Into the Woods
Title: Into the Woods
Characters/Pairing: Bonnie Bennett/Tyler Lockwood
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Rating: PG
Summary: Bonnie finds Tyler in the woods, strange things ensue. No spoilers just a scenario.
AN: I'm really not sure where this came from, I've sort of challenged myself to write every character from this show at least once, we'll see how that goes. I also have been thinking about Bonnie and Tyler getting together, if that's what the PTB plan is, and this just wrote itself. Maybe there'll be a sequel. Who knows. All mistakes are my own. The 'language' used is a bastardized, gibberish form of Yoruba ( a language I do not speak).
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Feedback: is actually better than Mason's six pack.
Into the Woods
She found him there, one morning, covered in blood.
She stopped short and stopped breathing, hesitant to move closer as she took him in.
She couldn’t be sure if it was his blood or someone else’s - but there he was.
It was late fall, the ground packed hard and cold, a sheer glaze of frost in the earliest part of day. She’d taken to coming out to the forest before the sun rose, long walks, letting chilled air score her lungs, the damp seep through her clothes, curling her hair. There was something about it, the near-dark; the last breaths before wakefulness. The undisturbed silence infused her with an almost preternatural energy; made her feel awake and alive.
Most humans assumed the so-called ‘witching hour’ was midnight, when the day was darkest; urban legends and folks stories built up the hype. But there was magic in this time too, the worlds gathering themselves for a new cycle, darkness shifting into light.
He was curled up fetally; lean, muscled arms wrapped around his knees, corded back tense, shivering. There were scratches running all along his shoulders and arms, down to his thighs and shins. Startlingly red blood (his own) had seeped through each fissure and frozen in the air, crusted over, and mixed with mud from the ground he was lying on. His hair was matted and his eyes were closed in sleep, or something like sleep. He wouldn’t stop twitching, unseen dreams passed beneath his eyelids, and his forehead creased in a frown. Dark, purplish shadows ringed his eyes. Perhaps he was having a nightmare.
She moved toward him, one foot in front of the other, cautious. He didn’t wake. She sank down closer, and whispered a simple heating charm, running her palms across the air above his skin. The tremors rippling through his body stilled but the tension in his face didn’t. He grimaced in what looked like pain, a sound forced its way past his lips, somewhere between a growl and a whimper.
She reached out instinctively to touch his forehead. Two fingers skated across the furrowed brow and she thought the words, Onísùúrùn sùnsimiai narákùnrin nàbúrò, sùnsimiai. (Be at peace, sleep, brother, sleep).
He quieted. The brackets of agitation around his mouth smoothed out, and he drew in a deep breath, chest expanding and contracting, a gentle lulling.
She sat down and waited.
---
He didn’t sleep long after her spell. One minute he was deep in slumber, and the next moment he’d twitched awake, looking around, at himself, surprised and --- frightened?
“Morning, Tyler,” she said quietly.
“What the - Bonnie?” He drew back from her, settling on his haunches, the tattered remains of his trousers stretching across his thighs. He swallowed nervously, self-consciously, eyes flitting back and forth. He seemed to search for something to say, to explain himself.
She simply looked at him curiously. A small part of her mused, she remembered waking just like this once, in a spot like this, over a year ago. She’d been similarly dazed and confused. She figured he’d need a minute. She stood up slowly and took a step back.
Watching her warily, he gulped. “H-how did I get here?”
She lifted one shoulder. “I have no idea. I was out walking, and I found you like this a few minutes ago. How are you feeling?”
He stiffened, almost like a furred animal rearing back in defense, and stood. He didn’t like this, didn’t like feeling like this - she could tell - it was like she’d caught him unawares, with his pants down. She snorted quietly, amused, she kind of had.
He folded his arms across his chest, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head, the swaggering front slipping back on. “What are you doing here?”
Bonnie wasn’t surprised. “I told you, I found you here.”
“At,” he glanced around, “What is it - 6AM in the morning?”
“I’m an early riser.” She said simply.
“Yeah, right,” he scoffed.
She huffed and tried to tamp down a flash of irritation. Tyler had always been annoying, cock-sure, overly-defensive, confrontational. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing lying in the dirt in the middle of the forest, covered in blood?” She’d never had much patience for his type.
Frowning, he took a step closer, head tilting back in that way he did, as if he was trying to make himself taller, fill the space, intimidate.
She tried not to roll her eyes.
“It’s none of your business, Bennett.”
