#Melissa needed to wait until I was coherent to use words

[stingslikeabee]

He sits close, eyes on her - hands surprisingly kept to himself. Though they've spent so many nights together now, they'd not yet been intimate. Perhaps they one day would or shit, maybe never. Maybe their closeness only exists in the nights he'd gone home alone.

Tension swells regardless; the agent so near her, she'd surely feel the warmth of his breath as he speaks. The booth suddenly so hot now that it's only them, a bottle of a fine wine and solemn words to go. ❝ people come to me, but in the end they always leave. ❞ he speaks truth but he doesn't speak the part he truly wishes to whisper - a beg and a plead that she'd not be one of them.

((It's 2am I wake up to send this then go back sleep 😴))

Murakami prompts . accepting

For a place so lively during regular business hours, it was always a jarring experience to remain behind after doors were closed to the general public and experience the surprising silence of a room generally filled with laughter, clinking silverware and the sound of champagne flutes making toasts. Melissa did not formally own the place - she shouldn’t be there, but then again, neither should Chris.

The fact that these one-on-one meetings without any additional witnesses were not infrequent was a sign pointing towards something out of the ordinary. Chris Redfield was no customer of hers - no girl was ever taken on a date or to a private room, and yet he happened to be a familiar face around the place that served as a front for her network. But people did not know the reason he kept returning - Dario and the other employees just assumed it was a bad crush on the surrogate mother of all the younger ones; what they failed to understand was why Melissa tolerated it.

Her policy had always been to direct the clientele to her own ‘flowers’ - otherwise there would be no business; she didn’t get paid to listen to him and make his life a little bit less miserable. But it was too late now - the modern-day madame had been roped into whatever secret agenda he had. Melissa had been meaning to follow him, track Chris and find out what he did for a living when he wasn’t looking so upset, full of regret and incredibly kissable.

But if he hadn’t yet worked up the courage to return any of her touches - then she hadn’t yet decided to see for herself what he was about. Just as Chris was afraid of some illusion shattering, the same was true for the brunette. She had never been the kind to have lasting, genuine bonds - how could she, when she kept her own name hidden, her living address undisclosed and put such a fabricated persona forth every night?

(Then why did it feel like Chris saw through it all - and still did not feel repulsed or tempted to go away?)

His words were shared by Melissa - the former escort could have said it all herself. Honestly, as much as she had enjoyed her time on active duty (and still thought her current self-employment a necessity to society as a whole), she had never been much more than a glorified honey trap. She seduced, enticed and played with men (and the very rare, occasional women) until she pushed them away and back into their lives - she was never to be a permanent fixture for anyone; just a regular comfort for a period of time.

“It feels like a perverse cycle, doesn’t it?” she countered - and there was no artificial smile, no mischievous twinkle in her eye; all the masks were off for a little while, and even if Chris had no idea, he was speaking to the woman behind the act - the original flower instead of the gardener. “To so desperately yearn for connection and yet push anyone else who gets too close away. I hate that,” she finally said it, words burning on her tongue as if they were poisonous - but they were just, really, the bitter truth.

There were no further words - but only because the brunette couldn’t trust herself to speak anymore; these realizations were heavy, and the burden on her shoulders felt oppressive. There was a way out of it all, of course - to demolish the walls; to admit to certain feelings. But it required a courage that, perhaps for the one fueled by the wine, she didn’t yet possess.

So instead Melissa did something different - a hand reached out to the agent, covering his with hers and letting the warmth of their skin mingle. At some point he turned his palm skywards, and the digits interlocked more firmly - all the while silence reigned around them, but their eyes could speak volumes in how their gazes seemed unable to drift apart from one another.

His silent plea hadn’t gone unnoticed - she didn’t want to go away; she had, in fact, been doing everything in her power to ignore the red flags and to believe there was no need to pull back and severe that tie. Melissa was clinging to Chris as if he was a rock and she had been drowning - she wasn’t ready to give up and fully sink to the bottom of the lonely pit she had been living in.

She couldn’t bear it - not the notion of Chris leaving.

[sparkwhorunswithwolves]

You've been posting Stallison, so...Stallison for the OTP pairings ask game, if you feel like it?

Yes! I was hoping someone would send them!

Coffee shop AU: Who is the barista, and who frequents the coffee shop?

Both are frequent customers, and their relationship starts when the shop is otherwise empty except for that one annoying customer and they give each other A Look and make faces at each other, trying not to laugh and piss off that customer even more. They definitely have a bet on when the two baristas end up together, completely oblivious to the fact that they and most of the regulars have that same bet about them.

Highschool/College AU: Who is the straight-A student, and who’s the backrow slacker?

Both have pretty good grades, but Allison is the one who actually studies regularly, while Stiles either doesn't care or pulls an all nighter the night before the exam.

Rivals to loves AU: Who takes their rivalry seriously, and who is half in it just to push the other’s buttons?

It depends on why they're rivals probably. But they're both ridiculously competitive over everything and push each other's buttons relentlessly. Everyone who doesn't know them is terrified.

Enemies to lovers AU: Which one switches sides?

Canon would suggest Allison, but I'm also too fond of good omens to not say they ditch the entire conflict and make their own side.

Soulmate AU: Who is eager to meet their soulmate? Who absolutely does not want to meet their soulmate?

