#may i just say HIS CLAWS??? ARE SO SCARY AND LONG AND GORGEOUS???? I LOVE THEM!!!

[marinerainbow]

YAAAASSSSSS WE ARE MAKING THIS HAPPEN FOLKS ✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️✨️

New challenge. Draw Reala wearing this dress

[somethingpoetichere]

lovebug- caliban imagine

sup. fic inspired by my favorite song in THE world. not as soft mushy as it may sound I promise caliban is a nice lil sarcastic SHIT with a big ole crush. mild sabrina bashing but its funny in context and I think it’s the way family behaves. reader is a Spellman, not a witch but DOES know about the supernatural/is part of the supernatural world. here with my once in a blue moon post lol. feedback would be appreciated!

called her for the first time yesterday

finally found the missing part of me

felt so close but you were far away

left me without anything to say

Caliban was not an idiot- he knew not to underestimate the Spellman half-witch that had gone and declared herself queen of hell. So he’d taken the liberty of learning everything he could about her, noting her habits and schedule and the people she surrounded herself with.

And then he found you.

You weren’t a witch- at least, he hadn’t found your name in his diligent searching through the Book of the Beast- but you were something. That he was sure of. There was something slightly off about your presence, tinged a little glittery, though not altogether unpleasant.

No, not unpleasant at all, he mused as he watched you make your way towards your car. Tucked into a little yellow sundress, you stood out like a ray of sunshine in the wave of doom-and-gloom that hallmarked high school. The school bell rang out behind you, and Caliban felt his knees go disgustingly weak as you smiled brilliantly at Sabrina through the crowd.

It was a stupid, stupid decision that Caliban would never have made in the right state of mind, but he reasoned that pissing off Sabrina was validation enough to get your attention. He ducked into your path on purpose, taking advantage of your momentary distraction as he gently bumped into you. oops.

You collided with a solid wall, books tumbling out of your hands as strong arms reached out to steady you. You let out a surprised yelp at the collision, peeking up curiously as the wall you’d hit laughed.

Oh, well that was a sight for sore eyes.

The golden haired stranger holding you was, well, gorgeous. Bright blue eyes peered down at you as he grinned, and you felt the whole world shutter around you. You’d definitely been watching too many soap operas with your auntie, but goddamn it if you weren't positively putty.

“Hi there, stranger.” You giggled nervously, and Caliban suddenly remembered he’d had his arms around you for far too long to be acceptable. He reluctantly retreated, feeling something claw a little uncomfortably in his chest.

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He apologized, moving to pick up your books as you bent down to retrieve them. He ran a hand through his hair in barely concealed bashfulness, unsure of why he felt so... unsettled, all of a sudden. 

“It’s alright, my head was in the clouds.” You waved off his apology, accepting the books he offered you with a grateful smile. “Are you new here? I don’t think we’ve met.”

“He’s new here!” Sabrina’s shrill voice interrupted, training her icy glare on Caliban, who fought back a smirk. “This is Caliban- he’s from... Australia! Yeah, down under!”

“Oh, I can show you around tomorrow! I know how scary it can be to be new here.” You patted his arm sympathetically, ignoring Sabrina’s stream of indignant protests. “I was with student council all day. If you’re a senior, we probably have most of the same classes.”

Caliban had shit to do. Caliban had trials to plan and souls to torture. But you were looking at him- all warmth and sunshine, and Sabrina’s look of pure horror only sweetened the deal.

“I’ll see you in class tomorrow then, sunshine.”

so worth it.

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again

Caliban didn't understand why the mortals all bemoaned high school as hell on earth. It certainly wasn't so bad once you got past the wave of body spray and the questionable cafeteria food. In fact, darting to class with a pretty girl beside him was pretty enjoyable, all things considered. 

You’d spent the day introducing him to the other students, passing him silly notes in class, and had even tugged him from the lunch room to hang out with your friends in the library. He learned that you pretty much did it all- student council, cheerleader, top of your class- all while managing to somehow know the name of everyone you passed with a smile in the halls. You were silly and sweet— smart as all hell with a wit that certainly kept the clay prince on his toes.

and he was smitten.

The groan that escaped your painted lips was delightfully sinful as you slumped in the seat beside him in english class. “I hate Romeo and Juliet. How do two people fall in love in a few days anyhow? And Mrs. Willows always makes us reenact the scenes, and it’s so corny.” The blush that colored your cheeks as he looked at you in concern was something he did his best to commit to memory- cheesiness be damned, Caliban was enjoying himself far too much.

Caliban smirked, skimming through the booklet he’d been passed as the teacher droned. The prince of hell had a certain flare for the dramatics, and Sabrina’s glare burning into the back of his head only fueled his antics. He had one scene in mind, and it was the scene that was certain to kill four birds with one stone- totally make you fall in love with him, he would somehow manage to kiss you (that part was a work in progress), piss off Sabrina, and also- piss off Sabrina.

And kiss you. So maybe five parts. Damn it, Caliban was going to have to make a list.

“Partners?” He whispered softly, gently tugging at your hand as the teacher sat back down. Caliban’s eyes were alight with a tinge of mischief that you either failed to notice or were simply amused by- and your answering nod was more than a little bashful. “We can do my favorite scene.”

“If you say the first kiss scene, I’m punching the daylights out of you.” You warned, playfully nudging his knee with your own. “It will be unkind and I will not feel bad.”

“My lady wounds me.” He dramatically rested his hand above his heart. “And we absolutely have to do this scene-” He raised his hand to silence your half-hearted protests- “because Billy told the guys in calculus that he was specifically going to be pissed if we did this scene.”

Okay, so maybe he’d stretched the truth a little bit. But Caliban knew that the mention of your seedy ex-boyfriend (who you’d enlightened him about during lunch) would absolutely get you to agree to the scene. And it wasn't like he’d lied— Billy Marlin’s glare was nearly as icy as Sabrina’s. And, it wasn't like the way Billy looked at you- with something akin to possession in his eyes- totally made Caliban want to fast track the kid to damnation right then and there. Nope.

“We can meet up later today to practice? I have cheerleading practice after school, but I’m free after that!” You grinned at him, and he felt the tension ease out of his shoulders as you rested your hand on his arm. The gesture was so effortless- but to Caliban, who’d never really experienced connection like this- you reduced him to all but clay again.

“I can drive you home after practice?” Caliban offered, enjoying the yelp that Sabrina let out from the back of the classroom. He shouldered your bag as the bell sounded, noting the way your eyes softened even further at the gesture. “We don't really have cheerleaders down under, you know.”

“You’re welcome to stay and watch.” You shrugged, ignoring the way your heart thudded erratically as he walked you to the locker room. “It won’t be too long today, and Sabrina has a date with Nick after, anyways.”

it was really just too easy.

i can't get your smile out of my mind

i think about your eyes all the time

you're beautiful but you don't even try

(you don't even, don't even try)

modesty is just so hard to find

Caliban wasn’t sure if he regretted his earlier offer. Sure, the sight of you tucked into the tight cheerleading uniform (did they make them that short on purpose?) was pretty much the pinnacle of male fantasy, and the smiles and winks you’d thrown his way whenever he caught your eye during your routines were something else altogether.

But getting the sight out of his brain as you rambled aimlessly in the car about today’s chapters of Dante’s Inferno, while he simultaneously tried to focus on the road and definitely not the way your skirt hitched on the leather seat...

Yeah, Caliban was pretty sure he was in love.

You weren’t too far off, in all honesty. Caliban’s large hands had a firm grip on the steering wheel, and you took the time to admire further up his toned arms as he drove. His hair fell in loose, windswept waves, and his side profile looked like it was sculpted by the freaking gods. Every so often he would glance your way, his perfect lips parting to reveal his perfect teeth and perfect smile and gods-

Yeah, you had the lovebug bad.

“So how did you meet Sabrina?” You questioned innocently enough, and Caliban had to restrain the urge to spill all of the hell-related gossip to you. How Sabrina had managed to keep all of her throne-seeking from you was beyond him, but it certainly added a thrill to his pursuit of you.

“I had some administrative issues the other day and ran into her. She doesn’t like me too much, I’ve gathered.” Caliban was careful not to lie- his entanglement with you had the added perk of pissing off your dearest cousin, but it was genuine on Caliban’s end. He found he didn’t really want to lie about things.

“Sabrina is... touchy.” You offered carefully, shifting in your seat as you pointed out directions to your home. “I don’t really understand why she doesn't like you, to be honest. I was actually going to have a word with her about being nice- you’ve been so sweet, and I was the new kid too a few years back. It's hard to find your place in the established dynamic of a small town.”

Caliban doubted you’d had too much of an issue, with the way the halls seemed to light up around you, but the accompanying smile you gave him was bright enough to soothe his imagined woes. “It’s alright, I reckon she’ll get used to having me around.”

“Used to you?” You mused with a giggle, leaning on the console in a gesture that brought your face much, much closer to his own. He was overwhelmed with your floral scent- something soft and summery and altogether you.

“I plan on being around you a lot, sunshine. If you don’t mind.” He grinned, turning to face you momentarily at the stop sign. Your eyes were wide with hardly concealed surprise at his words, and he watched the realization of the close proximity of his face flicker through them.

It happened so fast that Caliban was almost certain he imagined it- but your eyes had definitely glanced at his lips. The blush that tinged your cheeks as you pulled back confirmed it, and in a moment of calculated risk, Caliban moved to rest his hand on your exposed thigh. 

“No, I wouldn’t mind at all.” 

If Caliban squinted, he could almost picture that he was a normal teenage boy, driving a beautiful, normal girl home from school. The sinking sun was peeking through the windows, bathing you in an ethereal glow, and - at least for right now- everything was perfect.

you were perfect.

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again

Caliban draped himself across your bed, a languid smirk on his lips as you kicked haphazardly placed piles of clothes into your closet.

“I promise I’m not usually this messy,” you apologized with a sheepish smile, shoving a mass of shoes under your bed, “okay, that's a lie. I’m always this messy, I just didn’t expect company.”

Caliban hardly minded. It was adorable how embarrassed you were, and he took the time to take in your bedroom (drawn from his reverie only by the occasional delighted shout when you found a shirt you’d thought had been sacrificed to the laundry gods, or worse, Sabrina’s room).

The first thing Caliban noticed was the books. While your clothes lay in scattered piles, all of your books were meticulously organized and lovingly tucked into shelves that took up an entire wall of the room. Sabrina may have answered that Caliban’s only hobby was torturing babies (or her, which was the same thing, really— and also, what the hell? Caliban may have enjoyed the occasional soul flaying, but only when it was well deserved!)— but Caliban loved to read.

What was one lifetime in one world, when he could learn of a thousand others in just as many universes? Immortality could grow dull, and eternity had to be spent somehow. Caliban tried not to smile as you precariously placed the book that had found its way onto your nightstand back into its place, and supposed that it might be far more enjoyable with someone else.

You seemed satisfied with your damage control, and slumped onto the bed dramatically with a groan. It was then that Caliban’s hand found a stray victim of your clothing massacre.

“Nice.” He grinned, and you peeked up from your playbook to find him dangling a pink lace bra.

Shit.

“Give me that!” You lunged, but Caliban was too fast. He quickly moved them from your reach, laughing wildly as you wrestled him desperately for the bra. 

“You are the worst.” A groan escaped you, and you huffed in fake-defeat as Caliban smirked victoriously at your retreat. You leaped at the chance, tackling Caliban with all your might. While momentarily surprised, he reacted quickly and shifted so that he was now pinning you to the bed, his hair dangling wildly in your face as you both laughed.

Caliban’s face was so close that you could see the flecks of green in his eyes. For a moment, his eyes seemed to flicker to your lips, but in the seconds it took for you to find your voice again, you’d lost your nerve. 

“We should get back to the scene.”

The moment was broken, and Caliban retreated with a bashful look on his face. He ran a hand through his hair and moved to sit across from you, his cheeks tinted a little red as he politely handed you back your intimates and pretended to shield his eyes when you tossed it somewhere. You’d never been so freaking embarrassed in your life, but Caliban was smiling so softly at you, like you were—

“If I profane with my unworthiest hand this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.” He motioned around with his hands dramatically, tone playful and light.

You were so dead. Caliban was freaking made for this romantic swooning nonsense that you’d tried to protest nearly the whole ride home, Billy Marlin be damned.

Giggling nervously in what you hoped seemed scene-appropriate, you tried your best to forget being a horny teenager to instead play a horny teenager. “Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much, which mannerly devotion shows in this, for saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch, and palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.”

Caliban’s voice lowered, a smile still tugging at his lips as he took your hands in his own. “Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?”

“Ay, pilgrim.” Your own voice softened in turn as Caliban began to trace mindless patterns on the backs of your hands with his thumbs, “lips that they must use in prayer.”

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do. They pray; grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.” Caliban’s eyes were soft, and you imagined that Shakespeare had pictured the man in front of you when putting the words to paper. The words fell so naturally from his lips and he seemed engrossed in the scene— he was, for lack of a better word, enchanting.

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.” Your voice was hardly more than a breathless whisper, the proximity of your faces and the intimacy (however imagined) stealing the air from your lungs.

Caliban paused, his eyes meeting yours intently as if searching for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it as he took your face in both of his hands.

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.” 

It was all too much. You could hardly be blamed for kissing him as fiercely as you did.

It was like fireworks, like every cheesy romance novel and play (cough, Romeo and Juliet) claimed it would be. You’d had plenty of kisses before, but never one that melted your brain like this. You forgot all about the scene, about how not real this was supposed to be as your hands tangled in his windswept hair and he pulled you onto his lap.

It was Caliban who first pulled away, only just so that your noses were touching. He was breathing heavily, eyes blown wide— and you felt your whole face turn red as reality consumed you again. “I am so sorry, I’ll just—”

“Where do you think you’re going, Juliet?” Caliban’s hands firmly gripped your hips, preventing you from moving away. His fingers thumbed the band of your skirt, and his next words were a whisper against your lips. 

“Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.”

kissed her for the first time yesterday

everything i wished that it would be

suddenly i forgot how to speak

hopeless, breathless, baby can't you see?

Caliban was in love. He’d spent the next three weeks with you reciting Romeo and Juliet, sharing shakes at Dr. Cerberus, and tugging you into empty classroom and closets at every opportunity to kiss you senseless.  Every moment not spent with you was at least somewhat occupied by the thought of you, and Caliban found he wasn’t the least bit upset about it.

And Sabrina was pissed.

If she’d hated him before, she positively loathed him now. It was the latest point of contention between yourself and your darling cousin, who’d you taken to threatening with various kitchen utensils and promises to tell the aunties she’d been sneaking out to make her behave. And Caliban, for his part, was perfectly polite— even though he still had every intention of taking the throne from the inexperienced witch who promised to destroy the balance of heaven and hell.

Which presented Caliban’s own latest dilemma. He was going to have to tell you eventually— and in a way that didn't make you totally hate him. He had a plan. Okay, maybe a skeletal plan. Or no plan. Yeah, Caliban was going to wing it. 

After today. He just had to make it through your reenactment of Romeo and Juliet with no demonic catastrophes or maiming Blly, and then he would tell you everything.

But even that was too much to ask.

Sabrina burst through the english classroom doors, yelling in barely concealed panic that there was a BIG problem and the principal needed Caliban now.

Caliban moved to leave with an apologetic smile in your direction, which you were absolutely not having. Despite your current frustration with Sabrina, she looked downright terrified, and you were both concerned for your cousin and overwhelmed with a gut feeling that something was up.

After a few moments, you excused yourself to use the restroom.

You hauled ass to the gym, where the screaming sounded to be coming from. When you entered, you were met with the strangest sight.

The gym was filled with winged... rats? And at the center of the chaos was Sabrina and Caliban, back to back and armed with what appeared to be lacrosse sticks. Caliban’s shirt was tattered from the rats, and you took a fraction of a second to banish the completely innappropriate and untimely thoughts from your head.

“And no one thought to call me?” You shouted angrily through the swarm, snagging a baseball bat from the rack and smacking it around with reckless abandon. Caliban hooted, laughing loudly as you took your place beside them. Rats tore at your clothes, but you were more frustrated that Sabrina had called your boyfriend (or whatever he was) over you.

“Why did you get Caliban! I was right there! Is there something wrong with you? Were you dropped on the head as a child? He’s not even from here Sabrina, he has no idea what-”

“For hell’s sake, he’s not the new kid! He’s not even from Australia! He’s a stupid clay prince from hell who is trying to take my throne and raze humanity, and his stupid plague king sent these after me, and now he’s dating you!” Sabrina spat out the word dating as if it was even more disgusting than the winged vermin tearing at your clothes. 

“Will someone please explain what the hell is going on here?” 

You were no less frustrated when Sabrina revealed her trek to hell and the all ensuing madness she’d partaken in, but you remained calm enough to not turn the bat on her clearly empty skull. 

“And you’re the clay prince of hell... challenging her throne?” You questioned with a sharp glance at Caliban, who nodded reluctantly as he swatted a rat hurtling towards you. 

“Do you even have a driver’s license!” You screamed, waving your baseball bat around wildly.

“I’m a demon prince of hell made out of clay, and you’re worried about if I can legally drive?” Caliban shouted back in astonishment through the wave of shrieking rats. The lacrosse stick he’d snagged was surprisingly effective.

“I was getting to that part, thank you for reminding me!” You hissed, debating whether to smash his face in with the bat. “How about we start with how you completely lied to me, and how our whole relationship or whatever it is a lie! Were you ever going to tell me? Or was this all part of some throne grab?” 

“It wasn’t a lie!” Caliban demanded hotly. “You were not a lie!”

“Really!” You whirled on him, eyes alight with anger. “Because I sure feel like one!”

The rats numbers were dwindling rapidly, and you smacked the last one heading towards you directly at Caliban’s face. It collided with a satisfying shriek, and you threw your bat down as you stormed out of the gym.

Sabrina and Caliban rushed after you, but you’d disappeared in the hall.

now i'm, yeah, oh!

now i'm speechless, over the edge

i'm just breathless

i never thought that i'd catch this love bug again

now i'm hopeless, head over heels in the moment

i never thought that i'd get hit by this love bug again, (oh)

love bug again

You’d remained collected until you’d transported into the middle of the living room, collapsing into auntie Hilda’s arms in a puddle of tears as you told her everything. She’d muttered a stream of ancient curses about Sabrina, but beyond that merely smoothed your hair and told you that all boys were awful— especially demonic princes of hell.

“I hate him.” You glared half-heartedly into your cup of steaming peppermint tea. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid. Falling blindly in love with a stranger who had only sought you out for some elaborate game with Sabrina. Screw Caliban and his perfect hair, his perfect smile, his perfect— “I want to bash his face in.”

“No you don't, love.” Hilda smiled knowingly. “You’re angry, yes— and hurt. But you care for the boy. I’ve never seen you so happy as you’ve been these last few days. I think you ought to cool down and hear what he has to say.”

“I never want to talk to him again.” You groaned, burying your face in a pillow. “I’d rather die.”

And because the universe was truly conspiring against you, a knock sounded at the door.

“Well, best get over that quick.” Hilda warned, ignoring your stream of indignant protests as she hustled to the door. 

“Caliban! Yes, do come in love. Oh, yes, we will be having a little chat later, but for now I think it’s my niece you must be speaking to.” Hilda’s cheerful voice trailed in from the foyer, and you jumped up to make a break for it. 

You were halted by a familiar pair of strong arms tugging you back by the waist.

“Get off of me!” You shouted, pushing Caliban away harshly and ignoring the warmth that lingered where he’d touched you. “I want my baseball bat. Somebody get me my baseball bat! I’m going to bash your stupid pretty face in you asshole—”

“Five minutes.” Caliban pleaded desperately, “just give me a five minutes to explain, and then I’ll give you back the baseball bat to bash my face in, okay?”

You considered his offer for a moment, swallowing the sob crawling its way up your throat as you nodded reluctantly. If it made him leave faster, you’d do anything. 

His shoulder sagged in barely concealed relief. “Okay. I am Caliban, Prince of Hell. I am not from Australia, clearly, and am not a transfer student. I am trying to take your cousin’s throne. She does not understand the realm of the damned— she thinks it needs to be generous, rather than a fair judgment of life. I am not her father, and I do not believe in reckless or cruel damnation. I do not wish any harm on Sabrina, and I’ve managed to keep the worst of the plague kings from her. Even if you were to reject me now, I would continue to try to protect her— you have my word.” Caliban paused as you released a breath you did not know you were holding. Your eyes finally dared to meet his, and you nodded for him to continue.

“I agreed to attend Greendale because yes, it did piss off Sabrina, but you were there.” He raised his hand to halt your protest. “You intrigued me, and I wanted to know you better. I will be fully honest that it had the added bonus of irritating your cousin, who I so delight in irritating, but my primary focus was you. You... enchanted me. I had never found myself so invested in anything before as I was in spending mundane days at high school— of all things— with you. Truthfully, it confused even me at first. And while the past you knew is false, I am real— and my feelings for you are true.”

“That is such bullshit, and you know it!” You exploded furiously, smacking his chest with untamed rage. “You knew exactly what you were doing. Who agrees to go to high school because they like a girl? Are you unhinged? Who doesn't just ask someone out if they were so interested, huh? No, you came here with your stupidly perfect little ‘oh I’m Caliban, and I’m so dreamy’ act, knowing full well that it would make me completely abandon all rationality. Well guess what, I did! I fell stupid head over heels for you, and it was all one big lie.”

Your voice broke on the last few words, anger shifting to broken sadness as you continued to pound relentlessly on his chest. “I was a lie.”

He caught your hands, holding them against his chest as he pressed you against the wall. “You weren't a lie, Spellman.” 

His words were breathless whisper, his beautiful eyes pained and desperate as he gripped your hands harder. “I fell for you the moment I saw you. I enrolled in high school because you smiled at me. I learned every line of Romeo and Juliet to recite them to you. When we first met, you wondered how Romeo and Juliet could possibly fall in love after a mere few days, but I understand it now. I have never been driven so completely insane by anything or anyone like this before. The power you have over me is unmatched. I am completely and wholly yours. If you were to ask me right now to leave, to never bother you again, I would leave my heart with you and spend my eternity in endless sorrow. I would think forever of the way you smiled at me, the way you kissed me, how soft your hair felt in my hands, and how my heart raced every time you laughed. I would never forgive myself for the pain I had caused you, and you would haunt me every day, every waking moment, every dream.”

Caliban moved your hands to his lips, nearly kissing them as he pleaded to you with tears in his beautiful eyes. You were motionless, turned to stone by his heavy gaze.

“So please, don’t become my specter. If I am a stranger to you now, let me make you fall for me all over again. I would do it a thousand times, if you'd let me. I could think of no sweeter way to spend my eternity.”

When you’d thought that Shakespeare had been imagining Caliban when he wrote, you’d been wrong. There was no poetry, no book, no lyric that could possibly compare to the way he spoke to you— the way his eyes so desperately tried to convey his anguish.

You removed your hands from his, and his whole face seemed to shatter.

“You’re not a stranger,” you muttered softly, moving to take his face your hands. His face remained guarded, but he leaned instinctively into your touch. “You’re Caliban.”

When you kissed him, it was like falling in love all over again.

And you supposed you did.

“But we are having a long, long talk about everything.” You warned as you pulled back, poking his chest sharply as he nodded profusely. “And if you ever, ever lie to me again, I’ll set something worse than flying rats on you. I’ll let Sabrina have you.”

Caliban laughed wildly, picking you up and spinning you around as he kissed you over and over again in sheer relief and joy. “I love you, Spellman. Anything you want, it’s yours.”

“I just want you, clay boy.”

[absolutepokemontrash]

The undatables as uncles need more love, so... What if L!MC and the rest of the children just go to the castle or purgatory Hall for a few days because the Bros got tired or just need a day of rest. Idk this makes no sense

Yes, more uncle shennaniganery!

A Day at the Demon Lord’s Castle

Masterlist

It was Demon-Flu season, and no demon in the House of Lamentation was spared from its sniffly wrath. It started with Belphegor waking up and sneezing right next to Beel, and it was all downhill from there.

Notice how I said “demon”, the dear little Half-Demons were all fine thanks to the efforts of M!MC who for some reason had bought a bunch of plague doctor masks the week prior.

“Why... why did you buy these?” L!MC asked, their voice muffled by the badly fitting mask.

“I saw em’ in a store window and I decided I wanted them.”

Three out of four of the Brat Brigade (plus the cat) were on their way to the Demon Lord’s castle to stay until the house’s little epidemic passed. Lord Diavolo had oh so graciously asked (begged) to be allowed to host the kids for a while.

What could go wrong?

Many things could go wrong.

For one, the first thing A!MC saw when they first arrived, was a rat. Not one of the gross scary ones, but one of the absolutely adorable ones that turns you into the ‘gently holds’ meme.

“I’m going to call you Templeton!” “*squeak*” “Yay!”

Barbatos of course came to greet the guests, and explained that they have a little... issue with rats at that moment. Butler-dad assured them it wouldn’t be a problem, just if the children saw any of the vermin running around to tell him and he’d dispose of them.

Templeton the rat was promptly hidden in one of A!MC’s pockets.

The Purgatory Hall crew was there as well, apparently Solomon decided to make brunch and Purgatory Hall’s kitchen exploded.

Lord Diavolo finally makes his entrance and declares that everyone should unpack and relax, his gorgeous/terrifying castle was their gorgeous/terrifying castle.

“So,” L!MC rested their head on their hand and rotated the knight in their free hand as they stared half vacantly at the chess board. “Did you take care of the snake in the labyrinth, Dia?”

Diavolo lit up when he heard his seldom used nickname. “Well, Henry 1.0 isn’t exactly bothering anyone down there at the moment, and I don’t think Levi is equipped to deal with a fifty foot long untamed snake.”

L!MC smirked and placed their knight down. “Yeah, at least not right now.”

The moment L!MC removed their hand from the knight, Diavolo moved his bishop and took their queen. Shit.

“Aw man...” L!MC mumbled, after a cursory look at the board, the poor thing realized that they had been screwed for the last five turns and Diavolo was just prolonging the match.

“Don’t feel too bad, L!MC.” Diavolo gave them a pat on the head. “Lucifer can’t beat me in chess either.”

“Hmph.” They wouldn’t admit it but... that did make them feel a little better.

“That reminds me, I have a favour to ask of you.” L!MC almost outwardly drooped at the mention of... ugh... a task. “Do you mind reviewing some dad-jokes with me to make sure they are suitably dad-like?”

“...what?” Quickly remembering they were in the presence of honest to God (poor choice of words... uh... Grandfather?) royalty, L!MC straightened their posture and tried their best to look respectfully curious instead of completely and utterly confused. “Pardon?”

“M!MC and several others have said I have ‘dad vibes’, so I’m leaning into it!” Diavolo smiled so brightly if L!MC hadn’t been the child of the Morning Star they may have been blinded. “My father wasn’t one for jokes, so I’d like to run these by you before I say them to others.”

Suppressing a snort of laughter, L!MC nodded. “Go for it, I’m all ears.”

Diavolo pulled out quite the long list and began to read out loud... L!MC quickly realized that this may take longer than expected. “Okay, to begin: I’m afraid for the calendar, it’s days are numbered.”

“Oh not-that-good-Lord...” L!MC muttered under their breath.

The dad jokes continued, some were funny, some were absolutely awful, some sounded like they were made for children in the Victorian era... overall, it was a good- holy shit that took over two hours...

“Finally,” Diavolo squinted at the last joke. “I went to the liquor store and they asked for my ID, while I fumbled for my wallet, my Blockbuster card fell out, the cashier said ‘nevermind’.”

L!MC furrowed their brows. “What’s a Blockbuster?”

“That was what I was hoping you’d explain to me... is it a dad requirement to get a card for that establishment..?”

“Mmmm...” L!MC pursed their lips. “Probably not. I mean, Lucifer doesn’t have one.”

“That’s true...” Diavolo looked at the clock, then stood up and began to shoo L!MC out the door. “Look at me, taking up all your time that you should be spending with your friends. Thank you for your help, L!MC, now don’t let me keep you any longer!”

Giggling slightly, L!MC shot a wave over their shoulder as they left the room. “Bye dad! See you later!”

They were half way down the hallway when they realized their verbal slip-up.

“Oh.” L!MC’s face burned with embarrassment. “Shit.”

Dad-volo was totally delighted and very cool about it, don’t worry.

M!MC and Bean the cat were hanging out with the angels in the very pretty royal gardens when that mess was going down.

Luke was being absolutely adorable and was snuggling Bean while he and Simeon looked at the pretty plants.

In traditional M!MC fashion, they were engaging in an average game of ‘lightly tease the chihuahua’.

“It’s just... you’re so small.” M!MC took the opportunity to rest their arm on Luke’s head as he stopped to observe a colour changing flower bush. “How many years have you been this height? 100? 200?”

M!MC had taken the news that Luke was older than them in stride, finding new opportunities to make the little angel do his adorable angy face. They were obviously succeeding in their jerkwad-endeavours as Luke pushed their arm off and fixed his now smushed hat.

“You be quiet! I’m perfectly average height for an angel my age.” Luke huffed, petting the cat, who hissed at M!MC. The stupid cat absolutely hated them for some reason, it brought L!MC never ending joy to bring the cat into their shared room and watch it hiss and swipe at them. L!MC should really show some more respect for their older cousin!

“Are angels normally the size of a fifth grader?” M!MC snickered. “Is Simeon considered a freak for his height?”

“No, M!MC, I am not.” Simeon chuckled. “Rest assured, Luke will grow.”

“Yeah! And I’m sure I’ll be taller than you!” Luke added.

M!MC smirked deviously and pinched Luke’s cheek. “Well, I’ll have to take advantage of your smallness and baby face while I still can!”

“Hey! Stop that!” Luke tried to swat their hands away, but M!MC had inherited their father’s reflexes and his penchant for being a little shit every once and a while, so Luke’s swatting only resulted in more pinches.

“Never!” M!MC teased. “Surrender to your smallness!”

“No!”

Luke took off deeper into the garden, surprisingly quickly considering he was holding a cat that was hellbent on clawing M!MC’s eyes out. M!MC laughed and gave chase.

“Luuuuuuuke! Come back! I promise I’ll be nice!” M!MC lied right through their teeth like the little heathen they were, as they ran down the path they noticed that they couldn’t see Luke up ahead anymore, nor could they hear him yelling for Simeon to make them quit their teasing.

“Heheh...” M!MC wheezed as they stopped to catch their breath. “Luke c’mon, don’t be a baby. It’s real immature to hide like that!”

There was no response, which made M!MC just a little nervous, just a smidge. The plants had changed from pretty flowers and gorgeous trees to a much darker clump of vines and twisting branches. It all seemed to be the same plant, M!MC noted as they scanned the area for any sign of Luke and the cat, or Simeon for that matter.

“Luke? Bean? Come on! Haul your asses over here, this isn’t funny any-” M!MC paused and looked down as something coiled around their left leg. “-more?”

The vine tightened and yanked them backwards, M!MC fell right to the ground and clawed at the path to stop them getting pulled into the brush. Another vine wrapped around their right leg, any resistance that digging their nails into the ground was nullified as both vines yanked M!MC into the bushes.

