#but now that im going off to college in the same town as my temple is i think i will end up going more

[vamptastic]

wish i didn't stop going to temple regularly this past year because i have been thinking a lot about the holocaust leading up to my senior trip (we are going to dachau for a day and i am very worried what my some of my very very sheltered, christian, white, preppy classmates will say afterwards).

i have talked about it with my mom a bit but she's very stressed right now with her college class and i don't want to be dumping all that on her every day. but my dad grew up catholic and is still in the process of converting, and idk hes just not as involved in jewish identity and doesn't see judaism as a ethnicity/race the same way me and my mom do, so i don't know if he can fully understand the kind of grief im trying to process right now.

i think mostly i am having a more difficult time grappling with the reality of what happened right now because i have not spent nearly as much time with jewish elders and so it's easy to forget that we're still very alive and that people survived and not all was lost.

there are just so many little things i hear that make me so angry and sad and disbelieving about the massive massive hatred and disregard for human life. there was this one anecdote i heard, where josef mengele was searching for an assistant, and out of the lineup of new auschwitz inmates he asked who was a doctor, and 50 or so people raised their hands, then he asked for a forensic pathologist, 5 hands, then one who had trained at a specific university, one man left, who was forced to perform an autopsy on a decayed, gangrenous corpse in front of him to prove his aptitude and was then essentially his slave until the camp was liberated.

and the story of that individual man is horrible, obviously, but what really struck me was the other 49 doctors who were just. killed. 49 doctors. Forty-nine! obviously all life has value, but it drives in the fact that our accomplishments and merits as a people just did not matter, there was nothing you could do to earn your humanity. for fucks sake, heisenberg (of the heisenberg uncertainty principle) was widely ridiculed for using 'jew science' because he based his work on the theories of albert einstein.

and then there are the demographic changes. im basing this off of loose memory here, but ashkenazi jews went from like 20% of the global jewish population to 80% after the holocaust (i have tried to find out WHY that happened but all i can find is the raw statistics). it's far from the only one in jewish history but the holocaust is a classic example of a bottleneck event and it's so fucking hard to fathom how much our genes have been affected by the repeated occurrences of interference with natural selection through forced reproductive isolation and rapid reductions in population.

it's just, it's such a huge event, so (blessedly) few times has this happened to a people, so few other diasporic peoples exist, especially ethnoreligious groups, and i feel like people who are not jewish or close with jewish people cannot wrap their head around why i care so much, beyond historical interest. and i do love jewish history its just, this is not a love, this is a need to understand.

there is always this sense of who cares, jews are so sensitive caring about things from nearly a century ago, it's not even real to me. but the more you learn the more its so painfully scarily real and the more you have to grapple with the fact that you can be hated so much for something so simple as ethnicity and religion that the most awful unspeakable things can be done to you and nobody will really care.

idk i don't have an answer here, obviously, i just wish i could talk to people at temple about this but i haven't been in ages and its such a heavy topic.

[pangeasoftware]

every thought I can put together about my life right now

im pilled out right now over a back injury. i'm 26 years old. i've seen myself become a progressively worse and more wanton person over the last year and it's definitely kicked into high gear the last 6 months. any semblance of routine has left my life, i'm off my meds because they were making me have psychotic delusions about how the west is trying to trigger the biblical apocalypse eventually culminating in israel invading gaza & the west bank & building the third temple in 2025, 77 years after the founding of the israeli state etc. etc. (this was 2-3 years ago, funny enough these thoughts have completely taken a backseat as things intensify.) and i was very principled and altruistic. I was working out 3+ times a week i was cooking. I was at peace with all of my interpersonal relationships and making friends at a steady pace. I finished a song. All of my friends left town when I hit 26. I visited some of them after the fact but got drunk and tried to break into their place because my gf left her purse there before they ditched us and they got mad at me and we haven't talked since. last two months i've been going to parties but only really hitting it off with like, young girls which is not who i want to be surrounding myself with because there is no common ground outside of a party setting and it is just kind of sus behavior, also probably an indicator of where i'm at in terms of maturity, most people my age or older are like well known in the community or already have friends or talk about stuff at their college-educated jobs that I don't know about or look at me weird for how im acting or what I choose to talk about because i'm not very bright or plugged in. I started really phoning it in at my job where i'm supposed to be taking care of vulnerable people. at this point i spend probably most of my workday on my phone. i used to be really on top of things. I don't do it out of a sense of entitlement or anti-employer principle or anything it's entirely a lack of self control and nobody's there to stop me. I'm going to community college classes where i'm always the oldest person there who isn't retired. i've been going to these entry-level classes for almost a decade and it makes me feel really stupid. My relationship with my partner who i love and have been with for also almost a decade has been better lately, but over these last six months at times it has been worse than it has ever been, solely because I can't figure out what I want and can't appreciate what I have. I have sunk into a deep pit of lonely indulgence in response to feelings of anxiety about the passage of time (meaning: taking stimulants to feel better, drinking all the time, jacking off, eating eating eating eating eating). I think what happened is that the

passage of time finally became impossible to ignore. from 2020-2023 my life was frozen in a bucolic crystalline lattice of domesticity that i had a sense of gratitude for that felt limitless, unending in the same way that I had an endless stretch of time on the clock. I felt ahead of the game in a lot of respects. I had found the person that I want to spend the rest of my life with, every day I was making meaningful connections with new people, I had done my time at a job I found tolerable and sufficiently compensatory and was making the transition to an even better one. I finished a song or two. I started getting tired of the patterns of discontent, then pleasure, then fear, then gratitude that tessellated to form my interface to the things in front of me and asked to be put on a mood stabilizer. After weeks of steady unease i forgot two doses two days in a row and plunged into a deep and unfamiliar well of fear and resentment. Every thought I have had about the passage of time over the last three to six to eight to eleven years aligned to a point- I missed the boat/I am not where I should be at this point in time/I have wasted the entirety of my youth, the wick has submerged/the time has passed for every fantasy I had about what I could be or do or create or who I could surround myself with when i was "older," "grown up," or "had the time to develop myself."/there is no longer a single thing to look forward to, because you have missed all of the inflection points to pivot your life toward where you wanted it it to be. Thoughts I had when I was 22 and wasn't watching the clock as i should have been - "if i am still in school by the time i am 26 [something will have gone terribly wrong - this is a state of failure]." I think that maybe what was sustaining me through the years of wandering inaction/fulfilled contentment was the thought

that I would always have time to do the other things, these other lives aren't mutually exclusive to experiencing this life. this is maybe one of the biggest copes I have ever engaged with, it is a thought I have

maybe hundreds of times a day. I can still do the other thing later, I want to do this right now, this is easy. I can do both things. I can indulge myself and I can be the person I want to be. I can waste as much time as I like and still look back at the end of the day and be happy with how I spent it.

Every day is a clean slate for me, there is no time like the morning because it represents a perfect, unblemished chunk of time ready for me to: 1) ideally set my affairs right and fulfill my ambitions 2) actually thoughtlessly devour, only to wonder what happened when faced with the empty plate in front of me. i think this pattern follows to every other ephemeral thing in my life. the realization of potential is a little death every time/a completely lossy process. it doesn't matter that something real became of it, it was better before it condensed because it represented so many different possibilities that could not coincide.

I don't have anybody to "look up to" anymore. Nearly anyone who as accomplished the things that I want to do, especially creatively, got it done when they were my age or younger. The time has passed and there is now a concrete veil between my path and theirs, because I spent my time differently. it's a really bad feeling. I put a lot of effort and thought into the idea of making music. It's all i want to do when I don't have the time, and the last thing that I want to do when I do have the time. I was okay with resigning it to a hobby for a number of reasons. I was at peace with the fact that I will not be able to make the things I want to make, I felt like I fully understood that there were other, much, much more important things to do with my life. I understood that the casual relationship I had with it was what kept it fulfilling and healthy. but these I think were also held in place by the understanding that "there will always be time later." My father is a failed musician, a chronic abuser, a man who suffers regular bouts of religious psychosis, and is shitting in diapers because of his drinking habit because of a lot of this. that's another thing that kept me at a safe distance from these ambitions. I didn't want to grow bitter and resentful of the actual people and places and things that made up my life because they stand in opposition to a [idealized, meaning holding infinite internal complexity and potential as discussed earlier] configuration where I got what I wanted out of myself creatively.

I'm at a point where I don't really know what comes next. I got about as far as I had mapped out, and what happened in that time didn't span the entirety of the self-conflicting imaginary that mapping consisted of, and i feel cheated because of it. because of this feeling, I'm getting mixed up and trying to push buttons because I want to feel some kind of agency in my life and i think i'm going to get taken out if i succumb to that impulse.

[meltwonu]

| 🍒 CH-CH-CHERRY BOMB! 🍒 |     [CHAPTER 4]

pairing; dom!seungcheol x camgirl!reader

this chapter’s notes; masturbation, usage of toys, dirty talkin’, a bit of a filler chapter after last weeks hehe🍒 as always, thank you again for your continued support for cherry bomb 🥺💕 I'm actually not sure if next week’s chapter will go up on time due to my work schedule for next week but I'll be sure to keep y’all updated! if anything it’ll probably go up on saturday instead of friday... 😭😭 But anyway, have a good weekend yall! 💕💕💕 stay hydrated!! 

chapters; 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - ?

The weekend ends quicker than Seungcheol even notices and while he wakes up Monday morning already thinking about you and your show later in the evening; his face falters when he reads the message on your cam homepage.

‘Sorry everyone :( I think I caught a cold so I won’t be doing a show tonight… I promise I’ll make it up to you on Friday! In the meantime, I’ve uploaded some new pics in our members only room~ I hope it’ll tide you all over ‘til then! xx Cherry 🍒 ’

His first reaction is to immediately panic; reaching for his phone and texting you to get as much rest and sleep as possible. He makes a mental note to check in with you again later, finding that he’s already running late to get to work when he gets out of bed.

“Hey! Seungcheol-hyung!”

The said male turns around, placing the set of roller skates on the ground. “Yeah, what’s up?”

Jeongguk sits next to him on the wooden bench, legs stretched out as he passes Seungcheol an energy drink. “Nothin’, just wanted to say thanks for coming over on Saturday! We should try to do that again, except maybe we can go out for drinks or something? We can give it the good ‘ol college try, maybe bring home a girl, if you know what I mean~” Jeongguk wiggles his eyebrows at Seungcheol who rolls his eyes.

“Uh, I’m down for the drinking part but I think I’ll have to pass on the hookups.”

“Really? Why? Are you dating someone and you haven’t told me?”

Seungcheol thanks the gods that the roller rink is dimmed; neon lights and disco balls the only things keeping the entire place dimly lit when he blushes a deep crimson, face hot as he avoids the younger male’s gaze. “Nah, it’s just, I--I don’t think that’s really for me. I’m more of a, uh, relationship type of guy, y’know?” Also, I’m devoting my time and energy to someone already who isn’t really my girlfriend.

“Mm, makes sense!”

Jeongguk keeps Seungcheol company even on his break, the two chatting about various topics before he lets Seungcheol know his break is almost over.

“Hey, wait! Before you go…” Seungcheol is nervous for some reason, fingers gripping the suede of the rollerskate’s boot as he avoids eye contact again. “Um, this is gonna sound really weird but… Who’s ‘j__min’? I feel like I’ve seen that username before and it’s, uh, I’m just curious how you know them? Sorry if that’s weird, I just--I’ve been seeing them around pretty often.”

“Oh, that’s Jimin-hyung. He’s a friend of mine that games with me sometimes! I’ve never really met the dude in person before, but he seems nice.” Jeongguk nods, staring off into space. “He seems really busy all the time too. And he’s super active on social media, that’s probably where you’ve seen him.”

Seungcheol nods; the guy didn’t seem like any sort of immediate threat so he logs the information mentally for now. He’d just have to do some internet sleuthing himself when he got home.

“Oh, cool, okay! Thanks ‘Guk!” 

Seungcheol groans after the seventh pair of skates he’s cleaned, standing up to stretch and reach for his phone in his pocket. He checks the notifications, noting that you hadn’t texted back or read his messages yet.

A frown paints his features knowing that you were sick, but he makes another mental note to finally buy you that sybian now that his most recent paycheck had come in with it’s overtime bonuses. There were only a few more days until Namjoon came back which meant his extra pays would be over, a sad sigh escaping his lips at the thought. 

The day gruels on; Mondays were always the slowest days for the roller rink which meant Seungcheol spent most of the time cleaning skates and bumming snacks from the concession stand usually. He tries to not pry deeper into Jeongguk’s friends but the curiosity eats him alive so he makes an effort to stay away from the younger male for the rest of the day, this time.

Instead, he spends the day hiding in the employee break room any time he gets; only leaving when Yoongi decides to hide in there himself.

Your head feels like it’s going to spin off of your shoulders once you sit up in bed. The sun sits low in the horizon from what you can see through your bedroom window; noting that it must’ve been the late afternoon already.

You’d woken up with chills, head fuzzy when you’d sat up earlier in the morning. Knowing that you were at least somewhat sick, you quickly wrote up a little memo on your homepage letting your viewers know that there wouldn’t be a show later in the evening. Afterwards, you had quickly downed medicine before curling up under your sheets and going back to sleep. You’d vaguely been aware of your phone ringing on the nightstand next to your bed, but you prioritized sleeping instead, knowing that you had to get better before the weekend came.

You groan once you ease yourself off of your bed, dragging your feet as you make your way to the bathroom in hopes of a warm bath to make yourself feel better.

It’s almost 5PM which means it’s almost time for Seungcheol to finally go home. He checks his phone one more time before he pockets the device, putting away the last few pairs of rollerskates before he starts making his way towards the backroom. 

“Hey! ‘Cheol-hyung, can you come over here!?” Jeongguk yells over the music, arms waving him down frantically before he clocks out.

Seungcheol walks over, noting an unknown male standing with him. “Yes? Did you need help?”

“This guy, sorry I forgot your name?” The male laughs, eyes forming crescents when he smiles brightly at Jeongguk. “It’s Seokmin.”

“Right, right. Seokmin is asking if we’re hiring?” Jeongguk ends with a head tilt, unsure of the answer himself.

Seungcheol bites the inside of his cheek. Technically yes, they were understaffed even with Namjoon around. But Namjoon was also technically the one in charge of overseeing hiring positions. And while they technically should’ve hired more staff, that also meant Seungcheol’s overtime bonuses would be cut anytime they actually had the appropriate amount of staff.

“Uhhhh… I--I don’t think so? I’m not the one in charge. Our manager that decides staff and hiring positions is out of town indefinitely so…” Seungcheol trails off, hoping Seokmin gets the hint.

“Ahh… Should I come back another time then?” Seungcheol nods, frowning slightly. “Sorry ‘bout that man. But hey, why don’t you leave your contact info so we can call you? So you don’t have to keep coming back.”

Seokmin nods, beaming at the older male.

“Sure, that’d be great! Thanks!”

Seungcheol only feels slightly bad when he gets home that night, praying karma doesn’t kick his ass later for lying.

On days when you cancel your show are the days Seungcheol realizes he needs more hobbies than watching your cam shows and gaming all night.

Not that it’s a bad thing, he thinks, just that he could supplement his life with more.

He places an order for a few cookbooks alongside the order for the sybian, soft chuckles spilling from his lips when he realizes what an odd array of things he’s ordered.

Seungcheol manages to fill his night with meaningless tasks; finally cleaning his PC and settling in to watch a movie while he polishes off an entire pizza. He checks his phone a few more times, noting no new messages and he wonders if you’re really okay. A lightbulb goes off in his head, power walking back to his PC as he opens a new browser.

He bites his lip, typing in ‘j__min’ in the search bar to see what comes up. By nature, the username is unfortunately a lot more common than he anticipates and he ends up rifling through a lot of dead ends before he comes upon the profile on the same camming website you used and an instagram that seemed to be updated fairly regularly.

“Let’s see…”

Your body feels hot all over. Pin pricks on your fingertips as a bead of sweat trickles down your temple.

Now, you didn’t feel sick, you just felt incredibly insatiable. Again.

You weren’t sure if it was because your body had adjusted to a certain schedule, but you can’t help the way you toss and turn in bed; thighs rubbing together in hopes of alleviating the growing wetness between them.

Checking the clock, you note it’s already 10PM, close to when you’d normally be doing your show. You sigh, pushing your sweaty hair out of your face as you reach for your phone on the nightstand. You immediately notice a few text messages from Seungcheol; frowning when you notice the text messages were from the morning.

cheollie ✨: hey, baby :( saw your note, i hope you’re okay.

cheollie ✨: make sure to drink a lot of water and take medicine!

cheollie ✨: don’t push yourself too hard either okay?

The messages end there and you pout, unsure what to even say now that it had been hours since he’d texted.

babygirl 🍒 : cheollie… i only saw ur msgs now 🥺

babygirl 🍒 : im sorryyyyy i was sleeping so long but i feel better now!!

Seungcheol closes all his browser tabs before he realizes it, a smile on his face when he sees you’ve responded.

‘That’s okay, I’m just glad you’re okay and feeling better. Promise me you drank tons of water?’

He feels giddy, palms sweaty as he grips his phone.

babygirl: mmhmm! i did… i don’t even feel sick anymore 🥺 but…

babygirl: dunno… i’m feeling needy again… i think my body is used to my usual schedule...

Seungcheol’s body thrums with newfound energy and arousal at your leading comments. He’s unsure of what to say next, fearing he was going to say too much. But his phone pings again, eyes quickly flitting over your messages.

babygirl 🍒 : if ur busy its okay but

babygirl 🍒 : do u think we could cam? just u and me?

babygirl 🍒 : only if ur free tho!!

His fingers are tingling when he sends his reply, making it short and sweet before he places his phone down and makes sure his PC is running smoothly.

‘Of course, you know I’m always here when you need me. :)’

It takes a few minutes for you and Seungcheol to set up your respective spaces and in the meantime, you grab your laptop, propping it open on the bed next to you as you lay in front of it. You had debated on using your better camera which you used for camming, but you didn’t want it to be set up like a cam show.

Instead, you wanted a more intimate and casual video call with Seungcheol, so you made sure your webcam worked fine as you placed it on the sheets.

‘Video Call Incoming…’

You can’t help the blush that coats your skin nor the lust that fills your body as soon as you accept his call; his somewhat blurry figure coming into view.

“Hey, sweetheart!” Seungcheol beams at you through the grainy camera and you already feel yourself clenching around emptiness, words caught in your throat at how handsome he was and how truly enticing his voice was. “H-hi!” Rubbing your thighs together, you peer at the camera shyly. “I--wow, the pictures really… You’re so much more handsome on v-video.” You giggle slightly, leaning in closer to your laptop to get a better view of the silvery-blue haired male.

Seungcheol’s deep laugh filters through the speakers and your toes curl against the sheets.

“You should see me in person, maybe I’ll look even better then.”

You don’t deny that one bit; your own hands already itching to touch yourself. “Oh? Is that an invitation~?”

Seungcheol’s eyes pierce the camera, licking his own lips as you watch him  snake a hand down into his sweats.

“If you want it to be, sweetheart. But tell me about you, how are you feeling? Have you eaten already?”

Gulping, you watch as his hand seems to work slowly and out of view. “I--um, I feel b-better just… Dunno, guess my body’s just used to, um, y’know… A-and I haven’t really had much of an appetite...” You trail off, head still fuzzy from the cold medicines and now, Seungcheol.

In a roundabout way, it almost feels like you’re watching him do a show for you as you watch him slowly get off.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better, baby. But you know you should try to eat, okay? I don’t want you to get even sicker.” You nod, fingertips already at the edge of your sleep shorts. 

“I--c-can I touch myself too?” Seungcheol laughs lightly, nodding as he tilts his head back. “Of course, you don’t need to ask me for permission, baby.”

You grin at him, sitting up as you reposition the laptop. Your hand slides underneath a pillow, grabbing the small bullet vibrator you kept there. “Do you always keep a toy handy?” His voice is airy, teasing in the way he asks.

“Mmhmm~ You never know when you’ll need it~” You sing-song, shimmying your sleep shorts and panties off before you spread your legs in front of the camera.

The air gets knocked out of Seungcheol the second you spread your legs for him and him alone and he can’t help but imagine all the things he wanted to do with you. He watches as you tease yourself, fingertips only grazing across the areas he knew you wanted to be touched the most. 

“I can’t wait for us to finally fuckin’ meet.” He grits out.

A moan floats through the speakers of Seungcheol’s gaming PC, your saccharine voice music to his ears. “M-me too, wanna know what you’d do to me~” You giggle afterwards, pressing the vibrator to your clit as you spread your legs wider for him to see. Seungcheol’s hand around his cock tightens as he watches, an appreciative smirk on his face.

“Oh sweetheart, what wouldn’t I do to you.” You can’t help but slide your fingers through your wet folds listening to Seungcheol’s voice, whimpering when you finally slide a finger in. “Yeah? What would be the first thing? Tell me, ‘Cheollie~”

Even through the webcam quality, you can see the way Seungcheol’s eyes glaze over in complete pleasure. He licks his lips once, leaning in close so that you can hear him clearly.

“I know you probably think I’d get straight to the filthy shit, huh? Pin you to your bed and fuck you until you forget your own name or tie you up to the bedposts and make you beg for me to fuck you. But I wouldn’t. Because I wanna worship your fuckin’ body. I’d take it nice and slow with you, give you as many orgasms as you want.”

“F-fuck, Seungcheol, I–”

“You could use me for your pleasure, y’know? You deserve it. You’re such a good girl. I’d give you anything you fuckin’ want if you’d let me.”

