damn look at those white teeth

casanddeanwinchester  asked:

How about a fluffy destiel single dads au, where they meet somehow because of their kids (like a toy store where one is the clerk or something)? (You said it's time for prompts:) )

Love this! Here you go :) I might develop this into a longer one! In fact, I am absolutely going to develop this. Keep an eye on my AO3 later today! And I actually pulled a thin plotline from my DCBB fic into this too ;)

Sammy, five years old, runs up to the counter with a pink and orange stuffed dinosaur in his hand, and stands on tiptoe to hand it to the clerk. Dean is a few steps behind him, completely distracted by how awful the toy is, and simultaneously thankful that this time Sammy hasn’t gathered up almost every toy in the shop and cried fat tears while asking why he can’t take them all home. He’s so distracted by the dinosaur in fact, that he doesn’t notice the (considerably attractive) man staring at him from across the counter, and has to ask him to repeat what it was he had just said. His cheeks don’t flush with embarrassment until he looks up, staring into clear blue eyes and a polite smile, showing perfect white teeth, then he turns the colour of a stoplight as his brain registers damn, this guy is cute.

The guy, who is wearing a plastic nametag reading ‘Cas’ merely smiles at him and says, in a rough, husky voice: “My kid likes that one too. I’m still struggling to see why.”

“I know, right?” Dean exhales in relief. The guy clearly doesn’t think he’s a total blundering idiot. “It’s so…garish!”

Cas shrugs. “That I can understand. The bright colours help with cerebral development. I just think it looks like it comes alive at night. Look at those eyes. Totally evil.” He drops his voice to say the last part, but it doesn’t matter; Sammy is distracted by a display of flashing lightsabers, and Dean decides to pay quickly so he doesn’t get the pleading eyes and quivering bottom lip that come out whenever Sammy really wants something. He can’t resist that expression. He tugs out his wallet, and notices Cas staring over at Sammy with a fond expression.

“How old is your kid?” He pulls out a wad of cash, and Cas rings the dinosaur through the till.

“Hmm? Oh, they’re four. Twin boys. Little monkeys, both of them, as you can imagine.” Cas’ eyes light up as soon as he starts talking. “How old is yours?”

“He’s five.” Dean takes his receipt and the dinosaur. “Uhm,” He stalls, wondering if he’s crazy to ask his next question. What the hell. All in the name of settling in. “We just moved here, actually, and Sammy doesn’t start school for another two weeks. Would you be interested in a play date? Get the kids together, maybe go for a picnic or something?” He gestures to the large floor-to-ceiling window at the front of the toy store. “The scenery around here is gorgeous. I know you’re probably really busy. But I just thought, you know, if you weren’t…”

“I’d love to.” Cas cuts him off smoothly, extending his hand across the counter so it rests in the middle, palm down. “ My twins love making new friends, and we’re great tour guides. It would be my pleasure. I’ll probably need your name first, though.”

“Oh! It’s Dean. Dean Winchester. And that’s Sammy.” Sammy is currently sitting in the middle of the floor reading a Beauty and the Beast colouring book - upside down.

“I’m Cas. Here,” Cas scribbles something on the back of Dean’s receipt. “Give me a call sometime and we’ll get a date… a playdate arranged?”

As Dean leaves the store with Sammy in tow, he can’t help the pleased glow that pulses in his chest. Settling in is going just fine, and was that accidental that Cas had said date because if it wasn’t then Dean can certainly think of worse ways to spend his time… He fervently hopes Cas is single too.

They hop into the Impala, parked right outside the toy store, and when Dean chances a glance back over his shoulder, he sees Cas watching them go, a gentle smile playing at his perfect lips.

Opinion (Vernon/Hansol)

type: fluff
pairing: you x hansol/vernon
words: 1624
synopsis: in which you reluctantly go to a seventeen fansign in place of your sick best friend and it’s the beginning of a love story 
a/n: yeet hello i am here again!! thank you all so so so much for 4K! love you all so much x

I want to be your favourite hello and your hardest goodbye.

Originally posted by i-wonwoo

Hansol was having a bad day. A horrible day. A no-good, horrible, shitty excuse of a bad day. He was a panda, with eye bags as dark as the eerie black night in which he had worked tirelessly through. An old man, whose joints would creak and cramp with every small movement his pen yielding hand would make. A clown, whose cheeks ached from the prolonged amounts of times he’d flashed a drop dead gorgeous smile in the direction of an eager fan.

And what was his solution? His remedy to all these problems?

Nothing. Continue being all those things. And if he were honest, he was becoming tired and bored of the ‘same old, same old’ schedule he’d been forced to become accustomed to.

“Ya, Hansol-ah. Look alive, would you? At least make an effort to act like you want to be here. What’s gotten into you lately?” Leader S.Coups whispered, trying not to draw any attention to their conversation.

Hansol sighed, straightening his back and cracking his knuckles, “Sorry, hyung. Just feeling a little drained.”

Seungcheol gave his dongsaeng an encouraging smile, bringing his hand up and giving him a strong slap to the back, “This isn’t for us. Remember, this is for them, the carats. They’re the ones who have helped us get where we are today, and this is the least we can do for them.”

The younger nodded, refocusing his energy on the upcoming excited girl who was making her way towards him.

Don’t misunderstand, he loved his job, he adored his fans. But even idols had their bad days, and although Vernon’s presence was there at yet another fan sign - Hansol’s heart lay within the sheets asleep, where he wished he was and doing what he wished he was doing.

Earnestly, he hoped for something different to happen, something spontaneous and something that wasn’t planned. Something that would catch him off guard, open his eyes and turn the fake smile he had on into something genuine. Something… or someone that would give his heart a reason to wake up from within the sheets.

“___________!” Whined your friend, Ji Su, “C'mon, please? This is my dream!”

You rolled your eyes, placing the bag of groceries on the kitchen counter. It joined the other useless junk and clutter you were forced to scavenge for, for the sake of your best friend. It had begun during the early hours of the morning, where your slumber was disturbed by an 'urgent’ phone call from a sniffly Ji Su, who stated it an emergency. However, upon arrival, you were informed that the 'emergency’ was nothing but a hoax. You were merely called to provide for her every need whilst she recovers from a savage cold.

It began small, with the occasional glass of water here and there. But as time progressed Ji Su began to become more complacent and started making you do some errands and chores for her whilst she elegantly flipped through Tumblr and Instagram posts. Groceries, washing, dishes, cooking, cleaning - everything, you did it all.

But her final request was simply not going to happen.

“Nope. Sorry, Ji Su. There is no way in hell you are making me go to their stupid fan sign. It’s not my fault you’re sick, so you suffer the damn consequences.” You huffed grumpily, eliciting a loud groan from your best friend.

“Why are you bashing them so much! What did they ever do to you?”

You shrugged, tentatively taking out the groceries from the plastic bag and putting them in their respective places, Ji Su’s narrowed eyes watching you closely. “I’m sorry that I’m no fan of prissy goodie-two-shoes boys who wear baby pink and have millions of annoying screaming little lady fans who freak out every time one of them breathes.” You fired back in her direction, knowing damn well that those screaming little lady fans were a perfect description of the girl drowning in her own tissues in front of you.

Ji Su sighed, looking forlorn and downcast.

You groaned, looking annoyed and defeated. “Fine.”

Your best friend flashed her pearly white teeth, taking out a full-blown portrait of Hansol and handing it to you eagerly, “You’re the best, _______! Now go! Say hi to the boys for me!”

Which was how you found yourself at the door of Seventeen’s fan sign, looking like you’ve been run over by a bus ten times. But who really cared? You weren’t trying to impress anybody. 

Hansol noticed you the second you walked into the fan sign. In a room filled with girls who were buried in their makeup and covered in their finest attire, how could he not? With your sweatpants and stained hoodie - you were a sight for sore eyes. 

Hansol’s heart stirred. 

Hazel orbs followed your figure as it dragged itself to the beginning of the table and stopped in front of a shocked Boo Seungkwan. It was evident that he too was confused as to why a grumpy girl would come to a fan sign that she so blatantly didn’t want to attend to. Despite your obviously depressing attitude, Hansol suddenly felt alive and awake.

He was most intrigued by the girl who tried the least to obtain his attention. 

Four more people. Just four more people and you’d be in front of him. Four more people until he can figure out what it was about you that was causing his heart to awake from its slumber. 

Three more.

Two more.


And then you were in front of him in all your grouchy glory. And Hansol forgot how to breathe. 

With your uncombed and unruly hair, uncovered blemishes and tainted clothes, you were even more perfect up close than he could ever have imagined. You were just so different to any girl he’d ever come across. It wasn’t just natural beauty, it was also a genuine mindset and personality that didn’t give a fuck about what people thought about the way you looked. He knew there was a connection.

“Make this out to Ji Su.” You muttered quietly, shoving a photo of himself at himself. You wanted to be in and out of this place as fast as possible, so this dreadful day can finally come to an end. 

But as if the universe hated you, his hand made contact with yours. 

Sparks. Fireworks. Fucking dynamite explosions. 

You knew he could feel it too when his hand recoiled at the sudden sensation. These events were used for the two of you to observe one another. It was only then did you take notice of his hazel orbs that were shaped like the moon, the waves of his brown-blonde hair and the pink, inviting lips that were stretched into a perfect ‘o’.

You cleared your throat and blinked away the hearts that were beginning to float into your vision. 

He smiled a toothy grin, and you scolded yourself for melting a little, for falling under the stupid trance in which he had everyone in the room under. “Beautiful name for a beautiful lady.”

You scoffed, involuntarily rolling your eyes at the cheesiness and the cliche that is, the teenage heartthrob of the generation. “________, actually. Nice try. Ji Su is my friend, she’s sick so I’m stuck on slave duty for the day. Trust me, I’m not a fan.”

A perfectly plucked eyebrow quirked up, “Not a fan, huh?” He echoed, nonchalantly signing the photo and trying to act unphased, “Why is that?”

Shrugging, you watched as his dainty hand wrapped around his pen, his milky skin distracting you from what you intended to say. Your mind began to wonder about the smoothness of his skin, the waves of his hair, the pink of his lips… with wide eyes, you shook yourself from your own thoughts. 

What was it about this boy, and why were you acting like this towards him? 

“Have you guys ever heard of individuality, uniqueness? Because if you have, then you’re doing a pretty shit job at showing it. You Kpop ‘idols’ are nothing but photocopied versions of each other, that’s why I’m no fan. It’s always the bad boy, the cute one, the rapper. There’s always these same characteristics with you guys and I honestly don’t see why people keep screaming over boys who are replications of one another… That’s my opinion, at least.”

Now usually, people would back away slowly and wonder what on earth was wrong with you for having such passionate thoughts about a non-controversial subject. Usually, people would change the topic. Usually, they’d pretend they’d have to go. Usually, but not this time. 

Hansol merely grinned. 

“Well, ________.” He began, putting his pen down and leaning in closer to your face, “I’d like to be given the opportunity to change your opinion on us ‘Kpop idols’, if you’d let me.”



Oh God, Yes. 

What? No way am I associating myself with you.” You scoffed, looking away to hide the blush creeping up your neck. 

Hansol’s smile remained as radiant as ever, “Bummer.” 

