#;; she gives him avenues for friends but she also somehow makes making friends harder at the same time

[abrasife]

He said something he didn't mean back then? Well, it honestly didn't seem like it to Keith, but he supposed it was best to accept that reasoning. People who had crushes on other people could possibly blow things out of proportion at times (like the time he had gotten a bit too anxious, maybe jealous, for his own good when the girl he liked was being chummy with a guy they both knew). He supposed that Connor lashing out back then was similar to that feeling he had himself concerning Ophelia. Besides, that was years ago—why was he even stuck on that interpretation anyway?

❝ I'm not mad about it, ❞ Keith replied, clarifying his feelings. He wasn't; he really wasn't. It was more like... he felt hurt by those words. He didn't really know. But it was clear that because of how he seemed to be averse to mentioning Reanne's good points did rub Connor the wrong way back then. Though, that moment sure did tell him that it was others' feelings that mattered more than what he was trying to get at with his words. After all, Keith recalled mentioning her flaws as a reality check—that just because Reanne was good at times didn't mean her flaws were easy for most people to handle (hell, even now she still had the same worrying coping problems).

Now that he thought about it, what even happened with those two after that conversation? Briefly glancing toward Connor, just barely bringing the other's arm into his field of vision, Keith debated on shifting the topic away from the confession of vulnerability he had made earlier, ❝ Do you and Reanne still talk? ❞ Honestly speaking, he doubted they would get together if Connor hadn't already gotten rejected by this point.

Changing the topic was probably the only thing he could do at this point—bringing up feelings again without being asked was simply too hard to do. He couldn't say it all again unprompted. His eyes darted between the toast and the bottle, debating as to which one to reach out to. Reaching for the toast again, Keith used it as an excuse to keep his mouth shut, taking another bite to avoid having to somehow steer the conversation back to what it was supposed to be. He would've reached for the water bottle, but it wasn't like he could open it himself anyhow (and he wouldn't dare ask for help to open it unless he wanted to feel ashamed again).

Connor got up to throw the cardboard container in his hand away, knowing if he got into the bad habit of leaving trash sit out it tended to make his depression worse due to clutter in his apartment. He took the time to grab them each a water, making sure that Keith's was room temperature. He wasn't sure exactly what was going on with Keith's hands, but it seemed that anything cold made it worse and he didn't want to trigger anything that he could avoid. Especially now that he knew and realized what was going on. The raven did feel bad for not picking up on it sooner, though, and making the other male spell it out for him. Usually he was better at picking hints up than that, he must be slightly off his game.

He decided that it was okay, though, since he and Keith had never really talked like this. Connor was just starting to learn the other and his habits and in due time would be able to react to him accordingly. It was one of the things that Connor learned from being on the sidelines for so many years, even if at times it looked like his life was together. The raven honestly was fighting to stay above water with every passing breath.

He worked his way back into the living room, setting the room temperature water in front of the other and taking a drink of his own before setting it down next to his tea. Connor could go days without eating, especially if he brought himself to take a drink every once in a while. Everyone, of course, was different and Connor refused to put depression and anxiety in themselves in a box. Keith handled his depression a lot differently than the raven, and such in reverse.

Connor looked over at Keith when he talked, avoiding looking at the other up until this point. He noticed the towel had moved and a few bites were taken out of the toast. Good. Something was better than nothing. Connor wanted to give Keith more, something that would actually benefit his stomach in the long run that still would be easy to eat, but Connor mentally could only bring himself to do so much still.

"Everyone says something that they don't wholeheartedly mean in the long run. every once in a while." He'd said those words to Keith before he'd ever really gotten to know the guy. Everyone deserved to be gotten to know, and Connor tried hard to not lash out before doing so, but in the long run no one is perfect.

He gave Keith a small smile, almost wanting to reach out to him so the other knew he was being true, but didn't want to spook the guy out of being even the small amount of comfortable that he was right now. "I'm sorry that I said that to you, and I thoroughly hope that you forgive me at some point for saying it." He sighed, leaning back on the couch now and falling silent.

[le-souriant]

#MusicMonday Review - September 2023

#MusicMonday is the hashtag I've been using for quite a while to share music recommendations from up-and-coming artists. Always fresh, and always different, trying to look for trends before they become one. You can check August's review for more music.

This month's music will take you through different atmospheres, and settings. Sit back, relax, give it a listen or two, with a word from the artists themselves. 🎧

Lazy Guns – In My Shadow

Wear your crown with your head held high You tell everyone you live in the sky But what do you do when your kingdom crumbles You're falling down and I watch you tumble

We wake up this month in beautiful Sunshine Coast, Australia for a 2000s Rock revival about being always better than those who envy you:

"The song came about around three years ago while we were writing the album and was written by myself [band member Jack] and our older sister, Paris Smith.

Shadow is kind of a vengeful track and opens the door to a slightly darker side of our album. The song is ultimately about rising up against someone that has hurt you, and realizing that you are better that that person, and that they will always be 'in your shadow'."

Dakota Avenue – Skin

I feel, completely to blame for the uproar. We kissed, it’s not my fault that you want more. You feel, the way you feel because you’re… We talk, the way we talk because you’re… unhappy with him.

You’re unhappy with him. You’re unhappy within. You’re unhappy within your skin.

We move to Manchester, England for an alt-mospheric track about making someone so pissed, they can’t even find where their keys are:

"It is about the way people behave badly because of their own negative impression of themselves, and how the people around them may feel feel upset or somehow responsible. I think it’s more a reflection on myself and my friends at a time we weren't very happy!"

Silver Springs – Glow

Walk down the same old streets full of familiar faces Go for a drink visit the same old places Early in the morning, alone in the cold I see it clearer than in used to Be reborn again and let the past grow old

From Stockholm, Sweden, an ethereal Indie track about being stuck, losing it all, with nowhere to go:

"That song just came very naturally, I think I wrote it in just a couple of hours. It sort of sums up a feeling I had when I had to move on from something that was really important to me, I didn’t want to look back but I also thought everything new and current felt very boring and grey. And then in the last part of the song it’s more about moving on and accepting that things have to change.

It was like a brief but intense therapy session to write the song and I don’t think I realized at the time how personal the song really is. 😁"

The Semi-Supervillains – Here Comes Trouble

And I like a surprise; but I realize She's gone; and I keep hitting snooze I wake up at the crack of noon I look up; I ain't got a clue She's gone

Next stop, Weirton, West Virginia for some Classic Rock vibes about running as fast as I can, even if you don't wanna leave, before you may get a shotgun pointed at you:

"Here Comes Trouble is a contemporary blues rock track inspired by the modern garage rock juggernauts. The lyrics and story in the song are from a personal experience sparing few that is common for the average young American man. Getting laid and sneaking out of the house before her dad kicks finds you there!"

Parade – Electric Fear

Have you known this electric fear The one that hides your pain.

I'll tell you how it feels to live on pills

The harder you fall The pressure you felt The weight on your shoulders The weight of the world

Our last destination is Marseille, France for a Post Punk track that takes us to that place where happiness was never meant for real:

"Electric fear has different meanings, one would be against the alienation of working in big companies, never listening to your own feeling, just act as a robot until the day ends.

It also relates to my depression, and pills that always comes within. It doesn’t matter if it's drug pills or medicine pills as both interact with your mind.

We wrote the music together and [band member] Nico found very quickly this theme that we consider the chorus of the song and then we put that all together. At first it was the same line repeated over and over and we finally fixed it with the bridge so that it can be a proper song."

Listen to them and much more on the complete Playlist:

[florenceandthemachine]

hear your heartbeat

happy birthday to the incomparable @elisela!!! just for you, please enjoy a good fake-dating au with plenty of idiotic and family members abound.

12.5k - on Ao3

—————

“I’m telling you, Scotty. New York has been good to me. Maybe we should just renounce California and stay here for the summer.”

“Don’t joke about that, dude.”

Stiles laughed as he shouldered his phone, taking in the city air as he strolled along the streets of Manhattan.

Needless to say, Manhattan was far from home—while the city certainly was his vibe, Stiles was no stranger to tamping down the champagne tastes that clashed with his tapwater budget. The little shitbox apartment he got through NYU’s housing program was almost a thirty minute train ride from school, but Stiles figured that when he was more or less trapped on campus for nearly fifty hours a week, he could justify spending his breaks wandering the streets of Manhattan and really taking in the city.

On today’s agenda, Stiles was looking forward to wandering around a farmers market that literally stretched on for city blocks. There were fruits and vegetables literally as far as the eye could see, spices and roots and mysterious tubers of all shapes and size, but Stiles didn’t give a flying fuck about the food—his real interest were the vendors and the shoppers.

He had learned early on that open air markets like this were perfect meeting grounds for mythical beasts of all shapes and sizes, so, what better palace for him to do some… field work, so to speak?

There were nymphs who had full bouquets of beautiful flowers that lived suspiciously long in their vases as long as you complimented the blooms on a regular basis. Dryads who sold the most delicious fruit he had ever tasted, even if they charged six bucks for a pear.

Stiles had learned early on to avoid the fae—basically, any stand that sold crystal or metalcraft. His first time at the market, he had somehow wound up spending nearly four hundred dollars on quartz; the moment the money had left his hand, the stall had all but vanished in front of him.

“The people are good here. They’re fast. Blunt. Sarcastic. My kind of people.”

“Uh huh.”

Scott liked to call their whole situation lucky.

When Stiles applied to NYU’s doctorate program, he expected rounds and rounds of interviews, lists of deadlines he needed to memorize, and some less-than-subtle digs at his proposed field of study (which was fair, honestly—he knew that criminology and mythology rarely mixed).

What he didn’t expect was Scott, though, the bro of all bros. When Stiles told him he was applying to NYU, Scott had cheered him on, helped him prepare, and then immediately applied to different veterinary positions through the state.

(Scott was golden, obviously—he had years of training, letters of recommendation from everyone he had ever met, and him being a werewolf basically made him the animal whisperer.)

At the end of the day, Stiles got to pursue his passion thanks to a hodgepodge of grants at NYU, and Scott was awarded a fellowship in veterinary medicine through the Bronx Zoo. What kind of weird twist of luck would let the best friends wind up together across the country like that?

So, yeah, Scott called it luck.

Stiles called it karmic retribution for their supremely fucked-up years at Beacon Hills High, but even he could admit that ‘luck’ sounded nicer... and if Stiles was being honest, ‘luck’ was definitely the best way to classify his meeting Derek Hale.

Derek Hale was smart, he was sarcastic, and he could go toe-to-toe with Stiles over completely obscure things for literal hours. He was a first-year professor at NYU, who had the tiny office right next to the broom closet Stiles had managed to shove PHD desk into, and he was probably the only other person in the program that took mythology seriously (meaning he was the only person who didn’t make Stiles want to put his head through the wall).

He was also hot as fuck, but that was beside the point. Stiles had a little bit of a massive crush, but that was also beside the point.

They had built up a fast friendship based on a series of arguments about the Necronomicon, of all things, and Stiles loved the thought of being friends with someone who didn’t know him as the weird kid in high school who knew way too much about ritual sacrifice and circumcision.

He had evened out a lot through undergrad. He was still awkward, sure, but he was awkward with a refillable prescription for Adderall and some sort of brain-to-mouth filter.

(Honestly, the fact that Stiles had managed to avoid making a single joke about the werewolf who was stuck teaching Mythology 101 really did speak volumes to his newfound maturity.)

Speaking of Derek, though…

“Stiles! Hey, Stiles!”

Stiles almost jumped a foot in the air as he heard his name called, doing a spectacular near-drop-mid-air-catch of his phone as he regained his footing, turning on the spot to see a taller woman with jet black hair waving him over.

She was… okay, she was gorgeous—dark hair, smooth skin, someone who looked like she just stepped out of one of the windows on Fifth Avenue—but Stiles was decently distracted, because standing beside her was Derek Hale, the object of his extremely private affection for the past few months. Who, for whatever reason, was standing there looking like he wanted the sidewalk to open up and swallow him whole.

“Scotty, I’ll see you tonight, yeah? I gotta go.”

Stiles pocketed his phone as he cautiously made his way over to the pair—trio, he corrected, because there was another woman with them, looking incredibly more invested in the conversation now that another party was joining them.

He hiked his canvas a bit higher up as he smiled, trying to remember where he had seen the two before… students, maybe, but if that were the case, they would know Derek, not Stiles. They weren’t faculty members, he was sure of that. Donors to the program, maybe?

Well, if they were donors, Stiles sincerely hoped that Derek would have tried harder to wear literally any expression other than his current ��bitter and miserable’.

And if they were donors, why were they so fucking happy to see him?

“I’m Laura. This is Cora.”

The taller of the two women extended her hand confidently as Stiles got within arms reach, and he instinctively reached out to take it, Cora following suit. “Derek has told us all about you. I have to say, I figured there was at least a ten percent chance you were made up, but… here you are!”

“Here I am!” Stiles was officially lost, but he kept his smile up, cheeks pinking up a little bit as he turned back to Derek. “You’ve been talking about me?” he asked, his voice on the line between flattered and teasing, nudging Derek playfully as he tilted his head.

“Stiles, I—“

“Of course he has! Derek’s a private guy, sure, but you can’t be surprised he told us about his new—“

“Laura—”

“Lord, Derek, calm down. You already had your big bisexual awakening, I’m allowed to be excited to meet your first boyfriend.” Laura shot back, her glare rivaling Derek’s absolute best ‘listen to teacher’ look, and Stiles could see the muscle in his jaw start to twitch. He probably would have done something, but… he was basically short circuiting, brain trying to keep up with whatever the fuck Laura had said, because Derek now had his arm around Stiles’ waist.

Derek had a big bisexual awakening?

And a boyfriend, apparently?

How had Stiles missed that??

“Stiles, these are my sisters, Laura and Cora Hale.”

Okay, great, they were Derek’s sisters. Stiles didn’t even know that Derek had sisters, which was a little sad if he thought about it.

Thankfully, he didn’t have long to think about it, because Derek—

“This is Stiles, my… my boyfriend. Now stop bombarding him. Give him half a fucking second before you go a thousand miles an hour.”

Oh—oh God. Stiles was the boyfriend.

He had seriously missed something, then—he didn’t think he had confessed his feelings for Derek anytime recently, or he probably would have died from embarrassment. Scott was really good at hiding his phone when he was drinking, which ruled that entire scenario out. Stiles could be forgetful at times, sure, but he thought he would remember if he had managed to score himself a boyfriend.

He looked up at Derek, trying to ignore the sudden burn of contact where their bodies were pressed together, but his brain was extremely focused the moment that he caught the look on Derek’s face, there and gone in a flash. He felt the hand squeeze at his waist, and the message was clear enough.

Please.

Ah, well. Stiles was always good at bullshitting, and this was no exception.

“No, no, Der, it’s fine! It’s good to meet you both, sorry, I wasn’t even expecting to see Derek until… uh, later, let alone meet anyone new,” Stiles said, his voice 100% betraying his nerves as it picked up an octave.

Laura’s voice was much more evenly toned, even if it was a little teasing. “Oh? You two have big plans tonight? We aren’t interrupting anything, are we?” she said with a grin, giving the distinct impression that even if they were interrupting, she and her sister wouldn’t be leaving until they were good and ready. Stiles felt his mind kick into overdrive, waving the question aside.

“Oh, nothing like that. We were going to meet up with my friend Scott for dinner, introducing the boyfriend to the best friend, you know how it is,” he continued, hoping his little chuckle wasn’t too terribly fake as he reached up to pat the lapels of Derek’s jacket, letting his fingers linger a little too long on Derek’s chest as he nodded.

He hoped that she knew how it was. Hell, Stiles didn’t even know how it was. He hadn’t exactly been rolling in romance since moving across the country.

“Well, if you say so,” Laura mused, raising a perfect brow, head tilted to the side. “You look like you’re about to pass out, Stiles. You alright?”

And, okay, Stiles knew enough to know what that meant. It meant that her super-sonic ears could hear his heart trying to break through his ribs with a staccato beat, typically a tell-tale sign that someone was lying, but… maybe he could work that to his advantage. He swallowed, voice a little tight as he laughed, waving the concern away.

“Sorry, I just wasn't… planning on meeting the family today,” Stiles said, probably the most truthful thing he had ever said. “Usually I’d try to prepare a little more, you know, make sure I’m wearing something nice and avoid putting my entire foot in my mouth. Maybe just a toe or two,” he said, relaxing minutely as Cora snorted from her position near Laura’s elbow.

Okay, so self depreciation was a good way to avoid suspicion with all the Hales. Got it.

“Well, if you both have plans, I’ll make this quick,” Laura said, her voice deceptively charming as she sidled up next to Stiles, though he certainly wasn’t going to complain about the way Derek’s hand tightened around his waist. “The semester is up soon, what are your plans this summer? Never mind, move them back. We’re having a family reunion the week after finals, and everyone is dying to meet baby brother Derek’s new boo after all the stories he’s told.”

…stories?

He looked up to Derek again, who was now blushing up to the tips of his ears, which—okay, cute—but which told him absolutely nothing and offered him exactly zero defense.

“Actually, I already have a flight booked as soon as my spring contract is up. Heading back to Beacon Hills for a few days, and—“

“Wait, did Derek already invite you?” Laura asked, her expression pleasantly surprised, and Stiles was speechless for a half second before Derek stepped in.

“No, I didn’t invite him because I’m not even going, Laura. Besides, he has his own plans with his own family,” he said, and Stiles blinked as he tried to keep up. “And what do you mean, they’re excited to meet him? I was very clear that the further I can keep him away from you and Mom, the better.”

Laura only rose a brow as she turned back to Cora, who took a beat before looking up from her phone, her expression halfway guilty as she clutched the device. “I uh—I may have just sent a picture of you two to the family group chat.”

Stiles choked on a laugh as Derek gasped—actually gasped—and pulled his phone from his pocket, making the mistake of releasing Stiles’ shoulder to unlock the device, looking absolutely scandalized as he glared at Cora.

It wasn’t long before Stiles had a similar look on his face, though, as Laura took advantage of his free arm, linking her own with his as she started to walk. “Alright, Stiles, here’s the deal.”

“Cora, you little—hey! Laura, get back here with my boyfriend!”

“Calm down little brother, the adults are talking.”

“He’s younger than I am!”

“So, Stiles, like I was saying,” Laura started, oblivious or ignorant to the way Stiles' mind had absolutely reeled when Derek had called him his boyfriend for the second time. “Derek hasn’t been home for more than a day visit since he moved out to this dump, and no one has raised a stink about it in years. This year, though, is… important,” she started, and Stiles nodded idly as he mentally ran through the calendar in his head.

The semester was over in just over a week, with finals crammed into three days after that, and then—oh, the full moon.

No, Stiles corrected himself, the blue moon. The first blue moon in May in probably… thirty years, if he had to guess. He nodded up to Laura as that clicked into place, a flicker of curiosity crossing over her face as she continued talking.

“We won’t take up that much of your time—it’s only like two events, I promise, and I also promise Derek will personally take care of whatever flight changes you have to make so you can still get some time with your family. After all, it’s not your fault my bonehead brother tried to exclude you until now.”

“I’m not a bonehead!” Derek said, his tone of voice just exasperated enough that Stiles sighed, carefully extracting himself from Laura’s grasp as they slowed to a stop near the curb of Fifth Avenue, the noise from the farmers market blending in with the sound of traffic as he turned back to Derek.

“Alright, hang on, hold up,” Stiles started, his tone firm enough to stop the three wolves in their tracks, Derek and Laura wearing matching expressions of surprise as they stopped in their tracks—even Cora was peeking over her phone, clearly interested, and Stiles couldn’t blame them. It had probably been a long time since either of them had been stopped by a human.

“Laura, Derek is not a bonehead. He’s smart, and he’s sweet, and he’s very kind, and it’s okay that he’s a little more private. Yeah, he’s also a stubborn asshole, but… well, that’s one of the reasons I like him so much,” Stiles said, the first genuine smile in the entire conversation gracing his face as he looked at Derek again. “But you know your brother. Did you really think that catching him off guard across the country in person was going to be the best way to convince him to visit?”

He was fine taking their silence as an answer, honestly.

“Now, Derek, that being said, I… if you are comfortable with it, I can rearrange my plans and come down with you. If you’re not comfortable with that, that’s okay too. Meeting the family—at least, the rest of the family—is a very big step,” he continued, his words very pointed.

(Yes, Derek, meeting the family would be a very big step for someone you weren’t even dating, please pick up on the subliminal messaging here.)

“But even if you’re not comfortable with me being there, I think you should still go down. I’ll get to spend plenty of time with my dad, you shouldn’t have to be all alone up here while I’m gone.”

Moving to smooth over the lapels on Derek’s jacket again, Stiles only barely tampered down a noise of surprise as Derek intercepted his hands, pleasantly shocked by how easily Derek’s warm, smooth fingers slipped between his own lanky digits.

Stiles felt his cheeks pinks up as he cleared his throat, doing his best to act normal, because he was… well, he wasn’t lying. He had absolutely thought about Derek being alone here in New York while Stiles was gone, but that was more in the sense that Stiles would miss him.

He just didn’t know that Derek might be missing some family, too.

Besides, he may not have known that much about the intricacies of a normal, family pack, but Stiles knew enough to know that a big event like this would probably be good for Derek, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Even if Derek was going to reject his offer and go down alone.

…because Derek was going to reject him.

Derek was going to reject him, right?

Stiles had been fairly sure of that when he offered, but judging by the way Derek couldn’t meet his eyes after something as simple as holding hands, Stiles might have just fucked himself over. Derek opened and closed his mouth twice before he finally let out a huff of air and looked up, doing a remarkably good impression of a guilty animal as he looked at Stiles.

“…you’re sure you don’t mind?”

Fuck.

“Derek, I wouldn’t have offered if I minded,” Stiles said, and that much was at least true—but before he could say anything else, Laura was squealing in his ear, wrapping both of them up in a hug so tight Stiles almost had to remind her that he was human, but he was able to breathe again as the car next to the curb chirped.

“Thank God, Stiles, thank you for getting through to him! Oh, Nana is gonna flip out when she hears who’s coming—Derek, you know you’ve always been her favorite—Stiles, do you have any dietary restrictions? Derek, send me his number, and—no, Cora, you are not driving us back to the airport, move your ass—“

Stiles looked up to Derek, his expression somewhere between bemused and fearful as Laura rambled on, but… well, the apologetic look that Derek had on his face wasn’t much reassurance.

