#god I should’ve asked the photographer to just let me take my own photo

[renee-mariposa]

So my workplace had us come in for picture day - to get ‘professional headshots’ since we are, in fact, professionals - and we got the official photos today. On picture day, I felt like a million bucks. I was so happy with how I looked.

But the photo turned out TERRIBLE. Godawful. I genuinely cannot understand how I look so effing bad in this photo. There’s two options: 1. They fucked up the photo in photoshop (they had to edit out the flash reflection in my glasses so I know they edited it) 2. I just look terrible all the time 😭

I’m laughing as I type this but I’m genuinely upset about it

[ptergwen]

through the lens

w/c: 2.3k

warnings: swearing and mentions of blood (all fluff tho!)

summary: yours and peter’s date night doesn’t go as planned, thanks to his “little” accident and mj’s photography project

a/n: it’s been a minute but i’m back! for now lol i promise i’ll be way more active when exam season is over <3 this was based off the lovely pic above taken by the even lovelier zendaya and i hope you enjoy these… let’s call it random workings of my mind

-

“hang on, can you come closer?” mj instructs you, you promptly stepping towards her. “is this good?” “great,” she affirms and squints behind the camera. “smile really big on the count of three, okay? one, two, three!” doing as she says, you give mj your cheesiest grin with your eyes squeezed shut and all. she snickers while snapping the moment on her polaroid.

mj asked you to be her subject for a photography project. you’re happy to do it, although it’s super last minute. like, barging-into-your-room-and-begging-you-for-help last minute. she was supposed to turn this in days ago. lucky for mj, her teacher was feeling generous and gave her an extension.

you have to work fast because of mj’s deadline and your plans with peter. he’s coming over for a movie marathon and cuddles right about now. well, he’s actually running a tad bit late. that’s typical peter for you.

“just a couple more, and then you’re free,” mj informs you while shaking out the polaroid. “this is honestly pretty fun, you know.” you glance at the photo she’s holding with an eyebrow quirked in surprise. she captures you well. “what made you choose me?” “no one else was free on a saturday,” she snorts and tosses the picture in a pile with the rest.

your mouth falls agape. “i’m not free! peter’s gonna be here in…” you check the time on your phone, much to your dismay. “he’s a few minutes late, but still. i have things to do, too.” a smirk sets on mj’s face as she gets ready for the next photograph. “relax, y/n/n. i was kidding. i’m sure spider-dweeb will be here sooner than you know it.” sighing lightheartedly, you take a seat on your bed.

“don’t call him that,” you shake your head. mj throws her own head back to the ceiling. “ugh, but that was a good one,” she insists, you only humming. “it’s better than penis parker, at least.” “nah, i like the alliteration,” you laugh out and earn a giggle from mj. “you’re lucky parker doesn’t have super hearing, or does he?” winking, you hit a pose for mj. you’re looking at her over your shoulder with smolder eyes.

“ask him yourself, after you get this shot.”

the two of you continue messing around with her polaroid until the film is almost gone, and peter has yet to arrive. you’re starting to worry. you aren’t sure where he could be.

he doesn’t patrol on weekends unless it’s an emergency, and he would’ve told you if there was one already. he’s never this late without sending a text, either. it’s almost an hour past when date night should’ve started. on the other occasions peter has gone off the grid, they didn’t end well.

“i’m freaking out, em. do you think he’s in some kind of trouble?” you ask mj, pacing around your bedroom. she offers a sympathetic shrug. “maybe he just ate some bad yogurt. remember last time?” being the dummy he is, peter once scarfed down an entire tub of vanilla yogurt before he realized it was expired. no one heard from him for days. he didn’t show up to school or answer any calls.

may ended up inviting you over and explaining he’d gotten a stomach bug, which you then tended to him for the rest of. the story was so amusing, and so peter.

“may doesn’t buy him dairy anymore. why do you think he always raids your freezer?” you bring your fingers up to rub your temples. “the kid can empty ice cream cartons in one bite,” she agrees, silently cringing. her curiosity piques at the fact. “is that also a power?” “who cares?” you nearly shout, your fingers curling into fists. “what i wanna know is if peter is fucking okay.”

on cue, there’s a knock at your apartment door. you and mj exchange looks of urgency, both rushing out of your room to answer.

mj follows you through the hall and stands by your side while you fumble with the lock. when your door pulls open, ned has his hand raised to knock again. “ned? what are you doing here?” you don’t give him the chance to speak. “have you heard from peter? he was supposed to be here a while ago, but he never showed.” rather than answering in words, ned takes a step aside.

the sight you’re met with makes you gasp. peter peeks out from behind him, cuts and bruises littering his flushed face. he gives you a lopsided smile.

“you have your answer,” mj murmurs to you and eyes ned curiously. he lets out a nervous chuckle. “here he is.” you push past ned and practically jump into peter’s arms, your hug bone-crushing. “peter, oh my god! are you okay?” wincing, peter hugs you back by your waist. his chin rests carefully on your head.

“hey… i’m alright, baby. still pretty sore, though,” he sucks his lower lip between his teeth. you take the hint to loosen your grip on him. “i was worried something bad might’ve happened to you. i… i guess i was right.” your tone softens, you threading a hand in his curls. they’re completely disheveled from whatever went down with him.

ned heads inside to catch up with mj, the two of them letting you have a moment alone.

“someone’s got a spidey sense of their own, huh?” peter tries to lighten the mood by joking. it doesn’t work, a frown still evident on your face as you try to untangle his once soft locks. “baby, everything’s fine. i just… had a little accident is all. no big deal,” he reassures you and moves in to peck your lips. you’re so shocked that you dodge the kiss.

“little? your whole face is black and blue, pete!” you tug on the white collar of his button up, peter letting out a shaky breath. your other hand comes to rest on his cheek, touch gentle. “how’d you get like this?” he licks across his lips shyly and sets his hands on your hips. “see, on the way over there were these bad guys who-“

“no there weren’t,” ned cuts in, scoffing at the beginning of his friend’s story. peter shoots him a warning look over your head. “yes there were, ned. you weren’t even there!” he catches mj glaring at him before he continues. “don’t listen to him. anyway, i had to fight them because…” when he trails off, you stroke your thumb across his cheek, avoiding any wounds in the way. raising both eyebrows, mj speaks up.

“because why? go on, parker. i’m intrigued,” she encourages him. everyone can tell peter is lying except you. the question really is, what’s he lying about? he gulps down his spit, pulling your body against his for comfort. “take your time, peter. we can wait,” you say only for him to hear. his love filled eyes meet yours, and he nods. ned huffs at the dramatics unfolding before him.

“dude, you’re making this way worse than it actually is. just tell her!” he demands, mj cocking her head to the side. peter’s gaze flits between the two of them. “tell me what?” you wonder softly and tilt his chin, willing him to look at you again. “i… i…” peter’s shoulders slump, his voice lowering in defeat. “there weren’t any bad guys.”

“of course there weren’t,” ned confirms. “no shit,” mj adds. exhaling, you wait for your boyfriend to further elaborate. “what really happened, then? be honest, pete.” peter lets go of you so he can come into your apartment properly, you shutting the door behind him. he scratches the back of his neck as he fills you in. “ok. um, me and ned were hanging out.”

ned is attempting to stifle a laugh for some reason, which mj elbows him for. you take one of peter’s hands. “yeah?” “we were at my place, and… you know those really slippery steps on the sixth floor?” peter pauses for someone to answer, playing with your fingers. “the ones flash almost wiped out on once?” mj questions in amusement. he lets a quiet chuckle out. “good times. yeah, those.”

his gaze averts to the ground, you listening on. “so, i was walking ned out on my way over. we were talking about spidey stuff-“ “as per usual,” mj mumbles to herself. ned raises his hands in defense. “—and i told ned i could always stick my landings. he didn’t believe me.” you playfully roll your eyes, seeing where this is going. “so… i, uh, decided to show him,” peter finishes off.

“i did a, um, backflip. tripped and fell down the flight of stairs,” he finally admits to you, putting his other hand on top of your intertwined ones. “clearly, i was wrong.” his bloody face is now red from humiliation. “you didn’t trip, dude. you freaking summersaulted!” ned corrects him and bursts into laughter he’s been holding back. “idiots, both of you,” mj simply remarks.

“that’s it? why didn’t you just say that?” you almost laugh yourself. groaning, peter rests his forehead against yours. “because it’s embarrassing! i wanted you to think i’m a tough guy or whatever.” placing both hands on his cheeks this time, you nuzzle your nose against his. “you don’t have to be a tough guy to impress me, babes. you’re kind, smart, funny. makes up for you being such a klutz.”

peter cracks a grin, easily capturing your lips in the kiss he didn’t get to before. it doesn’t last long because mj gags and ned whistles at you. you’re both giggling when you pull apart, peter kissing the tip of your nose for good measure.

“you really mean that?” he checks, tucking back a strand of hair from your face. “of course. i have a thing for himbos,” you tease and poke at his bare chest. his eyes widen. “how about i get you some ice and you find our first movie?” you’re already off to the kitchen, beaming at peter. “date night’s still on?” he happily plops down on your couch, mj showing ned her pictures from earlier.

“as soon as those two get out of here,” you call loudly enough so ned and mj hear you. “yeah, yeah. we’re leaving,” mj deadpans, shoving the photos back into her portfolio. peter glances over at it curiously. “what’s that for?” “photography project,” she says and gets an idea. “i have some film left. y/n took up most of it… you losers want the rest?”

while mj coerces her way to a higher grade, you put some popcorn in the microwave for your movie marathon.

“well, i could use a new lockscreen. i’m in!” ned quickly concedes. him and mj both give peter hopeful looks. “i’m not!” he protests, squishing one of your pillows against his chest. “with my face looking like… this? forget about it.” mj walks over to him and places her portfolio on the coffee table. “what? those gashes are gnarly… in a good way, i mean,” she promises.

“painful, too,” peter murmurs. “y/n, hurry up with that ice!” mj demands, grabbing the polaroid camera from its string around her neck. you wave her off. “what i’m saying is, they’ll look sick in my portfolio.” mj forces a smile, ned looking at her weirdly. “uh, what’s the theme of your project again?” “freestyle, baby,” mj casually replies.

peter comes up with a condition that could persuade him. “if you say please, i might consider it,” he concludes, mj perking up. “please be in my project. pretty please?” she instantly requests, ned pursing his lips from behind her. peter rubs his chin. “y/n, what do you think? should i?” you pipe in from the kitchen. “yeah, so she’ll leave my house.”

“you heard the lady. i’ll do it,” peter gives in. all but squealing, mj gestures for ned to sit. “this’ll only take a few minutes. you guys are really saving my ass.” ned gets comfortable next to peter on the couch, who wants to see how far mj will really go. “aw, we are? i believe that calls for a…” ned catches on. “it comes after please…” mj picks up her camera with gritted teeth. “thank you, morons. say cheese!”

that’s the only warning peter and ned get before they’re blinded with the flash. ned does a toothy grin as he leans into peter’s side. peter musters up the best smile he can, hair a mess and cuts burning pink on his face. satisfied, mj snatches the photograph as it pops out.

“pleasure doing business with you two,” she states, you joining the three of them in the living room. you set the popcorn on the table and give peter his ice pack. he presses it to his cheek, kissing the back of your hand. “send me that!” ned reminds mj, helping himself to your bowl of popcorn. she salutes him.

“there’s my star. what do you say, y/n? wanna take one more really quick?” mj suggests, already holding up her polaroid. you take the other cushion next to peter, your head on his shoulder. “can peter be in it with me? since he’s in the modeling mood tonight.” he wraps an arm tightly around you. “let’s do it, sweetness.”

eagerly jumping in front of you two, mj crouches down to get a better angle. “on the count of three. one, two, three!” the camera clicks, and you surprise peter by laying a smooch on one of his cheeks. he’s holding the ice against his other, genuinely smiling for this picture. ned coos at you, mj showing off her work when it dries.

“how adorable,” she says sarcastically but means it. peter nods at her in appreciation, his lips brushing the side of your head. “what can i say, you’re a pro,” you compliment mj. “come on, em!” ned cheers through a mouthful of popcorn.

tonight was an unexpected and exciting mess, even if your date night did get crashed.

[previousloversandmuses]

Slow Burn - Prologue

Part I | masterlist

A/N: This is a “must read” precursor to the whole series. Please read it to know what the origin story is. 

Pairing: Y/N x Obi Wan Kenobi

Words: 2048

Warnings: None. Brief mentions of violence. Low self esteem.

I am always one to experience emotions at a heightened frequency. Dangerous for a Jedi in training I know, but the council never took it as a sign of caution, just a minor set back. Happiness is bright, and beaming, even painful. My cheeks hurt for days after, smile lines sculpting my skin too early in life. Anger is powerful, my skin becoming vicious, and hot. Ripping through me like a silver bullet, and tearing my already unrelenting gut apart. I am loud, I am violent, and most of all, passionate. I would later become grateful of this curse, turning it into a blessing. Sadness is so deep. Tears crash like an ocean, and my heart would ache in my chest. The physical symptoms of my despair become overwhelming, and make me sick.

A fresh eighteen myself, my graduation is only a year or so away. Compared to other padawans, ones that don’t deal with the same struggles as myself, have already been graced with knighthood. They make their masters proud, and have already completed more missions at sixteen than I think I ever will in my entire career. 

I had the choice to become independent, to take my morals by the throat, and shove them deep down inside me, never to be seen again- but it really just isn’t that easy. See, I’m taking this time for meditation, or even a “behavioral therapy” of sorts. I have meetings with other council members, more powerful, and more prominent than my own master, who is often off tending to matters elsewhere. A mighty general he is, but they see me as someone who would cause more of a distraction, so I stay here at the temple left to my own devices. Sometimes I think it may be because I’m a woman, and other times I just take a good look in the mirror and recall the outburst that has stained my face only minutes before. 

Today was like any other; wake up, meditate, exercise, study, combat training, study, try and find time to eat something, and study. I walked down the main hallway with Master Yoda. He spoke to me about how he once struggled with his emotions as well, but with enough meditation, learned how to keep them at bay. Looking down at him and his vacant expression, I was surprised he had ever even felt an emotion a day in his life. That was until seconds later…

Stopping in my tracks, my hand flew over my heart. I recalled feeling out of breath, like my heart had physically stopped beating in my chest, or at least was trying to catch up with the rest of my body. I was shaky, yet somehow managed to take a knee. Something was off, that feeling in my chest grew and grew until I was faced with the blackest black I had ever felt. The darkest emotion to ever run through my body, as cold as ice, and heart stopping. It was deep, I felt it within the darkest abyss in my soul. It wrapped around my insides and nestled itself a home deep within the most shielded corners of my subconscious. That’s when Master Yoda felt it too. His hand flying over his heart, and steadying himself on my own shoulder. His face morphed into a snarl, gasping at the sudden pain that now infected his unwavering calm aura. 

...

After a painstakingly slow recovery, I sat on the edge of my bed. My quarters were neat and tidy. My bed, usually made up in the morning, because I have always been one for a routine. My walls weren’t bare, in fact they were almost completely covered in photographs I have taken from my travels as a Padawan. I'd go to the library, and butcher borrowed books, clipping photos of different words, and alien fauna. But today, those bright colors capable of producing fantasies for hours and hours, seemed black and white. 

I had been staring at the floor for sometime, desperate in trying to heal the ache in my chest. It felt as if I had a cold, like the burn after a deep cough. I felt so tight, so tense, an actual living embodiment of rigor mortis. Yet, at the same time, I hardly felt all there. It was as if my existence was floating all around me, and my shell was sitting vacant on an uncomfortable mattress. The knock on my door was enough for me to engulf myself again. 

“Y/N, are you decent?” The voice asks. 

“Yes,” I reply, rolling my shoulders back. 

“The council has requested an audience. Please report downstairs within the next few minutes.”

I nod my head, as if whoever was behind the door could see me. 

“An audience,”  I think. “Let’s add another year to that training plan, shall we?”

...

Walking downstairs to the council room, I can’t help but feel that all eyes are on me. They cut through me like a hot knife, slicing me thin. I feel so vulnerable. Like everyone around me can feel what I feel, and if I’m being honest, they probably do. A good Jedi who is in tune with the force, and especially in tune with others, can sense an intense emotion from a mile away. I’m sure at this moment I pretty much equate to an open book. No reason to try and hide it, force knows I struggle with concealing even an inkling of agitation. 

Seeing the council room in sight, I take a deep breath. This is it. I’m done for. This reaction was way too over the top. I’ve scared people, I’ve scared Master Yoda. Might as well just turn in my saber now and call it a day.

I walk into the door. Only a few masters sit scattered around. Master Yoda of course perched dead center, Master Windu waiting patiently to his right. But my master was nowhere in sight. You’d think if they were going to terminate me, that maybe my own mentor would be among them? Shaking his head, sending me glares that one could only compare to fucking daggers. He was tough on me for sure, maybe he was too ashamed of what I’d done to even bear to see me in this moment. 

“Coming here so quickly you did,” Starts Master Yoda. “Grateful we all are.”

I smile and bow my head. 

“Y/N,” Master Windu starts. “We’re here to discuss the events that happened earlier.” 

Oh god here it comes. This is it. I’m totally done for. I can’t even keep myself calm now. My face, getting hotter and more red by the second, is going to be the biggest tell. At least let me go out with some dignity. 

“Your reaction, what you felt at least, was not just brought on out of the blue. Master Yoda had the same experience, as did all of us on the council, and most Jedi and padawans in the temple.”

“I don’t understand.” I say. 

“At around 1 Coruscant time, an enemy bomb was detonated on Nal Hutta.”

Then it hit me. My heart sinking, I began to shake my head. 

“Unfortunately, Unit 505, and Master Cato were all killed on impact.”

My ears ring. Slowly, I move over to a chair, bracing myself. 

“That’s,” I start, trying to find the words to say. “He would’ve felt it, all of them would, I don’t understand.”

“We have a feeling it was planted by a Sith. That’s the only way it would’ve clouded any judgement.”

I slump into it, my vision going black, my head spinning. 

