#honestly fed up with how often this happens

[scliffe]

Just a personal observation; but Ciel’s trauma triggers that have been shown so far seem to not be sexual at all. When he had to approach Viscount Druitt, or when he was being assaulted by Maurice Cole and his friends, he was still acting out a part and did not seem genuinely afraid—he knew that Sebastian or Greenhill and Edward would come to his rescue. People often comment on how these must have been scary or triggering for him, but honestly I don’t see it. Even when he was straight-up molested by Sullivan (though this was played for laughs) or even when Sebastian, a grown man, stripped him and bathed with him; these did not trigger his trauma either.

Instead; in the Book of Circus, he had the PTSD attack after seeing the doctor kill the child on the altar. In the Green Witch arc, it was Sebastian’s hands—not being naked with him—which reminded him of how he was force fed. He seems to be touch-averse and dislike being touched by strangers in general; and it does not matter whether the touch is sexual in nature or not—he hates it equally. In both attacks, the main source of trauma seems to be the memory of losing his brother—as he kept recalling how Ciel was brutally stabbed, instead of the CSA.

Of course, trauma works differently on different people and it might just be storytelling choices to keep it PG-13, but I think Ciel might have simply been too young to fully understand the sexual abuse that happened to him—or it’s just not the most traumatic event for him in comparison to losing his brother.

Even though he claims to design his revenge for his own sake alone instead of for his brother or his family; Ciel’s death certainly plays a big, major part in his trauma. I think that when you’re committing revenge for deceased loved ones as opposed to for yourself; it can be quite detrimental for your resolve when you start thinking things like “Would my loved ones even want to see me like this? Or would they have preferred to see me live happily?” It would taint the image of the deceased—of course your loved ones should want you to live happily instead of ruining your own life for revenge—which is what happened in GWA with the image of Vincent, Rachel, and Ciel asking him if he was doing it for them and telling him that no one asked him to have revenge. But even if the deceased didn’t want him to have revenge; Ciel has already made up his mind to pay back the people who dared to trample not only on his family but also on himself, so his resolve simply strengthens and instead this gave him more conviction to go against his twin brother in the next arcs.

Sebastian has also teased Ciel about his innocence before—though obviously Ciel knows to be embarrassed from physical display of or closeness with the opposite sex (he’s 13 not 3); his concept of sexual attraction seems to still be rather juvenile.

Additional thought, r!Ciel seems to be used to Undertaker’s touch just as our Ciel is normally used to Sebastian’s touch; but seeing how he reacted violently to Soma touching him, r!Ciel might also be touch-averse just like our Ciel is. Or maybe he’s just secretly jealous that his brother has other friends.

[girls-againstgod]

DRAW NINA ZENIK FAT YOU COWARDS! SHE IS FAT AND SHE IS GLORIOUS AND BEAUTIFUL!

[solarmorrigan]

No one looks like they did in high school forever (be kinda weird if they did, honestly). Changes catch up with everyone sooner or later. For Steve, it seems to have happened sooner.

Personally, Eddie is in favor.

It isn’t that he hadn’t thought Steve looked in good in high school – god knows it isn’t that (Eddie may have thought Steve had been an asshole at the time, but he’d been a pretty one). It’s just that high school had been a time of basketball and swim meets and carefully watching his diet and carefully curating his appearance to match what he’d thought other people would want to see.

The time since graduation has been spent putting on the type of muscle that would better facilitate fighting monsters and keeping a band of misfit children safe (because after three times around, Steve hadn’t quite been able to bring himself to believe that the Upside Down was really gone), being fed by a rotating cast of mothers who appreciate him being there for said misfit children, and in letting himself decide how he thinks he looks good.

The first time Eddie really gets a good look at Steve after he’s left high school, he’s gone from lean muscle and looks a bit closer to the tank that Dustin’s been insisting he is. The first time Eddie sees him in action, he decides he wants to climb Steve like a tree.

Broad shoulders, strong biceps, solid core, thick thighs, that ass—is it objectification if you’re dating the guy and also madly in love with him? Whatever—Eddie is of the opinion that the time since high school has been very kind to Steve, appearance-wise.

He’s startled to realize, then, that Steve does not always share this opinion.

It doesn’t happen often; it’s rare enough that even Robin almost misses it, and Eddie is a big enough person to admit that she’s a more experienced Steve-watcher than he is.

For the most part, Steve is comfortable in his skin; he knows he looks good, he knows Eddie thinks he looks good, he knows what he’s capable of, and he’s pleased with where he is. Some days, though – some days just aren’t good days.

There are times when Eddie will catch Steve lingering in the mirror, frowning over a shirt that used to fall differently, or a pair of shorts that used to fit a little more loosely. He might reach for one of the cookies that Claudia sent them home with after their last dinner over at the Henderson household, before faltering and grabbing an apple instead (or, sometimes, nothing at all). He might wear extra layers, steal one of Eddie’s slightly oversized flannel shirts, go on an extra run, or he might not be in the mood to cuddle up to Eddie in bed (in spite of the fact that Eddie knows how much he loves getting to be the little spoon, even if he still refuses to say it out loud).

Most of these things by themselves don’t really have to mean anything, but somehow, Eddie can always tell when it’s one of those insecure days.

(And if Eddie had ever thought when he was younger that Steve Harrington could feel insecure about the way he looks, about his body, he might have cracked a crass joke about King Steve’s obvious need to overcompensate for something. Now, though, he knows better. Also, he’s a tiny bit more mature than that.)

So when he comes into the living room one afternoon to find Steve practically crammed into the corner of the sofa, curled in on himself just enough to suggest that he’s trying to take up less space, Eddie decides that that will just not do.

Eddie loves Steve’s confidence. He loves the space Steve takes up in his life (metaphorically and literally). He loves Steve, and he sure as hell isn’t about to let him spend the day feeling bad about himself, so he ducks back into the bedroom for the book on his nightstand and then plops down on the other end of the couch.

He reads for a little while and doesn’t really have to worry about getting too distracted from his plan, because he always finds himself tilting towards Steve like a compass to magnetic north, whether he’s actively trying or not. So he reads, and he shuffles around on the couch a bit, and he lists to the side a little, and then he’s finally just close enough to Steve to plausibly ask, “Hey, d’you mind?”

Steve glances up from the magazine he’s been reading, brows furrowed. “Mind what?”

Eddie points to the way Steve’s legs are drawn up almost to his chest. “Stretching your legs out? I wanna lay down.”

And normally, Steve doesn’t hesitate – hell, normally, Eddie doesn’t even need to ask; it’s almost as if he can just tell when Eddie wants to rest his head in his lap and automatically moves to welcome it. Today, though, he rolls his eyes.

“We have pillows on the couch for a reason,” he says, jerking his head towards the throw pillows at the other end of the couch (as if Eddie could forget the throw pillows; they’d spent a goddamn hour at the furniture store staring at the choices and had walked out laughing about how boring and adult and great it felt to be decorating their apartment with fucking throw pillows – but that isn’t the point).

Eddie scoffs. “Why would I settle for a pillow when I could have something way more comfortable?”

“Yeah, there’s no way my lap is better than a pillow,” Steve drawls.

“Baby, your lap is the most comfortable resting place known to man,” Eddie states, so dramatically intoned that it makes Steve laugh, even though Eddie is fairly serious. “Now why would you deny me my favorite place to lay my head?”

Steve rolls his eyes again, but obligingly (if slowly) stretches out his legs and rests his socked feet on the coffee table to make space for Eddie.

“Thank you,” Eddie says primly, before flopping down on the couch and making himself comfortable with his head situated on Steve’s lap, then giving a demonstrative little wiggle to settle in. “Yep, that’s the stuff. Perfect.”

“Man, shut up,” Steve mumbles, turning back to his magazine.

When Eddie glances up to check that he hasn’t gone too far, there’s a bit of a flush high on Steve’s cheeks, but no real displeasure on his face, so he doubles down.

“I will not. Not until you acknowledge the perfection that is your thighs,” Eddie declares, pressing his head further back into Steve’s lap. “Firm, but with just enough give–” he reaches up and pinches the side of Steve’s thigh, smiling innocently when Steve jolts and glares down at him, “always warm. Perfect.”

Steve turns his eyes resolutely back to the magazine he’s got balanced on the arm of the couch. “Not perfect.”

“Well, sure, perfection is subjective, means different things to different people, blah blah blah.” Eddie waves his hand in a vague ‘et cetera’ gesture and accidentally smacks Steve in the arm before he turns his head (and his hair is absolutely going all staticky after being rubbed against the fabric of Steve’s sweatpants, which is going to be a nightmare later, but that’s a problem for future Eddie) and presses a kiss to the spot just above Steve’s knee. “But they’re perfect to me.”

For a moment, Steve is still. Then he shifts slightly in place, and Eddie has the feeling that if he were standing, he’d be shuffling from foot to foot.

“And I have it on pretty good authority that my opinion counts for something,” Eddie goes on. “So if you ask me—which you should—your thighs are one of your best features.”

Finally, Steve glances back down at Eddie. “You think so?” he asks, soft and a little hesitant.

“Absolutely. One of my favorite parts of you, on a rotating basis with every other part of you,” Eddie says, grinning when Steve scoffs, because this time Steve is smiling, too. “What? There are so many good features, I’ve gotta make sure I pay them all equal attention.”

And the thing is, Eddie does know that what got Steve into this mindset in the first place was spending so long seeing himself as valued only for what he can provide physically: a handsome face, a lean figure, a human shield, the Party tank – whatever it is. Most of the time, Eddie makes sure Steve knows what he loves about him as a person, not just about his body. He could gain one hundred pounds, he could lose all muscle mass and be as skinny as a rail, he could look like anything, and it wouldn’t matter, because Eddie loves him.

But that doesn’t mean Steve doesn’t also want a little reassurance now and then that Eddie loves his body, too – which Eddie does, and is happy to provide.

“And today, I’m paying attention to your thighs,” Eddie concludes.

“Stop saying ‘thighs,’ it’s starting to sound like gibberish,” Steve shoots back, but there’s a pleased tilt to the corners of his mouth now.

Eddie hums. “I especially love when you let me lay in your lap. Love having your legs under my head. Or wrapped around my head.” He waves his hand around his face, smirking up at Steve. “Just, in the vicinity of my head, really.”

Steve loses the battle with the laugh he’s been trying to hold in and it overtakes him, shaking with mirth under Eddie while Eddie smiles along with him.

“You’re ridiculous,” Steve says, once he’s gotten his breath back.

“I’m just putting it out there,” Eddie says.

Steve cocks one eyebrow at Eddie and turns back to his magazine with a smirk. “Uh huh. Well, I’m a little busy right now.”

“Oh, sure, me too,” Eddie says easily, bringing his book up over his face as if he’s going to continue reading, even though he isn’t even sure he’s on the right page.

They do settle after that, though, quiet and close and comfortable being draped over and under one another. Steve’s hand finds its way into Eddie’s hair and cards through it absently like he’s petting a cat. Eddie would probably purr like one if he could.

“Love you,” Steve murmurs, glancing down as he flips from one page to the next.

“Love you, too,” Eddie replies, tilting his book away just enough to smile up at Steve.

Maybe later Eddie will get to prove how much he loves Steve’s thighs wrapped around his head. Maybe not. For now, though, he hadn’t been lying – just this is perfect.

[Prompt: Resting your head on your partner's lap]

[cursedtrans]

Ryoshu and Grief

Ryoshu as a sinner is defined by her lust for blood, art, and the beauty that comes with both. However I think a large chunk of people realize that this is not her only trait, and this is something that has slowly been fed out across the Cantos and Egos we’ve gotten for her.

Spoilers for basically all of Limbus.

Since her reveal, we’ve had some plenty of reads that PMoon is not taking her inspiration, Hell Screen, as mere setup for an insane artist. Her constant connection with Spider-Bud and family shows that she is at the bare minimum connected to the lore of the family torn apart by lust for a perfect painting of Hell itself.

Ryoshu’s identity in relation to Hell Screen and a traditional family setup is something that honestly deserves more attention in a separate post, but it’s clear something massive happened between her family and it’s caused her a massive trauma response that triggers grief quite often...even if it doesn't seem like that.

Most of Ryoshu’s behavior is opposite to how people usually think of grieving, but it’s still a form of grieving nonetheless. She tries to repress her emotions through increasing forms of ecstasy. As someone who has depression and has gone through losses of my own, one of the possible responses you can have is to try to chase some emotion, regardless of what it is and how unhealthy it is for yourself and those around you. You’ll do anything for that warm feeling of positivity about yourself.

Regardless of this though, that sadness still exists in Ryoshu. We know this thanks to her mood during Canto 7 being rather quiet aside from the betrayal of Hugo, where she immediately decides to cut off his arms due to it being “unoriginal and played out”. Otherwise she’s being bristly towards the concept of family, but not actively aggressive or particularly violent. In fact, the one time I'd say she has a strong reaction in this Canto is to Sinclair's interpretation of her usual acronym stuff.

Ryoshu and Sinclair honestly ALSO deserve their own post because there is a lot to go into, but to put a cap on it I'll simply state that Ryoshu has a lot of emotions regarding Sinclair. It's the only thing that can rouse her aside from the art of betrayal she sees from Hugo, because the concept of family triggers her that much. There's a reason that the ONLY Ryoshu ID to have Gloom in their kit is Spider Eyes, because she's having to directly confront the very concept of family and protecting others, and it's reflected in her giving out more support than most of her other kits and in story by helping calm Yi Sang.

This sadness and desire to care exists across the Mirror Worlds as well, she just does a far better job of hiding it under her usual veneer of "insane artist only pursuing ecstasy". Edgar Family Butler is all about taking the role of caretaker of things, and she normally helps take care of her fellow butlers, only changing her attitude when they are about to be raided by the Wild Hunt and die. Even in something like her W Corp or 7 Association identities, she still has her kit showing off some support by giving out fragility for the team or even giving out barrier in W Corp.

No matter what she does, it's inescapable for her, and something she is desperately hiding away in order to keep things moving. The very same way Yosihide continued his painting, Ryoshu keeps spreading violence to hide away her grief. But it will always be there, underneath the surface, if you look closely enough.

Overall, it's a fascinating take on grief and how one can cope with it, and PMoon has always done a wonderful job on not taking the typical route with things. They did it before with Roland's grief, and it's clear that they're doing similar things with Hell Screen's adaptation. Also thanks to @lu-is-not-ok for inspiring me to write up more about one of my favorite sinners, since their posts analyzing The Red Chamber and Hong Lu fascinate me to no end. Additionally thanks to @ryoshudoodles for making beautiful art themselves and showing off the duality of Ryoshu's lust and gloom beautifully.

[fuckyeahdindjarin]

Ravel

A Seams Christmas special oneshot | Moodboard

{ Part IV: Notch | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist }

Rating: T

Summary: Joel swings by yours with a little something before Christmas dinner at Tommy and Maria's.

Warnings: Unapologetic fluff and softness, inspired by this ask from @casssiopeia from the beginning of the year, no use of Y/N, very lightly edited

Word count: 2k

Notes: I'm so proud of writing up this little drabble. I've been in such a weird place with my writing, I'm just happy to end the year on a creative high. Obviously, I'm a few days late to Christmas, but better late than never!

There is a voice in my head telling me that this isn't good enough, that it doesn't hold up to what I was writing earlier this year. But I need to rewire my brain. There is no such thing as 'good' or 'bad' when it comes to fanfiction. All fanfiction is good fanfiction. This is our hobby, not our jobs, and we need to be kind to ourselves.

I am posting this at 11:59pm on New Year's Eve. Happy new year y'all, I hope Joel and Pin can bring you some festive cheer ❤️

Joel is this close to have a fucking breakdown.

He would measure out how close this is between his thumb and index finger if they were not currently tangled in webs of yarn, rapidly unravelling from from the bottom of what is supposed to be a sweater.

Your sweater.

The book that Lucy lent him months ago lies on the table before him, the pages yellowed and dogeared, open at the the easiest pattern of the lot to knit - a simple pullover in chunky yarn, in your favourite colour.

Well, it was supposed to be easy, anyway.

Despite Lucy basically holding his hand throughout the whole project, he’s had far less time than anticipated to work on it. Too many nights he finds himself at Tommy and Maria’s, elbow deep in dirty baby’s clothes and diapers, making himself useful for whatever needs to be done around the house. 

Even Ellie chips in without being asked, often bringing back food from the canteen and making sure the severely sleep-deprived adults are eating, if not well fed. Joel honestly doesn’t remember how he did it with Sarah as a clueless twenty-something, with an even more clueless younger brother.

As he attempts to free himself from the quagmire of wool, he grimaces at the stiffness all over his body, feeling it especially in his back after sleeping in an armchair all night with a rapidly growing two-month old.

He’s too old for this shit - but there’s no saying no to the little rascal with Tommy’s nose and Maria’s eyes.

The knitting needles clatter to the floor when he jumps at the front door opening and slamming shut, a frustrated fuuuuuuck slipping past his gritted teeth. 

Ellie’s voice rings out loud and clear as she scampers up the stairs, getting progressively louder until she’s outside his study. ‘Hey! Did you remember to put the potatoes in the oven? We have to leave for Tommy’s in an hour - dude, what the fuck is happening?’

‘What do you think is happenin’?’ he growls.

Crossing her arms, Ellie leans against the doorframe wearing a far too amused expression. ‘Maria said no gifts.’

Joel rolls his eyes. ‘It’s not for Maria.’

The teenager squints, perplexed, at the bits of wool in his hands. ‘What is that meant to be?’

‘... A sweater.’

Ellie bites her bottom lip, holding in a poorly concealed giggle. ‘I think a sweater is meant to have sleeves.’

‘You think?’

‘Want me to go get Lucy?’

With a heavy sigh, he mutters, ‘Fine.’

At the arch of her half-eyebrow, Joel adds begrudgingly, ‘Please.’

Ellie grins, sneakers skidding on the floorboards as she takes off. ‘Hang in there, old man!’

Despite the cold, his palms are sweaty, sticking to the kraft paper wrapped haphazardly around the even more haphazard package clutched tightly in his right hand. 

The night air mists before him in puffs of white as he shuffles a path through the falling snow. His ears are tingling from the cold, and flexing the stiff, frozen tips of his fingers, Joel knows he should’ve worn his gloves. They weren’t in their usual place by the door though, and he was so frazzled that he barely got his shoes tied up before dashing out the door, sending Ellie ahead with the potatoes (that are definitely undercooked) to his brother’s.

Your cottage glows yellow and orange in the darkness, and your stairs no longer creak when he trudges up them, having fixed them just in time before the first snowfall.

He hears your footsteps come from deep within this house when he knocks. Your eyes are wide when your door cracks open tentatively, but then your lips curve into a smile - the smile that he takes with him and keeps him warm when he has to leave Jackson for days-long patrols.

