#well at least werewolves are probably gonna win

[cfrog]

My final artfight attacks! There's still like 14 hours left, but I'd like to spend that time sleeping.

In order, we have Aelius (@moonchemistry), Sage (@noonbeam17), and Maya and Remm (@clematys)

[gamerwoo]

Bang Chan: The Girl Who Didn't Cry Wolf (Part Two)

Characters: Bang Chan x fem reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, enemies-to-lovers-ish??, slowburn, werewolf/alpha!chan, (werewolf)hunter!reader, angst, a tiny bit of fluff, mentions that reader moved to korea, if i missed anything lmk!!

Word count: 1,953

Summary: You've learned to do whatever you can to protect yourself after an incident almost a decade ago had your father and brother dragging you to a new country to start all over even though they blamed you for what happened. After finding yourself stuck in a house of werewolves, you're forced to come to terms with your feelings over what happened back home when the alpha imprints on you and his pack claims they're keeping you prisoner. You know exactly how this will end if you give in, and yet you can't seem to get yourself to leave the sweet and charming werewolf who's willing to do anything to make you comfortable. You're just hoping that maybe there'll be a good end this time.

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“So am I your captive or what?”

Chan paused, looking up from his food, “What?”

You looked back at him, still chewing a mouthful of food, sitting criss-cross on his bed while he ate on the bed opposite yours, “Are you holding me hostage here until I… I don’t know, do whatever I’m supposed to do? Succumb to Stockholm syndrome or something?”

It was the next morning when Chan knocked on your door once again, and he didn’t actually expect you to open the door for him. You looked back at him with no expression, just blinking as he stared back in surprise. He was frozen seeing you cooperating even a little bit.

Strange werewolf hunter, was all he could think.

He had told you breakfast was about to be ready, but then you scowled and stated you weren’t going downstairs to eat with the pack. Were you holding a grudge against the two members of his pack that you’d scuffled with? Well, yeah. They both hurt you pretty badly – especially that Seungmin guy. If you had a chance, you’d give him a piece of your mind.

So a few minutes later, Chan returned with two plates of food and with a grin, said he was going to eat with you upstairs. So that’s what you were doing. And, again, he was shocked you were letting him keep you company. You were…oddly nice for a werewolf hunter – or supposed werewolf hunter.

“There’s no Stockholm syndrome if you’re not captive,” he chuckled with a shrug. “I guess…yeah, you could leave if you wanted.”

You were surprised by his answer, freezing mid-bite and just staring at him for a moment. He stared back, raising his eyebrows for your response.

“You’re not gonna force me into being your mate…?” you quizzed slowly, surprised that he was telling you that you had the option to leave.

“I mean, you and I both know I’m a hell of a lot stronger than this door. If I wanted to do anything to you, I could’ve by now, but you survived a night here. Woke up safe and sound,” he pointed out. “Besides…you could probably kill me if you wanted to.”

While that was true, you didn’t know if he could sense you didn’t have any plans to do so – at least not to Chan. You had started out as a hunter, but after fleeing to Korea, your father started training you and your brother to hunt werewolves specifically. And while you might’ve been really good at most parts of the training, it didn’t mean you liked what you were doing. But you wouldn’t let your father or brother know that.

“I don’t really have any weapons that could subdue a werewolf, though,” you reminded him.

“Well maybe if someone didn’t try to pull a knife on one of my pack,” he cocked his head and gave you a pointed smile.

“Nobody got hurt,” you scoffed, going back to your breakfast.

“There would’ve been a round two in my kitchen if I didn’t catch you before you jumped Minho,” he stated.

Okay, maybe he was right. However, the question of if you’d win that fight or not was definitely debatable considering you only had that tiny pocket knife as your weapon. Among…other reasons. But again, you were unsure if he knew that. He must’ve. He probably didn’t sense any werewolf hunter with you in the house, which was actually embarrassing on your part.

You were just grateful your father and brother lacked the senses that werewolves had.

As you settled into a surprisingly comfortable silence as you ate, your mind began to wander as it tended to do since ending up in this situation. And there was a lot to think about considering Chan was a werewolf, and you were a werewolf hunter who had…very strange circumstances.

Despite the fact you were training to be his sworn enemy, Chan didn’t seem to care. It was like he completely disregarded whatever instincts he had, and had given into the mating pull already. How he managed to just let go without a care, you weren’t sure. Your favorite answer was that Chan was just crazy and didn’t know how to be careful. But you figured it was because of how strong the pull was. Because if what the hunters taught you was correct about the strength of the pull, it would lead a person to do some very crazy and dangerous things…

But you were crazy, too, weren’t you? Because you hadn’t threatened him, tried to harm him, or even tried to run away once. You stayed in his bed when you woke up that morning and just thought. You didn’t try to sneak out or scream for help. You were letting this werewolf hold you captive, but he wasn’t even holding you captive. You were just staying at your own will at this point while his arms stayed wide open, giving you an out.

Yes, both of you were crazy. But maybe you were crazier than he was because the pull wasn’t even as strong for you as it was for him.

So, to at least keep a shred of your pride, you broke the silence and said, “Don’t think that this means I trust you now. I only wanted sustenance.”

“Of course,” he smiled, rolling his eyes. “Wouldn’t dream of it, hunter.”

“Your alpha must be angry with you,” you mused, putting a little less food into your mouth this time. “You’re a stupid wolf for imprinting on a– werewolf hunter.”

You hoped he didn’t notice how you hesitated with your words for a split second, the sentence almost flowing seamlessly but not quite as you tacked the ‘werewolf’ on at the last second.

But he didn’t seem to, scoffing with amusement by your comment, but he didn’t say why. Instead, he sat back in the chair like he was becoming more relaxed around you, especially now that your stomach had quieted.

“You’re one to talk. You let a wolf into your room when you have no weapons or defense. I even locked you in here and you didn’t complain once,” he pointed out. “I haven’t even heard you screaming for help up here.”

Your mouth opened, but silence followed instead. You almost gave yourself away, stopping before it was almost too late.

You realized Chan reminded you of him. Actually, the whole scenario did. You weren't sure you liked that, feeling your stomach twist uncomfortably.

“What’s up?” Chan wondered, noticed you staring into space with your mouth open.

Your mouth snapped shut and you quickly shook your head, “Nothing.”

You were becoming too soft around him so quickly. You were getting too comfortable without realizing, and you knew it was because of the mating pull. Suddenly, you could hear your brother and father’s voices in your head.

All werewolves are bad, _____, your father spat in your face during your very first werewolf hunter lesson, Even if you think you know them, they’re evil, horrible creatures! If you don’t kill them first, they’ll turn on you eventually.

But that memory made you think of another…

It’s your fault this happened, Nolan had scoffed at you once after one of your training sessions. You weren’t very good back then because, frankly, you didn’t want to be good, and your brother was pissed at you for not putting your heart in it, If it wasn't for you, we’d still be home and everyone would be happy and alive. Then you act like you don’t even want to make things right? I should shoot you myself, you fucking traitor.

You set the food down and shoved it away from you.

“I think you should go,” you stated coldly.

Chan suddenly sat up straighter, confusion on his face at how you suddenly seemed to just flip a switch, “What?”

“Get out,” you told him, looking across the room at him, dead in the eyes.

“I– What? Wait, was it what I said?” he asked quickly with a twinge of hurt in his eyes that you definitely noticed as he stood from the bed. “_____, I didn’t mean–”

You stood from the bed and pointed at the door, “You just had to feed me. I’m fed. Go. Away.”

Chan stood as well and walked over to where you stood in the middle of the room. Without thinking, he reached out to hold your hand, “_____–”

Immediately, your instincts kicked in. You quickly turned on your heel, keeping his hand in yours while reaching for his arm with the other, holding it over your shoulder. Then you pulled and bent over, throwing the werewolf over your body until he landed with a loud thud on the hardwood.

He didn’t even seem hurt. He just stared up at you in shock. He even seemed…a bit impressed. You’d just flipped him with ease.

You were shocked yourself. Some part of you felt...bad.

But now you could hear multiple sets of feet running up the stairs, and you knew you were in for it if his pack saw that you flipped him on his back. You harmed him. You were a threat to them now. Obviously you couldn’t fight all of them, so you just wanted to keep them all away from you.

“You have five seconds to get out of my room,” you told him, sounding more panicked than menacing.

Instead, he gave you a defeated look and pushed himself off the floor before going over to the bedroom door and unlocking it. He didn’t even look behind him as he left, but you heard the whine come from his chest.

Once the door was closed and you had locked it once again, you waited until you heard the commotion of the pack retreat back down the stairs. Then you sat back down on Chan’s bed and let out a deep sigh. Why did it have to be you? You were going through enough with conflicting ideals that went against what your family wanted you to feel. Now whatever higher power out there had to make it worse and force you to have feelings for a werewolf? Why did you have to be stuck being his mate? Why you? Why you?

You decided you needed to escape. The thought sent a twinge of pain to your heart that reminded you–

You shook the thought from your head, blinking rapidly to fight back tears as you took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Leaving was the only option for either of you to be safe. You wouldn’t tell Chan you wanted to keep him safe, but you knew you felt it and you had to act on it. The alternative was both of you getting killed, and probably even his pack. That wasn’t something you could let happen.

You glanced at the window that was perfectly centered between Chan's bed and Felix's. You stood and went to examine it, seeing a tree not too far from the window. You could probably jump to it and then climb down. Maybe while the pack was asleep.

You’d leave that night, you decided. You felt bad, thinking about leaving without any explanation. Maybe you could find a way to get some paper and a pen or something to leave a note?

No. If there was any evidence that you felt bad leaving…

As much as it hurt, you had to do it. You had to do a lot of other things in your life that hurt, anyway, so this was no different. Suck it up and carry on like always.

You were a strong werewolf hunter, after all. You had a reputation to live up to.

»»————-　　————-««

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[werecreature-addicted]

🥲 i cant stop thinking abt reducing a werewolf who’s in heat to a begging mess. like listen he js wants to fuck you and you won’t let him?? but he’s been such a good boy?? he’d start whining and whimpering like a puppy. ears laid back, he’s so desperate for you. so you agree to let him fuck you on one condition : he has to use his muzzle. last time he got a little bit too excited and started biting a little too hard. so now he has two options, he gets to fuck you with a muzzle on, or he doesn’t get anything at all.

he thinks it’s not fair that he doesn’t get to mark you. but eventually he accepts your conditions, but he’s whining about how it’s not gonna be the same. while he’s fucking you, poor baby is panting and drooling all over himself, begging you to take it off, he needs to mark you. you manage to remind him that greedy boys don’t get anything and he just starts going faster, to the point where none of you is able to form a coherent sentence. his mind is hazy, but he takes a mental note to get rid of that damn muzzle.

Listen listen listen. Your werewolf is torn, he never wants to hurt you and is absolutely destroyed that he went too far and hurt you the last time you two had sex. It’s all of his worst fears come true! He really is nothing but a monster driven by instincts telling him to chase carnal pleasures. He thought he meant it when he promised he’d never hurt you. Every time he looks at the heald mark on your neck it makes his stomach turn. He’s so worried you’ll leave him over this…that he’ll lose his mate because he couldn’t control himself.  He needs to be coaxed into even touching you again. Sex is almost completely off the table…almost. 

He’s still human- well he’s not but you know what I mean. He still has desires. Your touch still sends jolts of electricity down his spine, your smell alone is still enough to get him hot. He tries his best to satiate his needs with just kissing and dry humping. Although. It’s hard to enjoy anything when he’s fighting against his animalistic urges telling him to just mount you already. You like rough sex, you like how big and sometimes scary he can be, so what’s the problem? Marking feels good- at least for him, it does. And wouldn’t you want to make your wolf feel good? And who cares if you’re scared of his monstrous side? It’s not like you can run from him, you both know he could track you down where ever you ran off to.

Those monstrous thoughts scared him a little bit. He didn’t want to hurt you, but he also knew he needed to keep you as his, he wondered which one of those desires would come out on top if push came to shove. 

It doesn’t take long for his more carnal desires to win out. He’s begging for his attention and pleading for you to let him have you again. It’s been almost two full weeks since the incident and he’s pretty sure people can die from going that long without sex. He’ll do anything- and he’ll promise anything if you just let him have you. You don’t even need to do anything he’ll do all the work- he’s strong enough to use you like a Fleshlight you both know that

This is where you bring up the muzzle. It’s special. Made for werewolves so they can’t escape even with their strength. He agrees immediately! Then regrets it… again he’s torn. This is good… he can’t hurt you this way but god he hates this fucking muzzle. He can’t even kiss you like this, don’t you see how cruel this is? It’s just his nature. It’s like asking him to go Vegan. 

He knows that you’ll soil him with kisses once he’s calm again. Hell, he knows that you’ll probably let him bite you if he’s careful- but all those thoughts are background noise as he listens to you whine and moan. You take his cock so well- you take his teeth even better. He loves you with all his heart and werewolves show love by biting. 

He snarls to himself and gnashes his teeth behind the cage you put him in. he watches a bead of sweat drip down your neck and he mashes the grate against your skin and struggles to lick you. The muzzle digs in his face as he pushes its limits but he doesn’t care, he manages to lick the sweat from your skin and he shudders in pleasure. 

Once he does calm down you let him out of the muzzle and kiss him senseless. He feels better… he didn’t hurt you this time at least. But part of him wants to throw out that stupid cage.

[occult-roommates]

The night of the werewolf

Well, it was now around midnight, on a full moon, and just like every single month, Rudi had disappeared somewhere in the nearest wood. Normally, their friends just...let them go wild outside, but this time, considering that Daniele had found out they do not like going through this process, he was worried for their safety.

Dawud: Dan, they probably want to be left alone. Also, look at you, you're clearly not in good enough shape to have a chance to fight a werewolf in case they attack you, and I don't trust your power to not give out while fighting. Daniele: But are they safe? Like, they might put themselves in danger! And have you heard about the werewolf who got fatally shot near San Mysh recently? And that the perpetrator got away with it cause it was listed as self-defense even though the werewolf wasn't even feral, in fact he was completely tame. You know, unlike Rudi who I think is almost fully feral. Dawud: To be fair, right now we're in Canada so they're less likely to get shot than back home in the US. Daniele: Still, Rudi told me they don't really like being a werewolf because they're feral and never learnt how to control themselves in their beast form. Dawud: I just realized but since when do werewolves can control themselves when transformed? I thought they all just acted like agressive wolves? Daniele: Nah, it depends, and you can learn to control your beast form. Some are completely tame and act normally when transformed, others are more dog like or puppy like, especially children, some act like lone wolves and will leave you alone if you leave them alone, then some are feral agressive violent beast with no control over their action. From what Rudi told me, their entire family is like that last category because they haven't been taught on how to control their beast form. Dawud: Uh, didn't know that. Daniele: Also like, since they're feral, I'm worried they'll kill someone, and we know werewolves never win their case when they accidentally kill someone in their beast form. Or what if they injure themself badly and die? It's scary! Audrey: Can you guy lowers your volume a bit? Kim and I are watching a movie and we can't hear.

That movie was E.T. You see, Kino offered it saying it "remind them of their childhood". You know, wink wink nudge nudge, but Audrey just assumed they grew up watching it...To be fair that would be the rational thing to think like who the fuck hears someone saying E.T reminds them of their childhood and then assume it means they're an alien?

Daniele: I'm going into the wood. Audrey: You're gonna fuck Dawud? Daniele: What?? Dawud: Alright, I'll come with you but just to make sure you're safe.

And so they went to the forested area located in the north of the town, where they called for Rudi's name. Daniele was running around like a headless chicken, while Dawud could barely keep the pace. Eventually, the two got what they were looking for, as Rudi charged towards them at full speed.

Daniele quickly tried to make a magic force field, which of course it fails cause his spellcasting likes to go away whenever it is least convenient. That's when Rudi slowed down, walked towards Daniele, and took a deep sniff off him.

Daniele: H-hello Rud.

At first, it really seemed Rudi was about to bite him, but no, after staring at the spellcaster for a few seconds, they just...ran away. They took a short land bridge and disappeared into a beachy area...

Prev - Next

[joviewinchester]

Hey! So this is a Supernatural My Babysitter’s a Vampire crossover requested by @the-fifth-marauder101 The request wasn’t super specific so I kind of just ran with it. Jack’s a bit younger in this for the sake of the story. And I know that the timeline is off and stuff but like don’t @ me about it please. I know it’s off. Also this is a reader insert because, ya know, that’s literally all I write. Lol, but anyways, I hope you like it, and keep those requests coming!

Another school. Another town. Another day. That’s how it always went. Avoid making friends at all costs. Well, she had Jack at least.

“What are we here for again?” Y/N asked sighing.

“Your dad said something about vampires or werewolves. They don’t know what it is yet. Said something’s off with this one.” Jack replied glancing over at a group of whispering teens.

“What do you think their deal is?” Erica asked eyeing both Y/N and Jack.

“They don’t look like siblings, at the very least not biological ones.” Sarah responded.

“I don’t know, but can I just say, the girl is hot. Like hotter than anyone I’ve ever laid eyes on. Like if I had to choose between her and a young Carrie Fisher, I’d choose her.” Benny said.

“No way. You’re joking right?” Ethan asked.

“No. I never joke about a babe.” Benny said seriously.

“I don’t know. Personally I’d love to sink my teeth into either of them.” Erica smirked.

Y/N looked from the group to Jack in confusion. “Is it just me or do we have a literal fanclub?”

“I wouldn’t call them a fanclub. They’re just…unusually interested.” Jack responded.

“Should we introduce ourselves? Don’t get me wrong. I know we probably won’t stay for very long but…I just…it would be nice to make friends for once, you know?” She asked Jack as she looked at them, or more specifically looked at Benny.

“I mean, how could it hurt right?” They approached the group.

“Dude they’re coming over here.” Benny said while slapping Ethan’s arm.

“Yeah. I know. I can see dude.”

“Hi.” Y/N said shyly.

Jack stepped in at that point. “Hello. My name is Jack and this is my friend Y/N.” He introduced.

“It’s nice to meet you guys. I’m Sarah and this is Ethan, Benny, and Erica.” Sarah smiled.

Benny had a dumbstruck look on his face. “Excuse him. He gets nervous around girls he thinks are pretty.” Ethan said.

Benny looked at him with a glare. “Dude.” He whisper shouted at him. They then had a small slap fight.

“Alright you two are embarrassing yourselves. Hi, as Sarah said, I’m Erica, and I would love to take you under my wing, Y/N was it? Please let me give you a makeover tonight. You have so much potential if we removed the flannel and the old leggings.”

“Sorry. She’s straightforward like that. She doesn’t mean in a rude way or anything she just thinks your pretty and wants to do your makeup.” Sarah said.

���I guess I could come over.” Y/N said nervously. Jack have her a look and lowered his voice.

“Y/N, Dean said to come straight home after school, and that we can’t go out. You can’t. If you leave on my watch, Dean and Cas will, what is it that you say? ‘rip me a new one’” He quoted.

“Who’s Dean?” Ethan asked.

“My dad. He’s just a little bit overprotective, and if you don’t want me to go out without you, then just come with me.” Y/N said.

“So, you two like live together?” Sarah asked.

“Yeah. Our dads work together. It’s a whole thing.” Y/N said.

“Anyways, I’ll talk to him if he’s home and if not I’ll text him and let him know it shouldn’t be a big deal.” She said.

“Great. Sarah you’re coming too right?” Erica asked.

“Actually, I have to babysit Ethan and Jane tonight.”

“No problem we’ll just go over there.”

“Sarah’s your babysitter?” Jack asked.

“No! Well, I mean, yes, but it’s only because my mom doesn’t trust me to babysit my little sister. Benny you’re still coming over to play that new zombie game right?”

“Like I would miss that.”

“Think we have room for another player?” Ethan asked.

“Not if you’re talking about Rory.” Benny complained.

“I’m clearly talking about Jack, Benny.”

Sarah and Erica both rolled their eyes at their antics. “Come on, Y/N. We’ll walk you to class. Honestly, I swear you geeks almost scared her off.” Erica said.

Y/N waved goodbye at Benny, Ethan, and Jack, linking her arms with Erica and Sarah.

The bell then rang. “Do you guys know where Mr. G’s class is?” Jack asked.

“Yeah we have him for first period too. Follow us.” Ethan said.

School seemed to go by like a breeze with their new friends by their sides. Before they knew it, they were all heading out the doors.

“Alright. Jack and I need to head out, but we’ll meet you guys at Ethan’s house later. See ya.” Y/N said. There was a series of byes and Jack and Y/N hopped into the Jeep they had jacked from the bunker.

Erica left shortly after that saying something about how she needed to pack some clothes and makeup for later.

“I should give her a love potion.” Benny said.

“Do you remember how that turned out last time? I still have nightmares.” Ethan shuddered.

“Benny, don’t let this get to your head, but I think you might actually have a chance with her. She stared at you throughout the entirety of biology class. You should just ask her to see a movie with you or something.” Sarah advised.

“Yes. I need to be more like Han Solo. God, she’d be such a pretty Princess Leia.” Benny sighed dreamily.

“Okay lover boy. You wanna stand out here all day? We’re practically the only ones still here. Your grandma is gonna get mad if you make her wait any longer.” Sarah said glancing at the SUV Benny’s grandma sat in.

“Right. See you guys later!” Benny called.

“Bye!” They said in sync.

“I’ll see you later?” Ethan asked.

“Duh. If I want to get paid I don’t really have a choice.” Sarah joked. Ethan waved awkwardly and jogged to his mom’s car.

“Dorks.” She muttered to herself a slight smile on her face.

Y/N and Jack entered the place one of their hunter friends had loaned them and saw Sam researching by himself.

“Hey, Sam! Do you know when dad is gonna be back?” Y/N asked.

“Um…not really, but it probably won’t be for a few hours. He and Cas are interviewing at the moment. Why? Do you need something? Maybe I can help.”

“Well, Jack and I were wondering if we could go over to a friend’s house around seven ish? We’re just hanging out, nothing big.”

Sam looked up from his laptop. “You guys made friends?” He asked.

“Yeah. I know. I know. We probably won’t stay here, but it’s hard avoiding people everywhere we go and they’re really nice.” Y/N explained.

“Y/N, you don’t have to explain yourself to me. I think it’s good that you guys are making friends, and I think it’s fine if you go out as long as you’re back by 10:30 or Dean will flip.”

“Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. You’re the best uncle in the world.”

“Do you need any help with research?” Jack asked.

“No. It’s fine. You probably have homework to do.” Sam replied. Jack then headed to his room with his backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, Sam?” Y/N asked sitting across from him.

“Yeah?”

“Can I talk to you about something?”

“You know that you can tell me anything Y/N.”

“I don’t…I don’t think that I can keep doing this.” She sighed.

“What do you mean?”

“The whole moving towns constantly and the saving people hunting things…I just don’t want to keep moving around. I know that it’s stupid. You’re saving the world. All of you, but I feel like I haven’t even lived. I’ve never really gotten to stop and smell the roses you know?”

“Y/N, it’s not like we can just leave you in a town by yourself. You’re only sixteen, but you’re in luck. We’re going to be here awhile. There are multiple cases in this one town and they all seem different. I don’t know what’s going on here. It’s like a Supernatural beacon.”

“Are you sure you don’t need help with research?” Y/N asked.

“No. You have homework too I’m assuming.”

“I finished all of mine in study hall. I’m available for four hours.”

Sam sighed. “Fine. You can help. I’m just looking through lore right now to try and figure out the first case.”

After about three and a half hours of researching, they both still came up with nothing. Y/N groaned.

“Are you sure there isn’t like more than one type of vampire?” She asked.

“Not according to any hunters I’ve met.” Sam said.

“Well, we didn’t think angels existed at one point and look at Cas. Look at Jack. We got an angel and a nephilim living in our house. Not to mention me. I’m a freak of nature.”

“I don’t know, Y/N. If we haven’t encountered one before, I don’t know why we would now.”

“Whatever. I’m gonna go upstairs and grab a few things, then Jack and I are leaving. I’ll see you later Sammy.”

Sam rolled his eyes at the nickname but told her goodbye nonetheless and went back to his research. Y/N grabbed her small bag that contained hand sanitizer, chapstick, lotion, a first aid kit and a pocket knife and knocked on Jack’s door.

“You ready?” She asked.

“Yeah let’s go before we’re stopped by Dean and Cas getting home.” Jack said.

They drove over to Ethan’s house and everyone else had already arrived. Y/N knocked on the door to see Benny with his mouth full of marshmallows. Y/N gasped in excitement.

“Are you guys seeing who can fit the most marshmallows in their mouth?! I bet I can win! I want in on this!” She exclaimed rushing past Jack and in the door.

“What’s the record I’m trying to beat?” Y/N asked Jane.

“It’s unclear. They argue all the time about which got the highest amount and what the highest amount is. I think it’s 176. You don’t need to waste your time here though. You should come play dress up with me and Sarah. I promise it’ll be much more fun.” Jane ranted grabbing her hand.

“Come on Y/N it’ll be way more fun.” Sarah joked. Y/N shrugged.

“You know what? Why not let’s go. You coming, Erica?”

“Playing ‘dress up’ with you is literally the only reason why I’m here. Of course I’m coming.” Erica replied grabbing her bag. They all rushed upstairs leaving the boys behind.

The marshmallows fell out of Benny’s mouth as he was watching Y/N go upstairs. Ethan fist pumped in victory.

“I win!” He yelled through a mouthful of marshmallows.

“Hey! Dude that is so not fair!”

“It’s completely fair! Just don’t get distracted next time and you might win.” Ethan said back smugly.

“Whatever. You guys wanna watch Star Wars or something?” Benny asked.

“I don’t know. Y/N might get mad if we watch it without her.” Jack half joked. Benny looked at him in exasperation.

“She likes Star Wars too?! What’s next?!”

Meanwhile, upstairs Erica had already began using Y/N as a human doll.

“Those dorks are literally not going to know what to do with themselves when they see you.” Erica praised.

“You look really pretty, Y/N. Dare I say, prettier than Debbie Dazzle.” Jane complimented.

“Is that a compliment? What’s a Debbie Dazzle?” Y/N asked Sarah.

“You mean you never had a Debbie Dazzle doll growing up?” Sarah asked. Y/N shook her head no and thought of her childhood.