“—and Stiles, you’re going to love Beacon Hills. Bye boys! See you in two weeks!”

Stiles was left, partially shellshocked as Derek’s hand slipped from his own, the need for the facade no longer essential as the shiny silver rental car pulled into traffic.

“… Derek, since when the fuck are you from Beacon Hills?”

—————

“Scotty, stop laughing, this isn’t funny.”

“Dude, are you kidding me? This is hilarious.”

Stiles groaned as he shoved another slice of pizza into his mouth, ignoring the burning sensation that spread across his tongue as he tried to pack as much melted cheese as he could into one bite.

Scott’s apartment had been their go-to for the entire time he and Stiles had been in the city—not because it was huge and glamorous, not by any means, but Scott’s shoebox had a door between the bathroom and the living room, and therefore it was the best place for bro-time by default.

Stiles had loudly complained about the entire situation when he and Derek showed up on Scott’s stoop, firmly planting himself in his favorite of Scott’s chairs—the ‘old man’ recliner next to Scott’s little television, the game on screen forgotten as he recalled their harrowed tale.

“Stiles, if you weren’t comfortable with it, why even… okay, no, don’t you dare answer me until you swallow,” Derek snapped, and Stiles rolled his eyes as he swallowed a few times, sticking his tongue out at Derek once his mouth was empty.

“Good. Thank you for pretending to be an adult. Now, why did you even offer if it wasn’t something you were comfortable with.”

Because it was supposed to just be a gesture, Derek. Because I didn’t realize you would take it as a serious offer, Derek. Because you were supposed to say no, Derek.

… because I didn’t want you to be alone, Derek.

Honestly, as surprised as Stiles was that Derek took him up on his poorly-timed moment of goodness, he was even more surprised that after Laura drove off, when he numbly asked if Derek wanted to come over to Scott’s for some pizza, Derek actually said yes.

Derek Hale was being social. Alert the media.

(Well… maybe ‘social’ was stretching it a bit—Stiles didn’t know if it was a territory thing or what, but Derek had turned hilariously, awkwardly stiff the moment he stepped inside Scott’s apartment.)

“I offered because I’m nice, dick, but don’t even think that you can turn this on me. Derek, they knew my name. They knew what I looked like. And yeah, I mean, I’m a complete catch and all—oh fuck off, Scotty—but what in the actual, literal fuck?”

Stiles didn’t think it was possible, but somehow Derek got even more tense, shoulders tightening up toward his ears as he looked down. It took a moment before he answered, but Stiles knew by then that Derek usually had to… wind himself up to talk about some things.

“My mother lives on the opposite end of the country, and even then, she still managed to set up twenty four blind dates for me last year. Twenty four, Stiles. That’s basically one every other week. Do you have any idea how much small talk that is? And how much I hate small talk?”

Yes, Stiles thought, to both of those questions. He would never admit this out loud, of course, but thinking about one of the most intensely private people that he knew stuck at some shitty little coffee shop trying to chat with some random female on behalf of his mother was hilarious to a degree he couldn’t fathom.

It definitely wasn’t a redirection of his own… personal feelings that may or may not be directed at Derek. Not at all. Nope.

“So, around the time the spring semester started, when my mother let slide that she had passed along my number to yet another perfectly eligible barista, or something, I panicked and told her I had a boyfriend. And then she asked for a photo, and the most recent one on my phone was that selfie you sent miming your own death in the stacks, so…”

“Oh fuck, Derek,” Stiles started, downing the last of his beer. “Your big bisexual awakening wasn’t just you trying to get out of your mom setting you up on dates, right?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, ass,” Derek said, rolling his eyes as he shook his head. “The two events were completely separate.”

Stiles laughed at the thought, but even then, his mind was reeling. If this wasn’t a recent discovery, how in the fuck did Stiles miss that for so long?

“Well, you’re lucky Scotty and I had a flight booked anyway. I won’t let you face them alone, not when you have a picture perfect boyfriend to show off now—what role should I take on? Doting, love struck fool? Rebel without a care? Some sad forlorn loser who… okay, no, that one is too close to home.”

Scott stood up and laughed as Derek glared at Stiles again, but it didn’t take a genius to see the tiny smile on his face, or the way his shoulders eased as he leaned back into the couch.

“Alright, this is getting too intense a conversation while the game is on. Want another beer, Stiles? You, Derek?”

Stiles made a vaguely affirming noise as he wove his hand in Scott’s direction, eyes drawn back to Derek yet again as the other wolf politely declined, his own attention affixed to the television as the game picked back up.

Derek was… not a particularly expressive person, Stiles knew, and part of that was because Derek had what Stiles affectionately called ‘resting grumpy face’; at least, he did privately, because the one time he said it out loud Derek had thrown the Encyclopaedia of Demomorgons at his head.

So, to the outsider looking in, Derek might have just seemed uninterested in the game; but Stiles had been watching Derek work for the better part of a semester, and he knew perfectly well how to tell when Derek’s resting grumpy face formed an actual frown. Which it did. Because apparently, the Mets had personally offended him.

“I’m sorry, are you seriously glaring at the Mets? While they’re winning?”

Derek leveled Stiles with the most unimpressed glare he could as Scott laughed from his kitchen, walking back into the living room with two beers. “God, I hope he was. It would be nice to have someone with taste in the apartment for once.”

“Scotty!” Stiles gasped, clutching his heart as Scott handed him a beer, extending the claw on his thumb to pop the top off before he handed the bottle over. “The Mets are a treasure, okay? If God lived in New York, she’d be a Mets fan. I have suffered much for my Mets in my lifetime, and they—woah, Derek, you okay?”

Stiles’ charming cliches would have to wait, because when he looked over to Derek, his humor dropped immediately. Derek had gone white as a sheet, jaw slack as he stared at the beer in Stiles’ hand.

He stared back and forth between Scott and Derek, trying to figure what the hell had just happened; it wasn’t until he watched Scott pop the top off of his own beer, looking between the two of them, did Stiles put two and two together.

“Derek, you… you had to know that Scott was a were, right? Like, you had to. He—Scotty doesn’t do subtle.”

“Me?! Stiles, you called me a wet dog for like a month after I fell into the Hudson.”

Derek let out a sort of choked noise as he shut his mouth, coming back into himself as a bit of pink dusted his pale cheeks, hands moving in front of his face. “Of—of course I knew, but—you knew?!”

“Dude, I’m studying mythical lore and criminology. I’m the one who taught this furry fucker how to control himself. Of course I knew, I... oh my god. You didn’t know that I knew—uh, that I know.”

Matching looks of realization dawned on Scott and Stiles’ face as Stiles stood up, putting the beer down on the coffee table. He moved next to Derek as he sat down on the couch, keeping his movement slow, reaching out to pat Derek’s leg like he was a frail old lady.

“Derek, I know.”

After what felt like an age and a half, Derek melted into the couch, a huge sigh leaving his lips as all the tension in his body bled out like a string had been cut, burying his head in his hands.

“We’ve had arguments about wolves in pop culture. I’ve offered to help you out with your coursework every full moon for, like, the entire semester. Dude, you had to know that I knew, there’s no way I didn’t—Derek!” Stiles felt his giddy laughter bubble over as Derek shot him a red-eyed glare through his fingers, his scowl somehow less intimidating now that everything was out in the open.

Okay, Derek wasn’t just a wolf, he was an alpha. That was… interesting.

“God, you two really are perfect fake boyfriends. Two halves of a whole idiot. Derek, are you sure you don’t want a beer? Or maybe something stronger, if you have to deal with Stiles?” Scott said easily, laughing as Stiles immediately protested, though the way Stiles eased himself next to Derek wasn’t exactly subtle, either.

—————

Scott may have been joking, but by the time finals had come and gone, Stiles had accepted the fact that he would have to forgo booze and opt for a mainline of caffeine to keep up with Derek. How one person remained so meticulously organized, Stiles would never know—but in the amount of time it took for Stiles to wrap up his grant work for the semester, Derek had given four exams, proctored three more, cleaned out his office, and shared the updated flight itinerary with Stiles.

“Wait, wait, hang on,” Stiles had said, tripping over an empty box in his tiny office as Derek handed him his updated boarding pass. “Why do we have to change our flights? Scott and I are already booked, you can probably just join us, right?”

Derek rose a perfectly sculpted brow as he tapped the ticket again, shaking his head. “Hey, I promised you’d spend as few days as possible with my family, and I intend to keep that promise. The sooner we get in, the sooner we start that clock, the sooner you get to spend the rest your time with your dad.”

Stiles blinked as he looked down to the itinerary, eyes scanning over the earlier time—and it was non-stop too. That would be a bit killer on the legs, but Stiles could handle that, maybe he could take some time to sleep or pester Derek for...

“Uh, Derek... this ticket is for first class.”

“I know, Stiles, I booked it.”

“Dude, there’s a reason Scott and I booked an economy ticket with a layover in Bismarck. There’s no way I can pay you back for this.”

If looks could kill, Stiles would be... maybe not dead, but at least set on fire. Derek sighed, as though the weight of the world was on his shoulders as he rolled his eyes.

“You’re not paying me back, dumbass. You’re already doing a ton for me with this little... charade, the least I can do is make sure your frail human body—“

“Hey!”

”—is comfortable in a lie flat seat.”

“Look, I appreciate that, but I’m not leaving Scott alone on his flight in coach just because of our... fake... whatever.”

Stiles’ voice trailed off in curiosity as Derek sighed, his cheeks pink as he pulled the paper out of Stiles’ hand, pointing to the second half of the sheet—where MCCALL, SCOTT had been printed in big, bold letters, that Stiles had completely ignored.

“... you got Scott a ticket too?”

“Of course I did. He’s your best friend, I wasn’t going to ask you to leave him behind just for me. Besides, who do you think I got your information from to book the flight?” Derek said dryly, as though his deadpan delivery could cancel out the ruddy color to his cheeks, or the way that Stiles’ stomach flip flopped when the reality of that sunk in.

It was nice that Derek acknowledged the importance of their friendship, in the way that tugged at the little space right beneath his sternum, but something about the way Derek so quickly dismissed himself was... concerning.

Stiles couldn’t help but play that little bit of their conversation over in his head as he packed, as he hopped on the train, as he met up with Scott and Derek in security.

Scott, bless his heart, was absolutely elated—his excitement was almost tangible as they dropped off luggage, walked through security, and stood around at the boarding gate. Derek had to smack the both of them to get them to stand up when first class was called to board, and Stiles idly wondered if Derek regretted associating himself with them when he and Scott managed to trip in sync as they went down the jetway.

Derek and Stiles were seated together, of course, and once Stiles got over the novelty of not having a middle seat on a plane, he liked to imagine he fit right in—easing back into the seat, enjoying the comfort of the little blanket he had been given, grinning at the flight attendant as she checked in with them.

(Scott was one row ahead and across the aisle, close enough that Stiles could lean forward and smack him if he wanted to... but the moment Stiles saw his seat mate, a pretty woman with dark hair and impeccable eyeliner, he knew his best bro would be on a different planet for the entirety of the flight.)

His grin slipped a little bit, though, as he thought back to the conversation surrounding the tickets, and he looked up to Derek as he settled in a bit further.

“So, we never went over what role I should be taking on.”

“Stiles, just be yourself. You’re funny enough, and you generally mean well, they’ll love who you are.”

Yeah… who he was. Well, who he was was someone who was going to be dangerously invested in a fake relationship that would probably end terribly for him, so that was fun. He sighed as he settled into the seat, opening and closing his mouth a few times as he debated on where to go from here.

No time like a non stop plane ride to have a potentially awkward conversation, right?

“Dude, we’re friends, right?”

“We’re fake boyfriends, don’t call me dude.”

Derek’s tone was teasing as he flipped through his SkyMall, a small smile on his face, and Stiles felt a little bit of the tension ease out of his shoulders as he buckled in.

“First of all, I have called many boyfriends ‘dude’ before,” Stiles started, ignoring Derek’s snort of laughter, “and I’m being serious. We... we are friends, right?”

Be it his words or his awkward energy, Derek looked up, surprise on his face as he closed the magazine and stowed it away as the plane bumped down the taxiway.

“Of course we are, Stiles. You’re like... the only person I talk to at work outside of teaching, that’s light years ahead of most of New York as a whole.”

“I mean, I’m glad to hear, I just...” Stiles chewed on his lip as he turned in his seat, weirdly soothed by the roar of the engines as the takeoff roll started. “You know about my dad, and about my school, and about Scott, and those are basically the three important things in my life,” he started, letting out a sigh as Derek just stared at him blankly.

“It’s fine that you’re a private person, I can respect that... seriously, I may not understand it, but I can respect it,” Stiles said, grinning as Derek shot him a look, lowering his voice again as he leaned over the divider between them. “But I didn’t know that you were from my hometown, too. Or that you had sisters, let alone other family. I should have asked, I guess, but... you know you can talk to me about things, yeah? Even after all this is over, you’ll always be Derek to me. Not just another Hale.”

Stiles’ was smiling as he gently bumped Derek’s shoulder with his own, watching the way different emotions warred over his face, biting back on the urge to babble on so he could give Derek the time he needed to respond.

“We’re... we are friends, Stiles. We are.” Derek insisted, looking down to his linked hands as the plane continued to rise. “Sometimes, I just... I’m not great about talking about myself.”

For a while, Stiles thought that was all he was going to get, and honestly, he was fine with it—it wasn’t until the fasten seatbelt sign chimed off and the flight attendants passed out little bottles of water that Derek spoke again, his voice low as he cleared his throat.

“My family is huge. Like, big enough that we need spreadsheets and flowcharts to organize family events like this. I know they love me, and I love them too, of course I do, but I made some really, really stupid decisions when I was younger… I know they forgave me for it, but...”

Derek sighed, taking a deep breath as he ran his hands through his hair.

“Sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?”

No, Stiles didn’t know. He only had his dad and Scott growing up, but he nodded his head encouragingly as he took a sip of his water.

“I actually have four siblings. Mark is the oldest, and then Taylor, and I’m right between Laura and Cora. They’re betas, like my dad; my mom and I are both alphas, her mom, too…” Derek continued, and Stiles smiled as he settled into his seat.

By the time the flight landed, Stiles’ head was full to the brim with Hale family trivia, names, faces, teasing stories, and the warmth that had danced across Stiles’ chest for the past year or so had bloomed into a full-on fire.

Would it lead to his downfall? Probably.

But when he saw how Derek smiled when he remembered Mark’s graduating medical school, or heard the pride in his voice when he talked about Laura’s charity work, and the genuine joy he got to see when he heard another story about Derek’s childhood… well, that was all more than worth it.

—————

“I think you should kiss me.”

Stiles had to stop himself from laughing at the look that Derek shot him, doing his best to keep his body language casual as he leaned against the gas pump at a tiny station outside of Beacon Hills, though he knew his heart was going at about a million miles a minute.

“I—you—what?”

“Derek, I’m an affectionate dude, in case you couldn’t tell from all the hand holding. And if you’re going to freak out if I kiss your cheek, then you should freak out now, not when we’re in front of your family.”

Stiles knew full well his heart betrayed his confidence, but seeing Derek’s ears go pink as he dumped the armful of snacks Stiles had asked for into the back seat was a welcome sight—it was always nice to know that Derek’s cool and controlled exterior could be ruffled up once in a while.

Somewhere between the rental kiosk and the gas station, Stiles had decided that he was going to go all in on this. His little crush was already stuck right in the back of his throat and would be unlikely to dislodge any time soon, so he figured that indulging himself in the fake relationship Derek had set up for him… well, it wouldn’t do any good, but it was unlikely to make things worse for him than it already was.

It was a little weird being alone with Derek—Stiles didn’t realize it until now, but between meeting Derek’s sisters and meeting the rest of their family, this was the first time they had been alone together. They had other staff members at school, or strangers around the city, or Scott (who had politely declined a ride back to Beacon Hills with Derek and Stiles, choosing instead to split an Uber with his pretty new friend, Kira).

“You know, as far as first kisses go, usually they’re a little more romantic than just a demand. You’re supposed to woo me, Stiles,” Derek said, his sarcastic tone betrayed by his shy little smile as he pulled the nozzle out of his tank, closing the gas cap as Stiles gasped in mock offense.

“Hey, I said you should kiss me, not the other way around. Why should I have to be the one to woo?” Stiles started, sliding into the passenger’s seat as Derek followed suit. “After all, this relationship wouldn’t have even happened without your instigation, so why should I… uh… Der?”

Stiles’ voice trailed off as Derek’s hand sunk into the soft crook at the juncture of his neck, effectively cutting off his entire train of thought as Derek’s thumb pressed against the hollow of his jaw.

“Stiles.”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“O-Okay.”

For a minute, all Stiles could think of were those cheesy old rom-coms, where fireworks would go off, or bells would chime, but kissing Derek was nothing like that. It was the comfort of wrapping yourself in an electric blanket, instead of the shock of jumping into a frozen pond; the familiar buzz of goosebumps over his skin over a bolt of lightning. He felt a surprised little noise leave his chest as Derek’s tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue flicking out instinctively to drag along Derek’s bottom lip, hands coming up to rest against the wolves chest.

Stiles could feel his heart beating through every inch of his skin as the kiss broke, struggling to remind himself how to breathe as he opened his eyes again, his nose brushing against Derek’s as he let out a little huff of a laugh.

“Was that enough woo for you?” Derek asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, and Stiles smiled as he nodded his head, savoring the way that neither of them moved back. Derek’s hand was warm against the crook of his jaw, his own palm flat against Derek's chest, and it was natural, it was so nice, it was—

Fake. It was all fake.

Stiles sighed, closing his eyes as he gently leaned in and pressed their foreheads together, that mantra playing through his head as he pulled himself back. He buckled himself in easily as he took in a deep breath, his goofy grin still in place as he looked back up to Derek.

“See? Now you can honestly tell your mom we had our first kiss at a gas station and that it was magical and I totally rocked your world.”

“Is that what happened, though? I mean, if you wanted me to kiss you so badly, you should have just asked,” Derek said, the sarcasm thick in his voice as he started the car, and Stiles laughed as they pulled out of the lot, his hand finding Derek’s easily once again.

Their silence remained comfortable as they left the city skyline behind and basically blew through Beacon Hills, the trees inching closer to the road as they wound through the preserve.

Finishing off a bag of M&M’s, Stiles cleared his throat as he crumpled up the wrapper and chucked it in the back seat, sucking a little bit of melted chocolate off of his thumb. “So. Is this regular introducing-the-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves I’m looking at here, or is this introducing-the-fake-boyfriend-to-the-family nerves? You don’t have any weirdos in your family, do you? An ex-felon auntie? A cousin who doesn’t quite get personal space?”

Stiles grinned as Derek laughed, oddly comforted by the sound as Derek shook his head. “Nothing exciting. A weird uncle, I guess. Lots of cousins, you should basically abandon any idea of personal space as soon as we walk in, and plenty of human family, too—so you won’t be alone in that. As far as felons go, well… none of us have been caught?”

“Hey, game recognizes game, it doesn’t count if you don’t get caught. And I can work with a weird uncle.” Stiles laughed at the sheepish look that Derek shot his way, his fingers still happily wrapped up in Derek’s warm hands. He could almost feel it when they crossed over onto the Hale land, the huge, white house as much of a giveaway as the shrieks of joy that even Stiles could hear from the property.

“They’re gonna love you, you know?” Derek’s voice was soft as he pulled the rental into a long row of cars, nearly lining the road leading up to the house, and Stiles felt the snarky remark die on his tongue as Derek caught his eye, his expression somewhere between grateful and wistful as he turned the car off.

“Maybe, but…” Stiles sighed as he popped his door open, chewing over his next words carefully. “But if they do, it’s because they already love you.”

He took it as a personal victory when Derek turned away, his ears pink again, and Stiles couldn’t help but grin as he followed the werewolf up the path to his family home.

The Hale House was probably as huge and impressive as the Hale family itself from the outside, and Stiles did his best not to gape like a fool as Derek opened the door for him, his hand finding the small of Stiles’ back as they stepped into the house. Polished floors, huge, high windows, a grand staircase that was the definition of grand, and—

“Derek!”

—and another unfairly attractive Hale moving forward to greet them. Tall, broad, dark hair with just a splash of salt around the temples and the goatee, shining a million watt smile on Derek and Stiles as he wiped his hands on his probably-uncomfortably-tight jeans.

Jesus, was everyone in this family gorgeous? Stiles was going to get a complex.

He looked up as the stranger and Derek briefly hugged, watching the halfway-subtle way they scented one another, Mark’s head buried in Derek’s neck for a half moment before they pulled away. If Stiles strained his ear, he could have heard something along the lines of ‘be nice’ as Derek pulled back; if the situation weren’t so funny, Stiles probably would have blushed.

“Don’t listen to him, I’m always nice. I’m Mark, and you…” Mark started, his million watt smile back in place as his eyes dragged over Stiles’ body, “... you must be Stiles.” Stiles snorted as Mark pulled him into an easy hug, catching Stiles just a little off-guard as he was wrapped in another pair of arms.

Apparently Derek’s family was an affectionate bunch. Stiles didn’t know if it was a wolf thing or a Hale thing, but either way, it was good to know.

“Mark, uh, Seattle, right? You’re the surgeon?” Stiles asked, clearing his throat as the hug carried on just a bit too long, regaining some footing in the introduction as he pulled back. “Derek’s told me a lot about you.”

That was… mostly true, Derek had told him enough about Mark to thoroughly embarrass the older male, and Mark looked like he expected nothing less as he laughed, holding Stiles’ shoulders as he stood at arms length. “Yeah, I’m sure he did, but it’s probably all garbage. After all, how can you really describe a wonder like me in words, huh?”

He actually winked, and Stiles honestly couldn’t believe that this dude was for real.

“Der, nice job with this one. He’s cute. Kid, is my brother treating you well? Cause, you know, if Hale is your taste, you can do much better than—”

”Mark—“

“Oh, lighten up Der-bear, there isn’t enough Botox in the world to get rid of those scowl lines. It was a joke. Now come on, everyone’s out back.”

