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hutchhitched · 5 years ago

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Maybe This Summer, Chapter 4

Summary: Katniss Everdeen needed a vacation. On a whim, she reserved three months at Panem Resorts in North Carolina. She expected to spend her time recovering from the recent death of her sister, exploring the nearby nature reserve, and reminiscing about happier times. What she didn’t foresee was bumping into Peeta Mellark, one of Panem’s most valued employees, during his early morning run. Neither did she think she’d grow to admire him when she’d hated him from first sight, but his killer smile and gorgeous blue eyes had a way of breaking down the walls she’d built around her heart. Maybe this summer she’ll finally get what she’s always deserved. Benefiting @fandomtrumpshate for @ldyglfr62. AO3.

Author: @hutchhitched

Rating: Explicit (eventually)

Beta/Graphics: @xerxia31

The story will post on Tuesday mornings at 11:00 am CDT.

____________

The Plant Book

Katniss woke the next morning with a massive groan. She hurt all over, both from drinking way too much over an extended period of time and a little bit too much sun the day before.

“You are not that young anymore, lady,” she scolded herself and rolled to her left. She grunted when a streak of light slashed across her eyes. She should have closed the blinds before going to bed last night. Instead, she’d been too excited by Peeta’s offer to help her with the plant book to think about much else. She’d fallen into bed with a huge smile on her face and absolutely nothing else gracing her small frame.

A rapid knock forced her out of bed long before she wanted to rise. She grabbed her robe from the chair where she’d thrown it the night before and flung open the door. A redhead with a smattering of freckles on his cheeks stood on her porch, flushing and shifting from side to side.

“Katniss Everdeen?”

“Yes.”

“My name’s Darius, ma’am, and I have your morning basket.”

“Morning basket?”

“Yes. It has all your pastries, breads, and other breakfast goodies inside. Most are still warm.”

“Oh, thank you…”

“Darius. Yes, ma’am.”

“Darius?” Katniss couldn’t help but grin as she realized why that name sounded familiar. This must be the young thing Jo had snagged for her annual conquest. He was good-looking and earnest, and Katniss could certainly understand the appeal. He looked like he’d do anything for her if she only asked.

“That’s right, ma’am. Enjoy!”

“Thanks!” she called to his retreating back. He wasn’t in any mood to stick around if the speed of his exit was any indication. With a puzzled grin, she glanced inside the basket and found a note along with a variety dozen of baked items.

Thought you could use these this morning after the day you had yesterday.

“Thanks, Jo,” she murmured and tossed it on the table. She started the coffee machine and poked through the basket to see what kind of treats she’d received. A breakfast of caffeine and carbohydrates fortified her, and she spent the rest of the morning going over several articles in a biology journal on the back deck. The view of the sand on her private beach and the sound of blue water lapping lightly against the shore calmed her. The soft rustle of leaves in the breeze completed the trifecta of everything she loved in nature.

She was looking forward to working with Peeta that afternoon. Despite the tension of their first meeting, Katniss had to admit that the young man was kind, considerate, and thoughtful. His apology demonstrated his integrity. There was something about him that appealed to her, and she wanted to discover a little bit more about what it was that spoke to her.

Eager to get to work, Katniss fixed a quick snack for lunch and then spent the early afternoon preparing and organizing her samples and jotting down notes. Then she checked her appearance in front of the full-length mirror in her bedroom. She changed from the robe she’d been wearing to a pair of khaki shorts and t-shirt. Unsatisfied, she then switched to a sundress. She didn’t allow herself to analyze her actions or the ball of apprehension in her stomach. Instead, she worked to convince herself that the plant book was the only thing on her mind.

“He’s just being helpful,” she insisted as she wrung her hands. “I’m just accepting help from someone with a service to provide.”

Sure. That’s what he’s doing.

Katniss startled at her sister’s voice in her head. “Be quiet, Prim.”

You don’t mean that.

“No, I don’t,” Katniss admitted. “I miss you. We’d have so much fun if you were here with me this summer.”

I think maybe I’d put a damper on your style. It’s not very sexy having a younger sibling hanging around when you’re trying to get it on with a hunky stud.

“You did not just say ‘hunky stud.’ Prim, that’s terrible,” Katniss laughed softly.

What else should I call them? I didn’t ever date, remember? Too busy going to school and then being sick and dying. Some of us didn’t have men falling all over us our whole lives.

“I think you’re confusing the two of us, Little Duck. Men always fawned over you. You just had no idea.”

I had an idea. I was just too busy watching you wander through life ambivalent about how you enticed the opposite sex. You have no idea the effect you have.

Katniss snorted. “Stop.”

It’s time to stop running, Big Sister. You deserve to be happy.

“I don’t.”

Then maybe it’s time you got something you don’t deserve at all.

“Maybe,” Katniss whispered into the sudden silence. With a sad smile, she registered the empty room. Prim wasn’t really there. She was talking to a ghost. As a scientist, she didn’t believe in communication with spirits or telepathy or whatever the word was for connecting with those in another realm—if there even was one of those. But sometimes… So often, she wished her sister were really there, in any form that allowed them to stay connected.

A knock sounded outside, and she glanced that way. In her melancholy state, she’d almost forgotten that she’d made plans to spend time with a live person, one of human flesh and bones instead of a voice in her head.

“Maybe, but I don’t think so. Not with him anyway,” she mumbled and tossed her head. Plastering a smile on her face, she crossed to the door and opened it.

____________

Peeta shifted a box of art supplies into his left arm and rapped on the door of Cabin 12. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him last night to offer Katniss his help, but he’d spent the better part of the day regretting his proposal. He hadn’t slept well, mostly because every time he closed his eyes, an image of her body in that bikini flashed in his mind.

His hands itched when he thought about the way her skin would feel under his palms, and he didn’t need that distraction if he was going to be spending hours alone with her in a cabin. One that had a bed. A bed that she’d filled only slightly when he tucked her under the blankets in nothing but a robe she’d removed as soon as she was covered. It had taken every speck of control he had to pick her discarded robe from the floor, drape it over a chair, and leave the cabin when what he’d wanted to do was climb into bed with her.

“Keep it in your pants, man.”

The door swung open, and the smile on her face faltered slightly. She looked fragile and tired, and he had a sudden urge to brush the loose lock of hair behind her ear. When she motioned him inside, he took care to step past her without touching her in case his body reacted to her without his permission.

“Thanks for coming,” she offered as a greeting, and he had to force himself not to let his mind wander to innuendo.

“Happy to help. Where would you like to work?”

She motioned to the kitchen where piles of samples and several notebooks littered the countertop. “I thought maybe we could use the table. We’ll have easy access to the plants and everything else we need that way, and the light is pretty good here. I assume that’s important for drawing?”

“It doesn’t hurt,” he said kindly and dropped his supplies on the table. She was being careful with him, and he didn’t want to startle her. She reminded him of a deer in the woods—alert and ready to flee at a moment’s notice. She had no reason to fear him. He had no intentions other than drawing some pretty pictures for her. It was clear she didn’t want to get too close, and he didn’t plan on pushing the issue.

“I’m not sure how this works,” she admitted as she crossed the room. Her movement effectively placed the table between them, and he realized he was going to have to do some damage control in order to put her at ease. She needed to trust him if this project was going to happen.

“Why don’t you give me a little more information about what you’d like to do, and we can see where the afternoon takes us.”

He noticed the subtle shift in her confidence as she crossed to the countertop and began explaining her vision. Her voice deepened and grew stronger as she described the categories and uses of each grouping of plants, the tension in her shoulders eased, and her hands arched into graceful positions that highlighted her femininity.

When it was clear she felt in control, he joined her and leaned on his elbows. Listening to her continued explanations, he enjoyed the way her eyes sparkled with enthusiasm and the clean scent of her skin when he leaned toward her. There was no hint of heavy perfume. Today, she smelled of fresh air and soap instead of sunscreen and alcohol as she had due to her afternoon with Johanna. At one point, he pointed to a specific stack of leaves, and her hand brushed his forearm when she answered his question. After almost an hour, she seemed completely in control, so he stopped her.

“I think I have a good idea of your vision,” he said. “Why don’t we start with wildflowers today? I’ll just sit here, and you…” He held out the chair next to where he planned to sit. When she slid into it, he suppressed a sigh of relief and joined her at the table.

____________

Finnick slid his lips from his fiancée’s cheek to her neck. She giggled when he nibbled and then bit her gently.

“Finn, stop,” she laughed and slapped his hands away from her skirt. Insistent, he cupped her behind and hitched her leg over his hip. “Finnick, we’re too exposed. Stop…”

“You don’t want me to stop,” he grunted and pushed her backward against the sturdy trunk of an oak tree.

Annie whimpered against him, and he had every intention of burying himself in her when a sultry voice from behind them purred, “I always love the entertainment opportunities at Panem. I didn’t know sex shows were on the schedule this year.”

Clove and Cato emerged from a pocket of trees just on the other side of the clearing, and Finnick shielded Annie as she scrambled to straighten herself. He tugged his shirt lower to hide his arousal, but he could feel Clove’s eyes burning through the fabric. He felt absolutely violated by the heat of her gaze.

Cato laughed and tugged Clove against him. “How about we make one of our own?” he suggested and made a vulgar gesture that infuriated Finnick. “I’ve always wanted to be a porn star, and you’ve got the best tits.”

Clove grinned up at his face and pressed herself against him so tightly, there wasn’t room for anything but the tiniest sliver of air. She flashed a triumphant smile at the couple and tugged Cato further into the woods. It wasn’t long before sounds that were decidedly not natural echoed from where they’d gone.

“Cato’s such a sick fuck,” Finnick hissed and turned to check on Annie. “Are you okay, sweetheart? I’m so sorry.”

Annie’s green eyes welled with tears. Her red hair tumbled over her trembling shoulders, and she shook as his arms closed around her. He knew she was more embarrassed than anything, but it hurt him deeply to think about the woman he loved in any type of pain. He vowed by the end of the summer to make Cato pay.

Several minutes later, Annie seemed under control, and Cato and Clove had either finished or moved further away and could no longer be heard. He tucked his arm around her and started to move but froze as he recognized the sound of someone else tromping toward them.

“What the hell? Is this some sort of damn frolic nobody told me about?” Finnick cursed under his breath and ducked behind the tree to hide.

“You know I can see you, Finn,” Peeta called across the cove. “What are you doing out here? You weren’t— Oh, God. I’ll leave you alone.”

Disgusted, Finnick answered, “It wasn’t us, you moron. I’m not that much of an exhibitionist. Well, not with Annie, anyway. Maybe by myself.”

“You can stop talking now,” Annie grumbled and waved to her friend. “What are you doing out here, Peeta? I thought you were off this evening.”

“I was,” he confirmed and stopped next to them. “I was helping out in Cabin 12.”

“Oh?”

“Drawing.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Finn didn’t tell you?”

“Believe it or not, lover boy, Annie and I have plenty to talk about when we’re together that has absolutely nothing to do with you and your pathetic dearth of eligible women,” Finnick teased. “I have a lot more game than talking about another man when I’m alone with my woman.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I totally forgot about your expertise with women. Can you help me, oh wise one?”

“You know, if you two are done posturing and giving each other shit, I’d kind of like to know what Peeta was doing holed up in Cabin 12 with Katniss Everdeen,” Annie snapped. “Sometimes, testosterone is exhausting.”

The two men chuckled in appreciation at Annie’s vehemence. Normally quiet and gracious to a fault, she could also roar like a cornered lioness guarding her young. For some reason, her interest in Katniss and her long-time friendship with Peeta created a fierce protectiveness in her that aroused quite a bit of passion.

“Easy there, Red Riding Hood.” When Annie grinned at the nickname he’d given her when they’d first met because of her seeming innocence under Finnick’s wolfish gaze, Peeta explained. “I went by to see Ms. Everdeen yesterday. Took your advice. She wasn’t there when I arrived, so I waited for a while. Apparently, our favorite cougar got a hold of her yesterday, and Katniss—I mean, Ms. Everdeen, was a little tipsy when she returned to her cabin.”

“Johanna Mason? Katniss Everdeen and Johanna Mason are friends?” Annie asked, incredulously. Johanna had been visiting Panem during the summers since all of them had been working at the resort, and she was hardly Annie’s favorite person. While Annie was cautious and friendly, Jo was brash and uncouth. Katniss seemed much more the former than the latter during each interaction the two had together.

“I don’t exactly think they’re friends,” Peeta explained. “I think Jo recognized another wounded soul when she saw one, and she latched onto Ms. Everdeen.”

Finnick laughed and shook his head. “Peet, I think you’ve moved past pretending you’re not attracted to Cabin 12. We get it. You’re way better than the rest of us and all above those pesky ethical issues, but just call her Katniss. We’re not going to judge you for it. Are we, Annie?”