Well, this was a nightmare of epic proportions. The vines continued to wrap around the helpless half demon until they were completely unable to move. As M!MC looked around frantically, they made eye contact with an all too familiar pair of blue eyes. Ah! There was Luke!

“Mmmph!” Only Luke’s eyes were visible, but the eyes are the gateway to the soul or whatever, and M!MC took an educated guess and decided that Luke’s soul wasn’t too happy with them.

“Mmth! Mmth!” M!MC tried to speak, but their mouth was covered by the vines. The two would have to communicate with their eyes only.

‘This is your fault!’

‘How the fuck is this MY fault?’

‘If you hadn’t teased me this never would have happened!’

‘Grow thicker skin, you chihuahua!’

‘Fuck you!’

Listen, Luke probably wasn’t capable of trying to communicate a swear word, but it was incredibly funny for M!MC to think about.

“M!MC? Luke?” Simeon stepped into their limited field of vision. “Where are you two? This plant is carnivorous.”

Oh... lovely. That was good to know.

“Mmemph!”

“MFTH!” Luke and M!MC tried to call out to Simeon, only for the vines to wrap around them even tighter. Wow, what a way to go... strangled by a plant... ugh. L!MC would never let them live that down...

“Hm,” Simeon looked down at the vine that was coiling around his leg. “What a bother.”

Quick as lightning, Simeon grabbed the vine and sent a burst of shining gold magic shooting through it. The magic quickly spread to the rest of the plant and the moment the magic slammed into M!MC they nearly passed out from the searing pain that shot through their entire body.

They clamped their eyes shut and clenched their teeth to stop them from rattling as they felt the massive wave of Celestial magic wash over them. It was weirdly warm, like a hug from a friend, but it wasn’t a pleasant sensation, at least not to M!MC.

The plant let out an otherworldly scream as it threw Luke, Bean, and M!MC back onto the path at Simeon’s feet.

Luke picked Bean back up and dusted off his clothes like he didn’t have a care in the world. M!MC lay on the ground, if you listened closely you could hear them sizzle a bit. Nothing like being nearly strangled by a plant and then roasted by holy ‘fuck you’ magic.

“I’m glad you’re both okay,” Simeon pulled Luke into a hug and helped M!MC off the ground. “Did I ah... use to much magic?”

M!MC half-scowled at their saviour and wiped down their outfit. “Yeah. A little too much.”

“My bad,” Simeon ruffled M!MC’s hair. “I hope this serves as a learning experience for you two, Luke, don’t run off like that, and M!MC,”

The half demon nearly jumped in fear and surprise as Simeon swivelled to look at them. The smile on his face was far from comforting. “Don’t tease poor Luke too much, okay?”

“Uh... uh huh.” M!MC quickly nodded.

“Good! Now let’s head back, I think we’ve all had enough of the Royal Gardens.”

As the group returned, they passed a very red in the face L!MC and wondered what exactly went down in the time they were gone.

It’s common knowledge that Barbatos hates rats, it’s also common knowledge that A!MC is the embodiment of a ray of sunshine.

What does this lead to, you may be asking, well...

A!MC and their dear rat Templeton needed to hide from the politely homicidal Barbatos.

“Sh!” A!MC whispered into their pocket, the rat responded with an indignant squeak.

The Demon Lord’s Castle was absolutely massive, and trying to navigate it without a map was akin to wandering around an ancient pyramid filled with death traps. A!MC and their dear companion were wandering the place without a map and trying to hide from a butler that had the power to see into the future. The two fugitives were at a clear disadvantage.

A!MC had managed to stumble into an area that had paintings and statues completely everywhere, it was then they realized they were completely lost.

While quietly perusing the room, A!MC took notice of quite the lovely portrait of a woman. She had long flowing locks of golden hair and the most gorgeous captivating eyes... A!MC nearly shrieked when the woman’s eyes snapped to their’s and her face contorted into a scowl.

“Do I know you?” The woman asked, A!MC gulped and shook their head.

“N-no ma’am, I don’t think we’ve met...” A!MC mumbled before sticking out their hand for a handshake. The painting woman stared down at their outstretched hand, very unimpressed. “I’m A!MC, it’s nice to meet you.”

The half demon offered their cutest smile, their dad had lovingly taken the time to coach them in the art of being so darn tootin’ adorable that everyone would fall over themselves to get A!MC to like them. The moment the woman registered the smile, her scowl returned for a brief moment, then vanished entirely.

“Oh,” The woman smiled sweetly. “I do think I know you, do you mind coming a bit closer so I can see you better?”

Suffering from a complete inability to detect red flags, A!MC happily moved closer.

“Ah, just as I suspected. You look like Asmodeus.”

“You know my dad?” A!MC asked.

“Yes,” The woman’s eyes narrowed. “I know him quite well.”

A!MC was suddenly knocked off balance as a massive gust of wind shoved them closer to the painting. They frantically clawed at the stone ground as Templeton squeaked and squirmed in their pocket.

“Your father is the reason I’m stuck in this painting,” The woman explained coldly as A!MC tried to scramble away. “He escaped the labyrinth twice, but I don’t plan on letting you escape.”

“I-uh- m-muh-my dad’s probably really sorry about whatever he did! There’s no need to be rash!” A!MC stuttered.

“Yeah, no.” The woman huffed. “He had his chance to fix things. I’m getting even.”

“Not right now you’re not.”

A!MC swivelled their head around to see Barbatos calmly holding out a pair of scissors.

“Now Helene, I’d recommend releasing the child before I’m forced to take drastic measures.” Barbatos clicked the scissors together twice, and Helene paled. The wind pushing A!MC towards the painting dissipated and the half demon ran and hid behind the butler.

“Th-thank you...” A!MC mumbled.

“It’s not a problem, A!MC. Now I believe it would be a wise choice to move to another room.”

The two, (plus the hidden rat) ended up in the kitchen. A!MC shifted nervously as Barbatos began prepping lunch.

“Is there something you need to tell me?” Barbatos asked suddenly, A!MC straightened their posture and nodded.

“I um... promise you won’t be mad...” A!MC mumbled.

“I can assure you, I won’t be too upset.”

“I made a friend.” A!MC took Templeton out of their pocket and held him closely to their chest, Barbatos’s calm smile froze on his face. “He’s really sweet, please don’t kill him!”

“...A!MC.” Barbatos began slowly. “I’m not mad... just make sure it doesn’t escape and run rampant... now... please get it out of my kitchen.”

“Yes sir! Thank you sir!” A!MC turned and sprinted to their room.

Ugh... Barbatos, haven’t you ever watched Ratatouille? The rat can cook dammit!

When Luke went in to bake with his second dad he was very confused as to why Barbatos looked like he was having war flashbacks.

Huh... weird right? Anyway...

Good ol’ weird uncle Solomon suggested that after dinner everyone should get together and watch a movie.

L!MC and Solomon suggested that they watch The Conjuring and that idea got immediately shot down.

M!MC brought up that the most “family get-together” movie they could think of was Star Wars.

So they watched A New Hope.

“We could be watching the Conjuring right now.” L!MC murmured as they watched Luke Skywalker fumble his way to Obi Wan Kenobi.

“Yeah.” Solomon whispered back. “You know, I met Ed and Lorraine Warren.”

“Cool,” L!MC smiled. “My ren took me to their house once, when I went in to see all the haunted objects all the demons inside wanted to hang out with me.”

“Huh,” Solomon snickered. “Did they think you were Lucifer?”

“Yep. It was funny, Annabelle’s a pretty big asshole though.”

“I’d be an asshole too if I were stuck in a raggedy Anne doll since the 60s and not allowed to leave.”

“Both of you sh!” M!MC hissed, they threw some popcorn over their shoulder, which L!MC threw right back.

A while into the movie, M!MC elbowed Solomon and pointed at one of the aliens. “That’s you.”

“I’m so hurt…” Solomon pouted.

“And that’s you.” L!MC pointed at a stormtrooper that had just gotten shot with a blaster. M!MC scoffed and rolled their eyes.

“I’m not some dumb stormtrooper.”

“Yeah, you’re a little short for a stormtrooper.”

“HEY!”

“SHHHHHHH!” A!MC and Luke turned and started throwing their own popcorn…

The mess that they all had to vacuum after the movie was much more terrifying than The Conjuring ever could have been.

So, after a few days, Lucifer called to say that everyone was back to normal and the last remnants of the Demon-Flu were gone.

Yay! The kids could go back to their really overcrowded house!

The goodbyes were something to behold.

“Goodbye everyone! Come back sometime soon!” Diavolo waved from the doorway.

“Bye, Lord Diavolo!” L!MC smiled brightly and returned the wave. M!MC snickered and nudged them.

“That’s a pretty cold way to say goodbye to your dad-”

“Shut up…” L!MC growled.

“L!MC, what are they talking about?” Lucifer asked.

“Nothing!”

M!MC looked like they were weighing the pros and cons of surviving the conversation, then shrugged.

“M!MC, no, you have so much to live for!” A!MC pleaded.

“L!MC called Lord Diavolo dad!”

Mammon erupted into hysterical laughter while Asmo giggled and half heartedly patted L!MC on the head. Lucifer was not impressed.

“You know,” L!MC sighed. “I’m moving out. Lord Diavolo can I come live here?”

“L!MC, come back.” Lucifer trailed after his very embarrassed spawn.

A!MC pulled on their dad’s sleeve and cleared their throat.

“Yes sweetie?”

“D-dad, do you have a vehement hatred and or fear of rats?”

“Um-”

“Meet Templeton, he’s adorable and my friend.”

————————

Author’s note, The next part of the main series is coming next week… or this week… idk how long things take.

(Probably this week)

[bloededhoine]

world building cause twn doesn't part 8: nonhumans

this is easily the geekiest part of the series. and it's a Very geeky series. because sapkowski's worldbuilding is waaay more extensive than i have the time, ability, or desire to convey, i'm sticking with races both sentient and important

colour code cause i fucking love colour codes - already happened/introduced, probably s2, important background info, stuff that might be in the prequel, extras

series masterpost

dopplers

dopplers, also known as vexlings, shifters, mimics, doubles, imitators, or pavrats, are a nonhuman race that can take on the appearance of nearly anyone they encounter

before mass migrations of humans, dopplers primarily inhabited the forests and plateaus around the city of novigrad, where they would transform into wolves and pack animals to hunt

their abilities are pretty impressive, dopplers can not only mimic appearance but also voice, personality, skills, behaviours, and knowledge. dopplers can even turn parts of their bodies into pieces of clothing or other objects

however, there are some limitations

dopplers can't transform into someone/thing with dramatically more mass than they have, are burned by silver, and can't drop anything they created (if they did it would kind of turn into a fleshy goop)

we've already met a doppler in twn, this sexy sexy man

BUT

it is important to note that this doppler is a huge deviation from sapkowski's lore. dopplers are pretty much always exceptionally kind and gentle. a lot of times they use their abilities to appear threatening (big teeth, sharp claws etc) because they really don't want to hurt anyone.

when dopplers aren't mimicking another form, they aren't exactly pretty. they're bald, short, have beady yellow eyes, and kinda look like they're made from soft clay

here's the hexer doppler

the most notable doppler is dudu biberveldt, who i mentioned as the halfling dainty biberveldt's fake cousin. dudu's actual name is tellico lunngrevink letorte, but dainty decided to help dudu live in novigrad by adopting him as his fake cousin.

dragons

dragons are fucking awesome. you know it, i know it, and zerrikanians know it. witcher dragons are especially awesome

they are the only being, other than cats, that can naturally harness and absorb the force of chaos

there are multiple subtypes, but most dragons fall into one of four: black dragons, green dragons, red dragons, and white dragons.

black dragons are the largest, and primarily live in swamps and wetlands where they bathe in mud. they have extremely hard scales and don't breathe fire, but an acid that causes burns similar to those from mustard gas.

green dragons (right there) are the most prominent yet smallest species of dragon, mainly living in forested areas and breathe highly flammable chlorine gas.

red dragons mainly live in hills and mountain caves and can breathe fire hot enough to melt metal

white dragons are one of the rarest species and live in the far north, and can breathe frost

however, if you watched the witcher netflix as i assume you did, you may remember golden dragons. these dragons are so rare and exceptional that they are not usually included with other species. they breathe steam and fire and can shapeshift into any living being

all dragons communicate through telepathy, although golden dragons can speak when they are in the form of a species that can speak

humans are pretty divided on the topic of dragons, with zerrikanians worshiping them and nordlings hating them.

because they are incredibly intelligent and emotional, witchers (generally) refuse to hunt them

borkh three jackdaws, also known as villentrenmerth, is the only golden dragon we know. there he is right there.

ASSASSINS OF KINGS SPOILERS NEXT TWO BULLET POINTS

the other dragon from twn was a green dragon named myrgtabrakke, borkh's mate. their daughter is named saesenthessis, also known as saskia the dragonslayer (an alias she took to explain her extensive knowledge of dragons) and the virgin of aedirn

because saskia is part golden dragon, she can shapeshift, although is much more limited than her father. she can basically only be a human looking woman with blonde hair or a huge dragon.

cut because this part is getting REALLY long

godlings

ah godlings. i love them so much. they're adorable and precious. they usually look somewhat like a human child, but with blue skin and large amber or green eyes. they don't wear much clothes, their focus is in accessories like jewelry, flowers, or tattoos

that's johnny, a holding in wild hunt.

godlings are incredibly rare, and are easily confused with young goblins. they primarily live in swamps near drowners, but aren't afraid of them.

they're quite mischievous but kind hearted, many have happy go lucky personalities and love just having fun. i adore godlings. i've said it once and i'll say it again.

higher vampires

definitely the most important group on this list, higher vampires are incredibly powerful and intelligent. they can shapeshift within certain limits, generally either looking like a human or a large terrifying bat. they also have some telepathic abilities - they can basically make you fall asleep and forget stuff

scary wooo

higher vampires do not need to drink blood to survive. some don't drink blood at all. when they do, it's like a human drinking alcohol. on full moons, groups of higher vampires go out partying and get white girl wasted

although all higher vampires have the same basic abilities, each individual has one skill they are exceptional in.

most find humans harmless but annoying, like mosquitos. they don't really like interacting with humans, which works out pretty well as higher vampires can blend in very well, even a witcher's medallion can't detect one

higher vampires also have three distinct cultures, the tdet in the far east, the ammurun across the great sea, and the gharasham in the northern realms

they are really really hard (or impossible, depending on canon) to kill. based on the books, you basically need to disintegrate them. based on the games, only higher vampires can kill other higher vampires, but humans can get close

we only meet one in the books, emiel regis rohellec terzieff-godefroy. he goes by regis for short. regis was an "alcoholic" in his youth, and has since abstained from blood or any other substance. he's incredibly old, by the end of twn season 1 he'd be 425 years old. as for regis' "special ability", he's just kind. he's an incredibly gentle and loving person. that's it. i love him.

merpeople

probably one you're already familiar with! merpeople are intelligent humanoids that inhabit the great sea. mermaids are notably gorgeous, having green hair and tails, and their scales are prized alchemy ingredients

sapkowski's mermaids can breathe above water, but the sun burns their skin so they don't stay at the surface for very long.

merpeople are incredibly powerful, they can summon krakens and the sea-dragon like race of vodyanoy respect their authority

they use their own language that's quite similar to hen llinge, but more lyrical sounding.

nymphs

nymphs are a humanoid race primarily based around nature. they have 5 subspecies, dryads (including hamadryads), leimoniad, naiad, nereid, and oread.

dryads, called eerie wives by humans and aen woedbeanna by elves, are the most prevalent, primarily living in the brokilon forest. some have human skin with olive undertones, but others are green. they usually have dark brown or green hair which is usually worn in dreadlocks (breaking my promise of not being overtly and annoyingly political in this series yet again - the dryads, especially in the netflix adaptation, are classic magical n*gress stereotypes. but more on that later.)

this is a lore-accurate one that i LOVE

dryads have incredibly strong connections with nature and magic, although it is really rare for a dryad to be a source. dryads are able to draw energy from trees, but rarely do because they don't want to hurt the trees. support dryads and take the bus.

all dryads are women. all of them. they make babies by basically luring men into the forest and doing the adult hokey pokey. also why dryads aren't really a fan of witchers, who don't make the baby butter (i am so sorry)

however, dryads can also turn a girl of another race into one of their own through the use of magic. the water of brokilon has some mutating quality that makes young girls forget their human past and physically turn into dryads, although it is less effective as the girls are older. the dryads tried to do this to ciri, but given that she's a source, nothing happened. generally, this process is done to girls who wander into brokilon, but some dryads will abduct peasants from outside the forest if they need more dryads.

here's twn dryads... yikes

this is where i think the whole racism thing becomes a bit too obvious. "uncivilized" women who live in the forest and have dreadlocks and abduct young girls from "civilized" areas?? in twn they leaned even further into this, having one of the two black women they cast be a dryad and replacing the usual bows and arrows with spears, a less sophisticated weapon. again, this series is about the lore, not the political implications of it, but it is important to keep in mind

dryads are excellent at archery, shooting anyone who comes within 80 metres of the forest. through their connection with nature, they have highly advanced medicine and use glowing fungi as a source of light.

hamadryads are a specific type of dryad that is incredibly connected with her tree. because of this connection they have exceptionally strong magical and healing capabilities, but will also go insane and die if their tree dies.

like merpeople, dryads use a more melodic dialect of hen llinge

leimoniads are a type of nymph that lived exclusively in meadows, but are practically extinct due to wars with humans

naiads, also called rusalki, are nymphs that live in lakes and rivers, although a few live with the dryads in brokilon. naiads are very similar to dryads, although they tend to have very light skin with very dark hair, webbed hands, and can dry out on land

naiads rarely speak common, live in small groups, and have highly developed telepathic abilities

nereids are nymphs that inhabit the great sea, often living closely with merpeople. they usually have blueish skin with either blue or white hair and have some telepathic abilities, though not to the extent of naiads.

oreads are nymphs of the mountains, which, like leimoniads, are nearly extinct due to human conquests.

succubi/incubi

succubi (female) and incubi (male) are creatures which look like incredibly attractive humans but with horns and goat legs. they seduce humans, first in dreams and then physically, using their prey's energy to sustain themselves, often to the point of the human's exhaustion or death

our man eskel has a soft spot for them...

sylvans

sylvans, another race we already met, are exceptionally rare. like, practically extinct. they live mainly in the woodlands of the northern realms and have goat-like faces with yellow eyes, horns, cloven hooves, and tails

my man torque is quite possibly one of the last sylvans on the continent

they are distantly related to elves, and the two races tend to coexist quite well

generally quite mischievous and merry, highly enjoying pranks and parties. they can use simple spells and are mainly herbivores

sylvans live around 100 years and are highly sought after by dryads for their... ahem... reproductive capabilities

unicorns

yep, we got unicorns! i fucking love unicorns and still kinda think they're real. camels are real and those lumpy fuckers are way weirder than a horse with a spike on its head.

anyways

unicorns are highly advanced beings, they can travel between worlds and use telepathy. they don't really like the "less advanced" races, mostly staying around to observe them. they have distinct societies led by a council of elders and tend to avoid evil

these unicorns are badasses

unicorns strongly despise the use of the force but encourage the power of destiny. in the context of pavetta's betrothal feast, a unicorn would not be happy with pavetta's little source hurricane thing, but would encourage geralt to follow the law of surprise

in of the witcher, unicorns are very important because of their world-hopping capabilities. the aen elle, unfortunately, realized this and began enslaving unicorns to help them plunder other worlds. this turned into a massive conflict between the unicorns and elves.

[merakiui]

There's an AFTERL!FE blog now! I'm so happy. All of your posts are so good and I love how you write. Would it be possible to get another story about Theo and Nine's rivalry? The way you write them is just so fun and enjoyable to read.

(Thank you so much! I’m very happy that you like my posts. (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ* You may definitely have another story of their rivalry! I had a blast writing it. This can be considered a sequel to Cake, but it can be read as a standalone as well.)

Nerium Oleander (Theo and Nine)

Stalkers are poison ivy. Their victims are innocent trees, who breathe life and fortune into the one who watches them like a hawk. Twining around their limbs like rope and heavy iron and keeping them pinned for all their worth—it’s a display of parasitic infatuation. Love, like any other emotion felt in full, is awfully draining. Day and night, allowing that person to consume your thoughts. Thinking and wondering if they appreciate you just as much as you value them. Wishing that they would notice everything you’ve done for them on the sidelines. Loathing anyone who threatens that nonexistent relationship.

As fate would have it, there are unlucky instances in which love is one-sided.

Theo simply can’t bear the thought of that, so he becomes oleander—a flower blooming in beautiful death. One hint of its aroma can send you to an early grave. Every inch of the inviting flower is bathed in poison, and yet it’s still so gorgeous. Why is it that the ugliest personalities have the prettiest shells? It’s frustrating to know that he has competition. In a setting with nineteen other Reapers, Theo’s got a lot on his plate. Like ivy and oleander, it’s the exterior that fools. A sharp, monstrous idea can be wonderful as long as it’s hidden within layers of honeyed promises. Like a cake that’s stacked with plenty of delicious flavors.

He doesn’t want to waste his time on endeavors that won’t bear any fruit, but befriending every Reaper will have its benefits. He’s already made a list of those who pose the highest threat to his precious manager. Nine is at the very top, his name circled in black pen. As much as he dislikes the polite and oh-so-gracious Reaper, he has to pretend as if the two of them are friendly coworkers. As if he doesn’t wish for Nine to transfer to another Department or to cease existing. But immortality is funny like that. You’re either stuck with the best people in the world or the fiends of your worst nightmares. Theo wonders if this is his punishment. Spending an eternity with Nine is far more hellish than Quincy and his status as a devil.

Which is why he holds so much hatred for those who hurt his manager, specifically the ones who simply don’t know when to quit.

The blue-eyed oleander witnesses it in the early hours of the morning during a particularly unfavorable mission. A vengeful spirit had the gall to hurt his manager, and they had even more of a spine to talk to them as if they were a worthless weed. In his garden of noxious plants, Theo sees the disgusting hemlock attempting to snuff out the beauty that is his beloved rose. His expression switches in an instant, a light flickering behind those expansive eyes. There are so many emotions he feels in that moment, but fear is dominant as it grabs his heart and squeezes. The spirit could kill them. It’s about to kill them, and he’s flipping through his spell book with rapturous intent.

And then Nine is at their side, shielding them from the spirit’s attack. Before him, the specter vents in anger, spewing meaningless insults. Theo feels as though he’s just been kicked in the stomach. Why is it so hard to get to you? he thinks, gripping the leather book. His chest aches as he sees the manager cling to Nine. Why can’t I be the one who saves you for once? Why can’t you just rely on me? Nine is better equipped to deal with the situation as he listens, attempting to reason with the vengeful spirit. Its crocodile tears don’t faze Theo in the slightest. He should be the one crying because he was too late. One spell and his manager would’ve been rescued from the claws of such a beastly spirit. And yet Nine was faster with his reaction time.

Theo makes a mental note of the way Nine purifies the vengeful spirit once it’s calmed down. He’s always gentle when he talks to them, using his relaxing aura to coax them into tranquility. Theo would’ve preferred to crush it beneath his unmerciful heel, but the problem has been solved. There’s no use fretting over it now. Though it will definitely keep him awake tonight.

“Manager!” He jogs over to them, dropping down to inspect their wounds. “Take this to stop the bleeding. I’ll help you.” Unfastening his cape, he passes it to the manager, who holds it against the bloody laceration while he searches for a proper healing spell.

“Thank you, Theo,” (Name) says, wincing at the stinging sensation. “That spirit really put up a fight. Thanks for coming to my aid, Nine.”

“No need to thank me, Manager. I’m relieved you’ll be okay. Mr. Theo will have you healed in no time.”

Theo grits his teeth before facing Nine. He wants this unworthy hemlock out of his special garden. “Could you gather the others? Let them know that we’re finished over here.”

“Very well. Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“No.” It comes out way too stern, and Theo’s quick to correct himself. “No thank you. We’ll be fine.”

He doesn’t spare Nine another glance as he departs, focusing on the manager’s pained expression with sympathy. They’re in his arms now, grasping at him for salvation. The situation couldn’t be anymore perfect.

“That was crazy, wasn’t it?” they ask, making light of the previous events. “My heart is still racing!”

“I...was so worried, Manager.”

They let out a wheezing chuckle. “Thank goodness Nine was there. If it weren’t for him, I could’ve gotten killed. It’s scary to think about.”

“Yeah. Terrifying,” he echoes while casting the healing spell on them. Surely there’s a curse that brings misfortune. Theo wants to do everything he can to master every negative incantation there is. Just for future reference. There are so many possibilities when it comes to his rivals. He’ll have a field day debating which is the most effective. “You’ve got to be more careful. If you ever find yourself in trouble, just come to me. I’ll always be here to help you.”

They smile, sitting up on their own accord and feeling for any wounds that might’ve escaped the cleansing powers of Theo’s magic. Every cut is sealed and every bruise is gone, leaving the manager with a feeling of rejuvenation. At once, they recognize the plush fabric of Theo’s cape and gasp, noticing just how much blood has stained the white cloth.

“I’m sorry for making such a mess. I’ll wash this as soon as we get back.”

Theo eyes the color with disdain. How utterly cliché. It’s almost sickening. Red on white is too bold—too deep of an implication. Red is a color that means many things, two of that being passion and love. A third is the color of blood. And white is meant to symbolize purity. Theo knows he’ll have to work hard so that the manager’s purity doesn’t bleed out onto the sterile white of this corrupt world. There’s no way he’ll ever let that happen. When he stares at his cape, drenched in splotchy crimson, he sees more than just a soiled piece of fabric. He sees the darkest imprint of (Name). But blood is still messy, even if it is his beloved’s.  

Theo wonders which cleaning agent is best for erasing blood. His thoughts spiral deeper and deeper into a rabbit hole of wickedness. Mortality is fragile, and cake and blood are no different. Both are victims of inescapable chance. On the other hand, immortality is a curse that binds him to the one he’d rather be far away from. Speak of the hemlock, who has completed the command with diligence. Nine approaches with the others in tow, all of whom crowd the manager like insects. Theo wishes to spend a moment longer with them. Just a few more minutes. There’s so much I want to tell you. He’s bound to this silver-lined rivalry, a prisoner of obsession. And Nine has no idea.

He supposes that’s how poison works. It doesn’t take long until it spreads within its victim, who is unaware as it shuts down vital organs and flatlines their functions. If Theo has to cut the strings that tie him to Nine and anyone else who dares get in the way of him and the manager, he’ll do whatever it takes. Like poison, it’s small and deadly. Poison might not kill an immortal Soul Reaper, but that has nothing to do with their mentality. Cake might be the same when it comes to ingredients and presentation, but it’s the baker who’s most important. A cracked baker is easy to exploit. He’s even easier to tear apart when he’s alone and basking in his own corrosive thoughts.

The oleander festers at the manager’s side, a quiet flower waiting for an opportunity to infect everyone with debilitating poison.

------

Nine has begun to notice a pattern. It’s tiny at first—like a minor inconsistency that isn’t worth the trouble. But then it becomes a prominent itch that looms in the back of his mind like a shadow. Since that mission, Theo’s been hanging around the manager as if he expects another near-death experience to happen, which shouldn’t be much of a worry. Although (Name)’s mortality is concerning, Nine knows the Reapers in the 14th Department would never let any fatal harm befall their precious manager. So why is there a strange feeling that overwhelms him whenever he spots Theo trailing after them, holding files or a bento he made specifically for them? Anyone with half of a brain would assume he’s playing favorites, attempting to get on the manager’s good side so that the punishment for skipping out on work is lighter. Though Theo doesn’t seem like the type to slack off, which is why Nine is sinking in a state of perplexion.

What is he trying to achieve? Realistically, what is there to gain other than (Name)’s approval? They like each and every one of the Reapers, so it’s not like anyone’s on their bad side. He has an eternity to figure it out, though Nine can’t exactly be bothered. If it isn’t hurting anyone, why should he fret over Theo’s behavior? It’s not as though he’s acting out of line. Rather, he’s been quite pleasant. He even offered to assist Nine in moving a few boxes. Nine doesn’t want to hold any suspicions about his colleague, nor does he want paranoia gnawing on his ankles like a puppy.

Without realizing it, he’s been aimlessly walking through the campus as he pieces together fragmented thoughts. His eyes land on the manager, who is alone as they stride towards him. For once, Theo isn’t at their beck and call. Nine thinks of Day and his unwavering loyalty. Perhaps Theo is just as enthused about (Name) as Day is with him. Nine shrugs those comparisons away, opting to focus on his manager.

“Hi, Nine! What’re you doing out here?”

“Taking a small stroll,” he answers. “The weather is perfect for this, and it’s always beneficial to get some exercise.”

“I agree. To be honest, I wanted to clear my head for a bit. I’ve got so much work that it’s beginning to stress me out.”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Manager. Would you like any help?”

“I don’t want to bother you.” They wave their hand through the air as if the distress isn’t clear enough. It’s obvious they’ve been pulling all-nighters just to get through paperwork and other tasks. “Would you mind if we walked together?”

Nine considers their offer for a moment. While he would prefer a few more moments to himself, he can’t deny someone as caring as (Name). It’s almost a crime to turn them down, and he has no idea where all of this fondness is suddenly coming from. Regardless, there’s a sneaking sensation that touches his sixth sense. Since when did the flowers have eyes? The wind rustles through the greenery, creating an eerie sound that settles in the courtyard. He’s compelled to retrace his steps and turn down the corridor, but your patient expression chases that idea away.

“I don’t mind.” He falls into step with you, calmly observing the deliberate clicking of your shoes. “Take care not to overwork yourself. The 14th Department depends on your leadership.”

At least a few Reapers are more than dependent, he thinks.

“I’ll be fine as long as I can finish everything on time. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“Make sure you’re getting enough rest and eating your meals—“

“I know,” they say, drawing out the syllables. “I appreciate your concern, Nine. It means a lot.”

He nods, a simple gesture that confirms his gratitude. His manager is always thanking and praising the others. Briefly, he wonders if they’ve ever taken time to care for their own well-being rather than the well-beings of the Soul Reapers.

“When all of this is over, I’d love to spend more time with you,” (Name) goes on, a bounce in their step. Nine doesn’t miss the excitement that flashes through their features at the prospect of getting to bond with him. He’d rather be alone, but Nine has found it to be a challenge whenever they’re involved. “Do you think you could teach me to play an instrument? I’ve been meaning to pick something up, but I never seem to have time.”

Well, Nine happens to be skilled with his hands. And hands are required to play most—if not all—instruments. Perhaps you’d like to learn the violin, or maybe you’re interested in the drums. He’ll have to learn as he goes with those, but it’s worth it if it means (Name) will be happy. How odd. Where did all of this compassion come from? Nine knows what instrument they’ll say, as the two of them have sat in the storage room and played it on plenty of occasions. The atmosphere doesn’t change, but the flowers certainly do. As if wanting to blot out a horrid memory, the eyes close and a mouth creases into a tight line. Nothing short of disappointment.

“I was thinking I could be good at the piano if I tried hard enough. What do you think? We can play together, and we can even form a band.”

