#cora getting tangled in everything

[sfordaisy]

merry late christmas <3

[rafeysbangs]

lachesism , rafe cameron ( series ) 08

pairing ; brother's!bsf!rafe x kook!female!reader

content ; mdni !! outerbanks au, eventual smut, angst, violence, underage drinking, family issues, substance abuse, s/a.

summary ; rafe cameron is everything you can’t stand; reckless, infuriating, and too self-assured for his own good. as your brother’s best friend, he’s always been a constant presence, one you’ve done your best to ignore. but the tension between you has always simmered just beneath the surface, sharp and impossible to ignore. you’ve spent years resisting his pull, refusing to give him the satisfaction. but in a world where lines blur and control slips away, you’re forced to face the truth: rafe cameron isn’t so easy to hate after all.

status ; ongoing .ᐟ

✺ navigation ; 007. 008. 009.

EIGHT, hidden heat.

YOU HADN'T SEEN RAFE IN A DAY.

you'd walked home alone after the kiss, your head spinning with questions and confusion. everything felt tangled, like a thread you couldn't quite unravel.

rafe had treated you like shit for two years, relentless teasing, cutting remarks, and a coldness you couldn't make sense of. you couldn't even pinpoint when exactly it had started, just that it had blindsided you, leaving you annoyed and secretly hurt. you used to lie awake, wondering what you'd done to deserve it. now, after what he'd said, it all made sense.

but that didn't make it okay.

he'd been horrible to you because he liked you? because he couldn't handle his feelings? the whole thing made your blood boil. how selfish could he be?

you sat on the back porch, earbuds in, music playing low as you painted your toenails. the summer heat pressed down on you, thick and heavy, matching the weight of your thoughts. you focused on the brush in your hand, trying to keep cool, trying not to let your anger take over completely.

"hey," carter's voice cut through your music as he stepped outside.

you pulled out one earbud and glanced up. "yeah?"

"topper, kelce, and ruthie are coming over in a bit. you should get cora to come too," he said, leaning against the doorframe. "we're just gonna hang out, drink a little. it's gonna be hot as hell today."

you nodded, forcing a small smile. "sure, sounds good." you pulled out your phone and sent cora a quick text.

carter was already halfway back inside when you called after him, "is rafe still around?"

he glanced over his shoulder with a shrug. "yeah, somewhere." then he disappeared into the house.

you sighed, a heavy weight settling in your chest. of course he was still here. you'd been dreading the moment you'd have to face each other again, and now it seemed inevitable.

you stared down at your half-painted toes, exhaling slowly. "great," you muttered to yourself, the word dripping with sarcasm. the impossible confrontation was just around the corner, whether you were ready for it or not.

you exhaled sharply, setting the tiny brush back into the bottle of polish with a deliberate slowness, your mind churning. confronting rafe felt like trying to unravel a storm- messy, unpredictable, and exhausting. you weren't ready to see him yet, but it seemed the universe had other plans. you glanced out at the yard, the heat shimmering over the lawn, wishing it would all melt away, including your feelings.

cora replied to your text almost immediately, promising to head over soon. you forced a smile at your phone and stood up, inspecting your freshly painted toes. you couldn't sit here and stew in your thoughts forever.

the sound of carter laughing inside carried through the open door, and you caught snippets of his voice mingled with another- deeper, unmistakable. rafe. your stomach twisted.

you grabbed the half-empty polish bottle and made your way inside, hoping to slip past unnoticed. the kitchen was alive with the faint clinking of glasses and carter rummaging through the fridge. rafe leaned against the counter, his broad frame backlit by the sunlight streaming through the window. he wasn't wearing a shirt - again - just gym shorts slung low on his hips. you faltered for a moment, your heart betraying you with its sudden, uneven rhythm.

he noticed you immediately. his gaze flickering to you as you crossed the room, and you tried not to notice how his expression softened just slightly. "hey," he said, his voice low and hesitant.

you didn't meet his eyes. "hi," you murmured, opening a cupboard and pretending to look for something.

carter, oblivious, turned around holding a case of beers. "tossing these in the cooler. topper should be here in twenty." he breezed past them, the screen door slamming shut behind him.

the silence left in his wake was deafening. you could feel rafe watching you, the weight of his presence impossible to ignore.

"are we just... not gonna talk about it?" his voice broke through the quiet.

you turned around slowly, your arms crossed. "what's there to talk about, rafe?"

he straightened, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. "don't do that. don't act like nothing happened."

"fine," you said, leaning back against the counter, your voice sharper than you intended. "what do you want me to say? that i'm not angry? that i don't feel completely blindsided by the fact you've spent years treating me like shit because you have a thing for me? because, honestly, rafe, i don't even know where to start with that."

he winced but didn't back down. "i know i fucked up, okay? i know i don't deserve... any of this." he gestured vaguely toward you, his voice tight. "but i told you because i couldn't keep pretending i didn't feel the way i do."

your chest tightened. you wanted to yell at him, to tell him how unfair it was, but the words stuck in your throat. "you could've handled it differently," you said quietly, your anger ebbing into something softer, more painful. "you didn't have to be so cruel."

rafe stepped closer, his hand brushing the edge of the counter. "i know." he paused, his voice faltering.

you glanced at him then, really looked at him. his blue eyes were clouded with guilt, his shoulders tense like he was bracing for impact. he looked so unsure, so unlike the cocky, self-assured rafe you were used to. it threw you off balance.

before you could respond, the sound of a car pulling up in the driveway broke the moment. voices carried through the open window; topper, kelce, and ruthie, loud and boisterous as ever.

you pushed off the counter and walked toward the back door, needing air, needing space. "we're not done with this," you said over your shoulder, your voice steadier than you felt.

rafe didn't follow you. he just stood there, watching you go, the weight of everything unsaid lingering between them.

you darted upstairs, your heart pounding with a strange mix of nerves and defiance. you rummaged through your drawers, pulling out a bikini. if you were going to spend the day dealing with ruthie's little comments and rafe's confusing intensity, you'd do it on your terms. you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, brushing your hair out quickly before slicking on a layer of sunscreen and then lip balm.

your phone buzzed. cora was two minutes away. thank god. you let out a small sigh of relief, grabbed your sunglasses, and headed downstairs to meet the chaos.

the kitchen was a flurry of voices and movement when you walked in. topper and kelce greeted you enthusiastically, topper pulling you into a quick hug while kelce gave you a fist bump. ruthie hovered nearby, offering a tight-lipped smile that didn't quite reach your eyes before trailing after topper like a shadow. you bit back an eye roll.

the group made their way down to the pool, arms full of coolers, towels, and cups. the sun blazed overhead, casting sharp, golden light over everything. you were halfway to setting up your spot when rafe came strolling down behind carter, carrying two cases of beer on each arm like it was nothing. his swim trunks hung low on his hips—too low—and he wore a grin that was equal parts cocky and carefree. your breath hitched for half a second, though you quickly busied yourself with unpacking your things.

cora arrived moments later, saving you from spiralling into your own head. "finally," you said, pulling your best friend into a hug.

"always here," cora replied with a grin, holding up a tote bag filled with sunscreen, snacks, and what looked like an entire bottle of tequila.

you claimed a couple of loungers near the pool's edge, chatting as you set your stuff down. you slipped off your cover-up, feeling the sun warm your skin instantly. you slid your legs into the water, the coolness a welcome contrast to the heat, and leaned back on your hands as you let yourself relax, at least a little.

your gaze flicked toward rafe before you could stop it. he was across the pool, standing near the cooler, and his eyes were already on you. but this time, he didn't look away. he didn't even try to hide it. his gaze was piercing, unwavering, and undeniably bold, the hint of a mischievous smile tugging at his lips. your stomach did a strange flip, but you quickly forced your focus back to cora, who was already cracking jokes about ruthie's extravagant poolside outfit.

soon, everyone settled into the rhythm of the afternoon. the speaker pumped out upbeat music, beers were cracked open, and laughter echoed around the pool. topper and kelce started an overly competitive game of pool volleyball, and ruthie made a show of lounging on a float, her perfectly manicured hand trailing lazily through the water.

you stayed on the edge with cora, chatting and occasionally letting your feet splash in the pool. but every now and then, you could feel it, rafe's gaze on you like a magnet. it wasn't just the usual glance or fleeting look; it was charged, intentional, like he was daring you to acknowledge it.

you refused to give him the satisfaction, at least not yet. instead, you turned to cora, a grin playing on your lips. "so, tequila shots by the pool later?"

"is that even a question?" cora shot back, raising her sunglasses with a smirk.

you laughed, the sound light and unbothered, even as you felt the weight of rafe's attention lingering like the heat in the air.

the afternoon unfolded lazily, the sun beating down as the group alternated between the pool and the loungers. topper and kelce's volleyball game turned into a chaotic mess of rules no one followed, ruthie kept taking dramatic selfies with the pool in the background, and cora made sure your drink was never empty.

you did your best to relax, to let yourself melt into the carefree energy around you. but it was hard, especially when rafe kept finding ways to pull your attention. a joke tossed too loudly, his laughter cutting through the music, the way he casually leaned against the pool's edge when he wasn't in the water, his sharp gaze finding you through the crowd. it was infuriating.

cora noticed too, leaning close to murmur, "why does rafe keep staring at you?"

you rolled her eyes, pretending not to care. "he's just... being rafe."

cora snorted. "rafe doesn't just look at people like that. he's trying to get your attention."

"well, it's working," you muttered, taking a long sip of your drink.

not long after, rafe made his move. the volleyball game had dissolved completely, and most of the group was lounging in or around the pool. you were sitting on the edge, your feet still dangling in the water, when he swam up to you.

"you're awfully quiet," he said, his voice low enough that only you could hear.

you glanced down at him, your expression neutral. "maybe i just don't have anything to say."

he rested his arms on the edge of the pool, looking up at you with that maddening, unreadable expression. "you always have something to say."

your lips pressed into a thin line. "not to you."

his smirk faltered, but only for a second. "still mad, huh?"

"mm, you think?" you shot back, your voice sharper than you intended.

rafe sighed, leaning his forehead against his arm for a moment before looking back up at you. "whatever. i'm trying to be better."

"trying?" you scoffed, pulling your legs out of the water and standing. "trying would've been not treating me like shit for two years. trying would've been telling me the truth before-" you cut yourself off, shaking your head. "forget it."

then cora called out from the pool, "tequila shot time!"

you tore your gaze away from rafe, your pulse racing. "coming!" you called back.

rafe's eyes stayed on you as you walked away.

you sauntered over to where cora stood, your best friend holding out a shot glass with a mischievous grin. your own smile widened as your fingers brushed in the exchange. "cheers," cora said, her voice light and teasing, and you nodded before you both tipped their heads back in unison. the burn of the liquor was sharp and immediate, but you barely flinched, laughing as you set the empty glasses on the table.

the evening had taken on a golden glow, the fairy lights strung above the pool casting soft halos over everything. the music was louder now, bass thumping in time with the pulse in your temples. laughter echoed through the backyard, a mix of drunken banter and the occasional off-key singing. you had lost count of how many drinks you'd had, the edges of your world blurring pleasantly as you sank into one of the lounge chairs, tilting your head back to let the breeze cool your flushed skin.

cora was off giggling with kelce and carter, their voices floating across the yard, while topper and ruthie bickered yet again, their argument punctuated by topper's exaggerated sighs and ruthie's pointed glares. you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head at their endless drama.

after a moment, you stood, the ground beneath your feet feeling just a little unsteady. the thought of water tugged at you like a lifeline, and you nodded to yourself, mumbling something incoherent as you made your way back toward the house. the warmth of the night followed you inside, the air cooler in the kitchen but still heavy with the scent of sunscreen and spilled beer.

you poured yourself a glass of water, the cold liquid a welcome relief against your palm. lifting it to your lips, you turned, only to feel an unmistakable presence close behind you.

rafe.

you froze for half a second before meeting his eyes, his grin lazy and self-assured. he looked impossibly relaxed, leaning against the counter like he hadn't a care in the world. but there was something about the way he was watching you, intense, piercing, that made your pulse quicken.

"thirsty?" he asked, his voice low and teasing.

"clearly," you replied, taking a sip to steady yourself. your cheeks warmed under his gaze, though you refused to let it show.

his hands found your arms, fingertips grazing lightly over your skin as he stepped closer. his touch sent a shiver racing down your spine despite the heat.

"you're trouble," you said softly, unable to stop the small giggle that escaped your lips. you hated how easily he got to you, how effortlessly he unraveled the walls you tried so hard to keep up.

"maybe," he said, his breath warm and tinged with the strong scent of alcohol. 

you tried to summon some kind of retort, something to wipe that smug grin off his face, but your thoughts scattered the moment his eyes dropped to your lips. suddenly, the glass in your hand felt too heavy, the space between them too small.

and yet, you didn't move away.

you leaned back against the counter, clutching the cool glass of water in your hand as rafe stepped closer, his presence almost magnetic. his grin was lopsided, a mix of mischief and something softer, more vulnerable, that made your stomach flip.

"you're avoiding me," he said, his voice low and teasing, though his eyes searched yours like he was looking for something you weren't sure you could give.

"maybe i am," you said lightly, your lips curling into a small smirk. the alcohol in your system giving you the courage to challenge him, even as your heart thudded against your ribs.

his hands slid up your arms, slow and deliberate, leaving trails of warmth in their wake. "you're not very good at it," he murmured.

you laughed softly, shaking your head. "you're annoying."

he leaned in, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him, his voice dropping even lower. "yeah, but you like it."

your breath hitched, and you took a step back, needing the space to think clearly, though the counter at her back kept you trapped. "you're drunk," you said, though your voice lacked conviction.

he tilted his head, studying you. "so are you."

you bit your lip, trying to find the right words, but they felt tangled in your chest. "what do you want, rafe?"

his grin faltered, replaced by something deeper, something raw. "you," he said simply, the word heavy with meaning. 

the room felt impossibly small, the air thick between them. your pulse thundered in your ears, and you couldn't look away from him, couldn't ignore the way he looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered.

