodded.

Rhovan nodded back and banged his sticks together. “One, two, three, four!”

~*~*~

Raemina, Vyxen and Nyima were reserved through most of the talent show but when Khrome took the stage they let loose entirely. The audience became a mosh pit of people jumping up and down and screaming their heads off and so the nerdettes were free to do the same without risking being picked out or ridiculed for it. They could count the three of them as Khrome fan girls and not just because two of them were sorta-kinda dating members of the band.

Poor Jingyi knew nothing of Khrome but tried to act excited anyway just so he could stay beside Nyima as she danced on her tiptoes and screamed ‘WHOOO’ as loud as she dared. She was super cute, which made it easier for him to stomach the weird Emo lyrics washing over him.

Vyxen was entranced, her eyes were on Date and all she recalled thinking in that moment was that he looked like a beautiful dark angel and his eyes were right on her. She’d never felt sexy in her life but she did right then, she jumped extra high and scream as loud as she could, hoping to keep those slate grey eyes on her and only her.

Date sent a wicked grin in her direction, causing her stomach to twist into knots and her body to grow hot. He could ask her to do anything in that moment and she’d do it happily. By the widening grin on his face, he knew this information and would probably use it to his advantage at the dance tomorrow.

Raemina normally would have noticed Vyxen mentally throwing herself at Date while he stripped her down with his eyes, but she was otherwise occupied with how the colorful stage lights made Rhovan look like he was glowing. She wasn’t entranced like her poor friend, but she thought he looked awfully attractive as he played the drums. It was quite a feat to be that attractive while holding glittery drum sticks, but he pulled it off. Rhovan looked good when he let loose. If there was a way to push through the crowd to make it to the front, she would have. She saw his eyes scan the crowd now and then and she hoped he was looking for her; he said he would when he dropped her off yesterday. He wouldn’t be able to see her in this mess though, she probably shouldn’t have worn dark colors today because it made her blend in too well. Tossing all her usual reservations aside, she joined Vyxen in jumping as high as she could and screaming loudly. She screamed his name, something she would be mortified by later, but it drew his eyes in her direction. He smiled at her and she knew she was doomed, he looked adorable and very much like the wiggly puppy she’d seen him with at the pet store.

“THEY’RE REALLY GOOD,” Jingyi shouted at Nyima, not so subtly reminding her he was beside her. They had released hands a few minutes ago, which was probably for the best since his palms were sweating, but he was starting to over-think things. What if she let go of his hand because she didn’t like him? She probably thought his clammy hands were gross and was just too nice to say anything.

“WHAT,” Nyima yelled back, drawing her attention away from the boy band before her.

“THEY’RE. GOOD,” he repeated.

She pulled her hair back and pointed to her ear. “I CAN’T HEAR YOU.”

Jingyi mentally kicked himself. Of course she couldn’t hear him. God, he was such an idiot. He was about to shrug it off when a sudden bout of inspiration hit him. “I THINK YOU’RE––” Khrome’s song ended suddenly, “––BEAUTIFUL.” The final word echoed around them, and a few people nearby turned to stare while Nyima's eyes grew round and she blushed.

~*~*~

“Coming in second... Khrome!” Mr. Culvers announced from the stage.

The four boys shuffled their feet, but nonetheless walked forward to stand by Kyle, whose parkour demonstration had placed him in third.

“And the winner of tonight’s talent show and a $50 gift card to Kess’s Restaurant & Pizzeria... Seth Idle!”

Rhovan growled as Seth came up, one hand waving in the air and a cocky grin on his face as if he were about to start signing autographs. After he took the card from Mr. Culvers’s hand he blew a kiss to Scyanatha, who was jumping up and down in excitement.

Imogen, Lerki, and Laura caught up to Scy and Zercey by the judge’s table and waited as Seth and the other participants got their pictures taken for the school newspaper. Now that her boyfriend had won, Scyanatha was in a much better mood. “He’s so talented,” she said dreamily, still staring at the boy on stage and marveling at the way the light glistened off his dark brown skin.

Zercey and Imogen shared a knowing glance, but didn’t say anything to the contrary. Anyone with half a brain knew Seth couldn’t rap to save his life, but they also understood that not giving him what he wanted rarely ended up well for anyone else.

“Yeah, he is!” Laura chirped in, smiling enthusiastically at the queen bee.

“He didn’t have much competition,” added Imogen. She wasn’t completely lying. There were some downright cringe-worthy performances tonight, though most had been decent. One boy in particular had made her stomach flutter anxiously. Something about seeing Salem in his glitter and makeup, sweating as he strummed his bass had been so hot. What is wrong with you!? she yelled internally. This wasn’t the best place for her to be waging a war against her hormones, Imogen could see Zercey watching her from the corner of her eye. Seeming to put two and two together, she swept her eyes across the boys on the stage, trying to determine which one was causing Imogen to act so jittery. Absolutely none of the guys on stage were a good choice for her to have as a crush and she started to panic. It was unlikely that Zercey would pick out Salem from the rest, but she couldn’t risk it.

“The middle schoolers did a pretty good job closing the show.” Imogen blurted in a blind panic. The younger kids had put on a cute little show that wasn’t amazing, but it also wasn’t horrible.

Zercey smirked, but Laura seemed to perk up at the mention and nodded her head eagerly. “They were so cute! You know, my little brot….”

“Ugh, are you kidding me?” Scyanatha cut Laura off, disgusted. “The middle schoolers were awful. They couldn’t carry a tune in a bucket and did you see that dancing? They all looked like they were having seizures. It was ridiculous, especially that weird kid in the back. He looked like he had no idea what was going on around him, they shouldn’t let kids like him out in public.”

Imogen barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes, too used to Scyanatha’s biting remarks to be offended. In the process, her gaze landed on Laura who looked as though she had just been slapped in the face. She’d never seen her look anything less than infatuated with everything Scyanatha said so the wide-eyed shock and hurt she was displaying was interesting.

“He… he’s just shy. He’s working on it,” Laura mumbled and Imogen immediately figured out that the boy Scyanatha was picking on was her little brother.

Zercey also seemed to have caught on and opened her mouth to say something, but Scy wasn’t having it. “Working on it?” she scoffed. “Please. This is the problem with giving out participation trophies all the time. Losers think they have a chance at being something better.”

Just then, Seth walked up. Without hesitating, Scy turned her back on Laura and focused all of her attention instead on showering her boyfriend with affection.