A band consisting of two people is hardly a band. Handcuffs can only restrict one person. A pair of unseeing eyes are useless, and Nine knows his words must be chosen carefully lest his tongue sit on a rusted tray.

He puts on a thin smile. “Learning an instrument can be just as stressful as work. I wouldn’t want to jeopardize your health.”

“I’ll be fine, but you do make a good point. It might be overwhelming if I try to balance that and missions. One of these days I’ll try to learn.”

Just not now.

And he couldn’t be any more relieved.

------

Nine finds himself in the common room later that evening, reflecting over the events of the day when he encounters the blooming oleander. He’s preoccupied with the book in his hands, which is a collection of stories written by the famous Edgar Allan Poe. He never intended to pick up something so macabre. It happened to be the first thing he grabbed while perusing the shelves. Perhaps he should’ve looked for a poetry book instead. Before he can get up and complete that task, Theo enters his visage, the corners of his lips upturned. It fails to reach his eyes.

“Good evening, Nine. I didn’t expect to find you here. This is a wonderful surprise nonetheless.” He says a greeting that’s reminiscent of Nine’s, which has been tailored ingeniously. Recycled words are only worthwhile if they’re put to positive use, and Theo bleeds venom. He has no reason to speak to Nine. In fact, he’d rather avoid him at all costs, but that won’t work if he intends to poison his fragile mind with every bit of sly kindness he can muster. Theo has learned to be resourceful. A talented baker knows how to improvise, after all. “Oh, I recognize that cover. It’s an anthology of Edgar Allan Poe’s short stories. Which one are you reading?”

Nine glances at the page, picking out notable phrases. He’s at the part where the old man is smothered by his own bedsheets. “‘The Tell-Tale Heart.’”

“That’s grim, isn’t it? Well, all of his stories are, but that one in particular is really morbid.” Theo sits beside him on the sofa, keeping a gap between him and the weed that is Nine. “Wouldn’t it be scary if you woke up to someone trying to kill you? I know I’d be alarmed. But we’ve already experienced death, so maybe it’s not frightening anymore.”

He tries to understand the motive behind Theo’s incessant chatter. The two of them have never really clicked. Small talk isn’t something they can fall into so easily. Nine wants to ask Theo many things, but it’s wrong to suspect someone without any evidence. So he merely nods as he listens to Theo, hoping he’ll take the hint and leave. It’s not as if Nine doesn’t want to talk; he’s just not accustomed to this facet of the Day Reaper. Lo and behold, the question slips out before he can stop himself.

“What would you do?”

“Excuse me?”

“If you were one of the investigators, what would be your reaction to the man?”

“Oh,” Theo states, pursing his lips as if the inquiry requires deep thought. “We know that the narrator is unreliable. He only wants to kill the old man because of his eyes. He gets paranoid when he hears the man’s heartbeat coming from the floorboards, even after he dismembered his body. I’m sure anyone, investigator or not, would think he’s insane.”

“Do you think that?”

Theo bristles at the question, a sour taste coating his tongue. Why is he suddenly being interrogated by Nine? This isn’t an interview, and it certainly isn’t a questionnaire for a criminal. He laughs to cover up the crack in his mask. “Of course I do. No one of sound mind would murder someone defenseless all because of the way their eyes looked. Just saying it out loud like this is madness.”

Nine nods again. Insanity cannot exist without sanity. A heart cannot function without a beat. A parasite cannot live without a host. He’s not sure where this conversation is going. This is far from a cheery book club meeting. Nine searches every inch of his expression, noting the occasional twitch of his mouth and the constriction of his pupils. Yet he can’t detect an ounce of a practiced lie. Could it be that his instincts are misplaced? Is this what Theo has wanted all along: A moment to talk to Nine as friends rather than coworkers? Perhaps he has been incorrect in his judgement.

The book shuts; Nine doesn’t want to read anymore. There’s an unfinished composition waiting for him in his dorm room. Standing up from the couch, he lowers his head in the form of a farewell. He sets the novel on the coffee table so that Theo can indulge in the fictional world of Poe.

“I’m afraid something has come up, so I’ll be leaving now. Please enjoy the remainder of your evening, Mr. Theo.”

“I will.” Theo beams. “Sleep well.”

Nine doesn’t waste a second turning his back on Theo, exiting the common room with graceful movements. As soon as he’s out of sight, the happy grin melts away and is replaced with that of a dark scowl. He’s not a mindless fool. It was obvious that Nine was uncomfortable. He’s just too polite to say anything, and that’s a weakness Theo’s willing to dissect.

So you were reading Poe, hm? he muses to himself, picking up the book and turning it over in his hands. I took you for a poetry guy. How chilling, Nine. Manager wouldn’t like these grotesque tales.

Who is he to determine what they like and dislike? Theo’s watched (Name) for quite some time now, committing their quirky habits to memory. It’s almost comical how they never seem to notice. Nine does, but he’s always been keen, and yet he can never understand the meaning behind his constant staring. That’ll happen when you spend your days alone, keeping yourself entertained with the voice inside your head. Theo wonders if Nine gets lonely with that depressing lifestyle. The two of them are like night and day. Theo’s bright and blinding like the sun. Nine is quiet and calm like the moon. But there isn’t any oxygen on the moon, and the sun can steal a person’s eyesight without feeling any remorse. Two Reapers of complete opposites, rising and setting all the same. A weed and a flower masquerading in a game of cat and mouse.

Oleander grows to towering heights. A stalker’s presence looms as tall as the very flower Theo embodies. He doesn’t care if he’s a leech or a misleading flower. Anything’s better than hemlock and the imposter cake Nine’s baking. Theo’s the baker and the pianist, not Nine. It will never be Nine. He’ll make sure of that. At his very core, Nine is a jawbreaker of many emotions and memories. Theo will fracture every layer until nothing’s left. Until the ground is a mess of colors and stories that unfold before the entire 14th Department. He’ll dig into Nine’s mind with a knife and fork to pull apart stringy recollections of his past life. It’s guaranteed to be a dessert far tastier than a slice of cake.

Poison ivy is easy to identify. As the saying goes, ‘leaves of three, let it be.’ Theo isn’t as obvious as a sickening rash. That’s the difference between ivy and oleander. One kills and the other spreads with red irritation. While he could sit and wallow in bitter annoyance, he’d rather get to memorizing every hateful hex in his spell book. Maybe he can trick Ell into making him a felt doll of Nine. Oh, the thrill of voodoo. Theo’s never performed such dark magic before, but it wouldn’t hurt to try. He’d like to see Nine lose his mind for a change, because eternity knows Theo’s lost his.

The manager deserves only the prettiest of flowers, and oleander has such a gripping, virulent embrace.

[random-senpai]

Senpai's MILF Otome Game Masterpost

Protagonist and key supporting roles

You, MILF Supreme: The main character of the Otome game. You are an 34 year old single mother of a beautiful 16 year old daughter. You are an absolutely stunning woman with an amazing rack, an ass that won't quit, never takes shit from anybody, and has a tendency to say "Ara ara~" when amused. Due to the hustle and bustle in your life you've taken to styling your gorgeous hair into an easy to maintain side plait. Long ago you fell in love with your childhood friend and became highschool sweethearts. The two of you became married when you got pregnant at 18. Thanks your support for each other the two of you were able to juggle college and raising a newborn daughter together successfully. You thought you would be happy together forever until you found him in bed with another woman at the age of 25. The two of you divorced shortly after and you won main custody of your daughter. 10 years later and now you are an successful businesswoman with only a few superiors at work. But due to the juggling of your career and raising your daughter with care you have little time for love. At least until it finds you instead.

Your Daughter: A beautiful 16 year old girl that takes after you in many ways. She may have her father's eyes but the rest of her is mostly you. She's an otome protagonist in her own story, but not in this one. She can be clumsy and stubborn, especially regarding her own emotions. But you can tell she loves you deeply and wants you to be happy, even if she's going through a rebellious phase in her life. She's taken to cooking, cleaning, and other housework in order to lighten your load when you aren't working. And despite your attempts to tell her otherwise you can tell she carries deep guilt for robbing you of your youth.

MILF BFF #1: A friend of your's since Middle School that's carried out to your whole life. She was there when you started going out with your ex husband and was the first shoulder to cry on when he cheated. She's happily married to a wonderful loving husband and you were the maid of honor at her wedding. She's recently retired from the workforce and is currently a housewife raising twins. She occassionally calls you for advice raising them which you happily give.

MILF BFF #2: A friend you met shortly after you began working after college. Together you raised each other up as you climbed your careers. She's a fellow single mother albeit from her husband dying in an Truck accident instead of a divorce like yourself. She's not looking for love at the moment. And although she's open to it, she says her focus is her son.

(When you are together with your BFFs, the three of you are a holy trinity of sheer MILF power. Many look at you three stunned by your energy and appearance but all of them are too intimidated to actually approach)

Routes

Your Boss: The Manager of your Company's entire branch in the city and one of the few superiors you have at work. He's tough on everyone and has the face to match his nickname of the "Demon Boss". But despite his general harshness he's very accommodating for family. He grew up in poverty in a single mother household and is very understanding to them to particular. Funny enough he lives very modestly despite the money he makes from his high position. He donates most of what he makes to charities and programs, particularly many that support struggling families and single mothers. Often volunteering on his days off to see the good of what his money goes to. Every month he changes the flowers at his mother's grave without fail. He's very adamant about not mixing his personal life and his professional one. A huge tsundere that blushes to a degree most would be surprised to see on a 45 year old man.

Your Daughter's PE teacher: A energetic man with the brightest smile you've ever seen, as well as a passion for sports and his students. Although he serves as the school's PE teacher and coaches various teams (including your daughter's volleyball team) he never pushes the students too hard. He was actually the ace in your college's Football (Soccer) team. Unfortunately he suffered an injury he never quite fully recovered from and never went pro. Long ago you had a chance meeting with him after he got injured and helped give him the strength to move on after losing his dreams. He wanted to ask you out back in college, but as you were married he simply thanked you and moved on.

Your Ex Husband's older brother and your former Brother in Law: A childhood friend that's always been there to support you. He has a scary face as well as a scar from when a cat you took in clawed him in your elementary days. He's been a great uncle to your daughter and helped you throughout your divorce to his brother. A former Yankee, he's never been the brightest in terms of booksmarts. One of your most consistent memories of middle/high school was patching him up after he got into fights. He failed his college exams and became a construction worker, gradually making his way to Crew Leader through hard work. When your Ex Husband cheated on you he beat him to the point where you had to pry him off. Now their relationship has been strained ever since. Despite his imposing presence he's a coward with his emotions. He's liked you since high school but never felt he was good enough for you, especially now that you're so successful and he's just a guy in construction. On the day he graduated he gave you all the buttons from his uniform.

The bar owner of your favorite place to drink: Charming and reassuring, it's incredibly easy to open up to him. He's been there for many a night of your drunk ramblings and even relates to many of your problems as a fellow single parent. Although he never gives details on what happened to his daughter's mom, he absolutely loves to brag about his daughter (who just so happens to be your daughter's best friend). Off the clock he's surprisingly sensual and is a bit of a dirty talker. His smirk in particular can get very seductive. He has an excellent singing voice and even though he insists he's too rusty, he's very talented playing the guitar. Long ago he was actually a musician that never managed to be successful. When he became a father, his own dad taught him the ins and outs of bartending and helped him raise his daughter. His bar was actually inherited from his father. The fact that he was entrusted with it is something he cherishes greatly.

The Young College Intern: A college student shadowing your company for an internship. Due to certain circumstances you've been put in charge of him. His naivety and energy remind you very much of yourself in your youth. He has a very obvious crush on you at first sight and is very bad at hiding it. Considering your age difference you just think it's cute and don't take it seriously at all. He's the eldest of 5 siblings and shows a more serious side when it come to them. Especially now that his parents are currently working abroad for awhile. Outside of interning for your company he also attends classes and works part time. Not wanting to worry anybody he often hides any signs he's tired with a smile on his face.

(Maybe Maybe not route) Your Ex Husband and your first love: A professional comedian, actor, and show host. Along with his older brother the three of you were close growing up. He always found a way to make you laugh and smile, thats why you fell in love with him. On your 2nd year of High School he confessed to you and you started going out. He's always been somewhat childish and immature but very quickly took up responsibility when you became pregnant at 18. The marriage was a shotgun wedding sure, but the two of you were happy. It was a struggle juggling raising a daughter and your subsequent educations and careers but together you made it work. Until you caught him in bed with another woman at 26. He broke your heart and the divorce was messy, numbing you to the possibility of experiencing romantic love for years. Post divorce he's changed his last name and became estranged from the rest of his family, especially his brother. He's been doing very well for himself however and broke out in popularity soon after your divorce. But even so he never lets his busy schedule get in the way of the days he has custody and he's been trying his best to be a good father to your daughter. He seems more mature now than when you were married and you can tell that he's changed. Whether it's for the better or the worse, you don't know. His route is the only one where your daughter doesn't support you and actively objects to it.

Other Supporting Roles

Your dad: Your father whose raised you alone after your mom died in a tragic accident when you were 13. He loves you deeply and spoils his grandaughter a little bit too much. He objected to it when you first married Ex Husband but has never said "I told you so" after the divorce.

Your Daughter's Best Friend and the Bar Owner's Daughter: A sweet girl whose more shy and introverted personality compliments your daughter's well. Beautiful but dresses very plainly. She has a wonderful singing voice and sometimes works part time at her father's bar as a server.

MILF BFF #1's Husband: He loves his wife and children dearly. He was always a little bit awkward even when they were just dating and you love to tease him about that. You can tell at times that he's self conscious about being a good enough provider and husband for his wife.

Boss's Little Sister: The owner of a flower shop in town. She often worries about her big brother and his prickly personality causing misunderstandings. But she understands him well and loves him greatly. The flowers he brings to their mother's grave are oftentimes ones she's grown herself and if she has time she comes with him. Married with 2 sons, she jokes with him about if he's ever going to find anybody.

Your Former In Laws: The parents of your Ex Husband and his older brother. Your late mother and them were very close friends. Even though you've divorced from their son they still proudly call you their daughter. In fact after your divorce they've all but disowned him. They still worry about their eldest and actively compete with your father over whose your daughter's favorite grandparents.

Pro Football (Soccer) player: Another alumni from your college and a member of the pro leagues. He played with the Coach back in the day and they still remain best friends. Although happy with his job and his life, he can't help but feel guilt over him living his best friend's dreams.

Intern's sister: The 2nd eldest of the family. She's a 3rd year on highschool and has taken over a majority of the housework in their mother's absence. She negs her brother over how childish he is, but is also the first to defend him against others. She worries greatly about how he overexerts himself.

[meetevieinthehallway]

even if it was momentary.

in which harry is forced to watch his worst nightmare.

-

jeff has been studying his friend with his eyes— intensely, closely.

he’s scrutinizing him— narrowed eyes not of judgment but of concern, bottom lip pulled in and between his teeth.

harry has always been a peaceful guy with a b type personality that just went with the flow and shrugged when things went wrong; jeff would know— harry often laughed at him for when the manager freaked over small details: a smirk on his face as he chuckled and hit his friend’s shoulder, murmuring and humming with a everything is good, mate.

to save detail, harry is not an anxious guy.

which is why this circumstance is unreal to jeff.

because if harry’s not anxious in general? he’s even more laid back when his girlfriend is around.

he’s just so reactive to her: a mess of cheesy smiles and brightened eyes, attention never shifting from holding, listening or looking at her. it’s been this way since they first met; jeff would know— he was there when harry’s words faded from escaping his lips as his eyes flicked from jeff to behind his figure, where she had walked in, mumbling a woah, who is that with awe in his voice and widened eyes.

her grace and elegance was always the first thing harry had acknowledged. he’s always looking at her, drinking in her beauty and never wanting to look away—or separate himself—from her aura.

but she is here—kind of—right now, and harry isn’t smiling.

and he can’t even look at her.

it’s strange.

“mate?”

harry knows jeff said something. he doesn’t know what— everything‘s really blurred and muffled right now and he is unsure of how long he’s been staring at the floor and watching his tears splat on his shoes.

“h?”

this time jeff has moved physically, putting a hand on harry’s shoulder and harry has no energy or focus to even flinch at his touch. he’s been dazed since he got here and since he saw her; the only recognition he’s given jeff of his presence is that he stared at him with wide eyes, stuttering out a heartbreaking where...where is she? what...—where’s my girl?

“i know you’re scared.”

scared.

harry doesn’t like the word.

it sounds utterly boy-ish and diminishes intensity; scared is a word for minor fears, minor accounts of shock and surprise, not this. something like this is not a scary feeling.

it’s trepidation.

harry remembers that she taught him that word (his love was such a bookworm and was constantly using the most colorful vocabulary). he remembers her endearing wide eyes when she said it— how she’s never heard such a word that conveys such severe feeling between its letters.

trepidation.

not an adjective, or verb, or adverb: a noun.

this word was a noun: a person, a place, a thing that’s acknowledged and felt, and harry thinks that maybe that’s why it feels like something soulless has entered him—another being—and he imagines that it’s smiling at him evilly and taking pride in this pain and harry had no reason to believe that it would ever leave him—

trepidation.

a feeling of fear or agitation about something that may happen.

may happen— an unsure possibility.

this—where harry is sitting—is the unlikely, unsure occurrence that is witnessed every day in television or movies or news— it will never happen to you, oh never.

but it has happened to him, to her— and god does he not want to walk outside and be bombarded with questions when he just wants his girl, he just wants his girl.

this personified entity is much more than meek scary.

“but she’s gonna be fine.”

harry swallows for the first time in what seems like days.

“really, h. she is—”

“jeff.” his voice is a whisper. he looks at the hand touching his shirt and he sniffs, tears still falling as he swallows a second time. “they had to restart her heart.”

it‘s quiet. it’s really fucking— fuck, it’s too quiet.

the only sound is the beeping of the heart monitor—a slow, chilling sound that only emphasizes the seriousness of his words and of the tears dripping down his skin.

“her heart stopped.”

jeff shakes his head, fingers squeezes his shoulder.

“can you understand that.. that means mine did too?”

jeff sees harry’s eyes for the first time since he walked into the hospital. they‘re such a bright red—burning, flaming—but the salted water pooled in his waterline can not extinguish such a wildfire. he stares at his manager, his friend, with these eyes, and his chin starts to tremble.

“she—” he shakes his head, turning it back to face her. “she almost— she almost died.” he can barely say it, his voice cracking and dying so far down to a whisper that it is indistinguishable from the breeze outside the window. he breaks then, and jeff moves again, closer, pulling his friend into his arms. harry falls into them, his body only leaning as he sobs loudly, coating both of their shirts with salt and spit and raw devastation. “s- sh-..she did die.” harry’s hand comes to jeff’s shoulder to ball up his tshirt, shoving his face further into his friend as his cries only increase.

jeff’s eyes are teary, but he doesn’t let them fall—not one tear—he has to be the strong one right now.

for him, but for her.

“she left— even if it was momentary she left and— and... i—” harry’s body is limp and struggling to hold itself up, “she died. she was...almost gone completely and—” his voice cracks and he swallows the bile climbing up his throat.

“and i had to fucking watch it all.”

harry believes he will never feel more helpless than he did in that moment.

one moment he is holding the love of his life’s hand and whispering sorrowful pleads until he’s cut off by a loud ringing beep, cutting through his mind and the air.

and everything slows.

his eyes are widening in reaction to the sound and as he’s pushed away from her, and he’s fumbling to desperately catch her hand as nine doctors swarm her bed, the nurse pushing him back and away from her touch. he feels her hand fall out of his and to the bed, limp, as he’s fighting the nurse and he’s yelling—yelling—at the woman until he realizes that—

that they’ve attached a defibrillator and they’re announcing the commencement of compressions and he’s watching her lifeless body jolt from the shocks and the violent pushes to her chest, and it looks like she’s convulsing and he’s staring—

and he’s helpless and useless because he— that’s his love and she’s.. dying, she’s dying she isn’t breathing and her body is failing and harry is only staring with big eyes and his body and nerves have gone completely numb and the nurse can finally push him out of the door because he’s so limp and confused and terrified and—

and then he’s watching and screaming and hitting through a glass window because his body is no longer numb and he’s attempting to claw his way back through but jeff’s holding him back and attempting to calm him but he’s watching his love and how her body is lifeless and he’s screaming as he collapses.

he can’t save her.

he can’t save her from her own heart.

“i-i had to watch her die— can you understand that?”

although the issue was solved in less than a minute, it felt like a lifetime.

and when those seconds were up, when the doctors had walked away and she laid as if nothing happened—asleep just as she was seconds before—he sprinted to the bathroom and emptied out everything his stomach had to offer. he sobbed against the toilet seat like something out of a scene in a movie, head and throat pulsating.

and when he found the strength to stand, he looked at himself in the mirror.

she always told him he was a beautiful cryer. not in the sense that when he was sad he was beautiful, but that he was just as gorgeous even when tears cascaded down his face.

he doesn’t know what she sees.

because he looked at his reflection in the mirror and saw a red face pulled tight with anguish, skin blotchy and wet and he looked like an actual disaster.

he didn’t wipe his tears or even rinse his mouth; he only stumbled out and back to her room, resuming his position of sitting next to her and looking down. he didn’t take her hand into his this time, because he didn’t want anything or anyone to harm her, even if it’s his own touch.

even now, crying into jeff, he still feels the dryness of his mouth and the acidic burn in his throat.

jeff’s hands move from his friend’s back to find his cheeks, pushing his body so he can coerce harry’s eyes to meet his. although his own are blurry, he can see that harry’s eyes have deepened in redness, and he’s still sobbing uncontrollably as he refuses to look anywhere but the ground.

“harry.” he shakes his face slightly. “harry, look at me.”

harry looks exhausted when he looks up at him, eyes weepy and tired and drained.

“she’s okay. she’s gonna wake up and she’s not gonna leave again.”

“you don’t know that.”

“the doctors are sure of it.”

“how the fuck are they sure, jeff?!”

“they’re doctors, h. they know what’s gonna happen.”

suddenly harry flings himself back. he’s shaking his head, doing his best to glare at jeff with his sad eyes. “they didn’t fucking know that her heart would stop, now did they?”

jeff doesn’t respond. only cards his fingers through his hair and huffs.

“did they?!”

harry’s yelling now, and he doesn’t like yelling at anyone but he’s shaking and sobbing and jeff doesn’t look at him and harry doesn’t know who he is right now. his widened eyes flitter away because he can’t stand to look at him right now, because half his brain is apologizing and half is only clouded of his girl, and he can’t do it. his eyes fall to her face for one of the first times, and tears leak down to his lips as he stares at her.

there’s purple and red splotches dappled across her cheeks and eyes and temples and lips and he can’t decipher his emotions as he drinks in that she’s bruised and bleeding and cut. bile seems to stir in his throat as he realizes this— she’s hurt, and harry can’t do anything to help her.

he weakly lifts his hand up to the sheets of the hospital bed, his wet eyes darting across her face and her body as his parted lips breathe deeply. he doesn’t want to hold her hand again— because he doesn’t want to have to ever let it go.

his girl.

his poor sweet love.

he reaches out a trembling finger that finds her cut cheekbone, his knuckle caressing over the skin. he’s shaking; he wants her to feel him, to look at him, he wants her to know that he’s here and he’s not leaving until she can see that with opened eyes.

“h.” jeff whispers, breaking the silence and parting through the chaos of harry’s mind. “she is gonna be okay.”

harry’s heart is barely beating.

“what—” he breathes, then swallows, sniffling. “what if she.. she doesn’t wake.”

jeff sighs. “she will.”

“they don’t know when.”

“she will.”

“they said..—” harry’s eyes meet jeff’s again. “they said it... it could be weeks before she wakes up.”

“they also said that they’re confident that that won’t happen, that it was a cautionary to know.”

“that’s a hope, jeff, a prediction—”

“you have to have faith, h.”

harry turns his face to look at him, curls falling in his eyes. “i-i... i can’t.” he mumbles. he turns to face her again, his hand automatically finding hers against his will. he sighs, running his other hand through his hair, sniffling. “i can’t have faith when there’s so many things that can go wrong.” he shakes his head. “she went from a car accident, to- to flatlining to—...”

“—here.”

it’s silent as he whispers.

“she could not wake for weeks, jeff.”

his friend lets his tears fall, and doesn’t respond.

he hates to think that he may be right.

—

her body hurts.

everything feels really tight and dry— her eyes feel crusted as she blinks hard, her throat giving out a quiet whine. she winces when she attempts to straighten her legs, grimacing again.

she slowly opens her eyes; it’s dark.

it’s dark except for the light from the lamp on the table next to her head, partially blocked by a large bouquet of yellow roses. she furrows her eyebrows and her eyes flicker downward, her eyes widening slightly when she regards the iv sticking from her forearm.

her brain is racking itself for any recollection.

“what the—” she’s murmuring to herself, pausing at the crack in her voice, but then her eyes move further down the bed and they land on harry.

his head is next to her body and on her blankets, his body bent over as he’s sitting in a crappy, small hospital chair. his back is rounded as he breathes in and out, clearly asleep but not peacefully dreaming. his hand is limp and loosely holding hers, and she extends her fingers, staring at how his lips are parted into the sheets. his eyebrows are furrowed and his cheeks are red, and she moves her hand, extending her arm to brush a curl out of his eye.

she hates to wake him, but she’s so genuinely confused and the pain in her body is beginning to make it self known.

“h.” she tries to speak out but her throat is dry, so she reaches a bit more so her fingers brush his cheek. when she rubs at it and he doesn’t wake, only pushes his face closer to the touch, she sits up as much as she can, wincing, hand falling to his shoulder.

she’s shaking it softly, testing her voice by saying his name repeatedly until it’s close to a normal volume. “harry. wake up.”

he snuffles and swallows, moaning softly and his eyes press together before they open gradually, and he’s looking at her for a couple seconds until his brain realizes my love my love she’s awake she’s okay.

his eyes are then widening and he sits up quickly, ignoring the pain in his back as he grabs at her hand.

“lovie.” he murmurs. “you— you’re up.” his eyes are flickering around her face before his brain registers and he leans to press the nurse button beside the bed. he then moves closer, and he brings her hand to his face, her fingers moving to touch his cheek. “hi, baby.” his eyes are watering and she furrows her eyebrows, ultimately confused because she doesn’t like when he’s sad and doesn’t understand why he is.

“am i— are we in a hospital?” she whispers, throat cracking as she lets her eyes close gently. “why are we...” she’s shaking her head softly.

“y’got in.. in a really, really bad accident.” his voice is a whisper, blinking back his tears.

she’s fucking okay, she’s looking at me and holding me and knows i’m here and she’s okay.

there’s a pause before she speaks. “really?”

he nods, before he shifts closer, turning his face to press a soft kiss to her palm. he’s moving slowly, carefully, fearful of hurting her or acting too fast. “really.” he whispers.

“were you..— were you with me?”

harry shakes his head, sniffling, “you were on your way home from work.”

“you’re sad.” she says, index finger shakily moving to brush at his tear that falls across the side of his face.

“i...” he shakes his head, letting out a small cry and exhaling. “i-i’m happy.. i’m happy you’re okay.” his voice is breaking. “so... relieved a-and...”

she closes her eyes, wincing at the pain pulsing in her face.

“you okay?” he leans over and presses the button again.

“pain.” she whispers. “’s my leg. what...” she looks down toward her lower body.

harry winces, biting his lip. “broke your fibula. and uh.. stress fractured your tibia.” he reaches his hand out, resting it on the top of her head and petting her hair. “you got really lucky, lovie.”

“everything hurts, h.” she looks at him, eyes glassy and tired. “i—”

a nurse then rushes in with an apologetic look, moving quickly to get his love’s doctor.

harry turns kind of dazed as everything slows, a single tear falling from his eye as he brings the back of her hand to his lips. the stress his brain has gone through has caused his head to pound, days and days of migraines all beginning to be alieved because she’s alert and okay but he’s staring at her with soft sad eyes because she’s in so much pain and—

he wishes his heart would’ve helped her when hers stopped and he wishes his nerves could absorb all her pain.

“let’s test your memory; is that okay?” the doctor speaks softly and she nods slowly, her hand coming up to rub at her undereye, but she winces when she grazes a cut.

harry didn’t even think of that— but now he’s begun to. he’s seen way too many depictions of amnesia after an accident— and having her not remember certain details may be just as painful as watching her lifeless body jolt with the compressions.

what if she forgets memories they’ve shared together and what if she just thinks he’s her best friend—like before they started dating—and what if what if what if—

but her memory is in tact.

and harry can breathe.

he can breathe because the doctor says it’s an absolute miracle that she’s only broken her leg after an accident that totaled her car, that her memory is in tact and she has no after effects of her heart stopping—

her heart stopping.

harry looks down when he mentions that, his body shivering because it just continues to incessantly replay in his head—it has been for the time since it happened—over and over again and it’s freaking him the fuck out.

but she turns to look at him with widened eyes after the doctor leaves, and his eyes look at her softly.

“i—... my heart stopped?”

“yeah.” his lip trembles.

“oh.” she breathes, gazing at him and sitting up a bit further. “i—... was it bad?”

he grasps a hold of his lip with his teeth and his watery eyes only stare at her as he swallows loudly. he nods, before looking away, praying that she stops asking. of course it’s her right to know— but he thinks that he’s going to pass out if he has to tell her what he felt, what it looked like.

“h-how bad?”

“bad.” he whispers to the floor, head shaking back and forth. “b-bad.”

“y-you saw it?”

he squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a staggering breath.

she’s watching him carefully, her eyes widening as he’s desperately attempting to hide his sobs from her, wiping at his cheeks.

“you watched it.”

it’s flashing through his head again and it’s all moving too quickly and he wants to vomit but she squeezes his hand and he’s grounded again.

“is— ‘s not gonna happen again, right?—”

he’s shaking his head before she can finish, eyes opening to look at her. “doctor said it was pumpin’ a bit too fast cus your body was in shock so it kinda....” he swallows, “short-circuited.”

she swallows, blinking at him. she lifts her arm to reach to his face, hand falling to his cheek and rubbing it softly. his eyes are still wet and there’s a hint of wounded trauma in his gaze, and she sniffs. her arm falls and pats the spot next to her.

“lay with me?”

he looks at the space on the bed. his mouth opens but no words escape, because he doesn’t know how to say no.

“i-i...” he swallows, throat bobbing and a tear spilling down his cheek. “i don’t wanna... don’t want t’hurt you.”

she shakes her head. she takes her hand out of his and places her palms on either side of her body, slowly channeling all of her energy. she pushes upwards, her body lifting off the bed as she scoots herself over, pain shooting through her, and his eyes blow in size.

“lovie—” he moves to aid her in moving, wincing when she does “—don’t... lovie don’t—”

“please.”

her eyes are big and innocent and harry realizes that she is so absolutely terrified right now.

she wakes in a strange place after five days of being unconscious, with a broken leg and a crying boyfriend and her head is spinning because this is all so much.