She kissed her teeth and turned around casually, saying over her shoulder, “Hm, well, I’m sure the rest of the football team - why don’t we make it the school, or even the town, would just love to hear how I found the youngest Lockwood naked, bloody in the middle of the forest.”
She started to walk away and he was in front of her fast so she felt the whip and whisper of air against her cheek. Too fast.
“You can’t do that,” he said quietly, menacing.
“Oh, I definitely can.” She made to walk past him but he halted her with an arm across her chest. She glanced down at the limb, met his eyes, and briefly considered setting it on fire.
But that would give away her secret.
“Let go of me.” She said slowly, fists clenched.
He didn’t reply or move. She looked at him, ready to curse him out or scream or shout but the words stopped in her throat.
His eyes had a strange glow to them now, burnt amber, living flame. His head was inclined towards her but it was different, no longer threatening, it was almost like he was listening for something, something that she couldn’t hear. His fingers closed around the arm of her jacket and then he was moving closer to her.
Was he trying to --- kiss her?
She leaned away in disgust and whimpered, tried to move her arm; the coppery scent of blood and wet earth came with him and made her nose wrinkle. But he surprised her again by dipping his face into her hair, nowhere near her lips. He inhaled; she could hear him, feel the cage of his chest against her shoulder, long and deep.
A throaty growl rumbled through him, whispered along the nape of her neck and her breath caught. The grip on her arm softened, and his fingers flexed, stroked gently down to her elbow, warm through her jacket, caressing. He burrowed closer and she felt smooth lips along the curve of her ear and instinctively she tilted her head sideways, giving him room.
Oh, God, what the hell am I doing?
The question screamed through her mind but she still didn’t move. She couldn’t.
He made a garbled sound of satisfaction at her movement. And she suddenly felt shamed and angry, and weirdly, turned on. Ugh, by Tyler Lockwood, she wanted to kick herself, to jump back, to levitate him into the nearest stray tree branch --- but instead her eyes drifted shut and she bit her lip at the feel of that mouth, now against her cheek; the fingers drawing indistinct patterns on her forearm.
She’d acquiesced to something. To him. She didn’t know what it was but her whole body felt suffused with an odd lethargy, almost like she’d just performed a particularly draining spell, felt the rush of old magic, her limbs pleasantly heavy, her mind ripples and waves, barely capable of conscious thought.
And then she felt a wet lick against her earlobe, the nip of teeth. Her fingernails dug craters in her palms. But she still couldn’t move - what was going on?
A whisper, raspy, hot, possessive: “Mine.”
For some reason that single word jolted her where everything else hadn’t and she yanked herself back from him. Her brain took a little longer, and she shook her head to clear it. “Wh-what the - what is your - what was that?” she tried to speak. There were only a few times she could recall ever having felt this way, as if the thin thread she held over the Power within was fraying, out of control, overwhelmed.
She didn’t like it. At all.
He seemed to shake off a trance of his own, blinking rapidly, before his gaze zeroed in on her. His eyes were normal again though, dark brown, almost black, but no less intense.
She stepped back and held her hand out, more than prepared to use magic this time. “Don’t come any closer,” she said, firm despite the moment of weakness - or maybe madness was a better word for whatever that was.
Surprisingly, he halted, watching her still.
She let out a harried breath, and said, warningly, the air crackling with the force of what she was feeling, “Don’t ever touch me again.”
He inclined his head slowly.
Even that simple movement made her flinch, made something inside her tug, a finger of heat curl in the pit of her stomach. She shifted sideways, swaying almost, and then did something that would make her cringe in embarrassment later - she ran.
---
He watched her, moving quickly through the trees until she was farther than any human eye could see.
A good thing he wasn’t human.
He looked down at his body, smears of his own blood across pale skin; dark marks from the chains he’d wrapped around himself; livid red lines from the scratches he inflicted when he was going through the change. He’d heal soon enough.
He sniffed softly, her scent remained. Sweet, ripe, heady - a musk that was all hers and something else manufactured hovered in the air. He licked his lips as if to taste it, and closed his eyes. He would taste it, and her, eventually.
Although patience had never been his thing - so maybe sooner rather than later.
He wasn’t worried though. She wouldn’t tell anyone, for some reason he was sure of that. She’d felt something, he’d smelt it on her, heard her heart thudding insistently at her ribcage. She’d try to deny it, too.
He smirked and turned to head towards the mansion, and said, resolute, possessive, hungry: “Soon.”