"you make it sound so simple," you whispered.

he laughed softly, the sound almost bitter.

your fingers tightened around the glass, your resolve wavering. you wanted to let yourself believe him, to believe that he could be better, that you could be something. but the weight of the past still lingered, tugging at the edges of your mind.

"rafe..." your voice cracked, and you hated how uncertain you sounded.

he stepped even closer, his hands settling on the counter on either side of you, boxing you in without touching you. "tell me to back off, and i will. i swear. but if you want me to stop, you have to mean it."

you stared at him, your breath caught somewhere between your lungs and your throat. every part of you screamed at you to push him away, to protect yourself from the storm that was rafe cameron. but you couldn't. you didn't want to.

instead, you set the glass down on the counter, your movements deliberate. your gaze locked with his, and you leaned up just enough to press your lips to his, slow and certain.

the kiss was nothing like the first. it wasn't hurried or impulsive. it was deliberate, a choice. your hands slid up his chest, and he groaned softly against your mouth, his hands finding your waist like they belonged there.

for a moment, the world melted away. there was no past, no pain, no anger, just the two of you, tangled together in the quiet chaos of your emotions.

you kept waiting for him to pull away, or you to, but you didn't. the kisses were getting more intense, more hungry. you couldn't help how your arms clung around his neck, how his hands fit so perfectly at the small of your back. 

soon you were turning around, walking side ways up the stairs as you grasped onto each other, as if you'd let go, you'd never touch again. you suddenly had nothing else in your head, only rafe. rafe. rafe. 

you pulled away as you both fell back onto something, your bed, you were in your room. you were kissing rafe cameron, in your bedroom, on your bed. you kicked the door closed and pressed your lips against his again. 

his weight steady but not overwhelming. the room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from the warm glow of the fairy lights strung up around your window and the salt lamp on your bedside. your heart was racing, your breath catching in your throat as his lips moved against your, deliberate yet full of hunger. his hand slid up your side, fingers brushing the bottom of your bikini top as if asking for silent permission.

your hands tangled in his hair as he pressed closer, your body responding instinctively to his. it was a strange thing, this mix of familiarity and newness; years of knowing each other, clashing and caring, culminating in this uncharted territory.

when his hands slipped under your bikini top, you arched into him. his skin was warm, the faint scent of salt and summer clinging to him. he let out a soft groan as your hands ran down his chest, your touch light but full of purpose.

"you drive me insane, you know that?" he murmured against your neck, his lips grazing your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

your bikini top flew to the floor, and he paused for a moment, his eyes roaming over you like you were something sacred. it made your heart ache in the best way, the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

things escalated naturally, their movements full of a delicate, shared urgency. your bottoms joined the growing pile of clothes on the floor.

"don't worry, i'm on birth control" you interrupted gently, your voice steady. your lips brushed his, and your words came out in a tense whisper. 

something about those words made him lose any remaining control. his kisses deepened, his hands roamed with a newfound confidence, and together, you fell into the moment, letting everything else fade away.

"you're fuckin' killing me right now." he groaned, taking one of your tits in his hand again. you arched into him, reaching to palm him through his pants. resting his head in the curve of your neck, rafe licked over your nipple, his tongue running over the sensitive spot of your flesh. you moaned, the sound making his cock stir. 

you continued stroking him through his pants, his lips finding yours before he slipped his freehand down her body. you whimpered before you felt his middle and ring fingers dip between your folds. "fuckk, you're soaked.." he grazed her clit, your body jolting in pure pleasure.

rafe slid his fingers down to your entrance, before gliding his them back up to your sensitive bundle of nerves, admiring the way your eyebrows knitted together in pleasure, your lips wet with his spit.

despite his fingers working on you mercilessly, you felt so bare, wanting nothing more than to feel the stretch of his cock. "rafe. i want you inside of me." you looked deeply at him, "please fuck me." grunting at your words, rafe gave you a nod.

rafe moved them backward, sat up against your headboard before pulling you back down on his lap. you kissed him, grinding on his cock. rafe wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you up as you reached down and lined him up with your entrance. making sure you were looking at his face, rafe lowered you slowly, both of you moaning as you sunk down on his length.

you felt so warm and tight wrapped around him, both of you shuddering once he filled you completely. "fuck, rafe you're so big" you whimpered, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. 

"look at me," he suddenly said, you breathed deeply but locked your gaze on his. "you're mine now, okay? you're mine." his possessive tone made you shudder, you nearly doubled over from the pleasure. 

"look, i need you to know that i'm sorry about the way i treated you before. because the way i'm gonna fuck you? you just might forget." she was about to question what he meant when he wrapped his arms around you tightly and started thrusting into you from below, your lips parting as a yell ripped itself from your throat. 

"oh my, fuck!" you cried, rafe smirked to himself. "the dick that good?" you buried your face in his chest, biting down on your bottom lip as his pelvis smacked the bottoms of your ass.

rafe was brutal, his tip kissing your cervix every so often as he moved his hips. "ugh fuck, your dick is so good" you cried, holding onto him tightly. he groaned and gazed up at you. he continued like this, leaving open mouth kisses along your shoulder.

he then laid you down, throwing each leg over his shoulder before slamming back into you again. with rafe pounding into you like nothing could stop him, and his fingers now rubbing your clit, it wasn't long before you were a whining mess, both you and rafe kissing as your orgasm hit you, stealing your breath away. rafe came twice, then doubling over.

when it was over, you lay tangled together, heaving. 

rafe chuckled, pulling you closer without a word. 

your heart was still racing, trying to steady your breathing and your thoughts. you couldn't believe what had just happened, and where. the faint thump of music from the pool below felt like a distant echo of reality, pulling you back to the present. your cheeks burned as the realisation hit: carter could never know. ever.

you glanced over at rafe, who was now sitting on the edge of your bed, his tousled hair falling over his forehead, his trademark smirk firmly in place. he was entirely too pleased with himself.

"he'll murder both of us," you whispered, covering her mouth as if that would somehow muffle the guilt clawing at your chest. you quickly grabbed your bikini top and started putting it back on. 

rafe rolled his eyes, leaning back lazily like this was all some big joke. "please. i could take carter in a fight."

you shot him a glare, standing up and hastily adjusting your bikini straps. "this isn't about who can fight who, rafe. this is about me not wanting to live through the fallout of carter finding out his best friend and sister-" you gestured vaguely between them, "-did... whatever this is."

his smirk only widened, his eyes darkening as he looked you up and down. "whatever this is?" he repeated, his voice dripping with mischief. "sounds like you're already trying to forget it."

you groaned, grabbing a scrunchie from your nightstand to tie your hair back. "i don't have time for your ego right now. i need to pee, and you need to act like you were doing something that wasn't me."

rafe chuckled, standing and stretching leisurely as if the weight of their secret hadn't hit him yet. "fine. but for the record, i'm going to miss the view." he threw you one last mischievous grin before heading into the guest room across the hall, muttering something about packing his things.

you rolled your eyes and pulled your bikini bottoms up, muttering curses under your breath as you headed into the bathroom. you turned the lock, stared at your reflection for a long moment, and exhaled. "what the fuck just happened?" you whispered to yourself, splashing cold water on your face.

when you emerged a few minutes later, freshly composed, cora's voice drifted up from the hallway. you froze for a second, quickly throwing on your most nonchalant expression.

cora and carter appeared outside your room, the latter looking mildly suspicious. "hey," cora chirped, stepping inside. "where've you been? we were looking for you."

"oh, just needed water and the bathroom," you lied smoothly, shrugging as you stumbled over a little, really selling the drunk pee lie. you were grateful cora was terrible at detecting lies because carter's eyes lingered on you for just a beat too long.

the sound of the toilet flushing across the hall made all three of them glance over. a moment later, rafe stepped out, his face annoyingly calm, like he hadn't just been breaking every bro code in existence.

"oh hey," cora said, her tone neutral but slightly puzzled.

"what were you doing?" carter asked, narrowing his eyes slightly at rafe.

"packing," rafe said easily, motioning toward the guest room. "gotta head back to tanneyhill soon, remember?"

carter didn't look entirely convinced, but his suspicion seemed to fade when he said, "well, there are s'mores out back. let's go before topper eats all the chocolate."

you forced a grin, and cora clapped her hands excitedly as they all made their way downstairs. rafe's arm brushed yours on the way, and you felt a rush of heat crawl up your neck, which you desperately tried to hide by falling into step with cora.

as you stepped back out into the warm evening, the fairy lights twinkling overhead and laughter ringing out from the poolside, you glanced over at rafe. he caught her eye for the briefest moment, his smirk subdued but still present, a secret written plainly across his face.

you looked away quickly, swallowing hard. you didn't know what you'd gotten yourself into, but one thing was clear. this was only the beginning.

series taglist ; @rafegetinmybed @sqfewrd @dreamyy-cloud @vampteeth @wtfisastiles @flvredcas @plaidcowboy @sematarygirls @slut4you @kravitzwhore @daryldixon83 @lexavanhuelee @dorcas4meadowes @i2rapunzel @rafestoothbrush @drewizz @6r4cie @akobx @seehowitshines @rafeswhoooreee @vbstrewbieri @waywarddiplomatfarmmonger-blog @ariivv01 @k4yr14 @luvrcndy @teleishachrisy @importantbeardcupcake @vanessa-rafesgirl @ltristessedureratoujours @cutkoskysnix1 @kennedywxlsh @funnyalpca @eeveelizabethh @burnburritono @marleymarleymarleymarley @katiebby04 ( lachesism taglist ) in order to stay on this taglist you must interact with the posts !

[eevylynn]

September First

Sterek || T|| Hogwarts AU || 2789 wc

Derek Hale is a seventh year werewolf on the Ravenclaw quidditch team and is now Headboy. Stiles Stilinski is the son of a witch mom and squib dad and is now a fifth year Slytherin prefect. Read to see which houses the others are in. No HP characters included in this. Teen Wolf ones only.

Made using the prompt "Harry Potter AU" for @sterekbingo

I seem to imagine every fandom I'm in as characters in Hogwarts at some point or another, lol! I started this even before I got my bingo card, but I got distracted.

~*~*~*~

Noah Stilinski popped his head into his son’s room, knocking softly on the door as he went to wake his son up to get him ready to catch the train.

The fifteen year old wizard was sprawled across the thin bed, legs tangled in the duvet, head and one arm slightly hanging off the side next to his pillow. The boy’s mouth was hanging wide open with a small line of drool coming down one corner. Noah shook his head, laughing softly. Having grown over half a foot in the last year alone, it was hard to think of Stiles as a boy anymore now that his son was almost eye level with him. Heck, Noah will probably have to surprise the kid with a bigger bed come winter break because he’s just about outgrown his narrow childhood one.

Shaking the morose thoughts out of his head before he started dwelling on how Claudia would have reacted to their son being taller than her, Noah cleared his throat before gruffly calling out, “Stiles!”

No reaction.

Noah blinked, took a breath, and called out louder, “Stiles!”

Stiles groaned and smacked his lips before rolling over to hug his pillow.

“STILES!”

Shooting out of bed like a bludger, the young wizard blinked a couple of times, willing his brain to wake up alongside his body.

His father smiled at how much Stiles reminded him of Claudia sometimes. She, too, was much more of a night owl than a morning person. “Come on, son,” Noah said. “It’s 8. We need to get ready, so we can leave and make it to the station on time.”

Stiles nodded and moved to get out of bed. Unfortunately, his legs were so tangled up in the sheets that he immediately fell over and face planted with a loud THUD.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Derek laid in his plush four poster bed, blinking at the light dancing across the dark ceiling above him as he listened to the early morning commotion in the house that was everyone else in the house getting ready for the day. Maybe if he just stayed here, no one would hear him in return.

Laura and Cora were fighting over who could have their shared bathroom first. Their dad, Elijah, was cooking breakfast in their large kitchen. Probably bacon, eggs, and either pancakes or waffles if Derek was smelling it right. Their mother was trying to make sure the terror twins, Benjamin and Ava, had packed everything for their first year of school with Peter making not so helpful comments that did nothing but stress out all three of them before Talia inevitably snapped at him to “Either be useful or get out of the room”. His cousin, Malia, sounded like she, too, was still in bed. Unlike him, however, she was still sleeping peacefully. Derek’s brother Patrick on the other hand–

“I know you’re awake in there,” Patrick’s deep voice grumbled from right outside Derek’s door.

Derek groaned as he climbed out of the warm embrace of his bed. Throwing on the outfit he had set out the night before, Derek walked over to open the door.

Patrick was two years older than Derek and Laura, and was, in Derek’s opinion, the perfect older brother.

Everyone loved Patrick. Not only did he have the Hale looks and a wonderfully deep gravelly voice that caused all the witches, and a fair number of wizards, to sigh, he was amazingly funny without being hurtful. Patrick could get along with absolutely everyone. He was both the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain as well as Headboy during his seventh year and seemed to handle that load flawlessly, earning all of his NEWTs in the process. He was even recruited to one of the top Quidditch teams in the league right out of Hogwarts and was actually awarded the Witch Weekly’s Most Charming Smile Award this past summer!

[continue reading on ao3]

[dryad-of-the-dogwood]

No I'm not actually out of editing hell in my head, I've just officially said screw it and am throwing this up anyway.

The Grav Jump Tango Chapter 11: Secrets in Neon Pairing: Sam Coe x Spacefarer

Cass looked almost pleasantly surprised when Sam and Cora met her in the foyer with their bags in the morning. It wasn’t until he caught the look on her face and saw Andreja with her after all that he realized he had never technically given her an answer the night before. Still, despite Andreja’s reluctance to stay out of the action, she agreed to keep Cora safe on the ship while Sam went into the city with Cass and Walter instead.

Even though Cass had drunk more than Sam, with her head start before he turned up, she didn’t show it. In fact, she looked downright… well, she looked different, he hedged as he tried to curb his own thoughts again. Usually she favored sturdy boots and long sleeves, he supposed, and she did still have on a pair of boots that looked more than capable of kicking in teeth, but everything else was unusual.