Both. And neither. They want what it represents, they don't want the baggage that comes with it.

Allison is too much of a romantic to not want this, Stiles is ride or die for the few people he cares about, and he knows that his soulmate would be one of them, that they would do the same for him.

But Allison knows that even if she meets them in high school, her parents wouldn't care and they'd move again soon anyway, and her parents are soulmates, but it's not the fairytale romance she wants. Stiles parents were that couple, before his mom got sick and Stiles saw what it did to his dad, losing her. And he knows himself well enough that he knows he couldn't handle losing his dad or Scott, much less the person he's made for.

Single parent AU: Which one is the single parent? (Alt. if they’re both single parents: Which one is open to starting a new relationship from the start? Which one is never planning on finding love again… Until they meet the other and are instantly smitten?)

I— can't actually picture them as parents together. Friends to accidental parents to lovers? Sure.

But if I had to? Stiles has a just old enough to start archery daughter, and Allison becomes her teacher.

If they both have kids? The kids met at preschool, and immediately decided that they were best friends, and stallison spend a lot of time together by proxy. Stiles' ex left him soon after his kid was born, Allison moved into town because hers left her not too long ago. So Stiles is used to being the only parent/to not have to factor in anyone else when making decisions, Allison isn't going to put either herself or her kid through having someone else leave them again, so both are against starting a relationship.

Doesn't stop them from becoming friends, though. Or the kids from having a lot of play dates/sleepovers. And it becomes natural for one of them to pick up both kids after school, and plan most day trips together, and do start co-parenting to some degree without ever acknowledging it.

Everyone's happy, they have each other's keys and live close enough that it's not completely uncommon for either of them to just let themselves in (because someone can't remember where he left his stuff. Stiles would like to state for the record that Allison was the one who started it.)

Nothing hurts, they're one happy family, until Allison's kid ends up in the hospital and only family is allowed to see them, Stiles kid is with the sheriff, and Stiles hovers uselessly in the waiting room, because they're his family, dammit. And he want this, them, for as long as they'll have him.

They've known each other for over a year, and probably do something impulsive like get married as soon as her, their, kid is okay again, before they even had their first kiss.

Doctor AU: Which one is the longsuffering doctor? Which one is the patient?

Human AU, Stiles is obviously the one who comes into the ER at least twice a month with increasingly weird injuries, and Allison's the amused, and slightly worried, doctor.

Hunter/Stiles finds out AU, Allison ends up in the ER after a hunt, Stiles is there for Melissa/other job because I can't imagine him as a doctor, and somehow starts talking to her to avoid his responsibilities. Allison has a concussion/is on too many pain meds and can't really think coherently, and tells him what really happened. Stiles doesn't believe a word but is entertained, has to leave eventually, Chris picks up Allison. Until Stiles gets chased by that same monster, gets rescued by Allison and has an oh fuck moment.

Bodyguard AU: Who is the bodyguard? Who are they protecting? Which one is secretly pining for the other?

Stiles is the bodyguard, but it's Allison who kicks the bad guy's ass at the end. Stiles is probably also the one who is slightly drugged and makes hearteyes at Allison for the entire way home. Allison is the one who secretly pines for him because he doesn't just see her as Chris' daughter (or worse, Gerard's granddaughter) who needs to be protected at all cost (idk I'm picturing human AU in which the Argents are wealthy and relatively well known => threatened a lot, but Allison still doesn't know much about what they actually do) but rather her own person. Who can kick his ass. Allison is still either into weapons or martial arts, and they have a sparring-session-turned-love-confession post kidnapping.

Pirate AU: Who is the pirate? Who is the member of the royal family who did not sign up for this?

Allison is the princess turned pirate who just keeps accidentally kidnapping other royals. Well, the kidnappings are on purpose, that they all somehow end up joining her crew? Not so much. Stiles did not sign up for this but he's into it once he gets over the whole kidnapping thing.

(The crew Allison originally joined kidnapped and was trying to kill Lydia, so Allison got her out of there and they started doing their own thing. They were definitely dating at some point and this might turn into Stiles/Allison/Lydia. Isaac is there, too. Also Peter, because I love their dynamic. They're known for kidnapping royals, no one ever seems to recognize any of the crew.)

Childhood best friends AU: Which one was super obviously in love with the other the whole time? Who was oblivious until they were older?

Stiles. For both.

[captainamericasbeard]

Wrong Number

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Alcohol use. 

Summary: After a night out you dial the wrong number looking for help getting home. 

A/N: This is for @wokeupinawalnut ‘s 1.5k challenge. My prompt was Dialed the wrong number while drunk. It’s definitely 2 months late and I’m so sorry. I hope you enjoy it and that you’ll forgive me! Enjoy! 

Masterlist

You stumble up out of the club, fumbling in your purse for your phone as you mentally cus out your best friend. She had dragged you out in the first place and now she’d disappeared with some guy for the last hour. You were ready to be home but were definitely in no condition to get you there yourself.

You’d finally found your phone and you go to dial your roommate’s boyfriend’s number. He’d just given it to you saying you could give him a call if you were ever in trouble. Kathy didn’t seem to mind that he’d given it to you so you go ahead and hit the FaceTime button.

