#so it was easier to just pick the coven and then he also got to orchestrate the trial which is fun because he loves to direct things :)

[noirve]

armand intending to kill louis after all and actively orchestrating his death in the trial is not my favorite choice narratively but it does hilariously reframe his entire character and motivations. like he just seems like a complete psychopath now, flailing his way through life and making detached decisions based on random opportunities. he chooses the coven over louis out of loyalty and because of doubt about their relationship, essentially betraying the person he claims to "want more than anything in the world", then when said person doesn't actually die as planned, he suddenly decides that he can save his life after all so he helps louis escape, THEN he sees the opportunity to get back in louis's good graces by pretending he is the one who saved him, decides NOT to warn the coven about the impending attack, despite having been ready to kill the man he loves for them like a WEEK AGO, resulting in the entire coven being murdered. and then he stays with louis for 77 years, while fully aware that louis is only with him to spite lestat. like his switch from "i’ll orchestrate louis's death to remain a part of the coven" to "actually fuck the coven, i'm going to be with louis" in such a short time span is.... unhinged, to say the least. did he secretly want the coven destroyed and is that why he did not inform them?? did he make a last-minute decision that it was better this way because the coven being wiped out would mean no live witnesses of his role in the trial which would give him a shot at fixing his relationship with louis? but then why go through all the bother of picking the coven over louis and setting up the trial which would see him executed in the first place? was he just like hmmmm louis wants to go on a suicidal killing spree so... let's just see what happens!! whoever comes out alive i guess i'll pick :) like do you care about anything actually???

[cloud-somersault]

BRO LITTLE MONKEY MK IN THE CONSTELLATIONS!COVENANT AU HAS MY HEART 💗😩 WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE’D GROW GARDENS AND FLOWERS ON WUKONG AND MACAQUE? THAT’S SO CUTE?!? DO YOU MEAN TO TELL ME WE WERE ROBBED OF THAT IN CANON!CONSTELLATIONS?!? DID WHATEVER FORCE MAKE MK “BE HUMAN” GET RID OF THAT TOO?!? COULD HE NOT EVEN GROW FLOWERS ON PIGSY WHEN HE WAS LITTLE?!? BRO THAT’S SO MESSED UP AND I DEMAND THIS POWER BE RETURNED TO HIM AT ONCE!!

*Ahem* Sorry for my loss of composure. He’s just too cute. I do have a few questions though if that’s alright: Specifically for the Covenant AU, was Shadowpeach happy about MK’s birth? What was Wukong’s reaction when he got back? (Also lol I can’t believe Wukong was attending a presentation in Heaven while MK was born like of all the times to be a nerd dude).

This one just applies to general Constellations: I recall a brief statement of Wukong’s that he worried that when he killed Macaque it caused their cycle to disrupt? And that’s why the fourth didn’t arrive/took so long, so did they have a way of knowing that they were supposed to be expecting someone else?

Ohhh, I've been waiting for that question about shadowpeach expecting other celestial primates. I'm surprised it hasn't been asked sooner!

Well, let's start with the Constellations Covenant AU first.

For this AU, MK is kept safe on Flower Fruit Mountain because Macaque is there to immediately go check out what that earthquake and the golden flowers were about. He basically sees a small monkey bawling covered in dirt and is like. "... Huh. This sure is similar to how we found Little Star." And goes and picks MK up.

Because MK is allowed to live on FFM, his memories of his birth are intact. Therefore, he knows he was born from soil, so his connection with the element of wood is allowed to flourish. This leads to him being able to cast wood spells through feeling alone. If he feels happy, he'll grow flowers that match his mood. Sunflowers, lilacs, daisies, whatever he wants.

Macaque and Wukong also display this deeper connection from their birth element. In the epilogue, Wukong is able to cast earth spells easily. And in Constellations, he remarks himself that casting earth spells is like child's play to him. Macaque has also said that he feels calm around bodies of water and is able to cast water spells quickly.

Since MK's in tune with the element of wood, he can just walk around and create gardens behind himself. He can sneeze and make a bouquet of flowers. When Wukong plays with MK and they play patty cake or peek-a-boo, MK gets so happy that he makes marigolds and chrysanthemums bloom in Wukong's hair. Wukong LOVES this.

Macaque gets lilacs and lavender. His voice is very soothing to MK, so MK finds it easier to fall asleep when he's near Macaque. He always crawls/tumbles toward Macaque when it's time for bed. Macaque also takes MK on errands sometimes, like checking in on residents on the mountain. MK will sleep through the majority of these visits LMAO

but MK also grows quite quickly since he's knowledgeable of his origins. He's not a baby monkey for long.

In constellations canon, MK could not grow flowers on Pigsy..he's not aware of his status of being a celestial primate, so his connection with wood isn't as strong as it could be. 😔

In covenant AU, Shadowpeach is VERY happy with MK's birth! They love him... Little Star has already been lost to them at this point, so they're happy to take care of him. This is also part of why Macaque is overprotective of MK.

Wukong, when he got back from viewing the magic presentation in Heaven, was very surprised to see Macaque with a baby monkey. He was like "Whose little one is this? No one was due today."

And Macaque has to go "This one was born from soil... He's like us."

And Wukong's tail starts wagging and he picks MK up and squeals like!! A new celestial primate, yippee!!

Wukong was attending that magic presentation because he's waiting for a certain kind of magic to be invented/discovered. Something that can help locate Little Star (this is also canon to Constellations in general).

Now, back to Canon!Constellations, when Wukong and Macaque were locked in their legendary battle that shook the heavens and lasted for days, Macaque was disguised as Wukong and no one could tell the difference between them. It was only due to divine intervention that they were able to figure it out, and that same divine intervention explained what Wukong and Macaque are to the Great Companions and Tripitaka. Basically like, "the reason why these two are so powerful and unlike any other creature is because they're celestial primates, of which there are four."

Little Star had already been born (and lost) at this point, so Wukong and Macaque were able to deduce that one primate was left. Also the fact that each of them are born from one of the elements led them to believe that there would be another.

So! When Wukong did a murder, and he went back to FFM after the journey, he worried that killing Macaque messed up something about that fourth primate being born. Since years went by and nothing happened, Wukong thought there wasn't going to be a 4th primate anymore.

That's why him being gone to Heaven is like. Believable. He had no clue MK was coming and had accepted such a thing probably wasn't going to happen.

[sergeantsporks]

Do you think Belos despised witches so much that he beat trained ear-expression out of hunter (maybe that’s how he got the ear chip), but slowly, over the months in the human realm and with friendly witches who openly show their emotions and their ears, his ear expressions come back? Do you think he thought ~he was the weird one, the wrong one, because Belos’ ears don’t move, and he never sees the ears of the scouts because of their hoods, and only sees the coven heads in serious situations? Do you think the ear-expressions confuse him at first, like maybe it’s easier to tell when someone is joking or sarcastic for witches because they have a tell from their ears, but since hunter never learned what it means, it takes him a while to understand when someone is being funny? Do you think Darius encourages him by purposefully making exaggerated ear-expressions himself? Do you think hunter’s family has come up with ear-expression short-hands because even though he’s gotten better at it, it’s still hard to understand what people mean when they say ThingsTM (thanks autism), and so the witches in his life make sure to punctuate their jokes or desires or annoyances with clear ear movements so hunter can understand them easier? Do you think ear-expressions are just the best and cutest goddamn thing :):):)

I do think ear expressions are the best and cutest thing!!!!

Yeah, I definitely think it's like. There's basically this whole new level of communication that he has to learn! And he's already had a similar struggle with facial expressions; we know he has very extreme facial expressions and his face always has his thoughts written all over it, probably because before it was always hidden by a mask, so he didn't have to worry about it. And aside from a few people like the coven heads and Kikimora, almost everyone around him ALSO wore a mask But now...

So it's facial expressions, it's ear expressions, it's like this entirely new level of communication he's trying to figure out! He definitely has a notebook that he uses to keep track of things, he and Luz compare observations since they're both new to the ear thing, at least. He's running to the bathroom to look in a mirror every time he has a major emotion because he wants to see what his ears are doing so he can put an emotion to an ear position/movement.

And like facial expressions, I'm sure people can limit/restrain ear movement, so while you probably aren't doing it ALL of the time, sometimes you want to keep your emotions more guarded. Which might be hard once Hunter gets back into the habit of ear wiggles, so it's just like. He's out on a serious research trip or reconstruction mission or something. Oh, look, it's a friend! Despite his best efforts to Be Serious, ear wiggles :) And, of course, just like you can overexaggerate your facial expression, I'm sure witches can make more clear ear signals, like you said with Darius and friends, so they absolutely try to do that, at least until Hunter gets better at picking up smaller signals.

[mlobsters]

supernatural s11e3 the bad seed (w. brad buckner, eugenie ross-leming)

who brought the janky subaru to the mega coven? rowena looking fabulous per usual. oh, i guess she's in a ... scrapyard? keeping it classy

i think i might need to go back to being a little bit high to watch this show. downside is it messes with my ability to remember a bit more than my usual garbage memory (though it is mostly offset by making these posts). upside.. easier to let things roll off my back.

SAM Well, God kicked this thing's ass once before, right? DEAN Yeah, it'd be nice if he put down the Mai Tai and show up for work. CASTIEL I wouldn't count on it. SAM It's possible he's around. Closer than we think, you know? DEAN What makes you say that?

dean not talking about his ~bond~ with the darkness, sam not saying how he had some freaky flashbacks after praying to god. and almost dying from the zombie juice. sigh. i don't like complaining this much either!

DEAN Come on, Crowley, pick up. I've left you a dozen messages. Why isn't he answering the phone? SAM Because he's a dick, and that's not breaking news.

lol good one, sam

DEAN You know where you are? What's the date? CASTIEL Earth. Several billion years from the beginning.

there's the snarky cas i can get behind

i am 90% convinced they foley'd in a sloshing sound when he initially sat up, but the clinking chains and the groaning has me not totally sure

LOL sam pulling his hand back slowly during this explanation. also good job with the captioning an accented e netflix :p

little angel and demon worker bee bonding at the bar about the bosses being useless, how very good omens

using my boop boop 10+ year makeup fixation i'm like, I KNOW THIS.

that ultra thin compact design is unusual and screams luxury. searching the brain archives and i'm fairly certain that's a marc jacobs bronzer or contour compact. not that i ever bought or used one. but 2015 for sure was still in the thick of the fixation which included lots of beauty youtube

anyway.

CROWLEY That's God for you. Not really thought out. The whole big bang thing? More of a big bust. I mean, boom, bang, stars, evolution, Taylor Swift. I'm guessing you'd have done things differently.

again, how does this jive with other gods?

getups are reminding me of the airport scene disguises in 12 monkeys (1995) crossed with dodgson from jurassic park. i know it's all generic but brain's always trying to find connections

very nice handwritten instructions they left cas with

ooh a slightly messy desktop, zooming in with glee. *come on, untitled 1 and 2, make a comeback!* shame. but it's all on-brand. and that chonky hard drive, 1.5+TB

i know the fetishizing asian women is dean's Thing, but could we please PLEASE fucking drop it.

are we gonna odd couple our way to all work together against amara?

i thought he was familiar, it's rafe from the magicians!

the magicians s2e13 we have brought you little cakes - sergio osuna as rafe

ROWENA You wouldn't think a road trip with two such strapping lads could be this tedious. Shall we have a wee sing-song?

oh, see, sam is not telling dean so many things i've lost track. almost dying and talking to god and getting an answer-ish, deal with rowena to remove the mark paid with crowley's (unsuccessful) death, what else

SAM Look, I was gonna tell you. Obviously, nothing ever came of it, so I-I figured there was no point, you know? DEAN No point, huh? ROWENA I-I mean, I see what Dean's saying. Your wee pal Castiel wouldn't be in this pickle if you'd done what you'd promised. I would've had no reason to cast the attack dog spell if Crowley were already dead. Excellent point. DEAN It's not my point. Sam knows my point. Keyword -- secrets. ROWENA Ah, well, I'm just glad I got the conversation flowing. Family relations are a speciality of mine.

can we just get rowena to spill the beans on all their bullshit lies and be done with it?

this show will make any excuse to beat the shit out of dean and get him on his knees, bleeding

SAM Hey. You should keep applying that. DEAN Thanks, mom. You just keep the beers comin'.

like you wouldn't nag sam the same way

CASTIEL Dean, I can fix that. DEAN No, no. It's fine, Cas. Besides, I had it comin'.

doing penance, how very dean. had it comin for what now? trying to scroll through dean's latest fuckups but keeping track of his with sam and the world at large (and sam with him and the world) and castiel apparently is Too Much.

ah i didn't notice until scrolling through the trivia bits on the wiki that jackles directed this one too

[brick-a-doodle-do]

Got any unnamed vampire AU hc's?

>:)

wilbur never was a HUGE fan of a blood-strict diet and liked to mix in other stuff with it (like mentioned in other asks he uses his bat form the most of his coven/family and because of his fruit bat morph he gets instincts that the species would), but he leans heavily on it after meeting tommy, and that's purely because he wants tommy to have more than fruit to eat. wil knows how scarce their cabinets are (since he's the youngest he still gets cravings his human self liked—don't get it wrong, the cravings are rare because 200 is a more juvenile state for vamps but when he does get them they're strong) and has complained about it before, but he's actively making sure that there's at least some type of snack for "himself" (by that i mean tommy) somewhere in the house. occasionally he'll "accidentally" live the fridge open on the rare occasion they get takeout :] wilbur has such big instincts for tommy, they're fun to play around with :D,,, and half of its like "oh this guy is tiny must feed and protect", and the other is "innocent human must protect"

i mentioned this before but pretty far down the line, tommy offers to sneak into blood banks to help the vamps :D wilbur is hesitant but techno and phil talk sense into it (by that i mean phil meets with tommy when he's out on a trip and gives him the okay because they NEED it and phil's 80% sure he can handle himself

my favorite bit from this au is techno and tommy's miscommunication (which they both find hilarious when they realize how wrong both of them were) where tommy's afraid of techno's teeth because he doesn't want to get eaten meanwhile techno thinks tommy doesn't want to be turned,,,

tommy has often brushes with death when he forgets he doesn't have wings or he doesn't have the anatomy to sleep upside down or he's just too uncareful while climbing vampires that aren't aware of their own strength! not a day goes by where he doesn't nearly fall from a cabinet and onto the floor bc of his lack of wings he thought he had

since wilbur's in his bat form so much (and because he's younger) it's easier for him to slip into the morph from strong emotions (its rare but it happens) so there's been plenty of occasions where wilbur'll be leaning on phil or techno and be so content that he accidentally shifts. this usually ends with wilbur just accepting it and falling asleep on their lap or shoulder

in addition to that bat!wilbur rides on phil & tech's shoulder a lot to avoid walking

in addition to THAT, tommy sees wilbur doing it and just adopts it as his new way to get around.

hostile time! angst!!! wilbur gets hostile the most, but it's not BAD BAD because a. usually he makes sure to have the recommended amount of blood (and if not that he at least reaches the minimum) and b. emduo (and down the line tommy) makes sure he's well fed,,,, BUT for the short period that he is hostile/feral, he's prone to snapping (running off of c!wilbur here) and definitely lashes out more than stays completely aggravated consistently. he's very irritable and quiet when he's not lashing out. it's basically just a game of say the right thing or die DFHDFAS

tommy, during this, sometimes picks the wrong thing! because my guy can't think before he speaks for the life of him! soo naturally even though wilbur has instincts over tommy (which numb the urge to physically harm him) he still raises his voice, touches a lil too rough, etc. etc.

ALSOO in this au, before a vamp becomes feral, they get really tired! kinda like a clueless "i'm conscious...but also not" state. so wilbur (also techno and phil on the rare occasion they get hostile) is overly touchy with tommy and marvels at his tiny body- it's like meeting him all over again. but also some concerning words slip, specifically about blood and turning tommy and just things that make tommy find a way out and back into the wall IMMEDIATELY until 1/2 of emduo steps up and regains his trust.

also along with this sleepy stage, techno's voices (which in this au pop up in the sleepy state mainly but also occasionally—if they do they pop up at random intervals but are LOUD and vicious—after he's become hostile) add to his instincts, but they take it a tiny step up. he gains a hunger, but not like his usual hunger for human blood or his occasional human cravings, more like whenever he sees tommy he knows that he is exactly what techno wants on his plate.

mmh this is a lot of wilbur i want to develop techno & phil a bit more!!!! hopefully i will soon 🤞

[ya-world-challenge]

Book Review - Telesā: The Covenant Keeper ( 🇼🇸 Samoa)

(image source: wikimedia commons)

Telesā: The Covenant Keeper

Author: Lani Wendt Young

YA World Challenge book for 🇼🇸 Samoa

Leila, newly eighteen and having just lost her father, flees from her controlling grandmother’s grasp to the middle of the Pacific to find her culture, and perhaps learn about the Samoan mother she never knew. Thing is, everybody, including her late father and her newly discovered aunt and uncle, have mysteriously warned her that this is a Bad Idea. Once on Samoa, Leila finds herself getting really hot. Like, singeing-things-with-a-touch hot. And it’s not just the hot classmate Daniel, though he isn’t helping things.

At first it’s a little hard to bear the teenage ‘sizzling’ insta-romance (just how many times can we describe Daniel’s chiseled emerald sparkling eyes and rock-hard rugby body? *eyeroll*). However, on the other hand, it’s a fascinating look into the Samoan world, both everyday life and myth, which makes it truly unique among the teen paranormal genre. And as a telesā is a siren-like being in Samoan myth... well, there’s a little bit of justification for some of the gaga-love, if that makes it easier to bear. Think of it like Twilight, except the guys are shirtless brown Pacific Islanders wearing lavalava skirts, and the girl is a biracial incarnation of a Polynesian fire goddess who can literally explode into flames. Okay, so maybe that’s not like Twilight at all, but it’s got the romance vibes of the era.

I had issues with a few quirks in this book, like the school setting... even though Leila has already graduated back in the States? It also tends to leans too heavy on the miscommunication trope - for example, when Leila gets offended early on by something Daniel says, nobody in the whole class, including the guy himself, can tell her it’s a joke, even seeing that she’s really hurt by it? Rather, it turns into a catalyst for her hating him (while being wildly attracted to him at the same time). There’s more miscommunication later that causes a lot of drama, too. There were also some punctuation issues and run-on dialogue at times that could have used better editing.

On the upside, this book is dripping with Samoan culture and I loved that. It brings together modern life on the island, Polynesian myth, environmental issues, even racial issues and I really felt like I was on the islands. I love that there are fa’afafine (third gender) characters who are 100% accepted and part of society even if they’re a minor part of the story. And despite all the sexual tension, the story is surprisingly chaste - the guy having strict rules for himself and the girl respecting that, which is cool. (Though the whole “I’ll burst into flames if we make love” helps.) Leila’s struggles with her powers and the decisions she must make keep the narrative interesting.

In conclusion, I recommend picking this up just for all the Pacific culture, and if you like teen romances, that’s an extra bonus, too. (Plus the Kindle edition is cheap!)

Other reps: #biracial, #genderqueer* side character (*fa’afafine, a Samoan third gender)

Genres: #contemporary fantasy #mythology #romance #enemies to lovers?

★  ★  ★      3.5 stars    

Read it at:  Bookshop.org  |   Amazon

[daughterthethird]

hastur you cant see it but im shaking your hand so hard rn AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH 💥💥💥💥 I LOVVEEEE LOVE LOVE THIS SO MUCHCHCHHHHHHH⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️⁉️ ESPECIALLY since ive also been thinking abt WoF!coven heads for some time now so this def scratched an itch in my brain ouughghhghhhhh��.

but also!!! I hope its alright if i pitch my own interpretation of the WoF!coven heads here cuz i too, have been Thinking about them for some time but i wasnt sure how to make a post abt it JISHJHABJKSNKJNSLKKASJIOA

Yknow, i wasnt actually sure where Raine would fit in ANY of the tribes actually? My brain just went to Skywings because red but also because i headcannon that a popular Skywing hobby is singing (like birds!), so the tribe would most likely be very musical. AND NOT TO MENTION “rainstorm” and “songbird” are pretty good Skywing names tbh. Though a Leafwing Raine never came into my mind, i think it would be SO COOL to play around with- imagine them having redwood coloration with a hint of green to match their hair!

Yeah Mason is 100% Mudwing no doubt about it- its just TOO OBVIOUS of a choice to not pick

WHILE I DO LIKE NIGHT/RAIN DARIUS may i present you… Silkwing Darius? My thought process for this was basically: ok since Silkwings are based off of butterflies and moths(?), id imagine Darius being a brilliant purple Silkwing with green eyespots just like the ones on certain butterflies. And maybe that silk thingy that Silkwings do can be a substitute for his abomination magic!

Hivewing Vitimir- WEVE BEEN THROUGH THIS ALREADY and i think its perfect

Do you think it would be HILARIOUS if Adrian was just. A normal old Rainwing. Just your average Joe of a Rainwing. Literally no special abilities aside from his Rainwing powers and his stupid (animus enchanted?) earring. like. he’s just some guy.

Like you said, Terra IS basically a Leafwing. Maybe a Poisonwing? I dunno

I still stand by my mud/ice Hettie soooo (also HEHEHEHE hello to you too ;3)

Eberwolf- NOW HEAR ME OUT… what if, Eberwolf was a Mudwing with dwarfism, and was the only one in his clutch to hatch, BUT!!! He was taken in by a group of Scavengers!!! (A nod to Eberwolf being possibly raised by direwolves in canon). Since they were small, it was easier for the Scavengers to train him and take care of him. While Eber doesn’t have a dragon sib group, they consider their Scavenger friends as basically family! Which ties well to his whole Beastkeeping thingy (also, Eber considers Darius as being part of their sib group as well)

I GOTTA SAY IM SURPRISED YOU CHOSE A SEAWING FOR OSRAN?? I really thought he’s gonne be a Nightwing or even a night/ice hybrid… hmm…

Lilith (and Eda) being Skywings are def accurate, what with the Clawthorne’s whole bird theme they got going on-

Ive never actually thought much of Hunter, but a Sandwing does fit him in a way! Maybe he’s a barbless Sandwing in place of him not having any magic

ALSO HAHAHAHHA YEAH Scooter Crane- CRANE?? Obvious Skywing name is obvious (wow theres alot of Skywings here)

sometimes I feel like I should redraw my 2023 WoF! the owl house stuff (yeah Darius I'm talking about you)

I don't really have any ideas on the WoF! AU (the reason is I haven't thought about it much) buuut maybe someday I will actually draw something. maybe covenheads who I'm thinking about. maybe Hettie (hello @daughterthethird sorry I'm still not sure how to make the mask stuff but I'm contemplating the design)

soooo the Covenheads Ideas™

- I think Raine would be a leafwing or a rainwing (actually I like leafwing one more. I dunno, with the AU stuff I already have and sure in, most of the Plant Coven members are leaf dudes, which is kinda... basic? I mean, leaf dudes' abilities (I forgot what they're called heeeelp) already make a 'perfect PC member'. like, for example, night dudes should be in the Oracle Coven, rain ones in the Illusions, hive dudes in the Potions and stuff. don't really like this tribe-coven idea, so I thought making Raine a leafwing would be somehow more diverse)

- Mason would be a mudwing. well, pretty much obvious

- Darius?? night/rain? I have already drawn him and so I'm sure that I see him as a night/rain

- Vitimir. hivewing. I guess he'd have that stinky tail stuff (Scarab reference) plus toxic saliva

- Adrian? a rainwing? a silkwing? a seawing? some hybrid? I dunno

- Terra, pretty much a leafwing

- Hettie, sea/ice or mud/sea/ice or mud/ice (hello again) or stuff

- Eberwolf? I don't even know what to say here lol. to me, witches and some of demonic species are WoF! dragons as they are canonically, some other demonic species don't belong to any of the WoF tribes, but they still have something dragon-like in their appearance (mostly) as well

- Osran. personally I think of him as a seawing (so Kikimora is also sea dude. non canonic scale colors go brrrrrrr)

- I feel like Lilith would be a skywing (Eda as well). probably using some scale paint stuff or a concealment stone if they have that stuff in WoF! AU (I'm pretty much sure they do)

- Hunter? a sandwing. like Caleb, like all other grimwalkers (though I feel like some of the grimwalkers would not be entirely sandwing cuz of Philip making mistakes in making them), like Belos

- aaaaand Scooter Crane would probably be a skywing, or a mudwing, or a sky/mud hybrid. 'Crane' really speaks for it lmao

[kaleidoscopic-quiddity]

thoughts on ‘edge of the world’

this episode was lore and worldbuilding heavy so i wanna organise my thoughts and observations on it 

this episode has confirmed that other titan-continents exist and that there are other populations/settlements of people other than the boiling isles

this begs the question of why the boiling isles titan is the titan, perhaps because the boiling isles is the most populated continent?? 