“please...can you lay with me? j-just hold me awhile?”

her voice is scared and devastated and harry lets out a sob. she looks so fucking sad and so full of utter pain; he nods slowly and he carefully crawls onto the bed. he’s weary of her frame but he wraps his arms around her, her face leaning into his chest and her hand moves to hold onto his arm. he moves his face away before returning it, with a gentle kiss pressed right onto her hairline. his tears spill onto her skin and he sighs, cheek pressing to the top of her head.

his tears fall into her hair, dropping off of the tip of his nose as he pulls her impossibly closer to his body.

“i’ll always hold you.” his voice is a broken, sad whisper and she sniffs into his shirt.

her hand presses to his chest, and she pulls away to look up at him. he lifts his face and meets her gaze, swallowing, as her hand comes to rub at his wet cheek. she doesn’t say anything, but she kisses his nose, forehead tilting to rest on his.

“hold me til i’m okay?” her voice is shaking.

he sniffles.

“never would i let go.”

[nerianasims]

Billboard #1s 1966

Under the cut.

Simon And Garfunkel – “The Sound Of Silence” -- January 1, 1966

This song is beautiful and thoughtful and I love it. People apparently talk about its naivete, but it's more a sermon than a political tract. And, above all, it is gorgeous and interesting music.

The Beatles – “We Can Work It Out” -- January 8, 1966

You'd have a better chance of working it out if you weren't blaming the whole fight on the other person, Paul. But that's so often the case. Thinking you're the only one trying, when the other person is trying just as hard, and you're talking past each other. I really like John's interlude, which also makes me think he's the one fighting with Paul. It happened plenty. This isn't a top tier Beatles song, but it's good.

Petula Clark – “My Love” -- February 5, 1966

Her love is greater than any other great thing in all of the entire universe, apparently. Sunshine? Oceans? Stars? Nothing compared to how great she is at love. Petula Clark could always sing, but by the time the chorus comes around the second time, she sounds sort of embarrassed. She doesn't hit the notes with her normal confidence. It is a thoroughly embarrassing song.

Lou Christie – “Lightnin’ Strikes” -- February 19, 1966

Well I'm creeped out. This belongs a few years back, if it had to exist at all. It starts with "You're old enough to know the makings of a man" -- just how young is she? Young enough not to smack him with a brick when he tells her he just can't help but cheat on her since that's what men do, but she needs to stick around waiting for him and not do the same. If she does, he promises he'll marry her... eventually. Plus falsetto. I hate this song.

Nancy Sinatra – “These Boots Were Made For Walkin'” -- February 26, 1966

And this song is a good answer to it. Lyrically, it's the pinnacle of what a country song can do. "You keep thinking that you'll never get burned/ Ha!/ I just found me a brand new box of matches/ And what he knows you ain't had time to learn." The narrator's cheating scumbag whom she's in the process of dumping is so low, she's not even bothering to get angry with him. She's got a new, far hotter guy anyway. Musically, the instruments are themselves a Greek chorus making fun of the guy and heralding the singer's triumph. Love love love it.

Staff Sgt. Barry Sadler – “The Ballad Of The Green Berets” -- March 5, 1966

More machismo, but of the lawful rather than chaotic variety this time. This must have made a lot of people very angry at the time, but it also must have felt triumphant to a lot of others. "Fearless men who jump and die" -- that's not good! It's The Old Lie! A man dies because apparently that's just what Green Berets do, and his last request is that his son be a Green Beret too. For what? The song doesn't even say what they're fighting for! There's a line about dying for those oppressed, the same bullshit we've been fed for so long, but absolutely no details. Because it's a death cult. Oh, and the song is musically terrible too. This is horrific.

The Righteous Brothers – “(You’re My) Soul And Inspiration” -- April 9, 1966

It's another heartbreak song from The Righteous Brothers. She wants to leave, but she's his "soul and inspiration." I would like it better if it weren't a heartbreak song. It doesn't have to be. The chorus would go perfectly well with a song about how happy they are together. Meh.

The Young Rascals – “Good Lovin'” -- April 30, 1966

He says his doctor has prescribed "good lovin'". He's got the fever, you've got the cure. This could easily be creepy. It's not, because it's so fun. It's a seduction song where the seducer is trying to make his target laugh, which is the right tactic if you're light about it. Fun, good song.

The Mamas And The Papas – “Monday, Monday” -- May 7, 1966

John Philips was one of the worst people in pop music, and that's saying something. The Mamas and the Papas were a good group musically, though. This song is about how Mondays typically suck, but the narrator is happy because this Monday morning, his girlfriend is still here. And then Monday evening, she's left. He doesn't sound too upset. I find this song repetitive and boring.

Percy Sledge – “When A Man Loves A Woman” -- May 28, 1966

I don't like this song. Sledge's version is obviously better than Michael Bolton's, but the problem is the lyrics. The song doesn't say so directly, but the implication is that a man should never fall in love with a woman because she'll bring him nothing but pain. Nope.

The Rolling Stones – “Paint It Black” -- June 11, 1966

The song is about depression, specifically the depression coming from the sudden death of one's romantic partner. Which makes it a love song, in a way. It's rock, and it goes hard, and it's more achingly sad than thousands of schmaltzy songs about the same thing. It makes me cry every time. Amazing, heartbreaking song.

The Beatles – “Paperback Writer” -- June 25, 1966

This became a #1? It's mean and petty. Someone who has made it as thoroughly as it is possible to make it should not be scoffing at the little people trying to claw their way up. Musically it even sounds kinda half-assed, for the Beatles. Very much a lesser Beatles song.

Frank Sinatra – “Strangers In The Night” -- July 2, 1966

He and some woman were strangers in the night, but fell in love at first sight and became lovers, and are still together. I love the song. Sinatra was getting older, and that comes through -- his voice doesn't have the modulation and delicacy it did when he was younger. At the same time, that age gives the song a lot of heft and truth. "And ever since that night/ We've been together/ Lovers at first sight/ In love forever/ It turned out so right."

Tommy James And The Shondells – “Hanky Panky” -- July 16, 1966

His girlfriend fucks. And he shouts this fact to us over and over and over and over and... okay, look. I understand being thrilled with your first relationship in which you get sex. A lot of sex. A looooot of sex. But it's generally much more interesting to the people doing it than the people being told about it. Dull.

The Troggs – “Wild Thing” -- July 30, 1966

I don't understand anyone who doesn't start dancing, even just in their chair, when this song comes on. It's a rocking love n'sex jam with an ocarina in it. There is nothing not to love.

The Lovin’ Spoonful – “Summer In The City” -- August 13, 1966

This song comes down to: It's hot in the city during the day, but cooler at night, plus you can pick up chicks at night. The lyrics are a big nothing, but the music is great. Somehow the song got associated with the various protest movements happening at the time. Is that gonna happen with W.A.P.?

Donovan – “Sunshine Superman” -- September 3, 1966

It just occurred to me that R.E.M. may have been inspired to write "Superman" by this song. It's the same basic premise, except that unlike R.E.M., Donovan doesn't realize he's being egotistical to the point of being scary by saying he will use every trick in the book to get this girl. Well okay, "Donovan" and "scary" are tough to put in the same sentence. The song is musically great. Think about the lyrics for a minute, and they're disturbing. I don't really know what to do with this.

The Supremes – “You Can’t Hurry Love” -- September 10, 1966

"Love don't come easy/ It's a game of give and take." Yep. And if you do try to hurry it, you're likely to end up with one of the jerks from the first few Supremes hits. Normally I would say to avoid getting advice from pop songs, but I'll make an exception for "You Can't Hurry Love." This is a welcome evolution, and an excellent song.

The Association – “Cherish” -- September 24, 1966

Glurge. Such glurge, I thought this was a 70s song before now. I actually cannot listen to the whole song. The music hurts me somehow. So I read the lyrics to see what they are, and blurgh. It's about how he can't figure out how to say he wants her and none of the other guys really care for her and that's it I'm done. Atrociously bad.

The Four Tops – “Reach Out I’ll Be There” -- October 15, 1966

A phenomenal song. You need a hand to hold. Yes, you. And The Four Tops will be there for you. Huge numbers of pop songs -- a plurality, at least -- are sung to "you." But this one feels like it really is. Levi Stubbs is going to be there for you. And this song has been there for me throughout my life.

? And The Mysterians – “96 Tears” -- October 29, 1966

So, this guy renamed himself ?. I would expect a song that involved someone named ? to be much odder. Maybe it was at the time, though the organ sounds mostly like Baby Elephant Walk (though not as good.) ? speak-sings that he's gonna get the person who dumped him back, and then he's going to dump them, and they'll cry 96 tears. That is odd, admittedly. Why 96? That doesn't sound like very many. One good cry would probably do it. The organ is the most interesting thing about the song, which is sadly not nearly weird enough for the band's name.

The Monkees – “Last Train To Clarksville” -- November 5, 1966

One of my friends was a huge Monkees fan when we were teenagers. She was born in 1977. The Monkees were on Nick at Nite (I think), so I did see a few episodes. She watched them religiously. She insisted their music was great, and I was like... really? Sadly, I was snobbish about it, and entirely because the show was so doofy. Their music really was pretty damn good. Though this song sounds like the younger brothers of The Beatles trying to copy them. Still, they did a pretty good job of it.

Johnny Rivers – “Poor Side Of Town” -- November 12, 1966

The narrator's girl left him to be with a rich guy. The rich guy discarded her, so now she's back on the poor side of town. The narrator rubs it into her face for a verse and a half, but then he says that to him she's "the greatest thing", and he doesn't blame her for trying. By the end of the song, he says he and the girl will be able to make it together. The lyrics are good. Unfortunately, the music and singing are dull. Someone should take these lyrics and make a much better song out of them.

The Supremes – “You Keep Me Hangin’ On” -- November 19, 1966

For once, Diana Ross gets to be appropriately angry at a jerk. By the end of the song, she's commanding him to get out of her life. I have been where she is in this song, and it ties you up in knots. It deserves more of a full opera than a high-energy dance song. But this song is still great.

The New Vaudeville Band – “Winchester Cathedral” -- December 3, 1966

This is a British music hall song. Whether you like it will depend on whether you like that very singular genre. I do, in small doses. If it had been a #1 hit at any time when I was listening to radio, I'd have hated it. I can only identify "Winchester Cathedral" out of the lyrics, and the rest don't matter anyway. The song is fun and annoying in equal measure, and hearing it once every five years or so sounds about right.

The Beach Boys – “Good Vibrations” -- December 10, 1966

This is my favorite Beach Boys song. Musically, it's astonishing. It's the song that persuaded me of the "Brian Wilson is a genius" stuff I kept hearing. It also has much better lyrics than most Beach Boys songs, as they are like the lyrics of a typical pop song. Except with a lot more "om bop bop" and the word "excitations." It sounds like it's going to have a slow, soft fade-out, and then the main chorus comes roaring back. One of the great pop songs.

The Monkees – “I’m A Believer” -- December 31, 1966

I think this is the best Monkees song. He didn't believe in love, then he "saw her face", now he's a believer. Has he even talked to her? Doubtful. That's okay, it's not meant to be anything but a cheery pop song. The beginning guitar does sound sort of like George Harrison, but the rest of the song is a bit more distant from the Beatles than "Last Train to Clarksville." They sound like a confident, real pop group, though they weren't allowed to play the instruments on it, which most of them were not happy about. They still ended up participating in a memorable song.

BEST OF 1966: This one is hard. I was tempted to make it a tie between about a half dozen songs. I think I have to give it to "Paint it Black" though. Maybe. Then again, "I'll Be There" is a heartlifting titan. And "You Can't Hurry Love" is timeless and something more people need to hear. And "Good Vibrations" is a musical triumph. Then there's "The Sound of Silence." And... discuss amongst yourselves. WORST OF 1966: No question. "Ballad of the Green Berets." Nothing in any year is worse.

[loverlache]

Dracula 2020 BBC Netflix - can they retain the balancing act into Season 2?

So I finished watching the BBC Netflix adaptation of Dracula recently, having been too busy around New Year to watch it on its original timeframe. I’ve now watched the whole series twice, partly because I was so gripped by episode 1 & 2 and especially their incredible casting. Episode 3 did slip for me, but this is because I think the writers spent too much time trying to shoehorn Lucy W in rather than work with the main story foundations that were working so well in their adaptation. 

So why did episodes 1 & 2 mainly work so well? 

First of all, I think one of the main reasons that the first 2 eps felt familiar but also fresh was that they fully allowed Dracula to be a real character walking the perfect tightrope between horror and delight, while being absolutely fine about that. 

It’s really hard to make Dracula more relatable without undermining his horror. Most shows don’t bother. This one however tried, and tried spectacularly. They did this by making him delightful - not just by making him gorgeous, but by making him funny. Purists may not agree, but for someone who has for years wanted to actually see Dracula become a real boy, the particular balance between his dark humour and the horrid things he did moments later made him so much more compelling. This Dracula had a fabulous mixture of boyish, impish delight, incredible charisma, and hideous evil. You were never sure if he would just be funny/evil, hot/evil, funny/hot, or just evil, and in all cases, one aspect seemed to accentuate the other.

What’s more, you knew that Dracula was really okay with himself, as well. Sure, he’s looking for a bride. He’s lonely. He’s also got some fears and insecurities, but overall you know he’s at peace with his diabolical nature, while still being able to find delight in still existing in the world. After 500 years this is no mean feat. He asks for no apologies, and we offer none. This is no emo Dracula, which is refreshing when they could have gone the route of ‘misunderstood angel’.

Secondly, they created a second character that further emphasised all of these elements of the new Dracula, while also coming into her own. The wonderful central ‘dyad’ created between Dracula and Agatha made him even more delightful, hot and evil, while also making Van Helsing a better character overall.

Dracula, you get the impression, hasn’t met quite so many people as interesting and compelling as Agatha in his lifetime. He’s done his best to stay engaged, learning how to find, enjoy -  and then eat -  interesting people, but meeting Agatha gives him the biggest kick he’s had in some time. You could say he’s never been happier to be undead to meet someone who really wants to understand him. To know him. To challenge him - no, not to make him a better person - but to make him think. 

Meanwhile, Agatha is rather lost before she meets him, but when she does - he’s fascinating, clever, a mystery, a challenge - but she also reignites her purpose, which is to find meaning through God.  Van Helsing’s character has never seemed so vital. I’ve watched so many turgid versions of the bland good guy, fighting for the good of humanity. This Van Helsing literally comes alive in Dracula’s presence, not because she hates herself, but because through him she does see a dark compass to the light. 

Yes, there is a sexual undertone there that is fully realised in episode 3. But the chemistry they have for most of the show is not about turning Drac into a romantic hero - rather more telling the story of two people who sense true purpose in each other, two magnets finally finding their opposite that promises something beyond their own self-destruction. 

Yes, you’re never sure if Drac may at some point humanise, or whether she may darken - but this adds to it further. How long can their dance continue and how might it end?

So how could they make this work in season 2? Agatha is dead! Dracula is dead! And wasn’t he humanised? Didn’t they make out? And didn’t Dracula in modern times suck? 

First of all, let’s check out what this season seemed to establish or at least suggested to me. 

1. Dracula is now a fully freed character. He is not just a monster who can’t walk in the light, or touch garlic, or look at a cross. He can wreak havoc anywhere at any time. This sounds incredibly interesting to me and worth exploring further.

2. Dracula can adapt to any time. I know the 2020 setting didn’t work for everyone, but I think it wasn’t the time setting but rather the messy storyline that was the issue in episode 3. I would be happy to see him mainly living in 2020, but with his whole lifetime played out in various stories, with lots of amazing flashbacks to many points throughout time. 2020 does not need to tie Drac, it can free him. Crucially, if Agatha is in his blood, it might also free her...

3. Dracula can still be bloody scary in the modern world. Yes its harder when he’s not dressed in a cape and the Transylvanian sets certainly help. But the creepy child and listening into the sounds of the undead trying to claw their way out of their tombs were truly horrifying - and I would like to have seen more of that. It would require more thought about how Dracula’s brand of horror transfers to the modern-day, more use of super scary- contortionists, but the true horror of this Dracula was surely his full acceptance of his delight in being with, playing with, and then casually killing people. Let’s focus on that.

4. Dracula changed the game in his relationship with Agatha - but we cannot be sure that he was asking for redemption or showed real love for her. I think what we really saw was that Dracula realised finally he had found his real perfect bride in Agatha - which he had been trying to create for years - and reacted accordingly. I think we saw a flash of something new in his realisation he no longer wanted to be undead without her - but that is all, at least for now. 

5. We are not totally sure that Agatha is dead, or Dracula is either. Dracula can be brought back to life easily, it's his superpower. And as for Agatha - have we not just seen that she can now live through time? Why could then they not create something feasible enough that she can also effectively take over her ancestors - as well as her descendants?

Taking all of the above, there are the threads of some amazing stories that could be created in all kinds of times and also, with both Dracula and Agatha moving together through those times on a long, bloody fight to a final, mysterious end. 

I have a few caveats:

1. They would need to keep Dracula fully fanged. I do not want to see Drac's horror played out in a meta way, eg Drac is the new evil face of Facebook stealing our data. He is at heart a bloodthirsty monster and we need to always be reminded of it. 

2. Drac needs to not be in love with Agatha in a way we would recognise it. They still need to keep the will-they-won’t-they dyad between Agatha and Dracula but they need to take it into a new direction now that we think we know he would rather not be undead without her. He may think he is in love with her, he may stalk her, or he may want to get rid of his own need for her, all of which I would love to see Drac cope with while still being terribly evil, handsome, funny and charming.  

3. Agatha still needs to need the light and her God. With this in mind, she cannot be dark Agatha (for any long periods at least) or be realistically in love with Dracula. Again I would like to see moments of weakness, as she wishes and dreams of his redemption before God through her influence, but she needs to rarely if ever believe it will happen. 

That’s it! Really hoping season 2 happens though....

[haribojelee]

Episode 13 of Season 2 has finally convinced me: Mob Psycho has cemented its place as my favorite anime of all time, and Mob, as my favorite anime protagonist.

I was iffy about starting it in the beginning, because I was one of the people who were put off by its art style. I’d only seen still images of the anime, and the drawings looked simple and were not at all what I was used to seeing in anime shows. On a whim, while searching for a new show to watch after I was done binging MHA, I watched the first two episodes a couple weeks ago.

I would like to say that it hooked me in right away, but that wasn’t the case. Rather, it was more of a slow pull; nothing about the show immediately caught my attention (other than the gorgeous scenes of Mob exorcising spirits, the colors and movement of the camera were incredible), but I kept coming back to it. I grew to appreciate the art style and came to realize how incredible the animation of this show really was. The simple designs of the characters didn’t detract from their expressions and personalities, but rather added to them; the animators could stretch the characters’ facial expressions to ridiculous levels to convey the most extreme of emotions and it still didn’t seem out of place because it was fitting for the art style. The characters could take up more interesting and dynamic poses and have a variety of body languages because the animators could focus more on the details of bodily expression rather than on complex character design. You could see that evidently in the way that a character like Reigen moves: his fluid stride, his expressive gestures. The character that seemed most immune to this, though, was Mob, the main character, the one that I should have been getting attached to the most... and though I liked Mob a lot, he wasn’t my favorite character of the show by the end of Season 1. The moments where I really did appreciate his character were during his rare displays of emotions: things like his emotional breakdown after his fight with Hanazawa and his guttural cry of “Riiitsuuuuu!!!” when Koyama attempted to take his brother. Most of the time, though, he was as stiff as a board, even during fight scenes, and it’s hard to get attached to a character who so rarely shows emotions (at least for me), because a part of following a character throughout their journey is seeing how outside events affect them and how they learn to grow from them. But that was also a part of his characterization and I understand that. Besides, that all built up to Season 2.

So, I finished Season 1, and I really wanted to have an out of body experience and dropkick myself in the face because how the hell did I let my biases against what I construed as “rudimentary art styles” keep me from enjoying a show this good for so long? And man, Season 2—

From the first episode, we get the sense that this season will be about Mob’s growth as a person. The first thing we see in this season is how he defeats an evil spirit by learning from it, rather than passively exorcising it. The scene where he gets teary-eyed while picking up the scraps of Emi’s notebook, saying, “I made the decision to consider my feelings more. And you need to pick up things you feel are important,” hits me like a tidal wave every time (and might I add how phenomenal Itou Setsuo’s voice acting is and how fitting it is for Mob’s character?). Throughout the beginning of this season, Mob starts to assert and question more things: who am I to exorcise a family of ghosts who are only living peacefully? Who’s going to stop me if I’m overcome with power? Won’t even a fake curse still have some effect on how the client thinks about the situation? He asserts that he doesn’t want to exorcise the ghosts. He questions whether Reigen was right in simply waving off the client with a fake curse. He decides that he wants to save Minori and is determined to. He’s adamant in his belief that rather than hurting people who are in the wrong, the best route of solution is to help them change. That’s why he forgives Minori for her shitty actions. He’s upset at Reigen for dismissing him and ignoring his growth so he decides to let it be shown. He forgives Reigen because he knows that Reigen is a good person, even though sometimes he can be inconsiderate toward him. His growth is most outrightly shown when he says he wants to confess to Tsubomi after getting in the top 10 at the school marathon. He has goals. He’s determined. Whereas in the beginning of Season 1, he wasn’t even able to decide by himself whether he wanted to join an extracurricular club or not.

When Mogami wants to get rid of Minegishi, Mob so firmly believes that he can change and, though he can’t completely trust Minegishi to follow through, he has to have faith that he will. Mogami reluctantly lets Minegishi go, while instilling that Mob’s kindness will not always be the answer and that it’ll be necessary to be hard on people. And Mob takes this to heart, too, as we can see when he tells Reigen and the other espers that they’ll only get in the way in his battle with Touichirou. On his way, he encounters Serizawa who, much like himself from the beginning, was isolated and in dissonance with his psychic abilities. He conveys to him all of the things that he learned through his journey and helps him change; he recognizes that the relationships he built throughout the story has made him grow as a person, and that Serizawa too can grow from it if he just has the right people surrounding him. He offers to be just that, a friend, a person who can understand the things that Serizawa is going through, because that’s what helped him out of his isolated state.

And finally, episode 13, what a fucking trip. Mob goes through so many emotions in just this one episode than we’ve seen from him over the course of two seasons. For the first time, we see him in pure ecstasy, because for the first time, he can truly unleash his powers, untethered by the fear of hurting those around him. We don’t expect to see him smile like that after Touichirou bombards him with fallen building blocks and laser beams and when we see it as the camera zooms in on his face, it’s chilling, almost scary. We’ve never seen Mob like that before. But as he catches a glimpse of Ritsu, he’s lurched back into reality and we see his shame as he’s hunched over on a piece of falling rock. Touichirou’s powers turn him into a bestial, otherwordly being while Mob keeps his form as he goes through multiple emotions at 100%. I’m glad that he never reaches ???% during this fight, because having a subconscious part of him that he has no control over take part in this fight would defeat the purpose of showing his growth; feeling his emotions at 100% without letting them get loose is a result of, I think, the things that tether Mob to his reality. Things like the Body Improvement Club (”Body improvement!!! Fight on!!!!!” omg that had me in pieces), Tsubomi (”I also have someone I need to express my feelings to!”), his brother, Hanazawa, Reigen, all keep him grounded. We see his ideal that he’s kept from the beginning (♫ I keep my ideals sorezore ♫—oh wrong anime) when he says to Touichirou, as he sits in a barrier within a coming explosion: “Just having powers doesn’t mean everything will work out for you.” And something he’s learned along the way: “That’s perfectly fine, as long as you make the important choices yourself.”

And that’s the line that made me completely fall in love with Mob’s character. Here’s the awkward kid who, in the beginning, had to call Reigen to ask if he should join a club, was fooled so easily into attending a cult by a woman who guessed his worries wrong three times, was torn between using his powers against Claw because he couldn’t decide whether he should listen to Reigen or his brother and Hanazawa, was too easily convinced to run for student council president and ended up making a fool of himself. He learns to make his own important choices and we see that so clearly. He makes the choice to run the marathon with his own physical abilities instead of listening to Mezato. He makes the choice to go after Touichirou alone. He makes the choice to stay with Touichirou and help him. And the scene of Mob trying to absorb Touichirou’s explosion, even with the pain of it, is a frightening yet heart-wrenching moment exactly because this is where all of his growth has led him to; he’s determined, empathetic, self-sacrificial, and yes, it’s painful to be in the presence of such a powerful explosion but it’s less painful than letting this man suffer through it by himself.

And when I look back at who Mob was in the beginning, that emotionally stifled 14-year-old boy, it makes this kind of development so much more meaningful because it shows just how far he’s come as a character. Mob’s character development is by far my favorite in any show I’ve watched so far. I think a lot of shounen anime tends to focus on the “power of friendship!” “teamwork!” and overall the idea that all is better than one, and Mob Psycho focuses on that, too, of course, because we see how people like Reigen, Hanazawa, Ritsu, and the Body Improvement Club have changed him. But the most significant thing about Mob’s change is his recognition of the importance of independence and autonomy, too; the ability to make his own decisions, to weigh his own consequences, to balance and prioritize what’s important to him. Maybe that’s a simple, self-explanatory thing, something so small that we tend to forget, but in Mob, the realization of it made the biggest difference.

(I may have had to write this because I have no irl friends watching this show and I needed to put all of these pent-up emotions somewhere. It turned out too long lol.)

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Nothing Good Happens After Midnight: Nineteen

 Bruce took a deep breath and prayed for patience. To whom he was praying, he didn’t know but it was worth a shot, “Sweetheart,” he said, “We have to do this.”

You shake your head starting to cry and trembling so hard you have to set your mug of tea down. He knows you’re about 3 wrong words from bolting out of the room. He doesn’t feel good about what he’s about to say. It feels manipulative and rude. He also knows it could back fire. 

Needles might be the one fear you just can’t shake. Not for anyone for any reason... And given the number of times he’s seen you avoid medical or outright refuse treatment to avoid them, it wouldn’t surprise him.

“Please, Y/N,” he says gently, “If not for you, will you let me do it for the baby?” You go very very still and Bruce waits, feeling like he just clipped a wire on a bomb and now he has to see if it was the right one. When you don’t bolt after a few moments, he sits in the chair behind your desk and holds his arms out, inviting you to cuddle into his chest. “You won’t let go?” you murmur after a long minute. “Not for anything... Just don’t hex me,” he smiles a little but he’s not kidding. He’s seen what happens when you’re that terrified. Clint had had to hold you down once for antivenom and you’d hexed him so hard he’d had bad luck for weeks. You wince and he slides himself over to hold your hands, “Sweetheart,” he murmurs, kissing your belly, “I know. I know it’s terrifying. But the two of you could be in serious trouble if it drops like that when you’re alone.” You wipe your nose on your sleeve and let him pull you into his arms and settle you on his lap. Your knees are shaking so hard that you’re afraid you’ll collapse. 

He rocks you gently and kisses your head, “You’ll try?” he asks softly. You nod and he lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He slides the chair back to be able to get the test kit off the table and you hide your face in his neck. “That’s good, sweet girl,” he soothes, “Don’t look. Just listen to me, okay?”

You whimper and his stomach twists unpleasantly. He knows this is tantamount to torture for you. In fact, you have been tortured with things like this. He talks. Because that’s all he can do to ground you in right now. “You’re doing so good baby,” he murmurs, putting the pieces together. “I’m gonna feed you so much ice cream after this.” You don’t respond but the hand he doesn’t need has fingernails sunk into his shoulder. You were clinging to him for dear life and trembling. He took your hand and ran an alcohol swap over your finger carefully, “The baby’s going to be so pretty,” he said, “Gonna look just like you.” He keeps talking, “I’m gonna tell you a secret, sweetheart,” he says, steeling himself to prick your finger, praying that he could actually hold you in place if you panicked, “I hope we have a girl. A beautiful little girl. And then three more little girls after this one.” As he talked, he pricked your finger and he could feel you draw blood on his shoulder with your nails. You’re crying again and he hugs you close as he writes down the level. It’s low. Not scary, but definitely lower than it should be. “Shhh,” he soothes, rubbing your back, “You did so well. Really good. I don’t feel at all hexed. Or even a little cursed.” You make a soft miserable sound and he tilts your chin up, “I’m proud of you,” he says softly, “I’m very proud. You were amazing. And I’m very glad we checked it. It’s a little lower than I’d want it to be... Let’s go get you something to eat. Are you hungry?”

You look lost. So very lost and scared. “Can you walk?” he asks softly, “I don’t think I can carry you back up to our rooms.” You nod and unfold yourself slowly, getting back to your feet. You look out of it and Bruce is willing to bet there’s a little dissociation happening to protect you from all the things you’d remember otherwise. “Let's get you upstairs,” he encourages, putting an arm around you. “I’ll tuck you in on the couch and get you some food. Then we’ll watch a movie, hm?” he says. He knows you probably aren’t really hearing him right now, as you claw your way back out of the pit. He feels sick to his stomach knowing that medical wants this done at least twice a day for the next week. They don’t understand. No one does, not even him. 

Bruce tucks you in on the couch, wrapping you up in a hand-knitted blanket Lea had made for you and putting a very battered, much loved stuffed cow in your arms to hold on to for a minute. Anything to surround you with some comfortable things so he could feel better about leaving you alone for a few minutes. He knew, logically that you’d be fine. That you just needed some time to come back to yourself. He would happily feed you all the comfort food and watch Disney movies with you for the rest of the night. Anything to chafe the life back into you and soothe all the raw, sore, wounds he just had to prod at. 

“Baby?” he says, slipping back through the door with a couple pints of ice cream and some other snacks. “I’m here,” you answer, “Sort of.” He lets the breath out he was holding and smiled a little, “I’ll take sort of,” he said, handing you a pint of your favorite ice cream and a spoon. He lets you lean into his side and drapes an arm around you as he queues up some comfortable things to watch. Nothing intense. Nothing Scary. Nothing sad. For a while, he keeps an eye on you. You’re making steady progress on your ice cream, which doesn’t surprise him. The little one is very fond of icecream. He knows laying on the couch and eating snacks with you isn’t really healthy but until they get your blood sugar drops sorted out, medical doesn’t want you doing anything as strenuous as you’re really capable of. So for now, he’s going to enjoy being lazy with you and feeding all your cravings. Even if they give you heartburn. 

By the time you finish your icecream, he’s long since finished his. “You okay, sweet girl?” he asks. You stretch lazily and rearrange them so you can have your head against his heart and be comfortably pinned between Bruce’s warmth and the back of the couch. Bruce lets you arrange things and smiles a little. “I’m okay,” you murmur, “I’m just tired.” He strokes your hair, “Then sleep, baby,” he soothes, “you got your tummy full. So just snuggle in. Focus on how warm and comfy you are.” You nod and he smiles. “Good girl,” he murmurs as you close your eyes, “I’ll keep the monsters away, baby.” For a long time, you’re quiet and he thinks you might be drifting off. Until he hears you whisper, “I’m sorry I’m such a mess, Bruce.” The hand in your hair stills and you open your eyes slowly, looking up at him. “Y/n,” he murmurs, “You were tortured. It’s not just a phobia. It’s trauma. Very real trauma. You may never be okay with this, and that’s okay... at least now we know you can do it if I hold you. Or if Nat and Clint stay with you if I can’t do it... and it’s only a week. Then hopefully we don’t have to do it again.”