She was clearly dressed for Neon, in skintight black pants and fingerless gloves that would blend in anywhere in the city. Her electric blue halter top, on the other hand, might as well have been flashing with the words Look at me! with the amount of skin it showed off, which probably meant Walter’s plan involved the Astral Lounge. Somehow Sam didn’t find himself in possession of his usual dread for that particular idea, maybe too interested in investigating a tattoo he’d never seen before. She had a half sleeve on her left arm that at first glance looked like an abstract maze of circuitry, but upon closer inspection seemed to actually sketch out images—he spotted what looked like a mountain, a tree, and some kind of wildflower as he followed it up to where it ended near her collarbone.

Cass must have caught him looking, because she grinned in his direction. “Don’t get used to it; my hair tangles like crazy this way,” she said, and only then did he notice that in place of her usual braid, she’d pulled her hair back into a high ponytail that appeared to be tied in place with a small braid originating just above her left ear. The change suited the rest of her outfit, the barely contained waves spilling down her back somehow making her look a little less restrained and despite the smile, a lot more dangerous to anyone who knew her previous line of work. He decided instantly that he would let her go right on thinking that he was only staring at her hair.

“Yes, well, it’s fine for reconnaissance,” Walter interrupted, frowning at Cass over his crossed arms and paying the others no attention at all. “But I hope you have a change of clothes to meet the client.”

Cass’s lips twisted in displeasure, but she nodded. “Yes, yes, I know what you want me to wear,” she grumbled. “I have it when it’s time, but you owe me for this one.”

Walter actually laughed. “Do tell Issa that when we see her! I may be the grumpy old man, but she’s the one who holds a grudge. I’m sure she will thoroughly enjoy the idea that I owe you.”

“Of course she will.” Cass sighed heavily, but she didn’t seem to want to elaborate.

“Well, I think you look really pretty,” Cora chimed in. And then, because she was either completely oblivious or far too perceptive for her own good, prodded, “Doesn’t she, Dad?”

Sam glanced at Cora and almost choked. He knew his little girl well, and that smile she was wearing was just a little too innocent.

“Yeah, of course,” he managed to say, trying and failing for nonchalance. “Very pretty.” Cass seemed surprised when he met her eyes. Then a slow smile started on her lips, like maybe she could tell that pretty wasn’t exactly the first descriptor that had popped into his head.

Andreja snorted in a way that could have been disgust or amusement and then suggested they get going before they missed their departure time. Sam wasn’t quite sure if he was more grateful for the distraction or disappointed that Cass hadn’t managed a reply first.

[specialagentlokitty]

Thomas barrow x Male!reader - love to hate you, hate to love you

Part 14:

You looked up at Chiron.

“Are all the demigods back?”

“The last just got back.”

“Leon round everyone up, we move in an hour.”

“Yes sir!”

You turned to the ghost next to you.

“Take your team, protect everyone in the house until we arrive.”

“Yes sire.”

You looked at Chiron.

“Why Downton Abbey?” You asked.

“Because of this.”

Hades stepped into the room and set a slip of paper on the table and you looked at it in confusion.

“It’s a sword?” You asked confused.

“It’s the sword that will break everything you have ever protected. In the wrong hands this sword will raise the titans, and create a whole new war.”

“And the Earl has it?”

“Passed down, they’ve had it for many years. He isn’t aware he even has it.”

You nodded your head at your father.

“Thank you.”

He nodded and he looked around.

“Take Cerberus.”

“You need him.”

“For what? I’ve no monsters to keep in the underworld, take him, he can keep the monsters at bay at least.”

“Have him meet us there.”

Hades nodded his head and you and Chiron went outside and watched as the demigods all lined up.

“My lord! There’s someone approaching the house!” Henry yelled.

“What, can’t you stop him?” Lord Grantham asked.

“No lord he’s… there’s things with him…”

Everyone rushed to the main door and looked out, in the evening light was a whole army of creatures all stalking closer.

“Get everyone into the main hall now!” Lady Cora yelled.

No one knew what to do and they were panicking about what to do, the tried the telephone but no ring was happening.

There was a loud knock on the door and it was pushed open to reveal a blond man grinning from ear to ear.

“You, Lord Grantham, have something I want, and I’m running out of time.”

You began the March to the castle, raising ghosts on the sides of the army of Demigods, and you marched them around the side of the building.

“Hold positions!”

They stopped and you looked around, flicking your hand to the home one of the ghosts entered and you peaked around, staring at the forest line where the monsters were waiting.

“What are they waiting for?” Theo whispered.

“I’m not sure.”

The ghost came back.

“The main hall sire.”

“Get them ready outside, surround the front of the house, I will place ghosts at the back by the servants entrance.”

“Right.”

You pointed to a few men and they followed behind you, standing at the door they opened it and flooded in and you made your way.

“I haven’t a clue what you’re looking for!” Lord Grantham yelled.

“You know where it is!” Lock hissed.

You raised your hand, ghostly chains shooting up from the found, tangling around Lock and dragging him to his knees.

“Show yourselves.”

The ghost manifested and locked growled a little, and some of the homes captives gasped and huddled closer to one another.

“That’s why I couldn’t get near them, of course you put guards on them.” Lock spat.

“I take the safety of this family very seriously.”

You walked around the front and stood in front of the family, and you pulled the coin out of your pocket, twirling it between your fingers as you looked at the blond man.

“Going to kill me?” He asked.

You moved your other hand behind you and a demigod dragged over a chair, and you sat on it, looking down at Lock.

“Should I?” You asked.

“I’d simply get out again.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Tartarus is closed Lock. Anything in there will be staying in there.”

He scoffed a little but.

“What have you told them?”

“I’ve showed them everything, I’ve showed them what I can do, and what those monsters out there will do if they don’t give me what I’m looking for.”

You clicked your fingers and a ghost came down with a sword in hands and you took it, slowly standing up.

“Do you mean this sword?”

“You knew?”

“Of course I knew. And it won’t be here when I release those chains.”

You handed it to the ghost.

“Take it back to my father, ensure it’s safety.”

The ghost took it and vanished and locked yelled loudly at you.

“Why are you doing this? We swore a vow to kill those very things you brought with you, protect people just like this.”

“Why would you protect them?! Protect the very same gods that watch their children die?!” He screamed.

“I don’t want to protect the gods, but I want to protect these people!” You hissed.

Standing up, you dragged the chair back and you looked at the family, and the servants.

You clenched your jaw a little bit.

“You brought them here?” Lord Grantham asked.

“I hadn’t a clue they were coming here my Lord. I’m sorry.”

You turned to look at Lock.

“Have you forgotten what they did to us?!”

“Of course I haven’t?! How could I when I see it on my face every single day!”

Lock grinned a little and pulled at his chains.

“They think you’re a monster, look at them, scared of you, the same man who used to protect them.”

You looked at them all and you could see the fear in their faces, and you turned away.

“Show them what kind of monster you are.”

“I am no monster Lock, and you never used to be one either. I understand you are angry at Zeus, I am as well for what he did to you, you’re in pain, and you have been hurting for so long.”

Lock scoffed, and stood up and pulled at the chains again.

“Someone who’s immortal could never understand the pain I went through!” He yelled.

You looked at him sadly.

A few tears ran down his face and he sniffled a little bit.

“You think I don’t understand your pain Locklin? You think I don’t know what you went through?” You asked quietly.

He stayed quiet and you took a deep breath and looked at the family and the servants.

“You wanted to know my past, well here it is, make of it what you will.”

You turned back to Lock.

“I, and only I cannot die Lock. Would you like to guess how many times that I have gone through things I should have died in? I have been beaten, stabbed, drowned, frozen, set alight.”

You looked down at the ground.

“You got out easy when your father decided to kill you, for he decided not to spare me so lightly, instead, he cursed me with a life that would never end! Even down in Tartarus by your side where they spared you in favour for me because I am the son of the god of the underworld, the same god who trapped them.”

You pointed your finger at him.

“Do not act as if I do not know your pain, but do not put these innocent people through that.”

You looked out the window.

“Do you really think those monsters will stay by your side?”

“They have the building surrounded.”

“They haven’t left the forest.”

“What?”

You looked at Lock.

“They’re still in the forest. Waiting for something, so what have you done?”

Lock clenched his jaw.

Flipping the coin in the air, you caught your sword and pointed it at him.

“What have you unleashed?”

“A.. a giant…”

“Are you insane?! That giant will crush you as well?! They do not care about you!”

“They do!”

“Then why haven’t they come to save you Lock?!”

He stayed quiet and you nodded your head.

“I did everything they wanted…”

“Gods and monsters alike do not care about demigods. You know this.”

“Why am I always the bad person?”

“Because you make bad choices.”

You walked over and stood in front of him, lowering your sword.

“You and I used to be brothers in arms Lock, we fought together side by side.”

He looked at you.

“Despite your flaws you are still my brother and you always will be, and there is still time to make this right.”

“Say I wanted to, how would we? There’s a whole army.”

“I too have an army, two.”

“They’ll send me back…”

“They will not. You will get the justice you deserve for the wrongs done to you, but you must prove yourself worthy of their forgiveness.”

Lock looked at you, and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Whether you accept this offer or not, I will bring down that army.”

“Why would you help me?”

“Because you once helped me, and I should like to return this favour to you, if you accept.”

Lock looked at you.

You offered him your hand and rose a brow.

“You can promise me I won’t get sent back?”

“You have my word, and my fathers.”

He nodded and reached his hands out, and you released his chains.

“Why would you trust me so easily?”

“I can see your aura, if you were lying I would know.”

You turned around and gave a small bow of your head.

“I apologise for what’s to come, and everything will be fixed.”

“What is to come?” Lady Cora asked.

“A full scale war on your doorstep my lady.”

“Oh heavens…” lady Mary whispered.

“How can we stop it?” Mr Carson asked you.

“You can’t, we can but you can’t.”

“Then how do we aid you, if you’ve come this far how do we help?” Lord Grantham asked.

“Allow my archers to the highest points of Downton, I can handle the rest.”

“All on your own?” Lady Edith asked.

You nodded and walked out of the room and everybody followed you.

They were terrified, they didn’t know what to do, but they had trusted you once and they felt the need to trust you again, you were only thing standing between them and the monsters about to destroy their home.

Stepping out of main entrance everyone stood behind you.

The demigods all stood up straight, weapons at the side of them and the ghosts knelt down.

“What is all of this?” Lord Grantham asked.

You glanced at the man and looked back, and a ghost walked up to you.

“Sire, what do we do?”

“Sire?” Thomas asked.

You turned around to look at them and you sighed heavily.

“Allow me to properly introduce myself. I am (Y/N) (L/N) the immortal demigod son of Hades, God of the underworld. General of the demigod army before you, king of ghosts.”

“This is what you’ve been doing? Planning for all of this?” Lord Grantham asked.

“Yes my lord, please I will answer any questions soon, but we must get everything ready.”

“Right, yes. Are you sure you can protect everyone.”

“I am sure I can protect you all, yes.”

Lord Grantham nodded and he began to order the servants around.

“My lord?”

“Yes?”

“Will you be my lieutenant for this? I should need s strong hand by my side to aid in these preparations.”

“I should be honoured.”

You nodded and turned around.

“Archers forward!”

They stepped forward and you gestured to the house and they followed the footmen and Mr Carson.

“Get the women somewhere safe.” You ordered Leon.

He nodded and rushed them away and you walked to the middle of the two armies waiting for orders.

“Where can I help?” Lord Grantham asked.

“Take half of the spirits and half the Demi gods, put them where you see fit my lord, I will take the other half.”

He nodded and the groups split, and you held your hand out, summoning more ghosts.

“Lock, stay here with Theo, tell him everything you know.”

“Right.”

You ran back inside and you were pulled into an empty room and the door was slammed shut.

“We need to talk now.” Thomas said quietly

[felixgirll]

PART 3

IS MANIFESTING REAL?

It felt like forever waiting for him to call,especially when i didn't know if he would ACTUALLY call. I'll admit it—I started manifesting. I'd write his name in my journal like some lovesick teenager, pleading with the universe to make him think of me. Rational? Not at all. But desperate times called for desperate measures. The truth was, there was no logical way we'd ever cross paths again. He lived in an entirely different world—footballers, glamorous events, and a lifestyle far removed from mine. Sure, there were wealthy, connected people in my college, but they were snobby, and there was no way I'd get close to him through them. So, I kept hoping, wishing, and, yes, manifesting, even though it seemed ridiculous. Meanwhile, exams loomed over me like a dark cloud. I had done well in most of them so far, but the last one was only two days away. I should have been buried in my textbooks, laser-focused like a proper graduate student. Instead, I was daydreaming, replaying our brief encounter in my head like a broken record.And that's when it hit me—I wasn't acting like an adult, I felt like a 13-year-old fangirl all over again. But here's the thing: after meeting him, even for that fleeting moment, I knew I genuinely liked him. It wasn't just a crush on a celebrity. That interaction revealed glimpses of someone behind the fame, someone I wanted to know beyond the surface. Yet here I was, torn between the real world of exams and responsibilities and the fantasy of what could be. And as much as I hated to admit it, I still clung to the hope that my "manifesting" might just work. I needed to focus, to snap out of this bubble I'd created for myself. But even as I picked up my textbooks, he stayed in the back of my mind, and I kept wondering—what if?    Surprisingly—but not completely out of the blue, a day after—a call lit up my phone screen. It was him! My heart skipped a beat, and before I knew it, I let out an uncontrollable scream. What was I supposed to do? My mind raced as questions piled up. Why was he calling? Did all my late-night manifesting actually work, or did he genuinely wanted to talk to me?As I stared at the screen, nerves tangled with excitement. My first instinct was to let it ring for a moment, to not seem too eager, but another voice in my head screamed: If you don't pick up now, he might never call again! And you'll regret this forever.Just as his name on the screen was about to disappear, I swiped to answer and pressed the phone to my ear. My voice came out shakier than I intended, but I managed to say:

  "Oh, hi!" The words felt small compared to the whirlwind of emotions in my chest. I couldn't tell if my heart was pounding because of the thrill or the sheer terror of what he might say next.