“We…well, we’ve always moved around a lot, and I matured earlier than most kids. Never really got into that stuff, besides wouldn’t have anyone to play with it with anyways.”

“What about your dad or your mom?” Erica asked while brushing Y/N’s hair.

“My mom?” She asked mostly to herself. It’s not like she could straight up say that her mom was God’s sister. “My mom left us when I was young. I barely remember her.” She said. When she was born she automatically aged up to thirteen, similarly to Jack.

That was the end of that conversation. They didn’t want to pry into her personal life. Even if it felt like they’d known her for years, the truth of it was that they were practically strangers.

“Okay. All done.” Erica smiled. Y/N looked in the mirror Jane had in her room. She was shocked to say the least to see what was staring back at her. For the first time in her life, she felt normal. She felt like a regular teenage girl, not a demi-god who hunted monsters.

“Wow. I look-“

“Beautiful.” Sarah, Erica, and Jane all said at once.

https://shoplook.io/outfit-preview/2784047

“I was gonna say normal, but yeah.” She laughed.

There were a few seconds of silence then Y/N suddenly jumped out of her seat. “Is that the Star Wars theme song?!” She exclaimed. She started heading downstairs.

“What a cute little nerd.” Erica said.

“Can we go downstairs to get a snack?” Jane asked Sarah.

“Sure but you have to be in bed by 9:00 remember?” “9:30?” “Fine.”

When Y/N got downstairs she plopped on the couch in between Jack and Benny.

Benny glanced at her and did a double take. “Woah. Erica did a really good job…not that you weren’t pretty before. You’re really pretty, either way. I’m so sorry. I’m totally rambling again.”

“Are you done?” She asked jokingly.

“Yeah…well, actually,” she laughed. “So no then?”

“Well, I was just wondering if you wanted to go see a movie sometime…with me. I’ll even suffer through the new Dusk if you want.”

“No way are we watching Dusk. Pick me up Friday. We’re watching the new Avengers movie.”

Benny elbowed Ethan. “Dude. Did you hear that?”

“Yes, Benny, congratulations.” Y/N’s phone abruptly began to ring.

“Shoot. I gotta take this.” She got up and walked into the other room.

“Hello?” She asked. “Y/N? Where the hell are you? I told you and Jack to come home and stay home after school. Sam is not your dad. I am. You could’ve at least called and asked.” Dean grumbled.

“And you would’ve told me no and I would’ve been mad and you would’ve been mad and it would just not be fun at all so…”

“Are there boys there?” Y/N rolled her eyes.

“Does is matter?”

“Yes. It matters a lot.”

“You don’t know. I could be a lesbian.” She stated.

“Cut the crap, kid. You and Jack need to get your sorry asses home or youre grounded. Both of you.”

Y/N ignored that statement. “Well, I’d love to talk more, but I’m gonna hang up now.”

“Y/N Elaine Winchester I swear to Chuck if you hang up…”

“Calm down. We’ll be home in like twenty minutes. Bye.” She hung up before he could say anything else.

“Jack, we have to go. Dean is flipping out.” She said walking back into the living room.

“Did you just refer to your dad by his first name?” Ethan asked.

“Yeah I did. Because I’m mad. It’s a symbol of defiance…even if he can’t hear it. Anyways, we’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Y/N, with annoyance, walked into the kitchen and said goodbye to Erica, Sarah, and Jane as well, before leaving with Jack trailing behind her.

Once they got home, they were greeted by all three hunters still sitting at the table researching.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Dean asked in disgust.

“Clothes. Goodnight. Good riddance. Love you partially and all that jazz. I’m going to bed. I have school.” She said running upstairs not letting anyone else get a word in.

The three men sighed. “Were there boys there?” Dean asked Jack seriously as he had Y/N on the phone.

“Yeah. Just two. Y/N has a date Friday.” Jack responded casually.

“She what?!”

“Anyways goodnight. Good riddance. Love you. And all that jazz as Y/N would say. See you tomorrow.” Jack repeated charging up the stairs.

[things-we-cant-say]

Blood Wars

Pairing: Vampire!Ten x Hunter!Reader (Female)

Genre: Supernatural AU

Warnings: Bit of violence, blood, lore I made up

Summary: It’s your job to protect the human race from anything that creeps through the night. However, a chance encounter with a vampire called Ten threatens to upset an already precarious balance between light and dark.

Word Count: 5,458

A/N: This is going to be a mini 3 part thing because my BETA convinced me you guys would like it better that way. Warnings may change for the 2nd and 3rd parts but nothing too insane; just sex probably if I feel like it. I have plans for other supernatural imagines so everything is gonna be tagged accordingly so it’s hopefully easier to find. [Song lyrics = Terrible Thing by AG & Brad Gordon.]

part one: honey, you’re so cold

“What the fuck is wrong with you? Why did you stop me?”

You shoved Jeremy back and tried to catch your breath, shaking your head as you did. “Are you insane? You were going to kill that guy.”

Jeremy snorted and shoved his dagger back into the sheath strapped to his thigh. “Because that’s our job, or have you forgotten that?”

You frowned. “Our job is to kill creatures that we know have broken the pact. Not to just start stabbing and shooting just because someone happens to be a vampire or whatever. Do you want a war between the factions?”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Oh don’t be stupid, Y/N. Every vampire has broken the dumb pact at least once or twice. Especially when they were fledglings and not able to control their thirst. Killing one without concrete proof that they have done something bad recently means nothing because either way they’re guilty so we’re in the clear. I’d have been doing the world a favor not to mention my job.”

“Well I don’t operate that way,” you told him. “As the senior member I get to dictate how our patrols go. We don’t just beat the fuck outta some dude because he has fangs.”

“Heh senior member. Right.” He spat the words out as if the very taste of them offended him. “You know what? Screw this I’m outta here. Since you’re so freaking powerful you finish up on your own.”

As you watched him stalk off into the woods you thought about calling him back but ultimately decided against it. Jeremy was an asshole and you were better off without people like him just making things worse. Besides you were right and he was wrong; he just couldn’t stand being called out by a Sangre Pura. As if that were your fault. As if you could control something that happened to you in the womb.

With a deep sigh you looked up to the bright full moon, admiring the way it threw white light throughout the forest. While other people your age were out partying or binge watching their favorite shows on Netflix, you were out ridding the world of things that went bump in the night. Werewolves, vampires, wendigos, wraiths—if it targeted humans then it was your job to slay it. The creature features were easy however because they were the true monsters. All they wanted to do was rip people apart and make a feast of their entrails. Vampires and werewolves—basically anything with a functioning brain—weren’t as simple. Those were usually dealt with on a case by case basis. You couldn’t kill a werewolf because once upon a time he might have killed someone; especially if it happened before you were even born. What if now he was reformed? What if these days he just wanted to live a normal life with his Pack?

It was something people like Jeremy refused to take into account. Sure not judging a supernatural by their cover often made the job more dangerous, but it was a risk you were willing to take. You didn’t want to accidentally kill an innocent and start a war. Of course Jeremy probably figured if there was a war, your side would easily win because of the magic you possessed but you weren’t so certain. Not everyone had the same power level or skill, and going up against an Ancient or an Alpha was no joke.

A fact that often caused contention between members of your organization.

When you’d came upon Jeremy he’d been in the process of repeatedly punching a vampire with brass knuckles made of silver. The vampire hadn’t fought back, instead he’d simply tried to shield himself as Jeremy continued to beat on him. At first you’d assumed Jeremy had found the mark you were both after but quickly realized that couldn’t be true. The thing you were hunting was deadly and unreasonable; it would have been lashing out like a dog gone rabid not backing away in surrender. As Jeremy yanked out his dagger and prepared to stab the vampire in his heart, you’d practically threw him to the ground before he could strike.

Needless to say that had not gone over well…not that you cared. Jeremy had taken off deeper into the woods cursing a blue streak and you’d been forced to follow, leaving the broken vampire shivering and bleeding on the old ground. Broken but alive so all things considered you figured things would be okay. And if someone showed up at the manor asking questions you would not hesitate to rat Jeremy out. Fuck him and his prejudice ideals.

Years before being switched over to active duty you’d always thought nothing in your world was as black and white as some wanted it to be. As the Elders obviously wanted it to be. If a human could be a remorseless serial killer then surely a witch could be a healer. People and supernaturals were more than their monikers. They were their intentions, and more than once you’d ran across a fairy that just wanted to enjoy a latte at Starbucks.

No matter what you tried your best to be fair. After all what was the point of having so much power if you just behaved recklessly with it?

Pushing up the sleeves of your trendy leather jacket, you started the long walk back to the place you currently called home. A large towering mansion with more rooms than people; you’d lived and trained there for most of your life with people just like you. Quite a few you thought of as family but more often than not, they were just phantoms roaming the halls until it was time to fight. They’d adapted the philosophy that attachments only made someone weak. That you could only depend on yourself, hence Jeremy being perfectly fine leaving you in the dark woods with a ferocious creature on the loose.

Good thing I’m not scared, you thought to yourself. You’d always liked the dark for some reason. Maybe because you knew you’d be able to light the way if you had to.

You weaved through the heavy brush, pushing branches out of your way as the sounds of the forest skittered around you. Your keen senses could detect deer playing together in the distance while a fox tiptoed up to a stream for a drink. With how calm everything seemed you figured there were no predators. At least nothing that made a grizzly look like a duckling.

A fat little rabbit hopped across your path and you smiled, watching as its nose twitched in your direction before disappearing under a thick set of bushes. You’d half a mind to follow it when a stick snapped behind you and the hair on the back of your neck stood to attention. Before you could reach for the knife in the hostler across your chest, a hand wrapped around your throat and you were lifted off the ground. Feet dangling, you looked down to see a handsome young man and a pair of red eyes glaring up at you.

Vampire, your mind supplied hastily.

“Did you honestly think you’d get away with it?” He tilted his head to the side, watching you as if you were a peculiar sort of specimen. “That you could attack a member of my Coven—unprovoked, might I add—and that there wouldn’t be a reckoning?”

“I—” But you couldn’t get the words out. His hand was like a vice grip around your neck, sharp nails digging into your tender skin.

You latched onto his wrist, fingers tingling with your magic, sending white bursts of electricity down his arm to try to dislodge him but he just winced. Gave you a little shake and tightened his fingers until you were seeing spots dancing across your vision.

“Powerful. Impressive but you’re still so young. You can’t contend with me,” he said lowly. “Try that again and I’ll reconsider making your death quick. I was simply going to snap your neck but perhaps now I will take you back to my Coven. Let everyone have a taste.”

“I—I—”

“I always thought this pact business was just a load of bullshit, but to have one of my friends attacked so brazenly? Beaten with silver and left for dead…” He growled, perfect fangs descending. “And for it to be Mark of all people. One of few among us who advocates for your kind? Well…at least now he knows the truth. The Pantheon cannot be trusted. You should all be wiped out so that you don’t cause even more damage.”

Comprehension came slowly as air began to become a factor but you sluggishly realized that this vampire was apparently the leader of the one Jeremy had been wailing on. The one you’d stopped Jeremy from killing. And now you were going to die for that asshole’s crimes. Perfect.

“Pact be damned.” The vampire shook his head and squeezed so hard you were pretty sure you heard a tiny crack. “If it’s war you want then I will give it to you. I’ll give it to—”

“Ten! Ten stop!” A body came barreling out from between the overgrown trees, tall and lanky but with clear defined muscles. He put a hand on the shoulder of the vampire choking you. “Ten, stop.”

Ten—apparently— glanced to the newcomer. “What are you doing out here, Johnny? I told you take Mark home. I’m dealing with this.”

The newly named Johnny snorted. “Ah no you’re about to kill an innocent girl. Which hey, if that’s your thing then I kinda don’t wanna stand in the way of that but you do always go on about being fair.”

“She attacked Mark!”

“Nope. If you’d stuck around you would have gotten the full story buut…there was another one. Some dude with bad hair attacked Mark and she stopped him. She’s about to pass out by the way.”

“Fuck…” Ten huffed and dropped you like you were nothing more than a sack of potatoes.

You hit the ground with a heavy thump and groaned, curling into a ball as your lungs fought to suck in fresh air. Your throat was so sore it hurt to swallow. Your head was pounding, your vision hazy around the edges had you barely able to make out anything that wasn’t fuzzy shaped. It was quite possible you’d still pass out and that thought actually caused a spike of fear to run down your spine. Losing consciousness in the woods never worked out for anyone.

Johnny knelt down beside you. “Jesus Ten, this was overkill even for you. I know you have a…complicated relationship with the Demios but, well, it’s not like you to be cruel.” He ran a hand through his dark brown hair.

You managed to look up just in time to see Ten lick his fingertips. You’d thought his nails had pierced your skin but you weren’t sure until now. “She’ll heal,” he said distractedly. “It’s a talent all members of the Pantheon possess.”

Johnny arched a brow. “Oh well then I’ll just take a kidney for the road.” He sighed deeply. “We can’t just leave her here. Any manner of wild animal could stroll by and make a meal of her.”

Ten blinked slowly, his red eyes fading to a rather warm dark brown. “Bring her to the road. We’ll get a car to stop and I’ll compel the driver to take her home, no questions asked.”

Johnny hummed and slipped two strong arms underneath you, picking you up effortlessly. Your head lolled off to the side, the world swam like a merry-go-round and darkness claimed you a second later.

~oh you, you terrible thing, you~

Hands braced against the ivory sink, you stared at your reflection in the oval shaped mirror and exhaled deeply. Three weeks since your encounter with those vampires and the bruises around your neck were still as angry and stark looking as ever. A set of perfectly slender fingerprints branded purple into your soft skin; so violent not even makeup could cover them up. Somehow a badge of honor and carelessness there on your flesh for all to see. Jeremy had cackled and you’d broken his nose. You were no longer patrolling partners.

After passing out in the arms of that Johnny guy, you’d woke up in your own bed with your best friend Elizabeth hovering over you. Your healing magic had already started doing its job, so you’d been able to slowly whisper to her what had happened. And she’d word vomited everything she knew about Ten and the Neo Coven of which he was the leader. Evidently he was a Master vampire—hence your magic having near to no effect on him—who usually kept to his own kind unless it was for feeding. He was mysterious and very powerful but not the type to cause trouble.

“At least not anymore,” she’d said absently. You’d wanted more details but Elder Cross had come in to talk to you about the incident, and that had been the end of that.

Sort of.

While you were fine now and even patrolling again, you couldn’t shake the odd feeling that sometimes crept up your back. Perhaps it was how close you’d came to death, or the fact that people now whispered when you walked by. Some thought you were brave for standing up to Ten though you hadn’t exactly done that. Others thought you were an idiot for interfering with Jeremy’s duty. It didn’t escape your notice how the split was shaping up but it was a bit alarming. Were the people just taking sides to be trendy?

“Fuck it.”

Stalking out of your bathroom you grabbed your jacket from a nearby chair and shrugged it on. Technically you were supposed to be studying but you knew you wouldn’t absorb anything tonight. You were too deep into your own head. Not to mention you’d been fighting for years now so it was safe to say you could tell a ghoul from a soul eater.

You crept over to your window and pushed it open, throwing one leg over the sill. Staring down at the ground three stories below, you grinned and jumped, landing perfectly on your feet. And then you were running across the lawn and through the large iron gates; the world a colorful blur around you. By the time you made it into the city you were flushed and panting but happy, blood pumping and magic singing. If so inclined, you could have probably knocked out every light on several blocks but that would have just been showing off.

With no real plan in mind you just wandered around for a bit. Dipped into this store and that store without buying anything but made mental notes to come back later. You checked on a few people you’d saved in the past—ones that now knew about the supernatural world—and dodged their questions about your bruises. Assured them you were fine before moving on, boots thumping on the pavement as you strolled along.

You ended up sitting on a bench overlooking a lovely lake; the lights from the high rise buildings across the way dancing on the water. One by one the stars popped into existence and you slouched, eyes drifting to an elderly couple enjoying two giant cones of ice cream. For a brief moment you thought about your parents but quickly pushed those thoughts away. Looking at the intricate rune tattooed onto your palm, you dragged your fingers through your long hair as you remembered the pain from getting it. How it had ached for weeks afterwards. How proud you’d been. How it was supposed to mean something.

Much like the marks around your neck you couldn’t remember exactly what any of it meant now. Everything was so…distorted.

Or maybe it’s just me that’s all twisted up.

“Hello.”

Jerking back to attention, you blinked at the person suddenly sitting beside you. The hairs on your arms tingled and you realized belatedly your internal warning was a couple of seconds too late.

Schooling your features back to neutral, you pursed your lips. “Hi…”

The vampire—Ten—smiled at you. “Sorry if I startled you. I thought you heard me coming.”

You shrugged. “My…mind was elsewhere. And it seems by the time I sense you, you’re already here so…”

He nodded. “You’ll get better at it, sensing me I mean. Your kind always does.”

That made you frown. “Well if you’re just here to say your kind like I have some sort of disease, I’m gonna be on my way. Not in the mood for that kinda shit right now.”

“Actually…” He shifted to face you, right arm resting on the back of the bench. “I came to apologize.”

You squinted at him. “Apologize?”

“Yes.”

“To me?”

“Yes.”

“For almost killing me?”

“Yes.”

His words gave you pause, your brain shifting between different things that you could say. But as you gazed at him you got the feeling that he was being sincere. His expression was open but impartial, dark eyes giving nothing away. He appeared to be completely at ease. He was also extremely and incredibly gorgeous but you were going to overlook that because he had choked you. It shamed you to admit it wasn’t easy however—there was just something about him. About the silkiness of his black hair, the smoothness of his skin, the way he carried himself like he had the world on the tip of his fingers. Only someone who feared nothing could be so composed. That or he was great at faking it.

Biting your bottom lip, you cleared your throat. “Well…thank you.”

“I—I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions the way I did but after seeing Mark...” He sighed. “He’s like a baby lion; he wouldn’t hurt a fly. I suppose that’s why he didn’t fight back against your friend.”

“Jeremy is not my friend,” you replied with a scoff. “He’s a dick and Mark should have slapped the taste out of his mouth.”

“Hm. I’m thankful that you saved my friend. I care about the members of my Coven a great deal.” His eyes drifted to your neck. “Are—do they still cause you pain?”

Without thinking you touched your bruises. “No. I healed in a couple of days but the—the bruises always take longer for some reason. It’s like the magic figures they’re just cosmetic or whatever so why bother.”

“You must think me every bad thing your Elders have ever said about vampires,” he mused though his tone was dry as sandpaper. “The way I just went at you.”

“That really sucked but you were upset. And I mean I was the only hunter around so it kinda made sense for you to suspect me.” You folded your arms across your grey shirt. “But yeah maybe next time slow your roll and get the facts before going off halfcocked.”

His lips twitched. “Believe it or not but I usually do. I have to considering my position in the Coven. What happened with you was, well it was less about you and more about my own issues.”

You snorted. “Ah the old it’s not you it’s me spiel. I get that you probably have a lot going on but it doesn’t make what you did any less fucked up. From what I hear you’re not a fledging, so you should have better control over your emotions.”

Ten finally allowed his grin to manifest fully. “Are you always this sassy with someone who’s tried to kill you?”

Well… “Quipping is a part of the business.”

Chuckling, he absent-mindedly played with the gold ring on his finger. “The monsters must love that. On the verge of death and having to listen to some beautiful girl’s puns.”

It wasn’t the first time you’d been called beautiful, but it made you smile just a little all the same. “You know I have to ask you. Why do you hate the Demios so much? I just get the feeling we’re not your favorite people in general.”

Ten sniffed. “To tell you that story I’m going to need a stiff drink. There is a bar right around the corner if you’d like to come with me. My treat. I do owe you and I’d like to make what happened between us up to you.”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you mulled his offer over. A tiny voice whispered that it was a bad idea but you already knew your curiosity was going to get the best of you. “Okay. As long as you aren’t hitting on me.”

He stood and shoved his elegant hands into the pockets of his black jeans. “What if I was? What would you say to that?”

“I’d say you know fraternizing between Demios and vampires is expressly forbidden.” You stood as well, enjoying the back and forth. “And that I don’t trust you as far as I could throw you.”

“Smart. And yet we both know you’re coming with me,” he said stepping into your space, voice slipping lower. “Because you’re a curious little kitten, aren’t you?”

Wetting your lips, you forced yourself to stand still even though the strength of his power flowed over your skin like rain water. You’d never interacted with a Master vampire before; never felt this type of overwhelming energy nipping at your heels. All of your training told you to be terrified—to go get back up—but you somehow knew that wasn’t necessary. Besides if Ten wanted you dead, you’d be dead. He wasn’t the kind of guy who played with his food. Besides that, it didn’t feel threatening…it felt…sensual.

“Don’t call me kitten,” you replied coolly. “How are you so sure I’m coming with you? Is it confidence or arrogance?”

“Both.” Very slowly he brought two fingers up and brushed them across the marks on your throat. “That…and your pulse is racing.”

“Maybe it’s racing because the vampire that tried to kill me is currently standing in front of me.”

He threw his head back and laughed. “Ten. My name is Ten.”

You nodded. “I know. I remember. I’m Y/N. Is Ten your real name?”

“It’s the name I chose.” He held out a hand for you to shake, and after a minute you did. “It’s a pleasure to formally meet you, Y/N. So…about that drink.”

Against your better judgment you followed him to the bar he’d mentioned earlier—a dimly lit hole in the wall where jazzy music groaned from a vintage jukebox—and took a seat across from him in a booth with tattered pleather seats. He ordered red wine and you got the same, finding the whole thing a bit on the nose.

“If I answer your questions you’ll have to answer mine.” He fiddled with the stem of his glass.

What could he possibly want to know about me? “Okay but I gotta warn you I’m pretty boring. I also don’t know any of the Pantheon’s secrets.”

Ten snickered. “That’s fine. I want to know about you. For instance, you’re Sangre Pura. Pure blood. Blood pure. Born with your gifts instead of having to be taught them like others. I didn’t recognize it at first, not until I tasted you. Just a tiny sip…yet it’s what I imagine swallowing the sun tastes like. I have to say I’ve never tasted anyone like you before.”

“Well this conversation escalated quickly,” you joked so that you could gather your bearings. Not like it was every day a gorgeous vampire talked about tasting you. The way he made it sound so sexy; your traitorous mind wanted to wander but you reined it in. “I am Sangre Pura. I came into my powers at three years old so I was sent to the Pantheon to…do my duty.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Lightning, yes? That’s a rare power to be able to call upon.”

You tucked strands of hair behind your ear. “Didn’t do fuck all against you though.”

Ten scrunched up his face; it was kinda adorable and you hated it. “Yeah but I’m…old. Not to mention your Elders would never teach you anything that could threaten their stations. You can defend yourself when you need to yet still be managed. It’s a shame really because if you harnessed the lightning like I’m sure you can…wow. A demi god indeed.”

“I don’t—”

Suddenly he was leaning in close and laying his hand palm up on the scratched table top. “Show me.”

Nervously your eyes darted around at the patrons inside but they were too busy drinking and playing pool to be paying you any mind. It wasn’t exactly forbidden to show your powers in public—after all you did use them to save people—but the Elders frowned on frivolousness. Your magic was in service to a greater good. Something you’d been told over and over again since you were three.

But it was your magic which meant technically you could use it as you saw fit. You’d be lying if you said you’d never thought about how far you could take it. How much damage you could do if properly motivated.

Gazing into Ten’s eyes, you placed your hand into his, fingers curling upward. Your magic started as a tiny spark between your fingertips, almost like a bit of static electricity before coalescing into a glowing white ball of pure crackling energy.

Ten’s expression was jubilant. “Incredible. What does it feel like?”

“It—it’s hard to describe. It’s…normal? Like any other part of me.” You exhaled shakily. “Just more.”

“And how do you control it? What’s stopping it from exploding?”

“I don’t want it to explode,” you explained softly. “So it doesn’t.”

Ten pressed his thumb into the ball and let out what sounded suspiciously like a giggle as it shocked him. “Mm. I wonder if you’d still be able to summon it if you were turned?”

You snatched your hand back—the light dissolving—folding both together in your lap. “That is a question that I’m afraid will never have an answer. I have no desire to ever become a vampire.”

Ten smirked. “Fair enough. I was just thinking out loud by the way. A vampire with your abilities would be a thing to behold. Though I guess it would also be a waste. The blood wouldn’t taste the same. I’d need more to really understand however.” Picking up his glass, he took a long sip of his wine as his eyes became bright red. “Why fix what isn’t broken?”

Feeling a shiver tickle your shoulders, you looked away from him. You heart was pounding in your ears but you’re at a loss as to why. Could it have been the predator in front of you? Could he have been trying to use his compulsion on you? It wouldn’t work; you’re thankfully immune. Or perhaps it’s because this was the first time you’d had such a frank conversation about such things. It dawned on you that Ten would answer your questions about your own existence truthfully.

Most likely. He definitely wouldn’t stifle your growth.

“If Demios are so yummy why do you hate us?” you asked him. “Why go all murder-y? Why not make a buffet out of us?”

“I said you were yummy.” He glanced out of the wide square shaped windows. “My history with the Demios is long and twisted to be honest. Once upon a time—before the pact was in full affect—they took someone very dear to me. I suppose I’ve never forgiven them. Things are better now but old habits are hard to break. People like your Jeremy don’t help the situation either. For every you there is a jerk out there that just wants to kill. How am I to know which is which?”

You sighed, digging your boot heel into the floor. “I get it. I find myself wondering the same thing about some supernaturals. But you—you have to hope I guess. And look for the good when every fiber of your being is telling you there is nothing but bad. I try to do that; it’s how I’m able to sit here with you.”

Ten pulled at one of his small hoop earrings. “Well you don’t have to worry about me anymore. I won’t be laying a hand on you again unless you ask me to.” You opened your mouth to say excuse me but he continued speaking. “Do you think you have more empathy because you were born different? A freak? I mean as opposed to those who learn their craft…”

You took a slow draw from your wine glass as you pondered his questions. “Not really. Plenty of Learners know what we do is about keeping people safe, not how many nonhumans we stab. Honestly I don’t really like fighting night after night but someone has to do it. Might as well be the ones with a better chance of surviving. One of my ancestors or what have you had powers and for some reason they decided to pop up in me. I guess I could’ve ran away but what would be the point? The Pantheon would have found me again eventually.”

“They sound more like prison guards than an organization for the gifted. You’re an adult, you should be deciding how to use your talents.”