‘What are you doing here?’ you ask, ushering him inside, not batting an eye at the snow he tracks inside. ‘I thought we were meeting at Maria’s.’

Pressing a kiss to your lips, he softens at the way you lift your face towards him to catch it, careful to keep the parcel out of sight behind his back. ‘Yeah, we were, but thought I’d see if you need a hand with anythin’.’

‘Such a gentleman,’ you tease. 

A low fire burns in the hearth, the wood he chopped for you in the fall stacked in a tidy pile next to the mantelpiece. Sweeping his eyes across the living space, he spots the book with the cracked spine that he reads when he’s here on the coffee table, next to yours. On the other side of the couch is the Christmas tree that he cut for you, and he watched you dress it up in tinsel and fairylights one night after a quiet dinner and before hot cocoa under thick blankets.

He likes seeing himself at your home. In the things he does for you; in his things, casually scattered around - like they belong in your space.

‘The pies are in the kitchen, could you please put them in a bag?’ you ask. ‘I’ll just grab my coat and we can go.’

‘Sure, sweetheart,’ he answers, waiting until you’ve disappeared into the bedroom before setting down the present under the tree.

He’s leaning against the back of the couch when you pop back in, a few layers deeper than when you left him, the pies nestled safely in a carrier bag by his boots. 

‘Shall we?’ you ask brightly.

Joel hesitates, wondering if he should wait until after dinner to tell you about the present. It only takes his eyes darting to the foot of the tree for the briefest moment for you to catch on. The slow smile that stretches your cheeks and lights up your eyes warms him from the inside out.

You cock your head to one side, playing coy. ‘What’s that, Joel?’

He shrugs, feigning cool. ‘Why don’t you go ahead and find out?’

His chest physically swells at the way you dash towards the tree, landing on your knees in uncharacteristic recklessness, the impact only softened by the rug underneath. You cradle the lumpy package to your chest like something precious. ‘You got me a present.’

He settles on the end of the couch next to you, his heart beating harder in his ribcage than he’d like to admit. ‘Don’t get your hopes up, sweetheart.’

You frown at him. ‘Why?’

‘You’ll see, but I wanted to give it to you anyway.’

You open the package carefully, as if it was wrapped in the fancy paper people used to buy at the shop. Joel holds his breath when you peel it away to reveal what’s inside.

He’s far too inside his own head to hear your inhale that sounds a lot like wonder. You pick up the sweater gently, shaking it out, and Joel winces when he sees it in the flicker of the firelight.

Disastrous doesn’t begin to cover it. Lucy managed to connect the sleeves to the shapeless body in a last-ditch salvage attempt, but one is clearly longer than the other. The stitches are untidy, some have obviously caught onto something and pulled loose. Rough around the edges is putting it kindly.

Joel wants to reach out, grab it, chuck it into the fire and let the flames swallow it whole.

Finally, the silence gets the better of him, and he blurts out. ‘I’m sorry.’

You stare at him, stunned. ‘What?’

Under his whiskers, his cheeks flush in embarrassment, and he rambles, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was thinkin’. You deserve better sweetheart, here, let me -’

You almost lose your balance keeping the sweater out of his reach. ‘Don’t you dare, Joel Miller.’

Confused, he watches you rise to your feet, shucking your outer coat and another layer. ‘What are you doin’?’

Grabbing the sweater, you slide it over your head and thread your arms through the sleeves. The soft knit drapes over your curves, too big over your shoulders and the hem falling unevenly, higher on the right side than the left. One sleeve is long enough to cover half your hand, while the other sits right on the wrist.

And yet. 

You’re beaming like you just picked up something at Bloomin’dales or whatever the fuck those department stores were called back then. 

‘I love it,’ you declare, no trace of irony in your voice, as hard as he’s trying to find it.

He scoffs in disbelief. ‘C’mon, sweetheart, you’re just sayin’ it -’

You surprise him, grabbing him by the scruff of his collar and dragging him towards you to plant a firm kiss on his lips. 

‘I love it,’ you repeat slowly, with conviction, as if willing him to believe you. ‘Thank you.’

He doesn’t quite still, but he smiles and kisses you back. ‘Merry Christmas, sweetheart.’

‘Since we’re doing this -’ you trail off, sliding out of his grip to reach around the back of the tree, pulling out a neatly wrapped gift. ‘This is for you.’

Joel pauses. 

For him.

For the longest time, nothing had been for him unless it was soul-crushing grief and pain.

And yet here it is - his name on the tag written in your neat handwriting. Something he can hold in his hands. For him.

His fingers tremble when he reaches out. The package is soft, and the paper crackles under his grip. He all but tears it open, uncaring of the way the wrapping falls to the floor.

A laugh bubbles out of his throat, and you look relieved at his reaction. ‘You like it?’

It’s not quite a Santa hat. It’s a chunky dark red beanie with a white brim folded back, and topped with a white pompom. 

‘My ears were so cold walkin’ over. It’s perfect,’ he says, pulling it over the crown of his head. Of course, it fits just right, sliding soft and warm over his ears. He adds with a wink, ‘Y’know what, I might just shimmy down some chimneys after dinner.’

‘As long as you shimmy down mine too,’ you retort, not hearing the euphemism.

Joel quirks an eyebrow at that, one large palm squeezing your backside through the layers. ‘That an open invitation, sweetheart?’

You duck your head, more out of habit than actual shyness, with mischief in your smile. ‘Don’t be so crude, Joel Miller.’

Adjusting his new hat so that it sits comfortably, he points at the pompom and jokes, ‘Shame I can’t wear this on patrols.’

Right on cue, you hold up a finger. ‘Funny you should say that.’

He chuckles when you pull out a second, plain black beanie, as if out of thin air. ‘You really thought of everythin’, sweetheart.’

You shrug playfully. ‘I’m smart like that.’

‘I know you are,’ he smiles.

‘Merry Christmas, Joel.’

His lips find yours again in a slow, lingering kiss that has you leaning into him for more when he pulls back. ‘Thank you. For everythin’.’

You hold his gaze - heavy with meaning, light with joy. It wouldn’t take more than a tilt of the head towards the bedroom to derail your evening plans, and you both know it.

In the end, you’re the one who stays strong. Taking one step back from his warmth, you reach for your coat. ‘We’re late, we should go.’

His eyes widen. ‘Wait - you’re not wearin’ that to dinner are you?’

‘Of course I am,’ you say, buttoning up your coat over the sweater.

‘You don’t have to, sweetheart,’ he almost pleads with you.

You grin, heading for the door, blowing out candles as you go. ‘Too bad, I’m never taking it off.’

Joel shakes his head with a wry huff. ‘Well, I hope not never -’

You have one foot out the door when you suddenly remember. ‘I almost forgot - you left your gloves here last time. They’re in the cupboard by the door.’

Ah, that’s where they went. He opens the drawer and pulls them on, one after the other, the leather, worn smooth with age, creaking as he wraps his fingers around the handles of the carrier bag.

Joel is about to follow you out the door when he pauses over the threshold. Glancing down at the black beanie in his grasp, he reaches up and hooks it on the coat rack, nestled among your clothes.

He hopes that when the time comes for him to wear it for the first time - maybe on a patrol that will take him away from you for a few days - it will smell like you.

Gorgeous dividers by @firefly-graphics ❄️

More notes: I hope I will return to the main series in the new year. I've missed these two lovebirds, I hope you enjoyed this little interlude! ❤️

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Biting- Geralt x Vampire!Reader

Description: Your friend Geralt helps to quench more than just your thirst for blood

Word count: 1,673

A snarl sounded deep from your throat, and hissed passed your fanged teeth as Geralt tried to approach you once again.

“I just want to help you, y/n.” He explained gruffly, as he sat back down on the rough ground of the dark cave with a huff.

“A Witcher wanting to help a monster. Seems to go totally against what you are.” You smirk over to your friend, a joke you often make at his expense.

It was rare, if not totally unheard of, for a Witcher to befriend a monster, and yet that’s exactly what happened with yourself and Geralt.

He’d one day been tasked to hunt and kill you, but after finding out that you had only attacked that town because of the vile men that lived within it, he decided to spare you.

Most of your kind feasted on easy prey, innocent people who can’t defend themselves. You decided long ago to use your need for blood to help defend those innocent people, only going after those who deserve it.

“You know with how old you are and how long we’ve been friends, you think you would have thought of a better joke.” He chuckles deeply at you.

“And I would have thought with how old you are, you would have grasped the concept of ‘no’ by now.” You snap back at your friend.

Your head rested against the cave wall as you closed your eyes, trying hard not to focus on the sound of Geralts heartbeat, or his intoxicating smell. It had been too long since you had fed and you were starting to notice. Geralt had offered to let you drink from him, but you couldn’t hurt him.

Geralt had spent the last hour trying to convince you to drink from him, whereas you had spent that time convincing yourself that it was his blood you craved and not the way his skin would feel against your body. Geralt was a friend and you couldn’t cross that boundary with him, no matter how badly you craved to.

You must have been focusing a lot harder then you thought, because the next minute you felt Geralts hand on yours. As your eyes flung open, they glared into the witchers eyes.

The deep red of your eyes and the dangerous look you wore would normally scare anyone, but not Geralt. In fact if anything, it made him more bold. His hand left the top of yours as it made its way slowly up your arm, to gently cup around your neck.

It felt as though you were paralysed, locked in place by his intoxicating scent. Your rational and animalistic mind fighting a battle of wills as his head bent down to whisper in your ear.

“I can smell that it is more than just my blood that you crave.” Geralt whispered seductively in your ear, his other hand now rubbing up and down your inner thigh.

Your self control was bending but not broken, that was until he began to press hot and deep kisses onto your sensitive neck. With feel of his intoxicating kisses on your sensitive skin, and his scent so close, your control fully snapped and you became ravenous.

Grabbing him by the collar of his shirt, you pushed him against wall, landing aggressively in his lap as you now straddle his large thighs. With a hand in his hair, you pull his head back to expose his strong neck.

Geralt knew that in your hungry and desperate state that you’d be stronger than him, and honestly he seemed to like it.

“Is this what you wanted, Witcher? Wanted me to lose my composure? To hurt you?” You growled closely in his ear, accentuating your point by tugging at his hair harder and beginning to grind into his lap.

“Yes.” He sighed out, a cheeky smile both in his voice and on his face.

“Are you sure?” You ask seductively, but also as a way to really check this is what he wanted, as you sharp fangs began to lightly trace his neck.

“Mhmmm, I trust you, y/n.” He confirmed breathlessly.

Trying to prove his point or maybe just to get you to hurry up, he put one hand on your ass, to guide your grinding. Whereas the other carded through your hair, pushing your face closer to his neck.

Chuckling into his neck at his obvious excitement and mutual arousal, you began to lightly lick and kiss his neck, wanting to tease him for as long as you could.

With both of your heightened senses, you could both smell just how desperate the two of you were. The strong scent of his arousal and the delicious blood pumping through his body was driving you half mad, but you could hold off just a little longer if it meant teasing the Witcher.

“Y/N, stop teas-“ Geralt was promptly cut off as your fangs bit into his neck.

The feeling of your hot bodies pressed together and the delicious blood finally reaching your mouth, made a fire erupt all through out your body. Once that first drop touched your tongue it was all over.

Your whole arm wrapped around Geralts head, pushing it into your breasts as you began to hump and grind against his growing impressive bulge. You were like a woman possessed, pushing yourself further against him, not being able to get close enough to his body for your liking.

Finally breaking away from his neck, you let out a desperate moan as you began licking and pecking at his wound. You were fed but it still wasn’t enough.

Grabbing him by his white hair once again, you push his head back and away from your breast. Now looking at his face, you see it set in a dazed and dopey smile, hooded eyes looking into yours.

“So tell me, Witcher. Did you just want me to drink your blood or did you want to help me with my other cause of desperation too.” You whispered hotly against his lips, teasing him with an almost kiss.

“Well that’s what friends are for.” He smirks at you.

His once and usual manly stoic look was now wiped away, and instead a lust drunk smile of a boy takes its place. Geralt would not give up control to anyone, but in this cave and with you, it felt like there was no better way.

Smirking and looking into his eyes, you hungrily capture his lips in a searing kiss. The kiss was hungry and desperate, his hands digging into your ass as you begin to unbutton his trousers to release his hard and desperate cock.

Freeing his cock and pulling away to stand up, leaves him grunting in protest.

“So you don’t want me to ride your cock then?” You taunt him as smirk cheekily, beginning to undress yourself.

Geralt quickly began to behave as he watched your little show you began to put on him for him. Each item of clothing revealing more skin that Geralt desperately wanted to lick, kiss and touch.

“Yeh that’s what I thought.” You wink as you straddle his lap once again.

Taking his impressive cock in your hand, you stroke him a few times before lining yourself up with him.

Geralts head is pushed against and the cave wall and his eyes are closed, enjoying every ounce of pleasure that you’re giving him.

“Look at me, Geralt. I want to see your face as I sink down onto your cock.” You gently order, shifting your hips to tease his sensitive head.

Peeling away from the wall, his eyes look both desperately and hungrily into your own. Both begging you to use him and asserting his dominance all at once.

“Good boy.” You cheekily coo as you begin to sink down onto his cock.

You both seem to moan in unison as you hold each others gaze, both of you being filled with immediate pleasure and relief. It takes a moment to get used to his size, but once you are and you’ve properly bottom out, you begin to move immediately.

Grinding into him quickly turns into bouncing, causing Geralts hands to fly to your breasts. He groans as he takes one in his mouth and his other grabs at your ass.

You continue to bounce and use his cock for your own pleasure, drawing moans from both of you. Geralt feels blessed to be used in such a way by such a beautiful woman. His mind filled with nothing but how tight your pussy feels and how good your tits feel in his hand and mouth.

The cave is filled with both of your mixed moans and grunts. The sound of skin slapping onto skin getting louder and louder and you bounce faster and faster.

Pulling Geralt away from your breasts by his hair, you place his hands on your hips. His strong fingers dig into the flesh of your hips as your breasts bounce deliciously in his face, leaving him staring at your form, hypnotised by your beauty and power.

“Fuck! Geralt! You feel so good! Such a good fucking boy.” You praise as your fingers come down to play with your clit.

Geralt can’t help the way his moans become almost animalistic, as your pussy clenches around his cock. Grunts and groans leave his beautiful parted lips and echo around the cave as you both reach your end.

“Fuck, Geralt, I’m so close!”

“Me too. Fuck! Cum with me, sweetheart.” He grunts out in response.

You were wound so tight and from just those words alone, you couldn’t hold on much longer. The tension in you snapped as you came with a loud roaring moan, your head flying back.

Geralt took a tighter hold of your hips as he thrust into you powerfully, finishing only seconds after you.

Panting deeply with sweat covering both of you, you push your forehead against his as you both catch your breath.

“Maybe I should come to you when I’m thirsty more often.”

[denwritesandcries]

gf!Nat Scatorccio HCs

Pairing: natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

Summary: Dating Nat is basically bringing a stray home. Once she chooses you, she'll never leave.

Word count: 1,5k.

Content: 96' timeline, cursing, mentions of drinking/drug use, abandonment issues, nat being a loser and a sweetheart, fluff, kisses.

Note: writing for my beautiful sad loser nat is like a therapy session.

English is not my first language.

- You two definitely end up having a love-hate relationship for a while before you actually get together, fueled by teasing from both sides and Nat insisting that you’re not friends at all.

- Meeting her for the first time one day when you’re skipping class and catching her smoking weed behind the bleachers. Nat gets all defensive and impulsively makes an empty threat that you better not be a damn snitcher, but she seems so nervous that you can’t take her seriously for a second.

- Telling her to fuck off and sitting next to her because you’re already there and there’s no way you’re going to turn around and go back to your physics class, leaving her so confused and indignant that she drops her joint on the floor. Mocking her for it too.

- Nat tells you to fuck off, claiming that she was there first and you retort that there was plenty of space for both of you there. She lights up a regular cigarette this time, blowing the smoke right to your face on purpose with a shit-eating grin and you look at this girl with messy black hair, a peeling leather jacket and wide eyes covered in black eyeshadow like a fucking raccoon and decide you want to see her again.

- You run into her a week later, coincidentally trying out for the football team, just like you. Nat huffs and rolls her eyes the moment she puts her eyes on you, but stays close to you anyway.

- When you guys make it and get in, your incessantly teasing continues and none of your classmates can tell if you're serious or not and honestly, neither do you. This has led Jackie, aspiring to become captain that year, to do her best to pair you two up or on the same team in every group dynamic.

- This makes you both so fed up that you and Natalie team up just to annoy her and make it as difficult as you can during training, but since you're getting along, Jackie insists that her attempts were successful and that it's a victory – and she becomes captain anyway.

- There's a lot of longing and barbs exchanged before Nat finally confesses her feelings to you. She spends a lot of time in denial, especially after you start clearly showing your crush on her.

- One day Natalie just starts to get distant and avoids you for days, leaving you completely confused and miserable until she shows up as a drunk, sad mess on your doorstep.

- Her confession is a bunch of incoherent babbling and sobbing about how she was afraid of ruining everything and getting hurt – at least that's what you could make out, but the gist was there.

- She's completely embarrassed and tries to pretend she that she can’t remember anything she said and that nothing happened at school the next day, but you're not having it and won't let her get away this time.

- She won't admit it but she's so glad you didn't give up on her.

- Having Natalie as your girlfriend is basically bringing a stray home. She'll stay with you most of the time, even if your place isn't great either. Anywhere is better than where she lives for her, especially if you're there too.

- So gf!Nat who you start dating before senior year and who picks you up at home every day so you can walk to school together.

- gf!Nat who complains non-stop if you take too long to get ready, even if she's the one who got there too early, and who sprawls on your bed while waiting for you every time, looking around your room and always reaching for new details to learn about you.

- gf!Nat who starts going to classes regularly again when she finds out that you actually share some periods, which she didn't remember doing before because she skipped them so often.

- gf!Nat who you have little study sessions with at your house, but they're mostly excuses to make out after school. The only times you actually open your books are when you invite her to study at the library, and she always gets discouraged when that happens.

- gf!Nat who can't keep pictures of you at her house, but who sticks them all over both her lockers in the hallways and the locker room and who gets absolutely mortified when her friends end up seeing them, especially when Van and Lottie start teasing you both about it after games.

- gf!Nat who dedicates every goal she scores to you, winking with a cocky smile and lifting her chin up, even if you roll your eyes or give her the finger when you're on opposing teams.

- gf!Nat who asks you for help dyeing her hair for the first time. Who you shower with kisses and compliments when you see the result because she was a little insecure that it wouldn't suit her style.

- gf!Nat with who you sometimes end up swapping jerseys with by mistake after rushly making out in the locker room or blindly gathering the clothes she ends up forgetting when she sleeps over at your place.

- gf!Nat who pretends to be all tough and indifferent when you're in public, but who absolutely melts at your slightest touch behind closed doors.