Master Cato has been with me since I was a very little girl. Although rough, tough, and brutally honest, he has done nothing but be a father to me time and time again. Everything I do is a reflection of him. He had been so busy at war, fighting day in and day out, I caught myself missing the commands, and demands I once so passionately despised. I took our whole relationship for granted, and now, is this the price I have to pay? The last time we spoke he told me how disappointed he was in my outburst in my Alien Fauna lab. I was being stubborn, I was bratty, and rolled my eyes. We had argued that entire call. He didn’t even attempt to say goodbye. Now, for an eternity, I will have to face the catastrophic guilt of my actions. Live with the fact that I never, ever told him how much I appreciated him. And even, how much I loved him so. The closest thing to family in my life, gone, in the snap of a finger. 

Both Master Yoda and Master Windu continued to talk but it all felt like empty words. I couldn’t hear them anyway. 

“Although this situation isn't ideal, we and the rest of the council applaud you for being able to feel something most of us haven’t been able to experience yet.” Claimed Master Windu.

I don’t listen. I stand up again. 

“What am I going to do? I don’t feel comfortable with being knighted yet. I had- we were working on so many things I-,” I stumbled on my words. 

“You’ll get placed with a new master.”

“There are no new masters. And even if I had been trained a certain way, I don’t know how to learn otherwise.” 

There is silence. 

“The force works in mysterious ways. Meant to happen, I feel.” 

I scoff. “Meant to happen,” what an evil thing to say.

I begin to walk off, stopping of course, only to get in the last word. 

“Not only have you told me that my master has been killed, but you lack any empathy. There is no emotion in your eyes. Nothing.”

“We mourn your master y/n, just as much as you do. You know what we stand for. You know our view on attachments.”

“He's like-,” I choke. “He was like my father.”

I can’t even begin to explain the pain I feel. Disgust in myself, I should’ve been better. I could’ve been better. The last few years of our relationship I’ve just been behaving poorly and rebelling, and then getting angry at him when he made me face the consequences. Like I wasn’t aware of the job I was made to do. I should’ve been nicer, I could’ve been nicer. It’s all going in a circle, all the things I should’ve done just morphed into things I couldn’t do. Maybe I was too emotional. Maybe my tears that fell leading up to this moment was all part of the plan, the final kicker to show that I wasn’t apathetic enough for this job. My empathy, my burning passion will always be my biggest flaw. This hole that gapes inside of me will never be filled, and now it grows bigger. It’s like a disease. Am I enough? Will I ever be enough?

“Put you with Master Kenobi, we will.” States Master Yoda. 

Master Windu is quick in turning his head. He glares at him. 

“Master Yoda, General Kenobi has just finished his training with Anakin. It is far too early to give him a new Padawan, if at all.”

Yoda nods, almost giggling. 

“Yet so freshly knighted, a Padawan Anakin already has. Obi Wan will have no problem with taking on a student. Graduates soon, she will.”

“But General Kenobi and I have two completely different methods of combat, let alone ideals.” I scoff. 

“All Jedi have the same ideals.” Adds Windu. 

“He is a Jedi guardian, I am a Jedi sentinel-“

“Train with General Kenobi you will. Not long ago he also lost his master too soon.”

Master Yoda nods to me. He stands up and walks over to the large windows behind him. Looking out over Coruscant, he takes a deep sigh of relief. 

“Master Windu,” says Yoda. “Get in contact with the 212th battalion.” 

I watch on as my fate now rests in a stranger's hands.

[whorecruxriddles]

Baby Black always greets Walburga’s portrait when she passes/stays at Grimmauld Place. Like yeah she’s a HUGE JERK but that’s also her nana so? Might as well? Usually it’s sarcastic like “Well hello to you TOO madam” but the day Walburga starts coming at BB talking about how Regulus would be ashamed (of both her existence as a half blood & the way she turned out) that’s the day she hexes the painting to click like a chicken for a week & storms off to her room.

BABY BLACK I CANNOTTTT

-

You weren’t sure exactly how you’d managed to hex that god awful painting. One minute, you’d been trying to think of an insult to throw back at your grandmother and the next, her oily nose had grown into a long, yellow chicken beak and she was clucking hysterically.

It should’ve been funny. If you’d hung around to admire your work, you would’ve been commended by Fred and George or earned a chuckle from Lupin. But you didn’t. Instead, you stormed up to your room, slamming the door behind you.

Well, not your room. Your father’s room.

Your father who would have hated you.

On some level, you knew that your grandmother was spewing a load of shit. She was already off her rocker and the sudden return of her estranged son and all his mudblood loving little friends, including a werewolf, were very trying on the old brush strokes. But still, you couldn’t help but wonder if...she was right.

“MY SON WOULD BE ASHAMED TO HAVE SUCH A FILTHY DAUGHTER YET YOU PRANCE AROUND HERE LIKE HE WOULD HAVE RECOGNIZED YOU AS HIS OWN”

You could still hear her smirk as she shrieked that he would’ve been revolted to see the disgrace you brought to his face and the Black family name.

The cruel taunts played over and over in your head as you paced the floor of Regulus’ old room, your fists clenched in rage. A small movement from the desk caught the corner of your eye; the picture of your father from his quidditch days. His green Slytherin uniform shimmering in the wind as he sat on his broom, flashing the camera the only smile you’d seen any evidence of. Other than your own, of course.

Clutching the frame, you sat down at the end of your bed. Whatever he was smiling about, he looked proud. If you closed your eyes and pretended he was right in front of you, you could almost imagine that he was giving you that look at pride. Regulus couldn’t have hated you, right?

A soft knock came at the door and you only acknowledged it with a grunt. The door opened and closed and then Sirius was sitting next to you, looking over your shoulder at the photograph.

“What did that old bitch say to you?”

“That my dad would’ve hated me.”

Sirius stiffened, which did nothing for your stress. He put a hand on your shoulder and gave you the kindest smile he could muster.

“Regulus wasn’t the most loving person but he would never never have hated you. His family was always most important to him, even when he was a Death Eater-”

“He was a Death Eater?”

Sirius cringed. He had forgotten to ask if you were aware of that or not. You stood up and began to pace, glaring at the happy photo.

“So he would’ve hated me. He would’ve despised me. He would’ve actively tried to kill me!” You ranted, your hands shaking from how hard you were grasping onto the photo. Part of you wanted to throw it against the wall and part of you wanted to hug close to you and never let go. Either way, you’d never felt lower.

“Darling, take a breath-”

“I can’t, not when my own dad would’ve seen me as-as-as nothing but a mudblood!”

“My parents-”

“Didn’t join a group trying to kill people like you!”

Sirius stood, putting his hands on your shoulders to stop your pacing. He took the picture from your hands and tossed it onto the bed before turning back to you.

“(y/n), listen to me. My brother was an idiot who bought into all the terrible things our parents told us. He was an idiot and went and joined Voldemort. You deserve to know that and I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier.” He said and for the first time, you noticed how haunted your uncle’s eyes really were, “But you also deserve to know that he tried to leave the Death Eaters and that’s why he died. I always thought that he had gotten in over his head but now that I know about you...love, you’re probably the reason why he wanted to leave. He didn’t want anything to happen to you because he loved you.”

Sirius’ face began to blur as tears filled your eyes. A sob escaped you and Sirius pulled you into a hug. You let yourself cry against his shoulder as he rested a hand on the back of your head, rocking you slightly.

“Reg didn’t hate you, he wouldn’t have hated you. He kept you safe from the rest of our family, he left you the house. You would’ve been his pride and joy. I can practically hear him bragging about you to me.”

You let out something that sounded like a mix between a cry and a laugh. With a small squeeze, he continued,

“I still love you. Remus and Tonks love you. Hell, Molly would probably pack you up and take you back to the Burrow with her, if I’d let her. Your family loves you, even your dad got caught with a bad crowd.”

Pulling back, he wiped your tears away - like a good father would, you thought. You couldn’t bring yourself to smile but you weren’t frowning quite so hard now, which Sirius decided to take as a win.

“You’re tired. Why don’t you take a nap and I’ll come get you when dinner’s ready.”

You nodded wordlessly, afraid that if you tried to speak, your voice wouldn’t work. Sirius seemed to understand as he gave you one more hug before turning to leave. Flicking the light off for you, he turned back, “Just...think on it. And think about what else we could turn my mother into.”

With that, he shut the door, leaving you by yourself. You took up his suggestion, crawling into the bed you’d made your own. For a few minutes, you stared at the picture of your father, trying to imagine when the happy teenager had become so overwhelmed with hate. You thought about what Sirius had said, about how he thought that you might be the reason Regulus had left the Death Eaters. You wanted the idea to make you happy and proud of him but at the same time, you couldn’t push away the notion that if you were the reason he’d tried to leave, then you were also the reason he’d died.

The harsh words of your grandmother began to ring through your head again and you shoved the photo under your pillow, turning over and shutting your eyes.

[percabethfeelsfandom]

Writing Prompt: Home

Percy stood by the bulletin board in the Big House, fingers tracing the edge of a photo of him, Annabeth and Grover. His sixteen-year-old face smiling widely at him with his arms thrown around Annabeth and Grover’s shoulders.

Seven years later, Percy still remembered taking the photo. The day before he was set to go back to Goode, his first time going to the same school two years in a row. The happiness that was in their features hadn’t lasted long. But it was nice that this moment was immortalised.

“Feeling nostalgic?”

Percy found a smile rising to his face as he saw Chiron duck his head to avoid hitting the doorframe, joining Percy to look at the other photos of campers that had accumulated over the years. Faces that Percy had grown up with, and new ones.

“Can’t help it. Every time I come here...it’s like travelling back in time.”

Percy removed his hand from the photo and let it drop to his side. Chiron gave him a small smile and looked fondly at the collage of photos. In the corner there was even a faded photograph of Chiron smiling smugly while Mr D held a goblet disapprovingly.

“Does it feel different coming back?” Chiron asked. Percy stepped away from the photos and went to stand in front of the window glancing out to look at the fields outside.

“Yeah. In a good way, but…” Percy sighed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to flatten it, “I feel bad I guess. That I left. This was home for so long.” His fingers itched to move so he brought them to the necklace that still hung around his neck. All the years later he still tried to wear it every day, even sometimes underneath his work clothes. The beads had a permanent place around his place and sat perfectly in the hollow of his throat, a constant familiar presence.

“You didn’t leave, Percy,” he reassured. Percy thumbed his first camp bead, staring at the glowing trident.

“Didn’t I?”

“No. You deserve a life outside of here. It’s because of you that you have a world to go to, you deserve a chance to live in it. It’d be foolish of you not to.”

“You make it sound like I did it alone,” he gestured to the photo collage, “Each of those people played a part. Every person that steps foot into camp played a part in that. They deserve to be out there too.”

“When they know what they’re up against then they can. Until then I will train them.”

“Don’t you ever wish we could do more?”

“Every day.”

“I feel like I ran away from the fight.”

“Every hero yields in the end. And yielding is not always a bad thing.”

“So why does it feel like it?”

“Why are you so full of doubt? You seemed so sure, so happy with your decision before.” Percy thought back to when he had finally managed to graduate high school, and made the final decision to go to college and move away from New York. The sharp pain that had settled in his chest when he had watched Camp grow smaller and smaller the further they went. The pain hadn’t eased till Annabeth had gripped his hand, reassuring him that they’d be back. That this wasn’t forever.

Percy sighed deeply and reached into his pocket to press his fingers against Riptide for comfort.

“Things have changed. And I guess- I’m scared,” Percy let out a choked laugh. Things had definitely changed if he was able to admit he was scared.

“Is everything okay?”

“Annabeth’s pregnant.”

Chiron’s eyes widened before his face broke out into a smile.

“Congratulations!” He reached down and patted Percy on the shoulder. But Percy didn’t mirror his smile. Slowly Chiron retracted his hand and gave him a questioning look.

“Are you not happy?”

Percy rushed to correct him, shaking his head wildly.

“Oh gods, I’m ecstatic, don’t get me wrong. But...Annabeth and I always said we wouldn’t have kids unless we were positive we’d be bringing them into a safe world...and now that we are- I don’t know if it’ll ever be safe. Like we’re demigods for Hades’ sake.”

“Is that why you came back?” Percy nodded.

“I don’t know anywhere safer than here. It’s like I never want to let her out of my sight.” Almost to prove his point Percy looked out to the fields again, trying to get a glimpse of Annabeth who was at her cabin, catching up with family members and any of the campers they had once trained with. Though he knew exactly where she was, Percy could feel the edge of anxiety heightening his senses, hyper-aware of any possible dangers.

“And I guess, I wanted advice. I know you don’t have kids of your own, but, you have this camp. When I wasn’t with my Mom and Dad, I had you. I already asked my Mom how she did it; how she lived with the fear of having a child in our world.”

“What did she say?”

“She said she loved me too much to ever feel scared.”

“That’s all a parent can do Percy.”

“That’s not very helpful,” he huffed. Chiron laughed and gestured to the doorway, leading the two of them out of the Big House and to the centre of camp where the cabins were.

“You asked me if I wished we could do more, to help them,” he nodded in the direction of campers in their orange shirts, playing volleyball, their laughter drifting in the wind. “Each day, for the years I have been alive, I give them my knowledge about protecting themselves, I teach them our history so that they may one day learn from our mistakes. I love them and watch them grow. Sometimes they leave and sometimes they use the knowledge I’ve passed on and they create a life of their own, and save the world along the way. Sometimes they come back. Sometimes what I’ve taught them isn’t enough...and they don’t. It’s an endless cycle when you think of it, this role I chose. But what more can I do when I have dedicated my life to this. The world still needs heroes, and as long as those heroes need guidance I will give it to them. What more can I do when I’ve given them a chance?”

“You were raised by a brilliant woman, Perseus, she gave you the best chance she could by loving you. The best you can do for your own child is the exact same. And with Annabeth by your side, I have no doubt you’ll achieve that.”

~

“Did you have a good talk with Chiron?” Annabeth asked as she pulled the blanket over her legs. Percy helped her adjust the sheets, tucking her in and sitting next to her. They’d been given the Poseidon cabin to stay at for the meantime; Percy’s two half-siblings on a quest together.

Though they visited every summer, being back in his old cabin, even in his old bed, was giving Percy an odd sense of deja vu.

Percy nodded, but his attention was elsewhere, noting all the new scratches and the weapons hung on the wall that didn’t belong to him. His heart went out to his siblings, the call for a quest, taunting him after so many years of him wishing it would be someone else when he was younger.

“Seaweed Brain?” Annabeth said softly. Percy turned to her fully and shook his head, trying to clear it with thoughts. Annabeth’s face was etched with concern, and Percy placed his hands over hers, which laid over her stomach that was starting to show.

“I’m okay.”

“It’s weird, isn’t it? Coming back after all this time,” she said looking around the cabin as well. Percy nodded again, readjusting himself in the bed so he could hold her closer.

“We visit every summer though,” he pointed out, but Annabeth shook her head and then leaned against his shoulder.

“It’s different, we’ll be here for a while, we don’t need to leave at the end. We don’t need to always look behind our shoulders, at least not for now. It’s nice.”

“Chiron said something today...I’ve been thinking about it a lot.”

“Hmm?” Idly, Percy traced circles on her shoulder as he brought his arms around her.

“Something about giving heroes a chance, that’s what it all comes down to. Doesn’t it? No matter how good you are, powers, training, knowledge, all of that goes out the door, because it’s up to the Fates isn’t it?” Annabeth sat up straighter turning to him.

“I like to think we play a part in it as well, just because the Fates have a say, doesn’t mean all choices are taken away from us. We chose to leave camp. And I don’t regret that.” She said firmly.

“How’d you know I was thinking about that?”

“Because I know you, Perseus Jackson.”

“No matter what the Fates have in store for us, Percy, I’m willing to go through it. If it means I’m by your side. I know we didn’t want to come back to Camp, but is it so bad when it ensures our safety? This was our home growing up. It’ll be a great place for our child to grow up, then we can leave when it’s safe again.”

“We left because we thought we’d be safe. Now I’m wondering if we should’ve stayed so that we could’ve avoided coming back...does that make sense?”

“Perce.”

“Yeah yeah. I know. I’m not upset about being here exactly. But after everything, I just thought we’d done enough for the Fates to believe we could get a break from this world. Let us live in ignorance for a bit. It’s selfish but maybe we deserve to be a bit selfish?”

“I know.” She leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Percy’s, closing her eyes.

She pulled back and pressed a kiss to his cheek before laying down, signalling that she was finished with this conversation. The pregnancy was constantly leaving her tired, and even now, Percy could see the purple beneath her eyes despite the excessive amount of hours she was sleeping. Carrying a demigod child was taking a toll on her, and it was slowly killing Percy. He made sure he tucked her in tightly before leaving his cabin and making the familiar trek to the water where his thoughts finally began to calm.

He looked out into the deep blue of the night, and the seemingly bottomless ocean.

“I know you’re listening, Father...I don’t think I want to talk. But if you could listen? I think I just need that,” Percy paused, waiting for a reaction. When he didn’t get one, he eased himself onto the sand and rolled up his pants so that he could dip his feet into the low tide.

“After the war, it was so hard for me to leave camp. Especially after Gaea took me. I felt that every time I left I’d come back and see my home in ruins. Everything I’ve done since I found out I was your child has been to preserve this Camp. It means more to me than a location probably should, but it was always there for me to come back to. But after Jason, I needed to leave. I was so tired of coming back to a camp and seeing one less face. I know it wasn’t my fault, but it felt like I was being taunted, that I couldn’t save him...because I was somewhere else. Leaving after college was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And now coming back, I’m scared that once I leave something bad is going to happen again. It’s not just Annabeth on the line anymore, I could risk it with her because she can protect herself but if our child is at risk? What do I do then?” The words were rushing out of Percy like a dam breaking, and he was stumbling and gasping over his words as tears welled up inside his chest, demanding to be released.

“Coming back means leaving. And I don’t think my heart can take it.”

There was a soft breeze and Percy felt the water at his feet grow colder. He looked up from where he had buried his face in his arms.

“You cannot let fear rule your life. Or you will forget to live.”

Percy scoffed at his Father and shook his head, not bothering to stand up. Other gods would have been offended, but Poseidon looked down sympathetically at Percy and sat down, lowering himself to Percy’s level.