It was well past midnight and Bucky was still up secretly binge watching terrible reality television in his apartment. His legs crossed at the ankle on the coffee table, his arms crossed across his broad chest and his eyes starting to droop with exhaustion. He’s jolted awake by the buzz of his phone on the coffee table. His eyes narrow in confusion- an incoming face time from a number he didn’t recognize. He reflexively hits the call answer button.

A handsome, blue-eyed, dark haired man pops up on your phone screen and you pull a face.

“You're not Max,” you say as you squint at bright brick of light in your hand. “Or are you!? Max???” “No, doll, I’m not Max. I think you go the wrong number,” Bucky says with a smirk. You’re real cute but its also pretty obvious how many drinks you’ve had. “Are you ok?” He adds, his brow furrowing in concern.

“Yeah, I’m alright. How are you?” You’ve clearly forgotten the purpose of your call in light of your devastatingly handsome misdial.

“I’m alright,” Bucky replies with a laugh. Your smile is gorgeous and disarming. “Who’s Max?” Bucky asks, trying to get you back on track.

“Oh yeah, Max is Kathy’s boyfriend. He said to call him if I needed a ride and I need a ride.” You manage to get out a coherent sentence and giggle as you stare into those steel blue eyes in front of you.

Bucky can tell you’ve just left some kind of bar or club and if you’re looking for help you probably need it but the odds that you’re even in New York are ridiculously small.

“Where are you, doll? Is there someone else you can call to come get you?” Bucky asks.

“I'm at Flash in Midtown,” you reply, glancing at the club behind you.

“You’re in New York?” Bucky asks in surprise. “Yeah!” You reply, your smile impossibly bright.  

“You’re right around the corner from me. Let me come make sure you get home.” Bucky suggests tentatively.

“Huh. Are you gonna murder me?” You ask, your eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Not my style. Quite the opposite in fact.” Bucky says wryly, wiggling his metal digits in front of the camera.

“Wait a minute. You’re-“ You’ve managed to drunk dial the Winter Solider.

“Yeah. Now will you let me help you?” Bucky asks.

“I’m not some damsel in distress you know. I’m perfectly capable of helping myself." You say pulling yourself up straight and trying to look as sober as possible.

“I know you are, darlin’. I just won’t be able to sleep until I know you’re home safe. It's not you I’m worried about, it’s some drunk asshole on the street.” You pause at the thought and decide maybe a bodyguard isn’t such a bad idea after all.

“Yeah ok. Come walk me home Sarge.” You say with a grin.  

“Ok. I’ll be there in 10 minutes. Stay right where you are doll.” Bucky instructs as he hangs up the phone and searches for his boots.

10 minutes later and Bucky is in front of a club with pulsing music pouring from the open door. A quick search confirms you’re not where he told you to wait and Bucky notices 3 big burly men glancing at the bar across the street. He crosses, dodging traffic and enters the bar. It’s small and cramped but you stick out like a sore thumb with your sequined dress and your hair up in a high ponytail.

“I’m guessing those guys across the street are the reason you’re in here throwing back another shot?” Bucky asks as he comes up behind you, gently touching your shoulder. Heat fevers its way down your spine at the sight of your knight in shining prosthetic and you expertly lick salt off the rim of your shot glass and throw the cheap liquor down your throat before you bring the lime up to your perfect red lips. Bucky appreciates the show and gives you a sly grin as he takes out his wallet to pay for your shots.

“Come on, darlin’. Let’s get you home.” You smile sweetly up at him before you look him over. He looks absolutely perfect in person, way better than on the news, and you don’t stop yourself from slipping your arm into his as he leads you out of the bar.

The three men across the street start to wolf whistle your way before they notice your chaperone and slink off back into the club.

“Thank you. They were trying to chat me up again. One of them tried to buy me a drink earlier. I figured a crowded bar was a better option than just on the street.” “No that was a good call. Are you far? Do we need to get a cab?" Bucky asks.

“I’m just a few blocks, we could walk if you want. It’ll help me clear my head a bit.

"Whatever you say boss,” Bucky replies offering you a wink and a crooked smile. Your stomach swoops at the sight but you manage to maintain your composure.

“Come on, it's this way.” You tug on his arm as you two head off down the sidewalk, weaving through the late night revelers. You're more unsteady on your feet than you initially thought and you're grateful for Bucky’s steady arm to cling to. You're chatty when you’ve had a few drinks and you talk Bucky’s ear off about Kathy and Max and Melissa who ditched you in the club. Bucky is happy to listen and steal quick looks at you as you chat away.

“…she's a good friend though, don’t think too harshly of her.” You come to an abrupt halt as it dawns on you that you're in front of your apartment. Your heart drops as you unwind your arm from Bucky's to dig in your purse for your keys. “Thanks for rescuing me. I guess I did need it.” You’re looking at Bucky with a mischievous glint in your eyes. You shuffle closer to his broad chest and put your hands on his arms to steady yourself.

“Anytime, doll. Make sure you take a couple Tylenol before you go to bed, okay?” Bucky says. “Sure thing, Mom.” You say sarcastically as you lean forward and give Bucky a sweet, chaste kiss on the cheek. Bucky’s cheeks flush pink and he dips his head to hide the colour. You walk up your steps and through your door with a final glance and a wave of your hand. Bucky stuffs his hands in his pockets and moves down the street with a dopey grin on his face.