- gf!Nat who will never, ever admit it but is a sucker for forehead and neck kisses. Who likes to hold hands and give long hugs after bad days and tiring football training.

- gf!Nat who you go to garage shows of the most unknown bands with and actually enjoying it, even if your musical tastes aren't that similar, just because of how excited she gets about them.

- gf!Nat who won't leave your side during parties and glares at anyone who blinks the wrong way in your direction. She protects your drink and keeps an arm around you like a bodyguard, no matter if you're taller than her or not.

- gf!Nat who’s the silent, easily jealous type who gets insecure when you give someone a little more attention – especially if it’s someone else on the team who she considers “better” than her – and keeps quiet about it until she ends up making some rude and passive-aggressive comment that makes you upset and apologize the next moment.

- gf!Nat who’s very insecure because of her home life and who fears that one day you’ll abandon her like everyone else. She tries to avoid the subject or gets really defensive when you try to bring it up to make her work on it, but either way you do your best to shower her with affection and reassurance in those moments.

- gf!Nat who ends up distancing herself after arguments and moments when she has to deal with a lot of feelings because she’s afraid to face it, especially her feelings about you. She tends to try to hurt the things that matter to her so she can be alone with her own isolation, but luckily for her, you don’t leave her alone when that happens anymore.

- gf!Nat whose love language is quality time and physical touch. She can and will spend as much time around you as possible and gets comically upset and offended if you move away from her touch – even if you didn't see her coming.

- gf!Nat who will never ask you to drink or use anything with her, but who will be happy if you ask to share a joint in your attic every now and then, just hanging out laughing and slow.

- gf!Nat who does everything she can to stop taking drugs and drinking so much once you start talking seriously about building a life together after graduating highschool, because now she has someone who cares about her as much as she does too.

- gf!Nat who refuses to ride on the back of your bike when you pick her up from places because she thinks it's lame, but who you convince to do it anyway since neither of you have a car yet.

- gf!Nat who blushes and gets all flustered when she wrap her arms around your waist and lean against your back, enjoying the ride while you're on the way to one of your dates at a cheap diner.

- gf!Nat who asks Van for movie recommendations for your movie nights because they're her favorite dates and she wants to surprise you when it's her turn to plan.

- gf!Nat who’s always the little spoon and who sighs audibly as she leans in close to you when she wants to cuddle because she doesn't have the courage to ask you directly.

- gf!Nat who always sleeps better with you.

- gf!Nat who you give a new leather jacket to for her 18th birthday that practically becomes a second skin to her and thanks you with red lipstick kisses while you share a small chocolate cake in your room.

- gf!Nat who says "I love you" first, because you're afraid you'll end up pushing her away if you tell her. She whispers it right in your ear, so the rest of the world can't hear, because now she's sure she has a love all her own.

[mythicmanuscripts]

I have another preference type idea! While most of the boys don’t act up often (except daemon ofc), what happens on the rare occasion that they misbehave? How are they punished and how do they react? Would be neat to have poly!daemon and Rhaenyra…

Hi hello! Okay so since I pretty much just wrote about punishments with Aegon and also with Aemond and I honestly don't think there'd ever be punishments with Jace (when he makes mistakes it's more about comforting him because he will punish himself enough). So I hope it's alright if I just discuss this with poly!daemon and rhaenyra, because I think that makes the most sense and because I really really want to discuss them more. Please do let me know if you want to discus other aspects of punishments with the others.

Anyway, NSFW poly!daemon and Rhaenyra below!!

It should come as a surprise to absolutely no one that Daemon is a massive brat while Rhaenyra is the goodest good girl to ever good girl. When your relationship with them first starts to get romantic you honestly have no idea how they've managed to stay together. But somehow they both work together so well, and when you join them it's the missing piece.

Having said that, I think that Daemon and Rhaenyra tend to behave differently when it's just you and one of them versus when it's all three of you . Make no mistake, you love them both equally and want to spend as much time as you can with both of them, but it's more than the dynamic is just different when it's just one of them.

In a lot of ways, the worst of Daemon tends to come out when he's alone with you, and this is mostly because he knows that you can handle him and he needs someone to handle him. He'll talk back constantly when it's just the two of you, disobeying you often and rolling his eyes and performing every command with an attitude.

He does this because he knows you will punish him and make sure he behaves. He needs to be taken apart every now and then or else he will become utterly insufferable.

(In fact sometimes Rhaenyra will get so fed up with him being a pain in everyone's side that she'll go spend the night in your old quarters and tell you to go fix Daemon so the entire castle can finally have some peace)

Meanwhile, you never punish Rhaenyra. When it's just the two of you, she tends to just let her guard down and want to be cared for? She has so much pressure on her and it's such a privilege to give her a space where she can finally relax.

Anyway, so no punishment for Rhaenyra meanwhile it sometimes feel like Daemon is in a continuous state of being punished for something or other.

Often you'll start a punishment with him and at some point Rhaenyra will arrive. At first she'd leave when she realises what's going on but now she just walks right in and she doesn't even ask what Daemon did to deserve this, she just chuckles.

Very often she'll come into your shared quarters to find Daemon kneeling facing the wall or kneeling and holding out something heavy or kneeling on the cold floor. You'll motion her over and then the two of you cuddle in bed, laying together and talking like Daemon is not kneeling on the hard floor right next to you and watching you. He doesn't get to come join you until his punishment is finished, and Rhaenyra doesn't even acknowledge him until then.

Oddly enough, he doesn't tend to act up too much when it's the three of you. I think this is mostly because he wants to be useful? He sees you caring for Rhaenyra and he doesn't want to be relegated to the sidelines because he misbehaved and then not be allowed to help you with Rhaenyra.

[blueninjablade3]

For Once I’ll Thank the Croc.

“AHHHHHHHHHHH!” A shrill, girlish scream echoed throughout the entire ship. The scream so loud as to jolt your once peaceful sleep out of you. You’d recognize that scream from anywhere. You glanced over at Smee, who was already on his feet, racing to the deck. You sighed, knowing exactly what had happened.

You groaned as you slid yourself out of your old rag-tag hammock. Your feet hit the wooden floor as you sketched out your back. You slid on slippers before heading to the Captain’s quarters.

You had been working with Captain James Hook for around 5 months. Peter Pan had brought you here thinking you would be a “Great mother to the lost boys!” What he hadn’t thought of was that, one he kidnapped you, two you didn’t want to mother those little kids, and three you were a grown-up. For some reason, this was seen as a negative thing? You had no way home, no friends, and you didn’t exactly have a welcoming visit from either mermaids or the cannibal tribe. So, seeing no other choice, you chose to join up with Captain James Hook.

Hook had a terrible hate for that little devil. Which honestly? You understood. Hook had his hand cut off, fed to a bloodthirsty croc (who annoyingly followed everywhere), and was taunted daily by Pan. You saw no point. Peter was old enough to understand the pain he caused Hook. So why he didn’t leave Hook alone was beyond you.

Yet, you must admit Hook was undeniably lovely. He would make sure to be a more refined man and gallant man around you. Often opening doors for you, making sure you were full, and as an added bonus Hook taught you how to play a few notes on his piano.

A soft blush spread across your face as you thought of Hook. His handsome face, that charming little grin, his habit of running to walls accidentally-

You quickly snapped out of your trance as you arrived at his door. You heard heavy, shaking breathing as you arrived at the large brown door. You knocked three times out of respect. All you got was a shaky response.

“No…no…no…no it’s too early… you can’t take me!” The captain cried fearfully behind the door.

You couldn’t help but sigh. Poor Cap’n Hook. Honestly. The poor man couldn’t even get a decent night's sleep. You opened up the door to find Hook under a couch.

His long black hair was unkept, sloppy, and messy. He had the worst bedhead you’d ever seen.

His body shook violently as a gentle noise was heard outside.

Tick-Tok. Tick-Tok. Tick-Tok.

You could see his Hazel eyes scanning the room like a panicked deer. Even under his night clothes, you could see his muscles tensed up. He was as tense as a snake ready to lunge. Sweat dripped down his face in beads and he looked like an asylum patient.

You imperturbably sat next to the couch on the floor. The Captain’s eyes landed on you. His guard dropped for a moment. But just a moment, he relaxed. As if your very presence was calming to him. You let out a soft and mild sigh.

“Cap? You wanna come from under the couch? I promise Smee is dealing with the crocodile right now. Tic-Tok can’t get or hurt you right now.” You explained in the softest voice you can manage. This does nothing to calm the captain down as instead, he began thundering.

“NO! STAY AWAY! STAY AWAY!” Hook shrieked at the top of his lungs. You winced at the loud words coming from the man. His hook came dangerously close to your thigh. Only missing by a centimeter.

Your eyes exploded in size. In the 5 months you’ve known the Captain he’s never raised his hands to you. He’d even get mad if someone suggested raising a hand to you. He claimed it to be “Rude” and “Savage” to raise hands to someone who wasn’t looking for a fight.

You scrambled away as Hook climbed out from under the couch looking like an angry bull in a bullfight. The fear was still in those hazel eyes though. This wasn’t actual anger. It was his fear response.

In your attempt to get away, you unknowingly pinned yourself against a wall. Hook was on you in seconds. His hook glitters in the moonlight above you. About to crash into your head and possibly end your life. Is this the end? Are you going to die at the hands of Captain James Barthomelow Hook because of his angry outburst?

You close your eyes and wait… and wait… and wait…

But the cold steel never came down. Your eye cracked open. You gazed upon the glittering hook. Right above your head. It was almost like it was frozen in place. You shifted your sight to the weary captain's face. The ticking was gone. A heavy silence consumed the room. You took a look into Hooks's eyes and he broke down. He collapsed to his knees sobbing.

You didn’t believe it. You’d never see Hook cry and it only be about the crocodile. You gingerly reached out and embraced him. You expected a lot. To be shoved off, be yelled at, or maybe have your life like he was about to moments ago. But never in the seven seas did you think he’d hug you. He wrapped himself around her tightly and cried into your shoulder. He whimpered out apologies while soaking your shirt with his wet tears.

You gently guided him to bed.

“Let’s lay down big guy… are you okay?”

“I killed you… I almost killed you… (Y/N) I’m so sorry!” Hook sobbed into your shoulder. He was in hysterics trying desperately to apologize.

“Captain it’s okay-“

“NO ITS NOT OKAY! I SHOULD HAVE NEVER ATTACKED IN THE FIRST PLACE… what if I was the reason you passed away tonight… I don’t think I could have lived with the guilt me dear…”

You had to ask him. You couldn’t deal with not knowing why he acted like he acted with you. Why he didn’t finish the job.

“Captain. Why do you treat me differently from the others in your crew? Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m saying. You make sure I’m fed, you get upset when people try to hurt me, you’ve taught me a bit of piano and you’re one of the most gallant men I’ve ever met so cut the bullshit.”

You spoke authoritatively and without a tremble in your voice. You wouldn’t back down from getting answers. You felt you deserved them. Hook's eyes widened. He heaved a sigh.

“Aye. I won’t lie. I like you. I have since a few months back. I’m sorry for not telling you sooner I just… couldn’t find it in me to confess poppet.”

Hook was beet red from blushing so hard. He was nervous the whole time and did his best to keep his sentences short length to avoid stumbling and embarrassing himself more.

“I like you too darling. Let’s have a first date sometime James. But for now, rest. Rest, knowing you are safe in my arms.”

Hook didn’t have to say a thing. He just held you tighter. His eyes closed as you ran your finger through his hair gently brushing out the tangles. For once you could thank the croc.

WOOOO! Finally done with this little project. I hope you enjoyed reading it and the ending wasn’t too rushed. Likes and reblogs are always appreciated and as always master is right below. Thanks for reading and I wish you a great new year!

Masterlist

[sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy]

Who's in Love With the Big Bad Wolf

Masterlist | AO3

Sterek

There was something creeping around Beacon Hills, what else was new? At first, they had thought it was random. They had been finding an unusual amount of dead animals recently. There didn’t seem to be a pattern until it was too late. A particularly creepy string of “gifts” clear it up: something was after Stiles. Again.

~14k

This is when they’re adults (Derek is 31 and Stiles is 28 b/c the cannon timeline makes no sense and Derek was supposed to be 19 in season 1 anyway) and Eli is about 8 years old. Stiles quit working for the FBI after the season 6 raid and decide to move back to Beacon Hills. He ended up working as a deputy under his dad and Derek owns the mechanic’s shop. Stiles and Derek became closer, like actual friends, since Stiles had been back. He even helps with Eli.

I also really enjoy this mental image of Stiles as a cop being just so fucking annoying to his coworkers. Like, he’s the “cool cop” that the teenagers half like and half make fun of because he openly talks about supporting ACAB and leans into the jokes like the Cop Cuties song and he’d totally be like Miles’s dad in Into the Spiderverse when he drops him off at school. I just don’t think he ever grew out of being a menace and, honestly, my favorite part about Stiles is that is is so competent and yet such a mess at the same time.

~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~♡~○~

It started with a dead birds at the diner Stiles frequented for curly fries– he’d seen some of the poor teenage employees having to bag and toss them in the dumpster. Stiles asked about it when he stopped by the dinner.

“Hey, officer Stilinski. How are you doing today,” the girl working the register asked.

“I’m doing good. How are you, Kimmy,” Stiles asked. He was here too often.

“I’m doing good, “ she smiled. “I saw your other half yesterday. He brought Eli in for an after school snack. He’s such a little cutie,” she said.

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’m not dating Derek.”

“If you say so,” Kimmy said. “So, a double bacon burger, no tomato, and a side of curly fries?”

Stiles nodded, pulling out his wallet. He was here far too much. “You know me well,” he said, handing over his card. “Not to kill everyone’s appetite, but have you noticed more dead animals around?”

“No, sorry. I just work the register and waitress,” she said, adding “I can ask Jonah but he’d report it if he thought there was something wrong.”

“That’d be great. Just have him give me a call,” Stiles said, taking his card back and handing Kimmy a business card with his work number on it. “Make sure that gets to Jonah, please.”

“Not a problem,” she said, setting it beside the register. “Your food will be ready in a few minutes.”

There were more dead animals around town, dead birds and rabbits at first. Sure, it was odd to see a dead rabbit in city limits but road kill happens everywhere, so it was quickly forgotten.

Then it was cats. The police department would get calls about half-dead cats around town– the hospital, the schools, one was even found at th station– which was when Stiles took notice. There were just too many to be a coincidence. After taking yet another call about a still-twitching dying cat on the steps Eichen House, and after confirming it hadn’t been the work of one of the residents, Stiles decided something needed to be done.

Stiles pulled up to Derek’s shop in the police cruiser. As he got out of the car, Derek walked over, wiping oil off his hands with a rag.

“You’re not helping my reputation by showing up in uniform,” Derek said in a tone Stiles knew to be his approximation of a joke.

“Being friends with a cop who happens to also be the sheriff’s son is hurting business,” Stiles asked with a smirk, leaning on the hood of his car. “I didn’t know you kept that clientele, Der. I mean, I’m all for ACAB, especially when the Feds come poking around but...”

Derek shook his head, standing in front of Stiles. “You really shouldn’t say that while in uniform,” he said, trying not to smile. “I meant because of my history with the department.”

“Then I’m really not about to help it,” Stiles said. “We need to go talk to Deaton about the pest problem, see if he has any recommendations for getting rid of it.”

Derek sighed, “and you want me to ride with you?”

“Saves on gas. Your mom van is a gas guzzler,” Stiles teased, “and I don’t pay for her gas.”

“Her,” Derek asked incredulously.

“Yup, Miss Piggy,” Stiles said, snickering at his own joke as he tapped on the hood.

Derek sighed, looking at the ground and wondering why the fuck he put up with Stiles. “Let me tell the guys I’m headed out,” he said, turning to walk back to the shop.

“Your husband taking you out for lunch,” one of the shop employees asked Derek as he walked back in.

“Not my husband, I’m not married,” Derek grumbled, walking into the office for his phone.

“Fucking, fine. Your boyfriend, then.”

“Not my boyfriend either,” Derek said. “I don’t know how long I’ll be. If you break something, it better belong to you and not a customer.”

Derek ignored the jeering as he walked back to the police cruiser. Like a bunch of toddlers, arguing with them made it into a game. He opened the passenger door and sat down, waiting for Stiles to drive off.

Derek looked at Stiles, finding him staring. “What?”

“Put your seatbelt on.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Stiles said, waiting. “Put your seatbelt on.”

“You never wear a seatbelt, Stiles.”

Stiles gestured to himself. “I’m wearing it right now. We’re in the cruiser, put it on.”

Derek rolled his eyes but put on his seatbelt.

“Thank you,” Stiles sighed, backing up. “You know, you should really wear it all the time so Eli learns to wear his.”

“Stiles,” Derek sighed.

“What? I’m just saying, I don’t want to have to pull him over when he starts driving because he doesn’t wear one,” Stiles said, putting the car in drive and heading for Deaton’s.

“You’ll probably be pulling him over anyway with how much time he spends with you,” Derek scoffed.

“Even more reason for you to be a good influence,” Stiles shrugged, “plus, I hate to break it to you, you’re his dad. I’m just the babysitter.”

Derek frowned. “You’re not just the babysitter,” he said.

Stiles gave Derek a quick glance, hearing the change in tone. “Then what am I, Der? The not-uncle he stays the night with?”

“I had hoped you say yourself as part of the pack and…” Derek cut himself off.

“And what?”

“Nothing,” Derek mumbled, leaning over to turn up the radio.

🎶Cop cuties, cute n' on duty. Navy blue booties.🎶

“I hate you,” Derek grumbled, leaning back in his seat as Stiles laughed.

Derek and Stiles got out of the car at the animal clinic, making their plans for the evening as Stiles turned off his body cam.

“Well, if you want anything other than spaghetti, we’ll have to stop at the store before going to my place,” Stiles said, opening the door.

“Mine it is, then,” Derek said, walking inside. “Eli’s been on this thing where he won’t eat noodles ever since he saw that deer with worms.”

Stiles grimaced, “I think I might not eat noodles either, now.”

Deaton smiled at Stiles and Derek when they walked in. “I knew I’d be seeing you soon,” he commented, getting their attention.

“We’re actually trying this new thing where we ignore the supernatural happenings in this town. Much easier for us that way,” Stiles said sarcastically, hooking his thumbs in his duty belt.

“Don’t you look like your father,” Deaton said, giving Stiles a smile.

Stiles dropped his arms to his sides, not sure what to do with them that wouldn’t look more like his dad.

“What do you know about the dead animals,” Derek asked, his annoyance with Deaton loud and clear.

“I know less than Deputy Stilinski, here. Possibly less than yourself if your patrol has continued,” Deaton said.

“So you don’t know anything,” Derek asked again.

“I never said that,” Deaton retorted, “but I’m not sure how much help I can be.”

“Just tell us what you do know and we’ll tell you if it fills in any gaps,” Stiles said, settling on shoving his hands in his pockets.