"Hey, Cora," João said, his voice smooth and casual, though it carried a hint of hesitation."I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time."

Bad time? As if I had anything better to do than answer his call.   "No, not at all!" I said quickly, maybe a bit too quickly. I mentally kicked myself for sounding so eager, but there was no going back now.  "I just... uh," he began, pausing for a second. "I wanted to apologize for how I acted when we met. I think I might've come off as rude or... distant."  "Oh!" I said, surprised. "I didn't think you were rude at all." That was only half true—I'd definitely called him a jerk in my head, but hearing this now softened everything.   "Well, either way, I wanted to make it up to you," he continued. "So, if you're free sometime, maybe we could grab a coffee? You know, actually talk."    My heart skipped. Coffee? With João Félix? I almost dropped my phone, but I forced myself to stay calm.   "I'd like that"     "Great,"    he said, and I could hear a smile in his tone. "How about tomorrow afternoon? I'll text you the details."    "Actually..." I began, trying to sound apologetic, "I have an exam tomorrow, so I'm pretty tied up right now. But maybe after that?"     "Well," he continued, sounding a bit more confident now, "how about I pick you up after your exam? We could go grab something to eat or just hang out. You'll probably want to unwind after all that studying." I blinked, caught completely off guard. Did he just offer to pick me up? João Félix, the guy I had been manifesting about, wanted to hang out with me right after my exam?    "That's... really nice of you,"   I said, trying to suppress the giddy excitement bubbling inside me. "Are you sure? You don't have to go out of your way or anything."  "It's no trouble,"  he said, his tone easy and sincere. "I've got some free time, and it'd be good to hang out without all the noise of a bar."    I couldn't help but smile. "Okay, that sounds great. My exam ends around 2, so maybe after that?"   "Perfect,"   he said. "Just let me know where to pick you up, and I'll be there,and good luck!"

  As we ended the call, I stared at my phone in disbelief, my nerves from earlier completely replaced with anticipation. Sure, I still had an exam to ace, but suddenly, I had a whole new reason to look forward to tomorrow.

[avid-adoxography]

😍: Name your three favorite things about your f/o, 😘: What’s your f/o’s favorite thing about YOU?, 💚: Who gets jealous?, 💗: How do you two like to cuddle? for you and Sturm!! :D

CORA I AM. GIVING YOU A SMOOCH ON THE FOREHEAD AS I READ THESE MWAH MWAH 💜

😍: Name your three favorite things about your f/o

Oh man, where do I even begin dfxghfjgk Uhm... ok so.

He's such a good listener omg. I feel like I can talk to him about everything and anything, and he's always eager to lend an ear, no matter the topic of conversation.

He’s SO affectionate!!! He has a lot of love to give and the way he shows it makes me feel important, and special and loved every second I’m with him <3ccc

His tummy. Yeah, no I can't just leave out the best stress toy ever sdfghjkjjh

😘: What’s your f/o’s favorite thing about YOU?

His engine hums for a long time, then it revvs up with a sort of staccato, muffled roar. Then it backfires with a gentle but sudden pop as it goes back to droning, fans whirring quietly somewhere deep in the machine.*

* translation: It’s hard to pick just one thing, but the way she deeply understands and accepts me is really high on the list. That kind of love has been very transformative. In a, uhh, metaphorical AND literal kind of way.

💚: Who gets jealous?

Sturm can be quite protective, sort of borderline possessive, as in he doesn't like seeing other Soldaten get too close to me (read: within a 2 mt./6.5 ft. range). He’ll try to push another them away so he can get my attention, especially if he's feeling particularly clingy. Not only that, he also tries to force himself in between me and them, even during my routine check-ups, and he may even attack them if he senses the slightest hint of defiance.

This used to happen a lot, mostly at the beginning of our relationship, because he was afraid of losing my affection. It took me waaay more time than I'd like to admit to make him understand there’s no real threat, and that he doesn't need to stay on high alert every time someone approaches me. He still headbutts them from time to time though, just as a reminder uwu

💗: How do you two like to cuddle?

Oh we do be spooning 24/7 and yes, I am the big spoon here. Well,.. most of the time. A bitch needs to be smothered by their mechanical teddy bear every once in a while, aight?? Speaking of: sometimes Sturm'll just. Crawl in bed and lay on top of me, turning me into a literal pancake and refusing to get up until he's satisfied with the hug. Or until I retaliate with unfair cheating methods >:3c

When it gets too hot though, we just tangle our legs together. Or go butt to butt. Basically any position is good as long as we're touching, even if it was just having our pinkies intertwined sdfgjhg

Basic ass selfship ask game

[merelyplxyers]

'Scary doesn't begin to cover it', Lucy thought to herself. Cora was like a fucking bloodhound, and her prey for the day were the two 'lovebirds'. Their open and very public display of affection had made her suspicious. Lucy had always been so reserved, so distanced, so all the PDA was unusual to say the least. "Lucky you are indeed", the other woman said, waiting like a predator for her prey to make a wrong move, so she could pounce on them and tear them apart. "I didn't even know that you go to bars, Lucy. You never joined Karen, me and the others for girl's night" Lucy didn't even need to look at Cora to know that this was slander. In the beginning, Lucy had claimed that she still needed to decorate her place and get used to everything, and then her excuse became that clubs and bars just weren't her thing. And once in a blue moon when they went to a restaurant instead, Lucy was sooo sorry, but she already had a date. And all just to not get dragged into the mess that was the circle of gossiping company bitches. "It was late, and I was in the mood for greasy food", Lucy retorted, giving Cora a look that would have dropped her dead if looks could kill. 'My shy girl', Ezra's words were ringing in Lucy's ear and pulled her focus away from Cora and back to him. Her blue hues searching his to figure out how much he actually meant those words, while her eyes were shining with adoration and the love of a crushing teenager. The hand she had rested on Ezra's chest wandered up to his neck, fingers tangling in the hair of the nape of his neck, eyes wandering down to his lips and back up to his eyes before she pulled him in for a kiss. He had agreed to play her boyfriend, and kissing one another was part of being in a relationship. So it was only natural that she pressed her lips against his and pull him even closer against her body, breasts pressed against his chest and her heart beating wildly against her ribcage. Or at least that's what she told herself. This felt so good, the rest of the party just faded into background nose, unimportant in the blissful reality that Lucy lived in right now. That was until she felt someone grabbing her arm and forcefully pulling her back and off Ezra's lap. When she opened her eyes and gaze focused on the towering figure over her. "You needy little whore", he growled, lifting his free hand up to wrap his fingers around Lucy's throat,"Behaving like a fucking bitch in heat for everyone to see"

her words surprised him, but ezra could hardly claim that lucy was wrong and a chuckle vibrated in his chest as he squeezed at her hip, expression open and pleased. ezra wasn't the type of man to be embarrassed by teasing or innuendo, most of his conversations with anyone he deemed attractive included something of a flirtatious lilt to them and he'd certainly said more than one eyebrow raising comment to Lucy just in casual conversation when passing in the hall. maybe lucy's words weren't even meant to be that suggestive, but that was how he chose to take them. "i might be guilty of that," he drawled, satisfied tone conveying just how accurate lucy's assessment was and just how unashamed erzra felt about it.

as their eyes met, there was a moment where ezra thought lucy just might go one step further than innuendo and something more substantial than teasing words would take place between them. her weight in his lap was real, of course, but ezra had done that and he felt like for the most part, lucy was just going along in the direction that he pushed her, not actually her putting herself up for offer. of course, maybe her promise of 'anything' was the offer, but it still would have been nice for her to give a downpayment on that to show she was interested.

so caught up in watching lucy's face, ezra didn't pay attention to the clicking of heels - lucy only asked to be safeguarded against morrison, why would he care about the sound of heels? it wasn't until lucy buried her face in the curve of his neck and caused goosebumps to erupt that ezra noticed the woman prowling into their space. the inquisitor

"sounds scary," ezra managed to mutter before the woman announced her arrival, handing over another glass of that wine that likely cost twice as much per bottle as any sane person would pay and didn't taste like it was worth even half that price. still, just because it wasn't to ezra's taste didn't mean he was going to make a fuss about it and he faked a smile as he murmured his thanks.

instead of reaching for the glass of wine, he wrapped his arms around lucy and held onto her tightly, as if hugging her. she'd known that the inquisitor was coming before he did and instead of straightening up, she'd seemed to curl even more around him in a way that made ezra think that just because it was only morrison she'd wanted protecting from, she didn't necessarily like this woman, either. that was fine, she didn't need to say a thing either to ezra or to this woman, and ezra turned his head to press a kiss to lucy's hair before shifting, giving lucy a chance to hide her face in his neck again if she wanted to.

"wasn't aware i was hiding." ezra said with a huff, smiling casually at the woman like her suggestion was absurd. "we haven't known each other that long and we met in a bar, so we wanted to give ourselves the time to make sure things stuck. lucky enough for me, it seems like they have." there was fondness injected into ezra's words and his smile turned softer when he spoke of his luck, his hand rubbing at lucy's back. "my shy girl."

[ohtobealady]

hi! I just watched the new DA movie and so ofc I went back to binge the series again lol and one moment I consider one of my favorite Corbet moments is in S6:E7 when Robert is about to go see if Henry is alright after the crash and Cora goes “you’re not going anywhere”. I love how it showed how protective she was of him and he listened to her too lol. Anyway I was wondering if you could possibly write a fic about a conversation they have later. Anyway I love your work and feel not obligation to write this!

Yesss. I love this scene, too. She's so tiny pulling him back to her. I tried to sort of imagine the spiral of Robert's feelings in this one; he was so irritable in the dining room and my headcanon is that he is usually at the mercy of his feelings, letting them sort of get out of control a bit. Of course, Cora is just the opposite, IMO. Thank you for trusting this one to me! I hope you like something about it :)

=======================================

The fact was, he wasn’t really tired. Lying in this bed, staring up at the ceiling of his sister’s home, he had tried to slow his breathing enough to shift into slumber, to close his eyes until they stopped roving beneath the lids and making them flicker open. But alas, he could not. 

For he was not tired. 

He was, however … was that anger? He wasn’t sure. It was certainly upset. Uncomfortable. Too aware of the way his wife laid awake beside him, her face angled up to his own, her fingers glancing for a moment against the sleeve of his shoulder before drawing them beneath her own head, crushed in a fold of her pillow.

Irritable, too. It was as if the metallic noise he sometimes heard over the telephone had crept into his head and crackled there. She’d said no more about it; Cora had only let her maid undress her in the corner of the bedroom before folding herself into the bed, Robert rolling in beside her. She’d not said another two words strung together about what they’d witnessed, what the day had brought. What their daughter must be feeling. 

No. Perhaps he was angry. 

Angry that the last five weeks had produced more lessons in mortality than he, nor any other man, could ever ask for. 

Angry, too, that he’d been so excited to see the motor race. Angry that the day had ended in tragedy. 

Angry that he had to stay back as younger men, stronger men, had rushed with his own daughters, to help. 

And angry that his wife—this woman whose soft fingers touched again at his shoulder—was capable of separating herself from her emotions in a way he never could understand. Angry that she could be so unfeeling when he could do nothing but feel.

He heard a small change in Cora’s breath and peered down at her beside him, but could sense she was still not asleep. He knew too well the rhythm of her sleeping body’s rise-and-fall; she was too still. 

She, too, was thinking. 

He could sense that as he peered at her. He could sense the way she tried to push away this day and draw in the next; but her sleeveless shoulder gave her away, the stillness of it catching whatever light came from the curtained window, and glowing. 

He shifted further down into the bed. “I should have stayed down with Mary.”

She lifted her chin along the pillow in response. 

“I can’t seem to sleep as it is, and I’m certain she won’t sleep at all either. Not with how horrific everything’s been.”

Still, his wife did not respond, and the little knot of anger tangled there between his ribs tightened. 

“After what she’s been through. God only knows what she saw at the scene of the crash. What bloody awful memories she’s reliving now.” He let one of his hands gesticulate to the dark ceiling. “I shouldn’t have come up without speaking with her—“

“I’m sure Tom—“

But Robert didn’t let his wife finish. “—as I should have gone to her at the track. Instead I just stood there. Useless.”

And so she did not. 

Instead she turned silently to lie on her back. And then, after a few moments more, and with a deep breath, she left the mattress. 

No. “Cora,” he tried, for he hadn’t meant this. He hadn’t meant he wanted to argue with her. He hadn’t meant it at all.

He tried to make out in the shadows what she did there on the other side of the room. “Cora, I hadn’t meant to raise my voice.” He heard a small clink of a glass and water from the pitcher that Baxter had brought up some time before. She still was silent. “But surely you understand how I must feel. To stand there as other men rushed past to help. That young, brave man gone in what seemed an instant.”

“Here.” He looked at her as she returned to the bed, her small body shaking the mattress gently as she climbed back in beside him. “Take this,” she offered, and Robert found she held a water glass. 

He sat up and, exhaling, took it.

“And,” he looked again to her hand, the glow that had been on her shoulder catching at her narrow wrist. “Take a powder.”

“I don’t want a powder,” he pouted but took it all the same.

“Do you need me to open it?”

“No.” And putting his much recent practice to use, he managed with one thumb to separate the wax paper; he tilted the medicine into his mouth, the sharp bitterness making his tongue smart. 

He took a drink of water, smacking away the taste, before handing the glass back to his wife who, twisting at her waist, placed the glass on the table beside her. 

Sighing, he laid back against the pillow. Sighing, he closed his eyes and tried to settle the irritation he still felt alive in his joints. But then, to his small surprise, Cora laid down as well, her body quickly flushing against his own, her arm draping across his breast … her nose burrowing into the space beneath his jaw. 

He blinked. The irritation he had felt, that telephone crackling that lived in his bones, it was gone.

“The phenacetin should help you sleep,” he felt her words against his throat, her little puffs of air. “If your tummy is uncomfortable.”

He nodded, and then felt himself ask her, “What about you?”. It was a reflexive response, and one he meant. He shifted his head and let his lips touch at her forehead, her hairline. “You couldn’t sleep either.”