“True but by now it’s slay demons or join Cirque Du Soleil.” You watch him crack a tiny smile and it made you do the same. “Ten…you’re right to be cautious but you shouldn’t let that stop you from new experiences with hunters. Maybe you should consider being less isolated? Yeah some of my teammates are dick holes but not everyone is. I’ve always felt that there is good and evil in everyone. The world is a lot grayer than anyone wants to let on. I’m sure your friend Mark has probably drained someone before and while fucked up, he still didn’t deserve to be staked just because he’s a vamp.”

Pulling his attention back to you, he almost appeared to be a bit sad. “Would be nice if more Demios thought as you did. Anyway Y/N I am truly sorry for choking you. I’m glad you accept my apology and were willing to have a drink with me.” He dug into his pocket and threw a few dollars onto the table. “If we meet again no doubt it will be under better circumstances.”

“You’re leaving?” You couldn’t keep the disappointment out of your voice. “Daylight isn’t for another few hours. I was hoping we could talk more. There is still so much I don’t know about you.”

“My Coven needs me.” He inched out of the booth and stood, gazing down at you with that placid expression he’d had when you’d first met. “And the less you know about me, the better. Your Pantheon wouldn’t like it.”

“Since when do you care what they think? Earlier you were—”

“That was earlier,” he interrupted. “I have to protect me and mine no matter what. It’s a lesson you obviously still need to learn. Won’t be much of a hunter if you don’t.”

Caught off guard by his sudden brusque manner, you huffed and rolled your eyes. Getting your feelings hurt had no age apparently. “Okay. I’ll make sure to keep that in mind the next time someone tries to snap my neck.”

Between one second and the next Ten was gone, and you weren’t sure if the touch you’d felt to your shoulder was real or imagined. However, the gold ring sitting in front of you was very real; you’d admired it on Ten’s finger as you’d conversed. Frowning, you picked it up and stared at it, finding that it fit your thumb but just barely. Would probably make more sense to wear it on one of your chains…if you decided to wear it of course.

Did he leave this for me? Why? And with that good-bye?

“Y/N! Hey I thought that was you!” A fellow Demios—Elizabeth—skipped up to your table. “I was wrapping up my patrol and saw you sitting here. What’s up? Drinking alone? That doesn’t seem like you.”

“I—uh yeah. Just needed a breather.” You plastered on a convincing smile but your thoughts shouted Ten Ten Ten like a drum in the back of your mind. Had he seen her coming and left to protect your reputation? Or now that his curiosity had been sated was he just done? So many questions.

The main one being; why did you even care?

~part two~

[goineedsleep]

i am cursed, and also delusional

i got sick recently(not covid, i am a fully vaccinated bitch), so i'm writing this on caffeine and pain

i hope you enjoy the shitshow

-trials of octopath is todays awful fusion idea

-for those of you unaware of trials of manas existence, it's a lot like octopath(and vice versa). trials is a game where you pick 3 characters out of 6 possible options to play as, and the story changes drastically depending on who's in your party. im' gonna have to cut a couple of the octopaths to fit this AU, but i'll be putting them elsewhere- you'll see them eventually

-i'm not even getting into story pairs! every two characters in trials of mana has the same final boss. if you put two characters together who have the same story(say, the fighter/duran or the mage/angela), it gives more information on those characters and their shared story.

-we have olberic the fighter(replacing duran) first. after an invasion of his home, he trusts erhardt with protecting it while he chases after the perpetrator

-then there's cyrus the mage(replacing angela)- he is the prestiged son of a famed scholar. he cannot use the same powerful magic his father could, and thus is chosen to be executed by him. cyrus unleashes enough magical power to teleport out of that situation(this happens in-game), and runs away to seek guidance from the Archbishop of the Church of the Sacred Flame.

-now we have therion the thief. he is a close friend of the leader of the Thieves Guild of the Ravuses, a man known as Heathcote. Darius, an "old friend " of his, saved Heathcotes life from being missing. this results in Heathcote acting very weird from the day he returns- at least, if you ask therion. Heathcote has never expressed the want to start a nation and invade another country until now! he gets help from Heathcotes son, the doctor of their group, to find out what's going on with Heathcote. It turns out... that Darius is using mind control to manipulate Heathcote to follow his bidding. man come on therion was just starting to not punch you in the face every night just when you were about to fall asleep again

-Darius uses dark magic to seal Alfyn away to another realm, and frames Therion for the kidnapping. Therion can't tell the truth about the situation either or kill Darius- Cordelia, Alfyns little sister, will die as well if he even dares due to a cursed article of clothing given to her by Darius.

-luckily for him, Tressa has mercy on him a couple months later and breaks him out of jail. therion decides to investigate the curse in order to find out how to stab Darius in the most affective way imaginable. Also to save Cordelia, but that isn't his priority at the moment

-now we have the warrior princess Primrose

-she's the captain of the woman-led guard of the country of Azelhart

-her mother died during childbirth whilst giving birth to her little sister tressa, and so she decided to take care of her to the best of her ability. her father is very proud of her for taking charge like this, but he still is the parent in this version. he is the one that technically raised tressa since I do not want to force primrose to parent someone when she's like 6

-primrose was just a dedicated babysitter

-she wants tressa to practice her dancing, and when she finds her she's being held at knifepoint by 2 thieves. the barrier protecting Azelhart from enemy forces is broken, tressa is kidnapped, and -Azelhart is no more. Now Primrose is no princess or noble- she's just Primrose

-She goes to the Priest of Light so she can pray for forgiveness from Aelfric before she kills all of the Ravus thieves guild

-H'aanit is the princess of the werewolves. they've been oppressed and marginalized by humans for years, so they've taken up the forest as their home. she's a hunter like most of them are, yet she's never been able to harness the power of her bloodline: it may be due to her being half-human, but she's never been capable of transforming into a beast like her brethren.

-she meets the snow leopard Linde in front of her dead mothers corpse, and starts feeding it

-she has a new pet now -linde and herself work together and they sometimes do better than full-blooded werewolves when they work together

-Z'aanta forms an alliance with Mattias, a man who's worked with the Church of the Sacred Flame a million times -immediately following the forming of this alliance Linde attempts to kill H'aanit -H'aanit doesn't wish to hurt her friend, but she has no choice: she turns into a werewolf for the first time in her life and loses control of her thoughts in her despair

-oh welp the cat's dead(I'M SO SORRY LINDE YOU ARE A VERY GOOD KITTY) -H'aanit heads back home to cry for a minute... then she overhears Mattias admitting that he killed her cat -H'aanit attempts to attack him, and then gets yeeted to Jadd -good job ham, you complete and utter pokemon trainer

-last up, we've got ophilia -she's the adoptive daughter of the Archbishop of the Sacred Flame -she hears Lianna's gonna be going somewhere, she gets an awful vision of Lianna never being seen again following this mission, and goes with her in secret -Lianna gets kidnapped regardless by Mattias -so ophilia decides to find this guy and punch him in the face

-alright that's all of the character backstories

-THANK GOD

-all of these people(save alfyn and tressa, who is being held hostage by the ravus thieves guild) go to jadd first- h'aanit is yeeted there by mattias

-h'aanit notices that her people are invading this town and will be invading Flamesgrace- her next goal is to stop this -olberic wants to stop this as well, so he and h'aanit team up first

-Primrose looks for Tressa in some desperate search, and meets Cyrus during this search. they decide to journey together to Wendel, figuring going together would be better than being alone -they think it's a dumb idea to fight the beastmen, so they decide to escape at night like the bartender suggested

-ophilia finds therion at the bar while looking for food, and overhears his story while she eats soup and bread -she leads him to Wendel, wanting to do help another adventurer before she goes off into the unknown herself

-olberic and h'aanit free the town from beastmen and go to the cavern that leads to flamesgrace(which i am going to keep calling Wendel on accident because that's what it is in trials, srry) -they get there and there's a barrier -archbishop put it up to protect them from the beastmen, and then h'aanit and olberic find the lakeside town of astoria -the villagers keep mentioning how a divine light has started appearing in the area, and olberic shrugs it off and takes a very long nap. the poor man is very tired -ophilia and therion head there as well and follow the light to where it falls- ophilia touches this flame and has to fight a giant robot w/ therion -they win, and ophilia doesn't see it anymore -she shrugs and heads back to astoria, where beastmen have wrecked the town. it is g o n e -ophilia holds a memorial service for them, where she tells therion about how she's a cleric of the Sacred Flame -therion shrugs and suggests they keep going. they don't have much time before it's day and the beastmen attempt to attack Flamesgrace, too

-h'aanit, olberic, cyrus and primrose are having a picnic at the barrier when ophilia and therion arrive -ophilia attempts charging into the barrier, and then it sets on fire and they can all go through -after a long and awkward icebreaker, they all decide to travel together. it's pretty dangerous out there anyways, with the beastmen attacking and atlasdams rumored invasion of Hornburg. the ravus nation is also a major worry, therion reminds them, but they arent' gonna be in the area for a while

-these guys make it to flamesgrace to receive advice on what's coming next -olberic is told to become stronger before challenging atlasdam, and not to do so alone. he continues being in the group due to this -cyrus is told to learn how to understand his emotions- magic is not the forms they teach at school, but rather what comes from the heart. he decides to accompany the travelers so he can escape imprisonment by atlasdam forces -therion first learns of how the dimension Alfyn's been tossed into is inaccessible by humans. it is the birthplace of galdera, and is a realm of which sinners reside after they've lived their lives. Alfyn is probably not going to last very long in this realm- he's as good as dead -therion is then told of how ancient and deadly of a magic the cursed choker is, and that darius is not human. what he is is a mystery, and to save cordelia he must find the sword of aelfric. he cannot save alfyn, so he may as well save his sister -primrose is advised to find her sister and that if she chooses to destroy the ravus nation, aelfric will not support her actions, though they are understandable. if she finds the Sword of Aelfric, she may gain the power she needs to destroy the Ravus nation. -h'aanit is told that Linde will live on through her, and that Mattias is a warlock of Galderas. he has been rejected by the Order of the Sacred Flame as a result, though he does lie very affectively. to save the Kingdom of S'warkii, she must take down Mattias. and since mattias is going after the Sword of Aelfric she may as well accompany Ophilia and make Mattias's efforts worth nothing at all -ophilia is told to find Lianna, since she has been chosen by the Ember. she is now the only person who can rise the Sword of Aelfric from its resting place

-the Sword of Aelfric is hidden within the Sanctuary of Aelfric, which needs an insane amount of power to be opened. normally this power can be leached from the Aelfric Stones, but doing so could let loose ancient and terrible demons. therefore, the 8 gods that reside next to these stones need to be called upon in order to open the portal to the Sanctuary. -Therion suggests going after Aelfric first, since he's the closest one to them. after that, they need to find someone who knows where the rest of them are and also how to get there -they all agree that it's a good plan, but cyrus brings up that the Aelfric Stones each belong to a specific nation or people. going there and borrowing the gods power would be going after large civilizations that have grown around these stones -olberic suggests that they plan this out later, when they have more information and time -they all agree and go ahead to find the first of 8 gods

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 25

-----------

2005

It was the semi-finales for girl’s lacrosse. Miraculously, I was made captain as a freshman. Which meant, for some reason, people were offended and thought that I should be picked on more. Fact of the matter is that lacrosse is a game of strategy. Together; with the help of my teammates, we would play to win. Being captain wasn’t a choice, Finstock made me captain and the role was a big shoe to fill. But here we are, semi-finales.

As we made our way out to the play, I looked at the stands. Mom, Dad, Uncle Noah, Stiles, Scott on one end. Laura and Derek on the other side. 

There were fifteen minutes left in the game, the score was tied. We needed to make one more goal to win and get to the finales. For this next play, I was face to face with the other team captain, waiting for the pearl to be thrown. 

“You don’t deserve to be captain.” The girl glared, her eyes looked like they wanted to melt through my helmet and into my brain. 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me. I worked my ass off for four years to be captain. What makes you so special?” 

I blinked at her, a little confused as to where this hostility was coming from, “I’m just playing a game.” 

“A real captain knows the lacrosse is more than a game.” She smirked, “When we win this, I’m getting a scholarship to So Cal, so why don’t you just do what freshman do best and lose.” On one hand I felt bad for her. She probably had parents that pushed and pushed for her to be the best. And I also felt bad because I knew we were gonna win.

The ref blew the whistle starting play. And everything was going according to plan. That was until I was passed the pearl. I ran with it, tossing it to another player. Meaning that it was completely unnecessary for me to be tackled and would be considered aggressive. But that didn’t stop the other captain from using her entire body to slam me into the ground. One minute I was standing and the next I had was on the ground. My chest felt tight, like I was straining to breathe. When I opened my eyes, I saw her face over mine, smirking down at me. 

“HEY!” I heard Finstock’s booming voice, “Ref! Aren’t you gonna call that?!” No whistle, either the ref hadn’t seen it or he was allowing it. But Derek wasn’t allowing it. I heard multiple shouts and then watched the player who stood above me get shoved away, Derek replaced her. He knelt down, placing a hand on my shoulder. 

“Derek, what are you doing?” I groaned. 

“Can you get up?” He asked, trying to help me sit up. I hissed at the movement. 

Derek turned back to the bench, “Get a medic!” And only then did the whistle blow. The girl had given plenty of excuses, but they still gave her team a three minute penalty that made them lose the game. Looks like I had been right. 

I was taken to the hospital and diagnosed with a concussion but I would be fine just in time for the finales. The whole time in the waiting room, in the room itself, and even when we got home, Derek had been right beside me, holding my hand.

- 

I had grown to hate hospitals and everything about them since the last time I had been to one I had been stabbed. The gowns with the open backs that were way too open to the public. That smell that was a cross between cleaner and the latex and rubber of gloves. The beds that were as hard as a rock and were covered in paper that would crinkle and make noise even if you weren't moving. That apprehensiveness that would build up in your stomach every time you heard footsteps coming down the hallway.

Thankfully, I didn't have to go through any of that. Since I was a pregnant werewolf, going to the hospital in Beacon Hills was a definite no-no, so the next best option is Dr. Deaton, a veterinarian and a makeshift supernatural doctor. Not to mention a full blown druid in this day and age. But from what I've learned in the past couple years, old magic was very much alive. 

I was sitting on the metal table used for the animals, swinging my legs back and forth, waiting for Deaton to come back from getting my medical records emailed to him by Melissa. He could have gotten them himself, he just figured it would be less illegal if he got them from a nurse. 

Thoughts were racing through my head for no rhyme or reason. Since I became a werewolf, every scar or scratch on my body had become only a memory. My stab wound, the acid burns on my legs, the cuts on my face from being tortured all those months ago which really felt more like a lifetime. It had been a different life, a life fabricated through magic and spells. A life that almost didn't feel like mine anymore.

"Sorry, for the wait, (Y/N)." Deaton walked into the room, his eyes scanning over the stack of papers in his hands.

"You're alright, Doc." I smiled, leaning back on my hands, "So how am I looking?"

“Very pregnant.”

"Nothing gets past you, huh?” I smirked. To be fair, I was approaching the three and a half month mark. Deaton smiled, taking my vitals and a vial of blood. 

“So I’ve been made aware that Mr. Hale is the father.” He said, pressing a cotton ball to my skin after removing the needle, “How's that going?"

“About as well as you can imagine.” 

“So not at all?” He asked. I nodded, shrugging my shoulders. 

"Everything looks normal," He smiled as he wrote everything down on his clipboard, "Just need to get a look at the little guy." He looked up, "You said it was a boy, right?" He asked, moving over to get the sonographer that I’m sure had never been used on a human before.

“Unless the baby’s sprouting a third arm. That'd be cool." I smiled, “But yeah, that’s what the ultrasound tech in Scotland said.”

He chuckled and shook his head, "Alright, lay back and lift your shirt up." I laid back on the table, lifting my shirt up. The jelly he put on my stomach was cold and reminded me of the goo that had encased Jackson when he was a lizard person. He moved the sensor over my stomach and looked into the monitor. Ultrasounds were usually a little hard to see anyway, just like a fancy warschak paintings. And the fetus? Kinda like a funky jellybean.

“There we are.” He grinned, “Little werewolf.”

Craning my neck, I looked up at him, "You can tell he's a werewolf?"

"No.” He took the monitor off, handing me a paper towel so I could wipe off my stomach, “But odds are since his parents are both werewolves, it would make sense that the child would be also. However, you had the dormant gene, maybe your child will too." He turned off the sonographer.

“Have any names picked out?”

"I have a few... I liked Jacob, which Derek hated because it was too ‘Twilight’. Then there's one other but I don't know about it." The name that Derek loved more than anything for some reason, "Nicholas." And damn was it good. 

"What about Nicholas Jacob? Just use both of them." 

"Or I could name him after Stiles" I smirked to myself, "Mieczyslaw Nicholas.”

"Maybe that would be a little too much."

“Stiles is a little too much.” I smiled to myself

-

"So Nicholas?" Sheriff looked at me from across the table, a cup of coffee in his hand. I hummed and nodded, sipping my hot cocoa.

"Nicholas?” He asked again.

"Mieczyslaw?" I raised my eyebrows at him.

He raised his eyebrows, "It was his mother's father's name." 

“I remember Grandpa Mitch, trust me." I smiled, holding my mug in both hands, “I was thinking maybe Nicholas Noah.” I avoided looking in his eyes. Emotional talks were never really his strong suit, especially after Aunt Claudia. I wanted to honor him somehow.

He smiled, blinking a few times, “Sounds pretty good to me.” After a moment he asked: "What are you going to do now?"

I finished my drink and stood up to put it in the sink, "My plan, right now at least, is that I'm going to stay here to have the baby... Then...” I washed out the mug, “Then I'm not sure. I don't know if I want to go back to Scotland or stay here." He stood up as well and pulled me into his arms for a tight hug. I wrapped my arms around him, blinking my own tears away. 

Uncle Noah stroked my hair and kissed the top of my head, "Whatever your decision, I'll be there for you. Whenever you need me. I'll always, always be there for you." 

-

My pajamas had taken a turn for the worst. No more t-shirts and shorts, it’s moo moos and nightgowns from now on. I pulled my night gown over my head, smoothing out the skirt. Did I look like I had raided a grandmother’s closet? Absolutely. I looked down at my stomach, rubbing my hand over my bump.

"Are you a little alien?" I smiled after a moment, listening deeply to his little heartbeat, “Nice.” I glanced over at my desk, then pulled back my blankets to get into bed. I stopped, my head snapping back towards the window where there were red eyes staring back at me. 

 Now, if this was two years ago I would be losing my mind over the fact that there were red eyes staring at me. But since I've gone through emotional Hell, I was feeling rather annoyed by some alpha that just thought they could mosey around my house, around my window, and around my goddamn personal space. I stalked over to the window and slammed it open. 

"Listen, pal, you have about five seconds to get out my yard or I swear by all that is damnable, I will put you through so much pain that your great-grandchildren will be sore."

The eyes came closer, revealing a familiar crooked jaw, "Nice to see you too." 

"You could have just come through the front door, ya know? If Stiles can make a spare key to your house, then he can make you one for his." Scott only looked at me seriously. It was like the kid from three months ago was gone and all there was left was a battle hardened man. 

"Can I please come in?" I stepped away from the window, watching him crawl inside and stand up.

"I've been great, Scott, I've only been in Scotland for months, crying and wondering why none of my friends or family were contacting me. How have you been?" Was it petty? Absolutely, but the hormones were raging. Even if Derek told everyone to stop talking to me, what hold did he have over anyone when Scott was around?

"I'm sorry about that, I really am. But I came to-"

I cut him off, after finally connecting, "Who did you kill?"

“What?”

"To become an alpha, who did you take it from?" 

"I didn't kill anyone!” He said in an exasperated voice, “Why does everyone ask that? Not killing people has been my thing since Peter bit me." He ran his hand through his shorter hair, it suit him.

It then dawned on me. The one thing that had little to no documentation of. Even the Lunar Circle had just the basics. It was the stuff of legend, a hear say. I didn't think it was possible. 

"A true alpha." He stared at me for a second and blinked a couple times.

"You're a true alpha." I grinned, "Oh my god, Scott, this is unbelievable." I grabbed his shoulders and gave them a slight squeeze, "Tell me everything. I wanna know how it happened and what situation you were in. How were you feeling? Were you hurt? Was your body under so much stress that it just happened?”

Scott grabbed my hands and placed them by my sides, "(Y/N), maybe another time I came here for a reason."

"Oh, right, of course." Probably looking ridiculous, “What’s on your mind?”  

"I really don't think it's safe for you here." 

"Here we go agai-" 

"Will you just listen to me before you start whining?" He growled. That certainly shut me up. I raised my eyebrows at him, but I guess I should hear him out. I motioned for him to continue.

"I'm not so much worried about you.” He said, “I know you can take care of yourself. I'm worried about..." He paused, "Uh..." 

“Nicholas.”

"Yeah, I'm worried about Nicholas." He sat in my computer chair and leaned forward, "The pack we're facing don't care who they kill or why, all they want is to hurt us. You're my friend, (Y/N). I don't want anything to happen to you. And I don't want anything to happen to your kid. Please." He rolled forward and took my hands in his, "Please, go back to Scotland. I promise you, you won't be in the dark. You don't deserve to be left out. I'll call myself, and if not me, Stiles will. It's not safe for you.” I looked down, gnawing on my lip. Scott was right, he was completely right. It wasn't safe. I couldn't be a tough alpha when I had so much to live for. Keeping this kid safe is my top priority. As much as I wanted to stay home, it wasn’t safe.

"You'll tell me when it's safe to come back?" 

"You have my word." 

I sighed, looking up at him with a half-smile, "I may be stubborn as hell, but that doesn't mean I can't admit when someone's right. And you're right, Scott. I'll go." 

He closed his eyes, like a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He dropped my hands and rolled back, "I'm so glad you agreed with my first speech, if you hadn't I would have been improvising for my life." He chuckled.

Shaking my head, I grinned at him, “It’s good to see you again.” 

“It’s good to see you too.”

- 

"So you're going back?" Uncle Noah looked over his coffee with tired eyes, spying my luggage that had only been unpacked for two days. It was a new day and another plane ride.

"It's not safe for me. It's not safe for any of you." I rested my head on his shoulder, "But I know that will never stop you from helping the ones you care about." 

A small smile pulled at his lips, "You're way too good at reading me." 

"Well, I've only known you my whole life." 

He set down his coffee and hugged me tight, like this was the last time he would see me. I know he was worried about me and Stiles, it was in his nature. This was the best option for me. As much as I wanted to stay and fight. I couldn't fight if my child was kidnapped and hell knows what would happen to him. 

Giving him one last squeeze, I pulled away, the honking outside meant that Stiles had pulled in and was ready to drop me off at the airport. 

"I'll call you when I land. Or text you. Depends on the time." I kissed his cheek, "Bye Uncle Noah." 

“Goodbye, sweetheart. Stay safe." I kissed his cheek. My head held high, I grabbed my bag and my rolling luggage and went out the door. Stiles grabbed my bags, opening the back of Roscoe to throw my luggage in. That was until a familiar black Camero pulled into the driveway, blocking Stiles in. 

"God. Dammit." I muttered to myself. My life was just going swell, wasn't it? I looked down at my stomach and sighed. I felt the burn of acid reflux in my throat, my child showing obvious discomfort as well. Me too, little man. Me too. 

There was no way around it, I couldn’t leave without talking with him. Not that I should have to begin with. I sucked. 

Derek got out of the car, coming around quickly and standing in front of me. 

“Derek, I don’t think you should be here.” Stiles stepped forward. Very sweet, but realistically Stiles wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing against Derek. They stared each other down, the air just filled with masculinity.

“Stiles...” I said, grabbing my bags, “If he wants to take me to the airport, let him.” 

Stiles eyes widened, “You’re really giving him the time of day? Really?” 

Sighing, I pulled Stiles into my arms and hugged him tightly. He hesitated, but hugged me back. 

“I know that this seems like a bad idea, and most of my ideas are bad, but I got this. Trust me.” I smiled and kissed his cheek, “I love you.” He pulled away, looking between Derek and I. 

“I love you too. Scott and I will let you know when it’s safe to come back.”

“You better.” I turned back to Derek, trying to keep up the attitude I had to keep Stiles at ease. I held out my bags. He took them without a word and we both started the trip to the airport. It was hard to get a read on him at the moment. He emotions were dull, nothing that stood out. He still looked as tense as ever. His brows were knitted together and his piercing green eyes looked hard. 

“So...” He said after a while, “What are you going to do about...” He trailed off. 

“Him?” I looked down at my stomach, “I’m just preparing and getting ready for him. I picked a name too. Nicholas.” 

A small smile pulled at his lips, but he hid it, “Hmm.” 

“Derek....” Now or never, “I just need to know why?” 

He inhaled deeply, “I wish I could tell you. I don’t even remember it happening. Like I was under a spell and I couldn’t break out of it.” So he had experienced what I had when I was under Matt’s control. In this situation, in Beacon Hills, there was no reason not to believe him. His heart told me it was true. 

“I’m sorry that I hit you.” 

“I don’t blame you.” He glanced over at me, “If I felt the same thing you did, I would probably lose control too.” 

“I’m tired of people taking advantage of you. If I see that bitch-” I hadn’t realized that my eyes had turned red. 

“(Y/N)...” He reached over his right hand, placing it on my knee, “Calm down.” I took a deep breath and leaned back against the seat, closing my eyes. Just the simplest touch could calm me down and it was something that I missed. 

“Nicholas, huh? I like it.”

Happiness welled up in my chest, “I sure hope so since you picked it.” 

“I didn’t think you liked it.” 

I sat back up and opened my eyes, “What are you talking about? I’ve always liked that name.”

“Riiiiight.” 

By the time the conversation ended, we were at the airport. I reached for the handle to open the door when he reached over to stop me. 

“I let you leave alone last time, I’m walking you in."

We got inside and checked in, the only thing left was for me to board. Maybe it was a good thing that he didn't take me to the airport last time, because now that he was here, I didn't want to leave him.

"How selfish would it be for me to ask you to drop your life here and come with me?" I leaned on his arm.

"Very. Trust me, the thought crossed my mind. I'm needed here. I have to be here for Cora."

I smiled slightly, "We're gonna get through this. Soon we'll be together again and we can have that big happy family that you deserve. That we deserve."