And with that, he handed you the photo back, and you left feeling  somehow disappointed. You felt something for him. Your heart tugged towards him. Yet your stupid stubbornness and pride had to get in the way. 

However, as you walked back to Ji Su’s apartment that evening, you gasped as a piece of post-it paper fluttered off the portrait of Hansol. Tenderly, you picked it up and scanned the words written on it’s pink surface.

Dear, ________.
You felt something too. I know you did.
## ### ### #### (his number)

- Just another Kpop ‘idol’

You smiled and placed the paper inside your pocket. 

Could this be the start of something new?

Imagine sitting next to Chris on a flight to New York.

You slung your bag over your shoulder as you strolled through the air-bridge along with your fellow passengers headed for New York City. You were finally headed home after spending the last two weeks in and around Rome; it was meant to be a holiday but somehow you let work get in your way. You were a huge fan of Italian cuisine and couldn’t pass up an opportunity to do some research for your restaurant. You were a lot like your father in that manner, you were always more than willing to work yourself to the core if it meant improving in the kitchen. How did people think you ended up with the title of ‘New York’s Finest Chef’? There was a plus side to your exhaustion, you were promised sleep the entire flight home.

You passed your first-class ticket to the stewardess and upon looking at your seat number, she grinned. “Aren’t you lucky?” She commented, much to your confusion. “On the right.” She directed you to your seat with a gesture of her hand.

You narrowed your eyes in confusion as she passed your ticket back to you. You shook your head with pressed lips then glanced at your ticket as you made your way down the aisle, scanning for your allocated seat.


You found your seat by the window, in the seat next to you was a very well-built man in a tight blue Henley shirt. Even though you couldn’t properly see his face because he was hiding it behind a black cap and a pair of Ray Bans sunglasses, it was obvious he was very good looking man from what you could see.

“Hi, um- sorry, excuse me.” You addressed the man and he looked up at you, his face prompting continuation. “I just need to get to my seat,” you told him and pointed to the empty seat next to him.

“Oh, right.” He spoke and you found his voice oddly familiar. “Uh- sorry.” He chuckled softly then smiled and flashed his perfect white teeth before getting to his feet. “After you.” He stepped into the aisle so you could get through to your seat.

You sat down and got settled then watched as he did the same. He looked incredibly familiar and you didn’t know why. If only he’d just take off those damn sunglasses so you could get a glimpse of his face and figure out where you’d seen him because- you were about ninety percent sure you knew him from somewhere. You wondered if you had been of service to him before. It was possible, your restaurant had catered many A-List parties as well as served quite a number of the rich and famous. You wanted to ask but he didn’t seem to recognize you so you left it, fearing the risk of being wrong and embarrassing yourself.

“Thanks,” you turned to him with a smile. “And don’t worry about standing up again, I’m most likely going to sleep through the entire flight anyway.” You told him as you pulled out your iPhone and headset from you bag before shoving it back under the seat in front of you.

“Here I was thinking I had a companion to chat with.” He joked then chuckled lightly and you felt yourself doing the same. “Are you in Rome for work?” He quizzed and you nodded. “Same here. Are you headed home?”

“Mm hm,” you nodded. “How about you?”

“Not quite,” he shook his head. “I’m an American, obviously, but um- I’m not from New York. I’m just there for a week for a few more press tours before I’m allowed back to Boston to see my family. Let’s just say that it has been a loooong six months for me,” he stated it out dramatically then laughed when you did.

You turned and looked out window, thinking about what he had just said and replayed it in your head. You picked out a few words and phrases that stuck out for you; 'New York’, 'press tours’, 'Boston to see my family’, and 'loooong six months’. It kind of reminded you of the interview your favorite actor, Chris Evans did a couple days ago. Your body stiffened in your seat and you turned back to the man sat next to you and you narrowed your eyes at him. He was too busy reading something on his phone to realize you were gawking at him. The longer you looked at him, the more you noticed how much he looked like Chris Evans; you’d seen enough pictures of him to recognize that magnificent jawline, even when it was hidden behind his beard.

“Captain America?” You blurted out before you could stop yourself. He laughed softly and though you were embarrassed, it did tell you that you were sitting next to Chris Evans. “Oh my God,” you breathed out, feeling your hands sweat.

“Shhh.” He pressed his index finger to his lips and you immediately did as he asked. “You don’t want me to share my attention with other fan girls, do you?” He teased and a breathless laugh escaped your lips. “I’m Chris Evans, but I’m sure you already know that.” You nodded, your lips still slightly parted. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Y/N Y/L/N.” You answered and he whipped off his sunglasses, his eyes wide and his lips parted; he looked about as stunned as you were. “What?” You asked nervously. “Is there something on my face?” You asked then consciously touched your face.

“You’re not that young chef that owns that restaurant Clover, are you?” He asked and you chuckled in amazement that he’d heard of you. “Holy shit!” He exclaimed, drawing slight attention. “I love Clover! Seb introduced me and now I eat there every time I’m in New York. Seb’s in-love with you by the way, he is going to freak out when he hears that I met you.”

“Bucky Barnes likes my food?” You found yourself giggling like a school girl, drawing laughter from Chris. “Oh my God, this is insane! I can’t believe you know who I am,” you shook your head in disbelief. “You’re Captain freaking America.”

“And you’re Y/N freaking Y/L/N!” He exclaimed then laughed. “What’s your secret, how did you become such a good chef?” He asked then spoke again before you could answer. “And how the hell did you manage to remain smoking hot?” Your cheeks flushed and you bit back your smile. “I’d been ten times my current size if I can cook as well as you.”

“Passion and a lot of exercise,” you answered with a light chuckle. “You should know, you work about as hard as I do. Speaking of your work, you did a great job on The Civil War. Everyone was fantastic but you, Captain, were my favorite,” you admitted and he smiled with lightly tinted cheeks. “I particularly enjoyed the helicopter scene.”

“Of course you did.” He laughed and grabbed his left boob; a signature move. “Well, color me honored and incredibly lucky to be sitting next to you.” You chuckled. “I promise I won’t be too much of a bother, as soon as the plane takes off- I’ll let you sleep.”

“Sleep when I’m sitting next to you?” You laughed and you saw his smile widen. “My brother would murder me if he heard I had pass up an opportunity to get all the dirt from Captain America himself, and I’d murder myself.”

“Don’t you dare,” he warned teasingly. “What would I do for food when I’m in New York?” He asked rhetorically and you laughed. “Tell you what, since you’re giving up sleep for me. How about I take you to dinner, somewhere you don’t have to do anything but relax?”

Did he just ask you out on a date?

“I don’t think my boyfriend would appreciate that,” you told him.

You were very much single, you just thought it’d be fun to make him work for it a little. Of course you were going to say yes, single or not. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity to have dinner with Chris Evans, otherwise known as Captain America. If you were in a relationship, your boyfriend should have understood how great that opportunity was and allowed for it to happen. If he didn’t then well- you clearly chose wrongly.

“Oh um-” Chris winced. “I am so sorry, I thought- um- don’t- yeah,” he rambled and you suppressed your urge to laugh. “You tell your boyfriend he is a very lucky man,” he finally got out an coherent sentence.

“I will when I meet him,” you giggled and his eyes narrowed in confusion. “I’m single, Cap. I was just teasing you,” you told him then laughed when he did. “That was cute, you were very flustered.”

“Is that a yes to dinner then?”

“Mm hm.” You nodded and held your hand out for his phone, he passed it to you without hesitation. “But a no to not cooking.” You started to key in your number. “I just got back from a research trip, I’ve got a lot of ideas, and I could use a guinea pig,” you explained and he chuckled softly. “My number is in there, I’ll text you a time and date. Think you can handle a degustation menu?” You asked, holding out his phone for him to take.

“With you?” He smirked and purposely brushed your hand as he took his phone back. “Definitely.”

Here’s part 2 and part 3 enjoy.

anonymous asked:

Can you do number 16 for T'cham

“Drop the attitude, already.”

The quickness with which T’Challa turns on his toes is meant to be intimidating.

Sam just smirks.

“The attitude?” T’Challa’s tone is icy. A lesser man than Sam might back down.

“Yes, the one with the frosty responses and the stormy, foreboding brow.” He points in the general direction of the tight furrow above T’Challa’s darkly sparking eyes. “It was just a little spilled wine.”

“It was damned near an international incident!”

Which – true. The wine had gone down the front of Russian ambassador’s creamy white dress shirt. But –

“It’s not like I decked the guy as he deserved.”

“And for that you deserve applause?”

“Or a congratulatory blowjob - you know, I’m open to either… With slightly less teeth. Put those away, babe.”


“The bastard was cornering Shuri.”

And that, at last seems to give T’Challa pause.

“And look, I get that she could have handled herself. She was fine. But why damage your relationship with the Russians when the bumbling American exile can draw the blame.”

Sam loves these moments when he can virtually see T’Challa readjust his understanding of him. He loves watching him remember that Sam isn’t just some dumb, bumbling American.

“Congratulatory blowjob, you say?”

Sam’s smile grows. “Mmhmm, that’s what I was saying.”

Sehun the Bad Roommate

Originally posted by r-velvets

Sehun stared at you who had your body twined blithely around your bolster, knocked out cold on the couch.

“Awh, look how at peace she is. I hate it.”

He crouched down, slowly the great white bared it’s teeth, ready to go in for the kill……CHOMP, there goes your ear.

 “Wha-OH SEHUN!” You were torn away from your sleep in the worst way possible with your ear throbbing in pain, you stood up so fast it caught Sehun off guard, he stumbled but quickly bolted out of the room.

 “I’m going to rip out your intestines use them to tie you to the damn tree.” You called out as you hunted the rascal down.

“Good luck carrying me with those flabs of meat you call arms!”You  could hear his loud sniggering down the hallway.

 He dashed into his room and was about to slam the door shut but you arrived just in time to stick your foot between the crack. 

 "Why can’t you let me sleep in peace for once?” You fisted his shirt furiously, yanking him so hard that his face had bumped into the door, Sehun wasn’t pleased when his face was involved in any situation of possible disfiguration.

“Oh like you ever let me sleep in peace with that loud ass snoring of yours.“ He retorted.

 "That, is not true.” You jabbed him in his solid chest as you spoke.

 "You really should take it from someone whose bed you climbed into.“ A smug smile crept onto his face.

“That was one time, and it was because you forgot to pay the electricity bill you peabrain! I almost shivered to death!” Sehun  begged to differ, you’d always sneak into his bed interrupting the beauty sleep of a beautiful man if there is a brewing thunderstorm. 

 "Don’t forget- Sehun please hug me with those muscular arms of yours because I’m so afraid of scary boom booms.“ You rolled your eyes at Sehun’s terrible and very inaccurate impersonation. 

 "I hate you.” You seethed while he leaned on the door frame with a triumphant smirk because he knew you had lost. 

 "Love you too.“ Sehun leaned in to peck you on the lips, leaving you stunned and nailed to the floor before slamming the door closed. 


 "Have a nice night sweet thing !“

Laundry day

Taken from this prompt list

Prompt: Give me a Tony who gets a laundry machine just so the baby can sit on it and laugh when the thing vibrates as it works.

