#I’m so glad to have him in the living room now his tub is infinitely more accessible

[athena-thumbellina]

The 2 day room move, deep clean, and redecoration of Beebo’s tub is complete !

[stardewtales]

Your shane x reader are some of the first I read when i got into sdv, and they still hold a li special place in my heart <3 I love the way you wrote shane, jas, and the farmer (you kept the farmer rather neutral, but you still gave her moments of personality, rlly great stuff!), anyway, I'd love any shane related stuff you would do, but if your looking for a request, the reader teaching him abt farming/gardening (planting hot peppers together eee) i think would be rlly cute-ok bye lysm!!!

A/N: hey lovely!! If you're still around, thank you so much for this. I'm sorry it's taken so long for me to get to your request, but here it is! Hope it lives up to your expectations xx

Shane can feel you hovering behind him.

"What is it," he groans, not bothering to turn around.

"Sorry," he hears you say. "Just, be careful with the roots, please? I don't want all your work to be for nothing."

Well, he can't exactly fault you for that. If anything, he's ashamed because he was distracted while you showed him the whole thing about the roots.

He turns to look at you. "Would you, uh... mind showing me again?"

His stomach twists as you smile at him, thoroughly amused. "Sure thing. Here, let me get in there..."

You kneel beside him, knees firmly planted in the dirt beside his. You proceed to show him how to dig around the roots instead of into them for a second time that afternoon. For a second time, he finds it hard to focus with you so close, but he fights that a little harder this time.

"Here," you hand him back the trowel, "give it another shot."

He can't miss the way the look you give him is so damn encouraging. You've given him plenty of variations on that look by now, with various degrees of concern thrown into the mix. He proceeds to try digging up the pepper plant again, the sun boring down on the back of his neck as he does it.

"Am I getting it right, now?" he asks, glancing up at you quickly.

"Couldn't do it better myself," you nod exaggeratedly, and he fakes throwing dirt at you in retaliation.

It gets a laugh out of you, clear and joyful. It stirs something inside him, the feeling that's been nagging at him sort of often these days. It hits him like a ton of bricks in that moment that this is the feeling he used to chase all the way down the bottles, the sort of rush he used to think would make up for everything else.

He must've made a face when he realized it, because your brows furrow in concern.

"Are you o-" you start, but you're cut off short by a girlish squeal further down the field.

Him and you both shoot up, surveying the surroundings.

"Jas?" you half-shout, concerned.

"I think I need some help," her voice pipes up sheepishly, and the two of you finally spot her, fallen on her butt among the sunflowers.

You huff, relieved, and tell him you've got it with a brief touch on his arm before you leave in Jas's direction. Now that he knows she's not hurt, he can go back to making sense of his thoughts, yet he barely registers the lingering feeling of your fingers on his forearm.

He kneels and gets back to work, distraught. His first instinct is to worry. The therapist Harvey connected him with cautioned him pretty early on about the way some addicts replaced one addiction with another, and that all good things should perhaps be enjoyed in moderation while he was on the road to recovery.

You're the best thing in his life by far, but he failed to keep you at arm's length a long time ago now. He's not dense enough to be unaware that he's developed some pretty strong feelings for you. But this particular feeling is new-ish, and he doesn't quite know what to make of it. As his fingers dig up the pepper plant out of the ground and he gently removes chunks of dirt from the roots, Shane hopes really hard this doesn't mean he's allowed himself to veer all the way of the right path he's been trying so hard to stick to.

He hates to think about it, but maybe he needs to cool off on seeing you so often so he can at least get a grip. He can't even recall the last time he went a day without seeing you. Sometime in the spring, probably? It's the very end of summer now.

After he's transferred the plant to the wheelbarrow, Shane stands up and looks around. You're still helping Jas uproot some sunflowers, even though her initial job was just to collect the stray seeds. Officially, he and her were there to help you wrap up the summer crops so you could transfer some to your greenhouse. In reality, he was helping you; Jas was causing more trouble than she was helping, but you didn't seem to mind at all, more than happy to show her over and over how to handle things properly.

He didn't know how you did it. It's like you had an endless well of patience, and he knew he ought to have reached the pit of it by now. And yet, he had not. There were depths to your kindness that reached far enough that even after dealing with him through his recovery, you still had plenty left for Jas in all her fumblings and ill-advised adventures.

For the rest of the afternoon Shane managed to clear his mind and just keep working somewhat efficiently. Marnie came around just before dinnertime to get Jas, who was too exhausted from running around by then to protest. Marnie had also let him know she'd save him a portion of dinner for when he came home, but to take his time, which he'd made sure to thank her for.

It wasn't long until Jas left before you and him moved on to replanting the uprooted plants into the greenhouse. He liked that part more than the digging up; liked the hazy warmth of the greenhouse more than the blaring heat of the field. The two of you worked mostly in silence, both exhausted, him perhaps more than you.

After you planted the last of yours and he was halfway through his own last plant, he heard you clap your hands together to shake the dirt off your gloves, before you fully shrieked.

"What's wrong?" he quickly turned towards you.

"Your neck!" you replied, walking over to him. "Did you not put on sunscreen like I told you to?"

Shane instinctively reaches for the back of his neck, and while the sunburn doesn't hurt yet, he can feel the tell-tale heat coming off of it.

"Ah, shit. Think I missed a spot."

You tut at him, shooing his hand off so you can take a better look.

"You big idiot," you chastise him affectionately. "You're lucky I have an infinite amount of aloe in the house from last summer."

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

As Shane steps out of the shower and into your steam-filled bathroom, he can already tell he'll be sore from all this work. He doesn't know how you do this every day. He tries to get a look at himself in the mirror, but it's too fogged up. Probably better that way, he thinks.

He's used your shower plenty of times before, and he's glad that at the very least it doesn't feel as awkward as it used to. While he was still in the pits of getting sober, you'd graciously let him stay over on your couch so Jas didn't have to see him struggle when it got too hard. He still doesn't know why you did that, or how to repay you for it.

After putting on his clothes, he steps out into your living room, where you're waiting for him with a huge tub of the goo you intend to smear on his sunburn. You've showered too, and made him do it after you because otherwise you claimed he'd just wash off the aloe later, which was probably right.

"C'mere," you beckon him over to sit on the arm of your couch.

He chuckles. It's funny to him, how bossy you get when you're trying to take care of him. Nevertheless, he does as he's told and dutifully sits down like you instruct him. And waits.

Nothing happens.

"You okay back there?" he asks, looking over his shoulder.

You raise a brow. "Aren't you gonna take off your shirt? How am I supposed to get this on you otherwise?"

He feels a bubble of panic rush up. He's in better shape than he used to be, but he's still not much to look at, and he doesn't like the idea of you finding that out like this. "Is that really necessary?"

You sigh, and he knows there will be no convincing you. He feels the tips of his ears burn as he lifts his shirt over his head, dropping it at his feet and taking precious care not to look back at you. "Happy?" he mumbles.

"Hmhm," you hum quietly behind him.

You bring your aloe-coated fingers to his burning skin, and instantly he feels consumed by ice-cold flames. He was not prepared for you to touch him quite so gently, to work the gel into his skin in tiny, careful circles. His throat runs dry as he's reminded of his earlier conclusion that he needs to take some time away from you, for both of your sakes. If the way his body is reacting to this isn't proof, he doesn't know what would be.

You let him know you're done, and he promptly puts his shirt back on. He wishes he hadn't when the stickiness gets a hold of the collar.

"So, just a heads up," you start, screwing the jar of aloe vera shut, "I'm gonna be really busy tomorrow I think. So maybe hanging out in the evening when I'm done would be better?"

He's taken aback by the way this is coming up faster than he anticipated. Still, No time like the present I guess, he thinks to himself.

"About that," he clears his throat, "I think it might be better if I spend some alone time for a while."

He watches you still. You look up at him slowly, visibly confused. "Have I done something wrong?" you ask, and it kills him. "I'm sorry if I have, I know I can be a little overbearing sometimes," you start to ramble, but he cuts you off.

"No, no, none of that," he tries to reassure you. "It's just, uh, how do I say this," he scratches at his head, genuinely at a loss. "Remember how I told you my therapist said I should, like, maybe be careful about things I enjoy a lot? And about... strong emotions?"

You nod, but he can tell from your slight frown you're still confused.

"Well, it's kinda like that. I feel really good when I'm with you. Maybe a little too good. Strong stuff. But I don't wanna depend on you to feel... good. I wanna keep this healthy, yeah?"

You ponder his words, and he can tell he hasn't really gotten his point across. "I mean, I think I get where you're coming from, maybe? But Shane, I think it's okay for you to have a support system. Is it really so bad if being with a friend makes you feel good? I think that's how most people feel."

He shakes his head, huffing. "No, it's not like that."

"Then what is it like?"

His eyes meet yours, and he feels weak. "Please don't make me say it," he whispers.

"Shane," you reach out to touch his shoulder, "You're worrying me."

He swallows. Before he knows it, it tumbles out of him. "I have feelings for you. I have for a while. And lately it's gotten a little out of control. So I need some time away from you to get over it, okay? I don't want things to be weird. I need you too much to have things be weird. So I need to figure it out before it gets there."

You stare at him, and he sees so many emotions run across your face that he gets dizzy.

"You... what?" you say quietly after a while.

He feels heat rise from his chest all the way to his ears, like some twisted type of nausea. "Forget it, alright? That's not the point I'm trying to make. I just..." he breathes, "I'll see you in a few days, yeah?"

He doesn't wait for a response. He goes for the door right away, in a real hurry to leave this place where everything is so blatantly yours, down to the smell of your lotion lingering in the air from your bare legs.

But you don't let him leave. He feels your hand on his arm, a real grip this time, and the next thing he knows you're reaching for his neck and bringing his mouth to meet yours. Shane thinks he's forgotten how to make his blood run, how to make his lungs breathe, how to make his limbs move. You're pressing your lips on his with a fervor he didn't even know you had in you. Then, with an instinct of its own, his body kicks back into gear, and he feels himself wrapping his arms around you, bringing you closer yet as he pours all the energy he has left into kissing you back.

It's desperation that compels him, because he never imagined this would ever happen outside of his mind, outside of his daydreams. He's not even convinced he'll ever get to do it again, so he's making this one count.

He genuinely has no idea how much time has passed when you break away from him, panting. You're not saying anything, just searching his eyes with yours.

"Please say something," he eventually breathes.

He watches as you swallow, then exhale loudly. "I don't want to see you in a few days only. I wanna see you now and in the middle of the night and every moment of every day. I don't want you to go and get over me, because I don't think I'll be able to get over you if you do, Shane. So don't leave me. Stay. Please."

Your words fluster him a great deal more than he already is. "Okay," he nods, in a half-daze.

"Yeah?" you make sure, still catching your breath.

"Yeah," he confirms. "Anything for you. Of course."

[archonanqi]

fragile as dust / 6

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---

6. to dream

    When you woke up the next morning, the sky was still dark through the curtains. You’d slept well again, although it was soured once more by the rising panic in your throat as you woke up. Reluctantly clambering from under the warm covers, you tiptoed to the door, cracking it open a little and peering outside. 

    Zhongli was not in the living room. You couldn’t tell if the resulting rush of emotions were from relief or disappointment. Was he still asleep? It was hard to imagine him sleeping — hard to imagine him ever vulnerable. You emerged from the room and noticed a note pinned to the door.

    In the most elegant scrawl that you’d seen in your life, it read:

    “I am on my morning walk. I have left you a spare robe and towels under the sink, should you decide to take a bath. I will return as quickly as possible.”

    At the bottom, inked in a scarlet name seal, was his name, and the characters “Wangsheng” — rebirth, whatever that entailed. Somehow, you weren’t even a little surprised that he had a fancy name seal stamp and used it to sign off memo notes with. 

    You scurried to the bathroom, taking longer than you would have liked to admit to figure out how to turn on the water — even his tap was vastly fancier than the one behind Wenqi Souvenirs that you tended to use sometimes. The water warmed almost immediately against the palm of your hand, filling the bathroom with hot steam. While letting the tub fill, you wandered over to the sink and opened the cupboard under it. As Zhongli’s note promised, there was a pristine white towel, and a neatly folded-up black robe. 

    Shaking it out, you marveled at how beautiful it was — it was clearly intended for a much taller man, yet it seemed like it might fit you. A golden trim ran down the edges of the black fabric, and the cloth itself seemed to glow under the dim light. Most strikingly, the material was astounding — it was the softest thing you’d ever touched. You buried your face into it, and oh—

    It smelled heavenly, of faint flora, warm spice and the soil after a light spring shower. 

    It smelled like Zhongli. 

    Before realizing it, you’d taken a deep breath with your nose pressed against the fabric. And another, and another. You didn’t understand it, but even though you had never known any of these things, the scent reminded you of stability, concord, and peace. 

    The sound of running water brought you back out of your reverie. The tub was close to overflowing, and you rushed to go turn off the tap, the robe now forgotten over the sink. 

    You peeled off the dress that was beginning to feel like an extension of your skin, and lowered your body into the water. The hot water made your skin prickle, but it seemed to drag the fatigue, exhaustion and anxiety right out of your marrow. 

    If Zhongli permitted it, you decided, you were going to have a bath every day. 

    As the heat soothed you in places that you didn’t even know had muscle, you glanced down at your body. The dirt and grime had come off into the swirling water, revealing yellow-purple bruises. You’d always known you were unsightly, a skinny bag of skin and bones and grime, but next to Zhongli—

    You hadn’t stopped thinking about what he’d said last night. Letting the water reach the top of your lips as you sank down, you wondered to yourself if you could believe him. Could you begin to believe that Zhongli had no intentions of hurting you, using you? You wanted to, certainly, but…

    “Hansi?” You froze at the sound of Zhongli calling your name from outside the door. Quickly, all of your prior thoughts forgotten, you leapt out of the tub, wincing as you sloshed water everywhere. 

    “I’m here!” you yelled back, haphazardly wrapping the towel around your hair, slipping into the fancy robe and running for the door. You stumbled into the hallway and immediately bumped into Zhongli — literally, although for a moment it felt like a brick wall you’d just bounced off of. You knew at once that under those three layers of clothing, he was nothing but muscle.

    Before you could land on your bottom and ruin his impression of you even more, Zhongli reached out and caught your shoulders, holding your body upright. His hands were rough and strong, but his grip against your skin was gentle, as always. Briefly, you wondered why his hands were so weathered — surely a nobleman like him has never had to work a day in his life.

    “Thank you for the robe,”, you scrambled to break the heavy silence, neglecting to mention just how many whiffs of it (of him) you had taken in the past hour alone. You felt your cheeks flush at the very thought. “It’s very comfortable.”

    Tilting his head, Zhongli considered you for a moment. “I’m glad to hear it,” he said, “I presume that you found my note, then?”

    Looking up into his golden eyes, you nodded too quickly. “Yes, Mr. Zhongli. You have excellent penmanship—“ you trailed off, realizing too late the hole that you had dug yourself and fell headfirst into. Shit.

    Zhongli raised a brow, staring at you — through you. “So it seems that, contrary to your assertion yesterday,” he observed, “you can read, after all.” 

    A dozen possible excuses ran through your head, but his gaze demanded the truth. This was a reminder, you told yourself, a much-needed reminder that he was not your friend, that any familiarity or comfort you’d found in him was strictly your imagination — that he had played you like a gu’zheng and now that he had caught you in a lie— 

    “I— I’m sorry. I-I was— I was afraid—“ you began to stammer, but he raised his hand to stop you.

    “It is my hope, of course, that there are no lies between us,” Zhongli said, his gaze peering into the deepest recesses of your soul. For a chilling moment, you were sure that he knew about the Geo Vision pulsing away at the bottom of your bedside table. 

    There’s logically no way he could know, you told yourself to calm your frayed nerves. He hadn’t even entered your room since you’d arrived. No way he knows.

    “However, given the circumstances, I know that that’s not always possible.” Zhongli continued, glancing at his upturned palm, then back at you. “You can tell me the story behind your ability to read, and your reason for hiding it from me, when you decide you are ready.”

    “Oh,” you exhaled softly. Surprisingly (thankfully), your brain had ceased its habit of stumbling over ‘what?’s each time Zhongli bewildered you with his tolerance. “I— I am truly sorry for lying to you, Mr. Zhongli.”

    If you got a single Mora for every second Zhongli stared at you so intently that it felt like he was dredging out every thought, word, and secret from your head, you’d be able to afford a house of your own by now.

    “I can understand,” he finally said, an unreadable look on his face, “that certain situations sometimes leave us with no choice but the untruth. Now, are you feeling well enough for a trip to the harbor? As lovely as you look in my old robe, Hansi, we really must get you some of your own clothes.”

---

    On the way to the harbor, all you could think of was how he had called you lovely.

---

    If you hadn’t already been convinced that Zhongli was absolutely loaded, watching him shop would have sealed that deal. 

    “I’ll take it,” he said, for the third time that morning. You bowed your head to hide a grimace. Always haggle the price down to at least half of what was initially given when shopping in Liyue — even you knew that. 

    “Come now boss, surely someone as distinguished as you can tell that this vase is an authentic relic from the ancient civilization of Guili—“ The shopkeeper blinked. “Wait, you’ll take it?”

    “Yes.”

    “For forty thousand Mora?” Even the shopkeeper looked bewildered, eyes comically wide. You wondered for a brief moment if you should stop Zhongli from the most blatant scam you’d ever seen. Quickly, you shook yourself free of those stupid thoughts; who were you to tell him what to do with his seemingly infinite supply of wealth?

    “That was the agreed upon price, was it not?” Zhongli said, picking up the vase with a practiced gloved hand. “Invoice it to Wangsheng funeral parlor, please.” 

    There it was again, Wangsheng. That’s where you knew it from. The funeral parlor passed down to the generational head of the wealthy Hu family. You wondered what connections Zhongli had with one of the most powerful families of Liyue. Even having lived with him for three days, he had stayed as much a mystery as the moment you laid eyes on him in that teahouse. 

    As Zhongli spoke to the merchant — no doubt being conned into buying a second vase at twice the price now that the merchant knew of his financial status — you glanced around the store. It seemed to have a little of everything, even dusty weapons on a rack in the back corner. It reminded you that although you’d been kept safe so far, the peace would not last. Not for someone like you. 

    Something glittering on one of the racks caught your eye. It was a necklace, its silver chain appended with a beautiful blue charm, catching the sunbeams in an iridescent bloom. You glanced at Zhongli — oh Archons, was that a third vase he was looking at? — before inching a little closer to look at the necklace. It wasn’t just a charm, you realized — the blue gemstone had been shaped into an intricate blossom. The handiwork it must have taken to carve something so detailed, so gorgeous—

    “What a beautiful necklace,” Zhongli mused from behind you, making you jump. You didn’t think you’d ever get used to how surprisingly silently a man as tall as him could move. “Noctilucuous Jade of this clarity must have been incredibly difficult to find.”

    “Like the ones from the Mingyun Mines,” you recalled from his lecture the previous day. 

    “Exactly. Very good,” Zhongli nodded, his voice unmistakably pleased. Your pride soared at his simple praise. “Do you want this necklace, Hansi?”

    You blinked. “I’m sorry?” 

    “I noticed you looking at it. Would you like me to buy it for you?”

    “Oh,” you stammered, “I couldn’t possibly— someone like me—“ 

    “Please,” Zhongli raised a hand, “let there be only truth between us today.” 

    You did want it, so badly that it ached. A year ago, you wouldn’t have been let anywhere near the door of a shop carrying such expensive and fancy wares. You wouldn’t have dared to steal something this precious, wouldn’t have been able to sell it to the shady folk who fenced your stolen goods. A year ago, you wouldn’t have even dreamed of ever owning something so beautiful. Certainly wouldn’t have dreamed of accepting such an expensive gift from a stranger, not when you knew the price there would be to pay.

Yet in Zhongli’s eyes (they were the exact shade of mora, you noticed absently), there was nothing but earnestness.

    “I do,” you breathed. 

    It was dangerous that you had begun to let yourself dream. 

    “Excuse me. I’ll take this as well,” Without a second thought, Zhongli beckoned to the shop’s owner.

    “What a good eye you have, boss,“ you could see the gears grinding in the man’s head. “That’s uh... a necklace made from the finest Noctilucuous Jade in the nations. Carved in the image of… of a silk flower, the symbol of luxury. It would make a suitable gift for your partner.” 

    You felt your eyes go wide, but Zhongli barely blinked. “You are correct about the quality of the jade, but this is a glaze lily.”

    “I beg your pardon, boss?”

    Touching the necklace lightly, Zhongli turned his gaze to the shopkeeper, and you delighted in watching him squirm — good to know that it wasn’t just you affected by that heavy stare. “This necklace was carved in the image of not a silk flower, but a glaze lily. How much?”

    After a good bit of stammering to try and save face, the shop owner rattled off a price too high for you to even comprehend. Even if you had pooled all the Mora you had ever scrounged together in your life, you wouldn’t have been able to afford it — not in seven lifetimes. But you were reeling over something else. 

    Partner? And Zhongli hadn’t even taken offense to being compared to someone like you, someone who didn’t have a Mora to her name, didn’t even own the clothes on her back. 

    “No need to wrap it,” Zhongli said, and you realized that he had already bought it. Bought it for you. He gestured towards the necklace, still hanging there — but now yours, yours. “I trust that you would like to wear it now?”

    He was talking to you, waiting for your answer. Throat dry and words failing you, you just nodded quickly. You fumbled with its clasp, carefully at first, then desperately. Your nails, bitten to the quick and ragged from digging, were useless in your endeavors. Amidst your futile efforts, you heard the shopkeeper hurry away to help another customer. 

    After what seemed like years, Zhongli offered you an open palm. “Allow me.”

    “Oh,” you whispered, face burning as you handed the jewelry to him. “Yes. Please.” 

    He took it, deftly clicking it open. “May I?” It took you a moment to understand what he was asking. Without barely a thought, you inched closer, baring your neck to him so that he could put it on for you. 

    Zhongli leaned in — close enough to touch, close enough to kiss — and his fingers brushed the back of your neck. It was all you could do to not shiver. You could smell him, that warm scent promising that you might one day know what peace felt like. 

    The seconds dragged on — one, two, three — before he finally pulled away, leaving the necklace cool against the flush of your skin. You let out a breath you didn’t notice you were holding.

    “There,” Zhongli said, a faint smile on his lips. “Lovely.”

---

    By noon, it looked like even Zhongli might start buckling under the weight of all the items he had bought. 

    You’d come away with clothes for occasions you could not even begin to fathom: four bathrobes — silk from the Cuijie mountains —  shoes, house slippers, boots — premium leather from the grasslands of Fontaine — every day clothes, formal clothes, round-collar gowns, court robes — what the fuck are court robes? — and cloth trousers, among other things.

    With every purchase, you expected (anticipated?) the same degree of intimacy of when he put the necklace on you, but each time you were relieved (disappointed?) when he did not. Quickly, the rest of the morning became a routine mantra of: “Is this to your liking?” and “Mr Zhongli, it’s beautiful, but I know nothing of clothing, if you think it to be fitting—“ and “I’ll take it”s. 

    It was only when your stomach let out a mournful rumble that you realized how high in the sky the sun had climbed. You prayed that Zhongli did not hear, but of course, your luck had to run out sometime. 

    “My, look at the time,” he said, and you could tell he was trying to hide a smile. “Let’s have an early lunch, shall we? It would be remiss of me to bring you to Liyue Harbor without stopping at the best restaurant in the city.”

    “Yes, Mr. Zhongli.”

    As you walked, you braced yourself for what sort of restaurant could garner such high praise from an individual like Zhongli. You wished that you had put on one of the fancier clothes that Zhongli had bought you after all, before coming to a stop in front of a small eatery. Despite its position on the main commerce street, it looked wholly unremarkable, with its peeling paint, faded wooden countertop and old tables. 