“I can tell you this isn’t simple animal attacks. It’s quiet deliberately leaving these animals on the brink of death.”

“Why,” Derek asked.

“That, I’m not sure of,” Deaton said.

“Fine. What is it using to do it? Teeth? Knife? What?”

“Teeth, certainly, and Canine at that,” Deaton explained.

“Oh, wow. That really clears things up,” Stiles mumbled. “Dog, wolf, coyote? What kind of canine? And I know you know because you’re the one getting called to put them down.”

“It’s very difficult to tell the difference between the bite of a dog and that of a wolf. In fact—”

“Same ratio and number of teeth but wolves have thicker teeth, more developed molars, and longer canines,” Stiles said, cutting him off. “If you don’t want to help, let me look for myself.”

Deaton gave a polite smile, the one that you knew was hiding annoyance. “It seems to be a wolf, thought not a typical specimen.”

“Great. That’s all you had to say,” Stiles said, matching Deaton’s thinly vailed annoyance with his own. “Unless you have anything to add about a possible pattern or motive, we’re going to leave and figure it out.”

“You two have certainly become quite the duo, haven’t you,” Deaton hummed. “I will let you know if there are any more pertinent developments.”

“I don't know what you're trying to insinuate and I don't care, but I still don't like it,” Stiles said. “I have less than 20 minutes left in my break, so we're leaving.”

He grabbed Derek’s arm and started walking away. Derek followed after him, letting Stiles lead him back to the car by his arm.

They made it outside and Stiles rolled his eyes. “Why does he always have to be cryptic and minimally informative at best,” he complained. “I mean, come on! When we were teenagers, I kind of understood him not wanting to tell us everything but now? I’ve been dealing with this shit for over ten years— you’ve delt with it your whole life— but he acts like he can’t trust us.”

“Can I have my arm back,” Derek asked.

“Shit,” Stiles let go, “sorry. He pisses me off, acting all shady.” He rubbed his face. “I need food or I’m gonna stay pissed off.”

“You drive. I’ll call the diner,” Derek said, rolling his eyes.

“You’re my favorite right now,” Stiles sighed, unlocking the cruiser.

“Favorite what,” Derek asked, opening the passenger door.

“Well, it can’t be alpha since that would mean picking between you and Scott. Can’t be favorite werewolf or favorite Hale since Eli definitely holds those titles.” Stiles clicked his tongue as he thought. ”I don’t know, but I’ll think of something.”

Derek rolled his eyes, trying not to let Stiles catch his smile. “You’re ridiculous.”

~○~●~♡~●~○~●~♡~●~○~●~♡~●~○~●~♡~●~○~●~♡~●~○~●~♡~●~○~●~♡~●~○~

Stiles got off work at five and headed over to Derek’s house. He didn't bother to knock, just walking into the house. He said a quick hello and headed for the bathroom to change out of his uniform. He retuned to the kitchen once he’d changed into his sweats and a comfy t-shirt.

“Hi Stiles,” Eli said, looking up from his homework as Stiles walked in.

“Hey, kid,” Stiles said, walking over to th breakfast bar where Eli was working. “What are you doing now?”

Derek turned to watch the pair interact. It never failed to make Derek feel like he’d made the right choice in staying. They might not have a lot of family left but Eli had so many people that loved him than any ‘village’ ever could.

“Math,” Eli grumbled. “I have a whole page of multiplication and division!”

“You’ll be fine. You’re good at math,” Stiles said, ruffing Eli’s hair.

“But it’s boring and it takes too long,” Eli whined.

Derek sighed. “I have a feeling I’m going to hear all about that tonight,” he mumbled, catching Stiles’s smile at the comment.

“What time is your meeting,” Stiles asked, looking at him.

Sometimes it was hard to think when Stiles looked at him like that. It made this whole arrangement feel a little too domestic for friends. There was something in the way Stiles never had a second thought when it came to caring for Eli that had Derek wondering what things could be. Honestly, it was always had to thing around Stiles. Maybe that’s why Derek acted without thinking around him.

“Can I read my book instead,” Eli asked, looking rather miserable.

“That’s fine,” Derek said and Eli jumped down, running off to the living room. Derek sighed and turned his attention back to Stiles. “I meet with his teacher in an hour and a half,” he said. “There’s a pizza in the oven. The stove timer is on, so don’t burn the house down. Eli has this page of math and he has a book he needs to finish reading. You just need to sign the sheet when he finishes it. I’m going to go change.”

Stiles pulled out his laptop, looking over the reports of dead animals around town. Something just didn’t seem right. He made sure Eli was still reading every few minutes and decided to call Scott just to ramble about what was going on, trying to get the events straight for himself.

“Dude, I’m sure it’s nothing,” Scott said, not seeming to care. “Probably just some stupid teens playing a prank or something,” he said.

Derek walked in in time to hear the tail end of Scott’s comment. He rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything about it.

“What,” Stiles asked is disbelief, remembering how many times Scott brushed things off before. “Scott, dude, the only person I know who would think leaving dead animals around town is a good prank is Peter, who is insane.”

“Maybe they got a little too into the occult,” Scott suggested, not really paying attention.

“That may be the dumbest theory I’ve heard from him yet,” Derek grumbled before ducking off to parent-teacher conference for Eli.

Stiles decided talking to Scott was no help and started to look into it on his own. He spent the night bouncing between staring at the list of reports and listening to Eli’s comments about the book he was reading.

There didn't seem to be a rhyme or reason behind the reports and things were only getting worse.

Stiles and Derek were getting uneasy as the animals got larger and more frequent. Some opposums were killed. A racoon here and there. Next it was dogs. The station was on high alert for a dangerous predator and so was the pack.

Stiles laid on Derek’s couch, throwing a ball in the air and catching it while Derek cooked dinner. He was trying to go over his list of mental notes about the dead animals: where were they, how long had they been there, how many were dead when found, how many were only half-dead, would some of those dead ones have lived if found sooner, was there a pattern in how many of each were killed? It was too much to keep in his head.

“I’m grabbing paper from your office,” Stiles said, sitting up on the couch.

“Don’t go snooping,” Derek answered and Stiles smirked.

“Well now I want to…” he joked, getting up and making his way to the office.

He grabbed a hunk of the loose notebook paper and the cup of highlighters, pens, and pencils kept specifically for him. By the time Stiles made his way to the kitchen counter with the paper and pens, Derek had already set a cup of tea by his usual spot. Stiles sat down and started to scribble down his mental notes. One page was dedicated to locations of dead animals and Stiles kept adding more he’d seen himself along with the dates.

Derek looked at Stiles list. “Are these all the reports,” he asked, surprise by just how many there were.

“Huh? Oh,” Stiles took the marker out from between his teeth. “Yup. All the reports and the ones I’ve seen.” He turned the page so Derek could read it from the opposite side of the counter. “The red is reports and the yellow is mine.”

“You’ve seen… a lot. How have you found that many,” Derek asked, looking at him curiously.

Stiles shrugged, “I have no clue, dude. I feel like I see them everywhere I go…”

“Really,” Derek asked. Stiles met his eyes, biting the end of the marker. “I never see them, at least I don’t when I’m not with you. Maybe you draw them in,” he joked, picking up the paper to read the locations more closely.

Stiles smiled at Derek. “What can I say? I’m just a magnet for the supernatural.”

“A magnet for trouble, maybe,” Derek scoffed, giving the paper back and turned his attention to the food.

Days would pass where fewer animals were found. Some were worse, some where better but there was always dead animals in odd places. Stiles would add locations to the running list kept in Derek’s office, not that they were able to figure anything out.

Then it escalated.

Stiles had miraculously managed to get a parking spot in front of Eli’s school– a rarity especially on a Friday. The best part of driving the jeep was that it would fit in just about any parking spot he needed it to and that included squeezing between the pompous better-than-thou mom in the cheap Bentley parked like she owned the place and the very apologetic Mr. Jacobs who had to bring the truck with the hay bed to pickup.

Stiles had decided to sit the the hood of the jeep until the bell rang so Eli would see him past the large truck. He was on the phone with Derek as he drove back from the airport with Cora in the passenger seat. She had meant to be there yesterday but her flight got delayed and made her miss the layover. It was a whole shit show and Derek had to pick her up.

“We’ll only be another thirty minutes,” Derek sighed. “I’m sorry, Stiles.”

“No, it’s totally good. I don’t mind picking him up. Eli’s great! We’ll get a snack, do homework and then go to the park or something,” Stiles said.

“I– fuck… I know you don’t mind but I still feel like shit for not telling you sooner,” Derek grumbled.

“Dude, relax. Get some food, too. I can deal with you being hangry but not you and Cora being hangry,” Stiles said. “Eli and I will be fine for thirty extra minutes. He’ll probably watch Bluey.”

“You say that like you’re not also going to watch Bluey,” Derek teased.

“Hey, Bluey is awesome,” Stiles scoffed. “Drive safe, don’t die, and text me when you’re ten minutes out. We’ll need time to clean up after the total rager of a party we’re throwing.”

Derek stifled a laugh, “thank you Stiles. I feel better that Eli will be with you.”

“No problem, Der,” Stiles said with a smile.

“Der,” Cora snickered and Stiles paled. “Gag me with a spoon. Jesus, when did you two get so cozy?”

“You’ve been gone three years,” Derek argued.

“Why didn’t you tell me I was on speaker,” Stiles asked, going from pale to bright red from embarrassment.

“I’m driving, Stiles. My phone is connected to the car,” Derek said.

“I didn’t know you were in the mom van.”

“The camaro is inconvenient. Cora has a suitcase,” Derek said.

“I would feel less embarrassed by the camaro but, I have to admit, this is comfy and the heated seats are nice,” Cora hummed.

“Thank you,” Derek said exasperatedly.

“Still weird for you to have a mom van,” Stiles said. “Alright, you guys get food and I’ll text you when Eli and I get back to the house.”

“Bye Stiles.”

“Bye, Cora. Bye Derek,” Stiles said and hung up. He checked the time, playing a game on his phone while he waited.

When the bell rang, Stiles tucked his phone in his pocket. Annoyingly, since he was still in uniform, the pocket was smaller than his jeans. He stood up, watching for Eli’s class to head out. He saw Eli’s teacher bringing her class out and spotted Eli talking to one of his friends. Stiles smiled, waiting for Eli to look for him. They weren’t in any kind of a hurry so he let them talk.

Eli and his friend eventually parted when the other kid’s parent showed up. Eli looked around and saw Stiles waiting for him. He ran over and hugged Stiles.

“Stiles, guess what? I got a B on my spelling test,” Eli declared excitedly, letting go of Stiles.

“Holy cow, dude! You must have worked so hard,” Stiles said, holding up a hand to Eli. He gave him a high five and and Stiles smiled. “Alright, here’s the plan,” he said, placing a hand on Eli’s shoulder and guiding him to the passenger side of the jeep, “first, snack and homework. Then, we’ll go to the—”

A scream cut Stiles short. He grabbed Eli, pulling him close and getting to the ground. Stiles looked around, trying to listen to what was happening.

“Get under the jeep,” he whispered, pushing Eli to safety.

Stiles moved to see what was going on but staying as low as possible. Rather than everyone running, they seemed frozen in place. The teachers had moved all the students close to building but not inside. Looking around more Stiles saw it.

A deer that had been mauled by something and was near death was running across the elementary school court yard. Stiles watched as the deer’s skin ripped and it crumpled to the ground, blood and gore leaking into the grass.

“Stiles,” Eli whimpered, pulling his attention.

“Hey buddy,” Stiles said softly, pulling Eli out from under the jeep since there was no visible threat. He wiped tears off of Eli’s face and smiled at him. “It’s okay. Everyone is safe, just a deer running around and scaring people,” Stiles assured him and Eli nodded, calming down. “You did so good, dude. I’m so proud of you,” he smiled, hugging Eli tightly.

Stiles hadn’t wanted to scare him but he also wanted to keep him safe and if he needed a hug now, so be it. Stiles picked Eli up and pulled out his phone, calling his dad.

“I know someone’s probably already called but there’s a deer laying in the grass in front of the elementary school. Deaton can’t help this one, though,” Stiles said.

Sheriff Noah Stilinski sighed. “You’re about the tenth person to call… Why are you at the elementary school?”

“Picking up Eli,” Stiles said. He didn’t need to clarify why. Derek and Eli had become such an important part of his life, there was no need to. He had Eli a lot.

“Did he see anything,” Sheriff asked worriedly.

“Uh, no but I might have scared him a little bit…”

“Poor kid,” Sheriff mumbled. “There’s officers on the way to manage traffick and animal control for the rest. You get Eli home.”

“Will do. Talk to you later, dad,” Stiles said, hanging up and putting his phone back in his pocket. He placed his free hand on Eli’s back. “Why don’t we just go home, buddy? I’ll even let you have a little ice cream.”

Stiles hurried Eli into the jeep, pulling out his phone to text Derek as he got in. Something was wrong.

He took Eli back to Derek’s house. Eli didn’t leave Stiles’s side for a second. He was still glued to Stiles when Derek and Cora got back.

Derek scooped Eli up in a hug, holding him close. Stiles took the chance and got up to go pee. He met Derek’s eyes when he stood up.

Derek mouthed ‘thank you’ as he held his kid.

Stiles smiled at him and headed for the bathroom. When he got back, he didn’t see anyone. He wandered into the kitchen for a drink and found Cora.

“Hey, where’s Derek and Eli,” Stiles asked, leaning on the counter.

She hummed, closing one cabinet and opening another. “They’re in Eli’s room. Derek’s trying to distract him with toys and shit.” Cora said, groaning when she couldn’t find whatever she was looking for. “Where the fuck does he keep the peanut butter?”

“Eli’s allergic to peanuts but there’s sunflower butter in the tall cabinet,” Stiles said. He walked over, opening the tall cabinet, moving a few cans and pulling out the jar of sunflower butter.

Cora looked at Stiles suspiciously. “You’re sure familiar with the kitchen,” she commented, taking the jar and setting it on the counter with the bread and jelly she’d already found. “Any particular reason for that?”

“Derek asks me to help out with Eli and I do,” Stiles said, grabbing a packet of fruit snacks and sitting at the counter.

“You must help a lot if you know exactly where the peanut butter is,” Cora suggested, looking down at her sandwich. There was no way these two idiots were just friends. Derek might be stupid but he couldn’t be so stupid to have not made a move in the three years she’d been gone.

He shrugged. “Guess you could say that. Eli likes pb&j after swimming so I figured it out.”

“You take him swimming a lot,” Cora asked, feigning curiosity.

“No so much anymore,” Stiles said, breathing out heavily as he thought. “He used to want to go swimming everyday. Recently, though, he’s been wanting to wander the preserve more but he still likes playing in the pond out there.” He smiled, adding “Der blames that on me but I doubt you guys didn’t do the same as kids. “

Cora hummed. “That nickname, he lets you call him that? You know, I used to call him Der-bear when we were little– he had this whole thing with carebears— but he doesn’t let me use my nickname for him so I’m just… confused as to why he’s okay with you using one.”

“Der-bear, really,” Stiles asked, huffing a laugh. “The nickname thing is a Derek question.”

“I only ask because you two seem,” Cora thought a moment, “closer than last time I was here.”

“Cora, if you want to ask me if I’m dating your brother then just ask,” Stiles said.

“I wasn’t—”

“I’ve had this conversation with Peter too, only he choose to comment about Derek, Eli, and I making a day trip to the beach and then about how I was the only adult Derek had one-on-one time with outside of work,” Stiles said. “You both seem to like dancing around the subject.”

“I am nothing like Peter. You take that back,” Cora scoffed. “And I was getting there.”

“Then just ask.”

“Fine. Are you dating my brother?”

“No,” Stiles said. “We’re friends and Derek trusts me to take care of Eli because we went through Hell and back.”

“But you have feelings for him,” Cora said and Stiles sighed.

“Even if I do—”

“You do.”

“Even if I do,” Stiles repeated, “it doesn’t matter. Derek and I are friends. I won’t risk losing him and Eli for a fling that could ruin everything. I wouldn’t do that to them.”

Cora nodded, taking a bite of her sandwich. Without the discussion to distract her, she realized how weird the sunflower peanut butter tasted. After a few bites, she couldn't finish it and dropped the food back onto the plate. “This tastes awful,” she mumbled.

“Ya, the ‘sunbutter’ kind of tastes like dirt,” Stiles said, making air quotes for the name as he said it.

“I didn’t know Eli was allergic to peanuts. How did I not know,” Cora asked, concern in her voice.

“Oh, it scared the shit out of us,” Stiles huffed. “The first time he had peanuts, he was fine. The next time he had a little bit of a rash but he’d also had dragon fruit for the first time so we didn’t think it was the peanuts butter. But the last time? He broke out it hives and was coughing…” he shook his head. “We drove him to the hospital– Derek was doing his whole internal freak out where he looks fine to everyone else but we know– and they gave him a shot. They watched him until they were sure he was good and then sent us home. Little shit went right to sleep.”

Cora rolled her eyes, “I bet Derek was still freaking out.”

“Oh, ya. Big time,” Stiles said. “I don’t think either of us slept. I didn’t know werewolves could have allergies.”

“Once he starts shifting, it should go away,” Cora explained.

“Derek said that too but I’m not sure he’ll ever let Eli have peanuts again.”

“Derek used to be allergic to dogs before he grew out of it,” Cora said, poking at her sandwich disappointedly.

Stiles watched Cora’s face, looking for any sign of it being a joke. “Derek, who can now fully shift into a wolf, used to be allergic to dogs,” he asked, devolving in to laughter. “That’s fucking awesome.”

“Mom had to make a rule about shifting in the house because of it,” she added.

Once Eli had calmed down and was no longer stuck to Derek or Stiles, they discussed what they should do. Stiles made the suggestion of going to the school and Derek agreed. Cora, after learning what was going on, offered to watch Eli while they went to the school later that evening.

When they got there, the dead deer was gone but the blood was harder to remove. They had tried to wash it away but Derek way still able to follow the smell of blood. Stiles made a joke about Derek sticking his head out the window and got a glare in return. They decided to stay in the jeep until they had to get out since it was getting dark. Stiles drove slowly, letting Derek give directions based on the smell.

“I can’t believe I wasn’t there,” Derek mumbled, kicking himself internally.

“You couldn’t have known,” Stiles said. “Besides, it’s not like you could have done anything. He didn’t see anything. He just got scared and that was honestly my fault for over reacting.”

Derek nodded. “Thank you for protecting him.”

“Like I’d let anything hurt him,” Stiles scoffed. “Hell, I was fully ready to take a bullet for him today.” Stiles licked his lips as the thought sunk in. He was completely ready to put himself in front of a shooter, unarmed, to protect Eli.

“Are you okay,” Derek asked, his eyebrows knitting together in concern.

“Ya, I’m good. It’s just the first time in a long time I really thought my life could be on the line, ya know?”