we don’t know how much of the titan trapper’s beliefs were purely made up by bill but the collector having a vested interest in titans being murdered + what he said last episode about ‘being trapped beneath these [the boiling isles’ titan’s] bones’ is um,, well its certainly something 

the moon disc thingy that was part of the murder ritual with king is identical to the one philip discovered back during elsewhere and elsewhen, although its broken, its unclear of it is actually the same one but it’s definitely got something to do with getting into contact with the collector 

speaking of the murder ritual: by stabbing king they would be spilling his blood, titan’s blood is the most powerful know magic substance, titan’s blood is powerful enough to create portals between realms, the collector is ‘trapped’ somewhere

we dont know where hunter is but he certainly didn’t go back to the owl house that’s for sure, i imagine eda was also probably too busy dealing with luz (who was also deeply traumatised by the events of hollow mind can we please acknowledge that?) to go look for him and i cant rlly blame her, although i am worried 

there was a ‘connection’ established between king and the collector, it is unknown what this implies or if said connection is still even in place but we do know that bill believed by creating this connection and killing king, it would free the collector 

(im not overly fond of them but these the-collector-will-possess-someone theories are definitely picking up steam) 

tarak said ‘welcome to the other side of the world’ when greeting king and luz,; rather than the magical tractor beam thing they went through transporting them to another realm, i think they were taken to the other side of the planet that the boiling isles and other titan-continents are on

(this raises the question of whether the demon realm is actually even a realm, as in, an alternate universe, or whether it may actually just be an alien planet far from earth) 

the fact that the titan trappers spoke english suggests that it possibly serves as a lingua franca for the whole planet/realm, or perhaps that the titan trappers are descended from boiling isles residents

(i do wonder if it’ll ever be explained why english exists both in the human realm and the demon realm, i understand logically that it just makes the story easier and that i should apply suspension of disbelief, but i do wonder if there’s an in-universe explanation for it, especially since there doesnt seem to be a boiling isles equivalent of spanish, but the idea of foreign languages doesnt seem weird to anyone, implying that other languages did or so still exist on the isles/in the demon realm) 

the magical tractor beam thing that took king and luz to the titan trappers’ isles was based upon some kind of circular glyph/diagram/drawing, possibly the ‘similar-to-luz’s-glyphs’ wild magic that hunter mentioned back in hunting palismen?

additionally: it didnt seem like any of the titan trappers had coven sigils or even palismen, but they still used magic, suggesting that they’re probably a tribe of wild witches who still use magic techniques from the ‘savage ages’ 

bill remembers a time before belos’ reign and also thinks that he’s smallfry compared to an actual titan in terms of evilness which is.. worrying 

going back to the collector, luz misremembered their dialog with belos as more aggressive and violent, which could likely be the fear and trauma muddling her memories, but may also have a deeper meaning 

luz also refers to the collector as ‘that collector kid’ meaning that to luz he not only gives off a vibe of mischievousness and/or evilness, but also specifically youthfulness/childishness, which is interesting seeing as the collector has existed since at least the deadwardian era, if not much longer 

the fact that the titan trappers have a belief system based around the collector at all means that they’re capable of interacting with people despite being ‘trapped’, additionally the flashback from the owl beast we saw in knock knock knocking on hooty’s door shows that the collector, at some point, had a physically tangible body 

the titan trappers generally look closer to witches than demons, but given their abnormal height range and oddly coloured sclera, its likely that they’re of partial demon heritage 

(ive also seen some people suggest that their appearances may be due to the titan trappers being ‘inbred’ which would kind of make sense seeing as they’re a small and presumably isolated tribe, but that feels like a very iffy implication for kids cartoon to make and maybe also kinda ableist?? idk but the idea doesn’t really sit right with me) 

the trappers all wore titan skull that fit over their heads, suggesting that they or their ancestors tended to kill titans when they were still relatively young

we know that king is only eight years old and has apparently begun ‘demon puberty’ but we also have no clue what the life span of a titan, how their aging/developmental process works or nor how long it takes them to reach boiling isles size, there could be rapid growth periods involved for all we know 

we dont know whether or not titans are a species of demon or if they’re their own thing either 

king being a titan solves the issue of the last of luz’s titan’s blood getting used up in the previous episode in the very least, although it does also raise some very concerning implications if belos finds out what he is 

king is, presumably, the last of his kind, many of the titan trappers appeared to be adults yet bill said none of them other than him had ever encountered a living titan, this suggests that king possibly spent multiple years in his egg before hatching, or that his biological parents were very well hidden from the trappers, although i’m unsure as to how exactly they’d hide so well if titan’s grow to be as big as continents 

king’s demon family in his dream didnt include a mother, likely because he already views eda as filling that role, which is very sweet 

‘the huntsman’ exists as another epithet for the collector, this may or may not be related to him trapping the owl beast 

eda’s comment at the start of the episode that luz is ‘ready to talk’ suggests that this episode happens very closely after the events of hollow mind, perhaps even the next morning 

luz jumping on so quickly to solving the mystery of king’s heritage was her being a supportive big sister for sure, but was almost definitely also her deflecting away from the traumatic event she’d just been through, and i am 99% sure this habit of avoiding, undermining the importance of, and deflecting away from her own issues is going to come back to bite both her and the rest of us all in the collective ass 

on the happier side: king has explicitly stated that he views luz not just as a friend, but a sister, which is adorable and another win for us found family lovers 

in universe it is only a week away from the day of unity, which means that hopefully darius, raine, and eberwolf already have counterplan fully ready to go, if not, eda and lilith are going to need to help them come up with something quick 

[tharros-auris-black-asimi]

Crime of passion (Chapter 3)

Pairing: Dark Incubus Bucky Barnes x Female Half-Cetus Reader

Summary: It's a normal day in the life of the incubus Bucky Barnes and his girlfriend— you.

... Or is it?

Chapter Warnings: An aftermath of an attack, hospitalization, coven clan meetings, Dark!Bucky, revenge, murder

Additional Notes: Hello everyone! This chapter was a bitch to edit. 9k words... never again. I'm never doing it a second time. Clearly, I word-vomited again. But nevertheless, I hope you all enjoy!

As always, if you'd like to read this chapter on my AO3 and show it some love over there, you can read it here.

Word Count: 9497

Bucky. Come home, please.

Your words suddenly rang in his mind.

It made him stop in his tracks. It made him stop completely, in order to grasp what the hell just happened.

You had spoken to him.

You had spoken to him in his mind.

It had caused Bucky to call Helmut to come with him to the apartment together.

Which was where they were headed now. Having gotten to your apartment complex, the two men hurried up the staircase to the fifth floor. Already, people were opening their doors and looking at him.

“Jimmy sweetie,” one of the elderly women said to him.

Bucky’s eyes darted to her.

“I dunno what happened in there baby, but I called the police. They should be arrivin’ soon.” She told him.

“Thank you, ma’am,” Bucky spoke in a relieved tone.

Still, that didn’t quell his jumpy nerves when she bid him goodnight and closed her door.

Because for the first time in his life, Bucky was terrified. He was truly and utterly terrified.

His heart had caught in his chest and lurched upward in his throat when he finally managed to open the front door of the apartment.

Only to come home to see the place that he had made home with you in disarray.

Dread had him in a chokehold as he took in the current state of the apartment.

The couch and coffee table hadn’t been touched. The small living room was still in tip-top shape.

Luckily, there was no glass on the floor either. Being that anything that was glass was either stored away in the cupboards and the cabinets or washed on the dish wrack.

The hallway however, was where the damage had been done the most.

Not that everything else in the apartment was in good order either.

There was water everywhere. As Bucky glanced around, he noticed the leaking beginning from the pipes underneath the sink in the bathroom.

At the beginning of the hallway, was your ex.

Never had Bucky rushed over so quickly. He didn’t even fly over to make his life easier. In his panic, he had dropped his glamour completely. His tail was seen by Helmut, desperately and frantically swishing around in horror.

Never had he rushed over to you so quickly, or got on his knees so quickly either.

You were laying down sideways on the floor at the end of the hallway, your body completely wet. The water, mixed in with the blood-soaked through your tank top and sweatpants.

You looked so frail. So tiny. Bucky didn’t have the heart to pick you up, in fear that he could crush you. His hands were shaking when he managed to muster up the courage to pick you up off of the floor.

Luckily for him, you were unconscious. He could still feel and hear your heartbeat.

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.

You were alive.

Never had Bucky ever had been grateful to hear your heartbeat. Your head lolled against his shoulder.

“James,” Helmut’s raspy voice pulled him out of his thoughts. He turned to look at the werewolf.

Except, Helmut wasn’t looking at him.

He was looking at the other body that also currently was occupying the hallway.

Your ex was still sprawled on the floor, face-forward on the hardwood floor.

Water was still leaking from the hallway that led to the bathroom. If he didn’t call a plumber in the next few days, he was sure the two of you wouldn’t be able to live in this apartment for a bit.

Blood was splattered all over the floor, even some had gotten onto the walls, and it made Bucky sick to his stomach. Even without Helmut telling him whose blood it was, he knew for a fact that most of it were your ex’s. Some of it was yours too, he knew that much. No being a werewolf and having enhanced senses needed.

Although, judging by the scratches and the scalds he could see on your ex, you had done quite a number on him.

Wait… scalds?

“Helmut, look at this.”

It had caught the brunet man’s attention. The soft thud of footsteps made Bucky aware that Helmut had heard him. Enough to walk over to his companion, anyway.

Helmut had smelled the blood. The blood and water. Although, because of the water, the smell of the blood was a little diluted.

He was already regretting not wearing boots. The water smack smack smacked and sloshed underneath his shoes. The detective was also pretty sure that the water would seep and soak through his shoes eventually. Mixed in with the blood that made the floors a tinted red color, that didn’t spell good for anybody.

Including him.

“Look at those scalds. Those can’t be normal. What could’ve caused those?” said Bucky, looking at the burns intently. Even though he wasn’t a detective, far from it, he knew to trust his gut feeling.

Helmut was floored.

Those scalds didn’t look all that terrible. He deduced that those scalds could only have been created by the water. Water, when extremely hot could scald and blister the skin. They hurt far more than fire because even though fire burned the skin badly, unlike scalds from boiling water, did not cause deep tissue damage as the water did. Even though scalds only could damage layers of skin, if you got scalded pretty badly enough, it could be just as bad as a third-degree burn.

Basically, if you got scalded, it was worse than getting burned.

And judging on the scalds your ex got, Helmut was pretty positive that your ex was indeed, still somewhat alive.

Somewhat.

Barely clinging to his pathetic life if you had been angrier, he assumed.

He also guessed that your scalds hadn’t been all that life-threatening. They had been hot, yes, but not hot enough to take the bitch out.

“How could have the water gotten that hot? I do not recall you telling me anything extraordinary about her,” Helmut remarked lightly.

Bucky was quick to rebuttal.

“What, you think she caused this?” he hissed at him. “How could she have caused this?”

“James. The man was human. I smelled nothing different about him when I managed to grab a DNA sample from the forensic science lab a month ago. He was nothing but plain. No monster or creature DNA of the sort.”

“But your lover…” his gaze had turned back to your unconscious form.

Even now, he could smell it.

Helmut had never told Bucky about the difference in your scent. Being that Bucky was an incubus, Helmut could guess that was probably why he had never figured it out. Demons weren’t really all that known to have a good sense of smell. That didn’t come with their mantra.

You had always smelled different to him. Ever since you had stepped foot into his home with Bucky, you had this distinct smell to you. Something that lurked and lingered underneath the surface, just waiting. A soft thrumming that was desperately itching to come out. Like it had been something that had been sealed away. A bird trapped in a cage that was fighting to get out.

Being a detective and the Head of a Pack, Helmut had met or either worked with people who dealt in magic. Sealing magic was something that wasn’t necessarily forbidden per se, but it wasn’t a common practice that people did anymore. It had garnered a negative stigma attached to it over time because sealing magic had been used to seal away dark magic. Dark artifacts. Warding or sealing away any dark or evil spirits. Things like that.

So why pray tell, had he smelled something that had been sealed away from you?

From what he had heard from James, you were normal. You were human. He could quite see that you were human. You weren’t wearing any glamour of any kind on you that could possibly hint to you being half-monster or half-creature. None. Nothing of the sort. Nada.

So why did you smell different?

There could have been no else that could have caused the flooding in the apartment. The perpetrator had been normal as a fly.

That left only you.

“… Ever since the two of you stepped foot into my home,” Helmut began to speak. “I noticed that she did not smell… right. She did not smell normal. Like my nurse friend. My nurse friend smells normal. She smells completely and utterly human. Your partner… did not.”

“Then what does she smell like to you?”

And it wasn’t that Bucky was completely on the train of that you weren’t human.

Because he wasn’t.

He wasn’t fully convinced.

Not yet.

“She smells like a former sexual assault victim I dealt with a while back. It was a domestic violence case. She had come to the station, to file a report against her husband, who was a Cetus like her. Their marriage was already a tremulous one, but one night during a time of sexual activity, he had crossed the line. She filed for a restraining order once their divorce was settled.” He explained to the incubus carefully.

“And… you think my girl’s a Cetus? Or half, at least?” Bucky questioned him. Choosing to keep his tone neutral, because he still was in the very neutral camp about this whole thing.

“I wouldn’t rule it out as a possibility,” Helmut responded lightly.

Well.

That wasn’t making him feel any better.

Not at all.

At the hospital, much later…

Bucky hadn’t wanted to take you to the hospital.

He really hadn’t.

Bucky hated hospitals. Ever since Becca, his younger sister had been hospitalized once for an injury, Bucky was always so antsy with hospitals. Adding on the fact that when he had been a young demon, he got sick every year. Every year until he had been around nine years old, he had been spending his time at the hospital.

So needless to say, he was not at all excited when Helmut had brought up the idea.

But Helmut had assured him, told him that nothing bad would happen.

Anya and Helmut’s nurse friend had been on call. Anya, who was a Fae and his cousin Jefferson’s second wife. She had made sure to quell his nerves and make him feel better about the entire situation.

“She’s in a steady condition right now. Just let her sleep.” The blonde-haired Fae told him softly and as gently as she could when Bucky had been allowed to be with you in a room.

A nod coming from her cousin-in-law made Anya offer him some sort of smile before she left the room.

Outside in the halls, a certain human nurse had been making her rounds.

She had been working at the hospital that she had worked at for years. It would be

Her usual shift too.

Just about to pull out her phone so that she could get her usual order from Starbucks, with three shots of espresso, she suddenly saw it.

A certain Helmut Zemo, with her signature drink in his hand.

Her usual order from Starbucks, complete with three shots of espresso. Just the way she liked it.

She raised an eyebrow. A look of complete skepticism on her face. Cause yeah, she was the slightest bit skeptical of him.

Especially when he was getting up to no good again.

“You got me my drink?” She asked him curiously, procuring said drink from his hands. Raising the plastic cup to her lips, she drank from the straw, sighing softly in relief when she felt the caffeine kicking in.

Yup. Just the way she liked it.

“I did.”

A soft humming noise came from her in consideration as she took another sip of her drink.

Caffeine always made her feel better.

Even now, she could feel herself getting more energy.

Coffee was the nectar of the Gods.

Seriously.

“Have lunch with me.”

Once again, she looked up.

Also once again, she was raising an eyebrow. Oh yeah, she was giving all her eyebrow game today. And it wasn’t even the afternoon yet.

Then, she let out a sigh.

“Helmut. I can’t. You know how my shifts get. I’m dead tired. I can’t do lunch.” she stated in an exasperated tone.

“Then just stay at my home. You’re always welcome.” Helmut insisted, not quite ready to give up just yet.

She continued to judge him. “Are you sure Veronika won’t mind?” She pressed on.

At the foremention of his niece, Helmut might have grimaced. Just the slightest bit. “Veronika will be at school. Besides, she likes you very much. You two can watch that Regency show you two love on Netflix.”

Oh, now he was bargaining with her.

Smart.

He was trying to get under her skin. If he was, it was certainly working.

Any mention of Bridgerton caught her interest.

“Alright. I’ll stay at your place. But just for today.” That was all she settled with.

And just like that, Helmut Zemo was the happiest werewolf on earth.

You were dreaming.

You didn’t know how you had started to dream, but you had.

Bucky had somehow managed to crawl into the damn hospital bed with you, his wings wrapped around you. As well as his arms.

He had decided fuck all with his glamour, choosing to keep it down. This was a whole new different situation.

He simply just didn’t care anymore.

But back to your dream.

You suddenly fell back down into your old bedroom.

Back into the old home that you had shared with your mother.

Except… it looked different.

Your old bed wasn’t there anymore. Gone was your twin-sized bed with the familiar-looking pastel comforter.

Instead, there was a crib.

A crib?

You were confused now.

As you began to walk out of your bedroom and into the hallway, you started to hear voices.

“… no. I’m not doing that. That’s my baby you’re talking about.” A woman’s voice rang out from the kitchen. Even though her back was turned from you, you knew exactly who it was.

And when she turned around, you could admit you were a bit surprised.

A younger, more youthful-looking version of your mother was looking at you. If she could see you, then she said nothing. Because just then, she turned back to argue with the man in front of her.

“Our baby,” corrected the man.

Our baby?

The surprise showed all over your face.

You had never seen your father all that much in your childhood. Sure, you might have seen him a few times here and there, but after your parent’s divorce, you never saw him again.

Even now, your memory of him was spotty.

So it surprised you when you actually laid your eyes on him.

You had not gotten your looks from your father, that was for sure.

But you had gotten your hair from him. That was the one thing you were certain about.

“No!” shrieked your mother. It had been enough for you to nearly jump out of your skin.

And sure, you had seen your mother angry before.

Never like this though.

Never like this.

Never had you seen her this angry. Never had you seen her do what she did just then. She slapped your father across his face, her eyes brimming with anger and grief. “You took her away from me,” she seethed right through her teeth. “You took her away and sealed her other part of herself without my permission!” She continued to berate your father, punching his bicep.

“You know people wouldn’t have cared if she was half-monster! What do you think will happen? She will snap one day. She will snap and it will be over for her.” Your mother lamented.

“Which is why sealing it would help,” Was your father’s snappy retort. Your mother just scoffed at him.

“Sealing it will not help. The seal will break. She will be in danger. Then what? What will you do? Take her to your laboratory to be tested and probed on like an animal?” She challenged him. “You know I would never allow it to come to that extent.” His crisp reply had your mother narrowing her eyes, something you had picked up from her.

“But that doesn’t mean you’ll rule it out, won’t you? You’ll keep that as an alternative. The last resort if your kind master asks you to. And you’ll bow to his every whim because you’re a coward. You’re weak. You’d give up your own daughter to be a pawn to your dearest master’s needs.” Your mother sneered.

“Do not speak of what you don’t know,” came your father’s hissed response.

“I am not clueless. I know of what I speak of. No one knows you better than me. No one will ever know that you sealed away her powers except for me. I. Am. Her. Mother.” The woman spoke and enunciated her last three words carefully, wielding them like they were her weapons. Her swords.

Clearly, they had done their damage. Your father visibly flinched back as your mother tilted her head to the side as if challenging him to do any further damage.

“Now get the fuck out of my house.”

You woke up with a gasp.

The heart rate monitors that you were hooked up to started to beep beep beep rapidly as the dream sunk in for you.

When you had been young, your mother said that your father had abandoned you as a child. That he had and quote, “fucked off and your mother had never seen him ever again.”

Your mother had lied to you.

She had lied to you.

Your father had not abandoned you.

Your father had not walked out of your life, never to be seen again.

Your mother had banished him from your lives altogether.

Your mother had banished your father from ever contacting the two of you because he had sealed away a part of you. A part of you that you never knew had existed.

And now, it had been awakened.

Your mother had been right. The seal had not worked. The seal was gone. You were no longer human. You were different now.

Bucky heard you wake up. He had heard your gasp.

“Milaya?”  asked Bucky worriedly.

You had begun to weep. You had started to sob into his shirt.

“She lied to me,”  you sobbed into his shoulder.

“My mother lied to me, Sasha. She always said I was human. That I wasn’t different. But I am! I’m different, Sasha. I’m different. I’m different. My father would have handed me over to be tested. He didn’t care for my safety,”  you cried.

The realization sank into him.

Helmut had been right.

The damn werewolf had been right.

You… you were not fully human.

And somehow, Bucky did not mind.

He didn’t mind one bit.

As your monster boyfriend comforted you, whispered soothing things in your ear, assuring you that he still was very much in love with you and that would never change, thoughts rolled around in his head.

It seemed that he would need further assistance.

Bucky would need to contact his cousins.

A few weeks later, at an unknown place deep in the woods in Ipswich, Massachusetts…

“James, I don’t know why you asked us here.”

Leader of the Ipswich Pack and the Head Warlock of the Ipswich Clan, Chase Collins leaned back into his chair.

Adelaide Everly Lee-Kane Collins, his wife, his Mate, and the Head Witch of the Kane Coven even pursed her lips.

“Really Jimmy,” huffed Chase. “Did you have to ask everyone to come? Not everyone is as talented as Adela and I.”

“Oh fuck you,” snapped Pouge. Glaring at his brother-in-arms, Chase’s eyes flashed from his blue to a pure black. Adela simply whacked the back of her husband’s head in retaliation for his pettiness.

“Ow!”

Eye rolling.

Eye-rolling was all Bucky had to say in response to that.

“Your covens are pretty powerful. You’re both Head Warlock and Witch of your covens. I thought you all could help me.” Bucky said, his tone even.

“And any suggestions from everyone else,” Bucky was quick to add. Just to make sure he didn’t offend anyone.

“He has manners,” Amanda, the blonde Witch from the Kane coven remarked.

“And he’s attractive,” piped up Ophelia. The brunette looked at Bucky, grinning.

“Thank… you…?” Was all Bucky offered awkwardly.

“Sisters, please,” interjected Adela in an exasperated tone.

The two witches just giggled like they were teenage girls again.

“Right, cousin. You mentioned something about sealing magic?” Chase was quick to get back on track. Back on topic. The grey-blue-eyed man saw his cousin give a nod quickly.

“Yes. My girlfriend— she mentioned something about a seal.”

“Oh, he’s taken?” Ophelia gasped.

“How very unfortunate,” Lani, another one of Adela’s Sisters nodded in solemn agreement.

“Sisters,” Adela was quick to growl his disapproval this time.

“Our apologies, Sister. Go on, James.” Heather, another one of the Kane Coven members butt in.

Nervously clearing his throat, Bucky quickly went on with his explanation.

“She said she had a dream about it. She landed in her childhood room and found her parents arguing over her seal. According to her, it looked like her father had sealed off her creature part of her away without telling her mother about it. To help her blend in, so to speak.”

His cousin’s explanation made Chase tilt his head in consideration.

Hybrid children weren’t uncommon. He and Adela were prime examples of hybrid children. They were both half dragon-shifters, as well as being half warlock and witch, respectively.

“But why would she need to blend in? Hybrid children aren’t uncommon.” Caleb Danvers, Chase’s second-in-command was quick to voice his opinion.

A collective murmur of agreement brushed over the room as the two covens agreed.

“She…” Bucky moved uncomfortably in his chair. He looked almost squeamish. “She mentioned her mother telling her father about his ‘master.’ I assumed he,” a cough, “—her father,” he quickly corrected himself. “… was a part of some cult.”

“Perhaps she was going to be some sort of sacrifice,” Tyler Simmons, the youngest member of the Ipswich coven piped up.

“But she is only half-human,” Adela said as a counterargument.

“It is possible her creature, or monster side is more dominant than her human side, dove,” Chase argued gently.

Adela just pursed her lips again. The Laotian woman sitting on that. She even leaned back in her chair.

Silence stretched over after that.

Bucky started to grow nervous. His tail, which had been present, started to swish in nervousness, catching onto the tense emotions of its master.

Then, both covens began to speak back and forth. The voices started to overlap, which only further continued to stress the incubus.

Briefly, just to himself, wondered just how you were doing. You were currently still back in New York, taking a break from work due to your current condition. You were staying at Yelena’s because Bucky didn’t trust you staying at the apartment. And besides, it was in need of repair. The pipes in the bathroom were still busted.

So the two of you were staying at Yelena’s house for the time being.

The noise becoming too much, Bucky quickly covered his ears.

Something that Chase caught onto.

“We will continue this discussion at a later date. This meeting is adjourned,” Chase announced.

As the two covens continued to bicker and fight after that announcement, Bucky slumped deeper into his chair, his embarrassment forgotten.

He really wished you were here.

A couple of days later...

“So, wait… let me get this straight Sasha.”

You were still a little bit confused.

Bucky was supporting you while you walked along the dirt road to what you were told to be his cousin Chase’s house.

“You have five cousins?”

“Uh-huh,” nodded Bucky.

“And they’re all either creatures or monsters?” you inquired.

“Uh-huh,” said Bucky again.

“Are all of them married?”

You really were treating it like twenty questions.