Derek sighed, resting his head on top of mine, "Is it cliche to hope that this all ends tomorrow?" 

My smile faltered, "Don't believe in miracles, Derek."

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----------------

Read part 26 here!

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[thephantomchronicles]

✿ pls!

Thank you for the symbol!

✿: feeling so out of it, they need constant attention

ao3 link here

sick whump scenarios

Alex was certainly only slightly confused. Or maybe exasperated. Definitely one of these two.

He’d just never been in that situation before. Well, he had, but with different people involved. People that made sense. Because, as far as he was concerned, Willie couldn’t get sick or drunk under normal circumstances.

So yes, when he left his boyfriend on the couch and came back from the kitchen to find him lying on the floor, he definitely had some questions.

“Willie? Why are you on the floor?” he asked as he stood over him.

“Why are any of us on the floor?” Willie answered, staring at the ceiling as if it was the most interesting thing he’d seen in a while.

“Well, to be fair, you’re the only one on the floor?” Alex said as he kneeled down in between Willie and the couch.

“And now so are you,” Willie said, turning around and patting Alex’s knee, looking straight in his eyes with a sincerity that definitely didn’t match the situation. “How beautiful is that?”

Alex tried not to laugh, but he was still grinning, looking down at him. How could he not?

“Is it really comfortable though?” he said. “Or clean?”

“Alex, life is too short to ask questions,” Willie said, going back to staring at the ceiling. Okay, Alex should obviously change course of action.

“Right, you’re right. What about a super amazing idea though?” he asked, already hyping him up.

Willie turned back to look at him with an eager expression. “What super amazing idea?”

“We – and stay with me here – move over to the couch! And I make something for us to eat!” Alex said, keeping an enthusiasm and cheerfulness in his voice that once again, did not match his words or the situation at all.

Willie stared at him for a couple of seconds and Alex was starting to worry he was losing him again, when he suddenly grabbed his hand and shook him a little.

“That is… the most… best idea ever,” Willie said. “You are so great, how are you so great?”

“It’s a secret,” Alex whispered to him as he tried to help him get up and back on the couch. Willie stumbled on his way there, but he finally sat back against the couch, hugging one of the cushions.

“This is so soft…” he whispered in awe, looking at the cushion.

Alex looked at him, a fond expression taking over his face. “How long is the eclipse supposed to last?” he asked.

“Oh, so long… We should go check!” Willie exclaimed and made a move to stand up and go over to the balcony, but Alex was quick to stand in front of him. The last thing he needed was Willie falling off the balcony.

“Or I can look it up on my phone,” he said. “You can’t just leave our beautiful couch!” He came over to sit on his other side, handing him another cushion. “See? Pretty cushion.”

Willie sighed. “It is a pretty cushion. Is it new? I have never seen this before in my life.”

“Super new,” Alex said with a nod. Willie must have had it for at least six years.

He looked quickly through his phone, glancing back at Willie every few seconds to make sure he didn’t… Well, he wasn’t sure. Find the beauty in lying on the floor again.

And the eclipse should be done in… forty-five minutes. Okay. He can make sure his boyfriend stays in one piece for the next forty-five minutes. He’s a Shadowhunter, he hunts demons for a living, this is fine. He thanked the Angel lunar eclipses only happened once every two and about a half years.

Willie hadn’t even seemed worried about it, being all like ‘relax, babe, it’s just an eclipse, it won’t make things that bad’. And now he was talking to a cushion. Alex wasn’t sure what the correct reaction was here.

And he liked to think that he’d come prepared! He knew lunar eclipses did something to werewolves, although this was his first time experiencing it first hand and he could honestly say, this was not what he’d expected. He’d walked into the apartment thinking he’d find Willie weak and sleeping, not weak, disoriented and high.

“Okay, we can get through this,” he said, mostly to himself. “Will you be fine if I go to the bathroom for a couple of seconds?”

“So fine,” Willie echoed. “But you’ll come back, right?” He looked at him, worry in his eyes that Alex was going to disappear into the bathroom never to be seen again.

“You won’t even realize I was gone,” Alex said with a little smile, leaning in to peck his lips.

Willie seemed satisfied, so Alex got up and went inside. Okay, this was working out, this was going great, he didn’t even know why he was worried in the first place.

But then he was washing his hands and heard a thud from the kitchen which reminded him exactly why he should be freaking out.

He ran back outside to find Willie over the sink, holding a glass of water.

“What was that?” Alex asked.

Willie snapped his head around, excited to see him. “Alex!” he exclaimed and left the glass on the counter, running in to hug him. “I thought you were gone forever!”

“I was gone for two minutes,” Alex tried to say through the death grip Willie had on him.

“I was so lonely, please don’t leave me ever again…” Willie said with a sniffle.

“Wh- Don’t cry! I’m not leaving, I promise,” Alex hurried to say.

“Really?” Willie asked without pulling back.

“Really,” Alex reassured him.

“Then can we like, go over to the couch? I’m so tired…”

“And you’re not gonna roll back down on the floor again?” Alex asked with a little smile.

Willie pulled back to look at him, confused. “Why would I roll down on the floor?”

Okay, sleep was probably the best option here.

Alex helped him move back over to the living room, even though Willie complained that he was fine and could totally do this on his own – he almost faceplanted on the floor three times. He eventually faceplanted on the couch. If you asked Alex, a much better option.

He moved over to sit next to Willie’s head, moving a few strands of hair away from his face. His eyes were closed, but he was still awake as he blindly reached over with his hand to find Alex’s leg.

“I’m really happy you came back,” he murmured. And sure, Alex hadn’t even left the apartment, but he felt something tug at his heartstrings.

“You know I’d never leave you, right?” he said softly.

Willie shuffled a little so he could move closer and put his head on Alex’s lap. “Yeah,” he said with a little sigh as he relaxed against him. “You’re great like that.”

Alex smiled once again, looking down at Willie who was facing away from him, his eyes closed.

“Sorry about the glass,” he suddenly said.

“What glass?” Alex asked, momentarily confused.

“The broken glass,” Willie answered like that made any more sense.

“What broken glass?” Alex asked again.

“In the sink.”

Alex blinked. “You were holding a glass,” he said, trying to make sense of his boyfriend’s delirious state.

“That was the second glass. The first glass broke,” Willie answered, his voice softer than before.

The thud.

“So, there’s a broken glass in the kitchen sink?” he asked.

“Yeah… Sorry.”

Alex wasn’t sure how to explain to him that it was his glass because Alex had moved in three weeks ago and had definitely not brought anything kitchen related with him, so he just nodded, moving his hand through his boyfriend’s hair.

“It’s okay, we can get a new one,” he said.

“Yay…” Willie cheered quietly, his voice fading out. Alex stayed quiet and sure enough, Willie was asleep only seconds later.

Okay, maybe this was not a total disaster, maybe Willie was cute. Then again maybe Alex was biased. Either way, they were not sleeping on the floor and Alex counted that as a win.

[when-they-write-stuff]

SterekWeek2020: Day 2 (Cozy Comfort)

~

When Stiles used to think of the autumn season, he’d think of three things. 

Baking, pumpkins, and colored leaves.

Halloween used to be his favorite time of the year. He remembered the days when his mom would handmake his costume and they would spend the day decorating the house or pressing dry leaves into the pages of old notebooks. She’d bake more and more in the days leading up to Halloween and they’d usually end up having too many leftovers for a small family of three.

Stiles remembered trying to bake alongside her and always getting eggshells into the cookie dough. When his dad would come home, they’d carve pumpkins the day before Halloween, and Stiles had always been grossed out by the pumpkin guts. His mom would save the seeds, claiming she was going to plant them in the upcoming year.

She never did.

Stiles still lived for Halloween. Of course, he did. 

Though, before werewolves, he had enjoyed it a lot more. Because back then, seeing a ghost or a monster on the streets was something that just happened once a year. Stiles didn’t take in each costume and unconsciously compare it to what he’d seen in real life. He didn’t jump when one was uncannily similar to whatever Monster of the Week they’d been chasing earlier, trying to pretend like he wasn’t internally freaking out.

There were still certain parts that reminded him of before, though. Stiles found himself in the preserve more than once looking at the red and orange trees. He dug through his mom’s old cookbook and did his best not to burn down the house, grinning at his dad’s reaction when the man caught the smell of her favorite cookies.

Sometimes, Stiles remembered that he probably wasn’t the only one with old memories that haunted the current season. And that might’ve been why he showed up at Derek’s front door without a warning one day, grinning brightly with one of those tiny pumpkins in each hand.

The man didn’t look impressed.

Because yeah, Stiles was pretty sure he still got underneath Derek’s skin. He wouldn’t call them enemies exactly, not anymore. Enough years had passed that Derek seemed to have accepted his fate and the teenagers that basically lived in his loft. Though, Stiles wasn’t sure if he could call them friends either. 

Maybe. Sometimes, he thought. Like when he crashed on the couch after pack night and Derek would wake him up with a cup of coffee and a strange look on his face as the man pretended Stiles didn’t exist for the rest of the morning. 

Right now, though, Derek looked more than confused at Stiles’s sudden appearance. So he didn’t give the man a chance to kick him out, ducking underneath Derek’s arm and moving into the loft.

“Good afternoon, Sourwolf. How are you doing on this lovely fall day?”

“Stiles,” Derek said, sliding the door shut and turning around. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Geez, dude,” Stiles said, plopping down on the couch. “Can’t a guy with tiny pumpkins show up for an unexpected visit once in a while and not get growled at?”

Derek narrowed his eyes. Stiles snorted.

“Fine, whatever, be like that. It doesn’t matter, because we’re gonna carve pumpkins!”

The man looked at him for a long moment, a little bit of red in his eyes. And Stiles figured if he was going to die in any way, this might be the most embarrassing. But instead of ripping his throat out or even growling a little bit, Derek just turned away and moved into the kitchen.

Stiles stared after the werewolf for a moment before shoving himself up and stumbling after him.

“Dude, Derek, where are you going? Hey! You’re a terrible host!”

Derek had his back toward him when Stiles stumbled into the kitchen. Coming to a complete stop, he blinked at him and then sniffed suspiciously, moving over to the man’s side. 

“Why does it smell like chocolate in here?”

“Go away, Stiles.”

But Stiles ignored him, peering over Derek’s shoulder. There was a giant pot on the stove and Stiles blinked at it before looking at Derek curiously. “That’s hot chocolate.”

“So?”

“Can werewolves actually have chocolate?”

Derek did give him a red-eyed look this time and Stiles raised his hands in surrender, backing a step away. He figured it still wasn’t too late to get his throat ripped out and the last thing he wanted to do was step over one too many lines. But this… this was domestic. He noticed for the first time that Derek was in nothing but sweats and a red thumbhole sweater, a dishrag thrown over his shoulder. And it was so painfully domestic, Stiles felt like he might have walked into an alternate dimension.

He glanced around the kitchen, noting how quiet the loft was too. Usually, when he came over, there was at least one beta around somewhere. But it was completely silent now.

“So, have the rest of the werewolves abandoned ship then?”

“They’re at a movie.”

“And their Sourwolf alpha didn’t want to go along?”

Once more, Stiles got a red-eyed look. He swallowed nervously and willed his heart not to flip at that. He might have failed though, because Derek’s ears turned a little red too and the man turned away, stirring the stovetop hot chocolate a little more aggressively than before.

Stiles turned away, wandering back into the living. Dropping back onto the couch, he picked up one of the pumpkins and turned it over in his hand, chewing on his lower lip thoughtfully.

A few seconds later, Derek came out with two steaming mugs. Stiles blinked in surprise.

“So I’m not getting kicked out then?”

“Shut up,” Derek said, setting down one of the mugs in front of him. The man glared at the miniature pumpkins. “And how are you planning on carving those?”

“It’s possible,” Stiles said, shrugging. To be honest, he wasn’t actually sure if that was true. But giving it a try wouldn’t do any harm, right? “Do you really think I could have lugged two normal-sized pumpkins all the way up here?”

“I don’t know why you’d attempt in the first place.”

Stiles dropped his gaze, chewing on his lip again. And to his silence, Derek raised a brow.

“Stiles?”

“It used to be a Stilinski family tradition,” Stiles said, shrugging. He really hoped he sounded as nonchalant as he was attempting to be. “Pumpkin carving. But my dad’s working the next few nights and there’s no way I’m touching pumpkin guts alone.”

Derek’s lips twitched. “Pumpkin guts?”

“Yes, dude, that’s exactly what they are. And no, I won’t be taking constructive criticism.”

“I don’t think those pumpkins are big enough to contain pumpkin guts,” Derek said, bringing his mug to his lips. Stiles glanced at the one in his hands and sighed.

“Yeah, probably not.”

He’d debated attempting to carry two pumpkins up all three flights of stairs, he really had. Because in the end, Stiles knew himself best, and there was no way he was taking two trips. But he also knew himself well enough to know that carrying both would end up in nothing but catastrophe.

Stiles set the pumpkin back down and picked up the mug Derek had brought him instead. Studying the man over the top of it, he took a careful sip and then grinned.

“Dude, this is actually really good!”

Derek rolled his eyes, but Stiles could have sworn his ears turned a little red again. And once more, Stiles thought it was some kind of miracle that he hadn’t gotten himself kicked out yet. But then again, watching Derek quietly, Stiles wondered if he had been sort of right.

Maybe Derek didn’t want to be alone.

It was the little things, Stiles supposed. Setting his mug back down, he pushed himself up and vanished into the other room for a second before coming back out with two sharpies. To Derek’s raised-eyebrow expression, Stiles grinned again.

“Just because we can’t carve them doesn’t mean we can’t do something. I hope you have one or two artistic skills, Sourwolf, because I have none.”

“You’re an idiot,” Derek said. “You realize that, right?”

“Or an unorthodox genius,” Stiles shot back, grabbing one of the pumpkins and tossing it at the man. Derek caught it with a surprised grunt and then glared. Stiles smirked. “I know I’m not the only one with a Halloween tradition. What did you use to do?”

He half regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, but then it was too late. Derek’s face did something strange and the man glanced down at his hands for a long second before answering.

“There were little things,” he said quietly. “Laura and I used to do hot chocolate and scary movies. Back in New York.”

Stiles glanced down at his mug and then looked toward the TV before turning his gaze back to Derek. The man was still avoiding his gaze. “And that’s what you were gonna…”

“Yes.”

“Alone?”

If there was any time Stiles was going to get kicked out of the loft, he figured it’d be now. But Derek just shrugged and Stiles couldn’t help the pang that struck through him. Glancing around, he grabbed the nearest blanket and wrapped it around himself, nestling the mug against his chest.

“Well, I guess the pumpkins will have to wait until later, then.”

Derek gave him a sharp, almost warning look. As if he expected Stiles to make fun of him or crack another joke or something. But Stiles just offered up his best smile and nodded toward the remote.

“I’m game for a good scary movie.”

For a moment, he was almost nervous that had been the line he wasn’t supposed to cross. Inviting himself into the loft had been one thing, but if this was too much—

“Stiles—”

“Derek,” Stiles said, taking one more step and cutting the man off. “I’m here.”

Derek looked at him for another long moment. And then there it was again. That small smile that seemed to tug at the corners of his lips, even if it never became the full thing. Derek didn’t do anything but grunt and grab the remote, leaning back, but Stiles figured he’d take it as a win. He’d take anything that didn’t involve getting his throat ripped out as a win.

“Just a warning though, big guy,” Stiles said, huddling deeper underneath his blanket. “I don’t do jump scares.”

Derek rolled his eyes. Stiles grinned. 

And if there was a large lump pressed up against him less than half an hour later, Stiles wouldn’t say anything. No matter how much he really, really wanted to. Especially because there still hadn’t been any jump scares yet. 

(And there were two pumpkins scribbled over in black sharpie by the doorstep when the betas came home.)

[bao3bei4]

kpop music videos that gave their fans sexual brainworms

OR accidental fetish pop and its fringe fanbase: meditations on gendered desire 

large warning here: i am someone who has been into kpop for the past 10 years. however, i have always been an extremely casual fan. i do write fic, but not rpf. if any of that makes you not want to hear me talk about kpop rpf (or you don’t want to hear about it in general), please keep moving.

anyway, obviously pop is corporate, soulless, and manufactured. but sometimes some truly bizarre shit gets past the committees and destroys a generation. these are their stories.

the video that started this is all is got7’s just right, released july 10th, 2015.

yes that’s all 7 members of got7 (one is out of frame) shrunken down for your viewing pleasure. they live in your room and tell you you’re just right. 

this sheer fetish power of this video is nerfed only by how utterly sexless it is.

they’re styled like and dance like this. it’s a totally unironic sendup of the seminal work that preceded it by four years, “what makes you beautiful” by the white kpop group “one direction.” the chaste energy of the whole thing makes you legitimately wonder if the good people at jyp have just never heard of microphilia. (during a dramatic reading of this piece, here a friend interjected seriously, “i think it’s korean culture not to talk about things like this, fetishes in the workplace.”)

it’s for the best, honestly, though because the actress in the music video is lee ja in, who was 11 when the video was shot. considering that the members themselves ranged in age from 18-23 at the time, i think it’s actually very impressive that we only have to cancel one. 

you receive absolutely no prizes for guessing that it’s jackson wang we’re sending to social justice prison. why’d he do this? no one asked. 

at any rate, got7 fans, or “gans” (they actually call themselves igot7s which is too twee for me), have much to think about here: all 7 very small members of got7 sneaking into their room, possibly weird age play, and jackson wang eating a very large cake.

let’s see what they actually did. 

twitter was actually very tame. the most charged thing i found was (unsurprisingly) from a bts fan (“ban”). i don’t actually know what it means, but i think it means something.

so, of course, i turned to the internet’s last bastion of free speech, where you can say whatever the fuck you want and receive cheers, or as the kids say, “kudos.” that is, i read fanfiction. 

for those of you who don’t know your herstory, i started my journey at Asianfanfics.com, where, at the time of writing, there were 12,067 got7 stories. i want to start this by saying that i think feminism won, because someone was paying real human dollars to advertise their irene/wendy fanfiction on a banner ad, which is quite possibly a win for women for everywhere. 

anyway, Asianfanfics.com’s search engine sucks ass (i kept on finding stories about different combinations of bts members worrying about their weight and being reassured by another member that were entitled “just right”), so i decided to look through all got7 stories written between july 2015 and december 2015. 

but, alas, not a single got7 microphilia fic to be found. 

also, some genre commentary while i’m here: i think the stories i respect the most are the “[y/n] is a ordinary girl who’s assigned to be got7’s manager! can she make them into superstars? as sparks begin to fly, can she keep it professional?” like fuck yeah that sounds like a kickass dating sim. it almost definitely already is one. i salute all the teens around the world for buying into the fantasy of dating a boy band member that they themselves sell you. 

however, i don’t think i respect the “[member a] and [member b] are mafia/jocks and nerds/college students/high schoolers” concepts. in my opinion, the whole fantasy of boy band member is their personas, their hidden real personalities, their celebrity, and the show business setting. find a different intellectual property if you wanna write about school. i even respect the “yugyeom drank girl juice [not estrogen] and turned into a sexy girl” story more, because at least it knows exactly what it wants, and also because they’re all still boy band members. well, band members. shout out to yugyeom. 

so, anyway, i looked elsewhere. at the time of writing, archive of our own only had 11,645 got7 stories, but it does have a better search, so it effectively has more. as an aside, i think it’s so funny, and mildly disorienting at first, that archive of our own separates the “music & bands” section from the “celebrities & real people” section. boy band members aren’t real people. 

the first problem i encountered is that only 20 or so stories were written within a year of just right’s release. absolute cringe gans. don’t you care about your boys? there were zero stories tagged “vore” or “microphilia” either. stories containing the word “tiny” that were rated either “explicit” or “mature” were all normal (“normal”) size fetishization rather than, you know, just right. 

however, i learned my lesson from twitter. i realized that what had happened was that watching this video had created sleeper agents, just waiting for their activation phrase. that activation phrase? bangtan boys. and yeah, lo and behold, there was one! unfortunately (fortunately?) it had nothing to do with got7, let alone just right, so i’m not going to talk about it.  

basically what i learned is that this video may have actually been very normal, and my brain has just been destroyed by being too online at a young age. 

however, there are plenty more videos in this genre. i present to you exo wolf, a banger from may 30th, 2013. i say banger, because in a comedic inversion, it’s actually fucking terrible. 

this video is pretty self-explanatory in terms of why it might induce certain responses. 

let’s get the formalities out of the way. this video, the member who’s getting cancelled is kai. he has braids in this video :/

also skating on thin ice: xiumin and chen. guys what was up with the whole exo-m thing? like, we’re gonna have a cpop subgroup, but it’s going to be part chinese members and part korean members that we’ll give a chinese name? unsurprisingly, the three exo members who have departed from the group are all chinese. they weren’t able to stand the microaggressions probably. but xiumin and chen remain uncancelled as an official chinese apology for five thousand of years of on-and-off invasions of korea. sorry guys that was kinda fucked up. our bad! 

anyway, there are basically three avenues for exo fans to take: 1) humans with wolfish characters (usually wolf pack dynamics, which even wolves themselves don’t fucking use so i think all of you should shut up. the real omega here is your brain), 2) werewolves (duh), and 3) wolves with human characteristics (i.e. standard furry fare). 

exo themselves let all these possibilities exist at the same time, superimposing them over each other, which is very woke and egalitarian of them. let’s see what the people decided. awoo.

Asianfanfics dot com had many stories in this vein. i feel very validated that this time i was able to correctly predict a fetish. that said, briefly returning to my earlier comment regarding alternate universes: it’s intense psychic whiplash reading about these vampires and werewolves, and going okay okay luhan is a vampire this that whatever, and then seeing the actual real performance photos the author attaches at the bottom of each chapter. bro i forgot these were actual people.... it breaks immersion so bad... i’m sorry, i just can’t believe that any of these dancing boys are having weird vampire sex with wings or whatever. 

archive of our own also had many stories in this vein. and i think there are some important difference between the two sites worth talking about. 

first of all, i think the higher engagement rate of archive of our own really enables some of the authors to get super bold. it makes Asianfanfics.com seem a little quaint, actually. like the wordcounts are waaay longer, for one. it’s uncommon for a story hosted on Asianfanfics.com to be more than a few thousand words long (most of them could easily be published in the new yorker), whereas some of these archive of our own people have written full length novels about if the members of exo were werewolves. i guess it’s just intensely demoralizing for the aff.com crew to get, like, three comments per story. 

the second big difference is that i’m noticing more common themes between the ao3 crew’s writing. like stan intertextuality, or plagiarism, or whatever, but they seem to be implicitly engaging with each other’s characterizations, storylines, and tropes. i think it is because they probably all follow each other on twitter. (i have been active on twitter for three weeks now so i am an expert on fanfiction twitter.) 

anyway, like not that i am a particularly big gan (cannot even list all the members), but these people seem to have reached a very specific consensus on how jackson wang, for instance, would react in a variety of situations that really surprises me? if i were to sit down and write a got7 story, i think the fuckboitude, the douchebaggery is a big part of his charm. not to be nationalist or anything, but for god’s sake, he’s from hong kong. but these people have him as very sensitive, lots of protective instincts. not that i understood what anyone on aff.com was doing with his character either, but they did all seem to be doing different things. “kudos” to that, i guess.

but: exo. wolf. i searched the “wolves” tag. this filtered the list down from 33459 stories to 52 stories. and the “wolves” tag was very different from the aff.com “wolf” tag. for the most part, aff.com liked stories where a member was a wolf (usually shapeshifting), feral boy, lots of y/n, lots of y/n dating a feral boy who is secretly a wolf. 

ao3 really, really, really likes alpha/beta/omega stories. sorting by the most popular stories, only five on the first page weren’t a/b/o. and one of them was a cis f!baekhyun story, so i think the intended effect was communicated. anyway, let’s talk about some of the themes. 

first of all, i’m disappointed. today’s bonus cancellation is of ao3 “wolves” writers. why the fuck are you drawing so heavily from european wolves?? there are wolves in asia!! you don’t need to keep giving their packs and ranks weird latin names. i will kill you. i hate italy. korea literally has a native wolf. i hate all of you!!! if you want to write caucasian wolves go watch that dumbass cw show!!!! my god. 

the second theme (the first one was white supremacy) is that no one wants to be a wolf who fucks. i think that we need a sex positivity movement, or something, for omega rights. like, are all of you doing okay? you’re queering misogyny by inventing new genders to oppress. another level to “no one wants to be a wolf...” is the “who fucks” part. there are so many consent issues. and not even in like, a sexy intentional way? in a “i genuinely do not think this author understands how their writing comes off” way. unfortunately i am sensitive to untagged sexual coercion, and there was a lot of that.

at any rate, the aff.com wolves were at peace with being wolves, very self-actualized. the ao3 wolves know that every minute they spend alive on this bitch of an earth is suffering, and also sex.

the third theme is the evolution of y/n. y/n, who, in a startlingly woke move for aff.com, is almost always korean, is a girl main character stumbling into love, boy bands, and wolves (i think it’s because aff.com is oldschool kpop fandom, so therefore heavily asian itself in userbase). but y/n is not the main character in ao3 stories. she is the straight best friend. in what i think is a hilarious move, ao3 authors invert the gay best friend paradigm to give the gay main character a straight girl as best friend. she usually calls him “a gay,” she has lots of thoughts on boys, and she knows his sexuality better than he does and before he does. (sidebar: if all the men are gay, and all the women are straight...)

there’s a really fun twist to this, though, because the main character is always a self-insert in fanfiction. but where older fanfiction like aff.com was at peace with this and literalize it via y/n shenanigans, modern fic writers who haven’t finished distangling their complicated relationship with wanting to be a man who loves other men instead simply imbue their main character with their essence. a little voodoo doll sehun, with a lock of y/n hair. 

this creates a deeply ambivalent relationship with gender in these stories. the main character is usually an omega, but one who resents being an omega. their body and its parts is usually described, if at all, as ostensibly intersex (except more offensively), but in practice, these discourses inscribe a trans body. (nb: i think cis writers approach this in a really fucked up fetishizing way, but i hope by this point we know that that goes without saying) it’s incredibly straightforward to read this, and see the underlying desires and fears in a heady cocktail of unfiltered writing that’s deeply confessional. you know when freud had people say whatever the fuck they wanted and figured they’d eventually free associate into releasing their subconscious into reality? yeah. 