Tears forming in her eyes, Laura retreated towards the stage where her brother and his friends were being congratulated by the third judge.

“Is she okay?” Lerki asked. For once his brow furrowed in concern and not confusion.

Imogen watched as Laura gathered up her brother into a big hug and sighed, “I don’t think so.”

~*~*~

“Here you go,” Date said, lifting the last of the drum kit and passing it to Rhovan, who was hunched inside the back of his parents’ minivan.

Gingerly laying down the snare, he replied, “Thanks,” before hopping out of the car and closing the trunk behind him. The pair walked over to Salem and Xyl, who had just finished loading their guitars and amps into Salem’s car.

“This is such bull--” Salem burst when the four of the reunited beside his car, an exact copy of the one Edward Cullen drove in the Twilight movies. “Seth only won because Scyanatha and her stupid friends gave him a high score.”

“No snap,” was Rhovan’s reply. “There’s no use whining about it though. We’ll get those two back tomorrow.”

“No snap?” Date asked, amused.

“I’m trying to cut back on cussing, ok? Bite me.”

“We will get them back, make no mistake about that,” Salem growled, returning the conversation to his bitterness over losing against someone who wouldn’t know good rap lyrics if they bit him on the face.

“Hey Salem, you wanna hang out at my house tonight? I got a new game and I need some help figuring it out.” Xyl attempted to change the subject, figuring that if Salem came with, then he’d have the whole night to sort out his temper and keep him from doing anything especially stupid tomorrow.

“Sure, my house will be boring tonight anyway since my parents are gone and Vyxen is staying with Raemina.” A happy noise came from somewhere to the side at that moment and Salem rolled his eyes. “Speak of the devil.”

The nerdettes came out of the school at that moment and Vyxen let out a weird, happy sound and rushed to give her brother a hug which he returned with only slight exasperation. “You guys did so great!” she claimed, pulling back and smiling shyly when Date opened his arms to get a hug next. She felt her heart race in both excitement and nervousness as she moved closer and felt his arms wrap tightly around her. He smelled like something dark and dangerous and wonderful and she loved it.

It was a shame it didn’t last. Salem all but yanked them apart and put himself between them to prevent any more hugs from happening. “Do you three have a ride?” He ignored the way Date scoffed beside him.

“Yeah, I’m driving them home,” Rhovan supplied, happy to spend time with Rae even if they had two tag-alongs.

“You guys were awesome, I really thought you would win,” Raemina was standing as close to Rhovan as she could while still allowing Nyima to use her as a human shield from the oh-so-scary boys in front of them. “You should have won,” she amended when she saw their moods darken. “We all know you would have if the judges were different, don’t worry.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Salem didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “You guys should get out of here before it gets too late.”

Agreeing that it was time to get the girls home, Rhovan left with the three of them in tow. Date made to follow and head to his own car but Salem stopped him with an arm across his chest and didn’t remove it until Rhovan was down the road and around the corner.

“Now you can go,” Salem remarked, opening his car door and sliding into the driver’s seat.

“What did you think I was going to kidnap your sister if I left at the same time they did?” Date knew the only reason he was detained was because Salem wanted to make sure he didn’t try to give Vyxen a ride. It was a fair call though, since that was exactly what he had intended to do.

“You can never be too sure,” Salem would sooner die than let Date give Vyxen a ride in or on anything.

Xyl just sighed. Before he could open the passenger side door of Salem’s car, Imogen walked out into the parking lot. She scowled when she caught sight of him.

“I thought Nayidh was coming to pick us up? Wait, where is Rhoe?” she all but demanded.

Her brother shrugged. “I think Cowan was giving her a ride back, I haven’t seen them since we went on stage. And I haven’t texted her, she probably went to bed.”

“Figures.” She knew she should have taken Zercey up on her offer to get a lift home, this was what she got for trusting her brother would actually remember to do something right for once.

Salem, perking up at the sound of Imogen’s voice, stepped back out from behind the steering wheel. Imogen stilled, not having realized it was his car Xyl had been about to get into. “I’m actually headed over to your place if you need a ride,” he said.

Date smirked. He had been about to head to his own car, but this was too good of a moment to pass up.

“Uh, sure. I guess.” She walked towards the car and Salem hurried to open the door for her. Flustered, Imogen muttered a “Thanks,” before settling in. His hand brushed hers for a fraction of a second and she looked up to see him smiling at her.

Xyl missed the tense exchange between his sister and his friend as he said his goodbye to Date. Watching Salem gingerly close the door behind her, Date chuckled. “Have fun tonight, Xyl,” he said as he walked away, feathers blowing gently in the breeze.

~*~*~

Scyanatha and Seth vanished soon after the pictures and interviews for the school newspaper were finished -- no doubt to celebrate his win in the most obscene way they could think of -- and with Imogen getting a ride back with her aunt that left Zercey on her own with Lerki.

“You can’t ignore me forever,” Lerki’s voice sounded from behind Zercey as she stalked across the parking lot towards her car, very intent on doing just that. When she didn’t say anything he sighed and gently grabbed her arm, tightening his grip a bit when she tried to yank away. “Come on Zerce, give me a chance? I’m sorry I made you mad and I have a surprise for you to make up for it.”

Zercey stopped, she could feel her resolve cracking it the same way it always did when he apologized. She wasn’t an idiot, she knew he was worthless and that she should move on but dangit, he had a weird effect on her that she couldn’t seem to shake off.

Sensing his opportunity, Lerki moved closer and pressed himself against her back, wrapping his arms around her waist and leaning down to kiss her neck. “Please?” he begged again, only just resisting the urge to punch the air in victory when he heard her sigh in defeat.

“Fine!” she snapped, allowing him to pull her towards his car. “But your surprise better be amazing or I’m gonna punch you.” Zercey had intended the car ride to be tense, wanting to keep him on his toes and make him grovel for her forgiveness, but one of his hands touched her knee and moved upwards and she broke. He was good at what he did and he knew how to get her where he wanted her. It was annoying, but not annoying enough to keep her from enjoying herself. “Don’t stop,” she all but begged, grabbing his hand when he pulled it away.

“Nope!” Lerki pulled his hand away again and hopped out of the car before she could convince him to continue. Seth had paid good money for this surprise and he wasn’t going to waste it. They could always pick up where they left off afterwards.

Repressing a sigh, Zercey followed him out of the car and towards the boardwalk. Just before her feet hit the sand, he turned back to look at her.

“Close your eyes,” Lerki said with a smile. He took her hand in his and led the way towards the water.

