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altagraye · 3 years ago

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Big Big Love part 11

part 11: Send Her my Love in Bedroom Hymns

Maia Age:28

Sam age:31-32

Dean age:35-36

Roslyn age: 3

Approximate year: 2014-2015

Approximate season: 10

TW!: SMUT, Cussing, depression, self-harming behavior (I don't condone or recommend, it's terrible), Alpha!Demon!Dean

Maia:

Roslyn is three years old now. She grows so fast. Bringing her home from the hospital was no walk in the park. I had a lot to learn even with my built in Omega-mommy skills. There were tons of restless nights and don't even get me started on the teething! Raising a pup is definitely a team effort, Dean and I switching off so one of us can get some kind of sleep. Sometimes it was even a pack-wide effort. But I feel like I've gotten the hang of things by now. I'm so glad I have a multitude of cups of coffee to keep my engine running throughout the day. We moved into this inherited Bunker not too long ago, just last year I think it was? I like the layout, tons of rooms and a huge kitchen so I can actually learn how to cook something edible. It's like a maze down here. The only thing I hate about it is that there aren't any windows to the outside. I miss looking out the glass on rainy days. Oh well, It's easy for me to lose track of time.

I was so relieved that, on the day that shook my core, Ros had stayed the weekend at Bobby's. I was sitting at the mapped table reading through some of the archived Greek literature books from the library of the bunker, late at night when I felt this terrible searing pain in my neck, where Dean's claim was. Sam told Dean to stop hunting but they never did. Can't take the hunter out of the Alpha after all. Now they were trying to stop the new big-baddie, Metatron. Dean, my poor Galahad was afflicted by this dumb Mark-of-Cain thing.

But not even that would drag me away from him. We're soulmates. Dean tried to push me away from him but that only made me love him harder. I wasn't going to let him think that after all we've been through, that I was going to let some dumb scar come between us.

The pain in my neck grew and grew like someone had been cauterizing it. I looked at it as best I could in a mirror but it was fading away. It felt like smoke slipping through my fingers, unable to grab it back. I wasn't a worry-wort or negative-Nancy but I knew something was gravely wrong. i called Dean's phone and all I got was a snooty answering machine and a dial tone. I must have called him twenty times before I went to Sam's phone. I left tons of messages on his cell and other cells he had.

"Sam! What the Hell is going on?! Dean always answers when I call. My claim is breaking, please I'm terrified. I don't know what's happening. Call me back or text me fuck's sake, you have your hands off the wheel anyway."

"Gods-dammit, Sam. How many of these do I have to leave? I thought you were the smarter one? I'm gonna slash you up when you guys get home!" I ended the phone call, with my blood boiling. I checked on my claim again, the last raised bump fading within seconds, into smooth skin. Like it had never happened. What the fuck is going on? I prayed to Cas multiple times and he didn't answer me either. Not even a poof or a flap of those unruly feathers.

I sat with my head in my hands and started to cry when I heard the distinctive creak of the front door of the Bunker come open. I was beyond pissed. So I let loose.

"Sam!! Where in the fuck have you guys been? It's 2 o'clock in the morning. You've better smote the shit out of this dick-bag Angel or I'm going to explode." I turned to see Sam carrying Dean down the steps. My mate's body was limp, he had gashes on his face, now pale. And I could smell iron in the air. Whatever it was it must have been a rough fight. My hand covered my mouth and I started to cry. Who dares to hurt my Alpha? My mind was down playing the scene. Sam looked exhausted and his eyes were red and puffy like he'd been weeping for a while.

I followed them down to our room where Sam set his body down. His clothes covered in patches of his own blood. A deep hole burrowed into his chest.

"Wh- wh- what happened??? Alpha? D-dean Winchester you better answer me! Wake up!" I slapped his face for good measure. His head cast to the side and didn't bounce back. It was then that I knew he was gone. I wept into his cold chest for hours, gripping where my claim used to be, until Sam came and pried me off him.

It was easy for Sam to do judging by my small size and my natural Omega-ness. I could smell the liquor on Sam's breath. I never knew him to be much of a heavy drinker. Usually he'd share a beer or two with dean on occasion.

With the door closed I couldn't bring myself to open it again for any reason. I cried myself to sleep. Only getting about three hours of Z's. I slept on the cold ground of the bunker unable to let myself be soothed by the softness of a bed. I heard Sam gathering supplies and keeping them down in the basement part of the bunker. He stayed there for a while. I didn't know what he was up to but I didn't care about anything.

How am I going to tell this to Roslyn? I can't just say, 'Daddy's dead.' At that thought I broke even further, the reality sinking down deeper, bringing me to the bottom of the coldest seas.

I thought about dying and all the different ways I could have done it. I knew where the silver bullets were stashed. Maybe I could take one of the cars from the garage and wrap it around a tree trunk? I couldn't bring my cowardly Omega ass to do any of it because of Ros. She still needs me. She can't lose both her parents at the same time.

So to feel something once the sobbing had stopped I took one of my claws and made line after line of shallow cuts from my wrist to my elbow. I watched as the red beaded up to the surface to form a line.

Dawn came and Sam was standing over me. I knew he was there but I didn't acknowledge his presence. I began to cut myself again and Sam held me up by my mutilated arm, examining it and my state of mind. I was crying, again, from shame.

Sam lifted me up, one of his arms firm underneath my knees. He carried me to his bedroom, where I was nearly choked out by the intense pine smell. He put me on his bed. I stared at the fresh blood I had created trickling down from my wrist onto Sam's sheets.

He'd undressed himself, wearing only boxers. And joined me in bed. If he wanted to claim and ruthlessly knot me so hard that I couldn't walk for three days, I would have been fine with that. But he didn't do either. Instead he licked my wounds to heal them. Apparently some Alpha's saliva has minor healing properties.

We'd slept in his bed like normal impossibly broken people. Shattered into little tiny sharp shards. We picked each other's pieces up, little by little. Since I was now sharing Sam's bed, I had to bathe myself in scent blockers. I didn't want Roslyn getting the wrong idea and start calling Sam her dad instead. During the day I would put on a faux brave face for my daughter but at night when she was out like a light I would break again. Returning to Sam's bedroom, engulfing myself in pine and resorting to making slices in my arm. Sam would lick my wounds, so that Ros wouldn't see that I'd hurt myself.

This was the routine for a while. Brave mask in the morning, Pine and blood at night. I was so broken that I didn't have room for tears anymore, just chronic dull numbness. My heats were back to a monthly cycle once Ros was born. So Sam was apprehensive the night my heat hit, without Dean's claim to protect me.

When I'd just finished carving myself up, waves of fever wracked my body. I tried hard to muffle my ecstasy filled moans, not wanting to wake Roslyn a few rooms over. I managed to remove all my clothing. My slick covering my inner thighs and making a mess on his bed.

I didn't even try to masturbate, knowing it would only make my heat worse. Every inch of my body was covered in a layer of sweat. Sam came in. All it took was the opening of the door and a waft of my thick strawberry scent and a look of my naked form to send him into rut.

He'd closed the door and locked it. He took he clothes off down to his boxers and let his form overshadow me. His pine scent was purely intoxicating. It made me moan louder. He licked my wounds, like he did every night, but this time it was different. I made my core twitch with want. Once all the little cuts were healed up, he'd looked at my face, hazed over with need, my cheeks flushed and burning.

"Must you make me beg?" I asked breathily. I knew even after all this time and his attempted rape, deep down, buried beneath all that debris, Sam had genuine feelings for me. With the obstacle gone, why not sprint for first place and get that gold trophy? He took the bait, unable to resist.

He smashed his lips against mine into a sloppy, wet, kiss. I moaned softly into his flesh. I could feel his member aching to be inside me. He raked his clothed cock against my slickness. And nibbled at the right side of my neck, the opposite side of where Dean's claim had been. I could feel his fangs start to sink in, pricking into my skin. But he let go, instead moving down to my breast, taking my aroused and hardened nipple into his mouth. Biting the nub forcefully. His hand slithered down and found my folds.

Long fingers dragging up and down my strawberry scented slick drenched core. He started to play with my clit when he stopped completely. Sam's style was rougher than Dean's. so I could only imagine what it was like with him in bed, and I wanted more. My heart skipped a beat at thinking about the size of his knot, wanting it to be at my base. Sam sat at the edge of the bed, contemplating.

I came over to his back, looking over every toned muscle wrapped my arms through his and hugged his back tight to my breasts. I kissed his vertebrae where it met the bottom of his neck, that's as far as I could go with my height deficit. His long hair ticking my nose.I didn't want him to feel like I saw him as just happenstance. Just another Alpha opportunely placed in my path when I was feeling the absence of Dean.

"Whatever is happening between, us, It's real." I tried to make him listen to truth. His hand touched mine and he'd escaped my hug. Grabbing his jeans and his plaid shirt. "Sam!" I started to plead.

"I got to take a shower. Don't want her smelling you on me." He said leaving me in his room. Rejection again, by my second Winchester, for different circumstances. I don't understand, he was the one who had it going for me first and for a long time before I was finally sharing feelings for him. And now he won't take me up on my offer? Am I that much of a complicated Omega? That every man I've been with has to have a moral dilemma just to realize that they love me?

He practically treats Roslyn as his own, especially after Dean's death. But he's tentative with that also, it's almost like he knows something I don't. Is there a secret he isn't telling me? I can't read Sam as easily I could Dean. And that frustrates the Hell out of me. Regardless he should know that he can talk to me. About Gods-damned anything. For the remainder of my heat that week he never joined me in his bed, so I resorted to wearing long sleeve shirt in the swelter of summer to hide my cuts. He took out his rut on vanquishing some Alphas who'd smelled me near by the bunker.

Another month has passed since our buzz-kill. We haven't talked much since then. I started set out some of his favorite books for him since he got into that fight with some random demon, rendering his shoulder useless for time being. it was a bit funny seeing his arm slung up in that ridiculous looking fabric contraption. I continued my nightly ritual of scraping my claw against my flesh. Maybe if I do this often enough it'll leave dark lines? Tonight, I could feel my heat hitting again, with the blazing of sundown. Ros was fast asleep and Sam came in joining me in the kitchen. I was just finishing up washing dirty dishes that I made from a late dinner smorgasbord that I prepped for myself. The famous glutton-phase, numero-uno at the beginning of my heat.

I inhaled his Pine, this is probably the last time I'm going to smell it tonight. Saddened by the thought of him leaving me, I extended my index claw and began my macabre work on the lines, digging in a bit deeper this time. Sam growled low, his steps were full of purpose. He grabbed my bleeding arm and spun me around, pinning my lower back into the edge of the sink.

"Maia! Stop this. Stop hurting yourself! Do you have any idea how disappointed seeing you like this makes me? What if you cut too deep and I'm not here? Cas is sick and out of the question. What if Ros found you, blacked out?" His pine was so overbearing now, it was hard for me to focus.

"You don't think I haven't thought that through already? I can't stop. I can't stop it. Sam, can you help me feel something? Anything that isn't this noose around my neck? Don't you love me just a little?" Sam was a man of few words when it came to his way of loving. Instead he let his actions talk for him. He licked my fresh wounds until they'd healed. I kissed his lips needing that kind of tenderness from him. breaking the kiss I sucked in, he hasn't been this close to me in a month. I let his scent fall into my lungs and on the exhale I had to clench my legs together. I let out a controlled moan. I braced myself on the edge of the sink. My insides tightening and trembling for him.

His eyes were mesmerizing like a bright kaleidoscope of hazel. He initiated more contact first. I didn't want to influence him, I needed us to be transparent. He sucked at the right side of my neck and slipped his free hand under my shorts and underwear, grabbing a fistful of ass. I was panting against his kneading touch, feeling my slick get thicker. I knew he could smell me. his jeaned member present and grinding against my clothed slit.

He left a hickey on my neck, marking it. I let out very breathy moans, needing to be quiet. He growled, leaving a sloppy kiss on my lips. His warmth left my ass cheek, making me think he was going to stop for the night a leave, again. Instead he held out his hand, "I know a place where we can be loud." I took it without hesitation and he walked me down past darkened corridors into the garage of the Bunker.

He had some difficulty taking the Impala keys out of his breast-pocket but got it eventually. He opened up the back before he let me hop in, he raked a loving hand through my hair his eyes locking with mine.

"Sam? You know this is real, right? We're authentic." I needed him to hear that. to know that our feelings weren't sparked out of our shared grief alone. he gave me a small smile and leaned down, his back bending, giving me a sweet- pine filled smooch. That's a yes. I took my shirt and shorts off, leaving my sandals next to the rear passenger tire. My undergarments were lacy and red.

I helped out, gimpy, and took his pants off. I kissed and nibbled at his light stubble on his Adam's apple when I unbuttoned each of his buttons on his plaid shirt. That made him buck into me and send his free hand exploring into my underwear. He inserted one digit, making me gasp at the sudden penetration and wanting much more than just that. I took off his sling to completely remove his shirt and then replaced the odd contraption.

He took out his finger and licked it clean, the look in his eyes as he did made me mewl against his chest. He let me get in first and he followed closing the door. I sat down in the middle like I normally would, my skin making contact with the cold leather seat. My cheeks were flushed again and I was near trembling. I scooted my butt forward in the seat, bringing my center to the forefront and resting the back of my neck against the edge of the seat.

He kissed me again but this time he was much more forceful, letting his control slip a little. He ended the kiss by biting my lower lip, possessively and thrusting two digits as deep as they could go into my slick ridden vagina. I moaned loud, not worrying about anyone hearing my sex-filled moans. He was knuckle deep, curling his fingers in and out making me shudder and gasp with each aggressive thrust.

"Got to stretch you out a little, I'm big and your damn, tight." He explained. I moaned getting excited at the thought of him filling me. I whimpered, missing his touch when he removed his fingers and turned around grabbing something from the glove box of the Impala. I took this opportunity to remove my undergarments and cast them to the floor of the car. He turned around, taking in the scenery. I didn't conceal any part of me, opening my legs for him. he seemed a bit shocked by this at first with my straightforwardness, but his gaze quickly returned to a rut-filled haze.

he tore a small foil package with his teeth, a condom. A flash of anger came across my features and took it from him throwing it, landing in the far reaches of the dashboard. I embraced his scalp with both hands and kissed his lips. he growled sexily at my actions.He'd gotten more ridged both with his actions and where it mattered. I helped him take off his boxers and he sat down next to me.

"Ladies first." he insisted wanting me to act as the top, or at the very least equal. maybe this was to do with his length and girth. It made my mouth water. I straddled myself on top him, guiding my hand down to position him at my entrance. I lowered myself down on him, the slick helped but I could still feel just how different having another man inside me was. It wasn't necessarily better than Dean just different.

He moaned from the pressure. His head scraped against my cervix, making me whimper. In all honesty it hurt a little bit, but with the pheromones flowing through my veins and my heated state I didn't mind some pain mixed with pleasure. Unable to hold back any longer, he used his free hand to grab at my shoulder pinning me to him and forcefully bucked deeper into me. Deeper than I even thought possible, his head dipping into my cervix, making me see entire galaxies.

"Ahh! Sam." He kept at a relentless pace, each thrust harder than the last, more passionate. I felt his knot swell at my base, ready to burst. I dragged my tongue across his scars displayed on his chest, the ones Dean gave him. My walls clench down like a vice. He lifted his torso off the backseat away from a resting position. his hand cradling the base of my neck and dragging it in. His knot locked inside me and load after sweet boiling load released into my deepest parts. Not wasting another second he sunk his fangs into the flesh of the right side of my neck, claiming me. I'd screamed, climaxing from the combination of his knot, seed, and pine intoxicating me all at once. We sat there panting out our arousals, still connected for about half an hour. He lapped the blood away from his claim but made sure not to touch the puncture marks, wanting them to scar over. We waited for his knot to calm down before talking.

"I've waited a long time for this." He said rubbing my cheek with his thumb, his eyes mulling over my beauty. "Doesn't feel real, but I'm happy it is." I smiled back at him, moaning and wincing from his exit.

"Me too. I need a shower." I definitely smell like him now. Both of us wanted to start round two but were unable to with the possibility of Roslyn waking up in the middle of the night. We left the Impala in her steamed state and headed off to the shower stalls. Oh man, I'm going to feel this in the morning. Together we bathed, needing each other as support. Me nursing his gimp shoulder and him, making sure the shower water didn't sting my fresh claim. it was a miracle at all that we by the end of the cleaning we didn't still smell like each other. Now dressed, we headed off to the bedroom section of the Bunker. We stopped at his room. He landed a kiss on my forehead.

"Don't hurt yourself anymore." he said, demandingly, already exerting his Alpha nature onto his new mate. I gave him a weak smile, "Okay. Good night." That was the one thing I don't think I can promise. I'm going to sleep very solidly tonight. He rubbed my cheek with is thumb again.

" 'Night. 'Mega." Hearing him utter my dynamic, really felt like setting our actions in stone. It felt good and right. should I feel guilty for this? Being my recently deceased mate's , whom I've bore a pup with, brother? my omega instinct was telling me, no I shouldn't be ashamed. Dean died. It wasn't really cheating after all, was it? it was too late to get cold feet now. I hopped into my bed in my room, cocooning, I was starting to get too much in my own head. I couldn't help but place a hand on the crook of my left neck, where Dean's claim used to be. I wanted to cut, but didn't so I had my fill of crying until I fell asleep.

The next morning felt so odd to me, because it was like there was a light-switch that had been flipped on inside my brain. For the first time in a very long time, I felt happy. Dean and I had bonded through our emotions, I and Sam, however bonded intellectually. Not to say that Dean was dumb, he wasn't. Just the way Sam and mine brain operated was different than his. Dean thinks...thought with his heart. Sam puts that pre-law beautiful nerdy mind to work constantly. He needs to do that actually otherwise, he'd be bored out of his wits. Sam is governed by reason and thought.

I was the first person up, getting some pancakes ready for Roslyn, those were her current favorite. In a few more weeks she'd have some other favorite fad to please her palette. Pups, Gods help me. I was sipping on some coffee and got Ros up, heaving her groggy little booty out of bed and putting her in her high-chair. It was hard to get her to eat, even though she liked the stuff. She only ate about half of it, but I settled for that. In another three hours she'd only be tugging at my leg wanting more food. Her little face scrunched up in a frustrated manner. Sam, finally out of his slumber came in, fixing himself a cup of coffee from the batch I made.

"What's up buttercup?" I asked Ros, she has been talking for a little while. Mostly baby nonsense talk that only people who were close to her could comprehend. but other than that she can string very minor sentences together to get her point across. I tucked her fine hair out of her face and behind her ear. It hurt to see Dean's eyes reflected in those tiny eye sockets and his freckles on her face.

"Bored. Wanna play hide seek. Miss Daddy." I smiled as hard as I could, because that sentence coupled with the look on her face made me hurt so damned bad. Sam was silent, turned around tending to his coffee. "Daddy will be home soon, pumpkin. I promise." her eyes tensed on me.

"Wiar." Liar. I almost broke right then and there. but I used that hurt to heave myself out of the kitchen chair and pick her up.

"Somebody needs a nap, huh grumpy-face?" I told her. she didn't say anything back. I put her back to bed and rubbed her back and hummed Landslide to soothe her to sleep. that worked every time. I closed her door without a sound and Sam was in the hallway staring at me, looking guilty. I walked away from her door and collapsed down into Sam's chest, a bawling mess.

"Sam, how are we gonna fix this?" I asked him, not knowing where else to turn. He sighed but didn't answer me. He kissed his claim, the flesh still tender. Sam gave me some room, knowing I needed time to think and stir. I let my emotions fester inside me before settling down and coming to streamline. The morning faded into the night-time and I had noticed Sam's laptop open and a tab closed down. Sitting next to his laptop a stack of papers, notes upon notes of demonology.

I skimmed through them, not thinking much of it until I saw he'd written a sentence. how to become a demon with an anti-possession tattoo? Why was he so invested in this? I thought he was keeping hunting to a minimum with his shoulder. at least that's what he told me. I tried opening the window but of course it was password protected. with a tiny security question to answer.

Circles infinity expecting differently. I mulled it over for a little while before cracking it. Insanity! Circles being a cycle, for infinity so repeating the same actions over and over expecting a different outcome. It's the famous saying from Einstein, and the definition of insanity. You'd think Sam would have thought of something more difficult?

The file was titled, 'Gas-n-sip footage DD'. That's weird. maybe he's stumped on a case? since I cracked his riddle, I can help him with this. I clicked on the file and view the video. Nothing looked out of the ordinary, just some guy looking over the magazines on one isle. almost all Gas-n-sips are the same, so seeing this brought back memories of before the Mill. Crazy to think how much my life has changed since then.

another man came on the screen and caught my attention. He had bowed out legs and dressed a bit plainly, with a cap on. The taller man suddenly attacked the other one and threw him into the shelf, for no reason. He looked right at the camera and I froze in place. I'd know that face anywhere. it was Dean, in the flesh. No can't be, has to be a shifter or something, right? for a second his eyes flashed, pure black like they'd been covered in soot. and then returned to normal. I closed the laptop horrified, appalled, excited, elated, terrified for Dean, and then livid. I took Sam's laptop and ran to his room where he was sleeping.

I threw it purposely on his shoulder making him wake from the pain. I mounted him and pounded on his chest. "How long? How long did you know?! You told me he was DEAD! He's alive! Breathing. Walking. and a black eyed fool!" by the end I put my forehead to his, headbutting. I shouldn't have done it because it hurt like hell.

I dismounted him, falling to the floor with a thud. He got up from bed, sitting with me on the floor.

"I haven't known for long, only a few days. I was going to tell you. I just didn't know how. I'm afraid of losing you. I thought, if you knew, you'd go running back to him and leave me. Everyone leaves. Go! Go see what he's become!" he said his mood changing mid-speech.

I grabbed his face in both my palms, surprising him with my actions. I kissed his forehead, the way he did to me. "I can't leave you. I won't. Mates for life. That goes for dean too. I'll be back. I need to go rescue my Galahad Sam. Can you do me a favor, and don't follow me? Watch over Roslyn, please. If something goes wrong, I have you on speed dial." I had a mission now, a purpose.

Sam closed his eyes savoring my touch and thinking through my promise.

"Come back in one piece." he demanded from me. "Always." I answered my new lover, before giving him a kiss tasting his pine. I gathered my things quickly, packing a demon knife and all the love and courage I could muster within me. I took one of the random working vehicles from the garage and drove to the Black Spurs bar pulling in to the a parking spot and turning off the engine. I exhaled, Zeus give me strength, resting my forehead against the steering wheel. Here goes nothing. I exited the vehicle and locked it, keeping aware of my surroundings. I'm walking into a demon bar, where there are guaranteed to be Alphas of some kind.

Demons are not below rape, if anything they are encouraged by it. I'm still in my heat cycle so the fact that I'm still standing in this musky cesspool is a miracle. Maybe Sam's claim helped me out with that? I swung the door open, my only goal being to find Dean. The music stopped every pair of eyes on me and my Omega body. the music returned and some of the Alphas nearby were calling for me.

"Come over here, 'mega, wanna ride this pony, cowgirl?" the first alpha whistled.

"Got a fat knot, waiting for ya, Darling!" One fisted his clothed dick in my direction. I gave him the bird, not exactly intimidating considering my tiny fingers.

"We can fuck that cunt, two for one discount, Baby-gal. Awhoooooo." Another mock-howled banging on the chest of his buddy.

I didn't acknowledge them at all. instead payed attention to Dean, seeing his back turned to me. he had a red shirt on and jeans, boots. His hair grown out a little and combed over semi-neatly. I could smell the liquor that emanated from him as I closed the space between us. he was sucking face with a blonde. I crossed my arms and dragged my tongue across my canine.

"Didn't know they made Barbie the black-eyed-bitch edition. Must be new." that got her attention. She broke the kiss, get your filthy lips off my man. Dean laughed, entertained by my insult. I let my eyes pierce into his, wanting to peer into his soul, if there was one left.

"Why don't you get your own knot, you reek of sex, Omega slut." I wasn't going to show weakness, especially not here. plus the fact that I was already vexed. I took the demon blade out of my black suit jacket, pinned her hand to the table and impaled it to the wood, making her scream. for good measure I made sure she would need plastic surgery to fix that up-turned nose of hers. Feeling it break underneath my knuckles.

Dean was smiling from ear to ear, revealing his perfect rows of teeth. He whistled after taking another shot of liquor.

"You, me- need to fuck. Right now. You make me all tingly when you take control like that, M." just hearing his voice again, made me so happy but I knew the fact that him being here for all this time and not in the Bunker meant something was astray. He rose from his seat. I couldn't tell if the whiskey scent was coming from his body or the exuberant amount of alcohol he'd been consuming. His hand took mine and led me out of the bar, I needed his touch so much. What have they done to you, Love?

He took me across the street to a dingy looking motel. He took me into his arms, bridal style. Shifting his weight to one foot, he kicked the door in. He set me down on the bed and topped me. Taking the collar of my jacket into his hands dragging me up to meet his lips I could taste the poison on his lips, still lingering. I couldn't help but moan into him. I had missed him for so long and that made a deadly combo with my heat being active at the moment. He was rougher than usual, like he'd lost his inhibitions.

"That's what I like to hear." His hands stroked down the fabric of my jacket, reaching the juncture of the button that connected the two sides, and jerked ripping the button off. I wasn't going to let my heat distract me from why I came here. he took my heels off along with his reddish-rusty colored jacket and black shirt. he unzipped my jeans with his teeth, growling at the scent of my slick beneath them.

"Dean, we need to talk." I said. He undid the metal button of my jeans and licked at my clothed slit, making me moan again. He descended and hopped off the bed taking the bottom of my jeans and tugging them off my legs. He cast off his boots and yanked his pants down enough to where his length fell out, slapping firm against the base of his stomach.

"Sure, let the skin do the talkin', Baby." He said in a lustful tone, returning to the bed. The abused springs creaking under our combined weight. I was already slick as all Hell. So he wouldn't need to prep me or anything. Before that plane could come in for a landing, I needed to get my point across before I wasn't able to talk. he started to remove my silky pink underwear. I need to say it now.