Your choked moans have Seungcheol working his cock faster; nothing on his mind except for you and his impending orgasm. “Oh g-god, Seungcheol, I--fuck, yes, I want that~ I want you to--to make me cum as many times as I w-want!” You mewl, easily working in another finger as you pump the digits inside your pussy.

He smirks when he sees your grip on the vibrator loosening, knowing that you were already too lost in the pleasure to keep the toy on. “And I’d let you. Maybe I’d make you cum on my tongue first. Or would you want my fingers?”

“B-both! Puh--please…” You whine, legs threatening to clamp shut. You curl and scissor your fingers, thrusting them knuckle deep inside yourself as you chase the pleasure that overtakes your senses. “Please, ‘Cheol, tell me more~”

You watch through the camera as Seungcheol pushes his sweats down enough to get his cock into view; mouth watering as you watch it curve up to his lower abdomen.

“I know how much you love being doted on and being taken care of… So after I make you cum all fuckin’ night, you know I’d take care of you. Make sure you’re comfortable and cuddle with you when you’re tired.” His hips cant up into his closed palm, a soft groan on his lips. “And then when we wake up, I’ll eat you out. Nice and slow so you know it’d be worth it.” 

Seungcheol smirks, smearing the precum all over his shaft. “But I also know you like it rough and you like being punished like a bad girl. You like the idea of being tied up and teased and being fucked nice and hard too. I could take it nice and slow, build up the pleasure for you. Or I can take it nice and slow and tease you, I’d make you sit on my cock ‘n make you wait for it ‘til you’re begging me. Or maybe you would want an audience? Let them see you fall apart on my cock when you’re desperate to cum.” 

You press the vibrator against your clit again, Seungcheol’s name falling out of your mouth in a blubbering mess. “Oh--I--!!”

Your legs clamp shut, fingers halting their movements as you cum hard around your fingers. Seungcheol watches as your legs shake, his own hand running up and down his cock in quick motions as he chases his high too. You vaguely hear him groaning your name; the ringing in your ears overbearing as your orgasm continues to wash over you.

The sound of your quick and shallow breaths mix with Seungcheol’s over the speakers as the two of you catch your breath. You slip your fingers from inside of you, wincing when you turn off the toy and toss it to the side.

“Fuck, baby, I--”

“Y-yeah…” You quietly lick your fingers clean, knowing that Seungcheol’s watching. “I… that was the first time I… did that with s-someone…” You giggle tiredly, wiping the rest of your sticky fingers on your shirt.

“Really? Never?” Seungcheol’s surprised expression makes you giggle; his eyes round and mouth wide open as he leans closer to his webcam.

“Mmhmm! Just, y’know, it’s--it’s hard to get close to people sometimes…”

You had mentioned it off-handedly once while the two of you had been texting, that most of the dates you’d been on hated the fact that you cammed. There was always a possessive aura that was present and while Seungcheol would sometimes get a little jealous himself, he also knew it was your livelihood and how you supported yourself.

“Ah, yeah, I can understand.”

The two of you sit in a content silence, Seungcheol reaching for a few tissues to clean off the drying cum on his abdomen.

“Hey, ‘Cheol?”

“Yeah?” He peers up at the camera through his lashes, blinking rapidly as he watches you lay back down in front of your laptop.

“About what you said… earlier…” You pause, shyness overtaking once again. “I--Would you want to meet up? Like, for real? I mean--not--not like tomorrow or something but... Y’know, we can start planning?” 

Any words that come after that turn into radio static in Seungcheol’s head and he can feel his pupils shaking, nervousness already bubbling up inside of him at the prospect of actually finally maybe getting to meet you. 

“Seungcheol? ‘Cheollie? You okay?” 

Fuck.

“Huh? Yeah, yeah! I’m cool, I’m good, sorry, that--that caught me off guard.”

He watches as you talk animatedly, mind already going a mile a minute as he thinks over everything that needed to be done before then. 

“I’m really excited to meet you, ‘Cheollie!” 

[stevesharrlngtons]

picking out the stitches.

roman godfrey x reader 

summary: after letha’s death; peter’s departure; shelley’s disappearance; and a brutal fight with subsequent break up with roman; you escape to the empire state for college and a fresh start. though, after thinking you have been given the space to move on with your life, your father’s unexpected death sends you back to hemlock grove. there, you are forced to confront the reason for your pained departure.

word count: 14.1k (oopies)

warning: mentions of an abusive father

a/n: this is a long bitch, with a possible part two (?) if this is enjoyed by you all! (: i hope the length of this makes up for it taking so long lol. also prob ooc roman bc i love him just being soft 

please if you read this and like it, know that feedback is greatly appreciated and i’d love to hear any thoughts you have!! also im bad at editing 

Tuna, turkey and swiss, BLT. 

No option offered sounded particularly tasty. You had come in search of egg salad sandwich, a surprising delicacy from the Hemlock Grove Grocery Deli that you had been craving since your departure months ago. It felt like comfort food, a way to make being back in town bearable. 

But the stockboys seemed to be sending you a message: there was no good reason to be back in town, and no sandwich was going to remedy your pain. 

“(Y/N)?” 

You flinched at the sound of your name as sweat prickled the back of your neck. The last fucking thing you wanted was to be recognized the second you got back into town. Being forced to interact with any of the waspy bitches or rednecks that attended your high school, especially now, seemed like a personal affront punishable with only your meanest of glares and most backhanded of compliments. 

But, who you found had called your name was not only a surprise, but a pleasant one. Not a bitch or mouth breather in sight. 

“Peter?” Your eyebrows perked up as you said his name, no doubt unable to hide your complete shock at his sudden appearance. 

“In the flesh.” He smiled. That same boyish smile that he always gave especially when you needed to see it. 

Your body worked on it’s own violation as you shot yourself at him, wrapping him in a tight hug. He thankfully returned the gesture, gripping the fabric of your dress in his fingers to keep you close. Peter pressed his nose to your temple and you buried yourself deep into the crook of his neck. It wasn’t until a voice cleared behind you that the two of you pulled apart. 

“Excuse me,” A man holding a wire basket interpreted, seeming less than pleased to have been forced to witness your reunion. 

“Sure, after you, sir.” Peter said, theatrically waving the man past. 

“Stupid fucker, couldn’t even go through another aisle.” He watched the man leave with a scowl.

“Shut up about inconiquestional people and tell me what the hell you’re doing back in town!” You said with a wide smile while slapping his chest playfully. 

“I think that’s a better question suited for me to you, don’t you think? Last I heard you fucked off to N-Y-C.” Peter said, leaning against the display of sandwiches. 

“Yeah? And who told you that?” 

“Destiny.” 

You smirked and rested your shoulder against the display, “She’s got a big mouth.” 

“Big mouth? Who cares if she does! New York is a big deal. NYU, even bigger.” 

You roll your eyes at the compliment. 

“Hey, no, I’m serious! You always were the scholar out of us. Fucking valedictorian while Roman and I barely managed C’s.” He continued. 

At the mention of Roman, you sucked in a sharp breath through your nose, eyes breaking from Peter’s only long enough for him to see your pain at his name. 

“You still haven't answered my question, you know?” You said, trying to seamlessly change the subject, fiddling with the ends of your hair to keep your hands busy. 

“Yeah, well, it isn’t a happy answer.” 

“Enlighten me anyway.” 

Peter gives a heaving sigh, a signature of his, “Lynda got pinched for some shit and was transferred out here... I followed.” 

Your heart sank. Lynda had always been exponentially kind and understanding. To you, Shelley and even Roman. 

“Shit, Peter. I’m so sorry. How’re you holding up?” You placed a comforting hand on his forearm. 

“As well as I can given the circumstances. I’m staying with D, so at least that’s good.” He gives a forced smile. 

“I’m glad you’re with family at a time like this.” You drop your hand and slouch against the display, matching his relaxed posture. 

There was a brief pause between the two of you, before Peter spoke again. 

“Usually, when one party enlightens the other, they are obligated to do the same.” He leans in ever so slightly to emphasize his point. 

“That is usually the deal, yes.” 

“So?”

“My dad croaked a few days ago. Heart attack.” 

“Holy shit, (Y/N/N),” Peter interrupted, face falling into a concerned frown. 

“No, no. It’s fine. He was a piece of shit,” You shrug. 

“Still, he was your dad.” 

“Yeah, he was my dad who hit me and my mom and loved booze more than either of us.” 

“He still was your dad, (Y/N).” He reiterated. 

You purse your lips and sigh.

“I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to be all fucking weepy about the whole thing.” You say, grabbing a turkey and swiss from the display and pushing off to walk toward the register. 

“No one said you had to be,” Peter appealed as he followed behind you, “But don’t let everything get all clogged up in there.” 

He motioned to his chest and you roll your eyes, setting your sandwich on the conveyor belt for the cashier. 

“I promise you, the moment he is six feet under I will let all my emotions out. Mainly rejoice and relief.” You sent Peter a smile as your sandwich rang up. 

“Four forty, even.”

You reach into your purse, but Peter beats you to it. He hands the cashier a crumpled up five dollar bill. 

You give him a glare, “You didn’t have to do that.” 

“Of course I did. It’s gonna be my lunch too.” He snatched the sandwich from the bagging area and saunters to the exit, leaving you to gather the nickels and dimes. 

Parked in a gravel parking lot looking over the lake, you and Peter sat in the cab of his tow truck. Both eating a half of the mediocre turkey and swiss while sharing a warm cherry Coke from the center console in silence. After a brief session of catch up on your lives over the past few months, you were both happy enough to just sit quietly in each other's company. Simply enjoying the comfort of being in the presence of someone you love. 

“You ever hear from him?” Peter spoke up, mouth full of bread and slimy meat. 

“Who?” You at least have the decency to cover your mouth as you spoke. 

“You know who. Don’t make me say his name, you got all squirly last time.” 

You sighed as you finish chewing the food in your mouth, savoring what you could of the cheap flavors as you avoided Peter’s gaze. Once you swallowed, you took a long gulp from the Coke can before answering. 

“No. He’s been out of my life since that night. Really prefer to keep it that way, too.” You replied clippedly, not wanting to talk about him any more than necessary. 

Peter belows a raspberry in response. 

You looked over to glare at him, “What?” 

“I just find that hard to believe.”

“That I don’t want to see the man who broke my heart?” You snap. 

“No, that Roman has been able to keep his distance from you.” 

“I thought we weren’t saying his name.” You abruptly look away and out the windshield once more. 

“Apologies.”

“You don’t have to sound so sincere about it.” You scoff. 

“What happened between you two, anyway? Before I left I could practically hear wedding bells.” 

“Destiny didn’t tell you?” You press your lips together firmly, hoping Destiny had just made up a lie on your behalf to tell her cousin. 

“All she said was that you and Roman supposedly got into this huge fight and you left a few days after. Nothing more, nothing less.” He explained. 

“Yeah, well huge fight is an understatement.” 

“Then what happened?” 

You sigh deeply, reclining against the headrest and wrapping your arms around your middle for some misplaced search for security. 

“It happened a few days after you skipped town. It was his birthday…” 

Music echoed around you as you placed gentle kisses along the expanse of Roman’s neck. You ran your fingers through his hair gently, collecting grease and pomade on your fingertips and under your nails as you did. He had an arm securing you tightly to his side, the other had been holding you too, but he had retrieved it to light a cigarette. 

After the traumatic week you two had undergone, you didn’t fight Roman much when he insisted all he wanted to do for his eighteenth birthday was drink, watch a movie and have you sleep over. You were happy he at least let you buy him a cupcake to commemorate the day, but wouldn’t see to any more festivities. He told you that now more than ever wasn’t a time to be merry. You didn’t blame him, no matter how much you wanted to celebrate him today. 

So, you let him share his birthday cupcake with you in the bottom of an empty swimming pool and hold you in an uncomfortable lounge chair for as long as he wanted. Fortunately, this was as calm as you’d seen him in days and you hoped that continued; at least until midnight. 

Roman lulled his head on top of yours and placed his hand on your hip, making sure every part of you that could be touching was. 

The sound of a door opening resounded in the distance and the distinct tap of heels on tile followed. You felt Roman deflate next to you as you both recognized who the sound belonged to. 

In sauntered Olivia, in a beautiful floor length gown with a sparkler in hand, painting patterns in the dark with the fire illuminating her wicked smile. 

“Happy Birthday, my darling.” She chimed, looking down at the both of you. 

You and Roman both shifted under her unwelcome gaze, neither responding. You turned further into Roman’s neck and you felt his fingers press harder into the flesh of your hip. 

“It can’t be a party with just the two of you, can it?” Olivia said, dropping the sparkler to lay by her side. 

“Well, three’s a crowd. So if you’ll excuse us.” Roman waved his hand that held his cigarette dismissively.

“One is the loneliest number, but two can be just as bad.” Olivia replied in a musical lit. 

Again, neither of you respond. You busy yourself fiddling with the collar of Roman’s tank top.

“(Y/N), darling, you do look beautiful tonight.” She turns her attention to you after the silence she received. Something Olivia knew Roman disapproved of her doing. 

“Thank you, Mrs. Godfrey.” You reply politely, glancing at her briefly before going back to Roman’s shirt. 

“Is that the dress Roman bought you some time back? I remember hearing you tell Shelley about it over dinner.” Olivia continued. 

“What is it that you want, again?” Roman snapped, making you flinch at his volume increase. 

“I have a surprise for you. In the attic.” She gestured using what’s left of the dying sparkler at the ceiling. 

“Can’t it wait?” Roman said, wholly disinterested. 

“No, it cannot, Roman. It is your birthday surprise and I would like to give it to you now.” Her voice became more stern by the word. 

Roman moves to look at you and you do the same. His eyes are inviting you to a conversation Olivia isn’t privy too. An almost psychic communication you’ve had together since the day you first met. 

Do we go with her? Or wait her out until she leaves? 

Just see what she wants. Once she’s shown you we can get back to doing whatever you want. 

Roman pursed his lips before letting out a dramatic sigh, “Fine.” 

He got up from the chair before offering you his hand to help you up. 

Olivia watched as you both climb the ladder out of the empty pool and onto the landing. 

“Let’s get this over with.” Roman gave his mother a firm glare. 

He placed a hand on the small of your back and started for the door when Olivia stopped him. 

“I’m afraid, this gift is for Godfrey eyes only.” She looked at you with weakly masked distaste. 

You felt Roman’s fingers once again probe into your skin, “She is a Godfrey.” 

“Not in name or blood.”

“But she will be so it doesn’t matter.” Roman retorted, harshly. 

This wasn’t the first time he had alluded to your future together, and at the time, you didn’t think it would be the last. 

“Well, she isn’t yet, is she? When she is, then she will be welcome to engage in all Godfrey birthday present exchanges.” Olivia sneered.

“There is nothing you could show me that she can’t-” You placed a gentle hand on Roman’s chest before he could continue. 

This fight certainly wasn’t worth it. Especially not over a fucking birthday present. 

“It’s fine. I’ll wait in your room.” You offered. 

“Off the premise.” Olivia chimed in curtly. 

“Excuse me?” Roman spat. 

“(Y/N) can go home and see you tomorrow. This gift needs much explanation and discussion.” 

“This is beyond fucking ridiculous!” 

“Ro, it’s OK. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You smile up at him. 

You didn’t want to leave him. Not now, not ever, but never with Olivia. 

“I’ll see you later tonight.” Roman stressed.

“Tomorrow would be-” 

“Let’s just call it a see-you-soon, then?” You cut off Olivia, never taking your eyes off Roman. 

He just tightens his jaw, so tight you’re afraid he might crack a filling. But he nods. 

“Fine. I’ll call you.” He says. And he says it with such sincerity that you know without a doubt he will, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

He kisses your forehead and you kiss his cheek, not overly keen on giving him the proper goodbye kiss you wanted to infront of Olivia. As you walk away, you spare Olivia a last glance and the look on her smug face is one so self satisfied it made your stomach churn. 

Roman never called you that night, or even the next morning. The calls you gave him were left unanswered; texts and voicemails the same. 

You would have called Peter, Shelley or Letha to see if they’d heard from Roman at a time like this, but all were depressingly dead ends. 

Under the circumstances that you left under the night before, you took it upon yourself to drive to the Godfrey residence and find out what the hell was going on yourself. You didn’t trust Olivia as far as you could throw her, and you didn’t put any heinous act past her. 

Your worry beat out any common sense you had to stay away and wait for Roman to come to you. 

When you arrived and knocked on the door, several times to be exact, it seemed no one was home. Though, both cars were in the driveway and you knew neither Roman or Olivia would take a cab anywhere. With balled fists you slammed against the wood of the door, kicking your foot against it as well for good measure. You had been in your knocking rhythm so long, when the door finally opened you stumbled forward. 

You caught yourself on the knob and looked up to see who answered. 

Roman stood above you with expressionless features and down turned lips. 

“What?” He asked. 

“Don’t ‘what’ me! ‘What’ you! You never called and you haven’t been answering.” You said, straightening yourself out. 

“You’re not my fucking keeper,” Roman scoffed and turned his back to walk down the hallway. 

Your face screwed up in confusion as you stepped over the threshold into the mansion and slammed the door, then followed him through the house. 

“Excuse me? What is up with you?” You exclaimed. 

Roman had stopped in the kitchen, rummaging through the refrigerator while trying his best to seem unbothered with tense shoulders. 

“Nothing is up. I just didn’t want to call you.” He spoke into the crisper drawer. 

“Since when?” 

“Since now.” 

“What the fuck did Olivia show you? Must have been really messed up for you to be acting like this.” You let a humorless laugh through your nose. 

“Or maybe I was just happy to be rid of you and now that you’re back, I am pissed.” He slammed the door to the fridge, its contents rattling inside. 

Your surprised expression hadn’t wavered as Roman glared at you, his eyes dull and unfamiliar. 

“Ok, so, yesterday you’re talking about marrying me, and today I am some parasite you’re happy to be rid of? Is that right?” You took a step toward him. 

“I was never going to marry you, you delusional whore.” His first real hit, chipping away at your weak armour. The armour he had weakened himself with his love and care for years. 

“If I’m whore, I’d hate to know what that makes you.” You spat. 

“It makes me the fucking billionaire who mistakenly kept around some boring girl with a mediocre cunt.” His second hit. 

“Wow. You’re right, Roman. I am a whore, but I must be an idiot too! To stay with such a man who calls my pussy mediocre when he can’t even fuck me right.” You provoked. 

“Fuck you.” 

“Yeah? Why don’t you? Because for as long as I can remember I’ve been faking my orgasms just to get your pathetic little prick out of me. Is that why you cry after Roman? Because you know about that weak excuse of a dick between your legs?” 

You were being cruel and frankly, spinning lies. But he was hurting you and you wanted to hurt him back. 

“No, I cry thinking about all the other guys you let between your legs. Maybe that’s why daddy hits you, huh? Hoping that one day he hits you hard enough to rattle that whore brain so hard it kills you? So he won’t have to live with the shame? Or maybe he hopes if he hits you enough you’ll finally drop to your knees and show him that head everyone in town talks about.” The last hit, and the one that broke you. 

You close the last few steps between you and strike him as hard as you can muster across the face, cranking Roman’s head to the side with the impact. The slap rings loudly through the room, so do your sniffles. 

“How can you be so cruel? How could you ever say that to me?” You scream through tears. 

“Just speaking the truth.” Roman said smoothly, his head still rotated. 

“What is going on with you? What happened last night?” 

“I came to my senses, that’s what happened. I realized that I was sick of wasting all my time on a miserable little bitch when I could be out fucking real women.” He says through gritted teeth, “Real women who don’t need so much tedious validation from me.” 

“Are you done?” You snapped, your throat thick with tears. 

“With you. Yes.” 

You couldn’t think of anything else to say. Malicious words spun in your head, ready to fire off your tongue and tear him apart, but you knew you would never be able to get them out in one piece. You would stutter and sob and shake and it would give Roman even more satisfaction at seeing you crumble. So, you turned on your heel as fast as you could, holding your hand over your mouth to silence your cries and fled the Godfrey home. 

“Shee-it.” Peter said, looking sick. 

“Shee-it, indeed.” You nod. 

“So, that was it?” 

“That was it. I was there barely five minutes when it was all said and done… then I went home, cried my stupid eyes out and packed my shit. It was always the plan for me to do online courses and stay here with him, but, y’know, things changed... So, I left.” 

“I know that feeling.” Peter says, giving the river a thousand mile stare. 

“I know you do. Let’s not forget you abandoned me, too.” You said, far more harshly than intended. The topic of the break up having brought old wounds to the surface. 

A pained expression crossed his face, “(Y/N)... Fuck, I’m sorry. I am. I just… after Letha,” 

“You don’t have to explain. I’m sorry I snapped. I forgave you the minute you left, for the most part, anyway.” You shrugged. 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” You sigh and look over at him, “If I had been in your shoes I would have hightailed it the second I could have.” 

He offers you a sad smile, “But you needed me, and I left.” 

“It’s really OK. Because you’re here now. And it all worked out.” 

“New York that good, then?” 

“Better than good. I’m alone and broke-.” 

“And that’s better than good?” He chuckles.

“Surprisingly, yeah. I’m learning and figuring things out on my own. I’m finding things that make me happy without having to worry about anything else. It’s just nice.” You smile as you speak. 

“That makes me happy. Man, it really does. All I ever wanted for you was happiness. I thought I had left you with the silver you had left of it.” Peter says, resting his temple to the head rest. 

“You did what you had too and so did I. I’m sure Roman did too, in his own twisted way,” You reply, “I don’t want to focus on the past anymore. I am purley looking forward to the future from now on.” 