“Let me rephrase that. Fear will always be a part of your life, it will always be there because you are my son and Annabeth is Athena’s daughter, you are Heroes of Olympus, and with that title, someone or something will always be hateful-”

“Is this meant to make me feel better?” Poseidon let out a chuckle and Percy rolled his eyes.

“Let me finish. Fear will always exist. But there are things that are more powerful than that. Think of your mother, her fear of Gabe, and her fear of monsters finding you when you were young...neither ever stopped her loving you, it made her fight harder to protect you. Your own fear of your prophecy didn’t stop you from fulfilling it, because you cared too much for your city and your friends. My own fear of my brother when you were accused of stealing the bolt didn’t stop me from claiming you. The same applies here. Your fear of coming back and leaving Camp Half Blood doesn’t make it any less your home. It will always protect you.”

[datleggy]

Post-demise At Hand

TW: mentions of past OD, past drug use, off screen death of character (Alex), grief, anger, misunderstandings 

TK isn’t sure how to react to the news, if he’s being completely honest with himself. 

He learns about the death of his ex through a post on Instagram via an old mutual friend of theirs that he hasn’t been in contact with since even before he packed up his life and moved to Texas. It’s hashtagged: #RIP #gonetoosoon and TK almost laughs out loud like some kind of maniac, because is that all Alex's life amounted to in the end? 

Two half-assed hashtags and a badly edited picture of Alex smirking at the person who took the stupid photograph in the first place. TK remembers that day; Alex had finally passed his drivers test and gotten his license. He remembers telling Alex to smile, remembers his ex boyfriend turning to him, rolling his eyes, saying something like “Why did I bother with this again? We live in New York.” except TK can’t remember what he said to Alex to be on the receiving end of that knowing little smirk. 

The one he can’t stop staring at now. 

“Earth to TK!” 

TK almost drops his phone onto the floor, blinking up at the person waving their hand in his face. “Huh?” 

Judd gives him a curious look. “Been calling you for like a straight minute, kid, you doin’ alright?” 

TK nods. “Yeah, sorry, yeah, I’m good, I was reading an article, I uh, got distracted.” he shakes his head. “What’s up?” 

“Your boyfriend’s downstairs lookin’ for you--” Judd tries not so subtly to peek at whatever it is that’s got TK so enraptured and catches a glimpse of a familiar face, one that gives him pause. 

He frowns. “TK, what the hell? Stalking your ex, seriously?” he blurts the accusation outloud without thinking, which is of course the very moment Carlos and Paul come gallivanting up the stairs, their laughter at something one of them said dying out abruptly. 

Paul’s eyes dart between the two men and he clears his throat awkwardly before motioning for Judd to skedaddle with him. Judd, who couldn’t take a hint if it hit him on the side of the head like a tire iron, simply folds his arms across his chest expectantly. “Well? Your fella’s right over there, so what’re you doing all up in your ex boyfriends business?” 

Paul sighs. Jesus. “Judd. Maybe we should give them some privacy?” Carlos is scarily silent next to him and Paul just knows shit’s about to hit the fan, and he’d rather be far far away when it does happen. 

Carlos swallows hard, wipes his hands against his uniform pants, and says, “It’s fine. I’ll um, I’ll see you at home.” before turning around and going back the way he came. 

“Man.” Paul stares at TK, who hasn’t uttered a single word as of yet. “You’re not gonna go follow after him?” 

Judd scoffs. “And do what? Tell him it’s not what it looks like?” 

TK blinks rapidly a few times, as if coming out of a daze. “I--” His eyes go wide when he realizes what’s happened. “Shit.” he runs over to the edge of the railing to call for Carlos, but his boyfriend apparently bolted, because he’s nowhere to be seen. 

Judd whistles loudly behind him, arms still crossed disapprovingly. “Carlos is a good catch, TK, shouldn’t be messin’ around with him if you’re not--” 

TK whirls around to face him, the look on his face mutinous. “I wasn’t stalking my ex on Instagram Judd! Get your head outta your ass and outta my business!” 

Judd takes a step forward and Paul can see where this is headed; he immediately gets in between the two men, arms raised. “Hey! Enough! You two need to relax.” 

Judd huffs. “I’m not the one tryna step out on my--” 

“Alex is dead.” Saying it outloud is surreal. 

Alex is dead. 

What the fuck. 

Paul and Judd both give pause. 

“What?” 

TK sighs, aggravated, and shows them the post he’d been caught looking at earlier. 

“TK...” Paul gulps. “I’m sorry man.” 

TK nods but doesn’t utter a word. 

Judd cringes. “Crap, I--” He wants to smack his head against the palm of his hand as hard as he can. “I’m such a heel, Jesus TK, I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed--I’m so sorry.” 

TK leans his back against the railing and this time it’s his turn to cross his arms over his chest. “Yeah, well...tell that to Carlos.” 

“TK I’ll call him right now and tell him I misunderstood, I swear--” 

TK interrupts him again with a shake of his head. “No, no, it’s better if I just explain it myself.” he looks up at Judd through long lashes and manages a half hearted grin. “I guess I should be happy you respect my boyfriend enough to snitch on my ass?” 

Judd knows TK’s throwing him a bone, but still, he doesn’t feel he can take it. “I do,” he admits. “But that don’t mean I should’ve went ahead and assumed the worst. You deserve better than that and for that I’m especially sorry.” The whole thing with his own father in law stepping out on his Grace’s mother is still messing around with his head, but that was no excuse to think the worst of TK, of all people. 

But TK tells him not to sweat it, he’ll call Carlos and tell him everything, no big, really. And then he asks the two men not to mention anything about any of this to the Captain or to any of the rest of the team, if it can be helped. 

Paul frowns. “TK, it’s not good to try and go through these types of things alone, you know.” 

TK shakes his head. “I’m not trying to, really. I just,” he shrugs, looking a little like a lost lamb. “I don’t really know how I feel about it yet? So I’d rather not deal with everybody’s sympathies right now, if that’s ok.” 

**********************

He calls Carlos but gets sent straight to voicemail every single time and when that doesn’t work he texts him that whatever he thought was going on, there was nothing to worry about, that he would explain if Carlos would just pick up his damn phone. 

Work gets progressively busier after that and TK barely has time to catch his breath, much less to try and get into contact with his boyfriend, and so it’s not until the very end of his shift, hours later, that he’s able to rush home--that is, he thinks sullenly, if Carlos hasn’t changed all the locks on him.

TK shakes his head; Carlos wouldn’t do that. He’s probably stewing though, and that thought doesn’t make TK feel any better as he steps past the threshold and inside. He’s had such a long and tiring day he hasn’t even had time to properly process what’s happened to Alex. 

Carlos has cooked dinner, if the wonderful smell coming from the kitchen is any indication. He’s at the table eating alone with the TV on in the other room for background noise, and he doesn’t even look up to greet TK, only motions towards the stovetop vaguely. “Help yourself.” he mutters. 

TK ignores the food and takes a seat right across from Carlos, leans over the table with a grimace. “Babe, I swear to you it’s not like that. Judd misunderstood what happened--” 

Carlos sets his fork down with a clatter that startles TK into jumping slightly. “Look, I get it, moving in is a huge commitment, it’s scary, I know, but I didn’t think you would--” 

“Please,” TK stops him. “Please let me just explain, please.” he hastily takes his phone out of his back pocket and opens the app. He can hear Carlos sigh above him but it doesn’t deter TK from finding the post and holding it up to his face. “This is what Judd saw me looking at.” 

Carlos reluctantly lays eyes on the photo, his irritation and hurt only peeking when he sees that it’s a photo of TK’s almost fiance. That is, of course, until he reads the caption, notices the hashtags below, and suddenly it all makes sense. He doesn’t know quite what to say, except: “Oh.” 

TK nods. “Caught me by surprise. I um, I haven’t heard from him since, well, you know. So I didn’t really know how to react when I found out and then Judd came up behind me and I mean, you know the rest of the story…” 

“Oh.” Carlos says again, because he’s still trying to process the news. 

“Yeah.” TK shrinks back in his chair and the wounded look of him finally snaps Carlos out of it.  

“Crap,” Carlos groans. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” He gets up and rounds the table, kneeling down in front of TK. “I was hurt and I ran off without letting you even get a word in, that was messed up and I’m sorry. Are you ok?” He makes a face at his own question, because of course TK isn’t ok. The man he’d proposed marriage to a little over a year ago now has passed, after all. 

There’s no way he’s ‘ok’. 

“I uh, I don’t know.” TK admits quietly. 

Carlos puts a hand on his knee and squeezes gently. “It’s ok to be sad, Ty.” 

TK shakes his head. “It’s--I’m not. I’m not sad. I think? I mean...it’s not like we were on friendly terms, you know? I’m more surprised I guess, than anything else. He was still so young.” 

Carlos nods solemnly. “How did it happen, do you know?” 

TK clears his throat and scratches at the back of his head. “The obituary I found online said it was some kind of car accident near PA. I didn’t really find out any more details than that, though. The funeral was earlier this afternoon.” 

Carlos blinks. “Oh. None of your friends from New York said anything? Before today?” The fact that TK had to find out through Instagram is probably half the reason his boyfriend is finding it so hard to react properly to the tragic news. 

“I didn’t really bother to keep in contact with a lot of our friends when I left, to be honest. And plus, they were all Alexs’ friends before becoming mine. So he kinda had the right to keep them after the divorce...in a manner of speaking.” TK runs a hand through the greasy locks of his hair and grimaces. “Anyway, I should probably go shower, it’s been a long day and I’m kinda gross.” 

Carlos nods, letting TK worm his way out of the conversation without too much fuss. 

**********************

In the shower TK stands under the spray of hot water and stares blankly at the tiled wall in front of him, irritated by the jumbled thoughts plaguing him. God, he thinks, I could really use a drink right about now. 

What exactly is he supposed to be feeling right now? 

Grief? 

Anger? 

Or perhaps regret. 

It’s not as though TK ever got any real closure with Alex and now he never would. After being rejected by the man and worse yet, told he’d been replaced, TK hadn’t wanted to feel any of that pain and had gone to great and dangerous lengths to make sure he was good and numb that night. 

He hadn’t meant to overdose. But he’d popped a couple of pills initially, so sure that he could control himself this time, that this time it would be different. But twenty minutes later when the two little white pills had done nothing to soothe his aching heart TK thought, what’s two more? And then two more after that, and then maybe two more, and then he’d lost count, but fuck it, if he hadn’t felt better in the moment. 

The pills had worked! He couldn’t feel a thing, his head was blessedly empty and suddenly this giant weight had been lifted from his chest and he could breathe again. Until he couldn’t. 

The water is cold by the time TK steps out of the tub. He dries himself off and slips on a pair of boxer shorts and an old gray t-shirt. 

Carlos is waiting for him in the kitchen with a full plate, reheated, and normally the smell would be appetizing, but tonight it makes TK a little sick. “You alright? You were in there a while.” 

TK nods. “M’good.” 

“Here, sit, you should eat something before going to bed.” he sets the plate down in front of him and TK just stares at it like it’s the first time he’s seen food in a while and he’s not quite sure what to do with it. 

“Thanks, but I’m not really hungry. I think I’m just gonna go to sleep. I’m tired.” 

Carlos nods, his lips pursed like he wants to say something more, but instead all he says is, “Ok.” 

******************

It’s nearly three in the morning when TK wakes up in a cold sweat, gasping for air. He’s not sure how he does it, but he manages not to wake Carlos up as he sneaks out of their bed. 

A few minutes later he’s outside in his sweatpants and a hoodie, mindlessly jogging along his usual route. It’s not drugs or alcohol, but running does help. He runs and runs and runs until it hurts and even then, he keeps on running. It’s not until the cramping in his stomach is too much to bare that he finally stops and lets his body rest on a park bench. 

And it’s then that he feels his phone vibrating in his pocket and realizes he’s got three missed calls. “Shit.” he picks up immediately, holding the phone up to his ear with a shaky hand. “Hey.” 

“Where are you? TK, it’s almost five in the morning. What’s going on?” Carlos sounds frenzied on the other end of the line and TK can’t say he blames him. 

“Sorry, I couldn’t sleep, I went out on a run and I lost track of time. I’m headed home now, sorry. Go back to bed.” 

“I can come pick you up, where are you?” 

TK sighs. “Carlos, seriously, I’m within walking distance, don’t worry, I’ll be there in like fifteen minutes.” he hangs up without letting the other man get another word in, which he knows isn’t right, but can’t really find it in himself to care. 

His legs feel like jello when he gets up and the trek back to their place is torturous enough to make TK regret telling Carlos not to bother getting him. By the time he makes it home he’s limping slightly and his stomach is in knots. 

The door swings open before TK can even take out his keys, and Carlos is standing there at the entrance looking a mixture of concerned and annoyed. 

TK rolls his eyes and ignores the look, pushing his way inside and kicking off his shoes at the door. “What?” he snaps, when Carlos won’t stop staring at him. 

Carlos frowns. “Stop that.” 

“Stop what? What are you talking about? I went out for a run. You’re acting like I went out to shoot up at a meth lab or something. I was gone for less than two hours!” TK half shouts, his frustration spiking up a notch. 

“Stop shutting me out. I know you’re upset about what happened to Alex, but you can’t just-” 

“About what happened to Alex?” TK scoffs incredulously. “Nothing happened to Alex, Carlos, he died. That’s not something that happens to someone and then they like, get the fuck over it! He died! He’s dead! Gone! Never gonna see him again, didn’t get to say bye or even fuck you to the guy, he just went ahead and died and that’s that!” TK lets out a choked little laugh that sounds more like a cry than anything and covers his face with both hands, tries his best to get his shit together and under control, but it’s no use. 

It’s quiet for a long time and then TK speaks again and it's soft and agonized, “I loved him.” 

And Carlos nods, takes him by the shoulders and leads him to the stairs, where they both sit down and TK buries himself into Carlos, into his safe haven, and his breath hitches loudly and Carlos says, “I know.” and TK lets out a big broken sob. 

“I’m here.” Carlos assures him gently, “I’m here. It’s gonna be ok.”

.

[one-boring-person]

Ok I got one more group one for you! From predator, the reader and the team goofing off on leave. No mission, no stress just everyone having a good time. Obviously before the movie

I hope you like this!😊💛

Don't Let Him Hear.

Dutch's team x reader

Warnings: alcohol consumption (moderate)

Masterlist

The sun shines brightly down onto the patio, lighting up the back garden pleasantly as the gentle warmth chases away the usual mountainous chill, leaving us all relaxed and cheerful. Drinks glitter slightly in the soft light, beads of condensation appearing on bottle necks and glasses, casting shadows onto the table top they've been placed on as the boys look out over the impressive view. As usual, the valley below is kept in a light shadow, the town nestled there appearing incredibly small from this height, even the usually looming church spires that rise out from the crowded buildings.

"Damn, why haven't you let us come over before?" Poncho comments as soon as I emerge from the inside of the holiday home, a tray of snacks in my hands.

I shrug before replying, proudly looking over the view myself - there's nothing quite like being in the Bavarian Alps, especially not at this time of year.

"Never really thought about it. You guys are usually more ones for bars and pubs." I explain, taking a seat beside Dutch and Hawkins.

"True, true. It's very impressive, though." Poncho acknowledges, gesturing with one hand to the scenery.

"I didn't even know this place existed." Blain remarks, taking a deep drink from his beer as he looks over at me.

"That's because your geography is limited, Blain." Mac teases, ducking when Blain throws a bottlecap at him, both men grinning, "Hey, I'm only telling the truth."

"Like hell you are. My geography's as good as it damn well needs to be." Blain huffs, scowling at us as we laugh at the muscular man.

"Yeah, sure it is." Dutch chuckles, exhaling a mouthful of cigar smoke as he continues, pointing at his comrade with said cigar, "Last week you told me Russia and Ukraine were the same place."

The rest of us snicker in amusement, finding Blain's flustered composure funny as he struggles to come back with a quip, his brow furrowed in contemplation.

"Wait, you can't actually be serious!" Hawkins chips in, watching Blain in vague surprise.

"I'm deadly serious." Dutch confirms, replacing his cigar back in his mouth after taking a sip from his beer, still smirking around it.

"Yeah, well I'm better at other things. Billy does the map reading, not me." Blain grumbles, jerking his head towards the dark-haired man beside him.

"Yeah, thank God." Mac mutters into his own bottle, just loud enough for the rest of us to hear.

"Hmph." Blain huffs again, standing up and placing his beer on the table, "I'm gonna use the restroom."

Nodding, we watch him go, still smirking after our previous conversation, knowing we got under his skin. We all turn back to the view again, sitting quietly for a brief moment, enjoying the peaceful atmosphere.

"For such a big guy, he sure can be sensitive." Poncho finally says, his comment drawing a laugh from Billy.

"He's just a softie, really." He agrees, running a hand through his hair, grinning at the thought.

"Don't let him hear you say that." I warn him, jokingly, lifting my eyebrows knowingly at him as he tips his bottle in my direction.

"Absolutely not." He chuckles, the others chiming in with agreements.

"Billy, you're the biggest softie I know." Hawkins points out, pushing his glasses up his nose with the top of the bottle in his hands.

"Coming from you, buddy. If anyone's a softie, it's you." I nudge Hawkins' arm, leaning out of the way as he reaches out to lightly push my shoulder, chuckling lightly.

"Hey, I'm not a softie!" He protests, looking to the others to help, only for them to shrug and grin at him.

At this moment, Blain emerges from inside the small house, holding something in his hands, a conspiratorial smirk on his face. Taking his seat, he grabs his beer and continues looking down at the object in his lap, laughing to himself as he does so, drawing our attention to him.

"What've you got there?" Poncho asks, curiously, straining to see it. My own eyes widen as I catch sight of it.

"Oh, hell no! Give that back!" I climb to my feet and grab for what I know to be a picture frame, only for Blain to laugh out loud and stand up, holding it over his head.

"Aw, come on, it's funny." He grins, watching as I reach for it, whining slightly as I fall short, his hands just out of reach.

"Give it here, quick!" Mac chimes in, reaching over my head and taking the picture frame from Blain, turning away from me to look at it. 