“Jefferson, he’s the werewolf of our family. He’s married to his second wife. He’s got Grace, who’s his first kid from his first marriage. And then he’s got Maya from his second marriage. His second wife’s name is Anya. She’s a nurse. Remember when you were at the hospital?”

You gave him an affirmative nod.

“She was one of the nurses on-call.”

“Ohhhhh,” you were nodding again.

Your nods encouraged him to go on.

And so he did.

“Chase Collins— he’s half dragon-shifter and warlock. He’s got a wife named Adela, and she’s a dragon-shifter and a witch too. They’re actually the Heads of their Covens.” Bucky hummed.

“Those two were the ones you… had an audience with, right? About the…” you trailed off. Feeling a little bit uncomfortable.

“Yeah,” his voice was soft.

“And then there’s Lance,” he continued swiftly. Wanting to revert back to the subject. “He’s married to Nera. I don’t know how they work, but they work. She should get the Noble Peace Prize for dealing with him, seriously. I’ve never met anyone who could out argue him… except Nera. She keeps him under a leash,” he said with a shrug.

You just let out a snort. “She keeps him under a leash, huh? Someone should definitely give her the Noble Peace Prize then.”

The two of you walked up to a modestly, decently-sized-looking house. It reminded you of the cozy cottage from Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs.

Knocking on the door two times, Bucky waited.

Sounds of footsteps running to the door echoed a few seconds later.

And then suddenly the door was swung open after whoever was on the other side managed to unlock the locks.

“Uncle Jaime!” Two voices cried out.

A boy and a girl, you noticed. They clearly took from both of their parents, looking half-white and half-Asian. You could tell the Asian side of the family by the eyes. They were big but slanted. Their broad noses too. And they were tan. Not deeply tan, like some of the Asian kids you had seen playing volleyball as a young kid. But tan enough to indicate that they spent a sizable amount of time in the sun.

The little girl let out a gasp when she saw you. Her chestnut hair, the same as her brother flew everywhere. Her brown eyes widened in realization.

She cried out, speaking in a language you understood was an Asian language, although you couldn’t quite pinpoint what it was.

“Is this your girlfriend?” The little boy inquired of Bucky.

“In the flesh.” nodded Bucky seriously.

The little girl squealed in delight. “Uncle Jaime talks about you a lot! He says you’re the prettiest!” She announced to you in excitement.

You raised an eyebrow.

“The prettiest?” you pretended to look surprised. “Your Uncle Jaime thinks I’m the prettiest?”

“Yeah!” said the little girl enthusiastically. She even was nodding. You would have said something else, but you heard more footsteps rushing to the door.

“… Matilda! Erik! Get away from the door! Don’t bother your Uncle James and his girlfriend! To the woods, you two!”

Groans came from the two young children in dismay.

“But Mama!” the small boy’s voice came out in a complaining tone.

“No, Erik. You and your sister will go outside into the woods and help your father. That’s final.”

Adelaide Everly Lee-Kane Collins crossed her arms in what could only be explained as the mom stance. Looking at her two little children with a stern look on her face. Her dark hair was tied up to be up and away from her face, although there were strands that had escaped their torment and fell down on the sides of her face. She had been in the middle of beginning to bake when she had heard the doorbell ring at the door.

Besides, with her wearing a pastel dress that had a nice flowy material on the skirt, she couldn't go around chopping wood with her husband. Even though she wanted to.

She had a bunch of her husband’s family members to feed, after all.

Erik whined at her again before Matilda smacked his back. “C’mon Erik! You know everyone else is gonna be here soon, stupid!”

“Matilda. Do not call your brother stupid. Now go on, both of you.” She scolded. Erik was about to protest again, had it not been for Matilda grabbing his hand and practically dragging him out. The two children ran down to the back of the house, where the woods were. With her two children situated, Adela dusted off any flour that might have gotten on her apron and smiled at the both of you

“How are you feeling?” Adela asked kindly when she invited you and Bucky inside of the house. You and Bucky took off your shoes at the door.

The young woman was smiling at you. Her hair was tied up and her eyes were brown. Looking a little closer though, you noticed her eyes had gold flecks in them. Her eyes looked more like golden brown, now that you were noticing them more closely. Her golden tanned skin glowed.

Or maybe that was the highlighter she was wearing?

For a moment, you forgot what she was talking about.

And then, it clicked.

“I feel like I got run over by a bus.”

Adela laughed. “Well, I wouldn’t really know what that feels like. Being half-witch and half dragon and all,” she remarked. “Wait…” you trailed off. “Since you’re a witch and a dragon, does that mean you like… live in a cave and stuff? Like, do you hoard things too? Or is that just made-up bullshit?”

“No,” she shook her head, amused. “We do live near the woods. Just to keep to ourselves. That’s where you are now, exactly. But my husband and I— we do go into town when we need to buy groceries and things like that. And yes, we do hoard things. I like hoarding stones. My husband likes hoarding jewels. My little hatchlings— they haven’t begun to want to start hoarding things yet. They’re nine and eleven.” She explained to you lightly.

“How are they doing?” Bucky asked her, referencing the two young children who had just run out of the front door to said woods.

“Oh! They’re doing just fine. Mischievous some days, but they are well behaved. Don’t let Chase sway you different Jimmy, but he’s soft on the hatchlings. How do you think they pull as many pranks as they do?” Sending her cousin-in-law a wink with a twinkle in her eyes, you didn’t even try to hide the snort that came out of your mouth.

Eventually, pair by pair, all of the rest of Bucky’s cousins came.

First, it was Bucky’s cousin who was a vampire named Justin Capshaw. Justin had readjusted his glasses, giving your boyfriend a warm smile before greeting you. The human consort that he lived with who actually worked downstairs at Stark Industries with Bucky gave him a firm hug.

“Justin’s got me to thank for meetin’ his human consort,” Bucky boasted proudly to you. Justin openly rolled his eyes at him.

“I would have met her otherwise,” Justin offered as a counter.

“Yeah, maybe. I just sped it up.” retaliated Bucky with a shit-eating grin.

“Someone’s been spending far too much time around Lance,” Justin’s girlfriend remarked as she sipped at her soda.

“I haven’t seen him in months!” Bucky protested.

“You get your I’m-such-hot-shit attitude from him, cous.” Justin’s passing remark as he looked at his girlfriend with a smirk.

Justin’s lover giggled.

After Justin was Lance and Nera.

You could tell how Lance was different than everyone else in the family. Whereas Justin was quiet, Lance was not. Compared to his vampire cousin, Lance was loud. The raven-haired man, with his hair gelled back, took off his shades as soon as he got inside the house. He greeted Bucky with a fist bump, and politely shook your hand.

But his girlfriend.

Oh, she was your new favorite person in the whole wide world.

Nera Yang, or “Ira” as all her friends and family had nicknamed her, was a small Hmong bunny hybrid. Half-bunny, half-human. Her ears were actually bunny ears, and she even had a small nose. Her top lip was a little more upturned than everyone else’s. And like Chase and Adela’s kids, she was tanned too.

And Bucky was right about their dynamic. Cause as soon as Jefferson and Anya, along with their two girls came into the house, you saw their exchange in the kitchen.

"I told you we should've bought the drinks!" Came Nera's shriek from said kitchen.

"There are children here, bunny!" Lance's retort made Bucky roll his eyes. You could only stare at the bulky, beefy Minotaur and the much smaller Hmong petite bunny hybrid who were currently engaged in a bickering match in the kitchen.

"Yes. Non-alcoholic drinks. I don't drink. It's not like I can anyway," her hands came to gesture to her belly, which made you look surprised.

"She's pregnant?"  You hissed to Bucky in Russian. Nera didn’t look like she was showing. And considering the height difference with Lance, it was laughable. She was tiny! And he was frigging tall. Huge.

Five months,"  Bucky muttered back to you. "Lance won't shut the fuck up about it. I swear, ever since Chase and Adela have been talkin' about helpin' Justin's girl get pregnant since vampires can't, it's like everyone's gotten damn baby fever around here."

"I wouldn't mind. Having a baby. If they're anything like you, I think I'll manage them just fine." You quipped. Bucky raised an eyebrow at you.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You're boring."

Your cackles following the horrified look on Bucky’s face distracted him from the fact that Grace, Jefferson’s first child with his former ex-wife Priscilla had come over, the little girl tugging you away by the hand.

She ignored Bucky’s pleas for you to come back too.

What could she say?

She was interested in you.

It had become a running gag in the family that Grace interrogated every new potential or already existing partner of her daddy’s cousins. Since Bucky and his cousins were just so darn well-knit together as a family, their kids formed some sort of club.

Said club was waiting in the little room that Chase and Adela had dedicated as Erik and Matilda's little playroom. A huge TV hung on the wall, complete with beanbags and what appeared to be a tea set with little chairs to match. Against the wall were toys in plastic boxes that were currently covered and put away.

“Where’s Auntie and Cassie?” One of the kids wondered. You noticed it was Matilda. The little girl had her hair tied in pigtails now, wearing a baby blue dress with a scoop neckline. The neckline had a lace pattern on it. And like all the rest of the kids, she wasn’t wearing any shoes in the house.

“Uncle Carter and Auntie got busy. So they’re coming later.” Grace answered for her. An affirmative noise coming from Matilda ushered her to carefully sit you down on the beanbag. Being extra extra careful, cause she could smell that you were still recovering.

Dragon senses and all that.

Erik even handed you a can of soda.

“Is this an interrogation? Are you interrogating me?” You asked innocently.

“Oh yes,” nodded Maya. The blonde-haired, half-werewolf, and half-Fae looked utterly serious.

“This is the kindest interrogation I’ve ever been in. You all should be detectives!” You announced.

All of the kids broke out into giggles.

“But back on topic!” Grace declared.

You nodded in her direction with all the seriousness.

“What are your plans for Uncle Jaime?” Grace questioned you.

“My plans for him? Well! I plan to put a nice lil ring on that left ring of his. And I plan to have kids with him. Babies. All the yucky stuff.” You answered her.

“Ewww! But boys have cooties!” cried out Matilda in protest.

“Uh-huh! It’s like Attack of the Cooties!” Maya agreed with her cousin. The brunette girl looked just as horrified.

“Yeah! But! We get another cousin!” Grace added hopefully.

“Can it be a boy?” Erik butted in. “I’m surrounded by girls! There are too many girls!” He wailed in dismay.

You laughed a little. “Well, it won’t be determined until much later. Your uncle and I can’t just choose to have a baby that’s a boy.”

“But…” Erik couldn’t help but whine.

“Tell ya what Erik,’ you got a little close. “If I ever find out I’m pregnant, you’ll be the first to know, okay?”

“Pinky swear?” Erik asked, his eyes wide. He even held out his pinky. You interlocked your own pinky with his, shaking on it.

“You betcha kiddo.”

Later that evening…

Bucky still hadn’t slept.

Something was nagging him in the back of his mind.

You however, oh you were knocked out like a light. Peacefully and softly snoring next to him, you were absolutely living your best life as you slept like a baby.

And he didn’t want to disturb you.

He did not.

But, it still didn’t quell the thoughts in his head.

Deep in his gut, Bucky knew there was something else that you hadn’t told him. Something that disturbed you deep to the core. And he knew he shouldn’t have done what he did, but he did it anyway.

He entered your dreams.

Before all of this, before his new relationship with you, back when you two had only been friends, Bucky had never told you.

All the way back when, in college, he could somehow have access to your dreams. When he had been younger, he didn’t understand how he could have done it. There was no possible way. It was unheard of. Uncommon.

Then, he had done his research.

It is possible for demons and humans to have a bond, Bucky had read once while doing his research in the library.

There, it had stumped him.

A bond? With you? But you were only a simple human!

Knowing what he knew now, it must have been the monster part of you that had been sealed away. Calling out to him. Begging to be noticed.

But in cases such as these, without a transfer of his blood to you, it was nearly impossible for a Bond to form. They weren’t necessarily ruled out as never, but they weren’t common. They were extremely rare.

Bucky had deduced that only a bond between the both of you had made such things like this possible. There was no other way he could go on to explain it. Hell, Bucky had even asked his mother. She had told him while she never knew people like them to have a bond with humans that didn’t require the human to drink their blood, she also said to not toss it aside. Winifred Barnes had advised him to definitely keep it in mind, but keep it as the last option.

The incubus knew of the term “fate” or “destiny” being thrown around, or even “soulmates”.

But neither of those words truly explained his connection to you. It was a connection that even he could not be able to describe fully in words.

You made him feel alive.

You made him feel like there was a meaning to his existence. That he was more than what he was.

Every day when you’d look at him, make a snide remark or comment, or give him the smallest touches, it stumped him. He would truly be at a loss for words. He was amazed, that you wanted to be with someone like him. He was amazed, that someone like you loved him with all you could give.

Words couldn’t explain.

Bucky had never believed in God, especially when he had gone to the St. Patrick’s Cathedral with you on that very Halloween night.

Okay, maybe he believed in God just a little bit.

You certainly looked like an angel that night. He knew that much.

But, back to your dreams.

Bucky fell down into your dreamscape.

For a split second, he didn’t know where he was.

… until the landscape around him began to change. It swirled around him like a whirlpool, before it had created your dream.

He was back at the apartment that he shared with you.

Dream You were standing near the door. He saw Dream You lock the door behind him, tossing your apartment keys in the ceramic plate that was on the little table near the door. Dream You also put your purse on the little hanger on the wooden rack that was hammered into the wall too.

And as soon as you fished out your text and shot him the text signifying that you had gotten home, you looked up from your phone quickly. Locking your phone, Dream You slipped it into your back pocket before you started to walk to the living room.

Just as you walked to the side of the couch, Bucky saw Dream You get attacked by something from behind. It smacked you right in the back of Dream You’s head.

Dream You let out a cry of surprise.

Dream You also let out a gasp as you suddenly fell onto the hardwood floor face first. He saw Dream You let out a grunt as you desperately crawled away from your attacker.

Worst of all, Bucky knew that he couldn’t do anything.

This was your dream. You had full control of your dreams. He could influence dreams and nightmares alike, but this was different. This was you reliving it. He needed to see it. He needed to see everything.

As Bucky stood in the corner, he saw that your ex wasn’t doing anything. When Helmut had told him how your ex had wasted no time in entrapping and kidnapping his victims, it had struck him as odd, how he just had stood there, watching you desperately cough and crawl away like a helpless animal.

All of a sudden, it dawned on him.

It dawned on him when your ex grabbed you by your ankles as Dream You screamed, clawing at the hardwood floors beneath you to try and not be dragged off.

Just seeing you being helplessly dragged off and screaming made Bucky want to vomit.

It made him sick to his stomach.

And just as that horrible sinking feeling had consumed him, you had turned your head around and your foot shot up, kicking your ex right in the knees.

An amazed look appeared on Bucky’s face as he saw your Dream Ex let out a surprised shout of pain, and you scrambled to get to your feet, going down the hall as quickly as you possibly could. Groaning and holding your head as you did so.

However, it was not enough.

You were not quick enough.

Because your Dream Ex immediately got up again, lunging for Dream You.

This time, however— Dream You was ready.

He caught it with his own two eyes.

Your chipped nails. They were getting a little long, so they had begun to chip. You kicked and screamed while your nails scratched at his face, one of your fingernails getting into his eye socket.

And he saw Dream You scratch at it. As hard as you could.

Bucky felt a huge immense of pride rush through him as a smirk fitted its way onto his face, seeing how your Dream Ex bellowed loudly in pain, and that had been enough for Dream You to manage to kick your Dream Ex off of you, before you got up with all the remaining strength you could muster.

Just when Bucky thought that your Dream Ex had finally decided to step down and call it a night, he got right back up, struggling a bit as he did so, and was coming for you again, just as you managed to stumble right down the hallway toward the bedroom that the two of you shared.

Dream You seemed to figure this out pretty quickly as Dream You whipped her head back.

“No!”

It had been the first word that he had heard you scream.

Just as you screamed out that one fatal word, the pipes in the bathroom exploded.

Water rushed out as it rose up. Probably as high as you. Nevertheless, it rose up and it shot right in your Dream Ex’s direction.

Smacking him right in the face, Bucky saw him scream and shout in pain as the water hissed. Scalding his skin and sending him right onto the floor. Right where he had found him.

He saw Dream You stand for a few more seconds before Dream You had crumbled to the floor, collapsing in the water sideways. Right where he had found you.

And then Bucky bounced.

You awoke with a sob. Almost immediately, you began to cry. Weep.

You sobbed while being embraced in his arms, looking visibly shaken.

“He’s still out there,” were your words through your sobs. “He’s still out there… even if he’s locked up… he’s still out there…”

He had never seen you as distraught as this before. Not until a few months ago, when everything had hit the nail on the head.

You looked so vulnerable.

You looked so scared.

“I’m scared, Sasha…” you hiccuped.

“I’m so scared…”

He held you and helped you cry it all out before you fell back asleep again. It seemed, with your sob fest, you had managed to conk yourself out.

Because when you had finished whispering your fears to him and fell back asleep, Bucky’s phone rang.

Upon checking the caller ID, he saw that it read Helmut Zemo.

Slowly and as silently as he possibly could, Bucky got out of bed and picked up his phone off of the table where he had been charging it.

Seeing that his battery percentage read one-hundred percent charged, he took out the plug and answered his phone.

“Hello?”

“James,”  came Hemlut’s raspy tone from the other line. It was good that both men were having a discussion in Russian.

Cause this discussion in particular was not one that was going to be public. Nor was it one that was supposed to be heard by common ears.

No. Absolutely not.

“I have found some evidence in your lover’s ex’s phone that might be… interesting for you to know.”

Such words made Bucky pause. He quietly padded out of the guest bedroom where he was staying with you, heading downstairs. He knew for a fact that Yelena was fast asleep.

Heading downstairs, the incubus headed straight for the fire escape.

“Tell me.”  his tone had turned soft.

“After your neighbor called the police to check out the rest of your apartment that you shared with your little lady friend…”  Helmut began, “And when the police came to arrest your beau’s former lover, they found some incriminating evidence in his phone. Apparently, he was only using one phone. He was not using a burner phone.”

“And, he did not have a password.”

That made Bucky chortle. Opening the fire escape window, he slipped out easily. Gently closing it behind him, he sat on the stairs.

“What a fuckin’ dumbass,”  were the only words to come out of his mouth.

Deep chuckling came from Helmut.

“It did not end there, James. When I looked through his phone, I… well. I could not bring myself to look. You must come and see it for yourself.”  Helmut sounded testy. Like whatever he saw, or forbade himself to see was something he never wanted to see.

Like earlier, it made Bucky worried.

“Are you still at your office?”

With Bucky and Helmut…

Bucky was going to crush your ex’s phone.

He was going to crush it. Or he was going to throw it against the wall while being consumed by his fury.

He hadn’t even seen the video that your ex had captured but he knew that it wasn’t going to be good.

Deep breaths.

Deep breaths.

Deep breaths.

Just like how you told him.

“Take in deep breaths, Sasha. I don’t want to be dragging you out of there. It’s too much work,” Your words rang through his head.

It had been remembering those words that kept him from smashing the ex’s phone.

Clenching his jaw, Bucky’s grip on your ex’s phone did not loosen. It did not lighten. Instead, he grabbed his earbuds and put them in, clicking play on the video to rewatch it again.

The phone seemed to be propped up to the staircase outside.

Already, Bucky could feel that churning feeling in his stomach. And it wasn’t in a good way. Oh no.

This was the night before.

Like when he had found you in the apartment, dread pooled in his stomach again.

In the video was him on top of you, his tail keeping your arms restrained. He watched himself unzip his jeans and pull out his cock. He saw him speaking to you before he slammed it all the way in. Your mouth opened as he watched himself ruthlessly pummel himself into you. Fucking you until your mouth opened.

He knew. He had fucked you until you had screamed.

Even though there was no sound, it was odd. He felt like a voyeur, even if he knew it was just him and you.

It felt wrong.

All of this felt wrong.

Done with the video, he paused it and took out the earbuds from his ears.

“What did it contain, James?” Helmut asked him.

Bucky swallowed harshly. “A sex tape. He recorded us having sex.” Was his only reply.

Helmut Zemo felt sick to his stomach.

Of course, Helmut was not a good man. He fully would admit that.

But this?

To stoop this low?

To this atrocity?

Absolutely not.

“It explains why he attacked her the next night. Seeing me fuck her must have been the tipping point. She told me he never tried to make a move on her when they were dating. Must have been a bittersweet moment for him. He finally saw what it took to satisfy a woman.”

Helmut couldn’t help himself.

Letting out a loud snort, he missed the smug look on Bucky’s face.

However, deep inside of him, deep anger was brewing. Just remembering that you were peacefully sleeping alone made the glaring fact in front of him become all that clearer.

He theorized that this video must have been recorded in a fit of anger, but also blackmail for you. If you had been successfully kidnapped by him, Bucky realized that he might have used this video against you. To keep you in line. To keep you as far away from him as possible.

Now, now he really wished he could have crushed your ex’s phone.

“Do you think she’ll want to press charges?” Helmut asked him. To which Bucky shook his head no.

“No,” he answered him shortly. “She just… wants to be as far away from him as possible. I’m sure someone else will want to press charges, but I don’t think she will. But most murder cases end up being murder trails anyway, don’t they?”

“They do,” agreed Helmut. “Especially if it guarantees that he’ll be locked up for life.”

A groan came from Bucky.

“Where I’m from, we didn’t have to deal with this shit,” he grumbled. “They’d be given a punishment and that would be it. None of this trial crap.”

It got him to thinking.

It got him to think thoughts that no sane person would have ever thought to be possible.

Not from someone who wasn’t him, anyway.

“Go home, Helmut. I’ll take care of it.”

A raised eyebrow came from the other man. Or, werewolf in this case.

“Are you sure?”

Was he sure? Was he sure of what he was about to do?

You flashed before his eyes.

It had cemented his decision.

For you, he would do anything.

“Positive.”

“You know James if I wasn’t as enraged as you, I probably would’ve kicked you out already.”

Bucky just let out a very loud snort.

Said snort, he was reprimanded for because it was pretty loud.

Sheriff of the Metropolitan Correctional Center, Lee Bodecker gave his younger cousin a much unsavory look.

The chubby Orc didn’t look amused, unlike the incubus who was smirking at him.

Bucky really needed to stop spending time with Lance.

Lee swore to himself that the younger Minotaur really was a bad influence on him.

Or maybe it was because of your influence? Being married, he understood the feeling. He was married to a Nymph that had been involved in a sexual assault case with a preacher of a small church. Before a previous victim had taken the matters into her own hands and murdered the preacher himself, his wife had shot at the preacher in an effort to leave her alone. Because his wife, who he had just recently married at the time, had been the next target.

So when Lenora, a previous victim and a personal friend of his wife had taken matters into her own hands and murdered the preacher at gunpoint, the scandal had broken out. Luckily, due to good lawyers, Lenora had not been sent to jail. But she no longer attended church as a result.

In situations like these, Lee could understand what Bucky was about to do.

If the roles had been reversed and it had been him and his babydoll, then Lee probably would have done the same thing in a heartbeat.

Which was why he was allowing him to do this.

“You memorized the map?” he asked.

“Yeah,” was Bucky’s rough response.

“Remember which exit to take. Get in and out as quickly as possible. By the way, are you and your girlfriend free next Friday? Babydoll’s been askin’ if we should have a get-together. Since she and I missed the last one.” Lee said.

“I’ll make sure to ask,” Bucky gave him a nod.

Once he actually got inside the building, he did a mental map. He recounted all of the exits.

Not that he would need them, per se.

But he memorized them. He remembered them.

Just in case.

Concentrating, he focused before he found himself in the cell.

Unlike his younger sisters, he hadn’t been spared from the duties of torturing people. To spare his younger sisters the horror of seeing or having to torture people, he had stepped in. To shield them away from the horrors.

When he had gotten his job at Stark Industries, he wanted to use his skills for good. So that his hands would be doing a good service, instead of being stained with the screams and blood.

He tried. He tried. He tried so hard to try and be good. To have some hope that he wouldn’t have to kill another person.

But, here he was.

Red eyes watching as your ex slowly woke up. As if he knew that Bucky was there.

It wasn’t like the movies, where he woke up quickly. No. Your boyfriend just watched him lazily. Watching as your ex got up in a pathetic way of trying to protect himself.

His eyes were perfectly situated to see in the dark. He was a demon, after all. So it didn’t surprise him to see the scalds you had done on him, still there. Not as noticeable or as evident as before.

Still there nonetheless.

When he moved to strike, it was as if the ex hadn’t seen it coming.

All he could see were red eyes.

There was a thrill that thrummed in between his fingers when Bucky had landed his first blow on his stomach. He saw how the man’s breath had been knocked out of his lungs for a second.

Hit by hit, Bucky struck. Again and again.

He didn’t stop.

The dark-haired demon felt like he was possessed by something. As he delivered the blows, he swore he saw red.