“Stop here,” Derek said and Stiles pulled over.

The lights of the jeep pointed at a wooded area not too far from the school and Stiles groaned.

“Always the fucking trees,” Stiles groaned. “This is a new shirt. And there’s probably ticks.”

Stiles turned off the jeep and they got out. He walked around to the back and Derek stood close by. He opened the jeep and grabbed his bat, handing it to Derek, and pulled out a jacket, his old red one.

“The fact that that still fits you is…” Derek looked over Stiles, how he had packed muscle onto his thin frame, “crazy…”

Stiles closed the back of the jeep and took his bat back from Derek. “The fact that it has no rips or holes is crazy,” he said. Stiles started to to walk towards the trees. Derek grabbed his arm, stopping him. Stiles looked at the hand on his arm and up to Derek’s eyes. “What?”

Derek’s mouth hung open as his brain caught up to his actions. “It’s been a while since the last time we did this, so let me take the lead.”

“Only because near death is my least favorite type of experience,” Stiles agreed.

They started into the trees, arms brushing past each other as they walked. They both noticed how close they were but didn’t move away. Being close was comforting, safe. Derek was also able to keep Stiles from tripping on downed branches and holes, especially as they walked deeper into the woods.

Stiles was about to pop off some snarky comment or another when Derek stopped moving. Knowing what that meant by now, Stiles stopped too. He saw Derek tense up like a dog with its hackles raised and he tightened the grip on his bat.

“What is it, Der,” Stiles whispered, looking around for a sign of movement.

Derek started walking again, holding a hand out for Stiles to wait where he was, not that he listened. As they walked, the smell of blood got stronger and was joined by decay. Stiles grimaced, pulling his jacket up to cover his nose.

“What the fuck,” Stiles muttered, his eyes finding the source of the smell.

In front of them was a dead coyote that had been well snacked on and a flat rock with a bloody blob that the flies had taken too on top. As Derek looked over the dead coyote, Stiles inched closer to the red blob.

“It stinks of a werewolf. An omega, I’d guess,” Derek said, keeping his voice low.

“So we don’t have to worry about a pack,” Stiles asked, his voice muffled by the jacket and his pinched nose.

“No but its violent,” Derek grumbled. “It ripped out this coyote’s heart.”

The rock looked like it had been placed intentionally, almost like a table. The smell got significantly worse as he got closer. Shooing away the flies, the piece of bloody meat was revealed.

“Ah, shit,” Stiles winced. “Well, I found the heart.”

Derek was at Stiles’s side in seconds, a little closer than necessary, to look at what he’d found. They were so close that Stiles could feel his hood brushing against Derek’s shoulder. If he’d noticed, Derek didn’t move away. They’d become rather comfortable in each others personal space.

“Looks cult-ish if you ask me,” Stiles said, leaning his bat against his leg so he had free hands to pull his phone out and snap a picture. He wanted to be able to reference the details later when he did more research into types of rituals. It was the first solid lead they’d gotten so far.

Derek heard something and turned to look around. It was a small noise, like a twig snapping a ways off. It was probably just a rabbit or animal that was supposed to be out there but considering where they were… He felt on edge. They were taking a risk being out here, just the two of them. If the rouge wolf was out here and looking to pick a fight, they were open on all sides. While the dark wouldn’t effect the wolves as much, it put Stiles at a disadvantage. Derek kept looking around, listening as Stiles mumbled about what it might be and what the display could mean.

A flash of blue caught Derek’s attention. He tensed, watching closely. The blue glow settled becoming a clear set of eyes. Eyes that met Derek’s. The blood red of his own eyes showing through. They needed to leave.

He grabbed Stiles’s jacket, looking around intently. “We need to go,” he said, not giving Stiles time to react before pulling him away.

“Shit,” Stiles huffed, stumbling over his own feet. “Wait, Derek, I dropped my bat.”

“Leave it. I’ll get you a new one,” he growled, moving faster.

Derek kept looking behind them, cursing under his breath.

“What’s chasing us,” Stiles huffed, out of breath from half running, half being dragged behind Derek. He kept tripping as he tried to keep up.

At some point, he gave up on Stiles running to keep up. Derek hardly paused, throwing Stiles over his shoulder, and kept moving. They got back to the jeep in what was surely record time, even for them. Derek shoved Stiles in the passenger seat and got in the driver’s seat. He turned on the lights, watching.

“Give me the keys,” Derek said frantically, “now, Stiles!”

Derek watched the treeline carefully, growing more nervous by the second. Stiles dug through his pockets, trying to find them. Not in his jacket. Not in his back pocket. Left… Right… Right!

“Keys,” Stiles shouted, shoving them into Derek’s hand.

He shoved the keys in the ignition and started the jeep. The engine clicked as he turned the key, not starting.

“Come on, Roscoe” Stiles mumbled, looking between he trees and Derek. “Come on. Come on— OH FUCK,” he yelled, watching as a dark shape came running out of the trees.

The engine turned over, starting just in time. Derek threw the jeep in reverse, cursing the clutch as he slowly sped up.

“It’s catching up,” Stiles said, watching the werewolf following them while Derek watched behind them, driving in reverse as fast as he could.

When they got to the first intersection, Derek used the opportunity to whip the jeep around. He turned hard, shifting to neutral to control the spin. He shifted into drive and took off.

Stiles sat in the passenger seat, looking at Derek. “Where the fuck did you learn that,” he asked, not sure if he was terrified or turned on. Maybe a little bit of both…

“I was on the run from the FBI,” Derek said, keeping an eye on the dark road behind them.

Derek had deemed it important that they figure out what was going on tonight and make a game plan. They had been too close to the werewolf and it now had their scents. It knew who they were.

They picked up Eli and made their way to Stiles’s apartment. It wasn’t far from where Derek’s loft had been years before, meaning it wasn’t exactly the most secure area. Nonetheless, Stiles taught Eli to play chess while Derek went out to get stuff for dinner since Stiles’s fridge was near empty– that tended to happen when they ate at Derek’s as much as they had been.

Elli got bored well before Derek got back so Stiles handed over his switch. With Eli sufficiently distracted, Stiles pulled the hanging cork board out, using a map of the town to pinpoint the recent troubles of Beacon Hills. Things just didn’t seem to line up. Stiles looked at the map of where the animals had been left: his dad’s house, the grocery store, the diner, the police station, the elementary school, the pool, the hospital, Deaton’s vet office… The places where the dead animals were appearing didn’t have an obvious pattern.

When Derek got back with groceries, he found Stiles looking between his laptop and the cork board and Eli playing on the switch in the other room.

“Did you figure anything out,” Derek asked, setting the bags on the counter.

Stiles hummed, not really in agreement or disagreement, more in the way of acknowledging he heard but was too preoccupied to answer. Derek rolled his eyes at the response and started cooking, waiting for Stiles to pull his mind out of the research.

Derek was almost done cooking when Stiles seemed to come out of the digital world with a start.

“I feel like I’m going crazy,” Stiles said, his eyes finding Derek in the kitchen. “I mean, there’s a lot of rituals surrounding the heart, and I mean a lot but nothing that this matches. There was not runes, not pictures, nothing! Plus, a lot of rituals that we would actually need to worry about require a human heart and I’m pretty sure that was the coyote’s heart!”

Derek remembered the smell, well. He waited for the break in words before adding, “it was the coyote’s heart.”

“Great, then what the fuck is going on,” Stiles asked rhetorically.

“Stiles, you can’t say that! That’s a bad word,” Eli said, looking between Derek and Stiles wide eyed. “I’m joking. I know you say bad words. So does dad,” he said, walking over to the table.

Derek looked down at the counter, taking a deep breath, before looking at Stiles. “That’s your fault,” he said as Stiles tried not to laugh. “You think it’s funny? Then you get to deal with that when he’s a teenager.”

Stiles scoffed. “Oh, please. I have heard enough from Cora and Peter to know you were a handful in high school, too.”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response other than to say, they are both unreliable narrators,” Derek argued, turning to get Eli’s plate which consisted mac and cheese and hot dogs– seemingly the only thing the kid ate. “Eat your food and then grab your book out of your backpack. You’ve had more than enough video game time.”

“Jeez, dad, you’re so boring,” Stiles mumbled, making Eli smile. “Listen to your dad, Eli. You don’t want to make him mad. Trust me, I know. I used to make him really mad a lot.”

“Used to,” Derek shot back questioningly.

“Yup, because now you willingly come over and cook me dinner,” Stiles said with a grin. “I annoyed you until you l—” He cut his words short, making eye contact with Derek. He seemed amused, though it didn’t look all that different from his normal unamused face. “Alright, Eli. You have to tell us all about your day now,” Stites said, moving to sit at the table with Eli while Derek finished cooking.

Scott finally called back and Stiles started to explain what was going on, having to switch to a video call so Scott could get the “full understanding” with the help of the cork board he had set up in the middle of his apartment.

“Then Derek and I found the dead coyote in the trees by Eli’s school and its heart had been ripped out and displayed on a rock like it was a table! I was trying to look up what might be happening but it didn’t have any of the needed symbols or killing method for a ritual sacrifice,” Stiles explained, seeing Derek walk to the kitchen out of the corner of his eye.

“Have you stopped to think that I might be right,” Scott asked. “If it doesn’t seem like a ritual, then it might just be some teenagers who—”

“What about the deer, Scott? That was planned. It wanted us to go looking,” Stiles argued. “So, I did some more research and I kept seeing stuff about how killing and offering food is a pretty normal habit when it comes to mating behaviors in predators and— oh, thanks Der,” Stiles said, stopping his ramble to take the pate of food from Derek.

“Eli’s asleep in your room,” Derek said, casting a quick glare at Scott on the computer screen.

“Shit, am I being too loud? I didn’t wake him up, did I,” Stiles asked with a mouth full of food.

Derek shook his head, looking over Stiles and then the board. “Not yet. You should have just used my office. The house was build with werewolf hearing in mind.”

Stiles nodded, “I know but I didn’t want to make a mess—”

“Swallow before you talk,” Derek grumbled, a mix of disgust and humor in his voice.

Stiles rolled his eyes, swallowing the mouthful of food that would rival Scooby Doo. “Mine, Dad. Don’t ground me,” he joked, meeting Derek’s eyes.

Something in the way Derek looked at him made his stomach feel like it was trying to digest itself. They had become close. Sharing a meal and spending time at each other’s place had become normal. Derek and Eli had become a big part of Stiles’s life

“Uh, guys,” Scott said awkwardly after a long stretch of, what was for him, very uncomfortable silence.

Stiles’s eye snapped to his computer, remembering that Scott was, in fact, still on the phone. He held the plate out to Derek, nearly choking on the food still in his mouth as he tried to start talking again as if nothing had happened.

Derek put Stiles’s plate on the table next to his own. He sat down to eat, his eyes casting up to watch Stiles’s wild gesturing as he explained his theories to Scott. Quick glances at Stiles soon turned into outright staring. Derek shook his head, going back to eating, and if a small smile found it’s way to his lips, then so be it.

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Stiles found himself laying on his couch, wanting nothing more than to crash but his apartment felt too empty and quiet. Derek had taken Eli home to go to bed a few hours ago, leaving everything simultaneously too quiet and too loud at the same time. He liked having them around, it made the apartment feel less lonely.

He was trying to gather the energy to peel himself off the couch for a shower when the doorbell buzzed it’s broken noise.

Stiles sat up in surprise. Who the fuck would be ringing the doorbell at– he looked at the time– one in the god damned morning? Anyone who he’d expect knew the doorbell was crap and both his dad and Derek had a key– for ‘emergencies’ only– and would normally just knock before walking in.

He got up, going to grab his bat and remembering it was gone. He mentally cursed, feeling a bit like a sitting duck without it. He walked closer to the door and looked out the peephole but nobody was there. That didn’t sit well with him. Stiles made sure the door was locked and decided this was worth having a weapon in case shit went sideways.

When he returned to the door with his gun– the one assigned to him as a deputy– he looked through the peephole again and, again, there was nobody. He unlocked the door, opening it slowly. His stomach dropped when the door’s movement made something wooden fall. His bat.

Stiles looked around cautiously before kneeling to grab the bat and closing the door to his apartment quickly. Relocking the door, he set his gun down on the counter and looked over the bat. It was his all right, the wear and tear proved that. He turned it over in his hands, finding a heart carved into it. He looked at it closer, tracing it with his finger. It was roughly carved and had jagged edges, like it had been done with claws instead of a knife. Comparing it with the other damage on the bat only seemed to confirm the unsettling conclusion.

Almost on instinct, he called Derek.

“You’ll never guess what just appeared outside my door,” Stiles said. He was met by silence so he kept talking. “Either I’m a wizard and learned how to summon things without words or our new buddy returned my bat. And, get this, carved a heart into it.”

Stiles heard a heavy breath and sheets ruffling on the other end. “Are you okay,” Derek asked, his voice rough with sleep.

“Fuck, did I wake you up,” Stiles cringed, looking at the time again. “Sorry, Der. I’m fine. It’s all good, just a little odd.”

Derek sighed and the sheets ruffled again. “Do you want to stay here,” he asked and Stiles’s stomach did flips.

“No, I’ll be okay,” Stiles said, running a hand through his hair. “Just thought you’d want to know I had a visitor.”

“You should—” Derek yawned— “mountain ash the doors and windows.”

Stiles nodded, grabbing his gun and walking to his bookshelf in search of the little box. “Doing it now. I’ll call you in the morning. You’ll be the first one I tell if I die.”

Derek hummed. “Bye Stiles.”

“Bye Der,” Stiles mumbled, hanging up.

Without Derek on the other end of the phone, Stiles was suddenly hyper aware of how alone he was. Of how dark his apartment was. He opened the box and took a handful of mountain ash and set the box back on the shelf.

Something in the back of his head screamed he was in danger, telling him not to turn around. He could hear how his heart rate picked up and how his breathing matched it. He felt like someone was watching him.

Stiles took a breath and flipped off the safety his gun, biting back the fear.

“Alright, motherfucker. I have mountain ash, a gun loaded with wolfsbane bullets, and an itchy trigger finger. I’d suggest not fucking with me, tonight,” Stiles said.

The words wouldn’t due much but it made him feel better, less like he was being watched.

He spun around, making a visual sweep of the room. His apartment was so quiet he could hear his own pulse. Looking around, he remembered just how many windows he had. Any other time, the light would be great but right now it had him cursing under his breath. He kept the safety off as he spread the mountain ash across every entry to the apartment. He also did his bedroom and closet doors for good measure. Before he went to bed, he flicked on all the lights to do one more sweep, including checking under his bed.

He felt a little childish when he laid down but it was good for his sanity.

Stiles woke up to his phone ringing and banging on his front door. He sat up groggily, having only gotten a few hours of sleep. He grabbed his phone and walked to his front door. He opened the door, finding Derek. He tried to walk it and got knocked on his ass by the mountain ash barrier.

“Fuck, sorry,” Stiles mumbled, kicking the ash and helping Derek up. “Are you okay?”

“Are you,” Derek asked, sounding almost out of breath. He grabbed Stiles’s arms as if to make sure he was really there and in one piece. He looked panicked, still in his bed clothes.

“Ya, I’m good,” Stiles mumbled. “I’m fucking exhausted, though. Why’d you wake me up?”

Derek looked at Stiles like he was crazy. “You called me last night saying you had a— visitor,” he whispered the last word, pulling Stiles back into the apartment.

He closed the door behind them, not letting go of Stiles. Derek’s eyes looked Stiles’s over, making sure he wasn’t hurt. Somehow, the fact the Stiles wasn’t wearing a shirt didn’t cross his mind and neither did their proximity. Derek had pulled Stiles closer when they moved inside. There was hardly a foot of distance between them. It would have been so easy to just lean in…

Derek let go of Stiles, chewing his lip as the thoughts stuck around, and started to walk around the apartment, looking at each window.

Stiles felt like he was still dreaming. None of the last few seconds made sense outside of being a dream. By the time he looked up, Derek was walking further into the apartment. “Hey, my bedroom—” Stiles sighed, watching Derek bounce off yet another mountain ash barrier. “Too late.”

Stiles walked over, breaking the ash line so Derek could walk through. He nervously watched as Derek searched for any sign of the other werewolf. He didn’t find anything and walked back over to Stiles.

“All clear,” he asked and Derek nodded, once more in his personal space. “Great. Can I—”

“Where’s the bat,” Derek asked.

Stiles blinked trying to remember. “Uh, by the door, I think. Where it usually is.”

Derek turned and walked off. Stiles, not having anything else to do, followed him. Derek picked up the bat, examining it.

“Like I said, it’s my bat,” Stiles shrugged, crossing his arms. “They carved a heart into it but— AH! You just broke my bat,” Stiles said in disbelief, staring at Derek who had half the bat in each hand. “That was my fucking bat!”

Derek growled, throwing the broken pieces in the trash. “I already told you, I’ll get you a new one.”

“I don’t want a new bat. I want my bat,” Stiles objected. “I went to hell and back with that thing! It has a burnt chunk from Parish! A ring from the ghost rider’s lasso! Claw marks from– well– everything! I think you even put some marks on it.”

Derek grabbed Stiles’s flailing hands, holding them tightly in his. “Stiles,” he said firmly, standing so close they were practically on top of of each other, “you don’t want it anymore.” His tone reminded Stiles of how he’d explain to Eli something he wanted was dangerous. That same mix of worry and stress and fear he’d end up hurt in Derek’s voice. “You don’t take anything it gives you or it will follow you. Accepting the gifts is accepting it.”

From then on, both Stiles and Derek were on high alert. This wolf had found where Stiles lived, had gotten into the apartment building, and all the way to Stiles’s door. If it had wanted to do something, it could have. If it wanted to get in, it would have. Sure, Stiles wasn’t helpless but he also wasn’t prepared for a random attack. And, personally, Stiles really didn’t feel like having to defend his life in his boxers.

It became a routine. Every night, Stiles would call Derek when he got off work and headed home, talking to him as he checked his apartment and laid down mountain ash. Every morning, Derek would swing by Stiles’s apartment before Stiles would leave for his shift. Every morning he found nothing. There was no sign nor scent of the other wolf. It seemed to be weighing on Derek. Each day he looked more tired than the last.

Derek glared at the large windows in Stiles’s bedroom, one which that let out to the fire escape. “I don’t like this,” he grumbled.

“I’m not the biggest fan of it either, Der,” Stiles mumbled, only half awake. “I’m fucking exhausted because all of my dreams– nightmares, really– have been about getting mauled in my sleep. You're back to being your old self, meaning you growl at anything that breathes wrong and—”

“I meant the fire escape,” Derek snapped and Stiles had to remind himself that pissed off Derek was, in fact, not attractive. “Easy access for anyone willing to come looking.”

“So, the shit you used to pull,” Stiles asked, teasingly. Normally Derek would take it in good humor and throw something similar back at him. “You do remember that the fact that my bedroom window at dad's house wouldn’t lock was your fault?”