“No, but…” 

He felt her fingers grasp tightly at his shoulder, and without thinking, his hand went to her own, taking it, and he brought her long fingers to his lips. 

“…you’re here.”

He kissed her fingers again. He nodded. The tangle of anger had loosened considerably there beneath the length of her arm, and Robert drew in a slow breath, bringing in the scent of her lavender hand cream, and he pressed his lips to her fingertips again. 

“I apologize for before.”

He felt her shake her head, but he went on.

“I didn’t mean I was angry with you. Only the day. And then Rosamund was so–” “--You’re here.” She repeated, stopping him. Her voice was low against his skin, and Robert lifted his chin against her forehead. “I think that for tonight, let���s just be grateful.”

His body felt heavier at that. His chest and arms and legs and head all tripled in weight as her words coursed through him, his heart aching a little at the sincerity in her words. 

Again, he kissed her forehead. And again he kissed her hair. And when she lifted her face to his, he found her lips and rested his head to her own. 

He nodded. “You’re right,” he conceded. “I’m here."

His heart quicked when he felt her lips move against his. “Please. Don't go anywhere.” 

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Some smut for Bff!reader? And maybe Alfred gloating a little?

Bruce restrains himself from touching you like he'd like to long enough for you to put stitches in his shoulder.

And his stomach is in knots. He wasn't even this nervous about losing his virginity to Cora Dorne in the back of a safe house in London, homesick and lovelorn after leaving you crying at an airport. "Will I live, Doctor?" he asks, smirking up at you.

"I think so," you hum, putting a bandage on the neat row of stitches, "Tylenol? Ice?"

"Y/N," he said softly, reaching up to cradle your chin in his hand, rubbing his thumb along your cheek bone, "It's okay."

You close your eyes and turn your head to kiss his palm, and he smiles a little, "I'd like it if you'd stay," he rumbled, "But if you don't want to I understand-"

"It's not that," you murmur, face heating, "I just- what if you don't- I-"

"Sunshine," he breathed, finding the hem of your t-shirt and sliding his hands over your skin slowly, basking in how soft you felt, smiling a little when he came to your belly. "Come to bed, please?" He bends his head down, smudging soft hungry kisses against your stomach as he slides his hands down to push your basketball shorts out of the way, leaving you in just your panties and oversized shirt.

When you make a soft, needy little noise he grins and gets to his feet, letting his towel fall in a heap on the floor, kicking it over, chuckling when you bite your lip. "It's past time for you to be in bed," he hums, picking you up gently.

"Bruce-" you yelp, but before you can protest properly, he's kissing you again and all you can think about is the fog of want that takes over everything else.

The night passes in a decade of pent up longing. A haze of passion and a sense of coming home. Years of sparring and two decades of unspoken conversations mean there are no secrets. Every desire is anticipated and every need is met with no restraint. Again and again until you're both too lazy and sated to go any further. And when the dam breaks and you start to cry, he kisses the tears away but doesn't attempt to stop it.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, "Sunshine, I'm so sorry."

"You fucking left me, Bruce. I told you I loved you and you left me."

"Never again," he promised, linking your pinky through his and kissing you quickly before going to get a cool cloth for your face.

"Promise?"

"I promise," he said solemnly, kissing your forehead.

__________

Alfred didn't know what he expected to find when he walked into the Master bedroom to tell Bruce that you hadn't been in your room. But he didn't expect to find what he did.

The tangle of limbs and the two of you sleep in an equally convoluted tangle of bedding. Bruce against your back, one arm was thrown over you, a hand on your belly protectively and his face buried in your hair.

Oh.

He wasn't sure, as he backed quickly out of the room, locking the door, at what point in your keeping Bruce occupied this had transpired. But. He couldn't be mad about it-

It had been his worst nightmare when you were 17 but now? At least you were already expecting. And maybe now he could convince you to let him put a nursery at the manor.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hey there!! I hope you're well and healthy! So I was reading the amazing fic "it came from the trees" by whatshouldntbe, but to my despair I think it was abandoned, and now Im sad... Can you recommend some (completed) fics with a good mythological aspect to the plot? I just want some Sterek dealing with all kinds of mythological creatures rasing chaos and trying to find peace and common ground in BH, while they are trying to build their relationship and deal with everything that's going on...

Thank you so much!!!

Hi anon. I think these fit.

it came from the trees by whatshouldntbe

(28/28 I 577,212 I Teen)

“Don’t worry, Scott caught me up on everything,” Kira assures with a bubbly smile via video-chat. “You and Derek, huh? I probably should have seen that coming. I always thought it might be Cora, but Derek was the one that looked at you how I used to look at you.”

Stiles goes a little pink. “It’s still kinda new but, yeah. I really like him. He’s...” Beautiful. Patient. Smart. Painfully honest. Sweet. “...a total dork.”

Kira laughs and laughs. When she gets herself together, she replies, “Yeah, those little hearts and stars in your eyes definitely say different."

or

Stiles moves from the shiny, fast-paced lifestyle of Los Angeles to the foggy, sleepy town of Beacon Hills so his dad can become the new sheriff. Newly fifteen, he does his best to finish out his freshman year of high school (by staying under the radar) when he suddenly becomes the Beyoncé of the Supernatural community. And, without much prompting on his part, he ends up catching the eye of one of the most prominent Werewolf families in all of North America. It literally all starts with a stuffed animal(s).

***

start a war by 8611

(1/1 I 1,230 I Teen)

This is how it all starts: she dares him to start a war.

Evolution of True Friendship by Lostariel

(1/1 I 3,413 I Teen)

When Stiles roped in his friends to participate in one of his yearly traditions, he didn't expect how big it would get. And he had never dared hope that what happened this year would happen.

Speed Dying by Hatteress (goddammitstacey)

(3/? I 4,404 I Explicit)

Stiles gets roped into speed dating because none of his college friends believe Derek exists. Derek thinks it's hilarious. Stiles thinks Derek's an asshole. Now he just needs to live long enough to tell him that.

The One Where They Adopt a Selkie by mikkimouse

(1/1 I 7,737 I Teen)

"That's a kid," Stiles said.

Derek growled. "It's a selkie."

"It's a selkie kid," Stiles pointed out, because really, they did not need to be arguing semantics right now. "Do selkies just go around leaving their kids sleeping in caves on the beach?"

Until the cauldron overflows by Bewitchedbee

(4/? I 10,712 I Teen)

After the effects of the Anuk-ite and the massacre created by Gerart, the pieces try to come together while the ties that bind them try to resist, but the relationships are beginning to fracture.

Faced with an apparent calm, and trying to follow their paths, recovery is more difficult than it seems in the face of an imminent threat that will once again disrupt what they have achieved. But when it's not happening, differentiating the tingling running through their limbs, the cold sinking into their bones, and the fear constricting their throat, from the aura of death to the consequences of their responsibilities, feels impossible.

O

Where Scott tries to stop seeing Alison in each of his partners, Liam tries to get Theo to stop pushing him away and stop the distance in their flawed relationship, Stiles deals with the consequences of his college choice and what it means for his feelings with Derek, and Lydia try to stay grounded in what their powers mean.

But when ghosts from the past tangle in their lives, they wonder if the wounds are really healed.

(In My Hand) The Golden Bough by Chandri

(8/8 I 44,450 I Teen)

There are a lot of things Stiles has forgotten. Some of them by choice, because some memories are too painful and that’s what you do to survive; some of them because they were taken from him.

A Wildness Warily Awakened by Etharei

(13/13 I 64,511 I Explicit)

Derek Hale and his Specialized Combat Agents Unit are assigned to B-CON Base, a research facility in the heart of the lone human settlement on planet Cali. Normally, such an isolated place would not warrant the presence of Specs - the Infection is raging across the known galaxy, after all, and zombies don’t kill themselves (unless there are no tastier alternatives at hand) - but Derek is on a private hunt for his sister. He soon discovers that the rest of his team have ties to the place as well.

It’s all just coincidence, of course. (No matter what Stiles bleats on about those.)

Also, zombies.

Another World, Another Chance by klainer4ever1

(45/? I 268,455 I Explicit)

Stiles did lose everything in one night. He lost all hope. He didn’t know about the supernatural. The Alpha pack came and tore his world apart. They wanted to use his powers, but someone came and saved him. Someone who Stiles thought, he would never see again. That person saved him and took him to another world. Will Stiles find happiness ever again?

Or will Stiles lose everything again.

Here Where There's Everything That's Matter (and matters) by HeavenSentGohansRage

(19/19 I 312,843 I Teen)

Heracles was just a nickname his Mother had given him, with no special meaning behind it. Stiles seriously had no idea what Derek had to be so obsessive about.

And when his life suddenly forced on him tropes of a classic heroic storyline, right in the middle of two supernatural battlefronts, the once nothing but an average sidekick must prove himself to be a great hero - perhaps even the greatest of them all - in order to save every one of the curse of his glorious strength.

[cosette141]

Lost and Found (OUAT fanfic) | Chapter 11

Fandom: Once Upon A Time

Pairing: Captain Swan

Author: cosette141

Words: 5k (this chapter) | 60k+ (total, so far)

Summary: (Begin Again sequel) Emma had felt lost nearly her whole life, and Killian had lost everything he’d ever found. That is, until they found each other. With the Crocodile dead and Cora turned good, it seems happy endings have returned. However, new crises arise, threatening the budding family between them and Henry. But this is a family that always finds each other… and they have yet to fail. CS, Anti-Neal

Chapter 11 (under the cut!)

"What's your name, boy?"

"Baelfire."

It felt like only yesterday.

"I loved your mother. We had planned to come back for you, to be a family. You and I can still make good on those plans."

"I can change, Bae. For you."

He had changed.

Only far, far too late.

Killian felt a breath eased from his lungs, though the emotions it held were far from ease.

He didn't know how long he'd held Emma after Bae had grown still.

She'd cried into Killian's chest, so similarly to when she had in New York, except this time, her brokkenness wasn't physical.

Killian had held her, tight and strong, unable to comprehend what Baelfire had done.

He'd taken that arrow for him.

He'd sacrificed his life, for him.

Killian knew the sacrifice was more specifically for Emma, which was something that touched him for her, knowing how deeply Bae had hurt her, had broken her. Knowing that Bae's love for her had been out of exactly what Emma had said it was: convenience.

His death, however, was anything but.

And Killian knew, his arms only tightening around Emma more, his own tear falling into her hair as he'd pulled her even closer to his chest, that Bae's sacrifice would not be in vain.

"Get her off this island, Killian. Take care of them."

The look he had exchanged with Bae had held a thousand words. It had a spark of the good that their relationship had once been. It was understanding, it was regret, and it was forgiveness that Killian didn't think he deserved.

Baelfire had left his own son and the woman he loved to Killian to protect, to care for.

It was something Killian didn't need to be told to do, as it was already a promise he'd made to himself in that apartment in New York.

Killian had looked down at Emma, crying in his arms, head buried in his chest, fingers tangled in his shirt, and regardless had made that promise to himself again.

And again.

And again.

That had been a while ago.

Now, Killian was on his knees at the edge of a lake, Emma's hand still clutched around the sleeve of his coat.

Lying beside him, was Baelfire, whom Killian had carefully wrapped in the heavy leaves of the area, in a way that he was much too experienced at.

Killian's hand settled over the last fold in the leaves, feeling a muscle tick in his jaw.

He lifted his gaze to the lake.

A lake he also knew far, far too well.

It was hidden in the depths of the jungle. It was the only peaceful waters Neverland knew, other than the spring at the top of Dead Man's Peak.

No mermaids, no sirens, no creatures. It was just calm waters, serene as the moonlight reflecting off its still surface.

Which was why it was where Killian had chosen to bring the members of his crew that had passed while he'd been here.

The lake wasn't far from where Baelfire had passed. Killian had brought him here, Emma still fixed to his side, staying even closer to him than she has before.

Killian felt Emma bend down beside him now, her eyes on Baelfire, her other hand clutching something that had fallen from Bae's pocket when Killian had lifted him.

It was something that had made Emma's breath catch, a skip in her heart that Killian had felt through their touch.

It was a necklace, with a charm of a swan.

Emma had picked it up, and had been holding it ever since.

Killian watched now as Emma laid her hand over Bae's chest, her eyes shutting as she spoke something to him within her mind, before opening her eyes, a tear falling down her cheek as she pulled her hand back.

And Killian carefully eased Bae into the waters.

He stood, feeling both of Emma's arms wrap around his waist as they watched Baelfire slowly sink beneath the water's surface.

Rest, my boy.

Killian felt his eyes burn, flashes of Liam and Milah making the muscle in his jaw tick uncomfortably.

"You've done this a lot, haven't you?"

Killian's eyes opened at Emma's soft voice, and he turned to see her looking at him, eyes sad, but this time, for him.

That muscle shifted uncomfortably in his jaw again, like it was trying to prevent the truth of his whispered, "Aye."

"You cared about him," whispered Emma, not as if it was a question, since she already knew. More as a prompt.

"We spent some time together when he was a boy," managed Killian, voice thick. "We could have spent more than that, however." That muscle shifted again, as if it hated the words as much as he did. "I'd chosen my revenge, my own selfishness over him." His eyes shut, and he felt Emma's hand grab his, intertwining with his fingers and holding tight. "There hadn't been a day that went by I didn't regret that choice." He sighed again, releasing more pain like steam. "I thought revenge was the only way to honor Milah," he whispered. "But all these years… I can't help wondering if choosing to take in her son would have meant more to her." A tear slipped down his cheek.

But the small gasp at his side from Emma had him opening his eyes.

She was looking at him with a kind of shock. He looked at her, watching thoughts race through her eyes. Realizations. "Milah…" she breathed. "She was Gold's… and Neal was… Gold's…" As the pain deepened in Killian's eyes, she whispered, "He was Milah's son." She whispered it so quietly, eyes wide. "I never realized…" Her eyes found his, her fingers tightening more around his, understanding the pain in his eyes now.

"It's all right, love," he whispered, eyes finding the lake that had now grown still once again. Tears in his eyes, he said softly, "He's with his mother now." He felt himself release a breath, this time, feeling it hurt a little less, a faint smile touching his lips, as broken as it was.