“Judgment free zone,” she agreed. “So, what happened?”

“Katniss fell into my arms.”

“Literally fell?”

“Well… I caught her when she tripped on the stairs. I helped her inside, and I apologized for being a dick the other day.”

“And tell her what she was wearing,” Finnick chuckled.

Annie gasped, and her eyes widened. “What was she wearing?”

“That’s not important,” he snapped, and Annie giggled at his obvious discomfort. “Anyway, she wants to make a children’s book about leaves and nature and other shit. I offered to draw the plants for her. I’m not sure why. It just kind of came out, and she got so excited about it that I didn’t know how to take it back once it was out there.”

“Well, that’s…that’s really good,” she said encouragingly, “but why are you out so late? What time did you go to her cabin?”

Peeta stammered for a few seconds, and Finnick and Annie exchanged pointed looks. Finally, he admitted, “Around 4:30.”

“You were there for seven hours?” Finnick blurted. “Are you sure—?”

“I’m sure, Finn,” Peeta barked. “I was working the entire time.”

“Sex is a lot of work!”

“Finnick, leave him alone,” Annie urged and turned to Peeta. “This is good, Peet. This is something really productive for each of you to use to fill your downtime. You’re such a good artist, too. As good of an artist as you are a baker. How did she like your breakfast basket, by the way? That was kind of you to send her one this morning.”

“How did you know about that?” he grumbled and glanced skyward. “I should have known you’d hear about it.”

“I had to arrange the delivery,” she protested with a grin.

Peeta shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. “She didn’t say a word about it.”

“Really?”

“Really,” he confirmed, “but she did have the note tucked into a pile of important papers.”

Finnick hooted and clapped him on the shoulder. “That’s got to count for something.”

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”

Annie suppressed an excited squeal and answered, “A lot can happen in a summer.”

“It sure can,” Finnick crowed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, Peet, I have a gorgeous woman I want to romance. Can we get some privacy?”

With a roll of his eyes, Peeta left the engaged couple alone and headed back to the barracks. It was a long time before Finnick returned.

#everlark #everlark fanfiction #maybe this summer #peeta mellark #katniss everdeen

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thealphabetmurders · 6 years ago

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Incompetent Competition

Pairings: Prinxiety and background Logicality

Word Count: 4116

Summary: After months of flirty back and forth, Virgil and Roman's relationship comes to a tee during a particularly competitive game of volleyball.

Triggers: Blood, Injury, Broken Bones, Crying

Authors Note: This is my first Prinxiety fic and I am incredibly proud of the result. I do hope you enjoy reading this.

Read on AO3

If there was any place Virgil hoped and prayed that he would never go back to after he graduated, it was the high school gym locker room. The sweaty cesspool of teen angst and hormones made for a humidity that was indescribable to anyone who was not privy to the experience. Sinks were running high and metal was slamming against metal as gym lockers opened and closed harshly for the teens to change into their gym uniforms.

There were very few seniors who had to take a class for gym, seeing as most got it out of the way in their underclass years. Nevertheless, Virgil was in his last semester of school and has to spend an hour and a half in Sports and Leisure for 2 days out of the week. According to his best friend Logan (who is also taking the class with him), leisure is defined as “use of free time for enjoyment”, and not a day has gone by that Virgil has enjoyed Sports and Leisure.

Logan and Virgil begrudgingly made their way into the locker room, already packed with those a few years behind them. It felt a tad awkward being one of the oldest people in the class, however the class size was rather large, so nothing too anxiety inducing.

“What do you think Coach has planned for us today?” Virgil asked, spinning the combination on his locker.

Logan shrugged, taking off his glasses and then his shirt, “I am not sure. She mentioned last week that we would be doing football on the field, yet it is 10 degrees outside, so I do not believe she is even allowed to take us outside,”

Virgil opened his locker forcefully, the red door swinging wide hitting the metal behind it, “If she makes us play basketball again, I am going to kill myself,”

Logan chuckled and shook his head, putting back on his glasses with the uniform shirt on, “If I remember correctly, you were quite good at basketball. Coach let us out early after you dunked a basket,”

Virgil scoffed, kicked off his shoes and then jeans, “Yea, I am good because I am 6’1 and this class is co-ed. I work out as much as you do, Logan,”

Logan shrugged, copying Virgil’s motions, “That is true. Your hand eye coordination could use a bit of work, though, and you seemed to gravely misunderstand what “double dribbling” means and-”

“Just because you played basketball for 4 years, doesn’t mean you have to show off, L,” Virgil cut him off, he smacked the waistband of his gym shorts against his hips.

“Irregardless,” Logan sat down on one of the benches and pulled on a beat up pair of Adidas high tops, “You could at least pretend to care. Coach grades on participation and attitude. You do not want your GPA to slip because of gym ,”

Virgil sighed, shaking his head. He knew that Logan was right, seeing as he has given this speech to Virgil many times before. Yet, it never seems to properly stick in his brain and stay there as a lesson, which frustrates Logan to no end.

Logan “try hards” in every class he is in, including gym, despite that not being one of his strong suits. Normally, Virgil can at least stay on the same track as his best friend, but with gym, Logan is going 175 in the left lane and Virgil is texting and driving.

“Fine. I will try in gym today. Instead of 1% effort, I will give 45%,” Virgil yanked off his graphic t-shirt in one fluid motion as Logan groaned in frustration.

“That is not- That is still a failing grade, V,”

Virgil shrugged, looking for his uniform, “Still, that is 44% more effort than I-”

Virgil’s protests to Logan were cut off by a whistle from the other end of their locker nook, “Ow! Looking good today, Virgil. Lookin’ good to-day,”

Virgil rolled his eyes and groaned and the smirking figure leaning against a wall 20 paces away, “Fuck outta here, Princey,” Virgil grabbed one of his shoes on the ground and threw it in Roman Prince’s direction. He missed terribly and it hit the wall next to where Roman was leaning. The other looked completely unfazed; he just smirked and winked at Virgil, ruffling his perfect brown locks as he waltzed away.

Virgil’s look of annoyance quickly dissipated and a bright red blush spread across Virgil’s pale cheeks. He shrunk in on himself slightly and a sheepish grin spread across his face.

The flirty back and forth banter began between Roman and Virgil sometime a few months ago as their Coach had them explore different sports during their class. In one of their first weeks, they did wrestling and Virgil was paired with Roman to fight. The two never really noticed each other, Roman mainly hanging out with other Thespians and Virgil hanging around Logan and some other design students. Their paths never had a reason to cross before now.

Despite Virgil having half an inch to an inch on Roman height wise, Virgil quickly found himself on the ground with Roman straddling his waist and both of Virgil’s hands pinned above his head. Indeed, it was a very compromising position that allowed Virgil to finally study the figure and face of his opponent, who now Virgil realised looked like he was sculpted by Michelangelo. Roman, ever the empath, must have sensed the ardor coming from Virgil, and allowed Virgil to escape the situation and take victory over Roman in that match.

Virgil may have won the battle, but he was getting brutally destroyed in the war. Ever since that incident, Roman has had no problem giving Virgil longing looks (that no man can call just ‘friendly’), accidental subtle touches, and not so subtle comments, always leaving Virgil a flustered and blushing mess.

“Y’know,” Logan’s voice made Virgil jump slightly and removed him from his reverie, “Maybe if you do a good job in class today, you will impress Roman,”

Virgil went to protest, but the words choked and died in his mouth, leaving him with incoherent sound and protests.

Logan clapped and hand on Virgil shoulder and made his way out to the gym floor. Virgil, still shirtless, quickly finished getting dressed and tugged on his shoes, following the other. He sat next to Logan on the crappy plastic bleachers as their Coach took attendance to begin the day.

“So today we are not going outside because it is too cold and I frankly would not want to go out in this weather anyway,” She looked at her clipboard and back at the class. “Today we will be playing volleyball. You will be divided into 4 teams that I will choose-” The class groaned collectively, “I do not care if you are not with your friends. Team A is Freshman and Sophomores, last name A through L. Team B is Freshman and Sophmores, M through Z. Team C is Juniors and Seniors, A through L. Team D is Juniors and Seniors, M through Z. We will warm up with partners first and our first game will be A versus B, C versus D.”

Coach blew her whistle and the group quickly scrambled away to their respective sides of the court. Thankfully, Logan and Virgil's last names fell into the same category, so they partnered up doing basic drills like setting and bumping.

“Now, remember if you can spike the ball over the net,” Coach yelled out to the teens, “Doesn't mean you should. We do not want any injuries today,”

“But can we spike the ball, Coach?” Roman's partner, Patton, tentatively raised his hand and spoke.

Coach pondered this before sighing, “Just don't hurt anyone or yourself,”

Patton beamed and began bumping the ball to just himself while Roman watched and laughed.

“Hey, Patton,” Logan called out to the other. Patton let the ball fall mid-air and ran over to Logan, standing on the other side of the net, “Your last name is Foster, shouldn't you be on our team?”

Patton's eyes widened a bit behind his round glasses. He looked over at Coach, preoccupied with some underclassmen before putting a finger to his lips and slowly walking away from Logan.

Logan groaned, casually tossing the ball that was on his hip back to Virgil, “If Patton can spike then we stand no chance of winning. We do not exactly have the most athletically inclined group,” Logan said, dejectedly as his eyes trailed over their teammates.

Virgil shrugged and began setting the ball to himself out of boredom, “Who cares, it is just a dumb game,”

“Yes, one that I wish to perform well in and win,”

“You hold no stake in this,” Virgil said, thinking of what Logan said earlier, “It is not like you are trying to impress anyone here,”

Virgil had to strain his ears to hear Logan mutter, “I wouldn’t say that,”

Logan put his hands in his pockets and looked off into the distance. Virgil placed the ball on his hip and followed Logan’s line of sight towards Roman and Patton. Patton giggling, trying to toss the ball up as high as possible while Roman interfering. The same type of high school shenanigans that Logan looked down on so often were the same that was giving him a longing, misty look in his eye.

Before Virgil could say, Coach blew her whistle to begin the games. Everyone except one person from each game put away their volleyballs while Virgil was still standing, rooted to the ground, holding his on his hip. Not wanting to make the effort to walk to the metal container where they were kept, he shot the ball like a basketball into the container a decent distance away. The ball landed directly into the container, and Virgil smiled, impressed with his dexterity.

“Nice shot, V,”

Virgil turned around and saw Roman standing on the other side of the court, his hands on his hips and grinning and Virgil. He gave him a quick thumbs up before making his way to the corner of his side of the court, where he would presumably be serving first. Virgil made eye contact with Logan who smirked at him and mouthed a quick, “Told you so,” before getting into position.

“Huh,” Virgil thought, “Maybe I am going to have to try hard volleyball,”

****

The game was not going well for Virgil’s team. The score was 7-13 in favor of Roman’s team, and it doesn’t look like they are letting up either. Roman had muscles for days, allowing him to serve the ball quickly over the net, barely giving any time for their ragtag team of misfits to react. 5 out of the 7 points that had been earned were from Logan using fake out techniques to confuse the opponents in the front. Virgil had earned zero points, seeing as he was placed in the back center, never touching the ball.

“Prince!” Coach called out, silently tweeting her whistle, “Have you been serving this whole time?” He heard her yelled at Roman, slightly cringing in on the white ball.

“Is- er- is that bad?”

Coach blew the whistle loudly, gesturing to the teams, “Everyone rotate! Back, come up front, front, go to the back,” She blew her whistle twice more for good measure as everyone dragged their feet to their new position.

Roman came up in front of the net and touched it, pulling down slightly on the strings, “Fancy seeing you here, Wonder-emo,” He quirked up an eyebrow, “You come here often?”

“To class?”

Roman sighed, staring off into the distance, “I do not know how you are going to cope with such a massive loss on your part. Despite the hiccup of us having to “rotate”, we are still going to wipe the floor with your team,”

Virgil rolled his eyes, “I honestly don't care that much. Save the trash talking for my buddy Logan, he’ll be happy to engage,”

Roman put both his hands on the net now, “You better watch out, because now you may become victim to one of my awesome spikes. Wouldn’t wanna ruin that pretty face,” Roman bit his lip and winked.

Virgil took slowly, calculating breaths to keep him from blushing or making a fool of himself, “Please Princey, I can get it up just as well as you can,”

Roman’s face split into a shit-eating grin, “That’s what she said,”

Virgil had to stop himself from screaming. Instead, he opted for another, more petty alternative.

“It’s our ball!” Virgil yelled out, “Rule violation: No one can be touching the net,” Virgil looked at Roman dead in the eyes before catching the flying ball without breaking eye contact, Roman’s eyes filled with disgust and betrayal, snapping his hands back to his sides and off the net.