    Zhongli seated himself at one of them, and beckoned for you to join him. As you hurried to comply, you saw the girl manning the window wave excitedly and hurry over. She was young, dark hair pulled into two buns. At her waist hung a small stuffed bear and bells that jingled with her every animated gesture. “Mr. Zhongli!” She called, balancing two teacups and a teapot on a tray above her head precariously. “Welcome back! Did you manage to take care of your urgent business from the other day?” 

    “Yes, it went well,” Zhongli answered, and you were surprised to hear a soft fondness in his voice. “Is your father not in today, Xiangling?”

    “Nossir, he’s gathering herbs in Qingce Village!” The girl named Xiangling frowned, “you know, he doesn’t know when to stop. I worry about him sometimes. His knee’s been acting up again.”

    “I see. I’ll be sure to bring some caoyào bandages from Bubu Pharmacy by sometime this week.” Zhongli promised with dignified resolve. “They work wonders on the bones—“

    Next to your table, two young men seemed to be having a heated discussion. One of them, with hair the pale blue of a summer sky, gestured furiously at his dish, while the other one — his dark blue hair a stark contrast to the first boy’s — clutched his side and laughed. 

    You wondered idly what it would be like to have friends like that. You wouldn’t know what to say, even if the two boys had approached you at that moment. There was no place for friendship in the ratway alleys of Liyue, and the few times you had tried to initiate one had ended poorly at best, violently at worst. 

    “Hello? Earth to pretty lady!” Xiangling waved a hand in front of your face, jolting you out of your reverie. “Do you know what you want to order?”

    You glanced at Zhongli for help, then had to look away when that overwhelming golden gaze met yours solidly as always. “Do you have any recommendations, Mr. Zhongli?” You asked — if the past day had taught you anything, it was that he always did.

    “Certainly,” he began, taking a deep breath — the only hint of the reckoning to come , “there’s the Black-Back Perch Stew. It’s Monday, which means that the restaurant has just purchased fresh shipment of seafood from the docks, making this a fine choice above all the other items on the menu. However, it’s also worth noting that the Adeptus’ Temptation also contains seafood, in fact, crabs, which are caught on the shores of Guyun and...“ 

    After the eighth dish, he paused to take a breath, and you took the opportunity to carefully tell him that you had caught maybe half of that, and regardless, you had no clue which to choose, still. 

    “We’ll have all of them,” Zhongli decided with an air of finality. Somehow, you had expected that. Xiangling nodded knowingly, as though this was a common occurrence.

    “Should I put this one on the Wangsheng Parlor’s tab, again, Mr. Zhongli?”

    “No,” Zhongli said, and you were surprised to see a small, wry smile on his face. “Please put this one on the tab of Tartaglia of the Fatui.”

    “Of the Fatui?” Xiangling’s lips, curved into an “o”, expressed the same shock you felt. The elite military force of Snezhnaya — that Fatui? To what extent did Zhongli’s connections run? 

    “Yes. Please collect the payment at the Northland Bank — just mention my name, and that it was for a meal. We have an… open-ended contract of sorts.” 

    “Alrighty!” Xiangling had already bounced back from her surprise, and you wondered where in that tiny frame she was storing that boundless energy. “I’ll have your orders coming right up!” 

---

    The silence that followed Xiangling’s departure dragged on for a few painful seconds. You studied the tea leaves in your cup intently, feeling Zhongli’s gaze rending you through. 

    “Now then,” he started, bringing his teacup slowly to his lips, “have you had a good day today, Hansi?”

    “Yes, si—“ You stopped yourself. “Yes, Mr. Zhongli.” Another silence followed, one that you desperately needed to fill. “I cannot thank you enough for your generosity in buying me so many things. I will work hard to ensure I can begin to deserve them.”

    Zhongli placed the cup back down with an audible clack. “Nonsense. You already do.” You were startled at the hard edge of his voice, but it quickly reverted to its normal tranquility. “Besides, I haven’t spent a single Mora of my own today. You have the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor to thank for your bounty.”

    That reminded you to ask. “May I ask, what is Mr. Zhongli’s connection with the famed Wangsheng Parlor?”

    “Why, I work for them. As a consultant,” Zhongli said. 

    Oh. Of all the jobs your imagination had appended upon him since your meeting — assassin, mafia boss, black market dealer, eldest son and heir to a long lost clan of wealth and nobility, to name a few — this was somehow the most surprising. 

    “As a funeral consultant, Mr. Zhongli?” Surely this was just a side job for him, a hobby? But what a morbid one it was!

    “Not quite. Although I do offer the odd advice on mortal— er, on normal funerals when it’s needed of me.” Zhongli took a long sip of tea, as though carefully considering his next words.  “I specialize in the traditional arts of the Rite of Parting. The sending-off of the divine.”

    “Like, Archons?” You whispered. 

    “Like the Adepti,” he corrected gently. “Although in Liyue’s case, yes, Archon and Adepti were one and the same.”

    Was he talking about Rex Lapis? You shuddered at the thought of Rex Lapis ever needing a funeral. All those books you’d read about him, tales of his valiant stands and brutal fights. Surely nothing in the mortal realm today could even touch him. 

    “How do you know how to carry out the Adepti’s Rites, Mr. Zhongli?” You wondered aloud. Silly — the man literally had a library in the upper floor of his home; of course there would be a ritual book or two in his possession. Yet his answer took long to come, and surprised you. 

    “I have a good memory,” he said, with a small smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Though I did have to get a little help with the most recent Rite of Parting. It’s been a long time since there’s been the need for a ritual so grand.” 

    Recent? Had an adepti died recently? The only news you’d managed to hear in the past few months had come from the lips of drunken guards, and not even half of it had been coherent. You opened your mouth to ask, but was shut up quickly by the most mouth-watering scent you’d ever been graced with in your life.

    “It looks like our food is here,” Zhongli gestured to Xiangling, who was running at full speed towards your table, this time with two steaming trays balanced on her head. “I certainly hope you’ve got an appetite today as well.” 

---

    You were proud to be able to say that you ate at a human-esque pace this time, stopping at the first hint of fullness. You would not have a repeat of the embarrassment of last night. 

    “This is sho good,” you finally said, between your last few bites. “Thank you for bringing me here.”

    “Xiangling’s cooking never disappoints,” Zhongli agreed. “Shall we head home, now?”

    “What, before spending Wangsheng Funeral Parlor into bankruptcy?” you teased carefully, and you were pleased to earn a hearty chuckle from Zhongli. 

---

    Lying in bed that night, you admitted the answer to your question from that morning — you did believe Zhongli. You were beginning to let yourself grow complacent, to trust, to hope — you would be lying to yourself if you said otherwise.

    You’d also be lying to yourself if you didn’t acknowledge how stupid, how hideously dangerous that sort of thinking was for someone like you. While you were no longer as sure as you were that Zhongli was trying to take advantage of you, you were far from out of the lion’s den. What would Zhongli do if he found out about the Geo Vision in your drawers? When he figured out you had been lying to him, that Rex Lapis had granted you the same powers as he did him? When he figured out what you were planning to use your Vision to do?

    If Zhongli turned out to be like the others… You could scarcely even bear the thought. 

    Gripped with a sudden, ugly rage, you pushed back the covers and quietly crept to the bedside drawer. Under the scrolls and paintings, your Vision pulsed its soft golden glow. You brushed gently against the gem, feeling your fingertips tingle with the power of the Archons, of the power of Rex Lapis. Against your skin, your new necklace felt hot. For the first time since you were born, you felt strong.

    霸王. Bawang. 

    That’s all you knew of the name of the organization that had dragged you through hell — a passing remark from a drunken guard. That’s all you needed to know to find them again. The surge of calm, then of power, that you felt through your veins scared you a little. What was the extent of your Vision’s abilities? Best not to find out in the middle of your bedroom. 

    Reluctantly, you put the Vision back into the drawer, watching it glow proudly against the dark. You shut the drawer tight. shutting it tight. 

    You hadn’t forgotten. You’d never forget, for as long as you lived, the faces of every man who banged on the bars of your cell just to watch you jump. You hadn’t been brave or strong enough to fight back, then. But you would be. You would be. And the second you were, you’d go back and kill them all, every single one. Raze it all to the ground. 

    If Zhongli got in your way, you told yourself, you would not hesitate.

[deepdisireslonging]

Lie to Me

The Reader is a travel companion of the Witcher, Geralt, and occasionally Jaskier. Over time, her relationship with Geralt grows stronger. But the life they lead is dangerous, physically and emotionally. 

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x Reader 

Warnings/Promises: Fluff, Smut, Angst, canon injuries, canon monsters (drabbles after the monsters are dead), canon amounts of blood, drinking/alcohol, character death

Word Count: 453 + 596 + 471 = 1520

Note: I wrote this for @lancsnerd​ for their #lancsnerd1kchallenge. As it is a writing challenge, I took my prompt and wrote not one, not two, but three drabble-ish fics based on the prompt: “Lie to Me.” They are in order, kind of like how the Netflix show bounced around in time while staying chronological by character. Geralt is a new character for me, so we’ll see how this goes. All feedback is super appreciated. Enjoy!

Drabble 1: Kikimore

“I didn’t need your help.”

You ignored him and dropped his share of the cut into his open palm. “Right.”

“I didn’t.” Geralt growled and followed you to the horses. 

The kikimore corpse was still dripping swamp gunk and who knows what. Roach was more than happy to get it off his back. Your steed, Alcippe, whinnied at the snack you’d brought her. With the earnings from the buyer, Geralt was able to buy a room for the night. You ordered a hot bath. 

“Get in.”

Geralt shot you one of his ‘like hell I will” glares.

“You stink of kikimore and swamp. And you’re hurt.”

“Hmm.” He rotated his shoulders, masking a wince. “I’m fine.”

He was never going to budge. So you took hold of his gear and dragged him closer to the tub. “Right. Because the giant gash across your back is perfectly normal, right?” You ran your fingers just under the proof of yet another close call. 

The feathery touches made Geralt hiss. “Easy, woman.” He grit his teeth. “Fine. If you hadn’t come swinging out of the trees like an Amazon when you did, that cut would have been much deeper.” There was a pause while you gently removed the leather and ruined tunic. “Thank you.” He was about to remove his pants, but you stopped him. 

“Leave those on, they need a wash too. You were mad at me for burning the last set. Now, hop in.”

Geralt hissed again as the water came in contact with the wound. You took a rag and set to cleaning it, taking extra care around the more ragged edges. He sat as still as he could. But the water sloshed when he flinched. “Tell me,” he rumbled, “how bad is it?”

You bit back a snort. “Do you want the truth, or the hard truth?”

“Lie to me.”

“Oh, no,” you moaned, “this is never going to heal!” You giggled and set to washing the mess off his back. “You’re going to bleed out and die in a most painful way. In remembrance of Geralt of Rivia, toss a coin-”

“Oh fuck off.” He tossed a handful of water over his shoulder at you. “I should have thrown Jaskier off a mountain when I had the chance.” 

You hummed. “Brilliant. Then he could haunt you and infinitely create songs for you from the afterlife.”

“Don’t even suggest that!”

In another moment, you were soaked and waist-deep in water. Geralt continued to douse you with water until you successfully pinned him to the side with your foot on his chest. It was just long enough for you to grab some soap… and for him to weave your fingers with his. 

***

Drabble 2: Hellhound

All around you, the villagers that had been angry at you just a few minutes ago, were now drowning their rage in wine and something Geralt called “Wives’ Tears.” You declined the cup offered to you. 

“Would you like something stronger?” Looking side to side, Geralt slipped a small vial from under his armour. “Try this instead.”

You recognized the stench. “Where in this wide world could you have ever heard that getting drunk would help you defeat a hellhound? Especially drunk on something made from ghoul blood.” Still, you accepted the flask and took a sip, gagging at the taste. “For the love of sanity, why?”

With a chuckle, Geralt took back the flask and took a long draught. “Because... hellhounds excrete a painful aura. It can be distracting. But… by being drunk, the effect is minimal, and you can kill the thing. And it makes your moves smoother.”

Memory didn’t agree with that last bit, having seen Geralt’s “smoother” movements, but the results were impressive. “Fine. It works.” Again you looked around. “And who knew a Witcher travelled with so many spirits.” A smile tugged at your lips. “There’s a pun in there somewhere.”

“Please don’t.” He groaned as Jaskier leapt to the top of a table. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Say the magic word-”

“Bard-warning.”

“Fair enough.”

Before the first chord was strummed, Geralt had you safely tucked away in a far room. It was one of the nicer ones. And, by how the drinking was going on outside, it wouldn’t be used tonight by its owner. The bed was large. Four-posted. Draped with furs and sheets that were soft to the touch. 

“We shouldn’t.” Your whisper was barely heard past your lips. A shiver followed under Geralt’s fingertips. “We-”

“Why not?” He tilted your face up to his. While his words slurred, the realness remained. “You’re the only one who can make me talk when I haven’t for days. You’ve said I’m the one that can quiet your mind. Two sides of a blade.”

You guided his hand to his side, away from your face. “Don’t say such things. Please. Just… we can’t- I’m nothing to you. Say it. Lie to me if you have to, but say it.”

Geralt leaned down, his breath puffing against your lips. “You’re nothing to me.” For a blissful minute, he had control of your mouth with his. “If you disappeared tomorrow, I would never think of you again.” His fingers tugged at the straps holding your clothes together. “Not for one second.”

The bed rushed up behind you. It was a firm surface to lay one while your blood electrified in all directions. “If you rode away tomorrow into forever-” You cut off at a gasp as Geralt’s callused fingers found your slick. “I would be content to live two lifetimes without seeing your face.”

“Only two lifetimes?” Geralt smirked and manoeuvred to stand between your legs. “Maybe you do like me.” He waited for you to deny it. To lie. But the silence wore on. His yellow eyes glowed with the meaning of your silence. “Say it.”

“You are nothing to me-” 

You screamed as Geralt filled you. Over and over. The hunt faded away. The danger. The fear. You couldn’t hear or feel anything except for Geralt under your tight grip on his shoulders. Nothing but his grunting and moans in your ear. Your own broken sounds as he drove you to peak after peak. 

It took most of the night, but eventually, you were both sated enough to fall asleep. 

***

Drabble 3: Wyvern 

“Stay with me.”

“Y/N, can you hear me?”

“It’s dead. Now come on, we need to get out of here.”

You whimpered when he tried to move you. “Wait, Geralt, wait.” Clenching your jaw, you focused on breathing through the fire in your belly. “I- I can’t-”

His face wavered into view. “Yes, you can. We just killed a wyvern. A rabid one. There’s quite a reward waitin’ on us in the village.” He squeezed your hand. When you didn’t squeeze back, his brow creased. “Y/N. Keep your eyes open. Can you do that for me?”

It was hard. Everything hurt, your blood was on fire, and he wanted you to keep your eyes open?

“Fine, let them close. That’s- okay.” He eased up your armour and tunic for a look. 

The wyvern had come out of nowhere. It’s annoying when the thing you’re hunting arrives before schedule. The hunted isn’t supposed to become the predator. Its tail swung out and caught you in the stomach, sending you flying. Pain had been instant. Hot enough to make your fingertips winter-blue. 

“Geralt-”

“Take it easy-”

“Geralt,” you said harder. “How bad is it?” He wouldn’t look at you. And that scared you more than anything. 

He swallowed. “Do you want the truth…” He pulled your tunic down over the sight of the poison coursing through your veins. “-or the hard truth?”

If it wouldn’t have hurt to laugh, you would have. Instead, you settled for a weak smile. “Lie to me.”

Geralt’s hands were cold against your fevered skin. He cupped your face, trailing his thumbs across your cheeks. Maybe it was your blinking vision, but his eyes seemed blurry. “This is nothing. You’ll be back on your feet in no time.” One of his thumbs brushed something off your cheek. Something wet. 

“Thank you for being so gentle, Healer.” You heaved a breath. “Glad to hear it.”

He hummed lightly. “Don’t call me healer. I’m just a man who makes things bleed for a living. A monster.”

“You stopped lying.”

Both of you laughed. 

His smile dropped when you ended on a cough.  “Y/N, open your eyes for me. Please? Look at me.” When you finally managed it, his white hair was plastered to his face as if he had the fever. “I’m going to check my bags on Roach. There’s gotta be something in there that I can use. I’ll be right back.”

Before he could turn away, you whimpered, “take care of Alcippe for me.”

“Y/N? Y/N-”

    At the edge of the world

Fight the mighty horde

That bashes and breaks you

And bring you the morn, oh

      Toss a coin to your Witcher

Oh, valley of plenty

Oh, valley of plenty, oh

Toss a coin to your Witcher

Oh, valley of plenty

***

***

Masterlist

Forever Tags: @blondekel77​ @brianaraydean​ @chwehansol98​   @fireflyfunhousetrash​   @laochbaineann​ @ramblingsofabourbondrinker​ @savmontreal​ @shieldgirl18 @tinyelfperson​ @writtingrose​ @xladyxfatex​ @gold--gucciempress​ 

[softboywriting]

Welcome To The Pack | Mendes Triplets Series | Part Two

Summary: You’re a human who has moved in with the Mendes triplets as their newest housemate. You’ll have to learn to navigate life with werewolves, college classes, and your feelings for each guy.

Word Count: 980

|Masterlist In Bio|

"Can I help?"

You look up from your notes and see Peter at your bedroom door. He's in pajamas again, it seemed like he was always dressed in sleepwear. He's such a soft boy though, the comfy clothes makes sense. "I don't think so. I'm just taking notes for my history presentation on Wednesday."

"Oh. Well, can I come in?"

"Uh, sure?"

Peter sits down beside you on the bed and crosses his legs under him. He grabs some of your loose pages of notes and makes a humming noise. You glance over and he's reading them quietly, shaking his head. "You should take your notes differently."

You stop writing and stare at him. "What? Why?"

"Because, your brain isn't going to absorb as much if you're just writing everything down just like a shopping list." Peter grabs your notebook and scoots closer so he's pressed against your side. "Let me show you."

You watch as he makes groups on the page and starts copying your notes. He divides them by subject, putting your notes about people under one column, places in another and events in another.  "That's a good idea."

"Mmhmm." He passes the notebook back to you so you can finish. "It helps me remember for sure."

"What're you going to school for?"

"Astrophysics."

You raise your eyebrows. "Damn."

Peter smiles bashfully. "What? It's just science."

"Space science."

He laughs and shakes his head. "Just science."

You reach out and pick a piece of pink fuzz from your blanket off of his sweatshirt. "I think it's cool."

"Really? I know werewolves usually just like are thought of as fighters and laborers or like athletes, but I want to change that. Even just a little. I want to be the first werewolf to work at NASA."

"You'll do it." You grin and he flushes as he pushes up his glasses. "Dr. Peter Mendes, head astrophysicist for NASA."

"That's the dream." He sighs softly. "One day. How about you?"

"I'm going to be a teacher."

"That's awesome. Little kids or like a professor?"

"Grade school kids. I'm aiming for kindergarten or first graders."

Peter smiles big. "You're gonna be such a good teacher."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because if you're patient enough to deal with me and my brothers, kids will probably be a cake walk."

You chuckle. "I suppose so. You guys are good training."

"Glad to be at your service." He says with a salute and you shove him playfully. What a goof.

_____________________

A month into living with the Mendes boys and you almost start to regret it. Individually they're pretty chill. Peter loves to tell you about space and hangout while you do homework. Raul always seems to have a different question for you every few days, infinitely curious about why you want to live with them and borderline suspicious of you, you think. And Shawn, well, Shawn is a sweetheart. He's always making sure you're comfortable and happy and healthy. But when the boys get together, it's madness. Already you've overheard four flights in the last two weeks.

"Raul, clean up your shit your animal!" Shawn yells from the bathroom. This will be the start of a fifth fight. Always over the stupidest thing too.

"What? What'd I do now?" Raul asks, walking toward the bathroom. "What's pissed off Shawnie boy now?"

Shawn glares at him.

"What?" Raul asks angrily.

You walk out of your room and step past the two of them just outside the bathroom. You really need to wash your face before you go to bed. With a history of acne, it's not something you want to skip doing.

"There's a wad of hair in the tub drain, clothes behind the door, shaving remnants in the sink. Come on dude, you're gross."

"Oh big deal." Raul rolls his eyes. "Stop being such a little bitch."

Shawn growls and you look over from the sink. You may have never lived with werewolves, but you have known a few in your lifetime. Growling like that meant a challenge.

Raul growls in return. Just past Shawn's shoulder you can see his face curled up in a snarl, teeth showing and eyes golden. It's pretty terrifying and you don't particularly want to be in the middle of this argument. Hearing them was bad enough and if this was anything like the last one, it is bound to get rough.

"Can you guys take this outside?" You ask quietly, towel drying your face. Maybe there's a chance they will listen to you.

Shawn turns to look at you and you swallow hard. He's just as terrifying as Raul, possibly more so. The tension between the two of them is palpable. Suddenly you're very aware how defenseless you are compared to the likes of them and how you would stand no chance if they started fighting.

"Shawn, stop, she's scared." Raul says, shoving his brothers shoulder, face returning to it's normal features.

"Sorry." Shawn mumbles, face relaxing a well, eyes and teeth going back to normal. "I didn't think about scaring you...I'm sorry."

"It's okay." You mutter, stepping past Shawn to go down the hall. You don't want to stick around in case they start arguing again.

"Look what you did," Raul says angrily.

Shawn growls. "You aren't any better."

A while later Peter comes to your room, slipping in the cracked open door. You aren't asleep. He sits on the end of the bed and shakes your foot.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah?"

"You should be sleeping. Are you awake because of Shawn and Raul?" Peter sighs. "They can be obnoxious, but I promise they won't hurt you."

You sit up. "It's just something I have to get used to. It's alright, I'm not scared now."

Peter leans in and puts his arm around you in a small hug. "I promise I'll try to make them fight less."

"Thank you Peter."

"You're welcome."

———–

End Part two

———-

thank you for reading! please reblog if you enjoyed. Part three coming soon! - A

customer header per part made by the incredible delicateshawn

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

[rumbelleshowdown]

Author: Tea Rose 

Prompt:  Insects at night; bubble bath; Victorian

Group: C

-

North Star 

The water was deliciously warm, and Belle sighed, sinking lower in the bath and letting her knees rise up. Tiny bubbles were rolling down her thighs into the water, waves of white foam from the rose and lavender soap she had used. They piled against her wet skin, and she lifted a foot, lathering the soap between her hands and stroking fragrant froth between her toes. The sound of swift footsteps made her glance around, and she smiled as her maid, Ruby Lucas, entered with a copper jug full of steaming water.

“Last one, Miss Belle,” she said breathlessly, and Belle sat forward, hugging her knees as Ruby poured in the hot water, making the bubbles seethe and burst.

“Thank you,” said Belle, relaxing back and letting her arms stretch out. “Did I hear the front door just now?”

“Mr Gold arrived,” said Ruby, and seemed to bite her lip to hide a smirk as Belle squeaked.

“Mr Gold? But he hasn’t visited in an age! Is he staying long?”

“Tiana was making some supper for him while I was fetching the water,” said Ruby, with a grin. “So it looks that way, Miss.”

Belle floundered, pushing herself upright and splashing water over the edge of the tub.

“Hurry! My blue dress!”

-

Ruby was used to her mistress’s impulsive nature and swift decisions, and she managed to get Belle dressed and ready quickly, although Belle thought it fortunate that she hadn’t washed her hair that evening. She hurried from her room as soon as the last pin was in place, and paused at the top of the stairs, hands smoothing her skirts nervously. Voices were drifting up from her father’s study, and Belle clutched at the smooth oak banister, her heart pounding and the colour rising in her cheeks as she recognised the warm brogue of Mr Gold. She closed her eyes briefly, remembering the way his smile made the corners of his mouth twist and his eyes gleam with a soft, amber light.