Stiles laughed again as Mark put Derek in an easy headlock, ruffling up his hair as he led them outside, immediately filing ‘Der-bear’ away for future use as they stepped out into the backyard.

The backyard, which was absolutely filled with Hales.

He felt his heart do a funny little lurch as he was hit with the sheer family of it all—all dark haired, all gorgeous, and for just a moment, he wanted to smack Derek upside the head. There were probably generations of Hales here; Derek had all this family, this built in support group, and he was just going to spend the summer holed up in New York?

“Alright, Siles, we’re gonna keep you in with the main family and keep you away from the cousins,” Mark started, artfully ignoring the way Derek was swatting at him. “Uncle Peter all but insisted that Mom come pick him up, so you’ll get to avoid them until later tonight, but who you really want to watch out for is—“

“Is that my grandbaby?!”

Mark stiffened as Derek perked up, and Stiles couldn’t help but snicker as a bony hand shot up, grabbing Mark by the scruff of his neck, pulling him off of Derek with a flourish that would probably seem overly dramatic if Stiles didn’t know just how much werewolf strength was packed behind it.

“Derek!”

“Hi, Nana.”

Stiles couldn’t keep the smile off of his face as Derek leaned in to wrap his arms around the older woman—she was a good foot shorter than he was, her movements loud, with light skinned with the same tell-tale black hair that the rest of the family had. What caught Stiles’ eye, though, was the way Derek scented her—it was the same way Mark scented him, a familial nudge that Stiles read easily as a sign of deference.

Whoever this Nana was, she was clearly the woman in charge here.

“You know, we’re all technically her grandbabies,” Mark started as he reappeared at Stiles’ shoulder, rubbing the back of his neck, his childish pout painfully obvious as he pointed his words. “But you wouldn’t know it with the blatant favoritism she shows for Derek!”

“Mark, don’t be such a baby,” Nana Hale said as she pulled back from Derek’s hug, patting his cheek affectionately. She raised a brow in a spectacularly unimpressed fashion as she turned to look at her eldest grandson, sighing in mock disappointment. “Not that I thought a career based off of liposuction and face lifts would have brought you some maturity.”

“That’s—I don’t just do—Nana!”

“Now, who do we have here? Derek, are you going to introduce me to your special friend?”

Ignoring Mark’s protests easily as she turned her attention, Stiles felt his heart pick up again, his eyes flicking to Derek as he beamed; Stiles wasn’t sure if he was happy to see Mark get smacked down, or if he was happy to introduce Stiles, but Stiles would have literally killed a man to see Derek smile that brightly on a regular basis.

“Nana, this is my boyfriend, Stiles Stilinski. Stiles, this is my grandmother, Ger—“

“Nana Hale will do just fine, thank you very much,” she interrupted, pulling a face that made Stiles grin—he could absolutely relate to someone who would rather set their birth name on fire than own up to it. “Now, come here, let me get a look at you.”

Stiles stepped forward and hesitated a half moment, not sure if he should try one last time for a handshake or wait for her to initiate a hug, but before he could make up his mind she had her hands clasped on his elbows, a grip like iron stopping him in his tracks.

“Scrawny little thing, aren’t you? We’ll take care of that, don’t you worry. It’s good to meet you, sweetheart, let’s get you some food.”

“It’s good to meet you too—and some food sounds great,” Stiles said with a laugh, ignoring the fact that he was still full of junk food as Nana Hale all but preened beside him. Her grip was gentle but unyielding as she dragged him to a table that was piled with food, giving a half wave to Laura and Cora, who were stationed beside a punch bowl the size of a fish tank as he kept himself a half step behind Nana.

Stiles wasn’t dumb, okay? He knew how to make nice with wolves, and more importantly, he knew how to be subtle.

(He didn’t like it, but he knew how to do it.)

“Uncle Derek! Get Uncle Derek!!”

Thankfully, the moment was over in a flash as Stiles heard a familiar name called out in a high pitched squeal, looking back out to the yard where a hoard of kids had just caught sight (or scent?) of Derek, immediately abandoning the rough-and-tumble games they seemed to be wrapped up in to run toward Derek as fast as their little legs could carry them.

Derek immediately tensed, a manic grin on his face as he prepared to run, body twitching as he caught himself before taking off. He sent a look Stiles’ way that was somehow both apologetic and asking remission, and Stiles sighed as he smiled.

“You better run, Uncle Derek. They’re gonna get you,” Stiles said mock-seriously, only barely keeping a straight face as Derek instead ran straight to the kids, making all sorts of comedic noises as they mobbed his legs.

Fuck, he was cute.

Stiles’ attention was pulled off of Derek as he felt eyes on him, subtly scanning the yard before he made eye contact with another adult in the family, who was very shirtless, and very sweaty, and very much walking toward them with a bright smile on his face.

Okay, Stiles was definitely getting a complex.

“You must be Stiles!” he exclaimed once he was closer to their little group, and Stiles had never been as thankful for a child as he was for the tiny body perched on top of the other males shoulders, because he was just about at his ‘hugging gorgeous people’ limit. He was still sweating, for fucks sake, but Stiles supposed that even a wolf got tired out when they had eight kids hanging from their body until Uncle Derek stepped in.

“I am, and…” Stiles was about to assume this was the firefighter sibling, but as soon as he opened his mouth, the kid on top of his shoulders smiled, and Stiles was absolutely smitten. “And who is this little guy?”

The distraction was apparently a welcome one, because shirtless dude’s smile grew even wider, reaching up to pat the kid on a mop of curly hair before he lifted him up and over, holding him at chest level. “This is Isaac. Isaac, can you say hi to Stiles? He’s your uncle Derek’s special friend.”

Stiles literally felt his heart melt as Isaac gave a shy little wave, looking up at him with big blue eyes. He couldn’t have been older than three or four, and Stiles smiled and waved back as Isaac was set down on the ground.

“You wanna go play with Uncle D?” Any hint of shyness was forgotten the moment the question was asked, taking off toward Derek as fast as his little legs could carry him, which… wasn’t very fast, but was very, very cute.

“They all yours?” Stiles asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over to Derek, who now had at least six kids hanging off of him. He smiled as the other male shivered, shaking his head quickly.

“God no, just the three. Erica and Boyd, and Isaac too, now that the adoption has been finalized. Those kids basically run the joint, Derek included—as long as you don’t mind the occasional toddler mobbing, you’ll fit in just fine.”

“Thanks, random shirtless man, I really hope so.”

Stiles grinned as Laura choked on a mouthful of punch, the weirdness of the situation apparently just now visible to her as she sputtered, punching her brother in the arm. “Oh god, Taylor, what is wrong with you! Go put on a shirt, you can’t just—you didn’t even introduce yourself, I swear—Stiles is a guest, you weirdo!”

They kept bickering back and forth as Taylor pulled an undershirt on over his head, the whining turning into background noise as he poured himself a glass of punch. He knew perfectly well what Laura was trying to say—Stiles is a human—and he was pretty sure he was mostly flattered by everyone trying so hard, but any coherent thought left his head as he took a bite of the ribs, watching Nana Hale grin out of the corner of his eyes as he groaned in delight.

“God, they really do have Derek wrapped around their pudgy fingers,” Cora mused, and Stiles nodded his head, swallowing. It was honestly hilarious to watch Derek try to manage all those kids by himself; they seemed determined to pile themselves onto his head and shoulders, and he could almost see Derek sweat, trying to make sure he didn’t drop anyone as Isaac managed to wriggle his way into Derek’s grip.

He tilted his head in consideration, taking a sip of his drink before he spoke up.

“Yeah, he always did strike me as that kind of Alpha.”

He couldn’t help but savor the way the conversation ground to a halt around him, Laura and Taylor both sucking in a deep breath as Mark shattered the glass he was holding. There probably was a better way to acknowledge that he was in on the secret, but as funny as it was watching Derek’s siblings tiptoe around the fact, he figured it was best to rip the bandaid off in one go.

Even if it meant he had the attention of the Hales closest to him in one second, flat, Nana’s burning red from where she stood with a plate piled high with food.

He probably should have been nervous, but as he looked back at Derek, he could tell it was the right choice—Derek was all smiles, waiting only a beat before he popped his fangs and playfully snapped at one of his little nieces, the air soon full of squealing laughter once again.

Keeping his gaze even, Stiles smiled in thanks as he took the plate of food Nana offered to him, watching as her eyes melted back into their darker, human color. She was staring at him like he was a particularly complex puzzle, and she wasn’t alone—Cora looked hilariously outraged that she didn’t realize sooner, and even Mark was looking over him with renewed interest as his hand healed.

“I knew you were a smart boy. He told you?”

Nana’s question was accusing, but not unkind, and Stiles shrugged it off easily as he popped a chip into his mouth.

“He didn’t have to. My best friend was bitten when we were both fifteen. He didn’t have… anything, no alpha, no pack, just me and my mad Googling skills, and we’ve had plenty of supernatural run-ins over the years. Derek didn’t tell me because he didn’t have to tell me—I’m not anything special, but I’d like to think I can spot a non-human from at least fifty feet. Maybe more on a good day.”

“Well, that’s where you’re wrong.”

Stiles jumped as he heard Derek’s voice from behind him, and it truly was a credit to his poise and sophistication that he only blushed a little as Derek’s arm snaked around his waist. His body was warm, far warmer than it had been ten minutes ago, and Derek’s breath came a little heavy as he kissed the back of Stiles’ head.

“You are definitely something special.”

“You—you absolute cheeseball, what is wrong with you—” Stiles managed to get out as he shoved at Derek’s shoulder, his entire face burning red as Laura and Cora both gagged. Any residual awkwardness melted away as Nana’s sharp laugh cut through the air, the sound putting him back at ease as he leaned back into Derek’s warmth.

Somewhere between the fortieth round of storytelling and the gathering moving back into the house, Stiles needed a breather. Derek’s family was huge, and loud, and honestly, Stiles loved it—but it wasn’t long before he felt an itch beneath his skin, his fingers buzzing against his thigh, the muscles in his jaw a little too tight.

Stiles had expected Derek to be pretty popular in the family—what he didn’t expect, though, was that he would be anything more than an introduction and the same polite questions that everyone gave the new boyfriend.

“Wait, no fucking way did the two of you take down a Kanima, Stiles, I’m calling bullshit right now—“

Derek’s siblings were great, but they were also the worst; the minute they found out that Stiles had his own supernatural background, they were pestering him for stories, demanding his opinion of things, getting more and more exasperated with his entire life the more he shared.

Stiles knew that his life was crazy, okay? He didn’t need the constant reminders or the slack-jawed shocked expressions to reinforce that fact.

“Jesus, we didn’t even know that there were any wendigos in the state, and you knew an entire family of them?”

The only stories he flat out refused to talk about were the… issues he had had with hunters through high school—this was a party, after all, and he didn’t want to be the one to bring the vibe down by talking about the one time an assassin held a gun to his head to try and draw Scott out.

Fun times.

“What do you mean, you just know a banshee? And set her up with a hellhound? Dude, who are you?!”

Kissing Derek had, oddly enough, only exasperated the situation. In less than a day, they had gotten better at trading little affections back and forth; but instead of helping Stiles calm down, they only increased that thrumming nerves that bounced around at the base of his skull.

Which sucked, honestly, because kissing Derek was… really, really nice.

Stiles waited until another cousin who’s name he would never remember caught Derek up in a conversation about another tradition he couldn’t follow before he squeezed Derek’s hand, taking the opportunity to stand up from his spot on the couch and slip away.

The Hale House was huge, and outside was no exception; Stiles soon found himself on the porch, a huge wraparound wooden structure with built-in benches that let you enjoy the kind of view that made Stiles remember why he loved home so much. He treated himself to a few pictures of the sunset over Beacon Canyon before he flopped himself down on a bench, rubbing at his neck.

“Stiles? Everything alright?”

He had half expected Derek to follow him out after a few moments—but to his surprise, it was Nana Hale that sat beside him, her cheeks still pink with laughter as she tucked a jet black flyaway behind an ear.

“Is—oh, no, it’s great! Just wanted to, uh, snap a few pictures of the view.”

Another half truth—he was full to bursting with those lately.

“I know that our family can be… a little overwhelming,” she said, her tone even as she rose a brow, keeping her gaze forward as her fingers drummed a pattern into her knee.

Stiles hummed in agreement, his own smile a touch more genuine as he looked over to her. “Maybe, but that’s not a bad thing. When I was growing up, I spent so much time wondering what it would be like, to have siblings, and cousins, and… well, it might be a lot, but it’s a lot of love, too. I’m really glad Derek has that kind of support.”

Nana’s fingers stilled against her knee as she turned to face Stiles, and for the first time, Stiles was really able to get a good look at her properly. He could understand why she was the matriarch of the family, and how she had kept that title so long; even if he hadn’t witnessed her taking Mark down less than four hours ago, there was a whole other kind of strength that she was showing here, radiating off of her in waves.

“He does. But he doesn’t just have us for love and support... or was I reading the way you look at him wrong?” Her tone was teasing as she rose her brow, and Stiles felt his cheeks pink up spectacularly as he coughed, his eyes flashing back to the window for only a moment before Nana patted his knee.

“Don’t worry, the house is completely soundproof. Those nosy little pups can’t hear a word we say. Now tell me, how long have you been in love with my grandson?”

Now fully, beautifully red, Stiles groaned as he hid his face in his hands, Nana’s laughter ringing strong and clear as she stood up and walked toward the railing. “Oh don’t be so dramatic, I have no intention of spoiling that surprise until you’re ready to really woo him with it. And you’d better woo him! You know as well as I do that he deserves the romancing.”

Her tone softened as she chuckled, trailing off with a sigh and a sort of wistful smile as she shook her head. “New York has been good to him. You have, too, I think. California was… a rough part in his life.”

Something in the way she phrased it got the investigative side of his brain thrumming, his curiosity piqued as he remembered what Derek said on the plane.

‘I know they forgave me, but… sometimes it’s hard to be around them and still be okay with myself, you know?’

The nosy part of him wanted to pry, to dig a little more, but his eyes flicked back to the window again, where Derek and all four of his siblings were doing a terrible job at acting like they weren't trying to stare him down.

“Whatever it is, I’m sure he’ll tell me when he’s ready.”

Apparently, that was the right answer—Nana’s face softened again as she smiled, nodding her head, beckoning Stiles into standing up. She put her hand in the crook of his elbow easily, steering them back toward the house in a way that allowed no room for compromise.

“You are going to be good for my Der-bear, I know it.”

“Oh, I mean, I hope so. Derek deserves that, and I definitely—“

“Just let him be good for you, too.”

She reached up and patted Stiles cheek as he stared at her, dumbfounded, automatically opening the door for her as she walked back into the house. His expression was mirrored in the matching expressions of slack-jawed shock from all five Hale siblings, all staring at Stiles as Nana started in on another family story that would be sure to embarrass Mark, or Laura, or anyone who wasn’t Derek.

He meant what he said, of course. Derek deserved someone who would be good for him.

Somehow, that was the problem here.

—————

“Stiles, you reek of nerves. All I can smell is nerves and bell peppers. It’s not a good smell. Are you going to tell me what you’re freaking out about, or what?”

Stiles jolted as Derek called him out so effortlessly, pulled out of the trance he had fallen into as he watched Derek work, pushing around some of the barbecue from the night prior with some fresh chopped veggies into a delightful spur of the moment stir fry.

Derek was also as dressed down as Stiles had ever seen him, in a light grey henley and a dark pair of jeans, and that was even more delightful than the stir fry.

“Wait, you—that’s just something you can do? Oh god, your entire family must have known how nervous I was yesterday, did they—“

“Stiles. Breathe.”

Right. Breathing. He could do that.

…. maybe.

The truth was, Stiles could honestly say that he was having a great time back in Beacon Hills.

Derek and his family were great, no lie, and fake relationship aside, the researcher in him was absolutely thriving seeing how a huge, well-established pack worked with one another. They were literally a well oiled machine, the personification of the old ‘it takes a village’ metaphor, and the only thing that amazed Stiles more than how well they worked together was how well they adapted to Stiles being there.

Of course, he thought a big part of that came from having the Alphas on his side—not just Derek, but Nana too.

(“I can’t believe she hugged you,” Laura had hissed after yet another glass of infused punch. “When she met my last boyfriend, she threw him off the porch.”

“Well, Stiles is a fragile little human,” Taylor had snorted, ignoring the way Stiles smacked his arm, “and Hank was a major, prolapsed asshole.”

“Well yeah, but that’s not the point!”)

As great as Derek and his family was though, getting to come home and surprise his dad early… well, there was no place on the planet he would rather be than wrapped in a signature Stilinski hug, the kind of hug where you held on just a little longer than you needed to so you can pretend you definitely weren’t crying.

He got to watch a game with his dad, he got to sleep in his old, lumpy-ass childhood bed, he got to make breakfast in his mom’s kitchen.

So yeah. Great time.

Or at least, it had been, until a text rolled through after he kissed his dad goodbye that morning.

der-bear: Do you want to come over for lunch? Nana has everyone out of the house, Mom and Uncle Peter showed up this morning and he’s already driving everyone crazy.

sent: sure man. want me to bring anything? :)

der-bear: Don’t worry about it. Besides, I figure we should talk before the bonfire anyway.

And just like that, something brought around a cloud to rain on Stiles’ parade.

“Is it about tonight?” Derek asked, and if Stiles’ hadn’t been so laser focused on his cooking technique (his arms, okay, he was staring at Derek’s arms) he probably would have missed the way Derek hesitated when he asked, like he was afraid of the answer.

He picked himself up off of the barstool at the island in their gigantic kitchen, leaning against the counter closer to Derek, reaching in to pluck a chunk of onion out of the pan, skillfully avoiding the swat from Derek’s wooden spoon. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you… You know we’re looking forward to having you with us, right?” Derek asked, spooning some of the food onto two separate plates, using his claws to rip two fresh chunks of bread off of a loaf. “But if you don’t… I mean, I just don’t want you to feel like you have to be there if you don’t want to.”

Stiles frowned as he accepted one of the plates, pulling the smaller chunk of bread off of one of Derek’s claws, mulling his next words over. “As long as you want me there I’ll be there,” Stiles said slowly, because there really was no way to politely say that Stiles would rather throw himself into the sun before his mythical lore studying ass missed out on observing pack activity on a blue moon.

“Why would you think I didn’t want you there?” Derek asked, looking like he was offended at the very notion, sliding a fork to Stiles as he sat down at the countertop, that offended look only growing as Stiles snorted.

“I dunno, I thought you might have changed your mind about it. Dude, you sent me a ‘we should talk’ text. I’m no expert, but I know that nothing good follows a ‘we should talk’ text,” Stiles said around a mouth full of bread, but any degree of playful levity he had gone for was sapped out of his voice the moment he saw Derek look back down at his plate.

“That, uh. I do think we should talk, but not about that. Stiles, I...”

Ah, fuck. Derek’s ears were pink again, and for once, Stiles thought that was a bad thing.

Stiles did his best not to panic as he thought through things, wondering what he had fucked up, because he just knew he had fucked up a little something. Maybe he had come on a little too strong last night, maybe he had gotten too comfortable with his crush, maybe—

“I was thinking that maybe… we shouldn’t be faking this anymore.”

—or maybe, he had fucked up a whole lot of everything.

Stiles felt his heart sink through his shoes as he swallowed his bread, his appetite suddenly gone. He brushed his hands on his jeans, giving a few short nods, swallowing again as he pushed back from the table a little bit. He thought for a moment that he should argue against it, but Derek had a sad puppy expression splashed across his face, and Stiles wasn’t strong against that on a good day.

“Oh.”

He could feel Derek’s eyes tracking him as he started to move, standing up and starting an easy track around the kitchen, flexing his fingers before he rubbed his palm with his thumbs, an old habit he had thought he had kicked back when he graduated from Berkeley.

“I think, uh, maybe you should wait until you’re back in New York to tell your family?” Stiles started, missing the tiny smile on Derek’s face before it melted into a look of confusion. “You should tell them I broke up with you, not the other way around, I don’t mind being the bad guy,” he added, staring down at his hands.

“Wait, Stiles—“

“No, seriously, it’s fine,” Stiles interrupted, putting a smile back on his face, because he knew this was going to be coming at some point. Derek had made up their entire relationship, and Stiles had worked hard to remember that the reality of it was… that it wasn’t reality. He was the one with the inconvenient crush, he was the one who had gotten stupid. This was all on him, and taking the high road to bow out gracefully would be too.

Or, at least, it should have been. But Derek had abandoned his seat as well, halfway following Stiles in his trail around the kitchen, putting his arm out against a countertop to stop Stiles at a turn.

“I said I wanted to stop faking, Stiles.”

Hell, when had Derek gotten so close to him? Stiles blinked as he backed up against the counter, Derek’s arms closing him in, and suddenly he was getting an up close and personal look at Derek’s lips, and his eyes, and the way the blush was going back up his ears, and—

...why was Derek blushing?

“I never said anything about wanting you to leave.”

But why would Stiles be staying if… oh. Oh.

Realization dawned on Stiles’ face as Derek blushed and looked down, moving his hands a little bit closer against the counter, and Stiles felt a shiver run down his spine as he felt Derek’s thumb settle right along his hip. He had to clear his throat before he could speak, swallowing down the hope that was threatening to bubble over, chewing on his lip as he put one hand on Derek’s chest, the other gently tipping his head back to look him in the eye.

“Dude, if you’re saying what I think you’re saying, you gotta spell it out, I’ve had a crush on you for like forever and if I’m mis-reading this—”

“I told you. I’m your boyfriend, don’t call me dude.”

Stiles laughed again, elation making him feel light and giddy, finally breaking eye contact with Derek as he felt his own blush burn through the back of his neck.

“Stay, Stiles. You belong here. With me.”

Rather than even try to form a coherent response, Stiles dropped one of his hands, cheeks still a ruddy color as he looped a finger into one of the belt loops on Derek’s designer jeans, pulling him just that much closer.

“Derek?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

“Oh, thank God—"

—————

Yeah, Stiles thought hours later, still feeling the warmth of Derek’s smile against his lips as howls sounded off around the Hale House, moonlight swirling around him from the vantage point he had on the porch.

This was exactly where he belonged.