Virgil lowered his voice once more so only Roman could hear, “Revenge is a dish best served cold,”

The game continued and Roman’s team’s success went from guaranteed to fleeting, as their new server hit the net multiple times and Roman’s ball spiking was easily intercepted by a junior whose name escaped Virgil. Each time Virgil’s team got a point, his grin would just get wider and wider. Eventually, it was a tie game, both teams quickly reaching 14-14. Virgil was beaming now while Roman practically had steam coming out of his ears.

“Okay!” Coach yelled out and blew her whistle, “In just about 3 minutes we are going to switch and A will go against D and C will go against B,”

“Huh,” Virgil said and looked at Roman, “It looks like my team may just take the victory after all,”

Roman huffed and crossed his arms, “That’s a funny joke, Macabre, calling it ‘your team’. You have not even scored a point,”

“I set it to her and she-”

“An assist is not a success, Leonardo DiCraprio,” Roman told him, definitively, and walked away as the round began.

Virgil was not bad at sports, he is more muscular than the average high school senior, hell, he had dunked 2 basketballs before. He knew that he could score a point just to shove it back into Roman beautiful face, they just have to give him a chance.

His eyes ping-ponged back and forth at the exchange of the ball over the net to both sides. At one point, Roman rushed from the other side of the court to directly in front of Virgil to hit the ball that a distracted junior was going to miss. He hits it to the far right corner with impressive speed and then moves to the center of the court.

“Mine!” Logan yelled, skidding forward to hit the ball (Virgil still very impressed with his reaction skills). The ball once again was vollied to the other side of the court.

“Mine!” A cheery voice called out. Patton slid to the center of the court next to Roman and hit the ball to the left hand side of the court. He smacked the ball with imposing velocity and was heading in the space between Virgil and another teammate.

With a sudden burst of confidence, the words of Roman ringing in his ears, Virgil shouts, “Mine!” and leaps to the center where the white ball was hurtling.

Virgil knew that time was all relative to human perception and technically was not real. Nevertheless, his surrounds slowly moved to a near halt as he had to make a decision on what to do. He could hear the screams of his teammates in anticipation, as the ball was slowly rolling towards Virgil, and would not be stopped unless he did something.

He was just going to bump it. That is all he wanted to do. Bump the ball and keep their thrilling volley going. Just simply bump the ball, maybe even set it. However, Virgil legs must have hated that idea, as his fight-or-flight response kicked in and they made him jump to a height he did not think he was capable of. He knew he only had one shot at this, so he closed his eyes and smacked the ball downward as hard as possible. The rubber bladder of the ball burned as he hit it with all his might, but he couldn’t help but think about how similar it is to dunking a basketball as he had done previously, unmitigated.

Virgil’s ankles ached as he hit the ground once again and his ears were roaring from doing such a physical act so suddenly. He opened his eyes and heard his teammates cheering. The senior next to him held up his hand and Virgil high fived him back, suddenly filled with energy. He looked on the other side of the court, and immediately felt his stomach plummet when he saw 3 teenagers circling a body on the ground.

Virgil rushed to the crowd, standing next to Patton who was mid-conversation, “- just keep your head tilted forward and keep pinching your nose- no, not there Roman,”

Anyone would have cringed at the sight in the center of the group, but it made Virgil sick to his stomach. In the thick of it all was Roman; perfect, beautiful, incredible Roman, holding his nose and his mouth for dear life as bright red blood quickly dribbled down his hand and onto his shirt.

“Holy shit,” Virgil cried, “What the hell happened,”

Roman looked at him with a fiery intensity. A different intensity than on average, this was filled with malice and anger, “You hit me in the nose with your spike, you freaking punk!” Roman whimpered, tears pricking his eyes. He inhaled sharply and groaned, the tears were now spilling from his eyes, “Oh God, I think it’s broken,”

Any shot Virgil had with Roman broke as soon as he cracked his nose. He covered his hand to his mouth, feeling so incredibly guilty for what he did. Stupid, stupid, stupid Virgil. Apologies weren’t enough, nothing was enough. Yet, he had to say something, anything. But, instead, he opted for staying silent instead. Saying nothing. Covering his mouth so no one could hear the dry sobs he was keeping back from his acquaintances.

“Roman, here, let me walk you to the Nurse,” Patton held out a hand and Roman took it, his hand still covering half of his face. Roman eyed Virgil the entire way out, using the shorter man as a crutch, and Virgil was rooted to the spot, frozen in a position of sobbing at almost any moment.

Once the gym doors closed loudly, signalling the pair had left, all eyes turned to Virgil, widen and with shock.

“Too much attention, too much attention, no no no,” And now Virgil did something he should have done with the volleyball: flee. He ran towards the locker room doors, he feet failing him and causing him to stumble a few times. Tears were leaking out of the corners of his eyes as he threw open the doors to the room, vaguely processing the desperate cries of his best friend behind him.

***

Virgil hummed contentedly as he was putting his books in his locker. After the incidents of yesterday, Logan calmed Virgil down and they talked calmly and rationally about the incidents that unfolded. He also attempted to make Virgil feel better by discussing his infatuation with Patton; any talk of emotions involving Logan was odd to hear but extremely intriguing (and distracted him from his own issues). They sat on the floor, talking until the end of the period and then moving the conversation to chatting for hours in Logan’s car. He may claim to not understand emotions, but Logan has a way of making Virgil feel better, no matter the situation.

Nevertheless, Virgil rationally chalked the incident up to an accident. It was easy to do so, seeing as he doesn’t have to see Roman for a while and was probably remembering it injury as worse than it really was. It was Friday, so Virgil will have the whole weekend to compartmentalize the incident and everyone will forget about it by then. Well, that was the plan. Virgil was almost finished putting his books away when a hand harshly closed his locker for him. Virgil squeaked as he saw who it was.

Roman Prince, looking as godly as ever in his signature red bomber jacket and chocolate locks, stood imposingly over Virgil (despite Virgil technically being taller, he does slouch quite a lot). Roman’s big white cloth bandage was the first thing you would see when looking at the other, the tape to hold it down also moved onto his cheeks. Virgil winced a bit more when he noticed there was also dark bruising around Roman’s eyes as well. No, the injury was worse than what he remembered.

The pair had never talked outside of gym, but here he was, a little over 24 hours since Virgil had destroyed Roman’s face, turning him from statue by Michelangelo to a painting by Picasso.

“Hey… Roman,” Calling the other by his real name felt foreign on his tongue, but calling him Princey during this moment felt inappropriate.

The awkwardness was thick in the air as Roman said nothing back. His fingers twitched slightly as he leaned an arm against the locker doors and he bit his lip, eyes trailing down at the floor, not wanting to make eye contact with Virgil.

“I went to the doctor, my nose is broken, confirmed,” Roman stated simply, the dramatics in his voice were replaced by a dead and broken kind of disinterest.

Virgil swallowed thickly, “Roman… You have to know how sorry I am. Logan was getting in my head about being competitive and… You kind of egged me on to score a point,” Roman eyes shot up to look at Virgil, shocked, “I take that back, it was all Logan,” He quickly finished, “I will do anything to make this better, do you want me to pay for your doctor bills, I can,”

He cannot, but thankfully, Virgil did not have to worry about that as Roman waved him off, “I have pretty fabulous insurance, it was not too much, do not worry about it,”

Virgil nodded, sadly smiling.

“However,” Roman continued, his usual stupor seemed to be returning slowly, “If you do want to do something for me, you could allow me to take you out for coffee,”

“Take… you out?” Virgil repeated back, slowly. His brain and the words we were hearing were still disconnected.

Roman chuckled, “Yes, that is what one typically does on a first date,”

Virgil mind went to a screeching halt as Roman said those words. His heart was not beating anymore, it was vibrating from nerves and pent up emotions. Confused as to why a man Virgil had injured so greatly could still be possibly interested in him in any fashion. The stars were not aligned for this to work out; they had already collapsed in on themselves and become black holes, sucking up everything in their path. Yet, somehow, in someway, Roman was standing in front of him with love in his eyes, willing to look past that. With every compliment Roman gave, Virgil would retort with a biting comment, how did Roman still keep his affections? Virgil would completely shutting down at any sign of physical affection and yet, here, standing before him, an angel walking on Earth was asking him to coffee. He could not understand how or why Roman could want that. How does one articulate these worries? How can Virgil express his fears to Roman without it seeming like an outright objection, because he want to be with him so badly?

“I broke your nose,” He responded flatly, dumbly, and cringing in on himself because that was the wrong things to say.

Roman sighed, ruffling his hair, “Yes, I do realise that that was a most unfortunate instance for both of us. But, it made me realise that our back and forth had gone on too long, and will only spur even more injuries if not sedated,”

Virgil blinked rapidly, his mouth had gone dry and his heart was beating out of his chest as he stared at Roman, “I demolished your face, and you still want to go out with me?”

Roman bowed dramatically, holding out his hand. Virgil flushed pink and awkwardly picked at the loose strings on his backpack. Roman looked up at Virgil through his eyelashes smirking, “I do, if you’ll have me,”

Virgil held onto his hand, their fingers and palms coming together nicely, and Virgil smiled once more, “How can I say no to that?”

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #sanders sides fic #prinxiety #logicality #Virgil Sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #my writing

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knock-me-out · 6 years ago

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could you give us a rundown on each member's individual fashion style???

abso-fuckin-lutely, have some moodboards too for good measure

r.e.m.

likes looking “swaggy” like the swaggy rapper he is

wears a lot of looser patterned clothes that are technically “in” for hip-hop

often sees something on another idol and goes “that’s neat” then tries to find it on the internet

supreme? he’s got it because he’s full of swag and the company can afford it for him so he’s gonna take advantage of that shit

his entire closet? filled with stupid bucket hats and fanny packs. has decided he has too many. decided to sell them to owen and daesung. they were stupid enough to buy them

around the dorm you can usually just find him chilling in a sweatshirt and sweatpants. loves himself some sweats oh boy. probably wears sweatpants to the airport as well just because he wants to be comfortable on the plane so he’s not gonna give two shits about whether there’s a stain on his pants or not

hyunseok

the stylists always end up dressing him a lot more showily than he’d want to

aways likes to have at least one red accessory somewhere, big sucker for it

styled with dangly earrings and tons of rings? It’s more likely than you’d think

doesn’t dress with the complete mom aesthetic most expect of him when on his own time; is a supporter of skinny jeans, turtlenecks, layers, jewelry. he likes fashion, takes pride in looking good. when everything else feels out of his control, his outfits aren’t.

doesn’t tend to like wearing super bright colors, sticks to greyscale and red for the most part.

at the dorms, catch him walking around in sweatpants and ryeo’s t-shirts, silk robes, and glasses. his eyesight is garbage. usually is a complete mess on days off; wearing two different slippers, no glasses because he’s dumb so he’s just squinting at everything really suspiciously, no pants, and a t-shirt like five sizes too big while he cleans. help him.

tenshi

has two completely different styles. his idol fashion and his dorm fashion. they’re so insanely different that if any fan saw him in dorm fashion they’d be like “whomst is that???”

idol fashion: big comfy sweaters, jeans, the biggest long sleeve t-shirts because wc absolutely cannot have him showing off his muscles

dorm fashion: very tight work-out tees. basket ball shorts. but lets go back to the t-shirts. because when i say tight i mean he’s grown two sizes in t-shirt, but hasn’t gone shopping for new ones yet tight

would love to get to wear something other than long sleeves outside, but working for wc means that he’s supposed to maintain his sweet angel image so sweaters in 90° weather it is

finds work out clothes very comfy and would like to just be in them all the time

he tends to just sleep and wander the dorms in the morning in a pair of boxers and a large t-shirt that isn’t that big on him, but jui would drown in it

jui

he’d like to say that he’s the most fashionable member of k.o, but dohwan would probably punch him in the face if he said that and then proceed to go on a rant about why he’s the most fashionable member

loves anything that will button up and tuck into some tight jeans because he actually has great proportions and his legs are to die for, so he’s gonna show them off

wears only the finest of materials. hit him up with some nice silk and like designer denim. wishes he got that gucci deal instead of dohwan

accessories are a big yes. wears a lot of fun earrings and rings and bracelets. there’s always a nice belt holding up his pants because he’s that bitch

fashionable even at home. definitely has like silk pajamas and parades around in them being comfy and fashionable

can only steal jungsoo and kyungsoo’s clothing and is salty. wants to steal dohwan’s shit but the man’s 5’11” and it makes jui angry

gem

he’s low-key legally obligated to wear gucci at all times, according to him. he’s the fashionista of the group and debatably the best at styling himself, loves clothing.