okay, and while we’re on the topic, let’s talk f(x) nu abo, released on may 4th, 2010. 

this is a blitzy, maximalist, amped up dance hit that even has its own applause and cheers built in. it’s so fucking annoying, and i love it. 

this song is on here because the second most popular kpop a/b/o story on ao3 is called “nu abo” except it’s about bts. that’s offensive enough in its own right. write something about f(x) (702 works). when will women win the right to have their own self-lubricating holes.

anyway, even though f(x) is probably innocent in all of this, i’m still cancelling amber liu. 

for queerbaiting. who told her to look like ruby rose but hot? and for what? i’m also cancelling her for racism, but that wasn’t in this video. 

moving on to a double feature: vixx voodoo doll and vixx chained up, released november 19, 2013 and november 9, 2015 respectively. this is because while voodoo doll is more formative, i think the fans who write fanfiction today got into kpop more recently, so we are casting a wide net.

anyway, voodoo doll is jam packed with weird pseudo-medical imagery, blood, vivisection, bondage, puppet shit, femdom, sharps, piercings, asphyxiation, dollification, stabbing/penetration metaphors, and a really sick and catchy dance. god that looks like the list of tags on the a/b/o wolf stories. 

for this song, we’re cancelling you, for being way too into this song when you were 13.

vixx voodoo doll made me goth i guess! insert that pic of the your music saved me sign, except it saved me from getting into emo or pop punk probably. 

chained up, comparatively, is much more tame. the only thing of note about it is that there are around 10 completely different chokers and choker looks the members wear in this music video. also they’re singing about being chained up, but that seemed a bit obvious. 

we could argue that voodoo doll is gay while chained up is gay (derogatory); that voodoo doll is queer while chained up is gay; that chained up is a sensitive masterpiece of omega4omega sexuality. but we’re not going to. 

we’re going to talk about what voodoo doll fanfiction was and was not. first, Aff.com had plenty of it. however, i was extremely disappointed to see that much of it did not hew to the spirit of vixx voodoo doll. my god, the voodoo doll becoming the one preying upon you disgusts me. the fantasy of the voodoo doll is that of absolute power. the idea that the doll itself has agency? instantly breaks the fantasy. i’m even not into voodoo dolls and i’m offended. 

i also don’t think it’s part of the voodoo doll fantasy to release the doll. the only story on there that involved Y/N kidnapping vixx members like in the music video was unavailable because the author deactivated their account. come back qxeen what did you see. 

i think this got off track, actually, in that i was mostly wondering why these people imprinted differently onto vixx voodoo doll than i did. like i don’t think you’re supposed to actually like straightforwardly absorb the morals and aesthetics of music videos like it’s propaganda. however, it’s more entertaining if you do. i hope ao3 doesn’t let me down. 

out of the then 5932 works in the vixx fandom (the least out of every group so far, excluding f(x) because they’re women), 59 of them included the word “voodoo” somewhere. that’s 1%. i legitimately can’t tell if that’s high or not. 

after some more cursory reading through the first page of popular results, my big takeaway is that people watched that video and wanted to be tortured and enslaved? but not, like, in a sexy way where the torturing is the point, the way where the point is to suffer bravely and beautifully, to endure the world’s harms like jesus on the cross, and then to fall into the arms of a beautiful boy who may or may not be the one hurting you in the first place. 

there’s a certain predictability to these fantasies. like it’s not even masochism, which would be fun at least, it’s literally just like the desire to be beautiful, even as you suffer. and i do find that a little boring. (but, i mean, you can’t help being a woman!)

sidebar: on chained up. what’s interesting about chained up, is that most of the then 38 “chained up” works (likely because the video has no storyline) are about the members fucking during chained up promotions. no one’s ever actually chained up, but whatever. it’s fine. it’s fine! 

anyway, here, more than ever, the nature of desire is stripped bare. i’ve written before [elsewhere in the unreleased tshirt cinematic universe] on how kpop boys are, through fandom, re-formed as white, or more strongly, i guess, blank slates. it’s really interesting to me how so much of this dynamic of projection is enabled by the fact that they’re asian men. they’re infantilized, feminized vessels; they’re seductive, but childlike, oblivious to their own charms, so nonthreatening; they have uncontrollable desires for sex, they’re scared of sex. and above all else, white women submit themselves to them, insert themselves into them. basically kpop fans tend to rework old school yellow peril and emasculation fantasies to reenact their own desires, often white, often cishet on them. 

what i am saying is that there’s another thesis about forced feminization and its racialized subtext in here. obviously gender is a racialized construct to begin with, but like it’s fascinating to argue that when white women remake asian men according to their own desires, that is, into themselves, they (hopefully) unintentionally echo these old fears about the sexual order.

it illuminates, it seems, the underlying dynamic in the denigration of asian men, which is of course the fear of miscegenation. now, my breathtaking ability to make everything about me aside, miscegenation is interesting because it presents a racial synthesis, beginning to collapse and trouble the artificial designations of purity. so we make asian men into white women, and end up with an unsettling hybrid. i’m sure this has deep implications for me personally.

but i think we already knew that quite a few of these people had yellow fever, so let’s talk about the gender dialectic at play. basically, the above dynamic, of making men into women (whether literally, in body; or subjectively, in mind; or even relationally, as they are objectified into passive vessels for your desire) coexists with the ostensibly converse dynamic, in which the straight women desires to be a gay man. these aren’t necessarily in conflict: it could easily be that these are different writers writing different stories, that both are ways of expressing discontent with existing in a raced, gendered body, or even that the end product of both is the same.

it’s been a while without a picture. all of you now have the legal right to hunt and kill me for making a d&g joke.

anyway, what i want to talk about is how these two fantasies can coexist. that by making a man into yourself, you can speak on your own desire in a passive way. my normal interest is analyzing forced masc fantasies (albeit in chinese opera lol), and they bear little to no resemblance to this kind of fantasy. this kind offers plausible deniability, of course, because wanting things is embarrassing. but also the fantasy isn’t about wanting to be a man, it’s about having no choice but to be a failed one. the gender pessimism running through these stories is palpable. basically andrea long chu wants what wolf fanfiction writers know: everyone is an omega, and everyone hates it.

at any rate, this racialized dynamic is one that i wasn’t sure how to bring up throughout this piece, mainly because there is no definitive way for me to tell the race of any individual writer, beyond just like the clear and present vibes that i receive. but i think it structures a lot of the fantasies contained in this essay. (i felt more comfortable bringing up the gendered dynamic, because it was fairly trivial to find out the current gender of the person writing each story i was reading.) 

obviously we should return to the specter haunting this conversation: the very much alive david eng. i think this sort of argument is familiar to readers of racial castration, especially his chapter on m. butterfly. btw sorry for mentioning that play 2 out of 3 posts on this blog. i have problems.

let’s talk about the parallel imagery between the depiction of gallimard’s final speech and the fanfiction i’ve described above. in it, gallimard makes himself into his own dream woman, dressing in yellowface and robes, the costume of puccini’s original madame butterfly. and he laments his lost love:

there is a vision of the orient that i have. of slender women in chong sams and kimonos who die for the love of unworthy foreign devils. who are born and raised to be the perfect women. who take whatever punishment we give them, and bounce back, strengthened by love, unconditionally.

in that, i see the self insert, and i see the sufferer of vixx voodoo fic. the fantasy that gallimard has about asian women is repeated, this time about asian men and a helpless identification with them. and on some level, gallimard’s women do have something very compelling to identify with: they suggest that there’s a way to endure white male violence without sacrifice, and even more potently, to enjoy it on some level.

but onward to the titular racial castration. eng argues that gallimard’s wilful ignorance of song’s true gender is a psychic castration -- song’s masculinity is diminished so that his own can be enhanced within their relationship. this, eng believes, acts out “richard fung’s contention that in western imaginary ‘asian and anus are conflated.’” this process stabilizes the relationship between the asian man and the white woman: they occupy the same place within the sexual dyad. 

this is, i think, why some people are addicted to writing from the bottom’s perspective. again -- not implying that irl bottoms don’t exist or that bottoms are psychically castrated lol -- but rather that you can fantasize about this ideal asian man that you can come to embody. in kpop rpf, rather than it being between a white man and an asian man (unless someone’s started writing chad future fic), it’s between two asian men. so this transformation is performed. whiteness is always intruding and so i think eng is helpful here to making it visible again. 

this essay isn’t a callout or actual cancellation or anything like that, i do wanna be clear. i guess i just like talking about fantasies, even the embarrassing ones, and where they come from. i think oftentimes in fandom spaces, we write a lot of stories off as idfic, and i think virtually every single one of the stories i referenced to write this fairly uncontroversially fall into that category. but i think calling something an “id” something or the other naturalizes the satisfaction it gives as purely instinctual and unconscious, when i do think there are deeper narratives at play. while i didn’t ever actually reference the base here (sorry), i do think it’s worth talking about how real world power shapes & maintains the superstructure, and thereby our fantasies. 

anyway in conclusion, maybe i was the one with sexual brainworms the whole time.

[drabbles-of-writing]

Of Fangs and Fright

AO3

Masterpost

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Now, being dead came with a few more complications than one might expect.

Or, well, being half dead, if you wanted to be less morbid.

Now, it wasn’t all bad. There were the cool powers. Like invisibility, flying, possession, phasing through objects, being able to convincingly look sicker than a zombie…

Anyway.

Many of these powers ghosts shared in common. So long they weren’t ghosts flickering out of existence, they possessed (heh, ghost joke) these abilities. However, simple powers weren’t the only thing ghosts shared in common.

All ghosts had some green on them, it was their ectoplasm. They all had a core of their powers, and all sentient ghosts had at least one obsession. Plus a couple of smaller traits, mostly physical.

Also, they all had fangs.

Luz had to find that out the hard way.

,

A loud beeping noise woke Luz from her slumber, jerking her awake as she fell off her bed. The girl groaned, sitting up and rubbing the back of her head as she blindly reached for her clock on the bed stand and turned off the alarm.

“Ow,” She whined, feeling that she’d bitten her tongue in her fall. She felt around her mouth a bit, tasting blood until something made her pause.

She gently poked her tongue around the top of her mouth, and sure enough, two teeth felt...sharper.

It pricked the tip of her tongue again and Luz grumbled, pulling herself to her feet. She figured her teeth had just gotten a bit too sharp from some wear and tear. It’s not like she was averse to biting into some weird-tasting ghosts and objects. Don’t ask.

She stepped into the bathroom and paused, looking into her mirror. It always unnerved her to look into a mirror. The dark circles around her eyes, the way she slouched, the dullness to her skin, all of it. None of it was inherently creepy, but it somehow worked. To Luz, and everyone around her, something about her seemed off. Like she was floating through the motions and was not at all there and maybe never was.

Luz shook off the existential horror of wondering if she’d be unnerving for the rest of her life and stood in front of the sink, yawning.

She froze, her mouth still hanging open.

There, resting in her mouth, were two sharp teeth.

They weren’t remarkably noticeable, in fact if she wasn’t looking for little odd things about her every other day (learning ghostly things about yourself in the middle of a fight was not fun) she never would’ve realized. But she was sure her canines weren’t that pointy before. She leaned forward, curling her lip as she inspected her teeth.

Her tongue had ceased bleeding, it was only a small mark anyway. And she could see flecks of blood still on her left tooth. She shuttered and pulled back, closing her mouth.

This was fine. A bit of sharpness to her teeth was fine. It couldn’t be all that bad.

,

Three days later, hunched over in her bed with an ice pack pressed to her face, Luz realized, with much regret, that she had jinxed herself.

Her teeth ached. It felt like her gums were being pushed apart from the inside, which, come to think of it, they probably were.

“Show me again,” Willow said, sitting on the bed beside Luz.

Luz sighed and took the ice away and opened her mouth. Willow squinted at her teeth for a moment before stepping back onto the floor, where Gus had a bunch of papers spread about in a weird sort of discussion board.

Luz put ice back over her mouth and watched as Willow muttered under her breath and picked up a picture of one of the ghosts, Adegast, if Luz remembered correctly, and inspected it.

“I really think this is just a regular ghost thing,” Willow said after a moment, showing the picture to Luz. “Every other ghost you’ve fought has some kind of fangs, it's not that big of a stretch to say you’d get some, too.”

“And normally, I would agree,” Luz said, wincing and holding the pack tighter. “Fangs are cool. But not when I’m human!” She exclaimed. “Er, in my human form, I guess. Is that what it's called?” She hummed, staring off in thought.

“Well, you may get lucky,” Gus piped up, taking the picture of Adegast trying to attack the camera and bringing up smaller ghost pictures. “They may just look a little abnormally sharp and that would be the end of it. There are plenty of people who have sharper canines, not everyone's teeth are flat.”

Lux relaxed with a sigh, leaning forward as she crossed her legs.

“But there’s also a possibility you could end up with teeth as long as fingers,” He said, bringing up a picture of a ghost with teeth like a saber tooth tiger.

Luz stared at the picture for a moment before groaning and falling back onto her bed. She grabbed her pillow and covered her face with it, ice pack discarded at her side.

Willow lightly smacked the back of Gus’s head.

“I’m sure it won’t get that noticeable,” Willow assured her. “Aren’t Eda’s natural teeth normal looking?”

“They’re still a bit sharp,” Luz muffled around her pillow. “The gold tooth is, and I quote, a ‘misdirection.’ Like a magician's cute assistant, you know?”

“No idea how that works, but I think I get it.” Gus nodded.

“Well, it’s not like suddenly getting pointy teeth is an immediate correlation for being a ghost, or even Phantom.” Willow insisted. “Worst case scenario, everyone thinks you're becoming a vampire, which actually would be pretty normal at this point.”

“Please be aware there is a group of goths in this school,” Luz said, tossing the pillow aside and sitting up. “And Jerbo is convinced I’m a ghost. Even if nobody believes him, people are going to ask questions about the fangs, and I’m a terrible liar! You know this!”

“I mean, you managed to hide your Phantom,” Gus pointed out.

“That’s because everyone in this town is a moron.” Willow deadpanned.

“Okay, but you have to put this into perspective. Half-ghosts aren’t a commonly known or expected thing.” Gus reminded, pushing his pictures into a pile.

“Neither are regular ghosts! Or werewolves! Or talking bone dogs! And yet, people notice that! Or at least recognize it's not normal,” Willow exclaimed, exasperated. “And only Jerbo has noticed something is off with Luz.”

“I was already pretty weird,” Luz offered, flinching and rubbing at her cheek.

“I can’t win,” Willow sighed, her shoulders sagging.

“This was never a winning situation for anyone,” Luz said matter-of-factly. “Now somebody give me the nail filer on my desk.”

“Do not file down your teeth! Why am I even telling you that?”

,

“My tongue is going to be so scarred--ow,”

“Maybe refrain from talking?” Willow advised gently as Luz stuck on her tongue, revealing it was lightly bleeding after she had accidentally bitten it. Again.

It had barely been a week and Luz’s growing-in fangs were proving to be more trouble than they were worth. If they were worth anything at all.

They had gotten larger, not to a scary degree, but were certainly abnormal. And she’d even begun to get two small fangs on her lower jaw,

And maybe talking about this in the school hallways wasn’t the best idea. But the group wasn’t known for their intelligence, and Willow was fried.

“Well, either her tongue will get stronger or she’ll learn how to not bite her tongue,” Gus shrugged as Luz shut her locker. “Eda managed.”

“Eda is three decades older than--ow,” Luz whined, covering her hand with ther mouth.

“What did I just say?” Willow sighed.

“Hey, four eyes!”

The group recognized that voice, and you could physically see them deflate as Luz dropped her hand. Willow sighed and mentally prepared herself.

“Here we go again,”

The sound of snickering drew their attention, to where Boscha and her A-Listers, or whatever they called themselves, was passing right by them, smug smiles plastered to their faces. Well, aside from Amity, who looked a mix between bored and mildly concerned. She caught Luz’s eye and smiled ever so slightly.

“Heard a ghost wrecked your pretty little garden recently,” Boscha said, her eyes narrowing in that sadistically gleeful way. “Aren’t you lucky Phantom decided to grace you, huh?”

Luz visibly cringed at that, giving Willow a guilty look. She’d insisted she could help Willow replant that garden, but she had declined. Numerous times.

“Things happen,” Willow shrugged, turning away and checking over her books boredly. “At least I don’t lie about seeing Phantom every other week.”

Luz and Gus glanced at each other with shared concerned looks. They subtly backed off a bit, deciding they’d rather not get involved in the weekly brawl.

“You wanna speak up, fern girl?” Boscha growled, already beginning to take a step forward.

“Leave her, Boscha.” 

Amity broke from the group and put a hand on the girl's shoulder, lightly holding her back as she looked at her with a half-lidded expression.

“She’s not worth the energy. We have class soon.” She said calmly.

Boscha muttered and stepped back, shrugging off Amity. The rest of the group quickly stepped aside as Boscha stormed through, throwing a ‘you’ll be sorry!’ over her shoulder for good measure.

“I’m gonna bite her,” Luz muttered under her breath.

“You have no idea how much it pains me to tell you no,” Willow replied.

“Sorry about that,” Amity mumbled, suddenly appearing in front of the trio. Or maybe she was always there, Luz couldn’t remember. 

“We’re used to it,” Gus said simply. “Honestly, I was expecting a better insult than ‘fern girl.’”

“Yeah, she's off her game,” Amity agreed as Luz giggled. 

“One could say she’s…off her A game--” Luz winced, bringing her hand back up to her face.

“Boo, bad joke.” Gus shook his head distastefully.

“Are you alright?” Amity asked, frowning at Luz holding her hand up.

“Yeah! Yeah, just, uh,” Luz chose her words carefully and slowly as she quickly pulled her hand away and crossed her arms. “Bit my tongue is all,”

“We should head to class,” Willow cut in quickly, appearing next to Luz and grabbing her arm. “Like you said, it’s going to start soon and lord knows how bad our grades are already.”

“Oh, right!” Amity shook her head like she was clearing it. “I’ll see you later, guys.”

“Yeah, bye,” Luz echoed, giving a smile as Willow tugged her away.

Amity watched the three leave with a smile of her own for a moment before her eyes dipped for a moment on Luz. Her eyes widened and she did a double-take, a moment of concerned horror flashing on her features.

Luz, having a guess on what she noticed, suddenly picked up speed and darted around the hallway corner, accidentally yanking Willow with her.

“Whoa, whoa, what happened--”

“How do my teeth look?” Luz cut off Gus, opening her mouth wide. “Do they look worse?”

Willow and Gus recoiled slightly, minorly concerned as Luz worriedly shut her mouth again.

“You have...blood on your teeth,” Willow said carefully. “It, uh, kinda makes you look like…”

“A vampire,” Gus finished for her, unhelpfully.

Luz was about to poke at her teeth with her tongue, but thought better of it. She rubbed a finger instead at one of her fangs and drew it back, noticing that there was, indeed, blood on them.

“I’m going to die of blood loss at this point,” Luz groaned.

“Can you even die again--”

“Not in the mood for an existential crisis, Gus.”

,

“What, no witty comeback, Phantom?”

The halfa yelped as Roselle’s snarky remark was enunciated by Dottie slamming her against a building. She growled and curled her lips back, shaking the rubble off her as she rose into the air, her green eyes flashing.

Roselle’s smug look fell. Normally Phantom would be happy to see that, but typically that smug expression isn’t replaced by that of gleeful surprise.

“Phantom,” Roselle grinned, and even Dottie paused for a moment to see what her partner was pointing at.

“Don’t,”

“Phantom are you growing your baby fangs?”

“They sure don’t feel like baby--ow,” Phantom winced, sticking out her tongue as she bit it for the umpteenth time.

“Aw, wittle Phantom got her baby fangs.” Roselle cooed

“How cute!” Dottie agreed as Roselle placed her hand on her shoulder.

“I liked you better when you were trying to rip me apart,” Phantom huffed, her face glowing with blush as she crossed her arms and legs, hovering in the air.

“A word of advice,” Roselle said sweetly. “Mouthguards do wonders, if you can find one to steal. Pain medication still works on you, right?”

“Yes, yes, thank you for the words of wisdom, granny.” Phantom grumbled, giving the ghost a glare and a sneer. “Can I go back to--” Phantom flinched, fangs pricking her tongue again.

The teasing grins on both of the ghostly womens faces only widened and Phantom sharpened her glare, electricity sparking through her.

“Can we fight now?” Phantom drawled out slowly, as to avoid biting her tongue again.

“Right, yes, of course,” Dottie said, nodding as she waved her hand. “Where were we, dear?” She turned to Roselle.

“I believe you were trying to throw her into a stop sign?” Roselle hummed, tapping her chin and frowning. “Or was it a pipe? One of the two.”

Phantom rolled her eyes at the two conversing and uncrossed her arms, a ball of green lightning slowly forming above her open left palm.

“No, no, I think you were--”

Lightning crackled and shot right between the two ghosts, striking the wall of an old building behind them.

They slowly looked at the indent on the wall. Then, just as slowly, they looked back at Phantom, who had landed on the ground and was in a fighting stance, another ball of electricity already building up.

“I think I remember where,” Phantom paused and curled her lip again at the pain. She threw her hands in the air. “Or for the love of--”

The lightning flew from her hands, hitting the street a good ways behind her. It exploded and shook the ground, setting off a few car alarms.

Phantom visibly shrinked at the explosion, her shoulders tense.

Dottie opened her mouth, about to say something. Phantom raised her hand quickly and silenced her.

“Not a word,”

,

“Kid, I don’t know what to tell ya. This is pretty natural for ghosts,”

“It is ruining my life.”

“Your dead,”

“Eda,”

“Right, right,” Eda raised her hands, stepping away from the couch Luz was dramatically laying across on her back. “Existential crisis and whatnot, my bad.”

“I’m wearing a mouthguard,” Luz growled, though it came out like a lisp. “I look like a werewolf.”

“So do I,” Eda reminded her, sitting on the end of the couch where Luz’s feet were. “And I’m doing great.” She said, curling her upper lip and flashing her non-gold fang, which was nearly as long as her golden one. The only difference was that the gold fang was crooked and hooked out of her mouth.

“You live in a shed by an abandoned brewery,” Luz lifted her hands, gesturing to the Owl House, as Eda liked to call it. “With all due respect, I wouldn’t call this the lap of luxury.”

“Eh, who needs luxury?” Eda shrugged.

“Yeesh, you give the kid a taste of the other side and suddenly your scoundrels,” King muffled, poking his head out from under the couch.

“I have been to Amity’s house once.” Luz hissed, snapping her jaws shut when she realized it came out as an actual hiss.

“Aw, now that was adorable.”

“Shut up,”

“Wait, hang on, I was talking about that time you spent in the Guys in White’s fancy van you’ve been to Amity’s house?” King whirled around, staring up at Luz in surprise.

“...I’m suddenly deaf,” Luz lisped, her voice slurred as she lay her head back against the couch armrest. “Words? I don’t know them.”

“You got into a rich girls house and you didn’t steal anything?” Eda gasped, placing a hand on her chest. “I’ve never been more betrayed in my life.”

“That’s a lie and you know it,” King deadpanned.

“I’m not stealing from Amity!” Luz gasped, glaring across the couch. “She’s my friend! Go steal from her parents yourself,”

“I was given permission!” King pumped a fist in the air. Paw? Claw? Whatever you call the hands of a ghost dog with opposable thumbs.

“Now, now,” Eda grabbed King by the scruff before Luz could protest, pulling him up and holding him like that. “Be nice. Luz has to make a good impression on her crush. You don’t get a rich girl every day, you know.”

“Crush?” Luz yelped, jerking up so violently she shocked herself with her own stray lightning and fell off the couch with a thud.

“Oh right,” Eda snapped her fingers. “That’s another topic I’m not supposed to mention.” She grinned knowingly, dropping King on Luz.

Luz doubled over when King landed on her stomach, wheezing. King just looked up at her curiously before Luz lifted her head, her freckles beginning to glow green as electricity sparked around them.

“I do not have a crush on Amity! I tell you this all the time!” Luz exclaimed, feeling her face and grumbling when she was shocked again. “And now I lost my mouthguard,” She muttered, looking around for where it fell out.

Eda and King glanced at each other, mirroring the same disbelieving tired faces. But they didn’t say anything as Luz picked up King and set him aside, looking for where she spat out the mouthguard.

“Alright, we’ll drop that obvious lie for now,” Eda relented, walking up beside Luz and putting a hand on her shoulder. “But wearing a mouthguard is only gonna do so much. Sure, it’s nice to wear every now and again, but the more you get used to talking and eating with these ol’ pointers, the easier it’ll get for you.”

“But I’m a fast talker,” Luz protested. “Even if I get used to talking normally, I’m still not used to talking fast. And then I just keep on talking, and talking, and then I keep biting my tongue and then I start bleeding and--ow!” She yelped, recoiling mid-talk.

“Bit it again?”

Luz whined dramatically and turned, thunking her head against Eda’s chest. Eda stared at her for a moment before sighing and smiling as she rested a hand over Luz’s back and head.

“I know it's not fun, but that's just how life, er, this limbo we’re in is gonna be.” She said, patting her back.

“Pros and cons,” Luz muffled into her chest. “Pros, ghost things. Cons, ghost things.” She said, her words slow but enunciated.

“Welcome to my world, kiddo.” Eda chuckled.

“You don’t even fight--” Luz hissed, scrunching up her face before continuing. “--other ghosts,”

“No, but they’re still annoying.” Eda agreed.

“Oh, hey, I found the mouth thing!”

“King you better spit that out!”

,

In hindsight, sticking to the bottom of the Witch Hunter’s hoverboard, aka, a young ghost hunter known for not liking her, was probably not the smartest idea.

Then again, Phantom’s plans are pretty hit-or-miss.

Phantom crawled up the bottom of the hoverboard, peeking up. The dark purple coloring of the Witch Hunter’s suit nearly blended in with the night sky above her, and she clearly wasn’t paying attention.

With a mischievous grin, Phantom slowly gripped the front end of the board and leaned up, laying her chin on the end.

“Hey,”

The Witch Hunter yelped, whirling her head down as the hoverboard skidded to a stop. Phantom wasn’t prepared for that and went flying out from underneath the board, hitting the flat roof of a building and rolling right off the edge. 