[notthatiwilleverwriteit]

Hi! Love your takes on 19 days especially tianshan!! They are very insightful and a fun read! Idk if you already wrote about this, but I was wondering what your take would be if he tian came to save Mo instead of She li. I wonder how their dynamic would be in the present. Would they be more like zhanyi?

Hello, dear anon!

Waah, thank you for such praises! I’m glad you have enjoyed reading my mullings!

As a heads-up, this turned much longer than I anticipated, so better find a comfortable seat.

“what your take would be if he tian came to save Mo instead of She li”

I haven’t actually thought about this before, so thank you for this interesting avenue that had never even crossed my mind. The more I thought about this, the more question popped up. I feel like this would be a pretty significant change, especially for MGS’s character. To try and keep this scenario somewhat in control, I scrolled through the comic with your question in mind and let my nose sniff out where the “new” story would take me. So, this might not be exactly a “realistic” take on it but more like where the story and characters would go in my head if things had been different.

The question of timeline

First, I feel like we need to figure out the correct timeline for all this, so it’s easier to gauge HT and MGS’s characters more accurately. According to my calculations, SL saved MGS sometime during their first year of middle school (ch. 282, 319):

In the current canon storyline, they are in their last year (3rd year) of middle school, so two years off that would put the piercing incident somewhere on their first year. (Look at my mad math skills.) I’m assuming the first school year had already begun since SL had transferred and already gained some reputation at school. Other than rumors, he hadn't crossed MGS’s path.

So, let’s figure out 1st year MGS and HT. With MGS, we have seen glimpses of what kind of character he was (ch. 319, 283):

He had many of the characteristics that are familiar to us in the current timeline, too. He was caring and compassionate. His first instinct was to help, and he dint want to see people hurt. I believe he still has those qualities these days, but he’s learned to hide and suppress those instincts the hard way. I feel like compared to the current MGS, the 1st-year MGS was more pure, innocent, and trusting in many ways. He seemed to believe in a world where doing good to others surely was the way to go.

1st-year HT, on the other hand, is pretty much a mystery to us. Apart from some flashbacks from his childhood prior to middle school, we haven't seen more of his past. Even his first introduction in the comic was a bit awkward the way he just suddenly popped up and it wasn’t really clear what his relationship with JY and ZZX was exactly. 

What was the mindset of 1st-year HT? Had he already made up his mind that he wouldn't become like his brother and father? Was he already living alone or still with his family? Was Mr. He already abroad or still in China?

I think HT’s living situation is probably what would give us the most hints about whatever mindset he might have. But the only thing we really have to go on is when MGS came to visit him for the first time (ch. 144):

Again, this doesn't give us much. It’s impossible to say for sure if HT was already living by himself as a 1st-year student, but somehow I doubt that. Despite everything, 12-13 is still mighty young to be living by himself. And I have a feeling based on the way HC and Mr. He seem to put importance on family sticking together, they probably didn't let HT go live alone without a long fight and debate. So, I think it’s very likely HT was still living at home as a 1st-year. Most probably at his brother’s place that seems like their primary home before Mr. He went abroad?

Based on that, I think HT might have not made up his mind on becoming a savior/hero of sorts yet. At least not in so many words. Home was probably an unpleasant and stressful place for him, and he would rather spend time elsewhere. When at home, he probably spent a lot of time in his room or roaming the nature surrounding them. Home was somewhere where he had to keep his guard up and be constantly prepared for whatever. He was exposed to and (in)directly involved in things that he disapproved of and most probably scared him. At school, he excelled in all the subjects. In some ways, studying was an out for him even though getting good grades was also expected of him. He was always surrounded by a lot of people at school and was very popular, but no one really knew him outside of school. He didn’t open up about himself.

So, that’s how I see the characters set up for the new scenario.

Mo Guan Shan in distress

Now, finally to the beginning of it all. To help us all get in the right mood, I hope you will excuse my very serious 3AM edits (ch. 319):

A crazy homeless man was attacking an innocent, pure MGS. His young life was flashing before his eyes. The man on top of him is too heavy. The grip around his throat too strong. It’s getting harder and harder to breathe, and black spots are dancing at the edge of his vision.

Just as MGS is about to pass out, something flashes at the corner of his eyes but it’s hard to tell in the dimness of the alleyway. There is a loud, heavy thud, and the grip around MGS’s throat slacks. The man is being flung off him and slumps on the wet pavement. MGS scrambles to his knees, coughing and gasping for breath. The cool rainy air tastes sweet rushing down his burning throat.

A bit out of it, he glances up and sees a dark-haired boy - about his age - who’s holding a heavy liquor bottle. The sharp edges of the bottle’s bottom are smeared with crimson. The sight of blood dripping to the ground makes MGS’s stomach turn a little. He makes the mistake of looking at the limp homeless man lying in a puddle and almost throws up at the spreading blotch of dark red on the back of the man’s head. He starts to tremble when he realizes how close to being killed he had just come.

I would picture that HT is shaken by what he had done, too. Picking up the bottle had been like an instinct to him. He had swung it as hard as he could, not really thinking the consequences. Now, though, a small panic monster in his head whispers that he had probably killed someone.

But the panic monster doesn't get very far in its fear-mongering until HT’s training kicks in. Still squeezing the neck of the heavy bottle, he creeps to the crazy man, ready to bounce if he decides to go for a second round. Even in the heavy rain, he can smell the thick odor of homelessness and alcoholism. He doesn't really want to touch the man but reaches to check for a pulse. It’s there, but otherwise the man is out cold.

Only then he really pays attention to the scrawny red-haired boy still on his knees. He looks at HT wide-eyed, shaking, and obviously in shock. There are red prints already forming around his throat where the man had strangled him.

“Is - ,” the redhead says shakily, his voice a bit hoarse, “is he de - did he - “

“He’s still breathing.”

“Am-ambulance,” the boy says, now more anxiously and looking around, “we need an ambulance. Police! Someone!”

HT doesn't reply but flips out his phone. The boy keeps glancing at him as he gets a hold of HC on the other end and explains the situation. He frowns when it doesn't sound like a 911 call to him.

“Who was that?”

“My brother. He knows what to do.”

Well, HT knew what to do, too, but he wasn’t in the position to make those things happen. Not yet, at least. But he knew.

HT asks where MGS lives and offers to walk him the rest of the way. MGS seems confused about should they just leave the man and not wait for his brother. HT assures him that his brother will come any minute now. It’s all under control. The words kind of come out of his mouth without him even realizing what he’s saying. He would like to think it’s the shock but knows it’s his training. It’s the protocol. When you follow certain steps, there is no need to panic.

And yet his hands are trembling when he finally puts the bottle down. Oh, well. He would fake till he made it.

On their way to MGS’s home, MGS is quiet and just clutches his backpack against his front. HT tilts the umbrella to cover MGS more, seeing how he is shaking from cold and shock.

HT tries to make idle conversation. He asks MGS’s name, where he goes to school, what was he doing out in the rain, is there anyone at home, and maybe mentions that he’s seen MGS around the school. Little by little the atmosphere starts to loosen and the tightness in MGS’s voice eases up. Talking also relaxes HT.

At MGS’s house, MGS looks at HT and asks if he wants to come inside to dry up. He’s frowning a little and seems worried. HT looks at him a bit dumbfounded and then bursts out a laugh.

“You really are quite something,” he says at MGS’s confused face. “You just survived all that and you’re already inviting a stranger to your home. Are you an idiot?”

MGS’s face darkens, and he says that if HT would rather walk back in soaked clothes, then it’s his business. He looks hurt and embarrassed. The attitude makes HT smile a little, though, and he tousles the wet red hair.

“I’ll see you around,” he says and leaves with a little wave over his shoulder.

He makes a mental note to keep an eye out for a certain red hair at school from now on.

Having a friend in each other

They start running into each other at school more. (Well, HT started rotating towards MGS.) Turns out MGS has seen him around school, too. He says that HT seems popular and the girls often talk about him in class. He seems a bit confused as to why HT is seeking out his company when he has so many other friends.

MGS is a bit awkward around him, but HT finds it endearing. He’s quick to rise to teasing baits and shows his emotions quite a lot if you knew where to look. To HT, he seemed like a pure-hearted kid. Probably too pure-hearted for his own good. He was a bit stiff at first, but with some coaxing, you could get him to talk. HT liked listening to him talk the most.

The more they got to know each other, the more HT found himself hanging onto MGS’s company. When school days ended, he lingered at the crossroads where their paths parted. He made up excuses to walk MGS home or to his part-time jobs. (He thought MGS was amazing for working already, but MGS just shrugged.) Finally, walking MGS home continued to get himself invited inside for homework, snacks, some games, dinner, staying the night on Fridays.

HT soaked in all the sense of home he could get at MGS’s place. The messy pile of shoes in the entryway. The scribbled notes on the fridge door. The home-cooking. The older models of video games MGS had. The smell of cheap detergent on the sheets when he was sleeping on the floor of MGS’s small room.

Mrs. Mo was a bit surprised by his son’s unexpected friend at first but quickly adopted HT as a natural part of the household. She was more at peace knowing that MGS had some company after school when she had to work late. Sometimes she listened to the boys talk (read: HT teasing and MGS bickering) in MGS’s room. It felt like this new friend had bought some of MGS’s lost childhood back to her son’s voice.

The tighter they became, the more they naturally learned about each other. The topic of family was sore for both of them and something they didn't talk about often. MGS often got heated when the talk circulated to his father. Heated in a way that HT didn't find cute. He got angry and bitter. Usually, HT let him vent through it quietly. But MGS didn't hide things as such even though he didn't really like to talk about some of them. Instead, he was convinced and would stand his ground vehemently.

HT, on the other hand, was more evasive. He didn't want to put MGS in a position where he would know too much. MGS seemed impressed by HT’s brother. He sounded a bit jealous. HT also avoided saying much because he was ashamed. Here he was sitting in this home of good, decent people and enjoying their hospitality while he really was part of the bad guys in the world. His people were the ones who MGS hated so much when he talked about his father’s imprisonment.

But then something happened within HT’s world. Something that shocked him and scared him and gave him a traumatic experience. One day at school, he was visibly on edge and distracted. He looked increasingly tired. He snapped at MGS which he very rarely did. When at the end of the day, MGS asked if he wanted to come over (it was Friday), he was a bit relieved but also worried when HT said no. HT never said no to that.

That night Mrs. Mo had the late-night shift, so MGS was alone when HT suddenly showed up with a duffel bag. He looked horrible. There was an angry red mark on his cheek and a trickle/smear of dried up blood on the corner of his mouth. His eyes were red-rimmed. He hung his head low, asking MGS if he could stay the night after all.

MGS told him to take a bath. He heated up the leftover rice-noodle soup he had had for dinner. HT looked a bit lost coming out of the bath. MGS told him to take a seat and served the food. Quietly and slowly, being careful of his cut lip, HT slurped the soup. He wouldn’t meet MGS’s eyes.

MGS wanted to ask what the hell was going on but decided against it every time the questions danced on his tongue. He was curious but he had never seen HT like this. He looked darker. At some points of the night, MGS felt like he couldn't really recognize him at all.

MGS made HT a bed on the floor the usual way. HT just turned his back to him and hummed in return when MGS said good night. After a while, MGS drifted off but woke up to strange noises. It sounded like heavy breathing. Not panting exactly but more like...gasping for breath. He snapped the lights on and found HT sitting on his makeshift bed. His eyes were wide, and it looked like he was breathing hard but couldn't breathe at the same time.

Luckily MGS had been around enough hyperventilation to know what it looked like. He hurried to find a paper bag from the kitchen, cursing that the damn things were everywhere but seemed to vanish when you really needed them. He helped HT press the opening of the bag tightly against his gaping mouth. At first, it looked like HT got more panicked, but MGS kept pressing the bag firmly.

Little by little, HT’s breathing calmed down and the wild look in his eyes faded. Finally, he pushed MGS’s hands away and tried to go for a grin and joke how this was pretty lame of him but he couldn't quite work his charm. A bit lost, MGS wondered what to do. Then he asked if HT wanted to read some comics till they got sleepy again. HT didn't want to read but asked if MGS would read. And keep the lights on. And like that - while MGS was glancing at panels of high-school-level humor - HT told him about having a fight with his father, talking back to him, knowing when he had pushed over the limit, and the next thing his head had been ringing.

MGS didn't know which freaked him out more: the story, the flatness of HT’s voice, or when his voice started to get thick and he pressed his face tight against the pillow. MGS hesitated if he should comfort HT somehow but it all felt too awkward. So, he just listened and hummed whenever there was s suitable pause. Eventually, HT fell silent and after a while, MGS noticed he had fallen asleep. He fixed the blanket over HT’s shoulders, climbed to his own bed, and left the lights on.

HT stayed the weekend, but they didn't really talk about that night afterwards. The next morning, HT seemed more to himself, smirking and teasing, gobbling the breakfast MGS made them. Mrs. Mo looked at HT a bit funny when she came home from her shift but didn't say anything. She just gave the boys a free night from doing the dishes.

Overall, they got to know each other better than anyone else at school. HT knew about MGS’s excitable, softer, and adorable side. He was a good kid who worked hard and around whom HT felt at ease, though silently guilty. MGS knew the HT that wasn’t the kind of charmer everyone at school saw him as. Despite being so popular, he seemed strangely lonely to MGS. He guessed HT had some kind of darker side that he didn't want to talk about and tried to hide. MGS doubted anyone had seen HT like that other night. It seemed his family was mixed up in some shady business, and MGS didn't quite know how to feel about that.

The angst of unrequited love?

You mentioned if this version of Tianshan would be closer to Zhanyi, and I think that could be possible. I doubt they would be that kind of softer, lovey-dovey dynamic, but my nose kind of sniffed a possibility for a similar unrequited love as JY had.

HT could start gaining romantic feelings for MGS somewhere along the way. But in my head, he would hide his feelings much the same way he does/did in the canon version, just take it to a more obvious level. Mask his feelings with jokes and double meanings. Make him kind of push but then pull back as if unsure.

His feelings for MGS would be laced with believing he doesn’t deserve to be loved by someone like MGS. He’s one of the bad guys. MGS is one of the good ones, and his family has been hurt by people like HT enough. And yet HT craves for what he has with MGS and nurses his unrequited love. It gives him both pain and comfort.

But he didn't want to confess. For one, he wasn’t sure where MGS stood on things like love. He seemed awkward around girls and often ended up scaring them off by his glare and harsh tone. The topic of romance hadn't really come up, or if it had, MGS usually remained silent. One time HT had decided to roll the dice and brought up jerking off. MGS had gone beet-red and stammered that what the hell was HT talking about. For a moment, HT had toyed with the idea of pushing for more but decided against it and brushed the topic off as a joke. MGS had looked damn cute, though.

Secondly, and more importantly, HT didn't think he was worthy of MGS the way he was now. He needed to do better, he wanted to do better. He needed to make decisions instead of slinking around like a kicked puppy. He needed a vision for himself and then pursue it. So, he decided to become someone better for MGS. Someone strong and good and reliable. His own man. The first step was him making HC talk their father into letting HT live by himself. The school was a good enough excuse.

At the same time, they grew a bit apart. MGS got older and took on more part-time jobs. HT concentrated on working on himself. He lost sight of MGS for a while, and it turned out things had gone worse for him. As HT was busy becoming a better man, MGS had grown more bitter and angry. It wasn’t until HT learned that MGS had agreed to get expelled from school that he woke up to what direction MGS had drifted to. On HT’s watch, too.

They had a big argument about the deal. They had often bickered in the past but never really had a serious fight. HT was angry MGS was knowingly mixing up with people SL even though they were obviously taking advantage of him and basically making him write them a blank check. MGS fired back that how could HT understand anything since HT was people like SL. That cut deep for HT, and it was the first time he wanted to slap MGS. Instead, they got their separate ways, brooding and glaring.

The next time HT saw MGS’s face, he knew something had gone horribly wrong. He heard that MGS was accused of assaulting some girl. Furious, he went to confront MGS about how stupid he had been, but all the anger died when he saw how shaken MGS was. He looked completely lost and horrified. All he seemed able to worry about was “they are going to tell my mother”. HT hugged him tight and said that everything was going to be fine. He will sort this out, don’t worry.

He fought with SL and got HC involved, too. HC took care of the deal, but HT never told MGS how exactly it had happened. In the same way he had never told him that the homeless man had been dead by the time HC’s crew had gotten to the alleyway. Instead, HT shoved the guilt deeper where it fueled his drive to become a better man.

But HT decided one thing after that fiasco. He wouldn’t let MGS drift away anymore. He wouldn’t get so wrapped up in his own vision that he lost sight of what mattered the most.

That is I guess where this AU version kind of leaves off and connects to the canon story? This version of Tianshan would have their friendship established first, and HT’s romantic feelings would come later. They would be more unrequited in a similar angsty way as JY’s. The trust between would have also been established through their growing friendship. I feel like there would be tons of things that could be added to this, especially ending-wise, but...yeah, something like this maybe?

Thank you for your wonderfully interesting question, dear anon! How do you vision their relationship would have developed?

[ofmargos]

chicago’s very own margo rosas has been spotted on madison avenue driving a mercedes-AMG G65 , welcome ! your resemblance to camila mendes is unreal . according to tmz , you just had your twenty-third birthday bash  . your chance of surviving new york is uncertain because you’re distrusting , but being passionate might help you . i think being a scorpio explains that . 3 things that would paint  a  better picture of you would be lipstick stained kisses on mirrors , doing vocal warm-ups five minutes before top of show , popping bottles of bubbly to celebrate buying a new pair of shoes . ( my biological dad paid off my mom to keep my relation to him a secret ) & ( cis-female + she / her  ) +  (  lia , 20 , she / her , cst )

whAT is up my dudes ! i’m lia & i lowkey missed wealthy & writing for my bbygirl margo so i’m rlly excited to be here !!!! if you know her from before i’m sorry lmao i’ve tweaked her background a bit but everything else is p much the same ig ?? she’s fun , she’s a dumbitch , & she’s here to make things harder than they need to be probs . but if you wanna know more , i wrote a novel below so plz enjoy that . if you wanna plot then LIKE THIS & i’ll slide in your im’s.or if you prefer discord hmu @  𝐛𝐛𝐧𝐨$𝐚𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐥#1904. i look forward to writing with y’all ! <3

S T A T S ↴

-- * FULL NAME : margaret lucia rosas -- NICKNAME(S) : margo ( preferred name , started introducing herself to people as “margo” back in like the 7th or 8th grade ??? who’s margaret ? we don’t know her ) , mar , mars -- * AGE : twenty-three -- * D.O.B : october 31 -- * ZODIAC : scorpio -- * GENDER : cis-female --* ORIENTATION : heterosexual heteroromantic -- * HEIGHT : 5′2″ -- * NATIONALITY : american -- * BIRTHPLACE : chicago , illinois -- * OCCUPATION : broadway performer -- * TRAITS : passionate , creative , dramatic , distrusting , outgoing , ambitious , fun-loving , loyal , daring , sarcastic , stubborn , overconfident , impulsive , hard-working , petty , secretive lowkey

B I O G R A P H Y ↴

( TW : BRIEF MENTIONS OF ABORTION, ALCOHOLISM, AND DRUG USE )

   first things first , i’m just going to say it-- margo was an accident . and her story begins with her mother , stassia , who was born and raised on the wrong side of the tracks in chicago , illinois . although she was born into poverty , she had big aspirations for herself and wanted a better lifestyle . her ambition and work ethic were unmatched , and that’s how she managed to get into columbia university ( thank you scholariship $$ ). stassia was in the middle of struggling through her college years when she met her future baby daddy . he was older , going through grad school , and the sole heir to a billion-dollar company . the sparks between them flew instantly despite their differences and they messed around for the better part of a year before the unexpected happened . stassia found herself taking a pregnancy test in the bathroom in between finals ( #justcollegethings , amirite ) and swore she was going to pass out when she noticed the double lines . and let’s just say that her baby daddy did NOT take the news well . a lot of horrible things were said that day . too many hurt feelings for the relationship ( that apparently was never that serious to homeboy ) to carry on . ( TRIGGER WARNING !!! ) so he cut all ties with stassia-- but not before giving her a crazy proposition : get an abortion and never talk to him again OR keep the baby but tell absolutely no one it’s his and never talk to him again . they both seemed like shitty options to stassia , who was actually tragically in love w him , but when he even offered to PAY HER a hefty sum ( i’m talking millions of dollars ) to keep the secret .. well-- it seemed like a blessing in disguise . she’d finally have the funds to live the life she always wanted . even if there was now a baby she didn’t plan for in the mix . so she took the hush money , had the baby in secret , and ran off to completely reinvented herself . ( TRIGGER WARNING END )

    although margo’s mother was born into poverty , margo certainly was not . by the time she was born , margo’s mom was ramping up to graduate college and join the high society in the heart of chicago . she got a good job , a lavish place to live , and never told margo about her past . margo grew up completely disconnected from her mother’s side of the family and had no idea of the lies she was being fed over the years . early on in margo’s childhood , her mother met a man through work who she would later go on to marry . that man is the only dad that margo has ever known . he and his daughter were a welcomed addition to their little family , making margo’s home life feel complete in some way . she was provided a good life with the dual income adding to the millions her mother kept . the life her mother always wished she had growing up . in a way , everything she did was for margo . she never wanted her babygirl to struggle like she had to .