He had been friends with her father for some time; Maurice French’s strange inventions and boundless enthusiasm for the latest scientific discoveries made him somewhat eccentric in the eyes of his peers, but Mr Gold shared his interests, and the two of them had struck up a friendship. Gold had a fine house in London and an estate north of the Scottish border that Belle had regrettably never seen. Maurice didn’t like to travel, preferring to spend all his time at home, shut up in his workroom or reading in his library. Gold travelled a great deal, searching far and wide for a son he had lost and was desperate to find.

Belle had seen a picture of his son once, a drawing in charcoal of a dark-haired boy of around fourteen. It had been crumpled and a little smudged at the edges, as though it was looked at often. Thinking of the pain that Gold had carried for years made her heart ache for him, but he always had a smile for her, and a present from his travels, and fascinating tales of the places he had visited. He had been coming to the house regularly for the past five years, and Belle had been completely in love with him for around four and a half. For all the good it did.

She took a deep breath, composing herself before she entered the room, and both men turned to look at her, Maurice short and round with a balding head and bristling white mustache and Gold a little taller, thin and clean-shaven. He wore his brown hair longer than was fashionable, curling over the collar of his coat and brushing his cheeks. It was turning silver at the temples, and she had always thought how soft it looked, and how much she wanted to touch it. There was an old ring on his right hand, a moonstone in a heavy gold band, which she had noticed him turning between finger and thumb when lost in thought. Gold bowed his head as she entered.

“Miss French,” he said. “You’re looking remarkably well.”

“Thank you,” she said. “It’s been too long since we saw you, hasn’t it, Papa? Where did you go?”

Gold glanced between them.

“I just returned from the south of France,” he said. “Choppy waters in the Bay of Biscay, but the winds were with us.”

“Oh!” said Belle excitedly. “I’d love to go to France! Please, tell me what it was like!”

Gold turned towards her, the little smile he often wore twisting his mouth and making his dark eyes gleam in the lamplight.

“I rode a horse through endless fields of lavender,” he said softly. “The scent filled the air around me, and seemed to sink into my skin, so that I could smell it at night when I lay down to sleep. The road was hard earth, baked and cracked by the sun, winding between small villages and farms where the locals dozed in the shade of the olive trees with their cats. In the evenings, the sun would set in a blazing puddle of molten gold, and I ate fresh bread and soft, pungent cheese and drank red wine that was dark as blood and tasted of spices.”

Belle could feel her mouth fall open as the sound of his voice washed over her, filling her mind with the images his words created. His eyes were fixed on hers, his gaze steady.

“Must be a shock to come back to London, what?” said Maurice jovially, and Gold looked away, breaking the spell.

“The city is even busier and dirtier than I remember,” he said, with a grin. “It’s strange: I tell myself each time I go that I should sell the house and leave London entirely, yet something keeps pulling me back, turning me home. Like a guiding light. Like the North Star.”

He glanced briefly at Belle, and she felt a blush begin to heat her cheeks. Please don’t leave, she thought. Please don’t leave me.

“It’ll keep your housekeeper on her toes,” chuckled Maurice.

“Poor Mrs Potts,” said Gold, sounding rueful. “I fear the house will still be shut up tight. I’ll have to let myself in and build a fire. It’ll be the devil’s work for my valet trying to make me presentable tomorrow morning; he does like to do things properly.”

“Then stay with us, my dear fellow!” cried Maurice, patting his shoulder. “Goodness, you can’t be expected to open up the house yourself at this hour!”

“Well, it would certainly be a relief not to have to go out again,” said Gold. “The journey was rather tiring. Of course, I wouldn’t want to impose...”

“Not at all, not at all,” said Maurice. “Let me speak to Mrs Lucas. I’ll have one of the guest rooms made ready, and Locksley will look after your man.”

“Thank you, you’re very kind.”

Maurice bustled out, and Gold turned to Belle with a smile.

“I’m sorry to be calling so late, Miss French,” he said. “After travelling for so long, I almost lost track of the day, not to mention the hour.”

“We’re very glad to see you,” she said warmly, almost reaching for his hand before remembering herself and pulling back. “And you must be tired. Please, don’t feel that you have to stand on my account. Do take a seat, I insist.”

Gold’s smile widened.

“I could never refuse you anything, Miss French.”

-

Gold was served a simple supper of raised game pie, bread and cheese, and afterwards he and Maurice drank brandy and talked over the latest news. Belle was eager to hear more stories of the trip to France, and Gold obliged, telling her of the sights he had seen on the roads through Provence to Avignon.

“Sounds dusty,” declared Maurice. “And much too hot. This summer has been wretched. Far better to stay at home.”

“Well, I would love to travel,” said Belle. “I always wanted to see the world. I’ve lived twenty years, and barely left London! What I wouldn’t give for some adventure!”

“You young people are too restless,” grumbled Maurice. “Certainly I have no desire to be always going here, there and everywhere. And certainly young women shouldn’t be travelling alone and - and adventuring. It’s unseemly.”

“This is the Victorian age, Papa,” said Belle severely. “If Her Majesty is considered capable of ruling an entire empire, then allowing the rest of us women the freedom to do as we please will hardly bring about the downfall of civilisation.”

Maurice clicked his tongue.

“Really, Belle!” he said. “What must Mr Gold think of you?” “Mr Gold agrees wholeheartedly,” said Gold. “The world would be far better if women had the same freedoms as men, and were recognised for the infinitely superior creatures they are. Where will you go on your travels, Miss French?”

Belle thought for a moment.

“Perhaps I shall start a little closer to home,” she said. “I have always wanted to visit Scotland.”

“Well, you’re more than welcome to come to Dundorcha,” he said. “Although at this time of year, the midges will want to eat you alive.”

“Perhaps in the winter, then,” she suggested, and he smiled.

“I’ll make you very welcome.”

-

It was nearing midnight. Maurice was snoring in his chair, and Belle had followed Gold out onto the balcony overlooking the rear gardens. The summer night was cool, the only light coming from the oil lantern that Gold had carried with them and placed on the table where Belle took her morning tea. A moth appeared out of the night, batting translucent wings against the lantern’s glass shade. Smaller insects joined it, the glow from the lantern catching them, brief flecks of light in the darkness. Gold was gazing out into the night, his expression distant, thoughtful. His fingers turned that old ring, the gold band catching the light from the lantern.

“Where did you get that ring?” asked Belle. “I always meant to ask. It looks old.”

Gold looked down, splaying his fingers.

“It is,” he agreed. “Older than you might think.”

“Is it a family heirloom?” she asked, and he smiled in an almost secretive way.

“Something like that.”

“A good luck charm, perhaps?” she suggested, and he shrugged.

“It’s supposed to help the bearer find what it is they want most in the world,” he said, and leaned towards her, his voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s magic.”

“Really?” she asked, a little breathless at his closeness of him. Gold pulled back, a tiny sigh escaping him.

“Well, that’s what I hoped,” he said, sounding resigned. “A fool’s hope. There is no magic in this world. At least, not any more. Perhaps there used to be.”

He sounded despondent, and she wanted to comfort him, to tell him there was always hope.

“Is there no word of him?” she asked gently. “No word of your son? I’m sure you’ll find him. I can feel it.”

Gold shook his head, his mouth twisting.

“I’ve been searching for so long now,” he said quietly. “Every time I hear the faintest rumour I pick up and I chase after it. Every time I’ve been disappointed.”

“You mustn’t give up hope,” she said, and he turned to her with a sad smile.

“I try to keep faith that I’ll find him,” he said. “Alas, this time it was not to be. I didn’t choose the right place. Sometimes I wonder if I’m even in the right time.”

“The world is vast,” she said. “Trying to find one person out of - of thousands - must be next to impossible. You can’t blame yourself.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “And perhaps it isn’t merely my own misfortune. If he wanted to be found, he wouldn’t make it so difficult.”

Belle stepped closer.

“You think he’s - hiding - from you?” she asked curiously, and he sighed gently.

“There was a misunderstanding,” he said. “Before he - before I lost him. I think he might still be very angry with me.”

Belle bit her lip, shaking her head.

“But you’re his father,” she said softly. “He must know that you love him. He can’t stay angry forever.”

“I hope you’re right.”

His eyes were downcast, and he suddenly looked very tired. Tired and sad. On impulse, Belle stepped close, turning her face upwards and pressing her mouth to his. She felt him freeze at the touch of her lips, and she drew back, her heart pounding. Gold was staring at her wide-eyed, a stricken look on his face, but then his gaze darkened and he reached out to cup her cheeks with warm hands, bending his head to kiss her.

Belle opened her mouth a little, a moan escaping her as his lips met hers, soft and warm. The touch of his tongue made her rise up on her toes and press her body to his, and he let out a low groan as she slid her hands around his waist. A faint, jagged noise seemed to burst outwards, like the sound of glass shattering in the distance, and Belle’s eyes flew open as what looked like a rainbow-hued ripple spread out from them and dissipated. Gold was breathing heavily, staring at her wide-eyed.

“What was that?” she gasped, and he smiled broadly, gazing at the ring on his finger, which seemed to pulse with a soft light.

“A second chance,” he breathed. “A spark of magic. I can find him. With this I can find him.”

“Magic?” she asked, puzzled, and he cradled her cheeks with his palms, still grinning. He looked to be on the verge of tears, and she couldn’t understand it.

“The most powerful magic of all,” he said softly. “Powerful enough to transcend realms and trigger the spell in this ring. True love.”

Belle clutched at his waist, nodding fiercely.

“Yes!” she whispered. “I do love you! I’ve loved you for so long!”

“And I love you, too.” He pressed his forehead to hers, seeming to breathe in her scent. “I never dared to hope that you might feel the same, my darling Belle. I never dared to dream that you might want me. And now you’ve given me this gift. This chance.”

“I - I don’t understand,” she said. “What did I do?”

His thumbs stroked her cheeks, his nose brushing against hers.

“There’s power in love, Belle,” he said. “Love creates magic. Magic enough to let me find my boy. Will you come with me?”

Belle smiled at his strange talk of magic, reaching up to stroke a hand through his hair. It was every bit as soft as she had thought.

“I’d love to,” she said. ”We’ll see the world, just as I always wanted. I’ll help you find him, I swear it. Whatever you need.”

Gold kissed her again, soft lips gently pulling at her own, and she melted into the kiss, safe in his arms. Magic or not, it would be the most wonderful adventure.

-

[thelibrarianintraining]

Miracle - FBI! Stiles

Author: @thelibrarianintraining

Word Count: 1,504

Relationship: FBI! Stiles x Pregnant Reader

Prompt:  The second prompt from this post.

Warnings: angst? I actually think that’s it.

Masterlist

I pulled the covers over me as I settled back into bed after returning from the master bathroom. The whole house was silent without Stiles around. I’d thought that it would make it easier to sleep, but it didn’t. It only made it more difficult.

He was away on a multiple homicide investigation and I was stuck at home, thinking too much. I was glad that he was out finding the killer, but I also just really wanted him here with me. I was always a little paranoid about this kind of stuff, the result of too many true crime shows and mystery novels. But these murders were current and a little closer to home than usual which made it all the worse. It didn’t matter that the murderer had only targeted men with a history of violence so far. The fact that the FBI had gotten involved meant that he was a real threat to a lot of people.

I almost jumped out of bed at a sound in the hall. I looked towards the door, but no light crept underneath. I held my breath, trying to hear the sound again. It was quiet for a while and I’d almost given up when I heard the sound of footsteps in the hall. The clock on the bedside table read one am. Could it just be Stiles returning home? Was it possible that he just hadn’t called out of fear of waking me?

I grabbed my phone off the bedside table and shifted my body to Stiles’ side of the bed and grabbed his baseball bat from where it leaned against the nightstand. I gripped it tightly as I pushed myself out of the bed and crept towards the door.

“Stiles?” I asked as I reached the door. There was no response. I twisted my clammy hands around the grip of the bat, trying to decide if I should continue out into the hall or call the police. But if it was just Stiles then there was no point in alarming the police and he’d be even more worried about me being left home alone when he was away on jobs. I took a deep breath to steel myself and twisted the knob, pressing my back against the wall as I swung the door open.

“Stiles?” I called again, but there was no response. Maybe he was in the kitchen and I was just being too quiet. I glanced out into the hall and didn’t see anything so I stepped out the door, looking around. I glanced toward the nursery at the end of the hall and placed one of my hands on my belly to rub it soothingly. It was probably just nothing. I was just anxious with the baby due in a few days and Stiles away for work, but I continued down the hall anyway, peeking into the guest bathroom. It was empty, but I yanked the shower curtain aside just to be sure.

I heard footsteps again and tensed as I raised the bat, ready to swing at anything that moved.

“Miecyslaw, this isn’t funny,” I said, but part of me was really starting to think that it wasn’t Stiles. He liked to play pranks sometimes, but the closer I got to my due date, the less pranks he played. He knew better than to scare me now and this was really freaking me out. This was extreme, even for himI could hear my heart pounding and the house was so silent that I was sure that whoever was in the house with me could hear it too.

I peeked into the living room, but it was empty too. There was nothing to hide behind in there and the light from the streetlamp outside filled the room just enough for me to see that even the darkest corners were empty. I moved into the kitchen and peeked around the island, but that room was empty as well. There was no one in the house. I hadn’t heard anything since the sound that I’d heard while I was in the bathroom. Maybe I really was just paranoid. I got a glass of water and waited in the kitchen as I drank it, still trying to listen for the sound.

When I’d finished and I hadn’t heard another sound, I set the glass in the sink and sighed in relief as I made my way back to my bedroom. I paused at the door. Had I shut it when I’d left the room? I didn’t think so. I bit my lip and glanced around as I reached for the doorknob. It didn’t budge. It was locked. I stared at it, trying to decide what to do. I was pretty sure that it wasn’t Stiles in that room. If there was a time to call the police, it was definitely now.

They picked up on the second ring.

“What’s your emergency?”

“There’s someone in my house,” I breathed out as quietly as I could as I shut myself in the bathroom. The emergency operator kept calm as she went through all of her questions and let me know that someone was on their way.

“Stay on the line with me, all right?”

“Okay,” I said quietly. I jumped as a loud crash echoed through the house. I crawled into the tub and held the bat ready.

“Are you okay?” asked the operator.

“Yes, they just knocked something over,” I whispered quietly back. “I’ve shut myself in the bathroom.”

“Someone will be there soon.”

I shifted my body at the feeling of water in the tub. It hadn’t been there before. I swallowed hard and tried to take a deep breath as the amount of moisture slowly increased.

“I think my water just broke,” I said quietly. “Can someone call my husband and let him know what’s happening?”

She confirmed that she could have that arranged and then was silent. I was crying now.

“Mrs. Stilinski? Are you still there?”

“Yes,” my voice cracked as I answered.

“The police are there and your husband is on his way. Just stay where you are until they come get you, all right?”

“All right.”

She stayed on the line with me as chaos ensued outside the bathroom door and then when she was sure that I was okay, she hung up.

“Where’s my wife?” shouted Stiles’ voice and I looked up from my spot at the kitchen table. The were trying to keep him out, but he flipped out his badge and pushed his way further into the house.

“Stiles!” I shouted. His head whipped in my direction and he shoved his way through the police and EMT’s to get to me. They’d left me alone when they were sure that I would be okay. He grabbed my shoulders and looked me over to make sure that I was okay.

“Are you all right?” he questioned, staring into my eyes. I nodded and he kissed the top of my head as he pulled me in close. “I was so worried about you, Y/N.”

I buried my face in his chest and hugged him tightly.

“I’m so sorry. This was all my fault,” he muttered. “She was looking for me. I shouldn’t have left you alone. I put you and the baby in danger.”

“You didn’t know, Stiles. It’s not your fault.”

He was silent as his fingers curled into my hair and he kissed the top of my head again.

“I’ve never been so scared in my whole life.”

“Did they tell you that my water broke?” I questioned when I realized that he hadn’t asked about it yet. He furrowed his eyebrows at me.

“What?”

And that was about the time the contractions started.

A few hours later, the doctor was handing my tiny little baby girl to me and I was looking up at Stiles with a huge grin on my face. I giggled as he looked away to swipe tears from eyes.

“She’s beautiful, Y/N.  She looks just like you,” he smiled.

“Except those brown eyes. She definitely got those from you,” I laughed. He smiled and leaned toward her to greet her with a soft voice. “Hi, little Claudia. Welcome.”

I held her out to him and he searched my eyes quizzically.

“Are you sure you want me to hold her?”

“Of course,” I laughed. “She’s your baby too.”

He held her close to his chest, moving his body to gently rock her and the smile on his face as he looked at our baby was enough to make me momentarily forget the terrors of earlier in the night. They were still a concern, especially with little Claudia finally in the world, but for the moment, we were all safe and sound.

Stiles kissed her forehead and looked up at me with a look of infinite pride and admiration on his face. Our little miracle was finally here and now that noun applied to her in more ways than one.

[feelingsick]

9/13 L ? For Bel :)

vomiting / drunk + visiting family 

Bel gripped Josh’s hand as they rang the doorbell. For a second he hoped that no one would answer. But that was ridiculous. His mother opened the door and immediately threw her arms around him, holding him in a crushing embrace.

“Oh, it’s so good to see you both! How was your trip? Did you find it okay?”

Not waiting for an answer, she ushered them inside, taking their coats and hanging them on a hook by the door. She took a step back and looked at him for a long moment, and Bel could tell that she was fighting the urge to cry. It made his skin crawl to have her still look at him like that, as though she feared he might disappear any moment.

“It smells wonderful in here,” Josh said, thankfully breaking the silence. “Do you need help with anything, Mrs. Saylor?”

“Actually, everything’s ready. If you want to help me set the table, that would be lovely.” She pulled Josh into the kitchen, leaving Bel to hover awkwardly in the dining room. His hands were shaking as he wandered down the hallway, ducking his head into each room he passed until he found the bathroom.

He couldn’t do this. It had been years since he’d celebrated any holidays with his mother. He didn’t know how he was supposed to act, or what he could possibly say to her.

He opened the medicine cabinet before he even consciously decided to do so. It was mostly full of ordinary stuff; a box of bandaids, nail clippers, toothpaste. But there was a cluster of orange pill bottles filed into the corner, and that’s what he reached for.

Some were for anxiety and depression, some antibiotics that had long ago expired. He was just about to give up when he found what he was looking for. He placed everything back where it went, keeping only the bottle of prescription painkillers. He popped three, washing them down with a handful of water from his cupped hands.

He felt more relaxed already, although logically he knew he couldn’t be feeling it yet. He placed them back carefully, trying to hide that he’d been rifling through the cabinet.

By the time he emerged from the bathroom, Josh and his mom had set the table and were chatting merrily with each other as they waited for him. He took a seat beside Josh at the table, offering him a strained smile when Josh raised a questioning brow towards him.

“Well, everyone, dig in!” his mom said, gesturing to the meal she’d prepared. Bel recognized many of the dishes as things she’d cooked when he was a kid. It looked delicious, but his stomach was too nervous for him to really have much of an appetite.

His mom poured herself a glass of wine, offering the bottle to Josh.

“So, Danny, how have you been?”

The name took him by surprise. Josh poured him a glass of wine, giving him an encouraging smile.

“Things have been...fine,” he answered. His took a long drink of his wine while his mom gave him a tight smile. They filled their plates, not quite looking at each other.

“Everything is delicious,” Josh said pleasantly. “You’re a terrific cook.”

Bel’s mom blushed, but she smiled. “Thank you. I wanted things to be nice. This is our first real holiday together since…” She trailed off, and Bel knocked back the rest of his wine, motioning for Josh to refill it. His mom cleared her throat. “I’m really so glad you both came.”

Bel finished off his second glass, feeling the alcohol begin to relax him. “I’m...I’m glad we came, too,” he said, forcing a smile he hoped seemed genuine. “It’s good to see you.” It wasn’t a lie. He missed his mom, but that didn’t mean he knew how to be around her anymore.

Beneath the table, Josh squeezed his knee, and Bel took hold of his hand. He definitely wouldn’t be able to do this without Josh, and he was infinitely grateful that his boyfriend had come with him.

The dinner progressed, the three of them making chatting and catching up. The more Bel drank, the more relaxed he became, and the easier it was to talk to his mother. He was actually starting to enjoy himself a little. But as time passed, his stomach began to feel sour. A flush came over him, and he resisted the urge to fuss with his sweater.

“Are you okay?” Josh asked, squeezing his hand. “You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” Bel answered, smiling. “It’s just a little warm in here.”

“Sorry about that. The oven’s been on all day, and it sort of heats the place up.” His mom stood. “If everyone’s finished, we can head into the living room now. It’s a little cooler in there. I have something for you both, too.”

“You didn’t have to get us anything,” Josh said, standing. “Especially after you went to all this trouble to cook for us.” He turned to Bel, who was having a little trouble standing up. “Are you sure you’re alright, babe?” he asked quietly as Bel’s mom retreated towards the living room. “Did you have too much to drink?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, his words slurring a bit. “Maybe. I feel really dizzy all of a sudden.” He gagged, and Josh immediately tightened his grip on Bel’s arm.

“Do you need to go to the bathroom?” he asked, but Bel shook his head.

“I want to leave, Josh. Now.”

Josh looked like he thought that was an exceptionally bad idea, but he wasn’t about to argue. “Okay, I’ll just let your mom know.” Bel burped, and Josh began pulling him down the hall. “I want you to wait in the bathroom while I go talk to her though, babe. You look like you’re about to puke.”

He lowered Bel down in front of the toilet and left to find Bel’s mom. Bel could hear him talking, explaining to her that Bel wasn’t feeling well and that he was going to take him home.

He knocked on the doorframe when he returned, but Bel could hardly raise his head.

“We can leave whenever you’re ready,” he said. “Do you think you can make it to the car?”

Bel shook his head, giving a queasy hiccup.

“...Okay. I’m gonna bring the car up to the door, alright?” He brushed his fingertips over Bel’s shoulders. “Just hang on. We’ll get you home soon.” He turned and left, leaving Bel to hug the toilet alone. Or maybe not. Shortly after Josh left, Bel heard footsteps enter the bathroom.

“Hey, baby,” his mom said gently. “Not feeling too hot, huh?” She took a seat on the edge of the tub and reached out to brush his hair back from his face in a completely motherly gesture.

He belched, feeling his dinner lodge uncomfortably in his throat. He swallowed, but his mom was already gathering his hair back in preparation.

“If you feel like you need to throw up, you should,” she encouraged. “Whatever’s making you sick needs to come out.”  

Bel whined, his stomach heaving as he belched up a thick slurry of his dinner, dyed a deep red from the wine. He coughed before bringing up another wave, so strong it came from his nose as well. He couldn’t catch his breath as he heaved again, vomiting up another wave in a seemingly unending stream.

“Oh, baby,” his mom soothed, rubbing his back like she’d done whenever he was sick as a child. “It’s okay, get it out.”

He shuddered, letting his head lie on the toilet seat as he spit up a smaller wave, the vomit dribbling down his chin. The dizziness was so bad he couldn’t stand to lift his head.

His mother ripped off a few squares of toilet paper and gently cleaned his mouth and nose, drawing her hand back quickly when he burped up another mouthful.

“Do you want to stay here for a little bit?” she asked softly. “Just until your belly calms down a little?”

Bel could only nod, his stomach continuing to heave.