"Dean! You died. and came back, why not come home? Do you miss me at all? Or Ros?" He had begun working on eating me out, taking in my slick with an aggressive appetite. I felt waves of heat wash over me. Fucking Cerberus in a handbasket! I couldn't lose track of my objective. I stared at him through the valley of my breasts, needing his answer, before I couldn't make conscious thought.

He was staring back at me, his tongue scraping at my walls. His eyes were filled with rut and then turned as black as coal in a millisecond. My chest heaved and my heart was drumming in my body, pumping my heat through me. Out of my core, down through my thighs and into my toes, making them curl. I was close to cumming, feeling my heat searing into my cheeks. He still had enough Dean in him to tease me, like old times and didn't give me a chance to release. he licked my slick off his lips and stalked further up to me.

He looked at me like prey. His eyes still blackened. He swallowed, and I could feel his hot breath on my neck.

" 'Course I do. What I can't take a vacation? Oh, am I scaring you sweetheart? Want the green ones back? Personally I prefer these. Think they look better on me." He answered. I was about to open my mouth when. His bullshit reply made me angry I took his throat in my grip, my claws scraping with his skin.

"I'm not afraid, I'm sad. This isn't you. Death is no holiday, it's finite! I felt your claim sever!!" I let my feeling spill out. He cackled against my grip. His eyes returning to the shade of green that I adored and knew so well.

"Welcome to the Dark-side, death is only a new beginning, Maia." His brows furrowed for a second. Laughing again but it sounded more like a scoff. He grabbed at my neck with one hand to pull me up to him so he could take my jacket off. He threw it, landing on a lampshade, darkening the room a bit. He set my neck down, and put his lips next to my right ear. His hand stroked at Sam's claim.

"Somebody's getting on the naughty list this year. You think I couldn't smell him on you? Taste him inside you? It's pretty sad really. He gave you a pity fucking. And This ain't no pity fuck." he said making his eyes return to black. He plunged himself into me, making gasp after gasp escape me. His fangs extended and tore into the left side of my neck. His Whiskey coursed throughout my entire body, spreading from cell to microscopic cell. The claiming hurt but it felt exhilarating at the same time. My veins were filled with Pine and Whiskey melting into my own strawberry scent. A potent triquetra. Throughout the sex, I felt something burn into my wrist. I stared at it and watched dark lines, as if someone was giving me a tattoo, form a symbol I had never seen before. I noticed the same thing sting itself into dean's wrist. on the same spot.

Dean knotted himself into me more times than I could count. He fucked me senseless, ultimately and literally reclaiming what was rightfully his. At some point I had passed out. I woke up to find Dean snoring next to me. My eyes welled up but I couldn't let myself cry. I got up from the motel bed and collected my things and left. I forgot that I drove here, unable to focus on anything but what had just happened.

I limped down the highway, the night and moon still high in her resting place among the stars. Dean screwed me so hard it made walking a challenge. I don't remember how long I walked down the desolate road, casting my feet between the two yellow lines. I felt more numb than I had ever been. My mission had failed and I don't know how to fix Dean. I'm back at square one. I flopped down on to the cold blacktop staring into the dark abyss, a halo of white light ringed around the full moon. I closed my eyes, waiting for a car to come and crush me under its tires. I felt so used. I hate what heat makes me, lets me accept. my phone rang multiple times but I ignored it.

I watched the moon creep across Nyx's cloak. Until bright lights made me wince and screeching tires skidded to a halt, stopping in the knick of time. A heavy door opened and closed. Boots running heavy across the asphalt. a warm hand caressing my cheek. Pine filling my nostrils and lungs.

"Maia?! What happ-" he stopped mid-sentence, his glossy hazel eyes noticing two claims, one for each side. I lost it, tears searing stains into my cheeks. "Take me home, Sam, please." I begged. that was the one thing I was good for, begging. I begged for love. I begged for happiness. I begged for knots. Sam got me into the passenger seat ignoring the pain in his shoulder as he rose me from the ground. I kept staring at the moon on the way to the Bunker.

Alphas, Omegas- such an overrated shit-show.

End chapter 11. Start Arc B of series.

Quote:

"And I've moved further than I thought I could But I missed you more than I thought I would And I'll use you as a warning sign That if you talk enough sense then you'll lose your mind

And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be Right in front of me Talk some sense to me"

-'I found,'-Amber Run

Quote:

"The sweetest submission Drinking it in The wine, the women, the bedroom hymns"

-'Bedroom Hymns,'-Florence + the Machine

#Big Big Love Series #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #Alpha!Demon!Dean #dean winchester #demon dean #sam winchester #alpha!sam winchester #alpha!steve x omega!reader #supernatural #supernatural abo #bad habits #smut

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lullips · 4 years ago

Text

MOVIE NIGHT — nct dream

pairings : nct dream x gn!reader ( mark included )

genre : fluff

「 mark lee 」

a movie night with mark would be one of the most sweet and unforgettable thing you do with him.

it's just a simple movie night yeah, but mark made it so special.

the both of you always had them in mark's place

and boy, he would set his place as romantic yet comfortable as he can with led lamp, a lot of blankets and pillows, scented candles, and even some roses !!

sometimes he's a bit too extra

you two would usually watch rom-coms or romance musical like 13 going on 30, mamma mia, and you named it.

throughout the movie, you would constantly throwing comments here and there which usually lead to a full conversation about it.

he would definitely wrapped his arms around your waist as you sat on his lap, a fuzzy blanket keeping both of you warm with a bowl of popcorn in your hands.

he would also whispered sweet nothings to your ears and stroking your tummy once a while which makes your heart goes hdgfhjd.

in the end, both of you would end up cuddling and wake up the next morning with your legs tangled with his.

「 lee haechan 」

let's admit, a movie night with haechan would be the BEST

you guys would watch mean girls ( 2000-2010's popular movies in particular ) and act out the scenes.

he definitely wouldn't dress up with regina george's bunny costume that you bought online

well, and you dress up as karen smith in her mouse costume

LOTS AND LOTS OF PICTURES & INSTA POSTS

*insert a bathroom mirror selfie of both of you with the costume on and haechan poses like regina* "xoxo, regina & karen"

jisung.pwark : can i be gretchen pls 🥺👉👈

fullsunhc : no

huangrj : i wouldn't even question it

lelezhong : i'm-

markeulee : wHAT THE HYUCK-

leejeno : you guys are so weird.

nanajaem : weirdly cute :)

even after the movie is done you guys wouldn't sleep

let's play the next movie : clueless

*cough* the costumes are still on *cough*

after clueless done? still wouldn't sleep

you guys would most likely pull an all nighter.

doing some food experiments in the kitchen, a singing duet, more selfies, doing each others make up, anything !

your fullsun would make the night as amazing as ever <3

「 huang renjun 」

SCI-FI MOVIES ALL THE WAY !!

the darkest minds, stranger things, the 5th wave, the maze runner, x-men, divergent, jurassic world, the umbrella academy and more !!

i did not just named almost all of my favorite sci-fi movies

chinese food, pizza, or tteokbokki accompanies your movie night

you most likely would lay your head on his shoulder shoulder gangster renjun and his head on top of yours with his arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him

"if you can have any super power, what would you have, jun?"

"time travel, like five hargreeves perhaps. so I could see my future with you."

i'm not good at flirting pls don't come @ me

cooking or baking together after

deep midnight conversation with the cook you've made in each others arms

falling asleep with you on his chest

「 lee jeno 」

the softiest softie ever !!

cuddle, cuddle, and cuddle

you would watch some sad shit like miracle in cell no 7, five feet apart, and the fault in our stars

cuz you guys loved to hurt yourselves like that

he never let you go throughout the movie, keeping his arms around your waist

would ask you if you need anything every now and then

"do you need anything? are you warm enough? do you want some more chips?"

"no jen, i'm fine. just shut up and cuddle me."

the smile NEVER left his face

except when he's crying

i couldn't find his eye smile emoji im-

you two would laugh at each other's crying faces

saying how amazing you are and how lucky he is to have you in his life and how he loves you so fucking much

your heart was light and warm when you fell asleep that night

「 na jaemin 」

SO !! MANY !! AFFECTIONS !!

but you're not complaining anyways

you two would watch some cheesy romance movies or kdramas like crash landing on you, to all the boys i've loved before, and stuff like that due to his request

but he honestly didn't pay attention to the movie, his eyes were watching you — who was feeling extremely comfy on his chest, looking stunning as ever

constant kisses on your head

one hand stroking your back and the other holding your hand tightly

so many i love you's

"darling, i love you."

"nana, you just said that 5 minutes ago, but i love you too."

he smells like coffee and vanilla

you would never get tired sniffing his scent

lull you to sleep once the movie finished, pulling you closer to his grip as he look at your sleeping figure with loving eyes

IMAGINE HIS DEEP VOICE SINGING YOU TO SLEEP, I WOULD LEGIT PASSED AWAY

smiling softly before kissing your forehead for one last time for that night and closing his eyes

「 zhong chenle 」

SNACKS AND SNACKS EVERYWHERE !1!1

y'all basically brought the whole store to his place

bags of chips, ice cream, pudding, boba tea, ramyeon, chocolate, banana milk, and sO MANY MORE

would watch something in action, thriller, or mystery genre like sweet home, the chilling adventure of sabrina, teen wolf, etc . . .

at some point you two just straight up eating and joking around instead of watching the movie

throwing food into each others' mouth

the one who can catch it would get a kiss

well, we can't forget our special guest now do we?

give an applause for our queen ZHONG DAEGAL

she would constantly snuggle to you which you found a d o r a b l e

i love daegal so much pls-

in the end, the both of you would sleep with daegal in the middle

「 park jisung 」

ngl, i'm pretty sure y'all would watch disney movies

*cough* frozen *cough*

singing your heart out everytime the song played

having an intense duet of let it go and love is an open door

followed by frozen 2 once frozen finished

but when it comes to skinship or affection, jisung would be a CUTE, SHY LITTLE BEAN

he would be like :

"is it okay if i hug you? like, putting my hands on your waist?"

and you would be like :

"jisung, baby, we've been dating for 6 months. yes, of course you can."

NOSE KISSES !!!!!

idc what y'all would say. NOSE. KISSES.

definitely cuddling after

his hands on your back and waist

you head on his chest

he's the kristoff to your anna <3

157 notes · View notes

love-and-monsters · 4 years ago

Text

Harpy Model

M harpy X GN human, 6,762 words.

This story is based on this post that I was tagged in by the lovely and talented @p-gretz. Thanks for the inspiration!

You fumbled with the camera equipment in your hands. The tripod kept trying to escape under your elbow, but shifting to secure it would mean losing the lens cap, and grabbing for that jeopardized the magnifier you had balanced against your collarbone. If people stopped dumping things on you at every given opportunity, you probably would have been alright, but being the lowest member on the totem pole meant your status was barely better than a self-propelled table.

The tripod slipped another inch down and you automatically grabbed at it. The sudden movement unbalanced the camera in the center of the pile. With a clatter of plastic, it slipped free, tumbling toward the ground.

A feathered hand snagged the camera strap, jerking it to a halt seconds before it struck the ground. “Need some help?” a slightly accented male voice asked.

“Thanks, but I got it,” you said. A total lie. You could not have had it less if you’d tried.

“Nonsense. At least let me take something so you can get better situated.” Before you could protest again, he had removed several of the objects, tucking them into his feathered arms.

Without the constant danger of dropping something if you so much as twitched, you were able to shift the pile in your arms into a better position. “Thank you. I’m sorry, I-”

You froze. It felt embarrassingly out of character for you to look at someone and freeze, but his face made something in your chest do backflips.

He was elegantly made up, with touches lengthening his lashes and emphasizing his cheekbones. His hair was pale and curling in little waves around his ears. Delicate feathers sprouted around his neck, trailing down toward his arms. They were pale white, with touches of pink. His tail was easily the most striking part of him. Long, green feathers made a train behind him that brushed the floor and gave him the impression of a trailing cloak. He stood delicately on bird-like talons, poised like a dancer.

Fortunately, your freeze only lasted a couple of seconds, and you disguised it by pretending to drop and recover one of your many items. “Sorry. I’m trying to go to studio, um. A12, so I’ll just be heading over there-”

The man laughed. It was more gentle than mocking, but you felt your stomach shrivel in embarrassment regardless. “Really? Then you’re heading in the wrong direction. I’m headed in the same direction. I can walk you there.”

“I wouldn’t want to bother you,” you said.

“It’s not a bother. You seem like you could use the help.” You blushed furiously, but the man didn’t seem to notice. He shifted the camera he’d taken from you into a more comfortable position in his arm. “Are you new here? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before.”

“Yeah. I’m, um. The new intern, basically. You’ve been here for a while?”

“I work with a few different photography places as a model. But I’ve had a contract here for some time.” He flicked his tail casually. “If you need help, I can show you around a little bit when we’re done. This place can be a real maze until you get used to it.”

“Oh, I couldn’t impose on you like that. I mean, you’re probably really busy and I don’t want to take up any of your valuable time-”

The harpy laughed. “My time is hardly the most valuable time here. And, if we’re being really honest…” He leaned in close to your ear. His feathers tickled as he put a hand up to his mouth. “I don’t mind making some of the people around here wait. They’re all really stuck up.” He leaned back and dropped you a glittery wink before strolling on ahead. “Come with me! It’s this way.”

You hurried after him. He had a particularly flowing, graceful way of moving. It wasn’t hard to believe he was a model- even if you hadn’t met him in the studio, you would have guessed it. He moved like he was always on a catwalk.

The studio was particularly maze-like. There were multiple winding halls with several doors each. Only a few small signs gave any sign of where anything was, and casual racks of clothes strewn around the hallway blocked more than half of them. The harpy, however, strode through the halls with a practiced ease.

After several turns, you finally came across a door marked Studio A12. The harpy pushed the door open and paused to let you through before stepping in himself.

“Revali! You’re late!” An impatient-looking woman glared across the room at him. You froze automatically, but he just put down the equipment he’d been carrying on a nearby table and gave you a wink.

“I’m here now, aren’t I?” he said. You turned away from him as your supervisor approached you.

“You’re late too,” he said.

“Sorry. I kind of got lost.”

“I know it’s your first week here, so I’m not going to scold you for this, but being on time is important here. At least for the photographers.” He cast a disparaging look at Revali who was chatting cheerfully with the stern-looking woman. “Models get more leeway.”

“He doesn’t seem so bad,” you said. “I thought a lot of models here were kind of stuck up.”

“He’s not stuck up,” your supervisor agreed. “He’s got the opposite problem. He doesn’t take anything seriously. One of those types who float through life on nothing but their good looks.”

The photoshoot started right after he spoke and you were immediately swept up in the business of it all. Your job was essentially doing whatever anyone needed of you, and they needed a lot. You spent most of the time scrambling around, fixing lights, grabbing accessories, fetching camera equipment, and being a general gopher. The photoshoot lasted only an hour and a half, but you were exhausted by the time it was over.

You sagged by the door, waiting for your next task to be assigned. Revali was having some sort of conversation with his manager that seemed to be verging on an argument, at least on her end. Revali looked as casual as ever.

His manager said something stabbing a finger in his face. He didn’t even flinch. He just lifted one of his shoulders in a slight shrug and, with a flick of his tail, strolled away.

“Ready for the tour?” he asked as he walked over to you. He had a particular way of walking, like he was constantly on a catwalk. It really was more of a strut than a casual walk.

“I already said you don’t have to. And, um, I don’t want to get you in trouble.” You made a subtle head motion toward his managers, who was alternating between looking at her phone screen and glaring at him.

Revali tossed his head. “She’s not my mother. She doesn’t control me. I do what I like. And right now, I’d like to take you on a tour of the studio. Why don’t you come with me?”

You glanced back at his manager. Revali shifted in front of you, blocking her from your sight. “All right,” you said. “But it can’t take too long. I’ve still got other responsibilities to take care of.”

Revali nodded and gestured for you to follow him out the door. “Like I said, this whole place is kind of a maze. I swear, they designed every section to look as similar as possible. But, you can figure out where all the studios are because it’s broken into sections. The stairwells are always marked with the sections. Even numbers are always to the right when you get off the stairwells and odd numbers to the left. Here, I’ll show you how to get to a couple of the bigger studios-”

Revali was right- the entire place seemed to have been designed like a weird, spiraling maze. You ended up needing to take notes on everything he told you. When you finally came to a stop, you were almost dizzy from all the turns you’d needed to make.

“Where are we?” you asked, looking around. “I haven’t been in this part of the building before.” It was almost indistinguishable from the other parts of the building, with eh same florescent lights and powder blue walls, but there were larger signs next to every door and they were spaced closer together.

“Yes, you probably haven’t needed to come down here yet.” Revali opened one of the doors and stepped inside. It was a small room with a large mirror taking up most of one wall, a couch, a minifridge, and a few racks of fancy-looking clothes. “They’re the model rooms. Those of us who have long-term contracts here get our own little spaces when we’re not working.” He strode across the room and sprawled on his couch.

You stood in the doorway. One of the models taking an interest in you and then inviting you back to his personal room? It was hard to keep your imagination from going places. “Hey, uh. I don’t want to be rude, but if you invited me back here for some, uh, fun, I’m not really into casual flings, so-”

Revali shrugged. “Whether or not we have sex is entirely up to you. I’ve had a couple flings in here. Honestly, they didn’t do much for me.”

If he had been attempting to make you more comfortable, it had backfired. Great. Now you didn’t want to sit down anywhere. You remained in the doorway. “Why did you bring me here, then?”

Revali shrugged. “You seemed overwhelmed,” he said. “And it’s much quieter down here.” There was a series of thumps and cursing on the other side of the wall. Revali glared at it. “Mostly, anyway.”

You plucked up your courage and settled on the couch next to him. He grinned. “Also, it’s lunch time and I like eating with other people. I make way too much food all the time.”

Revali grabbed a few Tupperware containers out of his minifridge and lay them out on the table next to you. Most of them appeared to be some sort of meat covered in a thick sauce. Revali was looking at you eagerly, so you took the fork he was offering and took a bite.

“Oh!” you said. “It’s good!”

“Yeah?” Revali said. “I cook when I’m stressed, so I always have more food than I need.” You took a few more bites, enjoying the richness and spiciness of the sauce over the umami of the meat. Revali leaned back, watching you eat with a strange amount of intensity.

“Um. Are you going to have some?” you asked, gesturing to the food. Revali made a face.

“Can’t. I have my own lunch here.” He pulled out an uninspired-looking salad with a few strips of grilled chicken on top.

“You make food, but then you don’t eat it?” you asked. Revali shrugged.

“The life of a model. I do need to keep in shape,” he said. “But I’m always cooking, so you can come over any time you want. I’ll give you a free lunch.”

“You could try at least one bite,” you said. You lifted a piece of meat on your fork and held it out to him. Revali lifted a brow. “Come on. You made all this. I’ll feel bad if I’m the only one who gets to eat it.”

Revali’s brow lifted a little higher. “Well, if you’ll feel bad, I suppose I have no choice but to spare your feelings.” You had intended for him to take the fork from you, but instead, he leaned forward and picked the chunk of meat off the fork with his teeth. He sprawled back and chewed, eyes closing. “Mm. It is good.”

You glanced around the room. It was slightly messy, with clothes and makeup strewn all over the place. Nothing was dirty, but it was a little cluttered. “How did you get into modeling, anyway?”

Revali opened his eyes and pushed himself more upright. “It was a few years ago. Just started doing a few local things, then I got scouted by my current agency. It’s not the most fun, really, but it’s pretty good money. Better than flipping burgers at a fast food restaurant, at least.” He shrugged. “Never finished college, so my job prospects are pretty limited.” He eyed you. “What about you?”

“I finished college a month or so ago. Studied photography. I’m hoping that this internship will lead to an actual job in the future, because right now I’m kind of living off my savings.” You gave a weak chuckle. “I kind of wanted to do my own photography thing, but, you know. Better to have a stable job.”

“Don’t I know it. I’d love to do some more interesting projects, but these ones pay well, which is what my manager likes.” Revali checked his phone and grimaced. “I’m going to have to head to my next shoot in a few minutes. You can hang out here if you like. Just put stuff back when you’re done with it.”

“I should probably be getting back now anyway,” you said, standing up. “Thank you for the lunch, though. You’re a good cook.”

“Thank you. Come back any time. Like I said, I’ve always got food. Actually, let me walk you back to the photo area. Just to make sure you get there all right.” Revali held the door open for you as you stepped into the hall.

“I’m not that hopeless,” you said, starting to head down the hallway. Revali snickered and you stopped. “What?”

“You sure?” he said. “Because, uh, you are going the complete wrong direction.”

“Oh,” you said. “I. Um. That’s embarrassing.”

“You’ll get used to it. Eventually. Here, I’ll show you the way.” Revali linked his arm through yours. “This all right?”

“Sure,” you said. “Thank you. Again.”

“No problem at all! Now, we should probably hurry, so I don’t get yelled at twice in one day. My manager would blow a blood vessel.” Revali headed off at a rapid trot, forcing you to jog to keep up.

Meeting him for lunch became a regular practice after that. He usually had something new and interesting for you to try, and he seemed to enjoy your company. Every day, you would slip out of work and head down to his dressing room for at least half an hour. A few times, you lost track of the time and had to sprint to make it back to your next shoot.

“They’re really putting you through the ringer, huh?” Revali said as you collapsed on his couch. He was wearing the sparkliest blue jacket you’d ever seen. Whether it was actually for a shoot or not was up in the air- Revali was the sort of person who would wear it out and about.

“It’s all right. I wish I was allowed to do more than just menial labor, though. I knew I was going to get the tasks people didn’t like when I started, but I wish I had more learning experiences. I feel like I’ve barely held a camera for something other than handing it to someone.”

Revali stretched his arms over his head, wings twitching. It was always interesting to watch the way they moved. They were a combination of wings and arms, with feathers sprouting all along his arms and the wing tip and hands separating at the wrists. Whenever he wore long sleeves, he needed to cut slits for the feathers and tied the ends closed around his wrists. They were usually tied closed with some sort of bangle, so he nearly always jingled when he moved his arms. “That’s a bummer. Have you been able to take any photos at all recently?”

“Nah. I’ve been too busy. When I get home from work, all I want to do is collapse. And I’ve been having trouble getting inspiration. I’ve been trying to get out more and do some shoots in nature, because it’s a lot nicer than the manufactured settings we have here, but I’ve been having trouble finding a model.”

Revali sat up straighter. “Having trouble finding a model, hm? Well, isn’t is just so fortunate that I happen to have some skills in that particular department?”

“Are you sure? I can’t really pay you much. That’s part of the reason I’ve been having trouble getting some models. When your job isn’t paying you anything, you can’t afford to hire someone for an afternoon. And I’m just not connected enough to find someone willing to do it for free.”

“I think we can help each other out,” Revali said. “I do actually need some new photos for my portfolio, and I think it would be nice to have a more natural setting. Let me use the photos and I’ll do it for free.”

“You’d be willing to do that? And you’re not too busy? I know you’ve kind of been running ragged for the past few days,” you said.

“Oh, it’s no trouble at all. Like I said, it gives us both something we want.” He whipped a phone out of his pocket and started tapping on the screen. “Let’s see. I’m free Saturday afternoon, if that works for you?” You nodded. “Wonderful. Text me your address, I’ll stop by and you can take me wherever you want.”

Your phone timer dinged and you jumped to your feet. “Oh, shoot, I need to get going. Um, I guess I’ll see you then? And thank you!”

“Don’t worry about it, cutie. Just go.” He waved a hand at you. “I’d hate to see you get yelled at on my behalf.”

You scrambled out the door, waving goodbye to him once more before heading down the hall.

Waiting for Saturday became the highlight of your week. You deliberated over the best location, eventually picking a slightly secluded, riverside area. Revali had agreed to bring some of his own outfits, which he had allowed you to approve. They were simpler than the outfits he usually wore to work, with more natural colors, but he still looked good in them.

You spent a lot of time fussing with your cameras on the day of the shoot. It would be terribly embarrassing for Revali to show up and see you unprepared.

The knock on your door was startling. You carefully placed your camera on your table and hurried to answer it.

Revali was leaning against the doorway. “Hello, darling. Ready to go?”

He was wearing some fancy-looking gold and silver makeup and he’d done something to plump up his tail. It was long and fancy typically, but he’d added long lines of beads and fluff to his tail, making it look even more striking than usual.

“Wow,” you said. You were suddenly overly conscious about how messy your hair was and the fact that you’d just kind of thrown on the first clothes you’d laid your eyes on in the morning. Would it be weird if you made an excuse to go change? “Uh. Do you want to come in for a minute? I just, uh, need to finish something up.”

Revali stepped into your house. “Nice place,” he said, glancing around. You snorted.

“Please. I’m renting a house in the middle of nowhere that has, like, three rooms. Uh, make yourself comfortable. I just need to, um. Grab a jacket.”

“It’s nicely decorated, though. You have a good aesthetic sense.” Most of the stuff you had was from second-hand stores, but it did all sort of go together in a sort of farmhouse-chic way.

You hurried into your room and swapped your old sweatshirt out for a nicer shirt and one of your nicer jackets. The pants were staying, they were good enough. You hurried back out into the kitchen. Revali was examining a few of the photos that adorned your walls.

“You take these?” he asked. They were mostly nature shots, images of animals or flowers up close or landscape shots of rolling fields or mountains.

“Yeah. Most of them were for class. I just hung up the best ones,” you said.

“They’re nice. I like them. Do you like taking picture of nature better? Than of people, I mean.”

“Um. I mean. They’re both nice, just in different ways. There’s something really meditative about taking pictures of nature. It’s peaceful. Working with people can be harder, but it’s also kind of rewarding? Like, taking photos for a wedding is really nice. You get to capture a really great moment in someone’s life and then, when they look back at it, you help them remember the good moments. I like being able to do that for people.”

Revali looked at you. His eyes were bright, assessing. “Why do you work for the studio? It’s not any of those things you said, peaceful or rewarding. It’s mostly just stressful.”