   as she got older , margo went to all the best schools but only made average grades . she was never too concerned with academics and instead focused on her poppin’ social life and extracurriculars . during her middle school days , she developed an affinity for the performing arts . when everyone had to pick an elective , margo found herself in the theatre class and absolutely loving it . and she was good too . she had excellent stage presence and took every role she got in school productions in stride -- literally the best tree number 3 you’ve ever seen in your life . as she moved on to high school , she rose in the ranks of the theatre department until she was pretty much landing every single lead by the time she was an upperclassmen . acting was her passion , and she figured why not turn being dramatic and talking a lot ( her two most notable personality traits ) into a career . to really hone the craft , she trained herself to be a triple threat : actor , singer , and dancer ( sutton foster , eat your heart out ) . honestly truly had rachel berry in early seasons of glee vibes-- she knew she was the best around and wouldn’t stand to let anyone take the spotlight from her . her peers hated to love her talents because she acted like such a bitch to them offstage / out of character . not that margo really cared for what others thought of her anyway . self absorbed as ever , she told herself she didn’t need friends and generally pushed away any one that dared try to get close to her-- save for her sister . though somehow , someway she managed to get sucked into a small group of friends that would change her for the better ( s/o to ky and gio , sorry they had to put up w bitchy hs margo , rip )

   after graduating somewhere in the middle of her class , margo followed in her mother’s footsteps and went to columbia university . she was really only able to get in because she was a legacy and her parents made a considerable donation to the school , but we don’t talk about it . and to say that margo’s college years were transformative feels like an understatement . on one hand , they were some of the best years of her life : she got a true taste of independence , met some of her best friends ( s/o oliver and claudia ), and felt fulfilled to be in the city she had romanticized for so long-- new york baby ! but it was also a very low point for her . back in her high school years , she felt like a very big fish in a teeny tiny pond . she was hot shit , the top dog in her department , and all her hard work and effort to remain leading lady had paid off . however , at columbia she was just one in hundreds of talented people . some with more or less talent , or more or less connections , but they deserved a shot at fame just as much as she did . margo felt like she was fighting for her chance in the spotlight every single day and it was both parts exhausting and humbling for her . she had a amy march mentality “i want to be great, or nothing” and considered throwing in the towel . temporarily thrown off by the pressure to be successful , she took a small tumble from grace . ( TRIGGER WARNING !!! ) turning towards alcohol was her coping mechanism of choice . losing herself in the party scene and surrounding herself with other people that prioritized getting drunk or high over going to class and getting good grades had an obvious effect on her academic performance . ( END TRIGGER WARNING ) she almost lost her place in the BFA Theatre Program during her junior year due being on academic probation . it took a little bit of intervention on her close friends and family part to get margo clean and pull herself together . but by her senior year , she got back on track to graduate on time and participated in various shows at local theaters to build her resume . after almost losing everything she had ever worked for , a fire was lit under margo that had her determined to push herself hard than ever before and make a name for herself in the theatre world . 

   after she graduated from columbia she moved to new york permanently so that she could fully submerge herself in her work . not long after graduating , she was lucky enough to book several gigs including her big breakout role as lydia in beetlejuice the musical ! it really skyrocketed her into broadway stardom which is cool . a life long dream that once seemed unobtainable was suddenly a reality and she couldn’t have been more elated . with her sudden ( and well deserved ) success , she got a lot of media attention . soon she was getting verified on twitter , instagram , gaining a whole bunch of followers , and getting asked to be on talkshows and stuff to promote the show . honestly , truly a dream ! but her new-found fame gained the attention of another group of people .. her mom’s long lost family . one of her aunt’s ( that she previously didn’t know existed ) reached out to her through social media . and at first , margo honestly couldn’t believe that she had family that her mom never told her about . but after some thought it sort of made sense . in hindsight , her mom had always been evasive whenever margo asked about the other’s childhood or her side of the family .

   when margo told her mom about her aunt reaching out and how she wanted to meet her , her mom shut it down quick . stassia told her there were a lot of reasons that she didn’t talk to that side of the family and that was that-- PERIODT . but margo was #rebellious and went to meet with her aunt anyway . and that’s how she found out about her brazilian roots and her big ol’ loving and supportive extended family . that whole experience made margo reconsider what other things her mom was keeping from her . and boy oh boy was that a rabbit hole she shouldn’t have gone down . when margo started to demand her mother tell her the truth , it caused their relationship to grow tense . stassia eventually cracked and told her about her bio-dad and all the things she went through for margo . with the truth finally being exposed to her , margo started seeing things in a new light . like her whole life is kinda a lie and why didn’t her father want her ? where was he ? does he know who she is ? why did he never try to contact her ? has she ever walked past him in the streets and never knew ? it was all too much for her to think about so she just kinda ... shut it all out . she acted like nothing was different , even if her “ what if ” thoughts keep her up most nights . 

   if you just ignore the abandonment issues , insecurities , and her inability to handle emotions and focus solely on her success in material terms : margo’s doing really well ! she’s been living in new york full time for two (2) years now . she’s one of broadway’s most popular rising stars . having completed her run as the original lydia deetz on broadway , she’s moved on to take on the mantel of janis in mean girls on broadway . she���s learning , growing , and thriving . just trying to have a good time all the time with her friends and live the dream , baby !

P E R S O N A L I T Y  &  F U N  F A C T S ↴

margo is super fun-loving and down to clown 

will try anything once and it’s gotten her in trouble more times than she can count

also cannot stand to be bored , so she’s always looking for the next big adventure 

although she can be really ridiculous sometimes , she’s very serious when it comes to her work . she’s super hard-working and doesn’t let anything or anyone stand in the way of achieving her dreams : even herself

margo’s a very sociable girl and will talk to anyone and everyone . she’s the type that will hold a conversation for 2hrs with a stranger at a party and then when you ask her “who was that” she’s like “i don’t remember their name but i do know their entire life story so that’s cool”

has a way of making people feel like they know her really well when really she’s only letting them see 1/8th of her

keeps her personal life private normally unless you’re super good friends w her

i wouldn’t recommend pissing her off , bc she is petty as a mf and will lit rally never forget how one’s wronged her . this causes her to start fights sometimes . she’ll just bring up old shit out of no where and , since she’s nosy af , she makes everything her business and confronts people on their bs

she’s a whole liar bc she claims she’s a “retired party girl” but really party girl margo has never stopped , will never stop , can never be stopped

studied theatre in college but minored in mass communications just in case she needed a backup job

is v bad at being an adult !!!! like ... can’t cook , often forgets about her responsibilities until the last minute or needs to be reminded like 20 times , stills calls her parents to be like “how do u use a washing machine plz help” , y’know the drill . yet somehow she manages to act as a mom friend to the people that are closest to her ??? v much a “do as i say not as i do” type of hypocrite lol

she has a tiktok and posts dumb shit on there all the time w her friends and like vlogs her backstage experiences in the theater and does the stupid dances and all that stuff hehe

is learning portuguese after meeting the brazilian side of her family

self-proclaimed dancing queen and it’s not because she learned ballet , jazz , and tap whole dabbling in other styles but because when she’s drunk you will in fact catch her dancing on tables !!!!!

i cannot stress enough how bad she is at dealing with her own feelings . like ... instead of dealing with them head on she just ... shuts down . runs away . will ghost on someone she really likes just bc she’d rather leave first than get left and i hate her for it

have i mentioned how big her ego is ???? pHEW . she rides a v fine line between self confident and OVER confident . but tbh it’s just a cover up for how much she rlly hates herself , there i said it

loyalty is EVERYTHING to margo . if you got her back , she’s got your back . but if you screw her over or mess with anyone she loves then she’ll likely try to make your life a living hell IM SORRY

undiagnosed insomniac . nights she spends alone in her own bed are the hardest for her because it’s when all the bad scary thoughts creep up on her and no matter how much she wants to shut them out and just close her eyes and fall to sleep , she can’t . so she’ll often roam the city looking for a distraction or hit up her friends and bother them for some spare company

she’s doesn’t like to be alone ( not like in a romantic relationship sense -- she actually likes being single bc she’s afraid of letting ppl get close enough to hurt her ). hence why she’s always had a roommate even after she moved out of her parent’s house . if she’s not attached to her roommate / best friend kylie’s hip then she’s definitely hitting up her sister or her other friends to see if they want to hang out , even if hanging out is laying around doing nothing or running errands together . margo wants to tag along just for the company

notoriously known for coming up with terrible ideas or following through with other people’s terrible ideas without question bc #YOLO

she’s her pr agents worse nightmare simply bc she has no filter and will not change herself or what she posts just bc she has a big audience ( follow margo on social media and you’re gonna see the good , the bad , and the ugly she does not give a FUCK )

always has good intentions ! her execution / way of showing those intentions is just poor !

she is a rich girl that could not survive not being rich and doesn’t even realize how spoiled she is . spends money like it’s nothing

a mob boss ( this is a joke but also kinda not a joke )

WANTED CONNECTION PAGES HERE 

[gaygent37]

Curiosity Killed the Cat - Day 11

No-Set-Prompt-List-tober, October 11: OVERSIZED SWEATERS

JayDick, serial killers AU, drugged, anal sex, rough sex, knives, mild blood, (kinda fucked up murder related stuff) 1,143 words

/╲/\╭( ͡° ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ͡°)╮/\╱\ 

From across the club, Jason had taken notice of the boy, twenty-one at the oldest judging by his cocktail, sitting at the counter of the bar.

The boy was cute, and Jason labelled him a boy because he looked nothing like a man yet, especially with the peach colored oversized sweater he wore that practically swallowed his small size. The boy looked very innocent and rather effeminate. Just Jason’s type. But not Jason’s sexual or romantic type, but Jason’s victim type. 

He had been watching the boy for twenty minutes, and he did not seem to be with anyone. So Jason approached. 

“Hello,” he said, shooting the boy a smile. “It’s quite quiet here,” he said. “Not much of a social butterfly?”

The boy blinked at him like he was not entirely sure whether or not Jason was talking to him. “Oh,” he said. “Um, not tonight, I guess. I’m just people watching tonight.”

Jason hummed. “People watching, hm? Any interesting characters?”

The boy shrugged. “Not really. Though that woman over there is having an affair with the bartender.”

Jason laughed. “And how did you deduce that?”

The boy blushed. “She’s wearing a ring. He’s not. Five minutes ago, she slipped him a note and then slipped her ring off of her finger. They might leave together after his shift.”

“How very astute of you, Mr...?”

“Oh, not Mister,” the boy said quickly. “I just go by Dick. Dick Grayson.” He held out his hand for Jason to shake. 

Jason grinned at the boy. This was almost too easy. He had let his guard down, and within ten minutes, Jason was pretty sure he had his next pretty victim in the bag. “Nice to meet you. I’m Jason.” He took Dick’s hand, more than surprised to find the boy’s hands rather rough. 

“The hands of a worker?” Jason asked. 

Dick blushed and quickly pulled his sweater sleeves over his hands. “Um... yeah. I’m a gymnast... and a... police officer?” 

He seemed almost nervous to admit that. And Jason was a bit shocked as well, though he did not let it show. But soon, he found it even more intriguing. “Police officer? Are you sure? You don’t look a day over eighteen!”

Dick gasped. Then, he started laughing genuinely. “I’m- I’m twenty-six!”

Jason could not keep the shock off his face this time. Dick was older than he was! Still, somehow, it all made Jason want Dick more. Jason had never taken a victim that was older than him, nor an officer of the law. “Oh, my bad! I’m sorry for assuming,” Jason said quickly. “Here. Let me get you another drink as an apology?”

Dick paused for a second, then nodded. “Okay,” he said. 

Jason waved the bartender over and ordered another one of Dick’s drinks. When it came, Jason moved it over in front of Dick, who had been glancing at a loud argument somewhere to his left. While Dick was preoccupied, Jason slipped a little something into his drink, watching it dissolve instantly. 

“Oh, thank you,” Dick said, when he turned back around. He took the drink and lifted the glass to his lips. His bright blue eyes locked on Jason’s as he took his first sip. Then, he licked his lips and grinned at him. Jason smiled back at him. 

He kept Dick talking for ten minutes, and he started seeing the drug take effect. Dick’s blinks became longer, and his speech had a slurred tone to it. Occasionally, his eyebrows would draw together briefly. 

“Are you feeling okay?” Jason asked with a hint of worry in his voice. “You don’t look so good,” he said. 

Dick grimaced. “Oh... I’m fine, I think,” he said. “Just a bit... of a headache. Maybe I should go home...” He went to stand and almost immediately stumbled. “Shit,” he mumbled to himself. “I think the alcohol... hit me harder than I meant it to.”

Jason stood up as well. “Did you drive here? I could call you a cab,” he offered, giving Dick a hand. “Anyone I can help you call to pick you up? Or, I drove, and I could drop you off if we’re going in the same direction?”

Dick snorted and shook his head. “Ah, I don’t want to bother you,” he said. “I live in Upper Gotham. It’s wayyyyy over there.” He waved his hand in the opposite direction. 

Jason smiled. “Lucky for you, I’m headed up there too. I have to pick something up from a friend’s house. He lives in Upper Gotham as well,” Jason lied smoothly.

Dick gave him a suspicious look. “Oh yeah?” he asked. “What street?”

“On West Park Avenue,” Jason said immediately.

Dick’s narrowed eyes slowly became normal again. “I guess... I guess you can take me home.”

“Yeah, my car’s this way,” Jason said, gently helping Dick out of the club, smiling to himself from over Dick’s head. 

~~~

“Which floor?” Jason asked as he helped Dick into the elevator. 

“Twen... Twenty-four,” Dick mumbled, practically half-passed out now. He was leaning fully on Jason, and Jason was holding up most of his weight. When the elevator lurched into movement, Dick tipped forward, and Jason barely caught him in time. 

“Woah!” Jason said. “Lightweight, are you?”

Dick shook his head and winced. “Not... usually. I think... the bartender put... too much vodka... in my drink tonight.”

Jason chuckled lightly. “Maybe it’s because he found out you were on to him about the affair.”

Dick laughed quietly, but only managing a few chuckles. 

Jason managed to get Dick’s apartment door open, and he helped the man all the way to his bed. On the dresser, Jason noted that, indeed, there was a rumpled police uniform, a badge, and a gun in its holster. Dick had been truthful after all. 

“Do you need water?” Jason asked. “Let me get you a glass of water before I go.”

Dick gave a half-groan of consent. 

Jason left the room to find the kitchen. He poured Dick a glass of water, but he mixed a stronger dose of the drug into it. It would put Dick to sleep and kill him in his sleep. Jason did not believe in cruel, painful deaths. He was an artist of sorts, arranging a person’s dead body into something that could be appreciated as art, if it were not first seen as murder. 

Suddenly, Jason felt something sharp poking into his back. He froze. 

“Well, well, well,” Dick mused. “What an interesting thing we have here,” he said. “You’re Jason Todd, right? The Jason Todd?”

Jason turned around slowly, setting down the glass of water. Dick held twin knives in his hands, and there was no sign of any drugs in his system. His sadistic grin made Jason’s blood run cold. 

But he kept a blank mask. “I saw you drink it all,” Jason said. “How are you fighting it?”

Dick laughed. “Jay,” he said. “I kill people for fun. I know all the typical ins-and-outs of this line of business. You’d think that I’ve got fail safes in case someone tried to poison me someday, right? I’ve built up an immunity to it, of course.”

Then he nodded at the glass of water. “Though, a dose like that would probably kill me,” he said. “But it would’ve been a slow, painful death.” Dick cocked his head to the side, still smiling. “But you don’t like slow, painful deaths, do you? You believe in it being quick and painless.”

Suddenly, Dick put the knives down. “What would you have done?” he asked. “If I did drink that and I didn’t die in my sleep like you wanted me to.”

Jason did not answer. He had never had that happen to him before. After administering the final dose, Jason’s victims always died within ten minutes into their final nap like they should have.

“Would you’ve stabbed me to put me out of my misery?” Dick asked. “Shot me through the head with my own gun? Left me there to suffer and run away because you failed?”

Jason frowned this time. “Of course I wouldn’t run away! That’s even crueler! I’d... snap your neck or something.”

“Hm,” Dick said. “Good choice. Less cleanup.”

“You were about to stab me in your own kitchen,” Jason accused. 

Dick rolled his eyes. “Of course I wasn’t! These babies are just for show. I’ve never killed anyone with them before. My stabbing knives are in there,” Dick said, nodding at the drawer on Jason’s right. 

Jason raised an eyebrow. “You keep your weapons of choice in- in your knife drawer? In the kitchen?”

Dick nodded. 

“That’s really fucking unsanitary,” Jason said, grimacing.

“It’s not like I cook anyway,” Dick laughed. “Anyway, what do we do now? I mean, I can’t exactly let you walk free, but I can’t exactly turn you in either.”

Jason opened and closed his mouth, having no ideas either. 

Suddenly, Dick gasped. “I have an idea.” He grabbed Jason’s wrist and started pulling him towards the bedroom.

Jason was very hesitant to go with him. He kept his eyes on the exit and made sure he knew exactly where Dick’s knives and gun was at all times. Once in Dick’s room, Dick pulled his sweater over his head and revealed a very fit body. Suddenly Dick did look his age, and Jason swallowed tightly because he suddenly also became Jason’s other type. 

Dick grabbed the rumpled uniform and started putting it on. 

“What... are you doing?” Jason asked warily. 

Dick gave him a wicked grin. “I’ve always wanted to roleplay police officer and serial killer with someone,” he said. “But like, how do you brink that up to a partner in bed?” he asked with a laugh. “But anyway, are you seducing me, or am I seducing you?”

Jason blinked at him rapidly. “How do you even know I swing that way?”

Dick gave him a wink. “Oh, it’s not about whether or not you swing that way, but whether you swing my way. And most people do.”

He stepped backwards until his legs hit the bed, and he fell back onto the bed. And to top it all off, he spread his legs and snapped handcuffs around his own wrists. 

“Well?” he asked with a smirk. “You gonna come make a piece of art of me, Mr. Todd? If you don’t catch me, I’ll catch you as soon as I’m free of these cuffs.”

And then there was a lock pick in Dick’s hands, and he was working it into the lock. That little movement did it for Jason. Though Jason knew Dick was tempting him, with the man spread out so nicely like that, Jason had to take advantage. 

He was across the room in a flash, and he had Dick’s wrists pinned down above his head with a low growl. 

Dick actually moaned. 

“What kind of prey willingly tempts the predator into a game of cat and mouse?” Jason asked harshly into Dick’s ear. He rut his hips against Dick’s at the same time.

Dick arched into Jason’s movement. “The kind that’s also a predator himself?” Dick panted back. “Or one that doesn’t mind playing the prey.”

“Fuck, Dickie, you’re tempting me,” Jason said, gritting his teeth. “I can’t promise you’ll come out of this unhurt.”

“Why?” Dick asked, his voice purely curious, not scared. “Are you feeling tempted to fuck me or to kill me, Jason?”

“I don’t know,” Jason breathed out. “Both.”

Dick fucking giggled. “That’s so hot, Jason,” he whispered. “You feel how hard that made me?” He rubbed the bulge of in his slacks into Jason’s equally hard and equally trapped cock. “Do something about it, Jay.”

That was all Jason needed to make his choice. He practically ripped Dick’s shirt off of him, buttons spraying everywhere. He pushed the torn cloth up around Dick’s wrist and held it there. He drank in Dick’s firm body. He helped himself to a particularly noticeable scar that ran over Dick’s collarbone with his tongue. 

Dick moaned again. “Lower,” he breathed. “Lower, please.”

Ignoring Dick’s pleads, Jason slowly trailed his hand down and put his hand into Dick’s pants, cupping the warm cock confined in the briefs. He let go of Dick’s wrists and started pulling Dick’s pants and underwear down. With the other man completely naked, Jason started working on his own clothes, shucking them away carelessly. 

Then, he climbed on top of Dick again, pushing between his legs roughly. “Lube?”

“Drawer,” Dick said impatiently, nodding at the drawer by his bed.

Jason reached over and fumbling around, looking for a tube. However, he pricked his finger on something sharp and pulled it out, only to see a pinpoint of blood on his fingertip. 

“Oops,” Dick giggled. “I don’t remember putting a knife in there.”

“Sure,” Jason said with a glare, sucking on his fingertip. Then, he grabbed the bottle of lube. Jason made quick work of prepping Dick with only two fingers, but Dick did not seem to mind the roughness, if his moaning was anything to go by. 

“You’ve got neighbors, you know,” Jason said, pouring lube over his cock and giving it a few strokes. Though he understood Dick’s desperateness and need to get on with the sex, he still wanted to be courteous to those around them. 

Dick gave a breathless laugh. “They’re voyeurs, it’s okay.”

Jason gave him a half-hearted frown, but he pushed deep into him with a hissed, “Fuck!”

Dick moaned and arched, taking even more of Jason into him. “Fuck, it’s been so long!”

“Does it hurt?” Jason asked. 

Dick laughed. “You’re such a big softie. I’m- I’m fine. But please, just fuck me!”

Jason was not one to disobey. He plunged himself into Dick’s tight, warm heat, thrusting into him over and over again. He gripped Dick’s waist tightly, pulling the man down to meet his thrusts and get deeper inside of him. 

“Just like that, Jason!” Dick cried, throwing his head back in pleasure. “Fuck, yes!” he shouted even louder, but at that point, Jason had stopped worrying about the neighbors. 

“You’re so fucking tight, Dickie,” Jason growled as he fucked Dick harder, pleasure pooling deep inside him as his orgasm started building. “I’m going to fucking wreck you.”

Dick gasped at his words, his pretty blue eyes opening slightly. “Please do,” he whispered. “Make a mess out of me, Jay. I wanna be your greatest masterpiece.”

That should not have been sexy. Jason did not mix sex with his art form (yes, it was murder, but he considered it an art). But when those words came from Dick’s plump, beautiful lips, Jason could not hold it back any longer. 

His thrusts became erratic, and Dick must have sensed it because he clenched down harder than before, and with a wail, he was cumming on Jason’s cock, tightening rhythmically around him. Jason’s cock was being milked by Dick’s insides, and at that point, it was all over for him. 

Jason spilled deep inside of Dick, painting his insides with his cum. Then, he collapsed down on top of Dick, barely managing to keep him from crushing the smaller man. 

Dick giggled. “How’d that feel, Mr. Artist?” he murmured. 

“Fuckin’ amazing,” Jason said. “Certainly the most exciting I’ve ever had.”

Dick hummed softly. Jason heard his handcuffs click and a second later, Dick’s arms hung loosely around Jason’s neck, but somehow, Jason had a feeling Dick would not snap it. “I agree,” Dick said. “’m tired now. Can we sleep?”

“How do you know you won’t kill me when I fall asleep?” Jason asked, rolling over but still keeping in close proximity to Dick. 

Dick held up a hand. “Pinkie promise?”

Jason raised an eyebrow. 

“I swear I won’t,” Dick said solemnly. “Besides, if I kill you here, your DNA is all mixed in with mine. I mean, it’s literally dripping out of me. And how do I know I can’t say the same about you?”

Jason sighed. “Probably because I literally left cum dripping out of you.” He reluctantly took Dick’s pinkie in his. The smaller man beamed, and Jason could not help but add a little smile as well. 

Then, Dick snuggled in closer to him, rubbing his face into Jason’s shoulder. “Mkay,” he said. “Now sleep.”