But hey, at least the metal trash cans broke her fall.

Phantom groaned, attempting to peel herself out of the trash bags and pulling a banana peel off her head in disgust. She heard a snort and looked up.

The Witch Hunter was crouched on the edge of the roof, peering over. The black plastic screen over her face on the suit hid her expression, but Phantom just knew she was trying not to laugh.

“Alright, so maybe I deserved that,” Phantom relented, kicking away the last of the trash and floating up.

The Witch Hunter quickly leaned back as Phantom placed her hands on the edge of the roof, leaning on it slightly as the rest of her body was suspended by nothing in the air.

“But still, you gotta get better at noticing when I’m around.” Phantom chuckled with a grin, shaking her head.

In a flash, an ectogun was being pointed at her face, right between her eyes.

Phantom’s face dropped slightly, her eyes crossing as she looked down the barrel of the gun. Her eyes then went back to the Witch Hunter, who was still on her knees, but holding the ectogun in a way that said she wasn’t afraid to use it.

“I can never have a single moment of fun with you, can I?” Phantom sighed.

“And yet, you still succeed.” The Witch Hunter said, putting a finger on the trigger.

“I appreciate you trying to put a stop to that. You took the job everybody wanted but nobody was brave enough to try as diligently. Bravo,” Phantom nodded solemnly.

“I wish you luck,” She blinked, a smirk growing.

The Witch Hunter stared at her for a moment. Then another. She glanced around slowly before looking back to Phantom, who was still in the same position as before.

“Okay, two things,” The Witch Hunter said. “One, what am I waiting for?”

“What?” Phantom looked down at herself, inspecting her hand.

“Oh,” She deflated, looking back up to the Witch Hunter sheepishly. “I still haven’t mastered the whole ‘invisibility on command’ thing.”

“...I genuinely can’t tell if your stupid or bad at planning,” The Witch Hunter said, sounding like she was rolling her eyes.

“Fifty fifty on that,” Phantom raised a hand and tilted it.

“Secondly, what is with your teeth?” The Witch Hunter said, leaning her head forward slightly. “Is everyone getting weird teeth today?”

“Oh come on!” Phantom groaned, throwing her head back. “I just forgot about them!”

“What?” The Witch Hunter lowered her ectogun slightly.

“It’s been an issue all week,” Phantom complained, swinging her legs over the side of the roof and sitting on the edge, crossing her legs. “I forget about the fangs, I can talk easier. But when I think about them, I--” She flinched, hissing as she felt a prick.

“...that’s what you're worried about right now?” The Witch Hunter said disbelievingly.

“I’m bad at picking my battles,” Phantom shrugged. “Anyway, you’ve cursed me. You owe me compensation.”

“The hell I do!”

“If there is a hell, I’ll be sure to inform them of your grievances,” Phantom waved her hand casually. “But on the plus side, I’m getting better at not biting my to--ow,” 

“You’re a ghost,” The Witch Hunter deadpanned, getting to her feet with a sigh. “Shouldn’t it be normal to have fangs? Why didn’t you have them before?”

“Well I’m sorry but I’m a little new to all this,” Phantom huffed, floating up in the air, her legs still crossed, as well as her arms.

The Witch Hunter paused, looking over the ghost. It was only then Phantom realized that she, a ghost, had stated she was new to being one.

Phantom wished she could see her expression. Not being able to tell what she looked like at that exact moment felt like a nightmare.

“Phantom, are you--”

The halfa darted forward, flying around the Witch Hunter at blinding speeds and proceeding to kick the ectogun out of her grasp, sending it sliding to the other side of the roof.

“Little slow today, aren’t we?” Phantom quickly recovered, suddenly popping up right in front of the Witch Hunter’s face with a wide grin, fangs exposed.

The Witch Hunter grunted as she grabbed a small ectoblade (they really needed to get more original with these names) from her suits belt and swung it at Phantom.

Phantom flew a few feet away, cackling. She landed by the ectogun and kicked it up with her foot, trying to catch it midair but fumbling with it for a few moments instead.

“Somebody ought to put a muzzle on you,” The Witch Hunter muttered, taking a step back towards her hoverboard, which lay on the ground a little ways away.

“Why?” Phantom grinned, tossing the ectogun somewhere off the roof where the Witch couldn’t get to it. “Scared I’m gonna bite you?” She taunted, holding her hands behind her back and leaning forward, though she still remained a few feet away.

The Witch Hunter made a noise that sounded close between a yelp and a gargle. Almost strangled as she nearly dropped her blade.

“Oh wait, actually,” Phantom frowned, looking at the ground for a moment. “Could I bite people? Or would that give them ghost powers?” She mumbled, looking at her hands. “Am I a vampire ghost?”

The ectoblade flew right by Phantom’s head, ruffling her hair. She stiffened as the blade managed to somehow embed itself into the roof behind her, just before it hit the edge.

Phantom raised her head, spotting the Witch Hunter grabbing what appeared to be a regular silver ball from her belt. She pressed a button on the ball, transforming it into a portable ectogun.

“...okay, that’s kinda cool.” Phantom admitted.

“You have five seconds,”

Phantom took the hint and in mere seconds, shot off. She dropped out of sight beyond the roof without a word.

The Witch Hunter sighed, relaxing her arm and sagging. She watched the place where Phantom had vanished for a few more moments before turning around.

And almost crashed face-first into bright, sparking green eyes.

“I almost--ow,” Phantom whined, sticking out her tongue as the Witch Hunter jumped back.

Phantom had somehow managed to silently float behind her and was hovering in the air, upside down and at eye-level with the young ghost hunter.

“I almost forgot,” Phantom said, her voice lisp-y as she kept the tip of her tongue poking out of her mouth so as to avoid biting it again. As well as revealing its neon green color, and the fact it was beginning to become split like a snake.

Phantom probably didn’t realize that was happening yet.

Not that the Witch was looking.

“I will see you,” Phantom said, flipping over in the air so she was rightside up, slowly floating backwards. “On the fright side.” She said, winking and giving finger guns.

“Get out of here!” The Witch Hunter snapped, grabbing another silver ball from her belt and chucking it at the ghost.

Phantom yelped and got knocked in the head, complaining as she finally took off, down the streets of the town.

“I’m hilarious and you know it!” She called behind her.

“You are not!”

[sparkandwolf]

Platonic Absolutes (read on ao3)

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Derek Hale and Laura Hale & Stiles Stilinski Rating: General Summary: When Stiles first met Laura, there was no doubt in his mind that their soul bond wasn’t meant to be anything but platonic. He had heard of that happening, that the marks on a person’s body could mean they had a soulmate by any meaning of the word, and was momentarily disappointed that his meant a lifetime best friend.

Then he realized that Laura was the most incredible woman he had ever met. If it wasn’t for the fact she was very, very, gay, he would’ve fallen in love with her the moment she barged into his life.Hale.

For the fantastic @evanesdust ♥️ Thank you for your support and creating such incredible content for us! 

When Stiles first met Laura, there was no doubt in his mind that their soul bond wasn’t meant to be anything but platonic. He had heard of that happening, that the marks on a person’s body could mean they had a soulmate by any meaning of the word, and was momentarily disappointed that his meant a lifetime best friend. Then he realized that Laura was the most incredible woman he had ever met. If it wasn’t for the fact she was very, very, gay, he would’ve fallen in love with her the moment she barged into his life. 

Laura took some convincing, though. Stiles helped her through a sexuality crisis - “Maybe I do like men.” “Does the fact I have a penis excite you?” “Absolutely not.” “You’re a lesbian, Laura.” - before they settled on getting to know each other before they pushed aside their fated connection as a mistake. Stiles researched and studied until he found a history book on platonic soulmates; a person who was meant to be in your life as a confidant, an unrelenting support, and a shoulder to cry on whenever the other needed it. Stiles could be that for Laura and he wanted to be that for her. 

It was solidified the first time she had him over to her mansion-sized house in the middle of the woods a few miles outside of the town he grew up in. He had heard of the Hale’s - it was hard to not know everyone in such a close-knit town, especially when his dad was the sheriff - and the legacy that they brought to Beacon Hills. The family had been in the town since its founding and there were rumors that Stiles didn’t want to repeat (mostly about incest and immortality) that were quickly stricken from his mind the second he entered their home. 

“Mom, Dad, this is Stiles, my completely platonic soulmate,” Laura said carefully as if her family hadn’t believed her the first hundred times she told them. Stiles held out his hand but was quickly pulled into a tight hug that could only be described as motherly. 

“Oh, Mr. Stilinski, it’s so nice to finally be introduced to you!” Mrs. Hale said as she held Stiles by his shoulders, shooting a glare at her daughter. “We’ve heard so much about you,” she added with a wink that had Stiles’ face reddening. 

“You have already technically met him, Talia,” Laura’s dad chimed in as he extended his hand to Stiles. He shook it steadily, wincing a bit at the tight squeeze of her father’s hand. 

“Mr. and Mrs. Hale, you have a beautiful home,” Stiles commented cheerfully, grinning at them with teeth shining. 

“Oh, please, son,” Mrs. Hale said with a wave of her hand. “I’m Talia, and my husband here is Evan. You’re gonna be around for the long haul it seems, so you might as well drop the niceties,” Mrs. Hale - Talia - corrected as she made her way into the kitchen area. Laura rolled her eyes and grabbed Stiles’ hand before he could say much more and dragged him further into the living room. 

Stiles glanced around, but his gaze froze on the most beautiful man he had ever seen in his short life. There was no doubt in Stiles’ mind that he was Laura’s brother, the one she had spoken fondly and annoyingly about. They shared the same sharp features and dark hair and he looked just as broody as Laura had described him. The muscles in his back and arms rippled from where he attempted to hang a family photo while their younger sibling directed him with a smirk on her face. 

“C’mon, Derek, I know you’re not straight, but you can at least hang a picture that way!” Laura yelled, her laugh only loudening when her brother - Derek - shot a glare over his shoulder. 

“Like you could do a better job, Lo,” he spat back, letting go on the frame and nodding at it before it fell to the side and swung back and forth. He let out a loud groan and ran a hand through his hair before pointing at his sisters accusingly. “You guys figure it out. I have a pa-- plans with… people,” he said carefully when he finally noticed Stiles in the room. 

“You’ve got a pack meeting with Isaac, Boyd, and Erica,” Stiles corrected with a nonchalant gesture of his hand. Derek gaped at him and then his eyes darted to Laura who was barely containing her delight. 

“You told him?” Derek asked, taking a few steps closer to Laura who held up her hands in defense. 

“Hey, I’m stuck with him as much as the rest of us. He already knew about wolves because of his dad so I figured I’d bite the silver bullet and let him in on the family secret,” Laura said with a shrug. 

Derek glanced back over at Stiles before saying, “And he knows not to tell anyone?” Derek said with a heat in his eyes Stiles couldn’t quite explain. The look had his spine tingling with interest. 

“Cross my heart and hope to get mauled by feral werewolves, Sourwolf,” Stiles said with a wink that only seemed to annoy Derek further. 

“He’s harmless, Der. Just give him a chance, okay? We’re fated, or so they tell me,” Laura responded, tossing an arm over Stiles’ shoulder and pulling him close. His soul seemed to sing at the acceptance and he settled his arm around her waist happily. 

“Right, well,” Derek began, grabbing a leather jacket that hung from the coat rack, “I’ll be back for dinner because apparently, our mother wants to pull out all the stops to impress the human.” Stiles was momentarily offended by the disgust in Derek’s voice but he remembered what Laura had told him about her brother. He took a while to trust people because of some tragic past event but once he did, he would protect that person with his entire life. Stiles admired that more than he could say. 

“Tell the pack I said hi!” Cora called as Derek lifted his arms to put on his coat. Stiles felt disappointment surge through him when he saw the small mark on his hip that could only mean he had a soulmate. Leave it to Stiles to find the most perfect person he could have wished for only to have his dreams squashed before he could even figure out what they meant. 

“I’ll tell Isaac you said hello,” Derek teased as he stepped out of the door without hearing Cora curse at him. Although Stiles was pretty sure werewolf hearing was a superpower and that he was just so used to his sisters swearing at him, he didn’t need to respond to win whatever argument he had just started. 

“Got any other family members I need to worry about?” Stiles asked as Laura moved him over to the couch. She shrugged and grabbed the remote, tossing on some dumb reality TV show he had realized Laura found authentic entertainment in. 

“Uncle Peter will probably try to hit on you at dinner, but he’s relatively harmless,” Cora noted from where she had settled on one of the many chairs that littered the living room. 

“Relatively?” Stiles repeated and the girl’s laughter did nothing to relieve his anxiety. 

——————————

The rest of the afternoon was surprisingly normal. Stiles wasn’t sure what to expect when meeting his platonic soulmate’s family, who happened to be made up of supernatural beings, but relaxing definitely hadn’t come to mind. That’s exactly what it had been, though. He lounged on the sofa with Laura, draped over each other the way they usually were - Laura had said it was something about scent and how if he wanted to be protected, he would need the Hale smell on him - and every so often, Cora, Talia, or Evan would come in and get to know Stiles a little more. 

He told them all about his childhood and how he hadn’t changed much since then, which none of them were too surprised about. He recounted memories of his father being the sheriff and his mother and her untimely death, all of which had Talia gazing at him with sympathy that had tied his stomach in knots. In return, they told him stories of their territory battles and how Beacon Hills law enforcement had always worked side by side with them. Stiles was glad there wouldn’t be an issue between their families as he had previously worried. 

Throughout the afternoon, he had to push thoughts of Derek out of his mind. Their interaction had been short and not at all sweet, but something about the man had Stiles’ eyes darting to the door as if waiting for him to return. He said he would be back for their dinner and Talia had just announced that it was about 15 minutes from being done, so his fingers tapped anxiously on his knees as he tried his hardest to breathe. 

“Alright, what the hell is going on with you?” Laura asked once they were alone in the living room. Cora had been tasked to set the table while Talia and Evan worked on finishing the meal and Stiles was all alone with someone who could read him like a book. 

He sighed and said, “I’m a little nervous for this dinner.” It was a lie and judging by the glare that Laura gave him, she sniffed it out immediately. 

“You haven’t been nervous the entire time you’ve been hanging out with my family, so there’s something else,” Laura guessed. Just as Stiles was about to deny, the front door flung open and Stiles shot up from his seat to greet the new guest he had hoped was Derek. He was, once again, disappointed when the person who sauntered in wasn’t the man he was waiting for. 

“Who is this delectable little thing?” The man said and Stiles furrowed his eyebrows in distaste. Laura groaned from beside him and took a protective step forward. 

“This is Stiles. Stiles, my uncle Peter. He’s going to go tell my parents he’s here and stop licking his muzzle in the direction of my soulmate,” Laura said sharply, raising an intimidating eyebrow at Peter. He sighed but relented, floating over to the kitchen without another glance back. “You thought that was gonna be Derek,” Laura accused as she turned toward Stiles and pressed a stiff finger against his chest. 

“I wasn’t expecting your creepy uncle, that much is for sure. What is his problem?” Stiles asked as a lame attempt to bring the conversation back away from who he may or may not have hoped was coming through the door. 

“Peter is Peter. Harmless but a lot to get used to,” Laura said with a roll of her eyes. She pushed her finger further into Stiles’ chest and asked, “Were you hoping that was gonna be Derek?” 

Stiles sighed, exasperated, and pushed her hand away. “So what if I did?” Stiles asked heatedly, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s got a soulmate that isn’t me because I’m stuck with your sorry ass and I’m allowed to find people who look like him attractive.” 

“Derek doesn’t--” She stopped whatever she was about to admit and sighed heavily. “I can’t believe my platonic soulmate has the hots for my brother,” she said with a cringe. Stiles shoved her playfully and Laura’s eyes lit up golden before she pushed him back just a little too hard. He started falling backward, tripping over his feet because his balance was honestly laughable, and braced himself for impact to the hardwood floor. Instead, he fell into a hard wall and warm, solid arms wrapped around his waist. 

“Aren’t you trying to keep the human alive?” Derek’s voice chimed from behind him. Stiles was momentarily stunned by the feeling of Derek’s arms holding up that he forgot how to stand until Derek pushed him back to his feet. He stumbled forward into Laura who growled at him in response. 

“At the moment, I’m debating on just killing him and having him for dinner instead of the pot roast Mom made us,” Laura said with a glare at Stiles. Derek seemed to freeze at Laura’s words which didn’t go unnoticed by anyone in the room. Laura said quickly, “Derek, I didn’t mean--” 

“It’s fine, Lo. I’m gonna go get changed for dinner,” Derek dismissed as he bounded up the stairs. Stiles turned toward Laura and saw an excessive amount of guilt on her face. 

“What was that?” Stiles asked carefully, resting a comforting hand on Laura’s shoulder. Her eyes didn’t stray for the staircase Derek had disappeared from until she shook her head and took a deep breath in. 

“That was me taking our soul bond for granted,” Laura whispered as she pulled Stiles into a tight hug. He could practically feel his bones crush with the force of it and choked out a nervous laugh as he patted Laura on the back. 

“Puny human, here. Can’t take much more of--” Laura let go and Stiles inhaled deeply to catch his breath. Laura glanced at him apologetically before pushing past Stiles to move toward the kitchen. “Wait, Laura, I can feel the guilt echoing off of you. What do you think you did wrong?” Stiles asked, grabbing for Laura’s hand. She shook it away before staring at Stiles with the most serious expression he had ever seen from her. 

“I know I did something wrong and I need you to not ask questions, okay? It’s Derek’s story and if he trusts you enough, he’ll tell you,” Laura decided with a nod. Stiles agreed and pulled her in for one more hug before she dragged him to the kitchen. “Ma, Daddio, Derek’s home so we should sit,” she said as if nothing was weighing on her. Stiles wondered if he would ever get used to being so attuned to her vast array of emotions. 

“I hope you like to eat, Stiles, Mom’s made enough to feed an army!” Cora joked as she made her way to the table balancing two plates expertly in her hands. Stiles reached for one to assist her and Cora beamed a smile at him. He took a moment to notice just how beautiful the entire family was and thought that fate must have known he’d never have a chance with Laura which was why their bond was strictly platonic. 

Derek chose that moment to walk in, a much neater outfit on his body. Stiles found himself annoyed at how quickly his heart skipped a beat at the new view. Derek was wearing black jeans that rested snug on his hips and a dark blue t-shirt, but somehow he still looked dressed up. Laura nudged her hip against his and Derek smiled over at her like it was all they needed to forgive and forget. She made her way over to where Stiles stood frozen and flicked at his chin causing him to smack her hand. 

“Close your mouth, Stilinski. Werewolf dens aren’t immune to fly infestations,” Laura teased with a wink. Stiles rolled his eyes at her but made sure his lips were pressed together tightly as he rested the plate on the table. He pulled out the seat beside Laura and before he could sit down, Cora slid into place, thanking Stiles as if he had prepared the chair just for her. 

“I have to sit next to my dad,” Cora supplied as if it was the truth, “since I’m such a daddy’s girl.” Laura cackled beside her and Stiles pretended not to notice the sly smile on Derek’s face from where he had sat down. With Laura and Cora on one side of the table, their parents on either end and Peter taking the only other chair that seemed appropriate for Stiles, he had no choice but to occupy the seat next to Derek. Great. 

The moment he sat down, Peter chimed in, “So, Stiles Stilinski. Tell us more about yourself.” Stiles wasn’t sure how such a normal command sounded so gross coming from Peter’s lips. He glanced around the table and caught Laura’s eyes, hoping the stare was enough of a plea for help for her to intervene. 

“He’s not my boyfriend, Uncle Peter. The interrogation isn’t necessary,” she said with an expert roll of her eyes. 

“Then is he single?” Peter asked, staring Laura down like Stiles was some sort of competition. Stiles felt immediately uneasy until Laura’s chest rumbled lowly. 

“Peter, please. The boy has just turned 18,” Talia chastised, but there was no heat in it. Stiles didn’t think it was possible for her to be an alpha with the kindness she had displayed.

“18 means legal big sister,” Peter said as he took a sip of the wine Stiles wasn’t sure he should be drinking. He shuddered when he thought of how even more brash Peter could be with a bottle of wine in his system. “I’m not asking for me, anyway,” Peter said with a shrug, leaning forward to glance over at Derek. 

“Can’t we just have one dinner without you making-- No, wait,” Laura said, interrupting herself as she grabbed a shovel of mashed potatoes, “I take that back. Can’t we just have one dinner without you? Full stop.” Peter scowled at her, but Stiles was a little too focused on how he went out of his way to look at Derek. He didn’t know much about werewolves, but there must have been something obvious in the air for Peter to make such a large jump when he had only been in the house for that short of a time. 

“Stiles, we are dying to know,” Talia began as she put way too many peas onto his plate. Her smile was too bright and the food smelled too delicious for him to ask her to stop. “How did your father react when he found out Laura was your soulmate?” 

“Platonic soulmate,” Laura was quick to interject. Derek huffed out a laugh beside him and Stiles couldn’t help but smile at the sound. 

Stiles ignored the outburst and said, “Well, at first, he was confused. From his history with your family, he was pretty sure Laura was… not interested.”

“Which is very true,” Laura interrupted again. Stiles threw a pea at her, ignoring her cry of protest before he continued. 

“Then he was just amused because, and I think this is a direct quote, ‘she’s going to chew you up and spit you out and you’re going to let her’,” Stiles finished with a wink at Cora. She blushed and laughed, hiding her face when her dad shot an accusatory glance at her. 

“Our Laura would never,” Talia said but it was clear in her tone that she figured that’s exactly what would have happened if their soulmate bond was anything more than platonic. Stiles still thought that she was gonna destroy him any chance she got, but she didn’t scare him much anymore. He knew she was secretly looking for acceptance and Stiles was the one to give her that unconditionally. 

“Speaking of spitting,” Peter said with a sly grin on his face. At that comment, Derek’s growl seemed to echo around the room. 

“Peter,” he said so lowly that Stiles almost missed it even though he was sitting right next to Derek. Peter must have heard it loud and clear judging by the way his face turned to stone. It was almost like--

“Of course, Alpha,” Peter spat, slamming his fork down on the plate. “I wouldn’t want to challenge you for a mate again. We all know how that went last time,” Peter said and Stiles was sure he could hear a pin drop with the silence that enveloped the room. Before he could try to break the tension with one of his jokes, Laura shot out of her seat, wielding a steak knife in her hand, and if Stiles had thought she was intimidating before, he was positive of it then. 

“Laura, no.” Stiles almost didn’t recognize the voice as Talia’s, the stern tone and growl that seemed to rumble table so unlike what he had seen from her before. 

“He knows it’s off limits, Mom. He’s lucky we even let him in here after what he did to--”

“Laura, enough!” Talia shouted, her eyes flashing red as Laura seemed to crumble back into her seat. Stiles could feel her submission through their bond and it knocked the breath out of him. It wasn’t until Derek’s hand rested on his shoulder that he was able to gulp in enough air to have his head stop spinning. 

“Peter--” Evan spat, but before he could continue, Derek was shaking his head and standing. His eyes darted from each face at the table, skipping Peter’s but lingering a little longer on his than Stiles thought was warranted. There was something about the way Derek’s palm slid from the fabric of his shirt and down his arm before resting at his side that had a chill racing down Stiles’ body. 

“I’m gonna go for a run or-- Just, enjoy your meal,” Derek muttered. He glanced at Stiles and whispered, “It was nice to meet you. I’m glad Laura has--” his breath stuttered, “--has someone.” Stiles nodded and watched Derek until he reached the door, hoping he would glance back so Stiles could take it as an invitation and follow him. His hand hesitated on the doorknob, but he pulled the door open and shut it softly behind him. 

“Mom, as a member of your pack and your daughter, I can’t keep staying silent while Peter hurts my brother,” Laura said, her voice surprisingly steady as her eyes flashed. Talia nodded and held eye contact with Evan like a silent agreement was being made between them. He wondered if that’s how all romantic soulmates were with each other and felt his heart constrict at the fact that may never apply to him. 

Laura was staring at him when he looked away from her parents and he realized they had it, too. He knew every emotion that was swirling around inside of her - the hurt, the sadness, the sheer anger directed at Peter, they want to follow where her brother had disappeared to - like it was his own and rested a hand against the mark on his skin. It was something he had resented for so long when he met Laura and figured out she wouldn’t be the love of his life. He couldn’t find himself to hate it at that moment, though. Not when his heart yearned for Derek and the family he had only just met. 

“I’ve allowed you in this pack, Peter, because you are blood. You are the only family from my past that I have left,” Talia began as she stood, shuffling over to Peter to hold his face in her hands, “but the family that is my future can never accept you as theirs.” Peter blanched at the statement as if he had never thought Talia would say those words. Stiles didn’t have it in him to feel bad after what he had just witnessed. 

“You can’t be serious, Lia. I can’t control how your little brat feels about his past. You all treat him as if his past will haunt him forever when I’m merely trying to--” 

“Enough,” Talia whispered. Even with the soft tone of her voice, Stiles knew she wouldn’t let him keep speaking. “Peter Hale, you are no longer allowed on the territory of the Beacon Hills Pack, as proclaimed by the Alpha, Talia Hale.” 

Howls erupted through the room and Stiles thought he heard a distant sorrowful one from outside. Laura’s heart burst in her chest and Stiles felt it from where he had pushed back his seat away from the siblings. He shot a glance at her out of the corner of his eye and saw tears bubbling in them. He wasn’t sure he would ever see Laura emotional, but he was glad the first time was for family. Fate had gotten something right when he paired them, Stiles thought happily. 

“I’ll be gone by midnight,” Peter choked out, and then he was gone. The room silenced like a dark cloud had suddenly appeared and Talia dropped into her seat with a sigh. 

“Mom, I--” Laura began, but Talia’s eyes flashed red. Stiles didn’t see anger in them as he expected. He wasn’t quite sure what had just happened, but from what he had heard from Laura, Peter was the worst person she had ever met and Stiles was glad to be rid of him. Talia might not feel the same as he was family and Stiles couldn’t imagine the pain she must have felt. 

“Derek?” Cora nodded and closed her eyes, her chin tilting down slowly. Stiles knew she was listening for him, trying to sense his mood and whereabouts with her werewolf ability. He would have been impressed if he wasn’t still shocked. 