has no problem with showy high fashion, loves anything with a bit of shimmer to it, silk, flowy shirts with the top few buttons undone, chokers, turtlenecks and button-ups.

big on accessorizing, especially gucci belts/anything with a brand name on it.

color wise, he likes blue and purple in particular — isn’t afraid to go bold with color to stand out.

doesn’t usually like showing much skin publicly, covers up even in the sun. he’s been made fun of by fans for wearing literal suits on the beach.

at the dorms, he’s more free with how he dresses. catch him making cereal at one in the morning wearing silk pants and no shirt.

jungsoo

the SOFTEST sweater wearing fool — loves sweaters, cardigans, and warm fabrics. he could complain about being cold in the middle of the rainforest.

likes bright patterns and colors, mainly because he’s so damn short and needs to find a way to stand out somehow.

has two modes: on stage, he’s usually styled very precisely and looks pretty damn hot. offstage, he seems tiny and about twelve years old, likes to pull his sleeves over his hands and swat people with them for attention.

is 10/10 the most likely to rip something by not even doing anything, is just a clumsy lil baby.

likes jewelry, usually necklaces and rings, has a necklace with a star on it he never takes off.

at the dorms, wears hongsol’s hoodies religiously and shorts or pajama pants with cute patterns like ducks. will defend his ducks with his life, don’t make fun of him, you’ll get a shoe thrown at your head.

sol

wow he’s just not put together when it comes to fashion much at all. has a stylist buddy that plans his outfits for the week cause she doesn’t trust him to do it himself

pun t-shirts? oh yes please. he has just the worst graphic t-shirts that are all like a million years old that he pairs with jeans

has once just gone to the airport in one of these stupid ass shirts and a pair of ripped to hell jeans and there were victories that laughed at him

likes denim. a whole lot. like he only wears jeans. usually black jeans paired with a white t-shirt or a black t-shirt

his fashion isn’t actually all that interesting in public because he still wants to wear a t-shirt and jeans, but his stylist friend is like “what the fuck do you think you’re doing” whenever he wears a fun shirt

his color palette is exclusively black and white unless he’s being directly dressed by a stylist for a performance

seungjae

boyfriend aesthetic, completely. likes to dress in layers with flannels, cardigans, etc. dresses for comfort and for practicality.

prefers muted and warmer earth tones, nothing too harsh on the eyes.

he’s usually styled in a lot of flowy and silky things, he’s not a fan but doesn’t complain.

has this one denim jacket all of the members have signed, he wears it all the damn time. it’s incredibly important to him, and he brings it with him wherever he might be filming.

doesn’t normally accessorize much or wear a lot of jewelry besides a designer watch — practical.

around the dorms, he’s usually in jeans and a flannel or knit sweater.

law

edgy bitch aesthetic, as could be expected. ripped jeans, leather jackets (if he can get away with not wearing a shirt under it, bet he’s going with that), flannels, denim jackets, anything experimental and showy. if he’s not really making an effort, sticks to jeans and black t-shirts.

the more skin he can show, the better; likes to show off his tattoos, has no shame with it.

doesn’t like wearing a lot of jewelry besides rings and earrings. he dislikes dangly earrings and prefers studs, and with so many piercings in each ear, that’s wise.

if he’s not wearing doc martens or converse, there’s an issue here, chief

part ii of the monochrome and red gang, but wears dark jewel tones from time to time. claims wearing white washes him out, usually avoids it.

at the dorms, he’s usually shirtless and wearing grey sweatpants. hates shoes and will be barefoot any time he can. refers to shirts as nipple prisons and usually gets smacked for it, don’t let him have rights.

kyungsoo

if there’s one thing to say about kyungsoo’s fashion taste it’s that everything he wears is at least three sizes too large on him. big sweaters, shirts, jackets, and more are his favorite things to parade around in

habitual clothing thief from his members. likes to steal jae and ryeo’s stuff the best. usually takes ryeo’s sweaters because they have similar styles

he’s already pretty small but his clothes always make him look even smaller. people comment that he always looks so soft in his big sweaters and flannels and stuff

likes pastels and greys more than your average bear. can almost never be found in a fully saturated color

a lot of his clothing falls into the ‘comfort over coolness’ area since he’s super sensitive to certain materials and doesn’t like tight fitting clothing

really loves the dress shirt under sweater combo as well as buying too big t-shirts/button ups and tucking them into a tight pair of black jeans

owen

the boy! loves! colors! pastels are a big yes for him and pairing those pastels with things like overalls and such is so much fun

he’s also a huge fan of things with pockets. like, the more space to keep stupid things in the better. owns a jacket with fifteen pockets that remi and kiyong bought for him as a joke, but he actually adores it and wears it all the time

follows like those modern flower-boy trends where he puts on some mom jeans and tucks a t-shirt into them. fans think it’s super cute 

also a big ol’ sucker for putting cool jackets on top of his sweatshirts so he looks fun and edgy. his sweatshirts are 99% of the time stolen from dae

can just be super simple too. half of his shirts are just white or stripy and he’ll usually stick a button up on top of those and pair it with some jeans and white sneakers

speaking of sneakers, you’ll never find him in any other shoes unless he’s forced to. once wore converse with a suit on the red carpet

lux

loves sweatpants and oversized shirts/hoodies, skinny jeans. usually just looser tops and tighter clothing on the bottom, really.

big sucker for the color green, he claims it looks the best with his hair and skin color.

dresses for comfort and looks uneasy when he has to wear more delicate clothing and anything ridiculously expensive and fancy.

10/10 the most likely to buy some $3 t-shirt and wear it for like a week straight.

almost always wears athletic shoes of some kind.

around the dorms, he dresses pretty similarly: sweatpants, hoodies, burrows in his clothes.

#asks #k.o._fashion #kocnet

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wallpapernifty · 4 years ago

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roarformeprettylion · 7 years ago

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List of Banned Books

How Many Have You Read?

Children’s Books:

Allan, Nicholas. Where Willy Went

Allard, Harry. Bumps in the Night

Allard, Harry. The Stupids series

Allington, Richard. Once Upon a Hippo

Ancona, George. Cuban Kids

Avi. The Fighting Ground

Babbitt, Natalie. The Devil’s Storybook

Bailey, Jacqui, and Jan McCafferty. Sex, Puberty, and All That Stuff: A Guide to Growing Up

Bannerman, Helen. Little Black Sambo

Birdseye, Tom. Attack of the Mutant Underwear

Blume, Judy. Are You There, God? It’s Me, Margaret

Blume, Judy. Blubber

Brannen, Sarah S. Uncle Bobby’s Wedding

Brittain, Bill. The Wish Giver

Brown, Laurie Krasny, and Marc Brown. What’s the Big Secret? Talking about Sex with Girls and Boys

Brown, Marc Tolon. Buster’s Sugartime

Butler, Dori Hillestad. My Mom’s Having a Baby! A Kid’s Month-by-Month Guide to Pregnancy

Carle, Eric. Draw Me a Star

Christensen, James, C., Renwick St. James and Alan Dean Foster. Voyage of the Basset

Clutton-Brock, Juliet. Horse (DK)

Cohen, Daniel. Ghostly Warnings

Cohen, Daniel. Phantom Animals

Cole, Babette. Mommy Laid An Egg

Cole, Joanna. Asking About Sex and Growing Up

Collier, James Lincoln, and Christopher Collier. Jump Ship to Freedom

Collier, James Lincoln, and Christopher Collier. My Brother Sam is Dead

Collier, James Lincoln, and Christopher Collier. With Every Drop of Blood

Cormier, Robert. The Chocolate War

Coupe, Peter. The Beginner’s Guide to Drawing Cartoons

Curtis, Christopher Paul. The Watsons Go to Birmingham—1963

Dahl, Roald. James and the Giant Peach

Dahl, Roald. The Witches

de Haan, Linda. King & King

DeClements, Barthe. Sixth Grade Can Really Kill You

Elliot, David. An Alphabet for Rotten Kids

Fierstein, Harvey. The Sissy Duckling

Fogelin, Adrian. My Brother’s Hero

Fox, Mem. Guess What?

Fox, Paula. The Slave Dancer

Garden, Nancy. Holly’s Secret

Geisel, Theodor Seuss. Hop on Pop: The Simplest Seuss for Youngest Use

Geisel, Theodor Seuss. If I Ran the Zoo

George, Jean Craighead. Julie of the Wolves

Gordon, Sharon. Cuba

Grove, Vicki. The Starplace

Hahn, Mary Downing. The Dead Man in Indian Creek

Hanford, Martin. Where’s Waldo?

Harper, Charise Mericle. Flashcards of My Life

Harper, Kathryn. Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs

Harris, Robie. It’s Perfectly Normal: Changing Bodies, Growing Up, Sex, and Sexual Health

Harris, Robie. It’s So Amazing!: A Book about Eggs, Sperm, Birth, Babies, and Families

Harris, Robie. Who’s In My Family?: All About Families (Let’s Talk About You and Me)

Henkes, Kevin. Olive’s Ocean

Henson, Jim. For Every Child a Better World

Hergé [Georges Remi]. Tintin in America

Hergé [Georges Remi]. Tintin in the Congo

Herthel, Jessica, and Jazz Jennings. I Am Jazz

Hill, Douglas Arthur. Witches and Magic-Makers

Homes, A.M. Jack

Ignatow, Amy. The Popularity Papers

Jukes, Mavis. It’s a Girl Thing: How to Stay Healthy, Safe and in Charge

Kehret, Peg. Stolen Children

Kellogg, Steven. Pinkerton, Behave!

Kilodavis, Cheryl. My Princess Boy: A Mom’s Story About a Young Boy Who Loves to Dress Up

Kotzwinkle, William, and Glenn Murray. Walter the Farting Dog

L’Engle, Madeleine. A Wrinkle in Time

Lewis, Richard, comp. There Are Two Lives: Poems by Children of Japan

Lindgren, Astrid. The Runaway Sleigh Ride

Lowry, Lois. Anastasia Krupnik series

Lowry, Lois. The Giver.

Madaras, Linda. What’s Happening to My Body? Book for Boys: A Growing-Up Guide for Parents & Sons

Madaras, Linda. What’s Happening to My Body? Book for Girls: A Growing-Up Guide for Parents & Daughters

Martin, Michael. Kurt Cobain

Mayle, Peter. Where Did I Come From?

Mercado, Nancy E., ed. Tripping Over the Lunch Lady and Other Short Stories

Merriam, Eve. Halloween ABC

Merriam, Eve. The Inner City Mother Goose

Mochizuki, Ken. Baseball Saved Us

Nelson, O.T. The Girl Who Owned a City

Newman, Leslea. Heather Has Two Mommies

Okimoto, Jean Davies, and Elaine M. Aoki. The White Swan Express: A Story About Adoption

Opie, Iona. I Saw Esau

Orgel, Doris. The Devil in Vienna

Pardi, Francesca, and Tullio F. Altan. Little Egg (Piccolo uovo)

Park, Barbara. Junie B. Jones (

Parr, Todd. The Family Book

Paterson, Katherine. Bridge to Terabithia

Paterson, Katherine. The Great Gilly Hopkins

Perritano, John. Amityville

Peters, Lisa Westberg. Our Family Tree: An Evolution Story

Pilkey, Dav. The Adventures of Super Diaper Baby: The First Graphic Novel

Pilkey, Dav. Captain Underpants series

Pittman, Gayle E. This Day in June

Polacco, Patricia. In Our Mothers’ House

Pullman, Philip. His Dark Materials series

Quinlan, Patricia. Tiger Flowers

Reavin, Sam. The Hunters Are Coming

Richardson, Justin, and Peter Parnell. And Tango Makes Three

Rodgers, Mary. Freaky Friday

Rosen, Lucy. I Am Bane

Rowling, J.K. Harry Potter series

Ruby, Laura. Lily’s Ghosts

Sachar, Louis. The Boy Who Lost His Face

Sachar, Louis. Marvin Redpost: Is He a Girl?