A tear slipped down Emma's cheek at his words, but she matched his broken smile. She let out a sigh of her own as her own eyes found the water. With a touch of emotion as deep as the ocean, Emma slipped the necklace in her pocket.

They were quiet for a few moments longer, but there was an anticipation in the air, holding the island in a tense grip that Killian could no longer ignore.

He could feel the emotion shift within Emma at the same time it did him, like they both knew that this moment, as much of a refuge as it was, didn't erase the fact that their danger was far from over.

The knowledge that Pan had given up the chase, and instead had taken Emma's parents hostage to wait for her to come to him…

It was an anticipation that felt like the calm before a storm, and Killian was not chancing getting caught in it.

Killian broke their silence first, tightening his fingers around Emma's in preparation for his words, and for her response to them.

"We should find a way off the island, love."

As he expected, Emma tensed, looking at him with confusion. "Off the island?" she echoed. "Leave? But, Killian, Mary Margaret and David—"

"—are in the hands of a demon who wants you dead," he stressed, turning to face her, every bit of his fear in his eyes, in his voice, in his entire bloody body. "If we attempt to save them, Emma, Pan will kill you." His voice shook around the words.

Emma stared at him, his fear reflected in her eyes, but warred with a whole other kind of fear. "But… if we leave, he'll kill them," she whispered.

"Pan may be weak," stressed Killian, holding her even tighter, "but he has leverage against you, Emma. Your parents. If we try to save them, he will kill all of us." Taking a painful breath, Killian said, "We need to heed Baelfire's warning, love. We need to go back to Storybrooke and get you safe."

"But—" breathed Emma, tears shining in her eyes. "I can't lose them—"

"And I can't lose you!" The words exploded out of him, laced with desperation, another tear slipping down his cheek because he cannot stand to lose one more person.

He cannot stand to lose her.

"Emma…" he broke out, watching her own pain at seeing his. "I've lost everyone." he breathed, the words raw and broken. "I cannot lose you too." His hand left her fingers to touch her face, holding her gently, the idea of her walking into in more danger, into her own demise making him feel sick. "Emma, I can't," he whispered.

Emma held his gaze, a tear slipping down her own cheek, reading the depth of the pain in his eyes. "I can't lose you either," she whispered, her hand lifting to settle on his forearm, his hand still holding her like the precious thing she was. But her brows creased, and she whispered, "But, Killian… I can't leave them here. They're… they're more than just my friends, they're… they're…" Her eyes shut, a tear slipping past her lashes. "They're my parents."

Killian felt his heart skip, pain flashing through his chest.

Because this was the first time he's ever heard her refer to them as her parents.

Emma's eyes opened, her cheeks wet. "I know I was mad at them and I know… I know everything's screwed up," she whispered. "But I… I… I miss them," she broke out. A little sob escaped her, and Killian felt his own expression crease, his own heart breaking at her pain.

As much as Killian hurt for her, seeing her so upset, he couldn't see a way to save her parents without Emma giving her life.

And that was not something he could let her do.

It wasn't something he knew her parents could let her do, either.

"Emma, your parents… they don't want you to save them. They love you so much."

Baelfire had said it himself; her parents' last wish was to keep her safe.

"Emma, love," said Killian gently, yet still unable to keep his desperation out of his voice, "Your parents… they wouldn't be able to live with themselves if something happened to you. I know I bloody wouldn't," he breathed, thumb brushing over her cheek even when his fingers shook.

"But," she began.

"Think of Henry, love," whispered Killian, grasping desperately for a way to convince her, watching pain flash in her eyes. "He needs his mother."

"Well so do I!" exclaimed Emma, making Killian freeze at the agony in her eyes. An agony he's seen so, so often in every Lost Boy he's come across. Pain carved from years and years and years of longing, of waiting, of hurting.

Emma sniffed, wiping tears off her cheek with the back of her hand. "I don't want to be an orphan again," she whispered, another tear falling down her cheek.

Killian was frozen, torn, so bloody frozen between pain and agony.

But Emma wiped the tear away, brows narrowing. "I am not letting some damn little punk take my parents from me," she growled, a fire erupting inside her, a fight. "I have spent my whole life wanting my parents, and I am not leaving here without them." Her eyes flashed, such a strong determination shining through them it made Killian lose his breath, as she looked nothing short of fierce. "I have to do this, Killian," she said, that emotion softing only a little, for him, but the determination only seemed to grow. "I have to save them. And I'm going to save them. I'm…" Her eyes shut, voice catching. But her eyes opened, her eyes shining the strength of acceptance through them. "I'm a Savior." A little, shaky smile. But then, she froze, like a thought had struck her. Her eyes snapping to him, she repeated, "I'm a Savior." That smile at her lips grew. "Killian—I have magic," she whispered. "You saw how I saved us from those Lost Boys, how I saved us from Cora—"

"Aye…" said Killian slowly.

"I don't know how to do a lot with it," she admitted, "but I do know how to protect people." Her smile grew. "All I need to do is use a shield on my parents and then it's just us versus Pan. Between your sword-throwing and my magic, we can defeat him."

Killian felt himself hesitate, his brow lifting at the idea.

Emma has used her magic to protect them on command; she seemed to understand it, at least in that respect. If Pan is holding her parents hostage and Emma can protect them from harm…

…there was nothing standing in the way of them defeating the bloody demon, especially with him being as weak as he was.

But even so, even with their chances higher…

The idea of letting Emma walk into anywhere where there was any chance of her getting hurt, or worse…

"Killian," came Emma's voice, cutting into his thoughts, making him look up, finding her eyes on his. There was a doubt in her eyes at his silence. She swallowed hesitantly, saying, "I can do this." Her eyes lingered on his, that little piece of doubt, waiting on his support.

And it stunned him for a moment.

This was Emma.

Someone, Killian knew, had never once believed in herself.

Never believed that she could be loved or wanted.

Never believed she was special.

But here, in lieu of facing, of walking head first into a battle rigged against her, she's chosen to believe in herself.

And yet, almost as rare as her own belief in herself, was someone else's belief in her, which other than himself, had only truly come from Henry. Everyone else's belief in her, including what he's seen of her parents, had been shaky, reluctant, unsure.

And if she wasn't suggesting to go up against the most terrifying foe he's ever bloody faced, he wouldn't even have hesitated to encourage her.

It wasn't a lack of belief in her, more than a blinding fear of testing it.

But it was clear in her eyes—this was something she had to do.

And just as clear, was that she needed him to let her.

So, he lifted his hand back to her face, brushing away the last tear she didn't manage to erase. "Aye," he said, voice as sure as the look in her eyes, watching that doubt wash away as he said, "You can."

The relief, the pure flash of joy in her eyes at his belief in her made the last of his own doubt leave his chest.

He was yet to see her fail at anything.

But despite his trust in her, his belief in her, he found himself pulling her to his chest, shutting his eyes, holding her in his safety as long as he could. Wishing he could keep her in his arms forever.

But Emma Swan was no damsel in distress, he's learned that from the moment he met her.

She was a Savior.

He needed to trust that that meant she could save herself just as much as everyone else.

He pulled back, feeling Emma hesitate a moment before letting go of him, and he realized he wasn't the only one reveling in the last moment of safety before they ventured into the lion's den.

Emma looked at him, that determination setting her shoulders.

A determination he returned.

"And I will be with you every step of the way, love," said Killian firmly, his every devotion to her weighing the words, her eyes softening with that vulnerable surprise. That shock that someone cared so deeply for her, something he desperately wanted her to get used to. "We will defeat him, and save your parents."

Emma smiled, something so bright, and she kissed him, every bit of gratitude in it, so strong his eyes shut. They pulled away, and Killian kissed her once more, this time showing his own gratitude because she, for some reason, was devoted to him.

Her eyes inches from his, she slid her hand to his chest, resting over his heart. "You're a survivor," she said softly, a little smile at her lips, at the fact. And she lifted her gaze to his, whispering, "So am I."

His eyes lingered on hers, smiling as he took her hand. And looking toward where he knew Skull Rock lay ahead, Killian took a breath, and whispered with a grin of his own, "Then let's go do what we do best."

They set off, Killian battling the fear that tried to stop him every step of the way, hoping her parents were just as much survivors as they were.

-.-.-.

Mary Margaret's eyes snapped open.

The bedroom of the foster home, the cold loneliness, and the little girl were suddenly gone as she was shocked awake, but just like last time, the emptiness remained.

"Mary Margaret?!"

She blinked a few times, her mind still disoriented, half of her still in that dream, that foster home.

"Snow!"

Her true name through a familiar voice, plus a shake on her shoulder finally shattered her daze.

She shot upright, her head nearly smacking into David's, who was leaning over her worriedly.

"David?" she gasped.

David let out a breath of relief, though it didn't erase the fear kneading his brows and darkening his eyes. Just the sight of him afraid had Mary Margaret's heart racing even faster than it had been, and she suddenly realized where they were.

They were in what looked like a giant, dim, torch-lit cave. It was cold, but Mary Margaret knew the temperature came from much more than just the feel of the air.

It simply felt cold, in every context of the word.

Not to mention the fact that they were both trapped in what looked like a cage.

"Where…?" breathed Mary Margaret, stumbling to her feet. She grabbed the bars of the cage, which looked like strong bamboo, the slats far too small to squeeze through. She reached behind her for an arrow, only to find her bow and arrows gone.

"They took our weapons." came David's voice from behind her. "My sword is gone, too."

Mary Margaret yanked on the bars, hard.

They didn't budge an inch.

She whirled around, looking at her husband with wide eyes. "Where are we?" she breathed.

"I don't know," said David, moving closer to her, whether consciously or unconsciously, as he canted his head back to inspect the cave. "I woke you up right after I did." He swallowed, and Mary Margaret could practically see his skin crawl. Something haunted in his eyes, he looked at the cage, and whispered, "Feels like that dream, doesn't it?"

Mary Margaret felt herself swallow, hard, because that had been the first thing that ran through her own mind.

"Where the hell are we?" breathed David, jerking at the cage bar, but it held strong.

Mary Margaret felt fear slide icily down her spine, the memories hitting her in an instant.

Pan had captured them, locking them wherever the hell this place was, intending to use them against Emma.

And Neal…

Fear and anger raced through her because hasn't he hurt her enough?

Mary Margaret looked desperately at David. "You don't think Neal will actually…?" she breathed.

David's eyes only darkened. "I don't know. But Emma's smart. And so is Hook. Neal said they were together," he said, like that thought eased his mind a little, something that just days ago had made David want to kill Hook. "I don't think Neal would be able to trick them into anything." said David, voice trying to hold onto confidence that was slipping.

"But… David," whispered Mary Margaret, eyes burning. "You don't think Emma will actually… come for us, do you?"

At that, David's brows kneaded. "I don't know." He ran a hand over his face, only more fear in his eyes. "God, I hope she doesn't. She's suffered for us once already," he said, the words looking like they pained him, the same pain twisting Mary Margaret's heart. "I refuse to let it happen to her again." He yanked on a bar of the cage again, only to curse when it didn't even so much as bend.

Mary Margaret felt a determined resolve settle in her chest, narrowing her eyes. "We need to get out of here and find her," she said firmly, even when it made her voice shake with doubt.

With just as much determination in David's eyes, he nodded.

"Good luck with that."

Mary Margaret felt a gasp escape her at the ominously familiar voice, and she felt David quickly jump in front of her, shielding her.

Because Pan was suddenly standing just outside the cage, grinning at them like a predator would at prey.

Which was far too accurate.

"Let us go," growled David, staying close enough to Mary Margaret she could feel his heart pounding. "And don't you dare hurt Emma!"

"I think I like you right where you are," drawled Pan. He smiled, stepping closer to the cage, but still out of reach if David were to reach through and try to wring his neck. But there was something about him that seemed…

Unhinged.

Wrong.

There was something wrong with him.

More than just his morals.

"Why do you want Emma?!" demanded Mary Margaret suddenly, her voice shaking, knuckles white on the cage bars as she yanked fruitlessly at them.

"I don't want her," said Pan with a roll of his eyes. "I need her." A wicked grin, looking only more haunting with the shadows under his eyes, a gaunt look that was terrifying all on its own.

Mary Margaret and David went still.

"She's a Savior," said Pan, in a duh tone of voice. "And a Savior can save anyone's life. Even someone who has been alive for thousands of years. Someone whose heart is beyond repair."

Mary Margaret froze.

Pan's words from before.

"Taking her by force has been more difficult than I had anticipated."

Someone whose heart is beyond repair.

"You're dying," she whispered, his unsteadiness, his weakness suddenly making sense. "That's why you needed to lure Emma here, and that's why you need us," she said breathlessly, the pieces connecting.

"Emma's stronger than you," growled David, putting the pieces together himself. "Even if she came—" His voice caught on the words, like they were his nightmare. "She'll defeat you."

Mary Margaret felt hope light her chest.

Emma had magic, and Pan's magic was weak.

He'd have gone after Emma himself without the need for leverage if he was stronger than her.

"Out there, yes," said Pan, that wicked smile growing, dousing the flicker of hope in Mary Margaret's chest. "But here? Where the magic of Neverland is at its strongest?" He laughed, and it sent a chill down her spine. He stepped to the side, and Mary Margaret didn't miss the stumble in his movement. But he held onto that unhinged grin, as he gestured to a pillar of rock in the center of the cave. And housed within it, was a small, dying blue flame. The light from that flame dancing off the walls of the cave was the same sort of hue that hung in the air around the whole island.

"See this?" said Pan, grinning at it. "All of Neverland's magic, concentrated into cold fire."

"Cold fire?" echoed David.

"Nothing is warm in Neverland," said Pan in such a chilling way, his smile hollow and frigid, Mary Margaret felt herself shiver. "This is the last of my magic," he said, eyes narrowing, shutting his eyes briefly with what looked like a bout of more weakness. He stumbled again, but held his hand toward the fire, and they watched as the flames licked toward him, restoring some of the color in his skin, some of the balance in his stance until he smiled, rising to his full height, the flame now smaller. He grinned wickedly at them. "Here," he said through a sick grin, "I will be stronger than your precious daughter."