“It makes money,” you said as you headed for the door. “Why do you work for the agency?”

There was a pause, long enough for you to get in the car. “Because it makes good money,” Revali finally said. “And it also means I get my face out there. I like being well known, you know.”

“I can’t imagine wanting that. I like being behind the scenes way more.”

Revali settled back in the seat and watched the fields roll by. “Where are we headed?”

“Um, there’s this nice little riverside area in a stand of trees. I thought it might make for some pretty photos.” You glanced at him uncertainly. “I hope that’s okay with you. I know you said you’d be okay with a nature shoot, but hope you’re not going to be too upset with a little dirt. I’ll try to keep you out of it, but-”

Revali burst into peals of laughter. You twisted your head to stare at him before realizing that you should probably keep your eyes on the road. “What? What’s so funny?”

“Oh, I shouldn’t laugh! It just struck me as very funny, but you had no way of knowing, of course.” Revali wiped a stray tear away. “Do you know where I grew up?”

“No,” you said. He hadn’t told you, had he? Revali seemed unoffended. He ran a hand through his hair, which somehow still looked artfully tousled. You were temporarily distracted by the way little tufts curled loosely around his ears. Hurriedly, you turned your gaze back to the road.

“I grew up on a farm,” he said. He fluttered his feathers. “I’m a cockerel harpy- I’ve got my fancy show feathers, but I’m not exactly a bird of paradise. It’s a family thing. I grew up working in the dirt and mud, and whenever I go home, I’m expected to do it again.”

“I never would have guessed,” you said honestly. He had the soft looks of someone who had never worked hard labor, but when you looked him over again, you could see how his smooth muscles might have come from farm work. “Your family didn’t mind, then, you going to be a model?”

“You think I have some sob story about running away from my strict farm father to pursue my dreams of being in the spotlight?” Revali smirked at you. “No. My father was disappointed, I think. He did want me to carry on the tradition. But I’ve got two younger sister who are much more invested in the farm life, so he didn’t have any fears about passing everything on and both my parents are the ‘follow your dreams’ sort, so they probably would have let me go anyway. I’m not sure they understand what I see in modeling, but they support me nonetheless.”

It was a short drive to the little grove. You parked out of the way and gathered your camera equipment while Revali looked around the area. “It’s pretty,” he said, inspecting a spray of yellow flowers. “You have a good eye.”

“Thanks.” You carefully placed the tripod. “Okay, first things first. I want to get some full-body portraits first, then we can move on to the up-close stuff.”

Revali was easy to work with, easier than you would have guessed from the number of arguments he got into with his manager. He posed gracefully, responded to your every critique thoughtfully and carefully, and even put up with your artistic considerations with far more patience than you would have expected. Even when you spent several minutes forcing him to hold a pose while you got the angle just right, he didn’t complain.

About two hours after you had started, you called a break. Revali shrugged his artfully-held jacket back on and lounged against a tree. “Can I see some of the photos?” he asked.

You considered for a moment, then handed the camera over with the same care you would with a baby. Probably more, really. “Just don’t break anything, all right?”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” Revali said. “I’ve only ever dropped two cameras. And one of them survived with only minimal damage!” You stared at him in wide-eyed horror. “I’m kidding! I’ll be very careful.”

He clicked through the camera’s photo roll. You sat nearby, leg jittering nervously. His expression was inscrutable.

“These are nice,” he said after a few moments. “I mean, they’re quite good. Better than a lot of the shoots I’ve been to recently. I like the shadow and light here.” He tapped at the photo on screen. You leaned over to see which one he was talking about. It was one of the close-ups, where Revali was staring up through the trees. The sunlight dappled leaf shadows across his face and picked up the flecks of gold in his dark eyes.

“It’s just a photo of your face,” you said, a little embarrassed by the praise. “I mean, it’s hard to make you look bad.”

“Oh, you’re being too modest. A poor picture can make anyone look bad and my lovely face can only do so much. You’re the one who set up the shot and was all clever with the lighting and whatnot.” Revali gave a little wave of his hand. “Honestly, it’s better than a few of my modeling pictures. And you’re much better at giving direction than most of the people at the studio. I swear, the number of times I just get told to look pouty at the camera is ridiculous. Or ridiculously esoteric shit. ‘Think about your best friend returning after a long time away’ my ass. Just tell me exactly what to do with my face and I’ll do it.” He stopped and gave you a slightly embarrassed look. “Not to make this about me, of course. But yes, you are quite good. It’s a shame you don’t get more projects.”

You shrugged. “I’d like to do more independent stuff. But I just don’t have any connections and I’ve been having a hard time getting gigs and, well, it’s just hard when you’re getting started.”

Revali tilted his head to one side. “Things will get better,” he said. You huffed out a sigh.

“I hope so. I’m gonna go crazy if I don’t get to do something interesting in my actual job soon.” You fiddled with a few of the camera settings again. “Ready?”

“Certainly.” The photoshoot commenced once more. Revali seemed to be putting his all into the shoot, which you appreciated. He probably could have slipped by with just posing halfheartedly, but he was really putting effort forward.

You spent longer on a photoshoot than you had expected. Revali was nice to work with, cracking little jokes at every opportunity and being patient with any technical mishaps. The sun had started to sink toward the horizon by the time you were done.

“Sorry that took so long,” you said. “I didn’t mean to take up your weekend.”

“I’m really fine.” Revali flicked his tail, combing his fingers through the long feathers. “You apologize a lot, don’t you?”

“I just don’t want to come across as rude,” you said. Revali laughed.

“That’s one thing you certainly don’t do,” he said. “I enjoyed myself.”

“Still,” you said as the pair of you headed back toward his car, “why don’t I buy you dinner? It’s the least I can do.”

Revali looked down at you. His dark eyes glittered with interest. “If you’re offering, then I’ll certainly take you up on it.”

It took some driving around, but you eventually settled on a small café fairly close to Revali’s townhouse. He selected some sort of salad and you picked out a sandwich. Revali was right, the place was quite good. “I’ve never been here before,” you said. “I guess I haven’t been eating out for lunch as much, though.”

“I’m pleased my cooking is so good to you,” Revali said. He picked at his salad, moving the leaves around more than he was eating them. A knot started to form in your stomach.

“Hey.” Revali looked up. Your tone must have been strange because his expression became serious. “Um. You don’t, um. Eat much.”

Revali lowered his fork. “Ah. I did notice you staring during meals, but I suppose I was trying to flatter myself, thinking it was entirely my good looks.”

You felt hot. “I’m sorry, I know it might be rude to bring it up. But I’m just a little worried. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.”

“Hm,” Revali muttered. He put down his fork and shifted in his seat. His feathers rustled and ruffled. “I did have some trouble with eating well when I was younger. It never developed into a full-blown disorder, but I have always had a bit of an issue with maintaining my looks. I suppose my current representation isn’t helping with this issue.”

“Your manager?” you guessed. Revali gave a tight-lipped smile.

“Yes. I gained a pound the other week and got a bit of a lecture for it. Apparently, thin men are in right now. Harpies are usually fine boned and slender and all that, but I suppose it’s not quite enough for her.” A swell of anxiety crested behind his words.

You fiddled with a toothpick. “Can you get new representation?”

“Unfortunately, I can’t. She is the only available representative for the company I have a contract with right now. And even if I could switch, I don’t have any guarantee that the next manager would be any better. Extreme dieting is not exactly uncommon in the modeling industry.” He sighed, picking up his fork and poking at the salad a few times before spearing a large bite and shoving it into his mouth. “The contract actually expires in a couple weeks,” he said, swallowing the bite. “She’s not happy about it. She really wants me to sign on again, but I haven’t done it yet.”

“What’ll you do if you don’t sign on again? Try to go somewhere else?”

“I don’t know. I’ve been modeling for a few years now. I’m not sure what else to do. But I’ll admit, I don’t love the culture. It’s not great for my mental health, in all honesty. I just don’t know what else to do.”

He looked so despondent that you couldn’t help but reach across the table and take his hand. He stared at your fingers for a moment before lifting his gaze to yours. “I’m sure whatever you chose will be the right thing,” you said. “I think, if your modeling career is bad for your mental health, then you can quit. You’re more than just a pretty face, you know? You know more about photoshoots than you think you do. You’ve got a good sense for lighting and you’ve even got a better idea of colors than I do. And you’ve got a really great fashion sense. I think there’s a lot you could do.”

Revali blinked at you for a moment, then his face broke into a breathtaking smile. A blush stole across your face, blazing in your cheeks. He looked unbearably beautiful. It wasn’t just the features of his face, though they were all very good. It was the clear and genuine delight that the smile conveyed. “I don’t think I’ve had someone compliment me so sweetly in a long time! At least, not on something other than my looks.”

“Not to mention, you’re a kick-ass cook,” you added. Revali laughed and took a sip of his water. You weren’t sure, because he had quite a bit of makeup on, but you though you could see a hint of pink tinging his cheeks.

“If I’m looking for a less stressful job than modeling, I don’t think being a chef is a good choice. And I’m not quite good enough to be in the industry. But it is nice to have my skills complimented.” He took another sip. “But thank you. Being a model can make it so your looks are the most important part of your life. It’s good to be reminded they’re not the most important thing about me.”

You shrugged. “Hey, I’m not much in the looks department, so I’m pretty good at looking past that.”

“Now, now, don’t be modest. You’re quite cute yourself,” Revali said, dropping a glittery wink. You felt yourself flushing again.

After dinner, you returned home and bid Revali a farewell. You spent the evening examining the photos you’d taken. Most of them were quite good. At the very least, they would make good photos for your portfolio. You considered them for a few moments, then pulled up the bare bones of your website and started uploading the photos.

The next day, you joined Revali for lunch again. He was wearing more than his usual makeup, but even so, you could see the slight puffiness around his eyes. “Tired?” you asked.

“Ughh. My manager and I got into a fight last night, after I got home. Things were said.” He massaged his forehead. “Tell me something good, darling, I need it.”

“Um,” you said. “I set up my website last night? Or I started setting it up, at least.”

Revali focused fully on you. “Your website?”

“Yeah. Um, I hope you don’t mind, I put some of the pictures we took up there. I want to see if I can start freelancing, at least in my free time.” Revali perked up. The tired look slid off his face.

“I don’t mind. I’m used to having my pictures all over the place. So, you’ve decided to start doing your own thing, now?” He leaned toward you.

“At least a little bit. The hardest part will be getting clients. Once I build up a little bit of a base, I can start getting people by word of mouth and stuff. But it’s difficult now.”

“I’d expect so,” Revali said, but he appeared to only be half paying attention. His gaze had become a little unfocused, like he was thinking about something else. “You know what, my next shoot’s in a few minutes. You can hang out here if you want. I’ll see you later.”

You met for lunch a few times in the next couple of weeks. Revali’s mood seemed to have improved. He was much more cheerful and, to your great relief, he seemed to be eating more.

It was almost exactly two weeks after you’d had your photoshoot when Revali sought you out at work. “I was going to come by for lunch,” you said. “Is something wrong?”

Revali seized your hands. “No. Things are great! I just told my manager to fuck off!” He proclaimed it loudly enough that several people in the vicinity turned toward him. You ignored them.

“That is great! I’m so glad for you,” you said.

“That’s not everything,” Revali said. “I have a surprise for you.” His tail twitched and flicked with excitement. “Follow me!”

Revali tugged you through the building, down to his dressing room. “Okay. Remember how you were talking about having trouble getting clientele?”

“Yeah,” you said cautiously.

“Well, I’ve been a model for a while. Which means I have some connections and some favors.” Revali opened the door and tugged you inside. “So, I thought I’d call some in!”

The room did not look different. You looked cautiously at Revali. “Uh. What am I supposed to be looking at?”

“This!” Revali snatched a stack of papers off a table and thrust them at you. You flipped through them. “It’s the information of people who want to have photoshoots! There’s a couple of weddings, one person wants a pet thing, a couple of people want you to take photos for cosplays- I told them all that you were really good and you’re easy to work with and a bunch of people were willing to give it a shot.”

“You got me gigs?” There was a note of incredulity in your voice. “Like, paying gigs?”

“Yes! I told you, I have some contacts and some favors. I pulled a few strings.” Revali fluttered his wings.

“Thank you,” you said. “I don’t know what to say.”

“All the information you need is there. You can contact them all for more information, but it should have the basics.” Revali sprawled across his couch. “I figured that if I was going out, I might as well use my connections for good.”

“Going out?” you said, perching on the couch next to him.

“Yeah.” Revali rubbed at the back of his neck. “I told my manager to fuck off, remember? There’s a solid chance I’ll get blackballed for it, and even if I don’t, I don’t think I want to do this modeling thing anymore. It hasn’t been great for my mental health. And I’d like to be seen as more than just a pretty face.”

“You have plans?” you asked.

“No. I’ve got some money saved up. I figure I can afford to coast for a little bit. And if it really gets bad, I’m sure my dad would be happy to have me back on the farm.” He laughed, but you caught the slight downturn of his mouth. You ran your finger along the edge of the paper stack.

“If you’re interested, these are a lot of jobs. I think I could use a little bit of help,” you said. Revali blinked at you. “I can’t pay much, but it’ll be a little bit of money and if I start getting really good, I can hire you on full time. You’ve already shown you’ve got an eye for this stuff.”

“Really?” Revali said. He stared at you disbelievingly. “You’re willing to do that for me?”

“It would help me as much as it would help you. I mean, you’ve already been a huge help and you’re not even working for me yet. I think we’d make a good team.”

Revali looked enormously delighted. “Oh, thank you! You’re incredible!” With no warning, he ducked forward, his hands came up to the sides of your face, and he pressed his mouth to yours.

Your brain short-circuited temporarily. There wasn’t a single coherent thought in your mind. Just a bunch of sensations. Mouth. On your mouth. Kissing. Revali was kissing you. Passionately. His hands were on your face. His feathers were tickling you. His breath was warm on your face.

He broke away from you before you could gain enough sense to kiss back. Revali grinned sheepishly. “Oh. That was sort of supposed to be the grand finale. We were supposed to go out for dinner first. I just got excited.”

You pulled your thoughts together. “You were going to ask me out?”

“I thought you deserved something for taking me out a while ago. And I’ve been thinking about asking you out for a while. But you looked so cute there and I was very grateful, and I just couldn’t help myself,” he said. “I hope you didn’t mind too much?”

“No,” you said. “I didn’t mind. At all.” Revali smiled. You were drawn to the curve of his mouth, the fullness of his upper lip. “But, maybe just to make sure, we should do it again?”

Revali’s smile got bigger. “You know, I was thinking that I’m not going to have this dressing room much longer. There are a lot of things we could do in here. Celebrate our moving on and all that.”

“Let’s start with kissing,” you said, “and we can see where it goes.”

Revali leaned closer to you. “Start with kissing. I can do that.”

#exophilia #harpy #harpy boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster lover #his name is a reference btw #rooster harpy #male monster

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equestrianwritingsstuff · 3 years ago

Text

In recognition of 200 followers.....

I composed a list of 200 hero x villain dialogue prompts for you guys to ask me or reblog it and ask your own followers or if you take inspiration.

Thank you so much! It means a whole lot!

1. "I wish I had longer to love you."

2. "Sometimes being the greatest is being the worse."

3. "I will kill you if you die on me."

4. "Bury me... under a willow tree... with tulips and lilies to blossom in the spring and a small stream to keep me company."

5. "Villains aren't capable of love; yet, here I am crying over your grave."

6. "The kitten's name is Max."

7. "I'm going to get a beer."

8. "There is only one way to kill me, but you could never muster the strength to pull through."

9. "I'm dizzy with love for you."

10. "Hero, you are drunk not a toddler."

11. "I pledge to serve you willingly, butthead."

12. "Ride the waves with me." "You are a mermaid, no thanks."

13. "Stay awake for me; it's only a little farther."

14. "I can't carry you!"

15. "He isn't much, but we'll make do."

16. "I WANT TO SEE HER! LET ME SEE HER PLEASE. Please..."

17. "George Washington never told a fib, and I am greater than him, so trust me, Hero, when I say I am telling the truth."

18. "Eggs and butter make dough, knives and guns make death."

19. "You are insane."

20. "The bomb is going off in twenty seconds, Hero. Run now. I-I'm going to stop it."

21. "What is love?"

22. "I don't get the function of hugs."

23. "Mentally I'm good, but physically..."

24. "I only wished for happiness from that genie. I guess it was evil."

25. "Break him, shatter him, destroy him."

26. "Sing with me."

27. "Villain you are touch starved, not dying."

28. "What the heck did you do to your hair." "What? You don't like it?" "It looks like my cat's litterbox."

29. "Don't give me hope."

30. "I am not a disease or a parasite. I am a human. I am one of those millions you swore to protect."

31. "Kiss, marry, kill?" "Kill, kill, kill."

32. "You created me."

33. "Villain don't you dare pass out."

34. "I like the look of blood on you, compliments your eyes."

35. "I kinda dropped Hero through space."

36. "Power exhaustion sucks."

37. "Time to save the world. Yay!" *says in sarcasm*

38. "Let me feed you Hero."

39. "You do not have AC?!"

40. "Villain you have a fever."

41. "Am I drunk?"

42. "Movies. Nine o'clock. Don't be late."

43. "Lemme grab a beer and we are good to go."

44. "Don't. Look. At. Me."

45. "He just had his wisdom teeth out sooo." "How bad can it be? Villain has been shot with twenty tranq darts at one and didn't pass out... immediately anyway, took a good twenty minutes." "Well, you see-" "THE KITTEN IS TRYING TO KILL ME!!!!!"

46. "She needs surgery."

47. "It's a panic attack..." "KISS HIM!"

48. "Blood, gore, madness... this was made for me."

49. "Quit drooling on me and sit up."

50. "There's only one bed."

51. "He looks so cute when he sleeps."

52. "Of all the places to live, you had to choose a heavily fortified medieval castle two thousand years in the past?"

53. "You are a peacock Hero."

54. "Let's see who will drown first. You or me. One, two, three... let's go!"

55. "I wasn't always like this."

56. "Madness is for geniuses, not for me."

57. "It's just a sedative that's going to make you nice and docile."

58. "He's out." "Good, let him rest, villainy is hardwork."

59. "I love her, but she doesn't love me."

60. "If I had a choice to save you or me, I'd pick me."

61. "Gag her."

62. "They aren't made for this, give them mercy."

63. "Talk now or she dies."

64. "Broken ribs, broken jaw, broken arm... are you sure you want me to continue." "No." "Then tell me your name."

65. "Get me some thread and a needle. Just don't touch me."

66. "The police are coming."

67. "Tell me where she is. TELL ME WHERE IS SHE OR I WILL SLASH YOUR THROAT AND TOSS YOU IN THE SEWER!!!!!"

68. "I love you." "I don't."

69. "Hug me just one last time."

70. "Villain hey hey hey. Calm down. You've been in a pretty bad accident."

71. "They won't be able to walk again."

72. "Tell me... just tell if they made it."

73. "Can't you just poof me another arm?"

74. "If you saved all of them, you can save me."

75. "I'm really tired..."

76. "Sleep. I will stay with you."

77. "She is sixteen years old." "All musicians start young." "This isn't a concert, this is life. Stop ruining it."

78. "He"s been in an accident." "Where?" "Five minutes away from your place."

79. "I wish he wasn't unconscious, so I could talk to him. So I could thank him."

80. "It's been four months now. I have came everyday and, uh, I dunno what to say. Hero, I need you to wake up. I can't function knowing you are right here."

81. "I have a date." "Hmm with who?" "Supervillain." "When and where honey?"

82. "Shhhhhhh. Be quiet. We are still being hunted."

83. "Desert?" "What are you trying to do? Kill me?"

84. "I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." "I know, I know dear and I so sorry, but I need you to help me. I need you to help them."

85. "Villain just sleep. Allow the drugs to take you under. Don't fight it, don't resist... just sleep. In the morning, we will be safe."

86. "Being lost in the woods isn't ideal."

87. "An injection of valium will do it."

88. "There's no anesthesia."

89. "Wouldn't it be great if we never met each other?"

90. "Bless you." "I didn't sneeze." "Yeah right. Now go sit down, you're sick."

91. "It's called insomnia you dim-wit."

92. "Join me and we can be great."

93. "You didn't bring me here for the cake." "No, dear, but you are so gullible. I brought you here for a sacrifice." "My life?" "Why yes."

94. "I don't know. I never had someone collapse on my doorstep before."

95. "I have nothing to lose. No family, no friends, just my meaningless life."

96. "That's my daughter, not the villain's... so give me her back before I rip your eyes out."

97. "How long was I out for?!" "Ten minutes, but you were drifting. I don't think you had that good of rest." "Oh, I thought I was asleep for hours."

98. "I know, I know you are going to hate me after this, but trust me when I say it's for the best."

99. "I know everything about you."

100. "I think narcissism is contagious because after watching you for a couple hours, I think I may have developed a little crush on the mirror..."

101. "What did you give me?"

102. "Is she screams, I'm going to scream, and then we are going to die."

103. "No fighting today, my cat just died."

104. "How hard did you punch me?"

105. "Not gonna lie, being delirious was epic."

106. "I am cooking for you. You aren't my servant, so stop thinking it."

107. "My old masters made me into a weapon and called me Villain, but if you desire a lapdog I am going to need to be refurnished to fit your needs."

108. "What is his deal?" "I think he's just crazy."

109. "Love is not what I had in mind when I agreed to go on a date with you."

110. "Hugs are overrated."

111. "Are you too hot or too cold?" "Both."

112. "I wish we could turn back time."

113. "I lost the game." "What do you mean? Hero is dead." "Precisely."

114. "Make a wish." "That you live."

115. "Villain has been acting exceptional! Today we granted them a break from the machine. Go ahead Hero and take him for some ice cream."

116. (Sleepy murmurs) "Don't go. I neeeed you." "Yeah yeah I know Villain."

117. "Villain was the one who hurt me, not Hero."

118. "Supervillain is in danger!"

119. "If everyone is scared of me, I might as well be alone."

120. "My head is killing me."

121. "Don't call an ambulance. Just... hold me."

122. "You don't have to do this. It's going to hurt you more than me." "Anything for you dearest, anything at all."

123. "Hero, go wash your hands before dinner."

124. "You have PTSD?" "I don't know?"

125. "I have soap in my eyes!' "Rinse it out." "Mm no I'm permanently mortally blinded." "Uh huh."

126. "We need to cuddle to keep warm."

127. "Take care of them for me, will you?"

128. "When I'm gone, promise to tell my mother, please."

129. "Drug him and then bring him to me."

130. "Superheroes are for children. In all honesty, we are all villains."

131. "Oh my gosh, Hero, what happened?" "Poisoned."

132. "Wouldn't it be nice?" "I don't fancy prosthetics."

133. "Just shut up and listen!"

134. "There is a memorial parade for Hero tomorrow. They asked you to lead it."

135. "She turned it around... at the end."

136. "I wish that he understood how much I care for him."

137. "Civilian! He fell asleep in my lap last night, like totally zooted. It was so cute, but also very tempting. I stuck a french fry up his nose." "Wow. Did he wake up then?" "Yeah, I am sorta kidnapped right now..."

138. "The book, the sword... all pieces of the puzzle huh." "No, darling, all pieces of my game."

139. "Their death is my fault! Not your's, but mine, so quit trying to make me feel better."

140. "Once upon a time-" "Oh please, not another fairytale."

141. "If only it was that easy."

142. "We are stuck in a maze, how can you be so joyful?"

143. "Celebrate Hero, eat your cake, party into the night... but just know, I will be back."

144. "Call 911!" "Why?" "I stubbed my toe."

145. "Your jawline looks like it was gauzed over in lard." "It looks better than your hay for hair."

146. "You're my best friend." "Villain? Are you on drugs?"

147. "Lay him there and leave him. Let the rats dine on him."

148. "The point of the cow suit?" "Oh, uh, I was at a Halloween parade. You know, for children."

149. "I-i never wanted to hurt you." "I know, I wanted you to, so I allowed it."

150. "Favorite movie?" "Your death." "Ooo never heard of it, let's watch it." "*groans* Oh my gosh, you are stupid."

151. "Being a flutist is my only superpower. And being modest apparently."

152. "Your head will join my collection if yoi don't watch out."

153. "Hey, hey! Wake up, buddy. It's just a nightmare."

154. "Meh head hurts." "Yeah, you hit it pretty hard."

155. "Let's go for a ride." "On that yellow miniature school bus?" "It's a ranger you idiot."

156. "No painkillers, no bandages, perfect environment for infection to settle... I'm just gonna leave you here Villain."

157. "I save you and this is how you repay me? A prison?"

158. "What are you doing?" "Climbing a tree? No Hero, I am breaking into your house to kidnap you."

159. "I formally apologize."

160. "Of all places, Hero, you had to teleport us to a desert. A DESERT."

161. "Supervillain won't stop unless we team up." "I don't think our alliance will stop them, I think it'll just make them angrier."

162. "Stop singing or I will blow this place until even the last atom is broken into itty-bitty molecules!" "That... that is scientifically impossible."

163. "I'm a genius! Yippee!"

164. "Life isn't perfect and nor is your morals."

165. "Control yourself before you kill everyone around you."

166. "Say your goodbyes."

167. "Of all the ways I've died, drowning was by far the nicest."

168. "Love the collar. Is it for fashion purposes?" "Uh, um, uh, er, no?"

169. "You look lonely. Want some hot coco?"

170. "It is negative million out there and you expect me to come in toasty warm after fixing your power?"

171. "Are you sick?" "Yeh." "Come on in then."

172. "Civilian, don't even bother trying to save him."

173. "We have a breach!"

174. "What makes a villain's life less important than your's?"

175. "Enjoy your soup." "You poisoned it." "And you're delusional, eat up."

176. "I hate 99% of the population." "According to a meme I found, you are therefore a cat."

177. "Don't overuse your powers."

178. "This is just an unfortunate event."

179. "You look so cute when you are sleepy and barely conscious."

180. "His fever is rising."

181. "Save her, leave me. I'll-i'll get out of this somehow."