[samwinlover-blog]

Hiding in the Impala Part Two

Pairing: Sam x Reader Characters: the Reader, the Reader’s ex, Sam, Dean  Warnings: reference to past abuse, violence, swearing, angst Word count: 2284 Summary: After the Reader has been taken back to Sam and Dean’s motel, her ex finds them again. However, this time, Sam and Dean notice something off about him, something supernatural.  A/N: Again, the original idea isn’t mine! This is an adaptation of @writingthingsisdifficult ‘s original work, which is seriously awesome and you all should check it out:) Tag List: @jessabro101  @deascheck @cwstandsforcaswinchester @fralackles @danandphilforlife112 @rdy4thevoid @disneychic8 @deepbreathssammy @amanda-teaches @myplaceofthingsilove @evyiione @gallifreyansass @star-arm-and-shield @macymoosesuniverse @rosep16​ @arianacullen2008 @spectaculicious @spnfanficpond @amanda-teaches @myplaceofthingsilove@evyiione @mogaruke@aliensdeservebetter@27bmm@craving-cas @spnfanficpond​ @amanda-teaches  @myplaceofthingsilove  @spectaculicious@bambinovak @bambinovak@writingthingsisdifficult@padackles2010 @mamaredd123@milkymilky-cocopuff @iwantthedean@zeppo-in-a-trenchcoat @spntrista @d-s-winchester@just-another-busy-fangirl@winchesterprincessbride@waywardjoy@supernaturalyobsessed@whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname@sandlee44@fangirl1802@kittenofdoomage @evyiione @winchestersmut@purgatoan@mogaruke @therewillbeblood @megansescape @taste-of-dean@leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid  @scarlet-soldier-in-an-impala@deathtonormalcy56@wildfirewinchester @notnaturalanahi@jensen-jarpad@impalaimagining@fangirlextraordinaire@itseverythingilike@jesspfly@lovekittykat21@mysteriouslyme81@mrswhozeewhatsis@aiaranradnay@supernatural-jackles@girl-next-door-writes@spnsasha@27bmm@spnfanficpond @amanda-teaches@myplaceofthingsilove@spectaculicious@bambinovak@writingthingsisdifficult@spn-imagines-to-feel@spn-ficfanatic@cleverdame@saxxxology@jensen-jarpad @keepcalmandcarryondean dancingpanda137

When you got into the bathroom you hurriedly locked the door behind you, hands shaking and fumbling for the nob. Turning around you found there were no windows, no way out. If Sam and Dean failed to keep Zach away, or decided to turn you in, you’d be trapped. Your only options would be to either fight and lose, or willingly go with him. You decided right then and there that you’d put up a fight, no matter what it cost you- and it would probably cost a lot. 

The bathtub was white and spotless, you decided it would be a good place to hide. So, with a screeching noise of metal on metal, you moved the shower curtain aside and settled onto the floor of the tub. The smooth basin was cold against your back, bare from your shirt. You hugged your knees to your chest and put you head down, taking slow breaths. But even though you tried, you couldn’t hide yourself from the panicked thoughts swirling through your mind. Clutching your knees tighter and breathing deeply did nothing to keep them at bay. They danced and twirled in fiendish glee- what if he finds me? What if he takes me with him? What if he hurts Sam and Dean? What if he convinces Sam and Dean that I am crazy? What if he kills them? What if he kills me? 

Your breaths were coming out in sharp pants now, you gasped and sputtered as if you were drowning. You felt like you were drowning. Choking and coughing as quietly as you could, you pressed yourself further into your knees- trying to make yourself as small as possible. As if, if Zach broke through the lock, maybe he wouldn’t notice you. Maybe he’d forget to check the bath tub. Maybe he’d give up, maybe he’d leave. Maybe Sam and Dean would scare him enough so he’d be gone for good. Maybe they wouldn’t. They probably wouldn’t. 

A loud bang and the sound of objects clattering onto the floor snapped your head up. You heard punches landing and a loud “Shit, Sammy!” echoing through the room. What was happening out there? You wanted to run out and help, but fear paralyzed you. You couldn’t move from your curled up position, much less stand up and leave the bathroom. So you just sat there, listening to the commotion happening outside, and praying that Sam and Dean were winning. Because you knew if they weren’t, you’d be next. He’d probably kick down the door with ease when he found it locked. He’d rip the shower curtain from where it hung and then it would all be over. 

A gun shot. Another one. You nearly jumped out of your skin. You’d never heard an actual shot before. And it was so different from how it’s shown on television. In the movies it’s a single loud bang, none of the characters flinch, and the show goes on. In real life it’s so different, so much worse. The shot wasn’t simply loud, it cracked into the air and echoed throughout the room. You heard its aftershocks ringing through your ears for the minutes that followed. 

A stilling quiet settled throughout the motel, and you knew that could mean one of two things. Either Sam and Dean had killed Zach, or he’d killed them. You held your breath and clenched your body as tightly together as you could. With a knock on the door, you gasped, eyes darting around the room. 

“(Y/N), it’s me. It’s okay, let me in.”, Sam’s voice caused you to let out a sharp breath. 

“Is he gone?”, you asked, sounding quieter than you intended. 

“Yeah, he’s gone, got away.” 

You stood up from the floor of the bathtub, limbs stiff and aching from how long you’d been in the same position. You kicked back the shower curtain and opened the door with a click. Sam’s face greeted you and you let out a sigh of relief. He was smiling, but you instantly saw that his lip was cut and bleeding. 

“Oh my god”, you put a hand to his face, knowing Zach had caused the injury. You were no stranger to bloody lips, their ache was familiar and, overtime, dulled. You felt terribly about what happened, what Zach had done. Because of you, Sam was now hurt. His lip was definitely going to bruise, if it stopped bleeding anytime soon. 

But he just shook his head and smiled.

“It’s okay”, he said, taking your hand in his own. You almost flinched at his touch, but then did not. Sam is not Zach, Sam is not Zach, Sam is not Zach, you reminded yourself on an endless loop. 

“I-I heard gunshots”, you spoke again, remembering the horrible ringing that had followed them. 

You saw his face turn cold, lips tugging downwards and eyes refusing to meet your own. Those beautiful, mischievous eyes of his were looking at the floor and not at you. You tried to meet his gaze, trailing your eye line from his lips to his forehead and hoping he’d meet your stare somewhere along the way. But he didn’t, so you gave up. 

“Yeah, that’s that I, um, wanted to talk to you about. Dean and I both wanted to”, he replied, turning to leave and beckoning you to follow. You could sense something was wrong, but couldn’t wrap your head around what it was. Was Zach dead? If he was, you’d feel nothing but relief. As harsh as that sounded, you’d be glad to be rid of him. Glad to move on and start an actual life, not this perpetual nightmare of running and hiding- always moving and always looking over your shoulder. 

Sam led you to to the kitchen area where Dean was dabbing a washcloth over his forehead. Oh no, you thought, Dean can’t be hurt too. You felt even worse when you saw that Dean’s forehead, similar to Sam’s lip, was cut and bleeding. 

When they both beckoned you to sit down, you knew something was wrong, but sat anyways. The leather was rough under your legs, and even though you had jeans on you felt it’s abrasive scratch. You felt like a child in the principals office, as if you’d done something wrong and your parents were going to be called. 

“What is it? If you guys don’t want me here anymore that’s fine I can go, really it’s no troubl-”, you started rambling and pointing towards the door until Dean cut you off. 

“No, it’s not that- stay as long as you like.”, his voice was warm, yet even gruffer than before. 

When both of them remained silent, Sam shifting awkwardly and Dean just staring at you, you spoke up again, “Well,what is it??” 

Sam took a breath before saying, “Okay, so um, what me and Dean do for a living, it isn’t something you’d normally see. What I mean by this, is um, I mean, well-” 

Dean cut him off with a roll of his eyes, “Come on, Sammy get it out. See if she’ll run away screaming, maybe she’ll prefer to stay with that psycho.” 

You shifted in your chair, starting to fiddle with loose threads on the sleeves of your shirt. You knotted and unknotted your fingers through them, all the while staring up at both Winchesters. 

Sam gave his brother a look that promised death as he replied, “Dean shut up, you’re scaring her!” 

“She should be scared. Go on, tell her, unless you want me to- and I’m not gonna ease into it.”, Dean quipped back, jerking his chin in your direction. 

With that, you started getting scared, what if these guys were dangerous? You’d so foolishly befriended Sam, instantly trusting the first person who showed you kindness. And you didn’t know much about his brother either, this Dean could be a serial killer. The Winchesters could have saved you from Zach just to do things infinitely worse. 

With pleading eyes, you turned to Sam, “Wh-what is it?” 

He took another breath before saying, “We’ve kind of been following your ex for a while now...” his voice trailed off as you gave him a confused look. 

“What?”, you breathed, instantly tensing up. 

Once again, Sam refused to meet your gaze, while saying, “Well, he’s not exactly, um, normal. He, well, I mean, he’s, a, um, demon.”

What?! These guys were crazy, absolutely insane. You started to stand up, deciding that you were going to get the hell out of that motel and take your chances at your own. But Sam stopped you by handing you a piece of paper. It was a picture clearly taken from a surveillance camera. Grainy and in black and white, there was Zach. He was standing in the middle of what looked to be a grocery store, grinning. At first you didn’t understand the point of the photo, he was literally grocery shopping. But then your stare trailed to his eyes, and you let out a small gasp. They were pitch black. Without pupils or irises, there was only a swirling, perennial, blackness. You tried to convince yourself it was a glitch in the camera, a coincidental smudge on the lens. But the looks on both the Winchester’s faces told you it was not. 

“What? You’re... the both of you... this is crazy!”, you scoffed, trying not to believe them even though you definitely did. 

“Told you she’d freak”, Dean answered, talking more to Sam than you. 

You were glad you’d decided to sit down, if you had been standing you’d be on the floor by now. Your body felt wobbly and had gone limp, the room was practically spinning around you. You felt as if you were on one of those carnival rides, whirling around and around and unable to get off.  

Sam approached you apprehensively, putting his hands out in front of him. Your eyes darted wildly towards him, and this time you did flinch from his touch. He saw this and backed off, a look of what you read as hurt flashing across his face. You just shook your head silently to yourself, utterly stunned. Gripping the scratchy leather of your chair as if it was your sole tether to the world you were about to fall off of, you squeezed your hands. 

You were certain that was it, how much stranger could this get? But Dean proved you wrong when he spoke up with a sympathetic look, “We’re hunters, Sam and I. We hunt and kill things going bump in the night, and, trust me, there’s lots of them. We think your ex made some sort of deal, his soul in exchange for the ability to track you- aka he’s a demon.” 

Your hands moved to grip your arms tightly, and, again, you shook your head. Unable to form coherent sentences you just sputtered, “What? Zach....demon....souls???!” 

After a few minutes you found your bearings and started wrapping your head around the idea. Demons, souls, hunters, deals. It truly was insane, but made some sense. Zach was always finding you, it was eery. When you’d first left you kept nothing, thrown away all previous belongings. You’d driven for hours and told nobody where you were going. But, days later, there he had been. Over the past few months he’d gotten faster, finding you in places you couldn’t even pronounce. You’d always wondered how he did it, but never even considered the truth as a possibility. 

“Um, I have questions”, you glanced up at Sam and Dean. 

“Yeah! Yeah, of course, ask away. I’m sorry, I know it’s a lot.” Sam piped up, eager sounding and nervous looking. 

“What’s a deal? How do you make one? What were you saying about a soul?!”, you launched into a string of questions. The three of you sat there like that for hours, them trying to explain as gently as possible the dark reality of the world, and you interrupting them and asking a new question as soon as they finished speaking. When it was over you didn’t know what to feel. For one, you were scared. You’d been living in a world with fucking vampires for christ’s sake, vampires and werewolves and ghosts. Really, it was practically out of a fictional tv series. But you also had a sense of determination, determination to stop Zach. Sam and Dean had told you what he’d done. He’d sold his own soul in exchange for the ability to track you, which came in the form of him being a demon. They’d told you that demons are completely driven by their ids, unable to think about or feel anything that wasn’t their uttermost desire. And apparently, Zach was driven by you. He’d left a trail of bodies behind while following you throughout the country, enough to attract the attention of the Winchesters. They’d been following him for a while, around half the time you’d been running from him. It was oddly comforting to you that they had been there the whole time, as if you hadn’t gone through it completely alone. 

By the time the three of you were finished talking, the clock read 12 PM. Despite how late it was, your eyelids weren’t the least bit heavy. You were awake. Alert and ready, with this alarming new desire to right wrongs. You realized that you wanted to do what Sam and Dean did, even though you’d never admit it. 

Dean decided to cook dinner while you and Sam settled into the couch. The two of you talked and pondered about how to face the next day, Zach, and the threats they both would inevitably bring. 

[softboywriting]

Welcome To The Pack | Mendes Triplets | Werewolf AU

Summary: You’re a human who has moved in with the Mendes triplets as their newest housemate. You’ll have to learn to navigate life with werewolves, college classes, and your feelings for each guy. [werewolf au] [fluff] [light angst] [choose your ending] [full fic]

Word Count: 23.5k

|Masterlist In Bio|

When you accepted the offer of a room at a house with three male werewolves you knew life wasn't going to be easy. Your parents weren't thrilled with the idea but you're twenty one now and you had to live somewhere off campus. The rent was what got you attention. Only three hundred a month and you got a huge room to yourself on the first floor. When you went to check the place out it seemed nice, clean, like a normal house. That's when you found out that the other tenants were werewolves. The low rent made sense then. They were probably having trouble finding someone to live with them. You don't mind werewolves, you've known a few, it's no big deal.  

There was only one of the guys there the day you went to view the house, his name was Peter and he was super kind and had answers to all of your questions.

Peter called you back the day after you were given a tour of the house and he said they agreed they'd like to have you as their housemate if you were up to it. You couldn't say no. Everywhere else was way too high priced and this place was close to campus. It's perfect...until you move in.

You're hauling a tote full of books through the front door and Peter walks up to you to help. He's got on pajama pants and a hoodie with the school logo on it, glasses on the end of his nose and his hair a mess. He's cute.

"I got this, go grab some more stuff."

You leave the tote to Peter and go out to grab some bags of clothes. When you get to the back of your car there is a guy standing there who looks exactly like Peter. Only he has longer hair that's just as curly and no glasses.

"What..."

"I'm Shawn." He says, holding his hand out. "You must be the new housemate?"

"Wait what? Are you and Peter twins?"

"Sort of, we're triplets. Our other brother Raul should be here somewhere." Shawn looks over at the motorcycle by the garage. "That's his bike so he must be here."

"I'm sorry...Peter didn't mention that the other two guys were his identical brothers. He just said two other guys lived here!"

Shawn laughs. "Yeah, he's smart as hell but he can be pretty damn stupid sometimes. If you want to back out, I guess that's okay. We'll find someone else."

"No! No, it's fine. I'll figure it out. It's no big deal right?" You grab a bag of clothes from your trunk. "You're just three guys. Three guys that happen to look alike."

"Right. We're cool. Can I help?"

You give Shawn a once over, deciding if he's going to break any of your stuff. "Yeah, just grab some bags. Don't open anything, and be careful."

"No problem."

_____________________

It's three days into living with the Mendes boys when you meet Raul. Early on Sunday morning you grabbed your shower bag and made for the bathroom. The door opens as you approach and out walks Raul, towel around his waist, hair pushed back, skin flushed. He's by far the fittest of the three, Shawn being a close second.

"Hey," he grins and he has fangs that are far from a normal human. "You must be the new girl."

"Yeah...you must be Raul."

"Mmhmm." He walks closer and gives you a once over. "You aren't a werewolf?"

"No. Just an average human."

He chuckles. "What's an average human like you doing living with a pack of wolves?"

"Cheap rent?"

Raul adjusts his towel as it begins to slip lower. "Ever lived with wolves before?"

"No."

"Interesting."

You give him a look and start to move past him, really wanting to end this interrogation and shower. He stops you with a hand on your chest and you look up at him.  "Yeah?"

"You smell like Shawn."

"I borrowed a pillow from him? I needed an extra one because my neck was killing me. Any more questions? I'd really like to shower some time this morning."

Raul drops his hand from your chest. "Enjoy."

"Thanks." You walk into the bathroom and close the door with a soft click. The whole bathroom smells like whatever body wash Raul used. It's good, fresh. What was his deal anyway? Why the impromptu interrogation?

_____________________

"Can I help?"

You look up from your notes and see Peter at your bedroom door. He's in pajamas again, it seemed like he was always dressed in sleepwear. He's such a soft boy though, the comfy clothes makes sense. "I don't think so. I'm just taking notes for my history presentation on Wednesday."

"Oh. Well, can I come in?"

"Uh, sure?"

Peter sits down beside you on the bed and crosses his legs under him. He grabs some of your loose pages of notes and makes a humming noise. You glance over and he's reading them quietly, shaking his head. "You should take your notes differently."

You stop writing and stare at him. "What? Why?"

"Because, your brain isn't going to absorb as much if you're just writing everything down just like a shopping list." Peter grabs your notebook and scoots closer so he's pressed against your side. "Let me show you."

You watch as he makes groups on the page and starts copying your notes. He divides them by subject, putting your notes about people under one column, places in another and events in another.  "That's a good idea."

"Mmhmm." He passes the notebook back to you so you can finish. "It helps me remember for sure."

"What're you going to school for?"

"Astrophysics."

You raise your eyebrows. "Damn."

Peter smiles bashfully. "What? It's just science."

"Space science."

He laughs and shakes his head. "Just science."

You reach out and pick a piece of pink fuzz from your blanket off of his sweatshirt. "I think it's cool."

"Really? I know werewolves usually just like are thought of as fighters and labourers or like athletes, but I want to change that. Even just a little. I want to be the first werewolf to work at NASA."

"You'll do it." You grin and he flushes as he pushes up his glasses. "Dr. Peter Mendes, head astrophysicist for NASA."

"That's the dream." He sighs softly. "One day. How about you?"

"I'm going to be a teacher."

"That's awesome. Little kids or like a professor?"

"Grade school kids. I'm aiming for kindergarten or first graders."

Peter smiles big. "You're gonna be such a good teacher."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because if you're patient enough to deal with me and my brothers, kids will probably be a cake walk."

You chuckle. "I suppose so. You guys are good training."

"Glad to be at your service." He says with a salute and you shove him playfully. What a goof.

_____________________

A month into living with the Mendes boys and you almost start to regret it. Individually they're pretty chill. Peter loves to tell you about space and hangout while you do homework. Raul always seems to have a different question for you every few days, infinitely curious about why you want to live with them and borderline suspicious of you, you think. And Shawn, well, Shawn is a sweetheart. He's always making sure you're comfortable and happy and healthy. But when the boys get together, it's madness. Already you've overheard four flights in the last two weeks.

"Raul, clean up your shit your animal!" Shawn yells from the bathroom. This will be the start of a fifth fight. Always over the stupidest thing too.

"What? What'd I do now?" Raul asks, walking toward the bathroom. "What's pissed off Shawnie boy now?"

Shawn glares at him.

"What?" Raul asks angrily.

You walk out of your room and step past the two of them just outside the bathroom. You really need to wash your face before you go to bed. With a history of acne, it's not something you want to skip doing.

"There's a wad of hair in the tub drain, clothes behind the door, shaving remnants in the sink. Come on dude, you're gross."

"Oh big deal." Raul rolls his eyes. "Stop being such a little bitch."

Shawn growls and you look over from the sink. You may have never lived with werewolves, but you have known a few in your lifetime. Growling like that meant a challenge.

Raul growls in return. Just past Shawn's shoulder you can see his face curled up in a snarl, teeth showing and eyes golden. It's pretty terrifying and you don't particularly want to be in the middle of this argument. Hearing them was bad enough and if this was anything like the last one, it is bound to get rough.

"Can you guys take this outside?" You ask quietly, towel drying your face. Maybe there's a chance they will listen to you.

Shawn turns to look at you and you swallow hard. He's just as terrifying as Raul, possibly more so. The tension between the two of them is palpable. Suddenly you're very aware how defenseless you are compared to the likes of them and how you would stand no chance if they started fighting.

"Shawn, stop, she's scared." Raul says, shoving his brothers shoulder, face returning to it's normal features.

"Sorry." Shawn mumbles, face relaxing a well, eyes and teeth going back to normal. "I didn't think about scaring you...I'm sorry."

"It's okay." You mutter, stepping past Shawn to go down the hall. You don't want to stick around in case they start arguing again.

"Look what you did," Raul says angrily.

Shawn growls. "You aren't any better."

A while later Peter comes to your room, slipping in the cracked open door. You aren't asleep. He sits on the end of the bed and shakes your foot.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah?"

"You should be sleeping. Are you awake because of Shawn and Raul?" Peter sighs. "They can be obnoxious, but I promise they won't hurt you."

You sit up. "It's just something I have to get used to. It's alright, I'm not scared now."

Peter leans in and puts his arm around you in a small hug. "I promise I'll try to make them fight less."

"Thank you Peter."

"You're welcome."

_____________________

Walking home from class on a Monday, you see a group of guys standing outside the engineering building. They're four big guys, all probably students, and if you were to guys, they're werewolves. Usually you would pay no mind to anyone but this group seems to be leering at you. Twice a guy with dark hair has made eye contact when you looked up. It makes you uncomfortable.

"Hey! You!"

You don't look over at them, eyes glued to the ground. You won't entertain their calls. They were probably cat calling any girl who went past. You grip your backpack straps tighter and pick up the pace a little.

"Hey!" There are footsteps behind you and your stomach churns. Great. One has followed you. "You're that girl that lives with the Mendes boys."

"Yeah, so?" You keep walking, wishing your keys with your pepper spray were not inside your backpack right now. How could you be so stupid? Just because it's the middle of the day doesn't mean you won't get harassed.

"So do they share you or something?"

You turn around and there is the dark haired guy, about Shawn's height,  standing there with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face. "Fuck you."

"We just wanted to see if we could get in on that." He looks you over and licks his lower lip. "You must be pretty good to please three alphas."

"It's not like that!" You clench your fists. "I just live there, not that it's any of your business."

The guy steps forward and you step back, readying to run. His face falls suddenly and you feel someone's arm around your shoulders. Heat pour out of the body behind you and your heart stops, thinking it's one of this guy's friends.

"Get away from here." It's Raul, and you've never been more relieved. "I said, get away," he growls to the guy in front of you.

The guy steps back and turns away without another word. You turn and Raul wraps his arms around you. You don't need to tell him anything, he knows how scared you are.

"Let's go home." Raul says softly, rubbing your upper back above your backpack. "I'll keep you safe the rest of the way."

_____________________

Just after midnight you hear Raul and Shawn talking loudly in the kitchen, just on the other side of your room. You've been awake for a while, thinking about the group of guys from campus, scared that something may have happened to you if Raul hadn't shown up.

"We've made her a target!" Shawn says angrily.

"Because she smells like us? What does another pack care about her for? She's just a human living with wolves."

"You said there were guys that were trying to take her. If she had been taken..."

"You don't have to say it. We all care about her. I'd kill anyone who lays a hand on her."

Peter speaks up this time. "Me too. We need to keep her safe. Other packs know she's our weakness, they may target her for that."

"Wanna take turns shadowing her?"

"We're going to have to."

_____________________

Shawn stands at the door, hands in his pockets, waiting for you to leave. He offered to drive you to school even though his class doesn't start until noon. You know exactly why after the conversation you overheard.

"What time are you out of classes today?"

"Not until five. Are you going to pick me up?"

Shawn groans and rubs his neck. "No, I'll be at hockey practice. I can see if Raul or Peter can get you?"

"I can walk ho-"

"No, I got it." Peter says softly, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. "I've got a study group until five. Meet me at the library?"

"Sure."

Shawn puts his arm around your shoulders and walks out with you. His warm body heat radiating through his thin hoodie.

"I could drive myself?" You look over at your car. "It's no problem."

"We want to make sure you're safe. Raul told us what happened with those guys and we want to make our presence known around you," Shawn says matter of factly. "You're part of our pack now. We'll take care of you okay? We will just have to stick together until we're sure there is no threat to you."

"O-okay." You take a seat in his Jeep and put your hands between your legs to keep them warm. You haven't been part of a pack before, or even a family really. Your parents didn't do much with you and your brother as kids, and they split when you were in your teens. It feels good, having people care about you.