Mary Margaret felt her eyes sting, her hand grabbing David's arm.

"But with you in my possession," he drawled, stepping closer to them, making Mary Margaret's hand on David's arm tighten because he wasn't stumbling even half as much as before. "Well, I doubt I'll even need to use magic." He grinned at their fear. "You act like I'm the villain," he snapped, "and yet, you gave your daughter this fate. You sealed her own demise. Twenty-eight years ago you fated her to save you, and now, you'll watch her die to fulfill it." His smile grew even more wicked. "You made her a Savior."

Mary Margaret felt her eyes sting with tears.

"Do you even know why she's called a Savior?" whispered Pan, and Mary Margaret grabbed David's arm even tighter. With that ugly, eerie smile, Pan said, "Because it takes killing a Savior to be saved."

A gasp escaped Mary Margaret's chest, a tear burning down her cheek.

Color drained from David's face.

Pan flicked his fingers, black magic dancing at his fingertips before disappearing. He grinned. "Once her heart is destroyed, mine will be restored."

Mary Margaret felt herself flinch at destroyed. David pulled her closer to him.

Pan's eyes flashed, and he stepped closer, just out of reach from them. "Perhaps I should have come to you two for advice," he drawled wickedly. "You seem to be experts at destroying Emma's heart."

Another tear burned down Mary Margaret's cheek.

Pan smiled at it.

But there was something in him - something that was past his weakness, past his own ticking clock.

He was looking at them like they were the demons.

Something compelled Mary Margaret to say, "I'm sorry your parents abandoned you."

He froze.

She'd hit the nail right on the head.

The almost irrational fury he had with them was never with them.

"You want every other child to be as miserable as you," whispered Mary Margaret, thinking of the Lost Boys, how none of them looked happy, none of them wanted to be here.

"Pan kidnaps kids in all the realms."

Pan's eyes narrowed, more furious than ever. "They shouldn't have what I didn't." he spat so sharply she and David flinched. "Their parents should have protected them. But now they and their foolish parents will feel every pain I do."

He again turned to leave.

Mary Margaret grabbed the bars. "You could help them," she stressed, eyes burning.

He stilled, eyes narrowed even sharper. "No one ever helped me." His eyes flashed. "So I've decided to help myself."

He turned to leave again, but paused, looking back at them, another flash in his eyes, a final blow. "Oh," he said, in a chilling casual sort of way. "There's something else I should let you know about Neverland. Perhaps it will give you something to think about; I'd hate for you to grow bored waiting for your daughter to walk into her own demise." Another wicked smile, another chill down Mary Margaret's spine. "Neverland," said Pan, "is a land of the lost and the abandoned." Another step closer to them, another flinch from both Mary Margaret and David. "Lost Ones," Pan went on, "are forced to relive their abandonment in sleep." He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing, the look in his eyes cold and dead. "Those who have abandoned, however," he said slowly, "relive their child's abandonment."

Mary Margaret stopped breathing.

Cold trailed through her, numbing everything it touched.

No.

The foster home.

The little girl.

Gods, no.

Pan smiled as the color drained from both her and David's faces, realization setting in them, something that felt like a shot to Mary Margaret's own chest.

And with that, Pan left them.

Mary Margaret felt herself stumble, the realization so painful she couldn't breathe.

"It was her?" she looked at David, who looked white as a ghost. "The l-little girl?" she choked out. "It… that was… that was Emma?"

His voice was barely audible.

Mary Margaret's mind was suddenly racing through the dream that still lingered all too heavily.

The loneliness.

The feeling of never, ever, once having been loved, by anyone.

The confusion.

The lost feeling that felt like agony.

"David," whispered Mary Margaret, voice cracking, another tear falling down her cheek.

But David didn't reply.

He turned sharply, grabbing at the cage with both hands, yanking with all of his might. Kicking, punching, attacking it with everything he had.

"David!" exclaimed Mary Margaret in surprise.

He didn't stop, not even when he grunted from the pain of repeated blows, even when his knuckles bled and the cage still didn't even so much as bend.

"David!" exclaimed Mary Margaret breathlessly, grabbing his arm, pulling him back, even when he fought her. "David—!"

"I need to save my daughter!" exploded David, finally stopping, knuckles bruised and scraped, his chest heaving.

Tears fell down his cheeks.

He stared at the cage, where it looked as if he hadn't done a damn thing.

Slowly, he looked at Mary Margaret, his eyes red and pained. "Snow," he whispered brokenly.

Mary Margaret embraced him, even as tears fell down her own face.

"We can't lose her," David half-gasped, half-sobbed into Mary Margaret's shoulder. "We can't lose her, Snow."

"We won't," she whispered. "We're going to get out of here," she said shakily. "We're going to save our daughter."

She didn't know how.

But she knew they would.

That was a promise she would die to keep.

.-.-.

tag list: @kmomof4 @justanother-unluckysoul @klynn-stormz @stahlop @ilovemesomekillianjones @hookmecaptain @tiganasummertree @jadehowlettthewolf @jonesfandomfanatic @anmylica @pirateprincessofpizza @stahlop @snowbellewells @eddisfargo @motherkatereloyshipper @confessionsofthemword @killian-whump

[cukegeek86]

Prompt: Sterek

Story starts present day.

Derek laying a ground dying, Scott injured over him. Stiles work over an old worn book. They’re all exauhsted. They’ve lost. Beacon hills is over run. The rest of the pack is already dead. Stile’s dad died two days ago… Scott figures a lot of his determination to do this is in that. The other part, a look to Derek- he probably only had a day left if that. Stiles and Derek had gotten over their immaturity two years ago and had become a full bonded pair last June. They radiated power. Stiles had a his mothers Druid powers and he’d been learning under Deaton how to use them to keep their pack safe. Sadly Denton was the first to die, a strategic move from the enemy to be sure.

Stiles added some ingredients to a bowl. The spell was simple enough in principal but dangerous in practice if done wrong it could eliminate and change whole parts of history. Stiles didn’t care about history. He cared that his dad died for something he shouldn’t have been involved in, he cared that his mate would be dead soon and probably his best friend too. He cared that this evil wouldn’t stop at beacon hills once they were dead. The spell would return all within a room mentally back in time to right a wrong. It had never been successfully done to anyone’s knowledge- but then if it was successful it wouldn’t be written down would it? People don’t own up to changing the past. They don’t have to. Only the spell caster would initially remember the past time line but he could remind anyone that had been in the room and their memories would return as well. Neither Derek or Scott liked that they wouldn’t remember until Stiles reminded them. Stiles had a bad self sacrificing streak that made that unreliable. He swore he’d wake them though.

Stiles set the spell to return at the first unjust killing of their pack. It should return to before Deaton was killed, he knew there was a chance though it could return to when Erica was killed. They weren’t all pack at that point but it could do it. Stiles didn’t tell Scott and Derek that though he doubted either one wanted to return to those years.

After one final look at them he threw the last ingredient in and started speaking the words. Everything faded to black.

Stiles woke with a jerk. His dad hollering for him to get up. Dad.

Stiles eyes closed his dad was alive… but he was living at home. Erica then. He took a deep breath. Erica, Boyd, Allison… so many lives could be saved now. He needed to get to Derek, and Scott he’d need their help. He wasn’t sure how far before Erica’s death it had sent him. He jumped from bed only to get tangled in his sheets and nearly fall over. He couldn’t find his phone. Wait his computer wasn’t in here either… he look around the room. So many action figures.. he dashed to the mirror.

F**k

This was way before Erica.

He ran downstairs. Yelling at his dad for the date.

His dad looked unimpressed and asked him what homework he forgot.

Stiles ignored him and grabbed the news paper Nov 20th, 2004. His heart thudded. His dad said something in alarm- probably about a panic attack. He was sat down and his head pushed between his knees.

He had just a little over 24 hours to stop the Hale household from burning up with all Derek’s family.

**extra insights**

Stiles doesn’t awaken Scott and Derek right away thinking they deserve the right to live normal lives

Stiles becomes friends with Cora to insure he has access to the Hale family

Leaves untraceable letters to Taila with warnings

Scott still becomes a werewolf. Once the soul knows it just knows or Taila bites him

Once Scott and Derek know Derek has to explain to his mom he has a different pack.

Fun with Hale family member.

[adoracora-elizabeth]

When life interrupts, chapter 22

Cora softly brushed over Patrick´s head. This feeling was so wonderful, she thought. This little boy was depending on her, but she needed him too. His warm little body against hers, gave her peace. Every time he latched on; she felt her heartbeat calm down. She took a deep breath, what was Violet trying to do? What did she do wrong? It bothered Cora that Violet was so openly against the relationship between her and Robert. She was glad his father was a lot more welcoming. Patrick was a wonderful man, who gave her the confidence that everything would work out in the end.

"Cora?" Martha's voice sounded soft when she opened the door. "Is Patrick already asleep?"

Cora looked down and saw his eyes wide open. "He is not done yet, so you can talk normal."

"How are you feeling?" Martha asked.

Cora raised her eyebrows. Her mother never bothered about her feelings. "I don't know." She said softly.

Martha sat down next to Cora. "I wonder why you are taking this beating from Violet. You should stand up for yourself more."

"Oh Mama." Cora sighed. "It doesn't help. I hope she will one day see that I am not that bad person she thinks I am."

"She will see that soon enough; I will make sure of that." Martha said.

This shocked Cora, she knew her mother was always standing up for herself, but she never really did that for her, and she wasn't sure she wanted a clash between her mother and Violet.

"Cora and I will figure this out together, we don't need our mothers to fight for us." Robert, walked into the room.

Martha looked up at Robert. "I guess you are right. But Cora is my darling girl, and I will protect her when needed. Now, I say goodnight, I will see you two in the morning."

"Cora!" Robert walked closer to Cora. "I mean it, we don't need our mothers to speak for us. We are adults and can figure our lives out, ourselves."

"I can only agree with you, but the fact is, your mother hates me."

"She doesn't hate you!" Robert said.

"It seems like it." Cora got annoyed that Robert was defending his mother after what happened this evening. "The way she treats me is horrible and I don't know if I can take much more of it."

"I will go and have a chat with her, because you are right. She should not treat you the way she does. I want to spend my life with you, and she doesn't have a say in that."

Cora got up to put Patrick in his crib, she bend down and kissed him goodnight. She felt Robert standing next to her. He also kissed Patrick goodnight. Cora leaned in on Robert. "Did you mean that?"

"I will definitely go and talk with my mother, do not worry about that." Robert answered.

She tangled her fingers in Robert's. "I didn't mean that part. She turned to look at Robert, who was looking at her with a puzzled look. "I meant the part that you want to spend your life with me." She felt Robert's grip on her hand getting stronger.

"With every fibre in my body." He raised his hand to her chin and stroke with his thumb over her lower lip. "Cora."

"Sssssst." Cora kissed Robert's thumb. "Let's stop talking." She got on her tiptoes to kiss him, but just before her lips touched Robert's, he playfully pulled back. Cora tugged on his arm, to pull him back. But again, just before her lips touched Robert's he turned his face, and she kissed his cheek instead. "You are torturing me." She moaned.

Robert lifted her chin and smiled at her. "I know." He lowered his face and kissed her where her neck touched her chin. His thumb slowly runs down her neck. This gave Cora chills all over her body.

She looped her arm around Robert, she loved that he wasn't all muscles, she could feel he was a little bit chubbier. She softly squeezed his side, which resulted in Robert scooping her up from the floor. Cora let out a giggle, and at the same time she felt Robert's mouth on hers.

"You will wake Patrick." He murmured against her lips.

Cora's lips curled up in a smile. "So, I have to make noise to be kissed by you, got it."

Robert softly bit on her lip. "Don't you dare." But he said it with a smile and walked out the room, with Cora still in his arms.

Robert poured a cup of coffee for Martha.

"Cora still asleep?" She asked.

"I think she will be up by now, but I let her sleep. I fed Patrick, so she could sleep in."

Martha had a playful smile on her face. "I guess she needed some extra rest after yesterday evening."

Robert realised; Martha had heard them. He knew it was risky to please Cora in the hallway, instead of walking directly back to their room. His cheeks coloured.

"Nothing to be ashamed off. Do you have some more of those delicious eggs?"

Robert made eggs benedict for Martha. "I can make some more, if you want." He was relieved with the change of subject. At that same moment Cora walked into the kitchen, she was still in her morning robe.

"Good morning, did you sleep well." Martha inquired.

Cora's cheeks instantly coloured, the look on her mother's face let her know, she knew what they had done. The doorbell rang, and Cora walked out.

"Saved by the bell." Martha said under her breath.

"Rosamund?" Cora exclaimed. "I did not know you were coming. I would have been dressed. I am sorry."

Rosamund stepped inside and kissed Cora on her cheek. "Do not worry about not being dressed, I did not tell you I was coming, but Papa called me, and I wanted to talk to you right away."

"Oh." Cora felt her stomach sinking.

"Where is Robert?" Rosamund asked, while taking of her shoes.

"He is in the kitchen with my mother. Rosamund can you please tell me what is wrong."

"I want to talk to you both, can we sit down in the living room?"

"I will go and get Robert. Do you want a cup of tea?"

"Yes, please." Rosamund answered

[whenwordsmakesense]

Another first sentence + 5 sentence fic, "I hate it when you're being a martyr!!?"

Lol, next time just send me a sentence. I don't think I'll ever be doing "only" +5 sentences xD

Okay, okay, so this isn't from my *THE* time-travel fic, but the thing is... I just love the idea of a bamf!sterek that go back in time and don't tell anyone about the truth and then comes this CONFRONTATION and everyone else is confused/in awe.

Quick rundown of dynamics, just because: Alpha Talia Hale. Human/Alpha Mate Nathaniel Hale. Betas Peter Hale, Laura Hale, Cora Hale, Claudia Stilinski. Human Noah John Stilinski. Alpha Derek Hale (but he presents as a beta to everyone except Stiles). Human Stiles Stilinski (but he is actually a spark, the strongest there is).