182. "Sometimes self-sacrifice isn't noble, it's selfish."

183. "You are so funny that I need my inhaler to kill you with." "That sentence was so discombobulated that I am leaving."

184. "Just for your information, I hate oranges but love grapes."

185. "Walking down the stairs shouldn't be a momental effort." "You broke both your legs."

186. "You just destroyed my life's work, don't expect me to give you a huge bear hug."

187. "Is it true that you have telekinesis?" "Yes, why?" "Go steal me a donut."

188. "You are so incredibly touch starved, Villain." "Mmm." "Tired? Go ahead and sleep, I'm here."

189. "This is for your own good, I promise."

190. "I'm cold."

191. "I don't want to move and you can't make me."

192. "I AM RETIRED! YOU DON'T NEED TO CONTINUE TO SEND ME PAMPHLETS OF THE HOTTEST HERO OF THE YEAR!"

193. "He's unconscious." "That tired, huh." "No, he passed out from blood loss."

194. "I want a kitten."

195. "I'm no scared of you, so stop acting like I am."

196. "He isn't dangerous, just scared."

197. "They won't be going anywhere for a long, long time."

198. "Hero? Hero? Oh my goodness, please wake up."

199. "Life is too short for pleasures."

200. "I hope you are happy, in the end."

#heros and villains #ask game #200 followers #thank you so much

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iguanasplit · 3 years ago

Note

for the kpop group game:

ONF (ah Goosebumps is on top... it's not my favorite title song...)

and

TXT if no one else has sent them! I know you probably want to talk about them~💖(the outfits they had on gayo daejun were so pretty)

i have no idea what this concept was about but, i will gladly check out ONF and i will rant about txt with no context since i dont remmebr what was this about.

more at five as i say im doing this bcs im porcastinating hw

its spring break but i have so much to do and im mad about it.

anyways TXT its a 5 member group debutted in march 4 from Big Hit music, before hybe was a thing. with the song CROWN about getting horns on your head.

the five members are Soobin(2000, leader):

hes introverted, bad at sports and is probably the only one who actually behaves like a normal human being and not a gremlin, he speaks and you think "wow common sense", he likes videogames, gengar, ice cream, to be continued....

Yeonjun(1999)

He looks intimitadting and like a sharp bad boy but hes actually a loser(friendly), hes competitive, and too intense the way guys playing soccer are, hes a skilled dancer and seems to call everyone darling as a joke,,,,,, ish. he had pink hair and extensions in blue hour and he was also a cowboy in tight clothes

NOW its beomgyu(2001):

he used to have longer hair last comeback and now its short, he has a lower/deeper voice than the rest, and has a heavy lisp mostly noticeable when he speaks, he screams a LOT, he likes IU and bts a lot, and ballads and hes kinda funny bcs hes a gremlin but is really into romantic stuff and vintage stuff like letters, sharing music, teddy bears and he spends 40% time screaming, he participated in the song Maze in the Mirror, which i love!.(edit link later)

now this is Taehyun(2002)

hes funny and easy to explain bcs he has many things he really really likes. he is also more into logical side? its kinda funny bcs youd never guess hed pick music but here he is, he is a great vocalist and my favourite thing about him is when he rambles technical stuff about music you can see he gets excited, he likes learning stuff, evidently can be a fun fact enciclopedia; can do card magic tricks??? for some reason???? clearly has common sense he ignores on purpose. hes a big brain but hes also a gym rat, hes really into weightlifting and boxing and sports and also recently into cooking!, he shares all this shenanigans in weverse with us like the cooking knives he got as birthday present back in february. hes a shawol! has constantly recommended SHINee songs before, he recommended dejaboo on jjongs bday, and watched Taemin perform heaving live and almost exploded the video is adorable. hes also a pokemon nerd and the NERD ones like the ones that played the core games, hes very close with:

HueningKai(2002) i call him a variation of Kai, huening, hueningkai, hyuka and ning.

hes ALWAYS doing that "shh" motion in selfies, aja. hes the youngest of the group and also a great vocalist, his family is music inclined so he has lived around it his whole life, he can play some guitar and can really play the piano well, GREAT, he is adorable, youd assume his playlist is bubblegum but im sure its rock from mid 2010s and anime openings. he has a huge plushie collection he often shows:

and hes also a BIG anime nerd apparently, Soobin says hes watched everything and he sounds like he did, he recommends violet evergarden and clannad as well as angelbeats. personality wise hes, cute and also seems the kind of person whos a bit shy at the beginning but very noisy when you get used to him, also bcs his laugh is VERY high pitched, really. he doesnt mind loosing or giving points to others so they win, and i think its either bcs he doesnt care much about winning or he knows the others will go feral over competition, he also doesnt seem to like much adrenaline like intense roller coasters,hes a softie. he is too a pokemon nerd(games) like Taehyun. HE WORKED IN ROLLER COASTER AND DEAR SPUTNIK in one vlive there were absolutely talking about the games and poor yeonjun was on the side like "yeah i saw this pokemon once" and Taehyun and Huening (aka tyunning) were like "Pokemon heart gold soul silver the Gold and silver remakes are the only pokemon games where you are able to travel between two regions. the game difficulty incredibly decreased as the generations advanced but the easiest by far was generation 6th with x and y the hardest being Pokemon soul silver" and yeonjun was like "oh cool i played soul silver i think lugia is cute :)"

music i recommend

0X1LOVESONG

blue hour

Dear Sputnik

Maze in the Mirror

cant we just leave the monster alive

frost

our summer

drama

puma

#YAHOO #ask #HELLO ILY

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fantasmalforces · 3 years ago

Text

S.W.O.R.D.S. Headcanons : Jude

Jude also answers to the affectionate nickname of Bubba or Bubba Bear.

Jude has multiple scars all across his body. These aren’t scars at all (most of them anyway). They’re actually just mouths. They open up when he gets stressed or excited enough.

Jude’s super-mutant form involves growing into a large bear-like creature with multiple mouths and large deposits of acidic adipose tissue all across his body. The mouths have long, dexterous tongues, movable teeth, Vice-like grips, and highly acidic mucus and saliva that he can produce at will. Also featured are incredibly long claws, a roar so loud and deep it can kill by causing organ hemorrhages at close range, and jaws strong enough to break steel. He can’t move very fast in this form, but he can track like no other and he is built like a tank.

Despite the intensity of his advanced form, he is very gentle and reluctant to show aggression or violence. He works hard to control his own strength and avoid hurting others.

Much like Lupa, Jude tends to wear a muzzle to resist giving in to his ingrained instincts to bite, as he fears that with biting will come the urge to devour. And unlike Lupa, he worries he may not be able to control himself. Because it’s happened before, and he remembers vividly how he had to be restrained and sedated.

Jude’s metabolism means that he requires a lot of food to feel sated. He eats frequently and snacks often.

Despite knowing it is a necessity of his anatomy and physiology, Jude often feels guilty about his need to eat so much. He feels disgusted with himself, struggles to look at his reflection, and quietly struggles with self-image issues.

Jude enjoys cooking for others however. He enjoys the feeling of making something for others to enjoy. He shows his love and affection for others through making things like food.

While Jude doesn’t abstain from eating meat like Lupa, he often feels guilty for doing so. He has cried while eating lamb, beef, and chicken.

Jude is surprisingly good at stealth and sneaking.

Jude takes very good care of his hygiene. He likes looking presentable and smelling nice.

Jude is regarded as being the “soul” of the team. He is the kind, supportive, uplifting spirit of the team. He gives out frequent hugs and boosts morale, he offers a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, and constant emotional support and understanding. He will often hold people and help them fall asleep with his eucalyptus scent.

Jude’s main attack in his mutant form is to curl up into a ball and roll at enemies, effectively flattening them and crushing them, or at least knocking them out of the way.

Jude can effortlessly crush a bowling ball between his jaws.

Just loves listening to acoustic songs and napping in his shady hammock.

Jude loves swimming and obstacle courses, though he’s not very good at the latter.

He loves escape rooms, puzzles, and mazes. Things that keep his brain sharp entertain him a great deal.

Jude has a tendency to drool. He can’t always control it. It’s rarely lethal to others however.

Jude uses a waterfall shower to clean himself.

Jude dislikes small enclosed spaces and will panic if he is restrained in tight restraints or in enclosed spaces.

Jude’s go to response when panicking is to vomit acid and wail until the walls shatter around him.

Small rooms of mirrors are Jude’s worst nightmare.

Jude is short for his full name. He can’t remember what his full name is though.

Jude tends to be the peacekeeper of the team. He gets between people who are fighting or causing trouble and breaks it up.

Jude often feels responsible for things that are out of his control. He doesn’t know why, but he thinks that if he just takes accountability for problems that aren’t his fault, it means he’s helping others.

Jude believes in karma.

Jude loves gardening, small animals, and children.

Jude is the main father figure for Alice. She often rides on his shoulders and laughs with him. He often spends playtime with her and helps Lupa teach her. He’s also very protective of her.

Jude enjoys woodchopping and archery as weird exercise hobbies. He also enjoys paintball as a sport.

Explosions freak Jude out.

Jude has a fear of heights.

At 8’9”, Jude is the second tallest member of the team.

#tw vomiting #tw body image issues #{ keeps their moet et chandon in their pretty cabinet : headcanon }#{ the clawed sword : jude }#( s : resident evil )

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yespolkadotkitty · 5 years ago

Note

If you are taking requests. Reader is a chef that does at home cooking classes. Henry's family hired her to do a private cooking class for Henry's birthday. Henry decides that he needs more classes so books her for the month. Then takes her to Italy to source ingredients and wine.

Sweep Me Off My Feet, pt 1

“Dance, sweetheart?”

You looked up from your after-dinner macchiato to see Henry standing before you, hand out in invitation, his radiant smile showing just a hint of shyness. He cut a fine figure in his linen shirt, open at the neck, no tie.

Rose-gold street-lights lit the Venetian piazza, casting long shadows and an air of romance over the entire area, cloaking it in mystery.

The two of you had spent a dreamy day together, exploring the picturesque Island of Sant Erasmo. The biggest island in the lagoon, Sant Erasmo was famed for its delicious local produce and its wine. After meeting the local farmers and hearing about their lives and crops, you had enjoyed a private vineyard tour and wine tasting. It had been such a leisurely, beautiful day. You had tamped down your annoyance when dinner time came. You’d wanted your time with Henry to last forever.

Helplessly, you suddenly felt this idyll slipping through your hands, sand through an hourglass.

Too much, too fast.

The anxiety of it all had churned in your stomach all through dinner – a delicious seafood risotto, littered with fat, garlicky prawns and butter-soft scallops, with a side of freshly baked, herbed breadsticks.

“Really?” You asked, nervous. You were an excellent chef but an awful dancer. “Why?”

“Because we can. Everyone else is,” he insisted, a grin tugging at his lips. It occurred to you that you had seldom seen him so carefree. “I do love to dance, you know,” he added, cheekily, and the mischief dancing in his blue eyes drew you in, irresistibly.

You shifted, trying to fight the battle between your wish to dance in Henry’s arms, and your intense discomfort at doing anything that involved co-ordination in public.

Finally the hopeful, boyish look on Henry’s handsome face won you over and you took his hand. His fingers closed around yours; warm, reassuring. He pulled you towards him, spun you around for a second. Giddy, you leaned into him as the string quartet outside the café started to play a gentle waltz. You breathed in the now-familiar scent of him, the tang of coffee and a kiss of woodsmoke and cedar.

“This is absurd.” But you rested your free hand on his broad shoulder just the same, and let him lead you in the steps. Heat radiated off his body through the pale, grey linen shirt he wore, and you looked down at your feet. “When was the first time you waltzed?”

“I Capture the Castle rehearsals. They didn’t use the footage in the end.”

You looked up into his eyes. They looked almost blue-black in the half-light as he met your gaze. “Shame.”

He laughed softly. “It wasn’t. I was twenty-two, all gangly limbs.”

You’d seen the film. His character, Stephen Colley, was so beautiful in the flush of youth that it had hurt to breathe, looking at his rosy cheeks and lean build. “I sometimes – and it’s ridiculous – forget that you’re so…. Famous,” you breathed as he swayed you gently, confidently.

“Good.” His gaze dropped to your mouth, and that gorgeous tumble of chocolate brown hair fell into his face, a little long, a little messy. The way you liked it - that errant curl that teased his forehead was your favourite. “That’s what I wanted.”

The expression on his arrestingly handsome face – so naked suddenly, not a trace of artifice – made you bold suddenly. Or perhaps it was the alcohol. But you were in Venice with a man who made your heart turn over with joy with your chest. You were dancing a waltz in a piazza. Rose-gold light kissed everything, bathing the city and your heart in a kaleidoscope of fuzzy joy, and just for now, you would be brave. You would believe in magic, and you would believe in happy endings.

And you wouldn’t think further than this beautiful, vibrant, kind, man in your arms. He was solid and real and right now, he was yours.

Tears burned your eyes as your heart constricted. Right now, he’s mine. Yes, you would be brave.

And you would pay whatever cost would be levied later. And it would probably be high, but you suddenly couldn’t care.

“Is that all you want?” You tucked his tumbled hair back behind his ear. It felt so soft. That unruly curl sprang forward.

You’d surprised him. You knew because he held still for a long moment before continuing with the waltz. Someone else might not have noticed the slip, but you did. In some ways, you had never stopped noticing everything about him, ever since the day you’d met.

“Oh, sweetheart. You know what I want.” His words were so soft, they were nearly carried away by the notes floating off the nearby violins. But still you caught them. “You.” He swallowed and you watched the movement of his throat, transfixed for a second. “Any way I can get you. Any way you’ll have me.”

His hand on your waist tightened, pulling you a fraction closer. You pressed your face into his neck, loving the rasp of his stubble against your skin, knowing you had reached a tipping point.

He wanted to make love to you.

“Tonight?” Your words came out squeakier than you’d hoped. You wondered if Henry would laugh.

He didn’t.

“Tonight,” he confirmed, his voice dropping half an octave.

You stopped dancing, and he mirrored you . You both held still for a long moment. You closed your eyes, knowing that your decision was about to change everything between you two. Maybe forever.

Breathing in, you opened your eyes again. Henry stood before you still, so solid and real. And yours, for now anyway.

And you would take the now, for as long as it lasted. “Henry.”

“Yes, love?” He brushed his lips over yours, gently, a simple kiss without pressure, but a question all the same. He tasted of bitter black coffee, and of rich, sweet chocolate.

“Take me back to the hotel. Right now.” Before you could lose your nerve.

* * * * *

The rosy streetlights of Venice winked at you both as Henry navigated the maze of little streets. People gathered here and there, but the late hour meant it was mostly quiet. You could smell the salty edge of the lagoon, the heady scent of wine, the richness of chocolate and cream. Snippets of indistinct Italian reached you from far away windows.

Henry paused in a quiet alley to get his bearings. Behind him, the moon shone down on you both, bright and silent, hanging like a lightbulb in the endless black fabric of the night sky.

You slipped your arms around him as he pulled his phone from his pocket, bringing up Google maps. “Hmmmm. I swear it was just the next street along….”

The alley was silent and dark. And really quite nice, as alleys went. Closed shop windows were lined with flower boxes, the wooden containers bursting with campanulas, ivy and heliotrope. Their perfume filled with the air, mingled with Henry’s intoxicating cedar scent.

You felt… brave. Bold. Aroused.

“What if we didn’t wait until we found the hotel? “ you asked.

Henry’s gaze shot to yours, his mouth opening slightly in surprise. “Sweetheart, we shouldn’t-”

All the pent up desire you’d felt for this man in the months you’d worked together bursting out of you like a dam breaking. You grabbed the lapels of his button-down shirt - Henry, chic and casual in a linen shirt with no tie and the sleeves rolled to his elbows just about killed you - and pressed your mouth to his.

Dimly, you heard the clunky thud as his phone fell to the street floor, unnoticed. He slid his hands around your waist and pressed you to him, and you thrilled to the evidence of his need for you pressing urgently against your stomach. “Oh my God, Henry,” you murmured, aching already, wet under your pretty dress.

“Are you sure, love?” he bit off against your mouth, and you thought he sounded like a man on the edge of control, his words guttural and raspy. “Be. Sure.”

He pulled back and gazed into your eyes, and you saw something just a tiny bit feral in the blue depths. It made the pulsing need inside you kick up several notches.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With a low growl in his throat, Henry scooped you up. You scissored your legs around his waist as he ravaged your mouth, the day’s growth of whiskers on his cheeks scraping at you pleasantly. He moved his attention down to your neck and you arched to give him better access.

Henry moaned your name throatily as you squeezed a hand between your body to cup him through the denim of his worn jeans.

“Want you, now,” you murmured, impatient, your heart hammering.

Henry deftly leaned you against the brick wall, keeping you held up with one arm whilst he undid the fly of his jeans with the other. You tugged his shirt tails out of the denim, covering him a little, and then you let yourself play.

He fell into your hand, no underwear barrier, hot and heavy and large, better than you’d imagined, all steel in velvet, and you savoured the stuttered, shuddering breath he let out when you palmed him, stroking until you found a rhythm that made him chant your name like a prayer in that gorgeous accent.

He boosted you up a little higher, easy with his upper body strength, and you used your free hand to pop open the buttons of your shirt dress so he could lavish attention on your breasts. Your nipples peaked at the kiss of balmy breeze of the Venetian night. His tongue was warm and wet and his touch there sent a direct spiral down between your legs.

“Now,” you whispered urgently. You kept one arm around his neck, teasing the hair curling at his collar anchoring yourself as he reached down and toyed with you, working your thin cotton panties aside to feel how wet you were. You knew what he’d find and your heart raced as he groaned against your neck.

“Baby girl, you’re so wet for me, aren’t you?”

You mewled a response and a hot rush of pleasure filled you as he circled the tight bud at the apex of your body. And the sudden, sharply delicious orgasm made you gasp out loud. You were beyond caring if you were discovered, the pleasure eclipsing any small doubts you had.

Henry brushed a gentle kiss over your mouth before he slid slowly, painfully slowly, inside you. You tilted your hips up just a little, and he pushed right into the hilt.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed, and the expletive in that cut-glass British accent just destroyed you.

Then he started to move, bottoming out each time he thrust back in, and all coherent thought flew out of your head. His pelvis brushed your clit with each thrust and you bit your lip, trying desperately to be quiet, and only partially succeeding.

It was over quickly, both of you too aroused to last long. Your muscles convulsed around Henry’s cock, and you bit down on the curve where his neck met his shoulder to keep from crying out. Moments later, Henry followed you over the cliff, groaning into your hair, his chest heaving with the effort of being quiet.

You wound down slowly together, floating back to Earth. Henry gently set you back on the ground, frowning.

“I meant to have you in a bed, the first time.”

You grinned, feeling like a goddess, leaning up to kiss him, your body still trembling from the tiny aftershocks of really good sex. “No, but now we can enjoy round two at our leisure in the hotel.”

His delighted laugh echoed into the balmy Venetian night, and you held hands and walked the rest of the way back together.

******

Two months earlier

Your boss called your name and you looked up from the day’s menu to be prepared. Cooking was your calling, no doubt about it, but even working as a sous chef in a five-star hotel could be a drag when the clientele could be so exacting.

“Everything okay?” you asked.

Your boss beckoned you into his office and you crossed the kitchen briskly in your chef’s whites.

The best-looking man you’d ever seen waited in the tiny manager’s office, all dark hair and smouldering blue eyes, broad shoulders and lean hips.

“Mr Cavill, this is the best sous chef I’ve ever had,” your manager began, adding your name.

The stranger held out a hand, a smile tugging at his lips. “I can’t wait to work with you.”

To be continued....

Tagging some folk who may like this: @chamomilebottom (thanks for the gifs!) @brexrif @mary-ann84 @wolvesandhoundshowltogether @hnryycvll @henrythickcavill @henry-cavill-obsessed @ohjule @iloveyouyen @summersong69 @ly--canthrope @the-soot-sprite @littlefreya @dancingwendigo @fishcustardandclintbarton @gardensofwhimsy @wondersofdreaming @dr-kayleigh-dh @mrsaugustwalker @andahugaroundtheneck @pinkzsugar @geralt-of-baevia @radaofrivia @princess-of-riviaa

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stereksecretsanta · 4 years ago

Text

Merry Christmas, vyxynheartssterek!

For @vyxynheartssterek. I hope you enjoy it!

Read On AO3

*****

Forward Motion

Claudia rocked back on her heels and brushed her hair out of her face. “Well, I think that was the last box.”

Stiles admired their shelves, the glossy dark wood lined with dusty tomes that they’d finally hauled from home. They’d been in the attic, the basement, the kitchen and the living room for longer than Stiles had been alive, and seeing them on display, all together and organized neatly instead of piled haphazardly on a box of old baby clothes was surreal and a little thrilling. “It looks great.”

She gave him a sideways look. “We still have stock to put out, pal. Don’t get comfortable.”

He laughed, knocking their elbows together. “Yeah yeah. It still looks good. I told you it would.”

She snorted. “Save the “I told you so”s until after opening day. Why don’t you go get us some caffeine to power us through until lunch, then we’ll get your dad to help us with some of this?”

“He said he’d help this morning, too.” Stiles stepped over a crate of crystals, around two stacks of boxes, and through a maze of shelves they’d yet to fill. “Usual order?”

“Yes, please. Oh, can you move that shelf to the window on your way out? It’s where I want to put the potted herbs.”

“Sure. Be right back.” He maneuvered the herb shelf—still empty for the moment—over to the window, adjusting it until it was lined up with the window, before he stepped outside. It was chilly out, just on the edge of cold, with a breeze that smelled like wood smoke. He turned and stepped to the edge of the sidewalk, balancing his sneakers on the curb so he could admire their sign.

It’d just arrived the day behavfore, and installation had only taken minutes. The Beacon’s Raven curled in the deep red Claudia and Stiles had chosen weeks ago. The window had a beautifully painted raven with its wings outspread on it, front and center, and off to the side, a neat list of their hours. A banner hung over the glass door: “Grand Opening: 2 Days!” It was satisfying to see people passing by, peering in the windows on tip toes to see deeper into the store, chatting about how soon they could go in and poke around.

Stiles headed for the coffee shop down the road. He’d finally talked his mom into opening a real, actual store after years of her (and, eventually, him once he’d gotten old enough to grind herbs and mix potions) operating out of their house. The supernatural community of Beacon Hills had known and trusted Claudia and her family for generations, trusted and knew their magic and quality of products. It only made sense to finally move from backdoor sales to a real shop, where people could browse and where they could store extra potions without accidentally mixing them in with the cooking spices.

Although Stiles still thought John was overreacting about accidentally putting a sleeping potion in the chili that one time.

The coffee shop on the corner, Mocha Latte Memories, was also relatively new—only two years old, which in Beacon Hills meant it’d be referred to as “the new place” for another thirteen years—but it was doing great. It also happened to be Claudia’s favorite, so she’d dragged Stiles there as soon as he’d come home from college; they’d both been going at least once a week ever since.

Stiles caught sight of his reflection in the big bay window of the café and paused. His hair was covered in dust bunnies and cobwebs. “Gee, thanks, Mom,” he grumbled, using the window as a mirror to bat the dust away. He spent a minute combing through his hair with his fingers so he looked less disheveled.

A shadow moved beyond the glass.

Stiles reared back. “Oh! Oh, gods.”

A man on the other side of the glass was grinning at him, apparently watching while he fixed his hair.

Heat rushed to his face. “Oh my god.” He turned on his heel.

Claudia laughed at him when he told her why they wouldn’t be having coffee and why they should promptly move to the next town over. She called John to ask him to bring lunch and coffee while still tearing up with laughter.

Stiles worked through his mortification by sweeping aggressively.

“You two,” John sighed when he arrived. He took a drink of his own coffee while they were digging into their lunch. “The place looks great already.”

Claudia smiled up at him, heels bouncing off the crate she’d perched on in lieu of a chair. “You should’ve seen Stiles with the books.”

“My organization skills are legend,” he muttered, biting into his sandwich.

John snorted. “I still can’t believe you’re putting them out like this.”

She shrugged. “Beacon Hills is our town. We’ve always shared the knowledge anyway, and this way, they can look for themselves.”

The family spellbooks weren’t for sale; they’d dragged them all out and to the shop with a different idea in mind: at the back of the shop, they’d created a little reading room filled with chairs, two-top tables, and jars of pens. Witches and starter spellcasters could come to research spells and potions from their collection if they wanted, copy down instructions, or just read a while, rather than asking Claudia for a copy of a spell they’d heard she had.

And as an extra bonus, whatever they needed for most of the spells, rituals, and potions could be purchased from the shop before they left, if they wanted.

Stiles couldn’t wait to get started.

John stayed to help until well into the evening, when he made them leave for the night. “Your boxes will still be here in the morning,” he sighed. “Let’s go get dinner.”

Claudia set out one last display container, waiting to be filled, and let her fingers trail over the shelf, smiling as John led her out.

Stiles hung back, watching them hold hands down the sidewalk. He and Claudia had come in the jeep this morning, but he figured she’d ride back with John. He brushed dust off his cheek and smiled to himself. He’d missed them while he was away at school, he’d missed Beacon Hills, and being back, opening the store…it felt right.

“Absolutely not.”

Claudia grinned, shaking a box of amethyst at him. “Stiles, don’t be a coward.”

“Mom, don’t be annoying.” He ducked when she swatted at his head. “Why don’t you go get the coffee, and I’ll finish putting the crystals out?”

“I have a plan in mind, I need to do it a certain way.” She arranged the amethyst in the display box she had on the shelf, then tilted her head, studying the effect. She bent to grab some jasper.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “You just want me to embarrass myself again.”

“You did that all on your own.” She set down the jasper next to the amethyst, then wrinkled her nose. She faced him, putting her hands on her hips. Her white POISON shirt was smudged with dirt and old paint stains, hair braided back with flyaways sticking up around her face. “What are the odds of seeing that same guy again? And,” she continued before he could reply, “what are the odds that he’d even recognize you? The man saw you for a total of ten seconds, kid.”