You loudly enter your apartment and kick off your heels. You make it to your bedroom where you strip off your dress and fall onto your bed face first in just your bra and panties. You're asleep almost immediately.

You're awoken from your sleep hours later by a gentle buzzing coming from your purse on your bedside table. You roll over with a groan and fish your phone out of the small leather bag.

Brunch? -Bucky you smile and your heart skips a beat or two as you look at the message.

Absolutely. Pick me up in 20? You text back with a smile playing on your lips. You’ll have to thank Melissa for ditching you and you’ve never been so grateful for a wrong number.

[limitededitionsanderssidesblog]

Speech Impediment - Chapter 9

Ships: Logicality, Prinxiety, platonic dlamp

Summary: It’s December 23rd. Patton’s flying out to visit his family in Illinois that evening, Roman’s driving upstate to see his, Logan is spending Christmas with his family in the city, and Dexter goes out to get tea. They all celebrate their last time together until New Years giving gifts and watching Christmas movies. However, one question is on Dexter’s mind: Why isn’t Virgil visiting his?

AO3 - Here

Chapter One Previous Next

It was getting harder to get out of bed these days. What with class being out for the next three weeks finally allowing him to sleep in as, and the freezing cold hell that awaited him outside the thick blankets. But alas, he had to get up. 

Moving as fast as he could to avoid the cold as much as he could, Dexter slipped out of bed and went to the shower and turned the faucet on the hottest setting, so it would be warm when he got in, ran back into the room and grabbed a change of clothes, then practically threw himself under the waterfall of scalding heat. The soles of his feet stung as they touched both the chill bottom of the tub and the boiling water running past them. Dexter shifted around to try to distribute the pain, but was restricted from moving too far away from the shower’s stream in order to avoid the icy air. After a few minutes the room warmed up and Dexter was able sit down and enjoy his shower. Was he the only one who liked to sit down when showering? Maybe that was another item to add to the list of why he’s abnormal.

Dexter quickly stopped that thought. The others would be angry if they knew he was thinking like that. They were such a help in his battle with self deprecation that he didn’t even know he was fighting. When you’ve been called names and told that you’re a bad person your entire life it’s hard to notice when you’re being self deprecating, because you’re so used to it that it becomes the truth in your head. But what the others, Patton and Logan especially, have taught him is that people’s opinion of you doesn’t always translate to reality. So, what Dexter has decided to do to help those thoughts is to ‘meditate’ on them in a way. Dexter’s had enough of therapists to last a lifetime, but he does agree with some of their therapy, so he just uses an app.

Finding it easier to relax in the shower, Dexter simply listens to a voice direct him whilst nature sounds a played. There are breathing exercises, thinking exercises, and much more that helps him with tuning down his negative thinking. Logan was the one who downloaded this app on his phone and set up an account for him. Apparently he had spent a few hours looking through different types of self-help apps until he decided this one was the best for Dexter. Dexter would still get those intrusive thoughts, and sometimes he wasn’t able to talk himself out of his negative thinking easily, but it really did help him. The only important thing was that he was trying to get better.

After about fifteen minutes in the shower, about three of them spent complaining about having to leave; Dexter shut off the water and quickly swiped his towel of the rack and dried off. Stepping out of the tub he wrapped the towel around his waist and reached into his drawer to grab his blow dryer. Usually Dexter liked to air dry his hair, but he didn’t feel like dying of hypothermia today. Funny thing is that after drying his hair, Dexter also dried his skin with the dryer just to warm up a little before getting dressed. Call him weird, he was finally embracing it as a good thing.

This outfit today consisted of a pair of black slacks, a dark grey, long-sleeve button up, and the yellow pair of gloves from his Halloween costume, since they were the only gloves he owned and looked quite dashing on him if he did say so himself. 

Cracking the tiny window open and turning on the fan, Dee shut the bathroom door behind him and went back into him room. Patton was away having a breakfast date with Logan, so he had the room to himself for the next few hours.

First things first, Dexter decided to feed Dee Dee. Since corn snakes only had to eat once or twice a week, he had reserved feeding day to Monday, which was today. Now, if you were a luck snake owner, your snake would eat whatever you gave them. Dee Dee, however, was a brat. He loved her, but she was a brat. Dee Dee would eat only if the frozen mouse was warmed in the microwave, dipped in blood, and held in front of her face; she wouldn’t go anywhere near crickets. It was a pain to feed her, but it had to be done.

After that was settled and taken care of, he decided to venture out in the cold and get some tea at his favorite shop, maybe get some work done there as well. The five of them weren’t supposed to meet until noon to have their gift exchange and Christmas party, which was being held in Roman and Virgil’s dorm this time, so he still had a little more time to himself.

Walking to his side of the closet, Dexter pulled out a thick, black peacoat and a checkered scarf to keep warm. Grabbing his wallet and keys, he headed down to the parking lot and got in his bug. The day after Dexter had got stuck out in the cold with his car parked outside the reptile shop, Both Logan and Patton had offered to go jump start it and bring it back for him, as both wanted him to stay in bed and not push himself. Those two really were almost like a mother and father to him.