“Alright, the last connection”

Tony announced after a few minutes of being, quite literally, inside the machine, or at least half of his torso was. He sighed as he finally got out and stretched, the bones of his back cracking slightly after being crammed in the same position for a bit too long. Tony looked up at the machine and smiled softly, quite satisfied with the results.

“Now all we have to do is load it” Tony said as he faced at the little person sitting nearby on the floor “Wanna help me?” he asked, smiling when the little boy nodded, giving him a gummy smile that showed only two tiny bunny teeth, the little one watched him with those big brown eyes that had anyone who looked at him wrapped around his little finger.

The little one pushed himself up, still a little wobbly on his feet but Tony didn’t reach to help him, knowing he could do it himself but Tony remained alert in case he fell or tripped with his own feet, all chubby and adorable, and damn, he did make cute babies.

“Here, you can start with this”

Tony pushed a little pile of rumpled white clothes to the kid and watched with a smile how delighted he seemed to be given a little task; chubby hands were quick to start picking each item and shove it inside the machine, sometimes his aim was a bit off but Tony reached to help him a bit until the pile was gone, the child clapped his little hands when Tony praised him for his help and Tony smiled at his little giggles.

“And for the great ending” Tony picked a bright red sock, showing it to the baby and smiling when little hands tried to reach for it “Oh, no, this for uncle Clint’s surprise” Tony crooned as he tossed the sock inside the laundry machine and closed the door “Now he’ll learn how not to break stuff around the house and not to eat your teddy cookies” Tony said as he kissed the baby’s cheek and picked him up easily “Would you do us the honors?” Tony asked to the little one and pointed to the button on top of the machine as he helped him closer, knowing how much the kid likes to press buttons, or anything really, as long as he could reach them, more so if Tony asked him to.

Soon enough the machine started to fill up with water along the soap Tony had previously put inside. The brunet crouched with the kid in tow to let him see inside the machine and how it was slowly filling up with water, smiling as the kid seemed hypnotized by the movement and soon enough the machine started to work, moving slightly, vibrating.

“Oh, this is gonna be so much fun” Tony said, getting back up and setting the kid on top of the laundry machine.

At first the kid seemed taken by surprise but soon enough he started to smile and shriek and laugh with that contagious sound that had anyone who heard him laughing or at least smiling with him. Tony loved to see him happy so he got around to know all the little things that made the kid laugh and, upon discovering them, he’d store the new ones in his memory for later. They were usually silly little things easily achievable, but not for that Tony ignored them; silly cartoons on the tv that Tony would program for the kid to watch whenever he wanted, his dad making silly voices while reading him a bedtime story, Natasha slapping Clint’s arm, anyone kissing his little hands or feet, especially when Tony pretended to munch on his little toes.

Clint wasn’t exactly happy that he had to wear pink underwear for the next month, but he accepted his fate for eating Petey’s cookies.

Also available AO3

Summer: 1999

This was inspired by a conversation with @startwreck and how she spent her Sunday.  
Rating: M-ish?  Adult Language
Spoilers: Season 6-7

If one said Fox Mulder was headed into the Summer of 1999 in a more-than-optimistic-frame-of-mind, it would be like denying that Walter Skinner had a proclivity towards shiny pinstriped work shirts.  One couldn’t repudiate that which was impossible to disprove (and trust Fox Mulder, Skinner’s affinity for those shirts was a topic of conversation between himself and his partner, at least twice a month.  Those were LONG road trips, after all).

The sun in D.C. was markedly scorching and the humidity just shy of oppressive.   May decided to drop its four inches of rain in what felt like an “all day, er’ry day,” Southeast sort of fashion that left the partners battling mold near their lone window sill.  And since their little trip out to see the Brown Mountain Lights, they DID NOT fuck around with mold.

Keep reading

20 - AU

Request: “Vampire Van”

For @storiesaboutvan and @lennonsjohn

This was a challenge, never written fantasy before and it’s clearly not my forte so my apologies. But hey I gave it a shot. Hope you like it and it somewhat lives up to your vampy van dreams. Thanks for the support guys xx


The bar was a gothic heaven. It was dimly lit, with deep mahogany furniture and a black chandelier. It was kinda beautiful actually? The fire crackled in the corner and it felt warm on your skin as you walked by. It was inviting; being here alone was a better option than drinking alone at home anyway. You hung your coat over the back of the bar stool and ordered a glass of red wine to ease off the stress of the day. When the bartender brought it over to you, you said thank you and stared down at the red liquid, clinking your fingernails on the base of the glass before taking a long sip. You almost drained the whole glass.

“Slow down love,” a smooth voice teased and you jumped slightly; you didn’t notice anyone come up behind you.

“Shit, you scared me!” You laughed.

“Sorry. I tend to do that to people,” the guy smiled, flashing his striking pearly whites. You couldn’t help but swoon a little.

You put your wine down and spun to look at him properly. He was like, actually beautiful. His soft brown hair fell in slight waves around his face and it was parted just off the middle. He had clear pale skin and only the smallest bit of light brown stubble on his jaw line. His piercing blue eyes seemed to be staring into your soul and oh god, those eyelashes. You noticed his black velvet jacket that clung to his body perfectly; a strange fashion choice but somehow he pulled it off perfectly. You wanted to run your hands over it and feel the soft fabric under your touch.

Only after he introduced himself and sat next to you, did you realise you’d gotten distracted staring at him.

“I’m Van,” he said pleasantly.

“Y/n,” you shook his hand and were taken aback by how cold it was despite the intense warmth of the room. He seemed to smirk at himself a little.

“What brings you here then, y/n?” Van asked.

“Um, the alcohol,” you replied, taking the last gulp of your wine and he smiled and shook his head.

“Bad day?” He questioned sympathetically.

“Oh yeah.”


In no less than an hour and a fair few glasses of wine later, you were in the dark back corner with Van. You were sat on his lap, drunkenly laughing with your arms hanging around his neck and his bright blue eyes staring once again deeply into your own. He flirted with you hard and you couldn’t help but give in to it. There’s was something so alluring about him. Not just in how he looked or how he spoke, but just in his presence. It’s like you were being dragged into him like the tide, but you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

“I like this jacket,” you said, running your hands all over the soft fabric happily, the black velvet slightly changing colour as you pushed it back against the seam.

“I like you,” Van replied and you blushed. You saw him lick his lips and it was yet another turn on. He traced your jaw line with his finger and ran it down your neck, you shivered.

“Your hands are cold,” you giggled.

“I know, sorry,” he smiled, moving his hands away and loosening his grip around your waist.

“No, I didn’t mean for you to stop,” you replied, running your own finger along his cheek.

“Why are you so cold?” You asked, curious.

“I’m a vampire,” he said with a smirk. For a second you imagined it, you stopped moving your finger and stared at him. If he was a vampire, which he wasn’t…he’d be a very sexy one. 

“Ha ha very funny,” you poked your tongue out at him and he let out a breath from his nose like a laugh.

“I’m not kidding love,” Van said, he was amused. You just kept giggling at him. You also liked that he kept calling you ‘love’.

“Okay, so you’re a vampire then. Sure. What a cliche spot to be then, this weird gothic bar,” you told him, playing along with his joke.

“Yeah. I don’t usually come here,” he laughed, looking around the room with an eyebrow raised.

“Okay vampire boy, let’s go play pool,” you instructed, hopping up from his lap. He stared at you with a twinkle in his eye, as if he was totally besotted with you already. You tried to play it cool and act all sure of yourself.

You pulled Van by the hand and let him trail behind you, not turning to look at him. You grinned as you wobbled down the stairwell to the bottom level where the pool tables and jukebox were. He kept his hand on your waist to steady you; you liked the cold comfort.

Van stood leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, biting his lip as he watched you take out the pool sticks and set up the table. At some point between you sitting on his lap and now, he had unbuttoned his jacket and you saw the blue and white checkered shirt that hung close to his body but wasn’t tight. He had it undone slightly so you could see his chest hair and a thin gold chain hanging delicately around his neck. He looked effortlessly cool and suave, in a way you’d never seen before. His jaw line looked so sharp it could kill.

“Put some music on. Something tells me you have great taste,” you smiled at him before taking the first shot at the pool table. You missed; probably because of all the alcohol.

Van chuckled at you from behind the jukebox and you stuck out your bottom lip in a pout. He flipped a coin into the machine and sorted through the records. He ended up settling on something by The Doors. 

“Hey, don’t look like that, let me help you,” Van whispered and stood closely behind you. He pressed himself into you and held your waist with one hand and the arm with the stick in the other, helping you aim and steady it. God was he smooth.

You felt like you were in a film. The gentle sound of the music was being drowned out by the sound of your own heartbeat in your ears. You felt nervous that Van was so close, but you liked it. Once he’d helped you aim, he helped you shoot. 

“No fucking way!” You cheered as you managed to get a ball down one of those little holes-with-netting things. 

You spun around, resting against the pool table with a smile and faced Van, he was already smiling down at you. He held your waist again and you gripped his arms, staring into his eyes; he was almost magnetic. 

“Do you even understand how irresistible you are?” Van said softly but almost sounded pained. He licked his lips again.

You were still seeing stars and you felt yourself swooning again at his words. You could feel his body giving off that cold vibe, which was unusual. As you stared into his eyes and examined his face, you thought about his words. Could he be a vampire? There was definitely something otherworldly about him; you just couldn’t put your finger on what. 

“Irresistible how?” You asked, tilting your head to one side.

“Well for starters, you’re dead gorgeous. Like, stunning you know?” Van admitted, his eyes wide with what you thought was lust and trailing up and down your neck.

“And you smell really good too if that’s not weird to say,” he chuckled.

“So you don’t want to suck my blood or anything?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh god, I do. But I wasn’t gonna say that and freak you out love. If I’m honest, have no idea how much I’d love to bite into your neck,” Van told you, you couldn’t tell if it was still a joke but something in the back of your mind screamed he was serious.

“Well…I’m down if you are? Just don’t kill me or turn me into a vampire or something,” you responded, shrugging.

Van’s jaw dropped slightly, he was shocked. Then he smiled.

“Not necessary love, I can control myself. Just. I’d rather kiss you actually,” Van said, before moving closer to you again. The record in the background finished and all that played was the white noise left on the empty record. 

“Well you can do that too I guess,” you whispered to him.

Van moved your hair back behind your shoulder and wrapped one arm tighter around your body. He began to softly kiss your neck, sucking on it slightly. It sent shivers up your spine in the best way. When he made his way up your jaw, past your chin and to your lips he stopped quickly to look at you, as if asking permission. You nodded and he smiled, flashing those pointy white teeth again. You swore they could have been fangs. When he pressed his cold lips to yours it felt like fire and you had never been more happy to be burned. 

Pulling away, your heart sank a little. You could kiss him all damn night it was that good. You were completely enamoured by him. You noticed you were shivering slightly, Van took off his jacket and placed it around your shoulders. The velvet was heavier than you thought, but it smelt good and felt comforting.

“So, Van. Do you like, sparkle when you go outside or something?” You asked curiously.

“No love, this isn’t Twilight,” Van chuckled, his smile was warm even if his skin wasn’t. He kissed your forehead and then went to change the song on the jukebox. 