He made a face at her. “What if he works there?”

She smiled.

He rolled his eyes. “Fine. But you’re getting the coffee next time.”

“Of course. Next time it’ll be my turn.” She shooed him and turned to the flat carts of planters, which were filling the shop with the heady scents of jasmine and lavender.

Stiles preferred to make potions with dried plants himself, but a lot of people were into growing their own lately. He didn’t stop outside this time—he didn’t want to give himself time to chicken out and go to Starbucks further up the road.

Mocha Latte Memories was right between the breakfast and lunch rushes when he got there; there were three girls at a table posing for a picture and an older man sipping from a mug and reading a book, but otherwise, the place was empty.

The walls were strung with photographs and every other table had an instant camera set up on a bolted tripod next to it. There were also disposable cameras set on the bookshelves, the counters, some tables, the window sills, and the console by the door, with a laminated sign on the wall explaining. The cameras confused Stiles until Claudia had dragged him and John to a table, set the timer on the instant camera, and took a photo of the three of them, waving it in his face.

Patrons were encouraged to take pictures with any of the cameras so they could be displayed on a rotation—they were also just allowed to take the instant photo home, if they wished. After a week on display, the pictures could be claimed by the person who took it or who was in it.

It was cute, Stiles thought. There was potential for creepy people to abuse it, but from what he’d seen, the staff kept a sharp eye on the cameras and who claimed which photos, and the owner was an old high school friend of Claudia’s and had gotten some witchy protections against that kind of thing. Photos taken of people without their consent would show up completely blank, as far as Stiles knew. There were other protections in place, but he hadn’t gotten any further details.

“Hey, Stilinski,” the barista, Cora, called out. “The usual for you and Miss Claudia?”

“Yes please.” He used his card to pay and found two fives in his wallet. Feeling cheerful—one day until opening and they were nearly done setting everything up—he dropped one into the tip jar, making Cora grin.

Behind him, the bells set above the door chimed as someone came in.

He set the five on the counter. “Put that toward their order?”

Her grin widened. “If you’re sure…”

“Yes, please.” He moved off to wait by the pick-up counter, looking at this week’s photos while he waited.

“Hey, thanks for the coffee.”

Stiles winced. He knew Cora was quick, so he’d kind of hoped his drinks would be done before the guy could notice him. He turned. His smile froze on his face.

The guy’s eyes lit up with mirth and recognition.

“Oh my god,” Stiles breathed. He looked down and wondered how hard his mom would laugh at him if he filled the place with smoke and fled.

“You do remember me. I’m Derek.”

“Stiles,” he managed, strangled. “I-I—we’re—there was dust,” he blurted. “There was dust and I was trying to get it out of my hair, okay, and I don’t think it was that big of a deal, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek said, still looking amused. “I didn’t say it was a big deal.”

“Right.” Stiles eased back, even more mortified. “I-I-”

“Stiles! Drinks are up,” Cora called.

“Bye,” he croaked. He snatched the drinks and left as fast as he could.

Claudia was waiting outside when he returned, a worried frown on her face. “I felt you panicking, what-”

He shook his head. “I bought,” he gasped, “the guy coffee.”

Her brows shot up. “Start at the beginning,” she said, so he did.

He was right: she laughed at him.

The Beacon’s Raven opened at nine sharp on Saturday morning, doors flung wide and a mixture of orange and lavender smoking gently, filling the place with Claudia and Stiles’s favorite scents. The shelves were full, neatly organized, and inviting, the floors gleaming clean, and there was a carafe of hot chocolate and individually wrapped cookies set up by the register. Claudia turned on lively violin music and Stiles kept himself busy straightening the shelves.

“Mrs. Stilinski,” a familiar voice called out. “It looks wonderful in here, doesn’t it, Mom?” Lydia and Natalie Martin came in, arm in arm, already holding two other shopping bags.

“It does! Good job, Claudia.” She grinned, crossing to give Claudia a quick squeeze. Like Lydia and Stiles, Natalie and Claudia had gone to school with each other. “I wanted one of those wind chimes you make for Lydia’s new house and we thought we could take a look at the tarot cards—I’ve never been much of a reader myself but we think Lydia’s a bit of a sensitive.”

Lydia rolled her eyes at Stiles, but followed their mothers into an aisle anyway.

Two more people, witches Stiles recognized as regulars for dream talismans and ritual potions, came in, chatting about the store. Dotty, dream talisman buyer, spotted Stiles and shot over to commend him on the choice of orange and lavender— “Peace and energy in one, what a good idea for the first day,” she said, catching his arm.

Melissa and Scott showed up after that, then Heather and her boyfriend, and a group of local witches and some shoppers who were non-magical but interested in the local-made jewelry they were also selling.

Stiles kept busy ringing people up, helping a man pick out the right set of rune stones, and bagging things, keeping up a steady chatter about the store, so he shouldn’t have noticed one more person entering the shop. He should’ve heard the bell and called out a greeting and let Claudia handle it. Something made his head snap up. His eyes narrowed.

Coffee Shop Derek waved at him.

A tall, dark haired woman stood next to him, reading from the back of a crumpled receipt.

Stiles blinked back to his customer and smiled. “Thank you, have a great day.”

Mavis smirked at him. “Oh, you too, Mischief.”

He grimaced.

Mavis had been buying ritual herb bundles from Claudia since Stiles was three. She knew too much.

Claudia crossed to Derek and the woman and, to his surprise, hugged the woman. She gave Derek a sober handshake, smiling and saying something Stiles couldn’t hear.

He didn’t really recognize them aside from some vague familiarity, but Claudia clearly did. He glanced around, but everyone was busy looking—they were crowded, which wasn’t surprising. Beacon Hills was small enough that everyone and their grandmother had heard that little Dee Gajos, no, Stilinski now, and her son were opening a shop finally, and they all had to check it out, witches or not.

Stiles flicked his fingers.

“-Mom wanted some new talismans for the house, and Aunt Nettie wanted some cleansing potions for the party we’re having,” the woman was saying. “Mom also wanted us to congratulate you and let you know she’ll be out to see the shop as soon as she can.”

“Thank you, that’s sweet. I know she’s busy. Oh, one moment.” Claudia turned. “Stiles!” Her voice boomed, making him clap his hands to his ears.

Crap. He’d definitely been caught eavesdropping.

Her smile was far too wide. “Sweetie, why don’t you help the Hales find the things on their list while I run the register for a while?” Her voice was still too loud—raised so he could hear her across the store, if he hadn’t been eavesdropping.

He had two options, and only one of them would preserve what little dignity he had left at this point. He sighed and rounded the counter.

“Hey, I’m Laura.” She smiled when he approached. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Stiles.”

“Oh, really?” He narrowed his eyes at Derek, cheeks going red. Two mildly embarrassing run ins and the guy goes blabbing to his family.

“Yeah! You’ve met my mom Talia Hale a few times when she was picking up talismans from Claudia.”

Stiles’s gaze snapped up to Laura, then skimmed over her. “Oh, you’re werewolves. And Hales. I’ve met some of your pack.”

She laughed. “Yeah, that’s us.” She passed the list to Derek. “I actually wanted to talk to you about some blessed candles, Claudia, if that’s alright? I’m sure Stiles and Derek can handle the list.”

“Oh, sure. Here, we can go up to the register and talk.” Claudia smirked over her shoulder.

Stiles turned his back on her. “So.”

Derek lifted a brow. “You aren’t going to run away this time?”

“I’ve got nowhere to run,” he muttered, making Derek laugh. “Besides, I didn’t run. I just—I had things to do.” He cleared his throat. “Your mom buys talismans from my mom. I’ve helped make them before,” he added with a grin, deciding that he could push past his embarrassment. “She likes her bases covered, huh?”

Derek chuckled. “You have no idea. She’s going crazy over having the whole family at the house for our winter gathering. That’s why she wants to replace the talismans now.” He checked the list. “Four talismans, a house cleansing potion for Aunt Nettie,” he yawned widely, “new bells for the windows and,” another half-stifled yawn, “my uncle wants bloodroot.” He made a face.

“For what?”

He lifted that brow again.

Stiles flicked a hand at the shelves behind them. “I just mean if he’s making something for protection, we can make a bundle that’ll help more than just one plant.”

He shook his head. “No idea. He just came in and scribbled down bloodroot when we told everyone where we were going.”

“Ah.” Stiles shrugged. Not his problem. “Well, if they’re all concerned about the house, we can get some herbs to help with that, too.” He glanced at Claudia, but she and Laura were still talking. “The talismans take three days to make—they’re specific, so we don’t typically have them ready-made.”

“Oh.”

“Everything else is ready though.” He led Derek down the prepared potions aisle; already-made potions were popular with werewolves, shifters, and regular humans who couldn’t make potions themselves. He handed him the teal-colored cleansing potion. “There’s a tag with instructions on the cap, but I know Annette Hale buys this every few months.”

“She does.” Derek yawned again as they made their way to the herb aisle, stifling it in his elbow and shaking his head, like he was annoyed.

Stiles scooped bloodroot into a bag, avoiding eye contact. “Did you have a…long night?” he asked, and cursed himself for being so awkward.

Derek shook his head. “I just keep having these weird, vivid dreams, and when I wake up, I feel like I haven’t slept. And then I can’t make sense of the dreams.” He shrugged self-consciously.

“Have you tried-?” Stiles paused and frowned at him. “Sleep potions don’t work for werewolves.”

“Nope.”

“Huh.” Stiles touched some vervain thoughtfully, then shook his head. “No. What about an herb bundle?”

“I have no idea. I’ve never tried any of this stuff,” he admitted. “I don’t usually have trouble sleeping, either.”

Stiles dropped his hand and wandered over to the bells. “Maybe you should put a bell on your bedroom window instead.” He examined the smallest bells they had on display and picked out a silver one with a raven carved into the side; some of the bells had symbols or animals carved in them for extra protection, and others had nothing, a blank slate, but Stiles thought Derek could use the raven for some clarity. He held it out with a smile. “If anything is causing bad dreams, the sound will ward it off, and it should help make the dreams clearer so you can figure out what’s going on.”

Derek held the tiny bell in his palm. “Thanks.”

Stiles nodded, then looked back at the others. They had sets and singles. “Did Talia say what colors she wanted?”

“Oh, uh, no. Just some basic, uh, bells for us to string above the windows this winter.”

“Hmm.” Stiles chose a brassy gold set and a few tiny yellow gold chimes, and added a coil of delicate, triple braided twine. “Your mom will know how to string them.” He helped Derek carry everything to the register. “We’ll get the talismans started today.”

Claudia smiled as they set everything on the counter. She was wrapping up a full set of candles for Laura already. “One of you can come back to get them on Tuesday,” she assured them. “Oh, bloodroot alone? But-”

“Uncle Peter only asked for bloodroot.” Laura shrugged. “Nettie tried to get him to explain but he wouldn’t.”

“Huh.” She shook her head. “Maybe he’s got something in mind.” She rang them up while Stiles carefully bagged the rest of their purchases.

“Maybe.” Laura poked at the silver bell.

Derek snatched it and put it in his pocket. “That’s mine.”

She rolled her eyes. “Oh-kay. Thanks again, Claudia. We’ll be back on Tuesday for the talismans.”

“No problem, thank you guys for coming in!”

Derek turned back so he could wave and smile at Stiles one more time as they were leaving.

By the time they closed at seven, Stiles was dead on his feet; the plan was for them to open again the next morning at the same time, and be closed on Mondays and Thursdays, but he wasn’t sure they’d make it to Monday at this point. They needed to hire some more people.

Claudia was sprawled in a chair in the reading room, beaming and as exhausted as Stiles. “That was…better than I had hoped for.”

Stiles flopped into a chair across from her. “I told you people would come.”

She shrugged. “It’s different, selling little mixtures and plants from my kitchen and selling it in a store.” She flung her hands out over the arms of the chair. “I expected…well, you know how people here can be.”

“Assholes.”

“Fickle,” she shot back. “Supportive one second, and then the next saying I’m thinking too highly of my skills.”

He snorted. “I would love to see anyone from Beacon Hills claim that. They know you, Mom.”

She smiled. “They can be assholes, a little bit,” she admitted, and he laughed. “I was thinking of hiring some part timers, to cover us when we need breaks and a day off. Thoughts?”

“Yes, please.” He dropped his head over the back of the chair. “If we have more people here, we can close a little later, stay open most days without working everyone twenty-four seven, and be able to help more people. Also, we have to get the Hale talismans going.”

“Right.” She tapped her fingers on the edge of the chair. “What did Derek Hale need one bell for?”

Stiles lifted his head. “Hmm?”

She shot him a look. “Don’t play dumb. One silver bell.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Well, he kept yawning while we were finding the stuff his pack asked for, so I asked him if he was having trouble sleeping. He said he was having vivid dreams that were keeping him from resting, so I thought a bell would help, you know, in case it was something coming in.”

She frowned. “But they’re not nightmares?”

“Apparently not. Just vivid dreams.”

“That’s odd.”

“Maybe the bell will help.”

She nodded. “Okay! Let’s go straighten up, count the till, and get started on the talismans for the Hales.”

Because they’d known they would be brewing potions on-site, they’d picked this building in part because it had a kitchen already, so they wouldn’t have to have one built.

“We really need more people working here.” Stiles rocked to his feet.

“I’m working on it. Natalie Martin was interested already, but I’d like a few more witches on staff, too.”

“Dad can help out.”

She smiled as they headed for the kitchen. “He’s bored now that he’s retired.”

“He needs a hobby.”

“Please.” She handed him a broom. “Sprinkle some orange and violet ashes for luck first.”

“Aye aye, captain.”

It wasn’t quite as busy the next day, although they were making an almost equal amount of sales—fewer browsers, Stiles guessed. Around noon, Claudia left him alone to get some coffee and lunch, which was when Derek wandered in. Stiles straightened from the counter and smiled.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” he replied uneasily. “Um, your talismans are still soaking in the first potion.”

Derek looked blank. “Oh, no, that’s not why I’m here, but thanks. I actually—the bell didn’t help,” he blurted.

Stiles frowned.

The woman over in the reading room sneezed, making Derek jump.

“Alright…let’s try an herb bundle.” Stiles rounded the counter. “Something to promote deep sleep, good dreams, some peace….that could help.”

Derek followed him. “I’m willing to try, I’m exhausted and the dreams don’t even make sense.”

“Hmm.” Stiles picked up a mesh sachet and skimmed through the dry herbs, letting his magic pick for him. He sprinkled in lavender, which was an obvious first, a tiny bit of valerian followed by peppermint mostly to disguise the foul scent of the ashes, chamomile, a tiny bit of eryngo, and some gardenia to tie it together, then sealed the bag. “Okay, there’s enough in here for you to sprinkle a tiny bit around your room, and keep the rest in this bag under your pillow while you sleep.” He put the sachet in Derek’s hand.

“You didn’t look at a recipe,” he pointed out.

Stiles frowned, plucking at the hem of his shirt. “Well, I don’t need one for that. I was just…feeling out what seemed right for you.”

“Do you do that for all of your customers?” he asked, smirking. His hair was damp from the chilly rain turning everything gray outside, curling over his forehead.

Stiles focused on a drop forming just above his eye. “No, not really. But none of them have asked,” he added defensively. He crossed his arms. “I was trying-”

“Excuse me. How much is this journal, young man?”

Stiles held his finger up at Derek and went to help the guy in a patchy tweed jacket with the journals. To his surprise, Derek was still waiting when the guy had paid and left. “Yes?”

He lifted the sachet. “I haven’t paid.”

Stiles blinked. “Oh, I—I was giving that to you.” They stood, blinking at each other for a prolonged moment.

Slowly, Derek’s cheeks reddened. His eyes went wide. “Oh, I didn’t realize. Thank—you?”

“No problem.” He smiled. “Did you ever figure out what your uncle wanted the bloodroot for?”

He shook his head. “He just took it and left, didn’t even thank us. He’s been annoyed all day, too, which for Peter means he’s been insufferable.” He turned the sachet over in his hand, then lifted it closer to his face to sniff.

Stiles glanced around the store, but the only person there was the witch in the reading room still. “We have some cookies left from yesterday, want some?”

“Sure.”

Stiles went to get them from the kitchen and poked at the talismans that were gently simmering in a warding potion. The first of three; the next would be applied later that evening. He scooped up the cookies.

Claudia had returned when he got out to the front, asking Derek how his parents were. “The cookies are still good,” she added with a quick smile in Stiles’s direction. “Why don’t you two eat in the kitchen while I watch the store? I can eat after you’re done.” She smiled again. “I got an extra sandwich.”

Stiles narrowed his eyes.

She winked at him and looked at Derek again. “You have time, don’t you, Derek?”

“I…uh, sure.”

“Great!” She thrust the sandwiches at Stiles. “Derek, I hope you like roast beef on rye with mozzarella and onions?”

Derek looked between her and Stiles. “Yes…that’s…my favorite.”

“How lucky,” she chirped.

“Yeah,” Stiles muttered, “lucky.” He glanced at Derek, who looked surprised but not suspicious.

He clearly hadn’t spent enough time around witches.

Stiles took the sandwiches to the kitchen anyway. “You don’t have to stay,” he told Derek. “She’s just…” He didn’t know what she was doing. Teasing him for his two embarrassing encounters with Derek? Being overly friendly? Trying to help Stiles make friends like a shy five year old?

“It’s okay. I was just going to get lunch when I left anyway.” Derek looked around the kitchen, the glass front cabinets and the crockpot simmering on the counter. “I guess customers aren’t really meant to be back here.”

Stiles shrugged and set the sandwiches on the table. He grabbed some napkins, gesturing at the seat closest to Derek. “It’s only our second day open, we don’t have rules yet.”

Derek tucked the sachet into his pocket before he sat and unwrapped his sandwich. “You guys have been selling potions and talismans and stuff for a while though, right?”

“Yep.” Stiles licked mustard off his thumb. “Mom’s been doing it her whole life—before she and my dad got married, she and her parents sold supplies and stuff from their kitchen.” He rotated his wrist. “Beacon Hills is getting bigger and it was getting harder to run all this from our kitchen without overrunning the whole house with it.” Stiles took a minute to eat a few bites, watching with his head lowered as Derek did the same. “Your mom and your brother Sean, your dad Leo and your cousin, I think, Connie, I’ve met them all in passing. Annette, too. Amulets, talismans, potions, herbs, crystals—Connie bought a crystal when she was doing her midterms, more for a worry stone than anything, I think.”

“She still has it,” Derek said with a smile. “She wears it on a chain.”

Stiles smiled, too. “See, I’ve met several of your family members—your pack mates. But you’ve never come for anything.”

Derek shrugged. “Everyone else always had plenty and I never really needed anything.”

“Until now.” Stiles nodded at him, indicating the sachet in his pocket.

Derek flashed a grin. “Until now.”

After Derek left, thanking them for lunch and smiling at Stiles an extra time before he left, Claudia whirled on Stiles, beaming.

“What are you up to?”

“Absolutely nothing, how dare you accuse me of being up to something.” She wiped the counter with a damp rag, a smile playing on her lips.

Stiles wasn’t sure what he was accusing her of quite yet, so he fell quiet. He’d bide his time and get her back later. Three giggling high schoolers came in to ask about love potions and, having already been subjected to the Love Potion Lecture at age seven, and then twelve, Stiles made himself busy straightening the shelves and checking the plants for dry soil.

Claudia went into the back to eat after the girls left, so Stiles was left to deal with Mrs. Howard’s very particular taste in rose quartz for her daughter’s birthday. It wasn’t so bad, not nearly as bad as the PTA parents wanting “luck” potions for a bake sale.

John wandered in when things died down, while Stiles was drawing mindlessly on a legal pad. He leaned over. “Anything good?”

Stiles studied the shape. “Not sure yet.” He added another line. “I think it might need…copper. Amethyst.” He tilted the pad. “Some spirit quartz for an added layer, maybe, to clear things up.” He rubbed his finger over the top curve thoughtfully.

“Who’s it for?”

“Dunno. It just keeps coming to me.” He finally looked up and grinned. “What’re you all dressed up for? I thought you were strictly into jeans these days.”

John ran a hand down the neat button down shirt that he’d paired with a completely wrinkle-free pair of khakis. “I’m here for a job interview,” he said grimly. “Think I got a chance with the boss?”

Stiles grinned. “I dunno, she’s pretty strict.”

Claudia came out of the back wiping her hands on a towel. Her eyes widened. “Well, now, Sheriff, don’t you look handsome.”

Stiles, still grinning, shook his head and hopped off the stool behind the counter to hunt up some of the materials he needed for the amulet he was going to make. Chips of amethyst and flint were his first ingredients, and the rest, he figured, would come to him as needed. It wouldn’t be anything fancy, just copper wrapped around three very small stones in the shape he couldn’t get out of his head.

He rang himself up after he’d gathered a few more things, then put his supplies aside—his tools and the other things he needed were at home.

“What’re you making?” Claudia asked after watching him tuck his bagged purchases away.

“An amulet, I think.”

“Hmm.”

John was across the shop enthusiastically helping a witch select a chain for her new pendulum.

She looked amused despite the fact that John clearly had no idea what to direct her toward.

“He always was better with herbs,” Claudia mused. “I can’t believe he hasn’t picked up more from us after all these years.”

“Maybe he should just run the register.”

“He’s got it.”

Stiles shrugged and went back to his rough sketch, tracing the spirals with his finger.

He spent the evening coiling copper wire at the kitchen table, carefully wrapping it around the smallest piece of pearl dolomite he’d been able to find, then spirit quartz, and finally a tiny piece of flint. The amethyst chips went along the wire, and after that he sprinkled gardenia and lavender ash on it to sit for the night. He studied it; it wasn’t his best work, but not his worst, either. The amulet would need to be charged with his magic to bind it together, and he’d need a chain for it before it could be worn. The amulet itself was small, about the size of a silver dollar.

He left it overnight and took it to the shop the next morning. Stiles and John were handling the front while Claudia retreated, with a miserable growl, to do the accounting.

Her day job, after all, used to be the head of an accounting firm, and she had the most experience. Besides that, she wasn’t ready to hire someone else to take care of it.

“I’m still not sure, this one over here is really beautiful.” The customer indicated a hand painted tarot deck made by a local witch Claudia had grown up with.

“If you’re just starting, a basic deck is the best way to learn how to read the cards.” He smiled. “You can get fancy later, I promise.”

“Well…I suppose you’re right.” She sighed. “My mom said the same thing, and I definitely knew that was the right way to do it, but the hand painted deck is so…” She picked up the deck Stiles had pointed out to her. “Do you guys carry altar cloths? I would like to get a new one.”

Stiles grinned. “We do, actually. Dominic Birch embroidered them, his work is unbelievable.”

After she’d paid and left—with two new journals, an altar cloth, and her tarot deck—John helped a guy pick out a potted aloe plant and Stiles sold three necklaces and a ring.

The bells chimed as he was restocking with more jewelry. “Hi,” he called out, turning.

Derek waved awkwardly and held up a piece of paper. “Peter wants some more stuff.”

“Ah. Did he say what it was for this time?”

“Nope. He’s just as irritated today, too.” He passed the list to Stiles, thumb brushing the back of his hand. He was wearing a blue sweater in concession to the chill hanging in the air, and the fact that the sleeves were just a little too long for him was too much for Stiles. “Oh, hey, I think those herbs you gave me worked, last night I barely had any dreams at all.”

Stiles smiled at him. “That’s great.” He flipped the list over. Buchu, rose, dandelion—dried and ground. Huh. “Did he say how much of this stuff he wants?”

Derek shook his head. “But he did send his debit card, so feel free to ring up as much as you’d like.”

Stiles snickered. “I’d love to, but I think we should try to keep our reputation good, you know, since we’re so new and all.”

Derek snorted. “If he noticed, I doubt he’d say anything anyway. There’s so much going on at home, though, I don’t think he would notice.”

Stiles bagged the herbs as they talked. “What’s going on?”

“Just the usual holiday madness. For our winter celebration, our extended pack—that’s everyone who’s moved away and joined or formed other packs—comes to visit. All three houses are overrun for days.”

Stiles laughed as he tipped a scoop of dried dandelion into a bag. “That sounds awesome.”

“I guess it is, sometimes. That’s why everyone is freaking out, though. It takes a lot to prepare for all those werewolves.” He rubbed the back of his head, sighing. “I’m gonna have to share my room with a couple of my cousins.”

“Aw, didn’t you miss your cousins?”

“No.” He scowled, then sighed. “Yeah, a little bit. There’s just a lot of them—we all end up completely sleep deprived by the end.” He took the bags Stiles held out. “But it is fun. You guys should stop by. The festivities start on the twentieth.”

“You make it sound like a carnival,” Stiles laughed as he walked him to the counter.

“More like a circus,” he muttered. “But I swear it’s fun, and there’s enough food to feed at least three armies.”

“Won’t your family mind if we crash a family gathering?”

“No, I’m pretty sure my mom invites Claudia every year, only she always had plans.”

“Yeah, we usually do year end rituals and stuff, but I can probably, uh, stop by. If you wanted.” He studiously avoided the way John was looking at him while he rang up Derek’s purchases.

Derek beamed at him. “That’d be great.”

Stiles smiled. In his pocket, the amulet grew warm, then hot. His hand jumped to it, closing around the wire, and his eyes widened. “Should—should I bring…anything?”

“Just yourself. Maybe some earplugs. Aunt Nettie’s sister-in-law just had triplets.” Derek grinned at John. “Sheriff, you and Mrs. Stilinski are more than welcome, too. My mom will probably be calling sometime tomorrow or the next day to invite you herself.”

John smiled. “Maybe we’ll stop by this year.” His gaze inched over to Stiles and his smile stretched into a grin. “Just to make sure Stiles stays out of trouble.”

“Very funny,” Stiles muttered. “I’m an angel.”

“Lying is a sin, angel.”

Stiles, unable to flip him off, stuck his tongue out, and got a pitying look in response. He remembered Derek a second later and flushed, whipping around so his back was to John. “Uh, uh—let me know how—if the weird dreams come back,” he stammered. “We can try something else.” He cast around for something else to say as they inched away from the counter and noticed Derek’s bag. “Your uncle isn’t…trying to see the future, is he?”