Plugging his aux cord into his phone, Dee listened to Melanie Martinez and Billie Eilish on his way to the coffee shop, both of them queens to him. The ride was quick as there was no traffic on the road, yet slow as he was trying not to slide on black ice. He pulled up into an easy parking space right outside the front, next to a handicap spot.

Walking to the shop Dexter was meant with the comforting warmth of the building’s heaters, and his nose was invaded by the sweet and succulent smell of coffee and honey. The line to the counter was not that long, only two people ahead of him, a male and a female. The female was currently ordering a peppermint latte from the teenager behind the register. The male after him, and before Dexter, was, for some reason, wearing sunglasses and scrolling through his phone. Once the woman left, the man walked up with a confidence that could only possibly be matched by Roman. And in a clear, smooth, but upbeat voice ordered a caramel cappuccino with a dash of cinnamon and a drizzle of chocolate. Once he had his order written down and paid for, he turned around to take a seat. Their eyes met for a brief moment as he went by, Dexter took note of the color of his eyes, dark cocoa.  

A moment passed without him noticing, the annoyed barista had to call him in question to bring him back to the present. 

“Oh not sorry,” Dexter apologized, “May I not have a small green tea with a bit of sugar?” 

The barista, Melissa according to her name tag, looked thoroughly annoyed with the way he was speaking to her, but said nothing to his face, grumbling as she wrote down the order on the cup. 

“Name?” She asked.

“Not Dexter.”

The teen raised an eyebrow and rolled her eyes, telling him to sit and wait for his drink, as if he was a small child who needed help to do anything. Dexter was used to this kind of treatment, that’s why he tried his best to limit talking to strangers s much as he could whenever he went out. 

Turning back to the tables and booths Dexter started for his and his friends’ favorite spot, only to find that it was occupied by the mysterious man who was in line before him. Dexter didn’t want to be rude and ask him to move to a new booth, but he also really wanted to sit there. So, trying his absolute best not to look like a total creep, Dee walked to the booth directly next to the usual one, and sat in the closest seat to it, less than a foot away from the other person. This felt awkward on so many levels, he wanted nothing more than to quickly get his drink and run away from this place and burn this awkward moment from his memory permanently.

“Well I’m honored that you think I’m so memorable, I tend to have that affect.” The man spoke from behind him, making Dexter yelp and jump back a little. Whipping around in his seat, Dexter realized that the stranger was turned towards him as well.

“Yes- I mean, uh, I was talking about you, I wasn’t thinking of something else and- and I-” What the fuck am I doing? I look like an idiot! Stop rambling! 

Dexter tried desperately to think of a coherent excuse, but instead just shout out words vomit of pure awkwardness and regret. Eventually he was able to shut up, but only when he forcibly slapped his hand over his own mouth. However the other didn’t seem to mind his dumb talking, grinning at him the entire time.

“Not sorry, I wasn’t thinking out loud.” Dexter explained, looking down at his pants.

“So sweat girl, no hard feelings.” He told him, “I like the way you talk.”

“Huh?” Dexter voiced, taken aback, “But I don’t speak wrong. I’m not hard to understand.”

“Nah, it’s adorable, like it’s opposite day on repeat for you.” Dexter screamed him his head. What the hell was happening?!

“Oh, uh, no thank you...” He murmured shyly.

“No problem,” He smiled honestly. A name was called from the front, he got up. “Well, hope to see you again...” He lingered on the last word, asking for a name.

“Dexter.” 

His eyes lit up.

“Remy.” 

He walked away, grabbing his drink, leaving the store with a quick wave. Dexter didn’t wave back.

...

The sound of Jim Carry's The Grinch Who Stole Christmas played in the background. They sat around a video of a fire in a fireplace on a tablet in the center of the room. Patton had made all of them a mug of hot chocolate with marshmallows and snickerdoodles. Before they were to give each other their main gift, they had decided to play some Christmas games. They played Life, Candy Land, and, currently, Secret Santa.

“I had you Virgil,” Logan began, “So I thought it was appropriate to get you a gift card for some audible books.”

“Wow that’s- alright I guess.” Virgil said, taking the card into his hands and acting as if it were nothing special.

“And I had you Logan, so I wrote a story about you helping Sherlock in his greatest mystery yet.” Roman said with glee, handing his cell phone over to the motherly nerd.

“This is a self insert on Wattpad.”

“Yep!” Roman said in excitement, “Do you love it?”

“It is adequate I suppose.” Cue Roman becoming offensive.

“Well I got Dexter,” Patton said with cheer, bringing out a small gift bag, “So I made you and Dee Dee matching sweaters!”

Looking looked into the bad with interest and pulled out a large black, orange, and yellow stripped sweater, with a mini matching tube sweater. It was the cutest thing he ever did see.

“My goodness, I hate it!” Dexter said with a slight squeal of excitement. “I’m sure Dee Dee will hate it to!” As if she was waiting for her cue, Dee Dee slivered out of Dexter’s sleeve, winding her little noodle body around his hand. The others looked on in surprise.

“You brought Dee Dee here?” Virgil questioned.

“Of course not, this’ll be the last time she’ll be able to see any of you for two weeks and she gets attached easily. Right, Dee Dee?” The small corn snake stuck out her tongue and booped her snoot against his thumb. Everyone ‘awe’d at her cuteness. “Here, I didn’t get Roman.” 