Tarnished Gold: Part 3

Notes: Smut, Swearing, Usual Lance Tucker. This one is really short! hope thats ok! Had to write in a hurry. Hope you enjoy, Feedback is always welcome. ;)

Tags (PLEASE BEAR WITH ME, there was alot! hopefully I got everyone!) :

@to-be-a-sunshine @professional-fandoms @marvelfanuniverse

@pottersassy @anitavalija @alejandra1358 @loozer1213 @jbbarnestrash

@mrs-lamezec @laurenxyz @letsrunwithdream @sexyvixen7

@iliketoeatsoapsandgoats @c-x-v-h-iii  @angstybuckybarnes @kittyscarleet@starstar1012@sebastiansbarnesandchrisrogers @theteacupprinciple

@thundergrande @minaphobia @han35 @see-you-around-red

@animeroses318 @moody-fangirl @hoepalace @piercethemelendez

@drunkwordsss @spn-worm @whenlucasmetmaya @peice-of-whoops

@harry-sings-to-louis  @korilb @buckysteetime @enchantedsanity

@trillest-natalia @needshisbones @jadedhillon-blog

@breakingsupernaturlbad101 @paullllrudd @neuroticdixon 


Keep reading

Title: Holiday on the Beach pt.1
[pt.2] [pt.3]

Group: Ikon
Member: Bobby x you
Type: Fluff
Warnings: Foul language
Recommended songs: Champagne Champion by Wes Period,The Mulatto by Dorsh, Round Two by Imad Royal, Your Love by Mick Jenkins, Pony by Pretty Sister [spotify link] [youtube link]

- - -

“Hello, anyone here?”

I step from the back room of the surf shop to meet a dark haired man waiting at the counter.

“Ah, there you are. You guys rent surfboards right?”

“Hello, sir. Yes, surfboards and scuba gear as well.” I say and lean to the counter. This customer is cute.

Keep reading

A Place Called Sanctuary Part Two

Summary: To Jungkook, the apocalypse was a blessing–a blessing shaped like a nightmare for more reasons than one.

Part One / Part Three / Four / Five

Shadow led him to an opening in the trees, an old plot of land that appeared to have at least a dozen acres or more of built-upon area. It was a place so far in the trees that it was no wonder it looked so untouched by man save for the maze of chain-link fencing that stretched at least a half mile. At the end of the fencing he could see a house, well, the remnants of a house eaten by vines and shrubbery. Shadow walked down the path between the fencing, turning his head occasionally to acknowledge the existence of a dog. It was only when Jungkook got closer that he realized the chain-link wasn’t a maze–it was dog kennels, each one with a bowl and a shelter. Some were filled with resting and sunbathing dogs, others were empty and dusty.  Most of the grass was cut somewhat decently–and by decently it looked like it was hacked with a machete–but there were patches that brushed across his jean-clad shins.

The place had a magical quality about it; some quiet nature that had him feeling like any sound he made was too loud for the space. It was like a scene from fairy tale books that a girl in elementary school used to show him at show-and-tell, some backdrop for a play that Jungkook never wanted a part in. The trees shielded the place, stretching so high that they practically blotted out the sun at certain angles.

Shadow loped up to the house, starting on a thin trail that cut through the vegetation and led to a small wooden door inset in-between tall hedges. Jungkook could only attempt to follow as best he could with you on his back.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Could I be ready to fall in love again?

As I stare at him, this beautiful man in front of me, I can’t help but question myself.

Am I ready to fall in love again?

Of course I like him. Of course he’s wonderful. But is he the one? And am I ready to make that commitment?

“Babe?” He says, causing me to shake out of my daydream.

“Hmm.” I murmur, looking into his gorgeous green eyes. I could love those eyes for the rest of my life.

“You just zoned out. Is everything okay?” He questions with an adorable smile on his mouth.

Everything he does is wonderful. So why can’t I just tell him I love him? Why can’t I just say those three words.

“More than okay. Perfect even.” I smile up at him. His eyes glisten as they look at me. His white teeth shine at me as his beautiful, pink colored lips open into a wide grin. His freckles dance around on his tan cheeks.

He’s gorgeous. And he loves me.

He loves me.

What am I even thinking? Of course I’m going to love this man. It might take me a while to fully fall in love. But I’ll be damned- I think I’m falling for this charming boyfriend of mine.

“Hey,” I say, causing him to look up from his computer, “I think I’m falling in love with you.”

He shoots me a grin and a wink before looking back down at his computer. A matching goofy grin sits on my face as well. A comfortable silence envelops us.

Maybe I’m ready to fall in love.
Maybe only time will tell.

Jealous - Liam Dunbar Imagine.

Originally posted by allthefandmimagines

Request: Hey I love your account! I was wondering if you could do a one shot of Liam like getting jealous or someone hitting on you? And that’s how you find out he’s a werewolf? Idk I just thought of it

A/N: This was a little rushed, so I hope it’s not too sloppy. I was trying to make sure I didn’t ramble on too much or make it too long. Feedback is very welcome!

Word Count: 1106

Warnings: Profanity, mild sensuality.

Your name: submit What is this?


The deafening sound of Coach Finstock’s whistle blared in my ears. “Alright, we’re done for the day. Now get out of my sight!” His harsh tone was so familiar to us now that he couldn’t phase us with his ‘insults.’

“Y/N! I’m gonna work on this shot for a few more minutes, could you wait up for me?” Liam called from midfield. Being my best friend and next door neighbor, I was essentially obligated to give the dork rides to and from school, or at least, according to him I was.

Raising my arm up into the air so he could see, I gave him a thumbs up. I had just gotten out of one of our off-season volleyball practices, and since I had assumed I wouldn’t be staying for long afterwards I hadn’t bothered to change out of my more revealing playing clothes. Walking over to the bleachers, I slung my bag down and sat down lazily, leaning back on the bench behind me. On the field, Liam was taking shots at the goalie. I couldn’t help but admire his skills.. and his amazing physique. If I wasn’t his best friend, I would have been convinced that he was on steroids. With his looks and admittedly good persona, there was no reason for him not to have a girlfriend. Girls fawned after him, and he never seemed to notice. I couldn’t figure out why he didn’t go for one of them.

I continued absentmindedly gazing at my best friend, unaware of the world around me until I felt a tap on my shoulder. Snapping out of my daze and looking to the source, I noticed an attractive boy smiling down at me. He had sweat soaking down his tan body, with bright green eyes and dark brown hair styled into one of those popular haircuts. Damn, I thought.

“Hi, I’m Alexander.” He smiled warmly, flashing a perfectly white set of teeth to go along with a great smile. I did not mind this encounter the slightest bit. He put his hand out, and I shook it politely.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” Returning a grin, I ran my hands through my hair in an attempt to lessen my sloppy appearance. We continued to chat, talking about sports and classes. He was nice, and he made a few witty remarks that I couldn’t help but let out some laughter for. I was so focused on him that I hadn’t noticed that Liam had stopped practicing and walked all the way over to where we were until it was too late. Alexander had just finished complimenting me on my looks, and before I could react to it, all I could see was an arm flying at his face and him going down.

Looking over at his attacker, I was prepared to kick some ass for interrupting the exchange until I realized who it was. “Liam! What the fuck did you do that for?!” All he did was ignore me and walk over to where Alexander sat with a bloody nose and dazed expression. Noticing that he was about to take another swing at him, I rushed over and grabbed his arm before he could finish the action and pulled him back towards me.

When he turned to me, I noticed a difference in his features. He had more hair on his body, his face looked as if it had morphed half-way into an animal, and his eyes were yellow. I stumbled back, completely stunned by what I saw before me. Without saying a word, I turned around, grabbed my bag, and sprinted out of the bleachers and towards the parking lot.

I reached my car and rumbled through my bag to find the keys. Just as I had grabbed the lanyard hooked to them, someone grabbed my shoulder and spun me around.

“Y/N! Stop! It’s me! Liam!” It was the animalistic ‘Liam’ that I had been running from.

“I don’t know what you are or what you’ve done with -” The boy’s strange features suddenly changed back into the normal features of Liam. Confused, I leaned against the door of my car and slid down until I was on the ground. “W-What?”

“It’s me! Y/N, it’s okay. Please don’t be scared.” He kneeled down and softly took my hand in an attempt to calm me down.

I tugged it back from him and brought my limbs close to my chest. “What the hell are you?”

“I’m a werewolf.”

“Since when?! Those don’t exist!”

“Since last year. And yes, they do. I’ll tell you all about it, I promise, but first we need to go home, alright?”

“Not until you tell me why you punched that guy! I was enjoying myself, he was very nice! Why’d you have to ruin it?!”

Liam removed his gaze from me and directed it towards the ground. “He was looking at you the wrong way.” He mumbled.

“He was just talking to me! It’s been so long since someone noticed me like that, why did you punch him? He did nothing wrong!”

Here we go again with the pouting.  “He was flirting with you.” 

“So? Why do you care? I’m allowed to flirt with boys, Liam.”

“I don’t want you to.” He grumbled, standing up and turning his back to me. I got up and crossed my arms, confused and very annoyed.

“Why not? You don’t get to dictate my life, o-” He turned around and grabbed my cheeks, slamming his lips onto mine and cutting off my sentence. At first, I was completely taken aback, but after a second or two I couldn’t help but melt into the kiss. It felt strangely right. I mean, I had always had the smallest crush on him, but I would never have acted on it. He always treated me like one of the guys.

Pulling away, he looked into my eyes with complete seriousness. “That’s why.” He then crossed his arms and turned to face anywhere but me.

I took a few steps towards him and uncrossed his arms, pulling him towards me. “Look at me.” He did as he was told, and I placed a small peck on his lips. “You have a lot of explaining to do, wolf boy.”

With a small smirk, I released myself from where his hands had somehow rested on my hips and unlocked my car, getting myself and my stuff inside. I looked out the window at him standing there with a goofy grin on his face, as if he was just now processing what had happened.

“Well, are you coming?”

Originally posted by void-malachai

Not in the bestiaries.

Or mostly, mermaid!Dean. Because of this AU prompt list. Also because pathsofpassion told me to. Sort of.


“But whaling, Cas,” Gabriel wheedled, as they cast the net out.

Castiel didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. He just gave his brother a Look.

“Harpoons!” Gabriel went on, cheerfully ignoring the Look. “A whole flotilla of guys, battling God’s mightiest fishes together! Tails the size of houses slamming down into the water, shattering boats and limbs, but not ours because God loves us and you’re too much of a spoilsport to steer close in! Victory, and the sharks going wild for us, and riches from the lords at the monastery to last us a month! And girls, brother dearest, don’t forget the girls.”

“I hadn’t forgotten them,” Castiel said mildly. “You mentioned them two minutes ago. I don’t think Jo appreciated it.”

“Jo never appreciates me.”

“Damn right,” said that lady, up at the tiller. “Maybe if you noticed I’m actually a girl sometime—”

“You’re not a girl,” said Gabriel, with dubious gallantry, tying off his end of the net. “You’re an angel. An angel in fine breeches. Girls need wooing. You need terrified supplicants.”

“I have three knives.”

“You know I’m right. Cas, I’m right aren’t I?”

“Gabriel,” Castiel sighed. “I wish you wouldn’t gabber on while we’re casting. The net’s caught over something again.”