The sound of the waves crashing into the shore and the feel of the smooth, cool sand beneath her toes added to Zercey’s anticipation. “Where are we going?” she asked.

“You’ll see.” Finally, they came to a stop and she felt Lerki move beside her. “You can open your eyes now,” he breathed into her ear, sending a shudder down her spine.

Zercey gasped. Before her sat over a dozen lanterns, each with pretty floral designs on them and laid out in the perfect shape of a heart. In the center, the words ‘will you go to the dance with me?’ were spelled out in red and pink rose petals and before Zercey even got to process that, something slightly heavy was fastened around her neck and she looked down to see Lerki’s class ring hanging from a pretty silver chain.

“I figured it was too big for you to wear normally,” he explained, wrapping his arms around her from behind, “but it still looks good on you and this way, everyone will know we’re together.” She’d been yelling at him to make their relationship official for months and he couldn’t think of anything more official than this.

Zercey turned around to look into Lerki’s indigo eyes and fixed him with the sultriest gaze she could. “Is that it, or does this surprise include something else?”

He brought his mouth to hers hungrily and then moved his lips down her jawline, then her neck and collarbone. She held his shirt tightly in her fists, pawing at his back as he did so. Zercey didn’t remember how long until they finally made it down to the sand or when they decided to do away with modesty altogether.

Long after Lerki gave her a final kiss goodnight and she was behind her own steering wheel to drive home, she realized she had left her Victoria’s Secret bra back on the beach.

By @guardians-of-las-vyxen & @yogiwithabook

#writeblr #illthdar fan fiction #au fan fiction #high school au

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cordytriestowrite · 5 years

Text

When I'm Miserable

Loki x Reader

Chapter One - All Other Chapters

Summary: Loki abandons his attempt to rebuild his relationship with Thor after realizing his brother will never fully trust or understand him. He finds himself drawn to a girl, now guardian of her little sister after their mother's sudden death, and tries to teach her the lessons of love, forgiveness, and acceptance before their differences tear them apart.

Salem, Indiana. When you first moved away from the small city and its six thousand residents you hated telling people where you were from.

"Oh, Massachusetts." They would say.

"No, Indiana." You would correct.

"I didnt know there was a Salem in Indiana." They would finish with a confused look on their face before going back to their more interesting California lives.

Now you were back and those conversations ceased to be a staple of introduction, but so many things had also ceased to be discussed. Food, art, culture, current events, all subjects thrown aside in the face of everyone's new favorite topic: what are you going to do?

"How are you going to handle raising your little sister?" They would ask.

"Did your mom leave you anything?" Inquired the snoopers.

"Are you okay?"

And were you okay? What a dumb question. Who would be okay being torn from the beginnings of a life they were building for themselves and coming back to a home without a mother? Who would be ready and to accept guardianship over their little sister and step into a parenting role no one had ever prepared them for?

You took a large sip of your beer, letting the carbonation tickle the roof of your mouth before swallowing around the bitter lump in your throat. It was 4pm on a Monday and you were on your second drink. Your bleary eyes glanced around the room, practically empty save for two older men further down the bar.

You hadn't been old enough to even enter a bar when you last lived in Salem. It felt odd to sit on the rickety wooden stool and think back to a time you desired this, the ability to legally drink in the O'Haimes Tavern and enjoy a Friday night with friends while listing to the live band. Had you been able to tell your teenage self you would end up here on a Monday afternoon to drown your sorrows all alone...

"Thanks for covering for me Rach." A frazzled looking women strolled quickly to your side of the bar, from the back room still trying up her long blonde hair. The other bartender, Rachel, you assumed, nodded sympathetically as she poured a set of double whiskeys for the men down the bar.

"No problem, I know how hard it is to adjust to Jason going back to school."

Your glass had only been a few centimeters off the bar top, which was lucky for you as your grip loosened and it wobbled dangerously before settling in its upright position. The noise brought the two bartenders' attention to you but you couldn't be bothered to care. You fumbled through your buzzed, sluggish movements into the purse thrown haphazardly into the seat next to you. You grasped your phone tightly and brought it to your face, throat seizing up fully as your sedated mind took in the unread texts and missed phone calls.

Where are you?

Did you forget about me?

Are you okay?!

You tried to keep an air of calm about you as you paid your bill and exited O'Haimes but you could tell by your slight imbalance that you probably didn't fool anyone. You hurried along the sidewalk as fast as your wobbly ankles would carry you, the edge of Salem High School's property revealing itself a few blocks later. You couldn't help but mumble to yourself as you made your way around the wide chain-link fence to the school entrance.

"Please be there. Please be there. Please be there."

And there she was, looking put out and pouty sitting on the blue bench just to the left of the front doors. She was on her phone and hadn't yet noticed you so you slowed down and straightened your spine. The walk had sobered you enough to put on that mask of calm you couldn't conjure at the bar.

As you got closer she still didnt notice you, too absorbed in her phone to look up. You shook your head and smiled. Her generation was so lucky to have cell phones to entertain them while they wait, all you had was-

Your thoughts stuttered to a stop as a tall man appeared from around the corner and sat next to your sister. He was close to her, his head bent towards her, and she looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back and you could feel a wave of protective instinct wash over you like a cold shower. Your pace quickened until you were in a full on sprint.

"Amanda." You said so loudly and forcefully you practically barked your sister's name like an order. Both your sister and the man next to her looked up in surprise. You raced up the steps, your once unreliable equilibrium steadied by an alert, on-edge version of soberness.

"Finally!" She exhaled dramatically, like your tardiness was exhausting. She tucked her phone into her back pocket as she rose from the bench.

The man next to her stood as well. He looked impossibly tall next to your little sister, all short and fragile looking. You took a step closer to the man and squared your shoulders. While you still had to tilt your chin to look him in the eye you were not at the same height disadvantage as your sister.

"Hello there-" he began before you cut him off with a solid, clear tone.

"Stay away from her."

"I beg your pardon?" He asked. His accent startled you for a moment, so unlike all the midwestern accents wriggling in your ears since coming home last month. You blinked twice to regain your focus and your resolve.

"Stay away from my sister. She's under age. Did you know that, pervert?"

"I'm well aware-" he started, adjusting his glasses, but this time his words were interrupted by Amanda's profuse apologies, her hand on your arm pulling you back down the stairs and away from the well dressed, bespectacled threat before you. You maintained eye contact, harsh and defiant, until you reached the first step down and were forced to turn or risk falling down the four concrete steps and make a fool of yourself.