“No idea.” Derek peered into the bag. “Why, is that what this stuff is for?”

Stiles tilted his hand side to side. “They can be used for a few different things, but yeah, divination and visions are some of the more popular things.” He shook his head. “Not that it matters, it’s not a big deal. Plenty of people use herbs for prophetic visions,” he assured him. “Us, we prefer crystals if we’re trying to see something.”

“Do you look into the future often?”

Stiles shook his head and met Derek’s gaze. “I prefer to be surprised. The future can change, so what’s the point in worrying about one vision you saw once, by chance, that might not even happen?”

Derek’s lips quirked. “Speaking from experience?”

He glanced back at his dad automatically; Claudia had joined him at the counter, their heads tipped together as they spoke. “Yeah, I peeked and I didn’t…” He shook his head again. “Doesn’t matter, it’s already changed.” He smiled at Derek.

“What kind of magic do you use, if you don’t try to see the future?”

He lifted his shoulders. “All kinds, I guess.”

“What are you good at?”

He laughed. “You want me to brag about my skills?” He waggled his fingers.

“Yeah.”

Stiles laughed again, he couldn’t help it. “Well, I’m pretty good with water-based magic, and my telekinetic prowess is, if I do say so myself, pretty awesome.”

“You’ll have to give me a demonstration sometime.”

Stiles nodded and lifted his hand, palm up. Water formed on his fingers and slid down, gathering into a ball. He flexed his fingers. It froze solid.

“Okay, that was impressive.”

“A Stilinski, flirting by showing off, why am I not surprised.” Mavis’s voice made Stiles jump, the ice ball flying out of his grasp. “How utterly predictable.”

Derek snatched the ball before it could hit the ground and shatter.

“Mischief, you are just like your mother, I swear. You can do better than that to impress the man. Claudia,” she called in her croaking voice, “did you see what Mischief was doing?” She shuffled away from them.

Stiles covered his eyes. “Good gods.”

Derek mouthed, “Mischief?” but dropped it when Stiles shook his head. “Well, I thought it was impressive.” He held out the ice.

Stiles closed his hands over it. “There’s no reason to do big spells indoors, Mavis.”

“Balls of ice aren’t impressive, Mischief.”

He rolled his eyes at Derek. “I’ll see you later, I have to go chase an old lady with a broom.”

He laughed. “Good luck.”

Stiles finished the amulet on his break, holding his hand over it and binding the ingredients together, all the pieces, the copper, the flint, the quartz, the dolomite and amethyst, with his magic. He found a black chain he thought went well with the copper triskelion and attached it, then stared at the completed piece. It’d come to him for a reason, amulets usually did, but he just couldn’t figure out who it was meant for.

Claudia put the Hales talismans in the last potion while he was still staring at it. “Looks good. What made you use a triskelion?”

“I’m not sure, it just…came to me.” He shrugged. While Claudia had always had an instinct for talismans, Stiles had the same instinct for amulets, the shapes and materials often coming to him and hovering in his mind, behind his eyes, like he’d stared at a light too long. She’d found him making them enough throughout his life to know he hadn’t made it for himself.

“Have you figured out who it’s for?”

Her tone made him look up, eyes narrowed. “No…why?”

She poked at the talismans, then covered them again. “Well, the triskelion is the Hale pack’s symbol. They use it to identify their pack.”

Stiles looked at the amulet. “Huh.”

“Maybe you made it for Derek,” she teased.

“Mother, are you implying something?”

“Just that he keeps coming here…daily…and that he invited you to his family gathering.” She shrugged. She had an ivy leaf caught in her hair from that morning.

“He’s just being friendly.”

She snorted. “Laura, maybe, Nettie absolutely, but from what I’ve noticed, friendly is an optional trait in the Hales and they don’t bother unless they think you’re worth it.” She held her hands up. “Could be he just likes you as a friend, that’s true.” Her eyes gleamed. “But I say you take that amulet over on the twentieth and see if he says no when you ask him out.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“If he turns you down, I will admit I was wrong, somehow.”

“Not good enough.”

She tapped her fingers on the table. “If I’m wrong, what would you like?”

“Grandpa’s book of charms.”

“Oh, Stiles.” She shook her head. “They’re messy.”

“Blood?”

She held her fingers a half inch apart. “But it’s more in the mud and clay and wet ashes way. Trust me. Messy.”

“I want them.”

She put her hands up. “Fine, since I’m sure I’m right, if Derek shoots you down, I will dig out your grandfather’s book of charms. Only if I’m wrong. If he accepts, you do Laura Hale’s interview. She wants to work here,” she added with a smile.

“That’s absolutely not on the same level.”

“Those are my conditions.”

“Ugh, fine. Are you and Dad going?”

She smoothed the wrinkles out of her black and pink dress, smiling serenely at him. “We have to be there, dear, it’s only polite.” She turned on her heel, ponytail swishing as she left.

“You’ve got ivy in your hair!” he shouted after her. He looked down at the amulet. “Damn it.” He needed to find a box for it now.

The twentieth arrived before Stiles was fully prepared. They’d been busy with people coming for ritual kits, herbs, potions, and gifts, enough that they could consider their first two weeks of being open a resounding success. Stiles found a decorative cherry wood box with a small raven carved into the side to put the amulet in, on a bed of gardenia and lavender, and dressed casually for the party.

Cora at Mocha Latte Memories turned out to be another Hale that Stiles hadn’t met and had told him to just show up whenever. “The dress code?” she’d repeated blankly when he’d asked. “Uh…casual. We’re a mess, don’t worry about it. Some of the littler kids probably won’t even be dressed.” She’d shrugged. “Shifters, you know.”

So Stiles wasn’t sure what to expect as he headed to the Hale property. It used to be just one house, but they’d added two more to accommodate their growing pack. Stiles hadn’t seen it in a while—not since he was a teenager, wandering the preserve at night with Scott and Heather, being stupid—so the sight of about twenty extra cars and a camper clogging the long driveway and part of the yard, plus about six people on the wrap around porch just chatting, was something of a surprise.

Stiles parked behind a blue SUV and turned the jeep off deliberately slow. He stared at the little box on his passenger seat and sighed.

John and Claudia had come over earlier, just after noon, but Stiles had managed to procrastinate so long that he now had to arrive alone. Maybe he could just sit here until he spotted Derek and act like he’d just arrived.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

‘Coming in at any point, son?’

Stiles scowled. He figured blocking her wouldn’t work, so he just shoved it back in his pocket, swiped the box, and got out. He had to weave through several cars to get to the yard, where he could see a flattened path from everyone walking the same route.

Behind him, someone shouted, “Quit it!”

He turned.

Fifteen feet away, Derek got tackled by a tall, skinny werewolf with short dark hair.

Stiles tensed, but it wasn’t until another werewolf, shorter, partially shifted and snarling through long fangs, joined in that he started running. “Hey!”

Derek snarled and rolled, but the shifted werewolf bit his ear, making him yelp, while the other sat on his legs to pin him down.

“Hey!” Stiles shouted again. He stopped before any of those flailing claws or fangs could hit him and studied the ball of werewolves.

Someone up on the porch noticed them and snickered.

Stiles flinched when blood spattered the grass, a yelp coming from the bottom of the pile. He rolled his eyes and put his free hand out, then swept it aside.

The taller werewolf tumbled aside, landing on his butt a couple feet away.

Stiles caught the other one and flicked him away, too, leaving Derek disheveled and a little bloody. Stiles turned to the two that’d tackled him and shook his head. “Two on one is shameful,” he scolded. He could see now that they were teenagers; their partial shifts had made them look older, but as the fangs and tufted ears melted away, they looked young.

The taller one looked petulant while the other simply looked mortified.

“He drank our hot chocolate!” the tall one snapped.

“Uh—what?”

Derek sat up. “You can’t prove that.” Blood trailed down his cheek, but the cut had, thankfully, already healed.

“It’s always you,” the embarrassed one piped up. “Uncle Peter says you keep stealing his coffee, too.”

Derek’s ears went red. “He’s exaggerating.” He looked up at Stiles sheepishly. “I always refill the cups after. I’m just useless in the morning.”

“You’re always useless.”

“Markus,” a man on the porch snapped.

He rolled his eyes. “Sorry.” He looked at Stiles. “How’d you do that?”

“He’s a witch, dummy.”

“Todd,” the man scolded.

Todd held his hands up. “But he is.” He squinted at Stiles. “Right?”

“Right.”

Todd smirked at Marcus.

Stiles held his hand out to help Derek up. “Brawling with teenagers?”

“They hit me first.” He smiled. “I thought you’d decided not to come when your parents showed up without you.”

Stiles shook his head. “Just running behind.”

Derek nodded, fighting a huge yawn that nearly wrenched his jaw apart.

He lifted his brows. “Dreams again?”

He nodded. “They came back a couple days ago.” He looked toward the house, ears going red. “You were in them this time, even though they still don’t make sense.”

Todd rolled his eyes and pulled Markus to his feet. “Stop stealing everyone’s drinks!”

“I thought it was Peter’s coffee,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to steal your hot chocolate.”

Markus rolled his eyes. “Make your own coffee, jeeze, Uncle Peter’s right. You are nose blind.”

“I am not!”

Stiles prodded Derek’s shoulder. “Excuse me, did you just say you’ve been drinking your uncle’s coffee?”

Todd nodded, aggrieved. “Derek steals everyone’s drinks, every year.”

He looked guilty. “Only when it’s really early, and I always refill the mug, brats.” That last bit was directed at his cousins, who were clearly unconvinced.

“You do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“You can sleep in Cora’s room tonight,” Derek hissed.

Stiles shared an exasperated look with Todd, though he was sure Todd was more bothered by the hot chocolate theft than he was. He had a bigger problem. “Derek.”

“Yeah.”

He tried to think of a nice way to phrase it, but… “Are you, possibly, nose blind?”

Todd and Markus cackled.

Derek looked insulted. “No!”

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. “Uncle Peter is the uncle who’s been sending you to get potion ingredients from my shop, right?”

“Yea—ah, fuck.”

Markus’s mouth opened in a wide, wide grin. “I’m telling Aunt Talia.”

Todd’s hand shot out, catching his shirt. “Derek can buy our silence.”

Markus’s eyes went even brighter, delighted.

He glared at them. “What do you want?”

“Take us to the potion place.”

“Excuse me?”

“We never get to go to witch stores, we want to buy magic potions.” The boys looked excited by the mere idea, breathless at the power that was just in their reach.

Stiles leaned around Derek. “If you go find Miss Claudia in the house, she’ll tell you all about magic potions. That way when Derek takes you, you know which one to pick.”

They looked at each other, smirking, then ran for the house.

He straightened up. “That lecture should keep them busy for at least twenty minutes.” He swung back around to Derek. “You’ve been drinking coffee laced with potions.”

“Apparently.”

“Potions for prophetic dreams.”

“Yep.”

“Then refilling the cup before anyone noticed the coffee was gone.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Which means your uncle has been drinking regular coffee thinking it was laced with potions, and probably getting annoyed that it’s not working—stop laughing!” But Stiles was laughing, too. “This is serious, you could’ve poisoned yourself.”

He shook his head as he wheezed. “Peter’s been so pissed lately, and it turns out it’s because his experiments aren’t working—because I’ve been drinking them.” He shook his head, overcome.

“Didn’t he—no, you said he didn’t tell you guys what it was for.” Stiles rolled his eyes. The cold was starting to seep under his jacket finally, chilling him.

“No, he didn’t. Serves him right for not telling us what he was making us run errands for.”

Stiles lifted a brow at him.

“Hey, I got my payback by losing sleep.”

“Somehow that doesn’t seem to compare.” Stiles looked at the box in his hand and sighed. “When was the last time you drank his coffee?”

“Yesterday morning,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and shuffling his feet. They were barely an arms’ length apart, over the muddy disturbed grass where he’d been wrestling with his cousins. He scratched drying blood off his temple.

“You’ve probably got another couple nights before the dreams wear off.”

He nodded. “Hey, I’m—I’m glad you came over.” He smiled shyly.

Stiles smiled back. “Me too. Now I know why none of my usual tricks worked for your weird dreams.” He tapped his finger on the box. “You don’t remember any of them?”

“Nothing that makes sense.” He shrugged.

Too bad. He shook it off and held the box out. “I brought this for you.”

“Thank you.” He took it carefully, tilting it so he could see the carving on the side. He traced it gently with one fingertip. “You guys are fond of ravens, I guess.”

“They’re a thing with my mom’s family. And they’re good friends.” He shrugged. “You don’t have to wait ’til sundown to open it, you know.”

Derek made a show of examining every inch of the box before he pried it open. His lashes fluttered. “You made this.” Not a question, no surprise. A fact.

“How’d you guess?”

He lifted his gaze. “I can feel it. You weren’t kidding about your magic being powerful. Can I wear it now?”

“Of course, I made it for you to wear.” Stiles had to look away, his neck prickling. He normally didn’t make a big deal of his amulets and the receivers of them typically followed his lead. He didn’t know what to do with such gravity. When he looked up, Derek was wearing the amulet around his neck, the triskelion resting just beneath his collar bones.

“How’s it look?”

Stiles nodded. “Pretty good,” he squeaked. He looked over his shoulder, but everyone who’d been on the porch was gone. He took a deep breath. “Well, now that I’ve given you fancy jewelry…”

“A protective amulet,” Derek corrected, cupping his hand over it as if he was shielding it.

“Right. I was—I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out on a date. Maybe get coffee from somewhere your sister doesn’t work.” He caught his breath and reminded himself that either way this went, he would get something he wanted.

He just, maybe, wanted to date Derek more than he wanted that book of charms.

Derek smiled. “Sure, that sounds great.” He lifted his gaze and winced. “But, uh, first we have to survive this.” He pointed.

Claudia and Talia were watching from the door, both grinning, while noses pressed against nearly every window around them.

“We could make a run for it,” Stiles said out of the corner of his mouth. “I think I can hold the door closed from here and we can make it to the jeep.”

“You can’t run from every problem.”

“I am fast enough to out run most of them,” he pointed out.

Derek caught his hand, twined their fingers together, and tugged him up toward the house. “There’s not that many of them in this house—most of them are out in the backyard.”

“Your mom is in there,” he whined.

Claudia winked.

“My mom is in there,” he added under his breath.

They laughed together and moved out of the doorway, linking arms and heading toward the kitchen, by the looks of it.

Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand. “Because you didn’t shoot me down, I have to give your sister a job interview.”

“If you can survive this, interviewing Laura will be nothing.” Derek kissed the back of his hand, making him flush all over, before he went into the house.

“Derek!” a man growled, followed by a yelp and a thud.

Stiles shook his head and went inside to save him from Peter’s wrath.

#vyxynheartssterek #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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sam-roulette · 4 years ago

Note

Timsasha; angst; a lamp, a fountain, and a map?

(I am going to hurt you I am going to rip your heart out This is just a little TimSasha wedding story!! Hope you enjoy <3)

vows, brittle and old

“My hair looks fine, right?”

“I think the zipper here is getting caught…”

“I can!!! Take those off your hands if you need help-”

“Good Lord, Tim,” Jon said, exasperated, “you’re going to pass out at the altar.”

Tim’s hands fluttered uncertainly in the air in front of him for a moment before he brought them closer to his chest, sheepish. “Don’t think I could fall asleep if the Queen herself commanded it at this point,”

“What’s the Queen got to do with it?” Martin pondered, setting down the last box of tiny decorative lamps. “Seems like she’d have better things to worry about,”

“I don’t know, it just,” Tim gestured somewhat helplessly, “came to mind? You know, commands and orders and whatever are monarchial bull but maybe the shock of seeing some random royal away from a guillotine will do- something,”

“You’re spiraling,” Jon deadpanned.

Tim frowned, “I’m not spiraling.”

“He’s just nervous,” Martin patted Tim’s shoulder sympathetically, shooting a little look at Jon. Tim made a mental note to tell Sasha to double down on the “make sure Martin gets the bouquet” plan they’d been cooking up. “The man’s getting married! Cut him some slack!”

“I will do no such thing.” Jon said, “He’s still in the way,” But Tim could see that he was fighting down a smile. Jon was a lot easier to read than he thought he was, and honestly, if he’d really been as stoic as he tried to pretend to be, Tim might not have made him his best man. But it was plain to see that Jon was happy, and the feeling was infectious.

The lamps had been Sasha’s idea. She and Tim had wandered around the garden all those months ago in the precious first planning stages and found that there was nowhere to feasibly hang the fairy lights he’d thought about putting up for the reception. It’d been a bit of a disappointment, but Sasha came through as always; he wasn’t even sure where she’d managed to find so many little vintage-looking electrical lamps, but they were a marvel, settled on top of the dark tablecloths.

Martin was doing a remarkable job of setting up, of course, but Tim just couldn’t find it in himself to sit still.

“Are you absolutely sure you don’t need my help?” Tim asked instead, watching Martin continue to set up.

Martin sighed from where he’d been unloading the lamps, gesturing with a faux rustic-gold ornament. “No, Tim, we do not need help- and you shouldn’t be helping!”

“All you need to do is go and look pretty,” Jon said, “Shouldn’t be hard for you,”

“Oh, Jon,” Tim mock-gasped, “you think I’m pretty,”

Jon rolled his eyes, “Pretty annoying, yes,”

“But. Still pretty, right-?”

“You look very pretty, now please go check on the altar,” Martin cut in quickly, a few notes of red dusting his cheeks after he realized how quickly he’d cut in. Tim grinned. He couldn’t help teasing Martin, when it was just so Easy with a capital E to get him rankled. “P-Please.” Martin added again, belatedly.

“Aye aye,” Tim said, giving a little salute, unable to keep his smile from widening. It was a little soothing, seeing that these two were the same as ever. Definitely helped with the jitters.

“Ah- don’t forget the map,” Martin said, almost offhanded as he pressed the little square of folded paper into Tim’s hands.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tim said, “See you there!”

Tim waved as he disappeared into the little hedge maze of greenery, hoping his cheeks would be alright after today. He still couldn’t stop smiling, God- and sure, it was just the best day of his life which was going to be shared with quite literally the best human being on earth for the rest of their natural-born lives. It was just this life-changing emotional event. But Tim could play it cool. Save all that energy for the hours of revelry or, better yet, the vows.

Even in the relative quiet of the garden, he couldn’t help it. Leaving the sounds of Jon and Martin’s good-natured bickering behind, Tim’s thoughts were just as loud as ever, and the only thing on his mind (always, always) was Sasha, Sasha, Sasha.

Sasha was walking down that aisle in a little less than an hour. God, Tim could feel his heart threatening to leap out of his chest at the thought- abort mission, life’s too damn perfect and happiness meters are so high the whole thing’s going nuclear. Tim was turning left at every hedge with his brain fluffing up like clouds and he, genuinely, didn’t know how anything could top this.

Tim was so in love that it physically ached. He was sure that was just the nerves- it’d felt like an eternity since he’d seen his Sasha at this point!- but the squeeze of his heart in his chest was so profound that for a moment, he needed to pause. Beside him, a wall of pink mandevilla vines towered up, smelling sweet and lovely in the June air.

Wait, Tim suddenly thought, Why do I have a map?

Tim slowed to a stop in front of the flowers, eyebrows furrowing. It’d seemed so normal in the moment that he hadn’t really thought about it, but it was odd that Martin had given him a map, right? Like, that was a weird thing to be given. The garden wasn’t really all that complicated to go through. He just had to…

Hm. He’d thought the venue owner said nothing would be in bloom until that evening.

…

Tim shook his head, frowning to himself. Maybe this had been getting to him more than he’d thought- the nerves, the anticipation of seeing Sasha walk up the aisle, looking like he’d never seen her before… He wished he’d taken a little peek before when he’d had the chance, if only to assuage his nerves. Just the tiniest little peek, long after Sasha had laughed in that beautiful way of hers and kissed him on the lips and said to be patient. Maybe then he’d have room to remember the map.

He unfolded the thing to see what he’d forgotten in the initial daze of premarital bliss. Made sense to, right about then, when he was pretty sure he was in a part of the garden that he hadn’t been in before. The last thing Tim needed was to be late for his own wedding- even if it’d be funny later on, Sasha would never let him live it down!

Maybe that cheerful thought was why it took him a moment to recognize it to be a map of the Archives.

…

… Alrighty then!

Well, mix-ups happened to the best of people. Martin really had been doing a lot to make sure the reception was being set up, so it made sense that maybe he just mixed up the maps somehow. The garden map probably would have looked newer than this old thing anyway- something far different from the rough, rusty lines, looking like the hurried work of someone trying not to be caught…

Tim was just glad he almost certainly had time to make it to the altar. The garden wasn’t very big, even if he was standing by a wall of thoughtlessness, so he’d probably loop his way back around eventually. Gave him time to think, in the end. More time to rehearse his vows.

The flowers by his side swayed lightly in the summer breeze as Tim stood, adjusting his cufflinks and thinking.

“Really Tim,” Jon muttered, even more exasperated than before. That was Tim’s fault, probably- wasn’t a good idea to be pissing off your best man. What was that old trivia fact he’d heard? Something about best men being there to act as bait in case of evil? That was a high enough price for Tim to forgive a little stalking following.

“Sorry, sorry!” Tim said, smiling sheepishly. “I was just- y’know, thinking of the vows,” Which, of course, had to be perfect, because Sasha was going to be perfect and he just knew he couldn’t mess this up.

(Was it weird that maybe he was still trying to parse out whether Persephone or Proserpina would be a more thematic mention? Perhaps, but Greek versus Roman had such different vibes. Tim wasn’t sure about likening himself to Hades or Pluton. Maybe Janus was an option-)

He wasn’t moving because he was apprehensive. He wasn’t moving because he was in love. There was a difference.

Jon understood. Jon was watching him, after all.

“She’ll be walking in five minutes,” Jon hissed out, harried.

“We better get on out there, right?” Tim asked, smiling.

The grip he suddenly had on Tim’s arm was a vice, filled with strength that Tim wouldn’t have expected from the scrawny stick of a man. He’d been so harried lately (about the wedding of course) that Tim was honestly surprised he apparently had the time to keep his strength up.

The brush of pink flowers as they walked directly through the vines barely registered to Tim, who was just so happy that it was finally happening. Here and now, in the garden, surrounded by everyone they loved, he was going to marry the love of his life. (And underneath were others that they loved who couldn’t make it.) Why else was it so hard to breathe but for the anticipation?

The altar was neatly set up, dwarfed by the massive fountain at the garden’s center, rising so high into the air that it felt like something from a fairytale. Atop a stone pedestal sat a tall woman, holding in one hand a simple horn to her ear and in the other, a glassless mirror. The water flowed from the horn and from her fingertips around the mirror and from around her waist, gently sloping into the basin below with crystal clarity and pooling around her stone feet. It had been the feature that sold Tim on the place immediately.

The fountain woman had no face. Tim had tried, before, to find the angle that would let him take a peek at the “hand mirror” she held before herself, trying to find a way to see her face and complete the impression of the art piece, but he never could get a clear shot.

For a moment, Tim toyed with the idea of asking Jon, who was fidgeting by his side and making a bit more of a fuss about the whole wedding, to help him see if the fountain’s face was inside the mirror.

Then, he wasn’t thinking much of anything. Sasha was here. It was starting.

Tim held his breath as from the other end of the aisle, Martin gently held aside the curtain of willow vines and gestured the bride forward. Sasha stepped delicately through, raising her ivory skirt just enough to keep from tripping over the fabric before she smoothed it down.

Tim’s heart stopped dead in his chest, and oh, she was radiant. Even with the pearly opaque veil covering her features, she was a vision, standing taller than he had ever seen her in a dress that swooped low on her brown shoulders and trailed out behind her. The sleeves were embroidered with flowers, reminding Tim of the summer clematis Jon had dragged him through, and her curls were pinned up in an elaborate coif dotted with pearls.

Tim only wished that night would come sooner, so the sky could gaze at her and weep for jealousy- no amount of stars or galaxies could compare. Even through the gloves that slipped into Tim’s hands, Sasha’s hands were warm, and he could feel her smile.

Tim loved her so terribly that it just might kill him.

“You’re beautiful,” Tim breathed, ignoring the preacher’s beginning statements.

Sasha huffed out a little laugh, voice so bright it bathed them in sunlight, “You haven’t even seen what’s under the veil,”

“I don’t need to,” Tim said, feeling happy tears prick at his eyes. He just barely avoided biting his lip, trying to suppress them. He at least wanted to start crying after they’d declared their undying love for each other. If he started now, he might not have been able to stop.

“I love you,” Sasha breathed.

Tim’s heart was beating for the love of it. “I love you too- always will,” With trembling fingers, Tim slowly lifted the veil so he could see her face. The fabric moved fluidly with the motion and, fully exposed to the light of day, Tim saw…

The most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

She stood before him, full lips painted a soft petal pink and parted gently. Dark brown freckles dotted her tawny skin in constellations, all seeming to lead to the beauty mark under her left eye. And what big eyes they were, large and brown and gazing at him with such love that Tim felt faint. She was tall and picturesque, as though she’d stepped off the stone pedestal fully formed, a beacon for poets to celebrate and lovers to mourn for.

Tim looked at her face and his heart sang, I know you, I know you, I know you.

Tim whispered, “You’re not Sasha.”

The woman looked at him in confusion, eyebrows furrowing. Those full lips took on a worried twist. “Tim…? That’s,” She smiled a bit, shaking her head, “Come on now- of course I am! Don’t tell me you forgot your beautiful bride already?”

This woman was beautiful. Possibly the most beautiful woman that Tim had ever seen and a dream come true put in a form able to stand in front of him. He looked at her and was overwhelmed with how much he wanted to take her face in his hands and hold it there, close to him. He asked, louder, “Who are you?” and his brain was spinning on its axis, falling out of orbit.

Why isn’t she here?

What did she do to Sasha?

The woman’s smile was fading. “I’m… I’m Sasha. Tim, we- I’m really Sasha. Are you…?” She was reaching her hand out.