Derek glared at Stiles, not in the mood for jokes. “If you remember, I fixed it. Just like I fixed your jeep.”

“Why are you so pissed off,” Stiles asked, throwing his hands in the air. “I thought we were past the whole taking your anger out on innocent parties thing?”

“Shut up,” Derek growled, walking back towards the living room.

Stiles, gritted his teeth, pretending to strangle Derek as he walked away. He followed Derek to the living room

“You’re being a fucking asshole, you know that,” Stiles huffed. Derek turned to glare at him. Not attractive. Nope. Not at all. “I didn’t do anything to deserve you treating me like a clueless teenager all over again. Go be shitty to Peter, he more than deserves it!”

“Peter has been watching Eli,” Derek said. “I come here before he wakes up and I go on patrol after he’s asleep. Someone has to watch him.”

“What about Cora,” Stiles asked.

“She’s already gone. Can’t stand to be in here more than a few days,” Derek grumbled, the hurt of his sister leaving over and over thinly veiled.

“You’ve go to be fucking kidding, right? Of course she can’t stand it here! I’m surprised you can,” Stiles said. “I mean, after every shitty thing this town has thrown at you, why do you stay? What about Eli?”

“Eli is fine,” Derek growled.

“What makes you so sure,” Stiles asked. “I mean, I doubt you ever thought what happened to your family would happen and your pack—”

Derek shoved Stiles against the wall, holding him there. “Stop. Talking.” Stiles could see the anger in Derek’s eyes but he could see the hurt behind it too.

He was trying to meet Derek’s eyes but his lips were distracting. They were so close, he could feel Derek’s breath, pulling Stiles’s eyes lower. This isn’t attractive, he reminded himself. Fuck, he felt like a stupid hormonal teenager again. He was too caught in his own reaction to notice Derek’s very similar one.

“A bit familiar, isn’t this,” Stiles asked in a whisper. There was no need to be louder with how close they were. “Earth to Derek. Are you planning to kiss me or kill me? Shoving me against the wall is giving mixed signals.”

Derek didn’t say anything, rather he furrowed his brow in what was somewhere between constipation and thinking which Stiles knew was reserved for things he refused to talk about. He let go of Stiles, backing up to straighten his jacket. Derek looked out the window, gathering his thoughts, and Stiles waited expectantly.

“I’m sorry,” Derek grumbled.

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “That’s it,” he asked. “You pull out the old douche-bag act on someone who is supposed to be your friend and all you say is sorry? Not even going to record it? Grab a ukulele and make a sorry-not-sorry type song?”

Derek huffed a laugh and looked at Stiles, “what do you want, a cake?”

“Actually, yes! Apology baked goods would be great,” Stiles said, crossing his arms. “Now, why are you acting all,” he gestured to Derek, “weird? Is it lack of sleep because, seriously Der, you look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine,” Derek grumbled.

“Dude, call into work for a day. You look exhausted and it’s not like you’re going to fire yourself for it,” Stiles said.

“I said, I’m fine,” Derek repeated. “And don’t call me dude.”

“I don’t believe you,” Stiles said stubbornly. “Go home, take Eli to school, and get some sleep.”

“Stiles—”

“Derek, we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” he said, crossing his arms. “Try me. I have wolfsbane and mountain ash. You’ll get some sleep one way or another.”

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Stiles walked out of the police station, heading to the jeep after a shit load of paper work. He was so tired, his eyes were starting to blur and it was already getting dark. He wanted to kick himself for parking the jeep in the back lot as the cold wind bit at his skin. It was a long cold walk to the jeep.

When his eyes found the jeep he groaned. “Fuck me,” he grumbled, staring at what he was 90% sure was blood on the hood and a bag of something.

How the fuck was this his life? He trudged closer and, upon closer inspection, found the blood streaks formed a heart. The bag sat in the middle of the heart and was soaked in blood. Stiles ran a hand through his hair, feeling like pulling it out. Instead, he pulled out his phone and took a picture, sending it to Derek.

Stiles used a pen to drag the bag off the hood and onto the ground. He grabbed a water bottle out of the jeep and stabbed a hole it the lid. He sprayed the water on the hood, getting most of the blood off. It made him uncomfortable that it came off so easily, it meant it was fresh. He debated if it would be worse to look in the bag or toss it and go on not knowing. Stiles decided to look, the anxiety that it could be– like– his dad’s severed fingers winning over the risk of being seen as ‘accepting’ the gift.

He grabbed the top of the bag, trying to touch it as little as possible. Inside was a pile of wolfsbane flowers, a folded piece of paper, and a ring coated in dirt and dried blood.

Stiles unfolded the paper, reading it. His eyes went wide and he shoved it all back in the bag and threw it in the jeep.

He jumped in and called Derek. He started to drive, impatiently waiting for Derek to answer the phone.

“Stiles? What’s going on,” Derek asked tiredly, his recent habit on twenty hour days wearing on him.

“I found a little gift display in the jeep after I left work,” Stiles told him. “I think out forest friend likes me.”

“What kind of gift,” Derek asked, feeling frozen in place. Stiles could heard the stress in his voice.

“Well, it drew a heart on my hood in what I assume was it’s own blood since it picked me lovely bouquet of wolfsbane flowers. It wrote me an interesting poem— the kind a stalker would leave– and, oh ya, a fucking engagement ring!”

“Come here. It could follow you home,” Derek told him.

“What about Eli,” Stiles asked, driving away from the station lest his new buddy be hanging around still.

“I’ll call Peter,” Derek said without hesitation. He had to be worried if he was willing to ask Peter for help. “It’s less likely to do something in my house.”

Stiles made the turn for Derek’s house. “Ya, okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

“I’ll wait for you,” Derek said. He’d wait for Stiles. He’d wait in more ways than he’d admit.

Stiles didn’t hang up. He didn’t have anything more to say, he just didn’t want to. Derek didn’t hang up either. They just let the silence rest between them as Stiles drove. Stiles didn’t hang up until he was pulling into the driveway.

Derek walked over to the jeep, opening the door for Stiles. He took the bloody bag from Stiles’s hands and stayed close as he got out. He kept a hand on Stiles’s back as they walked to the front door.

Once Stiles was inside, Derek stopped and looked around. They were being watched and it wasn’t happy but neither was he. Derek walked inside, locking the door behind him. If it wanted a fight, it’d be on Derek’s terms.

Stiles was pacing in the living room, his hands visibly shaking. He was freaking out, piecing things together in his head. All the dead animals were found in places he went to. There were dead animals at the grocery store he went to but not the one across town. They were found at the diner but not that chinese place he refused to go to. They were found at Eli’s school, at the police station, all along Stiles’s patrol route, everywhere he went regularly.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly, dropping the bag on the coffee table. It was like he hadn’t said anything, like Stiles didn’t hear him. “Stiles,” he said more firmly, walking closer to him. He touched Stiles’s arm and finally got his attention.

He was looking at Derek with wide eyes. Before Derek could say anything, Stiles started to ramble. “It’s me. I’m the pattern. That’s why it was at my apartment and I keep finding the dead animals. It’s after me and I came here. It could have followed me. What if it followed me? What if it tries something? What about Eli? Fuck, Eli’s not safe with me. Not safe with me here. What if it tries to hurt Eli because of me? What if it hurts you? I can’t stay here! I can’t go to my dad’s! I’m putting everyone in danger. I have to leave. Derek, it—”

“Stiles,” Derek said, grabbing Stiles by his arms to hold him in place. “Breathe. It’s not going to come in here. It’d have to be insane and damn near suicidal to challange me in my own home.”

The smell of anxiety and guilt circled Stiles like a hurricane. The smell was bitter, it stung Derek’s nose. He hated when Stiles got worked up like this. He swore Stiles’s chemosignals were stronger than other people’s. Stiles didn’t know the definition of the word subtle and neither did his emotions. He felt things in the extreme or not at all. Derek could never decide if it was the ADHD or if it was just who Stiles was. Maybe it wasn’t either, maybe Derek was just paying too much attention to him. Stiles met Derek’s eyes and the swirl of emotion started to dissipate.

It was leaving dead animals all along Stiles’s path except at Derek’s shop and Derek’s house. It never got close or left ‘gifts’ when he was with Derek. It was everywhere… except where Derek was.

“It’s after me but wonn’t come near you,” Stiles said. “Oh, I bet it’s real pissed off right now…”

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Stiles felt calm for the first time in weeks. It was just him, Eli, and Derek having a movie night like they normally would.

They'd made homemade pizza– aka they made the dough from a packet and added the toppings themselves instead of a frozen one– for dinner and made popcorn afterwards. Eli had picked out a movie and they'd all sat on the couch together like normal. Eli didn't even make it through the first half of the movie before falling asleep, leaning on Stiles.

Stiles played with Eli’s hair as he slept, watching the movie in the brief moment of peace. He wanted to keep these memories forever, the times where everything just felt right. With Eli asleep tucked into his side and Derek quietly laughing at the movie. If it could last forever, he'd happily deal with the popcorn kernels stuck in his teeth. It was moments like that when it all seemed to make sense.

When the movie ended, Derek got up and took their mugs to the kitchen. He came back with fresh tea for Stiles and himself. He started another movie and sat down on the couch again.

“I’ve missed doing this,” Stiles said. “Things have been too…”

“Too much like the past,” Derek offered.

“Ya. Reminiscent but not in a good way,” Stiles decided.

Derek hummed, pulling Eli’s blanket up. “We all needed this. A night where things are back to normal,” he sighed, pushing Eli’s hair off his face.

Eli’s nose scrunched in his sleep and he turned his head into Stiles, curling in closer.

Stiles’s smiled, wrapping an arm around the sleeping kid. “It’s weird to think that this is our normal now. I mean, you’re a dad. I’m a cop. Scott’s in LA doing god knows what. Scott used to be my best friend and now I couldn’t even tell you the street he lives on but I could find your house blindfolded,” he huffed, trying to laugh it off. “It’s crazy to think that, out of everything, you and Eli are the most important things in my life,” he said, the words coming out before he could think them through. “Shit, sorry, That was weird.”

“You and Eli,” Derek said, nodding. “You two are the most important parts of my life.”

Stiles looked at Derek. He felt like his heart was going to explode. “Really? Not Cora or Malia or even Peter?”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Stiles, do you realize how much of an impact you’ve made on my life? You’ve helped me raise Eli. When I bought the garage, you watched Eli every day so I could get things sorted out.”

“What else where you going to do,” Stiles asked, brushing it off. “He was, what, one?”

“Eli and I lived in your apartment when construction on this house got delayed and then you helped us move in here.”

“Well, ya. Keeping a three-year-old were-toddler in a hotel would have sucked and you needed help,” Stiles shrugged.

“You call in favors and switch your shifts around whenever I need you to pick Eli up from school or drop him off,” Derek says “You bought him toys and games that stay at your apartment or your dad’d house.”

“My dad loves Eli! He says he gets to have all the fun of having a kid without the hard parts.”

“Eli calls your dad grandpa,” Derek said, not sure how Stiles kelp acting like this was all nothing.

Stiles paused. “Okay, you got me on that one… Why are you bringing this all up?”

“I just…” Derek stared back at Stiles, not sure what to say. He didn’t want to ruin everything but, he wondered, would saying it really ruin anything? “I don’t think you understand how important you are.” Maybe later. Maybe he could say it when things weren’t so… heavy.

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Stiles was staring at his laptop screen when he felt a person behind him. He was in the middle of typing something out, not at a point where he could stop, and gave an acknowledging hum when a hand rested on the back of his chair. They didn’t say anything, waiting for Stiles to stop typing.

“Hey, Der. I didn’t hear you come in,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair. He practically jumped out of his skin when he looked up. He did jump out of the chair, staring at what was not Derek and was most definitely the werewolf they’d been attempting to track. “You’re not Derek.”

The werewolf’s smile fell. “Why do you always bring him up,” it growled. “You should forget about him. You don’t need him. You need me.”

“What,” Stiles asked, trying to move towards his bookshelf where his box of mountain ash sat.

The werewolf growled and rushed to grab Stiles. It grabbed him by the neck, shoving him against the bookshelf. Stiles winced, the wooded shelves pushing into his back.

Stiles’s hand reached out, trying for the box of mountain ash just out of reach. The werewolf snatched Stiles’s wrist, slamming it against the wooded bookshelf. Stiles lost his breath at the sharp pain, near certain his wrist was broken.

“Don’t do that. Don’t try to keep me out again. I don’t like it when you do that.” Its expression softened into a grin, a calloused finger running along Stiles’s face. “So pretty. My pretty boy,” it cooed. “I finally got you alone without that nuisance. I have you all to myself.”

“What do you want,” Stiles choked up.

The werewolf smiled. “What do I want? I want you, silly. You’re mine and that mut of yours was keeping you from me. Don’t worry your pretty head about it. Nothing can stop love, not even your pet.”

“You mean Derek?”

“Him and his half-breed,” it hummed, their fingers tightening around Stiles’s neck in their anger. “They’ll never love you like I do, nobody ever will and if he’d kept out of it, we would have been together sooner.” Their grip loosened as Stiles started to turn red from the lack of oxygen. “Oh, sorry my love. I don’t mean to be too rough on you. You really shouldn’t anger me, though.”

“What’d you do to them,” Stiles hissed.

“Nothing, yet,” the wolf growled it’s grip around Stiles’s neck tightening, cutting off his air, “but if you keep bringing them up I might. You might as well forget about them now, got it?”

Stiles bit his tongue, nodding, and the grip around his neck loosened.

“Good, because in the morning we’re getting far away from here and them,” the wolf said, sounding pleased. “As for now, well, I think I’ve been very patient with you. I brought you food and gifts. I’m even willing to forgive you for ignoring me. Isn’t that so kind of me?” The wolf licked it’s lips, “you ought to be thankful. You can show me how thankful you are, can’t you?”

“I’d rather eat glass,” Stiles sneered.

“We can arrange that,” the wolf growled, its claws breaking the skin of Stiles’s neck. It let go of Stiles’s wrist, giving his a second of reprieve, before using its full strength to throw his across the room.

“You want to fight, let’s fight, but I promise you’ll regret it,” the wolf said and Stiles scrambled to his feet.

He didn’t have many options. He was down to his left had, his right wrist aching like a son of a bitch and already swelling. The wolf was between Stiles and his room, meaning no chance at the mountain ash or getting his gun. He could try for the kitchen knifes or the front door but the werewolf was faster and stronger than him.

Stiles felt his phone buzz in his pocket. He had his phone. If he could unlock it, he might be able to call someone or—

“Hey siri, call Derek Hale,” Stiles said, watching as the wolf in front of him’s eye went wide.

“Fucking whore! Calling your mutt when I’m right here,” it yelled, charging at Stiles again.

“Stiles?”

“Fuck,” Stiles muttered, trying to keep distance. “Derek, it’s here. I need h—” Stiles was cut short by a hand around his throat.

“Bad decision,” the wolf growled, taking Stiles’s phone and crushing it. “Now you’ll get to watch me kill you’re little play thing. How fucking disgusting can you be, using him for safety and running off when you don’t need him. Toying with him and his kid like you have any right to them. All in front of me, too. Just to show off that you have him wrapped around your finger,” the wolf growled, trapping Stiles against the kitchen counter.

“He loves you and you use it. You take and you take and you take like you deserve it. Someone you acts like you doesn't deserve anything. Don’t worry, I know how to deal with spoiled brats like you,” it said with a sick grin. “Why don’t we have some fun while we wait for your big bad wolf to come save you?”

“Eat mistletoe and live, bitch,” Stiles choked out.

He reached behind him and grabbed a glass vial. He shoved it in the wolf’s mouth. In the moment of surprise, it’s grip on Stiles’s neck loosed. Stiles took the opportunity to headbut the wolf, breaking the glass vial full of powdered mistletoe in its mouth.

The wolf coughed, trying to breath and sucked in a mouth full of glass and poison.

Stiles scrambled to his bedroom, grabbing his gun. He heard a loud crash and turned, pointing the gun at the doorway. In the low light from the window, he saw a figure in the doorway. The lights were flicked on, blinding Stiles. Before his sight came back, the gun was out of his hands and he was wrapped in a tight hug.

“GET THE FU—”

“Stiles…”

“Derek?”

He held Stiles tighter. “You’re okay,” Derek whispered.

“I’m mostly okay,” Stiles said. As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he felt his pain starting to be leached away. “Oh shit,” he mumbled, loosing his feet but Derek held him up.

“Wait,” Stiles pulled away, “what about—”

“Drowning in his own blood,” Derek said plainly.

“I need be sure,” Stiles said, nerves clear in his voice.

He took his gun, holding it in his left hand and leading the way back to the kitchen.

Sure enough, there the werewolf was, laying on the floor. It had managed to roll onto its side, managing to get some air as the blood dripped from its mouth. Stiles scowled down at the wolf, kicking it onto its back. It coughed as blood filled it’s mouth again, the blood splattering back onto its face and the floor. It gargled on the blood, trying to get air.

It tried to reach for Stiles and Derek pulled him away, growling possessively. Breathing in the mountain ash made it too weak to move much more.

“Can you call Deaton,” Stiles asked. “I’d rather not have this creep here any longer than need be.”

The wolf smiled, coughing up more blood as it tried to laugh. “Told you… just a stupid pet…”

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Derek took Stiles to the emergency room and, sure enough, his wrist was broken. After getting a few splinters pulled out and a cast, they deemed Stiles free to go.

That night, Derek had let Stiles stay at his house. The guest room had already been made and Derek had brought him food. Stiles just laid in the bed, unable to sleep. He was paranoid something was going to happen, that the windows weren’t properly locked of warded. The room was silent, there was no noise from the outside world. While that might be great and all at any other time, it made Stiles feel completely alone. The half drawn blackout curtains made it dark, even in the day.

It felt isolating but Stiles was frozen in place, unable to change it. He didn’t sleep at all that night.

Derek came in at some point in the morning and brought him food.

“Did you sleep at all,” Derek asked, keeping his voice low. Stiles didn’t answer, staring blankly up at Derek.

What if they were right? Did Derek love him? Could he? Could anyone really love him? He was so fucked up after everything that had happened as a teen, was loveable? Did he love Derek? Of course he did. He’d always found Derek attractive and the friendship they’d build in the past years made him love Derek. He wasn’t sure what would be more painful: loving Derek and not being loved back or knowing he’d been hurting Derek with his ignorance.

“You can stay here as long as you need,” Derek told him, setting the plate of food on the nightstand. He started to ask something else but thought better, not wanting to make things worse. “There’s clothes in the dresser, just stuff you’ve left here. The bathroom is— well, you know where it is— but you can use it anytime. Uhm…” Why was he lingering? Derek sighed. “Do you want the door open or closed?”