Idk their ages, but you can imagine Stiles as a 15/16 year old teen (he's mentally older, of course, think like... hmm... let's say he came back in time at age 21. So he should be 30, mentally). That makes Derek 21/22 (mentally 36).

Okay, enough rambling, now let's get down to the fic!! I'll be writing this from Laura's POV. Also, tell me if I should post this one on AO3? Now it's on AO3!

The Moon's Come Out

"I hate it when you're being a martyr."

Stiles' voice is a soft whisper underneath the chaos of blood and death, but it's not quite enough to drown under. It's a resigned exhale of breath, a truth so absolute that it's no longer just a truth. It's a fact.

Laura Hale wonders when her baby brother aligned himself to such a fact. She wonders lots of things about her baby brother.

She remembers the day when it all changed. When Derek changed. It was subtle, but it was prominent.

She remembers when she'd helped Derek with his flirting skills. Paige, she remembers; the same Paige who had once held Derek's eyes had been rendered into nothing that day. No, not nothing—something else. Something deeper. Something like grief.

But why would Derek grieve someone living? It's a mystery, but more than that it's an act shared between Derek and Stiles—like they're barely tethered to the world, and every moment with anyone but each other is like a gift and a curse, all in one.

But this isn't the time to think about it, how it feels like she's lost Derek once.

It's time to save him.

"Mom," her voice is a barely there sound, but her mom, her Alpha, she's here.

And she's silently crying.

"Mom, we need to- need to help him,"

Her mom is nodding her head, and they're moving between the bloody bodies—hunters, who'd come to kill them, only to die by Stiles'... everything.

Laura feels she can save him.

"Stop." Stiles' voice is still a whisper, but it's an order. A command.

Her mom—Alpha Talia Hale—stops in her tracks, and Laura, with her injured leg has to stop with her.

Dad is shouting at Cora to stay back, and John is trying to free Claudia and Peter from their confines, and Laura can hear all that. But right now, her world boils to where Derek is. On the ground, only a few feet away but so, so far away, spitting blood out of his mouth as his healing tries to kick in where the bullets are lodged on his body.

Bullets. Because Derek had jumped in front of the hunters when they started shooting at Peter and Claudia. And they're all wolfsbane laced.

Laura opens her mouth to protest, to shout, but Stiles doesn't let her.

He's always stopped her from talking.

She hates Stiles.

He's taken Derek away from her. From the pack.

"I can deal with this, you don't have to worry,"

"You can't order me around." Laura's eyes flash at her Alpha's tone, and she bares her neck.

Stiles' jaw sets with a determined look. "Oh, yeah? You really think so, Talia?" Laura watches him as he speaks, words fast paced and laced with worry and fear and anger. It's an ensemble of emotions, but even Laura has to admit that there's always been something special about this kid. His hands work as he talks.

"I mean, maybe you do. You Hales always think you know the best, don't you? It's like you think nobody else has any brains but you. Well, except Peter. That fucker is just too clever for his own good and he knows it. But he at least knows not to underestimate others. That's more than I can say for you, Talia. Or Laura. You two are so similar, you know?"

Laura does. She does know. And she is proud of that fact. But Stiles says it like a curse, like being so similar to her own mother—her Alpha—is nothing short of the worst thing.

Laura wonders why. She wonders a lot when it comes to Stiles.

"Stiles," everyone stops at that voice, as if freezing in place would freeze time itself.

Laura has been tortured, she's seen more blood than she needs to today, and she'd cried herself hoarse when they'd started to torture her previously unconscious mom. And then she'd wanted to die when the hunters turned their guns toward Cora, Claudia and Peter. So much so that she'd barely noticed Derek somehow escaping from his own personal confinement, the shackles he was in, all of it covered in wolfsbane. Neither had she witnessed Stiles breaking the literal cage the humans of their pack had been put in. But the thing that truly, truly scares her isn't any of those things. No.

It's losing Derek. Her baby brother (he used to hate it when she called him that, but when he changed, that hate turned into a grieving sort of fondness, like this was something he'd missed), who feels more like an adult than she is, her Derek. She can't lose him. She just can't.

It would break her. It would break the pack. Derek has always been the heart of it, the sweet little kid who is adored by his sisters and trusted by his parents; the man who even Peter respects, and Claudia cherishes like her own son, and John who calls him a good man.

It's no surprise they all just stop when Derek speaks for the first time since he was shot. And oh, was it only minutes ago? It feels like hours.

"Finally coherent, huh?" Stiles asks Derek, like Derek speaking right now is no big deal. Like it's that easy to try and repel the poison of wolfsbane.

"Shut up," Derek coughs out, voice throaty and weak.

"Derek," someone calls out. It's choked with tears, and it's a female, and it's her voice. "Derek! Please don't die,"

Derek tries to move his head, but falls back on the ground with a thump. Stiles swats at him, and Laura only now notices that Stiles' hands are covered in blood, one anchored on Derek's chest while the other digs around one of the holes. There's a host of bullets lying on the other side; Stiles throws another bullet there.

Perhaps everyone notices the same thing just then, because everyone makes a noise, a wail of pain and disgust and fear, all of it mixed in one sound.

Her mom has lost all her fight in herself, and Laura deflates, too. Stiles seems to know what he's doing.

And he doesn't seem to care what he sounds like.

"No, shut up? Me? Shut up? I swear to the fucking moon, you asshole, if you die on me I'll follow you. I'll fucking follow you there, because nothing is left for me here, okay, and I know you know that. You know this. How could you even do this to me? I told you to wait for my signal! I never would have let them get hurt, Derek! No, no, shut up! You keep your words to yourself and you listen, you goddamn martyr, you listen.

You made me a promise. When we came back, you promised me we'd be together. Always. We'll fix things, then we'll live, and then we'll die. Together. But you-you broke that promise, Der. You did tha-that,"

Laura is missing something. They all are.

Stiles' voice is a steady stream, a flow broken only by the cracks in his voice and the anger in it. And then it's a whisper, the height of his voice toppled down by his sorrow.

Derek smiles softly, as if Stiles worrying himself to death about him is not a new thing. Like Derek almost dies on a constant basis, and this is a routine they have—Stiles worries, Stiles shouts, and then Derek smiles because he's still here. He isn't gone yet.

Laura watches as Derek puts his weight on his elbows, brings his face close to Stiles'. Nobody interrupts them, still frozen in time, still processing what they just went through. Stiles shuts his eyes.

"I am here. I am here, Stiles," Derek tells Stiles, and Stiles takes a shaky breath, and it hangs there, that breath—the worry, the anger, the pain, everything—between them, before Derek lunges forward and presses his lips against Stiles'.

There are a few sharp breaths, and a hysterical giggle from Claudia. "I told you," she says, and Laura thinks she's saying it to John.

Laura isn't exactly surprised. She's caught them kissing multiple times, and she's always wanted to tattle on them. And she would have, because this is wrong—Stiles is a teenager and Derek is an adult—but Stiles is clever and somehow always a few steps ahead of her. He knows all of her secrets, and she'd rather he didn't but that's not the life she has. No, the life she has is—

—clearer in hindsight. She thinks back on those kisses, shared in the early mornings or late nights, between whispered words that Laura couldn't make out and with a desperation that went beyond the desperation of wanting a good time.

And she looks now, looks at the way Stiles' breaths are shaky and labored, but his hands are steady, even as he brings flames appear out of nowhere and presses it against Derek's bullet wounds. She looks at the way Derek has his forehead pressed against Stiles', and how he moves his head to Stiles' neck at the precise moments that the fire touches his skin. Like he's done this before, knows how to keep his pain between him and Stiles. She looks at the way Stiles' other hand, still bloody, tangles in Derek's hair, comforts him, like he's the only comfort Derek needs in this world.

She looks at the way Derek's body heals, like even his body is used to being hurt like this.

"It all makes sense," Peter's voice brings her out of her thoughts, and she turns to look at him. He's vibrating with excitement. "The way they talk—the way they behave—it all makes sense!"

Laura doesn't want to know. She doesn't want to know how this much blood and death and crying and confusion could ever make sense.

But if knowing is the answer to ease the burden on Stiles' and Derek's shoulders, she'll take it. She will know.

[topazy]

What we found

Parings: John Murphy/ OC

Warnings: mentions of blood

Chapter: eleven

Cora

I sat up with a groan, gripping my head as the dimly lit room I was in started to spin.

Murphy kneeled beside me. "Hey, take it easy. You’ve had a nasty fall."

Fall? I couldn’t remember falling. As my eyes adjusted to the light, I realised I was inside a cave, and the only light was coming from a small fire. "How did I get here?"

"John carried you," Emori said before sitting down beside me. "Do you remember anything that happened?" I shook my head. "You saved us from reapers."

"And took a beating in the process," I snorted. It wasn’t the first time that I’d been beaten in a fight, and I doubted it would be the last. It was strange that a reaper knocked me out but left me alive.

I raised my hand to scratch my neck and almost screamed when I felt something move. Frantically, I began shaking my hair, watching the different twigs and dried leaves fall out. My face began to burn as I felt embarrassed. "I thought it was a bug."

Murphy smirked as Emori continued to stare at me with a worried look. "You were asleep for a long time. I was starting to think you wouldn’t wake up."

"Oh, thanks for not leaving me to die." Neither of them replied, and we sat in awkward silence. "What are you guys doing here anyway? I thought you wouldn’t be back in Polis."

Murphy shared a look with Emori before he answered. "We didn’t want to be tied down."

"Fair enough."

Emori stood up, "I’ll get you some water."

Once she walked to the other side of the cave, and began rummaging inside her bag, Murphy turned to face me and spoke quietly, "I know."

Puzzled, I raised my brows. "You know what?"

"I saw your blood."

Oh fuck. Chills spread through my body as his words sank in. I leaned forward, "Does Emori know?"

He shook his head. "No, but you owe me an explanation."

"I owe you nothing," I snapped.

"I risked my life trying to get you back to camp."

I turned away from him and smiled at Emori when she handed me a bottle of water. I found it odd that Murphy dropped the subject when his girlfriend sat back down beside us. I had just assumed he would have told her. Luckily for me, he didn't. I couldn’t tell either of them anything, they would just betray me. Everyone always did.

Murphy

"You said there'd be food here."

Emori leaned her head back against the wall, and let out a sigh. "There should be. These woods have always been good to me. Now there are not even bugs."

"Well, fortunately, I'm not hungry enough for that to be upsetting yet." I grimaced at the thought. "I actually kind of miss Polis. They had this drink there-sweet, made out of sheep's milk-"

Emori shot me a look, "Ontari gave this to you?"

"Yeah... I told you it wasn't all bad."

What did she expect me to say? No. The food was terrible? I wasn’t going to lie to her.

"You told me you were trying to survive." The tone of Emori’s voice through me. She was mad at me.

"I was."

"What else wasn’t bad?" She asked, turning to face me. "John, sex?"

The question made me feel physically sick. I’d already made it clear I didn’t like anything that happened. Why couldn’t she be more understanding? Why didn’t she believe me when I said all I wanted was to be back with her? I glanced over at Cora, who was pretending to sleep. "Emori," I sighed quietly. "I don't want to talk about this."

"Fine. Then let's not."

Standing I dusted off some of the dirt that was sticking to my clothes. "I didn't have a choice, ok? Emori. I didn't have a choice."

She looked up at me and panicked, "Where are you going?"

"I'm gonna go to Arkadia."

"What? Why?"

I shrugged, "I'm a better thief than I am a hunter."

"I'll come with you."

Emori looked hurt as I shook my head. "No. I'll draw less attention alone,"I pointed over to Cora.

"One of us needs to stay here with her."

"John…"

"It’s our fault she got hurt," I squeezed Emori’s shoulders. "She saved our lives, then we saved hers. I’m sure she’ll want to go back to wherever it was she was going in the first place."

A part of my hope was that what I said was true. The other part? The part I was desperately trying to ignore, wanted to know everything about her.

Emori

I watched in silence as Cora continued to chop at her hair with a knife she had pulled from her boot, before throwing the braids into the fire. It was strange, but I had a feeling her actions had a meaning behind them.

The light from the fire only illuminated the small scars that covered her face and neck. Remembering what John had told me about her, my stomach began to turn. The way she had healed her own wounds while they hid in the bunker sounded agonising. I understand Cora did what she had to, but I personally don’t think I could have. I opened my mouth to ask her about it, but stopped when I heard footsteps.

"Oh, finally." Seeing John approaching, I went towards him and threw my arms around him. I knew he was capable of looking out for himself, but I still worried.

He pulled back from me with a worried expression on his face, "Emori."

"John, what's wrong?"

"It looks like we may need my people, after all." He gulped down. "There's a storm coming. When it hits, we need to be on the right side of that door."

Oh god, this definitely wasn’t part of our plan. "So we make ourselves useful."

"Yeah. Yeah, exactly. I've already started working on Abby. Come on. I'll explain on the way." He glanced over at Cora, who still hadn’t lifted her head. "What is she doing?"

Cora was now running her fingers through her tangled, messy hair that stopped just under her ears. I leaned into him and whispered so Cora wouldn’t hear me. "She’s been like this since she woke up."

"Has she said anything?"

I shook my head. I didn’t want to feel paranoid, but I didn’t like John's genuine concern in his voice. We hardly knew this girl and he cared more about her welfare than most people he grew up on the ark with.

John took a few steps forward. "Cora, I think you should come back with us."

Cora scoffed, "No thanks. I’ll take my chances in the cave."

"Bellamy’s been looking for you."

Finally, lifting her head, Cora looked up at us with a wide-eyed expression. "You spoke to him?"

"No," John let out a sound of frustration. "I spoke with Abby, and she told me he was asking you before meeting some spy from ice nation."

"Fine," Cora stood. "We should go before it gets dark."

John looked disappointed. I wasn’t sure if it was because Cora was leaving with us, or how her face lit up when he mentioned Bellamy.

Notes: I love Emori as a character, and hate that I’m dragging her into a love triangle. But never fear, I’m going to write her an alternative happy ending