Gabriel leaned precariously over the side and poked at the tangle of strands where they vanished, taut and quivering, into the water. His sharp eyes crinkled at the edges as he squinted into the bubbly green depths.

“Not caught over, little bro. Something’s caught in.”

“We only just threw it,” Castiel objected, but not very hard, because now he could feel it too. Years of knowing the song of the ropes, and even of the timbers under his knees when the boat had weight behind her. There was something tangled down there: not a school of fish, but a single living creature. And—

The boat lurched.

Whatever it was, it was big. And it was strong. And it was fighting.

“You had to tempt the sea,” Castiel grumbled, as they hauled, and strained, and grunted, and the little boat tipped perilously backward.

Keep reading

Fandom: Yuri!!! On Ice
Title: I Think…
Pairing: Oturi
Word Count: About 1200
Summary: Some teasing, some wrestling, some drunken confessions, some sober ones.
A/N: For one of my favorite people on the planet. Happy birthday, @limitlessmonster. I still maintain that Oturi is the purrfect, pure ship and I might’ve watched The Man From Uncle when I was supposed to be working and was inspired by a scene. :D I hope your day is everything you want it to be and more. You deserve only the best. Ly, asshat. Happy Born Day!

On A03.


Otabek glances up as Yuri plops down on the couch to his right, throwing his feet up on the coffee table in front of him. When he notices Otabek’s reprimanding frown he sighs and lets them slide to the floor. It is a hotel room, after all. Not his coffee table. 

"No, thank you,” Otabek replies, nodding his acknowledgment of the gesture. 

“Hah?” Yuri twists off the cap to the bottle of vodka and generously fills his glass and the one beside it. “Come on. Don’t tell me you’re gonna shit out on me cause of the competition." 

"That’s exactly what I’m doing." 

"Tch,” Yuri downs his glass in a single gulp and reaches for the bottle to pour another. 

“You are a lightweight." 

"I’m Russian." 

Keep reading

What Lies Beneath

SFW, 2400 words

Beauty and the Beast inspired, McHanzo flavored ficlet taken way too seriously for its own good.

Jesse McCree has, for an outlaw, lived a long and enriched life. He’s traveled across the world, met new and fascinating people, and though it’s true he shot a good many of them, in his defense they mostly fired first. He’s seen sunsets reflected on steel and glass in a dozen cities, seen thunderstorms sweep across the desert in sheets of lightning and walls of rain, and he’s seen just about every kind of man-made mischief imaginable, including some he put a stop to right quick. In his wanderings, he’s seen some amazing, terrifying, and downright strange things.

None of them hold a candle to the actual, goddamn dragon.

Keep reading


Tags: @megant22, @sexywolfsfordays, @houseofrahl, @sterek-basically, @kittycatgirlmaddie, @misshinehou, @unbreakablevoices, @champagneblues, @dallysgreasergirl, @juliaspnlover, @cineyou, @lipstickstainsandwerewolfchains, @fallenangel-13x

Word count: 6183

Author’s note: I know I’m the worst person for not updating for so long at all, but I got my shit together after all the lovely messages you glorious angels left for me, and typed this up. I hope it’s decent and acceptable. I’m so excited for this story, though, I hope you will love the plot I came up with, it’s so full of unpredictable twists, oh God. I’m tired, so I apologise for all the typing/grammatical errors that I might have left in the text. I read it once again before sharing, but my brain is seriously not functioning at the moment.

Warnings: mild swearing, bad jokes and snark

Your name: submit What is this?

I haven’t slept so tight in a long while. When I wake – sometime in the afternoon –, I don’t feel exhaustion at all, more so, I feel like I was reborn. At first, I think I woke after an uncomfortably long dream, but I’m proven wrong when the bed frame rattles under me, and I have to suppress a yell. Instead, I just inhale sharply and grab fistfuls of my blanket desperately, as though that could be of any kind of protection.

There’s a dog, with ebony black fur, and much bigger than Bucky, perking its head up at the end of my bed. Instinctively, I yelp and scoot back on the mattress. The dog is eyeing me with its scarlet-coloured glowing gaze in amusement, tilting its head to the side like a curious cat. Then it hits me – what’s with the salt ring I drew around my bed before falling asleep to make sure my guts stay where they belong to? I glance down to check on the circle, only to find the line blurred at a spot by my blanket. I should have known better.

I roll my eyes at myself before fixing them on the hellhound, “I’m glad you didn’t murder me in my sleep, I’m grateful, really.” I get up, taking my time patiently to crack my spine; since I stayed alive, I might as well take advantage of it.

I can’t remember anything like closing my door last night, but the lock is unmistakably shut, evoking the lump in my throat and effectively waking me up as though lightening stroke me, shocking through my nerve endings in jolts. I realise that I couldn’t have escaped in time even if I would have needed to. I swallow, then, fighting the shaking of my hands, I let myself out to the corridor.

Bucky immediately comes to greet me; he stands on his hind legs and starts licking at my neck and face, to which my response is to laugh happily. Every dark thought evaporates from my mind, being replaced with beaming love that my dog floods me with. We stay like that until I can hear someone talking behind me, making me jump and Bucky’s lips to peel back in a snarl, “Stop that mutt alre –” Derek clears his throat. “That dog.”

“It’s not my fault that he wants to rip your throat out when he sees you. You can’t blame him for wanting to protect his master from someone who came with the clear determination to kill her.”

Derek’s eyebrows furrow sinisterly, and I have a feeling it’s better if I let our quarrel go. I put my hands up in surrender before cowering down to whisper soothing words into my dog’s ear. For the time being, Derek rounds us to head for the bathroom. It takes me a while to realise how surreal this is – did he show himself around in the house last night after I’d gone to sleep? It would make sense, seeing how easily he finds his way around. It’s also good because he’s going to be living with us for a long time.

“Oh my God!” I exclaim, only to make Derek growl exasperatedly, asking me nonchalantly, “What again?” I nearly fall by his sudden appearance.

“You have to leave that habit,” I tell him, totally ignoring his previous question. “You’re going to give me a heart attack once.”

Derek’s lips curl up into a wide, wicked smile, “I could quite literally scare you to death, just for your information.”

“I know,” I assure him sourly. Apparently living with this demon will be harder than I initially anticipated. “By the way,” I start. “Will other people see you in this form?”

“Yes,” he replies easily. “My other form is the one that can be seen only by other supernatural, the damned or anyone looking through glass scorched with holy fire.” He jerks his bearded chin towards me, asking, “Why were you whining again?”

I’m already opening my mouth to make a snarky comment or two at his choice of words, but then I remind myself that those short nails can shift into long claws, and those white teeth can morph into a carnivore’s set of fangs within a fraction of a second. Hence, giving in to my survival instinct, I opt to give an answer.

“I don’t know how to explain your presence to my father,” I say. Derek gives me a disbelieving look, then just shakes his head disapprovingly and walks away, barefoot. His soft soles don’t make any noise while he’s wandering around, waking up worry in me once more.

Unlike the demon, who settles in the living-room, I head to the kitchen. I feed Bucky, and prepare everything that I need for an omelet, but then something strikes me. I go to the entrance of the living-room quietly, spotting the hellhound as he’s reading a book, comfortably laying on the couch. He’s wearing yesterday’s black jeans and black V-neck tee, but instead of the coffee table, his feet are resting crossed on the armrest this time. Without meaning to, I remain like that for a while, getting lost in my thoughts and the sight Derek makes, until he exhales a long breath, sets the open book down on his chest and looks at the ceiling hatefully.

“Are you going to say anything at all, or just stand there staring?” At the end of his sentence, he directs his disdainful glare at me, but the murderer gleam is gone, which I consider a half victory.

“Oh, yeah,” I say. “I just wanted to ask if you… like omelet?” The hellhound just blinks at me a couple times, like he doesn’t have a clue what I’m trying to get at, so I proceed to explain, “I’m guessing you need food too, and I can’t let you maim the neighbourhood.”

Derek gives me the reaction I’m expecting the least – he laughs out loud.

“Hey!” I complain. “Excuse me for never having a hellhound as a guest.”

“Sure, I’ll eat it,” Derek says, shaking his head in amusement. Lifting the book back in front of his face, he signs to me that on his part, the conversation is done. Respecting that, I migrate back to the kitchen before I would anger Derek with something. I let Bucky out to the backyard, then begin cooking.

A few minutes later, I let Derek know that the breakfast is done in a raised voice. By the time I finish setting the table, the hound has sneaked behind me, fixing his eyes on me from not a metre away as I’m puttering around the table. When I turn and find myself face to face with him, I hit my hips into the table, hard and painful, making me hiss.

“Dear God!” I exclaim. “Don’t even try to tell me your purpose is not to scare me to death.” I raise my index finger, as though wanting to threaten him, but he’s just looking at me with his unaffected expression, this time mixed with a touch of amusement. “You enjoy this.”

“I’ve never said otherwise,” he shrugs. Going ahead of my further cynical comments, he takes his place at the table and gives me an expectant look. “So, are you going to eat or not?” he asks cheekily. I swallow back my anger and sit down wordlessly, from across him.

“So,” I start warily. “This form of yours can be seen by anyone.” It’s not a question, but Derek nods anyway. “And where did you get it? I mean you’re a demonic creature, too, and it’s only logical that you need to invade someone else’s body in order to assume a human appearance. I’m just curious how it works with hellhounds.”

“Not this way,” he offers by way of an answer, extremely unhelpfully. To my disapproving look, he lets out an exasperated breath and rolls his eyes, but goes on. “This is not a mere vessel that I took at random. This is all me.”

“Then how…?”

“How did I become a hellhound?” he finishes instead of me. I nod, and Derek’s jaw clenches, sending a nerve jumping at his temple, evoking my worry; did I just wander to private territory? Did I want to know too much? Did I go too far, did I cross a line and now he’s contemplating ending me? The next time he moves, my body jerks in fear. Even if Derek noticed it, he doesn’t give any sign of it.

“A demon – my master – needed a new hellhound. She thought it would be funny to massacre my family to get the wanted hound.” The fork is crushed in his tight grip; I can hear it breaking to tiny pieces. The memory worked Derek up this much. “That whore caused fire in our house. Everyone died, even the humans, although she only needed us, werewolves.” His tone makes me think he’s talking about the most squalid thing in the world, like werewolves were the biggest abomination in existence. I want to say something, but the words get stuck in my trachea.

“So,” I swallow. “You’re saying you had been a werewolf while you were… alive?” Derek nods. The plate, that is still semi-full of the omelet, he shoves away from himself with disgust. I understand why his appetite has vanished.

“She took our souls, like she had the fucking right, and that bitch took joy in torturing us every single day, picking us apart slowly, only to bring us back after to start it over the next day.” His eyes glow in scarlet by his fury.

I’m dwelling on touching him to soothe him and offer him comfort, but I have some kind of inhibition within me that won’t let me. Suddenly, Derek’s gaze flashes at me, which makes not only my body, but my entire being freeze in death fear.

“I’m not going back,” declares Derek determinedly, like I’ve ever advised him to return to Hell. “I’m not going to be owned by anyone again. I’m not anybody’s pet.” His eyes seep bloody again, driven by his intense emotions. “I’m not going to give her the pleasure of torturing me again. I’m never going to stop chasing you, I cannot stop, so as long as you’re alive, I’m free. Far from her.”