_____________________

"Hey sweetheart," Raul says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders. You're on your way out of your math class that you absolutely hate but are required to take at least one semester of a year for your degree. "Hungry?"

"I had a granola bar in class. So, not really?"

"When's your next class start?"

"An hour. I was going to go to the library."

Raul scoffs. "Nope, you're coming with me to get lunch."

"But I don't have any money."

He stares at you blankly. "I'll pay. I'm not going to make you pay for lunch when it's my idea. What am I? An animal?"

"Well..."

"Ah! Don't even go there." He grins and you can't help but crack a smile that turns into a little laugh. He's literally showing off his prominent fangs as he smiles. The irony. "What? Stop laughing."

"No." You push his lip up and he playfully bites your finger in retaliation. "Wolf boy."

Raul bares his teeth and you giggle. He's obviously not serious like he had been while fighting with Shawn the other day. While he looks terrifying, you aren't scared at the moment. Raul drops his facade and stares at you blankly. "You're weird."

"Nuh uh, you're weird. I'm just standing here, you're showing off your fangs to the world."

"And you're giggling at it!"

You raise your eyebrows and tilt your head a bit. "Would you rather I cry? Or run away?"

"N-no." He stammers. It's strange seeing him a little caught off guard like this. "You're like whiplash. One moment you're scared of us, the next you're giggling. I don't understand you."

You grab his hand and he slides his fingers between yours as if it were completely natural. Your heartbeat picks up a bit, not expecting him to do that. "Maybe you should try harder? I am your newest pack mate after all."

Raul narrows his eyes as if he were going to deny that statement, but he doesn't. He won’t. "Whatever, let's go to lunch."

"My choice?"

"No, mine."

"Well that's not fair."

He tugs you along gently, hand still in yours. "Life's not fair. I'm paying, I pick."

"Fine. Jerk."

"You know it, sweetheart.”

_____________________

Shawn's first hockey game of the season is on Saturday and you're all bundled up, ready to sit in the cold arena for a few hours. Shawn had invited you to go on Monday and you couldn't say no. He was so cute about it, giving you his jersey from last year to wear over your hoodie and everything. He even made you some cookies in sort of hockey stick shape. Honestly the world doesn't deserve him.

"You made it!" Shawn says excitedly as he wraps his arms around you. You’re in the hall outside the locker and storage rooms for the ice rink on campus. Hockey is sort of a big deal at your school. "We're just getting ready, do you wanna see the locker rooms?"

"I think I'll pass."

"Okay, okay, yeah locker rooms are kind of gross." Shawn laughs, he almost sounds nervous though you can’t imagine why he would be. First game jitters most likely. "You wore my jersey I see."

"Mmhmm. It's huge even over my sweatshirt." You pull out the silky jersey material from your chest. "I guess that's good though, wouldn’t want it to squeeze me to death or something."

Shawn smiles. "I love it. Did Raul and Peter come with you?"

"Yeah, they're getting snacks at the concessions. You guys eat too much."

"Fast metabolisms." Shawn pats his padded stomach. "Wolves gotta eat baby."

"Yeah, and they eat everything in sight. Speaking of food, I'm making dinner tonight, so you better be home after the game."

Shawn groans in delight. "I get to have you watch me play and I get dinner? Is it my birthday?"

"It's Saturday." You chuckle, rolling your eyes at his theatrics. "I always make dinner on Saturday, the game is just a bonus."

From the locker rooms a few doors down the hallway you can hear the coach yelling for Shawn.

"I gotta go. I promise I'll be home for dinner. I’m riding back with you guys anyway."

"Good."

Shawn turns to go and you grab his hand. He turns back and you lean up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "What was that?" He asks, touching the place where your lips had been.

"For good luck.” Your heart races and he squeezes your hand, telling you that he can feel it too. “Go, before the coach hunts you down."

Shawn flushes and clears his throat. "Thanks. I'll meet up with you after?”

"Mmmhmm. Good luck!"

____________________

Your team wins the game, even though Shawn kept gawking at you every couple of minutes. As team captain he really should be paying more attention. There were several shots he should have made with ease had he not been totally distracted. You can’t blame him though, he must be thinking about the cheek kiss. You know you were.

Post game you wait with Peter in the entryway to the ice complex. Peter gave you his jean jacket to keep warm even though you have on a hoodie and shawn’s jersey. Raul went to get Shawn's jeep to pick everyone up out front. Shawn had carpooled with one of the other guys on the team so you and the guys could bring his jeep and everyone could ride comfortably.

Shawn walks out of the doors to the rink and he’s got on his sunglasses and a long sleeve shirt, bag of gear slung over his shoulder. He looks so good, like a professional hockey player coming out to meet fans. He pushes up his sunglasses and smiles, picking up the pace when he sees you and Peter at the doors.

"Did you see that shot I landed from halfway across the ice? It went sailing past their goalie so fast he didn’t stand a chance. I've never done that before." Shawn says excitedly. "I played so well.” He puts his free arm around your shoulders. “I think you're my good luck charm."

"Oh please, I think you were too distracted personally." You say and he raises his eyebrows, leaning back to look down at you. "What? Like I couldn't tell you kept searching for me in the seats? I know you missed that shot that was passed to you because you were looking for me when I moved to get a better view.”

"I just-"

"Shawn! Shawn!" A group of three girls comes running over, giggling and making a lot of noise between them. "You were amazing out there!" “So good!” “I loved the game!”

"Oh, thanks." Shawn says softly, breaking away from you for a moment. "Can I help you ladies?"

"We wanted to see if you were available tonight." One of the girls, a tall blonde, says playfully. "We're hosting a party at our place. Our frat actually."

Shawn looks at the three girls and then over to you and Peter. "I..."

You catch his eye and just sigh, assuming he's not going to be home for dinner now. You were even going to make his favorite, spaghetti and meatballs.

"I have dinner plans."

Your stomach flip flops. He’s going to go home with you and not these girls? Wild.

"Oh...that's lame. You could stop by after. We really want you to come over. You are the captain after all." One girl says with a little pout.

Shawn shakes his head. "I need to rest up." He steps away from the girls and puts his arm around your shoulders. "Thanks for the offer ladies, maybe another time."

Peter looks up from his phone and points to the glass doors. "Raul's here with the car."

"Gotta go," Shawn says, waving and walking you toward the doors.

"You don't have to stay home if you want to go," You say and glance back at the girls who are now talking among themselves. "I can save you some dinner or something."

Shawn presses his nose into your hair as he walks behind you now, arm around your chest. "I promised I'd be home for dinner. I can go to a party whenever. I don't get your spaghetti and meatballs all the time."

"How'd you know I was going to make that?"

"I saw the ingredients on the counter this morning. I realized when you said you were making dinner that was what it was going to be." Shawn opens the back door for you and hot air pours out. Raul's got the heater on high just for you. "I'm staying home."

"Alright, alright." You climb in the back seat and Peter gets in opposite you. He pockets his phone and scoots closer to you, leaning his head on your shoulder. You put your hand in his hair and he sighs contently. "Are you guys ready for dinner?"

Shawn throws his gear in the back before getting settled in the passenger seat and they all answer in a chorus of yes as Raul pulls out onto the street. You smile, feeling so at home with them. Being a part of a pack is pretty damn good.

_____________________

It's early on a Sunday morning when Shawn invites you to go out with them. He says they go on a hike once a week, and you know they go out, but you're pretty sure their idea of a hike and yours is quite different. The four of you head out into the woods down the street from your house, they’re pretty thick and have a creek that runs through the trees. Its nice, even though it’s cold.

Once you get just inside the trees Shawn gives you his zip up jacket and they run off into the woods. You barely get a word out in protest before you’re surrounded by three huge wolves. It’s obviously the boys, but you have no idea which one is which, they all look incredibly similar.

The biggest one of the three bumps against you, pressing his side into your back. He noses under your hand and you pet his head. You would guess it's Shawn since he's the biggest of three as a human.

The one with slightly darker fur circles you, head down as he growls lowly. You watch him, eyes narrowed as he jumps away from your outstretched hand. It's Raul. The slight distrust and standoffishness is apparent.

Then there is the second biggest wolf, nearly identical to the biggest wolf, who is sitting patiently, waiting for you to approach. You think it must be Peter, since he is the only one left, but something about him isn't quite right. He nudges into your hand and you rub his ears. "I'm not sure which one is which."

Raul lets out a sharp bark and you turn to look at him.

"I am well aware which one you are, Raul." You say impatiently and he sits down, looking proud of himself. What a show off, even as a wolf.

The biggest wolf joins the other in front of you. They're so similar, right down to the fur color and markings, but one is clearly larger It must be Shawn, has to be. "Shawn?" You ask, pointing to the biggest one.

The big one lowers his head and whimpers. Obviously not.

"Peter? You're so big though. I thought for sure Shawn would be the biggest." The big one rolls over and you drop to your knees, rubbing his side. "You're such a big boy, how’d you get so big?"

Shawn nudges your back and you hold his head.

"Jealous baby." You laugh and Raul jumps on you, pushing you into Peter and Shawn. "Hey! Jerk, you're squishing me!"

Shawn tackles Raul and you lay down in the leaves watching the two wolves tangle a few feet away. Peter lays his head on your lap and you scratch it. They're just the same as wolves as they are as humans. Go figure.

____________________

Raul walks into your room late one night and looks around. You look up from your laptop. You've been slogging away on an English paper that you don't want to write. It’s the most boring thing on the planet and you would rather pull out your own hair one by one. "Can I help you?"

"I need you."

"Okay? For what?"

Raul crosses his arms. "School work."

"Like...tutoring or?"

"No. Just come with me."

You get up and set aside your laptop. Your English paper can wait until later, it's almost done anyway and you need a break. Raul leads you upstairs to his bedroom and you peek around the doorway into the forbidden territory. You’ve never dared set foot in any of the guys’ rooms without being invited. Though they always seem to invite themselves into your room. You suppose your sense of personal space and theirs is probably pretty different considering your upbringings and cultures. "Should I come in?"

"Yeah, door is open isn’t it?"

You walk in and his room smells like vanilla and sandalwood, soft but rich and heady. It’s so very much like Raul. Honestly you didn't know what to expect. A mess? Stinky boy smell? Everything painted black? What you get is none of those things. In fact, Raul's room is more like a mini art studio with a bed and a dresser in the corner. There is a huge canvas drop cloth on the floor and covering two walls. Somehow in the time you have lived with these guys, you never found out Raul painted.

"What are you doing?" You ask, walking around paint spots on the covered floor. "Why do you need me?"

"I need your picture."

"For what?"

"To paint." He says matter of factly as he grabs a camera off his bed. "I want to use the color of your eyes for something because it’s the perfect color and unless you want to stand here while I color match for who knows how long, I just want a photo."

You shake your head. "I think you're missing something here."

"What?"

"The fact that I had no idea you were an artist?" You laugh, gesturing to his work station. "How come you never said anything?"

Raul shrugs.  "It wasn't important? Besides...it's not like my major or something. I just take a few classes to help with my art skills for architecture."

“You’re majoring as an architect?”

“Yeah.” He lifts his camera and then lowers it, changing some sort of setting on it you assume.

You walk around and look at the canvases, some half finished, propped against the wall. “Art could be your major.”

“No.”

"Why not? These are good." You grab a canvas with pink roses on it, they’re very detailed and vibrant, almost like looking at a photograph. "I love this."

"Take it."

"But...you don't want it?"

Raul shrugs again. "It's just stupid flowers. Can I take your photo now?"

You tuck the painting up under your arm. "Fine. But only if you show me the finished product you need my eye color for."

"Okay, but only if you don't keep telling me how good my shit is."

"Fine."

Raul lifts the camera and moves in close for a good picture. He changes angles a few times and then pulls back. He looks at the screen and smiles a little bit. "Wow." He mutters under his breath.

"Hmm?"

"Nothing. Thanks, you can go now I guess."

You roll your eyes. "Good talk," you say sarcastically and leave his room with your new painting in hand. You don't understand Raul. One minute he's a sweetheart, taking you to lunch, holding hands, and the next he acts tough and indifferent. He's hard to read, and even harder to unpack.

_____________________

Something has been bothering you since the night of Shawn’s hockey game. It’s not anything anyone has done per say but more of something that they haven’t done. Since you moved in, now almost three months ago, you’ve never seen any of the guys with a significant other. To your knowledge all three boys are in to girls, but you can’t be sure since you’ve never actually asked. Either way, you’ve never heard them talk about going on a date or talk about being with anyone. What really got you thinking about it was how Shawn turned down the three girls after his game in favor of going home for dinner. Why not go to a party, meet someone, get some action? It’s not a big deal, and it’s really none of your business, but you can’t help but think about it.

Peter stands at the stove, stirring some rice in a pot for dinner. It’s his turn to make it and he’s making baked chicken with rice and broccoli. Sounds pretty plain, but Peter makes it taste really good.

“Can I ask you something?” You say, taking a seat at the dining table at the edge of the kitchen.

“Sure?”

“Why don’t you have a girlfriend, or boyfriend, whatever.”

Peter lets out a little laugh. “No lead up, just bam, why are you single? Damn.” He turns off the stove and moves the pot of rice to a cool burner. “If you must know, I’m single because it’s hard for me to connect with someone.”

“But you’re so sweet and smart.”

“Thank you, but it’s not just that.” He takes a seat opposite you and leans his head on his chin. “We wolves tend to try to find people who are committed. We don’t like to play games when it comes to relationships. I also have to find someone who understands and accepts me as a werewolf, and that’s not always as easy as it may seem.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, so...”

“You like me though right? We connect?”

Peter flushes, cheeks turning scarlet as he clears his throat. “Of course I like you. As a pack member and my friend. It’s not like...I don’t...not like...y’know. Unless you want that then-”

“Peter.” You start and he freezes, eyes panicked behind his glasses. “I meant as a friend and a pack mate.”

“Y-yes. I like you.”

“Okay, good.” You smile, warmth on your own cheeks. “You should probably check the chicken. The timer has been going off for a minute or so.”

“Shit!” Peter jumps up and you laugh as he scrambles to the oven with a pair of mitts over his hands. He saves the chicken and as soon as its out of the oven, Shawn and Raul appear to get dinner. You laugh to yourself as you watch the three guys argue over whether or not they can start dishing up food. It’s always something in this house.

_____________________

Shawn knocks on your open bedroom door and you look up from your phone. It’s after nine in the evening and you’re about to go to bed. It’s not like Shawn to be up much later than this either. He gets so exhausted from going to class and then hockey practice nearly every day, he just passes out when he gets home.

“What's up?” you ask, muting the tv.

“My tv is broken. Well, my remote is broken. I sort of stepped on it this morning in a hurry to leave.”

“Okay?”

Shawn looks over to your muted TV and then back to you. “Could I...watch my show in here?”

“Why not ask Raul or Peter? Or did they already turn you away?”

“Raul told me to shove it and Peter’s door is locked.” He sighs and hangs his head. “I can just catch it next week. I’ll pick up a remote tomorrow.”

“No, come in.” You pull back the corner of your bedspread and he wastes no time crawling into the bed next to you. You decide to take pity on him. You know what it’s like to miss your favorite show for a week and then not know what anyone is talking about on your social media. “What channel?”

“Thirty six. It’s grey’s anatomy. “

“Ah, gotcha.” You change the channel and Shawn scoots closer, propped against your bed head. “If I fall asleep don’t worry about waking me up okay?

“Mmmhmm.” Shawn grabs the remote and turns up the volume as the opening credits for the show starts to play. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, and you owe me.”

He leans over and kisses your temple. “You have my undying love and gratitude.”

“Oh yeah? What’s that get me? What’s the exchange rate on undying love and gratitude?”

“Whatever you want.”

“That seems like a loaded offer for something as simple as letting you watch a TV show.”

Shawn looks away from the tv and you raise your eyebrows. He lowers his voice, talking soft and sincerely. “I’d give you anything. You should know that.”

“Y-yeah. I’ll have to raincheck you on that.” You feel your stomach clench. That was way more loaded then the offer was. The way he’s looking at you...it’s insane. No. You cannot be feeling some kind of way for Shawn. You live together. Its...no. But what if? You bite your lip thinking about a scenario where you do become more than friends with Shawn. You’d let him do just about anything, and he- no. stop. You have to stop. No more.

_____________________

The group of guys from campus appear again. It's been weeks since the run in where Raul saved you. You and the guys all figured it was a one off thing, just some guys being dicks. As soon as you see them, you know something is going on.

You're outside raking leaves in the front yard when the sound of crunching leaves gets your attention and you look up from your pile to see the guys walking into the yard. They just stare at you, saying nothing. Honestly it's creepy and you feel panicked.

"Sh-shawn!" You yell, dropping the rake and running up the porch and into the house. "Shawn!"

Shawn comes running down the stairs, taking two at a time and grabs you, arms around you in a split second. "What happened? Are you okay?"

"There's wolves out there. The group from campus, they're in our yard."

Shawn growls and looks to the open doorway to the front porch. "I didn't smell anything, are you sure?"

You pull Shawn toward the door. "Yes! They're out there right...now." There is no one in the yard. Just your pile of leaves and the rake you dropped. "They were just here."

Shawn looks around, stepping down off the porch and walking around the yard. "I don't smell anything. Are you sure?"

"Yeah." You cross your arms and look around. "They were here. Three of them. It...it was the same guys. They were just here I swear."

Shawn climbs the porch steps and puts his hand on your forehead. He presses his other palm to your cheek. "Are you feeling alright?"

"I'm fine Shawn. Those guys were here."

"I just...I'm not catching a scent. They were in the yard right? Did they say anything?"

"N-no they just stood there. I'm not crazy Shawn. I know what I saw."

"Okay, okay." He holds your shoulders. "I'll finish raking, just in case they come back. Just relax alright?"

You lean your head against his shoulder and he wraps his arms around you. "I promise I'm not lying."

"I didn't say you were. Go relax, please. You're very tense."

"Okay. I'll go look at what I want to make for dinner tomorrow and just chill."

"Good girl. I'll be back in shortly."

"Okay...sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry for anything."

_____________________

By the end of the day you feel awful. Strange how you started the morning feeling fine doing housework and raking but after you saw the group of guys, you started to feel bad. Shawn insisted he couldn't catch a single scent of anyone outside, and he even took a walk to see if he could pick up a trail of any sort. He came up with nothing.

Things got stranger when Shawn started to feel sick. His head began hurting, body aching and a cough that wouldn't go away. You were having the exact same symptoms, but you're a human and he is a werewolf who shouldn't be getting sick.

"Hey, are you okay?" Peter asks, poking his head into the living room where you're curled up under some blankets beside Shawn. The two of you decided to nap together when you began to get cold and shaky, the room spinning for both of you.

"We're sick."

"We?" Peter asks, walking in and taking in Shawn's sleeping form slumped over beside you. "Shawn's sick too?"

"Yeah. I...I think he is?" You shake your head, brain foggy. "It happened suddenly."

Peter furrows his brow and takes a step toward his brother, laying his hand on his head. "Werewolves don't get common colds or allergies. Did you guys get into something?"

"No?"

"Something isn't right. Did you eat or drink anything weird?"

You shake your head.

Peter takes a seat on the coffee table and you stare at him. He looks puzzled. "Walk me through your day."

"I woke up, had breakfast. I did laundry and cleaned the kitchen. Then I went outside to rake leaves, and after a while I saw a group of guys from campus, the ones who bugged me that day Raul stepped in."

"Wait, they were near the house?"

"In the yard but when I got Shawn he said there was no one there. The guys left or something. Then I went inside and Shawn finished raking and-"

Peter stops you. "Hold on. You say the guys were there, but Shawn didn't see them? Did he smell them?"

"No, no he couldn't find anything. I know I saw them, I swear."

"When did you start feeling bad?"

"After I came inside and calmed down a bit."

"And Shawn?"

"A little while later." You roll your head against the back of the couch. "Why are you asking so many questions Peter?"

"I'm curious." He stands and tugs your blanket off, making Shawn stir awake. "Did you shower or change clothes after you raked? Have you taken any medicine?"

"No?"

"Did Shawn?"

"Probably not?"

Peter sighs. "Where is the leaves you raked? Did Shawn bag them up?"

"Yeah? They're at the curb. Why?"

"I have a feeling something is in the leaves." Peter pulls you up and covers his face with the front of his sweatshirt. "You need to change clothes, shower, and take some allergy medicine. I think you have something on you that's making you sick. Shawn too."

"Something? Leaf dust?"

"No, something like nightshade pollen or leaves. It can make humans have an allergic, or even deadly reaction and hallucinations. It's less worse for werewolves but will numb their senses, even make them ill to an extent." Peter shakes Shawn's shoulder. "Get up Shawn, you need to go shower and take medicine."

"Fuck off." Shawn mumbles.

Peter smacks him upside the head. "Shawn, get up!"

Shawn sits up snarling and shoves Peter over the coffee table. You sink back down into the cushions. You feel horrible, not up to dealing with fighting. Your energy is drained.

Peter growls and tackles Shawn over the back of the couch, both boys go careening over the sofa and onto the hardwood floor. "What are you fighting me for?!"

"You tackled me!"

"I tackled you because you hit me!" Peter hauls Shawn up and you watch in awe as he does so. Peter is big, but not near as muscled as Shawn and Raul, at least you don't think he is. The ease with which he is moving his much larger brother is astounding. "You're poisoned. Go shower and clean yourself up."

"What?" Shawn shoves Peter off of him. "I am not."

"Then tell me how you're sick?" Peter quips. "Hmm? How's a werewolf sick with a fever and cold like symptoms?"

Shawn shrugs.

You peer over the couch at them and they both look at you as you groan, head hurting. "Can you stop arguing for a minute?"

Peter sighs heavily. "I think it’s nightshade, I think you've both inhaled some pollen from the leaves or dried flowers from it."

"Fuck." Shawn says softly. "It made her sick? Is she okay? I should have realized. I'm so stupid."

"Don't worry. She'll be okay, she didn't eat any of the plant. Just get her some medicine and out of those clothes. And take care of yourself too." Peter sighs. "Someone probably planted the dried flowers in the yard as an attack. I'm willing to bet it's that pack that she saw, unless that was a hallucination. I'm not sure."

"But-"

"No one was there right? Your senses would have become dull when you went out if the nightshade was out there. All of us would be vulnerable for who knows how long if she hadn't been the one to clean up most of the leaves. I'm going to go make sure there isn't anything left. Take care of her."

Shawn gets you into the bathroom and you take a quick shower, using just some bar soap to get clean. By the time you're done you feel a lot better. You're still a little stuffed up but the headache has mostly receded and you aren't as tired or dizzy.

You take an allergy pill and get dressed in some pajamas while Shawn showers and you head to the living room. Raul walks in the front door and stops, looking around for something before spotting you.

"What happened? Are you sick?"

"I'm alright. Peter thinks someone put nightshade in the yard."

Raul makes a face. "Did you get hurt? Where's Shawn and Peter now?"

"Showering and upstairs." You pull a blanket around your shoulders.

"They just left you alone?" Raul sinks onto the couch beside you and kicks his boots off. "Are you alright? Can you breathe okay?"

"Mmhmm. Showering helped a lot. I took an allergy pill and some decongestant. I feel better than when Peter found me and Shawn."

Shawn walks into the living room in his pajama pants, hair wet and a mess. He looks so good, like a model from some loungewear magazine. Unreal. "Good you're home Raul. Peter found nightshade in the yard."

"I heard." Raul moves to stand and you grab his hand, feeling the tension radiating off of him. "Why didn't you notice? How come you let her get sick?"

"Whoa what? I was busy feeling sick too, I didn't know what was going on. What am I, a fucking botanist?"

You squeeze Raul's hand and he tries to tug away but you won't let him. If he's holding on to you, he can't start fighting with Shawn. "Rau, sit down. It's not Shawn's fault."