Schniedewind, Nancy. Open Minds to Equality: A Sourcebook of Learning Activities to Affirm Diversity and Promote Equity

Schreier, Alta. Vamos a Cuba ( A Vist to Cuba)

Schwartz, Alvin. And the Green Grass Grew All Around

Schwartz, Alvin. Cross Your Fingers, Spit in Your Hat

Schwartz, Alvin. Ghosts! Ghost Stories in Folklore

Schwartz, Alvin. Scary Stories series

Sendak, Maurice. In the Night Kitchen

Sherman, Josepha, and T.K.F. Weisskopf. Greasy Grimy Gopher Guts

Silverstein, Shel. A Light in the Attic

Smith, Jeff. Bone series

Snyder, Zilpha Keatley. The Egypt Game

Speare, Elizabeth George. The Sign of the Beaver

Steer, Dugald. Wizardology: The Book of the Secrets of Merlin

Stine, R.L. Goosebumps series

Stroud, Jonathan. The Amulet of Samarkand

Stroud, Jonathan. The Golem’s Eye

Stroud, Jonathan. Ptolemy’s Gate

Tamaki, Mariko, and Jillian Tamaki. This One Summer

Taylor, Mildred D. The Land

Taylor, Mildred D. Roll of Thunder, Hear My Cry

Telgemeier, Raina. Drama

Texier, Ophélie. Jean Has Two Moms (Jean a deux mamans)

Toriyama, Akira. Dragon Ball: The Monkey King

Willhoite, Michael. Daddy’s Roommate

Winter, Jeanette. The Librarian of Basra: A True Story from Iraq

Winter, Jeanette. Nasreen’s Secret School: A True Story from Afghanistan

Yep, Laurence. Dragonwings

Young Adult Books:

Adler, C.S. The Shell Lady’s Daughter

Alexie, Sherman. The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian

Alva0rez, Julia. In the Time of the Butterflies

Anaya, Rudolfo A. Bless Me, Ultima

Anderson, Laurie Halse. Speak

Anderson, Laurie Halse. Twisted

Anderson, M.T. Feed

Angelou, Maya. I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

Anonymous. Go Ask Alice

Asher, Jay. Thirteen Reasons Why

Atkins, Catherine. Alt Ed

Atkins, Catherine. When Jeff Comes Home

Atwood, Margaret. The Handmaid’s Tale

Barnes, Derrick. The Making of Dr. Truelove

Barron, T.A. The Great Tree of Avalon: Child of the Dark Prophecy

Baskin, Julia, Lindsey Newman, Sophie Pollitt-Cohen, and Courtney Toombs. The Notebook Girls: Four Friends, One Diary, Real Life

Bauer, Marion Dane. On My Honor

Bauer, Marion Dane, ed. Am I Blue? Coming Out from the Silence

Benioff, David. City of Thieves

Block, Francesca Lia. Baby Be-Bop

Block, Francesca Lia. Girl Goddess

Block, Francesca Lia. I Was a Teenage Fairy

Block, Francesca Lia. The Rose and the Beast: Fairy Tales Retold

Block, Francesca Lia. Witch Baby

Blume, Judy. Deenie

Blume, Judy. Forever

Blume, Judy. Here’s to You, Rachel Robinson

Blume, Judy. Tiger Eyes

Bode, Janet, and Stan Mack. Heartbreak and Roses: Real Life Stories of Troubled Love

Bower, Bert, and Jim Lobdell. History Alive! The Medieval World and Beyond

Boyle, T. Coraghessan. The Tortilla Curtain

Bradbury, Ray. Fahrenheit 451

Brashares, Ann. Forever in Blue, the Fourth Summer of the Sisterhood

Burgess, Melvin. Doing It

Card, Orson Scott. Ender’s Game

Cart, Michael. My Father’s Scar

Cast, P.C., and Kristin Cast. House of Night series

Chambers, Aidan. Dance on My Grave: A Life and Death in Four Parts

Chbosky, Stephen. The Perks of Being a Wallflower

Choldenko, Gennifer. Al Capone Does My Shirts

Clerc, Charles, and Louis Leiter, comp. Seven Contemporary Short Novels

Cohen, Susan, and Daniel Cohen. When Someone You Know is Gay

Clinton, Cathryn. A Stone in My Hand

Colasanti, Susane. When It Happens

Cole, Brock. The Facts Speak for Themselves

Cole, Brock. The Goats

Colfer, Eoin. The Supernaturalist

Collins, Suzanne. The Hunger Games Trilogy

Conly, Jane. Crazy Lady

Cooney, Caroline. The Face on the Milk Carton

Cooney, Caroline. The Terrorist

Cormier, Robert. After the First Death

Cormier, Robert. Beyond the Chocolate War

Cormier, Robert. Fade

Cormier, Robert. Heroes

Cormier, Robert. I Am the Cheese

Cormier, Robert. Tenderness

Cormier, Robert. We All Fall Down

Coville, Bruce. Am I Blue?

Cox, Elizabeth. Night Talk

Crawford, Brent. Carter Finally Gets It

Cruse, Howard. Stuck Rubber Baby

Crutcher, Chris. Athletic Shorts

Crutcher, Chris. Chinese Handcuffs

Crutcher, Chris. Deadline

Crutcher, Chris. In the Time I Get

Crutcher, Chris. Staying Fat for Sarah Byrnes

Crutcher, Chris. Whale Talk

Daldry, Jeremy. The Teenage Guy’s Survival Guide

Dandicat, Edwidge. Krik! Krak!

Danforth, Emily M. The Miseducation of Cameron Post

Davis, Deborah. My Brother Has AIDS

Davis, Jenny. Sex Education

Dawe, Ted. Into the River

Dawson, James. This Book is Gay

Dessen, Sarah. Just Listen

Deuker, Carl. On the Devil’s Court

Doctorow, Cory. Little Brother

Dorfman, Ariel. Death and the Maiden

Dorris, Michael. A Yellow Raft in Blue Water

Draper, Sharon M., and Adam Lowenbein. Romiette and Julio

Drill, Esther. Deal With It! A Whole New Approach to Your Body, Brain, and Life as a gURL

Duncan, Lois. Daughters of Eve

Duncan, Lois. Killing Mr. Griffin

Eleveld, Mark, ed. The Spoken Word Revolution: Slam, Hip Hop & the Poetry of a New Generation

Elish, Dan. Born Too Short: The Confessions of an Eighth-Grade Basket Case

Ellis, Elisabeth Gaynor, and Anthony Esler. World History

Ellison, Ralph. Invisible Man

Erlbach, Arlene. The Middle School Survival Guide

Ferris, Jean. Eight Seconds

Fitzgerald, F. Scott. The Great Gatsby

Forman, Gayle. Just One Day

Franco, Betsy. You Hear Me? Poems and Writings by Teenage Boys

Frank, Anne. Anne Frank: The Diary of a Young Girl

Frank, E.R. America: A Novel

Frank, E.R. Life is Funny

Freedom Writers. The Freedom Writers Diary: How a Teacher and 150 Teens Used Writing to Change Themselves and the World Around Them

Freymann-Weyr, Garret. My Heartbeat

Friend, Natasha. Lush

Gaiman, Neil. Neverwhere

Gaines, Ernest. The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman

Garden, Nancy. Annie on My Mind

Garden, Nancy. Good Moon Rising

Gardner, John. Grendel

Giles, Gail. Shattering Glass

Glenn, Mel. Who Killed Mr. Chippendale?

Going, K.L. Fat Kid Rules the World

Golding, William. Lord of the Flies

Gould, Steven. Jumper

Gray, Heather M., and Samantha Phillips. Real Girl/Real World: Tools for Finding Your True Self

Green, John. An Abundance of Katherines

Green, John. The Fault in Our Stars

Green, John. Looking for Alaska

Green, John. Paper Towns

Greene, Bette. The Drowning of Stephan Jones

Greene, Bette. Summer of My German Solidier

Haddix, Margaret Peterson. Don’t You Dare Read This, Mrs. Dunphrey

Halpern, Julie. Get Well Soon

Hartinger, Brent. Geography Club

Hautzig, Deborah. Hey Dollface

Heller, Joseph. Catch-22

Hernandez, Gilbert. Palomar: The Heartbreak Soup Stories

Heron, Ann. Two Teenagers in Twenty

Hinton, S.E. The Outsiders

Hinton, S.E. Taming the Star Runner

Hinton, S.E. Tex

Hinton, S.E. That Was Then, This is Now

Holliday, Laurel. Children in the Holocaust and World War II: Their Secret Diaries

Holmes, Melisa, and Trish Hutchison. Hang-ups, Hook-ups, and Holding Out: Stuff You Need to Know about Your Body, Sex, and Dating

Hopkins, Ellen. Crank

Hopkins, Ellen. Identical

Horowitz, Anthony. Snakehead

Hosseini, Khaled. The Kite Runner

Howe, James. Totally Joe

Huegel, Kelly. GLBTQ: The Survival Guide for Queer and Questioning Teens

Hurston, Zora Neale. Their Eyes Were Watching God

Hurwin, Davida. Time for Dancing

Huxley, Aldous. Brave New World

Hwa, Kim Dong. The Color of Earth series

Jahn-Clough, Lisa. Me, Penelope

Johnson, Maureen. The Bermudez Triangle

Jukes, Mavis. The Guy Book: An Owner’s Manual

Kehret, Peg. Abduction!

Kenan, Randall. James Baldwin

Keyes, Daniel. Flowers for Algernon

King, Stephen. Carrie

King, Stephen. Christine

Klause, Annette Curtis. Blood and Chocolate

Klein, Norma. Beginners’ Love

Klein, Norma. Family Secrets

Klein, Norma. Just Friends

Kleinbaum, N.H. Dead Poet’s Society

Knowles, Jo (Johanna Beth). Lessons from a Dead Girl

Koertge, Ron. Arizona Kid

Koertge, Ron. The Brimstone Journals

Koerge, Ron. Where the Kissing Never Stopped

Korman, Gordon. Jake Reinvented

Kuklin, Susan. Beyond Magenta: Transgender Teens Speak Out

LaCour, Nina. Hold Still

Larson, Rodger. What I Know Now

Lebert, Benjamin. Crazy: A Novel

Lee, Harper. To Kill a Mockingbird

Lester, Julius. When Dad Killed Mom

Levenkron, Steven. The Best Little Girl in the World

Levithan, David. Two Boys Kissing

Lipsyte, Robert. One Fat Summer

Locker, Sari. Sari Says: The Real Dirt on Everything from Sex to School

Lockhart, E. The Boy Book: A Study of Habits and Behaviors, Plus Techniques for Taming Them

London, Jack. The Call of the Wild

Lopez, Tiffany Ana. Growing Up Chicana/o

Loux, Matthew. SideScrollers

Lyga, Barry. I Hunt Killers

Lynch, Chris. Extreme Elvin

Lynch, Chris. The Iceman

Mackler, Carolyn. The Earth, My Butt, and Other Big, Round Things

Mackler, Carolyn. Love and Other Four Letter Words

Mackler, Carolyn. Tangled

Mackler, Carolyn. Vegan Virgin Valentine

Martin, W.K. Marlene Dietrich

Martinac, Paula. k.d. lang

Mazer, Harry. The Last Mission

McBain, Ed. Alice in Jeopardy

McCormick, Patricia. Cut

McCullers, Carson. The Member of the Wedding

McKissack, Fredrick, Jr. Shooting Star

McNally, John, ed. When I Was a Loser: True Stories of (Barely) Surviving High School by Today’s Top Writers

Mead, Richelle. Vampire Academy series

Meyer, Michael, ed. Bedford Introduction to Literature

Meyer, Stephenie. Twilight series

Morrison, Toni. Beloved

Morrison, Toni. The Bluest Eye

Morrison, Toni. Song of Solomon

Mungo, Raymond. Liberace

Myers, Walter Dean. Fallen Angels

Myers, Walter Dean. Hoops

Myracle, Lauren. ttyl; ttfn; l8r g8r series

Naylor, Phyllis Reynolds. Alice series

Nix, Garth. Shade’s Children

Nixon, Joan Lowery. Whispers from the Dead

Nunokawa, Jeff. Oscar Wilde

O’Brien, Sharon. Willa Cather

O’Brien, Tim. The Things They Carried

Oates, Joyce Carol. Sexy

Ockler, Sarah. Twenty Boy Summer

Oh, Minya. Bling: Hip Hop’s Crown Jewels

Orwell, George. 1984

Parish, James Robert. Whoopi Goldberg: Her Journey from Poverty to Mega-Stardom

Park, Barbara. Mick Harte Was Here

Parks, Gordon. The Learning Tree

Paulsen, Gary. Harris and Me

Peck, Robert Newton. A Day No Pigs Would Die

Pelzer, Dave. A Child Called It

Picoult, Jodi. Nineteen Minutes

Pike, Christopher. Bury Me Deep

Pike, Christopher. Chain Letter 2

Pike, Christopher. Die Softly

Pike, Christopher. Last Act

Pike, Christopher. The Listeners

Pike, Christopher. The Lost Mind

Pike, Christopher. The Midnight Club

Pike, Christopher. Remember Me 3

Pike, Christopher. The Star Group

Pike, Christopher. Witch

Plum-Ucci, Carol. The Body of Christopher Creed

Pomeroy, Wardell. Boys and Sex

Pomeroy, Wardell. Girls and Sex

Rapp, Adam. The Buffalo Tree

Reiss, Johanna. The Upstairs Room

Rennison, Louise. Angus, Thongs, and Full Frontal Snogging

Rennison, Louise. Knocked Out By My Nunga-Nungas

Rennison, Louise. On the Bright Side, I’m Now the Girlfriend of a Sex God: Further Confessions of Georgia Nicolson