If this is not enough insurance to me that Derek won’t kill me in my sleep, then nothing is.

. o O o .

After a rather long argument, I successfully convince Derek to come with me to gather him some clothes, after all, he can’t go everywhere wearing the same outfit all the time. My father comes into the kitchen when we’re in the middle of washing the dishes, and I have to come up with a quick explanation on the fly regarding what a twenty-something-year-old hunk is doing in our kitchen, barefoot, wiping the plates and silverware clean.

The familiar rumbling of my old car envelops us. Derek keeps his eyes fixed on the rushing buildings of Beacon Hills, deliberately not facing me. Music is being played quietly from the speakers, which I have to explain to Derek at first. The sky is stretching above the town in the glorious shades of silver and grey as the rain-heavy clouds float about sluggishly. My thumb is drumming against the stirring wheel in sync with the rhythm of the song.

It doesn’t take long for us to arrive. In the parking lot, I wave to Derek to sign him to climb out of the car and follow me. Since his confession, we’ve barely talked – I guess it’s to be etched up to Derek not fancying opening up to others too much. I’m not this type, either; whenever I talk about my issue with someone, guilt takes over me.

“Listen,” I whisper, knowing he will be able to hear me. “If you want me to, I can help you fit in.” Since I’m not looking at him, I also miss the surprised look Derek gives me. My offer remains without a reply, but somewhere deep down I know it’s the sign of acceptance. I understand that for him, a hellhound, it’s below his level to say yes to a human’s help.

At first, I have him try on various trousers. The more garments I force on him, the grumpier he gets, but in the end, we manage to find two pair of jeans and a pair of sweatpants for him, all three are black. It didn’t take me long to realise it’s impossible to get him to wear any other colour.

Following that, we approach the shirts and tees. I immediately take every kind from the shelves – a long-sleeve, a T-shirt, a wife beater, a sweatshirt, a button-up shirt –, and tuck them into Derek’s hands before ushering him towards a changing cabin. To kill the time, I wander around in the shop with the three pants in my hands. Cowering in front of the set of shoes, I contemplate buying a pair of those for him, too, but then I can hear speaking not too afar. Catching the top of the shelf, I help myself up into a standing position and grant myself a clear shot of Derek as he’s talking to a woman.

“Shall I help you choose?” she asks, smiling at him, gesturing in the general direction of the clothes Derek has laid on his forearm. His jaw clenches, and he shakes his head curtly.

“No,” he replies somewhat coolly. He scans the area, apparently searching for something, but he doesn’t find what he’s looking for, hence he’s forced to focus his attention back at the woman.

“Are you sure?” she asks. “This button-up would surely look great on you, and we have the matching trousers to this sweatshirt.”

“Like I said, I don’t need your help,” Derek stresses. He glances around once again, then turns to the unknown female. “I’d rather you tell me if you saw a girl walking around? She’s about this tall,” he says, holding his hand next to his chin, demonstrating my height. “She’s wearing jeans and a flannel shirt. Her eyes are –”

“I’m over here,” I whisk to him, grinning, still standing behind the shelf, propping myself on the top of it. Derek angrily rolls his eyes at me, then, foregoing any kind of previous notice, he leaves the woman in order to make a beeline for me.

“Don’t disappear again,” he grits through his teeth.

“No need to be afraid without me,” I shrug. “By the way if you did so much as smile, you could have any woman hooked,” I wink, but it only deepens Derek’s frown. He grabs the collar of my shirt aggressively, yanking me towards him menacingly, returning my gaze with his blazing one in the dangerous colour of scarlet.

“First of all, I’m not afraid without you. You’re just a human, and I can protect myself just fine. Second of all –”

He can’t finish, because I stick my palm on his mouth. He gives me a death glare, but I won’t let him have the upper hand here. “Calm down, Cujo,” I tell him. “One, there’s no killing and maiming for as long as we’re not in the house, so let go of me,” I say, trying to pry Derek’s fingers off of me. After a short consideration, he gives in. “And two, there’s no hinting. I think you understand what I’m talking about.” Derek nods tensely. “Good. Now we’re going to buy these for you.”

On our way to the cashier, I don’t fail to pick up a couple black boxer briefs and some pairs of socks, either.

With the huge shopping bags in our hands, we sit in to a Starbucks, which is on me as well, of course. For the time being, I try to talk as much as possible, and to get Derek to talk to me to overcome the tension that has built up between us. I don’t want that invisible wall to stand for much longer, I just want to find the door on it to get to Derek’s side once more.

“How about a match?” I ask out of the blue when we’re heading to the exit of the mall. I glance up at the tall man walking next to me calmly, gracefully, waiting for his answer. For a second, I think he didn’t hear my question, but it’s more likely he just opts not to acknowledge it. In the end, his lips open up.

“What match?” My face beams with happiness. Apparently Derek’s nonchalance is slowly evaporating, which means I’m headed in the right direction to find that so-called door.

“I was thinking lacrosse,” I reply. “In high school, most of the boys were on the team. And it would be a great opportunity for you to meet my friends. Just don’t hurt them,” I add.

Derek shrugs, “If they don’t attack me, I won’t take their limbs as insurance,” he promises. Instead of complaining, I just smile; I know this is more than nothing, and this answer is a huge improvement in regards to Derek fitting in.

“You should also know that Scott is the Alpha around here.” Derek perks up at that piece of information.

“You know werewolves?” I nod while blinking with huge, innocent eyes. To me it’s completely natural to hang out with supernatural creatures in my free time. Derek shakes his head disbelievingly, commenting, “No wonder why you accepted so easily that I used to be a werewolf.”

The windows of my car are gleaming by diamonds of raindrops by the time we go back to the parking lot. It’s not raining heavily, just hardly dripping, refreshing the both of us. I pull the door shut behind me with a satisfied sigh, inhaling the sweet scent of rain into my lungs deeply, eyes falling closed and allowing the sound of soft knocking engulf me. I can also hear as Derek climbs into the vehicle and shoves the bags onto the backseat, but I refuse to give ignition just yet, instead listen to the rain with a soft smile playing at my lips faintly.

. o O o .

The glade is empty. Around it, there are trees framing it, and there’s only one path that leads here. The sky is still grey above us, and the blades of grass are still shining by the previous raining, as though many gemstones were hiding among them on the field. When my car parks next to the Toyota, Porche and Jeep, my friends all perk up. I’m the one to get out first, with Derek following suit not long after. He’s wearing the sweatshirt and sweatpants that I bought him not long ago, with a grey wife beater underneath, while I settled for a blue outfit.

Derek is staring at the others without batting an eye – to a canine, maintaining eye contact means a threat, it means you want to attack them. It makes me anxious in a second, but I try to act it out calmly, and step next to Derek.

“He’s Derek,” I introduce him to the pack. “They are Lydia, Jackson, Scott, Allison, Stiles, Erica and Isaac, respectively,” I gesture towards them. Derek doesn’t react, doesn’t even nod in a greeting. Scott takes a step, carefully, slowly, hunching his shoulders just a tad, like he wanted to be ready to attack in every moment.

“(Y/N),” he says in a low, serious voice. “Step away from him.”

Without further ado, he shoves his claws out of himself, holding his hands next to his hips with his fingers curled, eyes glowing ruby red. Opening his mouth a bit, he puts his elongated fangs on display, too. Derek isn’t ashamed to do the same; to show his claws and his set of fangs, accompanied with his scarlet irises. The werewolf inhales a deep breath before howling at Derek with all he’s worth. His voice echoes on the field for long seconds. However, Derek is unaffected.

Thrown for a loop, Scott straightens up from his attack pose. Apparently he expected Derek to react to an Alpha’s roar, even if he’s an Alpha as well – that is the only logical explanation to Scott after seeing the colour or Derek’s eyes.

“Uh, yeah,” I begin. “So thing is, he’s no human.” Before I could go on, Scott interrupts me.

“I don’t know your scent,” he points out. Demonstrating it, he tilts his head back to smell the air again. My eyes widen at the possibility of a new piece of information about Derek; I have never given a thought what a hellhound must smell like. “It’s like fresh ash, combusted, punk tree, musk and…” he takes another whiff of the repertoire of scents. “death.”

“Not a werewolf, either,” I assure him, trying to remember the counted things to safely save them into my memory. Scott is making a disgusted face, presumably because of the smell of decay.

“What, (Y/N)?” asks Allison, taking a step closer.

“Hellhound,” answers Derek instead of me. Although he retracted his claws and fangs, his eyes are still glowing in scarlet. Hearing his reply, the Betas start smelling the air without trying to disguise what they are doing.

“What is a hellhound doing with you?” joins Lydia.

“I thought things like him didn’t exist,” adds Erica, tilting her head back to give a once-over to Derek. “But of course, I’m not complaining, especially if they look this good.” The corner of Derek’s mouth twitches in a suppressed smug half-smile.

“I felt similar when I first saw him,” I admit, only to proceed to protest not soon after. “I mean, not immediately, obviously, because initially, he wanted to kill me. I instantly noted how good-looking he is, but then my priority was to stay alive. I had the time to make such comments in my mind later.”

The others give me looks, some disapproving, some disbelieving, except for Derek, whose lips tug up into a whole smirk this time, eyeing me suggestively. I swallow, and try to dismiss the situation with a shrug. I know I’m blushing. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not blind, alright?” I leave him and grab a stick from the stack Stiles brought. “So who starts?”

“I will,” says Erica. She throws her curly blonde hair over her shoulder, pointing at Derek and Isaac with one of the sticks. “You’re going to be with me,” she announces before approaching the two boys to show us her team. So, Stiles, Scott and Jackson are left with me. Albeit we’re uneven this way, neither Erica nor Isaac complain for having the hellhound on their team.

“Does your puppy even know how to play this game?” growls Jackson irritatedly, finishing checking the net at the end of his stick. Derek’s response to that is a snarl, accompanied by his eyes flashing.

“You’d better shut up if you want to make sure your bowels stay where they are,” I chime in. “Or you gather as many food as you can and draw a circle around yourself with salt and iron sliver,” I add with a shrug.

Jackson wants to retort, but he ends up giving up the argument after stealing another glance at the hellish creature. As much as he wants to keep it a secret, he’s afraid of Derek, too – after all, he witnessed not five minutes ago that the hellhound is stronger than an Alpha.

“By the way answer’s yes, he knows,” I tell him. “I explained it to him earlier.”

The seven of us take our place on the field; for the time being, I survey how slippery the wet grass is. To the others, it’s not so important, but to Stiles and me, to humans, who heal slower, it’s inevitable to know. We choose not to have specific goalkeepers. For the time being, Lydia and Allison open the two doors of the Toyota facing the field, teacups in hand, watching the match.

Jackson passes the ball over to Scott, and he makes a mad dash towards the other’s goal, but Erica shows up in his way in the last second, preventing him from nailing the shot by shoving him to the ground from the side. Then, picking the ball up, she starts running in the opposite direction. I immediately run to our goal, but Jackson’s faster than me and, thanks to his reflexes, he catches the ball mid-air.

The white ball then flies across the field, coming straight towards me. I catch it and try to earn a point, but suddenly, I can feel a hard pain in my side, then damp coldness as I’m wallowing in the grass. I arrived on my back, so when I open my eyes, I find myself face to face with Derek’s smugly smirking features. I frown at him.