Roman took the wrapped gift from Dexter’s outstretched hands, and tore it open. Underneath the paper was a box, wow. Opening the box, Roman reached it and pulled out two items, an adult coloring book and a package of over fifty different colored pencils.

“Ah, thanks ‘Fibbiler’ On the Roof.”

“You’re not welcome.”

And that left only Virgil to give his gift.

“Sorry I uh- just got you this card.” He murmured, practically throwing the card at Patton. Dexter didn’t know what the card said, but it must have been interesting because at first Patton looked concerned, then brilliantly happy.

“Aha, I love it!” 

“Really?” Virgil asked for confirmation. Patton nodded his head eagerly.

Thus their party games and gift exchange had ended and they all settled down to continue watching the movie. It was quarter to three now, Patton’s plane took off at five and he’d have to leave in an hour. Roman’s would start his two hour drive to his parents’ house at about the same time. Once they’d all leave Logan decided that he too would head to his parents house to stay the week. Dexter sat there in his thoughts, ignoring the movie, wondering what he’d do alone for the remaining time until everyone was back.

Dexter was used to solitude; it’s all he’s ever known for the majority of his life, but for some reason now he couldn’t stand the thought of it. He had gotten so used to being around his friends that the thought of them separating for even a little bit felt suffocating. 

Then a question popped into his head. What about Virgil? He wasn’t visiting any family over the break, just like him, the emo would be stuck in the dorms until everyone got back. Which brought another question to his head:

Why wasn’t Virgil visiting his family?

.

.

Here’s another chapter, love ya’ll. (Should I have a romantic or platonic relationship between Dexter and Remy?)

Tag List:

@noneed4thistbh @romanasanders @fuckingemoace @bunny222 @sea-blue-child @astraastro@helloitstimetofight @blue-wolfbane @applecannibal @ryuity @anxiouslyfred @i-identify-as-a-mango @shadowjag @scorching-scotch @cyberpunkjinx @im-so-infinitesimal @witch197

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Love Always, Sant

@theydraggedmein | AO3 

Lily's Christmas wish is for her dad to be happy again, when she realizes it's something she can't do on her own, she writes a letter to Santa. Much to her disappointment it doesn't work out as planned, but then somehow, it works out even better.

“Lil, Don’t forget your backpack!” Stiles calls up the stairs, triple checking his carryon to make sure he has the perfect combination of stuff that will get both him and Lil through for a day or two in case their other bags don’t make the trip with them, he’s learned that lesson the hard way.

“C’mon kiddo we can’t miss our flight,” Stiles says, as he hears her little feet clomping down the stairs. He still can’t believe she’s seven years old, it seems like so much time has passed so quickly, he still gets a bit dizzy sometimes.

“Ready!” she calls back, her pretty blonde girls dancing behind her as she rushes toward him.

“Aht at, I don’t think so, lil miss. I know we’re in a hurry but you need your jacket and gloves and hat before you even think about stepping outside,” Stiles says, reaching into the tiny closet by the door of their condo. “I know it’s warm in California but New York in November isn’t . Besides, I don’t want to have to deal with you being all whiny and grumpy during the trip when you catch a cold.”

“Daaaad.”

“Yup, just like that,” Stiles answers, pulling his own jacket over his favorite red hoodie, tucking it tightly around him and zipping it up.

He shoves his way through the door, carrying his duffel on one shoulder and Liliwen’s backpack on the other. Their other two large suitcases are propped against the door as he watches, what he hopes is the cab he called for, turn onto their street.

Thankfully, the cab stops in front of the condo and Stiles breathes out a sigh of relief.

He hops out to help immediately, which surprises Stiles. He’s gotta be at least his dad’s age, probably older, but he moves quickly. He’s got bronze skin and a long grey beard, and a smile brighter than most.

“Here, let me help you with those,” the guy says.

“I got it, but thanks man.” Stiles says, images of the guy to pull something while carrying their bags fluttering through his mind. He turns to his little girl and nods toward the sidewalk. “Lil, wait right here while I get the rest of our stuff.”

Stiles heads back toward the door, making sure to lock it up tight before gathering up the last of their things. “How much does one seven year old girl need for a couple weeks in Cali?”

“Whatever, most of that stuff is yours, dad.  Aunt Lydia taught me how to pack.”

Stiles grumbles under his breath that he wouldn’t have brought so much if the same Lydia didn’t disapprove of literally everything he wore, or at least anything he enjoyed wearing. He gets the bags put into the trunk of the cab as quick as he can and ushers his daughter inside.

“Buckle up, Lil.”

“To JFK right? You off to spend Thanksgiving with your family?” The cabbie asks, waiting patiently for Lily to get her seatbelt on before carefully pulling back onto the road.

“Yeah, something like that.”

Stiles swallows as the thought of being back in Beacon Hills washes over him.

He’s been avoiding it for a few years now, the memories of their life together haunt him so much more when he’s there.

The park where they played as kids.

The coffee shop where she got her first job and snuck him slightly stale muffins when he was a starving college student.

The bench in front of the town square where he quietly proposed and she lit up brighter than a Christmas tree.

The small house they bought together and spent every weekend for the next year slowly fixing it up.

Beacon Hills is nothing but a ghost town for him now, it feels cold and empty without her there.