Raul turns sharply and looks at you. "You...don't call me that."

"What? Rau?"

"My mom called me that." He sits down, hand in yours relaxing. "Sorry, I just...it's fine."

Shawn says he's going to get Peter so they can discuss what happened and how to move forward.

You lay your hand on Raul's shoulder and he leans back on the cushions. "I won't call you that if you don't like it. It was just a slip of the tongue."

"It's fine. I just haven't heard it in a long time."

"I don't want to remind you of your mom if you miss her or something. I won't-"

"No, I said it's fine. Mom would have liked you, and...I like you. So I don't mind it."

You lean your head on his shoulder and he leans his head on yours. "You like me?"

"Of course I do. A lot. You're my pack."

"Mmmhmm."

"Just...pack." Raul mumbles under his breath softly as he looks up at Shawn and Peter entering the room. There is a lot to decipher about events unfolding around the house, and you know there will probably be some arguments. You pull your blanket around yourself and settle in.

_____________________

Peter walks around the house gathering laundry. You and the boys have a set schedule for who does what chores and makes dinner throughout the week. Wednesday is laundry day for Peter. If he doesn't have enough to preoccupy the washer for the day he will collect everyone else's and do it too.

"Hey, got anything you need washed?" Peter asks from your bedroom doorway, basket propped out on his hip. There's a small tattoo on his inner bicep that you can't recall ever noticing before.

"No, I don't. I tossed all my bath towels and stuff down the chute yesterday." You get up and cross the room to grab one of Shawn's hoodies that is laying on your chair. "I have this, but I don't know if it needs washed. Shawn left it in here the other night."

Peter holds the basket out and you drop it in. "What was he in here for?"

"Watching TV. His remote broke and he needs another one." You shake your head. "I think he stepped on it or something."

"Sounds like Shawn."

"Yeah," you chuckle and touch his arm. "When did you get that?"

"The swallow?" He asks, looking down to the small bird on his arm. "About a year ago."

"I never noticed it. It's nice."

"It's our thing." He smiles. "Shawn's got the one on his hand y'know?"

"Yeah! It is the same huh?"

"Exact same. Raul is getting his this week. He has been trying to decide where to get it forever."

"Oh, that'll be fun. Where did he decide on?"

"Ribcage just under his heart. They're a reminder that we're always going to be each other's home even when we fight and want to wring each other's necks. Because the swallow represents love, family and loyalty."

You smile and nod. "That's sweet. I wish I had something that special."

"You do." Peter runs a hand over his hair. "You're part of this pack."

"While I'm here. One day I'll move out though. Besides, I'm not a wolf, and I'm definitely not blood related."

"You're pack forever. You belong here, with us. We don't just call anyone our packmate. You've left your mark on us as much as we have on you." Peter shift the basket on his hip and pushes his glasses up. "I don't want you to leave."

"I'm not. Not anytime soon." You put your hand on his shoulder. "I promise I won't leave you Peter."

"Good." He grins. "Now follow me, I've got a dryer warm sweatshirt for you if you like."

"A man after my heart."

He shows his fangs, nose scrunching up and lip curling as he lets out a growl. "Definitely. I'm gonna eat it up. Don't you know I'm a wolf?"

"It's all yours." You laugh and he laughs too. It was a joke but...it almost felt like it wasn't. You do truly care for Peter. _____________________

"What are you doing after class?" Raul asks as he steals your french fries at lunch. He's taken you to the diner down the street from the campus for a quick bite. The boys won't let you go anywhere alone after the nightshade incident. Peter is working on getting cameras for the house to detect any further attacks.

"Homework."

"Do you want to go somewhere with me?"

"I'm somewhere now?" You swat his hand away from your fries so you can actually eat some.

Raul disregards your swatting and grabs a handful quickly. "I mean somewhere else dipshit."

"Dipshit? How kind of you. Makes me definitely want to go somewhere else with you."

Raul pinches the bridge of his nose and growls. "Sorry, sorry. I...I'm nervous?"

You raise your eyebrows. Raul, admitting he has emotions other than indifference? Shocker. "About what?"

"My tattoo. I'm getting-"

"The swallow right? Peter told me."

"Yeah."

"You're nervous about getting a tattoo? But don't you have others?"

Raul nods and lifts his jacket sleeve up, revealing the sleeve tattoo you knew was there from the first time you met him. It's a silhouetted forest with the moon shining through the trees and it wraps around his whole arm, the sky decorated with swirls of stars and hues of blue and purple. It's beautiful. You wish you saw it more often, or you could just take the time to really study it. It’s like a painting on his body. Beautiful.

"Isn't that way more painful than a simple swallow?"

"Yeah...but...I sort of got really wasted while I had this one done. I wasn't going to survive hours on end of needle work on my arm sober." Raul tugs his sleeve back down and runs a hand through his hair. "I don't want to do that again either. I don't like myself when I'm drunk."

"So you want me to go with you?"

"Mmhmm. Peter and Shawn are gonna go too, but I thought I'd invite you along. They say the rib cage is painful to get tattooed but it's the only place I want the swallow.”

"Aren't werewolves supposed to be really tough?"

Raul gives you a look. "I have feelings. Things do hurt me still. I'm not superhuman."

"Maybe if you showed those feelings more often I wouldn't think you're different."

"Maybe if people didn't turn on me I would."

You frown, eyes meeting his. "I don't know who's hurt you or what they did but I swear not everyone is like that. I like you Raul, somehow, I do. But you gotta open up."

He growls, holding his head in his hands. "It's hard. Just...can we stop talking about this? I don't want therapy. Are you coming with me to get the tattoo or not?"

"Yes."

"Good. Thank you."

_____________________

Going to the tattoo and piercings place turns into a fiasco. Of course Raul has his appointment scheduled to do the swallow, but his brothers seem to have other plans while you're all there. Shawn doesn't surprise you when he starts looking at the tattoo wall, oohing and awing over several very complicated designs. But Peter looking at the piercings does surprise you.

Raul gets set up in his chair, opting for one that's in the main room instead of a private area. The show off. You walk around and look at all the different stuff the shop does. Everything from first time ear piercings for little kids to photos of detailed tattoos the artists on staff have done. There is one photo on the wall you find familiar. It's Raul's arm, his sleeve tattoo. It's beautiful even in the photo.

Peter chats with a staff member nearby and you walk over to see what he's up to. He is standing at a glass case with several piercings demonstrated on foam models in it. "So it's just in and out then?"

"Yes, nose piercing is very quick." The staff member says smiling softly. She's a tiny little woman, but her blue mohawk makes her look bigger. "I don't have any appointments right now, if you wanna get one I'd be happy to help."

Peter looks to you sheepishly. "Should I get one?"

"Why not? But also, why?" You laugh, looking down at the selection of studs in the case.

"I don't know. Raul and Shawn have so many tattoos and piercings...maybe I could too?"

You lay your hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to be like your brothers. Don't feel like you have to do it just to fit in."

"I know." Peter closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. "Maybe just my ears? Or one ear? I want to be different. I'm just Peter y'know?"

"Yes, you're Peter." You chuckle. "And for what it's worth I like you just how you are. But if you want to get a piercing because you actually would like it, then go for it. Don't do it just because your brothers have."

"I'll think about it." Peter looks over to where Raul is pulling his shirt off. "Raul looks like he's about to get started. He'll want you there."

"He will?"

"Yeah. Trust me, he's going to cry and he's going to want someone who isn't his brother to hold his hand."

You raise your eyebrows. "Raul?That Raul?"

"Yep. Go on. I'll talk to Shawn about the piercing thing."

You wander over toward Raul and take a seat on a rolling stool on his right side. The artists gets his tools ready and preps Raul's rib cage. Hopefully this won't take long.

The moment the needle gun hits Raul's skin he's baring his fangs, eyes changing to a deep gold color. He has one arm up around the head of the slightly reclined chair for a better angle for the artist. With his other arm he grips the soft cushion of the armrest and you worry about the artists safety as time ticks by..

"Raul, hey," you lay your hand on his arm after a few minutes and he tears his eyes away from the ceiling to look at you. "Relax, take a deep breath."

"I can't," he groans. "I can't or he'll mess up."

The artist pulls back and gives Raul a moment to breath. "Take your time," he says cooly.

Raul has tears in his eyes as he says, "Alright I'm ready, go again." He's most definitely not ready because he rips the arm of the chair up and the artist has to stop to assess the damage.

"We'll cover the repair cost." You say quickly and you take Raul's hand in yours.

"Keep going," Raul growls, breathing heavily before the artist goes back in.

"Please don't rip my arm off," you say half jokingly and Raul shakes his head.

Ten minutes of agonizing silence passes. You just keep holding Raul’s hand and he grinds his teeth. "Maybe if we talked it'd go faster?"

"Can't talk much though. Breathing is hard."

"Okay, okay." You wiggle your fingers against his hand, his death grip absolutely killing you. "I'll talk?"

"Sure, or you can...fuck...can you put your hand in my hair?" He lets out a groan as the artist takes a break to let him breath. "I like my hair played with, it's calming. Please?"

You tentatively reach for his hair with your free hand, fingers carding gently through it. His hair is so dark, at least a few shades darker than Peter and Shawn's. It's thick and soft, no product in it today for sure.

Raul barely flinches when the artist starts to work again. He has his eyes closed, hand gripped tight in yours. "Don't stop," he mutters when you pull your fingers out of his hair. He opens his eyes and they're pure golden brown, like rich honey, and he stares at you, eyes half lidded.

"I wasn't going to," you mutter, eyes going to his lips. They're so soft looking, a little pink and puffy from him chewing on them due to nerves. Your heart skips, the thought of kissing him is suddenly so tempting.

"Keep talking."

"Okay. Your eyes are very pretty like this." He smiles, full on smiles like a bashfully shy boy talking to his crush. "You're doing really well."

"Mmm."

"I think you're almost done." You look down at the artist and he's working on the tail of the bird.

"Your eyes are pretty too."

"Oh yeah? You never showed me what you painted with the color of them."

"Not done."

"Ohh. I see, it's a big project then?" You flex your fingers in his hair. "I bet it'll be incredible. I know you said you don't like when I tell you how good your art is, but it is so good. I love the roses, I hung it in my room."

"Thank you." He groans as the artist finishes and pulls away.

You wipe his cheek and he relaxes, lowering his arm from over his head. "I'm glad I could help."

"I thought you two were going to start making out at one point." Shawn says from a seat behind you.

You turn and he's got his head to the side, laying against a reclined chair while the girl with the blue mohawk from earlier is setting up a tray with implements beside him. "You jealous?" You ask jokingly.

"If I was?" Shawn quips.

"Then I guess you'd have to suffer."

Shawn puts his hand over his heart. "You wound me."

"Oh psh."

Peter walks out of a back area and you see him holding a cloth to his face.

"What'd you do Peter?" Raul asks, standing up and gently putting his sweater on.

"Oh shit he did it." Shawn says with a laugh.

Peter gets closer and pulls the cloth away to reveal a black stud in the lower left part of his lip. "What do you think?"

You cover your mouth and let out a giggle. "Its so-"

"Damn Peter." Raul laughs, hand coming down on his brothers shoulder. "Didn't think you had the balls."

Peter shrugs. "I gotta do something crazy some time right?"

"It's nice." You smile, stepping closer and looking at the tiny stud. "I definitely wouldn't have the guts to do it."

"Maybe someday we could get you to get something though," he smiles.

Shawn reaches out for you, flexing his hand. "Hold my hand?"

You take it and he squeezes it while he gets cartilage pierced. You laugh as he groans, grinning into the pain while the employee works quickly to get a stud in. Shawn is such a weirdo. A simple outing turned into such an event. These boys will be the death of you.

_____________________

Leaving the tattoo shop you run into the last people you want to see. It's the group of guys from campus. There are four now instead of three and Raul immediately goes on the defense.

"Hey! You fucks!" Raul snarls and Shawn wraps his arms around you, holding you to the side for safety.

"Can we help you?" The fourth unfamiliar and clearly older member of the group asks.

"Oh don't play coy with me." Raul says as Peter walks out of the shop to your right. "I know you're the ones who have been harassing our girl."

"Excuse me?" The man asks, seemingly genuinely confused.

Peter joins Raul, looking over the guys. He's tense, you can tell by the way he's got his shoulders back and head up. "You're the ones who put nightshade in the yard."

"What?!" The guy asks, looking to his very guilty looking pack mates. "I have no idea what's going on here. Harassment? Nightshade? What are you guys talking about?"

"Why don't you ask those three." Raul points at the younger men of the group, the ones who bothered you. "I'm sure they'll explain."

"Scott...we were just fucking around," one mumbles and the older man turns to look at the three. "We thought...like y'know...she was their toy and we could get in on that."

"The fuck did you just say?" Peter snarls, stepping forward and Raul reaches for him. He shrugs him off and gets in the guy's face.

"Whoa, calm down," Scott says, holding a hand up to Peter. "He's-"

"I said she's your toy. A human like that living with three alphas? Ain't no way she-"

"Peter no!" You yell and he looks back at you, teeth showing, eyes wild. He looks ready to turn on you and your heart sinks. The last thing you see is Peter shifting, his face looks murderous. Raul desperately tries to get between him and the smart mouth with the guy named Scott helping. Shawn turns you away and holds his hands over your ears.

It's over as soon as it started. Raul drags Peter away, quite literally, as Shawn takes you to the jeep. You don’t look back, you don’t even know where Peter and Raul went but Shawn is starting the jeep and leaving the situation. You don’t know what to say. Everything escalated so quickly...and Peter just snapped. You wrap your arms around yourself. Peter was supposed to be your anchor in this crazy pack, the sane one, the one who had a level head. Seeing him go crazy like that so quickly, and feeling like you were his target for a moment...it scares you.

_____________________

Peter and Raul don't come home for hours after the fight. You don't know where they are and you don't ask Shawn. He seems just as tense as you are.

After midnight you hear talking in the hall. You aren't asleep, not even tired. You've been watching movies on your laptop just trying to calm down. The voices are muffled at first but eventually get louder, as if they are approaching your bedroom.

"Leave her alone," Shawn says. "She hasn't come out of her room since we got home. I'm sure she doesn't want to be woken up."

"I need to apologize to her." It's Peter. "She didn't need to see that."

"Maybe you can talk in the morning. Right now is not the best time."

The handle on your door jiggles and your heart races. There's a thump and loud growling. You grip your comforter, not ready to deal with another fight, not ready to see Peter.

"Shawn, I can't wait. She needs to know that I didn't mean to scare her. I just...I wanted to protect her."

"She wasn't in danger. We were all there with her. You let your feelings get in the way and it backfired!"

More growling, this time from Peter you assume. "Like you haven't been dealing with that too."

"This isn't about me. You have to let her do this on her terms. You fucked up. I understand that you need to say you're sorry but just...give her space."

Silence follows Shawn's words. There was so much to unpack in that short conversation. Feelings? Peter has feelings for you? And Shawn too? You close your laptop and scoot down into your blankets, turning and curling into your pillow. You don't know what to make of anything right now.

_____________________

Two days you avoid Peter, you avoid all the boys honestly. You get up, shower, go to class and come home. You don't stop and talk to Shawn while he makes breakfast. You don't yell at Raul for leaving his crap all over the bathroom. Nothing.

You're contemplating moving. The idea came to you the second night. Maybe if you weren't around things would be better. Maybe you don't belong with three wolves.

On the third day you get home from school and shortly after closing and locking your door, something you've never really done before now, there is a knock. You're not even changed out of your sweater and jeans when the familiar soft knock knock knock gets your attention. There is no doubt that it's Peter.

"I know you're home." It's definitely Peter.  

You don't answer.

"I heard you come in. I know you're still...unhappy with me. I just- I wanted to talk to you."

You go about changing, not ready to see him. You know he's going to look rough. You had seen Raul before class yesterday and he looked like he'd got the shit beaten out of him. You have no idea if it was from trying to get Peter off the guy in the fight or if it was from pulling Peter away. Either way you know Peter can't be unscathed.

"Please..." You hear his head hit the door with a soft thump. "I need to see you. I don't want you to leave."

Your stomach hurts. How did he know you were thinking of leaving.

"I fucked up." You hear him moving, and suddenly his voice comes from lower, as if he's sitting against the door. "I looked at you like you were the problem, and you're not. I lost myself and I don't know how to explain it. I think, everything was just building and building. That guy set me over the edge when he said...when he marginalized you as a toy. It made me sick."

You cross the room and stand in front of the door.

"I care for you so much, you're my best friend in this world right now and I know that's saying a lot, and I'm probably too emotional, but you are. You've changed my life, our lives, since you moved in. I don't want to be the reason you leave. I don't want this fuck up to be the reason we lose you."

You wipe your eyes, tears streaming out upon their own accord. It's time. You can't let him go on without seeing him. It'd just be cruel. You turn the door handle and the lock clicks open.

Peter looks up at you, eyes wet as well. He's got bruising across his eyebrow and his lip piercing looks swollen. "Do you hate me?" He asks, voice cracking as he fights back more tears. "I understand if you do."

"No." You whisper, stepping closer. "Peter I don't hate you. I'm not sure I could ever do that."

He stands, arms crossed tightly over his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for attacking that guy and I'm sorry I scared you." He quickly wipes his eyes before resuming crossed arms. "I don't know what came over me. I-I freaked out and I shouldn't have."

"It was terrifying. I thought you were going to come after me."

"I know. I know I'm so sorry." He is visibly shaking. "Like I said, I had a lot of pent up emotions and it was the last straw. I shouldn't have let things get so bad. I don't...I don't like not being close with you."

You lay your hand on his chest and his heart is going wild. "I miss you too." You unfold his arms and slide yours around him. "Come on. I think it's been long enough. I can't not talk to you any longer."

Peter wraps his arms around you in a bear hug, squeezing you flush against him. "Thank you." He breaks down, gripping you tight and you just let him get it all out. It's what he needs. It's what you need.

_____________________

The alpha, Scott, from the group of guys who harassed you showed up with an apology on behalf of his pack mates. He said he had no idea what was going on, and that he won't stand for what they did. He even brought a gift card for you as if that would make things better. It doesn't change the fact that his pack did what they did. But it's a good attempt at making amends.

You and Shawn went out and got snacks for a movie night with the card. All of you decided that you just needed some quality time together as a pack. Things had been so hectic lately you all need to relax.

So now you're together on the sofa, watching a movie called Love Rosie. The guys let you pick the movie, much to their dismay and audible groaning. They all seem to be actually enjoying it though, they haven't fallen asleep...yet.

Raul puts his feet up on your legs on the ottoman and you glare at him. But he smiles, so cute and innocently, you can't help but let it slide. He snuggles down into the cushions, one of your blankets wrapped around him. He looks so soft compared to his usual indifferent demeanor. It's a small show of affection but one you will gladly take.

Shawn sits beside you, cuddled up against you, hand in yours. He's sharing his blanket, keeping you nice and warm. He claimed the spot before anyone else even sat down. You know he wanted you to sit on his other side so he could have you all to himself but Peter wasn't having that.

Peter. He is on your left side, slumped down, nearly asleep from a long day of taking tests. He's trying his best to stay awake for you, to watch the movie you picked. His head slips off your shoulder, and he ends up situating himself with his head on your lap and his legs over Raul's lap.  

You put your free hand in Peter's hair and he lets out a soft growl of content. You smile to yourself, happy to be loved. These boys have stolen your heart and they know it.

-Choose Your Ending: In order, Shawn, Raul, Peter.-

__________Shawn’s Ending____________

Shawn has a game against the college's long time rivals, the Cavaliers. He's nervous, been pacing the house all day. It's easily the biggest game of the season. You've been trying to get him out of his head all day, telling him it's just a game, that his team is incredible. You know he's stressed because he's the captain. It's on his shoulders to lead his team to victory.

"Do you wanna go somewhere with me?" Shawn asks around noon after hours upon hours of fretting.

"Like where?" You ask, curious to see what he has in mind. Anything would be better than his pacing.

"The diner. I uh...I used to have this tradition of going for milkshakes before games when I was in the local league as a kid." Shawn rubs his neck. "I stopped a few years back because I started getting into working out and it didn't fit in with my diet and...it's a stupid reason really. Anyway. Will you go with me?"

"Sure." You push your laptop off your legs and get up to grab your shoes. "Are you paying? I don't have a ton extra this month and-"

"I got it." He offers his hand and you take it to balance yourself as you pull your boots on. "It'd be rude to make you pay when I invited you out."

"Well, you'd be surprised. Some guys are real jerks about that."

Shawn wraps his arm around your shoulders. "Some guys are dicks. Well, most guys, but you probably know that. I try no to be a dick."

"You aren't Shawn, no worries. Let's go, I could use a chocolate shake and some fries."

___________________

At the diner you and Shawn sit in the far corner booth away from everyone else. It's a little drafty due to the old windows but it's fine. Shawn notices you shivering despite your sweatshirt and peels off his hoodie for you, passing it over the table.

"Thanks." You put it on and it smells like fresh laundry and his cologne. It's the best combination of floral linen scented detergent and heady rich sandalwood. You aren't sure if he's gonna get this thing back later.

"Oh man, they have a cinnamon roll shake for the holidays." Shawn points to the menu where it's listed. "I have to get it. Are you getting chocolate? Because we could share?"

"Yeah, and fries. I like to dip the fries into the shake."

"You're a freak."

"Me? Take a look in the mirror Captain Canine."

Shawn's jaw drops and you smirk. "You’re ice cold. That is such a low blow."

"I'm teasing, I figured you could handle it." You reach across the table and poke his chest. "A big wolf like you, you could take a few jabs to the ego."

He chuckles and pushes you hand away. "Mmm and I can serve them just as good."

"Oh? Dish it up then."

He shakes his head. "I won't do that to you. I care about you too much to insult you mindlessly. I will draw the line at fries in a shake though. Inexcusably freakish."

"Don't knock it until you try it."

The waitress comes over and takes your orders, giving Shawn a few looks that make you feel a little uncomfortable, like she’s sizing him up to prey upon later. She walks away with a hairflip, a giggle and a very unnecessary squeeze of Shawn's shoulder. You watch her like a hawk as she disappears into the kitchen.  

"You alright?" Shawn asks, hand waving in front of you.

"Yeah. Just...thinking." You turn your gaze to him and he leans his head on his chin, a single floppy curl hanging down between his eyes. He's due for a trim, he's starting to look more like Peter with that mop of hair. "You need a haircut."

"Uh uh. I wanna grow it out." He runs a hand through it and pulls it all the way up between his fingertips. "I want a sweet man bun."

"Oh no, Shawn no."

"Yes! Come on. I'd look so hot." He gathers his hair and twists it up into a tiny pouf between his fingers. "You love it."

"I do not. You look like a doofus. The headband for working out is ridiculous enough."

"Awww you're not nice. I love my headband."

You roll your eyes and he laughs. "Whatever you wanna do I guess."

"I'll cut it. I promise. It's getting in my eyes. I can't wear the headband under my helmet anyway, it's not comfortable. Maybe tomorrow I'll make an appointment. Anyway, what were you staring at the waitress for?"

"Nothing."

"It was not nothing. Are you jealous she was flirting with me?"

You roll your eyes but you don't deny it. You are definitely jealous.  

"You are." Shawn coos teasingly. "It's alright, I get jealous too sometimes."

"Of what?"

"You." He chews his lip and before you can ask him why the waitress returns with your orders.

You smile at her and ask for two extra straws, clearly stating you'll be sharing both milkshakes together. Shawn reaches across the table and threads his fingers between yours. He smiles at the waitress and then you. The waitress looks down and she seems to take the hint that her flirting is not welcome.

You don't want to jump back into the jealousy conversation afraid that you might be wrong about Shawn's intentions. He doesn't seem to be playing games and he obviously had no problem showing the waitress he wasn't interested. But still...the lingering fear of rejection remains.

"So, are you still worried about the game?"