Reynolds, Marilyn. Detour for Emmy

Riley, Andy. The Book of Bunny Suicides: Little Fluffy Rabbits Who Just Don’t Want to Live Anymore

Rivera, Tomas. And the Earth Did Not Devour Him

Rowell, Rainbow. Eleanor & Park

Salinger, J.D. The Catcher in the Rye

Sanchez, Alex. Rainbow Boys

Santiago, Esmeralda. When I Was Puerto Rican

Sapphire [Ramona Lofton]. Push

Satrapi, Marjane. Persepolis: The Story of a Childhood

Schouweiler, Thomas. The Devil: Opposing Viewpoints

Scott, Elizabeth. Living Dead Girl

Selzer, Adam. How to Get Suspended and Influence People

Shakespeare, William. Romeo and Juliet (No Fear Shakespeare)

Shusterman, Neal. Unwind

Sidhwa, Bapsi. Cracking India

Sittenfeld, Curtis. Prep: A Novel

Skloot, Rebecca. The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks

Smith, Lee. Fair and Tender Ladies

Smith, Patrick. A Land Remembered

Snyder, Jane McIntosh. Sappho

Sones, Sonya. One of Those Hideous Books Where the Moher Dies

Sones, Sonya. What My Mother Doesn’t Know

Sonnie, Amy, ed. Revolutionary Voices: A Multicultural Queer Youth Anthology

Speare, Elizabeth George. The Witch of Blackbird Pond

Spies, Karen Bornemann. Everything You Need to Know About Incest

St. Stephen’s Community House. The Little Black Book for Girlz: A Book on Healthy Sexuality

Steinbeck, John. The Grapes of Wrath

Steinbeck, John. Of Mice and Men

Stine, R.L. Double Date

Stokstad, Marilyn. Art History: Eighteenth to Twenty-First Century Art, Third Edition

Stone, Tanya Lee. A Bad Boy Can Be Good for a Girl

Srasser, Todd. Give a Boy a Gun

Summers, Courtney. Some Girls Are

Tarbox, Katherine. A Girl’s Life Online

Taylor, Mildred D. Mississippi Bridge

Touchette, Charleen. It Stops With Me: Memoir of a Canuck Girl

Trueman, Terry. Stuck in Neutral

Twain, Mark [Samuel L. Clemens]. The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

Twain, Mark [Samuel L. Clemens]. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer

von Ziegesar, Cecily. Gossip Girl series

Walker, Alice. The Color Purple

Walker, Kate. Peter

Watkins, Yoko. So Far From the Bamboo Grove

Wersba, Barbara. Whistle Me Home

Williams-Garcia, Rita. Like Sisters on the Homefront

Wittlinger, Ellen. Sandpiper

Wolfe, Daniel. T.E. Lawrence

Wolff, Tobias. This Boy’s Life: A Memoir

Wood, Maryrose. Sex Kittens and Horn Dawgs Fall in Love

Wright, Richard. Native Son

WritersCorps. Paint Me Like I Am: Teen Poems

Zindel, Paul. The Pigman

Zwerman, Gilda. Martina Navratilova

Classics:

The Great Gatsby, by F. Scott Fitzgerald

The Catcher in the Rye, by J.D. Salinger

The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck

To Kill a Mockingbird, by Harper Lee

The Color Purple, by Alice Walker

Ulysses, by James Joyce

Beloved, by Toni Morrison

The Lord of the Flies, by William Golding

1984, by George Orwell

Lolita, by Vladmir Nabokov

Of Mice and Men, by John Steinbeck

Catch-22, by Joseph Heller

Brave New World, by Aldous Huxley

Animal Farm, by George Orwell

The Sun Also Rises, by Ernest Hemingway

As I Lay Dying, by William Faulkner

A Farewell to Arms, by Ernest Hemingway

Their Eyes Were Watching God, by Zora Neale Hurston

Invisible Man, by Ralph Ellison

Song of Solomon, by Toni Morrison

Gone with the Wind, by Margaret Mitchell

Native Son, by Richard Wright

One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, by Ken Kesey

Slaughterhouse-Five, by Kurt Vonnegut

For Whom the Bell Tolls, by Ernest Hemingway

The Call of the Wild, by Jack London

Go Tell it on the Mountain, by James Baldwin

All the King's Men, by Robert Penn Warren

The Lord of the Rings, by J.R.R. Tolkien

The Jungle, by Upton Sinclair

Lady Chatterley's Lover, by D.H. Lawrence

A Clockwork Orange, by Anthony Burgess

The Awakening, by Kate Chopin

In Cold Blood, by Truman Capote

The Satanic Verses, by Salman Rushdie

Sophie's Choice, by William Styron

Sons and Lovers, by D.H. Lawrence

Cat's Cradle, by Kurt Vonnegut

A Separate Peace, by John Knowles

Naked Lunch, by William S. Burroughs

Brideshead Revisited, by Evelyn Waugh

Women in Love, by D.H. Lawrence

The Naked and the Dead, by Norman Mailer

Tropic of Cancer, by Henry Miller

An American Tragedy, by Theodore Dreiser

Rabbit, Run, by John Updike

Source: http://www.ala.org/advocacy/bbooks/frequentlychallengedbooks

#banned books #banned books week #ala #american library association #children's books #young adult books #classics #my post or my face

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stereksummerexchange · 7 years ago

Text

something worth living for

@troubleiwant | AO3 - I really hope you like your gift!

by @hale-of-stiles-heart

Teen - Canon-typical violence

Stiles and Derek broke up months ago because of Derek’s penchant for self-sacrifice. But maybe, just maybe, they can work things out.

Stiles’ favorite place to walk his dog, Leia, was the memorial park nestled deep in the heart of Beacon Hills.

There were jogging paths around the perimeter of the park itself, perfect for days when they were both in the mood to run for a bit. It was smoothly paved and well maintained enough that he never had to worry about Leia scratching up her paws as she waddled alongside him in short bursts.

Many other people walking their dogs at the park favored the jogging trail as well, giving them plenty of opportunities to meet new people and their pets. With how sociable both Stiles and Leia were, it was wonderful, never at a loss for some friendly conversation or a walking partner.

There was a group of older women who frequented the park almost every day, visiting to see each other and gossip over some tea from the local cafe, occasionally walking the jogging trail. They were especially fond of Stiles, who had officially dubbed them the Golden Girls, and, of course, Leia as well, always greeting them with wide smiles and offers to set Stiles up with one of their grandkids.

On days when Stiles just felt like going for a leisurely stroll, he would forego the jogging trail in favor of the more secluded, shady paths that led into the outskirts of the preserve. Those trails were little more than dirt paths worn from foot traffic, winding their ways around ancient oak trees and pine saplings.

Those paths were best for days when it was especially warm, the sun beating down relentlessly as the humidity level climbed higher and higher. The thick canopies of the trees blotted out the sun, providing the perfect amount of shade as they wandered through the woods, Leia bounding through the underbrush.

Other days they skipped walking altogether and spent some time in the lush green fields in the center of the park. There they did everything from play fetch with Leia’s favorite tennis ball to practice some of the tricks Stiles had taught her.

Leia was especially popular with little kids, Stiles always bombarded with requests from parents and children alike to pet her or play with her. Stiles was always amenable and Leia basked in the attention, preening as she was lavished with sweet coos and delicious treats. She was an entertainer at heart, performing her best tricks when she had a crowd to ooh and aah over her.

She would even tag along with the kids to the playground area of the park, acting like just another one of the crew as she hopped after the kids, barking happily as she did. The kids were always entertained by her antics whether it be her skidding down the slide on her belly or begging for someone to push her in one of the baby swings.

When there were no little kids around to fawn over her, Leia made do with fraternizing with the other dogs at the park. She was quite popular with them as well, a little alpha leading around dogs twice, or even three times, her size.

There were a few regulars who were especially enamored with her, including a harlequin Great Dane who towered over all the other dogs in the park yet followed Leia around like a little lost puppy. The others were a rough looking Rottweiler, aptly named Brutus, and a floppy-eared little black lab named Ace, both of whom let Leia lead them into all sorts of mischief.

Leia herself was a sable and white Pembroke Welsh corgi, standing at a respectable eleven and a half inches at the shoulder and weighing no more than thirty pounds. Yet despite her short stature, or maybe because of it, she was as fearless as they came, always carrying herself like a little queen as she flounced around the park.

She took after Derek in that respect, an underdog if there ever was one. After all, Derek was the one who had gotten her for Stiles, a present for their three month anniversary.

But that was all over now.

Shaking himself from his dead-end thoughts, Stiles tried to refocus on the task at hand, namely walking Leia through the park. She was ahead of him on the jogging path, furry little butt shaking as she waddled, nose to the ground to see if she could sniff out anything of interest.

It was a nice day, warm but not too hot, with a cool breeze rustling through the trees to keep the sunlight from becoming insufferably warm. One of the benefits of living in northern California was that the weather was more temperate than that in the southernmost part of the state, leaving them with summers that were a bit balmy at the most.

That day was no different, though it was still technically spring, only the last week of May. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and kids had shortened school days, making it a perfect day to go to the park.

Leia must have thought so too as the second Stiles had stepped foot into the house after his shift at the local Starbucks he had been greeted by the excited corgi, her leash in her mouth. Taking the less than subtle hint, Stiles had quickly changed out of his coffee stained uniform and thrown on some jeans and a graphic t-shirt before getting Leia ready.

She had stuck her head out the passenger side window for the duration of the short drive to the park, her little stub of a docked tail wagging the whole time, her front paws braced on the door. Stiles had always preferred driving to the park rather than walk there, having learned from experience that if they walked to the park Leia would be too tired by the time they got there to actually enjoy the park.

And they certainly couldn’t have that. Not when Leia had loyal fans to satisfy.

She had let out an excited bark as they pulled up to the park, Stiles finding a parking spot that was as close as possible to the water fountain where people tossed in pennies and dimes and other coins, making wishes as they did. There were drinking fountains a few yards away so Leia could have a nice cool drink after their walk, not wanting her to get overheated.

He had reached over to ruffle the thick fur at her neck as he rolled up the windows, leaving them cracked a few inches to let some fresh air into the Jeep, knowing how quickly it could turn into a sauna just from sitting in the sun for a few minutes. Leia had pulled her head back as Stiles rolled up the window, turning her attention to spinning around in her seat excitedly, even hopping up and down a few times for good measure.

“Alright, c'mon, princess,” Stiles had said as he unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the Jeep, taking a moment to stretch out his legs before he rounded the nose of the Jeep to open the passenger’s side door for Leia. Before the scrappy little corgi could do something stupid and reckless, like try to jump out of the Jeep herself, Stiles scooped her up in his arms and closed the door.

He had set her down in the grass and made sure that her leash was hooked on the ring of her collar, both of which were suitably Star Wars themed. Her black collar was emblazoned with the Star Wars logo in bright yellow, her leash bearing a white and blue R2D2 pattern.

They had been gifts from Derek, too. After Stiles had given Leia her name, Derek had made it his mission in life to buy as much Star Wars themed pet paraphernalia as he could find.

That was how Leia wound up with enough Star Wars memorabilia to actually make Stiles a little jealous. She had a dog bed twice her size that was shaped like the Millennium Falcon, a squeaky ball painted to look like the Death Star, a Chewbacca chew toy, and boxes upon boxes of lightsaber and TIE fighter shaped dog treats.

His bedroom back at home was now full of both he and Leia’s Star Wars merchandise and trinkets, ranging from the promotional posters plastered all over the walls to Leia’s basket of Star Wars toys in the corner. His dad had started referring to Stiles’ room as the Bridge. Stiles appreciated the effort even if his dad did mix up Star Wars and Star Trek yet again.

He had smiled down at Leia at the thought, though his chest did ache at the memory of how excited Derek had been every time he presented Leia with a new toy or treat. Derek had been so wonderful with her.

Shaking himself, Stiles had slid the circular loop of the leash handle around his wrist, curling his fingers around the leash, and slammed the passenger side door shut. Tucking his car keys into his pocket, stuffing them in beside the plastic poop dogs, Stiles had forcibly shoved all thoughts of Derek to the back of his mind and started their walk, leading Leia onto the jogging trail.