He knows it isn’t fair to the people he loves, to the rest of his family but it’s still true. Four years hasn’t been enough time to settle his restless ghosts, he doesn’t know if he ever will.

But with Kira’s due date so close she can’t fly, which means Scott and Melissa won’t either. So, his dad gave him one hell of a guilt trip about the time he’s spent away and now Stiles is sitting in a taxi on his way to the airport, trying desperately not to have a panic attack and scare his kid.

Good Times.

----

Derek stares at the blinking cursor, his mind taking him somewhere else entirely, like it always does.

He should probably just give up, he knows that. It’s just that writing is his passion. Even now when he can’t seem to string more than one coherent paragraph together, it fills him up with warmth and frustration and a million other things. He’s never felt that way about anything or anyone else, not even her.

He opens the document and blinks a few times, then suddenly he’s pulled back to her, back to what she did, and how he had nearly lost everything.

Damn her! Damn her for taking this from him. Though he he’d rather lose his writing than his family. So instead of smashing his computer or beating his fists against the table, he tries to be grateful for what he has left.

He pushes back from the desk and scrubs a hand over his face.

It’s just a waste of time at this point so he stands up, grabs his coat, and heads toward the preserve. If he can’t write, then at least he’ll have something to take his mind off of it with a houseful of pack.

“Unca Derrrk!” squeals come at him as soon as he opens the door, but he just smiles. He picks the twins up, one in each arm and twirls them around.

“It’s my favorite niece and nephew!” he says, chuckling as they giggle through his spins. Lexie and Bash never fail to make everything feel lighter and brighter. When Derek finally sits them back down, even he is a bit dizzy. They stumble a bit but their quick reflexes keep them upright easily enough.

Derek leans in and whispers conspiratorially, “Who knows where they’re hiding the cookies?”

“I do!” Lexie says, bouncing on her tippy toes.

“Let’s go steal some,” he whispers, grinning wide at the toddlers.

He stealthily sneaks toward the kitchen, the kids following closely behind, mimicking his cartoon villianesque approach.

Just before he reaches the archway into the open kitchen where he can hear Laura and his mom talking, Derek turns back to them and puts a finger to his lips. They giggle loud enough that he knows they aren’t fooling anyone, but he doesn’t really care.

He inches forward, nearing the counter where Talia keeps the cookie jar, reaching out for as Laura’s head snaps around so quickly he can hear her neck pop. “Oh I don’t think so. You are not getting them hyped up on sugar and taking off again Der.”

“Who me?” He says, pathetically fake.

“I’m serious, Derek. They’re all angelic and innocent when you get here and screaming demons after you’re gone,” Laura answers, turning to pull him into a hug.

He accepts it gladly, chuckling at her. He shrugs toward the kids, making a dramatic show of it as he says, “Oh no, I guess we got caught guys...no cookies for us.”

He subtly winks at them when Laura turns back to focus on her work, this time actually trying to go unnoticed as he gently lifts the lid off the ceramic jar and pulls out a handful of his mother’s delicious triple chocolate chip cookies.

He passes one to each of the twins behind his back. They cackle and take off running. Laura glares at him but he just shrugs it off, smugly biting into a cookie of his own.

“Don’t worry, I was actually thinking about sticking around tonight, staying here. The loft is just…” he pauses, unable to cut Laura off before she pipes up with a sarcastic comment.

“A depressing hole of self loathing and misery?”

Derek tosses a piece of his cookie at her face, albeit  a small one, not wanting to give up too much of it. There’s a glint of humor in his mom’s eyes so he doesn’t feel too awful about the waste.

“You know you’re welcome here anytime, Derek.” Talia says, pulling him into a hug once his hands are free. His mom’s embrace always comforts him, no matter the issue. Whether it’s because she’s his Alpha or his mom, he’s not sure but it relaxes him regardless.

“I know, mom. Thanks.”

“Oh hey, while I’m thinking about it. Jordan wants to know if you can cover his shift on Wednesday. We thought we’d do a quiet dinner at the house since he’s working Thanksgiving Day for the Sheriff.”

Derek scrunches up his face in surprise. He doesn’t mind working the shift, they don’t ask that much of him really, but it’s a bit of a shock considering the sheriff has worked pretty much every holiday except for Christmas for the last half a decade.

“Something wrong? John doesn’t usually take off until Christmas,” he asks, hoping there isn’t. The sheriff is a good man, one of the best he’s ever met if he’s honest.

“Nah, turns out his kid is coming home for a couple weeks so John’s taking Thursday off.”

“Really? What’s it been...Four years? Five?” Derek says, feeling a little angry on behalf of the sheriff. He doesn’t understand how someone can distance themselves so much from the people who care most about them. Maybe that’s colored by his experiences but Derek will never take his family for granted again.

“Why now?” he asks, reaching into the fridge to grab the milk, pouring himself a couple drinks to wash down the last of his cookies.

“Derek,” his mom said, and it sounded like a scolding. “Show some compassion. I raised you better than that. You don’t judge a situation you know nothing about.”

He feels about two inches tall at that, though part of him is still defensive on the sheriff’s behalf.

“Sorry,’ he says, as his mom looks at him coldly. She could probably hear his heartbeat skip over the word. “No I am, I just...I know how much it bothers John, how much it hurts that his family is literally on the other side of the country.”