"What were you thinking?!" Amanda shrieked as she continued to pull you by the arm. You turned back to catch a glimpse of the man as you turned the corner but he was gone.

"A grown man should not be hanging around a high school preying on teenage girls." You stumbled slightly but caught your footing. Looking back you found the block of sidewalk slightly raised. It had snagged the tip of your shoe as you took a step. You sent your glare down, ready to take a larger step upon arrival of the next uneven slab.

"He's the librarian. Hanging around the school is kind of his job. You would have known that if you weren't drunk."

You stumbled despite the level ground beneath you at your sister's words. She slowed down and finally let go of your arm, only to fold hers across her chest and glare at you with a disgusting amount of judgement.

"Is that why you were late? You were drinking in the middle of the day again?" She wasn't expecting an answer because she already knew what she was saying was true. You knew what would come next as well, it was the same argument as last time and the time before that.

"You're going to die on me too if you don't cut it out. You'll get in an accident or drown in your own vomit or destroy your liver and-"

"I know Amanda," you sigh heavily and pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes closed so you didn't have to see her face. "I know."

"And now you're ruining my life. Mr Loki is really nice and now he's going to look at me like everyone else does." While her voice began loudly and passionately it trailed off into quiet uncertainty. Your ears pricked up and your vision sharpened, a different kind of safeguard mindset than the one you had earlier against this Mr Loki. You had to protect her from herself now, those thought of self doubt that consume and devour from the inside.

"How does everyone look at you?"

"They look at me like my mom just died. Like I'm helpless. They all pity me." A sob bubbled out like a punctuation at end her statement. You reached for your sister, so young and fragile and in no way undeserving of the looks and the glances she must be catching, and pulled her into a tight hug. You rocked her back and forth so severely her feet had to lift and fall in time to your swings to keep you both from toppling to the ground.

"I'm sorry." You murmured into her hair, "I'm sorry for a lot of things."

She said nothing but held on to the back of your shirt like her life depended on it. You pulled her back by her shoulders so she could see your face with its reassuring smile and kind eyes.

"Tomorrow I will come pick you up on time and apologize to Mr Loki."

"Sober?"

"As sober as a judge." You promised. She reached her fist between your chests and extended her pinky. You wrapped your own around it and kissed your thumb. She did the same. Your journey home continued after that, side by side you strode leisurely and your mind wandered back to the front steps of Salem High School and its librarian.

"Amanda?" You started. She hummed in response to show she was listening.

"What kind of name is Mr Loki?"

She laughed loudly and it reminded you of your mom's laugh when she found something surprisingly amusing. Your stomach flipped at the similarity and at the fact that you would never hear them laugh at the same time like that ever again.

"Apparently he was named after some Norse god or something. It's a weird name right?"

You both giggled and ducked your heads against a gust of wind then walked the rest of the way home in companionable silence.

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#loki fic #loki (marvel)#loki fanfic #loki odinson #loki #loki laufeyson #loki x y/n #loki x you #loki x reader #loki x oc #loki fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #avengers fic

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pedropascalforpresident · 5 years

Text

Where Changes Might Take Us

Summary: Flo Roberts joins the gang in their ventures, raising confusion and some change of heart with her righteousness.

Tags: spoilers, high honor online character, Arthur/online character, no TB, forced prostitution, slow burn

Tumblr tag: rdr2wcmtu

Chapter notes: Flo (Florence Roberts) is based on the protagonist of RDR2 online story and therefore her past of escaping prison and working with Mistress is mostly canon. This fanfic starts in chapter 2 of the story mode so the gang's camp is set at Horseshoe Overlook.

Chapter One

"I see right through you, mister Morgan, through your manly temperament and rude attitude." She laughs tightening the saddle. „I'd have to be blind and deaf otherwise!"

„What's that supposed to mean?" Arthur is right next to her, struggling to relax his arms so he shifts between crossing them over chest or resting against hips.

Florence lifts herself up on the horse. „You can't keep control of everything just 'cause you think your way is best way of handlin' business. I thought gangs have more than one outlaw, but here is you, doing everyone's dirty work for them."

He shakes his head at the ground aware he's to forget about a whole damn day of peace and quiet only to have her along on the road. The two leave the camp and he takes the lead through the forest, not exchanging a single word with the gang's newcomer who should've stayed at the camp.

Mid-morning they're halfway through the mist and Flo's persistent humming starts to infuriate Arthur. He sighs his faint voice cracking, but she only hums louder and clearly on purpose. He slows the horse down and takes his hat off once riding next to her, trying to look polite.

„How'd you end up with us, uh-" he snaps his fingers and looks away pretending he can't remember her name.

„You sayin' Hosea didn't tell you?" She chuckles feeling important. „That definitely explains your behavior. Ol' bastard really does know how to keep a secret."

„Secret?"

„It's a strange feeling, not knowing stuff, ain't it?" She teases; being excluded from something makes him tick and she knows it now.

„Miss Florence," he obstructs the narrow, gravel path upsetting her horse. „you don't need to know how much this gang means to me, but you should know that I'll do anything to protect them."

„I figured that much."

„There you go again! Again with the irony! Like you know something I don't!"

„Well I do-"

„Will it hurt to tell me then?!"

„It seemed like Hosea trusts you and I thought you'd know by now." She gently scratches her nose. „But if he ain't done it yet, you best not think I'll do it for him. 'Cause I won't. It ain't my place."

„Well maybe he forgot!" He urges, spreading his arms physically wanting the information, afraid of what she might know.

„I don't think so, not this." She glances behind them to make sure no one's coming. „You seem a good man but you outta have someone to look out for ya." Florence sighs and takes the lead through slippery pathway.

Arthur brainstorms before they reach a vast field and temperature rises along with the Sun. What information did she give Hosea that's of such delicate importance not even he's allowed to know?

„Hosea is like a father to me." he stubbornly admits. „Whatever he knows and refuses to share with me is probably dangerous for all of us."

„Exactly what I was sayin' earlier! You need to know and you need to deal with it because you know best how to, isn't it?"

„I get you ain't sayin' shit to me but if somethin' happens to him, I'll blame you."

„Of course you will." She frowns looking at her pocket watch. „So the Bell guy, the Blondie. How'd he end up with you?"

Arthur can't help but grin at the nickname he's definitely implementing in his vocabulary but it's not good enough to get her off the hook. „Oh so we're just gonna continue like nothin' happened huh?"