Shawn sips his shake and nods. "Always. Nerves means you care. If I wasn't fretting about it I'd be too cocky and that's not how you win games. I've got nerves, but they're good nerves."

"Well, I'm glad we could do something to help." You dip your fries into your chocolate. "Wanna try?"

"Gross. Sure." Shawn says as he opens his mouth and closes his eyes. "Do I have to finish it?"

"Yes." You giggle and pop the two fries in his mouth. "Enjoy it."

"It's weird."

"Says the guy who must drink milk when we have spaghetti."

"Okay, that's a real thing though!" He covers his mouth and swallows. "I am not the only one."

"Fries in shakes is a thing too. Ever heard of Wendy's frosties and fries? It's a thing there."

Shawn rolls his eyes and you steal his shake in retaliation. He tries to get it back but you start sucking it down. "Hey! That's- alright then!" He steals your fry basket and starts eating them quickly like a crazed man.

You end up snorting while laughing causing milkshake comes out of your nose, in turn making him laugh as well and gag on the fries. The two of you break out laughing so hard you're crying. You don't care if people stare at you for making noise. Shawn's smile, his eyes, his laugh, everything in that moment radiates pure love. Maybe you're not wrong about how he feels. Maybe...maybe you should let him know how you feel.

____________________

You've done all you can to get Shawn to shake the nerves and before you part ways at the entrance to the ice rink, you give him a hug. He's got all his gear in a bag over his shoulder and he drops it in favor of holding you tight.

"You're gonna do great." You say, face smushed into his chest. "I promise you're gonna beat them. I'm your good luck charm remember?"

"Yeah," he laughs, pressing his nose into your hair. "I've won every game you have come to."

"Mmmhmm. And you'll win this one."

"I hope so." Shawn pulls back and smiles down at you. "I'll try not to look for you so much."

"You better not. I'll stay in the same spot."

"Actually," Shawn drops down on one knee and digs in his gear bag. "Here." He pulls out a jersey and hands it to you. "I can find you with this on."

"Don't you have to wear this?" You ask, taking the lump of fabric. You hold it up, turning it over to see MENDES printed on the back.

"It's my practice jersey. I know I gave you one for my first game but that one didn't have my name on it."

You grin, pulling it on over your sweater. "How's it fit?"

Shawn steps forward and bites his lip. "Looks good. Turn?" You do as he asks and he runs his hand over the name on the back. "Looks real good on you."

"Yeah? Feels kinda big."

"I meant the name."

"Oh." Your heart skips before going into overdrive, realizing he is flirting.

Shawn moves back around to face you and he's pink cheeked. "I have to go."

"Good luck." You lean forward to kiss his cheek and he cups your jaw as you pull away. For a moment your eyes meet and he looks like he's about to return the kiss. "Shawn?"

"Yeah?"

"You gotta go."

He guides your head up as he leans down to kiss your forehead. "I know." He pulls back and grabs his bag. "Oh, one more thing, earlier at the diner I wanted to ask you because I wasn't sure but...was that a date?"

"Do you want it to be a date?"

A little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and he looks just a bit more pink in the cheeks. "Would it be okay if I did?"

"Yes." You smile, looking down at his jersey on your chest. "Go, we can discuss this later."

Shawn groans and looks to the locker room doors and back at you, as if torn between playing the game or spilling his heart out more. "But-"

"Go!" You laugh and shoo him away. "We have forever to talk, but the game is now."

"Alright alright." He turns and heads for the locker rooms, glancing back only once and you give him a stern look that makes him chuckle.

Your stomach is doing backflips and the second he's out of sight you let out a little jump of excitement. He is interested. He is. You aren't wrong. You grip the front of his jersey and take a deep breath before heading into the seating area.

______________________

The game is incredible. It's a hard back and forth between the two teams. It comes down to the wire, the last shot being scored by Shawn with only six seconds left on the clock. The arena's cheers were deafening, everyone screaming and shouting for the team and Shawn. You're so proud of him, and when he looks for you in the crowd, you can only smile at him until your face hurts.

In the hall post game you wait, back against the cold bricks while Shawn and the team get undressed and ready to face the fans milling around in the hall surrounding you. Tonight is going to be a massive party, you already know of several going on. No doubt Shawn will want to go to some. You're just waiting to see him off, talk to him a little about earlier and tell him how amazing he played.

Two girls approach you, it's two of the ones from his first game that he declined invites from. They don't look too friendly.

"So, are you like Shawn's sister or something?" The taller one, a blonde, asks rudely.

"No. I live with him. We're housemates."

"Right...so did he give you that jersey?"

You look down at his huge jersey over your sweater. "Yes? I'm wearing it to support him and the team? What about it?"

The blonde rolls her eyes. "We figured you were dating him because usually the guys give their jerseys to their girlfriends. No idea why a girl like you would catch his eye though."

"It's none of your business if Shawn and I are dating, but thanks for that unwanted input."

"You-"

"Hey," Shawn's voice comes from behind the girls and they turn around, giggling over him. He's got on a fresh pair of clothes and his hair is damp from the showers. "You ready?"

"Y-yeah." You clear your throat and push down the angry tears that are threatening to bubble out from the rude girl. It's not that you want to cry, it's just that when you get angry it happens.

Shawn wraps his arm around you and walks you away while ignoring the other girls as they begin to attempt to talk to him. "Are you sure? You seem upset."

"I'm fine." You touch his jaw that's got a bruise starting on it, inspecting his soft skin. "You played amazing. I couldn't take my eyes off of you."

Shawn stops just outside the exit doors. He smiles and presses his cheek into your hand a bit. He leans down close and suddenly it feels very intimate. "I couldn't have done it without you." His eyes flick down to your lips and then back up. "You're my good luck charm after all."

"Yeah."

"Earlier today...were you flirting with me?" He whispers softly, head ducked close to you.

"Yeah, a little."

"If you're up for it...I'd like to see where this goes."

Your heart races and he grins big. "I'd like that."

"Good." He leans in, nose touching yours. "Can I?"

Your voice is barely a whisper but you manage a clear, "Yes."

"You're sure?"

You ball your fists in his shirt and nod just a little bit. With that he presses his lips to yours. He's soft, lips warm and plush. Your eyes fall closed and you can hear people shuffling out the door nearby. Shawn smiles, teeth pressing against your lips.

"I've been wanting to do that forever."

You open your eyes and they meet his, pure golden brown. "Me too."

Raul and Peter pull up in Shawn's Jeep and honk at the two of you. Shawn let's out a snarl, baring his teeth at his brothers for rushing him.

"Let's go! Parties are waiting!" Raul yells from the passenger side window.

Shawn lets out a soft growl, focusing on you instead of his brother. "Can I do it again?"

"Please?" You giggle and he leans in, kissing you and smiling against your lips. "Let's go."

"Mmm, I can’t wait to show off my girl who helped me win the game tonight." Shawn says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and heading to the Jeep.

"’Bout time," Peter laughs as you crawl in the back seat with Shawn in tow.

Raul looks back and smiles, shaking his head. "Hey gave you his actual jersey? Shit, he's serious."

"Damn right." Shawn growls, tugging you in and pressing his nose to your hair. You wrap your arm around his and he grabs your hand, kissing your knuckles. You smile, not able to hold it back. You couldn't be happier.

End

__________Raul’s Ending___________

Finding yourself three drinks down at a party is unlike you. You rarely drink and when you do it's usually in a much more controlled environment, aka, your own bedroom at home. You aren't sure why you took the first drink from the host, a girl named Amy who invited you and the boys after Shawn's game. Maybe you wanted to relax. Maybe you wanted to escape the stress of school and finals. Maybe, just maybe you want to escape the feelings you're having towards the guys. It's been a wild ride the last few weeks and so many mixed signals have been thrown around you aren't sure what's what.

By the second drink you were feeling loose. Warm in your tummy and throughout your veins. You started dancing, moving with the crowd in the living room. It felt good, free.

After your third drink, something super sweet and heavily liquored, you find yourself crashing. Probably the sugar, or alcohol, or maybe you're just  exhausted from dancing. You find yourself now, collapsed on a couch watching people around you get increasingly more rowdy. You haven't seen Shawn or Raul in ages it seems. Peter came by you not too long ago to get some water in the kitchen but you didn’t say anything to him. Suddenly you feel panicked, alone, scared and drunk around a bunch of strangers.

You catch a glimpse of Raul near the stairs. You're not sure how you know it's him, you just do. "Raul." Your voice sounds horrible and you've got some burning in your throat. "Raul!"

Raul turns and spots you on the couch. He walks over and sinks down beside you. "You called?"

"I need you."

"Oh?"

You stare at him with half lidded eyes, everything a little blurry. He looks flushed, hair a mess from running his hands through it too much. A bad habit of his. "I was scared. I realized I don't know anybody."

Raul takes your hand. "I'm here."

You smile weakly. "Can we go somewhere quiet?"

"It is too loud, huh?" He pushes himself up and grabs your hands, pulling you up into his chest. He wraps his arms around you. "Wanna go outside?"

"But it's cold?"

"Not on the porch, there are heaters. Come on." Raul walks you to the screen door to the porch. Sure enough it's warms like he said. There is a heat lamp in the corner emitting waves of warmth across the screened in porch. There is no one out there surprisingly. "Take a seat," he says, plopping down on a cushioned bench.

As you move to sit down he stops you, hand on your back. "What? Something wrong?"

"Sit here." He pats his lap and you give him a wary look, unsure of the implications it may bring. "I said sit."

You waste no time and plop down across his legs. He runs a hand up your back, his other finding your jaw and gently turning your face towards him. "Your fangs are out," you giggle, touching his lower lip.

He grins lazily, showing off the prominent teeth in question. "Drinking makes it hard to control my features." He twists a bit of your hair around his fingers and tugs a little. "I don't usually drink, I don't like how I get."

"Me neither." You cup his jaw, thumb sliding over the dark dusting of stubble there and he leans into your hand, playfully biting at your palm. "You're so gorgeous."

His eyes slowly turn a rich dark honey color. You know egging him on like this is risky in his loose state, but you can't help yourself. He looks so good and so...wild. "Is this why you wanted to go somewhere quiet?" He asks, pulling his cheek away from your hand.

"Hmm?" You slide your hand into his hair instead. "Is what why?"

"This," he presses his head against your hand. "The petting."

"Petting?" You giggle, now toying with him. You run your fingers through his short messy loose curls. "I didn't know I was petting you."

He growls, eyes rolling back as you scratch along his scalp. "Stop."

"Make me." You grip his hair and tug as he grabs your leg harshly.

"You wanna play games?" He asks roughly, voice wrecked with lust as he opens his eyes and meets yours. "You shouldn't do this with me."

"I can't resist." You tug his hair again, eliciting a loud groan before you slide off his lap. You step back and he stands, body language tense. "Will you play a game with me then?"

"No."

You bite your lip and he gives you a look. "So if I run and hide, you won't chase me?"

"I didn't say that."

"Oh?" You step back toward the open screen door. "Well I guess I'll just..." You take off into the house and you can hear Raul behind you. Your heart races, pounding hard in your chest as you push through groups of people. You get to the stairs and take them two at a time as you run up them to escape him. It's no good, you’re too slow and stumbly in your tipsy state, he's right behind you. You dodge into a bedroom and that's the end. You feel him before you see him, his warmth along your back as he corners you, hands on your waist.

"Is this how it's gonna be?" He asks, mouth on your neck. "You're gonna make me hunt you down if I want you?"

"You like it."

Raul growls and sinks his teeth into the back of your neck. It sends a thrill followed by an ache through your body. Something about the way bites like you're his, it makes you weak. "Is this what you wanted? You wanted me to bite you, to chase you down and punish you for pulling my hair?"

"I'm not going to say no to that."

Raul pulls back and you turn around. He looks absolutely out of his mind. His teeth are showing, eyes fully changed. He looks borderline terrifying but you like it. You never thought you would but seeing him like this is doing something for you. You want that wild side of him. It’s so much different than anyone else you’ve ever been with.

"You should go." Raul says, looking down.

"Why? We were just messing around. It’s just for fun and-"

"I can't hurt you. I can't get involved right now. Not like this." He steps away toward the door. "I'm sorry."

Just like that you're alone. It hurts. You thought things were going well, that you were playing with him and he was playing back. You thought maybe for once you had fully broken down that wall he keeps building around himself. You wish you could fight it, you wish you could stop feeling something for him everytime you see him. It's like two steps forward and three steps back. Just when you think you have a good chance, he pulls away. You need to talk to him, sober and in a good mood, you have to lay it all out and serve your heart up on a silver platter. Either he'll reject you or he'll feel the same and you'll have made the best decision of your entire life. You know deep down that he's a good guy, that he has a heart of gold and he cares about you. It's just a matter of getting to it.

___________________

The day after the party you wake up and you’re hungover. You feel like shit and everything just feels off. You suspect it’s probably the four shots you had after Raul ghosted you. Or maybe it’s the lack of sleep you got. Either way, something feels heavier about the world today and it’s not just because you’re hungover. You make your way downstairs for some food around ten, having laid in bed and watched some videos about how crayons and cookie cutters are made just because it caught your attention and numbed your mind for a while.

The house is oddly quiet for a Saturday morning. Usually Shawn is awake and running around like a mad man getting ready to go to practice, but since the game was on a Friday that isn’t happening. Shawn doesn’t even seem to be home judging by the lack of his Jeep in the driveway. You pass Peter’s room on the way downstairs and it’s open. He is nowhere in sight for either.

When you enter the kitchen you find Raul sitting at the table sketching something. He stops when you walk in and then resumes momentarily as if to finish something. He’s not the first person you want to talk to after last night.

"You feeling okay?" He asks, looking up once more, eyes sweeping over your no doubt disheveled pajamas.

"Kinda hungover."

"Oh."

"I'm just not feeling right.”

Raul stands and grabs you a mug for coffee while you dig through the fridge for whatever you can find to snack on. He’s quiet for a moment while he sets up the single cup brewer and you’re afraid that the awkwardness of last night is getting to him.

Finally he says something. "I know painting always helps me when I'm in a mood. I just grab some colors and do whatever I feel. Sometimes it's something like roses and other still life, but other times it's just a hand full of paint and I go apeshit on a canvas."

"That actually sounds kind of fun."

"Here." He hands you a cup of freshly brewed coffee and two sugar packets, the way you like it. "Wanna try it out?"

“Sure.” You cradle the mug in your hands and take a sip. A perfect dark roast. That single cup brewer was the best thing Raul ever bought for the house. “Why not?

Raul leads you upstairs and hands you an old shirt of his that is covered in paint spots. He goes to grab his paint, a huge caddy of different tubes in varying shades. He sets the paint down and grabs the tin cup of brushes for you too. “Okay, so just do whatever you want.”

“Hmm.” You set your mug down on his dresser and look at the two blank canvases he has against the wall. One is quite large, probably kind of expensive. You don’t want to go for that one in case he’s planning on using it for something. The other canvas is good sized, probably half your height. “You’re sure?” you ask, turning and facing Raul. “I can use one of these?”

“Yeah, go for it. I’d love to have an original by you.”

“What if it’s ugly?”

“It’s never ugly if you truly love it.” Raul smiles and you turn back to the canvases. “Go on, don’t be scared.”

“I’m not scared.” You grab a tube of blue paint and a brush. There is a small pallet that looks like one Raul used recently, it’s not been cleaned off yet and the paint is dried on. You grab it and squeeze some paint onto it. “I don’t know what to do.”

Raul walks up behind you and brackets your body with his own, hands coming around your wrists. He guides your hand with the brush into the paint and then to the canvas. “Just...like this.” He guides your brush down and then up and to the side. He pauses, mid stroke and you before you can ask what is wrong he mumbles a soft,  “I’m sorry.”

“What?” You look back at him and he tugs down the back of the neck of your shirt.

“Your skin is bruised from when I bit you.”

“Oh.” You reach back and try to feel for anything out of the ordinary. “It doesn’t hurt. I think it must just be broken blood vessels.”

Raul holds your shoulders and leans into kiss your neck. “I promised you I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I’m not hurt. It’s just a mark.”

He makes a noise of protest but doesn’t say anything.

You dip your brush back into the paint and touch it to the canvas. “I’m not making anything. Shouldn’t I painting be like...purposefully?” You ask, attempting to change the subject back to painting.

“It is purposeful.” He steps back and you paint on a few more nonsensical blue lines. “What do you feel?”

“Confused.”

“No, like deep down. You said you weren’t feeling the best today. Show me.” Raul places the paint caddy closer. “Show me, and don’t tell me.”

You look to him and he has his arms crossed, watching you intently. It’s a little intimidating. You grab black from the bucket and squeeze a dollop on to the pallet. The brush streaks the black along as you paint a little curl. Everything feels too formal. It feels like you’re trying too hard to make something good. That isn’t the point. You drop the brush and stick your hand in the paint on the pallet, palm half blue and half black. You smear it down the center of the spots you painted with the brush. It feels good.

“There you go.”

You grab red, purple and the black again. You squeeze the paint directly on your hand and press it to the white bits of canvas over and over until the paint is mostly off your hand. The whole thing is a mess. A smile spreads across your face and you can’t stop it. The sheer ridiculousness of the situation is too fun and it’s really helping you ease the tension from last night. “Raul, I need your hand.”

“Mine?” He steps closer and holds his hand out palm up for you. “What for?”

“Art.” You put some purple on his palm and spread it around with your fingertips until it’s covered. “Put yours on there.”

Raul presses his purple hand to the canvas and pulls away, leaving a big print. “Is that what you wanted?”

“Yeah.” You mix some purple and blue in your hand for a darker blue and you make a bunch of hand prints around Raul’s. Minutes pass and you just keep adding more and more paint, destroying some hand prints and making others. You always leave Raul’s perfectly intact. It’s the centerpiece, the reason for your painting. “I think I’m done.” You say after there is no white canvas left. “I feel better.”

“Good. It looks great.” Raul pulls you back by your shoulders and you take a few steps back with him. “I love it."

"It's like a kindergarten project."

"No. It's art. It's your expressive piece, don't be negative because it's not some big complicated detailed painting." Raul moves around you and grabs a brush. "You have to sign it."

You push the brush away and grab the white paint. You look to Raul as you cover your hand. He's smiling, a look of pure joy on his face. Your heart skips as he moves closer, hand outstretched.

"You've got some hair in your face. Can I?"

"Please."

Raul brushes your hair back and cups your cheek. His other hand, the one with the purple paint rests on your neck, thumb over your pulse point. There is no doubt he can feel your heart pounding. "Your eyes are beautiful."

"They are?"

"Mmhmm." He stares, eyes heavy lidded and you can't help but try to look away. "They're my favorite color.”

“Y-yeah?”

“Hey, look at me." He says softly and you do. "Don't be embarrassed."

"I-I'm not....and if you love my eye color so much why have you never showed me what you painted with it?"

"I'll show you. I promise." Raul slides his hand from your cheek into your hair. His eyes leave yours for just a moment to look to your lips. They feel dry and you're suddenly very aware of that so you lick them just as he looks. You're sure it is sending a very suggestive message, one you aren’t going to revoke.  "Can I kiss you?" He asks.

"Yes."

He leans in and you bring your hand up to lay on his chest. His heart is beating just a wildly as yours is. You're sure he's a nervous wreck under his cool exterior. You smile, chuckling a little and making him pull back just enough to keep his lips against yours.

"What?" He whispers, eyes meeting yours. "What's so funny?"

"You."

"Me?"

"Mmhmm. I knew you were a softie underneath it all." You bump his nose with yours and he pretends to curl his lip up at you. "I guess you're not as wild as you appear."

Raul adjusts the hand on your throat, pressing a bit and your mouth falls open just a little. "I'm as wild as I need to be, and you love it."

"I do." You murmur and he kisses you again, teeth sinking into your lip carefully as he tilts your head up for a deeper kiss. You lean into him, moaning a little as he licks into your mouth. He kisses like no one else you've been with before and you love it.

Raul pulls away. He smirks, eyes now on your neck. "Oops."

"What?" You reach up and touch your skin where his hand had been. There are remnants of purple on your fingertips. "Is there a handprint on my neck?"

He nods, biting his lip. "Sure is."

You point to his shirt where you laid your hand. There's a white hand print right over his heart. "You got a little something there too."

Raul looks down and pulls his shirt out. "Oh, looks like you left your mark on me."

"I guess we're even now for my neck."

"Mmm, but I plan on leaving a lot more marks on you." He steps forward and you stop him with your hand. “If you’ll let me.”

"Easy. I have to finish my painting." You look over and he does too. "And you have a painting to show me."

“I’ll go grab it.” Rauls says and turns to go out of his room.

You cover your hand in white paint again and press it to his purple hand print on the canvas. It’s smaller and you smile as you pull away. It’s a mess, a huge mess of colors and chaos but in the center of it all is those hand prints. It’s kind of a perfect metaphor for you and Raul.

“Hey, have you seen-”

You turn and see Peter standing in the doorway to Raul’s room with Shawn behind him. “Have I seen what?”

Shawn pulls Peter back by his shoulder and laughs. “Nothing, we were just looking for you. Wanted to make sure you got home okay last night.”

“Looks like you did,” Peter says and points to his neck. “You got a little...uh...paint on your neck right here.”

You bite your lip and nod. “Yeah, it’s Raul’s fault.”

“Oh. Because it looks like a hand...print.” Peter says softly as he realizes that it wasn’t an accident and a handprint like that means...well....could mean a more intimate situation. “We’ll be going.”

Raul pushes in to the room past the other two and he’s holding a canvas. “What do you guys want?”

“Nothing.” Shawn says, grabbing the door handle and pulling it closed. “We were just checking up on you guys.”

“We’re good, thanks guys.” Raul says with a chuckle, looking to you and holding up the painting. “Here...it is.” He walks toward you and stops, looking at your little white hand in his on the canvas. “You signed it.”

“I did.”

Raul hands you a small canvas and you take it with your clean hand. It’s a painting of you and all three boys, like a family portrait. It’s like staring at a photograph it’s so perfect. “I was going to give it to you for the holidays.” He says and you turn it over to see he’s signed the back. Below his name is the words, Welcome To The Pack. “But I promised I’d show it to you when it was done.”

“I love it.” You set it down and pull him close. “Thank you.”

He cups your face and kisses you gently. “No, thank you. I don’t know where I'd be if you hadn’t moved in. I can't imagine not falling for you and finding the softer side of myself again. I...I adore you.”

“I adore you too Raul.” You press your forehead to his and he closes his eyes. “I adore you too.”

End

__________Peter’s Ending____________

To say you fell in love with Peter when you met him would be an understatement. You think that in all that has happened in your time since moving in, you've always known. Peter is easy to love.  He's gentle, soft, always up for talking or sleeping together. You and him have had an unexplainable closeness since day one.

So the day that Peter comes to your room and asks you what you're doing on Saturday night, you aren't surprised. You've been waiting for him to ask you out. You know he's discussed it with Shawn and Raul, and they both know that he has it as bad for you as you do for him. Each boy has a place in your heart, but Peter's is just a bit bigger.

"Saturday is Shawn's game isn't it?" You ask, putting away the laundry you've folded on your bed.  

Peter walks in, grabbing some pants from the basket and helping. He always does this. He just falls into a natural rhythm with whatever you're doing. "Yeah, but that's at like six. I was wondering if you want to go out after the game?"

"Go out?"

"Mmhmm. Just us." He passes you a pair of underwear and socks. "I'll let you get those," he mumbles softly.  

You hold the underwear up and shake them out deliberately to get his attention. He never wants to help fold your underwear. Of course you can understand that they're obviously much more intimate than a pair of jeans or a sweater. But if he doesn't want to see them, or think about seeing you in them, he shouldn't help you fold your laundry.  

"Just us?" You smirk, eyeing him for a reaction. "Why not invite Raul and Shawn?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Because...."