Fin
Characters/Pairing: Bonnie Bennett/Tyler Lockwood
Fandom: The Vampire Diaries
Rating: PG
Summary: Bonnie finds Tyler in the woods, strange things ensue. No spoilers just a scenario.
AN: I'm really not sure where this came from, I've sort of challenged myself to write every character from this show at least once, we'll see how that goes. I also have been thinking about Bonnie and Tyler getting together, if that's what the PTB plan is, and this just wrote itself. Maybe there'll be a sequel. Who knows. All mistakes are my own. The 'language' used is a bastardized, gibberish form of Yoruba ( a language I do not speak).
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Feedback: is actually better than Mason's six pack.
Into the Woods
She found him there, one morning, covered in blood.
She stopped short and stopped breathing, hesitant to move closer as she took him in.
She couldn’t be sure if it was his blood or someone else’s - but there he was.
It was late fall, the ground packed hard and cold, a sheer glaze of frost in the earliest part of day. She’d taken to coming out to the forest before the sun rose, long walks, letting chilled air score her lungs, the damp seep through her clothes, curling her hair. There was something about it, the near-dark; the last breaths before wakefulness. The undisturbed silence infused her with an almost preternatural energy; made her feel awake and alive.
Most humans assumed the so-called ‘witching hour’ was midnight, when the day was darkest; urban legends and folks stories built up the hype. But there was magic in this time too, the worlds gathering themselves for a new cycle, darkness shifting into light.
He was curled up fetally; lean, muscled arms wrapped around his knees, corded back tense, shivering. There were scratches running all along his shoulders and arms, down to his thighs and shins. Startlingly red blood (his own) had seeped through each fissure and frozen in the air, crusted over, and mixed with mud from the ground he was lying on. His hair was matted and his eyes were closed in sleep, or something like sleep. He wouldn’t stop twitching, unseen dreams passed beneath his eyelids, and his forehead creased in a frown. Dark, purplish shadows ringed his eyes. Perhaps he was having a nightmare.
She moved toward him, one foot in front of the other, cautious. He didn’t wake. She sank down closer, and whispered a simple heating charm, running her palms across the air above his skin. The tremors rippling through his body stilled but the tension in his face didn’t. He grimaced in what looked like pain, a sound forced its way past his lips, somewhere between a growl and a whimper.
She reached out instinctively to touch his forehead. Two fingers skated across the furrowed brow and she thought the words, Onísùúrùn sùnsimiai narákùnrin nàbúrò, sùnsimiai. (Be at peace, sleep, brother, sleep).
He quieted. The brackets of agitation around his mouth smoothed out, and he drew in a deep breath, chest expanding and contracting, a gentle lulling.
She sat down and waited.
---
He didn’t sleep long after her spell. One minute he was deep in slumber, and the next moment he’d twitched awake, looking around, at himself, surprised and --- frightened?
“Morning, Tyler,” she said quietly.
“What the - Bonnie?” He drew back from her, settling on his haunches, the tattered remains of his trousers stretching across his thighs. He swallowed nervously, self-consciously, eyes flitting back and forth. He seemed to search for something to say, to explain himself.
She simply looked at him curiously. A small part of her mused, she remembered waking just like this once, in a spot like this, over a year ago. She’d been similarly dazed and confused. She figured he’d need a minute. She stood up slowly and took a step back.
Watching her warily, he gulped. “H-how did I get here?”
She lifted one shoulder. “I have no idea. I was out walking, and I found you like this a few minutes ago. How are you feeling?”
He stiffened, almost like a furred animal rearing back in defense, and stood. He didn’t like this, didn’t like feeling like this - she could tell - it was like she’d caught him unawares, with his pants down. She snorted quietly, amused, she kind of had.
He folded his arms across his chest, and she could almost see the wheels turning in his head, the swaggering front slipping back on. “What are you doing here?”
Bonnie wasn’t surprised. “I told you, I found you here.”
“At,” he glanced around, “What is it - 6AM in the morning?”
“I’m an early riser.” She said simply.
“Yeah, right,” he scoffed.
She huffed and tried to tamp down a flash of irritation. Tyler had always been annoying, cock-sure, overly-defensive, confrontational. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re doing lying in the dirt in the middle of the forest, covered in blood?” She’d never had much patience for his type.
Frowning, he took a step closer, head tilting back in that way he did, as if he was trying to make himself taller, fill the space, intimidate.
She tried not to roll her eyes.
“It’s none of your business, Bennett.”