He didn’t really know when he stopped hitting your sorry excuse of an ex.

Maybe when he knew that the other man had stopped fighting back. When he stopped moving. When he knew that the man was limp as a flimsy noodle.

That was when Bucky got up, focusing on using the shadows to get him out of there as quickly as possible.

When he reappeared right where he wanted to be in Yelena’s living room, he noticed the entire apartment was still silent. A quick walk-in through the hallway and checking on Yelena, seeing that the blonde-haired naga was still asleep, he went into the guest bedroom. Where you were still peacefully sleeping away, unaware of what he just did.

Far too deep into your dreamland, Bucky crawled back into bed with you.

“You’re my entire world,” he whispered into your ear.

“I love you so much.”

Somehow, someway, he saw the curves of your lips upturning into a smile.

Taglist: @bxnnywriting, @greeneyedblondie44, @hawsx3, @sunflowerfive

[sleepingdeath-light]

Hello :D can i request hunter with a tall s/o who's basically like a gentle giant person? 5'8 ft but very gentle and compassionate kinda,, Gender neutral please skdnskjd

Thank you and have a nice day <33

Gentle Giant S/O Headcanons | Hunter [Golden Guard]

thanks for requesting, anon!

reader uses they/them pronounced when referred to by other characters

Having a gentle and compassionate significant other would make it much easier for Hunter to be vulnerable with them and allow himself to let his guard down. So it’s likely that he would have at least somewhat opened up to you before you even got together because of how comforting he found your demeanour.

Your hugs are his favourite place by far - he could spent hours laying with you in his arms, his face nuzzled against your neck or into your hair

Your smile brightens his day; and your laugh is enough to make his heart swell with unadulterated adoration for you

Your gentleness is something that endeared him to you - trace the edge of his scar and smile at him, I can promise you that he’ll lean into your touch and sigh

Take his face into your hands and rest your forehead against his and you’ll visibly see his shoulders relax, finally at ease after the stress of his daily life

Your compassion also attracted him to you as it made you feel more trustworthy to him - like he could trust you, somehow, even if he hadn’t known you for long

Though this was mostly a consequence of his loveless upbringing

Equally, your “gentle giant” persona makes him feel much more protective of you - you’re his home, his person, and he doesn’t want to put you in danger; so he does whatever he can to keep you out of his work/any other conflicts that could stem from his “Golden Guard” persona or, later, his deserter status in the coven

So you can expect him to escort you whenever he can and place great emphasis on teaching you self defence in whatever ways he can (even if you’re a formidable fighter in your own right, he just can’t take any risks)

At 5’8” you’re just slightly shorter than Hunter and, consequently, the perfect height for nose and forehead kisses - as well as just tall enough for him to not have to bend too far down to kiss you. Your height is also helpful for a number of other things:

When laying down, you can bury your face in his neck and he’ll be able to comfortably bury his face into the top of your head - and when spooning he can comfortably be the big spoon (it makes him feel more able to protect you as his partner)

By leaning up on your toes, you can easily surprise him with lip or cheek kisses - both things that will make him flush deeply and stammer out an incoherent string of sentences before hurrying away

In that vein he also likes to surprise you with hugs from behind; wrapping his arms around you waist from behind and kissing your cheek/neck before resting his head on your shoulder and laughing at your reaction

Although you aren’t too much shorter than him, he will also make a point of picking you up and kissing you at random points; with his favourite ways being “bridal style” or lifting you by the waist

All in all, having a gentle and compassionate persona would be key in having Hunter open up to you about his past, passions and emotions - if only because he doesn’t feel like you’ll shut him down or scold him like his uncle or other members of the coven. He’d take to being protective and affectionate with you, using each of your heights to his advantage during intimacy and trying his best to learn how to be more gentle with you and others - to do for you what you could for him (and make you feel the same warmth and lightheadedness that he felt whenever you smiled at him or looked at him with so much love and gentleness in your eyes).

[dustofbrokenheart]

The Covenant: Gains

Poly Sons of Ipswich x Reader

Word Count: 2,802

Summary: Trying to take advantage of their gym membership, reader starts working with a devastatingly attractive personal trainer. And his friend is pretty hot, too.  

The gym was still new for you but you had been coming consistently enough that you felt comfortable there. You knew what times equipment would be available and what times the crowds would be too much (week days 3-5:30 was like competing in the Hunger Games.)

Cardio always came before strength exercises because your muscles would be too fatigued otherwise. 

And on Tuesdays and Saturdays they played your favorite music on the loud speakers so you didn’t have to bother with headphones on those days.

Still, you weren’t an expert by any means. 

In fact, you were still hesitant to call yourself a gym-goer because you’d seen the workouts other people did and you definitely weren’t doing that. There was no strategy, you just did what you felt like doing on any given day. You were impressed by their discipline though.

Maybe, most likely, it would benefit you to incorporate some of that into your own routine.

The gym had a personal trainer program and you figured that would be the best bet—much easier than trying to figure it out on your own.

Poking around the website, you found the section that explained the process. The design was modern and intuitive, and it was easy to book an appointment: the only information you needed to provide was your name, the date/time, and what trainer you wanted.

The first two things were easy to fill out but the last had you a little stumped; you weren’t familiar enough with any of the trainers to request anyone by name even with the drop-down menu that listed out all of the choices. For a second, you were tempted to forget about the whole thing but luckily, there was an option for ‘no preference’ and anxiety levels dropped off as you selected it.

Appointment booked, you went on with the rest of your night, focus shifting to what sounded good to eat for dinner.

A week later, you found yourself in the gym’s front lobby, arms crossed and foot tapping. Since it was the first time, there was no harm in arriving early. The directions on the website had said to wait there for the trainer but so far there was no sign of them. Granted, there was still five minutes until the scheduled start so it would be unfair to start complaining about them just yet.

Rolling your neck to alleviate some of the tension, you paused mid-stretch, neck awkwardly craned like a gaggling turkey, when a man walked out. He was without a doubt the most attractive man you’d seen at the gym to date.

Thick dark hair that curled just above his ears. Warm brown eyes and an even warmer smile. Tanned skin that wrapped around arms that had just the right amount muscle: toned but not bulky. All in all, a good looking man.

You tracked him as he glanced around the area, looking for something—his eyes suddenly met yours and you straightened up in embarrassment—or someone. “Y/N?” he questioned.

You throat was so dry, it was painful to swallow. “That’s me.”

It didn’t seem possible but his smile grew even brighter. He stuck his hand out. “Nice to meet you. I’m Caleb and I’ll be your trainer today.”

Good karma most certainly at work here. How else could you explain being lucky enough to have the hottest guy in the gym be the trainer? Whatever the case, you weren’t going to look this particular gift horse in the mouth.

He gestured you forward with a wave of his hand and followed you to the main workout area. There was slight pressure to staying cool and collected with him behind you. 

“I’m going to start you off with some jogging to warm-up. Do you want to use the track or hop on a treadmill?”

“Treadmill is fine. It’s what I normally use.”

You stepped up onto the belt and fiddled with the settings to establish a pace you felt comfortable with. The machine started up with a loud hum and your arms and legs began to pump. Normally, you’d have your earphones in to distract yourself with music but they weren’t that day so that you could hear Caleb if he said anything to you.

Good thinking, really, since he did indeed start chatting.

“So how long have you been a member?” he asked.

Determined not to sound steady, you took a few moments to normalize your breathing. “About two months. But this is the first time I’ve worked with a professional,” you added at the end.

It was hard to hear his laugh over the treadmill but the hitching of his shoulders gave him away. “Thanks, but I’m not really a professional. I just have a training certification is all.”

Huh. Attractive and humble. If you weren’t careful, you’d develop a full-blown crush in no time.

“A certification sounds professional to me,” you insisted. There. That wasn’t flirty at all. You were merely sharing an opinion.

Jogging passed by faster than it usually did even without music. Evidently, all that was needed to make a run enjoyable was good conversation and an even better view. 

You powered off the treadmill and gradually transitioned to a walk and then a full stop. A single bead of sweat trailed down the side of your face but before you could wipe it away, only to stumble after being patted on the back by Caleb. 

Those muscles were not just for show.

You had mixed feelings about him giving you props for completing the warm up. On one hand, you were a little insulted because even you could handle jogging for ten minutes. On the other, it was nice to have him flatter you. And he seemed to type to mean his compliments.

“Thanks,” you said almost like a question as you plopped down to stretch.

“Really,” he insisted. There wasn’t any level of patronizing tone that you could detect. “You’d be surprised by how many people I work with that complain about running.”

“Really?” you exclaimed with surprise. “I wouldn’t say I love running but it’s not terrible. Better than swimming anyway.”

“Whoa, now. I’ll have you know that I was a big swimmer in high school.”

The friendly banter about the woes, or in his case, the highs of swimming got you through the stretches he showed you. Occasionally, there would be a pause while he corrected your posture but once you fixed your position, the banter started up again.  

Finally, you conceded, “I will admit that swimming did wonders for your shoulders though.”

He looked away with a bow of his head. He smiled but it was closed lipped, no teeth on display. Oops. That comment may have been a bit too forward. Rather than draw more attention to it, you diverted attention to the actual work out.

Seeming to be of the same mind, Caleb dropped it, too, and set you up at a weight bench. He must’ve have seen the doubt on your face.

“Don’t worry,” he assured. “I’m not going to have you squatting 300 pounds or anything crazy. Here. Take this and we’ll start with some dumb bell rows.”

He handed you a twenty-pound weight, the smooth metal cool against your palm. The weight was noticeable but not so heavy you struggled to hold it. A month or two of this and your arms would actually tone out pretty nice.

You peered subtly at Caleb behind you. You wouldn’t be at Caleb’s level, not just after a couple weeks but then again, you doubted most people could measure up to him even after working out everyday for a year straight.

Someone people had all the good genes.

You could’ve complained but found it much more enjoyable to appreciate the good view. In fact, it was the view that got you through the rest of the season.

“Thanks,” you panted around the mouth of your water bottle. A bead of sweat ran down your neck and you reached to wipe it off.

“You did great, really,” he said, the epitome of what a good trainer should sound like. “The scariest step is always to start so signing up for additional personal training will be a piece of cake.”

“Y-yeah.” Suddenly, your shoe laces fascinated you. “So…if I want to do that—more of this...do I choose you on from that list of trainers?”

“Sure thing. Or if you’d prefer to try someone else, all of the trainers are fantastic choices.”

“I think I’ll stick with you. As long as that’s not weird or anything…”

“Nope, not weird.”

You worked up the courage to look him in the eyes. Swirling irises of molten brown, you couldn’t help but be drawn into them. “Same time next week then?”

“Same time next week,” he agreed with a nod.

***

It had been a little over a month since you had started working with Caleb at the gym and what had started as one personal training session a week had turned into two, sometimes three. Improvement was happening steadily and you definitely felt a difference in your stamina.

Strangely enough, you were even proud of the small callouses that were starting to develop on the tops of your palms, under the fingers. They weren’t classically beautiful but at least you had proof of the work you were doing.

Having worked up the confidence, you’d also started doing some of the exercises Caleb showed you on your own. It was on one such day that you met him.

Another gym babe.

The first thing you noticed was his ass. Literally. He was in prime squat position and his short, though knee length and loose as they may be, could not hide his toned glutes.

You were embarrassed to admit that you were totally ogling him, like a dog looked at a prime cut of meat. You didn’t get star struck often, but damn.

The universe must have sought to punish you for the lack of propriety and your mp3 slipped through your sweaty fingers onto the moving treadmill, yanking the earphones out of your ears along with it as it flew backwards on the conveyor belt.

Recovering from the stumble your mp3 caused, you turned off the machine and gingerly picked out the music player, preparing for the worst.

Miraculously, the screen was still in tact and sounds was still coming through the earphones. You took another sigh of relief when you realized he was preoccupied by his own workout and hadn’t seen your embarrassing moment.

Something similar happened the next time you saw him a few days later: he was cooling down after having thoroughly trounced the heavy bag in the small boxing set-up the gym had. His arms looked so good in his cut-off tank (muscles and veins were all on display) that you froze with your mouth hanging wide open.

Another gym-goer did catch you that time but at least it wasn’t the god sculpted from marble.

You almost felt bad, like you were cheating on one of your crush’s with another which was ridiculous because Caleb was just a trainer and you didn’t even know the other one’s name.

Who knew that so much drama could happen in the confines of a simple neighborhood gym? Seriously, The Bachelor wished it could have as many good options as the gym seemed to.

***

You huffed as you pushed yourself up on increasing shaky arms. For a few seconds, you honestly didn’t think you’d be able to do it as your arms got stuck at a forty-five degree angle. Digging deep down, you managed to fully extend your arms.

“Nine,” Caleb counted. He was kneeling besides you on the yoga mat, counting, and adjusting your form here and there, while you did push-ups

Rather than descend slowly as was proper for push-ups, you collapsed to the mat with your arms squished underneath your chest. Rolled your head, you gave him your best pleading eyes and hoped he might take mercy.

That hope was misplaced. He gave a sympathetic smile and shook his head negatively. “Sorry, Y/N. We agreed on ten and by my count, you still have one more to go.”

“Can I not and say that I did?”

“Come on now. It’s only one more.” He waved his hands around like he was waving imaginary pom-poms. “You can do it!”

You managed a weak laugh. There was no way you could’ve say no. Your arms felt like they were burning but he looked adorable trying to be a cheerleader. An unbidden image of him wearing a cute male cheerleading uniform flashed in your mind and you thought he would pull one off well, what with his wide shoulders and sculpted legs.

Imagination got you through the last push-up and you groaned as you turned over on the mat, spread out like a star fish. “That was absolute torture.”

Caleb opened his mouth but was interrupted by a newcomer.

“Geez, man. You need to take it easier on your clients.”

Recognizing the voice, you found the other gym guy you’d been eyeing standing above you.

“Pogue.” Caleb held his fist out to the man who in turned bumped his with the trainer’s. Evidently, they knew each other.

Then they embraced in a full-on hug.

Okay, so they definitely knew each other. And it was hard to miss the parting caress to Pogue’s shoulders—what kind of name was Pogue anyway?—that was generally reserved for two people that were close.

Were they related? Dating, perhaps?

Your imagination fired up again and you wondered what they would look like wrapped even more intimately with one another…which was entirely despicable, you reminded yourself. There was no proof they were romantically involved, and, even if they were, it was none of your business.

The other two, who had been talking while you were maladaptively fantasizing, had continued talking and their conversation now turned to you.

“So who’s this?” Pogue questioned politely.

“This is Y/N,” Caleb introduce you. “They’re one of the people I work with.”

Pogue stuck his hand out to shake. “Nice to meet you. I’m glad Caleb hasn’t killed you off yet.”

“Hey! I am extremely fair with workouts, aren’t I, Y/N?”

“He is,” you said with a small smile, rocking on your feet. “Besides, he way too nice to ever become a drill sergeant.”

Pogue shoved Caleb lightly and Caleb elbowed him in return. “I know he doesn’t look like the type, but he was quite the drill sergeant back when we were both swimmers. He just hides the competitive instinct under his charming smiles.”

That peaked your curiosity. “No way, you guys swam together back in the day?”

“Spencer Academy was state champs three years running in our time,” Caleb admitted. “But nowadays I do my thing with personal training and Pogue more into MMA.”

“MMA?” you questioned.

“Mixed Martial Arts,” Caleb supplied. “You’ve probably seen him hogging the punching bags in the back.”

You most certainly had but you weren’t about to confess that to either of them. It would be too embarrassing and might even toe the line of harassment.

“You are more than welcome to share bags with me, any time,” Pogue grinned teasingly.

A thought hit and flowed out of your mouth before you could stop it. “You guys should give me a lesson sometime.”

“Oh. I didn’t know you were interested in that sort of thing,” Caleb said, surprise coloring his voice.

“Are you saying that you don’t think I can?” You weren’t sure what made you say it. It’s not like you were hardcore dedicated to trying it. 

Whatever the cause it had Pogue chiming in save the situation.

“What prince charming means is that we would love to give a demonstration sometime.”

Caleb down at his watch because of course he still wore one instead of just using his phone like most other people. “Damn. Our hour is up Y/n and I’m late getting my next client. But we can hit the punching bags next time, if you want…?”

“Sure. Uh. Does Wednesday work for you?”

Both of the men nodded and Caleb called over his shoulder as he jogged to the lobby. “It’s a date. Schedule it online and I’ll approve it.”

The word kept replaying over and over. Date. Date. Date, date, date. He probably didn’t even mean it like that but it didn’t stop your heart from fluttering.

Waving goodbye to Pogue wit a promise of seeing him next week, you bounced off to grab your phone from the locker room. There was nothing wrong with scheduling your next session ASAP.

It’s a date.

_______________

Pogue boxing does make a fetching image. Pogue and Caleb in the ring sparring together even more so. Debating whether to make a part 2. 

Caleb always seems to be the hardest for me to write so I hope he sounded okay in this. This has been sitting in my drafts for a while and I decided to finally post it. 

Thanks for reading! 

[junghelioseok]

covenant.

↳ your best friend’s engagement forces you to reevaluate your own feelings.

◇ hoseok x reader ◇ smut | angst | werewolf!au | f2l!au ◇ 16.4k [1/1]

⇢ arguably also an arranged marriage!au, ft. kinda sorta dumbasses to lovers? a very, very late bday fic for the most beautiful man in the universe and my favorite funky lil dancer. ♡

notes: i started this in my drafts well over three months ago and all it said was “this ain’t gonna be on time for hobi’s bday i can feel it” and damn if past!me wasn’t right on the money!!! this has undergone three edits, going from 14.6k to 16.4k somehow, and i am going to lose my whole damn mind if i don’t just post it so here it is! hope you enjoy!

warnings: dom!hobi, alpha!hobi, bit of dirty talk, oral (f receiving), some grinding against hobi’s thigh, knotting, hobi’s got a big dick idk, also he’s in heat!!! but things eventually get really soft bc i love him and am a Soft Bitch™ 🤷🏻‍♀️

It’s going to rain.

You can smell it in the air and feel the damp chill against your skin, permeating through every layer of your clothing. The surrounding forest and all its occupants seem to be collectively holding their breath, waiting for the first drops to come. Even your footsteps, soft as they are against the loamy earth, sound much too loud in the hush that’s fallen. Dark clouds gather overhead, looming like an omen, and you silently reach into your purse to check that the umbrella you’d stowed this morning is still there. Vaguely, you wonder if it’s big enough for two.

Around you, the trees slowly begin to dwindle, until there’s only open sky above your head and a wide grassy expanse beneath your feet. A certain heaviness lingers in the air here—a low thrum of energy, born from the ancient magic that sleeps in the gnarled roots of the tree that sits in the center of the clearing. You can feel it prickling along your skin, raising gooseflesh and igniting your veins, and the closer you get, the stronger the feeling becomes.

At the far end of the clearing, you spot a small crowd of people, all clad in black. Your best friend—and your entire reason for venturing out today—stands amongst them in a tailored suit, his black tie snug at his throat and laid atop a charcoal gray shirt. He’s chatting with his father and a few other family members, seemingly calm and collected, but you can tell from the sloppy knot of his tie and the way he fidgets with the hem of his jacket that he is anything but. After all your years of friendship, you can read Jung Hoseok like a book. His auburn hair is disheveled as if he’s been incessantly raking his fingers through it, and even at a distance, you can sense the turmoil in his aura, haloing him like the stormy clouds overhead.

Sensing your approach, Hoseok’s gaze flickers up to meet yours. He raises a hand in greeting and bids farewell to the people he’d been chatting with, picking his way over to you with a wan smile.

“Hey. You made it.”

“I wouldn’t miss this,” you reply, reaching out to take his hand. It’s warm and strong as always, but you don’t miss the slight tremor in his grip. “How are you holding up?”

He shrugs half-heartedly, a sigh escaping his lips and dissipating into mist in the wintry air. “As well as can be expected, I guess. It just… it all happened so fast.”

“I know,” you murmur, twining your fingers together in quiet reassurance. “I’m so sorry, Hobi.”

“Thanks.”

Slowly, his gaze flits to the center of the clearing where the ancient tree sits, traversing from the leafy canopy all the way down to where the gnarled roots disappear into the dirt. In its shadow sits a polished wooden casket, and you squeeze Hoseok’s hand gently as he walks closer, his eyes beginning to glisten.

“I still can’t believe he’s gone, you know,” he mumbles. “All these years of war, of negotiations and peace talks, finally seeing the Accords pass and the company flourish… and now he’s gone. Cancer. Just like that.”

His voice cracks on the last sentence, and you clasp his hand a little tighter. You know as well as he does that a healthy werewolf can live for well over a century, if not for the human genetics that remain susceptible to human weaknesses and disease. True immortality afflicts only the faeries and the vampires of your world—and even then, there are still ways that those folk can die.

“He lived a long life,” you say after a moment’s hesitation, grasping onto any semblance of comfort you can offer. Together, you and Hoseok come to a stop in the shadow of the tree, peering at the closed casket where his grandfather lays. “And it was a good, just life. Not all of us can say that.”

A lone, wet droplet falls onto the polished mahogany, and Hoseok hastily wipes his eyes, tilting his head skyward. “Not long enough,” he whispers. “He still had so much to do. I… I still have so much I wanted to do—to say. And now I’ll never be able to.”

You caress a thumb across his knuckles, the motion soft and tender. “I know. And I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could do.”

Hoseok glances down at that, a glimmer of something manic and desperate swimming in his amber-flecked irises. “You could,” he says, grabbing both your hands and clutching them to his chest like a lifeline. “You could bring him back. You know how, don’t you?”

You shake your head sadly, hating the way his frown deepens as you free yourself from his grasp. “That’s forbidden magic, Hobi. That’s necromancy. You know I can’t do that.”

Hoseok’s entire body sags, his shoulders slumping as he lets out a heavy sigh. Instinctively, you step forward to wrap him in a hug, and he loops his arms around your waist automatically, pulling you flush against him. “I know,” he mumbles into your hair. Then he huffs out a dry chuckle, humorless and deprecating. “Fuck. I’m a mess, huh?”

You don’t answer. You don’t need to. Instead, you hold him a little tighter, rubbing his back soothingly in long, slow motions—the same way his mother used to do during bedtime. His heart thuds erratically in his chest, fast and frenzied like a caged bird, but lulls as you continue your ministrations, settling into an even rhythm once more.

“Thank you,” he murmurs after a few moments, his warm breath caressing your cheek. “For coming today. I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“You can do anything, Hobi,” you reassure, running a thumb along the sharp line of his jaw when he raises his head to look at you. “With or without me. But… you’re welcome, all the same.”

Your presence at this funeral is unusual, and both you and Hoseok know it. Werewolf packs tend to keep their rites and ceremonies private, and the Gwangju pack is no different. Led by Hoseok’s father, and his late grandfather before him, the werewolves of the city have rapidly risen to prominence and power, aided in large part by the founding of JungTech. The company, started by Hoseok’s grandfather, began as a small operation in a battered old warehouse, but quickly grew to become one of Gwangju’s biggest corporations after the signing of the Accords twenty years ago. The peace treaty marked the start of a tenuous coexistence between humankind and Shadowfolk, and, together with your fellow witches—along with the werewolves, vampires, and the few fair folk who decided to leave their homes deep in the forests—you migrated into cities all over the country to forge new lives.

It’s proven easier for some. While the wolves of the city have found tolerance—acceptance, even—you have not fared quite as well. Humans, you have found, tend to fear the ancient magic that runs through your veins. Though nothing you’ve faced comes remotely close to what your ancestors faced in centuries past, you remain wary of those who take a little too much interest in your abilities.

You’re a bit paranoid, your familiar, Bast, has remarked on more than one occasion. But it’s justified, so I suppose it’s all right.

As if sensing that your thoughts have turned to him, Bast stirs in the back of your mind. You feel him yawn and stretch lazily before there’s a tug on the soles of your feet, as if the force of gravity has suddenly, inexplicably doubled. Then he’s materializing—morphing out of the spot where your shadow would be if the sun were shining, taking the form of an inky black cat with sharp, golden eyes. Hoseok perks up when Bast loops between his ankles, and immediately squats down to scratch behind his ears, a small smile settling across his face as a low, content purr rumbles up from beneath his fingertips. From elsewhere in the clearing, a single howl rises up into the air, forlorn and wavering.

It’s starting, Bast says in your head. At the same time, Hoseok straightens to his full height, fiddling with the hem of his black jacket and looking over at you tentatively.

“Sounds like they’re getting started,” he says.

You nod. “I should go.”

Hoseok opens his mouth as if to protest—as if to say no, stay—but you know better and cut him off with a single raised finger.

“I’ll go,” you murmur. “This is a private rite, and I don’t want to break centuries of tradition by overstaying my welcome. Go join your pack, Hobi.”

“Will I see you later?”

“Without a doubt.”