“Thanks,” I say mockingly, not the least grateful. Derek winks at me, then pushes himself off of the ground where he’s been bracketing my head between his muscled arms, jogging easily towards their goal where Scott is about to throw the ball. I scramble up clumsily, wiping away the stubbornly sticking blades of grass from my clothes before joining in to the game again.

After about an hour, all of us approach the girls, who offer us sandwiches – at first, they look at Derek in contemplation, but end up giving food to him, too. Some beams of the Sun filter through the fluffy, silvery obstacle that the clouds make like soft transparent curtains, making the field that much more glittering. We rake our gazes through the astonishing environment, positively mesmerised.

“You two could seriously give us an explanation, you know,” says Scott, voice muffled by the mouthful he’s chewing on, his eyes commuting between Derek and I. We exchange a look before I speak up.

“Bucky dug up a box. It has a Triskelion on it, which, as I got to know later on, is Derek’s sign, so he’s chasing whoever is the owner of the box. You can think of him as a tracker. Since I’m the owner, he came for my soul, but he didn’t kill me.”

“Then my premonition of you being in danger was right,” says Lydia. “How come he didn’t kill you?”

“We made a deal. We search for the key of the box to burn its contents.”

“What’s inside?” asks Allison.

“The remnants of Derek’s master,” I answer. “If we burn them, the demon dies too, and I will no longer have a bounty on my soul.”

“Let me get this straight,” interjects Isaac. “You have a box full of bones and decaying meat in your bedroom?” he asks, disgusted. For some reason, I get the feeling he just wants to tease me. I squint at him.

“That’s not the point,” I hedge. “The point is that we gotta kill this demon. She made the box, and she ordered her hellhound to make sure it was safe. If she’s no longer alive, I’ll be safe, too, and Derek won’t have to fulfil his duty, because he won’t have one any more.”

“But why would she hide her remains in a box that anyone can find?” asks Jackson.

“If you think about it, it’s actually quite logical,” I counter. “I think I’d do the same if I were a demon; it’s like an absolute defence. Even if someone finds out where my remnants are, and even if they find the key, I still have my hellhound there who can kill anyone with one hand. And all it takes is for me to have his sign carved into the wood that I made the box out of. Of course, they warn that whoever owns the box will die, but only with Celtic knots. Aren’t they cute?” I ask, sarcasm seeping my words.

“Why don’t we just torch the thing?” asks Erica.

“It’s not so easy,” speaks up Derek. “It doesn’t work without the key. The demons obviously won’t leave their remains just like that with a hound. Pyromania is a known concept even in the basement.”

“So you’re saying it isn’t protected by one hound only?” asks Stiles.

“Depends on how many hellhounds the demon has, and how many of those hounds’ sign they gauge into the wood. In my master’s case, only the Triskelion is on the box, hence defending it is my responsibility only.” For a second, Derek glances at me, then goes back to scanning the others. “I meant that if the box isn’t open, it won’t burn. You either burn it inside out, or don’t burn it at all.”

Hearing that, Stiles clearly gets disappointed.

“Has the key ever been found?” he asks. Derek shakes his head.

“And do you have an idea where to start the search?” speaks up Lydia. Derek’s gaze flashes at her, signing no again. “Tell us about your master.” Hearing the request, Derek’s jaw clenches tightly, exactly like during breakfast. I bite my lip nervously, chiming in, “I think we should rather –”

“I don’t know much more either,” Derek interrupts. “Not enough to tell anything valuable.”

“Then what to you advise, how to start searching for that key?” asks Lydia sharply, putting her hands on her hips. “We won’t get ahead unless you’re willing to let go of your mysterious image just a bit, and this chase for (Y/N)’s soul will never end. I don’t want this demon of yours to send another hellhound.”

Derek’s eyes glow in raving scarlet. “She’s not my demon,” he snarls. Low growling rips out of the back of his throat; it’s more bloodcurdling than any other sound I’ve ever heard by any kind of predator or werewolf. “Don’t you dare talk about me and her in the possessive.”

Lydia’s eyes widen in fright, taking a step back. Without missing a beat, I stand between the two of them.

“Hey, what did I tell you about your behaviour outside the house?” I need every ounce of my willpower not to avert my eyes from the steely hard gaze Derek is giving me. I have to stand my ground to aver Derek’s animalistic – wolfish – instincts that I’m a worthy opponent. Derek, still not taking his eyes off of me, adds to Lydia’s previous declaration as a side note, “She won’t send another hellhound. It doesn’t work that way. One hound gets the job, and he has to get it done. He will chase the prey forever, if needed, but he cannot return to Hell until he’s fulfilled his duty.”

“And why didn’t you kill (Y/N)?” asks Jackson. When the others look at him with arched brows, he puts his hands up, hedging, “I’m not asking to be rude, damn it, I’m just curious. Especially if Derek is so faithful.”

Derek flashes his fangs at Jackson, but other than that, he doesn’t react.

“He doesn’t want to go back,” I answer instead of him. “Which I understand, by the way. I mean, who would want to go back to Hell? It’s better up here.”

The thought of what Hell could possibly be like makes my entire being shiver. I don’t want to tell anything else to the others, and I hope it’s enough explanation to them. It was hard enough for Derek to open up for me, and I’m not intend to make him uncomfortable by getting into details of what he shared with me. If he wants, Derek will let them know, too, but it’s none of my business.

The pack hums, apparently satisfied with that explanation for now. They abandon the subject, however, Stiles and Lydia seem unsure of me completely being beyond the jeopardy of death.

. o O o .

When we arrive home, my father welcomes us with his arms folded over his chest, eyeing us with a strict look, instantly making me anxious. I know what’s coming up next.

“I still haven’t gotten an explanation,” he says. “Why is he here, exactly?” dad asks, jerking his chin in Derek’s direction. I’m sure that question was the rephrased form of ‘What is exactly between the two of you?’ to make it seem less like he’s protecting his only daughter, who’s still a virgin – according to what dad wants to believe, that is.

“Well, he,” I start, gesturing towards the newcomer. “He’s Derek Hale, like I said before. We… we got to know each other on the internet a few weeks ago, but we only got around to talk about our whereabouts recently. It turned out that we weren’t far away from each other, so we figured why not invite him over?” My father gives us a suspicious glance, squinting at us.

“May I know why you failed to tell me about this until now?”

“I forgot.” It’s a near call that declaration would end up a question. Dad is watching us sternly, eyes commuting between Derek and I, obviously contemplating his choices in such a situation. He shares his ultimate decision with us after a couple mute minutes.

“Derek is allowed to stay in your room under one condition I better not have to spell out,” he says. My eyes widen, and my cheeks heat up.

Da-ad!” I exclaim, but he just raises his index finger, shutting me up effectively. I grimace and make a face, as though it cost me actual physical effort to keep from spurting the words that demand to leave my mouth.

“How old is he, anyway?” I turn to Derek with fright, who’s already opening his mouth to answer, but I beat him to it before he could say anything stupid.

“Twenty-four,” I reply quickly. My father’s eyebrows furrow, but then he just sighs in surrender and takes off towards the front door. There, he says goodbye to Bucky, then locks the door behind himself. The fact that he left the gradually dying sound of the squad car evidences.

We just stand there mutely until I break the silence, announcing, “Well, I’m going to take a shower. You can go after me, too,” I offer, giving a once-over to Derek. “It’ll do good for you,” I point out before leaving him all alone.

While I’m busy in the bathroom, Derek keeps reading the book he picked in the morning, sprawled out on the couch like before. Bucky slowly, tentatively approaches him, sitting down next to the sofa, sight not wavering away from the man’s laying shape. Ignoring my dog, Derek just continues reading, leafing when he needs to, but he never lets Bucky know he acknowledged his presence. Minutes pass by like that, but then Bucky takes the initiative, and starts nosing at Derek.

Signing his disapproval, he makes a sound that resembles whining as he draws his head back from Derek’s hip – probably this reaction is to be etched up to the odour of decay, but at least he will remember Derek’s scent from now on, and he won’t try to attack him when I’m around.

By the time Bucky looks at Derek’s face, the man is already eyeing him.

Nearly an hour later, we’re preparing to go to bed. After giving instructions to him briefly, Derek takes a shower as well, and while he’s away, I search for something that he can use to sleep in, rifling through my dad’s clothes. Derek enters my room in nothing more than a tiny towel wrapped around his waist, with shining droplets of water covering his tanned skin. I need to remind myself consciously not to forget to breathe.

“Here, you can wear these for the night,” I stick my hand out to him, holding the big T-shirt and sweats for him, but he ignores me, and just reaches behind his back to click the lock shut on my door. “Oh yeah, I wanted to ask that before,” I remember. “Why did you close the door last night?” Derek looks at me, but remains silent, as though contemplating whether he should answer or not.

“Because I didn’t want your dog to come in,” he ends up saying. I just blink at him in mild shock, so he takes the chance to nod towards the clothes in my hand, telling me, “I won’t need those.” Before I could ask why, he shifts back into his canine shape that reminds me of a gargantuan direwolf.

“I should have known,” I comment, shrugging, as I shove the clothes into my wardrobe. I step to my laptop that still has the results of my previous search in connection with Celtic symbols and demonic boxes to switch it off. I make a beeline for my bed then, and nestle myself under the cocoon of blankets. When the screen of my computer goes black, my room is engulfed by utter darkness.

My eyes pop open again when the frame rattles under me as the hellhound lays down on the ground, directly next to the furniture. I think about hanging my arm down to stroke Derek’s fur-clad head, but my inhibition to touch him is still there – even when Derek isn’t in his human form.

My mother always told me be pretty, baby.
I was taught that the boys like girls with blood
between their teeth, and I spent my youth
chewing tobacco hearts and spitting out the veins.
My mother always told me be funny, baby,
even when you want to die.

So I swallowed the boys with their saltwater mouths
and kept my poetry in.
Mother, I’m good at being funny, didn’t you know?
Even with shattered lungs, I’m can laugh like a pretty girl.
Mother was always saying make them look, make them stare,
be beautiful, baby.
You’re my daughter, this game is in your genes.
Hide the stretch marks and the cellulite,
brown yourself irresistible tan.
We gotta fix your crooked teeth, baby,
those are from your father.
Don’t trust black boys, baby, marry rich, marry white,
let the children and the blood pour out.
Stop writing that damn poetry of yours, baby,
boys don’t like girls with pretty words,
they like girls with pretty legs and thin wrists.
Gotta be brave, baby, gotta die young.

Get rid of your heart, baby,
ladies learn to live without love.
—  Lady-Like | d.a.s


I rolled my eyes as I approached my ebony locker seeing Heather, my fraternal twin sister, and her boyfriend Trell practically have sex in front of there. I shook my head disgusted pulling Heather by her bright blue ponytail.

“Can you and Trell not have sex in front of my locker?” I hissed letting her pontail go as she kept hissing in pain. Her eyes formed slits as she looked at me.

Heather stuck her long manicured index finger in my face. “1. Stay in your lane. We may be twins but I’m older.”

I let out an airy laugh. “Heather, nobody is scared of you. We’re the same height.”