He practically gasps in amusement, the photo in the frame not entirely one I'd want them all to see. As I twist and go to take it from him, Blain wraps his arms around me, holding me still in his grip, chuckling as I write in his grasp.

"Hey, let us see it!" Hawkins complains, the others now going to stand around Mac, ignoring my pleas and half-hearted attempts to stop them.

As soon as they see it, their eyes snap up to me, clearly surprised but finding it highly amusing, Dutch lifting an eyebrow as he takes a drag on his cigar, Billy, letting out one of his deep-throated laughs as Hawkins and Poncho just smirk and take the photo off Mac, whispering something to each other.

"How old are you in that?" Billy asks me, watching as I finally break free from Blain and snatch the frame from the two men holding it.

"I don't know, six maybe?" I mutter, blushing a deep shade of red, eyes trained on the ground, hiding my sheepish smile.

"And what exactly were you doing?" Dutch inquires, folding his arms over his chest in mock interrogation.

"Can't remember." I lie quickly, holding the frame to my chest. I do remember. I remember very well.

"Aw come on, tell us!" Blain encourages, clapping me on the back.

"I'm telling you, I can't remember!" I assure them, knowing they see straight through me but unable to bring myself to tell them what is actually taking place in the photograph. I should've remembered to move all the old family photos out of sight, especially given my parent's love of displaying the worst ones in our old family holiday home.

"So, you won't mind if we have a look at the others?" Blain continues, smirking at me with a pointed look.

"What? No, I-" I go to protests, only for Hawkins to cut me off.

"There's more?!"

"Yeah, they're all in the hallway." Blain nods, gesturing towards the house.

"No, they're not! There's nothing there!" I try to disencourage them, unsuccessfully as they all just look at me with mischievous looks on their faces, "Oh, no…"

"Oh, yes!" Poncho grins, leading the others as they rush inside, leaving Dutch and I standing alone on the patio.

I turn to him, giving him my most pleading look.

"Help me here, please?" 

He just chuckles, taking his cigar from his mouth.

"What can I do? They won't listen." The major points out, "And anyhow, the only reason I'm not with them is because of this."

He points at his cigar, grinning at my despairing look. 

It's only a matter of seconds before the first guffaws sound from inside the house.

"Oh, god!" I sigh, knowing I'll be teased for all eternity.

[somedayonbroadway]

Hi, apparently, I like torturing myself, because I really wanna see the scene were Tony finds out Jack is his dad, not Snyder. Thanks in advance for wrecking me 😄

Inspired by ideas from the wonderful brain of @bitchiaintanonymous

Everything I Ever Wanted Masterlist

TW: Mentions of Abuse

“Jackie?”

It was late. Race knew he wasn’t supposed to be up now. It was strictly against the rules, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Jack’s room was dark, just as it always was. Race had asked once why Jack lived down here, rather than the extra room his father had set up to be a study for him. He didn’t really understand. His Papà always said it wasn’t for him to understand. When he was little, he didn’t question it. He’d poke at the bruises on Jack’s arms when the man held him and ask where they came from. Jack was always really good at changing the subject.

The young man wasn’t here. Based on the yelling Race had heard earlier that night, he guessed that Jack was in the closet again.

He’d tried to ask his friend why he didn’t just leave, get another job where he was treated better. While Tyler knew his papà would never dare harm him, he knew that the old man didn’t necessarily play well with others. He knew his papà loved him, but Jack was an entirely different and odd story. Jack never had a good answer as to why he stayed. He always just said something to make Tyler laugh.

Jack was the closest thing to a friend that Race had. He hated watching his father smack the other man around, kick him, lock him in closets. It was like Jack was more a slave than a caretaker. He didn’t understand it.

Tonight though, his papà had seen fit to take Jack’s paints away from him. So naturally, Race had stolen them back for him.

But Jack wasn’t down here.

With a small sigh, Race walked over to Jack’s nightstand and set down the paints carefully. Glancing around at the walls, Race found small drawings and outlines penciled in. He ran a hand over them. Jack’s drawings always made him smile.

A slam from upstairs made him jump. He gasped, looking to the door that was closed up the stairs. He figured it was probably time to sneak back into his own room now, so he walked back around the bed only to catch his foot on something sticking out from beneath it.

When he landed chest first on the floor, he groaned. If he were more awake, it might’ve been easier to catch himself, but in the darkness so late into the night, he couldn’t find his balance. It didn’t matter. He rolled over, pushing himself up so that he could find whatever it was that he tripped on to make sure he hadn’t done any damage.

What he found was an unmarked, plain brown box.

Jack always told him that one day his curiosity would get him into trouble. He figured, why not today?

Glancing back up at the door, the boy reached down for the thing, finding that it was light and easy to carry. From the marks on the sides of the box, the kid could tell it was regularly opened and that just made him all the more eager to see what was inside.

He gently sat himself down on the edge of Jack’s bed, setting the box on his lap and pulling the lid off of it, dropping it onto the plain mattress beside him.

The second he caught sight of the contents, his need for more information only swelled in his mind.

On top lay a neatly folded, baby blue blanket about the size of the fourteen year old’s chest. He smiled at the soft thing, letting his fingers run across the fabric as he jumped to the simplest solution; this must be stuff from Jack’s childhood.

That was when the guilt really set in. He should not be going through Jack’s stuff. His butler already had enough problems without an annoying teenager rummaging through his personal belongings, so Race went to fold the thing back up and put it back when he made the mistake of glancing back down at the box. His heart stuttered in his chest when he saw the little picture that was staring back at him.

The thing was dark and pixelated, definitely older by the looks of the crinkled edges. It only took a moment for Race to realize it was a picture from an ultrasound. It was a picture of an unborn child.

On the back were words written in silver ink. 18 weeks.

Race bit his lip. Though he knew he should stop, something inside him told him that he couldn’t. Still, his mind reeled at what he was discovering.

Jack was a father.

Or he had been.

Maybe he’d lost the baby.

Race didn’t know. He should’ve waited. He should’ve asked Jack about it all, but he didn’t. He set aside the blanket and the picture and kept going, finding tiny, knit baby booties and a piece of paper with ink stamped footprints of a newborn child. There were sketches of a baby and familiar eyes and things a father wished he could do with his son everyday; hold his hand, hold him tight, keep him safe.

His heart throbbed. He knew Jack would never leave a child, especially his own. The only thing the boy could think was that this baby hadn’t made it.

Just as he might’ve actually put everything away, he looked down to find one more picture still sitting at the bottom of the box, torn at the upper right hand corner but still clear enough for Race to see the photograph.

There was Jack, sitting against the wall of a hospital room, a tiny baby in his arms. The thing looked so small, hardly big enough to be born on time. Jack looked so young. If Race had to guess, he’d say the man looked hardly older than himself, sixteen at the most. There was a clear bruise on his left cheek but it didn’t look like he cared. He was gazing down at the child against his chest like it was the most precious thing in the entire universe. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t laughing. He was crying, tears rolling down his cheeks as he looked down at the kid, their foreheads touching together as the baby slept. He held the baby so tenderly that Race wondered what it felt like, how safe that kid must’ve felt in that moment.

It wasn’t until Race turned the photo over in his hand that the entire world came to a screeching halt around him. The air rushed from his lungs and the box slid easily off of his lap down onto the floor, only one last piece of paper falling onto the floor.

December 11, 2002

Tyler James Kelly

My little angel, born two months too early and still not here soon enough.

Race grasped at his hair, trying to wake himself up. This was a dream, that’s all it was. He must’ve been sleeping.

But all of it felt too real.

“Oh my God…” the boy breathed, reaching a hand up to cover his mouth at the sight of the picture that he just couldn’t take his eyes off of.

He heard shouting coming from up the stairs. The boy flinched again, viciously reaching out for the box to try and gather everything back up and set them back where they belonged only to catch sight of another piece of paper falling to the ground. He reached for it, not wanting to know what it was but looking at it anyways, unable to stop himself at all.

It was a birth certificate.

Tyler James Kelly

Born December 11, 2002

to

James Francis Kelly

And

Amelia Rae Higgins

Tyler couldn’t breathe. Tears threatened to spill down his cheeks as his hands shook, unable to process the information fully in that moment.

It was like for a single moment the world made sense and now his brain was erupting into complete chaos.

But he couldn’t be frozen right now. Footsteps were coming down the stairs. He had to move. He had to get a grip.

He gasped, rubbing pathetically at his tears while trying to gently shove everything back right where he’d found it. By some miracle he was able to fumble with the lid to close the thing before shoving it back under the bed right as the door opened.

“You’re gonna pay for that, Kelly!”

“Kiss my ass, old man…” Jack muttered to himself rubbing at the back of his neck as he descended down into his bedroom. It wasn’t until he looked up that he found a very stunned, very upset looking teenager standing awkwardly beside his bed. “Racer, it’s almost one AM… what’re ya doin’ down here?”

Race let out a breath. Jack hadn’t noticed anything out of place. At least, not yet.

He managed a shrug and nodded shyly over to the tiny kit he’d left on the table in the corner. “I… I brought you your paints back…” he muttered, suddenly unsure how to talk to this man. He tried to remind himself that this was still Jack, it was still the man who he’d looked up to his whole life, but it just didn’t make any sense.

This man was his father.

“You shouldn’t be doin’ that, kid—“

“He shouldn’t a’ taken it… it’s yours.” There was something sharp in his tone. He hadn’t meant for it to be there. Looking up, he found Jack’s head cocking a bit as he shoved his hands in his pockets. His lip was split and his eye was swollen but he didn’t even seem to notice. “J—“ the boy cut himself off with a shake of his head, more confused than he’d ever been in his life. “Why do you let him treat you like that?”

Jack sighed, running a hand through his hair and walking over to his bed, flopping down onto as he glared up at the ceiling. “Why do you keep askin’ me that?”

“Because you never answer me!” Race argued, unable to keep the hurt out of his tone. “Why don’t you tell him ta back off n’ get outta this place?”

Rubbing at his good eye, Jack let out a bitter laugh. “Because I can’t, kid… it ain’t in the cards for me—“

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not!” Jack sat back up on his bed, seeing for the first time the tears on the boy’s cheeks. “Tyler, what’s wrong?”

Race glanced back down to the box beneath Jack’s bed. He quickly averted his gaze and shook his head. “Nothin’... just… nothin’...” he tried to convince not only the young man, but himself as well. “I just… goodnight.” He tried to rush from the room.

But Jack had always somehow been able to anticipate his next move. He was always quicker than him.

Jack grabbed his arm and pulled him back. “Wait just a minute, pal! J’st…” the man sighed again, finally just pulling Race into his chest.

The safest place in the world to Race.

Even with this new information, that hadn’t changed. In fact, it might be even more so than before.

That didn’t mean he wasn’t still angry.

“What happened ta you huggin’ me goodnight, huh?” Jack asked, trying to lighten the mood. It only made Race want to cry harder. He tried to take deep breaths to keep the sobs away.

The boy forced himself to wrap his arms around this man, his father, holding onto him tighter than he was sure he ever had before. Jack didn’t seem to mind. “Sorry…” the kid muttered into the man's shoulder.

A hand came down to pet his hair. Jack’s pressed a gentle kiss to his temple before pulling away. Suddenly, everything Jack did had an entirely new meaning. “Goodnight, Tyler James,” he smiled.

Normally, Race’s response would’ve been a quiet “Goodnight, Jackie,” but something just felt wrong about that now. So all he managed to squeak out was a small, “‘Night,” before he made his way towards the stairs, leaving the tired man standing confused in the middle of the basement.

Race’s legs weren’t moving fast enough as he ran up the stairs into his own bedroom. He managed to calm himself down for a millisecond to keep the door from slamming behind him before he slid down against it, trying to remember how to breathe. He curled up tight against himself. Stifling his sobs with his fist as he tried to figure out what the hell he’d just seen.

The last fourteen years of his life had been nothing but a lie.

There had to be some kind of big picture here, something he wasn’t seeing, something that would make everything make sense again but nothing did.

All he could see were those pictures, those drawings, that name.

Tyler James Kelly.

That was him. That was his name.

Tyler James Kelly.

Confusion didn’t even begin to describe what the child was feeling.

The boy bit down on his lip until it was bleeding. He couldn’t breathe.

“Oh my God…”

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, vyxynheartssterek!

For @vyxynheartssterek. I hope you enjoy it!

Read On AO3

*****

Forward Motion

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A shadow moved beyond the glass.

Stiles reared back. “Oh! Oh, gods.”

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

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

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

Stiles worked through his mortification by sweeping aggressively.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stiles couldn’t wait to get started.

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

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

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

“Absolutely not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

She smiled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Her grin widened. “If you’re sure…”

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

“Hey, thanks for the coffee.”

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

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

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

“You do remember me. I’m Derek.”

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

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

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

“Stiles! Drinks are up,” Cora called.

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

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

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

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

He was right: she laughed at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Coffee Shop Derek waved at him.

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

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

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

He grimaced.

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

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

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

Stiles flicked his fingers.

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

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

Crap. He’d definitely been caught eavesdropping.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stiles turned his back on her. “So.”

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

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

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

“For what?”

He lifted that brow again.

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Nope.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe.” Laura poked at the silver bell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Assholes.”

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

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

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

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

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

Stiles lifted his head. “Hmm?”

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

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

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

“Apparently not. Just vivid dreams.”

“That’s odd.”

“Maybe the bell will help.”

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

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

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

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

“Dad can help out.”

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

“He needs a hobby.”

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

“Aye aye, captain.”

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

“Hey.”

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

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

Stiles frowned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sure.”

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

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

Stiles narrowed his eyes.

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

“I…uh, sure.”

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

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

“How lucky,” she chirped.

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

He clearly hadn’t spent enough time around witches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Derek flashed a grin. “Until now.”

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

“What are you up to?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Who’s it for?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“An amulet, I think.”

“Hmm.”

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

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

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

“Maybe he should just run the register.”

“He’s got it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aw, didn’t you miss your cousins?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lying is a sin, angel.”

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

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

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

“Do you look into the future often?”

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

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

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

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

He lifted his shoulders. “All kinds, I guess.”

“What are you good at?”

He laughed. “You want me to brag about my skills?” He waggled his fingers.

“Yeah.”

Stiles laughed again, he couldn’t help it. “Well, I’m pretty good with water-based magic, and my telekinetic prowess is, if I do say so myself, pretty awesome.”

“You’ll have to give me a demonstration sometime.”

Stiles nodded and lifted his hand, palm up. Water formed on his fingers and slid down, gathering into a ball. He flexed his fingers. It froze solid.

“Okay, that was impressive.”

“A Stilinski, flirting by showing off, why am I not surprised.” Mavis’s voice made Stiles jump, the ice ball flying out of his grasp. “How utterly predictable.”

Derek snatched the ball before it could hit the ground and shatter.

“Mischief, you are just like your mother, I swear. You can do better than that to impress the man. Claudia,” she called in her croaking voice, “did you see what Mischief was doing?” She shuffled away from them.

Stiles covered his eyes. “Good gods.”

Derek mouthed, “Mischief?” but dropped it when Stiles shook his head. “Well, I thought it was impressive.” He held out the ice.

Stiles closed his hands over it. “There’s no reason to do big spells indoors, Mavis.”

“Balls of ice aren’t impressive, Mischief.”

He rolled his eyes at Derek. “I’ll see you later, I have to go chase an old lady with a broom.”

He laughed. “Good luck.”

Stiles finished the amulet on his break, holding his hand over it and binding the ingredients together, all the pieces, the copper, the flint, the quartz, the dolomite and amethyst, with his magic. He found a black chain he thought went well with the copper triskelion and attached it, then stared at the completed piece. It’d come to him for a reason, amulets usually did, but he just couldn’t figure out who it was meant for.

Claudia put the Hales talismans in the last potion while he was still staring at it. “Looks good. What made you use a triskelion?”

“I’m not sure, it just…came to me.” He shrugged. While Claudia had always had an instinct for talismans, Stiles had the same instinct for amulets, the shapes and materials often coming to him and hovering in his mind, behind his eyes, like he’d stared at a light too long. She’d found him making them enough throughout his life to know he hadn’t made it for himself.

“Have you figured out who it’s for?”

Her tone made him look up, eyes narrowed. “No…why?”

She poked at the talismans, then covered them again. “Well, the triskelion is the Hale pack’s symbol. They use it to identify their pack.”

Stiles looked at the amulet. “Huh.”

“Maybe you made it for Derek,” she teased.

“Mother, are you implying something?”

“Just that he keeps coming here…daily…and that he invited you to his family gathering.” She shrugged. She had an ivy leaf caught in her hair from that morning.

“He’s just being friendly.”

She snorted. “Laura, maybe, Nettie absolutely, but from what I’ve noticed, friendly is an optional trait in the Hales and they don’t bother unless they think you’re worth it.” She held her hands up. “Could be he just likes you as a friend, that’s true.” Her eyes gleamed. “But I say you take that amulet over on the twentieth and see if he says no when you ask him out.”

“Oh, is that all?”

“If he turns you down, I will admit I was wrong, somehow.”

“Not good enough.”

She tapped her fingers on the table. “If I’m wrong, what would you like?”

“Grandpa’s book of charms.”

“Oh, Stiles.” She shook her head. “They’re messy.”

“Blood?”

She held her fingers a half inch apart. “But it’s more in the mud and clay and wet ashes way. Trust me. Messy.”

“I want them.”

She put her hands up. “Fine, since I’m sure I’m right, if Derek shoots you down, I will dig out your grandfather’s book of charms. Only if I’m wrong. If he accepts, you do Laura Hale’s interview. She wants to work here,” she added with a smile.

“That’s absolutely not on the same level.”

“Those are my conditions.”

“Ugh, fine. Are you and Dad going?”

She smoothed the wrinkles out of her black and pink dress, smiling serenely at him. “We have to be there, dear, it’s only polite.” She turned on her heel, ponytail swishing as she left.

“You’ve got ivy in your hair!” he shouted after her. He looked down at the amulet. “Damn it.” He needed to find a box for it now.

The twentieth arrived before Stiles was fully prepared. They’d been busy with people coming for ritual kits, herbs, potions, and gifts, enough that they could consider their first two weeks of being open a resounding success. Stiles found a decorative cherry wood box with a small raven carved into the side to put the amulet in, on a bed of gardenia and lavender, and dressed casually for the party.