He kisses you tenderly, “You’re not a mess. You’re brave, sweet, kind, endlessly smart and funny... You’re having my child. You’re the love of my life. And you need my help to take care of this. And baby,” he says, kissing you again, “I wouldn’t want you any other way. I love you. And I love you a little more every single day.” You start tearing up and he tickles your side, chuckling when you smack his arm away. 

Do you really want all girls?” you ask him, when you can stop kissing him long enough to talk. “I really do,” he says, petting your belly, “I’d love to have a tiny army of little badass witches, just like their mommy.” His fingers find the hem of your shirt so he can touch your skin. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, nuzzling into you. “Can’t wait to see how pretty this little one is gonna be. Can’t wait to see if I’m getting my little girl.” he nudges your shirt out of the way and presses soft kisses into the swell of your stomach. It’s not terribly obvious yet but part of him can’t wait for it to be. He feels you card your fingers through his hair and smiles. “I know you want our kids to look like me but, I think, handsome, that I’ll be very unhappy if they don’t get your eyes,” you tell him. He lays his head gently on your belly, “You’re crazy,” he says but smiles wider, pressing another soft kiss into your skin, “Don’t listen to her,” he teases, “You’d much rather look like mommy. I promise. She’s gorgeous... I won’t tell you what she looks like. I don’t want to ruin the surprise but... she’s really hot. So hot that sometimes I forget how to breathe when she smiles at me.” You sigh, “Bruce...” you say softly. The scientist just grins, unrepentant. He’s made peace with having a dad bod. But that doesn’t mean that sometimes, the comments comparing your ages don’t make him feel a bit like he won some cosmic lottery. You relax into his touch with a sigh. It feels nice. Really nice. You weren’t looking forward to being weighed at your next check-up. You knew it was normal but it was still a little jarring. It was something of a comfort that Bruce didn’t seem to mind or even notice anything beyond how much he enjoyed your breasts being swollen and your belly rounding out. “Can we take a bath?” you ask stretching.

Bruce hums and kisses his way back up your body to kiss your jaw and the spot on your neck that made you sigh, “That sounds like a wonderful idea. You wait here. I’ll go get it started.” 

  Tags:  @lancsnerd​ @stevieang​ @golddaggers​ @blameitonthecauseway​ @qxeen-of-hearts​ @process-pending​ @xmarveled​ @beautybyfire, @etherealwaifgoddess, @mschellehitt​

[fandomfanfics12]

We Are A Family-part 21

Title: We Are A Family. Pairings: Steve x tony, Peter x Wade, Nat x Clint, Sam x Bucky. Part: 21/? Warnings: swearing, fluff, angst, eventual smut, slowburn. Summary: When Nat comes into the avengers tower with baby Peter Parker, the avengers didn’t know what they were getting themselves into. But now that Peter is here,Steve and Tony both feel protective over him. It doesn’t help that Peter hates everyone other than Steve and tony. But as Steve and tony raise Peter, they start to fall for one another. Will this superfamily work out or will it all turn to hell? A/N: more angst and the last one for tonight, hopefully my updates will be a little more consistent now lol.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20

Their marriage went over smoothly for another five years. The calm before the earth-shattering and life-altering storm. Now though, the storm had arrived. Peter hadn’t noticed it at first, but he found Tony was spending more time at the workshop. And Steve was either at the gym or with uncle Bucky. This time, Peter was forced to really take notice. He no longer had Wade to escape too. Not since they stopped being friends three years ago.

“dads?” Peter called out as he let himself into the house. The house was still, silent, empty. Peter sighed and got a glass of water. He banged his keys on his knee as he drank it, trying to decide whether he should do his math homework or go talk some sense into his parents. They both suffered from nightmares and ptsd, but it had been good for a long time. Yet these past couple of weeks had been tense. Peter woke his dad’s up from nightmares at least six times a week, both of them screaming and shaking. He knew it was to do with the government and all the pressure about what happened in Sokovia all those years ago. Yet Peter still struggled to understand why this affected their marriage so much.

“Peter?” It was Steve’s voice, Peter forced himself to smile.

“Hey pops.” Steve smiled and ruffled Peter’s hair as he walked past.

“How was school?” Steve sat down on a chair and Peter shrugged.

“fine, how’s uncle Bucky?” Steve shrugged.

“fine.” Then the awkward silence filled the air.

“Is everything alright with you and dad?” Peter asked suddenly and Steve’s eyes widened.

“We’re fine.” Steve promised but Peter saw right through the lie.

“You’re not fine, if you were fine then you wouldn’t be arguing.” Peter grumbled and Steve sighed.

“We’ll be okay, we’ve survived rough patches before. I’ll talk to Tony tonight alright?” Peter nodded.

“Alright.”

“Don’t worry about us Pete, how’s Ned?” So Peter made polite conversation about school and his friends, all the while making a mental note of how exhausted Steve looked.

Steve knew that it was mainly his fault that he and Tony were having problems. He knew it started because he had begun pulling away. What peter didn’t know was the extent of the fighting. Some nights Steve would go and stay at Bucky’s. some mornings he wouldn’t even want to go home at all. He was pushing Tony away and then mad when Tony walked away. It was wrong and abusive and yet Steve couldn’t stop. He felt guilty as he snapped every mean remark, as he shoved Tony’s attempts of romantic gestures. Every time Tony tried to kiss Steve, Steve would turn his head. Or step just out of arm’s reach to prevent any hugs. No matter how hard Tony tried to fix things, Steve was trying equally hard to ruin them. But the problem was he couldn’t understand why.

“I don’t know what to do Bucky.” Steve complained and Bucky leaned against his kitchen sink, arms crossed over his chest.

“Are you still happy in your relationship with Tony?” Bucky asked softly and Steve squeezed his eyes shut.

“I was, until we started fighting. Which is something that I caused.” Steve put his head in his hands.

“why did you cause the arguments?”

“I don’t know.”

“did tony do something to upset you?”

“no.”

“Is it to do with a lack of sleep?”

“I’ve been having more nightmares.” Steve admitted.

“Of the war?” Bucky’s brows furrowed and Steve shook his head.

“No, it’s the purple guy-“ Bucky cut him off.

“Tell Tony.”

“I’ve tried! For years I have kept this secret from him and I can’t tell him. I can’t get the words out. I don’t know where to start or how to explain it and with each passing day it just seems more and more impossible to tell him.”

“Do you want me to tell him?” Steve’s gut churned and fear clawed at his mind.

“No!” He shouted and Bucky raised his brows.

“What’s going on with you?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t tell Tony. I don’t know why. And you can’t tell him either, promise me Bucky.” Bucky bit his lip but nodded.

“Alright Steve, I promise.” Steve felt his entire body relax, like that promise had saved his life.

“Thank you.”

“But you have to fix your marriage and put effort in. alright?” Steve nodded his head.

“Alright.”

It was like each passing day made things worse. It seemed as though Steve had given up on their marriage completely. Tony tried, day after day, he always tried to express his love for Steve. And it was like loving a brick wall. It wasn’t always like this, but with the accords, things just got worse and worse.

“Steve?” Tony asked as he walked in the door, he found Steve making dinner and his heart pounded in his chest.

“Hello.” Tony winced at how formal Steve sounded.

“how was your day?”

“Fine, and yours?”

“Good, I implemented a new magnet in Clint’s-“ but Steve cut him off.

“I’ve been thinking…” Steve trailed off and Tony waited.

“About?” he prompted and it almost looked like Steve was fighting to get the words out.

“Us.” Steve mumbled. Tony took a deep breath.

“Good thoughts or bad thoughts?” tony asked and Steve didn’t say anything. A bad sign. Bad thoughts. Very bad thoughts, scary thoughts that made Tony want to run from the room.

“I think we need a break Tony.” Steve said it so quietly that Tony almost missed it.

“No.” Tony could feel tears in his eyes, his heart pounded in his chest and Steve sighed.

“Hear me out?”

“No. We don’t need a break. Breaks are for people who are in broken relationships. Our relationship isn’t broken!” Tony exclaimed and Steve squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his fists.

“things aren’t right between us. You know it and I know it.”

“Bullshit.”

“Tony.”

“We can fix it Steve. It’s you and me and Peter against the world, remember?” Tony asked and Steve sighed.

“This isn’t the first time we’ve been in this position Tony.” Finally Steve looked at him, finally Tony got to look into his husband’s gorgeous blue eyes. Blue eyes which had once stolen Tony’s heart. Once had given him warm and fuzzy feelings. When had Steve’s eyes been so cold? When had he started looking at Tony as if Tony were no more than a stranger?

“And we came out on the other side, stronger for it.”

“Well maybe I’m tired of fighting to make it to the other side.”

“Well I’m not!” Tony shouted and Steve sighed.

“Tony-“

“We can fix this Steve. You know we can, we don’t need a break.”

“I just think we need time apart.” Steve was in his defensive stance, his captain America stance. Ready to fight at a moment’s notice.

“Isn’t that why you’ve been spending so much time with Bucky?” Tony demanded.

“What?” Steve choked on the word.

“You have been cold towards me for weeks. All your spare time you spend with Bucky, I’ve noticed, Peter noticed, so why do we need time apart?” Tony demanded and Steve rolled his eyes.

“When will you stop being insecure about Buck?” Steve demanded and Tony felt his nose scrunch up.

“We can fix this Steve, just tell me how I can fix this?” Tony said, trying to salvage the conversation before it turned into a screaming-match.

“You can’t.”

“But that’s what I do, I tinker and I fix things and-“

“not this time.”

“We can fix this!” Tony exclaimed and Steve squeezed his eyes shut.

Steve didn’t know why he was arguing with Tony. He had told Bucky he would try and fix things with Tony, not end things. What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I just go up to him and hug him? Why am I saying this? What am I doing? Steve began shaking, he felt ready to throw up.

“I don’t want to fix this.” Steve’s voice was shaking and when he opened his eyes he could see how much he had hurt Tony.

“You chose me, remember? You told me you didn’t regret choosing me. You picked this life with me and Peter. You proposed, you kissed me first, you started this whole thing Steve, so why are you pulling away now?” Tony’s voice was hoarse and Steve took a steadying breath. I still choose you. I still love you. I still want you.

“Choosing you was the biggest mistake.” Why couldn’t Steve say what he really wanted to say? Why was he ending his marriage? Why was he making the worst decision of his life?

“Dads?” It was Peter’s shaking voice, Peter’s stricken voice. Fuck.

“Peter-“ but tony cut Steve off.

“I think it would be best if you left for a couple hours, take some time to calm down.” Tony said rather coolly. Steve forced himself to nod, forced himself to take his keys and walk out the door.

It took Tony over an hour to calm Peter down. To explain to Pete that he and Steve were just fine. That their argument had merely escalated and that they’d sort it out. Fortunately for Tony, Peter had decided he would stay at Aunt May’s for the night. So whatever happened with Steve next wouldn’t be witnessed by Peter at least. When the front door did finally open, Tony’s heart dropped down to his stomach. Looking at Steve, Tony instantly knew what had happened.

“Tony-“ but Tony flinched at the sound of Steve’s voice. He studied Steve’s messy hair, his swollen lips, his clothes which weren’t sitting quite right. But it was his eyes which held guilt the first emotion Tony had seen in his husband’s eyes in a long time. Steve had cheated.

“We can fix this.” Tony whispered. Tony knew that the serum prevented Steve from getting drunk, but Tony told himself that it was just a drunken one-night stand.

“We can fix this.” Tony whispered. Yet Steve knew they couldn’t. they never would. Yet tony still looked at Steve with love and Steve wanted to break down and cry. Why would I do this? How could I do this? I love tony, I want to spend the rest of my life with tony. How could I do this?

“No, we can’t.”

“Steve we’ll never see the guy again, we can move past this. We’ll go to couples therapy, we can fix this, we-“

“I slept with Bucky.”

[fanficmoi]

The Fool By The Seaside Chp.2

Paul returned to the coast everyday after that, desperate to see the man, the creature, again. But he wasn’t there for the whole week that followed the encounter, or the week after that, or the week after that. He grabbed every book he could find on the library about sea creatures and there he found the word, a world he’d always thought to be fantasy and yet would never again be perceived as so in Paul’s mind. Mermaid. Or rather, merman. The book told him that they were part human part fish, and that they often appeared to sailors on their voyages at sea. It spoke of their beauty and how they used it to lure those sailors to their deaths. But Paul couldn’t believe that, yes the creature had been scary but Paul had touched him without his permission. The creature had probably never met a human before! The books spoke of encounters mermaids had had before with humans, often about how enchanting they were and how disappointed the men narrating the stories had been when they found out that they were fish from the waist down. Paul scoffed at them, how could people be disappointed at such a remarkable aspect? Paul knew he wanted, no needed, to see it again. To feel it under hand, to be able to take it in in detail and be able to appreciate every inch of its beauty.

Paul was desperate, he was irritable and nobody could figure out what was wrong with him. But he couldn’t tell anyone, the boy was Paul’s secret. The creature had sang to him. Surely that meant something, it had too.

It was with this thought in mind that it struck Paul. An idea to get the creature to return. Paul would sing. Yes, he would sing a song and hope for the creature to hear it.

And so that’s what he did one day. He brought his guitar to the beach, something he rarely did due to a fear that it would get wet or get covered in sand, and started to strum out a soft tune he’d been working on for some time.

One day, you'll look

To see I've gone

But tomorrow may rain, so

I'll follow the sun

One day, you'll know

I was the one

But tomorrow may rain, so

I'll follow the sun

He closed his eyes and let his heart take over the song, the wind caressing his fair face.

And now the time has come

And so, my love, I must go

And though I lose a friend

In the end you will know

Oh-oh-oh

One day, you'll find

That I have gone

But tomorrow may rain, so

I'll follow the sun

So focused was he that he didn’t hear a body come out of the water, with its head tilted and eyes wide in confusion and wonder.

And now the time has come

And so, my love, I must go

And though I lose a friend

In the end you will know

Oh-oh-oh

One day, you'll find

That I have gone

But tomorrow may rain, so

I'll follow the sun

The song ended there, and Paul sighed  in content, the first he had felt in a while. The atmosphere had relaxed, the waves and seagulls seemed muted, and Paul could feel himself beginning to lay down for rest when a voice made him snap up.

“Don’t stop.” It said.

Paul sat up in a flash and blinked his eyes as he took in the sighet before him. It had worked! The man was there, his body from the waist down hidden from view with the water. Paul stared in amazement as he took in every detail. The man’s skin seemed to almost shine as the evening sun struck it. He was still wearing the necklace with the blue stones, and Paul could see a gold armband on his left bicep with some engravings he could not decipher.

The creature spoke again, “I like your song.” Its, His, voice was different as he spoke than when he sang. It was rougher, more nasal, and yet still enchanting.

Paul finally dared to open his mouth, “I, that was it. The song ends there.”

The creature looked down at the water, the looked up again. “You have another?” He asked, “Another song?”

Paul found himself nodded, “Sure, loads.”

The creature, the merman, smiled. But it quickly faded as he saw Paul flinch away from his teeth. He sank down in the water, feeling dejected.

Paul cursed himself, “It’s okay, I’m sorry.”

The merman’s eyes looked at him without actually moving his head up. He then offered a nervous, close mouthed smile and said, “Song?”

“Ah, yes. Of course.” Paul said with a shy smile of his own. Then he started to sing.

I've just seen a face,

I can't forget the time or place

Where we just met.

She's just the girl for me

And I want all the world to see

We've met, mm-mm-mm-m'mm-mm

Had it been another day

I might have looked the other way

And I'd have never been aware.

But as it is I'll dream of her

Tonight, di-di-di-di'n'di.

Falling, yes I am falling,

And she keeps calling

Me back again.

Paul stopped and looked at the merman. He found him smiling with his eyes closed, a serene look on his face. After a few seconds of silence, he opened his eyes and looked at Paul with a confused look.

“Why stop?” He asked.

Paul shrugged, “Sorry, I just...I was looking at you.”

The creature seemed flattered, he looked down with a smile.

“My name is Paul, by the way.” The human spoke as he put down his guitar for a moment, not really caring about the sand anymore.

The merman tilted his head, “Pole.” He said.

‘Pole’ laughed, “No, more ‘Powl’ like.”

“Powl, Paul.” The creature said.

“Yes.” Paul nodded and the merman smiled, proud.

“You have a name?” Paul asked him, curious as to what kind of name a mermaid would have.

“John.”

Oh. Wow. “John?” Paul asked in an incredulous voice, “John!?”

The creature frowned and moved away, “Why wrong?” It sounded offended.

Paul sighed, “I’m sorry. I just, John is a rather common name.”

John frowned, “Not at home. I only John in school.”

Paul decided that he probably meant ‘school’ as in group of merpeople. Like fish. And he was curious, “Are there many of you?” He asked.

John smiled a grand smile, “Yes! Many of Merrow.”

“Merrow?” Paul asked, “You mean merpeople? Half fish?”

John looked offended again, “We not fish, we Merrow!”

“Right, sorry.” Paul said, embarrassed. “So how come you speak English?”

The merman relaxed, “Aintín taught me English.”

“That a friend of yours?” Paul asked as he got closer to the water, slowly so as to not spook the merman.

John frowned, “Aintín family.”

Paul frowned, “Aintín, is she your mum?”

The merman looked down, suddenly sad looking. “No. Aintín not mam.”

Paul raised a worried eyebrow at the sudden change of mood, “Sorry. You have a mum?” Maybe merpeople didn’t have mums, how would that even work?

John sighed and grabbed at his necklace, “Mam away.”

Oh. His mum had left him? Well shit, looks like crap parenting extended to the sea. “I’m sorry.” Paul said, then spoke again. “My mum left too. Well, she died.”

The creature looked up at him in shock.

Paul continued, looking away from his companion and into the horizon, “It’s just me, my brother, and my dad now. It’s not that bad, we get by.”

There was silence for a moment. Then John spoke up, “Uncail dead too.”

“Aintín and Uncail? Are they your aunt and uncle?” Paul asked, it would make sense, the words were practically the same.

John nodded, “Yes. Aintín is mam deirfiúr.”

“Is that sister? Deirfiúr?” Paul guessed.

“Yes.”

Paul drew his knees up and laid his crossed arms there, “Do you have any...deirfiúr?”

John nodded, “From mam and other Merrow. Not athair.”

Paul frowned, trying to connect the word. “Athair? What is that?”

John also frowned, and went silent as he searched his brain for the correct word. “Patir, aita, otets, fatha?” He asked, “Fatha english?”

Paul nodded, “FathER.” He corrected with an amused smile.

“FathER.” John repeated, then smiled back. His teeth were on display but Paul didn’t flinch back.

The two were silent for a few minutes, just looking at each other. Once again Paul felt himself be drawn in by the others eyes, there was something entrancing about them and he couldn’t think of any other thing he would rather be looking at. Or wait, he could.

“Can I see it?” He asked without thinking.

John tilted his head, “Eet?”

Paul swallowed, “Your...tail?”

John didn’t respond, but his eyes widened and he sank further down.

The human was quick to respond, “I won’t hurt you I promise! I just...I need to see.” Paul’s hand was raised in a calming manner, “I need to see I’m not insane.”

John hesitated for a minute before saying, “Rock.” And he sank down into the water.

Paul did nothing for a minute, until he understood what the merman meant. He stood up, grabbed his guitar and walked closer to the large rock. He left his instrument far from the water and walked back to the water. He waited for a few seconds and then got in the water. It reached mid-thigh but he would walk steadily enough, he finally reached the patch of sand behind the rock and sat there, waiting.

Finally, the merman’s head emerged from beneath the water. His eyes were wary and wide in what appeared to be fear.

Paul smiled, “I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise.” He extended a hand. “It’s okay.”

The merman gave a shy smile and slowly a hand raised from underneath the water and rested on Paul’s own. The human’s breath caught. The hand had a blue tint to it, it was webbed, and he had sharp nails that could be called claws. It was wet and cold, yet so incredibly breathtaking. The fingers were thin and seemed longer that would be considered normal, but they were certainly not ugly. As John rose further, Paul could see that he had fins on his arms, a gorgeous light blue color mixed with silver. Now that the merman was so close, Paul could see that he had gills on both his neck and to the sides of his chest. He saw the latter close as they left the water and then saw John chest expand as he breathed in deeply.

Just before jumping into the sand John stopped and looked at Paul, “Promise?” He asked.

“Promise.” The human breathed.

Then with a splash John was in the sand next to him, his upper body a few paces behind Paul’s so more of his tail could be seen. At his almost feminine waist, John was sporting a belt made of a thin silver cloth with blue stones much like his necklace’s making jingling sounds as hemoved. And the tail, oh the tali. It was long, incredibly so, it had to be at least a meter and a half, thought Paul was tempted to say it was two meters total counting the fin part of it. John had no belly button and the scales started to appear mid waist until they completely took over. Paul kept expecting to see an indent between what would be two legs held together but there was none. There were two short fins to the side near the end of the tail until finally the caudal fin took over.

Oh it was gorgeous! The same blue-silver of the arm fins, the tail shined as the sun hit it. And the caudal fin had four parts, rather than the expected two. It was still touching the water, but Paul had a clear view of it. As it ended, it turned near transparent but it was still blue at the beginning, until the colour faded.

Paul couldn’t speak out of sheer awe, but John took his silence as a sign of disillusionment and hurried to speak, “Tail longer than most in school. I, I clean tail every night. Tail colour rare in school.”

Paul saw the merman curling his tail up and quickly said, “Please don’t!” Causing the merman to stop and tilt his head. Paul continued, “It’s beautiful.” He looked into his companions dark eyes and said, “You’re beautiful.”

The merman looked into Paul’s eyes with wide eyes, feeling himself getting hot, something inexplicable being cold blooded as he was. He extended his tail again, this time laying it closer to the human.

Said human didn’t look away from his gaze immediately, but did so eventually and went back to admiring the tail. The merman didn’t look away from the other’s face.

Paul suddenly dared to raise a hand but first he asked, “Can I touch it?” At the alarmed look he received, he continued, “I promise I’ll be gentle.”

The other’s chest was raising up and down rather rapidly, he had always been told stories of humans that stole mermaids scales, leaving them to die. But Paul wouldn’t would he? He was nice, he had sang John a song. Songs were signs of affection. Plus, the human had promised, and promises were unbreakable. Slowly, he took a deep breath and nodded.

Paul smiled and carefully moved a hand closer to the tail, he could see it tensing so he was very gentle as he laid a hand in what would have been the thigh. He heard the other’s breath hitch and looked up to see if he had hurt John, but to his surprise found him with his eyes closed and an expression of pleasure on his face. Paul smiled and slowly started to move his hand up and down the appendage, enjoying the texture. It felt different from skin, but it wasn’t rough. It was very smooth and not slimy like he had expected.

He was completely entranced by the activity that he didn’t stop until he heard a whimper come from the merman’s lips. He looked up in worry but was shocked by what he found. The creature’s head was thrown back, his eyes shut tight, and his mouth a wide open. He looked...aroused. It was a delectable sight.

Appalled by the thought, Paul jumped away from the merman and stood up. John’s eyes opened and his head snapped to look at Paul, his head tilted in confusion. He too had been surprised by his feelings of pleasure coming from the touch, but it only made sense! Paul had been rubbing his tail, clearly he knew what he was doing to John. “Paul?” He breathed with a wobbly voice.

Paul couldn’t handle the tone and shook his head as he moved away from the rock and into the water.

“Paul?” The tone was more alarmed now, and John was sitting up straight now. The merman frowned and stretched an arm out, “Paul.” He said. Surely the human wasn’t leaving? Not after John had trusted him and let him touch his tail. Not even other Merrow touched each other’s tails. It was a sign of ultimate trust, and John had let a human he barely knew do it.

Paul just shook his head at him and turned away, walking towards where he had let his guitar.

“Paul!” John jumped into the water and got closer to the beach, he could feel the sand touching his chest and tail.

But the human didn’t look back at his merman, and ignored the following cries of anguish from the creature.

John felt rejected, he could feel his eyes getting wet so he quickly went underwater and swam away from the beach. He couldn’t believe what a fool he had been! Of course Paul had only wanted to feel something exotic, he didn’t care about John or what the touches had meant to him. Plucsheadáinín.

[dragonlover123a]

Demonic Guardian

(E/c)- Eye Color

(H/s)- Hair style (curly, straight, fluffy, etc)

(H/l)- Hair Length

(H/c)- Hair Color

(S/c)- Skin Color

(Y/h)- Your Heritage (White, Black, Hispanic, etc)

(M/n)- Mom's Name

Being scared, lost and alone was one thing, but being five years old and stalked by a creepy older man who said he was friends with your Mommy? That was on a whole other level.

You, a little 5 year old kid with striking (e/c) eyes, gorgeous (h/s), (h/l), (h/c) hair, and probably the clearest (s/c) a five year old can have, was currently running for your life from a strange man.

"Get back here you little bi-" he yelled, only pausing his insult to look up at the other man whose leg you had just ran into.

Not even bothering to look up, you apologized. "I-I'm sowwy, I-I didn't see you, pwease excuse me" you stammered out, trying to stand back up, only to fall to the ground again. Only this time, a large pale green hand with black claws flashed out to grab your arm and prevent you from hitting the ground.

Finally looking up, you realized why the man chasing you was so frightened. This dude was huge! Taller than what's considered normal. Not only that, but he had glowing green eyes in pools of black, and a huge bleeding gash across his throat that didn't seem to bother him at all. But despite his frightening appearance, his eyes where gentle as they looked you over for any injuries. "Are ye okay lass?" He asked in a strange voice, and accidentally showing off razor sharp teeth.

You shook your head and glancing at your pursuiter before looking back at him. His eyes followed your gaze and he seemed to understand what exactly was going on. "Lassie," he whispered in your ear, "I can protect you from him, but ye have to pretend like I'm yer adopted father okay? And then we can find yer real parents once he's gone"

You nodded and wrapped your arms around his neck, "Daddy! The big meany over there is trying to take me somewhere bad!" You exclaimed. Yup, you've done this before. Mostly with cops though. Sometimes you did it with people who liked to dress up as your favorite superheroes, but that's for another time.

The scary looking man you where holding onto stood up to his full height as he placed you on his hip and stared down the now nervous looking creep. "Is this true?" He asked, "are you trying to take away my daughter?"

"W-well, I-I, I didn't realize she was-" he stammered out, clearly fearing for his life right now. The one holding you stepped closer. "I would highly suggest you get out of my face right now," he growled out, "otherwise the little one might see something that will haunt her nightmares for the rest of her life, and I personally don't want that"

The other man wasted no time in getting the hell out of there. Smirking in triumph, the tall scary looking man looked down at you. "Now that he's gone, may I have your name, little one?" He asked. You looked down and bit the inside of your cheek. Mommy had always told you not to give your name to strangers, but this one did just save your life. "It's (y/n)" you muttered, and he smiled, seeming to know what you just said. "Beautiful name. Now, let's see about finding yer parents, shall we? They must be worried sick"

After a while of walking, you learned a few things about him. Like that he wasn't human, and he was more than a century years old. Also about what he can do, like travel through phone wires and track down your mother just by your scent alone. Finally after what seemed like forever, you spotted her. "Mommy! Mommy I'm over here!" You called out, waving to her.

The woman looked up from the security desk and breathed a sigh of relief, not even fazed by the strange man holding you. "Oh thank you so much for finding her! I was so worried!" She exclaimed, taking you from him, "I'm (m/n), and you are?" "Anti" He responded, turning to leave, "you be a good girl (y/n), and we might just meet again" he called over his shoulder

You never forgot him, and you never saw him again. Until twenty years later you where coming home drunk and a bunch of men where following you. And you, at 25, had grown up to be a gorgeous young lady. Only problem? You had stopped growing way to early in life and was stuck at a miniscule 4'6. Your body had developed like it should have, so you where proportionate, you where just really short and sometimes it sucked, like right now. After some (sort of?) quick thinking, you ducked into a nearby alleyway only to find out you where blocked by a wall and now trapped. And you where about to accept your fate, when a pair of long, black jeaned legs stepped out in front of you and you heard an all to familiar voice before you blacked out.

Next thing you know, you woke up at home in your own bed as the morning sun shone through your window. Getting up and putting on a comfy robe, you walked down to the kitchen to make your preferred morning drink, only to stop in your tracks when you saw a familiar figure on your couch. Making your drink now forgotten, you studied the sleeping man in your living room. First thing you noticed was how big he was compared to your tiny customized couch. His head was resting against the back cushions, his wide shoulders on one arm and the small of his back was on the other while his butt and legs hung off. Next thing you noticed however was the green skin and the large bloody gash across his throat. Could this be the same man? There was no way after 20 years he looked exactly the same, could he? Now curious you decided to lean in a little closer. Bad idea. His eyes flew open and before you could react, his forehead connected with your nose as he was trying to get up. Spoiler alert: a glitchy demonic entity's head is a lot harder than yours. Now screaming in pain, you fell into the now empty couch cushions.

Realizing what he just did, Anti rushed to your side. "Holy shit, I am so fookin sorry!" He apologized, placing a hand over the one over your bleeding nose. "Lemme see the damage, I can fix it." You shook your head no and tried keeping your hand there, but he was stronger. He quickly assest the situation before getting all the needed supplies to bandage up your broken nose. All the while he explained who he was, why he was in your shitty apartment, and that he recognized you from when you where a child, which confirmed your suspicions.

In the next years, you would learn to really truly love this demon who really cared for you, meet and become part of his crazy little family that consists of, a zombie, a superhero, a doctor, a dapper mute, a vlogger, a magician and an explorer. After a few years, Anti finally struck up a nerve to ask you if you would be his forever and of course, you said yes. Decades past, and you start to become old and gray. While he on the other hand, seemed to stay young, strong and tall.

He knows your at the end of this wonderful journey, and he's kinder, more patient as he helps you with your day to day routine and memory problems. Soon enough your laying on your deathbed, your hand on his cheek as a tear slips out of his eye and down his cheek. "I don't want to lose you Little One" he chokes out. You smile, and study his everlasting features one last time. "You won't Anti, I promise" you breathe out, before going still.

He holds your still body as he cries, and his brothers are a little surprised too actually see him like this. "Zere iz nozing ve can do for her now" Schneeplestien says, placing a hand on his demonic brothers shoulder. "But, ve can turn her remainz into a diamond and embed it into your knife." He offered. Anti nodded and let go of (y/n). He made a vow, and he was going to keep her by his side for all eternity, for he had become her Demonic Guardian

A/n: I legit choked up writing the end there. So I hope you enjoyed it angst gremlins. But anyway, feedback is always appreciated and reblogs are better than likes, yadda yadda that kinda stuff

[formerprincess]

A tale written with fangs and claws || Chapter 32

Chapters: 32/? Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Liam Dunbar/Theo Raeken, Corey Bryant/Mason Hewitt Characters: Liam Dunbar, Theo Raeken, Mason Hewitt, Corey Bryant, Nolan (Teen Wolf) Additional Tags: Alpha Liam Dunbar, Slow Build, Friends to Lovers, Dunbar Pack, Bisexual Liam Dunbar, Werewolf Theo Raeken, Alpha Theo Raeken, Canon-Typical Violence, Smut, Mates, Liam and Theo are mates Series: Part 1 of Morning Dew Pack

A new threat arises

“WELCOME HOME!”