Peter dropped you off at home after hours of milling around the streets of Hemlock Grove in his truck. You kept asking if he had to go back to work, but he would dismiss your concern each time. Telling you that he was spending time with you and he’d worry about towing later. As much as you knew you should pressure him to take you home, you were happy for the company, especially when that company was Peter. 

His reappearance in your life was unexpected, but wholly accepted and appreciated. You didn’t know the next time you’d be able to see him again, so you were going to enjoy his companionship while you had it. 

Hopping out of the truck and brushing residual crumbs from the turkey sandwich from your dress, you shut the door. The window rolled down and Peter leaned over the console to look at you.   

“Don’t be a stranger.” He smiles at you and you can’t help but return it. 

“Never again.” 

“If you have time, come by Destiny’s before you head back up north. I know she’d love to have dinner.” He proposes and your smile widens. 

“I’d love that, I’ll keep you posted.” You start to back up toward your front door. 

“And let me know if you need anything, anything at all. I know losing someone is tough.” His smile falls slightly as the funeral is mentioned again. 

You knew Peter was worried about you and he had good intentions, but he didn’t know your father like you did. You were going to this thing for appearances and to make your grandmother happy, if you had had a choice you would have rather stayed at school. 

“Got it. Thank you, Peter.” 

You wave him off and you watch as he double takes to look at you until he is out of sight, only then did you enter your house. 

The house isn’t much and it wasn’t the home you grew up in. When your mother finally left your father, she promptly moved you both into a smaller place on the west side of Hemlock Grove that was better suited for your new family dynamic. 

It was a dated burgundy one story, with bland beige carpets and no overhead lighting in the bedrooms, but with two bathrooms. That was helpful down the line when your mother began dating again and her multiple suitors would stay for weeks at a time. You never wanted to be alone with any of them, so that meant crossing the boundary into her room to use the en suite was always out of the question. 

Your bedroom was somewhere you always found solace and comfort, even now it felt more like home than anywhere in the world. It had a small excuse of a bay window that looked out over a small and shallow creek. One of your mother’s more involved boyfriends had built you a window bench years before underneath it, upholstered in red velvet. You had run your fingers over the soft fabric so many times, certain places were now rubbed raw and threadbear. 

Roman used to sit on your bed while you sat on the bench, reading to him from a litany of novels, some for pleasure and some for assignments. He’d look at you and tell you the light from the window haloed you like an angel. You’d tell him he was just talking out of his ass to get you to stop reading and fool around. Then Roman would smirk and shrug, like he wasn’t sure who was more right. His memory seemed to be etched into every detail of your bedroom, unfortunately. 

There was the small heart he had carved into your headboard with an unclicked pen, your initials carved around it. There was your small Ikea vanity, that was stained with nail polish from the time Roman insisted he could do your nails better than you could. There was your closet, just big enough to hold you both inside; where you would steal kisses when you first started to sneak him into your room at night. There was the faded paint on the wall in the shape of a rectangle, where a picture frame of you and Roman at your first homecoming together had once been. There was your fucking duvet cover, that you and Roman would hide underneath on bright mornings. Where he’d hold you and kiss you softly, whispering sweet affections until the muggy air between you became thick and he’d push your noses up over the edge of the blanket to take in giggling gulps of breath. 

Roman Godfrey had left painful reminders of himself everywhere. There were too many for you to erase fully. His memory was like a Hydra, repress a recollection of his and two more would pop into your mind in its place.

Now, all the bench held your small suitcase that you had packed early this morning for your short trip down to Pennsylvania. Just some toiletries, a few changes of clothes, a black cocktail dress and a few textbooks. Just because your father died didn’t mean your school work would lighten because of it. 

While it wasn’t very late, you had been up early to catch your train and hadn’t expected to be out all day with Peter. You excused your premature exhaustion and decided it was best to take a shower, have a snack and then go to bed. Tomorrow was to no doubt try your nerves, so a full night's rest was likely your best option. 

After your shower, you slipped into a pair of pajamas and went down the hall to see if your mother had left you any suitable food. She was still on vacation with her current boyfriend and wouldn’t be able to make it back until Monday, a full day after you were set to leave. So, all you could hope was that there was something edible left in the pantry. 

Tussling your damp hair in your hands, you padded through the kitchen to try and make something with the odds and ends your mother had in stock. 

As you settled on a half eaten bag of tortilla chips and a jar of salsa, there was a knock at the door. Your mother’s car was missing from the driveway and anyone who would drop by unannounced knew she was out of town. Assuming it was a solicitor or a package delivery, you ignored it and continued on with your pre-bed snack. But the knocking didn’t let up. 

Begrudgingly, you made your way to the door in the hopes of shooing off whoever was bothering you. Though, when you opened it, you debated simply closing the door like it nothing had happened. To just shut the door tight and pretend that you hadn’t seen who was standing on your doorstep. All six feet four inches of him. 

With his back to you and a large bouquet of roses in hand, Roman glanced over his shoulder when he heard the door open. He looked about as startled as you felt when he laid eyes on you. 

“(Y/N).” He blurted out, his body swiveling like an owl to face the same direction as his head. 

“Roman.” You gave him a forced smile, cursing that you had lost your opportunity to run and hide.

“I, uh, well, wow. I, these are for your mother,” Roman whipped out the bouquet from behind him, “I heard about your dad. I just wanted to see how she was holding up. I know they aren’t close or anything, but y’know, it’s still the father of her child.” 

You took the flowers from him carefully, making sure to avoid where his fingers lay on the stems. 

“She’s not here, but thanks. I’ll make sure to let her know you stopped by.” You continued your kind facade before moving to shut the door. 

But Roman was quicker as he placed a large hand on the wood to keep it ajar. 

“I’m sorry for you too, you know? I know how it feels to lose a father. So, I’m sorry.” He said, like he was trying to keep you in his company as long as possible. 

“Wish my dad would have eaten a bullet when I was a kid. You got lucky.” You joke, once more trying to shut the door. 

And Roman continued to keep it open. 

“Well, I know things ended… bad- But! I’m still here if you need me. For anything. Have all the preparations been taken care of?” He asked. 

“Yeah, my grandma and grandpa took care of it. Nothing to worry about. But thanks, Roman.”

Roman’s eyes widened and his mouth puckered, the way he always did when he had a million things to say and no idea how to say them. 

You began to notice his attire as he loomed over you, with no seeming intention of leaving you or your front stoop alone. 

He wore a thick winter coat over a black three piece suit, tailored to perfection. His hair was parted on the right and smoothed down with gel. It certainly wasn’t your favorite look on him, but your input hardly mattered anymore. He wore Oxford dress shoes that were spotless and without a crease. You realized just then that he must have come right from The White Tower to bring the flowers to your mother, and these were his work clothes. These were the clothes and fifty dollar haircut of a fresh faced CEO.

You had known that he was set to secede the throne of Godfrey Industries once he turned eighteen, but you never gave it much thought after you moved to New York. The Roman who haunted your dreams and took residence in your thoughts was always your Roman. The boy who wanted to smoke and dance and kiss and laugh. Not a business tycoon out for blood. 

“I didn’t know you would be in town. I would have stopped by.” He said, finally finding words to give him a reason to stay. 

“You already have.” 

“I know, but I would have made it more deliberate. More to see you and not to just give my condolences to you mother.” Roman explained, his hand still on the door. 

You snort, “Yeah, well I don’t know why you’re giving her flowers anyway. She doesn’t like you. Not after I told her everything.” 

“Yeah, uh, I didn’t know that.” He laughs uncomfortably, finally taking a step away and relieving your door of his hostage. 

“Well, it was nice of you to come by. I’ll see you around, Roman.” It was clear from your tone that this incommodious conversation was over. 

Though, Roman still was outwardly ignoring your brusque attitude, “Could I come in? I would love to catch up for a moment? For old times sake?” 

“I don’t know if that is such a good idea.” 

“I won’t be long, I promise.” He bargained

You watched him for a long moment, debating on what to do. On one hand, you craved his presence. You craved him after just one sighting and wanted him to come in, to talk, to listen, to heal. Because like you said to Peter in the car earlier, you did believe that Roman had done what he had for a reason, it was just no doubt a fucked up and selfish one. You couldn’t hate him forever, you didn’t want to. It would destroy you before it did any good. 

On the other, all you could do was hear his voice echoing in your mind, explaining his disgust for you. 

But, you wanted to look to the future. You wanted to free yourself of the burden of grudges and hatred. You wanted to forgive Roman, the best you could, and leave him and his faults to fester in the past while you moved on with your life. 

So, you pushed the door open wider with the tips of your fingers and walked back to the kitchen, while Roman eagerly followed. 

“I’ll have to find every vase in the house for these,” You quietly joked.

“I could buy a big vase to hold them tomorrow and send it over if you’d like?” He was following closer than you would have liked as you searched the cabinets for vases and empty jars. 

“No, it’s alright. I think I’ll like how eclectic they’ll look in mismatched glasses.” You said, “And then I could put them all around the house. It’ll be a nice surprise for my mom when she gets home.” 

You undid the thick satin ribbon holding the bouquet together and found a pair of scissors to cut off the ends.

“Want me to fill these with water?” Roman asked, nodding to the empty vases.

“If you don’t mind.” 

Roman nodded, shedding his wool jacket and blazer, depositing it on a chair. Then, rounding the island to stand next to you to begin filling each receptacle from the sink. 

He was closer to you now than he had been in months. You could smell his woody cologne that clung to his skin, mixed with cigarette smoke and the night air. He must have been driving with the top down. You hated that only his scent could send your heart into somersaults and make your hands quiver with need. All you could think about with him in such a proximity was looking up into his green eyes and him looking down into your (Y/E/C) ones. Looking down at you with that stupid fucking smirk. Then with that smirk, Roman would place a hand on your cheek and gently press it to your lips and you would be in heaven. 

Anything Roman did to you was heaven. 

Expect when he was hurting you. Which you had to remind yourself, he very much did. 

“So, where’s your mom?” Roman asked, placing a mason jar next to faux crystal vase.

“In Florida with her new boyfriend.” You commented. 

“Yeah, I heard she was seeing someone.” 

“You know if he’s any good?” 

“Nah, just that she was seeing someone. I keep an ear to the ground to make sure she’s doing alright.” Another glass filled. 

“You don’t have to do that, Roman.” You paused cutting stems for a moment to glance up at him. 

He was already looking at you. 

“I know. I want to. It’s the least I can do.”     

You hold eye contact for a few beats, Roman’s eyes boring into yours in that hyponic way that always left you weak in the knees. 

“Well, thank you. I appreciate it.” And you both went back to your tasks at hand. 

It was obvious that you were more than willing to work in silence, and it was clear that Roman wasn’t. 

“So… how’s NYU?” He prompts. 

“Good. I really like it.” 

“Enjoying your studies?” 

“Very much.” 

“And the city? Is it treating you alright?” 

“Yes, I think after I graduate I’ll stay for a while.” 

Roman only hums in reply. Like that wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Well, I’m happy to hear that you’re doing well.” 

“Thank you.”

The conversation lulls as the sound of water and sheers fill the room. 

Roman is chewing his cheek and bobbing his head, and you know he won’t let up his chatter anytime soon. 

“I’ve been working at The Tower. I took over a few months ago.” He says, eyes darting to you like he was looking for praise. 

“Oh,” You reply like you hadn’t already figured it out, “How’s that going?” 

“Fine. I mean, it’s a lot of work. A lot of stress, but I’m glad I’m doing it.” He sounds unconvincing as he rambles on about Godfrey Industries and Pryce’s lab while you focus on the flowers. 

“Do you ever wonder what you would be doing if you hadn’t been told your entire life that you would take over Godfrey?” You ask, somewhat out of the blue.

Roman stops talking abruptly, his hands pausing under the tap. 

“Not really.” 

“Isn’t there anything else you would have wanted to do? Like in a dream scenario in a perfect world?” You elaborate. 

Roman seems unsettled by your questioning, like these were things no one had ever asked him. Things he had never even asked himself. 

“I think in a dream scenario, I would be rich beyond my wildest dreams. And I already am, so why waste time dreaming?” You can tell he isn’t even satisfied with his answer.

You don’t reply, leaving the subject where it lay in the air to go back to working in silence. 

“So...” Roman begins again, refusing to let the conversation die down.

“You seeing anyone?” Roman tries to sound blase, but you know this question lays heavy on him. 

You barely withhold a scoff as you set your scissors down to look at him once more.

He double takes in your direction, not wanting to look at you for fear of your answer, “What?” 

“I’m just surprised you held off this long without asking the question we both know you wanted to ask the second you saw me.” 

“Not really an answer…” he murmurs. 

“Not really your business.” You counter. 

“So there is someone?” You could hear a twinge of anger in his voice. 

“Not that it is any of your business, because I want to stress that it really isn’t, but no. I am not seeing anyone.” 

“Oh.” Roman’s lip twitches into a smile that he tries to conceal from you. 

“Yeah, oh.” You roll your eyes and finish with your clippings and begin to arrange the rose into glasses. 

“Aren’t you going to ask me?” Roman, with his work now over, turns to look down at you, a smirk on his lips. 

“Ask you what?” 

“If I’m seeing anyone.” 

“I don’t care, Roman.” 

“Really?” He leans closer to you.

“Well, what constitutes seeing someone, to you? A one night stand? A hooker? An actual multiple date relationship? What is your definition?” You jeer. 

“How would you define it?” 

“Different from you.” 

“Oh come on,” He pokes, “Tell me.”

He was becoming far too chummy with you for your taste.

“I guess I would define it as multiple dates.” 

“By that definition, then no. I’m not seeing anyone.” 

“But if I defined it by hookers and one night stands?” You inquired. 

Roman doesn’t answer. 

You can’t help but laugh, “And you said I was a whore.” 

The air between you changes, then. It was calm, if not slightly awkward before then, but now it felt tense and uncomfortable.

“(Y/N), I…” 

“Don’t.” You reply before he can say anything else. 

“But I want to say this, I need to.” Roman persists, reaching out to grab your shoulder. 

You shrug off his advance quickly and take a few steps back from him. Roses and vases completely forgotten. 

“I need to apologize to you.”

“You need to apologize to me for what, Roman?”

“For that night, what I said-!” Roman starts. 

“No. What I mean is, are you apologizing because you’re actually sorry? Because you think that’s what you’re supposed to say to me? Or because you want what you did off your conscious?” You raise a single eyebrow. 

“Are you kidding? I’m saying this because I am fucking sorry! I hate what I said to you, it fucking eats me up!” Roman throws his hand in the air as he yells. 

“So it is option C.” You replied. 

“Jesus fucking- no! It’s not! It’s A! It’s fucking A. You think I wanted to do what I did? Huh? You think I wanted you to leave?” 

“Yes, I did. I do.”

“Then fuck you if you think that. Fuck you if you think that I wanted to say all those things. Maybe you don’t really know me at all.” Roman sneers. 

“I already concluded that.” 

He scoffs.

“Is this why you wanted to come in? Force me into conversation? Ask me if I’m dating anyone, give me a half assed apology and insult me?” You crossed your arms. 

“No! No, that’s not why I asked to come in.” Roman shot back. 

“Then why?” 

“Because I fucking missed you, alright? I fucking missed you and I needed to be near you, even if only for a moment.” 

Roman’s voice echoed in the kitchen, his words hanging in the air and ringing in your ears. You could hear them dance in your mind and slide down your back with a chill, taunting you and making your emotions tear in a million different directions.

“Roman, I think it’s time for you to leave.” You say, running your tongue over your teeth. 

“No! I’m not fucking leaving. Tell me you don’t miss me too.” Roman took a step toward you as he ran a hand through his slicked down hair, ruining it’s perfection. 

“I have to get up early, so I just really think you should go.” 

“(Y/N), tell me you don’t miss me and I’ll leave right now. You’ll never see me again, I swear.” 

You don’t respond, just cross your arms over your chest. You rub your hands over the skin of your arms, peaking your fingers beneath your shirtsleeves and gripping the fabric tightly. 

“Just tell me.”

You meet his gaze as Roman closes the gap between the two of you. He was close enough for you to feel his breath on your skin and the warmth he radiated. An unwarranted chill set through you. 

All hope of forgetting the past and moving on was gone, you didn’t care anymore. All you wanted was for Roman to leave. You wanted him to leave so you could wrap yourself in blankets and cry until you couldn’t see anymore.

“Roman, just go.” You whispered, your vocal chords straining to even do that. 

“It’s because you can’t say that you don’t.” Roman raised a hand a single finger tracing the features of your face and causing your eyes to drift shut. 

He traced your orbital bone and the angle of your nose and your eyebrow and ear. He traced your jaw and your chin and the shape of your ear and stopped to caress your lips. 

With each swoop of his finger tip, he was erasing hurt and anguish and pain. He was soothing you and giving you an old form of intimacy that you had craved. He was regaining his sense of self in your mind, reminding you that he could act like he had before that night. He was twining his roots back into your mind.

When his finger finally stopped, you opened your eyes and saw tears had gathered in Roman’s. They were threatening to breech from his lash line as he stared at you with a drumming heart. 

“Tell me why you hurt me first.” 

And Roman dropped his hand and said nothing for a long moment. 

“It’s a long story.” He replies, sniffling loudly through his nose. 

“I’ve got time.” 

“It’s not pretty.” 

“I don’t care.”

You had moved to the dining room for Roman’s story. You both sat on opposite ends of your mother’s old mosaic table that you had both eaten many meals at. It was covered in vintage tiles and you picked at the surrounding grout as you listened to him. You ground your fingernails between the titles, filing them into powder as Roman told you about his birthday and everything that had happened since the night you left him. 

Of Letha. Of the child. Of the razor blades embedded into his arms. Of his mother’s tongue. Of the bloodlust. 

Of the loss.

“This is some fucking Twilight bullshit.” You said once Roman had gone quiet.

“This isn’t fucking funny, (Y/N).” Roman replied, bouncing his knee and pinching his chin. 

“No, it’s not fucking funny at all, Roman. Not even a bit, but it is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life.” You snort a laugh from your nose. 

“You don’t believe me?” 

“Oh, I believe you. After all that shit with Peter, of course I believe you. Doesn’t make it any less ridiculous.” 

Roman raises his eyebrows in understanding with a slight nod. 

“So, what? You saying all that shit to me was because you thought you were going to suck me dry, or something?” 

“Stop making jokes.” He growled. 

“I’m being fucking serious, Roman! What was it?” You stood from your chair to impose over him. 

“You deserved better. It would have been too much for you.” 

“Oh, don’t be such a martyr, Roman!” You fumed, “Since when have you ever got to decide what was good and what was bad for me?” 

“You don’t understand!” Roman pushed up from his chair with such force it tumbled to the floor, “I could barley fucking handle this, OK? I had been living a lie, I had become a monster overnight! I was fucking scared for you- scared for me. What I could do-” 

His voice began to quiver and his palms shook as he wiped his clammy palms on his slacks. 

“You would either have left me or I would have killed you. I don’t doubt that for a second, and I couldn’t lose anyone else. Not after Letha, not after Peter and Shelley. I just couldn’t.” 

“So, pushing me away was the answer?” You asked. 

“At the time, yes.”

You just shook your head, and collapsed back into your chair.

“I did it because I loved you.” Roman said, tears streaking his flushed cheeks. 

“Stop, Roman...” 

“I fucking loved you so much so I made you leave. I fucking love you more than anything.”

He spoke like he was taking his last breath and collapsed to his knees like a dying man, his bones smacking loudly against the linoleum as he crawled to you, tears still leaking from his eyes. 

“You have to believe that I’m sorry. I am, I am, I am.” 

Roman rested his head on your lap as he wept, his hands clutching your calves. 

You felt like you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think or speak. All your mind could comprehend was Roman’s deep and encompassing sadness and his wayward soul. 

You could barely grasp the story he told, so it was unimaginable to you how it must have felt to live it. Your heart ached for him so profoundly. 

Of course you didn’t agree with what he had done to you, not for a moment. He had resorted to cruelty out of fear and you hated it. It was inexcusable. 

But, you folded yourself in half and covered his body with yours anyway, and let Roman cry in your lap. You let him cry out the fear and sadness and the exhaustion he had felt these past months. 

You had let Roman cry himself dry before escorting him to the door. He held your hand on the way and you didn’t stop him. When you reached the door, Roman was the one to open it and step out into the cold Pennsylvania night. Though, his hand stayed intertwined with your own as he walked out onto your porch.  

“What time is the funeral?” He asked. 

“10 AM.” You replied. 

His skin seemed to glow against the night sky, his milky complexion contrasting beautifully to the dark nature behind him. 

“I’ll be there.” 

You shook your head, but squeezed his hand, “You don’t have to, really. It’s going to be long and boring.” 

“(Y/N),” He looked at you with a crisp sincerity, “I’ll be there.” 

You didn’t know what to say, because you weren’t entirely sure what you should say. You wanted to beg him not to come and make a spectacle at his attendance. You wanted to beg him to come and hold your hand and ward off the demons your father had sewn into your psyche. 

“Please, Roman, it’s not a big deal. I swear. I’m sure you have better things to do.” 

He pursed his lips back at you, like he was deciding if arguing with you on the matter was really worth it. Or if he would win or not. In the end, he said nothing. Just nodded and glanced over to his bright red Jaguar in the driveway. 

When Roman looked back to you, you both knew a goodbye wasn’t needed. Your love-telepathy coming back just for a moment to bid each other adidu for the night. An intimacy you didn’t even know you missed until now. 

Roman was the first to step away, pulling your hands apart as he did. You felt each finger detangle from his own, until your pinkies were the only things tethering you to each other. When they detached, your hand fell listlessly to your side and Roman watched you intently as he walked to his car, got in, and pulled from your drive away. Only looking away when he finally drove into the night. 