Cora at Mocha Latte Memories turned out to be another Hale that Stiles hadn’t met and had told him to just show up whenever. “The dress code?” she’d repeated blankly when he’d asked. “Uh…casual. We’re a mess, don’t worry about it. Some of the littler kids probably won’t even be dressed.” She’d shrugged. “Shifters, you know.”

So Stiles wasn’t sure what to expect as he headed to the Hale property. It used to be just one house, but they’d added two more to accommodate their growing pack. Stiles hadn’t seen it in a while—not since he was a teenager, wandering the preserve at night with Scott and Heather, being stupid—so the sight of about twenty extra cars and a camper clogging the long driveway and part of the yard, plus about six people on the wrap around porch just chatting, was something of a surprise.

Stiles parked behind a blue SUV and turned the jeep off deliberately slow. He stared at the little box on his passenger seat and sighed.

John and Claudia had come over earlier, just after noon, but Stiles had managed to procrastinate so long that he now had to arrive alone. Maybe he could just sit here until he spotted Derek and act like he’d just arrived.

His phone buzzed in his pocket.

‘Coming in at any point, son?’

Stiles scowled. He figured blocking her wouldn’t work, so he just shoved it back in his pocket, swiped the box, and got out. He had to weave through several cars to get to the yard, where he could see a flattened path from everyone walking the same route.

Behind him, someone shouted, “Quit it!”

He turned.

Fifteen feet away, Derek got tackled by a tall, skinny werewolf with short dark hair.

Stiles tensed, but it wasn’t until another werewolf, shorter, partially shifted and snarling through long fangs, joined in that he started running. “Hey!”

Derek snarled and rolled, but the shifted werewolf bit his ear, making him yelp, while the other sat on his legs to pin him down.

“Hey!” Stiles shouted again. He stopped before any of those flailing claws or fangs could hit him and studied the ball of werewolves.

Someone up on the porch noticed them and snickered.

Stiles flinched when blood spattered the grass, a yelp coming from the bottom of the pile. He rolled his eyes and put his free hand out, then swept it aside.

The taller werewolf tumbled aside, landing on his butt a couple feet away.

Stiles caught the other one and flicked him away, too, leaving Derek disheveled and a little bloody. Stiles turned to the two that’d tackled him and shook his head. “Two on one is shameful,” he scolded. He could see now that they were teenagers; their partial shifts had made them look older, but as the fangs and tufted ears melted away, they looked young.

The taller one looked petulant while the other simply looked mortified.

“He drank our hot chocolate!” the tall one snapped.

“Uh—what?”

Derek sat up. “You can’t prove that.” Blood trailed down his cheek, but the cut had, thankfully, already healed.

“It’s always you,” the embarrassed one piped up. “Uncle Peter says you keep stealing his coffee, too.”

Derek’s ears went red. “He’s exaggerating.” He looked up at Stiles sheepishly. “I always refill the cups after. I’m just useless in the morning.”

“You’re always useless.”

“Markus,” a man on the porch snapped.

He rolled his eyes. “Sorry.” He looked at Stiles. “How’d you do that?”

“He’s a witch, dummy.”

“Todd,” the man scolded.

Todd held his hands up. “But he is.” He squinted at Stiles. “Right?”

“Right.”

Todd smirked at Marcus.

Stiles held his hand out to help Derek up. “Brawling with teenagers?”

“They hit me first.” He smiled. “I thought you’d decided not to come when your parents showed up without you.”

Stiles shook his head. “Just running behind.”

Derek nodded, fighting a huge yawn that nearly wrenched his jaw apart.

He lifted his brows. “Dreams again?”

He nodded. “They came back a couple days ago.” He looked toward the house, ears going red. “You were in them this time, even though they still don’t make sense.”

Todd rolled his eyes and pulled Markus to his feet. “Stop stealing everyone’s drinks!”

“I thought it was Peter’s coffee,” he admitted. “I didn’t mean to steal your hot chocolate.”

Markus rolled his eyes. “Make your own coffee, jeeze, Uncle Peter’s right. You are nose blind.”

“I am not!”

Stiles prodded Derek’s shoulder. “Excuse me, did you just say you’ve been drinking your uncle’s coffee?”

Todd nodded, aggrieved. “Derek steals everyone’s drinks, every year.”

He looked guilty. “Only when it’s really early, and I always refill the mug, brats.” That last bit was directed at his cousins, who were clearly unconvinced.

“You do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“You can sleep in Cora’s room tonight,” Derek hissed.

Stiles shared an exasperated look with Todd, though he was sure Todd was more bothered by the hot chocolate theft than he was. He had a bigger problem. “Derek.”

“Yeah.”

He tried to think of a nice way to phrase it, but… “Are you, possibly, nose blind?”

Todd and Markus cackled.

Derek looked insulted. “No!”

Stiles pinched the bridge of his nose. “Uncle Peter is the uncle who’s been sending you to get potion ingredients from my shop, right?”

“Yea—ah, fuck.”

Markus’s mouth opened in a wide, wide grin. “I’m telling Aunt Talia.”

Todd’s hand shot out, catching his shirt. “Derek can buy our silence.”

Markus’s eyes went even brighter, delighted.

He glared at them. “What do you want?”

“Take us to the potion place.”

“Excuse me?”

“We never get to go to witch stores, we want to buy magic potions.” The boys looked excited by the mere idea, breathless at the power that was just in their reach.

Stiles leaned around Derek. “If you go find Miss Claudia in the house, she’ll tell you all about magic potions. That way when Derek takes you, you know which one to pick.”

They looked at each other, smirking, then ran for the house.

He straightened up. “That lecture should keep them busy for at least twenty minutes.” He swung back around to Derek. “You’ve been drinking coffee laced with potions.”

“Apparently.”

“Potions for prophetic dreams.”

“Yep.”

“Then refilling the cup before anyone noticed the coffee was gone.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Which means your uncle has been drinking regular coffee thinking it was laced with potions, and probably getting annoyed that it’s not working—stop laughing!” But Stiles was laughing, too. “This is serious, you could’ve poisoned yourself.”

He shook his head as he wheezed. “Peter’s been so pissed lately, and it turns out it’s because his experiments aren’t working—because I’ve been drinking them.” He shook his head, overcome.

“Didn’t he—no, you said he didn’t tell you guys what it was for.” Stiles rolled his eyes. The cold was starting to seep under his jacket finally, chilling him.

“No, he didn’t. Serves him right for not telling us what he was making us run errands for.”

Stiles lifted a brow at him.

“Hey, I got my payback by losing sleep.”

“Somehow that doesn’t seem to compare.” Stiles looked at the box in his hand and sighed. “When was the last time you drank his coffee?”

“Yesterday morning,” he admitted sheepishly, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck and shuffling his feet. They were barely an arms’ length apart, over the muddy disturbed grass where he’d been wrestling with his cousins. He scratched drying blood off his temple.

“You’ve probably got another couple nights before the dreams wear off.”

He nodded. “Hey, I’m—I’m glad you came over.” He smiled shyly.

Stiles smiled back. “Me too. Now I know why none of my usual tricks worked for your weird dreams.” He tapped his finger on the box. “You don’t remember any of them?”

“Nothing that makes sense.” He shrugged.

Too bad. He shook it off and held the box out. “I brought this for you.”

“Thank you.” He took it carefully, tilting it so he could see the carving on the side. He traced it gently with one fingertip. “You guys are fond of ravens, I guess.”

“They’re a thing with my mom’s family. And they’re good friends.” He shrugged. “You don’t have to wait ’til sundown to open it, you know.”

Derek made a show of examining every inch of the box before he pried it open. His lashes fluttered. “You made this.” Not a question, no surprise. A fact.

“How’d you guess?”

He lifted his gaze. “I can feel it. You weren’t kidding about your magic being powerful. Can I wear it now?”

“Of course, I made it for you to wear.” Stiles had to look away, his neck prickling. He normally didn’t make a big deal of his amulets and the receivers of them typically followed his lead. He didn’t know what to do with such gravity. When he looked up, Derek was wearing the amulet around his neck, the triskelion resting just beneath his collar bones.

“How’s it look?”

Stiles nodded. “Pretty good,” he squeaked. He looked over his shoulder, but everyone who’d been on the porch was gone. He took a deep breath. “Well, now that I’ve given you fancy jewelry…”

“A protective amulet,” Derek corrected, cupping his hand over it as if he was shielding it.

“Right. I was—I wanted to ask if you wanted to go out on a date. Maybe get coffee from somewhere your sister doesn’t work.” He caught his breath and reminded himself that either way this went, he would get something he wanted.

He just, maybe, wanted to date Derek more than he wanted that book of charms.

Derek smiled. “Sure, that sounds great.” He lifted his gaze and winced. “But, uh, first we have to survive this.” He pointed.

Claudia and Talia were watching from the door, both grinning, while noses pressed against nearly every window around them.

“We could make a run for it,” Stiles said out of the corner of his mouth. “I think I can hold the door closed from here and we can make it to the jeep.”

“You can’t run from every problem.”

“I am fast enough to out run most of them,” he pointed out.

Derek caught his hand, twined their fingers together, and tugged him up toward the house. “There’s not that many of them in this house—most of them are out in the backyard.”

“Your mom is in there,” he whined.

Claudia winked.

“My mom is in there,” he added under his breath.

They laughed together and moved out of the doorway, linking arms and heading toward the kitchen, by the looks of it.

Stiles squeezed Derek’s hand. “Because you didn’t shoot me down, I have to give your sister a job interview.”

“If you can survive this, interviewing Laura will be nothing.” Derek kissed the back of his hand, making him flush all over, before he went into the house.

“Derek!” a man growled, followed by a yelp and a thud.

Stiles shook his head and went inside to save him from Peter’s wrath.

[kidnappedbycartoons]

Past, Present, Future (Ava X MC)

Notes: Hello, it’s the Ava simp here. I decided to write another Ava X MC fic because I’m not waiting for MC to make a choice, so I made one for her. Enjoy and let me know if I did them justice.

Pairings: Black!MC (Serenity) X Black!Ava

Word Count: 1,956

“Nice pictures, Serenity.”

I looked up from the photographs I held in my hand to find Mackenzie leaning on the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest. A sense of pride filled my chest at her words. I finally found something that I enjoyed doing and everytime someone let me know that my photos were good, I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my face.

“Thanks,” I went back to organizing my photos when Mackenzie spoke up again.

“Which ones are you going to put in your portfolio?” The bed dipped as she sat on it. “I mean, you have enough to fill an entire gallery.”

I chuckled at her exaggeration, but she did ask a good question.

“I don’t know, I don’t even know what theme I’m going for,” I dropped the pictures I was holding in my hand onto the bed, bringing my knee to my chest instead.

“Wouldn’t be the first time you didn’t know what to go for,” I threw my pillow at her, disappointed when she caught it.

She didn’t have to remind me of that. Working on the portfolio was the perfect distraction from my rollercoaster of a love life. But now, those three names popped into my head again. Mason, Ava, and Noah. Ava, Noah, and Mason. Noah, Mason, and Ava. Honestly, I was going to have a headache at this point. It’s about to be spring and I still can’t decide who I want to be with. And to make matters worse, I can see it on all of their faces. They’re all tired of me. I guess I would be too. I need to make a decision, but I just don’t know.

“Serenity!” I glanced up, coming face to face with a picture of Mason. “God, didn’t you hear me? I said this is a nice picture of Mason.”

I took the picture out of Mackenzie’s hands, eyes skimming over it. I remember when I took this picture. Mason and I had driven to the beach and he had looked so happy, so carefree, so much like the Mason I remember from childhood that I just had to capture that moment.

I’ve known Mason since we were kids. We were always attached at the hip, if you saw one, then you saw the other. Our families knew each other and we would always hang out at each other’s house. At the same time, I’ve been in love with Mason since we were kids. First love, I guess. He’s always been there to protect me, even from a fly. I never would’ve imagined that he felt the same way as well. I just wish it didn’t come out the way it did. It still stung whenever I remembered how Ava looked when Mason revealed he broke up with her to be with me. Yeah, Mason can do some stupid things sometimes, but I do too. I guess we’re just two peas in a pod.

“Wow, Noah doesn’t look too bad here,” Mackenzie held out the photo for me to take. Just a glance and I remembered when I took the picture. We had driven to the countryside and Noah had looked so free, so light, so handsome, that I just had to take a picture.

Noah was the one that shook everything up. I thought I knew what I wanted, but then he came along. Everyone told me to stay away from him, that he was dangerous, that he was a bad boy. But the more I got to know him, the more I realized those were all lies. Turns out, he’s one of the sweetest and kindest guys I’ve ever met. He’s always been so mature, so understanding, that I felt like I could just be myself around him. There were no expectations, no boundaries when it came to him. I was allowed to be myself, Serenity Price. Not that I didn’t feel that way with Mason, but sometimes I found myself thinking about our past so much that I guess I just stay there sometimes. I always heard the words that if you fell in love with two people, to always choose the second. Because if you really loved the first, you would’ve never fallen for the second one. Yet, I didn’t know what to do. Mason reminded me of the happy memories of the past and Noah was the one that helped me to live in the now.

“Now, if Ava doesn’t become a model in the future, I’m going to be upset,” Mackenzie held out the photo for me to take and I looked down at it. Yeah, I remember this day. We were laughing so hard in photography club and she looked so beautiful, so happy, so charismatic, I couldn’t stop myself from taking the picture.

If Noah shook everything up, Ava absolutely turned everything upside down. My whole life I thought I was into guys. I mean, I was into Mason after all. Even when we had first met I would’ve never thought that Ava was gay or that I might not be straight. But looking back, all the signs were there. The way my heart sped up whenever she would look my way, the disappointment whenever she missed school, the way I lingered too long with our hugs, the way I always made sure to see if she was laughing when I told a joke.

Funnily enough, that period when her and I weren’t talking to each other, was when I realized how much I missed her. Even though I was still talking with Mason and Noah, there was still an empty spot in my heart that only she could fill. Ava Lawrence. My best friend. The one who always stood up for me without a second thought, the one who always made sure to check on me, the one who always managed to make me laugh, and the one who always puts me first. I mean, she took herself out of this whole love square thing to help me out. Then again, maybe she didn’t want to wait around any longer. Regardless, she doesn’t hold it over my head. When I’m with her, I don’t even think about Mason or Noah. I can focus on her and her only. 

“Did you forget how to blink or something?” I was jolted out of my thoughts by Mackenzine, who had a teasing grin on her face.

“Shut up,” I placed the three photos down, taking one last look at them. Mason, Noah, and Ava. Mason is my past, my childhood best friend and first love. Noah is my now, the one who pulled me out of my shell and showed me a whole new world. But Ava. Ava was...Ava is...Ava’s....

“I have to go!” I didn’t even wait for Mackenzine to speak as I bolted down the stairs to the front door. I didn’t even hear my dad yelling as I ran past him. I needed to do something first.

________________________________________________________________

I stood in front of the door, my throat suddenly feeling tight and my hands sweating. But I had to do this. I needed to. Raising my fist, I knocked on the door. I needed to do this. I needed to.

She opened the door and I was left breathless. She was clearly getting ready to go to sleep, a bonnet on her head and her face now makeup free. Despite this, she still looked like a goddess that came to bless us with her existence. She always did.

“Serenity, what are you doing here?” She tilted her head, almost like a puppy as she looked me up and down. “In your pajamas?”

“It’s you.” I couldn’t stop myself if I wanted to, the words just fell out. “It’s you I want, Ava. Not Mason or Noah. It’s you. I always thought I was straight, I mean, I was in love with Mason for years. But it’s always been you. You’re the one. When I found out you and Mason were dating, I was heartbroken because I wanted him. I did. But at the same time, I knew you could do better. I knew you deserved better. And I didn’t know if it was because I wanted Mason for myself or if I wanted you for myself. I didn’t know!”

I took a deep breath and continued. “When we weren’t speaking, I hated it. I hated it so much! Even though I was hanging out with Mason and Noah, it wasn’t the same. My heart still didn’t feel complete. It was empty. Empty! I thought I was missing you as a friend, I really did. But then we made up and something still didn’t feel right. Everytime I was around you, my heart started going crazy. I wanted to hug you, to kiss you, to do all sorts of things with you. But you were with Chad and I knew you didn’t deserve me, I mean I was a mess with Mason and Noah. But then homecoming and then everything and...I thought...maybe we could. Maybe. But then Bayla came along.”

I looked down at my feet, my slippers looking back up at me. “I should’ve been happy for you. But I’m not. I’m not. My heart broke when I saw you and her together. And I knew I didn’t deserve to feel that way, considering how indecisive I’ve been and how selfish I’ve been. But I’m sorry. I’m sorry for not putting you first. I’m sorry for taking so long. I’m sorry for letting you slip through my fingers like this. But it’s you I want. And I know it’s too late. But it is. It’s you, Ava.”

I didn’t even realize I was crying till I felt Ava’s fingers wiping the tears away. The tightness in my throat, in my chest, was too much. I felt like I was going to explode with each gentle brush of her fingers. Finally, she wrapped me in her arms and I felt myself melt into her. She held me so tight that I thought I was going to break. Or maybe I already did. I don’t know. But it felt good. I felt warm, comfortable, and full.

She pulled away from me and it was only then that I noticed the redness in her own eyes and the tears staining her cheeks. Great. Just great. I made her cry. Like I needed another reason to hate myself.

“Serenity, Bayla and I broke up,” Was she crying because I reminded her of Bayla? I didn’t even know they broke up. I mean, I’m happy. Is that bad? That is.

“I’m sorry…” I turned around, the cold air finally hitting me. “I should go. I...I’m sorry.”

“Did you mean it?”

I turned around to find Ava standing there, her beautiful face wet from tears and her shoulders slouched. The look in her eyes was, hopeful. I’ve never seen her look so vulnerable.

“Yes.” The second the word slipped out my lips, I felt something lift off my shoulders. For the first time, in a long time, I felt light. I felt right.