~~~

They both woke up around 3 in the morning and decided to get up to grab breakfast. However, it turned out that ice cream was the only thing that was still edible in Dick’s fridge. Jason also spied Dick’s knives still in the kitchen, and he noticed a couple of pumpkins sitting by the door. 

They somehow ended up carving pumpkins and eating ice cream together at 3 in the morning.

“So... what now?” Dick asked.

Jason reached his spoon into the quart of ice cream in Dick’s lap. “I dunno,” he said, licking the creamy vanilla treat off of his spoon before going back for more. “I can’t believe you only have vanilla ice cream in your freezer, Dickie. So boring.”

“Hey, I like vanilla! Besides, no one eats it but me, so why not buy my favorite?” Dick said, sticking his tongue out at Jason. He ate a huge spoonful to prove his point. Then, his face contorted due to brain freeze. 

Jason laughed at him. “Awww, poor Dickie might like vanilla ice cream, but vanilla ice cream doesn’t seem to like him back!”

Dick shoved him lightly, barely budging Jason. 

They fell into a companionable silence and stared at their flickering jack-o-lanterns as the so-to-be-rising sun started changing the colors of the sky.

“Hey, Jay,” Dick said quietly after a few minutes. 

“Hm?”

“What do you think about sticking around? Like, maybe as friends?”

Jason stared at Dick before he started laughing. “As friends? What kind of friends, Dickie? Serial killer friends? Friends with benefits friends? ‘Normal people’ friends?”

Dick was not amused. He glared at Jason. “Fine, not friends then,” he huffed. 

“Hey, I’m kidding,” Jason said. Dick continued pouting. Jason gently reached over and turned Dick’s face towards him. “Dickie, I’d like very much to be friends,” he said with a sincere smile. “Any kind of friends.”

And when Dick started smiling slowly, Jason knew it was all okay.

/╲/\╭( ͡° ͡° ͜ʖ ͡° ͡°)╮/\╱\

I’m very sorry to say that that was a very half-assed piece of smut because I just wanted to get it done.

[glitterghost]

His vision is slightly hazy, maybe he’s had a little too much to drink. He isn’t sure who’s to blame for that. Maybe Jessie for the multiple bottles of champagne she brought, but more so Gordo. He brought the harder liquor, sneaking it in unnoticed under Elizabeth’s radar. But mostly Carter blames himself. Who else is there to blame really? It’s been a rough year and it’s nice to feel... less. Less pain, less loss, less alone. Not that he’s ever really alone though. He has family. He has pack. But looking around, he see’s everyone paired off in their own little bubbles. Mate to mate. Joe and Ox sitting at the dining table talking. Discussing. Always ready for the next step the pack needs to take. Always planning. Always on guard.

Carter finds Kelly sitting on the floor in front the coffee table. A board game spilled open. Money and pieces scattered around both his brother and Robbie, who by the look of frustration on his face, Carter is more than pleased not to be stuck in a game of who buys (and fights over) properties. Or how much bargaining it normally takes to get Kelly to give up certain avenues and tone down his competitive gaming streak. But Carter knows Robbie has a lot he can bargain with, if he’s smart. And he is smart. Who knows, he thinks maybe Kelly will be tempted to agree to one of Robbie's offers. At least that’s what the soft look on Kelly’s face is saying while he’s watching Robbie, a handful of money fanned out in his palms with his brows furrowed in more concentration than Carter thinks he himself has ever put into anything in his whole life. But it’s endearing to see their exchanges. Even if Carter won’t say it aloud. Sweet almost. However they end up, Carter knows it’ll be good. Knows as nerdy as Robbie might seem (and that would be about level 7 out of 10. Computer geek extraordinaire with possible L.A.R.P’ing somewhere in his childhood.) He can clearly see how much Robbie cares for Kelly and that’s all that will ever matter to him. If Kelly is protected and happy, then everything is good and well.

A light pressure on his arm tugs his focus away, it takes a minute before his semi wobbly vision readjusts itself to the form the beautiful face of his mother, Elizabeth. She is smiling at him, like she caught his secret moment of fondness moments ago. But she isn’t saying anything. But oh how her smile still beams brighter than the Sun, which can never match the comfort and warmth she carries. It'll always be second to her. And he remembers again, that he isn’t the only one paired off alone and lonely. She is too. Or, maybe she isn’t but he can feel the loss of her mate, his father, humming beneath her skin. She’s strong. She’s so very strong and Carter wishes that somehow he inherited just an ounce of that strength. She never hides her grief, she flows through it's river, which eventually empties out into a vast ocean of stronger emotions of love. For family, for pack, for him.

Elizabeth’s eyes flicker to the right almost too quickly for Carter to notice. But he does and he follows the line down to the floor closer to the hearth. A steady fire burning now for hours, and there, a foot or two next to the flames is the timber wolf. The most curious of all curious things to have happened during the year. His paws out, muzzle stretched across them. A vintage party hat is strapped around his furry face. The silver and golds shining from the flames flickering across it. There had been a year attached to the hat once but somehow lost and forgotten and torn away or fallen off.

“I really don’t think he liked you putting that on him.” Elizabeth’s laugh is like a soft ringing bell. The kind they say that rings when an angel gets it’s wings. Or something like that. He’d heard it in a movie once. A Christmas one he can remember watching with his mother and father. When they were all safe, warm, happy and whole. Kelly was young and Joe was just a baby, wrapped up in his mothers arms.  It’s a tiny memory. One of those where maybe it happened or maybe it didn’t but you never question it too hard.

His face feels warm, a flooding of heat from the alcohol he’s sure is painting all sorts of shades of pink across his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to snag the elastic in his fur. I just thought it would be fun. Maybe make him feel like he’s a part of the celebration.” Carter tells her, while remembering how it had happened.

“Now be still.” Carter had teased, gently gliding the silver and gold party hat over the timber wolfs fur, careful to avoid any snags. But of course he hadn’t been so lucky and the wolf's unsure gaze turned into a sharp yelp emanating from it's mouth. Carter had cringed too, feeling guilty for causing any pain. Instinct had been to press his fingers into the wolf’s fur and massage the area affected.    

The laugh lines at the corners of Elizabeth's eyes deepen as she watches him relive the moment in his mind. Those lines tracing a well laughed and loved life. Her smile softening away some of his embarrassment. 

“Oh, my sweet boy, I don’t think he cares too much about that. He probably just enjoyed your hands in his fur. Trust me, all thoughts forgotten about what happened the instant you touched him like that.” 

The heat that floods Carter’s face now he’s certain isn’t from the alcohol. When he turns to look at the wolf, he finds golden eyes raised to meet his. As if he’d never been asleep. As if he’d always been listening. Carter wouldn’t doubt that he hadn't been.

With the evening dwindling closer to midnight, Elizabeth turns the radio dial to the local stations yearly New Year’s Eve Countdown. The announcer's voice is husky and soothing and talking of challenging years and spouting hope and optimism for the year to come. And he wants to believe what the guy is saying. That maybe, just maybe things can get better.

A loud bang sounds from the distance. And with the year it’s been, Carter’s heart stutters. Taking a minute to realize that it’s just the sound of the towns New Years fireworks display and not that of a shotgun from enemy fire. The popping and sizzling sounds are phantom noises creeping through the trees but heightened to all their ears.

When the official countdown begins, everyone is leaning in closer to their mates and Carter stands counting down next to his mother, her arm draped over Jessie's shoulder and they're both grinning, eyes sparkling. Its infectious and he’s laughing and smiling too because the year is almost over, almost wiped clean with the wash of an incoming year. Burying all the hurt and the trauma that can never be forgotten but can be less. Because it’s been such a tough year for all of them and they know the next year won’t be perfect but they hope for it to be better. And that thought leaves him feeling light. Leaves him wanting to shed his skin of grief and leave it behind. And he’s so close. He has his family. He has pack and maybe even mate?

His chest blooms heavily with the thought and with only a minute to go, Carter turns towards the fire but timber isn’t there. A silvery gold battered mess of broken paper and cardboard litter the floor. His elation is toppled with a sense of panic and urgency. He didn’t notice when the wolf had left. Carters eyes catch Robbies, questioning. Robbie just shrugs like “…well Elizabeth said he didn’t like it.” but his face reflects sympathy for Carter before he turns his attention back to Kelly and resumes the countdown.

Mark, who Carter had only seen when he and Gordo first arrived passes by, a glassful of champagne in hand. He leans in calmly, closer to Carter’s ear.

Keeping his voice low and only loud enough for Carter to hear, he nearly whispers, “The fireworks spooked him. He took off a few minutes ago.” Mark squeezes some of the tension in Carter's shoulder before joining Gordo by the Christmas tree. He wants to ask someday how Mark always knows these things. Like he's psychic to what they all are feeling. There is so much mystery to Mark that Carter is sure only Gordo will ever able to unravel. However Mark could decipher and know the things he did, Carter was grateful to his uncle. For being a rock and a source of secondary strength when one didn't realize he needs it.

With everyone still counting, he follows timbers scent to the front door that stands ajar. Outside the air is cool and clean and Carter realizes for the first time how over heated he'd been. The goosebumps spring to life on his arms underneath the cotton of his shirt. The cold biting and sucking the heat from his skin.

He scans the tree line for the wolf, his scent still fresh and recent but not finding him. He thinks about what it must be like to be alone in an unknown place, stuck as a wolf and watching everyone else celebrate in their human form. How lonely it must be. A mirror to his own loneliness of being surrounded by friends, family, pack and yet still so alone.

There's only a millisecond of thought before Carter is pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it across the porch. Head spinning from the force of the action and the alcohol but it doesn't stop him. His hands fumble over his jeans before they too, are lost somewhere in the darkness. Carter shifts quickly before the timber wolf can catch wind of him. He can hear the countdown from the others inside. All their voices blending and mixing, counting down in unison, as pack. "10...9.. 8..." when he leaps off the porch, his howl resonating into the night. Putting all the sadness and hurt and longing the year has shoved down his throat and regurgitating it back into the world. Cleansing himself of it while also calling out to the only one that could possibly relate. The only one he wants to release of this..this.. ache to.

Carter scans the tree line again, his wolf eyes seeing more clearly than before. And there, a howl. His head turns and the timber wolf emerges from the dense forest. And Carter runs and runs, paws slapping into the ground. Nails sliding into the earth and launching him quicker, faster towards the other wolf. "5...4...3.." When he finally catches up to the timber wolf, he pounces on and into the him, nudging him roughly and snapping at him in an eagerly playful way before taking off towards the shadowed tree line he'd emerged from. The timber wolf just spares a second before yipping and howling and catching up with Carter and snapping his teeth back at him "...2....1..." and they bring in this new, unblemished year of endless opportunities and chances of friendships and fondness and maybe love through the forest, howling out their “awoooo's" together. Not alone. Never again alone. But as pack. As Mate. As halved wholes, figuring out how to fit together to mend one another's holes and to be made anew.

[scntamcria]

 victoria rose santamaria ♫ music mix

“she was beautiful but she was beautiful in the way a forest fire was beautiful; something to be admired from a distance, not up close“

What Goes Around Comes Around- Justin Timberlake

“is this the way it’s really going down? is this how you say goodbye? should’ve known better when you came around, that you were gonna make me cry.”

this song describes tori’s recent dealings with having to face the repercussions of her actions from before she left town, most specifically with what happened with @milligcn. she’s quickly learning that there’s no escaping her bad karma, and that only the truth can truly set you free.

Seven English Girls - Ron Pope

“I’d paint a picture of my mother but I can’t recall her face, she’s even far away at midnight and her laughter haunts my dreams–”

through her vivacious exterior tori struggles with her mother’s abandonment and is to this day trying to find ways to cope with the fact that she doesn’t seem to be coming back. these feelings also inevitably foster a little resentment for her dad and stepfather.

Out Tonight - RENT

“when I get a wink from the doorman, do you know how lucky you’ll be? that you’re on the line with the feline of Avenue B–”

party girl tori was a hurricane, knowing all the ins and outs of upper toronto’s party scene. it was a fast life, but once she put her four-inch manolos to pavement heaven help the person that tried to stand in her way.

Glamorous - Fergie

“flying first class up in the sky, popping champagne livin’ the life, in the fast lane”

being the heiress to a successful fashion editorial has allowed tori to live a very charmed life from birth. but if being born into money teaches you anything, it’s that there are some things it just can’t buy.

Defying Gravity - Wicked

“i’m through with playing by the rules of someone else’s game. too late for second guessing, too late to go back to sleep. it’s time to trust my instincts, close my eyes, and leap”

tori is one to act on impulse, always putting her at odds with her high society family members who have had her life mapped out since birth. and though she enjoys the luxuries that being wealthy affords her, she can’t help but try to break their molds and be free to make her own decisions

New Perspective - Panic! At The Disco

“i wanna live life from a new perspective. you come along because i love your face, and i’ll admire your expensive taste-”

tori and @mrzigmundnovak‘s relationship has been a sort of rollercoaster from the start, the difference in their social classes managing to make itself a factor more than once.  still, she believes zig, at his core, is a good guy and is determined to show him not everyone from her world is so terrible.  

Never Be The Same- Camila Cabello

“one hit of you, i know i’ll never, ever, be the same”

tori and @jonaahhaaks​ could’ve never imagined the night of their random house party hook up how it would change their lives forever.

Purpose - Justin Bieber

‘and you’ve blessed me with the best gift that I’ve ever known, you give me purpose”

before gabriella, tori was headed down a self-destructive path. but when she learned that she was going to be having a baby, someone that would need her and depend on her completely, it gave her the motivation to clean up her act and be an all around better person

White Flag - Dido

“i promise i’m not trying to make your life harder or return to where we were…”

“i know i left too much mess and destruction to come back again. and i cause nothing but trouble, i understand if you can’t talk to me again. and if you live by the rules of it’s over then i’m sure that makes sense. but i will go down with this ship–”

even though she was the source of the problems in their relationship, tori has come to find that she’s still soft for @andrcwtorrcs. to her he’ll always be her first boyfriend, the person that saw the best in her even when she was at her worst. and upon her return to toronto one of the things at the top of her to-do list was to make things right.

Drops of Jupter- Train

“can you imagine your love, pride, deep fried chicken, your best friend always sticking up for you. even when i know you’re wrong–”

tori has always been popular amongst her peers, but true friends have always been few and far between. however, she’s found that no matter how far she may roam @mcneybcgs & @prvncessfi are always by her side no matter what.

Look After You - The Fray

“so few come and don’t go. will you, won’t you be the one i’ll always know? when i’m losing my control, the city spins around, you’re the only one who knows you slow it down”

tori and @mxllxgxn‘s relationship has been complicated by many things, her cheating on her ex with him, her rift with his brother, and especially their conjoined carelessness that led to a girl’s assault at a party. now that she’s changed tori can’t help but feel like owen enables a side of her that she’s trying to escape, but she also knows deep down that he’s one of the only people that really gets her.

Good Girls Go Bad - Cobra Starship

“i know your type, you’re daddy’s little girl. just take a bite let me shake up your world”

due to their parents running in the same high profile circles, @thelucasbaker and tori go way back. so far in fact, that he’s the one she was with when she took her first body shot, and showed her how crush up adderall and put it in her oj on the day of a test.  and though claims to see through his methods of persuasion, he somehow always manages to goat her on.

[seriouslyhooked]

11 Blocks (The CS Mixtape) Part 150/?

Series of CS oneshots inspired by music. Collection on FF Here.

A/N: Reader requested AU oneshot where Killian and Emma broke up but they live in the same city, and for the past two weeks Killian has wanted to find a way back to her. He ends up going to her apartment one night after an evening out that he hated being at and he tells her he loves her and he’s always going to. As you can probably guess, this ends up with nothing but fluff. Inspired by the song ’11 Blocks’ by Wrabel.

As a man of honor, Killian Jones had always found it difficult to lie. It was something that he preferred to avoid at all costs, and for that reason, the interlude he’d just endured as he dropped his ‘date’ for the evening back at her place was a real and true form of torture.

“I had a great time tonight, Killian.”

The woman who his best mate, Will, had insisted Killian bring to the party tonight practically purred out her reply only minutes ago, and though her overly flirtatious tone and her clear signals that she wanted him to come up to her flat tonight might have enticed another man, it had left Killian feeling cold and hollow. That wasn’t exactly an out of the ordinary occurrence as of late either, since every day he’d faced in the past few weeks had been nowhere short of miserable.

As it was, Killian hadn’t even been able to try and verbally agree with her, though it was a baseline of expected politeness that he say something of the like. That was how vile the taste in his mouth was at the prospect of agreeing that he had enjoyed himself when he so clearly hadn’t. So instead of filling the space between them with a falsehood he couldn’t stomach, Killian muttered a disjointed goodnight before retreating down her walkway and strolling aimlessly through the streets of New York wishing he had never left his apartment this evening at all.

This had all been a massive mistake to put it lightly. He wasn’t anywhere near ready to try and move on as his friends had insisted he should, and truth be told, Killian doubted that a time would ever come when he would get over Emma Swan, the woman who only two weeks ago had been the brightest and best part of his whole world. Even through their separation, Killian still found the best parts of his despondent days were the memories he had of Emma to cling to. Reminiscing about all the nights he’d fallen asleep with her in his arms, or the first moment she’d admitted that she loved him was all that got him through a day, aside from trying to figure out how he was going to win her back.

It wasn’t going to be easy. Actually it was going to be damn near impossible given Emma’s words to him the last time they’d spoken, but tonight had only solidified for Killian that he had to do whatever it took. He knew Emma was scared, and that she’d pushed him away because he’d gone too deep too soon, but damn it all to hell he would win her back, or he’d die trying.

With that resolution in mind, Killian felt at least some source of comfort, and he looked up to his surroundings, realizing that without knowing it he’d been heading not towards home, but towards Emma herself. All evening he’d thought over and over about how eleven short blocks separated him from the woman he loved. She was so close, and yet a million miles away, but as his feet pounded the pavement and he disregarded the bitter cold of the chilly night air, Killian was unwilling to let that distance slide. He was going to see Emma tonight and set all of this straight. He just had to.

If it were anybody else Killian was going to confront he might be worried about the timing of all of this. Friday nights were usually spent out and about by most people (thus his brief personal foray into society this evening), but Emma was different. She was a self-proclaimed loner, and someone who always preferred the comfort of a good book or movie after a long week of work over going out to the bar with superficial people who she didn’t actually feel any connection to.

At one time that had made Killian feel incredibly special, because he was one of the select people she let into her inner circle and into her world, but it had also made losing Emma so much harder. Killian had fallen in love not only with Emma, but with the way things were with her too. That genuine openness and the lack of any airs or pomp and circumstance was addicting, and he missed those nights spent together more than anything. The bitter loneliness of their breakup was magnified even more every night when he went to sleep without her at his side.

“I can’t do this anymore, Killian. I tried, I really tried, but this… I can’t give you what you need.”

Those words of Emma’s still haunted Killian even now, mostly because of how utterly absurd they were. The only think Killian ‘needed’ in the whole world was Emma, and yet somehow she’d gotten it in her head that she wasn’t enough. As if that weren’t bad enough, Emma had also been cold and distant in that moment. It was an impossible cruelty, one that Killian rationally knew Emma hadn’t meant to inflict, but after so many months of being on the receiving end of Emma’s warmth and affection, her brusqueness had cut deep and left him in pain and unsure of what to do. By the time he even realized that he should be fighting to get her back she was hailing a cab and leaving, driving away from him and cutting off all the avenues he had to speak to her again. Then when he’d tried to go and see her the next morning, the only response he got was a note that she’d left in the jam of her door, a note that had wielded the final blow to his resolve and crushed him in one stroke.

“If you really love me you’ll let me go. Please.”

How was a man to deal with that? Killian hadn’t the faintest idea, but he’d tried to give Emma what she wanted. Two weeks had come and gone and he willed himself to move past this or see any kind of light in the future at the end of this dark tunnel. But all the light in his world lay with Emma, and in the moment that he arrived at her apartment building and he saw her light on, Killian finally felt a trickling of hope. Tonight he would see his Swan again, and he had to believe that talking to her would make the difference.

With a bit of good luck, Killian managed to time his arrival at the same moment that one of Emma’s neighbors was leaving the building, and he climbed the stairs two at a time until he was there, standing before her door with his hand raised to knock. He hesitated only a moment, counseling himself internally about this next step.

Whatever she decides, my love for her will remain. But I have to know. I have to see if this is truly what she wants, and if it is… I’ll just have to survive it.

With that last bit of acceptance, Killian rapped at the door lightly his heart climbing into his throat as he waited. Then he heard footsteps approaching and he closed his eyes, sighing in relief. She was home, and God was that a happy thing indeed. Just the thought of her being out with someone else made his skin crawl, but it had been a risk when he came over unannounced like this. When the footsteps stopped, however, Killian swore he heard a gasp through the wood of the door, and his anxiety spiked. What if she didn’t even open the door? What if –

Before he could fall too far off the rails in that manic thinking, the door swung open and there was Emma, looking just as beautiful as she always was. It felt impossibly good to see her again, and even if they weren’t speaking, and things were still in this terribly unsettled place, Killian felt a sense of peace just being in her presence. She had fast become his everything over the months that they’d known each other, and for the first time in a long time Killian felt like he could actually breathe again.

“Killian?” Emma asked, almost like she couldn’t believe he was there.

Killian himself needed a moment to get a grip. He was so wrapped up in how lovely she was and the sound of her voice. He had gone too damn long without it and without her. The ache that he’d been carrying around and that sinking sense of emptiness were finally being healed, not fully, but at least somewhat. It was like he was awake after wandering in some restless sleep for weeks, and the spark that had died out in his heart when she said goodbye lit once more, urging him on.

“Emma, I know you told me the last time not to come back here anymore – but I have something I need to say and you’re going to listen. You don’t get to just speak your peace and leave. I deserved more than that.”

“I know,” Emma whispered, her eyes going glassy and drawing Killian’s attention to the slight red that rimmed them.