You smoothed the dress over your hips as you smiled politely at guests entering the church. They offered you watery smiles and condolences as they spread out into the pews.

You wanted to spit in their faces and scream. Scream and sink your nails into your skin and tell them that he had painted bruises on your skin and installed his hatred for you into your heart before you were old enough to know it was wrong. 

He wasn’t a good man. He was far from it. 

But no one who was crying tears for him and shaking your hand knew this, and if they did they didn’t care. He was good at hiding what he did, what he had become. 

You felt like your head was in a fish bowl with the more people who entered. Their faces blurring and distorting before you, their words muffled and useless. You began just nodding at everyone’s words, refusing to listen to anything else they had to say about Heaven and God’s good will. You wished you had a good excuse to leave and never come back. 

It wasn’t until someone wheeled in the casket that you found your escape from the line of mourners and made your way outside. Because the second you laid eyes on the box of shiny mahogany, your stomach dropped to your feet and bile threatened to spill from your lips. 

The man you had hated your entire life, the one who had hurt you, the one who struck you, the one who had belittled you, the man who hurt your mother. That man was dead. He was in that fucking box, seperated from you and the living by a few inches of wood.

That man was your father and he was supposed to love you and now he was filled with stuffing and had waxy skin covered in blush and a heart that would never beat again. A mouth that was sewn shut and would never speak again. To never yell, to laugh, to tell you he loved you. 

It was over. 

Then why were you so sad? 

Maybe Peter was right... maybe you’d even tell him. 

As you made your way outside, you sucked in as much fresh air as your lungs could take. You let the cold air chill your exposed skin and the grey skies calm your overstimulated senses. While gulping in the breeze and pressing your fingernails to your palms to ground yourself, you gazed out over the parking lot. It was then, that you shed your first tears of the day.

Because there, all in black leaning against his car was Roman Godfrey, looking right back at you.

He’d come. 

Because he cared. 

Because he loved you. 

You didn’t think twice as he ran down the church steps as fast as your heels could take you to him, needing to feel him. Roman did the same, rushing across the asfalte to you, wrapping you in his arms immediately as you collided with his chest. 

“You came,” You sobbed into his button down, “You came, you came, you came.” 

“Of course I did.” He cooed, nuzzling close to you. 

“I needed you and you knew and you came.” 

“I’ll always come, even when you don’t call.” 

As you both went back to the church, Roman stood with you to greet people coming in. His hand on your lower back and his grandiose stature and expression keeping people from dawdling too long to speak with you. 

The service was bleak and full of lies, but you mustered through it without a scoff or outburst for your grandparents sake. Roman sat next to you the entire time, his arm over your shoulder and his temple resting against your head. He’d occasionally place a gentle kiss to your hairline or stroke his fingers over your arm as a reminder that he was with you. 

And you loved him for it.

When it was all over and your father’s casket was being rolled away, everyone dispersed. Some to follow the hearse to the graveyard, some to just go home. You and Roman stayed in your seats. You had decided you didn’t want to see your father put in the ground. Not because he didn’t deserve it, but because you couldn’t handle it. You weren’t sure exactly all the reasons why, maybe Peter would know the answer to that, too.

You both waited until no one was left in the church, just watching the sun gleam through the stained glass windows at the ceiling and enjoying each other's company. 

“You alright?” Roman asked once he was sure everyone was gone. 

“I don’t know. I’m still figuring that out, I guess.” You said with a half hearted shrug. 

“It’s OK. You have time.” 

You gave a nod before leaning closer to him, resting your head underneath his own, letting Roman sit his chin on your crown. 

“I thought I would be overjoyed when this day finally came… but I’m not. I’m not really happy and I’m not really sad. I’m just here.”

“I think that’s just fine.” Roman replied, rubbing gentle up and down your arm. 

“Thank you for being here.” You remove yourself from under his chin to look at him, “It would have been so much worse without you.” 

Roman offered you a soft smile and placed his unoccupied hand on your cheek. 

You placed your own hand over his and shut your eyes, reveling in his soft touch. 

It was so quiet and all you could hear was the sound of your heart in your ears and Roman’s rhythmic breathing.

“What now?” 

“I’m not sure,” You open your eyes to see he’s already looking at you, “Where are you going?” 

“Wherever you are.” 

You smile, “Then take me there.” 

As you walked through Roman’s front door, you tried to hide a frown. The old Godfrey mansion had been so intricate and full of character. With crown molding and warm golds and rich browns, and history in every nook and cranny. Roman’s new home… it was sterile and bland and grey. It felt cold even with the hum of the radiator. It felt large and imposing, much like it’s owner. It was the type of home that echoed with loneliness.   

“So, what do you think?” Roman asked from where he stood close behind you. 

“I like it,” You said, “It’s very…” 

“You hate it.” 

You turned to face him and he was looking at you fondly. 

“I wouldn’t say hate. Just, not my style.” 

He nods and takes a step forward, “Yeah, I sort of knew you wouldn’t like it.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You always loved the old house. Said it felt like you were in a  victorian novel.” 

Your heart fluttered in your chest at his memory, “And you always hated it.” 

“I wouldn’t say hate. Just, not my style.” He grins at you and you can’t help but smile back at him. 

“So, you decided when you moved out you’d make your new place the antithesis of it?” 

“Something like that. Anything to erase the memory of my mother.” Roman says this with the cadence of a joke, but his eyes darken at the mention of Olivia. 

“I can’t say I blame you.” You reply before he quickly changes the subject. 

“Have a seat and I’ll make us both a drink,” He says, gesturing toward his large loveseat in the living room. 

You do so, and as you sit down, you admire him standing over the wet bar. He had shed his blazer from his suit on the kitchen table, and through the fabric of his button down (an expensive silk blend from the looks of it) you could so the movement of his broad shoulders and the expanse of the muscles in his back. 

The memory of running your hands across the peaks and valleys of his back stuck you. The memory of his smooth skin under your palms made your fingers burn with yearning and twitch with need to reacquaint yourself with the velvet that was Roman Godfrey’s skin.  

Roman had finished making your drinks. Both crimson in crystal tumblers. He walked to you and handed you the beverage, which you accepted with a thank you. As you took your first sip of your drink, you couldn't help but smile as Roman sat down next to you on his couch. 

“Vodka cranberry?” 

“Like I’d forget your favorite drink,” He says, smiling against the rim of his tumbler, “Well, second favorite. I don’t really have the ingredients for a Long Island iced tea.” 

“I think this works better under the circumstances, anyway. Drinking a Long Island iced tea after a funeral feels a little morbid.” 

“Yeah, but your dad would’ve hated that you were drinking one.” Roman pointed out. 

You chuckled, because he was right. Your father hated drinks where the alcohol was masked by chasers and sugar. He deemed them feminine and embarrassing for anyone to drink, ridiculing anyone (no matter their gender) if they ordered one. 

“That is true,” You take a pull from your glass, “He would have hated that you went to his funeral, too. Because, well he hated you.” 

Roman gives a wide smirk, “I can’t say that doesn't bring me some joy.” 

You could count on one hand the number of times your father met Roman during the years you dated. Though, everytime he had, he made his distinct dislike for your boyfriend overwhelmingly obvious. He thought of Roman like most other people in town did. A spoiled, rich, entitled, sauve asshole. But, for your father, he felt like he had a personal stake in hating Roman. He masqueraded like he didn’t like Roman simply for dating his daughter, but he didn’t give a shit about you or your well being. Your father, the pathetic drunk that he was, was threatened by Roman more than any man you had ever met. He was the one person who he couldn’t intimidate and feel superior too, because Roman didn’t feel intimidated or lesser to anyone in the world. 

“Me too.” 

You both drink in silence for a moment, and you pretend not to notice Roman as he inched closer to you on the cushions. 

“Do you remember,” Roman says, swallowing a gulp of his drink, “that time we snuck into that club in Philadelphia? And you and Letha, just got, like absolutely abliderated on Long Island iced teas?” 

You smiled at the memory, your lips parting with glee the more you remembered about the night. 

“Yes! Oh my God, I had totally forgot about that.”

Roman had paid off some bouncer to let the three of you into some club downtown and it had been a spectacular night. You and Letha were guzzling drinks like it was the end of the world. Roman was only encouraging your recklessness with jokes and bankrolling the bottomless teas. Letha had danced on the bar top while singing you an off key Elton John song while you drunkenly squealed with glee in a hysterical Roman’s arms. You had never seen Roman laugh so much until that night. 

You all danced and drank and laughed and smiled. You had all hid in a corner as you had fished out cocaine from a baggy with your pinky nail, and held it to each Godfrey’s nose like you were giving them communion, before blessing yourself. 

You distinctly remember hanging off Roman like a kola most of the night. Giving him sloppy kisses and groping him in the crowd with whispered promises of more when you were alone. You remember him smiling down at you and always having a hand on your ass. You remember Letha’s happy screams and giggles and how she was twirling so much on the dance floor she tumbled. 

“That was a really good night.” You said. 

Roman nodded, “It was. It was one of those rare times I could get Letha out of her shell.” 

The mood dipped from happy memories to grief as his cousin's untimely death was remembered. It was written clear as day on Roman’s face that he was far from healed from her passing.

“I miss her, too.” You placed a hand on his. 

“Yeah. Life isn’t far, huh?” You saw he was trying to ward off a wash of emotion, not wanting to wallow in her death, because it wasn’t an easy pit to push himself out of. 

“No, it really isn’t.” 

If life was fair, Olivia would have been long deceased. Roman wouldn’t have ever been coerced to do any heinous acts. Letha would be alive. Shelley would have never vanished. 

You didn’t dare bring up his missing sister to Roman, because that pain was almost worse than the wound Letha’s death had inflicted. For the both of you. 

You had learned from Peter the previous day that Shelley was still missing with no leads in finding her. You had nodded but said nothing else and he had let you. 

You had always been close with Shelley. She was so kind and sweet, and incredibly understanding and thoughtful. You were the only two women Roman truly loved and that bonded you in a way, to be the only ones to have his unfettered devotion. The thought of Shelley, out in the world alone, scared and labeled a fugitive made you sick. You couldn’t think about it for long without your nausea sparking and tears forming in your eyes. 

“What I said to you… that night? That wasn’t fair either. It wasn’t fair of me to hurt you like that.” Roman says, his eyes cast down. 

“Roman, we don’t have to do this again. It’s fine, no worries.” You said as casually as possible. 

“No, but it really wasn’t,” Roman shakes his head and rotates his body toward you. 

“I said those things because I was scared, not because they were true. You have to know that.” 

You swallow thickly and nod. Rationally, you knew that was true. After Roman had explained to you yesterday the reason for his vicious one-eighty toward you, you knew that he was only being cruel to push you away. But the words still hurt, they were still brutal enough to feel like there was an ounce of truth to them. 

“I was wrong, I can see that now, yknow? I was really wrong for all of that,” Roman lamented, “I fucked up.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N). That’s what I really want to say, what I really want you to know. And you know me, probably better than anyone in the world, maybe even more than I know myself,” He huffed a laugh, “And you know that I don’t apologize. Because I’m not wrong. I’m just not. I don’t say I’m sorry, not to anyone… but this, I gotta own up to. Because I was wrong for hurting you, pushing you away.”

You listened to Roman with baited breath. 

“You were the only person who ever really saw me. Looked into my eyes and saw past the bullshit and accepted me, loved me… and the idea of you hating me forever killed me, fucking killed me so much. But it was better than you sticking around and seeing that all that bullshit was true, and maybe I was even worse.” 

“Roman,” You rasped, gripping his hand tighter, your fingernails biting into his skin. 

“I promised to never hurt you, to protect you, keep you safe. And I failed.” 

Roman had always been protective of his loved ones. He hoarded them like a dragon with gold, prowling in front of them with bared teeth and spitting fury. You still remember the first time he pledged his devotion to you, his undying protection and loyalty. 

It was after the first time he had met your father. A dinner at the Godfrey mansion with your parents, Olivia, Shelley, yourself and Roman. It was an evening requested by Olivia to meet the parents of the girl who had bewitched her son. 

She had been her typical elitist self, turning her nose up at your middle class parents with joy. You were sure she was vibrating in her seat with happiness that she could feel so superior to your average parents. Likely hoping Roman would see this too, and kick you to the curb. 

You mother had been aimable, mostly quiet. You always thought of your mother as a very charming woman, who could talk to anyone no matter the circumstance. But, Olivia would barely let her get a word in, so she took the hint. Though, you could tell Shelley liked her, and that warmed your heart. 

The night’s conversation was dominated by Olivia for the most part, regaling the Godfrey wealth and stories of her privileged life. When she wasn’t boasting about herself, your father would be the one to chime in. Either with an offensive comment or with his poor table manners. It was like having a wild boar in the Shangri La and you felt your face heat with consistent humiliation. You could see your mother twitch uncomfortably across from you whenever he would act, and you knew she was in the same boat. 

You were already planning your apology to Roman when your father spoke up. You had been too busy stewing in your mortification to follow the conversation being had at the time. 

“Well, I tell you something, Roman. This one over here,” Your father stuck his fork over to you, “Isn’t gonna be a good little wife, not like your mother is.” 

Your father threw a smarmy grin to Olivia.

“You’re gonna have to wipe her into shape. Always wants to back talk and cross her damn arms and stomp her damn feet at you.”

Your father laughs and nuges your mother with his elbow, like he had made a joke. Like he thought this joke about you as Roman’s meek little wife would please Olivia and your boyfriend. 

Olivia laughed along and made a comment about her predisposition to wifehood because of her upbring, while Roman seethed. You could see his jaw flexing and hear the sound of his ragged breaths through his nose. You discreetly placed your hand on his lap, doing your best to calm him, but it did nothing as your father continued to make comments about your disrespectful personality, all with the cadence of a joke. 

“Why don’t you go out for a smoke?” Roman said to your father through gritted teeth. 

“Excuse me?” You father said, stopping mid sentence and glaring at Roman. 

“I said, why don’t you go out for a smoke and cool off? And when you come back, be a little fucking nicer?” 

Roman’s eyes bore into your father’s as he spoke. Your father looked furious at this teenage boy’s demand, and you were sure there was going to be a fight. Both men were incredibly hot headed, that this evening might even end in a physical altercation. But, your father just pushed up from the table and left the five of you in awkward silence. Roman relaxed once your father was gone, taking your hand from his lap and intertwining your fingers together on the tabletop. Your mother soon struck up a conversation with Olivia about the antique chaise lounge in the living room. 

Roman held your hand for the rest of the night. When your father returned, he stayed silent. 

When it was time for your parents to leave, Roman offered to drive you home. Though, the minute both you were out of sight of his home and your parents, he pulled over.

“Roman, I am so sorry about-” You began, but Roman stopped you by placing his hands firmly on your cheeks. 

“Don’t apologize. Not for that fucking man.” He said, his tone turning venomous when he mentioned your father. 

“The fucking nerve of him,” Roman spat, his hands tightening on your face, “The fucking nerve of him to speak like that about you. And to me! To me in my fucking home. I’m going to kill him, I’ll fucking kill him.” 

Roman spoke sincerely and you wondered for a moment if you asked him to kill your father, would he? 

“He’s not worth it, he’s not even worth your anger.” You sighed, placing your hand on his wrist and stroking his skin with your thumb. 

“He isn’t worth shit. That fucking cunt.” 

You couldn’t help but giggle as you watched your boyfriend speak obscenities. 

“What?” 

“You look very sexy when you’re this mad.” 

You could see Roman’s face visibly relax. You knew he was still angry, but your comment had placated him.     

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” You grinned at him and began to lean in for a kiss when Roman stopped you. 

You looked into his eyes again and you saw this serious demoaner was back. 

“I will never let him say anything like what he said tonight to you again, OK? Never. I’ll never let him fucking touch you again,” Roman came to rest his forehead to yours, “I won’t let anyone hurt you ever again. I will keep you safe forever.” 

And you believed him. You believed him more than you had ever believed a single person in your life. There wasn’t an ounce of you in that moment that could argue with him. You trusted him fully. 

“Ok.” Was all you could say with the emotion that was brewing from his confession, before he finally pulled you to his lips. 

It was the first time you realized you loved him. 

“All I have ever wanted is to keep you safe.” He said it with the same vigor and sincerity that he had in his original vow to you in his car on the side of the road. 

And again, you couldn’t help but believe him. 

“I forgive you.” You really did. 

He was swathing you with the salve of love and honesty, healing the wounds he carved into your skin with his earnest. 

“You were scared, you had just had your life turned upside down… I get it. It’s OK. I’m not blameless either. I said some nasty things.” 

Roman looks up from where your hands are connected and gives you a signature fierce stare.

The weight of his gaze on you feels heavy as he leans forward to set his glass on the coffee table. His eyes never leave yours as he does. As he moves back to the couch, he uses his movement to his advantage to seamlessly reach out to cup your jaw, as he settled back next to you, much closer than before. 

Goosebumps bit across your flesh as the feeling of his broad palm engulfed your face and his breath began to fan across your lips. Roman was smooth, he was graceful and agile in everything he did. Everything including the set up to a kiss, especially a long awaited and important one. 

Roman glides his middle and forefinger up to cradle your ear, to anchor himself to you before using his thumb on the underside of your jaw to tilt your chin. You blood was rushing loudly through your ears and all you could think of was him as Roman’s other arm came to rest across the back of the sofa and ecase you in his arms. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip before he descended for yours. 

And you felt euphoric. A warmth in the pit of your stomach that only Roman would kindle.

Roman nuzzled his lips against your mouth, the tip of his nose brushing your own. Your hands migrated to lay purchase on his shoulders as you let Roman pull you impossibly close to his body. You could feel his heated cheeks against your face and you could feel his racing pulse beneath your fingers as he tipped your face up and opened his mouth into the kiss. His tongue dipped past your lips and you accepted him with a soft whimper. 

Your sound of pleasure surged Roman on as he began to kiss you harder. Sweeter. Messier. Hotter. Just like he always had. 

Soon, you were flat against the couch cushions, Roman above you as his hands explored your body. Your legs bracketed his hips, pushing the heels of your feet against the tops of his thighs to keep him snug against you. Your hands clutched his back tightly, the very same back you had been craving to get your hands on since you walked through the door. 

Roman’s lips detached from your own to drift to your cheeks, your jaw and your neck. To bite, to suck and lick with his sinful tongue. You keened and moaned at his attentions, your back arching into him. The spit he left in his wake met the air in a chilling exchange that cooled your fiery skin. 

“My baby,” He said to your skin. 

“My girl,” He groaned. 

“Mine,” He bit the junction of your neck and shoulder. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” 

You didn’t want to be present while listening to his possessions. You wanted to let them grip you and own you and continue to make your stomach flutter. You didn’t want to have to tell Roman right now that you didn’t know if you could be his again…

“You’re mine, always, always, always,” Roman moaned against you, his voice pornographically seductive. 

“Yes, please,” You didn’t know what you were begging for, but you just knew you didn’t want the feeling of Roman to stop. 

“It’s me and you, we’re together again, it’ll all be OK now,” He says before giving you another sloppy kiss. 

“Be with me, be here. We can make it work.” 

Roman goes back to attacking your neck with his petal soft lips, but you were finally snapped from your the haze of pleasure he had accosted you with. 

“Roman, hold on,” You pushed your hands on his shoulder, “Stop.” 

“What?” He pulled away from you quickly, chest heaving as he looked down at you. 

He looked so boyishly innocent. His lips flush from kissing and his once perfect hair askew from your ministrations. Eyes wide and questioning. He was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. 

“I,” You took a pause, “I can’t stay here, Roman. I just can’t.” 

He looked like you’ve shocked him, stuck his finger in an electrical socket and watched. Roman pushed himself further up, but still hovered over you. 

“What do you mean you can’t stay?” He says your words back to you like they were a personal affront. 

“I live in New York now, that’s where my life is. I can’t just leave.” 

Roman’s jaw flexes and you watch him swallow. 

“What? So, this means nothing?” He gestures between your bodies. 

“No, of course not. Of course it means something.” You replied hastily. 

But, Roman was already getting up off of you and started to pace the length of his kitchen. You pushed up to watch him with concern. 

“I don’t know what you want me to do, I said I was sorry and I am. I really, truly am! So, why can’t you just stay with me? Be with me?” He argued. 

“I know you are! I do, but just because I know you’re sorry doesn’t change the fact that I have a life somewhere else now, Ro. I can’t just abandon it.” 

“Why can’t you? Just come home!” Roman threw his arms up in anger. 

“I don’t want to abandon it, Roman. I don’t want to leave. I like it there.” You move yourself onto your knees as you speak. 

“Jesus fucking-” Roman looked away from you and tugs at his hair, “I can’t believe you right now!” 

“Roman,” You sigh. 

“No! You know what? I have been declaring my fucking love for you for the past two days and that just means nothing to you? Because it doesn’t mean nothing to me.” 

“It means something-!” You begin, but Roman talks over you. 

“And that, that on the couch, that fucking meant something to me! Because you mean something to me, (Y/N). You always have and you always will.” He’s shouting now, if he had any neighbors you’re sure they would be able to hear. 

Your eyes filmed with tears as you watch him. 

“And fuck, while I’ve been going on like a bitch about how I love you, how I’m devoted to you, and you haven’t said shit! Not a word.” Roman’s eyes are beginning to wet as well. 

“Is that what this is? You don’t fucking love me?” His anger cracks as his voice quivers. 

“Roman, no!” You spring from where you knelt on the couch and rush to him, “I do, you know I do. I love you! I love you so much I ache.” 

You cry freely now as you try to clutch his face, but Roman brushes you off. 