Liam had barely opened the door when the various voices resounded. Years of living in Beacon Hills trained him not to jump at the sudden noise. He tensed, yes, but he didn’t jump in full attack mode. He just raised an eyebrow instead. “That’s what I call a welcome.”

He looked over his shoulder and smiled softly when he saw the faces of Theo and Mike. They both came from destructive families or had no parents anymore, so coming home to a loving pack that welcomed them with open arms was one of the best experiences they would ever have. So Liam stepped aside and let his pack mates hug his first Beta and his stubborn Beta. He greeted his pack too, of course, but he had been gone for a day, Theo and Mike had been gone for a week so they deserved this welcome.

Mason stepped next to Liam. “No ring on your finger? I could have sworn you two would come back as an engaged couple because you realized you can’t live without each other and want everyone to see that.”

Liam smirked and shrugged. “We can’t live without each other and we will get engaged soon enough.” He said and watched Theo with a fond smile on his face and his eyes shining with the love for his mate. Theo was back at where he belonged and their bond seemed to have grown stronger in this week. They managed their relationship, even if times were rough sometimes and they drove each other up the wall with their antics. That was just them and Liam would never trade it for anything in the world. Whatever it may be, if he didn’t have Theo by his side, it was useless and meant nothing to Liam.

Theo now seemed to notice Liam looking at him because he turned his head and smiled at Liam and the nineteen-year-old felt himself smile back happily. He winked at his chimera and Theo laughed, another gorgeous sound. Liam was addicted to those happy sounds from his mate. What had Theo said? He was Liam-sexual? Well, in that case, Liam was Theo-sexual. And he loved it.

“You’re happy. That’s the most important thing.“ Mason stated and clapped Liam on the back. “I am, Mase. Happier than ever.“

****** Maybe Liam should have expected his happiness to be in danger soon enough. That was their life after all and somehow fate seemed to love to throw stones and obstacles in their way; not only in Liam’s but in the way of the whole pack. And so it happened that Ever came home one day, a dark look on her face, and when the pack sat down to eat the pizza Tim, Nolan, and Corey ordered for everyone, she spoke up. “I’m worried.“ “About what? The calories in this pizza?“ Mike asked while he was chewing and she made a face at him. “Gross.“ “Nomnomnom.“ He replied and gasped when she snapped her fingers and made his coke splash on his face. Tim coughed out a laugh and handed Mike a napkin to dry his face. “You had this coming.“ “Traitor,“ The computer genius muttered and wiped his face. “I like Nokan more than you.“ “No, you don’t!“ Tim explained cheerfully. “No, you really don’t.“ Nolan backed Tim up. The rest of the pack grinned, except for Ever who shook her head. “Back to the matter at hand, please? Thank you. I am worried. Not about food! I mean it! I’m really worried.“

She glanced at the Beacon Hills gang. “How well acquainted are you with demons?“ Mason immediately jumped into action. “That depends what kind of demons. We once had the demon wolf, Stiles once was possessed by an evil spirit though I’m not sure this counts as a demon and it was before we became part of the supernatural world, then we had a selkie once.“ “It still depends what kind of demons we’re talking about.“, Corey added before Mason could go any further. “I don’t know what kind of demons. But let’s say we’re talking about things from the deepest pit oft he underworld or wherever they come from here. That attack people and cause harm.“ She described. “Welcome to a new episode of Shadowhunters!“ Maya muttered and Theo cast a look at her. “I really don’t think we’re really part of the Shadowhunters universe just because there might be some demons running around.“ “That‘s sad. Alec is hot.“ Liam said thoughtfully and Theo glanced at him with his eyebrows raised. “I wasn‘t aware you’re into dark haired boys.“ “Well, you’re not exactly what I would call a blond either,“ Liam smirked at his boyfriend and Theo rolled his eyes. They needed this little banter between serious topics. It kept the spirit of everyone high, Liam liked to think that at least.

But the next moment he was serious again. “Why do you ask?“ He questioned. “There is some talking in the Wiccan community. Some real witches, others just practice Wiccan ways, but there are stories about some demonic sightings, demons runnings around, because some witches obviously messed with the wrong magic, either willingly or accidentally. I don’t know if it’s just gossip or not, maybe some try to make themselves more important than they are, but I wanted to tell you guys so we are prepared.“ Liam trusted Ever and he trusted her judgment. So he calmly asked: “Do you think it’s gossip?“ Ever stroked a blonde strand of hair behind her ear. “I am alarmed. As long as we know nothing else, it’s better to expect an attack or whatever. Better safe than sorry.“ “Okay. If you hear anything else, let me know.“ Liam, being his Alpha self, told her and she nodded. “That goes for everyone. If you see something suspiciously, you tell us others.“ The Betas nodded. There was nothing else to say. Ever had warned them, Liam told them what to do.

Later that night, Liam knocked at Ever’s door and entered when she told him to do so. “Hey.“ He closed the door and leaned against it while he watched her spin around on her desk chair. “You have that serious Alpha face. What‘s going on, big brother?“ “I want your honest opinion. What do you think about this gossip? I know what you said earlier that night but I thought you may have something else to say.“ Ever sighed. “The things is... Look at that!“ She waved him over and when he stepped to her desk, she had various books splayed out there, all showing various sketches and descriptions of demons. “Those are just a few of the things we’re talking about and if those stories are true, we have a big big problem. Maya wasn’t so wrong with the Shadowhunters because it is a good visual. We’re talking about powerful and terrifying creatures here, with powers beyond imagination. If somebody summoned them, this is serious.“ “Do you think someone could have accidentally summoned them?“ Liam asked her. She nodded. “It is possible but still terrifying. If somebody willingly called them into this world, it would mean they want to slaughter more or less anybody.“ Liam took this all in. “We keep our eyes open. It’s good you told us, that way we are prepared.“ Ever looked at him. “Liam, if those things are real and if they are in this world, I’m not sure we can fight them.“ “We have to try. If it becomes reality, we have to. It’s what we do.“ “And how?“ The witch asked him. “As pack. I know this sounds silly compared to a demon with unknown powers but I learned one thing: Things get a little bit less scary if you don‘t have to face them alone. So we stick together, it’s what we do best.“ He squeezed her shoulder. “We protect each other, Ever.“

She tried a brave smile but didn’t manage to pull it off completely. Liam squeezed her shoulder again and then moved towards the door to leave. Before he could close the door, however, she called him back. "Liam?“ He turned around to face her. “Yes?“ “Is it okay if I’m scared?“ “Yeah. I’d like to say one day you stop being scared but that would be a lie. But being scared and still doing what you have to do, that‘s brave. And you are just doing it. It also means you’re being cautious.“ He sighed. “We all are scared, that’s natural. Don’t try to act like you’re not, this will bite you in the ass sooner or later.“ Why should he lie? It was true and he never lied to his pack. “Thank you.“ Ever obviously appreciated his honesty. Liam nodded with a small smile and then closed the door again.

He was in deep thoughts and considered everything they knew currently. It wasn’t much but Liam liked to think about a possible battle plan. If things got nasty, they would need this. “What’s on your mind?“ Theo asked when they had crawled into bed and laid next to each other. He rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow, supported his head with it, while he looked at Liam who was on his back and stared at the dark ceiling. “I’m thinking about what Ever said. If she’s right, we have trouble coming our way.“ “Liam, we’re from Beacon Hills. Trouble seems to follow us everywhere.“ Liam averted his eyes and looked at his mate. “We’re talking about things like the Anuk-ite here.“ “I’m aware. Being on alert is good, Liam, but we both know if things happen, they happen. We can’t change any supernatural creatures lurking around and targeting innocent people. We can’t change the fact that we have to fight. Because we fight, always, and we do it to protect. I know you, I know leaving Beacon Hills didn’t mean you would resign fighting anything supernatural baddies. Or hunters. Or whatever else. You are a fighter, my dear Alpha, and your pack is ready to fight by your side. But currently it is just gossip and we have to wait until it turns out true. Then we can take actions.“ It was kind of serious but Liam couldn’t help the grin spreading across his face. “I can’t believe you just used the term baddies.“ Theo groaned. “Shut up.“ He said fondly and leaned in to kiss Liam lovingly. Liam had no complaints whatsoever and raised one hand to put it against Theo’s cheek while they kissed.

****** Liam learned to trust his gut feeling over time and his gut feeling told him this was far from over. He was proved right when the news about a woman who owned an antique store being basically slaughtered in her store. Ever confirmed what Liam feared: She had been a witch. Ever looked devasted. “I didn‘t know her personally but it’s still sad.“ She explained. ”But now we know something is happening.“ And the next days were filled with news of people getting attacked by ravens in their living room, some were killed with their chests ripped open, others were stabbed. It was a setting to pay tribute to every fucking horror movie Liam ever saw or heard of.  “This has to stop!“ Corey said after day five of those events and the young Alpha agreed wholeheartedly. But they were completely in the dark because the people who survived were traumatized and their stories didn’t make sense and even if they did, no story was like the other. And the others were…well dead. So stopping yes but how?

“Let’s watch this from a logical point of view.“ Mason started. “They all were witches, right?“ “Were they?“ Sadie asked back. “What’s that supposed to mean?“ Ever asked her. “Well, were they witches or were they witches-witches?“ “I have no idea what you’re trying to say, Sads.“ Ever shook her head. Sadie narrowed her green eyes. “Were they really like you or were they just people pretending to be witches? Because in case A the demons could target them for their powers. In case B they might as well just be human sacrifices.“ Ever glared at her. “Could you say that without sounding so clinical and logical?“ “No, because she is completely right!“ Theo replied instead of Sadie. “You still need to consider that they were all people.“ Corey retorted. “Doesn’t change the fact that we need to get to cause of why they were killed.“ Mike now threw in. “Does it matter? We have to find who did it, not why they did it. That can be asked later.“ Tim replied his best friend and they all started to argue.

Liam suddenly realized that his pack was divided when it came to those things. You had the logical minds on one side (Mason, Theo, Sadie, Mike, Maya) and the emotional based people on the other side (Corey, Tim, Ever, Nolan). Liam himself surveyed his pack arguing back and forth and he listened to everything that was being said. “You all are right.“ He finally cut in. “Yes, we have to keep in mind why those people were killed. They were killed by something or several somethings because the stories sound like several attackers out there came to them and killed them. And that’s what we should focus on now. Find out what, find out how then later find out why.“ He ran a hand through his hair. “So. Any ideas?“

“I could be the bait.“ Ever suggested. “No!“ Liam and Theo said at the same time. “But a valid point: You are not going anywhere alone from now on. None of us does. Two of us have always stick together at least. Witches may be just the beginning, I don‘t want anyone of us having to face whatever it is alone. That means, one human has one supernatural, okay? I really don’t want you, humans, fighting demons on your own.“ Liam demanded “Got it!“ The pack murmured. Nobody would speak up against their Alpha when he gave orders like that.

"One more thing: If you come across whatever thing this is: Run! I mean it. We have no idea what they can do, we have no idea what they want. As long as we know nothing about our enemies, you don’t fight with them.“ Liam glanced at every pack members but especially at the ones he knew needed this order. “Why are you looking at me like this?“ Sadie, Theo, Mike, and Maya asked at the same time. Liam gave them a pointed look. “Are you following your own order as well?“ Theo asked and raised one eyebrow. He knew Liam and his reckless ways. Liam scoffed. “Have to, I guess. Lead by example, you know?”

****** “There are probably police officers and we are not exactly unnoticeable because we are so many. How are you going to manage sneaking behind a police barricade and inspect a crime scene?“ Nolan asked Liam two days later and right when Theo, Sadie, Maya, and Corey stepped in. The other members were already gathered in the living room and listened to Liam‘s newest plan. “I know it won’t be easy but we have to. It could help us find some evidence the police is not looking for.“ Liam held his ground. “Every killer leaves some trace.“ “You sound like Miss Marple.“, Theo told his boyfriend and Liam huffed and glared at him. “I’m just trying to find a way to get closer to what’s killing all those witches!” Liam growled. “But thanks for the input, Theodore.”

Theo grimaced at his full name but then turned his attention to the matter at hand. “You want to sneak into the latest crime scene and investigate? Nolan’s right, that is risky and probably impossible with such a large group. Which means you need a smaller group which means you don’t have the whole pack to back you up in case something happens and that is a No from me.” “Who are you? My bodyguard?” Liam asked annoyed. It was the best plan they currently had and he knew it sucked but it was a plan at least.  “Your mate, your first Beta, your anchor, so yeah, kind of the same thing.” The replied with a shit-eating grin and Liam’s eyebrow twitched. He was about to argue back when Ever’s phone rang with an incoming call. She accepted and soon the wolves could hear the hysteric voice of a woman.  “Hayley, relax, okay? What do you mean there is something dark out there? Did you see something?” The woman hastily told Ever about a shadow, a demon, lurking outside her shop and begged Ever to come and help her. Ever glanced at Liam and she nodded. “Hayley, we’re on our way. Just lock the door and hide.” Ever instructed and then ended the call. Everyone got to their feet and the pack moved as one. They were in sync like that when it came to things like that. 

****** The store offering all kinds of mishmash, from amulets over herbs to esoteric books, looked peaceful and as if nobody was there. When Ever touched the doorknob, however, the door swung open and they looked at each other before they slowly stepped in, Liam in front of the group. And right when they all took a few more steps into the store, they found a woman Liam supposed was Hayley draped over the counter, eyes wide open and open in a silent scream. She was on her back and there was blood everywhere, dripping from the counter, from her hand. She looked like a sacrifice on an altar, Liam thought with a shiver. Ever choked out a sob and took a few steps closer to her dead friend but when she was next to Liam, his arm shot out and hindered her from going further, eyes fixated in the dark storage room right behind the counter. The door was open and it looked empty but Liam was tense and didn’t let Ever any further.

“Stay behind me.” He ordered. “All of you.” 

Ever stared at him, then she stepped back and Liam glanced at Theo from the corner of his eye. His boyfriend stood an armlength away from him but flush to Liam and Liam hissed. “I said to stay behind me! All of you!” He ordered sharply. Theo, usually prone to argue with Liam about things like that, looked at him but then nodded and took a few steps back as well. Now Liam was alone in front of his pack, full attention on the storage room now. He growled lowly and his eyes glowed red while his fangs slowly came out.

Nothing happened for several minutes but then a sound from scratching over wood could be heard. The wooden floor creaked and then something emerged from the darkness. No horror movie could have been a better reveal for the monster than this. 

It peeked upside down from the doorframe like some ghost. The stature was female but the whole body was ash grey and looked haggard, skin - if you wanted to call it that - flaky and dry. The creature was naked and had claw-like feet that held it while he scuttled across the ceiling from the storage room and into the light of the shop. The eyes were just two black holes, but the mouth was a round shape adorned with two rows of sharp teeth, and the thing had claws, sharp things and nothing compared to a werewolf’s claws. Those claws were as long as Liam’s upper arm. No hair on the creature's body, just some slits were the ears were supposed to be. 

They all stared at the creature as it hung at the ceiling and watched them. Liam smelled the fear from his pack and his own heart was skyrocketing. No matter how often he fought against supernatural creatures, he got afraid every time and this thing was basically as terrifying as the Anuk-ite. The thing looked at him. “Werewolf. Alpha.” It rustled and Liam wordlessly stared at it, fangs lightly bared. If the thing was friendly, he wouldn’t attack either.

The demon seemed to consider what he was but then it let out a blood-curdling scream that put Lydia to shame. Liam’s blood ran cold and he heard somebody whimper behind him. He could not be mad, that was a real horror. And then the demon spat a big black thorn right where Maya stood. Only thanks to her fast reflexes she could jump aside and the thorn slammed into the floor and broke the wood. Fuck that, this was large. The pack jumped and Liam growled.

“Corey, the humans!” He ordered and Corey reacted immediately and grabbed Mason by the shoulder with one hand and Nolan with the other. Nolan grabbed Ever as well and they all disappeared while the wolves snarled at the thing, claws extracted and eyes glowing. But an invisible hunter with his crossbow ready to shoot and an invisible witch were a benefit. And Mason and Corey had time to analyze the creature’s fighting scheme.

Liam anxiously listened to the sounds of the invisible group and the demon still was glued to the ceiling but turned its head. And then she spat another thorn and Ever screamed in pain before she turned visible and fell to the floor, thorn sticking in her side. The demon screeched and the leaped, landed right over the young witch and tossed Nolan aside like he was nothing. She snarled into Ever’s face and Ever bit her lower lip and raised her hand, ready to use her magic, when the demon grabbed the thorn and twisted it inside Ever. Ever howled in pain and fell back to the floor and then Maya howled and tackled the demon. They crashed into a small shelf but it gave Ever enough time to crawl into safety and Corey grabbed her by the shoulder. 

Maya and the demon fought and Mike roared before he jumped on the creature’s back and dragged her away from Maya. He tried to at least but suddenly the creature was gone and on the other side of the room. “Damn, that beast is fast!” Sadie called out.  “Really? Thanks for the heads up!” Theo snarled and then he and Sadie jumped the thing. Not only them, the other wolves joined them as well but the demon spread her arms and a sudden force wave let them all crash to the floor. The creature let out a deafening cry, almost a soundwave, and the sensible hearing made it hurt. Liam winced in pain and pressed his hands over his ears.  Sadie and Tim had been the center of the soundwave and groaned. “I can’t move. It’s like I’m glued to the floor!” Tim called out and Sadie whined while she tried to struggle against the invisible hold pressing her down. 

Theo roared and his eyes blazed. He was lucky, he could get on his feet and used his own speed to jump behind the demon and rake his claws over her back. She screeched in pain and spun around to lunge at him. They fought too and Liam roared. He wasted no time in joining the fight with the demon. The whole interior got bashed but the demon was strong. Even after Sadie and Tim could move again and were helped to her feet by Mike and Maya, it wasn’t really a fair fight. The demon’s claws were fast and they hurt, they all sported bleeding cuts on various parts of their bodies. 

“She spits again!” Sadie warned Tim jumped in order to prevent her from doing so but the demon closed his claws around Tim’s throat and strangled him until he was struggling to breathe. She turned her head and spat two thorns out before she dropped Tim’s stertorous form to the ground. The thorn hit Maya’s jeans and her jacket and pinned her to the floor and when she tried to pull it out she screamed and her palm was burned. 

Liam ducked under an attempted hit and grabbed the demon by the arm to spin her around and push her into a bookshelf. The shelf fell over and the demon tumbled into the mess. Mike and Theo jumped at her again and managed some hits but then she raked her claws over Mike’s face and pushed him against the wall so he got knocked out while she also broke his arm. Sadie had perched on a shelf and now jumped her to hold her in place while an arrow seemingly came out of nowhere. Corey and Nolan appeared again, Nolan still with his raised crossbow, and the arrow would have hit if the creature had not managed to break free and grab the arrow before it could hit her. It spun around and twisted Sadie’s arm with one claw before it jammed the arrow in her stomach with the other claw. Sadie screamed and doubled over in pain. She fell to the ground and grabbed the arrow. It stuck deep inside her flesh and she had trouble pulling it out. 

The demon was far from over and turned around again to face Theo. She moved both arms again and the force wave that hit Theo was enough to send the chimera flying to the wall and right into the storage room. He landed between splinters of wood and brickwork and didn’t move anymore, knocked out by the hit.  She was about to jump Mason next when Liam roared his Alpha roar. It made the shop windows rattle and his Betas, even though they were hurt, raised their heads as good as they could, all eyes flashed. And when their Alpha attacked the demon again, they all howled. It gave Liam strength, it gave him power, and he saw Ever moving her hand. But the pain from the thorn had weakened her and she was bleeding a lot, even though Mason had pulled it out and tried now to free Maya. Liam glared at the demon and the thing used his little moment of distraction to rake her claws over his neck and then grab his chin in a painful grip. She looked at him with her dead eyes and then screeched right into his face. Liam gripped her arm and twisted it but her grip tightened and she almost broke his jaw. 

But suddenly she dropped him like a potato and tumbled back. An arrow stooked from her shoulder and she pulled it out with another blood-curdling scream before she jumped right through the shop display into the street and disappeared in the dark. 

They stared after the hole it left in the shop window and you only heard their ragged breaths and thumbing hearts. “What the hell was that?” Mason asked while he knelt next to Liam to check on his best friend. But Liam looked around and then jumped to his feet and ran over to Theo where he dropped to his knees again. 

“Theo, wake up!” He called out and grabbed his boyfriend’s lifeless body. He shook him gently. “Wake up! The thing’s gone. Open your eyes!” He cradled Theo in his arms and still no sign of waking up from the twenty-two-year-old. Liam heard his heartbeat and he still felt Theo in their mating bond, but it was weak. “Theodore! Open your eyes! Please!”

He cupped Theo’s face with his other hand and Theo’s head lolled to the side. Blood was seeping out of his ear and Liam’s heart almost stopped. “He needs medical attention!” He looked at his pack who all stood around him now and stared in shock. “Who?” Mason asked. “We don’t have Deaton here.” “I know where to go. A friend of mine, also a witch, owns a naturopathic office not far away from here. We just have to get him into the car. She will be there still.” Ever said and grimaced at the pain in her abdomen. She was pressing Tim’s jacket against her stomach and the linen was already stained with her blood. It wasn’t lethal but had to hurt like a bitch. 

Liam wasted no time and Tim and Mike helped him to get Theo into the truck. Despite Theo hating it when somebody else dove his truck, Liam let Mason drive while he stayed in the backseat with the still unconscious Theo. He held him the whole drive and listened to Theo’s heart. It was still beating but Liam heard the beats getting slower; Theo seemed to have internal injuries from his blast through the wall and his chimera heeling was not quick enough to heal everything at once. 

When the arrived at the doctor’s office and dragged themselves inside, Ever’s friend Briana, Brie for short, didn’t ask any questions. She just locked the front door and guided them into one of the examinations rooms where they put Theo on the examination table. His usual healthy complexion was pale now and the blood was still seeping out of his ear. 

“What happened?” Briana curtly asked while she instructed them to grab all the things she would need. A heart monitor, an infusion, and various other medical instruments. Liam didn’t care and only grabbed things when she told him so but then he grabbed Theo’s hand and held it, raised it and pressed it against his chest. He tried to take Theo’s pain but nothing happened, even when he tried harder. It made his stomach sink. 

Sadie, Mayam and Ever explained what happened and Brie nodded curtly before she went to work again. Soon enough she administered some medications into Theo’s bloodstream via infusion and then raised both hands and hovered them over his body. Blue and red lights appeared, some smaller green ones. “I am a witch, my magic is the healing kind.” She explained. “He has internal bleeding, his liver is perforated, his spleen is ruptured, several broken bones. There is one bone threatening to perforate his heart. He is a werewolf?” “Chimera.” Liam replied quietly. Her words hade made his heart beat wildly and he was even more afraid now. “Please, you need to heal.” He whispered to Theo and stroked through his hair. “Please heal and come back!”

“I don’t know what a chimera is, never had one on my table before, but I can give him a little bit time to heal.” She waved her hands and snapped her fingers and a soft rose-gold light appeared. It disappeared within moments and Sadie frowned.  “What happened?” “I’m not a healer, that means I can’t heal every injury. I can only heal smaller ones, a broken arm when I channel all my energy and that is tiring enough. With his injuries, I can only push his body in the right direction. The rest has to come from him. The medication should help too. Still, it’s all him now.”

Liam watched his mate with glassy eyes. The fear of losing Theo was there because he heard his heartbeat steadily going slower and slower and slower and his hand getting cold. Their mating bond was strained now, Theo getting weaker and weaker and Liam could not bear this. It hurt to just think about what might happen. “He will heal. Theo’s tough. We all know that.” Tim tried to be positive and Liam tried a weak smile. He knew it came off more than as a grimace and he stopped trying to smile altogether.  Mason put his arm around Liam’s shoulder and leaned against him.  “He survived hell. This is nothing against that.” He tried to lift Liam’s spirit and Liam was grateful for it but the fear of losing his mate was too prominent, too big currently. 

“Are you all okay?” He asked in a raspy voice and looked around. They all looked bruised and broken and Brie was currently tending Ever’s wound. Sadie’s arrow wound had almost healed but they still looked beaten up.  “We are all okay. And he will be too.” Corey said with a soft smile. He tried to be positive too and Liam was sure everybody, even the humans, could smell his desperation for Theo’s current state. “Can’t you like  operate on him or something?” His dad was a surgeon, he knew about emergency surgery.  But Brie gave him a sad look.  “In his current state that would kill him. He is too weak.”

Liam grimaced but nodded. That made sense and he wouldn’t put Theo’s life in danger any more than it already was. He stroked over Theo’s cheek again and smiled sadly. “Heard that, Dore? We’re waiting for you. You have to do a little bit of work too, you know? So come on, baby, let your healing kick in and open your beautiful eyes again.”

His little speech started a time of waiting. Brie gave them all some water to drink and gathered enough chairs to sit for all but Liam stayed next to the table, Theo’s hand in his, while he waited for his boyfriend to get better. But suddenly he frowned and reached out to wipe the thin trickle of blood away that sipped from the corner of Theo’s mouth. However, upon further inspection, he noticed this wasn’t blood and Liam gasped in shock. His fingers were silver. “Is that mercury?” Mike asked shocked and they all gathered around to see what had happened. “Mercury?” Ever asked worriedly and frowned.  “It’s modified mercury.”, Corey stated and cast a nervous glance at Liam. Liam stared at Theo’s face, saw the stain of mercury on his mate’s pale lips, and his he was sure his heart stopped beating. That could not be happening! This was a nightmare and he would wake up soon, with Theo wrapped around him, and when he told his boyfriend, Theo would shake his head, would laugh softly, and tell Liam he would never leave him. And they would hug and cuddle and kiss and everything was fine again.

“What does mercury mean?” Tim asked. “It means a chimera is dying.” Liam’s eyes were filled with tears while he answered and he kept his eyes locked on Theo’s complexion, his grip on Theo’s hand tightened.  “No way!” Maya’s eyes were filled with tears too. “That’s Theo! He doesn’t do that like that. He’s a fighter!” “He would never leave you! Never leave us! He doesn’t!” Sadie supported Maya and she was already crying.  “This is not happening!” Nolan said and shook his head. “Never! Not Theo! Not like this!”

Liam looked up and right on the other side of the table stood Corey. He had grabbed Theo’s arms and his fingers tightened and then let loose again. He was silently crying and Liam knew Corey and Theo considered each other best friends. So this hit hard and Mason rubbed Corey’s back while he reached over and squeezed Liam’s arm. He said nothing, just showed his support, and Liam was grateful. He had no words himself right now, this was overwhelming and he felt like the floor had opened and he was falling. 

Brie checked some of Theo’s data and tried to look hopeful but Liam knew it was useless. They all, the wolves at least, heard how slow Theo’s heartbeat was already going and it was steadily dropping. And even the humans saw the mercury, saw that there was no healing happening, and they all thought the same. But nobody said it and Liam knew it was to spare his feelings. But it was the brutal truth. Theo was dying. 

Mason stepped closer and pulled Liam closer to rest his forehead against Liam’s temple and that’s when Liam noticed he was crying. A loud sob escaped him and while he still held Theo’s hand, he leaned against his best friend. Liam was crying, but he still kept his posture if that made sense. He would not completely break down now, he had to hold on for Theo. 

“Is there anything we can do?” Mason asked Brie and she shook her head.  “I can’t operate on him, he is too weak, as already stated, and his healing is too slow.” She refused to state the obvious as well and Liam was thankful for that too. Mason sobbed softly too and Liam knew after everything Mason had considered Theo a good friend too. To have it end like this was too much for the human. 

Mike looked absolutely devasted and Tim clung to him. He said nothing but when he looked at Liam, he shook his head and looked away. His cheeks glistened wetly in the light, Mike was crying too. Tim rubbed his back and didn’t hide the fact he was bawling his eyes out. 

Ever held stood next to Mike and Tim, Nolan by her side, and had her face hidden in her hands while sobs shook her whole body. Nolan hugged her and hid his face. Liam was sure he cried too.

Maya and Sadie had tears streaming down their faces but they were not sobbing and just looked at Theo as if they were silently saying goodbye. “We can’t stand here and do nothing.” The black haired wolf snarled.  “Maya, if there was anything I could do, I would do it. But his healing is not even triggered yet, his body is too weak to heal. All I could do is prolong his time.” Brie said with a voice full of grief. Liam hated this but he knew she was honest.

This was so much worse than Hayden back then. Hayden had been painful but Theo would not only leave a hole in his heart, it would rip his whole heart out and leave back an empty shell. If Theo was gone, what else was Liam supposed to enjoy? Theo was the love of his life, he needed him like he needed air. How was he supposed to go on without Theo? Hayden had been his first love and he had been devasted, but this was his mate and if Hayden’s death left him like that back then, Liam would be destroyed by Theo’s death.

And then it clicked.

“There is nothing you can do but I can.” 

Everyone stared at him and Liam slowly tore his eyes away from his dying mate to look at the pack. He took a breath. “I can give him the bite.” “What?” His Betas called out. “Liam, that is risky and you have no idea if the bite takes! It could also kill him!” Briana added for consideration, shock audible in her voice. 

Liam kissed Theo’s hand and blinked against his tears, then he straightened his back. “Theo is dying. That’s what none of you wants to say but it’s a fact. We all hear his heartbeat getting slower and slower and when morning comes my mate will be dead.” A sob escaped his lips and he struggled to continue. After a deep breath, he managed. “So I have three options. Option No. 1: I do nothing and Theo dies. Because that is what’s happening right now. His chimera healing is not fast enough and he will never manage to heal on his own in enough time. Option No. 2: I give him the bite and the bite kills him. Theo is dead. Devasting but I tried to save him at least. Option No. 3: I give him the bite and it takes fast enough to heal him. Theo lives. So, out of all three options, two have the same outcome. What am I supposed to do? Think I want him to die? I feel him dying, I feel the mating bond getting weaker and weaker. I feel him disappearing and I hear his heart slowing down. Do you really think I can stand here and do nothing?” He had gotten louder at the end and now was crying again. “I can’t let him die without trying it. Please, understand that.”

His Betas looked at him for some moments and Liam felt like time stood still. And then it was Ever who raised a hand and closed it around her pack pendant. “We have your back, Alpha. Give him the bite and we give him all the energy he needs.” She said with a nod and answered for everyone because they all grabbed their pendants. Liam smiled under tears and then wiped his face with his sleeve. 

He looked down at Theo. “If you die, I will bring you back and kick your ass!” He told Theo and then leaned down to kiss his boyfriend softly before he straightened up again.  “Before you bite him, let me do something!” Brie called out. “Corey, in the shelf behind you are some infusions. I need one of them.” “What are you doing?” Liam asked the doctor while Corey went to grab the little bottle.  “Is that wolfsbane?” Corey asked and Brie nodded. “I’m buying him more time to heal. To make it short, I’m putting him in some sort of coma. If the bite takes and he heals, his body will diffuse the wolfsbane and he will wake up again. This only works for werewolves and it only works one time. If it doesn’t give him enough time, he will be dead, Liam.”  Liam nodded. “Do it! It will take! It has to take!”