I don’t know how she got to me so fast, but all I know is that one second my lips were mine and the next second they were her’s. I placed my hands on her waist, pulling her flush against me as I felt her hands drift up, placing themselves behind my neck. Something about this kiss was different than the ones with Mason and Noah. It felt...fulfilling, like we were two puzzle pieces who fit together. And that’s when I knew. Mason was my past, Noah was my now. But Ava. She’s my future.

[worldwidemochiguy]

100 days (soft yandere! Taehyung)

Summary: You and Taehyung celebrate your 100th day anniversary... again. (it’s really 274 days, but who’s counting?)

Word Count: 3.7K

Authors note: This was in response to an anon requesting a part 4 for made for each other, so thank u to them :))))) and also ig enjoy 

Made For Each Other Masterlist

General Masterlist

You hummed, turning the bukkimi over again to see the bottom had turned a pleasant golden brown. You swiftly took it from the frying pan and placed it on the plate next to all the others you had just pan-fried, forming two rows of neat white pouches decorated with edible flower petals. You knew you had, perhaps, gone a bit overboard for your 100 day anniversary, but you wanted to make it special. 

On your first 100 day anniversary — a little over three months after he had taken you — Taehyung had been so sweet, even if you weren’t quite ready to accept him yet, still clinging onto the childish notion of independence. You had woken up to a beautiful dress set out for you to wear, one that you had no other choice but to don sullenly since he had anticipated you wanting to disobey him and had taken all of your other clothes and hidden them. 

He had made you breakfast in bed — your favourite breakfast, actually — and served it along with a single rose. You had taken the food and sequestered yourself in your room. At lunch, he had asked if you wanted to eat a meal with him on the couch and watch TV — something he had not let you do since he took you. That was probably the first time you were voluntarily enjoying yourself in his company, eating the pizza he ordered and sat as far away from him on the couch as was physically possible. In the evening, he had taken you to a restaurant that he had completely booked out. It was just the two of you, and the moonlight, and the terrified chef who you were pretty sure Taehyung had threatened to kill if he didn’t stay and make the two of you the best meals you’d ever had in your lives. You didn’t realise it then, but you looking back you realised how romantic Taehyung was, even though you had been unpleasant and ungrateful the entire day. 

Now, you had a chance to finally make it up to him. It was the 9th of October, 100 days after your first kiss and you were determined to celebrate this with him since you had ruined the first 100 day anniversary. Taehyung always went above and beyond to demonstrate his love for you; constantly buying you gifts, treating you with kindness and patience even when you disobeyed him, and protecting you from anything and anyone that would try to hurt you. You were so lucky to have him. 

When he left for work in the morning, you had persuaded him to let you stay behind, complaining that you had a stomach ache. He was fully prepared to stay with you and take care of you in bed — an offer that had been very difficult to refuse — but you assured him that you would be fine at home alone. He had made you promise to text him at least once every twenty minutes, a promise you were glad to make, and left after a prolonged make-out session, “to make up for all the kisses I’ll be missing at work today” Taehyung had argued.

“I’d hope so!” You shot back, “I won’t be very happy if I decide to come in and see you fucking Jimin over a desk.” You had intended to make him laugh, but instead he pulled you into his chest, crushing you there as he whispered into your hair.

“Never,” his voice was hushed, but almost scarily fervent, “I’d never betray you, baby, never. I’d rather die.” Slightly shocked by his reaction, but touched to your core at the sentiment he was expressing, you had burrowed into his arms, reaching up slightly to place a kiss on his jaw. He leaned down return a chaste kiss before pulling back with a deadly serious expression you seldom saw him wearing directed at you.

“I don’t ever want to hear you doubt me again, baby. You have to trust me, always.”

“No, I-I know,” you had stuttered in the face of his controlled anger, “I was making a joke, but it wasn’t funny, and I shouldn’t have done it.” His shoulders loosened slightly. “I’m sorry Tae.” He sighed and pulled you back into his chest. 

“It’s ok, baby.” 

“Will I be punished?” He stilled for a second, chewing his lip contemplatively. You held your breath. 

“No.” You exhaled. “I wouldn’t punish my baby when she feels poorly. Besides, you’ve learnt your lesson, haven’t you?” You nodded eagerly and he tapped your nose with a smile, before kissing you goodbye. 

You had fought with yourself over whether or not to call him and ask him to come back to the apartment for almost forty minutes after he left. You hated lying to him, and every second without him felt like a moment wasted, but you knew you should make this day perfect for him. Your suffering would simply be a demonstration of your love, after all, it wasn’t like you had never suffered for him in order to prove your love before. 

You started off by doing an intense clean of the apartment. After spending the better part of two hours — admittedly, about half an hour of that was spent giggling on the phone texting Taehyung while he should’ve been in a meeting — on your knees scrubbing every surface until it shined, you dotted scented candles around various points in the apartment. You didn’t light them, partly because it would be a waste since they wouldn’t be properly appreciated until much later in the day and also because you knew Tae would never be ok with you doing anything that dangerous, especially on your own.

You gathered up flowers Tae had bought for you and placed them in vases in strategic well-lit areas, the sunlight from the window bleeding through translucent petals and tinting the light a soft pink. You had even printed selcas Tae and you had taken together and pegged them on strings hanging from the walls, as well as a few of his favourite photos of you that he had taken while he was still first getting to know you from afar. He really was a skilled photographer. He had managed to take such beautiful shots, all while you remained unaware of his existence. You draped a white tablecloth over the smaller dining table, the one that would allow you to sit directly across from each other as if you were on a real date in a restaurant, and placed a small note on top of it.

100 days since our first kiss ♡

i can’t wait for countless hundreds more (of both days and kisses xxx)

i am so grateful every day that you saw me and for some reason thought i was worthy of you, 

i love you tae and i can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives together !!!

- your girlfriend ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Now, you had just finished what you planned to bring out for dessert in what you had internally dubbed The Ultimate 100-Day Date for Tae My Amazing Wonderful Perfect Boyfriend (you were thinking of maybe shortening the name a bit). You were just about to get out the sweet potatoes to slice up for the Japchae main course when the door swung open with a bang. 

You screamed as a man ran into the apartment. He turned to you - Oh my God, I’m going to die - and dropped his suitcase- suitcase? Why does he have a- 

Oh, it’s Tae. 

Guess I won’t die after all. Or I will, since he seems determined to squeeze me to death. 

Taehyung was crushing you to his chest, gripping you tight enough to bruise, as he muttered something unintelligible into your hairline. His body was shaking, with relief or hysteria, or both, you just didn’t know. 

“Tae- hey, Tae-” He shoved himself off you abruptly and you gasped in a relieving breath, too focused on getting oxygen in to worry about the expression on his face.

“Baby…” his tone was dark, dangerous — he may have called you something affectionate but there was nothing on his face that expressed anything remotely related to love. It was chilling. 

“Tae… you’re back early.” He was back early, way too early, two hours early, this basically ruined your plan to surprise him. Though, he didn’t seem to have noticed the changed decor of the apartment so who knows, maybe he wouldn’t realise. 

“Well, I had to leave work early and come back after someone forgot to text me for over an hour.” 

Ah. Fuck.

You had felt guilty for texting him for so long earlier in the day. This meant that when the alarm you had set chimed, reminding you to text him again, you had ignored it thinking that you would be able to text in five minutes. You had not remembered to text him after five minutes, or ten, or thirty, or sixty. And now he was pissed. 

“I come home expecting to find you collapsed, unconscious because of your stomach pains that had caused you to feel so ill that you absolutely had to stay at home today, alone, on your own insistence.” You gulped. You could feel the anger rolling off him in waves and it wanted you to whimper in submission. You think you did, and if anything it made only made him more incensed. 

“And instead I find you miraculously cured from the pain you ensured me would cause you to stay in bed all day, within reaching distance from your phone, making fucking bukkimi.” 

As he spoke, he stalked closer to you like a lion circling its helpless prey, cunningly manoeuvring himself around until your back was pressed against the wall with nowhere else to run and he was in front of you, eyes practically sparking fire.

“Who the fuck are you making this for anyway? Who is he? Tell me his name, baby, I want to hear you scream it as you watch the life drain out of his eyes. As you watch him die for touching you. I’ll kill him for touching you, baby. I’ll kill every motherfucker on the planet that touches you, and I’ll make you watch, I swear to God. I can’t hurt you like that but I’ll make you regret it.” 

“T-Tae,” you stuttered, lips quivering, and his lips twisted into a cruel smirk,

“Wrong name, baby. I said I wanted his name, and I know you weren’t making these for me. You said so yourself, you weren’t expecting me. I’m home early.” He mocked your words cruelly, and you felt the floodgates break, finally allowing the sobs to punch their way out of your throat. You couldn’t believe Tae thought that you- that you would- you couldn’t even think the repulsive thought you were sure his head was full of. 

You were going to be sick. All you wanted to do was make this 100 day anniversary special since you had ruined the last one, but you ended up ruining this one too. 

Tae simply watched as you released your tears, seemingly unaffected, but you could see his hands clenching into tight fists, white-knuckled in the attempt not to touch you, to comfort you. This little fact gave you some hope, and you let yourself have five seconds to control your sobs before straightening up again, looking him in the eye and praying he could see the sincerity in them. 

“I’m sorry. You’re right; I lied to you.” He took this like a physical blow, and reared back, undoubtedly preparing to shout at you some more, so you continued on, not letting him misinterpret. “I am preparing this food for you. Not anyone else, just you, I swear it.” Your voice broke slightly, but you tried to carry on in a calm and even tone of voice. “I just- I shouldn’t have lied to you in the morning about my stomach, I’m so sorry and I knew it was wrong even then, but I just wanted to surprise you.”

“I prepared this… date? For us. It’s our 100 day anniversary, and I wanted to… I don’t know, I spent the day preparing food for us so that we could sit down and have dinner together. I’ve got your favourite dress of mine hung up in our room and ready to put on. I even cleaned and decorated the apartment to make it more… romantic. But I ruined it. I lied. I’m sorry.” As soon as you had finished talking, you let yourself cry again. Silent tears ran down your cheeks in rivulets as you waited for Tae to leave and brood in his room for a while, like he always did when he was deciding on the best punishment. But that’s not what he did this time. 

He stood there, completely still, but then he suddenly looked around him, noticing the decorations you had painstakingly placed around the space you had come to call yours, rather than just his. He then looked to the kitchen counter, where the evidence of your hours of hard work lay. 

“But… It’s not our 100 day anniversary. It’s not even close. That was like 5 months ago, we celebrated it together.” His voice came out as quiet and scratchy, a huge contrast to the enraged yell he used to eviscerate your heart only moments earlier. 

“No, I-I know. I remember how sweet you were that day, and I ruined it by being rude and ungrateful. I wanted to fix that, to do something nice for you, instead of just letting you do all the nice things like always. This is the 100 day anniversary of our first kiss, the day I told you I loved you for the first time. I thought it would be nice to celebrate it… together.” You finished lamely, feeling more and more embarrassed with every word. 

“You… you remembered the 100 day anniversary of our first kiss?” 

“Of course I did.”

You were certain that he would now — upon realising how pathetically, uselessly attached to him you were — dump you and your shit on the curb and call someone to pick you up and take you far away. But, for the second time in roughly two minutes, he didn’t do what you expected. 

Instead of withdrawing, he got even closer. His arms came up to wrap around you as his head dipped down so that he could press his forehead against yours.

“No, baby… I’m sorry.” You stilled in unadulterated shock. He was sorry? For what? “You certainly shouldn’t have lied to me, but I understand why you thought that was best. And I’m happy you wanted to celebrate this anniversary with me — that is, if you still want-”

“Of course I do!” You bit your lip, you shouldn’t interrupt him, but you couldn’t bear to just let him believe you were anything other than desperate to spend time with him. 

“You still want to?” He asked, incredulous. 

“Of course I do!” You repeated, hoping this time he would actually listen to you. “I just don’t get why you would want to be with me, right now. You were… so angry at me, Tae.” He sighed, curling his arm around your waist and pulling you flush to his chest. That was something he always did when he felt extra possessive over you. He did it a lot.

“I know I got mad, baby, I just- the thought of you with another man makes me see red-”

“I’d never cheat on you, Tae. Never. I’d rather die.” You interjected without control, and he shushed you softly. 

“I know you wouldn’t, baby. And I shouldn’t have thought that you would, especially considering how angry I was this morning when you joked about me doing the same thing.” His fingers came up to comb through your hair and you dropped your head back, finally relaxing again. He laughed softly.

“I’m sorry I ruined your surprise for me.”

“No, it’s alright.” You replied, voice softer and slurred slightly as his fingers massaged your temples, “You can keep me company while I slice the japchae.” 

You made him stand far away from where you were preparing the meal, a cute pout on his face that made you relent several times and walk over to kiss him. If you let him close to the food he would just take the knife from you — aish, this is too dangerous for a precious princess like you to touch — and do all the work. You were determined that, even though he didn’t get the surprise dinner, he would at least get a nice meal where he didn’t have to lift a finger to do any work. 

This plan was foiled slightly when he distracted you were you were slicing the potato into thin strips. His newest scheme to get you to let him do what he wanted was to just constantly look at you with bedroom eyes. It was, understandably, very distracting, so you were not too angry at yourself when your wrist loosened slightly and, instead of drawing the knife over the noodle, you ran it against your skin. You stopped as soon as you felt the lancing pain and looked down with a quiet whimper, watching as your blood spilled over all of the perfectly sliced soon-to-be japchae. 

“That took me so long~” you whined softly,

“Babe?” Taehyung’s panicked voice broke through your mourning of the wasted dinner and you glanced up in time to see him practically vault over thin air in order to get to you faster. “You’re hurt! I told you that you shouldn’t hold the knife!” He yelled, even as he took your index finger into his grip so tenderly that it barely hurt. It was a narrow, clean cut — the knife was very sharp, after all — but it was deep, and you weren’t sure how long it would take for the wound to stop bleeding. He held it tightly to staunch the cut as well as he could, gently leading you into the bathroom where the first aid kit was. 

He hushed you when you fussed about getting blood on his fancy suit, and responded each time you apologised for ruining dinner with a plea to stop being ridiculous and a kiss. He even kissed your banged finger to make it ‘heal faster’. You promptly said that kissing you on the lips would heal your finger twice as fast, and his laugh, loud and deep and clear, was the best thing you had heard all evening. 

Tae decided to order takeout since the japcahe was off the table, pizza please, you requested and his expression mirrored your cheesy smile, both of you remembering that first 100 day anniversary where you had refused to even look at him while you ate the pizza as fast as you could to avoid talking to him. Oh, how things have changed. When the pizza arrived, both of you moved to sit together on the couch, curled up as close as could be and surrounded by the candles Tae had lit for you. 

He happened to straighten up slightly and look around, his eye caught by a letter left on the table you had set for the original meal. 

“What’s that over there?” He questioned.

“That’s a table, Tae.”

“Aish,” he jogged your body slightly, even as you both laughed, and then asked again with a cute pout that you were helpless to resist.

“It’s just a little note I wrote for you, I don’t know.” Instead of letting his curiosity be satisfied by that as you had hoped, his eyes lit up with interest and he immediately rose from the couch. 

“Are you… you’re going to read it now?” Your cheeks heated up as you remembered what you had wrote, and the many, many hearts you had scribbled down next to his name. 

“Of course I am. Did you write it expecting I’d never read it?” His tone was teasing, and only made you more flustered.

“No I just… didn’t think you’d read it… literally right in front of me.” You heard his laugh from across the room, though you didn’t look up to see it since your eyes were firmly planted on the ground, as was your stomach — it had lurched uncomfortably downwards as soon as it became clear he wasn’t going to read it somewhere when he was far away from you.

“I’m not literally right in front of you,” he called from the other side of the apartment, and then you heard his footsteps making their way back to you until his house slippers were directly in your downcast line of vision.

He reached down and tilted your chin up with one hand, in the other hand of course, he was holding the note. 

“Now I am, though.” His smile was triumphant, and it didn’t dim even as he pulled back to stand up straight and read the short note. If anything, the smile grew bigger and brighter until it outshone all the strategic, ambience-creating candles in the room. 

“Baby…” he started, his voice sultry and low, causing you to shiver involuntarily. He noted this with a smug eyebrow quirk. “I quite look forward to giving you those ‘hundreds of kisses’,” the smirk in his voice became evident as he quoted your note, and you wondered if you could burrow into the sofa and make your new home there, “But I’m afraid this letter is actually incorrect.”

“W-what?” You were so distracted by his offer of a hundred kisses that you didn’t truly register what he said, “What do you mean?” 

“I mean, the part where you called yourself my girlfriend.”

“Huh?”

“It’s wrong — or at least it will be after tonight.”

“What- Tae, why-” you floundered, feeling slightly hurt but mostly confused, “-why is it wrong? Why… should I not call myself your girlfriend?” 

Taehyung answered promptly, “Because you’ll be my wife.” And then he dropped to one knee. 

[propertyofnikkisthighs]

She’s My Collar pt. 5

So I was gonna try to upload an update for both fics, but I’m still feeling yucky so have this chapter for now which I’m sorry if it’s not great, the next one will be better I promise lol.

Tag List: @nowhereiswhereibelong​ @littlemisscare-all​

“Miss did you hear me?” The officer in front of me grunts.

“I’m sorry could you repeat the question for me?” I ask shyly focusing on him and not Kevin shouting and thrashing as the other cops are shoving him into the police car.

“I asked you if you could give me your recount of the events that took place tonight.”

“Oh right. Well…”

The flames are starting the consume the curtains and spread across the carpet as Tommy and I round the corner from my bedroom. I make a beeline for the kitchen to grab the extinguisher I had luckily purchased when Nikki started lighting himself on fire in their apartment. I toss it to Tommy and he gets everything currently on fire doused with the foamy liquid. 

“What the fuck?” He wonders aloud as he reaches down picking up a broken bottle out of the mess. “River who the fuck would throw a moltov cocktail in your apartment?”

It’s like Loki the God of chaos himself is answering him when my door is kicked in and Kevin sways in full of intoxicated rage. He spots me frozen with fear against the fridge and begins to stomp towards me.

“You fucking good for nothing cunt I should’ve killed you when I had the chance” He screams and lunges towards me but is knocked to the ground by Tommy tackling him.