Peter looks over at you and pushes up his glasses. His cheeks are pink with a blush and you know your teasing is getting to him. "Because it's a date."

"A date?" You giggle. "Peter Alexander Mendes, are you asking me on a date?"

"Y-yeah?"

"You don't sound sure."

Peter huffs softly.

"Do you not want to?"

"I do."

"Then say it confidently."

He eyes you. "You're teasing me about it aren't you?"

"I am."

"Stop it."

"No way." You sing song and catch his eye. Something changes in him at that moment and he tackles you, pushing you down on to your stomach so you're face down on the bed full of folded clothes. "Peter!"

"I'll show you not to tease me." Peter climbs over you and tickles your sides and you squirm, squealing under the weight of his body. He stops and pins your wrists down as you start to thrash about, kicking him and flailing your arms wildly. "Be still."

You go limp, body reacting to him naturally. Your heart races, and you feel the familiar warmth of arousal in your stomach. "Peter?"

"Yes?" He growls and you are sure you're going to melt.

"Why are you pinning me down?"

"I-" He releases your wrists and sits up, moving over so you can get up. "I just got a little out of control for a second." He runs a hand over his hair. "I'm sorry. You didn't say that was okay. I shouldn't have-"

"It's okay. I liked it." You chew on your lip and look down, afraid to meet his gaze, sure he knows what he's done to you. "And I want to go out with you Saturday."

"You do?"

"Yes, now, can I finish my laundry?"

"Yeah." He scoops an arm full up into the basket. "Sorry I destroyed all the folded stuff."

You crawl off the bed and toss your underwear toward the basket, making them land on Peter's lap accidentally. "Maybe if you weren't so...rough...it wouldn't have happened."

Peter flicks the underwear back at you. "You liked it. Don't act like you didn't."

"I didn't say I didn't like it."

Peter crawls forward and kneels before you, baring his teeth playfully. "Maybe next time I oughta bite you and teach you a real lesson about teasing wolves."

You giggle and boop his nose. "Maybe I'll have to tease you again, just to find out what those teeth of yours are for."

He wraps his arms around you and pulls you down on top of him. "I'll show you right now!" He bites your shoulder gently and you go still in his arms. He releases you and bites again, a slow drag of his teeth over your bare skin where your shoulder and neck meet. "Tell me to stop," he says lowly, needing your consent to continue.

"I won't," you whisper. You never want him to stop. You're so turned on by him it's insane. All he's doing is biting your shoulder. You've got it so bad and it's more than okay with you. It's been a very long time since you felt this good.

Peter bites again, this time it's more like little nibbles than bites on your neck. He quickly soothes them with his tongue. It's too much too quick. You can feel him grow warmer, a growl rising in his chest as he bites and soothes, bites and soothes. You've opened a whole new world to him and he's diving in head first.

"Peter." You say softly, hand going to his hair. He growls and you tug his head back. "Peter, hey."

"Mmmm?"

"You do have to stop. I don't want to either but...we should really have a first date before this."

Peter groans and drops his head back onto the pillows. "You're right. I got too into it, you just make me go crazy and I can't get enough."

You roll off onto your back and he situates himself so he's on his side, hand on your stomach, looking down at you. "I need to go to sleep. I have my last final tomorrow."

"Should I stay?" He asks, fingers lacing with yours as you cover his hand on your stomach. It's not uncommon that you nap together. Peter loves to sleep with you, and you think you know why.

"I'm not sure. Can you keep your hands to yourself?"

Peter chuckles softly. "My hands, maybe. But my teeth? I dunno. I might have some dreams after this evening. I could get bitey and handsy."

"You should go then." You cup his cheek with your free hand and he leans into it. "I have to sleep."

"Alright." Peter closes his eyes. "One last bite?"

"Should I let you?"

"Mmhmm."

"Just one."

Peter crawls over you, arms braced on either side of your head. He ducks down, nosing against your jaw. You tilt your head up and he licks a little along your throat. He's already taking advantage of your agreement. He's taking his sweet time and you are going to stop him.

"Peter." You warn, grabbing his hair and he moans softly into your skin. "You're taking a long time."

"You didn't say I couldn't."

"Don't you start with me."

Peter giggles, full on giggles as he kisses your neck over your pulse point. "But I can't help myself. You've let me in and now you're stuck with me."

"Peter!"

"Omnomnom," he mouths at your neck playfully and pulls back, crawling off the side of the bed. "Alright. I'll let you sleep." He leans over and kisses your nose. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight Peter."

______________________

After your math final you head out into the courtyard to make your way to the north parking lot. You're finally done. Classes are over for the next few months. It feels great to be free for a while, to not have to worry about anything. You spot Peter sitting on the fountain waiting for you, he's got an extra hoodie on his lap and you wonder if it's for you.

"Hey," you say and he looks up from his phone with the biggest smile. "Are you waiting for me?"

"Yes." He stands, towering over you and passes you the black hoodie in his hands. "I brought this for you."

"What for?" You hold it up and it says Aerospace Program. It's the hoodie they give students who have been accepted into the program that places them in study at the aerospace center. It's the program that essentially fast tracks you to a job with NASA.  "Peter! You got in!"

"I did!" He says, shaking and turning the hoodie over for you to show you his name on the back. P. Mendes in bold white font. "I'm going to be the first werewolf on the astrophysics team. No. I AM the first one because I'm already in."

You wrap your arms around him and he holds your head to his chest. "I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you." He presses his nose into your hair. "There's only one problem."

"What's that?"

"I haven't been told where I've been placed yet."

You pull back and look up at him. He looks sad and he shouldn't. He should be the happiest he's ever been. This is his dream come true. "Why's that a problem?"

"Because if I'm not placed here then I'll be placed at the Florida program in our sister school. I'll have to move."

"Oh." Your heart sinks. He might have to leave. Just when things were starting to become more familiar with the two of you, he may have to completely relocate. "Then you go."

"But what about us?"

"We aren't in too deep yet."

"I'm not leaving you. I'm not leaving home."

You cup his face and he scowls at you. "Don't throw away everything because of me. I won't let you do that. Why are you worrying about this now? Placement letters don't come out for another month right?"

"Yeah, but I don't want to lose you." Peter gathers you close again. "I just got you."

"Then make the most of it now. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it." You pull away and put on his aerospace hoodie. It's a little big but it's comfy. "We have a date tomorrow night, and Shawn's rivalry game. There's so much to look forward to." You hold his face and squash his cheeks so he makes a fish face. "Stop worrying you big baby."

"How can you be so worry free?"

"Because I know things will work out."

"But how?"

You scowl at him and he scowls right back. "Because I said so. I know you're mister logical everything needs a solution, but this time, just let it be. Just relax. Classes are over, we're free for the next three months."

"Yeah." Peter wraps his arms around your waist and lifts you up with ease so you can wrap your legs around his waist. His strength is always surprising. He doesn't look nearly as big and toned as Shawn or Raul but he can easily make you seem like nothing more than a ragdoll. "Three months of you all to myself. I guess I can relax."

"Mhmm. Let's go tell your brothers the good news?"

"Yeah. Let's go."

____________________

Saturday you leave Shawn's game with Peter. You're both in a great mood. The game was outstanding, a hard fight between both teams and Shawn's came out on top. You and Peter drive out of the lot and as you head down a dark street toward the edge of town you realize you don't actually know where you're going. You were so caught up with Peter the last few days you never asked where this date was going to be at.

"Where are we going?"

"The observatory. There's a meteor shower tonight."

"Whoa, did you know there was going to be one? Or is that a coincidence?"

Peter looks over and chuckles. "Yeah I knew. It's going to be incredible. And if we're lucky, we might see something else."

"Like what?"

"You'll see."

An hour later and you and Peter are in the observatory, walking around the informational exhibits while waiting for a turn to use the telescope. There aren't many people there, just a few families and some other couples on dates it seems.

Peter takes your hand and leads you into the atrium. It's a huge room with glass walls and a glass ceiling. You can see the stars as they begin to appear one by one in the sky. Being so far out of the city makes the sky so clear, so crisp and dark. There are no lights in the atrium and you sit down on some cushions with Peter, eyes glued to the sky overhead. It's breathtaking.

"Unbelievable isn't it?"

You look over and Peter is smiling ear to ear. "It's like we're in space."

"Yeah. Here, lay back," Peter says and guides you back so you're laying with your head on the floor cushion. He lays beside you and points to a cluster of stars. "See those?"

"Yeah?"

"That's Orion's belt." He points to the left. "There's the Little Dipper."

You follow his finger as he traces out the brightest stars for you. "When is the meteor shower supposed to start?"

"Soon. But I think we might get to see something else first." Peter points to the skyline where there is a hint of light dwindling away. "Look there."

"The sun set?"

"No, it's not the sun." Peter points along the skyline to the left and the lights there look green. "It's the aurora borealis."

"What?" You squint and the light is so far and so faint you can't be sure. "No way."

Peter laughs. "Yes way. If we drive another hour that way we'll be able to see them better. I haven't seen them up close since I was a kid. I hoped tonight was clear enough to see them from here."

"I want to see them."

"But we'd have to drive so far and then back home."

You grab Peter's hand. "Show me the lights. Let's do it, I don't care if we have to sleep in the car."

"You're serious?" He laughs as you nod. "It's early enough, we can probably catch the end of them pretty clearly."

"Let's go." You gather up your purse and Peter leads you to the exit, the two of you giggling like children.

____________________

Forty minutes. Peter drives fifteen miles per hour over the speed limit for forty minutes on the dark highway to take you to the lights. When he pulls over at a rest stop atop a hill, the view is breathtaking. Blue and green lights swirl across the sky, fading in and out of each other. They move slowly like they're floating across the night sky. Ribbons of ethereal light.

"I can't believe I'm seeing this." You mutter, walking around the open field behind the rest stop.

Peter turns your head to the left and there you see something streak across the sky. "The meteor shower is starting."

"That's not a shooting star?"

"No. Well, it could be but I'm pretty sure that was a meteor." Peter wraps his arms around you from behind. "There's the moon."

"Oh! Its full?"

"Not quite. Two more nights and it will be."

You sit down and Peter adjusts so he can hold you between his legs. "Thank you for driving this whole way."

"Do you know what's special about tonight?"

"It's our first date? The lights?"

He chuckles. "Well yes, but the moon is in the same phase it was the night we met." He leans back and then holds a little box up in front of you. "I got this for you."

You take the box and look back at him. "What's this? You didn't have to get me something."

"I know." He presses his face into your neck. "Open it."

You lift the box lid and inside is a necklace with a nearly full moon charm and a small constellation of stars connected to each other. "Peter...this is beautiful. What- why?"

"It's the moon, from the night we met, and your star sign's constellation." He lifts up the moon charm and rubs over it with his thumb. "I thought it'd be perfect for you and as you know I'm a space nerd so..."

"I love it Peter." You turn and set the box down in favor of grabbing his face to kiss him. You kneel between his legs and press your lips gently to his. "Thank you."

Peter's hands find your face and he guides you back so you're laying on him. He kisses you slowly, lovingly. He bites at your lip, nibbling for permission to take things further and you giggle, biting back in response. He growls and rolls you over so you're under him.

For a moment you open your eyes. It's like a dream. The sky above is alight with green and blue waves of light. Peter is so close you could count the freckles on his nose if it were brighter. Truly this doesn't feel real, and you don't want it to end.

_____________________

Three in the morning you wake up to use the bathroom. The bed is empty, though you know Peter went to bed with you last night. The two of you got in at almost midnight and went straight to your room to fall asleep, exhausted from the driving and all the kissing you were doing under the lights.

You make your way to the bathroom and take a seat on the toilet when suddenly you hear voices, the guys. Weird they'd be up so late, but it is the end of the semester. None of them have classes tomorrow. You tune them out, focusing on your businesses.

Until you hear your name. You press your ear to the wall beside the toilet and listen. They're in the living room and they must be close to the wall because you can hear them plain as day.

"So you guys are officially an item?" Raul asks.

"I don't know about officially." Peter replies.

A scoff from one them followed by, "The bite marks on her neck seem pretty official. I can't believe she let you mark her up like that." It's Shawn. "At least take her on a second date you animal."

"I will!" Peter protests. "I got carried away, she is so...she's so good. I couldn't help myself. She gave me the green light and I wasn't going to stop. Come on, you guys know what it's like right?"

"No."

"Not really."

"W-what? I know you guys have been with girls."

Shawn let's out a laugh. "Dude, of course but not like her. You do realize you guys are different."

"Yeah. Don't tell me you don't know," Raul says, voice trailing off.

"I know. It just hasn't come up."

There's a long silence that follows. You lean away from the wall and stare at the hand towel in front of you. What hasn't come up? Is there something wrong? Did you do something? You finish up, wash your hands and pull open the door to go back to your room.

Peter is there at the end of the hall at your bedroom door as if he were going to go back to bed. You stop short of him, standing and staring at his back. What do you say? What do you do?

"Up late?" You ask softly.

Peter turns around and he walks up to you, hands warm as he lays them on your shoulders. He doesn't have his glasses on and he's got his hair clipped back in one of your barrettes. Any other time you would have made fun of him, teased him for taking after Shawn's ridiculous hair trend. But right now it doesn't feel right. Right now you don't know what to think.

"Yeah, just woke up. You okay?" He asks, sliding his hands up to your cheeks.

"Yeah."

An hour passes with you and Peter laying in bed. You can't sleep. How could you? There are many things you've overheard in this house, many things you've just decided to let be. Usually fights, sometimes conversations about girls. But this time, you can't let it go. This time it's about you and Peter, and it's something that you've done and he knows. Your stomach churns. You can't think of anything you've done. Things have been going well, you and Peter fit together perfectly. What-

"Darling," Peter mumbles sleepily, rolling over and putting his arm across your chest. "You're still awake?"

"Can't sleep."

"Talk to me."

You sigh softly. "It's nothing. I'm just overthinking."

Peter slides his hand up your chest and rests it against the base of your throat, thumb stroking gently over your trachea. "Talk to me about your thoughts. I want to be completely honest with you."

"I'm just...worried about classes." You close your eyes and clench your jaw a bit. You feel bad lying about this. You just don't know how to ask for what you want to know. "I think I failed my math final."

"Oh. Well, you can always repeat the course?"

"Yeah. Just wanted to get it out of the way."

He hums softly. "Is that all that's on your mind?"

"Mmmhmm."

His thumb strokes over your throat gently and you shiver. He knows full well how he's affecting you and he knows that you're lying. You don't know how, but you can feel he knows. "Would you sleep better if I went to my room?"

"No." You pulls his hand away from your neck gently, threading your fingers between his. "Please stay."

"Alright."

You close your eyes again and try to settle down. It's not easy when you know he wants you to tell him the truth. You feel so bad. So guilty. "If I did something wrong, you would tell me, right?"

"Mmmhmm." Peter yawns.

"Okay." You turn and curl into his chest. He puts his arm around your back, gathering you as close as possible. "Goodnight Peter."

"Goodnight Darling."

_____________________

Three weeks later.

"I haven't gotten my placement letter yet." Peter groans, sinking into the dining chair at the kitchen table. "Everyone is getting theirs and I'm not."

"You'll get it. Stop freaking out."

"Everyone is being placed here in town. Spots are filling up, if they fill up here then I'll be placed in Florida."

You lean over the table and cup his jaw. "Peter."

"Darling."

"You're going to give yourself an ulcer."

"I won't leave you." Peter says, taking your hand in his. "I won't."

"Peter. You have to. You cannot stay here because of me if you get placed in Florida. We've been over this."

He stands and holds your face. "I am not going to leave you," he says firmly, leaving you no room for further discussion.

"When is your appointment?" You ask, changing the subject. "For your new tattoo."

"In an hour."

"We should get going then."

At the parlor your take a seat beside Peter. He picks out a moon tattoo, nearly full, the same moon he gifted you on your first date. It's small, just big enough to go right above his swallow on his bicep. He also has two other small drawings. The constellation for your star sign and his.

"You're sure you want mine?" You ask, touching the drawing of the cluster of stars in his hand. "What if something happens?"

"What if we break up you mean?" He chuckles and you give him a look. "I'd never regret it."

"You're sure?" You take his hand and he threads his fingers between yours.

Peter smiles and kisses you quick. "Yes I'm sure. Do you wanna stay for my tattoo or do you want to shop around a bit?"

"I could pick out a new stud for your lip?"

"You could. But I'm not sure how long I'll keep it."

"Why?"

"Because it's a pain to keep in my lip with my fangs."

You nod. "Alright, I'll stay then."

"Promise? Even if I'm a wuss?"

"Yes." You giggle and he leans back to relax, taking a deep breath before the artist gets seated. You hold his hand, thumb rubbing the back his fingers. Maybe he could hold your hand one day while you get a tattoo. Maybe...maybe you'd get something for him.

_____________________

Peter's placement letter arrives on a Saturday. You grab the mail as soon as you hear the box close from where you're watching TV in the living room. No one is home but you. The guys all went out for a run some time ago. You sort through the mail and there is it, addressed to Peter A. Mendes. It's from the school, there is no way it isn't his placement letter. Your hands tremble and you look around as if you have been caught with some sort of forbidden paraphernalia.

"We're back!" Shawn calls from the kitchen and your heart leaps into your throat.

You stuff the letter into your shirt, tucking it into your bra. If he doesn't know it's there, he can't panic about it for a little longer. It's wrong. It's so so wrong. But things are going so well, you and Peter are just about to make the next move in your relationship.

"Darling?" Peter's voice floats into the room and you turn around, hand full of mail. "There you are."

"Mmm? I was just grabbing the mail. I didn't hear you come in."

Peter takes the pile from you and sorts through it, the same expression on his face as he always has. Troubled, scowling, waiting to see that off white school envelope. Relief washes over him, his features softening as he gets to the bottom of the pile. "Nothing yet," he says softly, looking to you and giving a weak smile.

"Nope. Soon though."

"Yeah."

You cross your arms and the letter stabs into your chest uncomfortably. What a perfect metaphor for what you've done. "How was the run?" You ask, attempting to change the subject and not think of the paper in your shirt.

Peter runs a hand over his hair and before he can begin to answer, Raul is putting his arm around his neck. "You should have come!" Raul says excitedly. "Your man went crazy today."

"Oh yeah?"

"I did not." Peter says in his defense. "I just let off some steam."

"Crazy, loco." Raul raises his eyebrows. "He was tearing things apart. Absolute madman."

Peter shoves Raul off of him and covers your ears. "Don't listen to him. He's the crazy one."

You just smile and lean your head against Peter's chest. "Its okay, I know you're crazy. I don't need Raul to tell me that."

"H-hey!"

Raul cackles triumphantly and goes back into the living room.

"I am not." Peter looks down at you, shifting his hands so he's cupping your face. "You're teasing me, aren't you?"

"A little."

"You want me to put you in your place?" He smirks and you press against him. "Yes? You do don't you?"

You wrap your arms around him. "Maybe. My last bite marks have all healed over so..." The letter crunches against your skin and you freeze. Fuck. You can't get into it with Peter now. You have to hide the letter. "So...I'm going to check my email and see if my grades for world studies has been posted yet."

Peter eyes you suspiciously but says nothing as you move away from him and head toward your room. Smooth. Real smooth. Not sketchy at all.

_____________________

"Can we talk?" Peter asks while laying across your bed later on that evening. You knew this was coming. There was no way he'd let your suspicious behavior fly earlier.

"Sure."

"I know you want me to drop the subject of the program placement, but I have a question," Peter says softly, his hand finding yours on the bed.

"What is it?"

"Would you go with me?"

You turn your head to look at him, silhouetted in the dim light of your mood lamp on the nightstand. "To Florida?"

"Yeah. If I get placed there."

"In a perfect world, yes." You smile and he looks over at you. "I can be a teacher anywhere. I've got a few more years than you, but I don't mind transferring."

"You'd leave everything behind here?"

"What's here to leave?"

"School? Family? Friends? Shawn and Raul?"

You bite your lip and roll over to lay against his chest. "Moving is only temporary. We'd come back in two or three years?"

"Yeah. Or I'd get a job with the center down there."

"Ohh, well yeah then I think I would go. It'd be fun."

"Yeah."

You take a shaky breath and let it out. "If I did something, will you promise not to be mad?"

"Depends on what you've done." Peter says softly, hand going to your hair. "Some things warrant more emotion than others."

"I took something."

"From me?"

"Kind of." You bite your lip and look to your dresser where his letter is tucked away in the top drawer.

"Kind of? How's that?"

"Well it wasn't yours yet, not technically."

Peter chuckles. "You're speaking in riddles. What'd you do?"

"I took your letter."

"You what?"

You push away from him and climb off the bed. He sits up and looks at you with a confused expression. "You're mad huh?"

"Confused, a little hurt, but I'm not mad." He shakes his head. "How long have you had it?"

"Today. It came right before you got back from your run." You dig in your top drawer and get his sealed envelope out. "I just wanted to delay the news a little while. I wanted you to myself for a little longer. I knew if you got this you'd only focus on it and-"

"Stop." Peter stands and takes the envelope from your hands. "No matter what is in this, no matter what it says, I will be here for you. I won't fret over it. I won't ignore you."

"But-"

He presses his fingers to your lips. "Shh. No buts. It's time for me to open it."

You watch, eyes wide as he tears open the top carefully. He unfolds the letter, eyes scanning the page, face completely relaxed and emotionless. It's so tense you can feel your heart beating in your throat. This letter is going to change everything to come in the next few months.

"I'm moving..." He says softly, eyes flicking away from the paper to yours and then back.

Your heart stops, stomach going cold and sick. "You-"

"...moving my stuff into your bedroom, because I'm staying!" He grins and turn the letter around. You snatch it from his hands and scan the top of it. His placement is at the program on campus.

"Peter!" You shove him and he scoops you up in his arms, spinning you around. "You scared me! I was gonna stress puke!"

Peter stop spinning and pins you to the bed and smiles down at you. "I couldn't resist. I'm sorry." He kisses your nose. "But I'm staying, I'm going to be here with you. I couldn't be happier."

"I'm happy too. I don't think I would make it if you had to leave." You brush back some curls that are hanging down in your face. "It was hard enough when I didn't speak to you for a week."

"That almost killed me."

"Yeah." You giggle and then suddenly you remember the other day. The conversation you overheard. "Peter, can I ask you something?"

"Anything." He noses at your neck and you pull his head back so he knows you're serious. "What's wrong?"

"I heard you and the guys talking the other night. You said you knew something but didn't want to tell me. Did I do something?"

"Oh. Oh no, no you didn't do anything." He chuckles and shakes his head. "We were talking about like...well...werewolves get this connection when we meet someone who is very compatible with us. It's like we form this bond that ties us to this person."

"A mate."

Peter flushes and clears his throat a bit. "Y-yeah. How'd you know?"

"Some of my friends back home were werewolves. It came up a few times."

"Oh thank goodness." He says, so relieved. "I was worried you'd not understand or freak out or something. That's why I didn't say anything before. I've known for a while that-"

"I'm your mate."

"Yes."

"And you're going to stay here for school."

"Mmhmm."

You grin big and grab his face in excitement. The feeling of knowing you're his mate, that you're going to be happy and have him by your side until the end of time is so overwhelming but exciting. "And I get to sleep with you every night and wake up to your mess of hair and your stupid sleepy smile every morning. I-I love you. Oh my God I love you."

Peter laughs a little and leans in to kiss you quickly. "I love you too."

"My Peter." You press your forehead to his. "My mate."

"And you're mine." He bumps his nose to yours. "Forever and always."

You close your eyes and smile. "Forever and always."

End

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Thank you for reading this series! It’s been an incredible journey from start to finish. Thank you everyone who sent kind messages and asked questions and just was excited in general. Shout out to @shawnm521​ @delicateshawn​ @planstonightbaby​ for your help and input through out this fic. I couldn’t do it with out you guys always listening to me ramble on about concepts.

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