Florence ignores him and gallops with the horse off the path and towards a low hill with a view on the valley they are about to go through, making sure they don't stumble upon any trouble. Arthur shouts after her twice before seriously considering to leave on his own. Once she gets off her horse, he decides to approach.

„I met him once before, back while I was workin' with Sean." She frustratingly runs hand through her hair, reminiscing of the first time she met Micah. „He, uhm, assaulted this girl we saved from wrongful hanging. He's only alive 'cause Sean stopped me from shootin' his goddamn face off."

„So why are you coming along to his rescue?"

""Hosea told me to. He has his reasons and if he ain't sharing 'em with you, then I ain't either."

Arthur tilts his head at her. „Woman, I feel like you're only gonna get us in trouble."

„I won't. It'll all make sense to you and hopefully I won't be a bother after that." Flo smiles climbing back on the horse after a stretch, pulling out a cigarette.

„Hopefully." He responds, rubbing his chin as he follows her back to the path.

Ride to Strawberry takes a while but Flo shortens the trip by refusing to collect debt from a man mister Strauss mentioned, she'd rather give her own money before collecting or beating it out of a poor man. Arthur argues for a while but ultimately gives in, money is still money no matter where it comes from and somehow he ends up defining Florence as the biggest fool in the situation. She couldn't care less.

They arrive in the evening and leave their horses by the shop across the sheriff's. Arthur notices how folk at the front of the store look at Flo's jeans and pulls her back towards the hitching post between their horses, clutching two badges Hosea stole for them in his other hand. He's becoming paranoid.

„Maybe you should go and change." He recommends quickly looking away when she raises her eyebrows, surprised. „Last thing we need is attention."

„Don't tell me what to wear." Flo shakes her head at his wandering eyes.

She grabs a sheriff's badge from his hand and walks to the building, ignoring Arthur's persistent whispers to return. Grunting along, he picks up the pace after her. A sudden yawn overwhelms him but he contains his focus and pins the deputy badge on his leather jacket.

„Look out, they're taking over our jobs too!" deputy laughs at Flo who doesn't look at him as she approaches the sheriff.

Two men, younger one trying to impress his boss with sexist humor, and town sheriff share a common feeling but each handle and show it differently.

„Playin' dress up is fun, but I'd leave this one for the bedroom if I was you." Deputy gets serious as Arthur steps on the wooden stairs making the whole porch squeal under his weight. „Why are you here?"

„I believe you have imprisoned an outlaw here." Flo begins confidently pretending to have a deeper voice which makes Arthur chuckle.

„I might have one or two, yes." Sheriff squirms in his chair thoroughly observing both.

„My colleague and I are from, uh, Lemoyne. Been lookin' for Micah Bell all over the state. You wouldn't believe the bounty on his head!"

Arthur slowly blinks, regretting for what she said, painfully aware of what follows.

Sheriff's eyes widen and he leans forward with intrigue, fingers interlocked. "How much?"

„Why is that important?" Arthur interrupts before Flo gets them in deeper.

„Eight hundred dollars." Flo nods her head while sheriff and deputy exchange looks. „He's done some nasty things."

„It would seem so." sheriff gets up takong two steps closer to her." As much as I'd like to see him hang tomorrow for what he's done here... From one lawman to the other," he rests hands on his gun belt. „you know how stressful our line of duty is. Fools like him are ganging up on poor townsfolk of ours every other day."

Flo persistently nods, pressing her lips to keep a straight face but she desires to see him hang as well. They can only imagine what else he's done but hanging is probably not the worst punishment Micah deserves.

„Tell you what, law-woman, you give us that bounty and we give you the prisoner."

Flo definitely doesn't expect that kind of proposal. Glancing quickly at Arthur she sees him clutching his satchel, unaware of thirteen pathetic dollars hiding inside.

„We didn't bring the money with us but we can send it your way with a stagecoach once we're back."

„Listen missy, we ain't no idiots! I'm sure you won't send us a single dollar once you get back. In this land every county is for themselves, us included."

„How's you give us 'til tomorrow evening and we get you that bounty." Arthur interrupts the deputy standing shoulder to shoulder next to Flo, crossing arms on his chest to warm up palms between upper arms and his torso.

Men exchange looks and nod with acceptance of his offer. „We'll see you then."

Arthur jerks Flo's shoulder while turning and they walk away from men in silence. They reach their horses and while Flo processes what happened, Arthur grabs his bedroll and gives Salem two carrots to nibble.

„Where are we gonna get that money?" nervous lip biting is a nasty habbit she posesses.

„Unless you got eight hundred dollars on ya, we're gonna have to earn it." He snorts. „You had to say it! It had to be eight hundred! Why didn't you just round it up at thousand?!"

„I didn't think they'd ask for the money, they're lawmen!"

"There's a lotta things you don't know either but what's done is done. We need a place to rest." Arthur sees a welcoming center with vacant rooms sign displayed. „How much do you have?"

„About fiffty."

„We should get one room only. Gonna need all the cash we can get, thanks to your generosity."

„Don't forget some of that is for debt money you wanted to collect."

„I might have second thoughts on that."

#arthur morgan #arthur x online character #arthur x oc #rdr2 #rdr2 online #rdr2 spoilers #rdr2 fanfic #rdr #red dead redemption #red dead redemption online #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption spoilers #hosea matthews #slow burn #forced prostitution #no tb #micah bell #rdr2wcmtu

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arse-blathanna · 6 years

Text

The Bones of a God - 40/50

Chapter 40: Godtouched

[Ao3] [FFN] [Fic Tag]

Fic Summary: Once upon a time, monsters roamed the entire world, so plentiful that they needed countless numbers to fight them off. 13 years ago, that changed. Grimm died off suddenly and stopped proliferating. Now the few Creatures of Grimm that are left are too large and powerful to be taken down in "the old ways."

That doesn't make them any less of a threat.

The real problem comes when people decide it's for the best that they start picking sides in a war starting anew.

Word Count: 4,270

Chapter Summary: Salem's reach extends.

Author's Notes: It’s been a bit, hasn’t it? More coming tomorrow.

Thank you all for reading.

Night approached like a creeping beast, and Tyrian sat awake in their camp whilst the others rested. Together they had decided to take cover in an old abandoned building which was all but crumbling to the ground around them. The setting was familiar in its own way because of it, so Tyrian didn’t mind. Crumbled buildings had simply become a recurring backdrop in his life.