“He’s at the treehouse,” Cora whispered as she stood. “I can--”

“Can I?” Stiles asked, shooting up from his seat. All four eyes locked on his and he wasn’t sure who to look at it. The bond pulsing on his skin had him subconsciously choosing Laura, which he figured he would have to get used to. “I just-- I don’t know what happened. I don’t need an explanation,” Stiles said quickly as all of their mouths moved to open, “but I would like to talk to Derek. You all saw what I did and for some reason he… trusts me. Can I be the one to make sure he’s okay?”

Talia nodded slowly and rested her hand on Laura’s as if to calm her. He could feel her confusion and what he thought might be jealousy, but he brushed it aside. If he wanted answers, Derek was going to be the one to give them to him. That much was made clear in the last few minutes. 

“Where do I go?” Stiles asked as he reached the door. Laura considered answering him, but Cora beat her to it. 

“Behind the house. Walk directly straight for about a minute and it’ll be on your right. It’s the only treehouse out there,” Cora said. Stiles winked back at her and a blush covered her cheeks as she waved him away. He sent one more glance at Laura and was surprised by her encouraging nod before he shut the door behind him. 

He wasn’t sure what he would say and that was his first problem. He could tell Derek that Peter was kicked out, but by the howl he had heard in the woods, he had already made the connection. He would ask Derek what the hell just happened, but Stiles wasn’t sure brazen was the way to go with Derek. Maybe he would just sit next to him and wait for Derek to do the talking. He thought about that option for a second before remembering the countless times Laura ran conversations with him and he was happy to listen. If he recalled correctly, that day was the first time he had actually heard a full sentence out of Derek in the time he had known Laura. 

All too suddenly, Stiles realized just how different they were. He didn’t know what he felt for Derek or what the night had started, but he wasn’t the kind of person to let it go. He figured Derek might be, but if he thought that Stiles was going to leave without having answers, he had another thing coming. 

“I can hear you thinking from all the way up here,” Derek’s voice split through the silence of the forest. Stiles jumped and held in the yelp that threatened to escape his lips. He heard a small huff of laughter from above and flinched when a rope ladder dropped a few feet in front of him. 

“I thought it was gonna be a lot harder to convince you to let me up there,” Stiles said, huffing as he attempted to climb the rope. He wasn’t out of shape by any means, but climbing was never something he was good at. He remembered being almost as uncoordinated as Erica on the rope at school before she got the bite. 

“You seem like the type that would find his way up even if I didn’t want you here,” Derek noted as he threw his hands on the wooden platform to pull himself fully into the house. He took a deep breath in and sat up so he was facing Derek. He was surprised to see peace in his light eyes that reflected the sunset out the side of the treehouse beautifully. 

“Do you want me here?” Stiles asked carefully, moving to glance at the view. It was breathtaking and not at all what Stiles had expected. The placement was perfect for the sunset peeking through the large trees that surrounded the preserve and shined off the small pond Stiles hadn’t known was hidden behind their home. “Wow,” he couldn’t stop himself from whispering. Derek nodded in agreement and leaned back on his hands. 

After a few moments of silence, Derek said, “I’m not gonna kick you out.” It wasn’t exactly the answer he had wanted, but it was kinder than he expected. He settled back on his hands, matching Derek’s position as they watched the sun fall behind the trees together. “I’m sorry for what happened,” Derek whispered. The admission shocked Stiles more than almost anything had that night. First, because Derek didn’t strike him as an apologetic type, and second, because Derek thought he had anything to apologize for. 

“Your Uncle Peter is a real dick,” Stiles said before he could stop himself. He slammed his palm over his mouth, but before he could apologize, Derek’s laughter filled the air. Stiles pushed back the way his heart seemed to always stutter at the sound. 

“Yeah,” Derek agreed, “he really is.” 

There were a few moments of silence that Stiles used to think of what he could possibly say next. It was obvious there was a story as to why Laura reacted so strongly to Peter and that it was enough to cast Peter out of the town and out of the pack. Stiles didn’t know much about werewolf politics other than what he gathered from the files he had snuck peeks at in the past, but that wasn’t something that was taken lightly. Derek sighed heavily next to him and cleared his throat as darkness fell over them. Stiles was sad to see the sunset disappear, but the stars that started sparkling through the sky almost made the disappearing view worth it. 

“Do you love Laura?” Derek asked and Stiles choked at the question. 

He sputtered out, “Excuse me?” Derek sighed again, more annoyed that time, and turned toward Stiles. 

“I know you’re her soulmate--”

“Platonic,” Stiles interrupted before Derek could finish. Derek shot him a deadly glare which had him pressing his lips together nervously. 

“Even platonic soulmates must feel love for one another, right?” Stiles was a bit scared to speak, so he nodded his head and couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at his lips. “I love Laura, too. She’s my sister, but more than that, she’s the most stubborn, hard headed, independent, kind, strong woman I’ve ever had in my life.” Stiles nodded quickly in return. Laura was the best and they undoubtedly agreed on that. 

“There are times when I wish our bond wasn’t platonic,” Stiles began and Derek’s raised eyebrow told him his interpretation of Stiles’ admission was a lot different than Stiles meant. “No, no, no, I don’t wanna like bang your sister, man,” Stiles said, but at Derek’s blank look, he realized those weren’t exactly the most comforting words either. “What I mean to say,” Stiles took a deep breath, “is that your sister was a surprise to me. Our connection is stronger than I’ve seen with even the most romantic of soulmates. I’m here for the long haul whether you or your family - or anyone else for that matter - like it or not.” 

He said the words with such conviction, he hoped Derek heard the sincerity in them. Even if Derek wasn’t going to bear his soul right then and there to someone he had really just met, he needed Derek to know that he would find out eventually. Derek would trust Stiles implicitly and it was only a matter of time. He had wormed his way into Laura’s life, charmed her into loving him right back, and he would do the same to Derek because he had to. 

It might have been the way his stomach seemed to tremble or the way his heart clenched in his chest or even the way that being so close to Derek with only the night sky giving them any semblance of light had his entire body shivering, as if it anticipated his entire life changing. It could have been the way Derek was watching him so carefully, like he was deciding if Stiles was telling the truth, or the way his shoulders relaxed when he saw whatever he was searching for in Stiles’ gaze. 

“Our family hasn’t had the best luck when it comes to soulmate bonds,” Derek began and Stiles let out the breath he was all too aware he was holding. “My mom never had a soulmate and she was happy about it until she met my dad. His soulmate was the love of his life and my mom sat back and befriended them because she wanted him in her life. When he lost his soulmate to a rogue wolf, he didn’t know how to move on. My mom helped him through it and even though they weren’t fated, they ended up together with the same amount of love most soulmates feel for each other.” 

Stiles nodded and whispered, “That’s incredibly romantic.” Derek laughed in return and shook his head. 

“They had their battles. Mom was an alpha werewolf and dad had barely just been bitten. It was tough for them but they believed that soulmate bonds weren’t the be all end all to how much love someone had to give. It was the only thing that got me through when I--” Derek cleared his throat and Stiles could hear the tears building in his throat. 

“You don’t have to tell me,” Stiles whispered, reaching over to rest his hand on top of Derek’s softly. It was so similar to the way Derek comforted him during dinner and Stiles’ mind reeled with what it could mean. They had only known each other for a few hours at most and they both had eased into comforting one another already. It surprised and intrigued Stiles, but his mind was too focused on the trust that Derek was displaying as he shook his head abruptly. 

“Like you said, you’re here to stay whether we like it or not, right?” Stiles nodded and said nothing further, urging Derek to continue with a squeeze of his hand. “I met my soulmate in high school. Her name is-- was Paige. I knew I was one of the lucky ones to meet my soulmate so early in life. We had the rest of forever to spend with each other and I was so in love with her.” Derek let out a choked laugh and ran his free hand through his hair. He didn’t try to remove his hand from underneath Stiles’ but turned it over instead.  Stiles traced the lines of his palm with his fingertips delicately. 

“So fate got it right?” Stiles asked with a smile. 

Derek nodded and continued, “Everyone thought we were perfect for each other. I was extroverted and sporty, she was more introverted and loved to lock herself in a room to practice her cello. I thrived on time spent with my friends and she loved spending time with just me. We were the definition of opposites attract and we--” He broke off with another shake of his head. “I believed in soulmates just as much as the next person, but I also knew that sometimes fate was wrong.

“I mean, I looked at my parents and how much they loved each other and I would never cheapen that the way others had, but fate had perfected the match between Paige and I. Before we even graduated, we were planning our future together.” He went quiet, staring up at the stars like they held all the answers to a question Stiles was too afraid to ask. The silence in the air was heavy and Stiles broke it with a hefty breath. 

“What happened?” Stiles asked softly, lacing his fingers with Derek to try and provide whatever comfort he could. Derek’s small smile warmed Stiles’ heart as he waited for the story he had been intrigued to hear. 

“Peter happened,” Derek spat before taking a deep breath. “He is only a few years older than me and he set his sights on Paige, too. Even though she was my soulmate, he was sure that her kindness meant that they should be together so he challenged me for her. Soulmate bonds aren’t just for werewolves…” Derek trailed off, gesturing toward Stiles who huffed out a laugh. 

“Obviously,” he agreed with a scrunch of his nose. 

“But werewolves take them more seriously than humans. We mate for life more times than not, but Peter grew up with his sister and her husband defying all of the odds and he just couldn’t let it go.” Stiles could tell that even recalling the event was becoming too much for Derek to handle and opened his mouth to stop him. He didn’t need to hear more if it meant that Derek would continue sounding as broken as he did. Derek squeezed Stiles' hand and leveled him with an almost pleading glance.

“Okay,” Stiles muttered as he prepared himself for what he thought would be a tragic story. 

Derek sat up a little straighter and squeezed Stiles’ hand tighter before he started again, “Peter wasn’t born with a soul mark and to him, that meant his mate was his choosing. It didn’t matter that the person standing in his way was his family - someone I considered my best friend - he was blinded by the good that Paige was that he would never be. Paige didn’t want to tear us apart, but I didn’t realize at that time just how much. She was going to leave Beacon Hills and break our bond so that our family, our pack, wouldn’t be broken. That wasn’t on her, but that’s just who she was a person, you know?” 

“She sounds selfless,” Stiles commented and that made Derek smile again which Stiles was grateful for. 

“She was. And Peter was the opposite. He was waiting outside of her house when she walked out with her bags packed and they had an argument. He said it was innocent - that he was begging her to stay with him - and somehow, the tripped and her head slammed against the stonewall lining her driveway.” Derek shuttered and Stiles had to hold back all of the questions he had. Did he think Peter murdered her? Did he see her? Did he get to say goodbye? 

He stayed mostly silent, muttering a brief, “I’m sorry.” As if it would do anything to ease Derek’s pain. 

“I hated Peter, but he was family and one of the only blood pack members my mother had left. I saw her struggle with the decision to exile him back then and I can’t imagine the hurt she is feeling right now,” Derek said, guilt clear in his tone. He pressed his hand against his heart and Stiles felt his own tightening in his chest. 

“He doesn’t deserve to be here with you,” Stiles said and the words were angrier than he had meant them to be. “I’ve known Laura for a while and the rest of you for only a night, but I knew from the second I met you that the tragedy you went through hasn’t broken you.” Derek looked as if he was about to argue and Stiles took a chance, resting his free palm on Derek’s cheek. He was surprised to find it dry as even Stiles’ eyes were tearing at the story. 

“I tried for so long to push aside the pain and anger I felt toward Peter, but for some reason, I feel ashamed that my past is what tore my family apart,” Derek admitted, looking anywhere but Stiles’ face. The hand that rested on Derek’s cheek pushed just enough for their eyes to connect and Stiles tilted his head consideringly at Derek. 

“Peter tore your family apart by ripping Paige away from you. And from what I saw tonight, he continued to poke and prod at your happiness in order to prove that he was somehow superior. You have done nothing but forgive someone I never would have. In fact,” Stiles said, clearing his throat, “I probably would have punched the guy if it wasn’t for the fact I was meeting your parents for the first time.”

Derek’s laughter was real and raw, only slightly drowned by unshed tears as he asked, “Oh, yeah? What makes you think you would have done any damage?” Stiles considered the question and shrugged. 

“I wouldn’t have made a dent in him. But I’ve been told I’m good at provoking people so best case scenario, he would have gone after me and I had at least 4 werewolves ready to attack when he did,” Stiles said with a coy smile. Derek shook his head and reached up to take Stiles’ hand on his face in his own. 

“We wouldn’t have let anything happen to you,” Derek admitted and Stiles knew it was the truth. 

“Yeah, you wouldn’t have. Just like you wouldn’t have let anything bad happen to Paige and how even through your own suffering, you didn’t let it tear your family apart,” Stiles urged. Stiles was sure if he could see Derek more clearly, there would be a blush on his cheeks and the thought made him a bit giddy even with the heavy conversation behind them. “Look, I don’t know you yet, and there was a while in there where I thought I never would,” Stiles began, holding Derek’s hands tightly in his, “but I would like to. I mean, I know what is possibly the most traumatic thing that ever happened to you, so we can only go up from here, right?” Derek smiled wider and Stiles grinned right back. 

“I don’t see the harm in that,” Derek muttered. He stood up slowly, gesturing to the opening of the treehouse for Stiles to make his way down. “I can hear Laura pacing from out here. We should…” Stiles took Derek’s outstretched hand in his and nodded. 

“Yeah…” Stiles trailed off, pulling Derek back to facing him when he started to drop the ladder. “Hey, Derek?” Stiles asked, gulping when he saw the moonlight reflecting in Derek’s eyes. 

“Stiles,” Derek whispered and Stiles thought that he could get used to Derek saying his name like that. It was soft and sultry when he wasn’t even trying. Stiles briefly considered how it would sound when he did try. 

“Thank you for telling me,” Stiles said, his lips pulling back into a shy smile before he could stop them. Derek huffed out what sounded like a relieved laugh and squeezed Stiles’ hand in his. 

“Laura’s lucky to have you,” Derek responded, but Stiles knew it was as much of a thank you as Derek could probably give. 

“Well, I’m feeling pretty lucky, too,” Stiles muttered as he watched Derek lower himself from the treehouse. He was grateful that his extremely platonic soulmate was Laura because that meant he would never be rid of Derek. Derek who he could see becoming friends with, who he could see annoying until he was red in the face, who he could see himself falling in love with… “Yeah, I’m really lucky.” 

[nonagesimus]

sam/jess/brady in the rhps verse (but doesn't have to be rhps related)

anon? i love you. i’m so invested in this verse that very few people care about. this one IS going under a cut since it got a little excessive. the rhps fic, for anyone who would like context.

--

It wasn’t like Dean had timed it out or anything.

This wasn’t that kind of movie. No long keeping track of days, no semi-stalking. He just maybe had looked up whenabouts Stanford’s commencement ceremony was going to be. And maybe the date had stuck in his head. And then there was a classic salt and burn in Gilroy, and that was so close, so. It wasn’t like it was out of his way, is all.

The figure that crossed the stage when the name Sam Winchester was called was far too tall, beaming like pure sunlight, and as he walked into the group of graduates was immediately mobbed by a pair of blondes.

They were still pinned to his sides when Dean found him in the crowd of families and students afterwards.

“-rents get to argue about who’s taking us to dinner tonight,” guy-blonde was saying as Dean approached, tugging at Sam’s gown like he was straightening it.

Girl-blonde, tucked under Sam’s arm in a way that made Dean think girlfriend for sure, said, “That or one of us calls dibs on Sam and the other one goes solo. Rock, paper, scissors?”

“I’m not supporting that.” It was the first thing Dean had heard his baby brother say in over four years, and the bottom of his stomach went somewhere six feet down.

So, yeah, Dean wasn’t even paying attention to which of the blondes was talking, let alone what they were saying, as he got closer. Close enough to see the moment Sam saw him. Watched the smile slide off his face in favour of blank shock. Watched his spine go poker-straight which, yeah, the kid had gotten way taller than Dean remembered him being and he hated it just a little bit. Whatever conversation that had been happening died out completely. Dean stopped a few feet away.

“Hey Sammy.”

“Dean,” Sam said, and both blondes got a little more tense. “What are you doing here?”

“You think I was gonna miss your graduation,” he said, with a lot more confidence than he was feeling, and his douchiest grin.

The douche part apparently came across, because guy-blond muttered, “Oh, fuck off,” before turning to Sam. “This is your brother?”

Girl-blonde said, “Brady,” in a vaguely warning tone, and guy-blond said, “Jess,” sugar-sweet.

Which, at least now Dean knew their names.

“Yeah,” Sam said, still with his eyes fixed. “This is my brother, Dean.”

“Cool,” Brady drawled, folding his arms and stepping forward so he was standing between them. “Nice of you to show when you never call.”

Sam said, “Brady,” in the same tone Jess had before.

And Dean knew, he was not actually an idiot so he absolutely knew, that picking a fight with Sam’s friends was the stupidest thing he could choose to do at that particular moment, but his hackles were already up. “You got something to say about it?”

By his face Brady definitely did, but Sam said his name again, this time with a hand on his arm to draw him back. “It’s ok, just- Give us a minute ok. Go talk to your parents.”

Brady scoffed, showed no sign of leaving, but he did hang back with Jess when Sam walked off a bit of a distance, gesturing Dean after him.

“Nice to know you have such a good guard dog,” Dean said.

Sam sighed, folding his arms. “Why are you here, Dean? Why now?”

“It’s your graduation,” Dean said. “I know I didn’t go to college, but I know that’s a big deal.”

Sam just stared, eyebrows slightly raised, and that? That was new. Four years ago Dean would’ve had the chops to wait Sam out, even if it was only just. Apparently normal life had mellowed Sam out a little. Or maybe Dean was just a little on edge.

“I don’t know, Sam,” he said. “I just… Thought I’d come see what you were planning to do next.”

There was a terrible understanding look that crossed Sam’s face. His whole posture changed. “That’s- that’s really it isn’t it?” He shook his head, disbelieving. “You came to see if I got this all out of my system and I’m ready to come hunting again.”

“Hey, no,” Dean said, looking over his shoulder and seeing Brady straighten and turn towards them. “No, that’s not why I came. I just want to know, ok?”

He could tell from the set of his jaw that Sam didn’t believe him, but he wasn’t going to fight him on it. It was good enough. “Law school,” he said. “Still here. I got a full ride.”

“That’s- I guess congratulations are in order?” Dean said. “Let me take you out for a drink. Your friends too, I kind of feel like they’ll follow us anyway.”

“Probably,” said Sam, turning to head back towards the pair of them.

As they walked back, Dean did get the chance to pick on something that had been sticking out to him. “So, what’s with the earrings, trying to look like a younger, gayer George Michael?”

And they must have been within earshot, because Brady’s expression flashed venemous, before he turned to greet Sam with the words, “Everything ok, babe?” and a peck on the lips.

And Sam accepted it. Braced a hand on Brady’s waist and stayed close. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

So that. Was something. Dean cleared his throat, tried to move on. “We were gonna go get a drink and catch up,” he said. “If you two wanted to tag along.”

And yes, they did, both splitting off briefly to relocate their parents and confirm plans for later on, and then they were back. Apparently they took some time to make a plan as well, because when they made the decision to drag Dean to a bar within walking distance Sam and Brady pulled ahead and Jess walked with Dean.

“Big move, showing up on graduation day out of no where,” she said, aggressively cheerful.

“Sure,” Dean said, straining despite himself to hear the conversation Brady and Sam were having ahead of them.

Sam’s arm was slung around Brady’s shoulders, and Brady’s was around Sam’s waist, so they weren’t talking loud, but Dean thought he caught Brady saying, “-so sorry-“.

“You wanna talk about your decision making process there, hot shot?” Jess asked.

The phrase, “-not hiding either-“ drifted back in Sam’s voice.

“Not really,” Dean said. Maybe he should’ve been playing nicer.

“Cool,” Jess said, drawing out the vowel so the word could be a sentence. Then she turned so she was standing in front of Dean and stopped walking, meeting his eyes with an expression that made it clear that she was just as angry as Brady seemed to be. “I need you to know that he’s been doing fucking awesome without you. And if you’ve pulled your head out of your ass far enough to be his brother again, that’s great, but you better not hurt him again.”

And Dean should’ve brushed it off. Should have said, “Sure,” or “Or what?” or any number of ways he could dismiss an implicit threat from some college girl. Maybe he didn’t have as much control over himself as he thought he did, because what he said was, “He’s the one that left.”

“Sure,” Jess said, voice scathing. “That’s how that works.” Then she’d turned and jogged to catch up with the others, tucking herself under Sam’s free arm and leaning up to kiss him on the cheek. Dean followed. Kept his distance for a little while. Until they got to a bar and settled into a booth.

He’d kind of hoped to regain to equilibrium in the bar. Kind of hoped eighteen years together would trump whatever dynamic Sam had built up with these two in Dean’s absence, that it’d be easy. They were family, after all. Instead it just rubbed in that as far as Dean was concerned the last four years of Sam’s life were a blank slate. That he’d done much, much more than just gotten taller, and Dean was pretty sure he was the same person he’d been when Sam had walked out that door. It wasn’t that it was awkward, he’d always been able to front, and Sam at least made an effort to include him.

He managed to get them to the pool tables, and that made things little easier. Gave him something to focus on. The familiar feel of a cue in his hands, the crack when the balls impacted. And it gave him the smugness of winning - no need to play dumb because, as tempting as it was, if he tried to hustle Sam’s boyfriend he didn’t think Sam would appreciate it. But he was winning, at least until he noticed Jess leaning to kiss Brady in the corner of his vision and missed a really easy shot, and Sam took the opportunity to clean up the whole rest of the table.

None of them acted like anything at all was up, and eventually Dean had to take a cigarette break and Sam followed him out.

“How’s dad?” he asked. Tentative, like he wasn’t quite sure of his footing.

“Fine,” Dean said. “Think he’s chasing werewolves in Louisiana right now.” There was a pause. “This whole thing with- you and Brady, and Brady and Jess…” He trailed off.

There was a touch of a smirk on Sam’s face. “Yeah?”

“I don’t have any idea what’s going on in your life, do I?” Dean asked.

It got a him a real smile. “No, no you don’t,” Sam said. “Look, they- they’re not your biggest fans. But if you do want to know what’s going on in my life, I’d like you to.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, voice suddenly rough. “Yeah- I’d. That’d be cool.”

“I missed you, Dean,” Sam said, quieter.

A big chunk of Dean desperately wanted to tell him they didn’t need a chick-flick moment, but that chunk was a big part of why he hadn’t spoken to his baby brother in four years, so instead he forced himself past in the lump in his throat to say, “I missed you too.”

[evebrennan]

How To Walk 101

TIMING: Current LOCATION: Between the bar and Milo’s Apartment PARTIES: @wickedmilo & @evebrennan SUMMARY: Caoimhe teaches Milo how to walk in 3/4s time, Milo is grumpy but maybe he doesn’t mind the company. CONTENT: Alcohol, mentions of drug abuse, mention of blood

Milo was more than used to being intoxicated. In fact, he probably spent more time with alcohol in his system than he did without alcohol in his system. But given his new situation, he could no longer pass out in a gutter and wander home in the early hours of the morning. Unfortunately for him, the inevitable appearance of the sun had put a schedule on his fun. It definitely wasn’t the end of the world, not when he could return to a comfortable apartment, and a roommate who usually had a cup of blood waiting for him. But growing used to watching the time wasn’t something he had quite managed just yet. It was why, as he made his way back from the bathrooms, cuffing at his nose to erase any evidence of what he had just been doing inside the stalls, he glanced at his phone screen, surprised to discover the sun was due to rise in an hour. Sighing quietly to himself, leaning heavily against the wall, he took a moment to watch the crowd surrounding him. He knew some of the faces, but so many of them were a blur. People he had probably crossed paths with more than once and forgotten by the time his hangover hit. He missed being as carefree as they were. He missed not knowing that vampires, and werewolves lurked on every street corner. That his childhood best friend was a cold hearted killer, ready to dust him the moment she was given the chance.

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to stay where he was forever, not technically at least, he pushed away from the wall and began to weave through the people on the dancefloor, making his way towards the exit. He wasn’t sad to be leaving. If he was being honest, the lights, and loud music were beginning to make his head ache, and at least he could smoke on the walk home. But it took effort. Effort he already didn’t want to expend. Not realising, as he crossed the threshold, emerging out onto the street, that he was in plain sight of everybody lining the sidewalk, he stumbled over his own feet and caught himself against the door jam. Maybe he was more drunk than he gave himself credit for. “Shit…” He muttered quietly, shaking his head in an effort to regain his balance. When he was finally ready, he continued on his journey, unaware of the woman now chasing after him.

It was almost too crowded. Caoimhe pushed through bodies that pushed back, eyes glazed; for once the noise was just noise. There was nothing rhythmic behind it, the jukebox lost under the din of voices and shouts. Alcohol made humans sloppy. Their fingers fumbled and their voices slurred, and Caoimhe never minded chaos, but there was a line between fun and messy. Enough people made the hair on the back of her neck stand up (but then, was that just White Crest), and the air felt heavy. There was nothing there for her save a cocktail and a passably amusing bartender. White Crest boasted enough bars, she was fairly certain she could get away with crossing this one off her list.

Her path out was cleared by someone else, someone who stumbled out the front door, who braced himself against the wall and had to shake his head clear before moving forward. There was no shortage of drunken strangers stumbling around outside of the bar, but most were finding themselves a ride home, or staggering away on the arm of a more-stable friend. This one left alone. Caoimhe hesitated a moment; of course she would need to go in the complete opposite direction. She thought of her couch and her books and the radio turned just loud enough to hear and all the boxes she had left to unpack and–

And she turned the other way and followed the drunken stranger instead. He’d managed just far enough she had to jog, a surprising feat for someone she’d assumed was having a hard time walking only moments before. “It’s one foot in front of the other.” She grinned as she caught up, “I know it can be hard to remember after you’ve had a few, thought I’d help out. Just left, then right. I believe in you.”