Brie infused the wolfsbane into Theo’s IV bag and then she nodded. Liam squared his shoulders and his eyes flashed red while his fangs grew. He let go of Theo’s hand but grabbed his arms and raised it to his lips. And then he bit down on Theo’s underarm, shortly underneath the tattoo. He got no reaction from Theo but when he stopped biting and pulled back, there was a deep bite mark on Theo’s skin. Brie hurried over to bandage the wound. “Everything to help him.” She explained and Liam nodded. Maya hastily grabbed a chair and Liam collapsed into it, every strength has gone for the moment. He took Theo’s hand again but now all they could do was wait.

They all returned to their chairs and the room grew silent. The medical monitors beeping only sometimes. None of them slept, they all wanted to be here to see what happened to Theo, wanted to be there. Liam stroked his thumb over Theo’s hand and tilted his head, watched the night grew darker and then a little bit lighter the closer morning came. 

Mason appeared next to him and handed him a can of orange lemonade from the vending machine in the hallway. “Drink something. I know you won’t be able to eat something but you need to at least drink.” Liam made a face. He didn’t want to. “Liam, see it that way, you and Theo are connected. If you stay hydrated, maybe that helps him too.” Mason bribed him and Liam groaned but accepted the can. He opened it and took a sip and only then he realized how dry his throat was and how thirsty he had been. The sugar of the lemonade helped his circulation and he drank the whole can as fast as he could. Mason handed him another one. Liam gladly accepted and gently butted his head against his best friend. “Thanks for being here.” “Anytime.” Mason said with a soft smile and hugged Liam. “I have gummy bears as well if you need some.”

Liam smiled weakly and opened the second can to gulp down a bit of it. He shook his head and looked back at Theo. And then he softly frowned and pushed the soda can in Mason’s hand before he got up.

“Liam?” Mason asked hesitantly and the others slowly raised their heads too to see what was going on. Liam stepped closer to the examination table again and gently took Theo’s arm where he bit down. He inspected the bandage and then tugged at it to pull it off. When the gauze was gone, Liam gasped.

“It’s healed! The bite is healed! Guys, the bite healed!” He looked around, a beaming smile on his face, and when he looked back at Theo and focused on his heartbeat, he noticed it was stronger. Still weaker than usual, but stronger than the whole night. Theo still had cuts on his face and his arms, but the bite was healed, and his skin didn’t look as pale as before.  “Oh my god!” Liam said. “It took! The bite took!” 

He was overjoyed but then the realization set in and he staggered a bit on his feet. Mason steadied him and Liam looked at his best friend. “He’s alive.” He said and Mason nodded with a big smile.  Brie raised her hands over Theo’s body again and this time the light was more bluish-purple. “He still needs a few more hours to rejuvenate but he will manage. He survived. Congratulations.” 

The pack broke out in a spontaneous celebration and Liam was hugged by every single Beta. He didn’t realize he was crying until Mason hugged him and then Liam suddenly couldn’t stop crying. He had his breakdown right then and there and cried his eyes out. Mason held him the whole time and stroked through his hair and when Liam was done, he slowly made Liam sit down again and lean back. “Now you should sleep a bit. If he wakes up, we will wake you up.” Liam nodded softly. “Okay.” He said and when he closed his eyes, he was fast asleep. Theo was safe and his body had reached a limit where he couldn’t put off sleep any longer. 

****** Liam woke up without anybody waking up and when he did so, Theo was still asleep. The young Alpha stretched and slowly got to his feet. Corey sat on the floor next to him and wordlessly held out a cheeseburger for Liam. “Breakfast.” He said and Liam took the burger without asking another question. The first bite felt heavenly because now that he knewTheo would survive, his appetite was back and he had not eaten for almost twenty hours.

“How is he?” Liam asked while he chewed.  “Okay, still asleep but Brie says he’s fine. His body needs to restore a lot of energy now.” Corey shook his head. “It's crazy, he’s a werewolf now.” “That makes you the only chimera now, you know?” “Yeah.” Corey grinned. “I’m the special snowflake now.” He gently poked Liam. “And how does it feel? To have your own bitten Beta?” He teased and Liam almost choked on his food. Good point! Theo was his only bitten Beta now, they had established a new bond now.

But before Liam could answer, Theo moaned softly and slowly moved and Liam almost dropped his empty burger wrapper.   “Theo!” He was by his mate’s side immediately, the pack staying in the background for now. Theo blinked and then slowly opened his eyes fully.  “Liam?” He asked and Liam nodded with a smile. “I’m here, T. We all are.” He gestured at the pack and Theo nodded slowly before he ran a hand over his face. “What happened?” “We fought the demon and it threw you through a wall.” “Shouldn’t I have a headache because of that?” Theo asked and slowly tried to move into a sitting position. Liam helped him and then steadied Theo. The older looked around. “Where are we?” “In the office of Ever’s friend Brie. We brought you here last night.” Liam smiled softly but then he bit his lip. “Uhm, Theo...”

“Is everyone okay? Are you all okay?” Theo worried about the Betas of course. They nodded but then Nolan pointed at the door. “We, uhm, will be outside. You talk.” “Might need this.” Corey said and placed a glass of ash on the counter. Mountain ash. And then he, just like the rest of the pack, left. Theo frowned.

“Everybody leaves when I wake up. What did I miss? How long was I asleep? Is it the year 3000 now? Are you a robot?” Liam shook his head and gently took Theo’s hands in his. His joy that the bite took was now pushed aside by the worry that Theo had not wanted to be turned and Liam knew it was too late now, but it was typical for him to do something and then worry later.

“I have to tell you something, Theo.” “Sure. What’s up? Are you okay?” Theo freed his hands and gently cupped Liam’s face. Liam almost melted but then he got a grip again and grabbed Theo’s hands once more, pulled them away from his face. “I am okay. But you weren’t. Theo, the demon blasted you through a  fucking wall and you were out like a light. I thought you were unconscious at first but you didn’t wake up and blood was seeping out of your ear. We brought you here and Briana found out you had internal bleeding and internal injuries. It was pretty bad.”

Liam looked at Theo and his eyes shimmered wetly. “She tried everything but it didn’t help. Your heartbeat was getting slower and slower. I had to do something, Theo.” “Yeah, okay. What did you do? Liam, you’re worrying me.”  Liam looked into his mate’s green eyes, saw the frown on Theo’s gorgeous face, and squeezed his hands. “You were dying, Theo, and I couldn’t let you die! There was only one option and I really hope you don’t hate me for this!” His voice was shaking now. “Liam, I could never hate you. What did you do? It can’t be that bad.” “I bit you.”

Pause. 

“You did what?” Theo asked after what felt a lifetime, green eyes narrowing slightly while he spoke.  “I bit you, gave you the bite. And it took.” He showed Theo’s arm where no bite could be seen. “I bit you right there. I had to save you.” “You bit me.” Theo murmured and pulled his arm away from Liam’s grip to slowly slide off the table. “You fucking bit me. You turned me.” He grabbed the glass with the ash and poured some on his hand, only to hiss at the burn and drop the ash on his hand.  “Werewolves can’t touch mountain ash, T.” Liam bit his lower lip and said it quietly. 

“I know that! You...I am a fucking werewolf! Not a chimera. A fucking werewolf.”

“I am sorry, Theo, but it was the only option you would survive. Please, don’t be mad at me!” Liam begged.

Theo suddenly spun around and locked eyes with him. “Are you kidding me? Mad? Liam, my whole life I always felt like a copy! Like I was never good enough to be a real werewolf. I was the first chimera, yes, but I wasn’t the real thing. I didn’t have the speed, didn’t had the hearing, didn’t have the abilities of a werewolf. Everything I had was unnatural, was made in a fucking laboratory.” He shook his head. “And I wanted it. I wanted to be real. But then the whole shit went down and I somehow got used to being a chimera. But the wish to be more, to be better, was there. And now you just tell me you bit me? You turned me into a real fucking werewolf? That’s insane!” He shook his head and Liam made a tentative step towards him. 

“So, you are not mad?”

Theo fixated him and shook his head. “You saved my life and you made my biggest wish come true. I never believed it would happen and yet here I am. A real were...” He stopped. “What color are my eyes?”

“What?” Liam had a hard time following his boyfriend. “What color are my eyes? Are they blue?”

Theo flashed his eyes. Maybe it was wishful thinking but Liam felt like Theo’s eyes were even more beautiful than before. “They are the prettiest gold I’ve ever seen.” He replied and stepped closer to Theo to wrap his arms around him. Theo stared at him and then he let out a happy yell before he kissed Liam passionately. Liam laughed and wrapped his arms as tightly around Theo as he could. 

They only parted to breathe again and Liam nudged his nose against Theo’s before he hugged him and buried his face in the crook of Theo’s neck. “Welcome back, my beloved mate.” He muttered and Theo purred. “You are never allowed to scare me like that ever again!” Theo chuckled. “I promise.”

The door flew open, the Betas undoubtedly had eavesdropped, and suddenly the Alpha couple was in the middle of a big group hug that lasted longer than any group hug ever again.

“Welcome back, big brother!” The pack chorused and Theo laughed loudly. 

I waited for this chapter for so long, you guys have no idea! I am ecstatic about how it turned out and I hope you see it that way too. What do you say? I cannot wait to see what you all have to say about it :D

[thewolfwiththeredrose]

A Literary Love

Yo! So this is the first fic I ever wrote. Yeah, scary! I posted it online in January and it got some pretty overwhelming feedback so I figured I would share it here with all of you! Please like and reblog and share and do all the fun things if you like it! I’ll be posting the parts to my current fic soon :)

Also on AO3

Rating: Teen & up

Pairing: Stiles/Derek (Sterek)

Words: 11,143

Summary: "Walking down a foreign street in an unfamiliar city, Stiles searches for refuge from the bitter November cold. He’s not quite sure how he ended up here, stumbling through the streets of New York City at 5am before the sun has even risen, when less than a week ago he was still back home in Beacon Hills just waiting for his real life to begin."

OR

Stiles is an aspiring writer trying to find his way in the world (and New York City), and Derek is the proud owner of a bookshop cafe who just wants to be as happy as his parents were.

Warnings: Description of a panic attack, and the Hale parents die in a car crash. Please, if you think any of this may trigger you, do not read

The bookstore sat in between the bank and the pharmacy; short, squat and out of place. From the outside looking in, it was a very ordinary sort of place on a very ordinary sort of street. An ageing red brick building with a wide store front window that was half covered by a bookshelf, and a very grand-looking black door with a well-used brass knob placed in the middle. It is outside this bookstore where we meet our fearless hero. Alright, maybe not fearless. Okay, maybe he’s a little less than heroic, but he is the centre of our story so we should be nice to him, shouldn’t we? Anyway.

Walking down a foreign street in an unfamiliar city, Stiles searches for refuge from the bitter November cold. He’s not quite sure how he ended up here, stumbling through the streets of New York City at 5am before the sun has even risen, when less than a week ago he was still back home in Beacon Hills just waiting for his real life to begin. Fresh out of college at BHU, Stiles always dreamed of moving to the big city and making a life for himself. Sure, leaving his dad wasn’t easy, but the Sheriff had Melissa now, and it wasn’t like they didn’t talk on the phone at every spare moment anyway.

Stiles knows that he was lucky, he had worked like a dog through college, enduring the most degrading of jobs in order to make just enough money to scrape by until he caught his big break. His big break which was going to begin in a matter of hours. Shit.

Stiles abruptly realises that as this barrage of overwhelming thoughts had hit him, he has stopped walking, his feet coming to a standstill on the uneven pavement. He closes his eyes and shakes his head, trying to block out the panic that is tightening his chest before exhaling in a long, slow breath. Calm down, he thinks to himself, this could be the start of something amazing. This could be the beginning of the rest of your life.

“Are you alright?” A voice sounds from in front of Stiles, startling him from his thoughts. His eyes shoot open in shock before settling upon the figure in front of him.

Stiles’ breath hitches in his throat as his bleary eyes rake up the body of the man in front of him. Dark jeans. Black leather jacket. The man is built like Adonis, all lean muscle, pulling tight the fabric of his forest green Henley, and then there’s his face. High, chiselled cheek bones and a sharp, beautifully sculpted jaw dusted with dark stubble to match the thick, dark eyebrows which are currently drawn together in obvious concern for Stiles’ wellbeing. But, however stunning these features are, they’re not what causes the tightness in Stiles’ chest to reappear tenfold. It’s the eyes. An impossible colour, Stiles thinks. They’re breath taking, deep and clear, a beautiful vibrant green only made brighter by the man’s dark appearance.

“Uhh…” Stiles drawls unintelligibly, feeling his jaw drop in to its default gawp before he remembers his training. By training, he means the years he has spent as a close friend of the stunning Lydia Martin, conditioning himself not to turn in to a drooling idiot when faced with beautiful people. Stiles clears his throat, willing his voice to hold.

“Yeah,” he says, the calmness of his voice surprising him, “Sorry, I’m not quite with it yet. Actually, I’m not sure I even know where I am. I only just moved here.”

Considering how utterly beautiful the man is, Stiles is quite taken aback when he is offered a sheepish, almost shy half-smile.

“Ah, well, I was just about to start my shift at the bookstore,” the man begins before gesturing with his hand towards the red brick building, “There’s a 24-hour café inside if you wanted a coffee to, uh, make you a little more ‘with it’?” The half-smile is still adorning those perfectly full lips, and Stiles can’t help but think that it is so unfair that this guy can pull off drop dead gorgeous and sickeningly adorable at the same time. Stiles grins back at the man, hoping to convey the intense happiness that the words “coffee” and “bookstore” had brought him.

“No. Way. A 24-hour bookstore? With coffee? I think I just discovered heaven on earth in New York,” he gushes before having to stifle a large yawn, “also, do you have the wherewithal to inject the caffeine straight in to my bloodstream? Like an IV line or something? Because, technically I haven’t slept yet and, well, if it hasn’t happened yet I don’t see it happening any time in the near future, I can never sleep in the day time. It just won’t happen; I get distracted too easily.”

The man seems slightly taken aback by the litany of words that had just come from Stiles’ mouth, and Stiles begins bracing himself for the usual “Wow, you talk a lot,” or, “Why are you so hyperactive?” that he gets from people who don’t know him. Stiles, himself, is slightly taken aback when instead of this reaction, the man’s lips quirk up at the corner into an absolutely devastating smirk, which has Stiles’ breath catching in his throat for the second time in as many minutes.

“I’ll see what I can do,” the man quips, smirk transforming back in to the same shy half-smile as if he had suddenly realised that his expression had changed, “you’d better follow me then.”

With that, the man moves to walk past Stiles before entering the bookstore and Stiles definitely does not stare at his butt as he walks away. How dare you even suggest such a thing, you heathen. He does, however, glance up at the sign hanging outside the store. A large black paw print is painted upon a white surface, and a human hand print formed in negative white space within the paw, and the words “Brew Bear Books” arching over the claws at the top. Stiles smiled to himself, taking one final long breath before walking to the large black door and pushing it open with a faint *ding* overhead.

***

The sight that greets Stiles when he enters the bookstore is not what he expected from its outward appearance. The door is on the left side of the storefront, and from the moment Stiles steps through it all he can see was…well, books. To his left the whole wall of the store is made up of one large floor-to-ceiling bookcase and to his right shorter, shoulder-high bookcases make up a walkway that leads to a door on the far wall of the store. On the right side, a few metres in, there is a gap between the bookcases, and through it Stiles can see a few tables and chairs. The gap opens in to a large room, its walls lined with bookcases and Stiles steps into it, trying to take in his surroundings. Along the back wall stands the counter, a long bar with a few stools, a pastry display case and a large silver coffee machine. Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever been happier to see a coffee machine in his life.

Just as Stiles opens his mouth to call out and see where the beautiful man has gone to, a head pops up from behind the counter. The woman who stands before him is terrifying. Beautiful, but terrifying. Her long, dark hair is scraped back in to a ponytail which only accentuates her high cheekbones and strong jawline. Even from where Stiles stands half way across the room he can easily see the mischief in her clear hazel eyes. Her full, red-painted lips are curled in to an almost predatory smile and Stiles can’t help but feel like a rabbit being watched by a wolf; wide-eyed and terrified.

“Well, hello there.” She speaks in a flirtatious, saccharine voice which Stiles can tell is not her usual tone. She rests her elbow on the counter, setting her head in the palm of her hand and leaning forward almost provocatively as she drags her eyes appraisingly up Stiles’ body, before narrowing her eyes slightly as if she were trying to figure something out. Stiles definitely feels like prey. He is abruptly ripped from his thoughts by a hurried thud-thud-thud, the unmistakable sound of someone running down stairs. The door in the back-right corner of the shop next to the counter swings open revealing a flight of stairs and the beautiful man from the street at the bottom of them looking just as terrified as Stiles feels. He gives Stiles a quick glance before turning to the woman behind the counter, looking incredibly uncomfortable.

“Laura,” the man exclaims with an air of nonchalance that Stiles can see straight through. His voice sounds strained, as if he were just as nervous as he looked; which, in the presence of the feral/beautiful woman – Laura – would not surprise Stiles in the slightest. “Thank you so much for covering for Erica. I can take over from here if you want to clock out, I’m sure you’re tired.” The man seems to be well practiced in avoiding Laura’s searching gaze. Her predatory smile only grows larger and toothier as she takes in the avoidant man in front of her, her eyes flicking momentarily towards Stiles before settling back on her co-worker.

“Wow, Derek! Speaking in whole sentences, not glaring, being pleasant, what’s gotten in to you I wonder?” As she speaks, her eyes flick once again towards Stiles, her stare lingering a little longer before looking back at her co-worker who is now, indeed, scowling angrily at her. The expression was gone almost as quickly as it appeared as the man’s eyes mirror the movement of Laura’s, his face softening whilst his eyes linger on Stiles.

Derek. Stiles juggles the name around in his mind for a moment before deciding that he likes the way that it sounded; he can definitely imagine moaning that loud and unashamedly. Wait, what? A blush begins to spread up Stiles’ neck and over his face at the thought he’d just had. Derek, however, takes in Stiles’ embarrassed expression and furrows his brow apologetically.

“Sorry,” he speaks so softly that Stiles is straining to hear him, “I’m Derek, and this is my sister, Laura. We own this place together.” Pride is rolling off Derek in waves, not smug or self-important, he just seems so pleased with this little slice of Stiles’ own personal heaven which he owned. Derek turns to his sister, saying, “Laura, this is –” he pauses, realising that he hasn’t actually asked the smaller man for his name yet.

“Stiles,” he supplies helpfully, offering a smirk at Laura’s slightly confused yet inquisitive expression. “It’s a nickname I got when I was a kid, my actual first name is Polish and it’s a mouthful. Kind of impossible to pronounce. Honestly, it’s my name and I’m not even sure I can say it right. Nobody uses it, not even my dad. Everybody calls me Stiles because my last name is Stilinski. Hell, every August since my freshman year of junior high I would hack in to the school’s registration system and change my name to Stiles.” He chuckles to himself at the memories, a wide grin splitting his face.

“Good times.” Stiles looks up to find Derek staring at him slightly slack-jawed, and Laura glancing at her brother with an amused smirk on her lips. He clears his throat roughly, his face dropping entirely and giving way to a sheepish, self-deprecating smile. “Uh – sorry. I tend to talk a lot. Bad habit,” he says, raising his hand to scratch the back of his neck nervously.

“Uh, n-no! No,” Derek flounders, eyes going wide, as if suddenly realising that he had been staring. “I didn’t mean to- I mean you just- Uhh…” Laura’s snort of laughter breaks both Stiles and Derek from their embarrassed musings.

“Derek isn’t really a talker,” Laura says, ignoring Derek’s embarrassed noise of protest, “he’s a growl-er. And a listener. You talk a lot. Derek likes people who talk a lot. It means he doesn’t have to talk as much,” she spoke in short, sharp sentences, as if he would be easily confused, before a wolfish smile spread across her red lips. “-and you, damn, you talk with your whole body, don’t you, honey?” She croons, giving Stiles another appreciative once-over.

“Laura,” Derek warns in a stern voice which totally did not turn Stiles on, not at all. “Don’t objectify the customers, its rude, creepy and unprofessional.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she sighs, sounding very much like she had heard this speech before, “but just you wait until Erica meets him. There are going to be fights over this one,” she winks at Stiles who simply raises an eyebrow at her, but before Derek could protest, she speaks again, “anyway, I’m out. See you later baby brother. And Stiles, dear, feel free to drop by any time at all, like in the evenings when I’ll be here, alone.” With that, she grabs her jacket from behind the counter, breezing past Stiles and out the door.

Stiles is still staring at the space behind the counter where Laura had once stood. He knows that his mouth is slightly agape, and that his eyebrows are probably furrowed in to an expression of confusion mixed with fear. The sound of Derek awkwardly clearing his throat breaks Stiles from his stupor. He turns to see Derek awkwardly scratching the back of his neck, a blush tinting the tips of his ears and the apples of his cheeks with the most beautiful pink colour that Stiles has ever seen. Derek opens his mouth to speak and Stiles knows – he just knows – that he is about to apologise, but Stiles doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want Derek to be sorry for anything.

“Why do I get the feeling that I don’t really want to meet Erica?” Stiles says in a jovial tone. Derek’s eyes snap up to Stiles, who shoots him a coy grin in return. And then something beautiful happens. Derek laughs. His laugh doesn’t bark out like Stiles’ own does. It doesn’t continuously bubble away like his dad’s does. No. It’s a laugh like rain. It starts as a quiet huff of air that escalates to a warm, throaty chuckle before finally the heavens open and Derek is laughing loudly and with complete abandon. His head thrown back, his hand covering his eyes, and Stiles is drowning. He knows his own grin is probably manic-looking, but in that moment, he can’t really give a damn.

“So, how do you take your coffee?”

***

After Derek makes him a cup of (frankly, pretty amazing) coffee, Stiles slowly begins to feel more like a human being, and less like a zombie. With this newfound energy comes words, and lots of them. Stiles can’t help but feel relaxed around Derek, like he isn’t being judged for being nosey or loud or hyperactive. Stiles can’t help but feel like he wants to know all that he can about Derek.

“So, a coffee shop bookstore, huh? How’d you come in to owning a place like this, man, it’s awesome!” Stiles asks, eyes scanning the shelves around the room, one hand clutching his coffee and the other tracing over the spines of the books lining the case closest to the counter, a private smile adorning his face. If he were looking, Stiles would see Derek’s own lips curve in to a reverent smile as he watches Stiles.

“Thanks,” Derek huffs a laugh and Stiles turns away from the books to face him. “Uh, well, I got a degree in English Literature from NYU a few years back and I sorta freaked out when I left because I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I moved in with Laura, who was working as a lawyer at the time and got a job in the NYU library.”

“Oh my god I can’t imagine you as a librarian!” Stiles laughs out, “Please tell me you wore slacks and a cardigan. Oh, my god, do you wear glasses? That would be so adorable!” He rambles, watching as that beautiful blush once again works its way up Derek’s neck and on to his ears and cheeks. Stiles decides to change the subject. “Also, Laura as a lawyer? She seems like a sexual harassment lawsuit just waiting to happen.”

“Yeah, she’s loosened up a lot in the last few years. Sometimes I think a little too much.” Derek says, huffing that small laugh which has Stiles grinning. “Laura hated her job, always felt that she’d made a mistake, and I wasn’t much better, wallowing in my own misery with no idea what to do with my life.

“One day about three years ago we both had a day off at the same time, we got in to Laura’s car and just drove out of the city until we ran out of gas. Broke down in a small town outside the city limits and stopped in a little coffee shop there to wait for a tow truck, just people watching. It was a kinda beat up place, you know, mismatching furniture and old equipment, but everyone in there looked so happy. All the workers knew the clients by name, they were all regulars and everyone was smiling, like it was a home away from home. That’s when Laura and I decided to open a café.” Derek speaks softly, a wistful smile on his lips and Stiles finds that once again he cannot help but stare.

“Wow, man. That’s such a beautiful story, it sounds like something from a movie. Doesn’t explain the books, though.” Stiles knows there probably wasn’t more to it than just Derek having a love of books, having already said he worked in a library, but Stiles just doesn’t want Derek to stop talking.

“Ah, well, that’s a much longer story.” Derek still speaks softly, but his smile is now tinged with a sadness that Stiles can hardly bare. He decides that he never want to see Derek sad again. Nope, never.

“Hey, it’s okay, man. You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to, I’m pretty sure I can talk enough for the both of us. But, you know, I’ll definitely listen, if you want me to. Your sister said you’re a listener but, I’m sure that sometimes even listeners need someone to talk to. You know, someone who will, uh, listen.” Stiles knows he’s rambling again, but honestly, Derek gaping at him as he had the last time Stiles rambled would be a billion times better than Derek looking sad.

“No, no, it’s okay.” Derek says, his eyes flitting over Stiles’ face and his smile brightening slightly. “Laura’s always saying that I need to talk about it more.”

So, Derek talks, and Stiles listens.

***

Okay, so, Derek talks for a while and Stiles does listen, but once Derek is done with his story it turns in to more of a conversation. As it turns out, Derek and Laura’s parents died in a car accident when they were teenagers. Coming from a wealthy family, they inherited a bunch of money from insurance, as well as their family home which contained an extensive private library. When he and Laura decided to open the café, Derek concluded that embracing his love of literature and selling books from the private library would be a great way to attract more customers, and also to stay close to his parents who both loved books. So, they sorted through the collection and removed anything of sentimental value (story books their parents used to read them as kids, a first edition of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy that their mother had bought their father for an anniversary) before moving it all to their new café. Stiles thinks it’s beautiful, romantic and definitely does not sigh dreamily throughout Derek’s story.

Stiles can tell that talking about his parents is not easy for Derek, so he decides that the best thing would be to talk animatedly about himself, his friends and family until Derek forgets about his sadness and maybe smiles that beautiful smile again. So, Stiles talks. He talks about his dad the Sheriff, he talks about his best friend Scott, who’s mum Melissa is now with Stiles’ dad which is just so cool, Derek, it’s like were real brothers. He talks about his home town of Beacon Hills, and about his major in Criminal Justice and about his minor in Mythological Studies. He even talks about his own mom, who died when he was a kid. And Derek listens. Derek listens to every word, smiling, nodding and asking the occasional question, not at all looking at Stiles like he’s crazy or like he should shut up. Derek is unlike anyone Stiles has ever met before.

***

In theory, Stiles knows that he and Derek have been talking for quite a while. Their conversation has progressed from their favourite books to their favourite music and through some very odd transition on to their childhood pets. However, it still catches Stiles by surprise when he feels the warm rays of the morning sun warming the back of his neck through the café windows.

“Woah, dude, when did the sun come up?” Stiles says, bewildered after an anecdote about his childhood cat, Whiskers. Derek chuckles before answering.

“Over an hour ago, it’s almost 8am.” Derek says after checking the time, eyes wide in surprise as if he, too, had thought it was still much earlier.

“8am? Really? Already?” Stiles stammers out, because 8am seriously, he only had 4 hours before it was time, before his fate was decided and he wasn’t ready, he wasn’t, he wasn’t. Stiles can feel his chest tightening, his breath coming shallower and the lightheaded feeling he dreads seeping in.

“Stiles? Stiles!” He can vaguely hear Derek calling his name, but the sound was being drowned out by the rushing of blood in his ears, his heart hammering in his chest. Stiles can feel the tell-tale shaking in his hands, and then in his knees and oh, since when is he on the floor.

Before he can register what is happening, large, strong hands are manoeuvring him so that his back is propped up against a bookshelf. His head is swimming, large black spots dancing across his vision as he desperately tries to control his frantic breathing.

“Stiles. Hey, Stiles, you’re okay. That’s it, you’re okay. I’ve got you, you’re safe, everything is fine. Everything is okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” Derek. Stiles can hear Derek’s voice breaking through the rushing, can almost make out his blurry shape over him. He just keeps talking and talking, reassuring words in Stiles’ ears. Derek takes Stiles’ hand and presses the palm to his chest.

“Just breathe with me. That’s it. Good, come on, Stiles. You’re fine, I’ve got you, just breathe.” Stiles can hear the worry in Derek’s voice and wants so desperately to tell him that’s he would be fine, that he’s used to this, but he can’t find it in him to speak. In an attempt to communicate, he curls his trembling fingers in to Derek’s shirt, fisting it and squeezing tight to try and quell the shaking. Somehow, Derek seems to understand the signal.

“That’s it, good, good. Just breathe, Stiles. Please, please, just breathe.” Derek whispers, sounding rather breathless himself. He raises his hand and slides it along Stiles’ cheek, cupping his jaw and stroking with his thumb, attempting to calm the younger man. As soon as Stiles feels the warm, callused palm on his face he leans in to the comfort, closing his eyes and instantly feeling better. He’s still trembling like a leaf, but his breath is beginning to come easier. They stay like that for what could have been minutes or hours before Stiles feels able to speak.

“I’m so sorry,” Stiles says, taking a breath, eyes still closed. “That must have been so-” Gasp. “-strange to see me just-” Pant. “-go off like that at nothing.” Swallow.

“Stiles, look at me,” Derek speaks softly, using the hand what was still on Stiles’ jaw to turn his face towards him, “Don’t you ever apologise for something like that. Ever. It’s not your fault, okay?” He waits for Stiles’ feeble nod before continuing. “I just wish that I could have been of more help. Let me go get you a glass of water.”

The moment Derek stands to go behind the counter Stiles misses his warmth. He takes a few moments to collect himself, closing his eyes and rubbing at them with still-trembling fingers, trying to breathe as steadily as possible to prevent a relapse. When Derek returns, he holds a tall glass of water, and it is only now that Stiles can truly make out Derek’s face. His chiselled features are contorted with concern, his brows pulled together in a distressed frown and his beautiful, captivating eyes are filled with so much worry that Stiles’ heart could break.

“Thanks,” Stiles says when Derek hands him the water, his voice rough and dry from his gasping breaths. “Thanks for everything. What you did right then – talking me down – that’s not an easy thing to do. Scotty and I have been best friends for two decades and even he struggles.” He continues, not quite finding it in himself to meet Derek’s worry-filled eyes again. “Uh, so, yeah. Thanks.”

“It’s fine,” Derek says softly, “any time.” And Stiles believes him. “Do you- Uh. Do you mind if I asked what triggered it? Did I say something wrong?” If Stiles thought that Derek’s voice was soft before, it was nothing compared to the way he speaks that final question. It is so soft that Stiles can barely register what it was Derek is saying, but when he does, his head shoots up to meet Derek’s apologetic gaze.

“NO! No, no, not at all, you’re amazing!” Stiles blurts in his hurry to reassure Derek. Stiles doesn’t wait to catalogue Derek’s reaction before attempting to distract him with more words. “I just didn’t realise that it was so late already and today is a really big day for me. Like, crazy big. I’ve been freaking out about it for weeks, hence the no sleep and the walking through an unfamiliar neighbourhood before sunrise. I guess when we were talking I actually relaxed for a while and kinda forgot all about it until I realised the time and then all the panic hit me at once. It happens, man, totally not your fault.”