They had only been walking for a little more than fifteen minutes, stopping by the Golden Girls at their usual spot, when Leia suddenly took off running across the park, dragging Stiles along with her. He had to jog to keep up with her, desperately calling her name, the corgi surprisingly fast as she bounded across the grassy field in pursuit of who knows what.

He was sure they made quite a sight: a dainty little thirty pound corgi towing her scrawny one hundred and forty seven pound owner around without breaking a sweat, the corgi looking nonplussed as ever. Stiles, on the other hand, was sure he looked like a maniac, panting at the unexpected exertion as he continued calling her name, his face red and blotchy.

When she finally skidded to a stop in the grass, letting out a cheerful yip as she did, Stiles took a moment to catch his breath, bending over to brace his hands on his knees and suck in greedy inhales of cool air. One would think that after years now of running with a pack of werewolves he wouldn’t be so winded from a quick dash across the field, but one would be wrong.

Besides, he hadn’t run with the pack for almost two months now. It had done a number on his stamina.

“Oh god, Leia,” Stiles groaned as he ran a hand over his red face, wiping beads of sweat off of his forehead and pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He was so not giving her any treats that night.

Well, okay, he was still going to give her treats. He may have to reprimand her for her unruly behavior but he wasn’t a monster.

He wiped his sweaty hand on the side of his jeans, still embarrassingly winded, remaining doubled over for a few more minutes. Letting out a deep sigh, he began straightening up but froze in his tracks when he heard a heart-stoppingly familiar voice, stock still in shock.

“Well, hey there, your highness,” the voice greeted, the endearment used so casually and so warmly that Stiles could feel his chest tighten, almost painfully so. Leia let out another happy little bark, tugging at the end of her leash until Stiles relented and loosened his hold on the lead, his hands too shaky to hold it tightly any longer.

He didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to be face-to-face with the person he had studiously been avoiding for the past three months. He didn’t want to look into their eyes and think about what might have been. What should have been.

He didn’t want to break his heart all over again. Once was enough.

But he did anyway. With a deep breath, he straightened up to his full height and looked in the general direction of where the voice had come from.

Derek was sitting on a wooden bench, looking as gorgeous as always in a form-fitting burgundy Henley and dark wash that looked so tight Stiles couldn’t help but wonder how he even managed to put them on. Skinny jeans were no match for that ass.

He was bent over on the bench, elbows resting on his knees as he ruffled the thick brown fur at the nape of Leia’s neck, letting her lap at his face. Her pink tongue laved his cheek, running through the coarse dark hair of Derek’s stubble, the werewolf wrinkling his nose when he caught a whiff of doggy breath.

Derek had a book beside him on the bench, a red bookmark haphazardly stuck in it several chapters in as though he had tucked the bookmark into the novel without much care when Leia bounded over to him. It was so like Derek to do something so insignificant but so meaningful at the same time. It used to take hours for Stiles to drag Derek out of and away from a good book.

He didn’t know if he was jealous that Leia had done it so easily, or happy that Derek had apparently learned how to let loose a little bit.

On the bench beside his book was a thermos of what Stiles guessed was Derek’s favorite blackberry rose tea, the kind that he always liked to sip on when he read. He had told Stiles that his mother had always made it for him when he couldn’t sleep, curling up in bed with him and reading to him from whatever book she was reading at the time until he was able to drift off to sleep.

Stiles had always begged for a sip, winding his arms around Derek’s arm and pressing his cheek against the point of his shoulder, whining until Derek rolled his eyes and relented, handing over his teacup. Puffing his chest out and sticking his chin up in the air, Stiles had always preened about how he had Derek wrapped around his little finger, sticking out his pinky as he took a sip of the tea and wiggling it for effect.

Derek had always rolled his eyes at Stiles’ obnoxious behavior, grabbing his teacup back before Stiles drank all of the tea that he made himself, remembering his mother’s recipe word for word. But he would always grab Stiles by the front of whatever ridiculous ironic t-shirt he was wearing at the time and drag him forward into a kiss both of them smiled into, their lips tasting like blackberries.

While the memory had once warmed him, humbling him with how much he cared about Derek and reminding him that Derek really did care about him, now all it did was make him feel cold and empty. It was almost like a knife straight to his gut, some cold phantom hand twisting it just to make him suffer.

He and Derek had broken up a month and a half before in the wake of a knock down drag out that had all of the betas scrambling for cover in fear of incurring either half of the couple’s wrath. Even Peter had scampered off with his tail between his legs when their bickering turned into a full-blown argument.

They had screamed at each other at the tops of their lungs for hours on end until their voices were hoarse and their throats were so sore they ached. Their harsh words and acerbic barbs had reverberated through the loft, a morbid echo as they argued more vehemently than they ever had before.

At his wit’s end, Stiles had finally mustered up enough nerve to tell Derek that they were over. Done. Finito.

It had been one of the most difficult decisions of his whole life. But he knew that he had to make it.

They had broken up for a reason, a damn good reason, and until the problem was remedied, Stiles couldn’t even ///think/ about getting back together with Derek. All that would lead to was more pain and heartache, and Stiles wasn’t sure how much more of that he could take.

The fight had started over one of Derek’s bad habits. Stiles knew that when it was phrased like that it made him seem shallow and completely asinine, but it wasn’t just any bad habit.

It wasn’t Derek’s habit of waking up at the ass crack and rudely waking Stiles up hours before his alarm went off, opening the blinds in his upstairs bedroom to let the first rays of sunlight filter in. It wasn’t Derek’s habit of hogging the covers like some kind of oversized puppy dog, leaving Stiles with only a corner of the blanket despite the fact that as a human Stiles did not reserve heat the way Derek did.

It wasn’t Derek’s habit of sulking and brooding, refusing to use his words even when he needed them most, though Stiles wished he would overcome that habit, too. It wasn’t even Derek’s horrible habit of self-loathing which Stiles had tried to help him kick, reminding Derek every day just how much he loved him, and just how much he truly deserved to be loved.

No, it was Derek’s bad habit of putting his life at risk every time there was any sort of supernatural crisis, rushing headlong into the fray with no thought towards whether or not he would make it out alive. It was Derek’s bad habit of dragging himself back to the loft all bloodied and bruised, holding in his entrails with a hand pressed to his various wounds.

It was Derek’s bad habit of acting like nothing had happened, hiding away to lick his wounds and let his werewolf healing stitch him back together only to re-emerge from his private bedroom a few hours later with a smile on his face. It was Derek’s bad habit of not caring if he lived or died.

It had gotten old fast and Stiles could no longer watch the man he loved more than life itself not care about his own. The night, or rather the morning since their fight had lasted until the early hours, they had broken up he had screamed at Derek that he wouldn’t watch him kill himself.

They hadn’t talked much after that, or even seen each other since, if anything just catching mere glimpses of each other at the grocery store or the public library or the sheriff’s station once or twice. That was one of the pitfalls of living in a small town — it was virtually impossible to completely avoid one’s ex.

Stiles had distanced himself from the pack in the aftermath of their fight, not sure exactly where he stood with the betas after they had watched him rant and rave at their alpha. They had all grown close, extremely so, after all of their shared trials and tribulations with Gerard and the kanima and the Alpha Pack, but he knew that they were loyal to Derek above anyone else.

He had stopped coming to pack meetings and movie nights in favor of throwing himself headfirst into studying for his finals, fueled by copious amounts of coffee and a desperate need to distract himself from thoughts of Derek. When the studying didn’t work, he decided to start taking more shifts at Starbucks, trying to convince himself that it was only because of the overtime and not because he would turn into a sobbing mess when left alone with his thoughts.

He still talked to the other pack members, though not as often as he used to. As much as he absolutely adored them all — yes, all of them, even Peter and Jackson — he just couldn’t bear the constant reminders of Derek.

He texted Erica and Peter quite frequently, the two of them able to keep up with his sharp wit, answering his sarcasm with snarky comments of their own. But they would always mention what funny thing Derek had said the day before or what new dinner recipe he had tried out at the last pack movie night.

He had gone to the movies with Scott, Isaac, and Boyd just the other day to see some sequel to a movie he had never even seen before, Stiles shrugging and figuring he could parse out whatever the first flick had been about. Everything had been fine until poor oblivious Isaac had started rambling on and on about how much Derek liked the series, insisting that they should have invited the alpha to come along with them.

Even just sitting in the same classroom with Jackson or Allison for their general ed classes was pure torture, his mind wandering to thoughts of Derek without fail. He couldn’t imagine actually going to a pack meeting or movie night.

And there he was face to face with Derek again.

As though reading his mind, Derek raised his head to meet Stiles’ eyes, stealing his breath away all over again. He would never get over how damnably, how unbelievably, how downright unearthly gorgeous Derek was.

The way his eyes — kaleidoscopes of viridian and misty blue and pale brown that most people just called green — crinkled at the corners when he smiled widely and unabashedly, his adorable bunny teeth on full display, was irresistibly sweet. And with the black shadow of seemingly perpetual stubble darkening his jaw and partially obscuring the dimple in his cheek, it was devastatingly handsome, the way that Derek always was.

There was a small fleck of gray in the stubble at his chin, Stiles nearly letting out a whine at the thought that he hadn’t been there to tease Derek about it the first time it appeared, thousands of old man jokes completely wasted. He wondered what Derek had said when he first noticed it, if he had just smiled and shook his head or pouted at his reflection in the mirror while running his fingers through the hair on his chin.

It was cute, a reminder that Derek wasn’t completely inhuman. He may be an alpha werewolf but he wasn’t any more impervious to the passage of time than Stiles himself. A bit less noticeably affected, sure, but not entirely impervious.

Leia seemed to like it too, hopping up to brace her paws on the bench as she pressed more doggy kisses to Derek’s face, focusing on his chin where the flash of gray was. To be completely honest, Stiles wouldn’t mind doing the exact same, horrible breakup be damned. Geez, he was so pathetic.

He tore his eyes away from where Leia was lapping at Derek’s chin to meet the other man’s eyes, willing his heart to be still. But it was no use. The stupid thing started to jackrabbit in his chest, thundering against his rib cage as though trying to break out of Stiles’ body and crawl into Derek’s hands, as gross as that sounded.

Stiles just hoped that Derek didn’t notice. But considering the fact that Derek was an alpha werewolf, he wasn’t going to hold his breath. He just prayed that Derek wouldn’t say anything.

“Hey,” Derek greeted with a radiant beaming smile, still running his fingertips through Leia’s fur, scratching her behind her left ear just the way she liked. His voice was just as warm as ever, no trace of malice or lingering frustration in the timbre or pitch of his voice, greeting Stiles like an old friend rather than an ex-boyfriend who had dumped him in a fit of anger.

God, he made it really hard for Stiles to hate him. Or even just to pretend to hate him since actually hating him was impossible considering how much he still loved him.

“Uh… Hi, Derek,” Stiles replied in a rush of breath, raising his hand in an awkward little wave despite the fact that Derek was barely three feet away from him. Quickly shifting to scratch the back of his head with said offending hand, he murmured, “Long time no see.”

He winced the second the words left his mouth, wanting to crawl into a nearby die and just die. Because of course they had not seen each other in a long time and it was all Stiles’ fault.

He had literally screamed in Derek’s face that he never wanted to see him again the night of their breakup. Then, in the aftermath of their breakup, Stiles had done everything in his power to avoid seeing Derek.

On the other hand, Derek had been the one that still texted Stiles every week, without fail, to inform him of pack meetings and movie nights. Because Derek was a literal amalgamation of sunshine and rainbows and werewolf shaped marshmallows with angry eyebrows who tried to be civil towards his asshole ex even after their tumultuous breakup.

Stiles had been an idiot to even /think/ that he was good enough for Derek. Even if Derek did have a death wish.

“I didn’t know you walked here,” Derek commented with a thoughtful hum, squinting up at Stiles while raising a hand to shield his eyes from the bright afternoon sun. He looked so amazing and sweet that Stiles nearly caved right then and there and begged Derek to take him back, not above groveling if need be.

But Stiles held strong, tightening his grip on Leia’s leash to give himself something to focus on, fixating on the coarse roughness of the lead in his hand, on the sunlight beating down on his back. He couldn’t give in so easily and he knew it.

He really didn’t want to have to watch Derek kill himself. It was bad enough that he had watched his mother die.

He couldn’t go through that again. Especially not when he knew, deep down in some instinctual part of him, that it would hurt even worse this time around.

Shaking off as many thoughts of death and despair as he possibly could, Stiles ran the palm of his hand over the back of his neck, the skin there just as flushed as his face. Nodding frantically to answer Derek’s inquiry, Stiles realized that he should probably use his words, too rather than just gesture about wildly and hope Derek understood what he meant.