Your parting gesture is to reach out and grab his hand, tucking a little drawstring bag into his palm and closing his fingers over it. “Valerian root and chamomile,” you tell him gently, taking in his rumpled collar and the dark bags beneath his eyes. “Make some tea tonight. It’ll help.”

Hoseok swallows and nods, his features softening as he gazes down at his hand cupped in your smaller ones. He looks like he wants to say something, but another howl interrupts, disrupting whatever thoughts he may have had. Instead, he nods again, murmuring a soft goodbye before turning on his heel to join the rest of the pack gathering around the raised casket. You turn as well, leaving behind the ancient clearing with Bast trotting by your side.

Up above, the heavens finally open, drenching the dirt path beneath your feet with rain. And behind you, the single howl is joined by dozens more, echoing mournfully up into the weeping sky.

///

You’re in the middle of straightening out a display of dittany when the kettle begins to boil, emitting three short, shrill whistles accompanied by a long stream of whirling steam. When silence falls over the shop once more, you wander over to where the kettle sits—atop a small wooden end table next to an old wardrobe. It’s an old relic that’s been passed down through generations of witches in your family, wrought out of silvery metal and suspended in an iron frame above a single lit candle. The flame is glowing pink, flickering in a nonexistent gust of wind, and you smile. Quietly, you grab two teacups from a nearby shelf.

Not two seconds later, the door of the old wardrobe creaks open, revealing the familiar face of Kim Seokjin behind it. A fellow witch and a good friend of yours, Jin has made a name for himself as a baker, running a café in Seoul that offers all sorts of confections—both with magical properties and without. His hair is dyed a muted dusty rose—a stark contrast to the casual black hoodie and jeans he’s wearing—and you reach out to push a stray lock back from his forehead in lieu of a greeting.

“Your hair’s pink again,” you remark. “I like it.”

Jin grins, his plush lips pulling back to reveal perfect teeth. “Thanks.” Carefully, he steps out of the wardrobe and shuts the door behind him. A beat of silence passes, and you take the opportunity to select a canister of tea leaves. You don’t miss the flicker of solemnity that settles into Jin’s features, though, listening as he clears his throat before voicing the question that is undoubtedly the reason behind his unexpected visit.

“So. How’s Hoseok holding up?”

Jin has never been one to mince his words. You suppose you appreciate that about him.

Quietly, you lift the kettle out of its stand and beckon for him to join you at the little wooden table at the front of your shop. It’s tucked neatly into the nook carved out by one of the two bay windows on either side of the front door, flanked by two well-worn, mismatched chairs. Atop it sits a pile of books—everything from ancient remedies to common household spells.

One book in particular always sits open—a detailed list of all the herbs and plants you carry in your shop, along with the various concoctions you’ve created with them. Hellebore, the spine of the book reads, and it’s the same word that graces your storefront in flowing, golden text. An apothecary of sorts, you spend your days dealing out potions and remedies to those in need, both human and Shadowfolk. You do your best to help, for all the times modern medicine has come up short and left someone wanting.

“Honestly? I don’t think he’s been sleeping.” You set the teacups down onto the table and fill them both before handing one over to Jin. “I saw him this morning, at the funeral. He looked exhausted.”

Jin’s brows disappear behind his pink hair. “You went to the funeral?”

“I didn’t stay,” you clarify, taking a sip of your tea. “Just wanted to drop by, say hello, and pay my respects.”

“Werewolves are a private bunch,” Jin remarks. “I’m surprised.”

You shrug. “Hoseok wanted me to be there. So I went.”

“I see.” He doesn’t say anything further, and neither do you, lapsing instead into a comfortable silence that’s broken only by the occasional sip of tea and the clinking of china. Your gaze wanders, drifting over to the front door of your shop, painted a cheerful green and set with a flowery stained glass window that throws kaleidoscopic rainbows across the cream walls and dark wooden floor. Sunlight streams through the wide bay windows, illuminating the interior in warm, hazy gold. On the other side of the room, Bast is curled up, fast asleep on his favorite plush bench beside the glass door that leads to the greenhouse, perfectly haloed by the sun.

“Must be nice being able to fall asleep anywhere,” you mutter, almost to yourself.

Jin hears you anyway, a chuckle escaping his lips. “You sound jealous.”

“Maybe I am,” you reply, laughing with him. “Speaking of which, where’s Adam? Did he stay home?”

Jin nods, jabbing his thumb in the direction of the wardrobe. “Yeah, he’s keeping an eye on the café. Told me to say hi to you for him, though.”

You giggle at the thought of Jin’s familiar, a long-haired sheepdog with a stubborn streak the size of the Nile and blatant disdain for following orders—especially those that come from Jin himself. “Keeping watch, or trashing the place?” you tease.

“With my luck, probably both,” Jin admits with a sigh. “I should probably get back there soon. He ate all the egg tarts last time.”

“Bring him with you next time,” you advise. “Bast will keep him entertained.”

He grins. “I don’t doubt it.”

Finishing off the last of his tea, he stands up and taps the rim of his cup, murmuring a soft cleaning spell under his breath. You smile gratefully as he replaces it back onto the shelf with the others, and stand to walk him back over to the wardrobe. Opening up the creaky door, you watch him clamber inside, standing amongst the hanging coats and the single pair of shoes on the bottom shelf.

“See you later,” you murmur. “Give Adam my best.”

Jin nods. “See you.”

He shuts the door, and you watch the flame of the candle once again turn a soft, roseate pink. It flickers briefly, dancing in an invisible breeze, before reverting back to the color of regular fire, signaling Jin’s departure. Quietly, you clean your own teacup and return it to the shelf.

The remainder of the afternoon passes with few customers, so you opt to close down early and head to your apartment, located up a short flight of stairs on the second floor of the shop. You’re rifling through the refrigerator for dinner ingredients and humming softly under your breath when your phone suddenly rings, Hoseok’s name lighting up the screen in bright white text. “Hey, Hobi,” you say, swiping across the glass to answer. “What’s up?”

On the other end of the line, Hoseok exhales shakily. “Can you come over?”

You blink, glancing at the darkening sky outside. “Now?”

“Yeah. Fuck, sorry. I know it’s late, but I really… I really need to talk to someone. I—” His voice cracks, and your heart sinks. “I need you.”

“Say no more.” Straightening up, you shut the refrigerator door and tug off your apron. “I’ll be there in half an hour. Have you eaten yet?”

Hoseok sighs. “No.”

“I’ll bring takeout,” you decide, already glancing around for your purse. “See you soon, okay?”

Bidding him farewell, you don your coat and head out the door, locking up behind you. Hoseok lives downtown in a sleek, modern penthouse that’s normally a twenty-minute walk away from Hellebore, but after stopping by the restaurant on the corner for food, you opt to catch the bus instead. Fifteen minutes after you hang up the phone, you are rapping the bronze knocker on Hoseok’s front door, a paper bag and a bottle of wine in hand.

Almost instantly, the door is flung open. Hoseok stands in the threshold as if he’s been waiting there, his auburn hair wild and his eyes even wilder. His aura is turbulent, and when he speaks, his voice is hoarse. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You raise the bag. “I brought dinner.”

“You’re the best,” he sighs, stepping aside to let you in.

Hoseok’s apartment toes the line between modern and cozy in a way that only Hoseok’s apartment could—with lush green plants and plushy, earth-toned furniture to offset the cold impersonality of the floor-to-ceiling windows and the stainless steel kitchen. Flicking on the kitchen light, you set the food down on the granite countertop and grab two wine glasses out of the cabinet. Hoseok sidles over as you pour a generous helping into each glass, rifling through the silverware drawer for utensils.

“Smells good,” he murmurs, popping a box open. “I’m starving. Thanks for bringing dinner.”

You brush off his gratitude and hand him a glass, raising yours so you can clink it gently against his. Quietly, the two of you fall into a comfortable routine, with Hoseok grabbing the food and you grabbing the bottle of wine to bring into the living room. You help him clear off the coffee table and arrange the food, then settle onto the couch beside him, sipping your drink in silence and patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts. Years of friendship have taught you that he’ll talk when he’s ready, and you’re content to wait as long as he needs.

Sighing, Hoseok tips the rest of his wine back into his mouth before setting the empty glass down with a soft plink. “So,” he begins, not quite looking you in the eye. “My dad and I had lunch today.”

You stay quiet, waiting for him to continue. He takes several more seconds to muster up the words, and when he finally finds them, they’re exhaled in a tumbling rush. “He told me that he’s pleased with how I’m running JungTech. It’s been over a year, and things are going well… so he wants to expedite my takeover of the pack. In two months, he wants me to take over as the alpha. And…” He swallows. “He wants me to settle down.”

Perturbed, you blink. “What?”

Hoseok finally looks at you, his expression frighteningly devoid of emotion. “He wants me to get married, {Name}.”

Comprehension doesn’t settle in right away. But when it does, your jaw drops to the floor, landing somewhere alongside the ornamental persian carpet and a stray sock that has no doubt jumped ship from Hoseok’s laundry.

“W-what?” you manage after a few long seconds of gaping at him. “Why? Why now? That’s so… that’s completely out of the blue.”

Hoseok shakes his head, a few shaggy strands of auburn hair falling across his forehead and into his eyes. “It’s not, actually. He’s been talking about it for a long time—trying to arrange something with one of the other pack families. It’s tradition, you know? Mating within the pack, keeping the bloodlines pure through marriage. The difference is that Pops always talked him out of it. Always said I was too young, that there was no rush, that I should wait for someone I love, my true mate...” He sighs, heavily. “But he’s gone now. And Dad’s decided that he’s done waiting.”

You shouldn’t ask. You shouldn’t, because you know it’ll hurt, but the question comes regardless—leaving your lips in a near whisper. “Who?”

Hoseok takes a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he exhales. “Do you remember Im Nayeon?”

You do. You’ve known Nayeon almost as long as you’ve known Hoseok—the three of you having attended the same schools starting from elementary all the way up until Hoseok left to attend university in Seoul. Admittedly, you were never close—and if you were completely honest, you always found her to be a bit disingenuous for your tastes. Nevertheless, you often found yourself at the same events—parties and gatherings you attended at Hoseok’s request, and that she was privy to due to her family’s high-ranking status within the Gwangju pack.

“I remember,” you tell him, your bottom lip finding its way between your teeth. “Does… does she know yet? Have you met up with her?”

Hoseok nods. “She was there this morning, at the funeral. We talked a little bit and got coffee after, but… this is all happening so fast.” Slowly, he tilts his head back to stare at the ceiling, a sigh escaping his parted lips. “But there’s nothing I can do, right? It’s enough that Dad’s somehow talked Mom into the whole thing, but now he’s gotten the Council on board too. Did you know that Nayeon has an uncle on the Council? It’s insane, right?”

“Insane,” you agree in a whisper, doing your best to ignore the way your heart is splintering at the edges.

“You know, I always thought my Dad pressuring me was bad.” Hoseok buries his face in his hands, peering at you from between his splayed fingers when you hum in acknowledgment. “But this? The entire Council on my back? This is way worse.”

“I’m sorry.” You don’t know what else there is to say. Your ribcage feels like it’s been split open and filled with burning coals, weighing hot and heavy on your insides.

Hoseok has dated in the past, of course. You both have—chasing that elusive, fluttery feeling called love and never quite being able to catch it and hold on. Hoseok’s last relationship fizzled long before he graduated from university, having lasted only about six months. You distinctly remember meeting the girl during one of your frequent visits to Seoul, at a small party hosted by Hoseok and his friends. By your next visit, however, things had already ended. He never really told you why the breakup occurred either—only that the relationship never would have lasted in the long run.

Perhaps foolishly, you chose not to pry.

“Is there anything I can do?” you ask softly. Reaching out, you take ahold of his hand and tug it into your lap, threading your fingers into the gaps between his. The gesture is familiar and comforting, like cocoa in front of a lit fireplace, and you can’t even begin to fathom the idea of another person sitting here and holding his hand in your stead.

“Just talk to me,” Hoseok entreaties, squeezing your fingers. “Distract me. What’s going on with you?”

You hum, swallowing down the lump in your throat and letting your head fall onto his shoulder as you pick through the events of the past week for the most interesting tidbits. “Bast has been bringing me dead rats lately,” you finally say, nose scrunching at the memory. “You should see the size of them—they’re almost bigger than he is. And they smell like the sewers, because I’m ninety-nine percent sure that’s where he’s getting them from. It’s horrid.”

Hoseok huffs out a stilted laugh. “Sewer rats? Gross.”

“It’s not all bad, to be honest,” you tell him, nestling a little closer to the warmth of his body. Hoseok keeps his apartment chillier than you’re accustomed to, and you’re beyond grateful for the furnace-like heat he gives off naturally. “The bones are pretty useful. The tails too, provided you don’t tell people what they actually are.”

His laugh is much more genuine this time. “Tricky little minx,” he says, amusement lacing his tone. “I’ve always liked that about you.”

You ignore the uptick in your heart rate at his approval, grateful that he can’t see your face as a pulse of heat flushes your cheeks. Instead, you burrow into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent. Hoseok smells like the forest—fresh and woodsy, with a slight floral undercurrent from his fabric softener. It smells like home, and you smile when his arm comes up to wrap around your shoulders.

“Jin came by today,” you murmur.

“Yeah?” The monosyllabic response rumbles through his chest.

“Yeah. He asked about you, too. You should probably text him later.”

Hoseok hums a confirmation, and, satisfied, you cuddle a little closer to him. You pull at the afghan he keeps laid over the back of the couch, laying it comfortably over your lap as he rests his head gently atop yours, his ear pressed to your crown. Your eyes fall shut as you listen to the rhythmic thud of his pulse—solid and steady, backed by the soft hum of the refrigerator and distant traffic on the street far below.

It’s comfortable, sitting with him like this. Comfortable, stroking his arm with your fingertips, in time with the drumbeat of his heart. Ever so gradually, Hoseok’s breathing evens out, and you briefly think that you could stay like this—encapsulated in this delicate, iridescent bubble of contentment—for the rest of your life.

You know the thing about bubbles, though? Bast remarks dryly in your head. They burst.

I know, you sigh.

I know.

///

There’s something soothing about taking inventory—something calming in the repetition of walking down the aisles of Hellebore and restocking the shelves one by one. You’d woken this morning to an apologetic Hoseok making pancakes in the kitchen, his residual heat and woodsy scent lingering on the blanket tucked around your body. After a harried breakfast and a promise to text you later, Hoseok rushed off to the office.

You, in turn, returned to your shop, where you grabbed every ounce of cleaning supplies you possess and scrubbed the place from top to bottom, foregoing all of your usual dishwashing charms and dust-clearing jinxes. The physical labor is a welcome distraction from the events and revelations of last night, and you’ve thrown yourself wholeheartedly into all the chores you need to complete.

“Almost out of rosehip oil,” you mutter, eyeing the half-empty vial and making a note to extract more from one of several plants in your greenhouse. “Low on valerian too, hmm…”

The bell over the front door jingles merrily, diverting your attention away from your task. “{Name}?” a voice calls softly. A moment later, a familiar head of coppery red hair pops around the edge of the shelves, choppy bangs framing a soft, warm face. “Hey, there you are. You busy?”

You shake your head and shut your inventory book, setting it down on the nearest shelf. “Not terribly, no. What brings you here today, Lisa?”

Lisa’s answering smile is sheepish. “Got something to return,” she says, holding up a little glass jar full of lavender colored pills that you immediately recognize. “I’m guessing you’ve already heard the news. Looks like I won’t be needing these anymore, right?”

Your laugh sounds brittle, even to your own ears. “Right. Yeah. Not anymore.”

For just over ten years, Lisa has been the wolf assigned to help Hoseok through his heat. Between his family’s status and his longtime designation as the next alpha of the Gwangju pack, it’s imperative for Hoseok to avoid anything that might be perceived as scandalous. Torrid sex stories splashed across tabloid covers is the last thing a man like Hoseok needs, and that’s where Lisa comes in. Once a year, for three days, she goes to him, and no one is none the wiser. Her job is one that calls for the utmost discretion, and as the daughter of a high-ranking Council official, no one understood that better than she did. You’d only found out because of your role as one of the few witches in the country who makes and stocks the proper contraceptives for such wolves—the dosage much stronger than the human equivalent.

And when Lisa had first approached you to purchase the pills, you’d dropped two jars and nearly set fire to a third. Your stomach had fallen to somewhere around your toes, right alongside the shattered glass and little lavender tablets.

You’d chalked the accident up to surprise. Hoseok hadn’t mentioned anything to you, after all, and you’d known very little about the intricacies of werewolf heats back then, having just opened your shop at age eighteen. But surprise doesn’t explain the snaking jealousy that bubbles up in your tummy every time Lisa comes in to restock her supply of pills, nor does it explain the overwhelming sense of relief you feel now as she presses the unopened jar into your hands.

“I still can’t believe he’s going to be the most powerful man in Gwangju soon.” Lisa steps back, tucking her hair behind her ear and letting out a soft sigh. “And now he’s engaged, too. It’s pretty crazy, huh?”

“Crazy,” you agree tonelessly, turning to replace the jar onto the appropriate shelf.

Lisa, however, is nothing if not perceptive. A gentle hand lands on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. “Hey,” she begins, soft and slow. “You know you can talk to me, right? Are you—?”

But the sound of the bell drowns out the rest of her question, metallic and bright in the quiet of your shop. “Hello? Anyone home?” a cheery voice asks.

“Be right there,” you say immediately, shrugging off Lisa’s hand and stepping out from amongst the shelves. There’s a young woman standing at the checkout counter, rifling through the collection of seeds on display, and you cringe as she replaces a few packets in the wrong spots. “How can I help you?”

At the sound of your voice, the woman turns gracefully on her heel, her expression a perfectly crafted amalgamation of surprise and delight. “{Name}!” she exclaims, stepping forward with an outstretched arm. “Long time no see!”

“N-Nayeon,” you stammer, the shock of seeing her face freezing you in place. “What… what brings you here?”

The dark-haired woman steps forward to pull you into a hug, enveloping you in her fruity perfume. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to catch up with an old friend?” she asks playfully.

We were never friends, you want to say. In your head, Bast lets out a derisive snort of agreement. Lisa, you notice, has conveniently melted away somewhere amidst the organized chaos of your shop, disappearing into the myriad shelves and knickknacks.

“Plus, I really wanted to look at some flowers,” Nayeon continues, betraying her true purpose at last. “You’ve heard, haven’t you? About my engagement? I’m sure Hoseok—I mean, my fiancé—has mentioned it to you, of all people. You are his best friend, after all.”

The inside of the shop is beginning to feel stifling. Perspiration trickles down your neck and you tug at your collar, loosening the material from where it’s plastered against your skin. “Sure,” you manage, once you feel like you can breathe again. “Right. Sure. The flowers are right this way, if you want to follow me.”

I’d forgotten how much I don’t like her, your familiar remarks dryly in your head.

Shut up, Bast.

Mercifully, he does. There’s a tug on your feet, and you glance down just in time to see him morph out of the shadow you cast against the sun-drenched floor. Ghostly and amorphous at first, he quickly solidifies into the feline figure you’ve grown accustomed to, and slinks protectively around your ankles before darting off to perch in the cushioned bay window seat.

Conveniently, that’s also where the flower display is. Colorful blooms and trailing leaves adorn the wooden shelves and tables in this particular corner of the shop, and you force yourself to shift back into professional mode as you come to a stop in front of an assortment of honeysuckle. “So, what kind of flowers are you looking for?” you ask, brushing your fingers along the pale yellow petals.

Nayeon hums thoughtfully and picks up a potted rosebush, examining it from all angles. “Roses, maybe. Are roses too clichéd now?” She brings the crimson buds closer and inhales, eyes fluttering shut. “No matter. I’ve always liked them.”

“They’re beautiful,” you agree, turning your attention to the selection of roses lining the topmost shelf. “Do you have a color preferen—?”

“Or maybe these would be better,” Nayeon interrupts, plucking up a pale pink calla lily from the bouquet you keep in a table display. “Or that one—what is it?”

You follow the trajectory of her gaze to a bunch of little white flowers with golden centers, stark against the dark dirt and surrounding green foliage. “That would be bloodroot,” you answer. “One of my personal favorites—it’s both ornamental and medicinal. It would look lovely in a bouquet.”

Nayeon pulls a face and shakes her head. “No, no—I don’t want anything with such a horrible name. What about these?” she asks, reaching up to take a closer look at a larger bloom. “Peonies, right?”

By the time Nayeon makes it back to the checkout counter with a few sample rose cuttings in hand, you’re fairly certain that several eternities have passed. “Is there anything else you need?” you ask as you ring her up and wrap the flowers neatly in paper.

“A discount for an old friend?” she queries, shooting you a playful wink. When you don’t answer right away, she giggles. “I’m kidding! Obviously, I’ll pay. It’s not like I’m pressed for money—I mean, you’ve seen who my fiancé is, right? Now gosh, where did I put my wallet?”

Your cheeks are beginning to feel far too hot. Nayeon is still rummaging in her purse, and you quickly duck beneath the counter under the pretense of looking for some ribbon to tie off the bouquet. Fanning your face, you take a few deep breaths, listening as she continues chattering away.

“We’re having dinner tonight, actually, Hoseok and I. It’ll be our second real date, and… wait!” She gasps, and you peer up just in time to see her slap a hand over her perfectly lacquered mouth. “You should come! Bring someone, if you can—it’ll be like a double date!”

If you can? Bast snipes. Curse her.

You sigh inwardly and straighten back up, ribbon in hand. Shut up, Bast.

If you won’t, I will.

You’ll do no such thing.

Mustering up your best, most earnest smile, you hand over the wrapped flowers along with her change. “That sounds like fun,” you tell her, ignoring the way your insides lurch at the lie. “When and where?”

Nayeon beams and rattles off the address of an unfamiliar restaurant. “Don’t be late!” she calls as she heads for the door. The bell jangles cheerily as she departs, and as soon as the door shuts behind her, Lisa pokes her head around a nearby bookshelf.

“Finally,” she sighs, walking over to join you. “I thought she’d never leave.”

Ordinarily, you wouldn’t dare speak ill of a customer, but you’re willing to make an exception today. “You and me both,” you reply, watching as Bast slinks over like a shadow and hops onto the counter beside you. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your elbow in silent solidarity, and you mindlessly begin scratching behind his ears as Lisa speaks again.

“Are you really going to go to that dinner tonight?”

You meet her gaze, shrugging. “I already said I would. Do I really have a choice?”

There isn’t much else to say, and both you and she know it. Pushing off from where she’s leaning against the countertop, Lisa flips her coppery hair over her shoulder and shoots you a look, brown eyes full of sympathy. “Good luck,” she says sincerely. You get the feeling that she wants to say something else, but decides against it at the last minute. Instead, she bids you goodbye and walks out with a wave and another chime of the bell. Silence settles over the shop once more, and you allow yourself a few moments to breathe—slow and deep, in and out—before picking up your phone and opening up the most recent text messages. It doesn’t take long to find the name you’re looking for, but you still pause, thumbs hovering over the keyboard, before you begin to type.

[4:21pm] You: how would you like to join me for a very awkward dinner date?

[4:21pm] Jin: consider me intrigued.

///

You and Jin arrive at the restaurant first. It’s an ornate, palatial place with tuxedoed waitstaff and a coat room, and despite giving the name ‘Jung’ at the door, you’re certain that Hoseok played no part in the venue selection. The host ushers you to a booth tucked in the back, the cushioned seats a velvety burgundy and a chandelier glittering overhead, throwing refracted, iridescent light across the veined marble table. All of a sudden, the simple black dress you’re wearing feels painfully inadequate. Glancing down at your feet, you wonder if you should have worn heels instead.

Beside you, Jin cuts a striking figure in a creamy silk shirt with ribbons that tie into a bow at his throat, the material loose and flowy up until where it tucks into fitted black slacks. His pink hair complements the elegant outfit perfectly, parted and swept off his forehead to reveal his dark brows.

As if reading your mind, he lays a gentle hand on your shoulder. “You look beautiful,” he says, before gesturing at the booth. “Now, do you want the inside or outside? Think you’ll need to make a quick getaway at some point?”

“Probably,” you sigh. Jin nods and sits down first, and you watch him slide across the seat cushion before settling in beside him. “I still can’t believe you volunteered to be here,” you murmur, plucking up one of the folded cloth napkins and fiddling with the crisp white edges. “You’re a saint, I swear.”

Jin chuckles and plucks the napkin from your clasped hands, laying it across your lap instead. “Not a saint,” he says, matching your soft tone. “Just someone who cares about you.”

Your cheeks warm at his sudden proximity. “Thank you,” you tell him, for what must be the umpteenth time. “I can’t even imagine what I’d do without you.”

“Good thing you don’t have to, then,” he replies with a grin. “Now, chin up. They just walked in.”

You can’t help the groan that escapes you. “Is it too late to run?”

“Afraid so,” he answers honestly.