“You have a big heart, Derek. I’ve always thought you take after your father that way. But maybe you should think about sharing all that loyalty and protectiveness you feel for him with his son and granddaughter, don’t you?” she asks in a way that leaves no room for a response before starting up again. “Even more so this time of year.”

Derek groans a bit, feeling as if he’s regresses into his teenage angst phase anytime he spends more than five minutes in his childhood home. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Just try your best to be understanding. That’s all I’m asking, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, mom. I’ll try,” he answers, escaping the warmth of the kitchen in favor of chasing down a couple rugrats to play with.

----

“Stiles, you know it’s okay to move on…” Scott starts, hating himself a little for saying it.  He can’t imagine how hard it’s been on his best friend. Losing Heather wasn’t easy for him either, though he wasn’t head over heels in love with her, didn’t have a child with her, couldn’t even think about it being Kira instead without losing control.

But he knew Heather too.

She was his best friend too.

And he knows that she wouldn’t want this for Stiles.

“Yeah…” Stiles says with a nod, though Scott can hear the slight hitch in his breath and the wrenching break in his voice. “I get that I’m allowed to move on, Scott. That’s not the problem. I just, I can’t. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

He scrubs the pot a little harder than he should as he tries to figure out how to say what’s on his mind. It’s easy to see that Scott’s trying to help. The guy’s basically just a giant puppy who hates seeing anyone sad, especially him, he knows that. Hell, it’s part of the reason he left in the first place, not that he’d ever admit it.

Still, it takes him a few beats to find the words. But once he does, it feels like they’re not gonna stop. “It’s like a puzzle- No hear me out. Heather and I, we fit...we fit so well and for so long that our edges brushed together seamlessly. You could stare at the puzzle up close and it still looked like a painting, no jagged edges or marks to see that it wasn’t a whole.”

“When I lost her-,” Stiles has to swallow back the tears but he does it, used to having to hide it all inside himself . “Without her, the picture is broken and I’ve not found anything else that came close to fitting.”

“Stiles maybe if you just tried-”

Stiles raises his voice unintentionally, it’s just he’s heard the same lines over and over and they still hit him with a powerful punch. “Not so much as a spark, Scott. Nothing in four years. There are days when I still feel like I can’t breathe without her.”

“If it wasn’t for Lily, I’m not sure I would.”

Scott sighs, pulling Stiles against him and squeezing tight.

“I’m sorry, man...she didn’t make it easy did she? Setting the bar so high,” Scott says, smiling fondly as he thinks back on how much Heather seemed to light up around Stiles causing him to do the same.

They were as right for one another as he thought people could be.

Lily watches them quietly from the living room, frowning at the way her dad’s eyes get big and sad. It’s been that way pretty much the entire trip. She knows that being back in California reminds him of her mom and makes him sad, but she doesn’t know how to make it good again.

She’s seen it a few times in New York but not like it is here, not all the time.

It’s still a little early but Lily knows she’s gonna need some help so she’s calling in the big guns.

“Dad, do you have a pen or marker I can use? I’m gonna write my letter to Santa.”

“Already? Lil it’s not even December yet.”

“Well duh, I don’t wanna be stuck at the bottom of the pile,” she says, rolling her eyes at him. He laughs a little and it makes her feel better until he hands her the pencil and she sees that look again, but like he’s trying to hide it.

“Make sure you ask for somethin’ big. Somethin your dad can play with too, how bout an xbox?”

She knows he’s teasing but she shakes her head at him. “No, this year I’m asking for something special. It’s a secret.”

“Well okay, then.”

Lily runs upstairs, charging through the door to what used to be her dad’s room. She digs out some paper from her backpack and starts to write.

Dear Santa,

This will be the fourth Christmas without my mommy and the first one that will be just me and Dad.

I don’t think he wants to come back to California for Christmas.

I don’t even think he’d stay for Thanksgiving if my aunt Kira wasn’t going to have a baby.

The dad I have now, isn’t the daddy I remember from when mommy was still alive. He tries, he does good but he’s not just not the same. I don’t think he knows that I see how sad he is, but I do.

He went on a date once, a while ago, with the man who lives in the apartment over the cafe. Later that night, I heard him crying in the shower.

Don’t tell him, but I cried a little bit too.

At the beginning of my favorite book, The Christmas Bow, Annabelle loses her leg and doesn’t think she will ever walk again.

I think that’s what it’s like for my dad.

He doesn’t believe he’ll ever find love again.

I’m not asking for anything else this year. I don’t want anything else. I just want him to smile again, like really smile. The way he did with mommy. I want him to have someone to hold and kiss even when I say it’s gross.

So, if you could Santa. My Christmas wish is for my dad to get a girlfriend or a boyfriend or a g-gender-

“Dadd! How do you spell neutral?” Lily calls out down the stairs, impatiently waiting for her answer.

“N-e-u-t-r-a-l.”

“K, thanks!”

gender neutral friend.

He’s not picky.

I just want him to be happy again and I don’t think I can do it by myself, even though I’m gonna try.

He probably needs all the help he can get.

You’ve never let me down before Santa and now my dad needs you more than I ever have.

Bring back his spark.

Love Always, Liliwen Stilinski.

P.S. You can call me Lily

(read the rest on AO3)