His space was in a corner without much cover, as was the norm. Tyiran had been pushed off there on his own for the sake of everyone else’s comfort, as was also the norm.

[Read it on Ao3] [Read it on FFN]

Everyone else had gone to sleep hours before, so Tyrian sat up late. That didn't mean that he didn't make any effort to sleep, because he was doing his best, but rest didn't come easily. Mostly he could only find it in himself to listen to the crackle of the fire.

Tyrian let his tail wrap up around him, closed his eyes, and tried to ignore the sounds of the others. There was a gasping sound, and Tyrian shot upright at it and looked at the space around him in alarm. Something was wrong, he didn't know what, but it was wrong and that was reason enough for him to be on guard. If it came to a fight, he would be able to protect himself, at the least. His tail twitched anxiously.

He blinked and looked up the row of bodies by the fire, watching as Cinder sat up partially, her chest heaving and her form tense.

She blinked her one eye, clearly seeking out something in the dark. When her gaze fell on him, Tyrian waved, just with one hand.

Cinder nodded and got up, padding across the space until she was near him. Tyrian was about to open his mouth to say something, but Cinder just nodded in the direction of the road from where they had came. The instruction was simple enough.

Tyrian rose and followed after his teammate. The two of them made it out to the road and once they were alone Cinder allowed herself to speak.

"I saw her." Cinder said, her voice halting and afraid. The revelation left Tyrian with the hairs on the back of his neck raising. "She-"

"What did our Goddess require of you?" Tyrian asked, shifting nervously where he was standing and allowing himself to hunch over slightly. Slowly and carefully, Tyrian let his tail down, unwrapping it from around himself and relaxing.

"The maiden is here." Cinder growled the words out. "She should be right here, and yet-"

"We will find her!" Tyrian responded, perhaps a little too quickly and a little too excitedly. When Cinder moved to walk, wrapping her arms around herself, Tyrian followed just as quickly. "We will not let our Goddess down. We will find the girl, and then-"

When the laughing came, Tyrian could only do so much to suppress it.

And he knew, oh he knew that Cinder was staring at him and that she didn't know what to make of him. That didn't matter so much too Tyrian. He caught his breath and caught his emotions in the same second. Dragged himself back down to earth in one fell swoop.

"We're going to have to kill her." Cinder said, but there was something in her voice that Tyrian couldn't quite decipher. He had never been the best with understanding other people, and this was no exception to that. "You're willing to go along with it."

"I am." Tyrian responded, standing up straight for the first time since he'd risen from bed to follow after Cinder. "Of course. If our Goddess-"

"What makes you so sure?" Cinder snaps at him, and Tyrian closes his jaw so quickly that his teeth click against each other. "She only comes to us in-"

"Prophesies!" Tyrian finished before Cinder could. He brought his hands together, and he slowly began to bring his right up on his left, travelling up the arm and the wrapped bandages. Even with the bandages there, he could feel the raised bumps of scar tissue. "She comes to us because she chose us to best serve her."

"Then why us?" Cinder asked, turning slowly. "Why would she-" She shook her head and took a breath before locking her eyes with his. "Why does she choose us?"

Tyrian wanted to shrink back over that question. He remembered the first times in which he had asked the very same question, although he’d posed it to Watts. The answer that he had been given had been akin to a snarl or a slap rather than an answer. Tyrian had just learned to accept it because the life that he had with the others was all that he had left at this point in his life.

"She chooses us because we are the ones that can best serve her." Tyrian repeated the words, blinking and trying not to let his nerves get the best of him. He found himself twining his fingers in the bandages that are wrapped up around his arms. It didn’t serve to give him any calm when he so desperately needed it. The scars brushed against the tips of his fingers. "Our Goddess chose you because she will need a maiden, she chose me because-"

Tyrian tripped over his own words and snapped his jaw shut before he could allow for himself to make things worse. His eyes flicked from Cinder to the ground and then back again, all the while him unable to find when he needed to say to her.

Cinder shook her head though, since he had apparently failed to answer the questions that she needed answers to. "What I don't understand is why we have to do anything for her in the first place. If she is so powerful-" The words are snarled out at him, and for just a second Tyrian could have sworn that he had heard some sort of distortion to Cinder's voice.

Her voice, blending in with another that was not her own.

Tyrian immediately jerked back away from her, tightening his grip on himself.

Cinder's eyebrow furrowed, her mouth opening in surprise. She took a step in towards him and raised a hand so that she could reach out for Tyrian.

Instinct took him and he shrank back, the same way that he would have from anyone else.

"We-" Tyrian began to start to speak. He tried his best not to hiss the words, tried his best not to get more worried or nervous. "She has chosen us!"

"For what, Tyrian?" Cinder asked, taking a step back in towards him, still with her hand raised to him. "Why has she chosen us?"

Tyrian shrank back more, pressing himself in against the wall of a building. His head ducked and he wished that he had let his hair fall down in front of his face so that he could be sure that he would have an extra layer of safety from Cinder. When he breathed, he sucked in nervous, afraid gasps that did little to keep him from getting lightheaded.

"Tyrian!" Cinder shouted, and there it was again, that distortion in her voice that made her sound like it was two speaking instead of just one. "Tell me!"

"Remnant is broken!" Tyrian managed to get the words out, hissing them out loudly at Cinder. He stared at her from eyes that had tears already leaking from them. "Remnant is broken and our goddess needs us to fix it for her-"

"What?" Cinder snarled. "That is nonsense."

"But-" Tyrian tore the bandage away from his arm, letting it fall so that every one of his scars was exposed to her. Her watched her eye flicker down to the arm, tracing over every mark and every scar that had been left there. "She has chosen us!"

Tyrian swallowed hard and stepped in towards her, holding his tail high over his head just in case he needed to use it. He took a nervous half-step in towards Cinder, shoving his arm in her direction to show her.

Cinder merely looked upon him with disgust- towards him, towards the miserable creature that he was. She reached out for his arm and wrapped her hand around it, and Tyrian was ready to rip himself back away just as quickly.

"This-" Cinder said, running a thumb over one of the scars. "These are-"

"Hers!" Tyrian returned. "She has given them to us because she wants us to serve her." Slowly, carefully, Tyrian withdrew his arm. "Someone must restore the world for her. She selected us who were best suited for her purposes."

“You know that answer isn’t good enough for me, Tyrian.” Cinder responded, and there was this eerie sort of calm that ebbed over her. Most of what Tyrian could feel was the nervousness that ripped through his body and ebbed over him like waves. It was the beat of his heart against his chest, and the nervous twitches of his tail, and the early beginning of a burning down in his scars.