“I love you, I have always loved you Roman. I always will. But,” 

“But what? How is that not enough!”

“I need you to love me enough to know there is nothing for me here.”

“Not even me?” His lip quivers. 

“You know that’s not what I meant,” Your hands shake and so does your breath, “I mean there is not real life for me here. You have The Tower and that’s you life, but what about me? What could I possibly do here that would make me happy?”

Roman says nothing, just swallows a hiccup that threatened to burst from his throat.

“I need you to love me enough to let me leave.”

Roman’s face crumbles into a drastic frown as he fights tears, “I can’t. I can’t do that, not again, I can’t. I can’t let you leave again.” 

“Baby,” You choke out. 

“No! I can’t, I love you. So, please, just love me enough to stay. I’ll give you everything you could ever want, anything you could ever dream of to make it better here.”

“Roman, I love you. I do, I always will. But, maybe this will be good for us. Have time apart to be our own people. I think it might even be healthy?” You say your last words with a watery smile that Roman doesn’t return. 

“I don’t want to have time apart. I had time apart from you and I was fucking miserable.” He states. 

The thought of Roman all alone in this house, heartbroken and stewing in pity and anger makes your heart convulse with pain. You thought of all the nights you slept in your dorm room, silent tears streaking your cheeks as you held your hand over your mouth in hopes to not wake your roommate. You wondered if on the nights you cried for him, if Roman had cried for you? Had he cried at all? Or while you were pouring yourself into your studies to forget him, he was fucking whores to forget you?

“Roman, please just… I love you, just please,” Again, you had no idea what you were begging for. For him to let you leave? For him to convince you to stay? All you knew was that this day had been so catosphroticlly emotionally draining and all you wanted was to fall into his arms for comfort.

“Do you want to be apart from me?” He asked bluntly. 

“Roman, just-” 

“Answer me. Do you want to be apart from me anymore?” 

Your mouth was thick with discarded tears and phlegm. All you could do was look at him and hope he understood you. To tell him you didn’t. 

His eyes softened and you knew your mental tether was still intact. 

Roman takes a step toward you and moves his head to be level with your own, “Then we’ll make this work. I’ll convince NYU to let you take online classes from here, OK? I’ll build them some new buildings - hell! A new campus. I’ll be their new biggest donor, their new favorite fucking person. I’ll give them whatever they want as long as they give me you in return.” 

“I can’t ask you to do that, Roman.” You look down at your feet. 

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” 

You pierce your teeth into your bottom lip and look back up at him. Back at Roman with his pink, glossy eyes and hopeful gaze. 

“I love the city…” 

“Then we’ll fly up every weekend, no exceptions. I’ll buy us a loft in the heart of Manhattan.You can design it to your heart’s content. Make it will feel warm and old and us. The opposite of this place.” Roman says quickly like he knew that would be your next rebuttal. 

You gasp a sob and close your eyes tight. You feel Roman close the distance between you both and cup your face in his large hands. 

“And we will figure the rest out, whatever else is holding you back. We’ll find you your dream job or your passion or whatever you want.” 

You crack your pulsing eyes, to see Roman’s face now streaked with tears. 

“Just tell me you’ll stay.”

You knew this was a risk. You knew he was a risk. You knew leaving New York and NYU sounded naive and utterly foolish to someone on the outside of your and Roman’s relationship. You knew that you would fight with him, that you would get angry with him, that he’d work too much and that he would have to reschedule trips to the city. You knew you would get irritated with each other and you’d say something snarky and Roman would say something mean. You knew there would be nights you went to bed angry and days where you gave each other the silent treatment. You knew it would be hard. Most things involving Roman were. Expect loving him.

You knew that even with all the bad that came with a relationship with Roman, it was eons better than being without him for a moment longer now that you had him again. 

You had wanted to look to the future, to forget the past and forge a new way for yourself. Truthfully, you still did. But maybe you could start over with Roman by your side? Wash away the pain of his indiscretions and learn and grow and heal together? You hoped you could. You hope you weren’t letting your overwhelming love for the man in front of you cloud your judgements. 

So, you placed your hands on his neck and watched his face turn hopeful and said: 

“Ok.”

i really wish i could say i loved this, but i am really on the fence about if this story is even good at all? it was better in my head. but! i hope you enjoyed it anyway and pllsss if you did, gimme some feedback <3 it makes me happy :-)

[delbeugre]

Have you seen SADIE BEUGRE? DEL is in HER/THEIR SENIOR year. The MATHEMATICS MAJOR is 24 years old & is a CAPRICORN. People say SHE/THEY are GRITTY, BEWITCHING, RETICENT and WASPISH. Rumors say they’re a member of HASTINGS. I heard from the gossip blog that SHE BIT AN EX-BOYFRIEND’S PINKY FINGER OFF AFTER SHE FOUND OUT HE CHEATED, AND THEN HAPPILY SERVED TIME FOR IT.

im tommy im a freak and of course i am here to get freakalicious with u all... this is my newest frankenstein type creation named sadie i know .02% about her yet but i am more than confident she will b nothing but a fun time! like this if ur down to plot!

TW: VIOLENCE, MENTIONS OF JAIL/PROSECUTION, MENTIONS OF SUICIDE, DRUG USE

BACKSTORY

capricorn sun / virgo moon / scorpio rising

raised by her uncle Big (his name) who is a hermit shut in town local in the depths of the florida marshland like some goosebumps protagonist. hes gone far past socially acceptable in terms of his ability to connect with the modern person but is wise beyond belief... his whole vibe is a warped cross between a cryptid and a mountain man that forages and cooks neighborhood plants. married for 27 years before his wife passed from illness. its quite possibly the only thing hes ever been emotional about

but dels entry to his life throws a wrench in his sadness (despite abandonment being what they bond over). she takes the focus away from his loss with her presence; her dad, his brother, died in a tragic train-car collision around the same time (which is speculated to be a suicide bt nobody can ever really be sure). he was a single parent so her custody is thrown up in the air for a few months as cps decides what they r gna do with this freshly orphaned little scrapper

she just kinda turns up on his doorstep n from there they cohabit a space. shes arnd 6-7 at this time... big never seemed to b phased by the fact tht she was a child n tended to treat her more like an apprentice or guest. he was never close to her father because of their age difference, being the older out of the two, so to have his daughter become his responsibility is just..... weird

this doesnt mean that he wouldnt provide for her bt it was. not very parental whatsoever.... no conversation or interaction beyond what was necessary. she was a mute fr a while and still is? to a degree.... very short spoken

when she got to her preteens he offered her an allowance in exchange for little odds and ends of stuff to be taken care of around the house. errands n all tht.... sometimes he wld purposefully leave things for her to pick up n take care of without mentioning it for a bonus. taught her the importance of saving your money and the horrid corruptness of a society basing everythings worth off paper. big exposed her to a lot of knowledge and took advantage of her silent curiosity by fueling it with books, homeschooling, life skills (catching a fish, setting a trap, knowing your berries in the woods...... the works)

her teens carried out the same way bt with the introduction of a real job, a spot down at the local butcher shop checking people out at the register and helping around the back of house. del knows a great deal abt cow/pig/chicken/etc anatomy from her years here..... she committed to being 100% vegan into her early twenties because of her trauma frm this occupation

it paid very well tho n was the best gig she was going to get within a reasonable biking route from home. so she settled!

the plan wasnt to keep it up for long anyway. she worked rly hard for her spot at yates and didnt intend to ever screw herself over. her plan was to get her bachelors, masters, become a professor, pursue a personal hobby of agriculture and build an elaborate greenhouse to live in

bt things happen..... 

some 35yr old douche with a green thumb woos her at a gardening store n swoops in to teach her a little more abt romance; all of this, of course, under the guise that he had all these tips and tricks for living environmentally friendly. a lame hippie wannabe that shouldve never even approached her bt alas.... he did

love is a touchy subject n it hadnt been something she set her sights on, but she was interested in wht this dude could teach her n at 19 she ended up falling in love. she delayed her education to stay an extra year back home and work out another plan which included him

this was very disappointing to her uncle bt he didnt have anything to say abt it. it was never parental before n it was never going to be, so this was another lesson she wld just have to overcome on her own

it turns out that she doesnt care for infidelity. when the confession comes out its met with a lot of screaming, bawling, blistering white hot anger. the whole incident is blacked out of her mind to b honest....

matters of the heart are no longer something to concern herself with because of the repercussions of her rash behavior regarding heartbreak O________O she spent a year in jail n still has to attend therapy / anger management meetings

deep down she is still hurting. there was a lot of pain... bt the sadness is not over the loss of some noob. she is in a state of constant disappointment, detaching from herself out of shame. putting her own life on pause only for it to turn out like that? stupid stupid stupid... 

PERSONALITY

chugging along! tldr spectre-like swamp nymph aura with the slightest (not so slight) unhinged feral tendencies

delicate like a moth resting in the gleam of a flashlight.... her anger singes her wings when shes too comfortable staying in one place, so theres always constant stimulation, always shifting gears. shes prone to feeling threatened; that being said, sadie is wary of walking in crowds, a little bit skittish when approached without making eye contact beforehand. like a small grey kitten..... in a big wide world

has a hard time keeping a conversation bt is very interested in debate, and even more so in studying alongside someone in complete silence. it reminds her of home in the same sense tht her uncle wld nudge her to keep reading by always having his own book open

doesnt have many friends and is alright with that. rumors are tht she is still a virgin bt who really knows? not i...... bt i wldnt be surprised if this was true. shes not impressed by people nor material items so this whole yates crowd is a turn off

she is truly clueless when it comes to how to behave around anyone her age. i think she understands but it just doesnt compute. she could come off as impolite bt it is just standoffishness? some people cld try to crack her but i dont think even she knows what that would be, or what that would look like. even in her one (1) failed relationship it was never deep heart to hearts or sharing dinner..... solitude is her realm

del is very comfortable with herself, very open with her wardrobe! doesnt leave too much to the imagination? she appreciates the human experience n expresses that thru this whole “body is a temple” type thing.... not quite confidence, but proudness of being. has gotten multiple notices frm professors for her tops being too sheer, nylons too ratted up, etc. has dirt under her fingernails half the time, chipped polish, some chapstick. smudges her eyeshadow on with her fingers

doesnt smoke cigarettes all too often but is dependent on weed. it kinda perpetuates her paranoid demeanor bt at the same time it keeps her lax enough to be able to mentally handle city life

her room is a playground for huge monstera plants, christmas cacti, ivy creeping along the doorway. she sleeps on a tiny thin mattress on the floor with a linen sheet and has her books stacked up on the ground next to it to hold her ashtray. the whole thing is dumb empty

takes her studies seriously and pinches every penny she can..... she has never ordered herself a coffee frm somewhere before, ordered food frm a restaurant... nothing. i wld think the most she would branch out from harvesting everything on her own is buying a bag of sunflower seeds frm a gas station, but even then, she much prefers eating stuff she grows herself. has a tomato plant, some basil beginning to sprout, etc.... manageable crops for any college students tiny space

...

bt yea thats it thats all! connections cld be all over the place. im legit open to anything. theres only a few tht come to mind right off that bat: 

a few people that get along with her? same classes? they shared a bowl n now theyre getting into the nitty gritty of some personal conversation that is veering into no mans land....

some sort of clueless makeover moment? arent rly into sadie as a person bt see a lot of potential... perhaps need a plus one to a party on the fly and figure thats the best option theyve got

crushes? this wld be fun n potentially dangerous! like playing with a hot cast iron pan or something :)

again im vry new to rp so i wld like to leave a lot of stuff up to chemistry, brainstorming n stuff like that, but please consider everything on the table! what i hav mentioned is the tip of the iceberg im so burnt out n i wrote a lot more than i intended to i am so sorry but i promise i am friendly

[team-free-will-oneshots]

Betrayal

Title: Betrayal (last part of the ‘Reckless’ series!!) Summary: Dean is unconscious, and you and Sam are defenceless against an unexpected foe. You’re not sure how you’ll make it out of this one. Pairing: Dean x Fem!Reader Warnings: some swearing, violence, mentions of blood Word Count: 2,000ish

note; here we are, finally at the end ! thank you all so much for all the love and support you’ve shown this series, i hope this is a satisfying ending !! (and yes i know that gif is michael and its not even the bunker but its the vibe im going for so just like pretend pls). anyway, hope you enjoy!!

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

“Darren?”

Your Uber driver?

You set your jaw - you should’ve known something was up with him. What kind of person drives a bleeding, dirty stranger to a place ten hours away in the godforsaken hours of the morning?

Darren smirked, sauntering forward as he twirled his gun in his hands before tossing it uselessly aside. He chuckled.

“The one and only, baby,” he said with a wide grin.

“What- what are you doing here? I gave you five stars-”

Darren scoffed. “And that would mean a lot to me if I was actually an Uber driver. I can’t believe you bought it. You really thought a total stranger would just drop everything and drive you ten hours away? Sweets, that tiny shithole of a town doesn’t even have Uber,” he cackled.

“Then how-”

“Magic,” he hissed. “You thought my sister was working alone? Pfft, she was dumb as a doornail. No, I was behind those well-deserved killings,” he informed you. “She was just my scapegoat. Perfect plan, wasn’t it? I draw you to town with a string of unexplained deaths, all of whom happen to be enemies of hers, of course. You go after her. She takes the brunt of your force, so I don’t have the unpleasant task of killing her. She sends you through the escape portal she’d intended for herself in a last ditch effort to survive - now that, that was the only bit left up to chance,” he said, tutting to himself before continuing.

“But I was there, lurking in the shadows, ready to push you in myself if she didn’t. Sheesh, I’d almost thought you caught me when you heard me behind you. Thank god I’d had the sense to put on a cloaking charm. Not to worry - all went according to plan.”

You set your jaw. “So, what? You wanted me to kill your sister and then be sent to the future? That makes literally no sense.”

He rolled his eyes. “I followed you through the portal, kept you unconscious until I’d had time to find a car, and used my magic to… alter the Uber app on your phone. It’s not like there were any taxis at that time of night, and the state you were in? No reasonable hitchhiker would have picked you up. I was your only option.

“Then, you finally call on me to drive you home.” He laughed. “Oh, I deserve an Oscar for keeping a straight face! A custody battle over a cat? How dumb do you have to be to believe that?” he scoffed. “After I dropped you off, it was all too easy to follow you here. Then there was the pesky task of getting through the defences on this nice-here bunker. That took me a beat, but I’m powerful, and these defences are old. It wasn’t too hard,” he sneered.

“I don’t get it - you just wanted to get to the bunker? Why bother sending me to the future?”

“Well, if I just followed you, the three of you would still be armed with witch-killing bullets, wouldn’t you?” he snapped. He nodded to the guns, abandoned on the floor. “Now, forgive me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty certain the bullets in those things aren’t the kind that could kill me,” he smirked. You gritted your teeth, pissed to admit that he was right. Facing a witch tonight had been the last thing you were expecting.

“Fine. You got us - you’re in the bunker, we’re defenceless. What do you want?” Sam demanded, and you jumped, almost forgetting that he was standing beside you.

“What do I want? The Book of the Damned, of course! I’ve travelled in the same circles as the witch Rowena for some time - she’s told us the stories, the raw power that book contains. I want it. And I know you have it,” he said. “Give it to me, and we can forget this ever happened.”

Sam scoffed. “You think we’re just going to give it to you?”

Darren rolled his eyes. “Well, I don’t see that you have much choice,” he snarled at Sam, before glancing to Dean’s unconscious body. “Not if you want your brother to live.”

Sam glanced at you, and then to the guns a few feet away, and gave a tiny nod towards Darren. You blinked to affirm your understanding - keep him talking.

“Let me get this straight. You killed your sister so… what, you wouldn’t have to share the book with her?” you asked, and Darren nodded coolly. “And that whole ride… nothing you said was true? The kids in college, your divorce, that dick Billy from accounting, none of it?”

Darren groaned. “Well, the stuff about Billy was true,” he muttered. “He’ll be one of the first people I get rid of when I finally have that damned Book!”

You spared a glance at Sam, who was slowly but steadily inching towards the guns. Behind Darren, you saw Dean beginning to stir. Your adversary’s attention began to waver, and you quickly brought it back to you.

“So why did you blow open the door, anyway?” you asked loudly, and Darren’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“What?”

“I left the keys in your car.”

Darren’s expression fell flat. “You- the keys? Were in my car? You mean I spent two hours disabling those sigils for nothing?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. Well, you’ve had a pretty roundabout way of getting here, anyways, so I guess it this works better with the drama of it all. I’m not totally sure all this was necessary, but kudos to you, man. It’s not often we find someone who actually tries to plan anything out this well,” you interjected. Darren smirked.

“Well, what can I say, I’m-”

“Dead,” Dean hissed from behind him, slamming a broken chair leg onto his head. Darren buckled beneath the heavy wood. “C’mon, that won’t keep him down for long - we need witch killing bullets, asap,” Dean instructed, wincing as he pressed his fingers to his temple. It was sticky with blood - Darren must’ve knocked him out with the butt of his gun.

You and Sam jumped into action - Sam collected all three guns from the floor, and the three of you flew down the hall and into the armoury. You were a little slower than the brothers, nursing a limp from the cluster of splinters buried into your foot. When you got inside, the boys were fumbling through drawers until one of them finally found your stock of witch killing bullets.

An angry shout echoed from the library, followed by the sound of pounding footsteps bouncing off the corridor walls. The three of you divvied up the bullets, and you’d just emptied your gun and began to reload it when the armoury doors were slammed open.

If you’d thought you’d seen Darren angry before, he was positively furious now. A wave of his hands had you and Sam flying into the walls on opposite sides of the room as he stalked towards Dean, who was hurriedly loading his gun. Another wave of Darren’s hand sent the gun flying into the corner.

“You little motherfucker,” he hissed, hand shooting forward, and suddenly Dean was thrown into the wall and clutching at his constricted airways. Darren pressed his hand to the back of his head, where a lump was visibly forming and his hair was matted with blood.

“How dare you!” he yelled. Still disoriented from your fall, you blinked a few times, forcing yourself to focus. Your ribs were protesting - definitely bruised, probably fractured - and the bleeding in your wounded shoulder had started up again. Breathing through the pain, you caught sight of your gun on the ground, only a few paces away, one bullet loaded. Any other bullets had rolled out of sight, but they offered no significance to you now - one was all you needed.

Darren was still hurling insults at Dean as you dragged yourself across the floor, snapping the gun into working order. You spared a glance at your boyfriend, who was starting to turn purple as he weakly clawed at his throat. Sam was knocked unconscious across the room. You were the last line of defence.

You took aim, breathing slowly to steady your shaking hands. Darren raised his hand, about to deliver the final blow. Your chest constricted in panic.

“Hey, dick!” you shouted, and Darren spun around just as you grunted and squeezed the trigger.

The gun kicked back against your body, the force rocking your already injured shoulder, and you cried out in pain. Darren’s eyes widened in shock, mouth forming an ‘o’ as he reached out a hand in a futile effort to protect himself. But before he could summon an ounce of magic, the bullet sailed home, burying itself in his chest.

He collapsed into a bloody heap; pained, choked cries fled his lips before he finally stilled, mouth permanently open in surprise. Dean collapsed to the floor, coughing, cursing and gasping for air, while Sam slowly stirred in the corner. You ran the back of your hand over your face, wiping away the sweat and the tears of pain you hadn’t even realised you’d shed. You cautiously walked forward, kicking Darren in the side of the face. His head lolled to the side, eyes glassy and staring lifelessly at the ceiling.

You breathed a sigh of relief, collapsing to your knees as the adrenaline slowly seeped from your system. You pressed your hand to your shoulder, ignoring the agony in your ribs as you staunched the flow of blood. Dean’s eyes shot to you, and he quickly stumbled over.

“Hey, hey- stay with me, okay?” he instructed, and you nodded, finding the energy for a breathless smile.

“I’m fine,” you told him. “Couple of stitches and I’ll be good as new.”

Dean examined your shoulder first, before nodding as he realised you were right. He got to his feet, hauling you up with him as he cast a glance at Sam, who was rubbing his head as he clambered upright.

“You okay, Sammy?”

“Yeah… yeah, fine,” he groaned. Dean nodded, turning his attention back to you as he helped you limp down the glowing red hall to the infirmary.

Dean’s hands were shaking as he tore through the cabinets, finding bandages, disinfectant, a needle, thread. You reached out and pressed your hand over his, and when his eyes met yours, he finally began to calm down.

“Dean. I’m fine,” you told him. Slowly, as though hesitant to believe it, he nodded.

“You’re fine,” he breathed, repeating it to himself a few times until it finally seemed to sink in. When he looked up again, he was somewhat back to his old self. “So that was your Uber driver, huh? Think you can get a refund?”

You laughed, wincing as Dean cleaned your wound and stitched you up. 

“Well, I definitely regret giving him five stars, at any rate,” you got out through gritted teeth. Dean chuckled as he nodded, cutting the thread and pressing a plaster over the wound, before securing the area with a bandage. 

After a few moments, the power flickered back on, filling the room with a bright fluorescent light that had you and Dean both blinking in surprise. Sam must’ve fixed the outage - about time. The air reeked of disinfectant and your shoulder stung like a bitch, but even amongst the pain, Dean’s eyes met yours and you felt yourself melting under his gentle, loving gaze.

“There,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead. You smiled.

“Thanks,” you murmured, pausing a beat and enjoying your small pocket of intimacy before breaking the comfortable silence. “So… I saved you.” Your voice took on a teasing lilt. “Think I can handle myself on a hunt now? Or am I still too ‘reckless’?”

Dean chuckled in spite of himself.