“Oh…” Derek is silent for a moment. Stiles knows he’s probably just digesting the masses of information that had just been thrown at him, but the silence puts him on edge right up until he can visibly see the creases of worry smoothing from Derek’s face. The man smiles at Stiles, but the worry is still evident in his eyes as he offers Stiles his hand to help him stand. “What’s so important about today? Uh, if you don’t mind me asking.”

The expression on Derek’s face is so open, genuinely intrigued but still full of concern, and Stiles kind of wants to write poems about it. He takes Derek’s hand, using it to haul himself to his feet before plopping on to a stool by the counter. He valiantly ignores the hand that Derek places on the small of his back to help steady him and the waves of warmth that it sends spreading through his body.

“Well, I probably should have led with this really but, uh…” Stiles laughs nervously, running a hand through his hair. “I’m an author. More accurately, I’m trying to become an author. In case you didn’t notice I have some serious ADHD going on which, you know, can make concentrating in lectures pretty hard. I had a pretty bad habit of daydreaming in class because most of the time I’d already read the material and I didn’t need to hear the same thing again.

“One day I just decided to write it down, like, whatever my brain would dream up to occupy me. By the time I completed my degree I had finished drafts for 3 novels in a series and had 2 plots for sequels. I moved to NYC hoping to catch a break, sent my first book draft in to a publisher and they want to meet me today at 11 o’clock. Man, I’m terrified.”

Derek stands behind the counter patiently listening to Stiles recount the steps which brought him to where he is today. He nods, his eyes following the movement of Stiles’ hands as he speaks, a grin breaking out on his face when Stiles tells of the publishers’ interest in his book. Stiles himself still isn’t entirely sure that this is not a daydream itself. Publishers are interested in his writing. He has his own place in New York (granted, it was tiny and he can only afford it for another couple months if he doesn’t get this gig, but it’s still his). He met Derek. Derek who is beautiful, kind, intelligent, and just about everything Stiles had always wanted but had never dared to hope for.

“Stiles, that’s amazing!” Derek exclaims, grinning at Stiles. “The fact that they’ve even asked to meet with you shows that they’re really interested in your work, you should be proud of yourself.” He says, his voice and expression softening towards the end. “I’ve always wanted to write a book, but I don’t think I have the imagination for it. I love reading, though, more than anything. I always feel a bit sad saying ‘books are my life’, but it’s the truth.”

“Wow. Thanks, Derek. That really means a lot.” Stiles replies with a shy smile, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I know how you feel, though, about books being your life. I swear more often than not I speak using quotes from my favourite books, just hoping that someone will understand the reference and we can be instant best friends.”

“’Friendship is born at the moment when one man says to another ‘What! You too? I thought that no one but myself’’.” Derek speaks with conviction, although his brow is furrowed as he tried to recollect the exact wording of the quote he once read.

“C. S. Lewis?” Stiles asks unsurely, although he is certain that he has read that before. Derek looks in to Stiles’ eyes across the counter, a wide grin breaking out on his face as he nods, and Stiles can’t help but grin equally wide in answer. They stand there for a fair few moments grinning at each other before Stiles remembers the time.

“Listen, Derek, thank you for everything. It’s been amazing meeting you and getting to know you but I think I really should be going. I need to try and find my way back to my apartment to get ready for my meeting, but I’ll definitely be back soon.” Stiles says, trying to convey his gratefulness to Derek, and get across the fact that he really wants to see Derek again soon. Derek’s smile begins to fall from his face as Stiles speaks, but he catches himself before it was gone.

“Where do you live? I could easily close up the shop for a little while to give you a ride home, especially seeing as you don’t know where you’re going.” Derek says with a hopeful tone to his voice, and Stiles simply won’t let himself try to analyse what that might mean. “I wouldn’t want you getting lost and being late for your meeting.”

“Yeah, man, that would be awesome! But only if you’re sure about closing the shop, I wouldn’t want you to lose any business.”

Derek waves Stiles off before coming out from behind the counter and heading back up the stairs, which Stiles assumes lead to his apartment. When Derek came back down he is clutching a set of keys and wearing the most sinful black leather jacket. Stiles has never thought himself much in to the whole black-leather-beardy-biker look but dang does Derek rock it.

“Ready?” Derek grins, and Stiles is helpless to do anything but nod and grin in return.

***

Derek leads Stiles out of the store and towards his car, locking the door behind him. The ride to Stiles’ apartment can’t have been much more than 10 minutes or so, and the silence is filled as Derek excitedly asks Stiles questions about the plot of his novel. Stiles tells Derek how almost all of the characters in the book are based upon his friends from his home town, with the main character being based upon Scott. He tells him how he once went searching for a dead body in the woods with Scott after hearing about it on his police scanner, yes, Derek, I have one, I like to know what’s going on, okay. He tells Derek how that night he had a really weird dream about Scotty being bitten in the woods and turning into a werewolf, then for some reason his brain decided that his Criminal Psych lecture would be the perfect time to remind him of this. Stiles rambles about how he basically rewrote his and Scott’s high school experience but with supernatural creatures and crazy bad guys.

Before Stiles knows it, they are outside his building, sat in the stationary car as he rants to Derek about how the first two books are really intense but they’re nothing, Derek, nothing compared to book three. Man, if it ever gets published the readers are going to hate me. I even hate myself a little, damn.

“I’m telling you, this meeting is going to be the start of really big things for you. I just know it.” Derek sounds so sincere when he speaks that Stiles can feel the blush creeping up his neck in response.

“Thank you, so much. And, thank you for the ride.” Stiles smiles at Derek from his seat in the car. Derek has a soft, genuine smile tugging at his lips and God, does Stiles want to kiss him. But, Stiles also feels that this, whatever this is he felt with Derek, is real, and he’ll be damned if he’s going to rush it. Stiles climbs out of the car, then leans back through the open door. “How about I come back to the store tomorrow? I’ll tell you all about how my meeting went, and you can make me some more of that life-saving coffee.”

The transformation in the expression on Derek’s face in that moment is something that Stiles thinks he has only ever read about in cheesy romance novels. Derek’s smile, once soft and small, breaks out in to a full grin, and Stiles is sure that the world just got 3 shades brighter.

“Promise?” Derek says, his voice lightly teasing, but his face still showing such unadulterated joy that Stiles can’t really care.

“Promise.”

***

Stiles keeps his promise. It’s almost midday before Stiles is able to drag himself out of his bed to shower, change and head to the bookstore. Don’t judge him, he had been awake for a seriously long time. The meeting had been amazing, and Stiles can’t wait to share it with Derek. After calling his dad and Scott the day before, Stiles had all but passed out from exhaustion, but from the moment he woke up all he could think about was going to see Derek.

The bell above the door sounds a now-familiar ding when Stiles enters the bookstore. He rounds the corner in to the café with an open grin on his face, he feels like he is practically buzzing with anticipation. His smile falls slightly when he looks towards the counter to see a pretty woman with long blonde curls. Definitely not Derek.

“Well, look what we have here,” she says as she unabashedly runs her eyes all over Stiles’ body, flicking her tongue across her teeth as she does so, looking as if she were going to eat him whole, “a new customer. I’m sure I would have remembered someone like you in a dump like this.”

She drags out her words in a sweet, seductive tone which kind of makes Stiles’ skin crawl. Her wolfish smile very much reminds him of Laura’s from the previous day, the same red-lipped grin with far too many teeth to be considered entirely non-threatening. Although, none of that really compares to the sting of righteous anger he feels at her final words.

“This place is not a dump!” Stiles hisses angrily. After hearing Derek speak yesterday, telling him the beautiful story of how this place came to be, of the love he has for the books and the happiness he has found in doing something he really loves, Stiles truly feels that comfort and hope exude from the shelves themselves. How dare she call this place a dump.

“I don’t mean to offend, sweet cheeks,” she says in that same saccharine voice, although Stiles got the impression that she doesn’t feel particularly sorry, “I’m obviously just not as in to books as you are. Although, if you like, I could tell you all about some other things I’m in to.”

“Where’s Derek?” Stiles blurts. He can tell he looks like a tomato and, honestly, he’s absolutely terrified of this woman. He just wants to see Derek and he does not want to know what she’s in to. Stiles looks at her, waiting for her reply before he sees a small flash of – recognition? Realisation? – cross her face.

“Derek, huh?” she says, her eyes once again running over Stiles’ form. “I’ll get right on that for you.” She opens the door leading to the staircase, but before she ascends she turned to face Stiles once again. “What did you say your name was, sweet cheeks?”

“I didn’t. It’s Stiles.” he says sheepishly. She gives him another frightening grin before bounding up the stairs.

***

“Stiles!” Derek exclaims when he reaches the bottom of the stairs, a grin tugging at his lips. The blonde girl follows him in shortly after, a smug expression on her face as her eyes flick between the two of them with obvious interest.

“Well, Der, aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend here? He really is just as delicious as Laura told me.” That feral grin once again spreads across her lips, and Stiles once again finds himself feeling like prey.

“Erica,” Derek admonishes sternly, his eyebrows dropped in to an angry-looking glare, “why don’t you take your break now? I don’t need you accosting my customers, it’s bad for business, not to mention rude as hell.”

“Yes, Boss.” She speaks cheerfully as she grabbed her jacket from behind the counter. “See you soon, sweet cheeks.”

The use of the nickname makes Stiles shudder as she breezes past him and out of the store. Stiles looks at Derek, who’s expression has dramatically softened. He looks just as breathtakingly beautiful as he had the day before in a soft looking maroon sweater and blue jeans.

“How did I know I wasn’t going to enjoy meeting Erica?” Stiles says with a cheeky smirk. Derek laughed in reply, just as open and unabashed as he had the day before causing Stiles to smile wider. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Derek says softly, almost reverently as he grins at Stiles. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

Derek turns to the coffee maker and starts preparing Stiles’ drink. Stiles can’t help but watch the play of muscles in Derek’s arms and back as me moves, the concentration on his face, the way the artificial light in the store illuminates his kaleidoscope eyes. In those minutes of awed silence, filled only by the noise of the coffee machine, Stiles could easily believe that they are the only people on the planet. He is broken from his reverie when Derek places his coffee on the counter before him.

“So, how was your meeting? Sit, tell me all about it. I’ve been dying to know how it went as soon as I dropped you off yesterday.” The excitement in Derek’s voice is palpable and Stiles has practically forgotten why he had come today other than to see Derek. It seems that Stiles being distracted by Derek may become a regular occurrence.

“Oh, yes! Derek, it was amazing!” Stiles tells Derek how the publisher was this crazy looking guy with dark hair which stood on end, sticking in every direction. His name was Finstock, and he gushed about how much he just loved Stiles’ book. Stiles tells Derek how they had given him a cheque just to “help with his creative process”, which was enough money to cover his rent for over a year.

“They’ve given me back a copy of the transcript with the editors’ notes, so I need to go back through and make some changes, but they want it to be ready for publication soon so that they can have it ready for a Christmas release. How crazy is that, Derek? Me, an actual published author? Things are really starting to go my way,” Stiles says, his long fingers curled around his coffee mug. His eyes sparkle and a more private smile tugs at his lips as he looks into his cup.

“Congratulations, Stiles, that’s fantastic! Your friends and family must be so proud. Hell, I know I’m proud of you,” Derek replies. The joy on Derek’s face and the elation in his voice send a tingle shooting down Stiles’ spine. It isn’t arousal, or anything close, but the unadulterated feeling of being truly appreciated by someone you care about.

“You talk about them as if you aren’t already one of them,” Stiles says softly, a crooked smile on his lips.

“I am?” Derek practically whispers, his soft voice breathy and quiet.

“Of course,” Stiles replies, looking up through his lashes to meet Derek’s gaze, “I’m pretty sure that if it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t have even made it to that meeting yesterday. Hell, you talked me down from a panic attack, I’ve known people my whole life who can’t do that.”

Derek’s smile only grows. “'It is not time or opportunity that is to determine intimacy; it is disposition alone- '”

“’Seven years would be insufficient to make some people acquainted with each other, and seven days are more than enough for others’,” Stiles finishes. “Jane Austen, one of my favourites.”

“Mine, too,” Derek grins.

***

Stiles ends up going to the bookstore a lot in the next few weeks. The way he sees it, sitting alone in his apartment trying to edit this manuscript is not going to be productive. He’ll work in a haze of sub-par instant coffee, Reese’s peanut butter cups and minimal human interaction until either the manuscript is finished, or he passes out from exhaustion. Unhealthy. Going to the bookshop, he can get good coffee, more substantial food, and human interaction. Oh, and the staff won’t let him pass out on their floor. And, maybe, if he visits every day, and the visits have less to do with his health and more to do with the absolutely stunning man who owns the place, well, he can deny that’s why he’s there because he has real reasons, too, goddamn it.

Every single morning, Stiles turns up at the shop, tired and in need of caffeine, to see a smiling Derek behind the counter already making his coffee just the way he likes it. Some part of him thinks that life can’t really get much better than it is at the moment.

“So, when can I read it?” Derek asks as he leans over the counter to place Stiles’ coffee next to his open laptop.

“When it’s finished,” Stiles replies, a teasing smirk on his lips and his eyes trained stubbornly on his screen.

“You always say that,” Derek huffs, turning his back to make Stiles’ breakfast pancakes.

“That’s because you always ask. Like, every day,” Stiles grinned, looking up to watch Derek work. Yes, he thinks, life can’t get much better than this.

***

“Dereeeeekkkkk,” Stiles whines.

“Yes, Stiles?” Derek replies, looking up from his book to glance at Stiles over the rims of his glasses. The image totally doesn’t make Stiles want to kiss him stupid.

“I’m huuungrrrrry, make me some foooood, pleeeeease,” Stiles continues to whine, leaning his head on the counter next to his laptop and looking up at Derek sideways.

“I swear there is a black hole in your stomach,” Laura titters from somewhere behind him where she is organising a shelf of new arrivals.

“I made you breakfast not two hours ago. How the hell are you hungry? It’s not even lunchtime,” Derek laughs to himself, putting his bookmark in place so he can start making Stiles food.

“Please, Derek. ‘Time is an illusion. Lunchtime, doubly so’,” Stiles replies, watching Derek’s face with keen eyes for any sign of recognition. What he receives is even more than he had hoped for.

Derek looks up at him slightly startled, before that beautiful huff of air passes through his lips as he starts to laugh. After learning it was Derek’s father’s favourite book, Stiles got himself a copy of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy so that they could talk about it together. It was one of those terrifying moments of clarity, when Stiles realised just how gone he is on this gorgeous man who likes books better than people, (wrongly) thinks that the Dodgers are better than the Mets, and has a laugh like rain.

“Oh, God,” Laura bemoans, “Der, you can stop laughing now, just imagine what it’s doing to his ego.”

“Hey!” Stiles protests, smiling wickedly to himself before continuing, “’If there's anything more important than my ego around, I want it caught and shot now.’”

Derek’s laughter only increases, his chuckles getting louder until he’s laughing loudly, head tilted back. Stiles mentally pats himself on the back for making Derek laugh like this once again. He feels just as awe struck as the first time, his insides lighting up at the sight of Derek looking so happy.

“Oh, jeez, have you broken him?” Laura questions, a smile on her lips as she watches Derek laugh, “Der, are you okay?”

“’Don’t Panic’, Laura,” Stiles says, eyes still on Derek despite addressing Laura, “He looks pretty happy to me.”

Derek’s laughter has evolved one again. He is clutching his stomach, one hand supporting himself on the counter, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to breathe between chuckles.

“Yeah, he does,” Laura replies, eyeing Stiles, although he does not see it.

***

“Don’t forget the whole milk!” Laura calls to Derek as he pulls on his leather jacket.

“I won’t,” he replies, “be back in 20!”

“’So long, and thanks for all the fish!’,” Stiles shouts, and is rewarded with the sound of Derek’s laughter before the bell signals his exit from the shop.

“So, mind telling me what the hell that was all about?” Laura said, her tone inquisitive but not angry.

“Oh, uh,” Stiles began, “They were quotes from the book The Hitchhiker’s Guide to The Galaxy-”

“I know what they were,” Laura interrupts, “how did you know?”

“Uh, I know that it was your dad’s favourite, and that he used to make jokes from it all the time, so I got a copy and-”

“You read it so that you could make Derek laugh,” Laura finishes for him, a sad smile curving her always-red lips, “how did you know about Dad?”

“Derek told me, once,” Stiles replies, voice low, feeling the grief Laura is exuding.

“What?” Laura says, her voice getting louder and he lifts her head to look at Stiles, eyes wide when she continues, “Wait, Derek told you? He talked to you about our parents? When?”

“Uh, he told me the hitchhikers thing a few weeks ago, not long after we met. But, yeah, he talks about them every so often. Why? Should he- uh, is that not something he should have told me about?” Stiles asks tentatively, worried that Laura is upset, that maybe he’s done something wrong, shouldn’t have tried to bring up the lost memories of their parents.

“No! No, no, Stiles, you’ve got it all wrong,” Laura rambles excitedly, a joyful smile gracing her lips, looking much more puppy than hungry wolf, “this is brilliant! Derek, he doesn’t… He doesn’t talk about our parents, has never been able to, ever since…”

The accident, Stiles’ brain supplies.

“It hit him really hard when we lost Mom and Dad,” Laura sighs, before continuing, “He was getting help for a really long time, but in the end, he just sort of… withdrew in to his books. In stories, good always triumphs over evil, love conquers all, and there is always a happy ending.”

“I wish life were like that,” Stiles mutters to himself, thinking somewhat of his own mother, as well as the tragedies that have befallen Derek and his family.

“So does Derek,��� Laura replies. At that, Stiles looks up at her, seeing the conflict of her face before it settles in to something like determination.

“You know, Derek doesn’t talk to people, he’s a very lonely person. He has me, because I’m his sister, he has Erica, because she works here and now, he has you. Derek doesn’t date, either. Never has,” she says, looking up briefly to see Stiles’ fallen face before quickly beginning again, “What I mean to say is, when it comes to matters of the heart, Derek has very high expectations.”

“What does that mean?” Stiles asks, brow furrowed, attention solely on Laura and not on the words lining the screen in front of him.

“All Derek has ever wanted is to be as happy as our parents were,” Laura speaks softly now, Stiles straining to hear her words, “when we opened this place, he was so much better, brighter, I thought that we had finally done it. But, Derek has still been waiting for what our parents had, for the one thing every good story has. True love. I don’t think he’ll ever really be happy until he thinks he’s found it.”

Stiles’ breath hitches at that. Derek believes in true love. Every dream Stiles has ever had for his future contained an unknown someone who he would spend the rest of his days with, happy, together. Now, all Stiles can think of is Derek.

“’You will never be happy if you continue to search for what happiness consists of. You will never live if you are looking for the meaning of life’,” Stiles quotes.

“What?” Laura says, tilting her head in confusion.

“It’s Camus,” Stiles replies.

“Oh, God, you are perfect for him,” Laura moans, before her voice softens once again, “I’ve never seen him as happy as he is when you are around. So, I have one final question for you, Stiles. What do you think of true love?”

Silence.

“I think it might look like Derek.”

***

With the new knowledge that he’s kind of in love with Derek, Stiles spends the next couple of weeks sat in the store editing his manuscript, and trying to psych himself up enough to ask Derek out, or make a move. Something. Anything.

Before he knows it, his manuscript is complete. Done, finished, sent off to be printed and sold in bookshops across the world. Huh. Funny, how quickly you can finish something when you use it as a means to procrastinate doing something else. The first thing Stiles does, once he has sent the manuscript to Finstock, is print off a copy and head straight to the store for breakfast.

As soon as he steps inside, he knows that something is wrong. The air feels wrong, thick and cloying. When he opens the door, the sound of the bell does not sound as joyful as it usually does, but instead it cuts through the eerie silence like a knife, jarring and harsh.

When he gets to the counter, he is met by a sullen-faced Laura, devoid of her ever-present crimson snarl, looking tired and haggard, dark rings circling her eyes. Stiles opens his mouth to ask one of the many questions on the tip of his tongue, like what happened or are you okay or where is Derek. But, before he has the chance to say anything, Laura has already rounded the counter and wrapped her thin arms around his waist, resting her head on his chest.

Stiles stills for a moment, before circling her small frame and rubbing his hand up and down the length of her back soothingly.

“It’s the anniversary today,” she says in a small voice, “of the accident.”

Oh.

Once again, before Stiles has a chance to form any words, Laura is pulling away from him and heading towards to door beside the counter. She opens it to reveal the staircase behind, before turning back to face Stiles.

“Second door on the right,” she says, gesturing to the staircase, “Go to him. Please.”

All Stiles can do is spare her a sympathetic smile and a brief nod before he is all but sprinting up the steps towards Derek.

***

The door to the room is closed when Stiles reaches it, the warm wooden panels blocking him from where he truly wants- no, needs to be. He raises his fist to knock, pausing for a moment to collect himself before rapping his knuckles against the wood.

Silence is all that meets him.

The worry that has been building in the pit of Stiles’ stomach since he noticed Derek’s absence begins building further. Is he okay? Please say he’s okay. He knocks again, much more frantically than before.

“Go away, Laura,” comes a quiet voice from inside the room. Derek sounds so small and tired; Stiles just wants to hold him and take it all away.

“Der?” Stiles calls, surprised at how choked up and horse his voice sounds to his own ears. Although, considering how worried and tense he feels right now, he probably shouldn’t be so surprised.

A shuffling sound can be heard from inside the room before the door creaks open. “Stiles?”

The Derek stood before him is unlike any Derek that Stiles has ever seen. He’s barefooted, wearing loose basketball shorts and a white vest underneath a fluffy grey bathrobe. His hair is sticking up at odd angles and Stiles really wants to run his fingers through it. He looks kind of adorable. But, as always, it’s not Derek’s appearance which causes a tightness in Stiles’ chest. It’s his eyes. Bloodshot, red and swollen. The beautiful, impossible colour of Derek’s eyes looks almost dull and lifeless, and Stiles just can’t let that happen, nope, no way.

“Stiles, I’m sorry, you can’t be here, you can’t see me like this. You weren’t supposed to- I didn’t want to look like-” Derek rambles, looking tired, and almost scared, as if he were worried that Stiles would ever want to leave him. He begins back-stepping as he talks, trying to hide himself behind the door and out of Stiles’ view.

Stiles watches Derek stumble over his words, holding his breath, holding himself back until Derek’s words run out and he slumps behind the door, looking so small and weak, almost out of view. It doesn’t take much for Stiles to pitch forwards into the room, push the door open and engulf Derek in his arms, squeezing the other man tightly around the shoulders.

Derek’s breathing is shaky, and Stiles knows the beginning of a panic attack when he hears one. He holds still with his arms around Derek, and decides to do what he does best. He talks.

“Hey,” Stiles begins, “I’m not going anywhere. I know what today is, Derek, I’m up here because I want to be. I don’t care what you look like, I don’t care if you don’t want to talk to me, what I do care about is you.”

Derek stills for a moment in the embrace, before wrapping his strong arms around Stiles’ waist and turning his head to press his face in to the crook of Stiles’ neck. He feels Derek sobbing before he hears it, small, sad huffs of air as Derek cries in to the skin of Stiles’ throat. He can feel the tears soaking the neck of his shirt, but he can’t find it in himself to care even a little.

“Shhh,” Stiles coos softly, “It’s okay, I’m here, I’ve got you. You don’t ever have to hide yourself from me, Der, not ever. Just let it out, big guy. That’s it, you’re doing so good. You’re okay, everything’s okay.”

Stiles keeps muttering encouragements softly in to Derek’s hair until the sobbing subsides. Stiles can feel the weight of Derek in his arms getting heavier as exhaustion starts to take hold of the bigger man.

“Hey, Der, do you wanna lie down, maybe?” Stiles says softly, pulling back from the embrace slightly so that he can see Derek properly.

Derek avoids Stiles’ eyes, opting to look down at where their torsos are still touching before nodding slowly and turning to flop down on the bed, curling himself up in to the foetal position but not yet pulling up the blankets.

“Uh.. Did you wanna- Did you want me to leave?” Stiles stumbles, stood at the side of the bed throwing his hands around. He doesn’t want to leave Derek, but he doesn’t want to make Derek uncomfortable, either.

Rather than responding, Derek looks up at Stiles very briefly, still managing to pull off his are you stupid look through the swollen, red eyes. He reaches for Stiles’ hand before pulling him down on to the mattress behind him. Stiles flails gracelessly as he lands on the mattress before strong hands are pulling him up by his arm and folding him around Derek’s back.

Stiles is spooning Derek. He takes a moment to let that sink in, the warmth of Derek pushed against him, before the silence becomes too much for him and he has to break it.

“What do you want me to do? I’ll do whatever you think will make you feel better,” Stiles whispers, and he means every word of it.

“Talk,” Derek replies, his is voice rough and quiet, but Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever been happier to hear one word.

***

Stiles talks. No change there. For the next few hours, he talks about the news, and the book that he just finished which you should really read, Der, it’s got dragons and everything. He eventually gets around to telling Derek that he finished his manuscript, and obliges to read the first few chapters aloud but no, Der, you’re not keeping this copy, you get the first edition instead. Promise.

Derek remains silent throughout, although he listens. Stiles is sure of this, because whenever he looks to Derek for a response, he nods, and he pulls on Stiles arm when he wants him to carry on reading, and, well, that’s more than enough for Stiles to understand he should keep talking.

***

After a few hours, despite Derek’s head shaking that no, he’s not hungry, Stiles goes down and gets a couple of sandwiches from Laura, who looked surprised in a pleased sort of way.

Stiles is propped up with his back against the headboard whilst he eats, and is quite happy when Derek makes it half way through his sandwich before he stops. Derek slides down the mattress and curls back up in to his little ball, before resting his head on Stiles’ thigh. Stiles resists the urge to card his fingers through Derek’s hair, but only barely.

“I miss them,” Derek says after a little while, so quietly that Stiles almost misses it.

“I know,” he replies, giving in to temptation and pushing his fingers through the wayward locks of Derek’s hair.

“Why did you stay? I’m such a cold person, and you’re so, so warm.” Derek mumbles, pushing his cheek further in to Stiles’ thigh.

“You know, it was once written that ‘Every man has his secret sorrows which the world knows not; and often times we call a man cold when he is only sad’. I don’t think you’re cold, Derek. I think you’ve been through a lot, and you’re sad, and I’d really like to change that.”

“I’m not just sad, Stiles. I’m broken.” Derek says, his voice cracking slightly on the last word.

“We’re all a little broken, Der. But that's okay. It doesn’t make me care about you any less.”

They lay in silence for a few minutes, Stiles softly carding his fingers through Derek’s hair until Derek speaks up.

“Hey, Stiles?”

“Yeah?”

“Was that Emerson?”

“Longfellow.”

“Damn.”

***

Stiles eventually gets kicked out of the apartment by Laura after her shift has ended, saying that she needs some family time with her little brother which, okay, fair enough. Derek doesn’t seem very happy to see Stiles go, and holds him for a full five minutes, pouting in the doorway of the apartment until Stiles promises to come back tomorrow.

Erica seems surprised when she sees Stiles leaving the apartment, but it says a lot that she neglects to comment on the situation any more than to bid Stiles farewell on his way out of the store.

***

When Stiles returns the next day, everything feels relatively normal again. He walks in to the main café and Derek is behind the counter, looking better, if not a little tired. He smiles warmly at Stiles before turning his back and starting to make Stiles’ coffee, just the way he likes it, just like normal. It feels strange, almost surreal, that Stiles is able to walk in here today and resume the same easy banter that he and Derek have always had. For all intents and purposes, the day is entirely normal (bar the extra shot of syrup in Stiles’ coffee) right up until the point the Stiles leaves.

Derek comes jogging out of the store behind Stiles, who stops on the pavement waiting for Derek to catch up. It occurs to Stiles that this is the spot where they first met.

“Hey, Stiles, um, I just wanted to say thank you for yesterday. You really helped me a lot and you’re- Um, it was really- Uh, yeah. Thanks,” Derek stutters out, rubbing the back of his neck shyly and looking all together quite nervous.

Stiles takes in his disheveled expression for a moment, before saying “Always,” and kissing Derek lightly on the cheek.

Stiles watches for a moment as a blush spreads beautifully across Derek’s cheekbones to his ears, before turning on his heel and making to walk away.

“Was that a Harry Potter reference?” he hears from behind him.

“Obviously,” Stiles responds, laughing to himself as he continues to walk home.

***

The days pass quickly. Stiles still goes to the store every day, even though he no longer has any work to do, and the days are still as perfect as ever. With every visit that passes, Stiles falls more in love with Derek, until it finally arrives, what he’s been waiting for. Weeks before it will hit the shelves, the first edition of Stiles’ novel arrives in the post.

Stiles’ first reaction is to sprint to the store. He rips open the door, sending the bell in to a frenzy of clanging, surely alerting anyone in the store to his presence. He bursts in to the main café to see Laura behind the counter cleaning mugs, and Derek facing him, clutching a rag between his fingers from where he’d been wiping down the tables.

“Stiles! Is everything okay?” Derek asks, the worry evident on his face, making his brow furrow.

“Yes, yeah, everything is fine! Uh, the first edition of my book arrived, and I promised I’d give it to you so, uh, I want you to look at it, but first I’ve got a few things that I really want to say to you,” Stiles pauses, taking a deep breath and trying not to panic, before looking up to meet Derek’s eyes before speaking once more.

“Before we met, I’d never read The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy. When you talked about how much you love it, I bought a copy from Erica, and read it so that I could talk to you about it. Neither my best friend, nor my own father are able to talk me down from a panic attack, which is something that you managed to master on the first day we met. I’ve never been able to sleep anywhere without my pillow before, until I fell asleep in your bed, with you in my arms. Um, you once told me that you’re broken, and, well, ‘It is only with true love and compassion that we can begin to mend what is broken in the world. It is these two blessed things that can begin to heal all broken hearts.’ God knows, I’m never going to stop trying.”

Stiles breaks his gaze from Derek’s now-watery eyes to turn to the first page of his book, and holds it out to Derek, who takes it from Stiles with shaking hands. Derek’s eyes skim the text quickly, before flicking up to Stiles, and then back down to the book. What happens next is a flurry of movement as the first tear rolls down Derek’s cheek, he drops the book to the ground, stepping over the discarded novel to cradle Stiles’ face between his large hands and pull him in to the best kiss of his life.

Derek’s lips are soft and warm, and better than Stiles could have ever imagined. Derek’s arms curl around his neck as his own snake around Derek’s waist, holding them together until he has to pull back for breath, but not far, still close enough to rest his forehead against Derek’s.

“God, I love you,” Derek murmurs against Stiles’ lips before capturing them again.

“OH MY GOD, DID HE JUST SAY THAT,” Laura squeals excitedly from behind the counter, “what the hell did it say?!”

“In case it wasn’t clear, the feeling is very much mutual, big guy,” Stiles speaks in to Derek’s cheek, surrounded by their own little bubble of StilesandDerek, oblivious to Laura scurrying around behind them.

Picking the book up from the floor, Laura turns to the first page and reads;

For my mom, may she rest in peace.

For my dad, for never giving up on me.

For Derek, for teaching me that it’s okay to be

a little broken, that it’s okay to be different.

Mostly, for showing me that true love

does exist outside of story books.