If Derek did love him, had he been blind to it? How would he have not caught on? They were always together. He’d basically helped raise Eli in the last years and— Oh. Oh…

Stiles looked at Derek. He had said something, asked something? He was waiting for an answer…

“I’ll leave it open and you can close it if you want,” Derek finally said. “I’ll let you have some space now…”

Derek left the room, leaving the door open behind him. Stiles could hear him walk away. He heard him go down the stairs. He heard Eli digging in his Legos in the next room. He heard Eli laugh at a show he was watching. Hearing them, knowing he wasn’t alone, felt like a wave of relief washing over him and Stiles was finally able to sleep.

When he woke up, Stiles saw a tuft of hair at the edge of his bed. His heart was in his throat, too scared to move. He shifted slightly, moving the blankets. It must have startled the person at the edge of the bed as they turned to look at him.

Eli smiled up at Stiles from his spot on the floor. “Hi sleepyhead,” he said with a smile. He made quick work of climbing into the bed and getting comfortable, unplugging his headphones from the tablet so Stiles could hear.

Derek was at the door seconds later, he sighed when he saw both Eli and Stiles safe. “Eli,” he huffed, “I told you to stay to let Stiles sleep.”

“I didn’t wake him up. I waited right there on the floor,” he said firmly, frowning up at his dad. Little Eli was giving his dad the full force of the patented Hale look. Looking between Derek and Eli, the resemblance was clear. Derek had a little copy of himself but that sass was definitely Stiles’s influence. Eli had technically done what he was told and that was close enough.

“Come on, Eli. Let Stiles sleep,” Derek said, returning Eli’s frown.

Stiles saw himself in Eli’s personality. He’d taught him that– even if by accident– because he had helped take care of him. Derek trusted Stiles enough to help take care of Eli, to help raise him. That part of Eli was his doing.

“He’s okay,” Stiles mumbled, tucking a lose strand of hair behind Eli’s ear.

Derek looked surprised, happy maybe, hearing Stiles talk. He hoped it meant the shock was passing. “Okay,” he said. Derek relaxed, kissing the top of Eli’s head and turning to leave. He stopped in the doorway, watching Stiles and Eli.

Eli pressed play on an episode of Miraculous Ladybug. They’d watched it before but Eli liked rewatching them. Stiles wrapped an arm around Eli, keeping him close. Having Eli there, doing something they normally do, felt comfortable.

He was comfortable with Derek and Eli but not with being alone. He didn’t know what that said about him. Maybe he was too dependent on them. Maybe he was just trying to get over being stalked and physically assaulted when he was alone. Whatever it was, having Eli and Derek around felt normal and Stiles could really use normal at the moment.

It took Stiles a while to pull himself out of bed for more than a few minute to use the bathroom. When he did, he wanted to shower.

He opened the dresser drawer and, like Derek said, there were his clothes. They were neatly folded and stacked with care. He pulled some clothes out, looking them over. He hadn’t seen this shirt in weeks. He must have left it here. When was the last time he wore it? Maybe the last time they took Eli hiking? But that a while ago. How long had his clothes been here, neatly folded like this? When did Derek take the time to do all of this?

Stiles bundled up his change of clothes, venturing out of the guest room and into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and set his clothes on the counter. Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror reminded him how badly he needed to shower. His hair was greasy and stuck up every which way. The cut on his face had dried blood coating it.

He turned the water on, letting it get warm, and opened the closet. His hand fell to the third shelf were the towels were kept. He paused. Had he really done this enough times to know exactly where the towels were? He used to give Eli baths when he was younger and would go to the pool with him and Derek a lot. Stiles shook himself out of it and took the towel, hanging it by the shower.

He stripped off his clothes, casually throwing them in the laundry hamper. Again, he wondered when that had become a habit. How many times had he just tossed his clothes in with Derek’s and Eli’s?

Stiles adjusted the water temperature and got in, sighing as the water washed over him. The warm water felt good on his skin. He felt himself relax, letting the water run over his shoulders and back. He grabbed a bottle of soap– his soap, the same brand, scent, and everything– and put it on a loofah– his loofah that stayed here. His preferred soap was in the shower along with a loofah that was his. He would often shower here to save time before going out to eat or to a movie with Derek and Eli and, sometimes, his dad. How had he never noticed before?

Stiles finished showering and dried off. He pulled on his clothes and opened the drawer on the far left of the sink. He pulled out a box of new toothbrushes Derek kept around. Stiles thought about how he knew where to find it so quickly as he put toothpaste on. As he brushed his teeth, he mentally listed things and surprised himself by knowing exactly where it would be in the bathroom.

When Stiles ventured downstairs, he found Derek and Eli in the living room, each doing their own thing. Derek was reading a book and Eli was putting together a puzzle– or they were until they noticed Stilles walking into the living room. Derek looked at him, his expression changing just the tiniest bit but Stiles knew it was a smile. Stiles returned the look and sat on the couch. He looked to the side, finding his stress ball sitting on the end table.

This was his spot. He always sat here or laid down on the couch. He knew that there would be a weighted blanket in coffee table cabinet if he wanted it– they kept it around for him. He looked at the shelf of movies, finding the random movies he’d gotten to watch with Eli and Derek, some just for him and Derek. Those movies were there because of him, so many things were there because of him.

Derek went to the kitchen some time after and Eli went back to his room to play with Legos, leaving Stiles in the living room. He stood up and stretched, wandering into the kitchen. He watched as Derek set a cup of tea on the counter, just in front of Stiles’s usual spot. It would be green tea, like usual. It was Derek’s small way of trying to get him to make healthier choices, like their cooking. Derek would add Stiles to their meals to keep him from eating Ramen and frozen burritos for every meal.

Stiles sat at the counter, smiling to himself. Maybe what happened wasn’t all bad; it made him aware of the things he did so easily. It reminded him of where he was and what those around him did. He was seeing all the things he and Eli and Derek did for each other.

It was nice to know a place for him had been carved out here even in the small ways. It was like seeing their relationship from a different perspective. He could see how people thought him and Derek were dating. It made him wonder if Derek ever thought about his as more than a friend, Stiles did.

He thought about what it would be like if him and Derek were a couple. He thought about how everything would change. Thinking about it now, Stiles realized it really wouldn’t change that much about them. They already spent most of their free time together. They already made dinner and went shopping together. They already had movie nights curled up on the couch together. They already went hiking and swimming together. They’d taken day trips to the beach together. They felt safer together. Hell, the only things that would change is that he might stay the night, that he could kiss Derek, and that he didn’t have to keep denying how he felt about it.

“What’s got you thinking so hard,” Derek asked with a smirk, sipping his tea.

Stiles sighed, looking at Derek. “Have you ever thought about us being more than friends,” Stiles asked, deciding it would be easiest to just ask and not dance around the bush. “We spend so much time together and take care of each other. Would it really be that different?”

“I have,” Derek said softly, putting his cup down. “It would be different, though. It would mean we had romantic feelings for each other.”

“Is that different,” Stiles asked, meeting Derek’s eyes.

“Is it,” Derek asked back.

“It would mean you felt the same way I do,” he said, licking his lips. “Do you?”

“Yes.”

“Then it’s not different except for what we call it– call us.” Stiles waited for Derek to say something but he was silent. “Do you want to? Want to be my… boyfriend? Partner? Whatever you want to call it.”

“I’d be happy to be you ‘whatever you want to call it’,” Derek said, a slight teasing tone to his voice.

Stiles smiled to himself. “Don’t be an ass about it,” he joked. “Boyfriend sounds so childish and I think of work when I say partner. I don’t know what to call it.”

Derek rounded the counter and wrapped an arm around Stiles. “We can figure that out later,” he said. “For now, we’re just us.”

“I like us,” Stiles sighed, relaxing into Derek.

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Stiles was laying down on the couch, his feet in Derek’s lap. Stiles was half watching tv and half watching Derek. He was reading, one hand holding his book and the other on Stiles’s ankle. Stiles was really liking the whole “us” thing, especially since it meant he could openly stare at Derek.

“What about significant other,” Stiles suggested.

Derek looked up from his book and at Stiles. “Don’t people normally say that when they’re married?”

“I guess so,” Stiles said. He grabbed his new phone and looked up alternatives to ‘boyfriend’ and couldn’t help but laugh. “Are you my bae,” Stiles teased and Derek cringed. “Oh, or my Boo? My flame? My suitor?”

Derek smirked, “What are you reading,” he asked.

“My companion? Lover? Admirer? Paramour? Sweetheart? My beau?”

Derek sighed, turning off Stiles’s phone. “Why don’t we just stick with significant other,” he asked.

Stiles smiled, “that works for me.”

[dufferpuffer]

Tom Riddles orphanage is interesting.

1920s/1930s The idea of not putting children to work was quite new. In fact there were still Workhouses until 1948.

Victorian's commonly thought that people were only poor because they are lazy, plus the well-blossoming ideas of eugenics meant poor people were probably just worse genetically. It was 'Christian values' to at least dress and feed poor children, but if you were too supportive of them they would only grow up to continue to be lazy, probably like their stupid poor lazy parents. They will go off and join the workforce at 14, so you shouldn't coddle them too early or else you'll spoil them.

Most orphanages were set up and funded by whichever rich fuck wanted to boast about how many little kids they 'help'. Some really were trying to help - but yknow... eugh. Rich people. Nothing was particularly regulated and abuse against children was accepted and even encouraged.

Plus its fresh after The Great War, poor street kids fending for themselves were hardly rare, infant mortality was high... Lots of kids and not much demand for them. If they could hurry up and grow up to join the workforce... that would be swell.

Experience of the common orphan in a common orphanage: + Crowded eating halls where they usually didn't eat well. + Beds lining the walls, no privacy, everyone in the same room. + No individuality - kids often forgot their own birthdays or names... adults rarely use them, there's too many kids to remember and they keep dying and shit, honestly who cares - if they get adopted maybe they'll be renamed anyway + Education was often light, just the basics + Sometimes they were also put to a little work beyond their own laundry and cleaning etc. + Sundays they get dressed up, cleaned up - to try and get them adopted. Trot them out like little show ponies to try and tempt some rich person. ''They aren't dirty street shits, they're nice and handsome little children who won't embarrass you.'' + In many places child abuse was just... awful. Being made to eat their own vomit, pushed down stairs, locked into rooms and forgotten about, straight up being murdered by their caretakers... if you can imagine it, it probably happened.

...Why do I say all this? Because barely any of that seems to apply to Tom's experience. That doesn't mean his Orphanage was a nice place for him to grow up... but my god, it sounds like a DREAM compared to the norm-!!!

+ Tom Riddle... had his own fucking bedroom. WOAH. + Privacy. Access to books to read. He could READ. + His own WARDROBE, where he could KEEP HIS OWN THINGS. + It's assumed other children could ALSO keep their own things, as he had stolen their stuff - and some even had PETS??? + No real sign that he is put to any grueling work. + He was calm and impolite in his own room - he isn't terrified to talk back to adults. + Though it did anger and scare him, experts were being brought in to try and evaluate his health. + He looked well. Well fed, healthy, clean, normal.

Mrs. Cole the Matron - though she says judgemental things she says and the mention of 'whacking on the nose with a rusty poker' (which I assume is basic physical abuse...?) - seems shockingly involved with the children. She knows their names, their preferences, their backstories... and despite the orphanage being poor, they take the children on a holiday every year. Even Harry thought she seemed alright.

It is BONKERS how nice it is at Wool's Orphanage. That is an intentional writing decision. They author is British, she knows basic recent British history - the 'suffering orphan' is baked into her very bones as a concept.

He COULD have been depicted as: + Just one dirty face in a room of many beds, many children, that Albus had to weave through to take him somewhere private and tell him he was different from them, he was special. + Keep the smaller rooms - but he has to share with five or so other boys... who have all moved their beds as far from his as possible. + He could have only barely even remembered his own name - there's nobody who cares to call him it anyway, so he dislikes it. + A "Yes Sir, Sorry Sir, Of course Sir" little boy - who then breaks out in joy over going to Hogwarts + ...just straight up could have been in a workhouse.

It wouldn't be far-fetched for it to be described like Oliver Twist (set in 1830s, but there was actually higher child mortality in 1930s) Or more of an Annie situation (set 1930s New York - probably better conditions than 1930s England) The Author has never shied away from displaying child suffering before. Just look at Snape and Harry... and even Neville! Yet Tom Riddle very much has an air of being the Top Rooster. + Even the adults don't know what to do with him. + He is rather comfortable as long as doctors aren't being brought in. + He has gone out of his way to MAKE that comfort for himself, through enforcing a harsh pecking order amongst the other kids. + He is, especially for the time, a bit of a brat. Talks back, snappy, sneering and scoffing, talks over adults, snatches...

That's not unreasonable of him, by the way. He IS treated unfairly due to his powers, he is a poor orphan in a world with an abundance of poor orphans... and he's just a little boy. Of course he acts out.

But he could have been made more sympathetic - and more believable, honestly - with only a slightly more harrowing depiction of his living situation than simply 'a little shabby - and the over stressed but tries-to-care Matron likes a drop of Gin.' Instead he is living better than most of the lower class.

Which to me can only mean he isn't supposed to come across as too sympathetic. He isn't a suffering orphan, he isn't miserable, he isn't abused (too badly), he isn't lonely, he isn't any of the things Harry was... despite being in a similar situation, at first glance. He is still sympathetic. Harry and Albus both thought so. But the reader isn't supposed to see his childhood as terrible. Just sub-par. We are happy he gets a chance at life at Hogwarts... ...but aren't thinking 'Oh man, of course he murdered people, he has had such a harrowing life' Snapes life was worse. Harry's life was worse. Neither of them kill.

[valley-of-headcanons]

Hi! So...I was reading your harvey x bold!farmer and I know the request didn't want "a downright flirty farmer who winks at him and teases him" but now I keep wondering how Harvey would react to this...

harvey with an aggressively flirty!farmer || headcanons

our favorite doctor is certainly showing his bashful side now ...

warnings: suggestive hinting, nothing explicit but definitely implicit.

requested by: @gangrelispunk , hi!! tysm for the request!! definitely had me thinking about this too after i was done with the request! super cute, and the harvey stans are definitely getting fed. hope you enjoy! <3

• Harvey is an incredibly put together man! He's a doctor, he's very accomplished! He seemingly has all of his shit together, and wouldn't be phased by a lot! ... but, he does have a few weaknesses. And when you come to town, a farmer who has an incredibly flirty attitude towards him ... oh, he's in for it now. This poor boy honestly doesn't know what to think!

• When he first met you, Harvey was trying his best to keep his cool. He found you very attractive, and you had a good vibe! However, Harvey really didn't want to mess this up! He is not one to come on too strong, or to really 'come on' at all. But you ... you were certainly a different story. During your conversation, you were VERY flirty. There were tons of statements that were just suggestive enough to make him think. The last note you left him with was a gentle wink as you walked away.

• “Hello, it's nice to meet you! I'm Harvey, the town's doctor. Please stop by if you need anything ... oh, you'll be stopping by quite often? Do you have a medical condition ...? Oh ... just to see me? Well- ah- that's- ... that would be nice, I believe, as long as there's not someone I'm already working with ... you know just how to distract me? Well, not while I'm working, that's my only request! ... huh? What does that mean? ... oh- ... goodbye?”

• As you two start getting friendlier with each other, you turn the flirting up a couple notches. More suggestive remarks, more winking, maybe a few playful nudges thrown in once you know that he's comfortable with it. Some of these flirtatious remarks go over his head, but when he catches onto a few of them? Oh, he's done for. His face morphed into shades of red you'd never seen before, and his speech was pretty broken. Harvey, a put together man, was spiralling in front of your eyes. What a sight to see.

• “Wh-what? That was ... that wasn't an innuendo, was it? ... only if I want it to be ...? What does that even mean?! I- ... it's not written all over my face, that's just my natural complexion ... I am ... sunburnt ... in ... winter ... okay, maybe that wasn't the best excuse, but just- ignore it! It just does that sometimes, uh- uhm ... I apologize for my behavior, what you said just took a toll on my brain ... wait- what does that wink mean?!”

• As your time together passes, you two inevitably start dating. With your flirting, it was bound to happen eventually! Harvey is still a mess, but it gets better as he gets used to it. He loved how much you show your attraction and love for him with absolutely no shame. He finds it sweet, oddly enough. He does, however, get super embarrassed if you flirt in front of other people. He loves you, but he likes to keep that stuff private!

• “Hi, my love. Are you making sure to take enough breaks today? You can step by my office if you need to rest in air conditioning, I don't mind ... you'd come by? That's great! ... y-you'd what?! N-no, not in my office! You- no- that's irresponsible and would possibly get my license revoked! ... f-fine, we can when I get home- ... wait- what does that mean?!”

• Harvey's brain is certainly short circuited. He's incredibly flattered, though. This man is not used to being loved so unapologetically, and he adores every second of it. He may get flustered sometimes, but he wouldn't trade it for a moment. You have to admit, he's pretty adorable when he's flustered. It seemed like a win-win for both of you!

[azusaluvclub]

weak hero reactions; making you cry

thank you @kaazunes for the request! this was a tricky one to write because, for some of these guys, i can't imagine what they'd do to make the reader upset lol- so not all of it is them doing something intentionally, but the reader being hurt over the guys' circumstances. i tried not to make the reasons too same-y, lol. hope you enjoy!

gender neutral as always~

jimmy bae / bae jihoon

⋆ He would never mean to make you cry, but Jihoon is a person who usually acts/speaks before he thinks. This would be one of those times

⋆ You can tell he's overwhelmed; whatever was happening with the Union has him anxious, every nervous tick of his on full display. To no avail, you keep prodding him to tell you what was wrong, with him repeatedly pushing you away

⋆ Fed up, he lashes out, telling you to stay out of it and leave him alone. “God, you’re so annoying,” he mumbles. You sink into yourself, salty tears pooling in your eyes

⋆ Once he notices, Jihoon immediately regrets his words. He grabs your hand and dries your tears with another, feeling like a complete dick (granted, he is one). It’s hard for him to apologize, since it does serious damage to his ego, but he pushes one out. He loves you too much to save his pride right now

⋆ “I’m sorry… You care about me, I know,” he assures, listening as you vent about everything that was weighing on you, and how you wished he’d offer you that same honesty. It shifts his perspective, as you often do; it’s what he likes most about you, because you change him in ways he never thought he could

⋆ After some more reassurance, the two of you work it out. You forgive him and cuddle up to watch a movie, not once letting each others’ hands go~

jake ji / ji hakho

⋆ Man, Hakho is such a good boyfriend that it’s almost impossible for him to make you cry. If you do, it’s probably when you're both crying, often over your guys’ favorite anime (one piece *cough cough*)

⋆ But you hadn't seen Hakho in days and were growing more and more worried. All your calls went to voicemail and your messages left on delivered. He'd do this sometimes when he was busy with Union affairs, but you were sick of it. So there you were, standing at his front door

⋆ When he comes out, his expression is defeated and the first words out of Hakho’s mouth are, “Why are you here?” He sounds disappointed to see you and it feels like a punch. Why are you here? Were you not supposed to care about him?!