“You’re definitely too reckless,” he said. “But maybe… maybe that’s not always a bad thing. Honestly, it’s kinda one of the things I love about you.”

“Yeah?” You grinned, and despite his best intentions, Dean found himself returning it.

“Yeah.”

fin. __________

Reckless tags: @tmiships4life @justagirlinafandomworld @galileeooh @a-fan-fighting-for-equality @sasbb23 @avengersgirllorianna @thewaywarddaughterblog @2dreamcatcher8 @xlplx @spaghettiwoes @gay-ghost-fights @shut-ur-face-and-get-in-the-car @mrspeacem1nusone @littleraton @transparentparadiseglitterzombie

Dean tags: @polina-93

Forever tags: @babygirloreo @calaofnoldor @stealingheartsswift13 @lmpala97 @sebastianshoe @81mysteriouslyme @castieliswatchingoverme

If you’d like to be added to any of my tag lists, shoot me a message!

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @outtoshatter!

A/N: My giftee’s requests were fluff, action, adventure, AUs, magic, and 5+1. What I offered were: single parents, daemons / familiars, tattoos, and military (which kinda became a police force, I don’t know). I only got 5 in here, there’s no +1, and I already cut out parts, but in the end, I still went waaaaaaaaay over the max words.

To my giftee, I hope you like it. I tried to smush together as much tropes as I could. *huggles*

Summary:  Derek is a police officer, just recently moved to Beacon Hills, and possibly nursing a crush on the really hot, really powerful doctor with the twin sons.

Read on AO3

*****

Wild and Free

ONE.

“Beacon Hills is a hell of a lot smaller than NYC, but we’re not any less busy here. We’ve got the best arrest rate this side of the county and the best officers, i.e. me.” Erica grinned proudly, hands on her hips. “You’re lucky I’m showing you the ropes, newbie wolfie.”

Derek raised an amused eyebrow. Erica was young, passionate, and enthusiast ic… modest, too.

Isaac snorted, Boyd rolled his eyes, while Jordan chuckled.

“How can you be the best officer, Erica?” Isaac shot back. “We’re all new here.”

“I’ll be the best then,” Erica said confidently.

“And Erica, don’t call Captain Hale a newbie,” Jordan said. “He’s going to be Captain of your unit, and he’s new to town, but he’s not new to the job.”

Erica scoffed. “Same thing.”

Derek cleared his throat. “I’m not really worried about becoming bored, Erica. And I know better than to underestimate the crime rate in any town, big or small… or underestimate its capable officers.”

“Good to hear, Captain Newbie.” Erica patted him on the arm. “Now, let’s go!” She marched off, with Boyd following silently and Isaac continuing to harp on her.

“She’s not lacking in enthusiasm at least.” Jordan grinned as they followed at a more sedate pace. “I don’t even have to play tour guide anymore.”

Derek looked up at the sign: Beacon Hills Interspecies Memorial Hospital.

“You need to familiarize yourself with how the town works,” Erica said. “I know FAITH New York has a network of spies, but at good ole Beacon, a big part of our network is the hospital.” She dragged Derek in, unabashed in her excitement and strong even without using her werewolf strength.

Isaac grinned at Derek. “Fun fact: the hospital was built around a grove of Nemeton trees, one of the largest groves in the country.”

Derek followed along obediently. He liked Erica. Her exuberance was helping him put a lid on his nervousness. Isaac’s snark was amusing too. Add in Boyd’s silent demeanor, and Derek was feeling pretty good so far about his new unit.

FAITH was an interspecies organization established to monitor and police magical activity. Derek had worked for FAITH New York since he graduated police academy more than a decade ago and having to start over especially when he was already over thirty wasn’t easy.

“Welcome to Beacon Hills Memorial!” Erica motioned grandly towards the lobby.

Derek looked around, feeling the zing of magic in the air. He could see just what Isaac meant. An immense Nemeton was the centerpiece of the lobby reaching high up into the ceiling, which had strategic holes for the branches and leaves. Some of the low hanging branches were strung through with lights and signs, while a few select ones had dryads, avians, and a few fairies perched on them, talking to the attendants and medical staff below them or waiting for their appointments. The floor was a mix of tiles and forest floor, with pathways marked alongside some of the thick protruding tree roots.

Jordan waved a hand. “Like Erica said, it’s important we maintain a good relationship with the people here. We have a medical team back at HQ, but the experts here give us a lot of insights on our cases–”

“–not to mention how often we have to patch you all up after a hard day’s work.”

“Stiles!” Isaac and Erica exclaimed. Erica bodily threw herself on top of someone. Interestingly, the man didn’t even buckle under her force or weight. Boyd simply raised a hand in greeting.

“Hey, wolfies, what’s kicking?” He was dark-haired, brown-eyed, covered in moles, and had an upturned nose and a wide grin, decked out in a band t-shirt, black jeans, and obnoxious purple sneakers, topped off with a doctor’s coat.

“Your patients still are, you genius.” Erica grinned, hugging him around the waist.

Jordan motioned to the man. “Captain Derek Hale, this is Doctor Stiles Stilinski, Chief of Interspecies Medicine and Head Medical Liaison for FAITH–”

“And vice versa. It’s too long to say it all again,” Isaac said. “And note, it’s Doctor ‘redacted’ Stiles Stilinski.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. Stiles looked to be around twenty-seven, maybe eight? For someone that young to be Chief of IM and a FAITH Liaison was really impressive.

“Redacted?” he asked instead. Stiles laughed.

“Because no one knows his first name, and he’s supposed to be all mysterious and a genius, even though everybody knows he’s a dork,” Erica said.

“It’s hard to pronounce, that’s all.” Stiles gave Derek a warm smile. “And Captain Hale, eh? I’ve heard about you.”

“I assume from Sheriff Stilinski. You must be his son, then.”

Sheriff Stilinski had been kind and welcoming to Derek. He was human, but exuded a certain aura that made Derek’s wolf stand to attention. Even Erica and Isaac kept themselves in check around him.

Stiles checked his watch. “Sorry I can’t give you the tour now, but I’m actually on my way to a consultation for a family of dwarves. Jordan will do a bang-up job anyway. I just came by to greet you because I sensed you guys were coming.”

Stiles glanced at Derek and Derek felt his wolf perk in attention.

Oh.

Apparently, Sheriff Stilinski’s son wasn’t human like his father.

“And of course, I have gifts for the new officers.” Stiles grinned and pulled out a few chocolate bars from his pocket.

Erica squealed and grabbed hers, placing a large kiss on the doctor’s cheek. Isaac grabbed the rest and handed them out. Boyd simply nodded in thanks.

“Thanks, Stiles,” Jordan said.

Derek took the one Isaac handed to him. “Um, thank you.”

Stiles grinned. “See you around, Captain. Hope the town treats you well.”

Derek reached forward to shake Stiles’ hand and was surprised when he felt a little jolt. Stiles didn’t react. He waved before turning the corner.

Derek’s wolf was still tilting its head in interest.

“That’s Stiles.” Erica already had one end of the treat unwrapped. “He’s a genius and I’m not saying that just because he’s my chocolate enabler.”

“We were all kind-of classmates back in high school,” Isaac explained. “But he only went there a few times a week to get credits. He was already taking classes at the college by then.”

Jordan nodded. “Stiles is pretty playful, but he’s an expert in his field. There’s a reason he’s Chief of IM and a FAITH Liaison.”

“I’ll keep an eye out then,” Derek said.

“Now, come on. I’ll introduce you to Mrs. McCall and all the other nurses,” Jordan said.

TWO.

“You okay, Captain?”

Derek looked up, one eye still swollen shut and forehead stinging. He wasn’t sure he wiped all the blood off, but by the look on the Sheriff’s face, he probably hadn’t.

“I’m good.” He grinned through a split lip. “Didn’t expect a duel to be my introduction to major county crimes though.”

John smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Yeah, well, if you’re still standing and you can still laugh about it, then you’ll be able to face everything else.” He looked a bit worse for wear himself. His left sleeve had blood on it and he was limping.

Nobody really got off scot-free after this mess. Derek had been doing paperwork when the call for backup came, and he was pretty thankful Erica, Isaac, and Boyd had already timed out and didn’t have to deal with this. Derek had experience under his belt. Those three were good, but still too new to get involved in a high-stakes duel.

“Dad!”

“Stiles.” John’s shoulder sagged immediately in relief.

Stiles approached, face serious and steps purposeful. He was wearing his doctor’s coat and purple sneakers. There was a heavy aura in the air around him, contained energy that made Derek’s wolf, tired though it was, twitch.

“I’m good and lucky, son. Nothing serious,” John said when Stiles lunged at him in a hug and checked him down for any serious injuries. After another squeeze, Stiles turned to Derek.

“Hey, Captain,” He paused. “Uh-oh, that doesn’t look good. Kira!”

Derek turned his head, lone eye sighting a petite woman in a similar white coat toting a large medical bag, and behind her was… was that an honest-to-god deer?

He was probably hallucinating.

Stiles knelt in front of him, staring at Derek’s other eye and the cut on his forehead.

“May I?” He waited until Derek grunted a yes. He pressed the tips of his fingers to Derek’s temple and a warm tingle went through him. “K, give me an anti-D and a red leaf.”

“Got it, boss-man,” Kira said, handing over a thumb-sized blue vial and a red leaf. The deer was taller than her and leaned its head on the top of hers, watching Derek with brown eyes.

Stiles stuck the leaf on Derek’s forehead and handed the vial over. “Drink this. It’s an antidote. It’ll stop the swelling and the bleeding.”

The vial was so small, but it felt like cold water flowed down Derek’s throat. He immediately felt pressure in his head ease.

“Thanks,” he sighed in relief.

“We need the leaf to soak up some,” Stiles said, smiling. “Give me five minutes then I can get to that.” He turned to John. He straightened, posture more formal than earlier.

“Sheriff Stilinski.”

John nodded, lip twitching. “Chief Stilinski, thanks for coming. I’ll keep it short.” He waved a hand at the warehouse, the lot of officers, and the suspects held behind a ring of mountain ash. “We got a tipoff a few days ago about a shipment of oxyhexfaro coming into town. We finally got a lead and a warrant to search the place, turns out we walked in on a suppliers’ auction.”

“Lucky and unlucky.” Stiles bit his lip, looking around.

“You’re telling me,” John said. “The initial ops team suffered the brunt of the duel. They managed to call backup before the whole mess escalated. We rounded up most of them, save for two that got away, the head of the operation and his right hand.”

“Aww. Damn,” Stiles muttered.

“We’ve got three officers seriously injured, but your first responders already took them to the hospital. Forensics is here, so aside from staying out of their way, you’re free to check on everyone.”

“Copy, thank you. We’ll coordinate with Danny. We’ll set up a debriefing after.” Stiles nodded. He clasped John’s forearm tight, one last show of affection, before returning to his professional demeanor. “Kira, get a 3-heat pack for the Sheriff’s hip, make him drink a bluebell to avoid infections, and wrap up anything bleeding, especially the arachne’s claws on his back – don’t think I didn’t see that, Sheriff.”

Kira nodded, pulling out a white heat pack. Derek watched in fascination as her fingers sparked and the pack slowly turned green. His wolf awoke and through red eyes, Derek could see the outline of a kitsune behind her form.

“Foxfire,” Kira suddenly said, smiling at him. “I’m a lightning kitsune. Wish we’d met under better conditions, Captain Hale. Welcome to Beacon Hills.” She immediately led the Sheriff to one side.

Derek nodded dazedly.

“Ok, let’s get you checked out, Captain.” Stiles turned back to him. Behind the doctor, the deer Derek had been hallucinating was still looking at him. “You got hit by a pretty nasty he–”

“Deer.”

Stiles paused. “Huh?”

It was probably better to admit it to the doctor. “I’m hallucinating.”

Stiles looked confused. “Hallucinating? That’s not a side effect of–” He noticed Derek’s gaze behind him. “Oh, you mean, that deer?” His face turned bashful. “Sorry, Cap. It’s been a while since I’ve met new people who don’t know her. Sira is a familiar.”

In response, the deer, doe actually, Sira, let out a snort.

Derek was a little stunned. He felt a bit guilty peeking at Stiles’ police file, but Erica had confirmed his suspicion that Stiles wasn’t human. Apparently he was a spark – a spark powerful enough to sense other people’s presence from miles away… and powerful enough to have a familiar.

Familiars were formed by those who had the ability to bind their magic into a corporeal form. They are sentient, though their full range of capabilities and intelligence depended largely on just how powerful their caster was. They served as companions and partners, but powerful casters also created familiars because they had too much magic to contain in their bodies alone.

While Derek was busy parsing that thought out, Stiles was getting to work. He pulled two more vials and replaced the red leaf on his forehead. He placed the other one in a bag.

“The red leaf is a reader, shows us what black magic hit you and keeps a record for both the hospital and FAITH. You got hit with a progressive curse. The first vial was a stabilizing agent, makes sure your system is working fine and stops blood loss, and these two will stop it from spreading and help you purge it. We’ll have to monitor you for either a spike in adrenaline or a fever. Don’t worry though. Everything I’m giving you is werewolf-friendly.”

Stiles spoke slowly, professional but warm and calming. Derek actually felt comforted as he drank down the medicine.

“Got it. Thank you, Chief.”

“Just Stiles is fine.” He grinned. “The rest are easy enough for your werewolf to heal. I’ll have someone load you into the ambulance, okay? And while you wait, Sira will keep you company, Derek.” He winked, making Derek chuckle.

He squeezed Derek’s shoulder and walked off to attend to the other officers. As he said, Sira walked up to Derek. The doe regarded Derek with a steely gaze before settling down close to him, folding her legs delicately under her.

It was bad manners to touch a familiar without permission, so Derek settled for a nod.

“Thank you.”

THREE.

Erica made a face at the body on the examination table. “Oh, god. The smell is nauseating.”

Boyd sighed. “It’s a troll, Erica. That’s kind of a given.”

Erica stuck her tongue out at him. “Boyd, you can be such a bi–”

“Cut the chatter,” Derek interrupted them before the squabbling could begin. “It won’t kill you all to be a bit more professional.”

Erica stuck her tongue out at Boyd, only to make a face when she realized the smell was putrid enough to taste.

“How come you aren’t gagging at the smell, Captain?” Danny, their FAITH forensics expert, asked from the other side of the troll.

“I’ve dealt with trolls back in New York,” Derek said. “You never get used to it, but once you smell it a dozen times, it doesn’t hit you as hard.”

Trolls were definitely quite a sight… and smell. Their skin was a coarse grey, thick as an animal’s hide, and they were tall, with long arms, and large yet agile feet. They have sharp eyes and ears, but close to no sense of smell, which was why they often lived in the oddest places. This one was about seven feet tall, with a hooked nose, and green splotches across his skin.

Isaac turned to Stiles. “And how come you aren’t… why am I even asking you? You probably have a not-smell spell.”

Stiles chuckled, snapping on a pair of gloves. “I don’t. I need to smell it as part of my examination. And hard to believe, but I’ve smelt worse.” From the corner of the room, Sira let out a whinny as if in agreement.

“No, you haven’t.” Erica moved behind Boyd despite their earlier tiff. “Because that is just awful. I’m going to throw up.”

“You’re such a baby,” Stiles said. “You’re lucky I always bring some candy.”

Some of them – Erica and Isaac – perked up. “Candy?”

“Not that kind of candy, though this is actually lemon-flavored.” Stiles motioned to Sira, who had the medical bag strapped to her back. “It’s a candy that dulls the senses for fifteen minutes. The lemon one dulls your sense of smell. It’s all-species friendly, so don’t worry about allergies.”

Isaac and Erica each took one… two. Derek pretended not to see. He and Boyd passed on.

Danny took one too. “This troll’s been stinking up the lab far too long.”

Stiles clapped his hands. “So Danny-boy, give us the lowdown on our unfortunate friend here.”

Danny handed him a file. “Found dead at the basement of a local brewery by the fae owner. Nobody even knew he was living there. We found traces of some kind of booster, but mixed in with everything he’d been taking, including the brew samples, we needed to do a lot of testing on his internal chemistry. Results don’t come in until Tuesday, but we thought you might have a clue what it could be. Save us some time.”

“Sorry to call you on your day off,” Derek added.

Stiles shrugged. “Nah, don’t worry about it. I’m used to it. My days off are never really days off.” He clapped his hands. “Ok then. Let’s see this. We’ll need a–” He paused and looked towards the door. Sira let out a huff.

Derek was immediately on alert, but when he turned around, someone was peeking through the round window on the door.

Stiles waved a hand. Derek smelled the ozone of magic before the partition curtain suddenly slid sideways on its own covering the body, just in time before someone pushed the door open.

In came a… stag.

After a beat, Derek realized it was another familiar mostly because he already knew Sira and the stag’s immense antlers couldn’t have possibly fit through the door or through the hallway if they weren’t magical. Sira let out a bellow, to which the stag responded.

Sitting on the stag’s back were two little boys, probably three or four years old. They were both dark, curly-haired, chubby-cheeked, and completely identical down to their and shirts, pants, and purple sneakers, save for the fact one had blue eyes and the other had brown eyes and dimples.

“Enzo! Levi! Hello, babies!” Erica squealed and ran to them.

“We’re not babies!” the brown-eyed boy whined, but accepted cheek kisses and nuzzles. The blue-eyed boy only poked Erica on the cheek and giggled.

“Hey, I didn’t know the kits were here,” Danny said, waving a hand. “Hey, boys.”

“Hi, Uncle Danny!” again, the brown eyed boy replied. Apparently his twin was the quieter one. “Hi, Uncle ‘Zac! Hi, Uncle Boyd! Hi…” he paused at Derek. “…erm, Mister.”

“That’s Captain Derek,” Stiles said. “You remember the new officer I mentioned?”

Both boys nodded and waved at Derek shyly. Derek waved back.

“Now.” Stiles had his arms crossed over his chest. “Boys, what did I say?”

The brown-eyed boy’s face scrunched up. “But it smelled.”

“That wasn’t my question,” Stiles said. “And instead of getting away from the smell, you decided to go see what it was?”

Both boys grinned widely.

Stiles sighed, but fondness radiated clearly. “Back to the waiting room, please. Sio, I expected you to be the mature one.”

The stag actually looked offended. He huffed.

“Go back please, or else we’re not going to the aquarium.”

“Can I come with them?” Erica immediately asked.

“To the aquarium or to the waiting room?” Stiles teased.

“Erica this is part of your training,” Derek sighed.

Erica whined. “But it smells. I don’t think the candy is working.”

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. At this rate, they were never going to finish this examination. “Fine. Go on then. But I expect you to be the one to get the results of the lab tests next week and do the report on that.”

“Fiiiine.” Erica waved a hand. She beamed at the boys. “Come on, kittens. Let’s go play and leave your Dada to his spellwork.”

“We’re not kittens, Auntie Erica,” was the last thing they heard before twins, stag, and woman left.

“You do know Erica’s going to bully Isaac to do that for her,” Boyd said.

Isaac protested. “Hey! I’m not going to do it for her!”

Derek ignored them and turned to Stiles, realization coming to him. “They’re your kids?”

It wasn’t as if Derek was actively thinking of asking Stiles out, but they’d seen each other a handful of times around town and in the field… and Derek… well, he had been interested. Stiles was interesting, funny, and incredibly intelligent. He was charismatic, charming, mysterious, and fun. And Derek never saw a ring or heard of a boyfriend or smelled a significant other.

But apparently, Stiles was off limits.

Stiles grinned, proud. “Yep, those two brats are mine.” He glanced at Derek. “Adopted, though.”

…maybe not so off limits then?

“We were on our way to the aquarium, but then you called me so…” Stiles trailed off.

There was a pause and Derek studiously ignored Danny’s smirk, Isaac’s intent gaze, or the fact that Boyd actually looked curious instead of his usual passiveness.

“Anyway, going back… Danny boy, let’s get back to this.” Stiles shook off the awkwardness. “I’d still wait for the results to be sure, but sure you want my opinion on this?”

Danny nodded. “Yes, please. Because we all know your best guess is more often than not an accurate one.”

Stiles nodded and got to work.

Derek watched him, thoughts whirling. He liked children and he had a good opinion of Stiles so far and it seemed, maybe, possibly, Stiles also thought well of him. It seemed Derek just had to adjust his plans a little.

FOUR.

“Living in the big city is fine and it took a while for me to make the decision,” Derek said, watching over the playground. “But my wolf and I have always preferred living somewhere quiet and smaller.”

“Why Beacon Hills, though?” Stiles asked, legs and purple sneakers bobbing up and down as he jiggled his leg. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you picked this place out of everywhere else,” he blushed lightly, which Derek adored, “But I’m surprised you found this off the map.”

“My family went on a road trip once and passed this place,” Derek said. “I always remembered it, and when I was thinking of where to go, this place came to mind. Guess I was drawn here.”

“Beacon Hills has a pretty good energy,” Stiles said. “And we’re pretty all-species friendly, so I’m glad you decided to stay here.” He scratched his nose, awkward and endearing all at the same time. At times like these, Derek saw the man underneath, not just the powerful and intelligent spark.

“So your family,” Stiles mused. “That’s your parents, two sets of grandparents, your six siblings, plus all your parents’ siblings and their families, and all your cousins and so on and so forth. That’s a lot.”

“Hence me moving away,” Derek said, chuckling.

There was a loud shout and they both turned to the playground immediately. It was fine though. Enzo was screeching as Sio chased him around. In comparison, Levi was in the sandbox making a sandcastle as Sira dozed on the grass nearby.

“My immediate family is smaller in comparison,” Stiles said. “Just me, my Dad, and those two kits.”