“Where is she?” Tim asked, taking a shaking step back. There were murmurs from the crowd of onlookers, but he couldn’t make out their faces like this, not out the corner of his eye. He might have been able to remember their faces if he or Sasha had any family left alive. “Where is she?”

“I’m right here,” Sasha said, eyes widening. She was pretty- so damn pretty that it made Tim’s chest ache like he should know this like this is irrational or a trick or-

This was a trick. It had to be.

Taking another shaky step back, Tim nearly tripped over himself as he looked out toward the crowd of onlookers, calling out, “Sasha! Sasha, this was- it was a funny joke. Come on, I know you- you wouldn’t just,” His throat caught on leave me.

“Tim, please,” The imposter said, reaching a hand out to him, “This really isn’t funny. You know me!”

“No,” Tim said faintly, “No-” He turned back toward the crowd. Jon stood in the audience and watched as Tim started rushing away from the altar, “Sasha! Where are you, Sash? Come on, it’s- you’re here, right?!”

“I am! I’m right in front of you!” Sasha cried desperately, rushing after him and taking him by the shoulders. Her hands were so warm against his shoulders. The real Sasha was always cold. “Tim, please. Look at me.”

(Sometimes in more ways than one- was he really so surprised to have been left at the altar?)

(He wasn’t moving because he was in love. He wasn’t moving because he was in love.)

The woman asked him, “What do you see?”

Tim slowly turned to face her, searching. She looked at him so earnestly, so desperately that it made him want to believe. Could someone lying look so close to genuine tears? Could someone lying have that much power in her voice, the much fear?

Could Sasha have any of those things? The Sasha he knew?

(He knew the answer.)

“I don’t know,” Tim said. The woman recoiled as though it were a physical blow, her hands jerking away.

“But…” The woman whispered, voice high and reedy, “I thought I was unforgettable?”

There was something to that. Something familiar. Something-

The world winked out.

Tim awoke in darkness, tears streaming down his face that he didn’t understand. The face of the woman in the dream who claimed to be Sasha but wasn’t was already retreating into the black, disappearing before the first of the tears cluttering along her lower lashes could fall.

And as Tim looked up at the ceiling, more awake than he’d felt since Prentiss, he wondered what had brought this all on, bewildered and feeling even more bewildered when his chest still ached.

He had fallen out of love with Sasha James months ago.

For a moment, Tim peered up at his ceiling and waited for the remnants of tears to dry. For a moment he considered getting up and starting the day early, or at least finding something to eat. In the end, though, he didn’t want to deal with the thought of having to go to the institute later or dealing with Jon outside the window, watching. Always watching.

Tim rolled back over and closed his eyes. He could stand to stay in bed for a bit longer.

#timsasha #tim stoker #sasha james #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #angst #canon compliant #wedding fluff #:)#unreality tw #sam tag

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piermanwalter · 4 years ago

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I had a dream that my boyfriend took me on vacation to an island on the Marseille coast as an inheritance scheme. His aunts were extremely rich and lived on their own private island, and although he wasn’t very close with them, he felt like if he made amends early, he had a real chance to inherit the island after they died, since they didn’t have kids of their own. I thought this was a scummy thing to do, but I went along anyway for the free vacation.

Although the island was pretty far from shore, they didn’t own a motorboat because they were good friends with the coast guard and could ask them for a lift whenever they needed. That was how we got to the island. As soon as my boyfriend and I stepped off the bus to Marseille, we were surrounded by coast guards and I thought we were getting arrested.

The island was about half a mile long, shaped like a teardrop with a beach circling the fattest end and the pointy end tapering into a cliff. The mansion was built near the pointy end on the tallest spot on the island, looming hundreds of feet over the beach, which had a little pier on it with a couple of row and sail boats. There was technically an herb garden, but the Mediterranean sun caused the plants to grow out of control into a dense wild wall of rosemary, orange trees, myrtle, nasturtiums, lavender, and lots of other smelly things that perfumed the air around the island.

It was awkward being there because I couldn’t speak French, and early on my boyfriend had to translate everything, but later we realised we could all sort of speak Spanish and things were a lot easier.

I found out the reason she was so reticent about leaving money and property to the rest of the family was because they collectively disowned her in the 70s after she refused to break up with her now wife, but she was starting to warm up to my boyfriend and I because we weren’t born then.

My boyfriend’s aunt belonged to a rich family, but after they cut her off, she got even richer off real estate on her own. She had red hair fading to grey and was pretty strong due to her insistence of doing all home repairs and boat maintenance on the island herself. Her wife was bedridden from an autoimmune disease that gave her severe arthritis. She mostly spent her time sorting the herbs my boyfriend’s aunt picked from the garden while watching Antonio Banderas movies, especially The Mambo Kings and Shrek. Every day her wife would wheel her down to the beach until the water came up to her ankles and they would watch the sunset together. Another thing she did was ask me to dress up in her old clothes and I would catwalk back and forth across the room while she commentated. My boyfriend’s aunt said she was jealous because her old clothes didn’t fit me and when she asked my boyfriend to model, he wouldn’t do it. Although her wife was in constant pain from arthritis, she never complained and would sometimes clap when I put together a particularly great outfit even though it hurt her hands. She said she felt great, but relied on painkillers to sleep.

The mansion had a generator, but electricity could only be used to power lights, the single wall phone, TV, fridge, some medical devices, and DVD player. The only way to charge our phones and laptops was to unplug the medical devices, which we agreed was morally unconscionable so we didn’t do it. Nothing important was out of reach of someone in a wheelchair. There was a bed in every room and peppers would be drying on top of the TV and bras would be hanging on the entrance doorway. It was obvious that the mansion was suited to the needs of two specific people, and we had to figure out how to live around this structure without disrupting it.

Only five or six rooms, all on the ground floor, were regularly used, and the rest were a maze of racks of beautiful vintage clothes and stacks of cabinets of the outrageously tacky and opulent knickknacks old ladies like. One time I was digging around in a pile of faded beaded clutch purses because the aunts asked me to get a pair of kitchen scissors left there by accident and I opened one of them. Inside were many long flat rectangular lace-covered objects covered with little mirrors. I first thought they were folding fans, but I squeezed one and a digital display appeared in the mirrors. They were thermometers. I found a ridiculously flashy black alligator belt with a gold buckle that had ambers and onyxes set in it, and my boyfriend’s aunt’s wife said I could keep it because it went so well with my bikini.

We spent most of the time taking the boats out, swimming on the beach, and helping around the house by doing dishes and laundry by hand and attempting to stop the herb garden from consuming the entire mansion. The food was always amazing because of the aforementioned herb garden and also because we could get mussels off the rocks whenever we felt like and if we ever got bored of that, my boyfriend’s aunt would put out a few lobster pots and octopus pots and mullet lines. Since we were always going in and out of the water, it was a hassle to change all the time, and I eventually got used to wearing a black and yellow bikini around the house, which was fine because everyone else was doing the same thing.

We were only supposed to stay for one week, but dangerously high waves and stormy weather stopped all civilian boat activity for longer than expected. This trip started out as an inheritance scheme, but my boyfriend and his aunts started genuinely liking each other.

Although the island was a fantastic place to live, some days thunderstorms confined us all inside and we were running out of food. We weren’t going to starve, but we were running out of regular processed things like wine, chocolate, and ham. More worryingly, my boyfriend’s aunt’s wife was running out of painkillers, but she said taking them during the day made her too tired to tell the difference between Seville and sweet oranges so she started cutting pills in half. She said she would be fine because she had plenty of immune and arthritis medicines.

One time when the weather was slightly better we went swimming far into the ocean and the coast guard came to check on us, yelled at my boyfriend for wearing a rival soccer team’s jersey, and then left to tell his aunts we were ok. I was upset because they just left us there. I could swim back fine on my own, but it’s the thought that counts.

Even the days spend inside weren’t too bad, since there were Antonio Banderas movies, with the added benefit of increasing our Spanish skills, and troves of vintage clothes and accessories to look through.

His aunts said if we got married, we could live in a different luxury house in Europe every year for the rest of our lives and I threw a sock at him and said I’d only marry him if we played a different Mario game every year for the rest of our lives. This is an inside joke because he is extremely into Super Mario 3D World speedrunning and keeps trying to drag me into it.

The weather got worse. Two weeks later, I was walking to the bathroom in the middle of the night when I heard my boyfriend’s aunt’s wife sputtering through the door. The painkillers must have worn off. I went inside to check on her and she grabbed my hand with crushing force, and when I asked if she was ok, she kept trying to apologise, and wouldn’t let go or calm down until she told me about something that happened 50 years ago.

When she and her wife were the same age as my boyfriend and I, they were walking in the water along a beach on the Marseille coast when she saw a black and yellow sea snake and screamed. After they ran out of the water, her then-girlfriend kept running until she reached a beach house, took an oar, ran back into the water, flung the sea snake out of the water with the oar, and beat it to death. Her girlfriend’s family saw it all and it was the breaking point that made them demand her to break up.

She said I frightened her, but she didn’t know that her wife would kill me because of it. She said if I came to kill her in return, she would forgive me. It was obvious she was panicking and delusional, but I went along with it and said I didn’t mind getting killed if it meant being reborn as a human, and I didn’t want to kill her because she was so nice to me. She still felt she had to atone, so she asked me to bite her like I must have wanted. I refused, but she started panicking again, so I bit the back of her hand, not hard enough to leave indentations, and then she calmed down.

After that, I left the room and woke everyone else up. I decided not to tell anyone about the snake story. After her wife got her to take another half pill, we all went to sleep. The next day, she didn’t seem to remember what happened.

Ten days later, she died when the sun went down as her wife wheeled her down into the water. Her family washed her body in the sea and wrapped her in sheets while I waited in the house. She called the coast guard and they said it would take them two days to prepare a boat big enough to safely transport all of us and a dead body off the island in bad weather. We coped by trying to do our daily routines as if she was still here, collecting plants from the garden for her to sort and not charging our phones because that would mean unplugging medical devices and changing out DVDs when the credits started. Antonio Banderas movies playing to a pile of herbs and flowers on a corpse.

My boyfriend’s aunt was mired in grief and started treating me worse and worse. It started with petty things like opening a box of chocolates and saying her wife would have loved the chocolates I had eaten, and talking about the time so many unexpected guests showed up at a house party that her wife got sick after cooking for all of them. This was understandable, but then she found the alligator belt in my clothes. She was initially furious because she thought I was stealing, but when I got up from the bed where I was crying, she whipped me in the face with it and said a snake would always show its true colors. She said she bashed my brains into the sand once before and her regret was not being able to save her wife from me a second time.

My boyfriend was able to shut the situation down and the dinner that night was nerve shredding. My boyfriend’s aunt only spoke French and glared at him whenever he tried to translate. Throughout the meal, she would say something and his face would flash a look of pure terror before he fake laughed to cover it up. He was sweating like mad.

After dinner, he told me his aunt said how nice it was for her wife to see her clothes on someone who looked like her when she was young, and the closest thing she had to that was him. Then she told him about the snake and said she would protect him no matter what. Then out of nowhere he confessed he was trans and I was like, “I’m so glad you trust me enough to say this, and this doesn’t change how I feel about you at all, but your aunt wants to kill me because she thinks I’m a sea snake who killed her wife. This is not important right now.” Then he said it is important because when he came out and started transitioning, the whole family supported him, and she resented him for being accepted while she got disowned. He might be in as much danger as I am.

We came up with a plot to recharge a phone on one of the medical device outlets, call the coast guard to say his aunt was unstable and we felt like we were in danger while leaving out everything about the sea snake, sneak out tomorrow when the coast guard were supposed to arrive, steal a sailboat, let all the other boats loose, and hang around off the island where we might drown before the coast guard rescues us, but we won’t get murdered.

My boyfriend’s aunt checked on him in the morning, so he stayed inside and called the coast guard while I changed into my bikini and went to the beach before making my way to the pier. I left all my clothes and phone and passport, to be less suspicious, but took the alligator belt because fuck her and also in memory of her wife. I waited for my boyfriend to finish calling and leave the house, but he didn’t.

I got worried and went back to the house, but halfway there, his aunt calmly walked out of the front door holding a kitchen knife in one hand and an oar in the other, and said if I ran for the boats, my boyfriend would die in my place to atone for leading me to the island so I could kill her wife, so I ran towards the other side of the island.

If I tried to fight I might kill her but then I’d be a murderer. If I tried to stall until the coast guard arrived I’d definitely get killed. If I tried to swim away, I might look dead from a distance and survive. I took a running jump off the cliff on the tapered end of the island into the ocean and died.

When the coast guard arrived, they found my boyfriend’s aunt on the beach, dead facedown in the shallows, and my boyfriend locked and barricaded on the second floor facing the cliff.

Later autopsy reports showed my boyfriend’s aunt and her wife both died of sea snake venom, likely from snakes who were forced towards the land from bad weather. My body was never recovered.

After an atrocious court case where half the family thought he killed everyone and the other half were elbowing their way in for a piece of the inheritance, it was eventually ruled that my boyfriend was innocent and got everything including the island, which was our initial goal but kind of a hollow victory considering his aunt died, and then he had to watch helplessly as his other aunt also died after forcing his girlfriend to commit suicide, who may or may not have been a vengeful reincarnated sea snake.

I’m not sure what prompted this dream, since this guy isn’t my boyfriend in real life, nor is he trans or has rich French aunts, as far as I know. Also there’s no sea snakes in the Mediterranean.

#weird dreams #personal #drugs #homophobia #transphobia #suicide #sea snake #I had this dream months ago it just took a long time to fully articulate #long post

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threeletterslife · 5 years ago

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02 | Over the Moon

→ previous | next

→ summary: You feel isolated in the vast American country with no one but your older brother and your six rowdy friends to keep you company. But when they disappear without a trace, you're left with nothing. Nothing until you become dragged into the world of the mob. The mafia world promises glory, fame and big bucks. But that comes with backstabbing, pain, regret and vengeance behind the veils. You're not ready for that alone. Are you?

→ genre: 85% angst, 15% fluff | mafia!au

→ warnings: profanity, scarification, mention of black market, drinking

→ wordcount: 8.1k

You wake up feeling sticky, sweaty, uncomfortable and fucking miserable.

You've never had a proper hangover before, but honestly, you can safely and surely say that this was the first and worst hangover you've ever had. Hopefully the last.

It almost becomes hard to remember the short events that had happened after you'd drunken that clear, devilish liquid, but you force yourself to salvage a few bits and parts. Not that it matters anyways. The conversations at the dinner table last night had been shallow, small talk at best. Rather uncomfortable small talk as well.

Something about the six men was not right.

You shake your head, coughing to get rid of your dry, scratchy throat. A glass of water had been left by Jimin's bed, on the nightstand. You thankfully gulp it down, hoping it washes down the rest of whatever's left of that stupid drink out of your system.

Slowly, you rise out of bed, dragging your feet to catch sight of yourself in the mirror. It shocks you—though it really shouldn't have—that you look like a trainwreck. You're wearing what you wore yesterday, but the clothes are wrinkled, wet from your sweat and (you're not gonna lie) kinda stinky. Your hair looks like a bird's nest and your eyebags are dragging your whole face down.

No surprise, but I look like shit.

You also make the acute observation that you feel like shit as well. The headache you have right now is the worst you've had in your whole life, and that's including the headaches you've harbored during finals in university. Not to mention, you're kind of hungry.

Maybe if you walk around the maze-like hallways enough, you'll come across the kitchen. It'll be like a little morning journey. But when you glance at the clock, you realize it's actually much closer to noon than morning. And by the time you find the kitchen, it might even be time for dinner.

So, quickly, you brush your hair, change out of your clothes into the new ones that had magically been placed in the marble closet and exit your room. Only when you step outside and close the door do the memories come crashing down on you.

Jimin's dead. Murdered. Nonexistent. The only member of family you had left in America, obliterated. This is a mafia house. And you're only here to make a decision, which you still haven't even come to a close to.

All of these six men (your ex-friends) could be murderers—dangerous, brooding people who you want nothing to do with. But you have no choice to be by their side or you'll be killed too. Even worse. Those people had been your closest friends. And now you can barely recognize them. It's like their human soul had melted away, replaced by some robotic heart instead. You can't quite trust them, but they're the only ones you have to trust.

You're in a mess. You can't deny that.

Helplessly, you slide down to the ground, crouching to hug yourself.Fuck. You're twenty-three and should be able to take care of yourself, but right now, you feel like you can't do anything. You're the stupid mouse stuck in an elaborate trap. It's an epiphany for too early.

You find yourself sobbing quietly, cradling your head in your arms as you empty out your chaotic feelings in tears. It must've been minutes, and you've quieted down—hiccupping and sniffling occasionally but at least with steady breaths.

It's okay.You tell yourself.You'll be okay. They're not bad people, your ex-friends. They would definitely keep you safe no matter what, especially if Jimin stressed it so much in his will. Jimin's dead and I can't change that. I'll hurt myself more if I don't accept it. I need to do what's right for me now.

You take a final deep breath before you struggle to stand up. But just as you're about to walk away like you didn't have a mental breakdown right then and there, you hear... crying?And that's definitely not you.

The sound's coming from another door right across yours. Curious and still hazy from the hangover, you tiptoe over. Pressing your ear against the door, you frown. That was clearly some heavy, depressing sobbing. The same sobbing you'd heard a lot of times growing up.

You knock on the door.

Instantly, the crying stops. Jungkook swings the door open with such force, you almost fall into the room. Looking up at him, you see that he looks perfectly fine, and if he had been crying, you could barely tell. He looks down at you with such a stoic face, you almost feel a bit intimidated.

"Hey, you okay?" you ask, trying not to sound so broken despite your internal struggles.

Your heart drops when he frowns. "Why wouldn't I be?" He searches your face, watches as you blink your slightly wet eyes, notices your sniffling nose. "Are you okay?"

"Well... I mean, not really..." You brush it off. "But uh, I heard you cry, Jungkook."

If he wasn't slightly agitated before, he was now; actually, he seemed more pissed off as if you were the thick-headed one. "That wasn't me," he grunts.

"But—"

Then you get the door slammed in your face.

You huff, whirling around too quickly before steadying yourself. "Fucking migraine," you mumble, taking more deep breaths.

'That wasn't me' my ass, you think. Only Jungkook cries like that. He'd cried like that when he didn't make the varsity tennis team in high school. When his stray cat had been run over by an evil vehicle. When he got the news that his mother passed away in Korea. And he'd always let you comfort him when he was feeling down. Now apparently he thinks he's too good for your affirmations.

You huff again.Whatever. To forget about that rude encounter, you decide to go on an exciting journey to the kitchen. Minding your dizziness, you saunter off, taking random turns around the halls. It takes a while, but you finally find yourself in the kitchen.

Once again, the interior designs take your breath away. So does the smell.Someone must've been cooking.

When you stop admiring the surroundings, you notice that Seokjin's sitting at the kitchen island. In front of him are steaming plates of what looks like the best hangover breakfast-er, lunch anyone can ask for—Korean style.

"Sleep well?" He breaks the silence. "Oh, and uh," he points to the dishes of food, "I wasn't sure if you still preferred Korean cuisine over American... But I went with your roots."

You nod slowly. "Thank you. I slept as well as anyone does when they drank too much alcohol... or found out their brother was dead," you say, shrugging. "You're not eating?"

"I already ate. We all did. We didn't want to wake you up. Sorry about the Everclear," Seokjin apologizes genuinely. "Usually it takes thirty minutes for it to knock us out, so we thought we'd have more time to get you in bed. The hangover must be horrible."

"It's okay," you say though you still feel weary. "Everything else feels worse. I think the hangover just enhances it."

With that, you begin to eat. The food is actually incredibly delicious, making you miss your mom's cooking back in Korea. You give your compliments to Seokjin, who gladly takes them with open arms. You eat in silence, nodding or shaking your head as Seokjin asks respectful questions. After the friendly one-sided talk, you express your gratitude for the lunch to Jin (he had been waiting for you in the kitchen, after all) and you begin to walk to your room (which you had asked Jin for directions).

You're feeling much better than you were when you woke up, but yesterday's events still loom over your head.

You nearly collapse on the plush bed when you enter your room. But when your head hits the pillow, it also hits something hard. "Ow," you mutter, frowning. Was this there before?You guess you hadn't noticed it when you were passed out drunk. But now...?

Reaching under the pillow, your hand touches a leather binding. You pull the object out to inspect it, only to see a journal of some sort. The black leather is soft and weathered, and the journal pages look very much used. If this journal was a private diary, it didn't seem like it because it wielded no lock.

You look around your empty room in suspicion. Just in case someone were to pop out of nowhere and see you clutching this mysterious journal.

The very first page is one of those parts in any diary that states who the diary belongs to. And your heart nearly sinks to your stomach when you see the neat handwriting scrawled across the page.

This notebook belongs to Park Jimin, it says. Your eyes tear up just thinking about his name, and your fingers caress the thin pages of paper. It's the notebook that your brother had used to write down his thoughts, his memories...

God. I can't continue on.

You slam the diary, journal or notebook—whatever it really is—shut, hugging it to your chest as you sink back into the bed. You really can't do that to yourself now. There's too much to think about already.

You'll read it when the time comes. When you feel ready—emotionally stable enough—to read the thoughts of your dead brother. For now, you'll have to wait. Wait until you feel less miserable, less confused, more put together. But you don't think you can ever be truly happy again without your brother.

It hurts even more that you had never gotten a chance to say a proper goodbye. And maybe that leather-bound notebook will give you answers? You don't know.

You feel tired already, though it's nowhere near nighttime. So you cry yourself to sleep, keeping the journal in your arms. Just keeping it by your side makes you feel like he's with you, and that you're not completely alone, after all.

Spending one whole week in a mafia home doesn't reveal anything, you've found. Jimin's six friends live a quite pretentious life, but it's nothing that's completely abnormal. There is no gun violence, no drug trading, no black market... well, that you know of. And you've been keeping an eagle eye on all of their whereabouts. So either you were stupidly oblivious or they were just good at hiding things.

For seven days you lived routinely. You can't afford to take another surprise after the surprise that was your brother's murder. In fact, the pain's reduced to an uncomfortable, numb feeling at the pit of your stomach that never goes away. Still, you're not weak. You plow through the minor pain, the emotional turmoil because that's what Jimin would've done.

You pretend you're okay in front of the others. It's probably the worst thing to do to show your vulnerability to gang members, anyway. And speaking of the gang members... it's strange. In one way, they seem so different from the people you were best friends with in your childhood. But in another... they're also completely the same.

Seokjin had always been a rather quiet leader—whether he liked it or not, people were inclined to follow him. Back then, he would always be team captain in junior high sports games or the orchestrater in any group project. But now... you had a huge suspect he was the so-called 'boss' of this gang. He was always a warm figure in your past. Comforting, caring, compassionate. He seems to be all these things now too. Yet somehow... he's also so cold. He smiles and it stretches his lips, makes his eyes sparkle, but something in you tells you it's not as genuine as you would like it to be.

Then there's Namjoon. He's actually the first friend Jimin made in America, thus the first friend you made in America as well. He was always so dedicated to research, born with this innate intelligence that made him literally unmatched in junior high and high school academics. No one could beat him in the math club or debate club... or Science Olympiad. He was the logic of the group as you remember, a role that matured on him quickly. One time you walked in on him in eighth grade playing chess by himself—to beat himself. But aside from his naturally pedantic self, Joon was more compassionate than he let on.Joon. The nickname Jimin had used to call him. It's a name that doesn't fit him now. Not when his presence in any room brings chills to your skin. Or maybe you're imagining it?

Yoongi doesn't seem like he's changed much, but only because you never really got to know him. The only memories you have of him are Yoongi sitting quietly in the corner, watching the seven of you bicker. It amused him to be observing hilarious banter—banter that he never took part in. He was naturally a bit shy and indifferent, but you know he really cares when he worries about you. He'd be the first to hand anyone a box of chocolates or a store-bought lollipop if they felt down. Yoongi had been the first to approach Jungkook after he had gotten news that his mother had died. Now? You can't tell if he's changed much. Other than the fact that his stoic face looks more tired than you remembered it years ago.

Hoseok is a different story. It's like he's changed the most out of everyone. You always knew he had firm opinions, but he never bothered to voice them as a kid. Unable to understand the language of sarcasm, he had always been teased by you and the other boys in the early years. Now, it seems like if anyone teased him of anything he'd snap and yell. And boy, he looks fucking scary when he's angry or even serious. These days, it looks as if he has absolutely no trouble at all voicing his thoughts. And sometimes, his sharp tongue gets him in trouble during 'family time' meals.

Taehyung was always kind of loud, sassy and outgoing, and he still is. Except you think he now has some infatuation with females. It's easy for him to start talking about all the hot ones he saw while working his shift in the restaurant. Though the talk makes you feel slightly uncomfortable, it's still a nice break from the other men who are so damn serious. It's weird that sometimes, you find yourself searching for Taehyung's company these days. You, of all people, searching for someone else? Unheard of. Until now.

Ah, Jungkook. He's the boy you remember as the most empathetic person you've ever met. When you were thirteen and fell off your bike after Taehyung told you he'd do your math homework if you rode your bicycle with your eyes closed, Jungkook cried with you. Like hell, you'd taken quite a fall, and that bloody cut was fucking painful—you still remember. And it was like Jungkook felt your pain. He feels everyone's pain. It's only sad because you think he's trying to repress his empathy these days. You recall when he had slammed the door in your face because you had rightfully accused him of crying over Jimin's death. He used to wear his heart on his sleeve, but now he's trying to be stoic. And maybe for a good reason.

You just wonder what Jimin's like. If he had changed as drastically as Hoseok or as little as Yoongi. Maybe like everyone else he got a little bit colder? More merciless? The thought chills you, though you're ready to know.

Making yourself comfortable in your bed, you pull out Jimin's black notebook. It feels heavy in your hands. You take a deep breath, then open it to the second page, where the first entry is.

Immediately, you recognize the handwriting, and you find yourself fighting the urge to tear up again. The date of this entry is the year he had dropped out of college and disappeared. You steady your breaths, and finally, begin to read the neat writing.