She kissed her teeth and turned around casually, saying over her shoulder, “Hm, well, I’m sure the rest of the football team - why don’t we make it the school, or even the town, would just love to hear how I found the youngest Lockwood naked, bloody in the middle of the forest.”
She started to walk away and he was in front of her fast so she felt the whip and whisper of air against her cheek. Too fast.
“You can’t do that,” he said quietly, menacing.
“Oh, I definitely can.” She made to walk past him but he halted her with an arm across her chest. She glanced down at the limb, met his eyes, and briefly considered setting it on fire.
But that would give away her secret.
“Let go of me.” She said slowly, fists clenched.
He didn’t reply or move. She looked at him, ready to curse him out or scream or shout but the words stopped in her throat.
His eyes had a strange glow to them now, burnt amber, living flame. His head was inclined towards her but it was different, no longer threatening, it was almost like he was listening for something, something that she couldn’t hear. His fingers closed around the arm of her jacket and then he was moving closer to her.
Was he trying to --- kiss her?
She leaned away in disgust and whimpered, tried to move her arm; the coppery scent of blood and wet earth came with him and made her nose wrinkle. But he surprised her again by dipping his face into her hair, nowhere near her lips. He inhaled; she could hear him, feel the cage of his chest against her shoulder, long and deep.
A throaty growl rumbled through him, whispered along the nape of her neck and her breath caught. The grip on her arm softened, and his fingers flexed, stroked gently down to her elbow, warm through her jacket, caressing. He burrowed closer and she felt smooth lips along the curve of her ear and instinctively she tilted her head sideways, giving him room.
Oh, God, what the hell am I doing?
The question screamed through her mind but she still didn’t move. She couldn’t.
He made a garbled sound of satisfaction at her movement. And she suddenly felt shamed and angry, and weirdly, turned on. Ugh, by Tyler Lockwood, she wanted to kick herself, to jump back, to levitate him into the nearest stray tree branch --- but instead her eyes drifted shut and she bit her lip at the feel of that mouth, now against her cheek; the fingers drawing indistinct patterns on her forearm.
She’d acquiesced to something. To him. She didn’t know what it was but her whole body felt suffused with an odd lethargy, almost like she’d just performed a particularly draining spell, felt the rush of old magic, her limbs pleasantly heavy, her mind ripples and waves, barely capable of conscious thought.
And then she felt a wet lick against her earlobe, the nip of teeth. Her fingernails dug craters in her palms. But she still couldn’t move - what was going on?
A whisper, raspy, hot, possessive: “Mine.”
For some reason that single word jolted her where everything else hadn’t and she yanked herself back from him. Her brain took a little longer, and she shook her head to clear it. “Wh-what the - what is your - what was that?” she tried to speak. There were only a few times she could recall ever having felt this way, as if the thin thread she held over the Power within was fraying, out of control, overwhelmed.
She didn’t like it. At all.
He seemed to shake off a trance of his own, blinking rapidly, before his gaze zeroed in on her. His eyes were normal again though, dark brown, almost black, but no less intense.
She stepped back and held her hand out, more than prepared to use magic this time. “Don’t come any closer,” she said, firm despite the moment of weakness - or maybe madness was a better word for whatever that was.
Surprisingly, he halted, watching her still.
She let out a harried breath, and said, warningly, the air crackling with the force of what she was feeling, “Don’t ever touch me again.”
He inclined his head slowly.
Even that simple movement made her flinch, made something inside her tug, a finger of heat curl in the pit of her stomach. She shifted sideways, swaying almost, and then did something that would make her cringe in embarrassment later - she ran.
---
He watched her, moving quickly through the trees until she was farther than any human eye could see.
A good thing he wasn’t human.
He looked down at his body, smears of his own blood across pale skin; dark marks from the chains he’d wrapped around himself; livid red lines from the scratches he inflicted when he was going through the change. He’d heal soon enough.
He sniffed softly, her scent remained. Sweet, ripe, heady - a musk that was all hers and something else manufactured hovered in the air. He licked his lips as if to taste it, and closed his eyes. He would taste it, and her, eventually.
Although patience had never been his thing - so maybe sooner rather than later.
He wasn’t worried though. She wouldn’t tell anyone, for some reason he was sure of that. She’d felt something, he’d smelt it on her, heard her heart thudding insistently at her ribcage. She’d try to deny it, too.
He smirked and turned to head towards the mansion, and said, resolute, possessive, hungry: “Soon.”
Fin