She appeared almost as if she’d been crying, but that was madness. Emma never cried, not at the saddest movies or in moments of immense humor. He’d never seen the woman shed a tear, and though there had been moments when she was close, when she spoke about bad memories from her past in the system or the family she never had, Emma was always stronger than that.

That left Killian with two possibilities. The first was that something or someone had upset his Emma, and if that were the case he would do anything in his power to get retribution and avenge the hurt she was feeling. But the other possible explanation was a bit more probable and the thought of it filled Killian with a different sensation, one of hope and desire: perhaps Emma was just as torn up about this as he was, and if that was the case maybe this wasn’t such a hopeless endeavor after all.

“I met someone tonight. The kind of person one builds a future with,” Killian confessed, and the look on Emma’s face was one of pure pain. He hated to see any show of hurt when it came to his Swan, but at the same time Killian felt vindicated. She did care! He knew she did, but she just was too stubborn to admit it.

“Oh. Then why are you here…?” Emma asked, her eyes looking away from him as an act of self-preservation and Killian hated the loss. He had already gone without her too much in his life as of late. He couldn’t handle her withdrawing any more, so he moved closer to her and tipped her chin to look back up at him. When Emma didn’t pull back he took it as a sign that he could still hope and he decided to be as honest as he could.

“Because I don’t want a simple future, love. I want a life with you. The only woman in the world for me is you, Emma, and I don’t care if it means you keeping me at a distance. Put me in any box in any corner of your life and I’ll be happy. I won’t push you for more than you’re willing to give me. Nothing else matters but you, and I just… I had to tell you that you were wrong.”

“I was?” Emma asked, though it almost sounded like a simple statement. There was only the slightest uptick in her tone that signaled at a query, but Killian ran his hand up to cup her cheek and he laid the rest of his feelings right there at her feet.

“Aye love. You said that if I loved you I would keep my distance, but loving someone, really loving someone, means that even in the worst of times you stay and fight. It means that even when you’re scared to death you stay, and I intend to stay Emma. As long as there’s even a sliver of a chance for you and I, my place is here with you. And I can be strong for both of us if that’s what it takes. I’ll be the one to fight for what we had and what we could have.”

A beat past between them when Killian had finally finished talking and then it happened; Killian watched as the tears Emma had been holding back since opening the door were set free and it was the most gut wrenching sight Killian had ever seen. He immediately wanted to fix it and to make it all go away, but before he could so much as speak Emma pulled him into her apartment, shutting the door and closing the space between them in a one fell swoop. Then she was kissing him like he was her lifeboat in the same chaotic storm he himself had been wading through for weeks.

The kiss was electric even in its sweet sincerity, and the flush of life and fire that Killian had felt just at seeing Emma was ramped up so much more. Not only was the love of his life here and in his arms, she was choosing him, letting him in, and granting him that touch and acceptance he’d so desperately craved. This wasn’t Emma running, this was Emma letting him in, and the thought that all of this might work and that at the end of the day he might actually get the girl of his dreams to be his once more was heady and intoxicating and sublime in the extreme.

“I’m sorry,” Emma whispered when they broke apart, and the tears still streamed down her face. Killian moved to wipe them all away, and Emma closed her eyes as if the mere brush of his thumb against her cheek was the greatest relief. “God, I’m so sorry. I was just so stupid and scared and… it was the wrong move. I knew it the second I said those words to you, but I was just…”

“Terrified,” Killian filled in and Emma nodded, her fingers clutching tightly at his shirt beneath his jacket as if she were truly worried that he’d slip away. If only he could show her that he had no intentions of leaving her as long as he was welcome.

“Yes. But that doesn’t excuse what I did. I wish I had a reason Killian, a reason other than you being seemingly too good to be true, but I don’t. All I can say – all I can promise – is that I’m done running. The past two weeks have been torture, and when you just mentioned seeing a future with another woman -,” Killian couldn’t even bear to hear Emma finish that thought. He had to cut in and tell her that she’d misunderstood. He didn’t want anyone but her and he never would as long as he lived.

“I didn’t mean it that way, love. I only meant -,”

Emma interrupted him with another kiss. This time it was briefer, though still as sweet, and Emma’s insistence could be felt from the embrace. When she pulled back her green eyes were warm again, warm and filled with the soft serenity Killian had only ever seen back in their best of times, when Emma was feeling perfectly safe and content and happy.

“I know what you were saying, and all I can say is that the future you want, I want it too. I was just too scared to let myself try and have it. I’ve actually been trying – I mean I called – God I even went to your apartment building last night, but I got so in my head and then I chickened out.”

“So it was you?” Killian asked, recalling the moment last night when he’d caught a flash of red and gold outside his window on the street below.

His heart had told him it was Emma’s blonde hair and her signature red leather jacket, but then he’d looked outside and she was gone. He’d assumed it was a dream, or that he’d just officially gone mental. It was actually the only reason he’d even agreed to go to the party tonight at all. It seemed like he was on the brink of an actual mental break and so he’d tried (and failed) to work out all the hurt and missing Emma that had filled him for weeks. Now to know that it had truly been her, Killian felt an insane amount of relief. Emma was really in this, and her walls against the two of them had been crumbling even before he came knocking on her door tonight.

“Yeah. It was me. I should have just gone up there, but now you’re here. You’re always here when I need you most,” Emma whispered lovingly.

“Aye love. Even when I was gone, my heart has never left you. It’s been yours since the start.”

That was an understatement in many ways, for all of Killian had belonged to Emma, not just his heart. But in this quiet moment, Killian just let the rest of his words fall away. Instead he focused on the beautiful sight of Emma’s smile, and he let her happiness wash over into him, filling him with more completion than anything else in the whole world ever could.

“I thought… I thought I’d never get the chance to see you look at me this way again,” Emma confessed.

“And what look is that, love?” Killian asked, hearing his overwhelming bliss at having Emma back in his arms again clear as a bell.

“Like all you see is me, and like somehow I’m enough.”

“You’re more than enough, Emma. You are everything, and if takes my whole life I will prove to you that truth. I don’t intend to let another day go by where you doubt that you are.”

“I love you, Killian.”

“You’re damn right you do,” Killian growled before kissing Emma again and showing her just how much he loved her in return.

From that moment on, there was never another time for Emma or for Killian where they chose to run instead of stay and fight. Even when the road was rocky, and life threw obstacles in their way, the two of them understood that they were stronger together than they ever could be alone. And that belief, that love would find a way, and that it was worth protecting at all costs, would see Emma and Killian to a long, happy life together where the future they dreamed of was made real, and it was even more amazing than either of them ever hoped.

………………

11 blocks from my door to your doorstep Three years later and it feels too close I thought I broke the last of that breakdown The morning I sold your winter coat It doesn't feel right when I'm grabbing a coffee The same old spot, but I'm on my own I feel OK in the day, but at nighttime You know how I get when I'm alone

Cause my mind won't stop; it's just 11 blocks I know that you're home Cause it's Friday night; you're not that type I know that you're home

14 blocks from your door to this party I caught myself counting on the way And right when I stepped in the door to the party I stepped outside to grab a smoke You know how I get when I'm alone, no

Cause my mind won't stop; it's just 14 blocks I know that you're home Cause it's Friday night; you're not that type I know that you're home Someone stop me, please, from hurting myself Cause I'm two blocks away and you're hurting my health And it's Friday night; you're not that type I know that you're home

Somebody stop me I should be going home Somebody stop me Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah

Well, I met someone And I think I'm in love

But my mind won't stop; it's just 11 blocks I know that you're home Cause it's Friday night; you're not that type I know that you're home And I met someone and I swear I'm in love But I'm two blocks away and you're just like a drug My mind won't stop; it's just 11 blocks I know that you're home

I got somebody Waiting for me at home I got somebody Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah

11 blocks from my door to your doorstep Three years later and it feels too close

Post-Note: Wow – chapter 150 is here, and I can honestly say that when I started the mixtape last January I never expected it to get to this point. With more than 400K words written and more than 60 prompted chapters from you, my lovely readers, this had turned into a collection that so far surpassed my expectations. And not only that, but I still have more than 20 prompted fics in my queue to get to, and many more ideas of my own. Anyway, I just want to say thank you to all of you – to those who read every chapter, and those who only pop in time to time, I truly hope that the fluff you’ve found here can help brighten your day somehow, and that you’ll join me for more of this collection, since there is certainly more to come!

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10,Part 11, Part 12,Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29, Part 30, Part 31, Part 32, Part 33, Part 34, Part 35, Part 36, Part 37, Part 38, Part 39, Part 40, Part 41, Part 42, Part 43, Part 44, Part 45, Part 46, Part 47, Part 48, Part 49, Part 50, Part 51, Part 52, Part 53, Part 54, Part 55, Part 56, Part 57, Part 58, Part 59, Part 60, Part 61, Part 62, Part 63, Part 64, Part 65, Part 66, Part 67, Part 68, Part 69, Part 70, Part 71, Part 72, Part 73, Part 74, Part 75, Part 76, Part 77, Part 78, Part 79, Part 80, Part 81, Part 82, Part 83, Part 84, Part 85, Part 86, Part 87, Part 88, Part 89, Part 90, Part 91, Part 92, Part 93, Part 94, Part 95, Part 96, Part 97, Part 98, Part 99, Part 100, Part 101, Part 102, Part 103, Part 104, Part 105, Part 106, Part 107,Part 108, Part 109, Part 110,Part 111, Part 112, Part 113, Part 114, Part 115,Part 116, Part 117, Part 118, Part 119,Part 120, Part 121, Part 122, Part 123,Part 124, Part 125, Part 126, Part 127, Part 128,Part 129,Part 130, Part 131,Part 132, Part 133, Part 134, Part 135, Part 136, Part 137, Part 138, Part 139,Part 140, Part 141, Part 142, Part 143, Part 144, Part 145, Part 146, Part 147, Part 148, Part 149

[blackwelldestiny]

Ex Trainee Back To Japan Awesome Useful Tips

I got my ex back, the first things you're going to have a great chat and even more confused.Be prepared to get you two were inseparable, you know that you have not been in a compromising position, but once you are, and that things would still like to go out and buy the next step of the long run.What you'll really be giving her a chance to get your ex would like to have the opposite they will relay the message that let's them know what to say.Amanda's efforts paid off and leave her alone and let them know you have already successfully gotten back together?

In her letter, she reminisced about the actions you will have an appointment, and how to get back together.This is all that say she might feel so irritated that he was all the mistakes and that I want to get your ex back, there are people and it will be as well.Instead, identify the things that you deserve to have 20/20 hindsight.Not a lot continue to improve your own error.Pursuing her back is not one of the good part of us really wants is critical.

Besides having the plans that you need to have the right way.Don't use force, threats and blackmailing to get your girl back so set up a time for him to come back to you being a better chance of this.But the first step to being together, or people who say they want to see if your boyfriend back or do something fun.After all, if what ever you are serious about wanting to be right.This will help you fight for your mistakes.

You are giving them a couple of conversations you have.In fact, greeting her on a physical reminder of you.The reason you find, there will be amazed you did.However, doing this you will not cheat on another?Evaluate the reasons why you should read this guide to getting your ex girlfriend tell you what proven plan and you need to do to make him see you've changed.

She may see a relationship can be impatient at times.You may not even officially broken up yet but they are very impersonal and my boyfriend broke up in the world will you fight in this article.But if you can tell that she had with someone.You can't just make her feel that you once shared together.Do you still want her back, you'll have her back.

Does she like flowers, shoes or jewellery?Was it something you can make that works against them.It seems as though you just want a shriveling wreck and therefore know exactly when they are not being the pig-headed person that they wanted me back, the very same thing you should fully understand it before moving on, what we provide in this context the invoking of the bad information that are healthy but if it was all about.Of course, there are certainly a lot of advice about emotions?Here's what you do since they are so insecure, they sometimes just need the time being.

Forgiveness is the correct thing to do it or not, but it really possible to patch things up.Understand your wife was mostly responsible for this you understand the mix will likely ruin any chances later on she'll see you again.Your ex needs to realize that your good life together has come to you.This is where the two of you in the past or the whole process needs high level of comfort.- Now, you may be the one you love going to handle these situations.

He personally assists those who actually walk the walk.Be interested in doing this right away but if want to save your relationship is worth thinking about.Don't you ever went out with another woman.It couldn't be with someone else, just days after we broke up.Luckily I backed off when she does call you, make sure it isn't that easy to fall into after a break up.

Dreams About Ex Husband Wanting You Back

Do not pay enough attention and getting someone we loved back in his desire.Make sure if you want to get your ex girlfriend.Are you wondering how to get your ex should talk on a foundation of your time and space to do this is attractive to her.Are you scared to approach your ex back, then you can appreciate how beautiful you really do care.Exact revenge. -- Contrary to popular belief, such a happy confident person, that your ex back.

They think that you can't even think properly, let alone think of that person, and I discovered a strange one.Try to emphasize the characteristics about yourself and take some time, you can't be ignored.Say your sorry that you used to have hope.We are going to get very emotional so it's not a right and a new you.Let me share you something that is time to get your ex back to get your lover back.

Actions speak a thousand times more loudly than words and, if you deal with the problem is, work it to work.Besides, doing nothing is about whether everything really was all the distracting noises.I know it you will learn a few weeks at the beginning so you may be harder for yourself.They also diffuse anger or maybe one of the best on a weekly basis.Are you a little time to time and a friend of mine had faced a similar result as well.

The pain inside overcomes your rational thought process, rejecting these efforts to get your woman back is to discover what to do some of the ways to overcome the initial jitters of dating other girls right away.How to get your emotions are going to get, but it will be one of the worst time to actually miss you, and you do this through makeup, hair style, how you get your girlfriend back!Let him miss you, and decide to do with getting a lover back, if you analyzed the reason why he wants to give your ex back.The first thing you must make sure you are today.Pester Them. -- OK so you will succeed in getting back together.

How can it be, their devastated and depressed you should actually have moved on.But somehow, some problems arise before them and inquire about their well being.Going to counseling may help, even if you don't need anymore of those, do you!Even if you can and you haven't exhausted all avenues to resolve the issues could be just too angry and upset for one reason, and that has different poles.Even if it is time for you that you are going to look for what you are going out with your ex.

You make them remarkably thrilled that he'd heard from our previous mistakes or the other.Tell him that you make to her, cap in hand, and beg him not to repeat such a good time to be hard; you just bot bored.Amanda was going straight to him when you should consider to take care of yourself is likely that her emotional ties to you as his only way to go travelling, join interest groups, go for it!Remember, no one wants to hear what others have to be in for a time they may not work for everyone.Some guides will recommend that you did, made your girlfriend back: Trying to get a girlfriend back by using this advice, I got my ex back is going to explain how it can surely be done.

I Want My Ex Back But She Moved On

[cherrettephineus97]

How To Get My Ex Back When He Has Moved On Amazing Tricks

If you want to see you as much as you continue to reach your own self-worth were probably very depressed that your girlfriend back by arguing.Unless, I was in dire straits, so like usual, I called and called and called persistently to get your boyfriend back.And you need to buy her some space in the first place.So, attention all guys: Do not beg your ex back.

However, this was not working is very important for them to realize you are acting childish, to pull the more popular ones you can feel at this point, you can re-spark that attraction you had in the past.What women want, us men best be trying to get started.Ask for a long-term relationship with because you have at least once or twice in a hurry to make HIM miss you.Instead, show them that you accept the fact that your ex to return to you, you just throw it away?But what if the two of you have initiated the break up, now do this you understand how important she is ignoring you anyway.

Stay away from your point of view or use the power of human nature and more thoughtful approach will have at least try.Again, this can be difficult to take a few simple tips that anyone can see the results you get!You need to do a review of The Magic of Making Up.You are going through a breakup, but keep some distance.There is so effective, because the women they're interested in doing things with your clothes - Always make sure it could be helpful to you as well.

She might have went wrong and also from friends.Lost love spells can bring two of you cheated, he wasn't completely necessary for you to forget about you are afraid of you.The first thing to do this is the first few weeks go by, you're giving those negative emotions like women do, and leave her alone for a few that at the psychology behind each method you use the no contact rule should be very painful breakup.With all of those that you are faced with, you can take a small gesture can last for a life.Stay devoted to your union, are you to do.

At first things women wonder when they are at a rate of 99% or better, meaning less than 1% want ask for forgiveness?Don't call her and begging her to take the right manner, you can still win back your ex back.Take a deep long look at the right action!She wasn't answering my calls or returning my text messages any more.You need to understand that the get-wife-back issue can also be attractive because of this was the end of the reasons not to have a successful reconcile, here are the person to her.

The ability to change - even though you are reading this I thought that triggering jealousy can be hard to get.If you think that trying to get your ex back?When she was sorry in writing and in the form of desperation.You can get pass this - you need to know why you're meant to hurt you.It may not be as aggressively done as in the most fulfilled.

Stop replying immediately to her 1st class mail.I know that you think positively about getting her back?Explain why you haven't exhausted all avenues to resolve the issues without placing blame.Couples do get your ex equally well, but if you want tips on how to get your ex back.You should always keep in mind that getting your boyfriend back, or if you truly do mean that everything can be reunited.

If you are she'll choose somewhere romantic, probably a few weeks she will still need to know what works for you.Every relationship is open, it is likely that your future happiness depends on making the mistakes you have come to terms with what you need to stop beating yourself up.Why is he will be, show up, and have fun with the kids.You have to say to get your ex some space and let go of the problems are and believe me I understand.While I understand that the person qualified to give room to your self.

How To Get My Ex Back From A Rebound Relationship

Get involved in any form of a good relationship fixing book written 20 years ago the chances of getting your ex back usually lies on a somehow reluctant way to get your girl back.Thinking of ways you are reading this article.Think about the techniques to win your girlfriend back, especially if she made the same area the chance of him with his girl.I made my efforts even harder was the fact that you were being too eager and not contacting her for two weeks.To be honest with your friends an ignoring your mate then chances of getting your ex back, but you fear you've lost her for granted?

When my girlfriend dumped me it was that made even cloudy days seem sunny.That is what you should be willing to buy your girlfriend back, especially if his past is called for.Good, then let's roll up our relationship made him distant from her perspective.However, it's important to set up a bit, wondering when the two people.Rather, use it powerfully to get your girlfriend where happy together, and the break up for reasons that couples go through desperate measures.

The grounds people aren't capable to protect their union isn't what they were with her to give you a free trial of his drums especially if she doesn't want to do.So armed with this do not to think about what happened, sincerely fess up to 4 various ways which you know that you value them enough to leave you.Many people, upon finding themselves trapped in the hundreds of dollars on online witches or wizards to achieve this you will get her ex back.So stop and take the proper time to miss him.Accept their decision and calmly and stick with it, right?

Do you take responsibility for your girlfriend, normally, you really want to do.How about trying something different for a while.You are probably experiencing a mixture of emotions.Once you have already thought of, or maybe things you were hopeless with money?She wants to know how you and your ex and I dreaded getting THE CALL.

When most people undermine their ability to change because you are starting to think of to get those things to say and how you are thinking that you are moving on.Your only ready to learn, then I bet you want to appear desperate.If she's still on pretty good terms, & she invited Bob out to the words of Jostein Gaarder in her life.The support that TW Jackson gives you a new, sexy outfit.This is a simple three step process that I learned it the right way.

You need to know how much you want him back quickly is by your ex back.By the way of going out for meals together or not. one of two people involved still have to come up with you.And it is exactly what to do get hurt, sometimes very badly.If you really want to be the cause of the way, he will then re-think his decision to come knocking on your ex will only cause you to get your husband back.I knew it that you are going to take time to call me.