And then Nayeon is slipping into the cushioned seat opposite you, syrupy smile in place on her berry lacquered lips. “Hi!” she chirps, laying a hand on Hoseok’s arm as he sits down beside her. “Sorry we’re late. We, um…” She pauses and shoots Hoseok a conspiratorial look, giggling. “... lost track of the time.”

Your magic flares, hot and bright in your veins, and you know Jin feels it too when he lays a cautionary hand on your knee beneath the table. “We weren’t waiting long,” he says, offering the two a genial smile. He’s perfectly polite as he and Nayeon exchange quick introductions, and gestures toward the assortment of menus on the table as soon as everyone has settled down. “Why don’t we order some wine to start?”

“Oh, that’s a splendid idea! Isn’t that a splendid idea, Hoseok?” Nayeon turns to the auburn-haired man beside her, and you do the same, gaze landing on Hoseok for the first time tonight. He’s in an all black ensemble, sharp jacket layered over a silky black shirt, the top buttons loosened to bare a tantalizing sliver of golden skin. His auburn hair is parted, a stray lock falling across his forehead, and you shiver when you realize he’s staring right back at you with dark, unreadable eyes.

At the sound of Nayeon’s voice, Hoseok seems to snap out of his trance, his expression smoothing out as he plasters on a smile. “Take a look at the menu,” he says, picking up the leather-bound book and offering it to her. “Dinner’s on me.”

You blink. “We can’t let you do that, Hobi.”

“Let me pick up at least part of the tab,” Jin adds, already reaching for his wallet. “I’m no corporate bigshot, but I do well enough for myself.”

“No need to be modest,” you chime in, nudging him playfully. “Weren’t you just telling me about your new restaurant opening on the way over? Next week, right?”

Jin’s ears redden as all the attention is turned onto him. “Next week, yeah.”

“That’s amazing!” Nayeon chirps, pressing closer to Hoseok. “We’ll have to check it out sometime. Maybe a date night, right, darling?”

Hoseok busies himself with rearranging his cutlery, swapping the knife and fork around. “Right—sure. If we ever make it up to Seoul, we’ll, uh… we’ll definitely stop by. Congratulations, man.”

The conversation continues. A server stops by to take your wine order, and Jin decides on a moderately priced bottle of cabernet sauvignon. Glasses are brought over, and wine is poured. Hoseok finishes his quickly and pours himself another, and though his wolf metabolism prevents him from getting drunk off of regular wine, you know that he’s a bit of a lightweight and tends to avoid drinking heavily no matter what the beverage. He’s drinking with a purpose tonight, and you’re beyond grateful when Jin pipes up with yet another story when the conversation lulls.

“And then I found out that the oven was on the whole time! Adam would probably let the entire apartment go up in flames just to spite me—I should watch my back.”

“Or, you know, just watch the oven more closely,” you tease. “I’ve seen your place, Jin—it’s a complete fire hazard. It’s a wonder it hasn’t burned to the ground already.”

Jin sniffs. “You’re exaggerating. Stop making me look bad.”

“You make yourself look bad,” you retort, laughing when his lower lip juts out into a pout.

Across the table, Hoseok clears his throat. “Speaking of fire hazards—did I ever tell you about the time {Name} set me on fire?”

“I did no such thing!” you protest, reaching over to slap his arm. “I mean, okay, maybe a little bit, but that was one time! And you were barely singed!”

Hoseok snorts out a laugh. “Barely singed? I couldn’t sit properly for a week.”

“Oh please, that’s a lie and you know it!”

Nayeon interrupts your conversation with a loud huff, setting her wineglass down with enough force to thud against the veined marble tabletop. “Do one of you maybe want to fill us in on the joke here?”

Abashed, you glance back at Hoseok, watching as his smile slowly fades back into the careful, neutral expression he’s worn all evening. “Sorry,” you murmur. “It’s an old story from when we were kids—when we first met, actually. We were seven years old, and it was the second day of school. I didn’t have a very good handle on my magic yet, and accidentally set Hoseok’s tail on fire during recess.”

“I preferred to run around in my wolf form back then,” Hoseok further elaborates. “There was a big field out behind the school—remember that, {Name}?”

You nod. “Of course. It went right up to the very edge of the woods. And if you kept going and went far enough, you reached the old wooden bridge.”

Hoseok is smiling again, soft and fond. “That thing was a death trap.”

“But the teachers could never keep us away,” you say, grinning at him.

“All right,” Nayeon interrupts again, sniffing disdainfully. “Enough about the old days—I think it’s time to talk about the present. And more importantly, the future.” She sighs happily and props her chin up in her palm, ensuring that the delicate golden band on her ring finger is on full display, the metal glimmering in the warm light. “You’re both invited to the wedding, of course. And I never did properly thank you for the flowers today, {Name}!”

Her words seem to come as a surprise to Hoseok, who straightens up in his seat. “Flowers? You visited Hellebore today?”

“Of course I did!” Nayeon hides a giggle behind a manicured hand. “I wouldn’t even think of trusting anyone else with my bouquet.”

Hoseok’s gaze skitters over to you, awash with concern and tinged with apology, but you ignore him in favor of forcing your expression into something that’s meant to be a smile. Yet no matter how much you strain your cheeks and stretch your lips, it feels—and looks, you’re sure—far more like a grimace.

“I’m happy to do it,” you lie, your teeth gritted and tight. “I don’t mind it one bit.”

///

“So. That was just as awkward as promised.”

You and Jin are walking back to Hellebore, leaving behind the bustling downtown area for the darker, quieter streets of your neighborhood. Your companion’s hair is tinged orange in the glow from the streetlamps, and you can only chuckle humorlessly when he turns to you and raises his eyebrows.

“Can’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I was duly warned,” Jin agrees.

A car drives by, the headlights throwing Jin’s profile into stark relief. His expression is solemn but he doesn’t say anything else and neither do you. The remainder of the walk passes in silence, broken only by the occasional strain of conversation from passersby and the low drone of late night traffic. You reach Hellebore with no incidents, and you muffle a yawn as Jin steps into the wardrobe to go back to Seoul.

Just before he shuts the door behind him, he shoots you a meaningful glance over his shoulder. “You should tell him how you feel, you know. He deserves to know. And you… you deserve to be happy.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and you don’t need him to. Long after he’s gone, his remark echoes in your head, and no matter what, you simply cannot seem to shake it.

///

It’s been years since you’ve last gone to the old bridge, but after last night’s conversation you find yourself pulled back, lured by the promise of memories of a kinder time. The forest beyond the field hasn’t changed much since your school days, and neither, you realize, has the bridge itself. It still stands tall, proudly spanning the steep ravine that your teachers warned you about, the rickety wood splitting apart at the seams and overgrown with lichen and climbing ivy. Far below, the white-capped river rushes by on its long, turbulent journey to the sea.

Carefully, you step onto the bridge—first one foot, then the other. The energy in the air shifts as soon as your feet leave the loamy earth, finding traction instead on hewn wood, and you sigh as your fingertips brush against the railing. The magic here is an old magic—different from the ancient magic that dwells in places like the werewolves’ clearing and the realms of the fae. The low thrum of it fills the air and seeps into your veins, quickening your pulse and prickling your skin.

“I thought you might be here.” The voice comes from your left, barely audible over the rush of the river.

“You thought right,” you reply, stepping forward until you’re toeing the railing and leaning over to stare down into the swirling, eddying waters below.

Hoseok joins you at the edge. His profile is stark against the leafy green backdrop, and for a few moments, all is still. Then: “I’m really sorry about last night.”

The apology hangs in the silence for a few moments before fading into the sound of churning water and wind whistling through the trees. You suck in a deep breath, oxygen swelling your lungs until you can hold it in no longer, before letting it escape in a resigned sigh.

“You don’t have to apologize to me, Hoseok.”

“Maybe not. But I want to.” He shoots you a sidelong glance. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

You raise a brow. “Make it up to me? And how exactly do you plan on doing that?”

“Anything you want.” Hoseok smiles crookedly, but you can’t quell the tumult brewing in your belly.

“What do you want, Hobi?”

His smile fades. “I—” He stops and shakes his head, auburn hair flying. “It doesn’t matter what I want. This is about you.”

You gaze up at him, taking in the sharp cut of his jawline and the straight angle of his nose. Your eyes trail along the smooth slope of his rounded cheeks and the soft curve of his mouth, lingering on the little mole atop his upper lip.

And then you reach out and take his hand, savoring the way his fingers immediately, comfortably settle into the spaces between your own. “Why don’t we head down to the river?” you ask. “It’s been a long time since we’ve been, and I’ve missed it.”

Hoseok’s expression softens, a glimmer of something bright shining in his amber-flecked irises. Gently, he tugs on your hand, taking the lead as you leave the bridge behind and head north in search of the sloping path that will take you down and into the ravine that houses the riverbed. You chance a few glances over the treacherous edge, watching the water froth and tumble over the rocks.

“You know, this seems a lot more dangerous now than it did back then,” you muse. “I see why our teachers were always trying to keep us away.”

“We were kids back then,” Hoseok says, grinning. “We thought we were invincible. Nothing could touch us.”

“Simpler times,” you agree with a laugh. “I set your tail on fire, you cried—”

“—and then we became lifelong friends,” Hoseok finishes, joining in your mirth. “Easy-peasy.”

Together, you locate the path down to the ravine. The descent is easier than it was back then, your longer limbs extending your reach, but you’re grateful for Hoseok’s steadying hand all the same. He carefully guides you around the biggest rocks and tree roots, pulling you closer when you lose your footing near the bottom. His fingers remain twined with yours even after you’ve safely arrived at the riverbed, stepping across stones that have been worn smooth and warmed by the sun. You slip off your shoes, letting them dangle from your free hand, and Hoseok does the same.

Sunlight glitters off the water, throwing a thousand refractive diamonds across the surface, but when you dip your toes in you find that it’s cold as a mountain spring in autumn. That doesn’t stop Hoseok from bending down to splash you though, and you shriek in surprise before retaliating with a silent spell that sends icy water splattering across the faded denim of his jeans.

“That’s not fair!” he protests. “You can’t use magic!”

“I’m just using every resource available to me,” you reply with a sly grin, sending a swelling wave of water toward him with a lazy twist of your hand.

From beneath his drenched hair, Hoseok raises a challenging brow in your direction. “Oh yeah?”

Before you can even blink, he’s shrugging off his jacket and pulling his shirt over his head, baring a taut, honeyed abdomen and toned arms. Tossing the discarded clothes onto the bank, he unfastens his belt and lets that drop as well, fixing you with a crooked little smirk all the while. The muscles in his torso ripple.

And then he’s shifting—limbs elongating and reddish-brown fur sprouting from his skin. His remaining clothing rips under the strain of the transformation, floating downstream in tattered shreds, but you don’t pay them any mind. No matter how many times you’ve watched Hoseok shift, you’ll never quite get used to it. He hunches over, more beast than man at this point, his chest rumbling. And before you know it—before you can even pinpoint exactly when the transformation is complete—he’s standing before you as a massive russet wolf, baring ferociously sharp teeth that you know could easily tear a man limb from limb.

His eyes, however, remain the same—warm, molten brown flecked with amber and gold, a devilish twinkle lurking in their depths. You cock your head to the side in a silent challenge, and swear that the wolf in front of you grins before pouncing forward, landing in the river with an enormous splash that leaves you thoroughly drenched.

“Now we’re both soaked!” you cry in between giggles, watching as Hoseok emerges from the water, his fur dampened black and dripping. “How is this a win for you?”

Hoseok rears back and lets loose a triumphant howl, shaking himself out and further drenching you with the spray of water from his coat. You squeal and back up several steps, batting him away, but Hoseok just presses closer and nuzzles his wet face into the crook of your neck. His body heaves with every breath, flaring hot against your skin, and for a few long moments, you simply stand there, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck as icy water rushes past your ankles.

After what feels like an eternity, you step back, releasing Hoseok and staring up into his face. Even in his wolf form, he towers over you, and you reach up to stroke his muzzle tenderly before bopping him on the nose. “Come on,” you murmur. “Let’s dry off.”

Hoseok lets out a low rumble of agreement, and together, you make your way back to shore. You fold up his discarded clothing while he trots off to locate his shredded jeans, quickly finding them caught between some rocks and carrying the denim tatters back over to you in his teeth. Shaking your head, you add it to the growing pile and lay a hand atop it. Heat concentrates in your fingertips, mingling with the magic running through your veins. Stitch by stitch, his jeans repair themselves, drying in the process. Hoseok bumps your cheek with his nose in gratitude and darts off to change, and you dry your own clothes while you wait.

When Hoseok returns, he’s reverted to his human form, fully dressed and raking a hand through his damp hair. “Thanks for drying these off,” he says, flashing you a sheepish grin. “And for fixing my pants. Again.”

“Mending charms are easy,” you reply, and it’s the truth. Over the many years you’ve known Hoseok, you’ve mended his clothing countless times—from the accidental transformations in his early years, before he could control it, to the calculated ones as he got older. Hoseok doesn’t shift terribly often nowadays, but on occasion he still goes out to stretch his muscles and hunt with his pack. His grandfather, in particular, always made the time to take him hunting at least once a month. You wonder if he’s gone since he passed, but decide not to ask.

“Should we go see the Towers?” you ask instead.

“Lead the way,” he agrees, falling into step beside you as you head downstream. The ravine walls are higher here, decorated with gnarled roots and rocky outcrops that obscure the periwinkle sky and cast long shadows across the ground. Cairns begin to crop up on both sides of the river—each tower of stones carefully and deliberately stacked. They’re small and scattered at first, but gradually become taller and more frequent until you’re nearly surrounded by a forest of stone. The air grows noticeably heavier—the magic more potent. It almost feels as if electricity is dancing across your skin, the sparks sinking into your pores and melding with your soul.

Hoseok feels it too, if the look of awe in his eyes is any indication. “I can’t believe I’d nearly forgotten about this place,” he marvels, running a finger across one of the stacked stones. “Do you feel that? The magic?” Then he chuckles. “Wait, of course you do. What am I talking about?”

You smile softly, tracing the path his fingertips leave behind. “Yeah, Hobi. I feel it.”

The topmost stones are almost out of your reach now. Reaching into your pocket, you pull out a gray pebble about the size of your palm—a near perfect disc veined with white. Gently, you place it atop the cairn closest to you, watching it glint in the sunlight for a moment before turning to your companion.

“Well?”

Ancient legend dictates that as long as an offering is left, one may take a stone from the Towers. You and Hoseok have each acquired a rather sizable collection during your childhood years, lured by the promise that the stones will bring about good fortune and happiness.

“I forgot to bring something,” Hoseok admits, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “But I can pick one out for you. Hang on…” He hums thoughtfully as he scans the towering pillars, tapping his chin until he alights on one in particular, plucking up a stone that’s been worn smooth, burnished orange and marbled with ivory and copper. “What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” you reply, admiring the way the marbled surface glitters in the sun.

Hoseok takes your hand and places the stone gently in your palm. “It’s yours.”

Then he’s off—stepping over a fallen log to admire another tower, brushing a curious finger across a moss-covered rock before glancing over his shoulder at you. “Coming?”

You nod, tucking his gift away safely in your pocket. Together, you carve out a path amongst the towering cairns, clambering over river rocks and brushing aside the dense undergrowth. The path opens up again gradually, revealing the burbling water to your left and the steep ravine wall to your right. The river is calmer here—clear enough to see all the way to the bottom where shimmering, silvery fish dart about. A low, flat rock juts out into the water a short ways away, and Hoseok strides over to plop atop it, gesturing for you to join him.

“This is nice,” he sighs once you’ve made yourself comfortable by his side. “The fresh air is doing me a world of good. I’ve been cooped up at the office for so long, I swear I almost forgot what trees smell like.”

“You’re more than welcome to sniff around the shop if you ever need a reminder,” you tell him, nudging his shoulder playfully. “Better yet, I’ll bring you a plant for your office. Spruce up the place a little bit.”

“That sounds great, actually,” he admits with a chuckle. “I don’t have your green thumb, though. I’ll probably end up accidentally killing it.”

“Something low maintenance, then,” you promise. “A succulent, maybe. When should I bring it by?”

Hoseok’s expression sombers. “You can always stop by tomorrow after the hearing.”

Your heart plummets into your stomach. The Ministry—the overarching government body that dictates all Shadowfolk affairs—summons every pack alpha for a confirmation hearing when they first come into power. “They’re holding the hearing? Already?”

He nods. “The Ministry’s summoned me for tomorrow morning. First item on their schedule, I’m pretty sure.” A resigned sigh escapes his lips, dissipating into mist on the air. “And there’s a party at JungTech HQ afterward. You know. So my dad can officially hand the reins over.”

“The most powerful man in Gwangju,” you murmur, thinking back to Lisa’s words.

Hoseok lets out a derisive snort. “Yeah, right. The most powerful man, beholden to his dad, the Council, and the entire fucking Ministry. It doesn’t matter what I want to do. Never has.”

It’s the second time he’s dismissed his feelings, and as much as you want to ask what it is he truly wants, you find that the words are stuck in your throat, your mouth suddenly as dry as the desert on a cloudless day. Instead, you lay a silent hand over his, feeling his warmth seep up into your palm.

“Hey.” Hoseok doesn’t tear his gaze away from the sky, watching a flock of birds fly overhead. “Yesterday, when Nayeon said she’d stopped by… did she say anything to you?”

The sound of her name leaving his lips leaves a sour taste on your tongue, but you swallow it down. “Not really,” you tell him. “She looked at some flowers and invited me to dinner. Simple as that.”

Hoseok nods slowly, lips pursed. “Was Jin already there when she came?”

You blink. “Jin? Oh, no—no, he wasn’t. I texted him after Nayeon left.”

“Ah.”

“I’m glad he was free, though.” You stare down into the water, where a curious fish swims in and out of the shadow you cast. “I’m honestly not sure who I could’ve invited if he hadn’t been available. Plus, it’s been ages since I’ve had dinner with him, and it’s been a few months since you’ve seen him too, right? I’m really happy it worked out.” You’re rambling now, but you can’t stop yourself. Hoseok has become eerily still, lost in introspection, and you feel obligated to fill the silence.

“You two make sense, you know.” Hoseok’s voice comes suddenly. “As a couple. Both witches—it makes a lot of sense.”

You peer over at him, eyes widening at his assumption. “We—we’re not actually together, Jin and I. We’re just friends.”

Hoseok straightens at that, his gaze flitting down to meet yours. “Really?”

“Really.”

A beat of silence. Hoseok looks like he wants to say something else, but a quiet buzz from his pocket stops him in his tracks. His mouth clamps shut as he checks his phone, teeth clicking together, and you can tell from the sudden tension in his jaw that it isn’t good news.

“Do you have to head back?”

He nods stiffly, silent apology written all over his face. “Work calls.”

You offer him a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry about me. Go on. I’ll see you tomorrow after your hearing.”

He nods again and turns to leave. Before he can take too many steps, though, you call him back, reaching into your pocket to pull out the stone he’d gifted you earlier.

“Take this,” you murmur, pressing it into his hands. “I’m pretty sure you need it more than I do right now.”

Hoseok’s fingers curl protectively around the stone, holding on like it’s his only remaining lifeline. “Thanks.”

///

Downtown Gwangju is a monochrome forest of towering glass and steel, clamorous and unchecked by nature, proudly defiant in the face of the earth mother herself. The sidewalks are awash with people rushing back from their lunch break, forcing you to dodge around several businessmen too absorbed in their phones. Just as you are finding your footing again, a hapless intern carrying a tray of coffee cups rushes past, nearly crashing into you.

“Oh, shi—sorry! Sorry, oh, jeez. Are you okay?”

You wave off his apology with a smile, taking in the ill fit of his suit and the messy knot of his tie. “Don’t worry about it,” you tell him, reaching out to help him steady the tray in his hands. A stabilizing spell—silently cast, the magic pulsing through your fingertips—should be enough to get him back to his office with no additional mishaps. You wonder if he’ll notice that his tray is suddenly more well-balanced, or that his hands have steadied.

But then again, you suppose it doesn’t really matter whether he does or not.

Somehow, someway, you make it to JungTech without running into anyone else. The receptionist recognizes you immediately and points you toward the elevator with a smile, and you thank her as you press the up button. It doesn’t take long to arrive, and you take a deep breath as you step inside, staring at your reflection in the mirrored walls.

All right? Bast queries, stirring awake in your mind.

You release the breath that you’d been holding in a long whoosh. Yeah. I’m all right.

The doors open on the top floor, and straight away, you are assailed by a cacophony of sounds. Scattered conversations and laughter intermingle with the clinking of champagne flutes. There are at least fifty people scattered around the open space that lies between the elevator and the glass-fronted CEO’s office at the very back—the office that bears Hoseok’s name on the door. There’s no sign of the man himself, but you have no doubt that he’s nearby. This entire party is a celebration for him, after all.

The elevator doors begin to close, and you quickly reach out to stop them, stepping out before it can protest at your dawdling. A young man in a pristine white shirt materializes on your right with a tray full of champagne flutes, and you pluck one off with a murmur of thanks. Sipping slowly, you wander around the perimeters of the party, listening to the lively chatter. Across the room, you spot Lisa, returning her friendly wave with one of your own.

“Hello, {Name}.”

The deep, familiar voice has you whirling around in an instant, head bowing in automatic deference. “Mr. Jung,” you murmur, not quite daring to look him in the eye. “It’s been a while.”

Hoseok’s father inclines his head in acknowledgment, salt-and-pepper hair gleaming beneath the fluorescent lights. No doubt he was a handsome man in his younger days, but the salt in his hair has steadily overtaken the pepper in the last few years, the stern lines around his mouth deepening.

“I didn’t know you would be joining us today,” he says cordially. “But then again, I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised after all these years. Have you been here long?”

“Not long. Five minutes, maybe.” Beneath his piercing gaze, you feel like a small child again. Quickly, you scramble for something else to say, gesturing around the sleek glass interior of the office. “This is a lovely party. You must be so proud.”

Another nod. “I wasn’t sure that Hoseok was going to step up,” he admits. “I had my reservations about whether or not he would accept his duties as a Jung, but he has, and I’m pleased that he did. It’s no easy feat, running this company and leading the city’s pack. But I’ve served my time, just as my father did before me.” His gaze flits down to meet yours suddenly, and you find that you can’t read the emotion swimming in them. “I believe I spotted you at his funeral the other day, did I not?”

You nod, resisting the urge to take a sip from your nearly empty champagne glass as your cheeks warm under the scrutiny. “I was, yes. I’m very grateful to have had the opportunity to pay my respects. He was a great man.”

“That, he was,” Mr. Jung agrees. “Hoseok takes after him in many ways. My father—as great as he was—always had a soft spot for the boy. Coddled him a bit too much.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Jung, I think that’s a grandfather’s job,” you reply with a smile.

That earns you a smile in return, the lines around his mouth easing. After exchanging a few more pleasantries, Hoseok’s father excuses himself to talk to the other guests, and you set off in search of Hoseok himself. You can feel his aura somewhere nearby, strong and steady, but the room is large enough that you cannot pinpoint his exact location. Not for the first time, you curse the fact that you don’t have a werewolf’s sharp sense of smell. No doubt it could easily be as cumbersome as it is helpful, but it would certainly help you right now.

Turning a corner, you are about to continue lamenting your average olfactory system when you suddenly catch a glimpse of familiar auburn hair, afloat in a sea of black suits. Dodging around a sharply dressed businesswoman and ducking beneath a waiter’s serving tray clears your path to Hoseok, and you’re milliseconds away from stepping forward to greet him when you feel it.

There’s an energy emanating from Hoseok, the likes of which you’ve never felt from him before. It’s heavy and commanding and so potent that the air is laden with it, and a cursory glance at the people surrounding him reveals that they feel it too—their gazes lowered, voices hushed and respectful. In his fitted black suit and emerald green shirt, he looks every bit the alpha he is, and you are quickly realizing that you’re not immune to the power radiating off of him. The Hoseok standing before you isn’t the same Hoseok whose tail you set on fire all those years ago. Far from it. The revelation is somehow simultaneously terrifying and thrilling, and your heart leaps into your throat when you notice that he’s waving you over.

As if compelled, you comply, striding forward until you’re standing before him. “Hi,” your murmur, suddenly feeling shy.

Hoseok’s face splits into a smile. “Hi yourself,” he says, and you would have laughed if your insides didn’t feel like they were about to burst.

“I, um. I brought you your succulent,” you tell him, reaching into your bag. There’s a tiny potted jade plant inside, packaged neatly into a box that you open up and present to him. “It’s jade. Easy to keep alive, and easy to propagate too, if you’re inclined.”

Hoseok accepts your gift, his smile growing as he admires the plump green leaves. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

You shrug and wave off his gratitude, fiddling to clasp your bag shut. “So,” you start, glancing around and gnawing on your bottom lip, completely missing the way Hoseok’s eyes darken as he follows the movement. “It looks like everything went well at the Ministry. Your dad is pleased.”