Trell stepped in between us as if Heather and I were going to actually go at it. You would think after dating my sister for a year, he would know that we ain’t gonna do anything. Heather is the violent sister and I’m the classy one.

“Jasmine, chill. We were just kissing.” Trell explained as if I didn’t see them swapping saliva in front of my locker.

I looked up at Trell because he was tall as shit and spoke.

“I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck. Just keep away from my locker.” I pushed him to the left as I turned the dial to open my locker to retrieve my Trigonometry textbook.

Heather cleared her throat as she redid her high ponytail. “Babe, don’t mind her. She’s mad because she don’t got a man.”

I rolled my eyes once again as Trell spoke up. “Ahh. I see. I can hook you up with one of my niggas.”

I scrunched up my nose in disagreement. “No, thank you. You and your niggas are fools.”

Trell shrugged as a group of guys came and dapped him up. They were all very good looking but one of them was Trey, which was Amber’s man so I had my eyes set on one. He had on a red t-shirt, skinny jeans, and red vans. He was hot and looked hella familiar. Once they walked away, I cleared my throat.

“Trell, who’s that?” I pointed at the one I had my eyes set on.

“Oh that’s Chris.” Trell looked at me wiggling his eyebrows. “You want him, don’t you?”

“Yes she does!” Heather shouted so loudly the whole hallway could probably hear it.


She ignored me. “She’s been lusting after him since middle school!”

I smiled as he laughed joking with his friends before entering their homeroom. I bit my bottom lip hard as hell thinking about what he could do to me. Lust is correct.

External image


“Fuck!” I spat sharply as the yellow- orange school bus drove off from its stop.

I clenched my fists in a rage. I fucking missed the bus. All because I forgot to set my stupid ass alarm. Thank God I at least woke up in time to get dressed. How the hell am I gonna get to school? My parents have left for work.

Opening the door to my house, I considered staying home. I hated that fucking school. The teachers were whack as fuck and the students are a bunch of dipshits. Although it’s Senior Year, I fuck with nobody because I’ll be damned if they fuck with me.

Realizing I would have to show up so my parents won’t jump down my throat for skipping, I resolved to walk to school. The school was pratically 20-30 minutes by foot and I will be late, but better late than not showing up at all.

I made my way up the sidewalk and the worst thing imaginable happened to any girl who had just straightened their hair.

It began to rain. I didn’t have a umbrella and I was halfway to school so I wasn’t about to turn back. I ran the rest of the way. Making it inside the practically empty hallway, I went inside the bathroom to fix my hair. I groaned seeing a bunch of clown looking bitches taking up the long mirror that stretched from the sides of the bathroom. All the bitches disappeared and I went to the mirror seeing that my straight hair was ruined and my black OBEY hoodie was a little wet.

I proceeded to wet the rest of my hair allowing to become wavy and put it in a messy updo at the back of my head. I thought I was alone until a girl with brunette hair in a Diamond Supply t-shirt and snapback appeared from behind a stall. She stared longingly at me and I grew annoyed.

“Can I help you?” I snapped still staring at my reflection.

“You’re Karrueche.”

I looked at her with an obvious face. “And?

She sighed as if she was refraining from giving an attitude and continued.”You went to West Junior High. At the start of 7th grade, you moved away but you’re back.”

I furrowed my eyebrows. “How-”

“Everyone bullied you calling you Boyrueche.” She stated calmly.

I felt my blood boil. “How the fuck do you know all that shit?”

“Because I was bullied alongside you. You were the only one nice to me. You don’t remember me, but I’m Sochitta.” She stuck out her hand. “But my nickname’s Honey.”

I shook her hand but I was honestly confused by this mystery girl. Then it hit me. She was my fellow victim to those assholes.

“Wow. You changed a lot.” I spoke looking her up and down.

“Yeah you did too. A whole lot.” Honey smiled then frowned shaking her head. “What happened to you?”

I crossed my arms. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, what happened to the sweet, innocent Karrueche who did nothing but care for people? She was always positive, putting others before herself, and always wearing a smile. What happened to her?”

I slammed my shit down lacing my upcoming words with a shit load of venom.

“Listen. That sweet, naïve bitch died a long time ago.” I replied curtly as I tried with all my strength not to smack her.

“Did she really die, Karrueche?” Honey crossed her arms as she made her way to the exit but turned around to finish:

“Or are you just hiding her?”

With that, she left and the late bell sounded throughout the quiet bathroom. I placed my bag back around my shoulder and exited the bathroom. What the fuck does she know? She doesn’t know me.

Hell, No one knows me.

External image


“Look, that Kae bitch needs to watch her attitude. I ain’t afraid to fight her.” I declared as I placed a french fry in my mouth and chomped on it.

I was at the food court with the crew complaining about this girl in our homeroom. The other day, she threatened to punch if I looked at her the wrong way. Is there a right way to look at a crazy bitch?

Trell shook his head. “Nigga, you can’t be fighting a female.”

“She ain’t no female. She’s a crazy bitch!” I spat annoyed at this nigga Trell.

“She may be crazy-” August took a sip of his soda then stopped. “But she’s hot as fuck. You can’t even lie.”

Chris spoke up shaking his head. “True. I don’t even fuck with petite girls but little mama is a certified 10.”

“But she’s still rude and crazy.” I emphasized the last part for these dumbasses.

“Crazy girls be hella freaky in bed tho. I would know.” Trey smirked throwing a ball in the air catching it.

Chris spoke again. “But is it just me but she looks familiar. Really familiar. I just can’t put my finger on it.”

I shrugged my shoulders taking my soda. “I don’t remember a raging bitch in my past.”

All the guys mumbled in agreement and Chris stood up dapping us up.

“I’ll see y’all later. I gotta get back to work.”

Trey’s eyes widened as he placed his drink on the table. “Shit, me too.”

As I sipped my Mountain Dew, I saw a fine ass girl with tannish skin and long brunette hair. I could’ve sworn I seen her around school.

I nudged Trell and pointed to her. “Yo who’s that shorty over at Dunkin Donuts?”

Trell looked over and then smiled at me. “Her? Nigga, that’s Sochitta. Remember? She used to be a braceface with blonde hair. We called her Soshitta and Braceface freshman year. Her nickname is Honey now.”

I licked my lips in full lust. “Well Braceface got hella sexy. I’m about to go spit game.”

Removing myself from the round table, I wiped my mouth brushing off my shoulders and got up to the counter. She was busy wiping the counter as her hair bounced.

“Hey. I’d like to order.”

She tossed the rag to the sink and stood in front of the registar. “Would you like a number?”

“Yes. I would like yours.” I stated smoothly as I bit my plump lip at her.

“That’s not on the menu.” She snapped with annoyance dripping her tone. “Either order something or leave.”

I stepped back. “Damn shorty why you so mean?”

“1. Shorty is not my name. And 2. Because I am. Now leave me alone before I call security.”

I sucked my teeth leaving the counter and returning to the table. Trell smiled at me with his goofy ass smile.

“So you got Honey’s number?”

“Nigga no. Ain’t nobody want her bum ass anyway.” I took my seat and continued drinking my soda. I stared as she took the orders of other customers. Looking fine even if she working. I chuckled to myself. It may not happen now, but I’m gonna get that number.

And so much more.

External image


Finishing the rest of my hot wings and fries, I had to return to Foot Locker or my manager DeRay will get in my ass for being late. Foot Locker was a cool job because I love sneakers and I get a discount on my kicks.

I also get a lot of numbers from the ladies that shop there, so Foot Locker was my hook up place too.

Stepping on the escalator, instead of speeding down there, I decided to take my sweet time getting there. Yes, Deray will get in my ass but nigga knows he can’t fire me. I’m the best worker there.

I noticed that two steps ahead of me was Kae with red beats on her head scrolling down her phone as she clutched her yellow Forever 21 bag in her other hand. I moved getting on the same step as her. She looked up at me with wide eyes sucking her teeth.

I furrowed my eyebrows. “What’s wrong with you?”

“You’re stepping on my fucking foot.” Kae answered through clenched teeth.

I looked down to see my fire red toros pressed on her Oreo 5’s. Damn she got the Oreos? I’ve been trying to cop those.

“So are you going to take it off?!” She snapped waking me from my daydream.

“Oh shit! I’m s-”

Before I can get my apology out, Kae stepped off the escalator in a rage walking away quickly.

“I said I’m sorry!” I shouted then shook my head and lowly muttered to myself. “Bitch.”

I walked across the white tiled floor into the shoe store. I quickly made my way to the back changing into the black and white striped shirt. As much it annoyed me, I couldn’t get that Kae girl out of my head. What’s so special about her that she gotta be stuck on a nigga’s mind?

Once I stepped out into the store, DeRay already told me what to do.

“Chris, go tend to that customer!” He pointed to a lightskin blonde girl who had blue eyes. She had on shorts and a tank top. She’s fine as hell. I’ll definitely tend to her.

“Hey beautiful. Is there anything I can help you with? I’m Chris and you are..?” I stucked out my hand.

She blushed shaking my hand. “Jasmine. I go to your school.”

My mouth formed an O. “Oh so no wonder why you look so familiar.”

“And we went to the same middle school.”

“West Junior High.” I smiled and she nodded smiling. Still, Kae was on my mind. Her innocent, sweet face but it was filled with anger for no damn reason.

I pushed her to the back of my head and continued to help Jasmine. Although baby girl was hella fine, she was not a sneaker girl and I was trying to figure out what the hell was she doing at Foot Locker, but I failed to say anything. She decided on a pair of denim Converses and I rang it up for her.

“Ok, so that’s 45.50.” I stated looking at her. “Cash or Credit?”

“Cash.” She began to look through her purse then frowned. “Not enough through.”

“Don’t sweat it.” I gave her my employee discount. “You’re at 40 now.”

She smiled handing me the money. “Thank you Chris.”

“You’re welcome, beautiful.” I smiled as I handed her the bag containing her shoes.


“I love Bad bitches that’s my fucking problem! And yeah I like to fuck I got a fucking problem!” I sang loudly as the song blasted through the radio.

I got off work and I feel good. Mama ain’t home, met a cute girl,and I got a full stomach. Pulling into the driveway, I watched as Kae placed something inside our mailbox and spin on her heel. Getting out of the car, I stopped her from leaving.

“What are you doing here?” I questioned her.

She rolled her eyes continuing to walk away until I grabbed her little arm and she pulled away roughly.

“Don’t you ever fucking touch me.” Kae spat with the coldest glare ever.

“Why were you on my property?” I stepped up to her staring her down.

“If you must know, the dumbass mailman gave us your mail. No one was home so I placed in the mailbox.”

I stared at her for a while studying her. Her face, her voice, her body language, everything. Trying to see if something rang a bell of where I could know.

“Take a picture. It lasts longer.” She spat sarcastically crossing her arms.

“Why the fuck are you so damn angry? I didn’t do shit to you.” I looked her up and down. “More importantly, Do we know each other? Like have we met before?”

She sighed as her eyes got glossy and shook her head closing her eyes.


“Are you ok?”

“No! Leave me alone already!” Kae roared suddenly pointing a finger in my face. Her mouth twisted into a frown as her voice broke and her arms dropped to her side.

“We’re not friends anymore so don’t pretend that you care.”