Tommy’s fist is covered in blood by the time I can get him pulled off Kevin and he spits on him as I get him pulled out of there just in time for the police and fire department to be pulling into the parking lot.

“We’ll be in touch.” The man hands me his card with his info on it before getting in his car and leaving.

Tommy is silent as we walk back to my apartment for me to inspect the damage done. My plants near my window scorched and my carpet destroyed is enough to send me over the edge. I collapse in the fetal position and let myself break down for the first time since the chaos began. I feel Tommy lay on the ground next to me and wrap his arms around me letting me have my moment. 

“Thank you.” I hoarsely let out.

“I told you that you were stuck with us guys for the rest of your life especially me.” He pressed a small kiss to my shoulder and butterflies filled my stomach.

“Let's get off the ground.” I sniffle the both of us sitting back up slowly and eventually clambering back into my bed. 

He pulls me against his body and rests his chin on the top of my head, the soft movement of him breathing lulling me to sleep.

“It’s the goddamn principal of the matter.” Nikki ranted as he paced through my living room while I tried to enjoy my morning coffee.

“So tell Vince you’re pissed.”

“No I can’t let him think he won. He needs to think I never wanted Beth in the first place.” He scoffed.

“Did you want Beth?”

“She gives great blowjobs. That’s why I suggested a threesome in the first place.” He plops into one of my chairs looking up at the ceiling.

“Listen Nikki I’m gonna be brutally honest since we’re friends and you would be with me, this is your fault for opening up your girlfriend to Vince Neil.”

“I hate it when you’re right you know that?”

“You’ll find a new groupie to fuck Nikki you’ll be fine. Now we gotta get to the studio you boys have photos for the album we need to take today.”

The boys had finished recording their first album by the grace of God himself. They spent the entire few days in the studio drunk and pissing off their sketchball manager, but by the end of it they had a full blown album that didn’t take much money to produce. They even got to save money on photos for the album since I was their personal photographer, which aforementioned sketchball was thrilled about. His name was Alan, but I didn’t have a good feeling about him so I rarely referred to him by his name, not to his face.

“My hair isn’t going to show!” Vince pouted in front of the (awful) white background Alan had thrown together for their album pictures.

“It’ll be fine Vinnie we’re gonna get them edited by a professional.” He quipped from beside me.

“Excuse me?” I ask unaware he was having somebody else  edit my photos.

“Well yeah sweetheart you expect me to trust the work of an amature to look good enough without editing? You’re out of your mind.” 

“Listen here you sweaty ass-” I’m cut off by Tommy’s hand covering my mouth blocking the next slew of insults I had prepared.

“Let's take 5 for a cigarette break” He says cheerfully and leads me away still covering my mouth.

“You can stop licking my hand thinking that is gonna make me move it from your mouth you know.” Tommy says after dragging me outside the building we were shooting in. I pull away from him and fix him with a death glare that he just chuckles at lighting up a cigarette.

“I don’t want someone else to fuck with my photos Tommy. They’ll ruin it, I just know it.”

“It’ll be fine Riv. Besides if it’s fucked up then next time Alan can pay you more to do the photos and the editing.”

“Yeah that cheap bastard isn’t about to pay me more for jack shit Tommy.” I roll my eyes and pace back and forth in front of him. “Are you guys sure you want him as your manager? He gives me a weird feeling.”

“I think you’re paranoid babe” Tommy pulled me close and placed a kiss on my forehead. “Now lets get through this photoshoot so we can party it up later alright?”

“As much as I hate The Troubadour sometimes, yes I’m willing to get through the rest of the photoshoot so that we can go ‘party it up’ with the boys there” I tease and lean in close to him.

Tommy’s intoxicating scent of leather, cigarettes, and the men’s body wash I’ve been getting him to use pulls me in and I tuck my face into his neck and place a soft kiss there. He hums as his hand plays softly in my hair and he pulls slightly to tilt my head up. Our lips connect in a soft peck and he pulls away to stroke my cheek with his thumb.

When I walk back in Alan was nowhere to be found, which was perfect for me so that I could get my work done faster. Vince it seems has also finished his little temper tantrum as well. The rest of the shoot goes by without a hitch and we get our final shot for the cover of the album, which was just a close up shot of Vince’s crotch. By the time we get done and piled into my car it’s about time to get ready for the party the boys were throwing for completing the album and releasing it themselves on their own record label.

“Are you Nikki Sixx?” A voice off to the side of Nikki calls and he turns from our conversation with a shit eating grin giving her a single “no”  in response.

“Oh well that’s a shame cause I was going to split this quaalude with him.” She shrugs and goes to move on, but Nikki quickly stops her and confirms he in fact is Nikki Sixx and he was just fucking with her.

I watch her smile and bite her drug in half placing the other half onto Nikki’s tongue and he looks like he just might be falling in love for the first time. I look around and see Vince and Beth wrapped up together and Mick nursing his bottle of vodka, but I can’t find Tommy. I make my way through the crowd up to the bar and I don’t spot the tall brunette anywhere. He could just be outside smoking a cigarette, I tell myself feeling the bits of insecurity start to blossom in my head. 

“Two Jack and Cokes please” I say to the bartender when I finally get his attention. I figure if I go to find Tommy with a drink in hand it makes me look less like a crazy person.

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing ordering your own drinks?” The man to my left says and I have to put effort into not rolling my eyes.

“Well nothing on me is broken so I’m more than capable of getting my own drinks” I shoot back trying to walk away, but his hand comes up to block me from going forward.

“I’m just saying if you got a man he should be catering to you. What’s your name goddess?” His sickening grin shows teeth all too white against far too tan of skin. 

“Her name is none of your business.” A deep huff comes from behind me and I turn to see Mick casually leaning against the bar.

“What are you her fucking dad?” The overly bronze man snaps.

“I’m trying to help you, but if you don’t want to keep all your fucking teeth that’s your dumbass decision.” Mick chuckles and tips his head to Tommy making his way towards us already sending hate eyes to the man next to me.

“You should listen to the man.” I shrug. “He fights.” I nod toward Tommy for emphasis.

The man looks like he’s about to argue when I feel Tommy slide his arm across my shoulders.

“This guy bothering you babe?” He asks sipping the drink in my hand never breaking eye contact with the strange guy with a look that said ‘one wrong move and I’ll kill you.

I smile like a cat that just caught a mouse and sip my drink as well.

My back hits the back wall of the closet as Tommy tries to find a secure place to hold my body so he can kiss me and grind into me at the same time.

“Fuck can I get this kind of reaction everytime I stick up for you.” Tommy pants breaking away from our kissing to catch his breath.

He hisses as I grind against him while pulling his hair back to expose his neck to me. I take the opportunity to nip at the skin there and feel the rumbling of another groan pass through him. Tommy begins to unlace his pants and suddenly the realization of how public we are hits me. Right as a worker opens the closet door to be exact.

“Ah I’m so sorry!” I yelp climbing off Tommy and rushing out of the closet and out the back door. Tommy is hot on my tail quickly catching up with the help of his long ass legs.

“Come on.” Tommy begins leading me to my car. “We’re going to your apartment to finish this.

[isthisthingeven0n]

so, this is my gilfriend : c.k

brief summary: you and corinna have been dating for a while and you want her to meet your family. however, you haven’t exactly told them you’re gay

word count: 800 requested: yes by the cutest anon so thanks for the idea love! warnings: literally none, pure fluff

* I just wanna say my requests are closed for a while! I know you guys wanna send ideas in, but can you hold off for a week or so if that’s okay - just so I can catch up :) *

* masterlistin’ / masterlistin’ 2.0

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it isn’t me. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

“Oh my god, I’m doing this, like I’m really doing this.” You’re taking deep breaths as you sit beside Corinna who unlike you, is a lot less nervous for this moment. “How’re you so fucking calm?” You ask her, seeing a small smile line her lips as she reaches over, taking your hand in here.

“Because I know your parents love you, regardless of who you’re dating.” She tells you softly, trying to bring you out from your protective shield. “They’re your parents, they know you babe.”

You sigh quietly under your breath, nodding in response. “Yeah, I mean, it’s not like they’ll disown me?” You let out a half-laugh, suddenly comprehending that happening and Corinna squeezes your hand tightly, snapping you from your darkening thoughts.

“It’ll be alright. You know it’s just a sentence. Once you say it, there’s nothing holding you back.” Corinna tries to ease your nerves, but you’re so pent up you don’t even notice the tap on your window from your Mom.

Snapping your hand from Corinna’s, you smile brightly as you climb out of the car. You force an excited smile across your face as your Mom brings you into a tight hug. “Oh, sweetie I missed you so much!” She squeals as she sways with you from side to side. “And you brought a friend!” 

Releasing you from her embrace, she walks over to Corinna. “Hi, I’m Corinna.” She politely introduces herself, and your Mom looks back over at you with a smile.

“She’s pretty I gotta say. I wish half my friends were as pretty as you, Corinna.” Your Mom jokes and Corinna laughs along, ignoring your internal cringing as you all head inside, Corinna allowing you some needed space.

Corinna looks around, seeing all of your old photos you told her about during your late nights in bed. She can see the moments you hid your smile because of your braces to the time your Dad insisted you try out for soccer with little success. 

“Oh my god, you look adorable here!” Corinna calls out, catching your attention as you nervously chuckle. 

Your Mom walks over too, noticing the photo Corinna is looking at. “Oh, Y/n was about six in that photo.” Your Mom picks it up, looking at it with fond memories. “You were so innocent, so pure.” 

The words stung, but you knew she didn’t mean anything by it. 

“Is Dad in?” You quickly change the topic of conversation, watching as your Mom hums to herself as she places the photograph back. 

She pauses, looking up the stairs. “Honey! Y/n is here!” She yells and the nostalgic sound of those creaking floorboards sound to life as your Dad moves across from the bedroom to the landing. 

He peers his head over, noticing me instantly. “Sweetie!” He calls out happily, and Corinna can feel her heart swelling at how much your parents obviously love you. After all, you’re their baby. 

Your Dad wraps his arms around you, trying to lift you off the ground with a strained grunt. “It’s okay, Dad.” You pat his arms. “I’m not the lightweight child I once was.” You joke and a sigh of relief leaves his lips. “And sorry, this is Corinna.” You turn and your Dad brings her into a hug, something neither of you expected.

“This your new girlfriend or something?” Your Dad asks nonchalantly and you stutter, feeling your heart in your throat as your Mom laughs to herself, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Wait, what?” You manage to spit the words out, and your Mom wraps her arm around your shoulders. 

“Honey, you really think we didn’t know?” She asks you, raising an eyebrow as Corinna remains silently stunned. “You might think that you were good at hiding it, but we knew years ago.” She explains as tears fill your eyes, but she shakes her head as her hands rest on your cheeks. “Hey, it’s okay, we love you for you, Y/n.” She tells you sincerely as you glance over to your Dad, seeing him nod in agreement. 

“We’re your family, honey.” Your Dad speaks up, taking a hold of your hand. “We’ll always love you, no matter who you love.” He glances over to Corinna, smiling to her softly. 

“God, I’m being such a baby.” You say as you wipe your eyes, and Corinna reaches out, bringing you into a hug. 

As you close your eyes, she mutters the one thing you’d been wanting to hear all day. “I’m proud of you.” She kisses the top of your head before the four of you walk into the living room, finally having the proper introduction Corinna should’ve had in the first place.

“So, Mom, Dad,” You stand in front of them, your hand in Corinna’s. “this is my girlfriend.” 

[miss-tc-nova]

Sunrise - Jihyun/V x Fem!Reader Pt 1

I started this series in the middle of The Cat’s Meow and have kind of struggled with some of it (I’m sure readers will pick up on those parts). Nevertheless, I still had a lot of fun with it, so I hope you enjoy. 

Part 1: Stumbled Upon You

                Ambling down the road, I pause, distracted by the beautiful flowers in front of the shop. Smiling, I lean in to smell the beautiful flora. Once I’ve happily taken my fill of the calming scents, I continue on my walk only to run face first into someone, sending us both to the ground.

                “Oh my god! I’m so sorry!” I instantly spout, getting off the poor man. “Are you okay?! Did I hurt you?! Oh geeze! I need to seriously pay more attention to where I’m going! I-”

                His gentle laugh cuts through my panic, effectively silencing me. That mint colored hair atop his head looks so soft, I have to resist running my hands through it. Those mint eyes are pale in color but have a spark of happiness that appears rare, but it’s brilliant.

                “I apologize,” he hums, propping himself up. “I was enjoying the smell of the flowers and I knew you were there but I didn’t expect you to move so suddenly. I suppose I should’ve made myself more obvious.” I notice that his gaze stays low, locked onto the ground and it occurs to me.

                “Oh my god, I knocked over a blind man.” With a gasp, I cover my mouth. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to offend you! Sometimes I just spit out whatever comes to mind and I’m not the brightest person so it always comes out really stupid and childish and-”

                “Do you always apologize so enthusiastically?” he laughs.

                I put a hand to my mouth briefly. “I’m so sorry.” Standing, I take his arm and help him up.

                “It’s alright. I’ve honestly had worse than this.” His hand brushes against his face. “Although I seem to have lost my sunglasses.”

                I pick up the dropped eye wear. “Oh, here they-ohhh no.”

                “They’re broken aren’t they.”

                “I’m such an awful human being,” I sigh in defeat. “Let me buy you another pair.”

                He chuckles. “It’s alright. I’ve got several more at home. You’d be surprised at how many I’ve stepped on myself.”

                “Then...let me buy you a coffee or a tea or something,” I insist. “It’s the least I can do for all the trouble I’ve caused.”

                That smile makes him look like an angel. “You really don’t have to.”

                I don’t know what posses me to do so, but I grip at his sleeve. “Please?”

                The man sighs but that soft smile returns. “Very well. Are you’re free now?”

                “Yes, but are you?”

                “Even if I weren’t, I’m quite interested in sitting down and sharing a cup of tea with you.” The words send a rush of heat across my face. “Lead the way, Miss…?”

                “_____.” I take his arm and begin to lead him towards one of my favorite cafes.

                “It’s a pleasure meeting you,” he goes on. “I’m Jihyun.”

                We chat for a bit before I pull him into the small building and guide him to a booth. “Would you like green or black tea?”

                “Green, please,” he hums.

                “I’ll be right back.” I place the order and the woman tells me she’ll bring it out to us so I return to the man I’ve effectively kidnapped. “Guess we have to wait a little bit. She said she’d bring them out to us when they’re ready.”

                “That’s fine,” he replies lightly.

                “You...never really answered my question earlier,” I hum. “Were you busy...when I pretty much kidnapped you?”

                A grin crosses his face. “I was on my way to see an old friend but I’m sure he’ll be fine for another hour or two.”

                “Are you sure it’s okay to keep him waiting?”

                “Considering his status, he’ll just rearrange his schedule.”

                I tilt my head a bit. “His status?”

                “He’s the heir of a large corporation.”

                “Oh no! I’m so sorry!”

                Jihyun holds a hand up. “Like I said, it’s fine. There’s no need to keep apologizing, please.”

                His words soothe something in me and I feel myself relax a little. “Alright.” The waitress comes by placing the drinks before us. I watch Jihyun hold a hand out, now appearing at a loss. Reaching out, I take his hand gently brush his fingers against the cup.

                “Oh, thank you. So what do you do for a living?”

                “Oh, I’m a seamstress,” I mumble, sipping my drink.

                “Seamstress, hm? Do you specialize in any specific type of clothing?”

                “Mmm, no. I’m kind of a jack of all trades. People bring me suits to patch, there’s a musical production company that hires me for costumes, I’ve had people commission me for renaissance costumes, I even made a wedding dress once.”

                “Wow. You have quite the portfolio. What drew you to making clothes?”

                I answer a bit shyly, “I like creating things: shopping for fabric, putting it together, all of it. But my favorite part is making something for someone and seeing their eyes light up. The woman with the wedding dress is my favorite reaction so far, but I do feel bad I made her cry,” I laugh. “And what is it that you do?”

                “I’m a photographer,” he answers instantly, but the reaction fades to something dark. “Well, I used to be. Now I’m retired and living off the pictures that I sold or are still in print.”

                I feel a sense of awe and concern at the same time. “That’s incredible. I’d love to see your pictures some time.” His smile seems a little sad and I get the hint that we should change the subject. “But what do you like to do now?”

                The question seems to catch him off guard. “Hmm? Oh, I don’t know. I suppose I don’t really have a hobby anymore.”It seems that his own words are a shock to him, but he goes on. “What about you? What are your hobbies? Or is work and play the same thing for you?” I hum in thought. “You don’t have to tell me. You’re not obliged to divulge anything to a stranger,” he reminds me; however, I just want to spill everything to this man who’s so emotionally sincere, though I feel that may not be the case verbally.

                “Hmm. Well, I do enjoy sewing, so I do spend a lot of spare time making random things. But I do enjoy binging t.v. shows while I do.”

                He chuckles. “Oh really? What’s your favorite series?”

                Topics from television to world travels to even our favorite foods pass the time and I find myself earnestly speaking with Jihyun. I notice the conversation tends to lean more towards me but I don’t want to push anything he may be uncomfortable with. Still, he’s full of a passion that’s absolutely alluring.

                “I would love to see your art one day,” I sigh almost wishfully.

                And then Jihyun gives a conflicted expression before asking, “Would you...No. Never mind.”

                “What is it?” I press.

                He hesitates but takes a deep breath. “Would you like to accompany me to an event this weekend?”

                I lower my cup. “An event?”

                “It’s an art exhibition; a display of my photos.” The subject seems a bit sensitive but I get the gist of it. “They still like the artist to be there if possible so...I’ll be there. But it would be nice to have a friend there with me.”

                Already friends? I feel a blush creep across my face.“I’d love to go. Is it super formal?”

                “I believe so.”

                I nod to myself. “Great. So I should probably go find a dress.”

                For once, it seems that he’s the one a bit flustered. “Oh! You can-If you just bring me the receipt, I’ll reimburse you for it.” He’s so adorable.

                “Don’t worry about it. There’s a dress pattern I’ve had my eye on anyway.” I notice a faint tint across Jihyun’s cheeks. “I’ve been saving up. Besides, I think it would be a bit strange for a man I just met to buy me a dress.”