Stiles had opened up over the past few weeks they’d been seeing each other. Levi and Enzo were found by a fae scout team close to their borders when they were only a month old. The twins were left in a fruit crate with a letter that explained that the babies were ‘payment’ for some life debt the parents owed.

Derek had seen red at that, even his wolf had growled angrily.

The Fae Queen informed FAITH of the matter and an investigation was immediately launched. However the faes could not relinquish the children easily. They would never trade the life of innocent newborns for another, but they took life debts seriously. The parents’ offering, morbid as it was, had already evoked a magical barter. Unless another payment was provided equal to what was owed, not even the Queen could stop the magic from taking the twins’ lives. They had six months.

As a show of faith, the Queen allowed a Fae Friend – a non-fae with ties to the fae people– to guard the twins in the meantime. She chose Stiles, because if the man wasn’t already impressive enough, Stiles happened to be good friends with the Fae Queen – something that definitely boggled Derek’s mind, because how? – Stiles was also approved by FAITH – a doctor, affiliated with the police, lived at a secure neighborhood, and powerful enough to protect the children.

It became even more of a mess when, at three months old, the twins’ orientation manifested.

They weren’t just kids, but kits – twin kitsunes, a rare combination, which was probably why those horrible people taught they would be ‘suitable payment.’

The life debt, realizing how valuable they were, shortened the window to three months.

Stiles said that FAITH, the faes, and him had never found the parents – which Derek knew was a bold-faced lie, even though Stiles’ heartbeat and scent never once wavered – but they managed to find a way to pay the life debt with time to spare.

By the time the twins were five months old, Stiles had applied to be their legal guardian. Two months and an accelerated process later, Stiles had children – Dylan Levi and Tyler Enzo Stilinski.

“Enzo, get down from there!” Stiles called. Enzo was standing on tiptoes on Sio’s back, an arm threaded through the stag’s antlers and the other reaching for a succulent-looking, low-hanging fruit.

“Excuse me,” Stiles said to Derek, and walked off towards his mischievous son.

Derek watched Stiles help Enzo reach the fruit, mounting Sio’s back, and then lifting the toddler up to the tree. Derek stood up and decided to head over to the other Stilinski twin.

“Hello, Levi,” Derek said to the quieter, shyer twin. “Your sand castle looks lovely. May I join you?”

Levi looked up at him through curly locks. He looked unsure and Derek hesitated. He knew he tended to look rough and unfriendly, but he gave the boy a small smile. Levi looked at Sira, who let out a snort. He then turned to Derek and slowly nodded, even handing Derek a toy shovel as he sat down.

They worked side-by-side silently, adding towers to make Levi’s castle bigger. For a child, he had quite good engineering skills. Derek felt Stiles look their way and smelled the sweet dew of fondness. He kept his head down, embarrassed yet pleased.

Enzo’s voice rang out. “How come Levi’s playin’ with Cap’n Hale? I wan’ play too!”

Levi turned to his twin and made a motion with his hands. Enzo let out a whoop and wiggled until Stiles let him down. Enzo started crawling around on hands and knees, looking for whatever it was Levi signed at him.

Derek watched them curiously, but kept on working on the sand castle. He wasn’t quite sure if Levi was mute, but it was obvious that he preferred talking with his hands and face. It wasn’t ASL, because Derek knew that, so he wasn’t quite sure how the twins communicated, though they seemed to understand each other perfectly well, so did Stiles.

Stiles plopped down beside Levi and pressed a kiss atop his curly head. Levi beamed at his Da and waved his hand.

Stiles nodded at whatever that was. “Of course, kid.”

Suddenly, there was a howl and then a loud, distressed cry.

Derek whipped around, a growl of his own already forming.

There was a werewolf stalking out from the tree line.

And he was bloody.

He was stumbling fast on unsteady steps, dripping blood from head to toe, headed right for Enzo seated on the grass. The stranger howled again, making Enzo cry.

“Enzo!” Stiles stumbled to his feet. “Sio, get Enzo!”

Derek was instantly in motion, rushing towards the approaching stranger. Thankfully, Sio was fast, easily approaching the frozen and wide-eyed kit and grabbing him by the collar of his shirt before retreating to safety. Derek cast a passing glance at the kit dangling from the stag’s snout and ran straight for the other werewolf. He pressed the emergency button on the walkie-talkie he kept with him at all times.

“Stiles, go and get help!”

Derek recognized the man, light hair, broad shouldered, and a cleft chin. This was one of the two men that got away during the oxyhexfaro bust months ago – Carson, the righthand man. His business had collapsed following the bust and he had been on the run since. All nearby counties had been on alert, but FAITH certainly didn’t expect him to come back here to Beacon Hills where he had the most chances of being captured.

Derek faced Carson. The wolf seemed to be bleeding from multiple cuts all over his body, one eye was swollen shut, and he didn’t even have all his claws in his hands and feet. His eyes looked crazed and a fine tremor was running through his entire body. A sniff of the air gave Derek the scent of slowly burning flesh, as well as the sharp, underlying stench of drugs.

Derek wasn’t sure which end the wolf was tilting towards; if the wolf had hurt himself in his… Withdrawal? Overdose?

“Carson, my name is Captain Derek Hale of FAITH,” Derek spoke slowly, raising his arms, no claws out, nonthreatening. “Do you require assistance?”

Carson growled and dropped on all fours. Derek hesitated. As far as their information went, Carson couldn’t do a full-alpha shift, but considering the man was drugged, he was unpredictable.

Carson didn’t attack though. He switched between whining and growling, shaking his head from side to side.

“Carson, can you talk? Can you understand me?” Derek tried to get through to him. “If you can understand me, I need you to look at me right now.”

Carson trembled. After a minute, he raised his head at Derek. He looked at Derek with a red eye full of… fear.

“…help …me …”

“Okay, okay.” Derek stepped forward. “Carson, I can–”

The next thing Derek knew, Carson was barreling straight for him.

Instinct took over and Derek let out his wolf’s half-shift. He stepped back just in time to avoid Carson’s claws, but before he could blink, the wolf managed to get a swipe at Derek’s shoulder. Derek roared and swung his arm, managing to graze the man’s face. Carson jumped back, hissing and spitting.

Derek rolled his shoulder. It was a shallow cut, but damn the man was fast and he seemed far stronger than their information on him suggested. If Derek had to guess, the drugs were taking effect.

Before Derek could figure out how to stop him, Carson’s movements suddenly stopped.

Derek looked up and Stiles was there. He had his arms out, a rope of violet magic around one arm leading right for Carson, wrapped around the werewolf’s jaws, around his arms, waist, and legs to hold him back. Stiles tugged and Carson stepped back, roaring but unable to move. Stiles held out his free hand, palm out, and when his fingers curled into a fist, Carson dropped into a ball, the ropes of magic wrapping around him like a cocoon.

Derek stumbled back, taking a deep breath. He glanced at Stiles, who looked back worriedly, looking Derek over for injuries. Derek was relieved this hadn’t led to a full-fledged fight.

“What happened to him?”

“As of now, I’m not sure.” Stiles slowly edged towards the bound wolf. “Possible overdose, but we still don’t know why he’s bleed–”

Stiles paused and Derek let out a shout when Stiles suddenly cried out, falling to his knees, a rope of deep green magic appearing around his neck. Before Derek could help him, Derek felt the sizzle of magic so strong it made his wolf howl.

He remembered now. Two escaped that police bust, Carson and the other one was… Merle, the leader, a warlock.

Derek turned. Merle was behind them. He had long, dark hair and a hooked nose. Similar to Carson, he was almost as bloody, but the difference was that Merle didn’t smell as strongly of drugs and the blood Merle was covered with wasn’t his, but Carson’s.

Merle had his arms out towards Stiles, the tattoos on his arms flashing a deep green. “Give me back my wolf, spark,” he hissed, eyes flashing and hair standing on end. “It’s mine.”

“You used drugs and blood magic on him!” Stiles growled in anger, but the green magic held fast. “He’s a person, you sicko!”

Merle scoffed and made to reply, until his eyes landed on Derek.

“I know you… Captain Hale of FAITH…” he said, voice grating and tilting his head to the side. His face broke into a wide, maniacal grin. “I think… maybe… you’d make a better subject.”

He swung a hand and next thing Derek knew, a similar rope of green was wrapped around his neck. He cried out. He now knew how Stiles felt, because it seemed like he had on a collar of nails.

Merle glanced at Carson who remained crumpled on the ground, eyes glazed, and wheezing with every breath.

“I don’t need that useless thing anymore.” Merle’s eyes flashed, and Stiles screamed as Carson’s eyes rolled to the back of his head and he fell, unmoving.

Stiles stood up, the magic around his neck and Derek’s splintering like glass. He swung a fist in the air, sending something like sharp violet lightning shooting off. Merle was caught in the arm and he screeched something unholy. Stiles swung his other fist, but Merle countered, sending green spikes flying at Stiles. The next thing he and Derek knew, Sio had appeared, acting as a barrier. Merle’s magic shattered as it hit the stag’s skin, not even leaving a mark.

“Sio!” Derek looked back. Sira was standing far away but still in sight, and he could easily pick out two tiny kits on the doe’s back.

Stiles’ face paled in fear. “Sira! Get back!”

Merle followed their line of sight, but before he could see the kits, Derek growled and ran right for him. The warlock noticed him, but before he could attack, Sio seized the opportunity and also charged, antlers pointed right at the man. Stiles waved his arms, trapping Merle’s arms against his sides, making the warlock scream bloody murder.

Derek punched him right on the chest and Sio swung his great head, antlers clipping Merle’s side and sending him sailing to the trees. Merle was crafty though and the man spun a rope, lassoing Derek’s arm and pulling him along. He cackled loudly and sunk green claws into Derek’s arm. Derek was jarred even more by the impact they made against a tree.

“Derek!”

Stiles was suddenly there, physically wresting Merle off of Derek. Before Derek could help, Merle sunk the claws of his other hand into Stiles’ left side.

“Stiles!”

Sio roared and charged.

Derek was an Alpha too, but while it wasn’t a secret, not many people knew he could do a full-alpha wolf shift. Guess now was the time. Derek left his wolf out completely and felt the shift envelop him, skin covered by fur, limbs cracking and lengthening, face morphing.

Between an Alpha wolf, and an angry, overprotective stag, the warlock didn’t stand a chance.

FIVE.

So apparently, Sio and Sira weren’t Stiles’ familiars.

Derek wrapped an arm around Stiles’ shoulders as they leaned back on the porch swing. It had been a few days since the attack and the frenzy had finally died down. Stiles felt it was time to let Derek in on the family secret.

“Remember when you asked me about the deer? And I said Sira was a familiar. I never said she was mine.” Stiles chuckled, leaning against Derek’s chest. “I’m not that powerful, to be honest. My spark’s not bad, but I consider my brains my real superpower.”

He tangled the fingers of one hand with one of Derek’s, playing with them idly. “I don’t know who’s whose. After I adopted the kits, the familiars just appeared and one of them started following me around, probably as protection or to watch over me. People started talking, said my spark must’ve evolved or something when I became a Dad, just rumors and stuff like that. My Dad and I thought it was better than to reveal just how much potential the kits had.”

“Not to mention it’s a good boost for someone’s reputation,” Derek teased, poking Stiles at his ticklish side and sending the doctor flailing about like a fish.

Derek laughed. Stiles pouted, but accepted Derek’s soft kiss. It stretched on for a time, close-mouthed, warm, and sweet in a way Derek had never been with another person. He felt the curve of Stiles’ grin against his and pressed one more chaste kiss before pulling back. Stiles smiled at him, eyes bright and face flushed and Derek had never felt more at peace and in love.

“Everybody decent out there?”

“Dad, you’re embarrassing me,” Stiles whined.

“You do enough of that yourself, dear,” Derek said. Stiles turned to him with a harrumph and lunged, trying to tickle Derek.

John stepped out, only to sigh. “Oh, stop it, you two. We’re back from the store.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “But, er… We picked up something along the way.”

Stiles groaned. “Daaad, did you get the kits the sweet cereal again?” He tugged at Derek’s hand and tangled their fingers easily as they followed John inside. “You know Melissa told us we need to cut… down… Oh my god!”

Gathered in the living room were two, trouble-making kitsunes and what was supposed to be two, but now were three deers. Levi and Enzo were hiding behind Sio and Sira, their stubby kitsune tails fanning out and twitching like they knew they were in trouble. A third deer was curled up beside them. At a glance, Derek saw she was shorter and slimmer than the other two.

“Kits! You made another familiar?” Stiles gaped. “Wha– How– You–”

John sat down on his chair, sighing. “She knocked on the car window, almost gave me a heart attack and almost tilted the pickup over with three darn deers squeezed in at the back.”

Stiles kept gaping at his sons while Derek just grinned.

“Think of how in awe everyone will be that apparently you have three–”

Stiles covered his mouth with a palm and glared lightly at him.

“Sona.”

Derek froze and he felt Stiles did too. John looked intrigued. Derek turned to Levi. Levi was looking right at him, not at his father or grandfather.

Stiles kept digging a pointy elbow at Derek’s side. Derek pinched his hip before crouching down in front of the kit.

“Is that her name, Levi?”

Levi nodded. Despite his silence, his voice wasn’t grating or rough from disuse, but his was softer and quieter than Enzo’s exuberant tone.

“Sona, hello.” Derek waved a hand at the deer, who nodded her head with a soft cry. “Now, you and Enzo and your Da can have one of each.”

Levi and Enzo giggled, sounds so sweet that Derek immediately committed them to memory.

“Sona is ours!” Enzo said.

“So Sio is yours,” Levi added.

Derek felt like the breath was taken out of his lungs. “W-What do you mean?”

Stiles fell to his knees beside Derek. He made a motion with his hands, to which Levi replied with some hand-waving of his own before pointing a finger around.

“Sira for Dada. Sona for me, Zo and Grampa. And Sio for Derek.” He paused, suddenly looking at Derek nervously. “…Right?”

And Derek knew what that meant, the gravity of the question a child was asking – if Derek was here to stay, if he was going to accept this incredibly generous and personal gift, if he cared about them all enough to stay forever…

The other two Stilinskis waited on Derek with bated breath.

Derek reached out and Levi trustfully lifted his arms for Derek to pick him up and cuddle him on his lap.

“That would be perfect.”

Levi smiled, so did Enzo who immediately scrambled up to squeeze himself onto Derek’s lap too. Derek fell back, but Stiles was there, arms wrapping around all three of them and pressing a kiss to Derek’s mouth. His eyes were bright and his smile was almost bursting.

“Well, then. Welcome to the family, Captain.” John grinned, pleased.

Derek pressed a kiss to the kits’ heads and one on Stiles’ cheek.

A spark, twins, and three deers – moving here was the best decision he had ever made in his life.

[likeabulletyoucanhurtme]

The 100 (questions that is....not band or TV show)

1. If you were on a 2 hour road trip and could only listen to one song on repeat until the trip was over what song would it be? idk it would depend. Could be Neck Deep - In Bloom but also if you go with Dream Theater - A Change Of Seasons thats only like 4 plays :) 2. If heaven or hell didn’t exist and wasn’t a reward would you still make an effort in being a good person? Atheists believe in good. 3. What’s your poison? Vices etc. JD 4. What’s your favorite thing about your hometown? the football team lol.

5. Are you a better friend to your friends than they are to you? It's a mutual thing that we don't really talk lol. I'm a horrible friend to most people but one did say I was angel, which was a compliment cause she’s religious even though I’m not

6. Have you ever ran a red light? I can't drive, but I ignore traffic signs when walking. They're more of a suggestion than a rule especially in Glasgow.

7. Who is the most influential person in your life? I influence myself; fuck all y'all.

8. Give me a hot take. What’s the unpopular opinion you stand by? Love Island is pish

9. What would the ten year old you think about you now? 10yr old me wanted to be an astronaught so idk lol probably disappointed

10. What’s your favorite city to visit/live in? Town lol I don't do visits

11. Tell me the story of your first kiss. She asked me out and I was kinda dithering but then just as she was walking away I shouted yes at her like a fucking lunatic and she turned around like "....oh." Then we snogged :P

12. What was your yearbook quote (if you didn’t have one what would it be)? The romans didnt invent a great civilisations by having meetings. They did it by killing all those who opposed them.

13. What’s a non-sexual turn on for you? Millie's Cookies <33333

14. Who’s your favorite non-animated movie character? The wee old dear from Last Train To Busan <3

15. You fall into $10K and you have to spend it on yourself and not bills, what do you buy? Gig tickets, alcohol and stuff off my list

16. Have you picked names for your children yet? one

17. Do you have any talents? I'm very good at singing badly

18. Which would you prefer: Netflix and Chill or iTunes and Chill? Netflix or iTunes themselves. I ain't got no chill. And no-ones interrupting me if I'm listening to music/watching something

19. Fill in the blank: I want to ____ your _____. _hug_, _soul_

20. Is once a cheater always a cheater true? idk people can change but I'd say the relationship is forever ruined. Someone that cheated on me might not cheat again, but I wouldn't trust them anymore.

21. In one word, What was the reason your last relationship failed? complacency

22. What’s something therapeutic you do when you’re stressed? listen to music

23. What was your favorite non-Pixar Disney Film? Big Hero 6

24.  Ruin a first date in 5 words or less. "I like country music" :P

25. Drums or Flats? I thought this was about music or highheels but google says its about chicken. And I prefer boneless!

26. Do you remember your last dream? What about? No idea, I don't remember them much I'm just greatful for whatever sleep I can get.

27. Do you want your kids to go to church, synagogue, temple, mosque? why? Never! I don't want to fill their heads with nonsense and a life of trying to conform to outdated arbitrary rules just so they have a good afterlife.

28. If Gerard Butler, Russell Crowe, and Liam Neeson get into a bar brawl who wins? The press?

29. Looking back would you have lost your virginity sooner than you did or later? Sooner. The lateness was not for lack of trying

30. Do you have a favorite book? Not really but it used to be either Reaper Man or The Hitch-hikers Guide To The Galaxy

31. Fuck Marry Kill? Do I get to pick my own??????? Fuck - "Main Course" Marry - hahahaha no Kill - your hopes and dreams

32. Is college worth it? Why? Yes because its good to know things and worth it to get a better job so you're not working beside me :)

33. Favorite Cartoon growing up. idk I can't really remember what I watched.

34. What’s your favorite social media besides tumblr? I'm on Facebook more but that's just to play games mostly

35. Does your first crush still look good? I don't talk to her anymore but her pictures aren't too bad

36. Do you think starting a gofundme is begging or helpful? Depends on the reason, like I've seen one just for a sesh which is fucking stupid, but like Americans do them for medical bills or some legit reasons.

37. Sesame Street or Barney? Sesame Street! Cookie Monster<3

38. What you’re favorite R&B Album of all time? I hate them all.

39. What movie(s) do you know all the lines to by heart? I can quote bits of films but probably not the whole film

40. Would you date someone you met on here? idk like I prefer this as a more anonymous space to share things and rant about people who actually know me. If I'm doing this right no-one I meet on here should figure out who I am :) But yes I'd date y'all cause you're all wonderful peoples

41. Would you rather be too hot or too cold? Too cold, it's Scotland you know?

42. Would you date yourself? I dont think I could put up with my own shit. And if it was like really my personality in a female form we'd be far too fucking shy to speak to each other.

43. Apple or Android? Android, Apple is a cult

44. What is the first song that you can remember learning the lyrics to? Daydream Believer for my aunties wedding

45. What are 3 of your favorite Michael Jackson songs? I genuinely do not like any of them but Alien Ant Farm covered Smooth Criminal if that counts?

46. Fill in the blanks: it’s not cheating if ___ ____ ____. you haven't actually kissed or slept with the other person and you're only sharing inappropriate messages on facebook and they've already said they're not a homewrecker... sorry, too specific?

47. Could you put your dreams on hold to support your bf/gf pursuing theirs? my dreams have been crushed so it would depend on what theirs were

48. What’s is the title to your autobiography? The Life And Times Of A Fucknut

49. Is there someone you’re trying not to call or text right now? YES! SO MUCH. I want to message her all the time but she hasn't messaged me and i dont want to appear desperate even though I am so I'm not gonna message first although I check every 5mins if shes messaged me

50. What is your favorite emoji or emoji combination? :P or ;)

51. Do you have any deal breakers in relationships? cheating lol.

52. Are you Tre or Doughboy? I had no idea so I googled it and Wikipedia says "Tre is highly intelligent but has a volatile temper and lacks respect" which is so me :) Idk who doughboy is lol

53. Favorite movie? Don't really have one tbh. I have too many I want to watch to bother re-watching something i've seen.

54. How long do you talk to someone before you expect a relationship? when you talk to someone its the start of a relationship in the loosest sense of the word because friendship is still the relationship between two people

55. Ruin a first date in 5 words or less. repeat questions would ruin a date cause it proves you're not listening

56. How old are you and how old do you feel? I'm 29 but I feel the same as i always have

57. Tag your favorite tumblr blog. @evilsupplyco

58. Your house is burning down and your family is safe what is the one material item you’d grab? my phone'd already be in my pocket so laptop?

59. How long until you introduce your bf/gf to your family? theyve met

60. Fill in the blank: All you need in this life of sin is you and your ____. Nope. All you need in this life of sin is you. No and your anything

61. Kobe, Jordan, or Lebron? neither

62. What is your favorite Drake lyric? I hate everything he has ever said

63. Where did you meet the last person you fell in love with? I don't fall in love, I believe I only fall in lust/infatuation/obsession.

64. Do you know your love language? I joined a shitty website to find the answer. Apparently it's physical touch and then words of affirmation.