I can’t believe I’m in the mafia. I mean, I’ve thought about it for years, wondered what it would be like... if I’d even feel a difference. But I don’t. I feel the same. But this blood that courses through my veins... It doesn’t belong to me anymore. It belongs to us all. The Crescents. Beautiful name, isn’t it? Joon and I came up with it years ago and decided it was finally time to put it to use. It’s my dream come true, actually. Being in the mafia with the people I would die for. I’m ready for anything with these six people by my side.

You stop. There's a certain eagerness in Jimin's voice that hurts when you come across it. Warmth blossoms in your heart when you see how much love and trust he puts in his friends. It's Jimin's voice, alright. The passion, determination, love is all there.

The entry is rather long, but you just can't bring yourself to read the rest. Not when it brings back so many memories... No, I'll go reverse chronological order. Maybe in the later entries, Jimin will sound less recognizable; it won't make you as sad to read it. You'll come back to this first entry later. But definitely not now.

You breathe out a breath you hadn't even known you'd held. And the emotion you feel next is something you didn't expect.Anger.

What kind of fucktard in their right mind would kill someone like him? Someone innocent, kind, passionate, diligent? Someone who had such big dreams coupled with a heart bigger than anyone else's?? Jimin's eyes were always shining with curiosity or determination. What would it feel like to be the person who rid him of that sparkle?

Your blood boils just thinking about it. Twenty-four is too young to fucking die. Your head hurts as you close the diary shut.

Now it's in your best interest to stay... to join.You want revenge on the bitch that killed your brother, and you can't do that all by yourself. Seokjin was offering you help for vengeance. And a week later, you realize that you need just that.

You feel so much better finally making the executive decision. It's like the massive weight on your shoulders had been lifted, magically.

When dinner time comes, you parade into the dining room, feeling confident (which was probably fueled by your anger). "I want to join you."

Taehyung gives you a funny look. "Sure? The wine's here if you want a drink."

You shake your head, frustrated. "No, I want to join... I want to be a part of your gang."

Everyone except Seokjin raises an eyebrow.

"And that's... not an impulse decision?" Namjoon asks, sipping his wine.

"It's... Yeah, it's not an impulse decision."

Seokjin nods, thoughtfully. "Great, Y/N." Everyone watches as he carefully thinks of his next words. "You may sit and eat, now."

What?

You'd spent a week deciding, and that was his reaction? You still don't know anything about this gang (which is a huge risk on your part), and you decided to join. And that's how he's going to react?

You watch everyone else's faces, but they're as unreadable as ever. Frustration ensues as the rest of dinner goes on as if the declaration of your decision had not happened. Feeling a little neglected and pissed off, you poke at your sushi the whole time.

Only when Jungkook and Taehyung start taking the dishes away does Seokjin mysteriously show up by your side. "Follow me, Y/N."

"Just me?" you whisper, though you don't know why.

Jin nods, helping you stand up as he swiftly guides you away from the dining hall. He leads you, hand on your back, to the enormous patio in the backyard. It's not chilly out, thanks to the California weather, but you shiver at the weight of Jin's gaze on you.

It's silent for a while as both of you collect your thoughts. Then Seokjin speaks. "I just wanted to make sure you know the commitments of being involved in us."

"Well, I wouldn't know because it was never specified," you say a bit crossly. "I'm blindly joining, you know? For the sake of Jimin. I'm getting my revenge."

"Ah, my apologies," Jin says. "You'll be informed of your exact commitments later, but what comes first is your oath. We're a family around here as you know..."

You let out an embarrassing gasp when he tugs his t-shirt down so suddenly. Jin chuckles at your reaction before guiding your eyes to the mark... burned on his collarbone.

"Well, that's not a normal tattoo."

Jin laughs quietly. "It's our gang symbol. A crescent-shaped scar that ties us all together. We're called the Crescents."

But you knew that already.

"Oh," you breathe. The scar looks delicate, not larger than a thumb for that matter. But it holds heavy meaning and you tremble slightly as you stare at it in awe. "Does... Does everyone have that?"

"In different places, of course," Jin nods before straightening his shirt, hiding his mark from view.

Your voice shakes as you ask, "Where's Jimin's?"

"I knew you'd ask that," Jin smiles. "It was on the back of his neck. And before you ask why, it was so we would always be watching his back for him... Granted, we... w-we failed." You hear a slight tremble in Jin's voice. "The biggest regret of my life."

You suck in a breath, contemplating whether you should pat his shoulder to comfort him or not. The usually stoic and guarded Seokjin was showing emotion, a rather rare sight. But it's gone as fast as it came.

"Anyways," Jin says, clearing his throat. "We'll have your ceremony soon. Don't worry," he smiles, one foot already inside the house, "the scarification doesn't hurt that much." With that, he walks away, leaving you outside in the night, alone, curious and mystified.

Am I making a mistake?

When Seokjin had told you with his soft-spoken voice that the ceremony would be 'soon,' you'd expected it to be in a few days, or even in a week, tops. You did not expect it to be the very next day.

In fact, you were totally taken by surprise when Jungkook had woken you up quite nicely and told you to get ready for the ceremony. He'd left the room while you changed and freshened up, but you took so long getting ready, he almost opened up the door to check on you. But what can you say? You were stalling for a reason.

Partly, you were afraid of the physical pain. You had tried to ask Jungkook how much scarification actually hurt, but he'd told you not to worry about it.Bullshit answer. But another, deeper part of you feared what the scarification would symbolize... This was it, right? You were going to leave your past life and enter the mafia world. The world that killed your brother.

And you weren't going to leave until you got your revenge.

"Y/N?" Jungkook calls, shaking you from your thoughts. "Can I come in?"

"Yeah," you call back, running a hand through your hair. You're terrified, but you won't be able to show it.

Jungkook peeks his head into your room, giving you a reassuring smile. "Ready?"

You nod. "Mhm."

"There's nothing to be afraid of, really," he tells you as he opens your door a bit wider. From behind him, you can see Taehyung grinning right at you.

"If this big baby can do it," Taehyung snorts, pointing at Jungkook, "then so can you."

Jungkook gives Taehyung a disdainful look, which sends Taehyung into a fit of laughter. You appreciate that they're trying to alleviate the obvious tension on your shoulders, but unfortunately, you're not sure if you'll ever feel relaxed again.

"C'mon, Y/N. They're waiting for us," Tae announces, bowing dramatically before jutting out his hand for you to take. You hesitate for the slightest second before you take it.

From there, Jungkook and Taehyung guide you around the winding halls of the mansion. By now, you would've thought you'd get used to the size to some degree, but the home is apparently way larger than you thought. Past at least twenty doors and fourteen thousand medieval portraits later, you were standing in a large basement.

The room glowed a warm, amber color, but you didn't feel warm at all. When you catch sight of the wall with all sorts of sharp metal welding sticks, you take a terrified step back, accidentally bumping into Jungkook. He places a reassuring hand on your back, but it does little to calm your nerves.

"Relax, Y/N," Seokjin says. Your head snaps up to look at the man who had spoken, and your face is stoic but your eyes hold terror. It's then when you realize everyone else is in the room.

Of course. It's a ceremony. Can't have a goddamn ceremony without other people.

"Here, Y/N. You can sit here," Jin says as he gestures to a comfy-looking seat that was placed in the middle of the room. "It'll hurt less than getting an actual tattoo."

"But I've never gotten an actual tattoo before..." you mumble as you cautiously take your seat. Even though the cushion is plush, you still sit rigidly.

"Don't worry. It'll be fine. High pain tolerance?" Yoongi asks.

"Uh... I dunno," you answer truthfully. "Not really."

"You'll be fine," Hoseok sighs. "It's only strike branding, so the heat will be gone as soon as it came. It'll take anywhere from half a year to a year for it to heal completely, though. Anyway, the feeling's enough to make you regret it, but it'll be over in a few seconds."

His words do not calm you. As per usual.

"Yoongi will be orchestrating the scarification," Seokjin says. "Nimble fingers. He'll try to make it quick, right?"

"Yeah, right," Yoongi mutters. "Where do you want it?"

"What about under your boob? That's trendy these days." Taehyung snickers, nudging Jungkook who breaks a small smile.

You frown, just about to give him a piece of your mind when—

"Get out," Namjoon growls.

"Can't. Ceremonies are a family deal. Can't just kick out family, can you?" Taehyung snickers. "Besides, Y/N didn't mind. It was just an innocent joke."

"I'm not going to repeat myself," Namjoon warns. And the way he grits his teeth has you almost shaking in fear. But Taehyung doesn't seem to take the hint.

"Maybe you should go..." Jungkook whispers.

"Bullshit," Taehyung snorts. "Jin?"

Jin sighs as he looks warily at the trouble-causing man. "You can stay, but not another word."

Namjoon huffs and he rolls his eyes as Taehyung grins gleefully, making a motion of locking his lips and throwing away the key.

You watch the whole ordeal spread out before you, opened-mouthed. What the fuck just happened??

"Well?" Yoongi softly asks you as a reminder to answer.

"Uh, sorry," you hesitate. "I want it on the back of my neck."

Like Jimin's.

"Like Jimin's," Yoongi repeats your thoughts.

He watches as you shiver slightly in fear and for the slightest second, he feels pity. "If it helps you, you're welcome to close your eyes," Yoongi says. Still shaking, you nod, doing so. "Just... don't move."

"Okay," you squeak out.

You can feel Yoongi sweep your hair to the side, his warm, delicate fingers tracing the area on the back of your neck. You can feel goosebumps rise, and you pray that Yoongi doesn't see them.

"Take slow, deep breaths," Yoongi mutters.

Breathe, you tell yourself. If Jimin did it, I can.

The soft clinks of metal make your mind go foggy, and you can't seem to concentrate on anything except the imminent pain. You're shaking and you can feel your hands accumulating sweat.

"Relax..." Yoongi says. He waits for you to calm down for a few seconds before asking: "Ready?"

You grit your teeth, sit a bit taller, shut your eyes tighter and nod.

"Alright."

You gasp loudly and jump slightly when the searing heat touches the back of your neck. Immediately your face twists in pain, and you can't seem to catch your breath. You're seconds away from screaming that you want it to end when the scalding heat is gone. So you're left gasping, tears brimming your shut eyes as you feel Yoongi softly taking your hair and tying it up so it doesn't touch your burning skin.

"Don't drink too much alcohol or caffeine while that's healing," he instructs formally. But when he notices you're not answering, he asks, "Hey, are you okay?"

You exhale loudly, clenching your fists as your eyes flutter open. Your sight is a bit blurry through your tears, but you're pretty all right. Well, the back of your neck is killing you, though.

"I'm fine," you manage to mutter. "I'll live."

"Here," Yoongi says, handing you a tissue for your tears. "Congratulations, by the way."

Fuck. It's then when it really dawns on you.

"I'm a Crescent." You wipe the last of your tears away to see Seokjin smiling proudly at you.

"Welcome to the family, Y/N," Jin says. "How does it feel so far?"

You pause. Then, you frown. Compared to what Jimin had written what being a Crescent would feel like, you felt nothing special. You don't feel any different either, except for the stupid pain on the back of your neck. The world spins and you're left feeling dizzy.

What have I done?

"I..." you trail off. "Sorry, I think I need some time alone." With that, you dash away from the amber-lit basement and miraculously, find your room in a matter of minutes.

In the comforting depths of your room, you crawl into your bed and desperately pull out Jimin's journal. You need all the reassurance you can get. That this wasn't a mistake. That it was the right choice.

It had been cowardly of you to flee your new 'family' like that... but you couldn't bear to sit there with all the attention on you when you weren't even sure you'd made the right decision.

With shaking, careful hands, you flip to the last entry of Jimin's journal. Maybe this will offer a sort of relief? A break from the disaster that could be unfolding before your eyes. But as your eyes start to take in the words that Jimin had written in his journal, your faith in your decision fades. You are not relieved. You are horrified.

Cold day today. California shouldn’t be this fucking cold. It’s harder to get the job done when my mind’s only focused on how freezing my toes are. Too many things to do, such little time.Don’t remember the last time I got rest. Tae wants the three of us hitmen to go get a drink at the bar. I’m not feeling too particularly down for it. Knowing JK though, he’d do whatever Tae suggests. Guess I’ll go then. Have to get ourselves mentally ready for tomorrow, anyway. Can’t afford to get wasted. Maybe I’ll switch Tae and JK’s drinks out with water and tell them it’s Everclear. Won’t be the first time I’ve done it. I have a feeling it won’t be the last.

You stare at the short journal entry in shock.

What... What was this?

The emotion, the passion, the light, the love is nowhere in the writing. Your brother had sounded tired and it was depicted in his rather messy scrawl. Usually, his handwriting was so neat.

Now you're having second thoughts. How much did Park Jimin change? How could the man who had written this entry be the same boyish brother you'd known for nearly all your life?

He sounds so cold and distant that you feel cold and distant as well. What had the mafia done to him?

Oh god. What have I gotten myself into? Can I back out? Is it too late?

The only reassurance you had is shattered.

The knock on the door also shatters your thoughts.

You quickly drop Jimin's journal, stashing it away under your pillow as you look at your closed door with alertness. There's another knock when you don't answer the first time.

"Hey, Y/N? You there?" Taehyung calls. "I'm sorry about that joke earlier... if that's what made you uncomfortable enough to run away."

Shit.

That's Taehyung. And there's no doubt that Jungkook's with him too.

You feel like you'd just been caught gossiping about both of them behind their backs. Well, it wasn't completely false. It'd just been revealed to you that those two are hitmen... And your brother hadn't been particularly fond of their antics. Besides, it sounded a lot like Jimin had to pick up after Jungkook and Taehyung's messes.

But you bite your lip and force yourself to respond. "I'm here," you call out dejectedly. "And you're fine... I wasn't that offended."

"Well, Y/N, we, uh... we're here to escort you to a meeting," Jungkook says. "You know, since you're..." he trails off.

"Right," you mumble. "Just... wait a minute. Please."

Hurriedly, you try to redo your hair in a messy bun and straighten out your clothes. Hopefully, it doesn't look like you've just had a midlife crisis. You take a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm down your spiked heart rate. Then, you come out of your room looking pretty put-together.

"You good?" Jungkook whispers. "Your face is a bit red." He reaches over to place the back of his hand to your forehead, but you flinch away.

"No, I'm fine," you quickly say. "I don't have a fever."

Jungkook nods quietly and steps back to give you some space.

If Jungkook was offended by the way you flinched away from him, he didn't show it. If Taehyung was mad that you left suddenly after your ceremony, he made no mention of it. The usually chatty Taehyung was actually pretty quiet the whole walk to this meeting place. And it was a good thing too. The silence lets you drown in your thoughts.

Who can you trust now?

As you, Jungkook and Taehyung approach a room with large, mahogany doors, you can hear broken arguments being yelled at inside. The yelling makes you frown and you perk your ears to listen closely. You're able to make out words but not the speakers.

"We haven't had a new member in six years. She can't possibly adjust to this new life! She's not like us! She had no desire for this and you know that!"

"She's with us now. We just had the ceremony for fuck's sake!"

"SHE FLED FROM HER OWN CEREMONY!"

"THE MARK IS STILL EMBEDDED IN HER SKIN!"

The last statement sends a twinge of pain to the burn on your neck and you almost step back at the force of the words. It sounds like some people don't want you here.

You look to Jungkook and Taehyung to see their reactions, but they're as stoic as ever. Instead, Taehyung knocks loudly on the doors and the bickering voices dwindle to a pause.

The doors slowly open and behind them, you're able to make out the four others. Yoongi looks pissed off, Hoseok's red in the face and Namjoon looks very annoyed. Seokjin is the only one who seems to have kept his composure in the argument.

"Welcome, Y/N," Jin speaks. If they suspected you heard their arguments, they didn't make a show of it. "As you may know... well," he trails off, smiling fondly at you. "We'll continue this discussion somewhere more private."

You frown in utter confusion until Namjoon presses a hidden button somewhere on the wall and enters a code on a number pad that appeared out of nowhere. A whole new door opens up before you.

A secret room?

"Come," Jin says as he smoothly walks into the new room. You follow hesitantly with Jungkook and Taehyung by your side.

The other room is completely white minus the large table and chairs in the center. As soon as everyone steps in, Jungkook shuts the door, which disappears into the wall. Now, it looks like there's no escape from the blinding whiteness of the room. You feel like you're reduced to dirt in this vast oblivion, and Jin must've sensed your uncomfortableness.

"Here, Y/N. You can sit here," Jin gestures to one of the chairs beside the power seat. "No worries. This is just a soundproof room we use to discuss our matters." He smiles at you again. "I think it's time we finally tell you more about us."

"I think it's about time too," you mumble as you slide into your seat.

You had never been one to make such impulsive decisions... And even though you'd been pondering whether to join the Crescents for a week, you still feel as if your decision had been on a complete whim. That impulse had definitely been fueled by your desire for vengeance. Without knowing anything about this gang except the members involved and the name of it, you've joined. And now their mark is burning in the back of your neck.

"Well, what would you like to know?" Seokjin asks. He motions for everyone else to take their seats and they do, obediently. "We have all the answers."

You raise your eyebrows. "What... well... What are the Crescents?"

"That's ambiguous, don't you think?" Hoseok snorts. "We're a lot of things."

"We're a small gang, as you can see," Jin says, ignoring Hoseok's snarky comment. "We try to stray from street violence as an unspoken rule. And well, we make our immense profits through the black market."

Your face scrunches.The black market, huh?

"We don't engage in prostitution or drug dealing, if that's what you're thinking," Namjoon says. "Though I can only speak for myself." He glares at Taehyung who rolls his eyes so hard they disappear up his head for a few seconds.

"Yoongi and I are in charge of the sales," Hoseok sighs, shrugging. "Not the best job. But not the worst."

"The sale of what?" you ask. But you don't know if you want an answer.

"Sale of weapons, of course," Taehyung grins. "We have good connections everywhere."

Ah. Things are starting to click. Of course, arms dealing would make a lot of money—especially in the mafia.

"But sometimes, JK and I get to test these weapons out..." Taehyung smiles. "Only if Boss permits it."

Boss?

Your head whirls with all sorts of new information that had been kept from you until now.

"You're... You're the boss." You look at Seokjin dead in the eye, cocking your head.

"Was I that obvious?" he chuckles. "And since you've figured me out, I'll indulge you in the rest. You see, Namjoon's the underboss. Yoongi and Hoseok are right under him as our dealers... And Jungkook and Taehyung are our hitmen."

Right... Of course. Now it was all too obvious. But...

"What am I gonna do?" you ask.

"Nothing," Namjoon quickly says. "You won't have to do anything."

"She's a Crescent now," Hoseok snaps. "She's responsible for something."

Before Namjoon retorts back, Jin cuts in. "You'll be working alongside Yoongi and Hoseok, Y/N. We were hoping that your master's degree in economics will help us out." He notices your hesitation again. "Don't worry. It's not a dangerous job at all. Yoongi and Hoseok will teach you the ins and outs of it, soon."

You nervously look over at Yoongi and Hoseok who are apparently your new 'co-workers.' Yoongi's stoic as usual and Hoseok looks like he couldn't care less. Some welcoming new co-workers you have.

But it doesn't matter. You're here for one thing and one thing only.

"What are we going to do to avenge Jimin's death?" you say, crossing your arms. "I want to take part in that."

"Of course," Jin nods. "Soon. It'll be very soon."

The last time Jin had claimed something would be soon, it had been the very next day. You feel just a little bit calmer when you realize you might be getting your revenge sooner than you thought.

"Good..." you mumble. "Is there anything else I need to know?"

Hoseok laughs. "Oh, Y/N, we haven't even begun."

4 a.m.

You've been staring at the same damn ceiling for nearly two hours now, but you can't get yourself to fall back asleep or even get out of bed.

You try not to think too much about what you've gotten yourself into, but it's hard not to when you're all alone in the dark with nothing but your thoughts. You can't take the stupid silence anymore.

Suddenly flinging the bed covers off, you get out of bed to reach under your mattress where Jimin's diary was. It's an instinctive, impulsive move that shocks you. The last time you'd read that diary, your hopes had shattered—your brother had felt foreign to you. But somewhere inside of you believed that if you continue reading, you'd be able to see the older brother you'd thought you'd known all your life. The more, the faster you read, the quicker you'll get to see the old Jimin. The one who wasn't tainted by the mafia. The one who didn't sound so cold. The one who you loved dearly.

So you immerse yourself into the words. The entries that Jimin had left (probably unknowingly) for you to read.

But time passes too slowly.

Maybe you're tired, or the writing is bland. You don't know. Whatever you're reading sounds too far off from your brother for you to fully believe in it. The events he describes seem to drag on endlessly without a peak in the story. Maybe you should just call it a day...?

But you don't feel tired. And your room isn't interesting to stare at after two hours of already doing so. You know what? I need to get out of this room.

You carefully tuck the diary back under your mattress and creep out of the room to find the hallways completely dark. There's something solemn about it, something you can't quite put a finger on. The place is so grand but there's an undeniable heaviness drenching the walls; or maybe that's just you, mourning over your brother. But being out of the confines of your room is better so you begin your little nighttime journey.

Honestly, you don't know where you're going. You're just letting your feet carry you as you try to keep your mind as blank as possible. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Left. Right. Left. You stare at your feet as you mindlessly wander around the hallway.

It's actually quite a peaceful time, and you find yourself getting more tired by the minute as if the walking was lulling you to sleep. After taking a few more steps, you decide to just go back to your room and call it a night. Maybe you'll wake up the next day feeling a bit better?

Just as you're about to find your way back to your room, you hear voices. Loud, kind of pissed off, whispers. They are too muffled for you to make out what they are saying so you begin to tiptoe towards them.

When you come close enough to hear, you can also make out the presence of Yoongi and Namjoon. But you have to squint to see their facial expressions. Yoongi is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed as Namjoon is frantically gesturing and pushing his hair back in frustration.

"She reminds me of him too much," Namjoon says, massaging his forehead.

"I know," Yoongi mumbles, sighing as he relaxes against the wall.

"Whenever I see her, I can't help but think of him and it's absolutely horrible. It's like the ghost of Park Jimin is walking down these halls... but it's just Y/N. Doesn't it hurt to look at her and see Jimin's face?"

"Of course it does," Yoongi sighs. "We can't do anything about it, though. Boss wants her here and so does everyone else."

"But you know what everyone else's intentions are," Namjoon scoffs. "Call him Seokjin, for god's sake, Yoongi. He's not even around."

"Fine. Seokjin wants her here."

"Yet she shouldn't even be here," Namjoon sighs.

"I know..."

"But you work with her now," Namjoon says. "You should do something. Get her to leave."

Yoongi sighs a second time. "As much as I'd want to, you know we can't."

"You're right..."

"I know that too," Yoongi sighs.

You frown as you watch the conversation unfold before you, wondering what on earth the intentions the others had. And it hurt to hear that you reminded Namjoon too much of your dead brother... After all, he was the man that your brother had cherished the most. But it wasn't your fault that you reminded them of Jimin. In fact, you were mourning just like they were.

So other than Namjoon and Yoongi, what was keeping the other men from agreeing to your stay? What were their intentions?

You're lightly surprised at yourself that you're not that infuriated by Namjoon nor Yoongi's words; but you realize that you're more saddened by the thought that your presence is actually hurting others, instead. Just when I thought I could have a relaxing night's sleep.

But maybe if you go to bed right now, you won't remember this ever happened? You're kidding yourself, but it had just been an excuse to get out of the dark halls at the ass crack of dawn. Of course, right when you turn to move, the floor creaks.

"Y/N?" Namjoon calls.

Shoot.

You freeze.

"We can see you," he says.

I guess there's no use hiding now. No use denying anything, either.

You hesitate for the slightest second before walking closer to the two men. "I heard you two," you confess, awkwardly putting your hands behind your back.

"We realize that now," Yoongi mutters under his breath.

"Listen," Namjoon sighs, scratching his head, awkwardly. "It's nothing against you, alright? Please, don't be mad, Y/N. I wanted you to leave because this is a dangerous business. You have to understand that we're asking you to risk your life every day."

"We're only saying this might not be the... correct lifestyle for you," Yoongi says. "It's been a lot to take in in such little time."

"Are you sure it's not because I remind you too much of Jimin?"

Namjoon visibly flinches, but Yoongi doesn't blink an eye. "We want you to be safe for Jimin's sake," the shorter man says as he readjusts his position leaning against the wall. "I just don't think he would've wanted you here."

"Wrong words," Namjoon groans, burying his face in his hands.

"Yeah..." you raise your eyebrows. "What do you mean? Jimin wrote in his will that he wanted me here. And I'm here to keep myself safe—that's what Jimin would've wanted."

Yoongi sighs. "Nevermind."

"You can't just drop a bomb on me and tell me it's nothing," you say. "You don't want me here for a reason and that reason is that I remind you of Jimin too much. You said the others have other intentions, which is why they agreed to keep me here. I want to know."

"I think you're overstepping your boundaries," Namjoon grunts. He suddenly towers over you, straightening his chest and back as he stares intimidatingly into your eyes. If he's using his position as the apparent underboss to scare you away, you're not going to back down. Instead, you take a step forward towards him.

"Boundaries?" you scoff. "What makes you think you can draw boundaries for me? I'm the one in charge of that."

"Both of you, calm down," Yoongi says. "Y/N, the rest of us wanted you here to honor Jimin's last wishes, all right? There's no need for a verbal fight. It's too early in the morning. You should go to bed."

Why does it feel like he's making up bullshit to get me to leave?

"I'll escort you back if you want," Namjoon offers, scratching the back of his head.

You shake your head, sighing. "I think I'll be fine, Namjoon. Besides, you don't want to be walking down a dark corridor at night with someone that looks like Jimin's ghost, do you?"

You don't let either of them speak another word as you whirl around and walk away.

—previous | next

—masterpost

—masterlist

#bts #bts fanfiction #ot7 #seokjin #yoongi #hoseok #namjoon #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #mafia au #over the moon #otm

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