Hoseok hums, low in his throat. “You talked to him?”

“Yeah, just now.”

“I see.”

He looks like he wants to say something more, but he’s interrupted by a blur of motion and a shrill cry of his name. A moment later, Nayeon is at his side, latching onto his arm and batting her lashes, adorned in a form-fitting red dress and golden jewelry.

“Hoseok! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you!” Then her gaze alights on you, eyes going wide as if she’s only just noticed your presence. “{Name}, oh my goodness. I almost didn’t see you there, hi!”

“Hello, Nayeon,” you grit out, unable to hide your scowl. You wonder if she spotted it before you hid it behind a large sip of champagne.

Luckily, she doesn’t seem to notice. Her attention refocuses onto a spot behind you, and you watch as her expression lights up, delight etching across her features. “Mr. Jung!” she exclaims. “There’s my favorite future father-in-law. Come and join us—it’s not a party without you.”

Hoseok’s father chuckles lightly, coming forward to stand beside you. “Long time no see,” he jokes, nodding in your direction. “And Nayeon—hello. How are you enjoying the party?”

“Oh, I’m having the loveliest time,” she chirps, simpering up at Hoseok. “How could I not be, when my fiancé is here with me?” Then she smiles—her lips painted the same shade of red as her dress. “But I’m sure I’m nowhere near as happy as you are. You must be beyond excited to spend some quality time with your wife after being busy for so long.”

“I am,” Mr. Jung admits. The severity in his features softens as he seeks out his wife, standing across the room surrounded by friends and extended family. “I’m a very lucky man to have a woman like her.”

Nayeon giggles. “And I’m a lucky woman to have a man like your son. Isn’t that right, darling?”

She tilts her head to look up at Hoseok, who blinks twice in rapid succession, his throat bobbing. “Right,” he says, his voice raspy. “The luckiest.”

And as you turn to engage Mr. Jung in conversation once more, you miss the way his gaze lingers on you.

///

Tuesdays at Hellebore are for brewing. You save bottling for Thursdays—giving your potions and other concoctions ample time to simmer and set—but today, you are hunched over the stove with all four burners turned to different temperature settings, watching over your pots so that they don’t boil over.

A cursory glance out the window tells you that it’s well into the afternoon, the pastel blue sky littered with trailing clouds lit hazy and golden in the sun. You’ve been in the kitchen since early morning, and, desperate for a breath of fresh air, you crack the window open and inhale deeply. Then you turn back to the stove, giving one pot a stir and adding a pinch of burdock root to another.

Wandering downstairs, you head to the greenhouse. The sunlight is brighter here, the air more humid. Inhaling deeply, you breathe in the scent of the hundreds of plants growing inside, before heading for the laburnum tree in the far corner. Carefully, you brush aside the cascading golden flowers, about to gather the dried ones that have fallen to the dirt when there’s a knock on the front door.

“I’m sorry, we’re close—” you say, stopping when you recognize the head of coppery red hair in the window. “Lisa?” Confused, you open the door and let her inside. “What brings you here today?”

“You need to go to Hoseok, now,” she says, foregoing any preambles. “He’s… well, you’ll see. Nayeon’s there right now, but she’s not helping the situation, and...” She sighs. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only one who can help him now.”

All at once, your stomach drops to your toes. “What’s wrong with Hoseok?” you demand. “Is he hurt?”

Lisa shakes her head, red hair flying. “No, he’s fine. I don’t know how much longer that’ll last, though.”

The cryptic response sends your heart into overdrive, pounding against your ribcage like a doomsday drum. Striding over to the bay window, you wake Bast from his nap in a slanted ray of sunlight, scratching behind his black ears and watching as his golden eyes flicker open, pupils going wide when he senses your turmoil.

What is it?

Hoseok, you reply shortly. Beneath your touch, Bast’s ears perk up.

What do you need?

You swallow, hard, and suck in a deep breath. I’m going to open a portal.

It’s a dangerous feat, and both you and Bast know it. Opening a portal requires an immense amount of energy, and maintaining one long enough to travel through is a risk to even the most experienced witches. You’ve heard horror stories of spliced limbs and paralysis, and in some cases, even death.

But for Hoseok, you’re willing to risk it all.

“Lisa,” you say, grabbing your purse and striding back to the front door of the shop. “Can you lock up once I’m gone?”

She nods nervously. “Of course.”

You incline your head in silent thanks. At your feet, Bast is slinking continuous figure-eights around your ankles, betraying his worry at the task ahead. Your own heart feels ready to spring out from your ribcage and onto the sun-drenched floor, but you swallow down your nerves and look down at your familiar once more. Ready? you ask.

Ready, Bast confirms. Be careful.

I will.

Closing your eyes, you begin to visualize Hoseok’s front door, focusing on every little detail you can remember. There’s the scuff in the black paint from when he first moved in and accidentally scraped a table leg against it. There’s the bronze knocker that always hangs slightly askew. The image builds slowly in your mind, coming together like the broken pieces of a puzzle.

The air around you is suddenly much warmer than before, an invisible force sapping away at your strength and weakening your legs. Bast’s energy melds with yours, but it’s barely enough to keep you on your feet. Exhaustion seeps into your bones and steals the oxygen from your lungs. You gasp, chest heaving.

I don’t think it’s going to work. Bast’s voice is a faint whisper in the back of your mind.

It will, you hiss. It has to.

The front door of your shop is beginning to glow white, becoming hazy and amorphous as the edges begin to blur. You spot a splash of black paint coming through the fog, followed by a bronze knocker. A matching handle appears a moment later, growing out of tendrils of mist and solidifying before your eyes.

Sucking in a deep breath, you reach forward to grab it. Slowly, you turn until you can turn no longer.

And then you step through.

The first thing you hear is a low, cavernous rumble—deep enough that you feel it reverberating through your very bones. Then your surroundings begin to come into focus. You’re in Hoseok’s entryway, all your limbs thankfully intact. The relief you feel at your success is quickly eclipsed by worry though, when you see Hoseok himself on the far side of the living room. The look in his brown eyes is nothing short of wild, his white shirt unbuttoned to nearly his navel and his auburn hair sweaty and disheveled.

“H-Hobi?” Your voice is no more than a breath, dissipating in the open air.

“Hoseok.” The new voice has you whirling. Nayeon is pressed against the wall opposite him, her expression harried. “Hoseok, please—“

“Get out,” Hoseok growls, his voice dangerously low. He’s bristling with the same energy as before, the same energy you felt back at JungTech—but this time it’s enough to fill the room and spill out the opened door and into the hallway. You can feel it pulsing against your skin, hot and electric, and know that Nayeon is even more affected from the way her shoulders slouch, her eyes dropping to the floor when he snarls. “Get out, now.”

She does. Nayeon turns on her heel and dashes out, slamming the door behind her and leaving you alone with Hoseok. His eyes are alight with something more wolf than man, his chest heaving with uneven breaths, and it’s all you can do not to shrink back when he turns his full attention onto you. Even from across the room, you can smell the liquor spilled across the coffee table in a dark ooze of fluid, cloying and bitter.

“What are you doing here?” Hoseok asks, his voice cracking on the last syllable. “You shouldn’t be here right now, {Name}.”

“Lisa told me to come,” you whisper. “You’ve been pushing yourself too much, Hoseok.”

Hoseok shakes his head and rakes a frazzled hand through his hair. “You need to leave,” he grunts. Shakily, he reaches out to right the overturned liquor bottle, the pad of his thumb skimming across the shattered edge.

“Let me do that,” you tell him, making to step forward, but Hoseok stops you with a raised hand and a low growl that stops you in your tracks.

“Don’t,” he hisses. “Don’t you dare come any closer to me.”

You shake your head. “Hobi, it’s obvious you’ve been drinking. Let me help you.”

“No!” he snarls, flinching back when you take a step forward. “You need to leave. It’s… it’s dangerous for you here.”

“Dangerous?” Your voice is reduced to a whisper at the severity of his reaction, the energy in the air intensifying until it’s almost unbearable. “Why?”

“Because I’m in heat!” Hoseok spits. He sucks in a deep breath, the air whistling between his teeth, before he lets out an agonized moan and pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m in heat,” he repeats, reticence dripping from every syllable. “I can’t even fucking think straight, and I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you if you stay. So please, {Name}. Please go.”

“But Nayeon…” you begin, wavering when his eyes flash darkly at the mention of her name. “Or Lisa… I can call her, maybe—”

“No!”

You jump, startled at the volume of his shout.

“No,” Hoseok repeats, softer this time. “Don’t. I don’t want them. I’m—I’m fine.”

The sticky humidity and the pulsating energy flowing through the room tell you otherwise. “You’re clearly not,” you tell him gently, taking another step toward him. “Let me call Lisa. Or maybe one of the other girls in the pack, I’m sure someone can help y—”

“I don’t want Lisa.” Defeat suffuses his tone, his eyes fluttering shut. “I don’t want any of them. I want—fuck.” Hoseok groans and lets his head fall back against the wall, the dull thunk echoing in the stillness. “It doesn’t fucking matter what I want. You need to leave, {Name}. You’re only going to be in danger if you stay.”

For the second time that afternoon, only one word springs to mind. “Why?”

Hoseok groans again. “Because I’m weak,” he mutters hoarsely. “Because I’m weak, and I’m not thinking straight, and if you come any closer to me, I won’t be able to stop myself from pinning you against that wall right there and having my way with you.”

Your breath hitches in your throat. The rippling energy in the air is almost oppressive in its strength, and only grows when Hoseok’s gaze finally lands on you, his pupils blown out and blacker than the night.

“Go,” he entreaties, dragging a frazzled hand through his hair. “Please, {Name}.”

You suck in a deep breath, your lungs swelling and expanding with the newfound oxygen. Then, ever so slowly, you let your gaze flicker up to meet his. “What if I don’t want to?”

Hoseok freezes. Time comes to a standstill, and even the overwhelming energy emanating from him seems to falter. The room is near silent, broken only by your companion’s ragged breathing, his chest heaving beneath the thin white fabric of his shirt. Even from across the room, you can see the sheen of sweat coating his honeyed skin, shining in the light of the setting sun.

“You don’t mean that,” he says at last. “You can’t mean that.”

“I can,” you whisper. “And I do.”

For three agonizingly long seconds, Hoseok remains rooted firmly in place, his throat bobbing harshly. Then, before you can even blink, he’s striding forward—a blur of motion almost too quick for your eyes to follow. He comes to a stop a hair’s breadth from you, one hand reaching up to cup your face delicately, as if you’re made of glass.

“You,” he rasps, “have no idea what you’ve just done.” His thumb traces the swell of your cheek just below your eye, the motion surprisingly tender. Your heart stutters in your chest.

And then he leans down and crushes his mouth to yours.

The rest of the world falls away, dissolving into nothing. Your eyes flutter shut as Hoseok’s hands slide down your sides to curl around your hips, your body melting against his taut frame. He is all you can feel and all you can taste, and you keen helplessly when he grinds against you, his cock hot and hard against your stomach.

The sound seems to awaken something in Hoseok, a cavernous groan erupting from his throat. Pulling away from your mouth, he descends upon the delicate skin of your neck, teeth and tongue blossoming bruises in their wake. Shaky hands find the collar of your shirt, questioning eyes seeking out yours for permission that you happily give. He tugs the garment off almost delicately, his ravenous gaze roving across each bit of newly revealed flesh, and once it’s freed from your head he tosses it aside and sets about doing the same to the rest of your clothing.

Maybe it should feel odd, watching through lidded eyes as Hoseok drops to his knees to pull your jeans down and off your ankles. Maybe you should feel embarrassed, seeing your best friend bury his nose between your legs, delirious bliss etching across his features as he inhales, his strong fingers curling around your thighs to spread you wider. But instead, it feels completely and utterly natural—as if this was always meant to be.

“You smell divine,” Hoseok breathes, slotting himself between your spread thighs and running a fingertip along your lace-covered slit, collecting the considerable slick there and bringing it to his nose. “Fuck, {Name}. Just one whiff, and I can tell that you’re primed and ready for me.”

“Take me, then,” you breathe back shakily, rolling your hips when he slips past the lacy barrier of your panties to find your clit, circling around the sensitive nub until you’re gasping his name.

Hoseok’s gaze darkens to obsidian, his pupils swallowing up the amber-flecked brown of his irises. In one smooth motion, he’s on his feet again, straightening up to his full height as his hands find purchase on your hips. He twirls you around until you’re facing the wall, your palms pressed flat against the woven tapestry hanging there.

“Gorgeous.” A single word, laced with unmistakable awe. Then he’s fumbling with his belt buckle, the metallic clink and tug of a zipper reaching your ears, before he presses against you, clothed chest molding against your bare back. Even through the thin layer of fabric, you can feel the sweltering heat emanating from him, his sweat soaking through the cotton and sticking to your skin. His mouth finds its way to the junction of your neck and shoulder again—teasing at the flesh until you’re quivering—before he begins laying a trail of hot kisses down your spine.

“Wanna fuck you,” Hoseok rasps, tearing your panties away once his lips reach the waistband, the flimsy lace ripped to shreds in his desperate grip. “Want you on your front, want you on your back, want you on my tongue—” His voice drops, rumbling through his chest and sending shivers through your entire body. “Want you. Wanted you for so long.”

And as if to reinforce his words, the velvety head of his cock nestles against the cleft of your backside, hot and slick.

Wordlessly, you arch your back, presenting him with the tempting swell of your rear. A glance over your shoulder reveals the strained clench of his jaw and the bob of his throat, his biceps tensed and his gaze unwavering. His control is undoubtedly dangling by a single thread at this point—a delicate, gossamer thread that’s on the verge of snapping. The delirium of his heat is overtaking his senses, his grip tightening on your hips, and ever so slowly, he begins to press forward until the tip of his thick cock is just beginning to part your walls. Already, the fit borders on excruciating, and your body tenses at the intrusion, stretched to the limit around his thick girth.

Hoseok exhales shakily, his primal instincts warring with his desire to ensure your comfort. Soft lips drop kiss after kiss onto your bare shoulders, your back, your neck—wherever he can reach as he whispers tender praises into your skin. “Breathe, princess,” he encourages lowly. “You can take it—I know you can. You were made for me.”

Obediently, you inhale, focusing on the way your lungs expand and contract as you draw air into them. The pain ebbs away with each breath you take, until all that is left is a low throb of pleasure. Your hips rock back against him, and Hoseok takes it as a sign to push forward once more, parting your walls until he’s fully seated inside you, your body stretched to the limit as you mold around him.

There’s no pain now—only an aching desire for more, more, more. He’s deep enough to reach parts of you that you’ve never been able to explore before—either alone or with other partners—and you moan brokenly when he rolls his hips experimentally. “More, Hoseok,” you whimper. “Please.”

He obliges. One thrust leads into another, the punishing pace he sets fueled by his heady desperation for relief. The full, heavy weight of his cock dragging along your walls ignites every nerve ending in your body, sizzling electricity blazing through your veins. It’s all you can do to plant your palms flat against the tapestried wall, fingers twitching at the woven fabric as Hoseok grabs your hips with enough force to bruise and pulls you back against him in time with his thrusts.

“Look at you,” he says hoarsely. “Love the way you feel, clenching around me like that. My perfect, pretty girl, taking my cock so well. I always knew you were made for me.” He grunts, forehead falling against your back, damp hair matting against your skin as he continues rutting against you. “Always—fuck—knew you were my mate.”

The particularly harsh thrust that follows his raspy declaration sends all coherent thought flying out of your head, taking your surprise along with it. All you can manage is a shuddery whine that vaguely resembles his name, the sound intermingling with the obscene smack of flesh against flesh and the continuous stream of praises Hoseok whispers into your skin.

There’s something building inside you—a dull, throbbing pressure at the point where your body joins with his. He’s still rolling up into you, but each subsequent thrust grows more and more shallow. The realization dawns on your dazed mind all at once, as you feel the growing swell at the base of his cock. Hoseok is rendered near immobile as he finally reaches his high, the entirety of his length sheathed firmly inside your pussy as he spills ropes of white against your fluttering walls. The swelling continues, filling you until you feel fit to burst.

“H-Hoseok,” you gasp. “I can’t. I can’t—you’re going to rip me in half.”

Soothing hands smooth along your sides, warm lips littering kisses onto your bare shoulders. “You can,” he murmurs tenderly. “You were made for me, and I for you. You can take it, princess. I know you can.”

The gentle repetition of his fingertips trailing nonsensical patterns into your skin eases your labored panting somewhat. Beneath his touch, you slowly relax, the pressure in your abdomen abating as his knot begins to subside.

“You did so well.” His voice is no more than a mumble, almost lost in the sweat and slick coating your skin.

You sag against the wall, taking a few moments to catch your breath before slowly easing off of him, the sudden loss leaving your core empty and aching. Gingerly, you turn around to face him, acutely aware of the way your combined juices immediately begin dribbling down your thighs.

“You said I was your mate,” you whisper, almost afraid that the sentiment will disappear if voiced aloud. “Did… did you mean that?”

“Every word,” Hoseok replies, equally soft. “Is that okay?”

A smile blooms across your face. Rising up to your tiptoes, you kiss him again—a soft, reassuring peck that he immediately leans into, seeking out your touch like a flower in the sun. “More than okay,” you breathe, feeling the way his lips stretch upward against yours. “I’m glad, Hobi.”

Hoseok sighs into your mouth, a slow smile settling across his features. “Now it’s your turn,” he says, and in an instant, he’s swept you off your feet, one arm beneath your bent knees and the other around your back. “And I’m planning to take my time with you, princess. You’re not leaving here until I say so.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, crossing your hands at his nape. “Fine by me,” you tell him, earning yourself a wide grin. His lips seek out yours again as he carries you down the darkened hallway and into the shadowy depths of his bedroom, pausing only to nudge the lightswitch on with his elbow. Golden light suffuses the room as he steps forward to lay you on his bed, your back sinking into the plush mattress and dipping further when he joins you. He hovers over you with an arm on either side of your head, and you reach up to trace the vein that lines his biceps with a gentle fingertip, giggling when he gives your bottom lip a punishing nip.

The kiss deepens from there. Hoseok parts your lips and seeks out your tongue with his own, subduing it into compliance. By the time you pull apart, all the oxygen has left your lungs, leaving you flushed and gasping. Hoseok chortles breathlessly and trails down to press a kiss to your navel, before traveling downward until he’s reached your clit. Gently, he wraps his lips around the sensitive nub, rumbling with laughter when you buck against him.

“So needy,” he murmurs. To your displeasure, he straightens back up to kneel between your spread thighs, but your complaint quickly dissolves into thin air when he edges forward until his knee is pressed against your aching clit. Desperate for more friction, you grind against him, your wetness soaking through his jeans in a matter of seconds.

It doesn’t take long for pressure to build up in your belly again, winding tight as a coiled spring. Hoseok is staring down at you, transfixed, and his undivided attention only serves to bring you closer to the edge, teetering on the very brink.

“Look at you.” His voice could almost be described as a purr, if he weren’t so utterly canine in mannerisms and appearance. “Such a greedy little thing, all desperate to get off. You’re making a mess of my new jeans, princess.”

You’re too far gone to care about the teasing lilt that colors his tone. The edge is rapidly approaching, and one last roll of your hips is enough to send you over, your walls convulsing around nothing as you ride out your high.

Hoseok doesn’t wait. In an instant, he’s back between your legs, having moved so quickly you didn’t even see when he’d started or stopped. His tongue darts out to lave at your folds, a growl rumbling through his chest when your hips jump on instinct. Immediately, he tightens his grip, strong arms winding around your thighs and anchoring at your waist to render you helpless in his grasp, only able to take what he sees fit to give.

“How is it that you taste even better than you smell?” Hoseok muses as he leans down to suck your clit into his mouth, lips curling up into a pleased smirk when you gasp out his name. “Cute,” he says, releasing the nub in favor of descending to your drenched entrance instead, flicking his tongue shallowly inside before withdrawing with a chuckle.

“Hoseok—” you begin, only to dissolve into a moan when he sheaths two fingers inside you without any warning, curling them up and in until you’re shaking in his grasp.

“Come for me,” he commands softly. “Go on, let me hear you.”

And you do, chanting his name like a mantra as a wave of pleasure overtakes you. Hoseok’s thumb circles your clit in just the right way to prolong your orgasm, and it isn’t until you’re cringing from overstimulation that he finally relents, descending down to mold his mouth to yours in a searing kiss. His lips part yours, tongue dipping out to explore as he sheds his shirt and shucks off his ruined jeans. His skin, when he presses against you, burns hot as a furnace wherever it touches. Against your stomach, his cock stirs back to life.

He’s gentler this time. Every movement is slow and deliberate and tender as he breaches you, murmuring your name reverentially as he fills you again. Your body bows to his willingly, stretching to accommodate him, and the spike of pleasure that lances through you when he bottoms out is almost enough to send your oversensitive body over the edge again, your walls fluttering around him.

There’s an unmistakable shift in the air when Hoseok starts up a slow rhythm, leaning down to kiss you again. His lips move against yours, soft and tender, before moving past your jugular and down to the crook of your neck, elongated canines scraping against the delicate skin in a silent question. You wind your arms around his neck and nod, giving him his answer. There’s no need for words.

And then his teeth are sinking into the spot he’s so lovingly scoped out, breaking the skin. Your body collapses into a searing orgasm, and the pleasure intermingles with the pain of the bite until you are delirious, rendered boneless in his grasp. Hoseok’s hips stutter, his pace growing erratic as he soothes the wound over with his tongue.

You’re prepared for the swelling this time, but the fullness still manages to knock all the air out of your lungs, bordering on painful as his knot grows. Hoseok quells your whimpers with tender kisses, the instinct to comfort his mate paramount even as he paints your walls with ropes of creamy white. He traces a path from your lips down to where he’s marked and claimed you as his, imbuing your skin with a litany of praises that warm you from the inside out.

“My mate,” he murmurs, reverent. “Finally.”

You lean into his touch with a tired smile. “Finally? How long have you wanted this?”

His lips curl into a smile against your clavicle. “Ages. If I’m honest, I think I fell in love with you the day you set my tail on fire when we were kids. It’s always been you, {Name}. Only you.”

You can’t help it—you need to hear it from his mouth again. “You love me?”

Hoseok chuckles. “Of course I do. My tricky little minx—my perfect, pretty mate. I love you more than anything.” One hand reaches up to caress your cheek, running along the tender skin beneath your eye before cupping the back of your head so he can mold his mouth to yours. “Love you more than I can even explain,” he breathes, punctuating each word with a kiss. His hands blaze trails down the slopes of your body until he finally anchors below the crook of your legs. “So why don’t you let me show you instead?”

And he does. Over and over that night, and in the two days of his heat that follow, he shows you exactly how he feels. Propriety is forgotten, left by the wayside with his scorned fiancé and marriage. He is yours, and you are his.

Consequences be damned.

⇢ aftermath.

also set in this universe:

[myg]

[waywardsunlight]

Belos theory but I noticed something about his team. Lily really seems to struggle with mental illness and he uses that against her, especially her sense of self worth and identity. Hunter is similar, except it’s even worse because Belos is full on physically abusing him to keep him in line. Hunter also struggles socially and has anxiety attacks and CPTSD and has a disability analogy with his inability to do magic. Kiki is terrified of getting replaced but also actively wants to harm Hunter and has a mental breakdown. Raine has some type of anxiety or anti-social disorder. Darius is very aloof and doesn’t seem to be aware of how his tone reads to Hunter or he is and he’s just kind of out of it. Eber is more grounded but is still absolutely okay with killing innocent people lmao. Terra is trigger happy and self centered, and Adrian Graye is extremely self absorbed and uncaring.

I 100% think that Belos looks for people who are either have a mental illness/disability that makes it more difficult for them to fight him or people who he believes are uncaring. Like I think Terra, Odalia, Adrian, Darius, Kiki etc aren’t actually struggling with anything but Belos picks these people to manipulate because he sees that he can take advantage of them which is why he doesn’t nominate anybody after Lily for EC Head and appoints Hunter, because Hunter is somebody he’s already got control over and knows that Hunter has those anxiety attacks + reliance on Belos so if he becomes a problem Belos feels that he can get rid of him more easily. Eda asks how Raine became the Bard Coven Head and while I think Raine is the best of the best, Belos was willing to look past or actively wanted to hire somebody with anxiety because he’s got a M.O.

Obviously this doesn’t work for him because he totally misread Darius and Eber, and Raine definitely shows him up. Also, his grip on Lily and Hunter fades with time as their reliance on him also fades and they both realize that he’s making them emotionally worse rather than supporting them like he claims he is. People with disabilities are so much more likely to be the victim in an abusive relationship and I think that’s true with Belos, he preys on people with disabilities.