65. Take a Myers Briggs Personality Test: what are your results? No. I fail at these. The questions are never things that i would do so i feel like im unintentionally lying and it never sounds like me

66. How do you feel about Quentin Taurentino films? Violence and blood what could be better?

67. Fill in the blank: Get you someone who will ______. _worship you as the amazing and beautiful bad ass bitch that you are <-- actual drunken advice from me

68. What’s your favorite movie soundtrack? Spiderman 2 i actually had the album

69. What’s your favorite fragrance on the opposite sex? i dont care what they smell like as long as its not fags

70. Is there any magazine, blog, or publication you read weekly? Nope

71. Will you abstain from sex or go to marriage counseling? Why are these my only options? But I'm not going to counselling, if they have issues then they should just tell me :)

72. There’s two kinds of people in the world: Those who pour ketchup on their fries, and the ones who put it on the side to dip. Which one are you? The one who doesn't order ketchup at all.

73. Rough sex or slow sex? Both. Either. Any lol

73. Have you ever slept with a stranger? Nope. Not that I have anything against it I've just never had the opportunity

74. What’s your dream music collaboration? Produced by who (Dead or Alive)? idk but probably produced by rick rubin cause that guy does eeeeeverything lol

75.  What song will you probably conceive your kids to? Music would just be a distraction

76. Do you have a scripture or quote you live by? Nope

77. Finish this sentence: If men had birth control _____. itd be free

78. How long should sex last? As long as both partners need

79. What music do you listen to when you de-stress? Just whatevers next on the playlist

80. How soon should you text someone after getting their number? The next time you want to tell them something but they arent there beside you?

81. How do you feel about the 80/20 rule? Living in lol but its more like erm 20/80?

82. Is sex a determinate in a relationship? Yeah. Why would you get with someone if you're not at least somewhat attracted to them?

83. Is it wrong to move in with someone or “shack up” before marriage? Nope

81. Send me a never have I ever. Never have I ever enjoyed beer

82. What is your favorite video game of all time? Spyro The Dragon

83. Who is your favorite book/movie character? "SQUEAK" said the Death Of Rats

84. Can you define love as best as you can? Nope

85. Does size matter? I hope not, women like taller guys lol.

86. What is your favorite thing about the person you like? Physically? Personality? idk

87. Five Year plan? Go! Don't get fired, save money, get an actual house, buy stuff off my list?

88. If someone wanted to really understand you, what would they read, watch, and listen to? idk i dont understand me so why you asking me?

89. Do you think of yourself as a human being or a human doing? Do you identify yourself by the things you do? I don't tend to think of myself at all really... and why would I identify myself?

90. What does emotionally available mean to you? Someone who is not emotionally closed off?

91. Could you go into business with your ex? Hahahahahahahah no

92. What is the last song you sang aloud? I'd Rather Drown ineverletpeopleinandihaveyoutoremindmewhy

93. If someone liked you right now, would you want them to tell you? They do. They told me. It sucks cause it changes nothing except igniting that small bit of hope id given up on...

94. How do you prefer to obtain your music Streaming, Downloads, or Physical? Physical albums for artists I like, even though it just goes straight into the laptop anyway i still like having albums

95. Name an artist you like that your friends probably don’t listen to. What friends? But erm Archangels Revenge. I doubt the ex members listen to them as much as I do lol

96. Tag someone that’s probably her baby father. this makes no sense?

97. Post a selfie you really like. nope

98. Do you watch anime? What is your favorite? Death Note or The Melancholy of Haruhi Suzumiya so far, but ive got a lot on my list

99. What’s the zodiac sign of the last person you dated? Aquarius

100. Do you know Jesus as your personal Lord and Savior? I know that he is not either.

[were-cheetah-stiles]

The College Years - Sophomore Year (Chapter 29) - Stiles Stilinski

Author: @were-cheetah-stiles​

Title: “The Babylonian Allegory”

Characters: Stiles Stilinski & Reader/OFC

Summary: Y/n and Stiles begin figuring out more about their new foe, and what brought it to Beacon Hills.

Chapter Twenty-Eight - Chapter Twenty-Nine - Chapter Thirty

Stiles woke as his nurse came in for pre-dinner rounds to check his vitals. He glanced down and saw his y/h/c haired girlfriend asleep on top of her notebooks on the edge of his bed. He motioned down to his nurse to pass him her laptop, and he tried to open it and adjust it in a way that was not painful for it to rest on his lap. He was researching for about an hour when she finally roused from her nap.

"I drooled on my notebook." You said groggily as you dragged your hand across your face and lifted your head. Stiles laughed and picked up your notebook, wiping it across the blanket on the bed. "How long have I been asleep for?" You asked.

"I don't know, but I've been up for about an hour so.."

"Did you find anything?" You asked, looking at your computer and books, wondering how he managed to get them from under you while you slept.

"Not much since everything is in an ancient language that I can't read, but... uh... let me see your notebook?" You handed Stiles your Ancient Mesopotamia notebook, opened to the page about the rabisu. "You wrote 'salt repels'... like, salt is their version of mountain ash?"

"Yea, I guess.. I can call Scott and tell him to salt people's doors along with painting the lamassus. Maybe rock-salt bullets for your Dad and the other deputies?" You spoke hoarsely as you regained full consciousness from your deep sleep.

"But like... any salt? Like, is kosher salt gonna do the trick?" Stiles asked.

"Shit... I don't know. Probably not, considering the Ancient Mesopotamian civilization came well before the Jews did, so Kosher salt would make no sense." You explained through a yawn.

"I love that you know more about antiquity when you’re half asleep then I’ll ever know even if I stayed awake studying for weeks.” Stiles rubbed his hand against your arm, and you smiled sleepily at his compliment. “What would make sense then?" Stiles directed the conversation back to the salt and your notebook, prodding you for more information.

"Okay, uh, Mesopotamia is the Fertile Crescent.. so like modern day Iraq, Iran, Syria, Jordan, Lebanon, Israel.. that area... and they all got their salt from like...” You stalled, snapping your fingers in the air trying to recall what you had learned in class about trade around the Middle East during the Bronze Age. “Oh shit, does it say in my notebook? I know we covered the trade of salt as a commodity in class." Stiles began flipping through your notes, as you got up to pace while you thought out loud. "NO I REMEMBER!" You shouted. "It came from the sea, so like the Mediterranean or the Persian Gulf."

"So probably pure, unoxidized sea salt?" Stiles asked. You nodded and began composing a text message to Scott. Stiles continued flipping through your notes. "You scribbled something in the margin, what does that say?"

You hit send on your text to Scott and walked over to the bed to lean over Stiles' shoulder. "Umm... summoned? I think, maybe. I don't remember why I wrote that though. I don't usually write that messy, so it must've been an afterthought or something he mentioned before class ended or something."

"Do they need to be summoned? Is this another kanima thing, because that really sucked." Stiles thought back unhappily to the time when Jackson terrorized Beacon Hills as a kanima.

"I don't know, google it." You watched as Stiles typed away on your computer, contorting his face in frustration as his search came up fruitless.

"There is nothing about this thing... how is there nothing?! If there's nothing, then how can someone summon it?" Stiles asked, aggravated.

"There's probably something in a book about Ancient Babylon or something that's not on the internet. Here, give me my computer, I'm gonna email my professor and ask him. I think he has videos of his lectures, and we can see what he said instead of just reading my notes." You began typing on your computer.

Stiles jiggled his foot lightly for about thirty seconds and then looked up at you. "Has he answered you yet?" Stiles asked, trying to lean in to peek at your computer.

"....I haven't even sent the email yet, Stiles." You smiled and shook your head, quietly laughing to yourself over how absurd and impatient your boyfriend could be.

Stiles sat in bed, flipping through your books and trying to scratch under his cast with your pen. "Anything? Anything at all?" He asked as he bit at his thumbnail.

"OH MY GOD. No. I've been sitting here hitting refresh for like twenty minutes and there is.... his reply. Thank god." You replied.

Stiles ripped the laptop from in front of you and you threw your hands up in exasperation. "It's loading, it's loading..... why won't this file load faster?!" Stiles tapped his finger against the area next to your trackpad on your MacBook Pro; impatient and fidgety. He just wanted to crack this case before you left him to go out and enchant all of the lamassu's that the Pack were going to paint around town that night. 

The video file loaded and Stiles hit play. "Is... is that what Professor Simon looks like? He's handsome... like, really handsome... is this why you loved his class so much?" You stared at Stiles with your eyes wide open, and an 'are you kidding me?' look on your face. "No... nope, of course that's not why you took his class... I'm just gonna shut up now."

"We have got to get you out of this hospital soon because you are totally losing it." You said as you shook your head at him, and reached over to your computer to turn up the volume.

"The Rabisu have to be summoned though. However, and unfortunately for those who didn't know, they were known to generally turn on their master, which became their first kill. The most famous account of this comes from one of the nine clay tablets that describe the myth of the Rabisu. In the story, a royal scribe had fallen in love with a Babylonian princess, but because of his commoner status, he could not marry her. The scribe summoned the rabisu to kill the King and the princess' suitor so that he could be with her. But the rabisu turned on the scribe, killing him brutally, and getting a taste of bloodlust, it went on to kill the entire royal family, including the princess... Now really, this is all just an allegory about the frustrations over the lack of social mobility in the Babylonian Emp-.... Yes, you have a question, Sam?" Professor Simon called on a student off camera in the video playing on your computer.

"Dr. Simon, did the tablet say anything about how they stopped the rabisu, or did it just stop after killing the royal family?" The student asked.

"Yea, so the tablet does go on to explain that a priest from the temple came up with a ritual and a spell that killed the creature, and that then the rabisu disappeared into a cloud of firey ash, never to be seen again.... until the next idiot summoned it, I'm sure. Which actually is a good segue into our next topic in Mesopotamian mythology: spells and incantations and the procedures of the temple."

Stiles hit the space bar on your computer, pausing the video, and looked up at you. "So someone did summon these things... who the fuck would do that?.... holy shit... Did Isaac bring over the stuff from the murder board?" Stiles asked you, frantically looking around his hospital bed.

"Um, no, he just brought my books and laptop, why?"

"It doesn't matter, I have my Dad's login information for the Sheriff's database." Stiles said as he began typing slowly on the computer. He scrolled through the case files in the database. "Oh come on, where is it... where is it.... Yes, this one." Stiles flooded your computer screen with crime scene photos of the man that the Sheriff's department had found in his home dead because his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

"Oh, well that's graphic..." You said, pinching the bridge of your nose and wincing at the images on your laptop.

"There was something that was bothering me about this. That's why I left it on the murder board. Parrish said that all of his wounds were the same as the other victims, except that this guy had his heart ripped out."

"And he was found inside..." You reminded Stiles.

"Does that matter though if he's the one that summoned them? If I was summoning ancient evil demons to kill people, I wouldn't do it in my backyard where people could see and hear me, I would do it in the privacy of my own home." Stiles stared up at you, trying to convince you that he was right.

"Does the report say why they found the body? Did the neighbors report a smell or something?" You asked.

Stiles scrolled, reading the report quickly. "No, his parents came home from vacation in Europe and found him...." Stiles sighed and pursed his lips.

"Who was it?" You asked.

Stiles scrolled back up to the top of the report and read the victims name. His face went white. "Oh my god... I know this kid..."

28 <- -> 30

@alexhmak @dontstopxx @iloveteenwolf24 @chivesoup @vampirepinary @parislight @surpeme-bean @snek-shit @mayahart02 @fuxkdean @teenage-dirtbagbaby @sorrynotsorrylovesome @dylrider @iknowisoundcrazy @l4life @ivette29 @5secsxofamnesia @lovelydob @vogue-sweetie @awkwarddly @therealmrshale @twentyone-souls @xmadwonderland @mrs-mitch-rapp93 @inkedaztec @sunshineystilinski @eccentricxem @lightbreaksthrough @ninja-stiles @maddie110201 @hattyohatt @stilinski-stydia-obrien @amethystmerm4id @completebandgeek @rhyxn @teamwolf2411 @acc3ssdenied @girlwiththerubyslippers @theneverendingracetrack @the-vampire-diaries-all-the-way @im-very-odd33 @vmach29 @sokkasbae255 @hirafth @caitsymichelle13 @dailyburritos @lolaversuslipstick @mieczzyslaw @atlas-of-the-world @anonimereader06 @bunnyboo10154 @itsamberh @hypothetical-cynicism @sp00der-m00n @molesandmischief

[wannawrite]

Neighbour In Danger

MXM's / Produce 101's Im Youngmin X Reader 

TW: mentions of alcohol, smoking, violence, sexual harassment 

Word count: 1868

• You're walking back down a shady ass lane after school 

• it's hella creepy so something's bound to happen 

• neighbour! Youngmin ( saves the day ) says hi  

• ft. created character Jessica 

⚠️ ATTENTION ⚠️ 

YOUNGMIN HAS DEBUTED WITH DONGHYUN AS MXM ( alpaca and buffalo ) AND I AM LIVING THANK YOU 

thank you for requesting this anon, hope you like it :))) sorry it took SO INCREDIBLY LONG I SHOULD QUIT 

Fun fact: my school actually has night study sessions 

________ 

You groaned, rubbing your temples and slammed your mathematics textbook shut, the sudden thud cut through the graveyard like silence in the library yet every student was too focussed on their material to even flinch at the noise. 

You glanced at the clock. 

10.12 pm. 

You should have started to head back home about an hour ago, as your house was pretty far away from your college but of course, you were too engrossed in your notes and hadn't realised how fast time had flown by. It had been an exhausting Friday at school, the last thing you wanted was to stay any later for night study. 

Your best friend, Jessica, who you had come to the night study session with, barely noticed when you stood up and pushed you chair in. Of course, you could wait for her to wrap up and take a taxi home together but she lived within walking distance... it was late and dangerous for anyone out though. 

"Jess, let's go. It's so late already," you hissed, tapping on her shoulder. 

She nodded, packing up her books and stationery. You bid the sleeping librarian goodbye and ventured out into the night. It was weird to see campus which was usually bustling with life deserted like a ghost town. 

"There's no way we can get a taxi at this hour, school's too inconvenient. We have to walk out and I might as well just walk home," Jess said, half asleep.

"Do you want me to walk you home? Are you okay?" You offered. 

"No, no. Thanks but you stay really far away and I don't want to detour you any further. Walk out. Grab a taxi, go home," Jessica insisted, declining your offer.

She had a point, a good one at that. 

So, you hugged her goodbye and made sure she was safely across the street until you flagged a taxi and began your journey home. It was so dark in that part of town it made you shudder, at least around campus was better lit but this estate is more rundown than the one I live in, you thought. 

I hope my parents have gone to sleep already, waiting for me would be too late.

"Oh my god!" You yelped as the taxi ran over something, after that, something felt amiss. "Uhm..." 

"Sorry miss, I think it's a flat tire. This is how far I can bring you. My apologies, I hope you get home safely," the driver apologised as you paid him for the ride.

"It's okay, accidents happen. Goodnight, be safe," you replied despite the displeasure of walking the remaining journey home. You knew there was a stretch of famous bars before your house, it was pretty freaky at night and you hated to even look at it, much less walk pass. 

Whatever, I'll just ignore them and have the police on speed dial. 

When you stuffed your hand into your pocket, you discovered you had forgotten to bring along your ear pieces. Now you had to just put up with the horrible and loud music playing from the clubs.  

Is today just a series of unfortunate events? 

Slowly but steadily, you stumbled along the street that lead to your house. To your delight, it did get more brightly lit as you ventured closer towards the more developed housing estate but you knew what was coming up soon. Maybe I should have just crashed at Jessica's penthouse...... 

... 

You shivered but not because of the cold gust of wind that blew by. Your ears could already pick up the sound of shitty music in a near region. To make matters worse, it was a Friday night. To clubbers, the night was still young and you knew more people would be arriving to party. 

The stretch approached, it was just across from where you hid, behind a large tree. You hoped you could avoid it. 

Should I call my dad to come and get me?....No! No! He's probably sleeping after working so hard... or he's still in the hospital working. 

You shook your head free of unreasonable ideas and inhaled a deep breath. "Okay, Y/N. You can do this, there's nothing to be afraid of," you told yourself then poked your head round to check. 

Ew, there were people smoking outside. 

Not that you had anything against it or them, you just hated the smell of smoke. Tentatively, you took a small step but quickened your pace as you passed club after club, bar after bar. You tuned out to the wolf whistles, cat calls and shouts, trying to attract your attention. 

"Hey! You! School girl!" ( that kink can fcking die already )

"Someone's got cake!" 

"Join us!" 

You forced yourself to look away and continued walking, jogging almost. 

"Hey! Come back!" 

"Don't ignore us!" 

You could feel the anxiety and fear bubbling inside of you. The second you heard a beer bottle smash on the ground and fast footsteps approaching, you tore off down the road. 

... 

Thud. Thud. Thud. 

You weren't sure if that was the sound of your heart or the sound of footsteps pounding on the pavement. Beads of perspiration trickled down the side of your face but you didn't even stop to wipe it off, all you could concentrate on was making a break from those weird guys. 

But of course, you were beyond dead-tired and your heavy bag and books weighed you down tremendously. There was no way you could outrun them... but you had to try. The ground was bumpy and made it hard for you to get a stable grip, your ankles throbbed from all the exertion. The tears which had welled up in your eyes because of your fear started to drip down your cheeks when you felt your legs buckling in, worn out. 

"Aww, she's crying." One of them said, slime dripping from his words. Another yanked you up by your hair, causing you to scream. "She's a loud one. Let's see how loud she can really be tonight." 

"Don't touch me!" You shouted, kicking but it was useless, they were just too strong for you. Their chortles disgusted you to no end and you wanted it to all end but there was only one ending to situations like these. You felt fury, not fear rise in your chest. You opened your mouth to retaliate but someone cut you off.

"Hey!"

There wasn't time for the first dude to react, he was on the floor, knocked out cold with his nose bleeding profusely in seconds. 

Your eyes shot up to the person who had punched him but it became a blur after that. Managing to wrangle free from the other man's grasp, you escaped to a safer corner while a knight dressed in a black hoodie and black jeans battled with the other two sickos. He seemed to be really young, you got a glimpse of his face. 

Wait, wasn't that Im Youngmin? My new neighbour? He had briefly introduced himself a few weeks ago. 

You couldn't be sure but at least you had a suspect. 

Wow, he's so strong...and handsome. Shut up! This isn't time for you to be thinking about that! 

You blushed at the memory of you watching Youngmin watering his plants shirtless early in the morning as you were doing some morning stretches. 

Y/N, no! 

You gasped when Youngmin didn't notice the other man come up from behind with a glass shard, he was too busy fighting the other one off. 

Instead of yelling 'look out' helplessly, you grabbed your 10cm thick, hard cover with 400 pages of text mathematics textbook and ran forward. There was an advantage from a back attack, using all your might, you brought the book down on the man's head, before he could spin round, you hit him again with the book and he collapsed on the ground, writhing in both shock and pain. 

Hmm, I suppose math textbooks are now important. 

Youngmin managed to subdue the other guy, he didn't take a second glance but grabbed your arm and together, raced down the street. 

...

"Wow, Miss Y/N. I didn't know you were such a badass," he finally broke the silence. 

Playing along, you scoffed, "That's my neighbourhood you moved into, kid. You don't know anything." But despite your brave exterior, you were still badly shaken from the incident, your clammy palms was a dead giveaway. 

"Hey, you okay?" Youngmin asked in a soft, comforting tone. He even stopped in front to look you in the eye. Cautiously, as if not to spook you, he placed his hands on your shoulders to steady you. 

Your breath caught at the sudden close proximity but Youngmin didn't seem affected by it so you tried to control yourself. "I-i'm fine...thanks." 

"You sure? That was... a really rough incident you had," he asked again. 

You nodded, unable to manage uttering words, at least intelligibly. 

"Why were you out so late?" 

"I could ask the same for you." 

"Ahh, there she is. The infamous little chilli padi I hear about from my neighbours. Well, Donghyun wanted to watch a movie but we realised we had like zero snacks so he sent me out on a convenience store run," he revealed without hesitation. 

Donghyun? Another other attractive boy?

But you couldn't lie and say that you weren't more attracted to Youngmin, especially after he had saved you. "College night study session," you answered, looking down at your feet as you continued walking. 

"Ahh! It must be finals season. Well, all the best, study hard." 

"T-thank you," you whispered, face reddening. 

"Aww! You're so cute!" Youngmin complimented, his eyes twinkling brightly. 

You were grateful you arrived at your gate, unable to tolerate anymore of the handsome boy who had rescued you. "Uhm, thanks...really...f-for w-what happened just now," you stammered out, ashamed. 

Youngmin adopted a more sincere tone and posture. "Hey, don't worry about it. Please take care of yourself, okay? Don't be too shaken by it, I know it's scary and traumatic but I'm right across the street. I'll come when you call me. Please do. Okay?" 

Giggling, you agreed, at least it helped you banish whatever had just happened from your mind for now. "How about I come over tomorrow?" You boldly suggested. 

Youngmin clapped. "Wow. A pretty girl wants to come over to my house. How can I say no?" He smiled at you. "Sure, I can introduce you to Donghyun. I think he'll love you....Well, goodnight Y/N....Oh! Let’s go to the police station tomorrow, I’m not going to let those bastards off.” He waved goodbye and blew a kiss. 

You pretended to catch it, "Goodnight, don't dream of me too much." 

You knew Youngmin was watching to make sure you entered your house safely. Tonight had been wild, it was scary and something you would never forget. At least Youngmin was there to help. You settled onto your bed, sighing, cheeks blushing bright pink. You could see from your window that Youngmin was opening the gate to his own house, he had got home safely too. 

That made you feel more assured that your new crush friend was safe.