                “Are you sure?”

                “Of course.”

                “Great. I’ll pick you up at six on Saturday.”

                “Maybe I should drive,” I laugh a little.

                One of those mint brows arches. “Did you actually assume I would be the one driving?”

                The tea almost comes out of my nose. “N-No!” He chuckles. “But seriously. Should I drive or not?”

                “It’s probably better than walking,” he agrees. As Jihyun is giving me his address, his phone rings. “Hello? Ahah, I wondered when you would call. No, I’m fine. I got caught up in something else. I’ll tell you about it later. Alright, I’ll be there soon.” I can already guess who called but I’m a little disappointed that he promised he’d be on his way. “I suppose I should get going. Jumin’s getting rather impatient it seems.”

                “I did keep you pretty long.”

                His smile makes my stomach flutter. “It was worth it. Would you mind calling a cab for me?”

                “Sure. No problem.” I escort the man outside while we wait for his ride. “You’re cab’s here.”

                “Thank you. I’ll see you this weekend, right?”

                I can’t help but smile. “Yeah. I look forward to it.”

                “Good. See you then.”

                “See you then,” I agree, watching the cab drive off. With an excited fire in my chest, I hurry to the shops for the dress pattern.

[tsuki-chibi]

Marinette March Day 4: Dough

Read the fic on AO3: Under My Umbrella

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Adrien was standing, much to Marinette's surprise, in the rain. The photographer and everyone clustered around him was safely underneath a canopy, but apparently they had decided not to grant poor Adrien that luxury. Even from where she was standing, Marinette could tell that his hair and clothing were soaked. It had to be uncomfortable - and frankly she was a little surprised that Gabriel Agreste was willing to allow his designs to get wet - but you would never have known Adrien’s discomfort from how smoothly he was following the photographer's directions.

"That's it, Adrien! You are the spaghetti! Be the dough!" Vincent shouted. "You are the very thing upon which the bowl of pasta is built!"

"What does that even mean?" Marinette muttered, baffled. Whatever it was, Adrien was evidently doing it perfectly as Vincent finally gave a loud exclamation and kissed his fingers.

"Perfect! Now, we must have Sofia on stage!" Vincent called out.

Adrien moved aside as a very beautiful girl took his place, heading back towards a temporary tent. Marinette skirted the crowd and managed to catch the Gorilla's eye; he was standing guard alongside the barriers. The Gorilla gave her a measuring look before nodding and beckoning her forward. She whispered her thanks as she slipped under the barrier and hurried towards the tent, clutching Adrien's jucice in her hand - though considering he was out in the rain, she reflected that she probably should've brought him something warm instead.

"Adrien?" Marinette called, letting her umbrella fall as she stepped into the tent.

"Marinette? Is that you?" Adrien said, sounding at once puzzled and pleased. "I'm back here."

She followed the sound of his voice and emerged into a small space that was crammed full of clothing. Adrien was sitting on a chair with a towel over his head, scrubbing at his hair. He let the towel fall as she grew near and smiled at her.

"Hi," he said.

"Hi," Marinette said, her heartrate quickening in spite of her best effort's to stay calm. She was letting Adrien go, she reminded herself. She had no other choice. Just because he wasn't with Kagami anymore didn't mean anything. Adrien was in love with someone. Even if Marinette had apparently jumped to the wrong conclusion by thinking that it was Kagami, she wasn't wrong about that part.

"What are you doing here?" Adrien asked, cocking his head. "Not that I mind when you visit me on shoots, but it's a miserable day to be out."

"I was having juice with Kagami. We thought you could use some," Marinette said, indicating the cup she held. "It's passionfruit-orange."

Adrien beamed. "Wow, thanks! That sounds delicious." He stretched out a hand. Marinette swallowed as their fingers brushed when she handed him the cup. Suddenly, the space felt entirely too small.

"Wet!" she blurted out.

"Huh?" Adrien said, blinking.

"Wet. You're - you're really wet," she said. "Why?"

Fortunately, Adrien was too kind to answer with the obvious. He sipped his juice and then said, "My father decided to take advantage of the elements. His latest theme is based around negative emotions. This outfit is supposed to represent grief, and he thought that the rain would give the whole thing the perfect edge."

"Negative emotions?" Marinette repeated, making a face. "In light of what happened not that long ago, isn't that kind of... um... tacky?"

"Tell me about it," Adrien said with a grimace. "It feels like he's trying to capitilize on people's trauma. I hate it." He plucked gloomily at the hem of his wet shirt. "But I don't have much choice. I guess I'm just glad he didn't want me in the sex outfit."

Marinette choked on her own saliva. "S-sex outfit?!" she wheezed.

"Yeah, it's a whole big thing based off the seven sins," Adrien replied. "Uh… are you okay?"

"Fine. I'm f-fine," Marinette stuttered, forcibly wrenching her brain away from any images of Adrien and sex. She definitely didn't need to be thinking about that, particularly when all she could think about seemed to be Adrien in black leather and bearing a terrifying ressemblance to Chat Noir.

Adrien shot her an odd look, but shrugged. "Anyway... I was kind of hoping the photo shoot would be canceled today. I could've used a chance to sleep in. But I guess it's just as well. Better real rain than standing underneath a hose while they try to make it look like rain."

Marinette stared at him for a moment.

"What?" Adrien said.

"Nothing. I'm just mentally crossing model off my list of potential future occupations. I don't think I could put myself through everything that you do," she said.

"You get used to it," Adrien said with a shrug and a thin smile, and her heart went out to him. Because Adrien had never been given a choice about getting used to it; his father had decided that Adrien was going to be a model, and so a model Adrien was. It would be like if her own parents decided she was going to be a baker and refused to let her be a designer.

“I guess,” Marinette said finally, unable to think of anything else to say. She glanced around and found herself looking at a nearby rack of clothing. Now that she knew the inspiration behind the line was Hawkmoth’s akumas, everything looked garish and – dare she think it – tacky.

“I’ll be done here soon,” Adrien said. “Do you have any plans today?”

“Not really. I should go home and do some homework. Maybe take a nap.” Yeah right. As though that was going to happen.

“Would you maybe wanna grab some lunch? My treat.”

Marinette’s head snapped around so fast that she heard her neck crack. Adrien had dropped his gaze and was staring at the ground, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck. She had long ago figured out that he only did that when he was nervous… which meant that he was nervous right now. Adrien had asked her to lunch and was nervous about it. Holy shit.

She must have been quiet too long, because Tikki jabbed her in the thigh. Marinette jumped and stammered out, “S-sure!”

“Great. I won’t be much longer if you don’t mind hanging around.” Adrien smiled and stood up. He glanced in the mirror and straightened his hair.

“Not at all,” Marinette said, a little dazedly.

“Okay. Be right back.” He squeezed past her and left, which was good because Marinette’s knees were feeling a bit weak. She toddled over and sank down into the chair Adrien had vacated.

“Oh my god, Marinette! Adrien asked you out!” Tikki squealed, poking her head out of the purse. “That’s amazing!”

“It’s – it’s –”

“It’s?” Tikki prompted, flying up in front of Marinette’s face.

“Horrible!” Marinette exclaimed.

Tikki blinked. “Come again?”

“Tikki! What does this mean? Kagami said Adrien is in love with someone else. Who could that be? Is he using me to get over his mystery girl?” Marinette hissed.

“Maybe it means Adrien is in love with you,” Tikki said gently.

It was Marinette’s turn to blink. Then she gave a shaky laugh. “What? No. No! That can’t be right. Adrien isn’t in love with me. He can’t be. Because –”

“Because you’re falling in love with Chat Noir.”

“Exactly,” Marinette said, then choked. “Wh-what?! No!”

“Marinette, I have no idea what you’re so upset about,” Tikki said.

“Adrien told someone who I am!” Marinette said, fighting to keep her voice low. “Remember? In the alternate timeline where Chat Blanc happened, Adrien figured out who I was because of that present and told someone.” And oh, how her heart had hurt when she’d figured that out. That had definitely put some cracks in the fantasy of Adrien that she’d built up in her head.

“Of course.” Tikki frowned intently. “But Marinette, that didn’t technically happen. You can’t blame Adrien for something that he never did, right?”

“I… I guess,” Marinette said, a little surprised. She had fully expected Tikki, who was so adamant that Ladybug’s identity remain a secret, to agree with her.

“All you’d have to do is make extra sure that Adrien doesn’t figure out who you are, but that would be a lot easier if you’re dating him. You could give him presents as you, not have to worry about getting into his bedroom to leave them!” Tikki went on.

“But… Tikki, I don’t want to have to hide who I am forever,” Marinette said, wringing her hands together. “If I marry someone, I want to be able to tell them the truth.”

Tikki gave her an exasperated look. “Adrien asked you out on one date, Marinette. He didn’t ask for your hand in marriage! Stop putting the cart before the horse. You and Chat Noir could defeat Hawkmoth at any point. It could happen long before you ever get serious with someone.”

“That’s true,” Marinette said slowly. “So… you think I should go?”

“Absolutely. Unless…” Tikki’s expression turned sly. “You’ve got a cat-shaped reason not to go.”

“Seriously?” Marinette said, frowning at her. She still wasn’t sure, but it was not for the reason that Tikki was suggesting. She just didn’t want to get caught up between Adrien and his mystery girl.

Then again, she didn’t even know for sure that this was a date. Adrien might have offered to pay, but that was just the way he was: he had plenty of money, whereas he knew his friends didn’t. Maybe this was just something between friends. Marinette nodded to herself. Of course, that had to be the reason. And Adrien had just been nervous because he and Marinette didn’t usually hang out alone – and when they did, Marinette usually made a complete fool of herself.

Well, not today. She was going to make sure this was the best damn lunch of Adrien’s life!

[lynneshobbydomain]

Seeing Is Believing (Day 4 of Komahina Week)

((Thank you sunflower_8 for betaing this for me))

Prompts: Talentswap AU/Flirting

Rating: G

Summary: A picture is worth a thousand words unspoken and understood. Hajime uses Nagito’s talent against him to show him exactly what this means.

You can read under the cut or at my A03

“You know a hundred other people in the world, why does it have to be me that gets photographed?” Hajime asked as Nagito placed down his camera. The park was empty save for themselves, which was good because Hajime didn’t feel up to signing autographs of any sort. It was probably also in Nagito’s good luck too, considering it saved him a lot of editing later. 

At the current moment, Nagito had Hajime posed so that he was leaning up against the tree, a book propped in his hand. He had to brush the petals out from his hair from time to time, so they wouldn’t pile up and make him look worse. Nagito had been moving around trying to get different angles, using natural lighting was more of a hassle for a photographer and Nagito was determined to make it work. Hajime had to admire the perseverance.

“No one would look as good as you.” Nagito replied smoothly as he adjusted his camera settings. Hajime’s cheeks pinkened, but he stomped those feelings down. “I want to catch Hinata-kun’s good side. You always show the stiff and stoic sides of yourself, but I rarely catch you at a moment of relaxation and peace. And with a smile.”

Either Nagito was going full out with the flattery, or Hajime was taking everything he was saying too seriously. “What do you mean with a smile?” Hajime finally decided to ask. He wasn’t going to touch on the flattery part. If he did, then that meant listening to five negative things about Nagito, and Hajime wasn’t sure he could handle that without wanting to slap him or kiss him.

He preferred the latter but that was completely off the point.

“Wait, you didn’t know?” Nagito picked his head up, eyes wide with surprise. He quickly started to go through his camera and then walked over towards the model. Hajime didn’t like looking at photos of himself, he rarely ever looked like what was on magazine print. However, when the camera was tilted so that Hajime could see the screen, he noticed that there was something different in the way he was photographed for his job, and the way Nagito caught him.

There was a tiny smile that was on Hajime’s lips in the photo. A couple of the cherry petals had fallen just in time to give him the sense that he was in a romantic setting without anyone. The book was open and Hajime noticed that he didn’t look at the writing. He was looking up and away. As if he were waiting for someone, or as if someone called his name. Now that he thought about it, wasn’t that what Nagito did? Called his name and made him look up? That was several shots ago.

“See?” Nagito asked, his voice soft as though he was going to break the moment. Hajime felt himself being lured by the tone, feeling as though maybe Nagito was right and this wasn’t a moment to break. “I told you you have a small smile.”

“I didn’t even know I was doing that.” Hajime mused. He wondered what he could’ve been thinking about that caused it. He was usually so careful about his expressions when there was a camera around. Even though Nagito told him to relax and just be himself, Hajime would’ve been aware of that smile, wouldn’t he?

Or maybe, Hajime looked over at Nagito as he thought about it, maybe it was because of who was behind the camera to begin with. Nagito was leaning close into his personal space. He could smell the cologne and the blackroom that lingered on Nagito’s clothes. There was the same type that was playing at the corners of Nagito’s mouth. “Has anyone ever taken your photo before, Komaeda-kun?”

“My photo? Why would anyone want to take a picture of me?” Nagito burst into laughter, though it was high pitched and nervous. Hajime felt his heart wrench. “I’m not all that good looking like you are Hinata-kun.” Hajime opened his mouth, about to lay out fifteen different other reasons why that wasn’t true when Nagito continued. “Besides, you’re my favorite subject to photograph. You...don’t see yourself the way I see you.”

Spurred on by the moment, Hajime held his hand out. Nagito blinked, gripping onto his camera a little tighter. “If I promise not to break it,” Hajime said, “then will you let me take one photo of you? I want to prove something.”

“Prove something?” Nagito echoed. “I mean…” He pursed his lips together before shrugging. “Okay. But don’t say I didn’t warn you about the picture coming out bad.” He handed the camera over towards Hajime and they switched positions. “Should I also be reading the book?”

“I want you to be yourself.” Hajime told him as he started to mess around with the angles of the camera. Did he want a vertical picture or a horizontal one? He trusted Nagito’s settings for the rest of the picture. He wouldn’t know how to fix whatever mistake he made for that. “What would Komaeda Nagito do in this setting?”

Nagito’s teeth raked the bottom of his lip and looked at the ground thoughtfully. Hajime was tempted to press the button then, but decided against it. He waited until Nagito decided to sit down underneath the tree while Hajime had stood, with his foot up against it. Nagito leaned back, his head tilted. The mosaic shadows covered most of his features, but the light of the sun helped tease the sparkle in his eye and shone brightly as a halo against his hair. He turned slightly to face the camera, a serene smile and a pleasant expression. He reached and placed his hand next to him, as though beckoning whoever was behind the camera to approach.

Hajime could only hope that was a good shot. He got down on his knees to make sure that he was level with the pose. He knew enough to know that if he decided to stay standing, the picture wouldn’t come out right. The angle would be too awkward, and the settings Nagito had on would ruin the photo. Hajime wanted to catch Nagito in the best light he could. He lifted the camera and saw through the lens that Nagito’s expression changed only slightly. whether it was out of surprise at Hajime’s thoughtfulness or something else, Hajime wasn’t sure.

But that was the expression that stayed on that photo.

“Wanna take a look?” Hajime asked as he held the camera back.

Nagito reached over as he took the camera and he blinked at the photo. 

“Maybe I wasn’t all that good.” Hajime took his silence as if he had done something wrong. He wouldn’t have been surprised really. Photography wasn’t his strongest suit after all and it wasn’t his Ultimate. “But I-”

“Hinata Hajime, you are so talented. You made me look like a model like yourself! I’m not worthy of thi-” Komaeda was starting to hyperventilate. Hajime didn’t think he ever saw someone literally shake from excitement from just a photo. Then again, who was he kidding? Nagito had shook when Hajime offered to be his model for one of his practical exams. It was endearing, but...worrisome.

“Didn’t you tell me once that the photographer captures what he sees and how he sees?” Hajime cut through his spiel.

Nagito blinked and nodded, “Yes, that’s...correct. I did say that.” Then another wave of shock. “I’m not-”

“That’s how I see you. I think that’s how you see me too.” Hajime swallowed. “I mean...if I’m not being...you know. Too forward I think-”

A sound of a photo being taken snapped Hajime out of his thoughts and of the sentence he was about to say. He blinked back the lights that were suddenly dappled in his vision and he noticed that Nagito’s hands were trembling around the camera as he slowly brought it down from his face. 

Nagito passed the camera back to Hajime wordlessly and the model took the camera again.

The reds of his cheeks were prominent, again Hajime hadn’t been aware of his blushing or of that timid smile that he was wearing. Apparently those two things were common when Nagito was around or taking his picture. The way that he was at Nagito, the earnest expression and sincerity.

“I’ve been trying to find a way to ask you out that wasn’t...photo sessions.” Nagito admitted. “But I just wasn’t brave enough to think that you could like someone like me.”

“I mean, I know I’m intimidating, but I didn’t think I was scary.” Hajime licked the bottom of his lip, his heart stuttering in his chest. “So...yeah?”

“Of course. I would be stupid not to date you.” Nagito sighed. “I just wish you caught on after the first thousand photos we took together.”

Hajime spluttered, but he decided to laugh it off. “Maybe next time you should’ve left the photos on my desk. I might’ve gotten the hint.”

“With the fancy writing on the edge of the card with a bunch of x’s and o’s like in Hollywood?” Nagito quipped back and Hajime burst into laughter. He forgot that he told Nagito about how many times his fans would send him clippings of his own photos to send in and try to hit on him that way. “Next time I’ll remember the red lipstick, Hinata-kun.”

“Oh god no I take it back! I take it back!” Hajime laughed. “No, you did just fine...actually what did you do with those photos anyway? You don’t have a shrine do you?”

“And what if I do? Will Hinata-kun still want to date me?” Nagito teased.

“If it’s not a summoning circle, sure.”

“Your standards are very high.” 

Both boys fell back into easy laughter and Hajime took the initiative and crawled over to sit down next to Nagito. The photographer gasped softly as Hajime pressed their sides together and he tilted his head to rest against Nagito’s shoulder. The warmth of Nagito’s body and the sun was like a gentle lullaby, it was easy to bring back the peace.

He didn’t even mind it when another photo was taken. Nagito could complain about the angle and the bad lighting of the selfie later. 

It would soon be their favorite photograph anyway.