Caleb, like Hunter, also appeared to struggle with reading expressions or understanding Belos’s intentions, exclusively played with his brother as a kid so he wasn’t super social or adjusted, and is optimistic and trusting to a fault. Belos is a serial abuser so it makes sense to me that he figured out that Caleb believed the best of him and also maybe struggled a bit with tone + missed a lot of the red flags. Not that Caleb didn’t realize Belos was a POS but that Belos learned he could take advantage of that? Bc he does it to Luz also, Lilith says he says exactly what she wants to hear, and Belos is definitely falling into his MO with her.

Also not saying that any of the vaguely mentally ill or disabled characters are easily tricked, they clearly aren’t and Raine, despite their anxiety, is the first to really go for it and rebel. Belos made a mistake in thinking that the disabled staff members were any less motivated or any easier to manipulate than anybody else lmao. I just think that this is how HE thinks. Like, “I’m gonna support Raine or Darius to be coven heads because I can take advantage of them”. Idk just thoughts.

[supremeinlilac]

Into the light (I'll hold you)

Pairing: Coven!Cordelia Goode x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Slow dancing in the greenhouse.

Word Count: 2557

Warnings: Self doubt, angst.

A/n: Canon divergent, H*nk doesn't exist and Delia's acid attack never happened, although she has still had the Sight previously. Was saving this fic but fuck it, I'm posting it now😌

Halloween.

The night of eerie suspense and the lingering sense of being watched. You enjoyed the days festivities when you were younger, skipping excitedly door to door under a white sheet with your friends.

This Halloween would be your second at Miss Robichaux’s, the first you’d all gone out to a party and got a little too drunk, returning to an irritated Ms Goode. It had been the first time you’d kissed her, and she’d rejected you because of the state you’d been in.

Still, it was the night that had started the path of your relationship with the headmistress.

You loved Halloween.

This year, Fiona Goode, reigning Supreme, returned to the academy. You were instantly weary of her, due to the fact Delia never liked to bring her mother up in conversation of her past. When you’d overheard her telling your girlfriend that she was wasted potential in the school, a prickle of icy anger called the hair at the nape of your neck to stand rigid.

You and the rest of the witches had decided to stay in, watch films and play games. It wasn’t often that everyone could get together to celebrate an evening where witches were celebrated, so they wanted to make the most of the friendly atmosphere that surrounded them. It never lasted long in the coven.

Fiona went out to a bar, her witches hat crooked atop her head and you found yourself glaring at her as she left. The woman alit a flame inside you, one that easily spread and engulfed your powers, fire licking hotly at the tips of your fingers and threatened to overpower you.

Cordelia had stayed behind with you, much to her mother protest, to have a quiet night while the rest of the hubbub would be concentrated in the living room. You were both wrong to think that there’d be no disturbances.

The shattering of glass fractured the silence in your shared room with Cordelia. She’d been braiding your hair, an intimacy that the pair of you rarely found time to do together. She hummed the song you were sung as a child, a habit that she’d picked up in your time at the coven, the action now second nature. It no longer only served to soothe you, but now it brought her comfort too.

Her fingers stilled in your hair, head snapping to the door. You heard a couple of loud thuds and shouts, and then her hand was clutching yours protectively.

“Hey Cordelia?” You heard Queenie shout up the stairs, “you best look outside.”

She was off the bed like it had burned her, drawing the curtains back to show the slow advance of the people outside. You heard her shaky inhale, before she fisted her hands in her trousers and turned to you.

“It’s just the locals. Playing tricks on us, you know how Madison likes to irritate them the rest of the year. Lord knows we’re not the best neighbours,” her face looked serious but the waver in her voice betrayed her. She sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than you.

It had been a blur after that, shouting and running, and Cordelia slipped out of your grasp. You’d been fighting, had a kitchen knife pressed into your hand by, Zoe, maybe? No. It had been one of the other girls.

They wouldn’t die, those zombies, if that’s even what they were. You’d slashed at a part of them that they shouldn’t have been able to get back up from. Yet it did, limbs flailing and reaching spindly towards you.

Knocked to the ground, you think you must have passed out. But not before you’d seen Cordelia trying to defend the house, eyes furious and scared and dark.

You remembered the purr of the chainsaw, the splatter of blood. The silence that hung after.

The next day you found Cordelia sat at her usual bench in the greenhouse, frows furrowed in concentration as she mixed ingredients with the gentle crack of test tubes and vials. You could see the anguish behind hooded eyes, it was clear that she’d been restless last night, down here long past when everyone else slept.

You had seen her from your window as you’d been drawing the curtains the night before, standing over the pile of haphazardly thrown bodies of the zombies. You weren’t sure how long she’d spent there, not wanting to disturb her until now.

She’d also been absent at both breakfast and dinner, with the excuse of paperwork, but you could see through the thinly veiled lie. You brought her a sandwich and a yogurt, setting them down on a bench before pulling a chair up beside her to watch her work.

Cordelia could mix potions and restore plants without thinking, her craft a lovingly perfected dance in which he moved around the greenhouse with practised ease, plucking vials off the shelves and balancing glassware in steady hands.

Her hands shook. Slightly, almost unnoticeable was the small tremor but it indicated her unease. There was blood still crusted under her fingernails.

You softly coaxed her to put the glass down with fingers around her wrists, guiding her to look at you before lazily lacing your fingers together. She whispered a greeting with a small smile, almost as if she hadn’t registered your presence until you’d touched her.

“I feel like I failed everyone. My girls.” Her voice cracked languidly, eyes falling to where your hands joined on her lap, her nails scraping at your skin nervously. “How can I be headmistress when I cannot protect you all?”

“It’s not your job to do it all alone.” You reminded her gently, thumb brushing over whitened knuckles, following the dip and contour of her skin. “Cordelia.”

A single droplet of shimmering water does not sink a ship. A single cloud cannot shield the sun. A single parent could spend years doubting their worth, unaware that it takes a village to raise a child.

No single person can bear the weight of the world’s troubles without crumbling.

Not even Cordelia, whom you thought could harness the sun if she willed it, could do everything herself. It simply was an unrealistic expectation that her mother had used to weigh her down with.

“Look at me, baby. You are not alone, okay?”

When her head lifted slowly, the light caught the water in her eyelashes, diamond tears shimmering and rolling down the curve of reddened cheeks. You were quick to coo at her, hand coming to cradle her face so you could lean to kiss them away, salt on your tongue.

She shook her head, refusing to look at you and you felt hopeless, like a bystander on the site of an accident. As much as you tried to couldn’t get close enough to her to help, to comfort her as she needed. Running in a dream, tripping over a mere breath and wading through syrup as you tried to escape.

“I’m a failure.”

You found yourself shaking your head, the phantom of a protest falling from your lips, how could Cordelia think that.

“Everything that Fiona says is true.” She continued, head falling into her arms on the desk. Your hand rested on her back, a gentle reminder of the comfort you could give her if only she asked for it. If only she would accept it when you would give it to her anyway.

“I don’t belong here.” Whispered from under her hair which hid her.

Cordelia didn’t realise her own worth, and you wondered if anyone ever truly does.

Does the night sky know its beauty? Or does it envy the blue of the day? Does it wait for the sun to kiss its head and grant it eternity. The night sky is rich with light, if it would only look deep enough within itself to find it. Burning stars and planets reflecting the sun, a kaleidoscope of colour on an ebony canvas.

Cordelia would often look at pictures of her absent mother when she believed to be alone. She was secretly envious of Fiona’s effortless graceful command and hold that she had over the whole coven. She believed her own magical abilities to be inferior to that of the Supreme’s, but it was an unfair comparison, for a Supreme would always persist.

She thought that it meant hers weren’t strong enough, scared for eventualities like the previous night, that she would fail at the role of protector. But she hadn’t failed, she’d fought just like you and Zoe, and it was just the luck of the draw that Zoe’s fear would trigger her Power Negation.

But Cordelia held such raw natural, burning potential that you’d habitually find yourself staring as she practised spells. Eyes following the deft flow of her fingers as she’d manipulate movement. She’d had the second sight within her, so at least on a subconscious level she must know her power.

“You belong here. And look around you, look at this place. Yourgreenhouse.”

“You made it into what it’s become. It’s you.” You spoke, letting yourself spin to appreciate all the work she’d put into this place, into herself.

Cordelia lifted her head, hair falling from her eyes and crowning her face as she followed your gaze to the hanging planters, the glass vials. To the floor that she’d swept only days ago, leaves starting to litter the stone again.

She watched you run fingertips over the exposed brick on the wall, your attention solely on her work around you. She could see the adoration in the iris’ of your eyes, alight with your honesty. You gaze returning, always, to her as you walked to her.

Tentatively, you reached out for her. Was she yet ready to accept your help, your love as you wanted to give it to her?

Still unsure, Cordelia shied away from your comforting touch, head returning to her hands.

“You don’t have to live behind Fiona’s words anymore.” You whispered into her temple, as if straight into her mind.

Sometimes it is easier to live in the shadows than to confront those who cast them.

She’d spent her whole life cowering in Fiona’s shadow, growth and development stunted from the lack of light. Self-belief fractured into a gaping crack.

She’d been trapped, dark and alone with a mother figure who didn’t love her in a way she understood how to be loved. They both loved each other then, and ove each other now, but sometimes mere love isn’t enough. It isn’t consistent enough to be safe. You can love someone and still hurt them.

You had spent time working on her confidence, creeping back into the light and into herself again. Breaking down the thoughts that had grown to immobile threatening walls that only served to block the light more.

All it had taken was one night of Fiona being back for all that progress to retreat back to where they’d been hidden. Cordelia had urged you then to back away, to leave her and grow by yourself, that she was only holding you back.

But you gritted your teeth and grinned in the face of the devil. You weren’t scared of the dark. And you’d be damned if you were leaving it without your girlfriend. Even if you had to start right back at the beginning, you’d help her to heal.

“You could be the next Supreme.” You urged, pulling her head from where it rested on the table, forcing her to look in your eyes and see your honesty.

“Don’t say things that aren’t true.” She begged, vision hazed by tears.

“But it is true, Delia. You’re so powerful.” You pressed, eyes conveying your severity like your voice couldn’t. Willing her to believe.

You reached to brush the tears that clung to her eyelashes before they fell and stained her face. A lingering kiss to her lips, the feeling of her lower lip wobbling between your own. In that moment, you could feel her fragility.

You didn’t want to push further, knowing that she may never truly believe in her full potential like you did. Instead, you pushed yourself to feet and bounced in front of her. She looked up in confusion, eyes still full with tears that caught the light, and you wanted nothing more than to kiss them away again. They didn’t deserve to dampen her skin.

“Dance with me?” You asked, standing and offering a hand the way you’d so often seen in movies.

A shy smile formed on the headmistress’ lips, cheeks pink and the tips of her ears flushed as she allowed herself to be pulled from her seat. Into the shine of the moonlight, which shone beams of liquid silver through the glass onto the hard stone and the soft of Cordelia.

Your arms secured themselves around her waist while hers stroked the back of your neck. Moments like this made you wonder if perhaps the cliché’s people told you about love had been true. Maybe this could be forever. It always felt like forever when you were in her arms.

You swayed to phantom music, slow and deliberate, soft touches and kisses on bare shoulders. You felt like even a whisper would shatter the perfect peace you’d enveloped you both in, sending ripples of doubt over the sheer water and to Cordelia again.

The moon felt like perfect company in that moment, like a third person, watching and waiting. A witness to the silent change.

Cordelia pressed her forehead to yours, her fingers splayed through the hair at the back of your head, holding you close. You could see the depth of her eyes, searching for the lie in yours that wasn’t there to find. You truly believed that she was the next Supreme, she had to be.

“Say something.” She breathed, hand on your waist dancing under the hem of your top, cold fingers on warm skin.

“Like what?” You asked, pulling back momentarily so you could smile at her. The hand that was behind your head tucked hair behind your ear and brought your hand from her shoulder so she could press lips to your knuckles. The ridge of bone under the soft of her skin and then she was hugging you again.

“Anything, I just want to hear your voice.”

So you told her about yourself. Stories she’d never heard and memories you’d thought you’d forgotten. Whispers of your past shared with your future.

She nuzzled her chin into the crook of your neck and listened, breathing deep the smell of your perfume that clung, lingering to the collar of your clothes.

A laugh.

Rippling up your throat at reminiscing a memory, vibration muffled against her ear at your jaw, and Cordelia swore that she could feelyour emotions. Truly feel you, and she realised that you couldn’t lie to her. Couldn’t will yourself to say something untrue just to still the aching beat of her heart within her chest.

You couldn’t make yourself want to mend her. You didn’t want that. You wanted to help her heal. Heal from her past that held less joy and laughter than yours did.

You wanted to help her create memories of her own, just like this.

Slow dancing in the greenhouse.

Dancing in the dark under the glow of the patient moon.

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[originalwinnercheesecake]

First Impressions and predictions based on the coven Leaders

After a full first season their fame adorning the banners and walls, who they are being hailed, yet they themselves being kept in the shadows we now get first looks (and throughout 2a will meet) the emperors top dogs: The coven leaders. I will not lie as a group... these guys dissappoint me. Making the majority of them very human in appearance for me is a big no. Compare this group to the many colorful and fantastical creatures that are shown teaching at hexside and the hexside teachers are far more creative, unique, and fun. Maybe the artists decided to make the coven leaders look more like normal people so the audience would have an easier time understanding their expressions and body language. Maybe the more humanoid whitches are a higher class and have a easier time climbing higher than the more beast and demon like residence.? We will have to wait and see. 

Seperate this group into individuals (like how we will hopefully meet them) and most of them become far more interesting, So below lets take a look at each coven leader individually, where the artists may have taken inspriation, and what  What kind of characters they could maybe turn out to be.

The Beast keeping coven Leader: One of the only two that are not humanoids. What type of animal is he? At first I was sure he was a hedgehog, but maybe he could also be like a chipmunk or a squirrel. I get the feeling he might be partially inspired by Sonic from Sega. I was really into Sonic back in middle school. I liked the cartoons and read through the archie’s old comic series. But I kinda out grew him since then. I know from helping to take care of kids though that he is still popular with the younger generation. That’s kinda how I thin the Beast Keeping Coven leader will be: less interesting for older viewers, but a real fun charcter for kids.

The Healing coven leader: Now this guy looks like fun villain all around. Is some kind of witch docotor? a Dark Priest? The size the purple Grin, he looks like the phantom boss from those horror films where you get trapped in nightmares. Tell me he has scary theme song music and talks in a very high pitched voice. I’ve heard some people wonder if he could be Selena (oracle girl from hexside)’s dad. I don’t thinks so, the macaroni crescent shape n his head looks more like a fancy cowl than part of his actual head. Also him having a daughter in Luz’s class could be used as a reason for him to change sides, I want this guy to stay as a villian/antagonist. We all know that with this size group some will stay with the emperor and some will defect to Luz’s side (possibility a couple will die, we haven’t seen yet just how dark Dana is willing to go). Personally my view with redemption arcs and if a character “deserves them” is it depends on what it will do for the story/character afterwards? IF redeeming them opens more doors for the characters and directions the story can take, do it. IF it closes doors leave them as they are. I absolutely hate when clever and well written bad guys get “redeemed” in to boring, plot useless, weebs. The only reason I could see having this guy change sides is for him to “cure” Eda and Lilith’s curse, and I would much rather see the two of them gain control over their forms than be “cured” of them.

The Illusion coven leader: Another fun looking antagonist. My third favorite of these nine. If the healer guy is horror movie based. This guy is Disney based all around. Looks like one of those Vegas suave showmen styled character. Love it. I guarantee you he does not actually look that young or slicked back, but is using illusion magic to make himself more pretty. Not sure if he will stay with the emperor or not. Illusion is Gus’s track and I could see Dana having the leaders of Luz’s friends tracks be the ones to stand by them. If so I am fine with that (in the case of the abomination leader I will beg for it). Gaining the respect of someone as high up as a coven leader could be really great for Gus’s character. Just as long as I get plenty of laughs from Gus and this guy both along the way.

The Potion coven leader: My second favorite and in my opinion the most creative idea of the whole bunch. A mosquito that works in potions! Does he suck them up with his nose and carry them in.. whatever it is mosquitos store blood in. Also he looks angry. Like everyone else is either amused or board. This guy is fed up and ready to do something about it. Not sure if it is the Emperor, the other leaders, or the owl gang he is mad at, but it should be a worthwhile show down.

The Abomination coven leader: Yes this is my favorite design. Yes it is because he is such a beautiful man. Would never have expected someone who creates mucks (the pokemon) with legs would be so fine. Its more than that though. He looks the most kind. Their is no malice or guise in his smile and his green eyes are bright and relaxed. I wondered what the purpose of the Abomination track was and why it had “more opportunity” all last season. Well slight spoilers if you haven’t seen episode 2x02 it is the industrialist field. When you learn about Industrialization usually the idea is that it is done to help the human race reach its full potential, and it is up to each individual to decide what to do with that potential. Whether you call that the passion of a creative mind or the carelessness of a fool would also be up to you. But I really don’t want this guy to be all bad. If for no other reason that more spoilers for episode 2 * with the interest/caution the emperor is showing the blights I expect this guy to show up to their house, probably meet Amity, and we really do not need another not so nice adult in her life. She has had enough.

The Oracle coven leader: What is this? He’s got nails/caws at the ends of dread thingys like Kikimore, so is this her father? Does he have anything to do with her being in the Emporor’s coven? But this is my least favorite. Like what was the inspiration behind this guy? With so many legendary oracles in mythology and we get this guy who mostly looks saggy, washed out, tierd, and just Blah. Hope thier is more to him, but here is one who I am not holding my breath for an episode on.

The Plant coven leader: based on her banner I was expecting something like the Swamp Giant from ALTA. Instead they went in the direction of a very traditional witch desgine: An old women with a wrinkled face and really messy hair, who probably lives alone in the woods, with maybe the exception of a cat, and dances around a fire at night. Okay. She is definitely going to become an ally of the owl gang. This is the only female of the group,and it is neither in Dana’s message nor would it be popular with her target audience to make a villain or even an antagonist out of a women who managed to climb the later into a male dominated success level. I am actually looking forward to seeing her, because it will probably be in a Willow based episode, and after 2x02 (which I personally feel should not have been a luminaty episode but rather a Willow and Amity one finishing up their reconciliation arc), Willow deserves an episode with potential centered around her. An episode where she goes against the Plant track Leader would be that. This witches Grin isn’t exactly friendly, but its more mischievous than wicked. She gives off vibes as one of those people who like to test the mains, and if you pass her tests than you earn her respect. I have no doubt Willow could win at her little games, and doing so would be a huge boost the confidence she has spent the show building.

The Construction coven leader: Oh joy here’s the other one I am unimpressed with. Unlike with the Oracle guy I know where they got his design. To everyone saying that we first saw him at the convention, your not backing far enough up. If you have ever seen any cartoon ever where the main character wanders past or onto a construction sight you have seen this man. Every trio of workers sitting on a iron frame eating from a lunchbox. Every pig that makes a catcall at a disgusted women. Every exhausted worker who watches as your slapstick mains chase each other past at quitting time... they all looked EXACTLY like this guy. This is really the character leading the track Dana herself has said she would pick to join? They could have done a Golem made of brick an stone that resembles a palace. They could have done some kind of humanoid ant with super strength. They could have done a wizard with shapes and mathematics on his robe who carried a scroll everywhere that he compulsively scribbled blueprints onto. But instead we get Mr. Generic here.

The Bard coven Leader: This is R, Eda’s old friend from her hexside days. Did I save R for last because of this connection? Partially. I am also unsure what R’s pronouns are. To me R looks physically male. I have seen other posters use “she” when posting about R. One person posted that Dana had confirmed R uses “they” and if so awesome, I would really like to see that tweet. What ever R’s pronouns though their appearance in the show will be tied with Eda, er past, and what she had to give up in order to live free. I look forward to this new insight onto her character

[justalarryblog]

Tuesday Snippet 👻🎃

It's not a Sunday, but it's a Tuesday snippet! haha Thank you so much @zanniscaramouche @allwaswell16 @thedevilinmybrain @local-troubled-writer @wadey-wilson @larry-hiatus @cyantific @loulovehome @bluecolouredlou @jacaranda-bloom @disgruntledkittenface and @crinkle-eyed-boo (phew!) for tagging me all this time to share a snippet. This is a piece of the Halloween round robin I'm writing with the discord crew. I hope you all like it! 🧡 I'm tagging you all back!

"So you're telling us that it’s really a supernatural creature?" Zayn asks, looking at Niall with disbelief. The leprechaun hums positively as he takes a big swig from the mug filled to the brim with Guinness.

“Exactly,” Niall confirms, wiping his lips with his shirt sleeve. "I just couldn't identify what creature it is."

“Alright, let's go over what Niall has found out so far,” Liam says, pulling the chair closer to his desk and picking up the paper where he'd been taking notes for the past two hours. "You said the trees were…’weeping’, right?"

“Yes, but it wasn't a common weep. I have never seen trees in this state. They were also emitting a strange sound like it was a chant that I couldn't make out what it was.”

Liam adds the information to the list, “Dark aura, darkness surrounding the place, ‘hiss’? What do you mean by that?"

“I couldn't understand it, but the earth had a hiss, like a…”

"Like a rattlesnake?" Harry clarifies.

"Yeah, I think so. It was difficult to identify so many things with the entire forest as it is. It seemed like all of it was talking at the same time and I'm still trying to digest everything and separate it coherently.”

“Can't you make an effort? If we don't get anything concrete, we don't have much to do,” Zayn insists, earning a menacing look from the leprechaun.

“Look, I'm doing the best I can, okay? You weren't the one who received a whirlwind of information and had to see beings whom you have a special affection for in the unhealthy state that they were in!"

“Okay, okay, let's calm down! We all want to solve the case and we don't need two more people here bickering at each other, a faerie and a vampire is already enough!" Liam interrupts while Harry and Louis gasp at what they hear.

"But we didn’t even-"

"Enough!" Liam smacks the table, startling everyone. “Zayn, go to the morgue, see if you can get more information on the children's bodies. Louis, try contacting the coven and see if the vampires are already awake and if they can remember anything. Harry, if it’s possible, please take Niall to your house. When we have collected more information, I believe he will have had enough time to remember everything that is necessary for us.”

Everyone leaves the room, each mumbling their complaints. When Harry, Niall, and Louis get to the entrance of the police station, Harry turns to Louis and sees him with a thoughtful expression.

"Is everything okay, Lou?"

He visibly notices the vampire coming out of his daze and nodding. “Yeah, I just… It's nothing; I'm going to the coven to see if I can find anything else. Meet you here later?”

“Uh no, it’s better to not… I think the three of us will get more information by ourselves for now, so…” Harry takes Louis' hand and traces an invisible pattern with his index finger as he mumbles something. Once it's over, a lavender light symbol glows. Louis’ eyes widen as he looks at his hand. “It's the coordinates for my house. Show up when you can,” Harry explains, smiling slightly.

Louis clears his throat and looks to where the spell had hovered over his skin, nodding in agreement. "Okay, I will."

Harry watches Louis leave and turns to Niall who is watching them with a mischievous smile. "What?" he asks, feeling his face heat up.

“Nothing, it's nothing. I’m just wondering how long both of you have had this crush on each other.”

"What? Th-There is no crush at all, I don’t even know what you’re talking about!"

"Of course, of course, keep saying that until one day, maybe, it comes true."

Harry sighs in frustration and runs a hand through his hair. "It would be nice if you got back to your normal size, so it's easier to take you home," he says, changing the subject.

Niall rolls his eyes, but shrinks anyway, Harry setting him on his shoulder before they head home.

Before getting any further than the doorway of his house, Harry uses a spell to check if everything is fine. When he doesn't detect anything abnormal, he puts Niall on the ground and soon the leprechaun returns to human size.

“I… I'll heat up some food, and then I’ll fix a room for you,” the faerie says, heading into the kitchen and leaving Niall to look around on his own.

"Your house is very interesting," Niall comments as he sees Harry entering the living room again. Harry sees Niall touching the marble pothos hanging in one corner of the room, the plant shivering in response. He smiles at that and thanks Niall.

"Come upstairs, I'll show you to your room."

Harry opens the guestroom’s door and with a flip of his hand, the room organizes itself into a cozy room.

"I'm going to take a bath before I eat, make yourself at home," Harry says with a nod, leaving Niall to his own devices

Harry enters his suite's bathroom and fills the bathtub with his favorite scents. He feels the tiredness and stress of the day finally hit him, and when he dips his body in the aromatic water, he hums contentedly. When he closes his eyes, his mind takes him back to a time he has long since forgotten.

I'll also tag: @lululawrence @kingsofeverything @haztobegood @hazzabeeforlou @greenfeelings @beckydoesthings @softfonds @snowy38 @chloehl10 @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed @brightgolden @evilovesyou @beelou @whatevertearsyou @foreverfanficaddict and @vintageumbroshirt