Already in the process of pulling his cigarettes from his pocket, Milo was too preoccupied to notice the woman until she spoke to him. Glancing up at her, he did nothing to hide how surprised he was by the sudden company. She seemed a little out of breath, as though she had actively run to catch up with him, though he couldn’t imagine why he was ever worth that amount of energy. “What?” He asked, taking a moment too long to register her comment. “Oh, right. Fuck you.” He muttered, amusement lacing his tone.  He couldn’t stop a quiet laugh from escaping him. The situation felt so ridiculous. He wasn’t exactly a child, he didn’t need taking care of. “I appreciate the concern but I’m fine.” He insisted, sparking up and taking a long drag of smoke before turning to face her properly. What kind of person did this? Chased after people leaving bars and clubs to make sure they were okay? He wasn’t sure whether he found it sweet, or patronising. He figured only time would help him decide. “And what if I want to put the right foot first?” He asked pointedly. “Are you gonna tell me I’m doing it wrong?”

Caoimhe thought about vices: alcohol, cigarettes lit just before dawn, music. She wondered how much of it was habit. He certainly looked like it was natural, like the easy way he cursed and laughed all in the same breath, relieving a tension she hadn’t even been aware was there in the first place. He could have easily meant it. She’d been half-prepared for an argument, one she’d win even if she had to make sure he made it home at a distance. As it was, his beratement was tinged with amusement, and Caoimhe found herself smiling instead.

“Well, you would be wrong. Everyone knows it’s left first, even a Waltz starts with the left.” She mimed a quick Waltz before giving up. There were some things from her childhood that stuck. Her family had never been the type to frequent ballrooms or concert halls, preferring quick-time beats and the kind of chaos that only ever came on late fall evenings, laughter dancing through the trees off Beara way. Formality was something she’d picked up later. She couldn’t think about dancing in rough circles with people who might’ve been friends; she couldn’t think about leaving. “All judgement withheld, though, just let me help you home. You uh, you seemed a little rough back there.”

Milo watched as the woman smiled at him, clearly relieved to find he was in a decent mood, and not about to aggressively protest her company. She had a nice smile, he thought. Something about her was welcoming. “I’m not waltzing though, I’m walking.” He countered, exhaling a breath of smoke, careful to direct it away from her as she demonstrated the dance. He couldn’t help smiling too, raising his eyebrows as he waited for her to stop. “You done?” He asked finally, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. If she thought he seemed a little rough because he had stumbled in a doorway, she had no idea what rough actually was. “Believe me, however bad you think I am now, I’ve been a thousand times worse.” He assured her. “And however worried you are about my safety, or whatever… you don’t know the shit I’ve been through. And I survived, so...” Kind of survived. “I think I can handle walking home alone.”

His words weren’t slurred, but they fell from his lips with an easy, almost clumsy enunciation. One you only ever adopted when you were under the influence, or incredibly tired. And much like his pronunciation, his judgement was taking a fast dip in quality. If it were any other night, or if she were any other person, he might be pushing her away by now. Angry that she was assuming he couldn’t protect himself. that he was incapable of avoiding trouble. As it was, he didn’t see the harm in letting her stay. It might actually be nice, having somebody to talk to. “I’m Milo.” He introduced himself after a few beats of silence had passed between them, faltering as he struggled to walk in a straight line, and rebounded awkwardly off of a brick wall to his left. Narrowing his eyes, already anticipating a comment from his new friend, he hurried to catch her gaze. “You didn’t see that.”

Caoimhe resisted the urge to reach out and steady him, tucking her hands firmly into her pockets. There was some pride mixed in there. He hadn’t chased her off quite yet, but his confidence brokered no argument, and she wasn’t going to try. He could bounce off as many walls as he wanted, and she’d turn a blind eye to each, as long as he made it safely home by the end of the night.

That didn’t mean it wasn’t amusing, the way his eyes darted up to meet hers, like he knew she’d say something. And she would. She bit back a grin and swallowed a laugh, but she didn’t have that good of a poker face. The corners of her lips twitched up and she huffed out a breath. So defensive for someone who couldn’t seem to figure out the left then right bit. Caoimhe thought she might actually enjoy this random, drunk stranger. “Didn’t see what?” She gave him the benefit of the doubt, looking away and taking pointed steps forward, sure to match whatever pace he managed to set.

“Milo.” She tried the name out. It fit, somehow, with the brick and the cigarette smoke. “For the record, Milo, you’re stumbling because you’re being stubborn about which foot goes first.” Because it couldn’t possibly be the alcohol. He’d told her he’d been through worse (and she believed him; there had to be some history behind someone who’d stumble home from the bar alone, who’d probably been there alone drinking who knows how much for who knows how long).

“And I’m Caoimhe, by the way.” She wondered if that fit. “I’m sure you’ve been through some shit, but maybe tonight you don’t have to go through anything because you properly used the buddy system.”

Milo grinned, unable to help himself, both surprised and endeared by the woman’s response. “Good.” He said decisively, tapping ash as he spoke. He watched it fall to the floor, careful not to get too distracted by it lest he stumble again. Only looking back up at his company as she echoed his name, he realised it was weird, hearing a stranger say it. More often than not he barely registered the sound. His name was his name, he heard it far too often to really think about it, the phonetics, the way it fell from people’s lips. But now, he heard it as if hearing it for the first time, and found himself wondering whether it suited him. “Wow,” he deadpanned, his smile giving away how amused he really was. “You’re hilarious. Maybe I’m stumbling because you made me feel self conscious and now I’m putting the left foot first… or the right foot? Whichever one it was. It’s never good, asking somebody to change a fundamental aspect of who they are.” He teased, feigning sincerity.

“Caoimhe?” It was his turn to repeat her name, as he committed it to his memory. Or tried to, at the very least. When he had been drinking there was no guarantee information would stay with him, but that didn’t stop him from making the occasional effort. “As much as I appreciate this ‘buddy system’ I really don’t think you’d be able to protect me from some of the shit this town likes to throw at people.” It was true, perhaps he was being more honest than was smart, but he didn’t see any reason to lie. And it led him to a question, one that felt like a sudden, genuine concern. “Hey, if you’re walking me home, who’s walking you home?”  

“Don’t be self-conscious, be self-confident.” Caoimhe could barely manage it without descending into laughter, her words choking off at the end. It was something she could likely find on a motivational poster in some high school somewhere. Luckily, Milo seemed like the tough on the outside, adequate sense of humor on the inside type. “There are much bigger hills to define yourself by than what foot you put first. Like whether or not you like pickles, or if you had a two-thousand-six emo phase. Maybe I’m not just helping you walk home, Milo. Maybe I’m helping you be a better person.”

She spun to walk backwards in front of him, a feat made easy by the pace. He looked like the type who had a two-thousand-six emo phase. With the cigarette smoke clouding out beside him and the way his eyes seemed to focus on his feet (though, perhaps that was her fault). She wondered again what had him in a bar until the sun was threatening to peek over the horizon; she wondered why he was stumbling home alone. He’d accepted her help easily enough, rolled with the twists and turns of the conversation even if she looked so completely random waltzing with no one only moments before. He made good company.

And he was concerned. It seemed genuine, and her smile shifted from light and joking to something a little softer in return. “Unlike some, I know which foot goes first. And–”

And she could defend herself. And there was more to her than just a woman making her way home from the bar. Humans could be cruel, sometimes. She so often saw the best in them, but she wasn’t blind. Caoimhe had learned where her defenses lay: not in her hands or her strength, but rather in the way she spun words, and the way she pulled from them with a simple touch. “I’m stronger than I look. I’ll find my way home again.”

“All of my problems have been solved. However can I repay you?” Milo deadpanned, secretly enjoying the way Caoimhe laughed at her own joke. “I like pickles.” He added, realising after he said the words that they probably were no longer true. It was the first time he had found himself genuinely missing human food. A burger with pickles sounded perfect right about now. He was never going to have that satisfaction again. He craved a different satisfaction, one completely unrelated to greasy diner food. “And I was too busy for an emo phase. Honestly, I don’t think I could have pulled it off.” He had never been the type to put much thought into his clothing. If he liked it, he bought it. And if the colours and styles didn’t seem to horrifically clash then he was more than content to throw on an outfit and forget about what he was wearing. He knew just by watching people in high school that fashion could be taken very seriously, he just didn’t have that kind of energy to expend. “So you assume I need help to become a better person?” He asked, narrowing his eyes in mock offense. “You’re assuming I need to become a better person in general?”

Taking a long, final drag of smoke before dropping his cigarette to the floor, he raised his eyebrows as his company decided to walk backwards. He couldn’t decide whether she was doing so without really registering her actions, or pointedly showing off her dexterity. “Okay, okay, I get it- you can walk backwards without tripping over your own feet.”He laughed. “You can stop with the showing off now.” Watching his new friend curiously when she insisted she was stronger than she looked, he didn’t doubt in White Crest that was entirely possible. He had been steadily learning the tells for various supernatural creatures, but there was nothing about her that caught his attention. Was she human? Or was she something else? “Me too.” He admitted, offering her a genuine smile. “Which makes your little venture entirely pointless, by the way. Even if I do appreciate having someone to talk to.”

Caoimhe almost paused. She almost forgot left then right. Because Milo asked, and she could imagine just how the conversation would proceed, if she were anyone else, if it was her mother who’d offered to walk Milo home. Her smile would have edges. However can I repay you, and she’d have a thousand answers at the ready. An open ‘I owe you’ would be the worst of them, to be paid in a forest somewhere. She could ask for a song, sing, even if it’s horrible, even if you can’t keep a tune. She could try to talk around and around until he said ‘deal,’ and there was something vague and ominous on the table she’d cash in at some later date.

That was her mother. Caoimhe could see it, she could still toy with the thought. Like she was fifteen and twisting in on herself with her mother’s guiding voice whispering in her ear. That was her mother. She only faltered a moment, finding the same easy smile she’d had since she’d caught up with him outside the bar. “Consider it your second bit of free advice. But be warned, the rest comes with a price.”

She already thought of her mother enough; there was no room for her on that dark street, laughing through the haze of cigarette smoke and a little too much alcohol. Not yet. Caoimhe still had some distance left, she wasn’t that tired. And Milo wasn’t a target, either. He was just someone Caoimhe had hoped to help in a small way. “And can’t we all be better people? I don’t like pickles, and I’ve had far too many people tell me that’s a massive character flaw upon which I could improve.”

She believed him. Even if he couldn’t seem to walk a straight line, at the very least his stubborn insistence he was fine meant he’d fight like hell should anything actually try to come after him. There was some strength there. She tucked her hands into the pockets of her coat and looked down to the concrete, a smile still playing on her lips.  “I’m blatantly choosing to ignore all of that, except the ‘I appreciate having someone to talk to’ bit.”

Milo laughed, shooting Caoimhe a pointed look. “Considering I didn’t technically ask for any advice, you can keep the third piece, whatever it might be...” Even though it was a rather abstract concept, he had no way of knowing what his company might pull from the air if their conversation were to continue, he was almost curious as to what the third piece of advice might end up being. His smile fading, becoming more melancholy as he registered her question, the idea of becoming a better person was one he actively tried to avoid. When you were concerned about working on yourself, you couldn’t always put yourself first. What if he needed money to score and his conscience tried to stop him from swiping someone’s wallet? What if he wanted to ignore texts from his friends, or his parents, begging him to come home, and the guilt weighing down on him became impossible to ignore? Being a better person meant changing. And too much in his life had been changing, as of late.

“I don’t know.” He admitted, scuffing his shoes against the sidewalk. “I try not to think about shit like that, I’m fine as I am.” The mention of pickles amused him, but he couldn’t bring himself to react. If only it was that easy, if only his negative traits consisted of disliking controversial foods. “You can choose to ignore all of that if you want to.” He teased, forcing himself back to the present. “It doesn’t make it untrue, and you know it.” Finally smiling again, a real, genuine smile, he was forced to admit she was good company. He would be an idiot if he tried to claim otherwise. “But yeah… I do appreciate it. Usually I’m doing this alone so… it’s nice having someone to talk to. Even if they don’t like pickles.”

“Your loss. It could’ve been the best yet, and now you’ll never know.” Like Caoimhe had anything even remotely useful to say for the entire walk home. Like she’d been a fountain of knowledge. Rather, she’d be lucky to be remembered come morning, and then only as the woman who’d done a waltz and criticized his walking, and–

And oh. She’d hit on something. His tone shifted and she looked up from her own shoes as his scuffed against the concrete. She was so sick of thinking of her mother, but she wondered sometimes at the shape of people. If they were ever told they had to fit a mould, that certain pieces of themselves should be favored over others. “Hm. Other than the walking thing?” She tried for a smile, something crooked and softer around the edges. “I’m sure you are. Fine as you, I mean. I only meant…”

She only meant what? That she could pick herself apart and find every imperfection, and never be done looking? Everyone had somewhere they could grow. It was in obsessing over those places that the trouble came in. Perhaps Milo had a point. It was better not to think about it. “Maybe it’s okay to always strive to be better. Even if some of us are already perfect.” She tempered it with an actual smile, something brighter than it had been before. He was good company. He was fine as he was.

“See, I knew the pickle thing would bother you. It’s always…” It wasn’t always the pickle thing. It was never the pickle thing. It was the leaving thing. “Well, it’s not usually the pickles, but I’m allowed to have my suspicions.” It was her turn to kick at the ground, to stumble. “And Milo. It has been nice having someone to talk to.”

Milo laughed, shaking his head at Caoimhe. “Clearly you’re underestimating just how much I don’t care.” He was only half teasing. His ability to let things go, almost in spite of his own curiosity, made his life far easier than it otherwise would be. He was almost proud of that fact. He knew it made him trustworthy, knew it was a part of why his friends felt they could confide in him. After all, it was far easier to tell somebody a secret if they weren’t trying to pry it out of you. Offering his company a shrug when she asked him to clarify, he felt something stir in his chest. She actually agreed with him. It wasn’t often he was told he didn’t need to change, didn’t have primary traits that were unsavoury, and required his attention. It meant more to him than he could ever say, even coming from a stranger. “You’re about the only one.” He admitted, the alcohol in his system allowing the words to fall from his tongue. Smiling in response to her joke, he brushed off what remained of his lingering doubts. He wanted to be enjoying the journey, and he couldn’t do that if he allowed himself to get lost inside his own head.

“You’re not perfect if you don’t like pickles. I’m sorry, it’s the truth.” He countered. Raising his eyebrows quietly when Caoimhe admitted it wasn’t usually the pickles that bothered people. He realized he really didn’t know her. There was so much more to her than what he was seeing right now, and he was beginning to wonder why she was also at a bar alone so late at night. Was she drowning her sorrows? Looking for some form of distraction? “If it’s not the pickles then what is it?” He asked, fully expecting her to brush off his question. Though maybe she wanted to talk about it. He couldn’t know until he at least encouraged her to elaborate. Watching as she stumbled, he held his tongue, his eyes shining as he waited for her to acknowledge her clumsy footing. “So, are you going to tell me how much you’ve had to drink tonight? Now that we’ve established I’m too drunk to walk myself home?”

Caoimhe held up her hands, letting it go easily.

The tone had changed, even if only for a moment. Joking gave way to an admittance Caoimhe almost missed in the moments before laughter took its place. She looked over, her hands tugging at the insides of her coat pockets, and she thought about how many songs were so incredibly sad, all dressed up in an upbeat melody. There wasn’t a word for it. Caoimhe thought perhaps there should be. He didn’t linger, and she wasn’t going to press. The moment came and passed as fleeting as everything else had, with a laugh and a smile and his insistence upon playing grumpy without actually telling her to leave.

“I stand in judgement.” Her hand pressed to her forehead, “Have you considered it is you who is flawed for liking them? It’s a crime. It’s a crime against me, specifically. I hope you think about that every time you eat a pickle, you felon.”

And she paused, again. It was easier to talk about the things that didn’t matter. It was the pickles. It wasn’t the connections forged with people who loved their instruments or their voices or her. He asked and the answer was the way her stomach twisted itself into knots, and the scratch at the back of her throat, and how she still wondered what he would create, if she told him he could, just so, if he tried. It was finding out their favorite color was blue and then leaving, always leaving, because how was she supposed to know that, and watch them whither all at once?

“Well, there’s also the whole…” She waved a hand, “Walking superiority, thing. Not everyone can handle criticism. Which,” and pointed at her own feet, “an accident, by the way. I’ve only had enough to think helping a random stranger home is a good idea.”

Milo grinned easily at his company. “I have not considered that because it’s impossible. I have no flaws.” He wasn’t sure how the conversation had become so fixated on pickles, but it was very amusing, and way too easy to humour. This kind of nonsense was liable to take place when somebody insisted on helping him home from a bar in the early hours of the morning. He wasn’t exactly thinking straight. “Do you think pickles were created solely to become the bane of your existence?” He asked, his eyes shining as he caught her gaze. “That would be really fucking petty of the universe…” He could honestly say he probably would think about Caoimhe every time he ate pickles now, and though he figured that would end up being a rather rare occurrence, it made him realise he was happy they had met. Or rather, happy she had forced her company upon him because she saw him as entirely incapable. Slipping his phone out of his pocket, he handed it out to her as they began to near his apartment building. Still in the distance, but close enough to see. “No pressure or anything, but if you want to plug in your number then feel free. This was actually- this was kind of nice.”

Laughing when she insisted stumbling had been an accident he shot her a look that was equivalent to saying duh. “No shit it was an accident.” He countered. “It was an accident when I tripped but you decided it meant I needed your protection or whatever, so maybe I should be more worried about you.” He narrowed his eyes, pretending to observe her carefully for any signs of inebriation. “Ah, so far too much then?” He grinned again, ready for her to adamantly deny what he was saying. “I appreciate the honesty.”

“Mhmm.” Caoimhe hummed around a smile. “The world is conspiring against me.”

But maybe not entirely. Maybe it had found a moment in the chaos she’d made of her own life to give her a single, silly moment on a sidewalk with a man a little too drunk to walk straight. It made her think, perhaps, even if White Crest wasn’t permanent (nothing was ever permanent), it could be one of her better temporaries. She accepted the phone, thinking for a moment before entering her number and contact name ‘Call For Advice.’

“But if this is conspiring, it’s not half bad.” She handed the phone back and lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug. The sky was shifting from dark indigo to a softer purple and somehow she’d found herself further from home than she had been since she’d moved. The town was expansive and full of so many things just off normal, she actually allowed herself a moment to wonder what it might be like if she stayed. If she settled at the university, if she unpacked all of her boxes, if she was a contact in Milo’s phone he thought of in the present rather than the past tense. She could stay long enough to teach him how to walk in three-fourths time.

“I’ll make it home just fine, thank you.” She settled, instead. It was always a pipe dream, there long enough for her to wonder before someone caught up. But at least they’d had a moment. She found one last smile and a laugh and “I’ll dance, it’s stronger than the alcohol. Will you make it from here?”

Milo laughed. The idea of a universe creating pickles to spite one person in particular was definitely out there, but he had seen some very strange things since becoming a vampire. “Maybe it is. But it can’t be too mad at you because it threw me into your path and I am a genuine delight.” Watching as Caoimhe took his phone, when she handed it back to him he laughed at her name, already brainstorming weird, philosophical questions he could send her when he felt like amusing himself... and potentially annoying a new friend. “What if I need advice on weird women trying to escort me home because they’re worried about my alcohol consumption?” He teased, pocketing his phone again, grinning easily at his company.

“I’ll take not half bad.” He added, after a brief moment of consideration. Shooting an uneasy glance towards the horizon, the sky was already a few shades lighter than it had been when he first decided to leave the club. Gesturing towards the end of the street, he reminded himself that he wasn’t in any danger. He was basically home, and there were a good thirty minutes until the sun would fully begin to rise. He really needed to stop cutting things so close but for now he had miraculously managed to make it home on time, which felt like a cause for celebration. It always did. “That’s my building.” He admitted, turning back to face her. Raising his eyebrows at the mention of dancing, his eyes were shining with humour. “You’re going to dance the alcohol out of your system? You might have to show me how to do that sometime.” Coming to a halt so that he could properly focus on the conversation, he nodded, hoping to assure Caoimhe that he really would be okay. “I will.” He insisted. “If you promise me you will. I mean it… not many people give a shit so… it means a lot that you wanted to check up on me.” As annoying as he liked to say it was, he was touched by the sentiment. It meant an awful lot to know there was one more person in the world watching out for him. “I’ll see you around?”

“I’ll ask if they know proper foot placement. That’s the difference.”

There was almost too much weight placed on her spur-of-the-moment decision. It turned out Caoimhe had helped more than even she thought she was going to. It turned out she didn’t mind it. But it turned into an I’ll see you around and that was hardly a promise she could make, if she was in the business of making the promises. She smiled, and–

“We’ll see.” But she hoped they would. She kind of hoped he’d ask for advice, even if she was three states away with her rearview mirror pointed down. With a wave and only the smallest of stumbles, she pivoted and walked back the way she came.

[doyelikehaggis]

Rowing the Rarepair Rowboat: Liv Parker x Georgie Dowling (The Vampire Diaries)

"This class is a joke," Liv says bitterly, glaring at the textbook laid open in front of her.

Occult studies. Ten percent occult and ninety percent studies at this point. Honestly, they're too scared that someone's going to catch on that half of the class and the entire college is filled up with actual witches, not to mention vampires and werewolves, that they don't bother teaching anything interesting. 

"Yeah, well, I told you that you wouldn't like it," Luke says without looking up from his own work. He's laying back on Liv's bed, steadily and easily making his way through his own assignments. 

Liv directs her glare to him and wryly says, "Thank you, that was so helpful."

"It's what you get for refusing to let me take the LSATS because it meant I'd move away from you." He looks up at her now, flashing a sarcastic smile. "If I have to take boring college courses, like history and English lit, then you have to suck up the butchering of our entire existence. We're in this together, remember?"

Using her own words against her is a dick move. Still, there isn't exactly room for her to argue; she did talk him out of the LSATS in order for them to be able to attend this college. But in her defence, they were on a search for the dopplegangers at that point and she was pretty sure they weren't at Harvard. 

Saying nothing rather than admit he's right, she turns back to her textbook. Then she slams it closed, to which Luke just chuckles at, evidently finding amusement in her frustration. A shock zips beneath her fingertips, she groans, and the textbook flies across the room -- just as the door opens. The girl freezes in the doorway with wide eyes. 

"Whoa! Uh... sorry," she says uncertainly. Her eyes dart from Liv's sheepish expression to Luke. "I was just... coming to see if you were still up for that coffee we were talking about earlier?"

Luke breathes out a sigh of relief and immediately puts his books down, and swings himself off of the bed. "God yes. Free me, Georgie, I'm begging you, or else I will literally go insane."

Georgie laughs. She points at Liv, her eyebrows raising. "Hey, uh... you're Liv, right? God, you two really are twins, huh?"

Liv gives a thin smile. "As far as I'm aware. But I clearly got all of the good looks and about seventy percent of the intelligence."

Georgie's gaze lingers, giving her a subtle once-over as her smile stretches into a faint smirk. She nods.

"Yeah, I can see the looks part. Good is an understatement, though."

"I am right here," Luke says, throwing his hands out. 

They both roll their eyes. Georgie turns back to him.

"Shut up, you know you're adorable," she tells him, to which he rolls his eyes back at her but smiles. "But as a flaming bisexual who leans more towards girls, your sister is winning this competition of attractiveness." She looks back over at Liv and shrugs, grinning at her. "Sorry to be blunt on our first meeting. I'm sure you have a really nice personality as well."

Luke scoffs. "She does not. Trust me."

He ignores the rather impolite hand gesture Liv aims at him. Grabbing his coat from the chair, he motions his head to the door.

"You coming?" he asks Georgie. 

"Mhm." She pauses to ask Liv, "Do you wanna come with? We're probably just gonna go to that little cafe across from campus."

When Liv hesitates, glancing at the textbook now on the floor on the other side of the room, Georgie gestures at it. 

"Oh, I can, you know, help you make up for any lost time studying," she says. "What classes are you taking? I don't see you in history."

"Occult studies."

Georgie's face lights up like a kid on Christmas day. "Are you kidding? There's a class for that? Oh, I am so switching my major, what the hell?" She swats Luke's arm. "Why didn't you tell me that was an option?"

"Because I didn't want you two meeting for this exact reason," Luke responds, joking. At least partially. "Now, can we please go?"

Georgie gives him another eye roll, and starts to speak. Liv beats her to it, talking directly to her with bright smile, "You know what? I would love to come with you. Some caffeine could really help me focus."

"Doubtful," Luke mutters with a displeased look, but he doesn't complain any further about her tagging along. Just throws her hoodie at her and motions for her to be quick about getting ready. "I'll be downstairs. Georgie?" 

She's still staring at Liz, a curious look on her face to match that twitching smile on her lips. Okay, Liv thinks, merely raising her eyebrows back at her. This could be interesting. Whitmore has been fairly boring ever since they stopped the travellers, prevented Kai from destroying their coven, drove some crazy-ass heretics out of town, and took down a supernatural hunter with a shaman curse to kill all vampires. Her life could use a little more mystery every so often, and it's been long enough since the last one. 

"Georgie," Luke repeats, exasperation slipping into his voice.

"Yep." She backs away now, biting her lip, then turns to leave. She pats Luke's shoulder on the passing, and in what is probably meant to be an attempt at a whisper, says, "Tell me she's single."

Luke closes his eyes and groans. Liv tries to supress a snicker but fails, even as the base of her neck heats up, a gentle flush creeping up to her cheeks. She just presses her lips together in a pleased smile, but raises her eyebrows in a facade of nonchalance. 

"Get out," Luke says, shaking his head. "Just... go, before I start looking for a spell to make the earth swallow me."

Georgie throws her one last glance before walking out of the room. Luke sighs, then wheels right around to point a finger at Liv. 

"I do not want another Tyler situation, all right?" he warns. "He was actually my friend until you started dating him, so, if you have any feelings for Georgie at all, please, for the love of god... just don't do anything dumb, okay?"

Liv rolls her eyes. "I won't! I don't even know the girl."

"Mhm." Luke just gives a certain kind of stare that she knows very well -- the same one she's given him on multiple occassions as well. They're used to trying to steer each other clear of friends that could become potential hook-ups. "Just dial down the flirting."

"That's my natural personality," Liv quips, shrugging. 

Luke's expression is mildly pained. He just waves her off, evidently not able to deal with any of this right now, and follows after Georgie. Liv quickly pulls on her hoodie and follows, scraping her hair out of the back of the hoodie and into the scrunchie tied around her wrist as she hurries after them. She can just take Georgie up on her offer to help her with her assignment later.