He closed his eyes and shrank back again, placing his hands on the sides of his head like it would be able to hold him together, because Tyrian certainly felt like he was falling apart at the seams. "You are not her-" He whispered, dropping his head more and curling in on himself more. Over and over he began to whisper the words to himself because something was wrong and he couldn't handle it.

"Just tell me!" This time Cinder's voice raised into a yell.

From where he was, Tyrian was able to hear the sounds of someone moving around in the building where they were staying. He blinked several times, trying to force the tears that were forming in his eyes from falling.

The voice that interrupted was one that Tyrian was all too glad to hear.

"Girl." Watts' voice said, but inside there was a quiet mumbling. Hazel and the other girl, probably trying to calm down.

Tyrian cast one last glance at Cinder before scrambling back to Watts' side. Watts said nothing to him, just shot him a harsh enough look that Tyrian would stay there rather than going inside.

Cinder grit her teeth and looked at Watts. "What?"

"Do you really have nothing better to do than torment the insect?" Watts asked, and Tyrian allowed himself to relax, if only slightly for the time being. "I am sure that you have better things to do."

Cinder didn't relax at all. She was holding herself like she was preparing for a fight. "I need to have some more answers if I am going to stay here." Tyrian glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, as blurry as she was. "I don't like that I haven't been able to get a straight answer about anything since joining you."

"So you decided to torment the one that couldn't have given you any good answers?"

"I-"

"If you want answers, hurting him won't get you anywhere." Watts said, straightening up and any anger that he had been feeling ebbing out of his voice at once. He shot Tyrian a glance that said rather plainly that he needed to go inside. Tyrian nodded and slipped back into the building.

What he found inside was that Hazel and Emerald were by the window overlooking the street, both holding themselves just out of view. Tyrian looked between them and dropped down low before huddling into the space between them just under the window where he could still listen along.

In the street, Cinder and Watts were talking still.

"Girl." Watts said, his voice accompanied by the sound of the gravel moving beneath his feet with every step. "The answer that you are looking for is that Salem is akin to a God, and her domain has been disturbed."

"And?"

"And you live in a world of fairy tales, heroes and magic." Watts continued, his voice getting as harsh as ever. "A world where a god was slain in her physical form, many years ago. Restoring her power is something which cannot be done without people to serve her."

"So she chose us." Cinder snapped back. "Why us?"

"The boy is correct." Watts said, and Tyrian let his head pick up just enough so that he could get a glance back onto the street. "We were the ones best suited for her. You think that it is a coincidence-" Watts took a few steps forward and glanced back over at the building, a glare of sorts.

When he was squarely in Cinder's space, he continued. "He selected us for our traits. Loyalty, strength, intellect." Watts grinned, brushing Cinder's hair away from her scarred over eye, showing the brand that she had been given clear as day. "Whatever you are. I want to say ambition, but I don't think that's it. Perhaps foolishness."

"She could have found those traits in anyone."

"Quite the contrary." Watts replied. "She selected two of us because of history. The insect was presumably chosen for his broken mind."

"And me?"

"She saw something in you.”

"You know that doesn't mean anything." Cinder says, but the rebuttal from Watts comes all too quickly and entirely too harshly.

"It means that you should be grateful." Watts growled back. "And stop keeping the rest of us from resting."

There was a quiet that fell over the space, and Tyrian's eyes widened when he came to remember why Cinder had said she'd gotten up early that night. In the whirlwind of everything that was going on, Tyrian had all but forgotten about it.

He looked up at Hazel, but was unable to keep the vaguely panicked expression off his face.

Hazel looked back down at him in a way that read as being wholly unamused. Tyrian nodded back in the direction of the road, and Hazel's eyebrow raised in some interest. Hazel took a half-step forward, just so that he could see what was going on just outside.

"Salem came to me." Cinder said, still out on the street. Tyrian turned and let himself sit up properly so that he could see what was going on outside for himself. Watts had gone dead still, and even Emerald didn't seem to be doing too well with what had just been said.

Watts turned slowly so that he could face her again, his expression deathly serious.

"In which way?"

"Vision." Cinder replied, sighing. "There should be a maiden here."

"And yet we haven't seen one."

"Then why would she have-"

Before Cinder got to finish what she was saying, Hazel was leaving the building. It left Tyrian and Emerald inside on their own. The two of them exchanged a quick look before the two of them went to follow after Hazel.

While Hazel stood in the doorway, Tyrian and Emerald stood behind him, jockeying for a good view.

"If there is a maiden here we should prepare for her." Hazel said, keeping his voice down in a low growl. "She may not have arrived yet."

Watts rolled his eyes, turning to Hazel now. "And what is your suggestion for that?" He snarled at Hazel. "Seeing as all that has happened this morning is that Cinder and Tyrian have gotten into an argument, and it's gotten us nowhere."

Hazel shook his head. "The thing that we should do is we should prepare the town for an attack."

"But..." Emerald spoke up, still behind Hazel. "How can we be so sure that it will happen?"

"We can't." Hazel growled, taking his steps so that he was outside of the building properly. Tyrian followed after him, and Emerald stepped outside as well, taking a few steps into the road. "But we need to prepare anyhow."

"But if we don't know what a maiden is capable of-" Emerald piped up, but snapped her jaw back shut when Watts shot her a glare. She visibly shrank back, and nobody said anything else to her.

Hazel spoke up. "There is high ground where we can position some of us until we are in a more secure position." He made the suggestion before looking at Watts and Cinder each. "You two are the best suited for that position."

Watts rolled his eyes and went back inside wordlessly to get his things. Cinder almost shrank back, but she held her head up high and went in to do the same thing. Once they were out of view, Hazel decided to come in and give further directions for their group.

"Tyrian, you and I will stay low and prepare for a physical confrontation."

That was a good enough role, Tyrian thought. He just nodded his agreement before going in to make sure that he himself would be armed. From outside, Hazel continued to speak, turning his attention onto Emerald.

"What do you want for me to do, sir?" Emerald asked, just within Tyrian's earshot.

"Hide and be prepared to create a distraction." Hazel said, his voice low in volume and him sounding gruff and exhausted as ever. "You can best prepare us for an ambush."

With orders handed out, the entire group scattered just as had been intended. Tyrian stretched out his body as much as he could, just doing what he could to make sure that he wasn't going to be risking any sort of injury.