“Oh, yeah! Yeah,” Stiles relayed, still bobbing his head up and down as though the motion itself corroborated his claim. Forcibly stilling the movement of his head, he reached down to ruffle Leia’s ears, elaborating, “Leia loves this place. Try to walk her every day if I can.”

“That’s good,” Derek commented, apparently for once in his life a fan of small talk. That was just Stiles’ luck: his boyfriend was as quiet as a church mouse while they were dating but as talkative as Stiles himself after their breakup. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he only heard the tail end of what Derek said next, “—have to tire her out somehow.”

Stiles only belatedly registered that Derek was talking about Leia, again combing his fingers through her khaki colored fur, tracing aimless patterns with his fingertips. Forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, Stiles nodded, this time keeping it to a few bobs of his head, and joked, “Yeah, well, you know Leia. She’s just a little ball of energy.”

Leia turned her head to look back at Stiles at the mention of her name, her little tail wiggling in excitement, without a doubt existing a treat for no other reason than because she wanted one. Stiles rolled his eyes at her and reached over to drag his hand over the top of her head and down between her shoulders, his hand accidentally brushing Derek’s, sending a jolt through him.

It looked like that hadn’t changed, Stiles always feeling a warm fluttery feeling both his chest and belly whenever he touched Derek. Then, as though taking advantage of Stiles’ shock, Derek took him off guard even further by saying, “You haven’t been coming to pack meetings.”

Stiles stilled, blanching a bit as he desperately attempted to formulate a response, the warm blush that had colored his cheeks draining out of his face as his palms began to sweat. Leave it to Derek to go straight for the jugular. He wondered if that was a wolf thing.

“Uh, yeah… I figured you wouldn’t want me there,” Stiles answered truthfully, not seeing any point in beating around the bush since Derek would be able to tell if he was lying. He scratched the back of his head again as he unnecessarily added, “Y'know, after…”

“Of course I want you there. You’re pack,” Derek answered, as he sent him a blindingly bright grin that nearly struck him completely dead, his brain dangerously close to short-circuiting at the sight of Derek’s radiant smile.

That same smile that he used to wake up to on Saturday mornings when he spent the night at the loft, stretching out in Derek’s luxurious California king. That same smile that he used to trace with the pad of his thumb while lounging on the couch, his legs thrown over Derek’s lap. That same smile that Derek had flashed him when he presented him with Leia for the first time, the puppy squirming in his arms.

It was the smile that had made him fall in love with Derek the first time he saw it. And now, it was the smile that broke his heart.

Because it just confirmed what Stiles had feared. Derek had no feelings for him whatsoever, probably only seeing him, and their entire relationship, as some stupid little impulsive fling that he would forget about in a few months. And Stiles would go back to just being the annoying token human of the pack.

He tightened his grip on Leia’s leash, nervously flexing his clammy fingers, though he knew that what he really needed to get a grip on was himself. Glancing down at Leia before flicking his eyes back up to meet Derek’s again, he cleared his throat and claimed, “Well, uh, I’ll definitely be at the next one–” Derek’s smile grew even wider, if such a thing was possible “—but we should probably get going.”

“I’ll see you there, then,” Derek announced, still running his fingers through Leia’s fur, stroking over the back of her head and neck, down between her shoulders. Moving his hand around to her face, Derek cupped her chin in his hands, bringing her head up so he could press a quick kiss to the tip of her wet nose. “And I’ll see you later, too, your highness.”

Leia gave him another affectionate lick to the cheek, blissfully ignorant of her owner’s misgivings about the entire situation, wagging her stubby tail. Stiles maintained his forced smile when Derek let out a deep chuckle and kissed Leia’s forehead, wishing he were anywhere else but there.

Feeling itchy and a bit panicky, Stiles gave Leia’s leash a gentle tug, just enough to get her attention, and clicked his tongue. He felt a pang of guilt at his own desire to flee the scene, not wanting to deprive Leia of contact with Derek, who was essentially her other parent, but he needed to get out of there yesterday.

After bidding a final goodbye to Derek, Leia slobbering all over his face while Stiles just dipped his head, they hurried back to the Jeep, though Stiles tried his damndest to not look like they were hurrying. And if Stiles had to hold back tears as they climbed into the Jeep? Well, Leia would never tell.

* * * * *

“You stupid, selfish asshole!” Stiles snarled as he barged into the loft, forcefully shoving the heavy steel door open to charge into the room, looking murderous. Leia hobbled in after him, completely unperturbed by the stench of blood and bile that hung thick in the air of the loft, wiggling her tail.

Everyone in the loft froze in their tracks at Stiles’ words, whipping their heads around to gape at him, some of them having not seen him in over two months. They would have seen him earlier that night had a flock of harpies not flown into town and decided to wreak havoc on some local campers deep within the preserve.

Erica, Boyd, and Isaac were sitting on the couch together, the trio practically inseparable. Erica had a deep gash on her cheek that was knitting itself back together, Boyd had a large bruise on the side of his shaved head, and Isaac had three talon marks on his right forearm that he was pressing a hand towel to.

Allison and Kira were standing by the wall of windows, both of them completely unscathed but clearly exhausted nonetheless. Jackson and Scott were plopped down in the loveseat across from the couch the other betas were occupying, both of them covered in various, mostly superficial scratches.

Peter was standing in the middle of the loft, looking widely unamused as he tended to Derek’s horrific injuries that did not seem to be healing on their own. He was sitting on the edge of a side table, almost covered completely in blood, wincing as Peter stitched up his battered side.

Not waiting for anyone else to say anything, Stiles stomped further into the loft. No one dared stop him as he made a beeline for Derek, even Peter moving out of his way. The old wolf may be an arrogant, irreverent asshole but he knew how to pick his battles.

Derek frowned down at him from his precarious perch on the side table, his expression more of a pout than a true glare. He had blood smeared on his right cheek, the dried liquid clinging to the coarse hairs of his stubble, darkening the skin beneath them.

Parts of his hair were matted with blood, flattened against his skull, making him look ridiculous. At least, it would have made him look ridiculous if he didn’t look like he was on death’s doorstep.

Stiles couldn’t even count how many claw marks and gashes and bruises Derek had all over his body, and he used to count to a million to occupy himself during boring middle school lectures. He doubted there was a single square inch of Derek’s body that didn’t have a scratch or contusion or blood on it and it terrified him.

Seeing Derek like this, battered and bloody and yet so calm about it, like he was perfectly content with the fact that he might have died, absolutely wrecked him. He had a nick on his forehead, splitting his left brow in two, and there was a horrifically deep slice on his side, only halfway stitched up, both still steadily dripping blood.

Stiles’ anger evaporated in an instant at the closer look at Derek. It was replaced by a deep anguish and shell shocking fear, a sob welling up in his throat as his eyes suddenly stung with tears.

Derek’s brows, the injured one included, nearly met his hairline when Stiles practically collapsed into his arms, colliding with the werewolf so heavily and unexpectedly it startled a comical ‘oof’ out of him. Immediately, whether it was due to habit or instinct, he wrapped his arms around Stiles, holding him close and running a hand up and down his back.

Fisting his hands in the once pristine white tank top that was now little more than a few tattered shreds of fabric that Derek was wearing, Stiles buried his face in the uninjured side of Derek’s chest and sobbed. His whimpers rose up from deep within him, shaking his whole frame as he hiccuped and sniffled, so choked up he couldn’t properly form any words.

Again everyone else in the loft froze, glancing at each other before flicking their eyes back over to Stiles as he cried into Derek’s chest, his cries plaintive and heart-wrenching. Stiles was the unshakeable one, the fearless one, the calm-in-the-middle-of-a-storm one. To see him so broken down, so unabashedly emotional, was jarring.

Even Peter shifted his weight uncomfortably, coughing a bit and averting his eyes, giving Derek and Stiles some privacy in the full room. He plucked up a dish towel, wiping his bloodied hands as he strolled away from the broken up couple, looking over at the betas who had followed his example and turned their eyes from their alpha and his ex.

“Stiles?” Derek murmured softly, soft enough that only Stiles heard him, though he had a feeling the others in the room were deliberately ignoring his words. Settling his hand on Stiles’ hip, Derek gave a gentle squeeze and tipped his head to the side to press his cheek to Stiles’ temple. He closed his eyes, focusing on the wild beating rhythm of Stiles’ heart.

Ignoring the cloying coppery scent of blood that clung to Derek’s tank top, Stiles pressed his face against it, feeling the warmth of Derek’s skin against him. He didn’t know if he would ever be able to articulate just how terrified he had been when he received the text from Erica about the harpy attack, knowing Derek’s predilection for self-sacrifice.

His worries and fears hadn’t been unfounded, Erica mentioning in her text that the alpha had saved Boyd from a swooping assault by using himself as a shield. When he had read the text, he had been overwhelmed with an unpleasant, swirling tsunami of fear and anger and guilt that settled in his gut, threatening to make him lose his lunch.

Now, seeing the extent of Derek’s injuries, seeing the stains in his clothes, and the exhaustion written clearly across his face, it made the storm in his stomach even worse. He wouldn’t have been able to hold his tears back if he tried, which he did.

“You asshole!” Stiles growled, though it sounded more like a sob than anything else, gritting his teeth against an onslaught of fresh tears. He wasn’t even sure if Derek could understand what he was saying, but, undeterred, he continued on, screeching, “You fucking asshole! What the hell were you thinking?!”

“Stiles, I—”

“No! Shut up! You’re gonna fucking listen to me for once!” Stiles sharply cut him off, a fierceness to his voice that left Derek stunned into silence, not daring to speak again until Stiles was finished. His hands shaking as he desperately clutched Derek’s ruined tank top in his fists, Stiles took a deep, stuttering breath and snarled, “I’ve had enough of your macho alpha bullshit! You can’t keep doing this, Derek!”

He took a step back and raised his head, pinning Derek with a solemn look punctuated by pink, puffy eyes and tear streaked cheeks. Untangling one hand from Derek’s bloody shirt, he gestured at the others in the room, announcing, “Your betas don’t need you to swoop in like Superman and save their asses! They can take care of themselves!”

Derek swallowed heavily and risked a glance over at his betas, all of whom were looking at him again. Most of their wounds had already healed, none of them that severe save for his own. As they met his eyes, they nodded gravely, wordlessly agreeing with and confirming Stiles’ claim.

“What the hell do you think they’re gonna do when you finally manage to get yourself killed, huh?!” Stiles growled, drawing Derek’s attention back to himself, his arms now folded over his chest. His eyes were still brimming with tears but his chin was lifted in a display of both defiance and determination. He clearly wasn’t backing down anytime soon, not that Derek expected him to. “They need an alpha! They need you to be alive to be that alpha! Do you even realize how fucking lost we’d all be if you got yourself killed?!”

“Stiles,” Derek sighed, raising a hand to scrub it over his face, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’d all be fine.”

When Stiles didn’t immediately respond, Derek dropped his hand, worried that something was wrong. He had never seen Stiles look so devastated or so seething mad.

Both emotions seemed to be grappling for supremacy on Stiles’ face, his fists clenched so tightly at his sides that his knuckles were stark white. Derek immediately recognized that he had fucked up but there was no going back, there was no fixing it.

“Is that really what you think?” Stiles asked, his voice oddly even, dangerously calm to the point that it made Derek swallow nervously. But before he could say anything, Stiles went on in the same placid tone, “That we’d all be fine without you? That we wouldn’t be going out of our minds without you? That /I/ wouldn’t be going out of my fucking mind without you?”

Derek opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a pathetic croak. Stiles didn’t even seem to notice, continuing, “Because let me tell you something, buddy, I’d be fucking lost without you. These past two months without you made me feel like I was already dead.”

“But,” Derek began shakily, “you were the one who broke up with me—”

“Yeah! I did!” Stiles huffed in frustration, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “Because you kept pulling this kind of shit and I couldn’t sit around and watch the person I’m in love with get themselves killed because of some misplaced sense of martyrdom!”

He was panting by the end of his exclamation and while he had said a lot, Derek could only focus on one part, his jaw dropping. “Love? You…love me?”

“Of course, I do,” Stiles replied, all the anger fleeing from his voice as he stepped closer to Derek, raising his hands to gently cup Derek’s face. The slightest hint of a tremble in his voice, he whispered incredulously, “Derek, you really didn’t know?”

Derek shook his head, chewing his bottom lip. The pain in Stiles’ eyes immediately revealed that he had been wrong.

A moment later, Stiles’ arms were tightly wrapped around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight, warm hug. With his mouth by Derek’s ear, he murmured, “I love you, Derek. And I’m gonna do whatever I can to make you realize that life is worth living.”

Hugging Stiles back, Derek mumbled, “I already know it is. I love you, too, Stiles.”

#stereksummerexchange17 #sse17 #sterek #fic #submission

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