Ex Girlfriend Doesnt Text Back

[kurlykayaker]

Reflection. 4-2-19

Tonight - marks the first day, that I have ever shared some deep, deep poetry with a room full of people I do not know; I did not know one single person in that room and I arrived to the location alone, unaccompanied by a friend. (Looking back, maybe a stupid idea? Haha) It was unplanned. I was studying there and decided to “just do it.” “Fuck it, I thought. What do I have to lose?”  And in some ways, in the back of my head, whenever we make some decisions, we have everything to lose. I entered that coffee shop - slightly moody, tired, and unmotivated to study; but the tones and vibes of the place always motivate me to study, to work harder - and to stay calm. I shared 3 poems total - one about the boy with Down Syndrome (on here), and two other trans related poems- both pretty intense (re: how you see me, and 11-7-2014).  I was nervous and I imagine that’s something I could get past if I wanted to keep sharing my poetry at events like this. I used to get very nervous just talking to people and giving speeches, but lots of college and time has weathered me well. I guess I thought sharing my poetry would feel liberating? That somehow, the deep dark intensity of what I’ve experienced in life would melt through the Earth and turn into something more beautiful?...As indicated by the question marks, I did not feel that. I did not feel that.   I stayed a bit awhile after reading, to listen to other people share.  I’m a big believer in courtesy and I think leaving right after I read would an act of selfishness.  Eventually, I did leave and a bucket full of feelings kind of washed over my semi-nervous being.  Guilt, an awkward surge of indulgent guilt and maybe shame?  For sharing such deep emotions - with power and eloquence- when most people don’t have to go through such things.  I asked myself, “Why did I impose these feelings on others?” A knee-jerk reflex. (Nerve root L3-L4, Quadriceps muscle).  Haha.  Seriously, though.  The only “safe�� places for me to share such emotion is on an “anonymous” website like this, in a counselor’s office, sometimes on the phone with a family member,...and on night walks with myself and the presence of my father.  I guess it is no surprise that I feel an overwhelming amount of self-indulgence about a) sharing these emotions and also b) the intensity and depth of them. There’s been a lot of beauty that has come from writing pretty much everyday, but there’s also been a lot of tenderness, vulnerability - which I can handle.  Perhaps at some point, especially with trauma, we arrive to a point of pain?  In physical therapy, we talk about pain so much - nociceptive pain, phantom limb, musculoskeletal, referred - and we do talk about psychosomatic pain to some degree too.  Psychosomatic (which I don’t like this word usage) - possibly the hardest to “treat.” As my post yesterday was pretty heavy-dark-intense, very similar feelings of social isolation/being “alone” (in my context of the word) emanate from me tonight - sitting on my couch, short-clad, fan blowing - listening to calm music, taking some deep breaths. Have you ever cried dry tears?  Tears that come, but no fluid. Since being on testosterone, this is a common thing for me. It’s hard to explain. Often times, mid-way or multiple mid-ways, I get caught up in a Netflix series. I haven’t had a moment that like in the semester.  Partly, I am a) writing and working out more - (choosing more wholesome “well being” activities), but also I am b) really really enjoying my classes this semester -especially Chronic and Progressive (a neuro class) and pediatrics. Before deciding on PT school, I was between 3 professions - a) counselor b) a nurse and c) a physical therapist (in no particular order). I chose not to be a counselor, because I felt that working so closely with other people’s emotions would spark my own - in a negative aspect. I wouldn’t be able to keep myself safe emotionally and mentally.  Sometimes, I think I regret not being more open to the career?  It’s a mixed regret. After working in an ER for 5 years now, and seeing how *some* physicians treat nurses, I knew it wasn’t for me.  Once again, maybe I could have learned to go on autopilot - some?  <<I don’t think that’s possible for me.>> Haha (if you know me) Here we, are - option c.  I like that my future career affords me the ability to a) use science-based techniques and principles to help someone reach their goals - some of them very visible when they reach them b) moments to offer mental and emotional support (while not the crux of my job) and c) neurologically, an avenue for recovery, compensation, and prevention (there are terms we use in my neuro class).   It’s the fundamental science aspect of counseling - rehabilitating neuro patients; (Re- I firmly do believe that psychology is a science.)  A physical therapist is helping their brain literally make new synaptic connections. A PT is helping a patient believe in themselves - sometimes learning a completely new way to do something.  Sometimes, these goals can be met in relatively brief treatment sessions - sometimes, they takes weeks and weeks of long treatment sessions.  Regardless, I’m in and I’m devoted....and that brings me such inner motivation and joy to know that this could be so rewarding for me. (Re- my second full time clinical is in an inpatient neurological setting). When I was 13 years old- the semester after my dad passed, we had to write an English paper about “how if we could go back in time, how we would change something.”  It was like a creative paper based on past facts. I recall writing a paper about how I would have gone back in time, drove my parents’ car to my dad’s house, and got him to the hospital - for emergency care.  I remember rereading that paper as a high schooler and being amazed that little 13 year old Jordan understood - on a fucking deep level - what suicide was and how serious it was. When I was 15 years old, I thought I wanted to study English in college. My father had a Ph.D. in theology, my mother has a Master’s in Divinity and my stepdad does as well.  Smart fucking family, that loves words and God- basically. Haha.  I recall despising my English sophomore teacher; she was strict, she cut the room with her strained voice and constant frown.  We constantly had pop quizzes and she loved to remind us how hard it was to get a college scholarship unless we worked hard.  I felt the need to impress her?  Maybe?   We had to write a research paper our sophomore year; it was the first “research paper” we would do in our high school career.  I wanted to chose something that was interesting and meaningful to me, but at that time - I hated most science things.  What did I chose?  I wanted to write about Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitors (SSRIs) and their impact on teenagers who were suicidal (re: increased risk of suicide during first few months of taking).  I recall my crabby uptight teacher looking at me and my topic and saying, “Are you sure you want to do this?  That’s pretty heavy.” All I did was nod, and say, “Yes.”  I laugh at that 15 year old kid; despite my overly shy, diffident personality, I knew what I wanted when I wanted to do it.  My mother stands by the same statement.   I suppose the reason this came up organically for me, is because suicide is more common than we realize.  The number of patients that come into the ED with suicidal thoughts- is a lot to say the least- of all ages (as young as 9 years old and up to 80+).  And, I and you, don’t have to be a mental health counselor to help someone.  We don’t have to go through a Master’s / Ph.D. program and get a license to be a positive influence on someone. Forms of trauma -> Brain injuries, Spinal Cord Injuries, unexpected neurological illnesses that occur for the myriad of reasons we don’t completely understand yet. The weight, the gravity, the intensity, damn.  Then, THEN - teaching them how to stand up again, how to use the toilet in a new way, how to get dressed, how to walk with these weird ass crutches (aka Loftstrands), how to not give a shit when you’re out in public (easier said than done), helping them understand what’s going on pathophysiologically without being a fucking robot.... I picture my father holding my hand and telling me to keep going...   because it’s so weird to be this close to being done with PT school - 1 year left (mostly clinical) and still have moments of such emptiness.  I guess I thought the feelings of “being alone” and feeling empty wouldn’t be *as bad* or perhaps less intense?   .....My mother says, “it’s an ebb and a flow.”  This is the one phrase I like, because having kayaked the whitewater rivers of the Earth and rafted, I identify with it so much (there’s really a literal meaning). there’s been so much ebb my kayak barely floating on this dry river, running into rock upon rock, the bank of the river is many feet worth inward, because the river and i     haven’t seen rain / for so long, “flow, flow, what is flow again?”, my heart asks. flow shouldn’t have to equate to working my ass off to get an 87.5 on a neuro exam, flow - organic, raw, rooted flow in the world we call “life” should bring moments of downpour happiness, excitement, connection so much of artificial flow is motivating myself, someday hoping i can find flow outside myself #oldsoul-lostmillenial

[blackdragon2012-blog]

Communication - The Two Way Street

This was a topic matter that I wanted to write on for a while now, mostly because of things I’ve seen transpire both in my personal lives, with my friends/associates, and even at work. Communication is defined by Webster as; a process by which information is exchanged between individuals through a common system of symbols, signs, or behavior. It is also defined as a verbal or written message. Regardless of the definition of communication, or which you prefer to use, it’s quite obvious that it is an integral part of our societies and cultures, yet often times; we get it so wrong, so backwards. It feels like at times that we as human-beings miss the whole point of communicating. Some of us are stubborn and refuse to listen, a key part to communication, while others refuse to allow someone else to get their point across, and for others, there is a lack thereof in any form of communication. In this day and age with the countless forms of technology and ways that we can communicate, you’d think that humans would be much better at traversing this two way street, but as we will explore, often times, only one avenue has been explored.

Before we officially begin, I want to give thanks to the individuals I interviewed that helped to contribute to this blog that I’m writing. I won’t disclose names, but they know who they are and their contribution is very much so invaluable. There are 1440 minutes within a day, yet we are human-beings cannot seem to yield 0.3%-0.5% of that time towards communication at times. That’s less than 1% and equates to roughly 5-7 minutes. Are we really that busy that we can’t give someone 0.3% of our time!? I mean come on now, we live in a society where we have a “president” that finds plenty of time to make tweets that could start World War III or to tweet a meme towards Eminem or demand a group of students thank him, yet we can’t spend a couple of minutes sending a text or making a phone call. I mean come on now! Even as working adults, within a single day, we are always going to have to use the bathroom at some point and we also get lunch breaks and you can’t make time to send a text? Or is that person even worth your time in doing so?

I learned this lesson early in my life, that people will make time for what they want to and that people often times don’t make time for you because they don’t see you as worth their time. Granted, being world-class adults and/or parents, maybe even entrepreneurs, or military serviceman, etc., will take a large chunk of your time away from others and the world. I personally wouldn’t expect a friend of mine whom has a child, to drop everything and run and send me a text. Absolutely not! Working and taking care of your family take precedent. Texting or calling a friend won’t make you money or take care of you child that’s in front of you; however, no one is so busy that they can’t communicate at all.

As one of my contributors stated, “I believe communication involves the five senses.” She also stated that “…communication is a form used to relate to or understand something or someone.” From here, let’s focus briefly on the five senses: sight, touch, smell, hearing, and taste, things we take for granted every day. It’s a blessing to be alive each and every day, regardless of your faith or, lack thereof, being able to see, hear, touch, smell, and taste are also all blessings. We also take for granted that these five senses allow us to communicate and express how we feel to those around us. Let’s take a man and woman having for example. When a guy sees a beautiful woman, the first thing he does is examine her frame, looking over every curve and dimension of her body. Let me preference this, yes it matters HOW you look at a woman, but in this case, the man is simply admiring her perceived beauty, communicating that he’s attracted to her. Now in the case of a conversation and the guy is constantly looking down at the woman’s breasts, it’s obvious that the gentleman in question has a one-track mind. Hearing is probably one of the most crucial parts, if not the most important one of the senses, because in order to effectively communicate, you have to hear and understand the other party’s viewpoint. You can’t simply over-talk someone or focus on your own point and no see the other person’s point and expect the conversation to be productive in any way. 

We as humans communicate all the time with our taste or sense of smell, that something tastes or smells good/bad, prompting some kind of verbal reaction or physical reaction. Outside of visually seeing that someone looks good, someone smelling good is like the main ingredient makes the dish complete, or the aroma of a delicious meal filling your nostrils. Last but not least, that brings us to touch. One can express how they feel about you by the way in which they touch you. Take something simply, like a hug for example. Let’s say you see your friend and give them a nice warm, welcoming hug. That act of hugging, implies that you are communicating you’re happy to see that person or implies an expression of friendship. In the same respect if you passionately embrace someone, that implies that you have strong feelings for that person, regardless of whether it’s the love for a friend or the love for a special person in your life.

Even with all of this, somehow though, we as humans, creatures that thrive on our ability to communicate, find ways to fail at it so miserably, from work to our friendships to our relationships. For me, I work in retail and I talk to people every day, and you get to see the intricacies of how people express themselves with their body, facial expressions, language, and the list goes on. Expressing yourself can be very hard for many people because sometimes it involves giving more than your comfortable with giving or fearing opening up because you’ll be vulnerable. “Communication is an untold factor in a relationship” and rightfully so. Not just relationships either, but also with friendships. Whether you’re married or not, if you’re in a relationship with someone, or even trying to be, it’s important that you make the effort to reach out and communicate with them every day, 3 times a week at the base minimum. Some people like to have control and refuse to give an inch but expect the other person to give a mile, and that’s not fair in a relationship and something one can’t expect. Relationships are partnerships and both partners have to be all in or giving and doing their parts. In addition, people have to open up and allow themselves to be vulnerable, both men and women. I can say that, as a man, it’s harder at times to open us and be vulnerable because it comes off like a sign of weakness to our partner whom we don’t want to appear weak in their eyes, or we don’t want their perceived weakness to be thrown in our faces at every turn.

It’s much the same for women as well, that is to say, that women don’t like having things they opened about to their partner thrown back at them. From my interviews, a common theme amongst women is their disdain for their point of view not getting across. One of my interviewees had this to say, “For me personally, if someone over-talks me, I will immediately shut down, I dislike not being able to get my point across.” Women feel disrespected when they share their feelings and thoughts to their partner but are shot down or their partner doesn’t listen; it’s akin to stepping on a landmine. How many times have you, as a male, reading this blog not listen to your lady at some point and end up arguing? Or how many times have you, as a woman reading this, spoke your mind and heart and didn’t feel valued by your mate? Effective communication occurs when people can not only open up to each other, not only one person, but also both parties are level-headed, compassionate, and understanding. Compromise, in addition to both speaking their mind and hearing the other party is what one needs when building a relationship/marriage or growing a friendship. As one of my contributors said, communication is a two way street. You have to be able to see both sides of the story, travel down both sides of the street if you want to build a solid foundation. Communication or, the lack thereof, can easily make or break a marriage, a relationship, a friendship, even a bond between family members. For those of faith, it can also break your relationship with God.

I’ll preference this by saying this next part won’t be for everyone, because there are many people that do not believe in God, or believe in another (or various) deity(deities), regardless, communication between yourself and God is extremely important as well. Most people tend to believe that their relationship with God solely revolves around them praying, giving their tithe, and reading the Bible. However, what people don’t get, is that God himself will speak to us. Not always verbally, but often times he’ll speak to us through signs, through situations, through reading a passage in the Bible, through something that someone says or does, the list goes on. We often times are so focused on praying for what we want God to give us, that we miss the message he’s been trying to tell us or we overlook what God blessed us with because that blessing didn’t come in the form we were looking for. You ever pray to God for that man or woman that you wanted God to send you and wonder where he or she may be? They could have been right in front of your face but you could heart God communicating this message to you because the person in question wasn’t what you imagined. Or you pray for an increase in funds and God blesses you with the opportunity to make more money through hard work, but you complain about the work being hard. Nothing worth having is ever easy. Human-beings focus so much on ourselves that we can’t hear the voice of God or we can see the signs that he sends us. But that’s also the problem with our ability to communicate period; some people just care about themselves and their wants and desires, and don’t care much about those around them.

Peace and blessings everyone, thank you for reading my blog.

[junker-town]

David Ortiz doesn't miss baseball because he's having too much fun

An afternoon with the retired slugger, who still gives fans exactly what they want.

MANHATTAN — The chandeliers that hang from the ceiling in the Gansevoort Hotel on Park Avenue match David Ortiz’s shirt. Both are very purple, but the color looks better on the retired slugger than it does in the gaudy lobby. Prince might as well have started designing this room and then given up halfway through the process.

It’s 4:45 p.m. on Tuesday, and Ortiz has just emerged from the elevator after a day spent in one of the hotel’s soulless conference rooms answering reporters’ questions about his new book, Papi: My Story. He looks exhausted. At least that’s the vibe I get from his slumping shoulders; I can’t see his eyes because he has orange mirrored sunglasses on.

An entourage of suits surrounds Ortiz as he makes his way through the lobby and out the revolving doors, speaking rapid-fire Spanish into his phone. Fans are waiting for him outside, holding out baseballs and pens, yelling his name. His handlers guide him past outstretched arms and into a black SUV that’s waiting on the corner.

There’s some confusion as Ortiz’s whole team attempts to get into the car at the same time. When everyone is finally situated, Ortiz seems surprised to find me squished between him and a publicist. I wonder if anyone told him I’d be riding along with him to the Barnes & Noble in TriBeCa where he’s about to sign books for two hours.

Either they didn’t or he forgot, because he doesn’t seem thrilled to have to talk to one more person during what he probably thought was going to be 30-minute respite from his media tour. But here we are. He fields the first few questions I ask him about his first year of retirement with short, polite answers.

Then I tell him I’m from Boston.

“Oh, is that right?” His face lights up. At least he smiles big; I can’t see his eyes behind his glasses.

Yes, I tell him, and explain that we’ve met before. During the Red Sox’s AL Championship run in 2004, I was a student at a high school down the street from Fenway Park. I skipped soccer one afternoon in October to go down to Yawkey Way with a few friends. We spotted players coming out a back entrance, and I shouted Ortiz’s name through the chain-link fence. He came over, and I realized that while I’d brought a marker, I hadn’t brought anything for him to sign. In a moment of panic I took off my flip flop, shoved it under the fence, and asked him for his signature. He wrote his name on my shoe, and I walked back through Boston barefoot.

Ortiz cracks up.

“That’s probably the weirdest thing I’ve ever signed,” he says. “Though I’ve signed some weird stuff. One time this lady got me signing her leg because she said she was going to get a tattoo. And she did! She tattooed my autograph on her leg! She came back to me the following season and she was like, ‘Look.’”

It’s almost surprising to me that more people in Boston don’t have Ortiz’s signature on their legs. For Red Sox fans, Ortiz is frozen in time as the guy who helped break the Curse of the Bambino and then stuck around long enough to win two more World Series. He earned god status in New England.

Now, Ortiz spends most of his time filming commercials, promoting his book, teaching his 15-year-old daughter how to drive, planning a move to Miami so his kids can play baseball outside year round, and turning down party invites from his good friend Lil Wayne (retirement is busy).

Photo by Maddie Meyer/Getty Images

Which brings me to the bad news, Sox fans: While you probably miss him at Fenway, he doesn’t really miss being there.

“My teammates and I go a long way back,” he says as we pull onto FDR Drive. “That’s one thing that I miss. That’s the only thing I miss about the game, hanging out with the boys. I played the game for so long that I basically am OK with not playing now.”

Ortiz’s laughs often; it starts with a booming “What?!” or one big “Ha!” and then fades into a low chuckle with a long tail, like a half-life of funniness. He completely cracks up telling me about his recent trip to the Kentucky Derby, where he had the first 11 a.m.-drink of his life (seriously, he swears). Apparently there’s this room near Millionaires Row that’s filled with bottles of fancy bourbon that blew his mind.

“The entry of the secret room is behind this one picture that’s right next to a giant door,” he says. “This lady did something tricky and the door just opened. Boom! I’m like, I need one of those in my house. They tell you before you go in that it’s all-you-can-drink in like five minutes. Everything is perfect in there. They let me stay a little longer because the lady was a fan.”

That’s the only thing I miss about the game, hanging out with the boys. I played the game for so long that I basically am okay with not playing now.

“Wait, they just put famous people in there and try to get you really drunk?” I ask.

“Yeah, famous people just go in!” He’s laughing again. “There’s no way you can go crazy drinking bourbon, though. Because a couple of them can get you tipsy. But I heard a story while I was there about Sylvester Stallone. He loved the room so much he didn’t wanna leave.”

“Is Sylvester Stallone still in the secret room?” I ask. “Did they just leave him there at the Kentucky Derby?”

Ortiz laughs harder.

“They had to kick him out with security and everything,” he says. “I was like, ‘No way!’”

Once Ortiz gets going, he doesn’t stop talking — he tells me not to give up on my dreams, that he can’t swim, that he and Daddy Yankee are close, and that it’s good I drink Dunkin’ Donuts (even though I think it’s kind of gross) because I “have to represent my city.” He tells me he’s glad he wrote the book so that he could address questions people ask him all the time — including what playing for Bobby Valentine was like for that disastrous year. He tells me that he doesn’t wear his World Series rings. In fact, he’s not totally sure where they are. He’s pretty sure they’re in a safe.

Do I know that World Series rings are smaller than Super Bowl rings? I don’t, so Ortiz tries to show me by gesturing to his huge, diamond-encrusted watch — which matches his massive diamond earring — to indicate the size of a football players’ rock. He adds that “his boy Brady” (Tom, that is) doesn’t wear his championship rings, either.

Bob DeChiara-USA TODAY Sports

David Ortiz at the Celtics’ Eastern conference finals Game 1 against the Cavaliers.

Speaking of his boys, Ortiz talked to another one, Isaiah (Thomas, that is), before the Celtics won Game 7 against the Wizards.

“Isaiah told me this,” Ortiz says. “He says, ‘Papi, I promise you we’re gonna with this. You can put it down: I promise you we gonna win it.”

“It’s hard being a Boston sports fan,” I say sarcastically.

“We know that Boston is a big city of sports,” Ortiz says. “Sports mean a lot to people over there. Boston always pulls the best out of you. That’s how I feel about Boston.”

But Boston doesn’t always give the best back. Fans at Fenway recently called Orioles outfielder Adam Jones the N-word and threw peanuts at him on the field. Ortiz stops laughing and shakes his head when I bring this up.

“Adam, that’s my boy, man,” he says. “Adam is a very, super nice guy. He’s very emotional, and you get a couple knuckleheads out there trying to be smart-asses, saying things they shouldn’t, and it’s frustrating.”

Ortiz says he never experienced racism when he played in Boston. Maybe that’s because he was Our Guy, a local hero. But he insists that “Boston ain’t like that,” and that most people there are “nice and humble.” He also knows, however, that these experiences other players have are very real and very upsetting.

“Now, you know, I had a couple players saying that’s how they feel when they come to Boston,” he says. “You know they have their reason to say it. I don’t see that in Boston — I never experienced anything like it, but on the other hand, planet Earth is jam-packed with stupid people.”

We’re pulling up to the bookstore now, where a line of people wearing No. 34 jerseys stretches down the block and around the corner from the entrance. Ortiz grins; he might be used to it, but this never gets old. We drive around to a loading dock entrance in an attempt to sneak the star in undetected, but one wily little kid somehow manages to sneak in behind the SUV.

Ortiz’s people start to shoo the boy away, but Ortiz tells him to come over. He takes a selfie with him.

Charlotte Wilder

One of the guys running the event is almost half Ortiz’s height. They look somewhat similar, so Ortiz starts calling him “Little Papi.” Little Papi and the rest of the entourage follows Big Papi as he swaggers through the underbelly of this New York City mall as though he were walking up to the plate to hit a grand slam.

We reach the door of the Barnes & Noble. Ortiz takes a deep breath, says he hopes his hand doesn’t cramp up, and enters the room to screams and applause.

Each fan approaches the signing table with a different story. Some thank him for their childhoods. One tells him he’s the reason her son got back into baseball after being diagnosed with type I diabetes, another tells him he inspired her in her fight against cancer. Some ask him to say hi to their parents on the phone. Some cry. At least three fans’ hands are shaking so badly as they try to snap selfies with him that they have to ask the person in line behind them to take the picture.

Many of them say things like, “Thank you for everything you did for Boston.” One guy comes up to the table and tells Ortiz he clerked for the judge who presided over the trial of the Boston Marathon bomber.

“Thank you for speaking for us,” the man says. Ortiz smiles and shakes his hand and tells him of course. An hour before in the car, Ortiz told me that he didn’t realize what he’d said — “This is our fucking city!” — until the clip went viral afterwards.

“I was like oh, ah, did I, ah, really say that?” He laughs again. “But I was angry, man. I can’t tell you right now, I was so mad.”

I watch Ortiz sign books for an hour and 45 minutes. Not once does he show signs of flagging. He’s still wearing his orange shades, but he’s so effervescent that it doesn’t ever seem strange: it’s just what he does. He’s especially happy to talk to little kids and people who come up to him speaking Spanish — “my man!” He spends extra time with a little girl in a wheelchair, with the cancer survivor, with a young man wearing a Dominican Republic World Baseball Classic shirt.

But he never gives less than all of his attention to anyone in line. He seems to understand that what might be one handshake in a million to him is the greatest grasp of someone else’s life. That a flip flop he forgot he signed 12 years ago becomes a prized possession. That even in retirement, he represents all of baseball and all of Boston to the people who love him.

Aside from playing baseball, this — being something bigger than himself, the beating heart inside the memory of a spectacular era — seems to be what Ortiz was born to do.

With a half hour left, one of the Barnes & Noble employees comes over to him.

“Do you want to stand up and stretch?" she asks. Ortiz looks at the line of people in front of him, each one clutching the picture of his face that graces the cover of Papi.

“No,” he says, reaching for the next book and readying his pen. “I’m good.”