He found his position, made himself comfortable, and waited.

The communication amongst their group was all but absent. Emerald had decided that she was going to hide by the building that they'd decided to use for shelter. Cinder had taken her place on top of it, while Watts had found a secure location of his own.

Tyrian and Hazel waited on opposite sides of the city gates, both silent and both ready.

It felt like they had been waiting there for hours. Tyrian nearly slipped off to sleep himself, only to be woken back up by the sound of an arrow embedding itself into the wall at his side. He forced himself back awake and shook his head, remembering that he was going to have to be ready.

They just needed for the alleged maiden to arrive.

Either they were going to have an attack, or they were going to split off.

Tyrian didn't know what would be the case.

Another hour or two passed, and the sun began to rise over Mistral. Tyrian let himself look up at it and blinked because if it was morning, then it was time for people to be travelling. He wasn't the only one that was getting annoyed with the situation, that much was clear enough on its own.

Finally, a sound broke through the relative silence of their space.

Tyrian craned his neck, looking for the source of the noise.

It was the sound of hooves against cobblestone, and for someone to be travelling alone they would have had to be confident. Tyrian closed his eyes and took in a deep breath before digging his feet into the ground and leaning forward to place his open palms on the ground in front of him.

It was definitely only one person. Hazel was tense across from him. Emerald was similarly displeased with the situation.

When their visitor arrived in the village, she was cloaked and riding on a white horse. She didn't seem to be looking out for much of anything, but she was rather clearly armed. That in itself should have set off alarms in Tyrian's mind.

She stopped her mount, casting a glance around the village like she was checking for something. Tyrian could have sworn that her eyes were on him for a moment, but she just shook her head like there was nothing there.

"Hello?" The woman called, to someone that wasn't there.

Tyrian watched as Emerald moved forward, prepared to talk at the very least. "Hello?" She called back, stepping into the clearing. She was walking as though she had a limp, playing up something that wasn't there entirely.

Tyrian had absolutely no idea as to what to think, or what Emerald was doing.

The woman pulled her hood down, and Tyrian's eyes widened when he realized that she had dark hair and skin, and large brown eyes. It almost felt... familiar.

Across from him, Tyrian felt the vibrations of Hazel's heartbeat getting faster.

"Are you hurt?" The young woman asked.

"I am!" Emerald called back, slumping against the wall and holding her arm over a false wound. "Can you help me?"

The woman nodded, going back to her horse to get some things. She opened up a saddlepack and removed something from it. "Are you alone here?"

Emerald looked up at the space where Watts was waiting, looking for some sort of permission from the man. She got a nod of approval, and then she decided to keep on going.

"I'm with my partner." She said calmly. "We ran into trouble from some bandits, and we could use some help."

"Bandits?" The brown haired woman asked as she walked up to Emerald's side. She was carrying some sort of mix of Dust in a bottle, but Tyrian couldn't identify what it was. "All the way out here?"

"Yes!" Emerald replied. "Please, can you help us find our teammates?"

"I was on my way to Mistral." The woman explained calmly. "I'm guessing you're from the academy?"

"We are." Emerald lied. "We should be able to find them if we go back that way."

"Where is your partner?" The woman asked, blinking. "Because I wouldn't mind helping you."

Emerald tilted her head back and shouted. "Cinder!"

Tyrian picked his head up, and he was able to see Cinder's silhouette against the moon. She climbed down off of the roof, storing her weapon behind her. She walked out to the road beside Emerald rather confidently, but she was rather obviously playing along with the girl's ploy.

"Can you help us?" Cinder asked, taking a few steps forward and letting herself lean against the wall beside Emerald. "We're a bit of a ways out."

The woman looked between the two of them and nodded before offering a small medical kit to them. Emerald digged into it first, passing off bits to Cinder for what would seem appropriate for whatever the woman was seeing. "I don't think that I'd mind some extra company. Besides, if you two are from the academy you should get back to Haven so that Lionheart knows you're alright anyways."

"Thank you." Emerald said as she slipped down to the ground and began to bandage wounds that weren't there. "We were hiding out here in case we ended up running into trouble. It's possible that our teammates would come through, but with bandits out here-"

"I understand." The woman said, smiling softly and there a quiet in her voice that was almost comforting. "You two don't have to explain yourselves to me."

"Thank you." Emerald said. "We can start moving whenever you're ready, but..." She sighed. "We've been through a lot."

"Well," The woman said, looking from Emerald to Cinder, but still rather obviously oblivious to the others. "I guess that once you two are ready we'll go. Do you have names?"

"Emerald."

Cinder smiled slightly. "Cinder Fall."

"Oh!" The woman said cheerily. "I'm Amber."

"It's nice to meet you." Emerald said with a forced sort of friendliness. "But really, thank you for helping us."

Amber laughed, and her voice was... nice. Kind. "Well, since I'm a huntress part of my job is looking out for others. So it's really nothing."

"Well, thank you anyways." Emerald said.

Tyrian looked across the way from himself to see that Hazel was still there, craning his neck as though that were necessary for him to do. Like he was desperate for a better look at their target. Watts was out of his view, but Tyrian was sure that he was watching just as closely, and he'd definitely caught on with the plan that had been put into action.

They waited, all silent and all doing their best to stay out of view.

Amber helped Cinder and Emerald both onto her horse, and then began to lead them out of the village, leaving Hazel, Tyrian, and Watts alone like they had been so many times before.

Once the others were far out of view, they met by their group's things.

"We have a new objective, gentlemen." Watts announced plainly as he bundled his things. He looked exhausted, and that was something that Tyrian felt the same way about. None of them had been able to do much in the way of sleeping the night before. "Since we are apparently going to be bandits now. I know that I can't play that role, but-" His eyes fell on Tyrian and a smile split his face. "I know that we have two men that can do so."

"No." Hazel grumbled. "I refuse to aid in this."

"You know your duty, Hazel." Watts said, taking a few steps in. "I doubt that Tyrian would refuse this, but you-" He grinned. "Is this bringing up bad memories for you, Hazel?"

Hazel shot back a glare that could have made a lesser man drop dead. He shouldered his bag and followed after the others once the coast was clear.

Watts nodded to Tyrian, and Tyrian gathered both his things and what was left of Cinder's so that they could continue on their path, once again just the three of them like things had been before.

Now, it felt like there was much more purpose to them travelling together.

#rwby #rwby fanfiction #tyrian callows #the bones of a god #oops my hand slipped #mantisbelle

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