⋆ You want to explode, until you notice the exhaustion on his face and realize you can’t. Instead, you break down crying, because you hate seeing him this way. You couldn’t understand why wouldn’t leave the Union when it was draining him so much, or why he'd constantly hide from you when things were rough

⋆ Hakho envelops you with his arms, burying your head in his shoulder. “I’m sorry, baby, I just… I can’t leave yet. I love you, but it’s not that easy.” You beg him to explain; he says there’s no point. Honestly, he wants to spare you knowing the more unsavory things he’s done, even if it wouldn’t change your love for him. "Next time I won't run from you."

⋆ Hakho comforts you until the tears subside and promises that he’ll leave soon. You know it’s just him consoling you, right now, but you'll keep hoping none-the-less

wolf keum / keum seongje

⋆ Seongje can be a prick, unintentionally or not. You know this, but his blunt attitude was what interested you in him and, at times, you loved it — until it bit you in the ass

⋆ You’ve dragged him to the mall for a shopping day. There was a family event coming up that you needed nice clothes for, and unfortunately nothing was working. Everything you’ve tried on fit wrong or washed your skin out. Seongje was no help, either, only shrugging or nodding to the outfits you’d showed him

⋆ Growing tired, you ask him to give a real opinion. He looks at you, “If I’m honest, it’s fuckin’ ugly.”

⋆ You frown and slink back into the dressing room, dejected, quickly changing back to your regular clothes. The whole walk home you barely speak, the words still spinning around your mind. Did he really think that of you?

⋆ Unable to take it any longer, your lips begin to quiver, tears brimming your eyes. Seongje notices and pulls you into an alleyway, a bit disoriented as he thought things were going great, and suddenly you’re crying in the middle of the street. He’s never been good with emotions or situations that required a lot of them, but he listens to you and tries to sympathize, wiping away your tears. It stings being confronted with the effect of his words on someone he cares deeply for, and watching you cry is the worst consequence

⋆ “Don’t cry, okay,” he says. “I didn’t realize I’d hurt you, sorry.” It’s easier to forgive when you see his pouty face, even though you want to stay upset. He’s still learning how to be less rough, but it's an honest effort; you'll give him some grace with that

⋆ He kisses your forehead and you kiss him back, giving up on shopping and deciding to visit the arcade instead (which was a lot more fun, anyways-)

forrest lee / lee sehan

⋆ If Sehan makes you cry, he cries too; and if you are crying, it's not typically his fault. Sehan is more normal than fellow Union leaders, so he's mindful of your emotions in a relationship

⋆ You were supposed to go on a date, but hours went by and it seemed like he was going to flake. You were confused as this wasn't like him at all, and it had you worried that something happened. When he didn't pick you up, you instead spent your night sobbing in bed. You'd thought that, though he's a delinquent, he would be different to you. But he stood you up and didn't have the decency to even send a text

⋆ Around 11, Sehan shows up and you promptly pull him inside to confront him. When the light hits his face, you gasp — it's covered in bruises, dried blood caked around his nose and the side of his head. His knuckles are battered, too, and your tears come creeping back in, dribbling down to your chin

⋆ Sehan jumps into boyfriend-mode, holding you tight regardless of how sore his body was. Making you cry hurt worse than all the punches he'd taken, especially when you cried because of him. He felt like shit; all he could do was apologize profusely and rub your back

⋆ "I wanted to come sooner, but... shit happened. I didn't want to ignore you, or have you see me like this," he whispers. "I'm sorry, I should've called." Sehan kisses your head and you melt into him. Even if you wanted to be mad, you couldn't

⋆ Once you've calmed down, you sit him in the bathroom to tend his wounds and plan out your next date, Sehan eager to make everything up to you

donald na / na baekjin

⋆ As much as he tries, Baekjin isn't always the most attentive. He's often caught up with overseeing the Union + his business endeavors, not giving him much time to really be there for you

⋆ The moments you get are brief so he tries giving you his full attention, but he gets distracted easily, even when you disapprove. This time you were out to eat, sitting in a restaurant way out of your budget, on one of the few dates you'd have. It was going perfect until he disappeared for 20 minutes to answer a call, leaving you all alone

⋆ You're let down, severely. When he returns, you're sullen, unsure if you should say anything. You don't want to feel this way, so you tell him you want his phone off the rest of the night. Baekjin lets out an annoyed sigh, "I can't, you know this. There's a too much going on with this Cheongang mess and I can't drop it."

⋆ It's a slap in the face. Your eyes sting, appetite wasted; you don't want to cry here, but you hate when he does this and now he's completely brushing it off. You can't fight the tears that come, and Baekjin's heart stops. "So is the Union more important than me?" you ask, his stomach tightening. Were you really this hurt over it? He didn't realize how serious it was to you and now he's regretting it

⋆ Baekjin reaches across the table for your hand, disappointed with himself. "No, it's not," he reassures, powering down his phone and shoving it in his pocket. "You are, so it's just you and me tonight. I love you." He kisses your hand and you soften at his touch

⋆ He spoils you the rest of the dinner, buying you all the dessert you want. He doesn't say it, but Baekjin feels relieved not having to worry about what was going on outside of your little bubble; all he needed was to see a smile on your face

kingsley kwan / kwan seokhyeon

⋆ You love Seokhyeon, truly, but you can get frustrated with him just as easily. If you tell him he's wrong, he'll do his best to change, however he isn't as perfect as he'd like to be

⋆ The one thing that comes between you is his loyalty to Baekjin. Sometimes you think he should date him instead, but that's you being petty. It's not uncommon for your plans to get cancelled because Baekjin needs him. While you try to not complain and see it from his POV, today you just can't

⋆ Seokhyeon is helping you prepare for your exams, as he's a lot smarter than you (and you like the time spent with him), until he gets a call from Baekjin. It seemingly lasts forever and once he hangs up, Seokhyeon tells you he has to leave. You frown; you've told him before not to do this. Not only that, he knew how badly you needed help on your exams, yet he's ditching you again

⋆ Your lips quiver as Seokhyeon packs his things. When he goes to say goodbye, he sees your watery eyes + red face and stops, frantically asking what's wrong. He knew you wanted to spend time together, but he thought you'd understand

⋆ You decide to let it out, how you feel second place to Baekjin and that Seokhyeon's relationship with him seems more important than the one he has with you. He drops his head in shame, knowing what you're saying is true — no matter the intention. Still, it stings to see you hurt over his actions

⋆ "You're right, I should be putting you first. I love you, there's nobody who matters more to me." You struggle to believe it, but he pulls you close and you allow yourself to try and accept it when he says, "I'm sorry."

⋆ Seokhyeon calls Baekjin and asks to see him later, cuddling up to you on the couch after. He kisses your cheek and pulls his textbooks back out, ready to help you pass your exams

[willthespy]

SHORT SOLANGELO ANALYSIS FROM MY NOTES APP

(except it’s mostly in response to fandom)

Honestly, I’ve heard some reasons why people hate Solangelo. And don’t get me wrong; I don’t care that you don’t like a ship, but some of you are ignorant (and biased) and trying to find reasons to hate it.

One i’ve seen is that «they have no shared interests» etc, etc. Since when was that an issue? It wasn’t an issue with any other ship, so why is that an issue with the one canon/main mlm ship we have. And even if that wasn’t said with homophobic intentions, which it definitely doesn’t have to be, it still is odd that it is fine with your ship to have them not share common interests, but when it’s the ‘same case’ with Solangelo or some other canon ship it’s not?

Besides, nobody said they didn’t have any shared interests and nobody said they need to have shared interests. «Nico doesn’t like Star Wars. He hated it.» Oh, sweet gods. He watched all those movies for a reason, first of all. You’re saying he doesn’t like Will even after doing all that??? You’re using that as reasoning??? And even if he didn’t like it at all (gods forbid someone has an opinion not based around/biased by their relationship) that is okay. Especially for neurodivergent people I’ll say that it is okay to be in relationships and still have different interests than your significant other. Same interests ≠ madly in love whatsoever.

In fact, from a sociological/psychological/WHATEVER perspective, a lot of neurodivergent people tend to prefer it if someone doesn’t have the same interests. Yes, this depends per person, but that’s something I’ve noticed happens a lot.

The «they hate each other» argument is used, referring to their banter, and I love (read: hate) how those same people still like Percabeth. Like, okay, now give me the real reasons you don’t like it, without grasping for fake ones that don’t actually match up with your idea of a relationship. The bias is biasing.

I think the most important part of Solangelo is the fact that they can let their guards down around one another. They always have those walls up around others - though in different ways - and they don’t always have to be like that in front of each other. They’re also there to protect and care for the other, much unlike the fanon idea where Will often only cares for Nico. They aren’t there to fix one another, they’re there for each other.

Note that they still both have some walls up in TSATS! That doesn’t make their relationship any less real, but I think that is also very much to be expected from characters who have actively had to deal with trauma. And even then, even without knowing everything, they still care and are there for each other, no matter how frustrating it may be to be out of the know.

They’re also not «complete opposites». In TSATS we literally read that they have more similarities than meets the eye (which can be read as the light-darkness symbolism.) They balance each other out and they’re ALLOWED to argue. Did you guys know that? It’s important to me that you know that.

Did you know characters/people can argue and then solve the situation/argument using healthy communication? Shocking, I know.

I do think the start of Solangelo wasn’t smoothly written whatsoever. Will was kind of used as a puppet and obviously put there ‘for Nico.’ Do I think Will should get more character separate from his relationship/his father? Yes. Do I think he has no character at all? No. But also… It’s a children’s book. You can’t expect the best written character in history from a book written for middle schoolers.

They wouldn’t be the first canon ship with a bad start, so I’m not too fed up about that. If I would ask for anything, I’d like a book/short story about Will as a character (his backstory/just anything) or just a story in which they grow more in their relationship and as separate characters (though not broken up).

My point mostly is this; if you really don’t like it, you don’t have to interact or read or do anything, really. (Yay!) Don’t use the Solangelo tag for your hatred. Especially not if it’s an unproblematic ship.

[01zfan]

01ZFAN WRAPPED 2024

HAPPY NEW YEAR EVERYONE! 365 days, 74 fics, and 497,800 words later we are already into the new year! after being tagged in a year end post and being swayed by the timeline i want to kind of do a little something like a year end review of me and some of the works i posted throughout the year. let's go on a little trip down memory lane! here is my masterlist for the works i'll be referencing and much more. BLURBZ ARE NOT INCLUDED simply because i don't really count those as full fledged works and there's not much to say about them.

MY MUSES

OSAKI SHOTARO

8 fics 60.2k words

MOST COMMON TROPE: MARRIED COUPLE/ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP/FLUFF

OUTLIER: PRETTY GIRL DISCOUNT | HOOKUP/PLUG!SHOTARO

SONG EUNSEOK

18 fics 123.1k words

MOST COMMON TROPE: HOOKUP/ENEMIES WITH BENEFITS

OUTLIER: YOUR BIRTHDAY | ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP/FLUFF

JUNG SUNGCHAN

18 fics 110.7k words

MOST COMMON TROPE: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP/FLUFF

OUTLIER: NOT MINE | CHEATING/ANGST

PARK WONBIN

9 fics 61k words

MOST COMMON TROPE: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP/HOOKUP

OUTLIER: MOVIE | SECRET RELATIONSHIP/FLUFF

LEE SOHEE

9 fics 65.6k words

MOST COMMON TROPE: ANGST

OUTLIER: GOOD LUCK CHARM | FLUFF

LEE ANTON

12 fics 77.2k words

MOST COMMON TROPE: FRIENDS TO LOVERS

OUTLIER: SEE YOU AROUND PT. 2 | SOMETHING WITH BENEFITS/ANGST/BREAKUP

BONUS: MULTIMEMBER | 4 FICS

NOTHING IN COMMON. ALL OF THEM ARE CRAZY

FIRST AND LAST FIC

summer | s.es january 3rd, 2024

big shot | j.sc december 31st, 2024

of course i began and ended the year with my youngwonz. it's hard to tell if my writing has improved or gotten worse. i think the only way to tell would genuinely be to rewrite summer and see what i'd do different. i will say though deciding to go to autocaps was a good decision on my part because i think it makes for an easier read. i will say i went more in depth with the descriptions and everything in summer as opposed to big shot. but i will say i like how i don't need as many words to convey what i want to say anymore.

TOP FIVE FICS

twelve grapes | l.at 1,601 notes

paint you | l.at 1,385 notes

necklace | p.wb 1,369 notes

should've told me | l.at 1,251 notes

rainy day | l.at 1,155 notes

i understand now that you guys don't play about anton. like at all. i was going through all my fics like DAMN all of my hits are anton and then a short wonbin fic fighting for its damn life. thank you to my anton girlies i will try my best to keep you guys fed with amazing fics. i had no idea that any of these would be popular ESPECIALLY twelve grapes like jafnkjdfnkjsnf. you guys are amazing.

HONORABLE MENTIONS:

film it | l.sh 490 notes

this was a fic that some people put on their recommended list, and a few people i've seen put this in their top five when i asked all that time ago! i really liked the concept of skater!sohee and their little story together. i can see him having a little skate crew looking for someone to film their tricks. also a happy sohee fic we cheered! i loved the readers room so much it reminded me of the room i wanted to have as a kid heh.

(honestly any of my sohee fics could've ended up here even though a majority of them are sad i always really really really like how i end up writing sohee.)

miss you more | s.es 878 notes

this fic...this fic...no i really have to say i'm surprised this didn't even break top ten in terms of notes like i feel like everyone loved this fic DOWNNNNNN. something about the yearning and the angst and eunseok being a good father just had so many of us down extremely bad. i think about this couple so often and ever since my dear friend told me this fic reminds her of siena by the marias i think of them everytime i listen to it. this fic is probably the one i've gotten asked to do a second part for the most out of all of my fics. i do have to say though, it's never happening. the open ending and the ambiguity of it all adds so much to the story and makes it so real to me.

trigger finger | j.sc 898 notes

this is still one of my favorite sungchan fics i've ever written. i love love LOVE it and the story and the party and the buildup. i feel like so many people like this fic because it's so him like jsfkjdfnskdjf. the doting perfect little boyfriend who never gets mad and you just wanna push his buttons.

stress relief | o.sh 263 notes

the drop off on these notes but IDGAF IDGAFFFF i love my shortaro fics so freaking much. at this point i write them for myself and i will continue to do so because i love writing for him so bad. this fic is my favorite because i just love the love they have for eachother and the mutual understanding. also i love the song too sweet by hozier so freaking much too so i really enjoyed writing this fic and i feel like i set the scene so nice likeee he's coming home late and you're still up. this fic makes me sick to my stomach because i want shotaro so freaking bad you guys.

LONGEST FIC

seriez: argue with you | 31.8k words in total

JESUS CHRIST....no i was actually in shock doing the math the last part for this seriez was 17.9k words. this fic took so much out of me oh my goodness. i remember doing the third part as a special event for hitting 1k and it took me like two months to finish. i seriously can't believe i wrote that much and i don't remember any of it. if you were here for the argue with you seriez and you read it i love you with all my heart.

standalone: peach fuzz | 12k words

this fic ended up going over my original word count just becasue i loved the story so much. friends to friends with benefits to a secret third thing is something so dear to me. camp counselor anton you still have my entire heart. i really love the summer caamp idea so much and i really like the ending scene of them at the pier TT i always envision it like a movie.

HONORABLE MENTIONS

bike peg | 11.6k words

such an amazing fic to write. i love everything about this fic seriously. the runaway coming back home for rehabilitation. the scenery of the city on the water with nothing better to do than riding around on your younger sisters bike. the mutual understanding between wonbin and the reader. the sofa with the plastic still on it. like something about this fic is so homey to me and was so comforting to write despite the very sad underlying theme that i didn't even realize how long the word count was. i am genuinely so proud of this fic, it's like my baby.

contact | 11k words

a more recent work of mine. now this fic i read it so quickly i'm surprised each time that it's 11k words. i really like the story told here heh my only regret is that i didn't dive deeper into the funeral part of it. i kinda still wanted to make it readable without mentioning death too much but love and death keeps us together! (magdalena bay reference). but yesss i love this fic and i love each word of it.

2024 MILESTONEZ

so many things happened to this account last year! surpassed 1k followers, finished my first seriez, wrote my first multichaptered fic, got my first commission! i had no expectations for this account so everything i achieve here is always such a shock but i welcome it with everything in me seriously!

WHAT'S NEXT

finishing my rock the house seriez, doing alot of commissionz, doing next parts for several awaited fics, hopefully getting some more people to join this lovely community of writers so i have more things to nibble on. in 2025 i also hope to dabble and try writing darker stuff! not in the sense you may think, but i want to try writing things that involve murder, stealing, and in general just more morally ambiguous things. i don't want to reveal what i have in mind but i want to really try more things involving characters and getting better at scene descriptions too! ALSO. MORE HAPPY SOHEE FICS.

this was such a long wrapped i'm sorry but i was so busy this year LMFAO. thank you everyone for making this such an awesome year for 01zfan. i am super grateful for all of you guys, and i would genuinely really really really love to hear about your favorite fic(s) of mine from 2024 or what you'd like to see in 2025! i am open and i always love to hear what you guys think of everything hehe

[forgeofthenine]

Is it the holiday season, or are you just a genius cause my yearning heart is being well fed by your tiefling headcanons. I hope this ask inspires :)

I’d go feral for some good pining headcanons; what are they like in the gray space between flirting and relationship? Especially if there’s mutual understanding that this might not be the best time (i.e. there may or may not be a mindflayer invasion in progress) and so they hold off on initiating anything, but have to watch as their crush dives headlong into danger? I love imagining ill-timed interruptions punctuated by longing looks.

Alternatively, how good are our darling tiefling bachelors at dancing? Would they learn a jig or two if their SO loved dancing?

Here's a lil' something something for you about pining, Anon. I didn't decide to write a full set of dance headcanons (despite it being on my to do list right from when I started the blog) but I am going to post something similar 👀

What the bachelors are like while pining for you

Dammon

This man pines so hard

He's touch starved to hell, quite literally, but has no clue about it

Dammon was sure he was fine right up until he met you and was hit with the realisation that he wanted more

The way he shows his affection is also anything but subtle, expect to know right away

It's never the type of affection that makes you feel guilty if you don't return it or makes you feel like you feel pressured

He's very easy going and good at reading people, he slowly increases how much affection he gives you until you both find a comfortable balance

Soon you'll find all your weapons and armour is repaired or replaced to the highest quality

Dammon is overjoyed if you return the same affection, even if you both know dating is off the cards for now

Bring this man some home cooking and he'll want to marry you right then and there

It's a grey area you both find yourself in for quite some time, to the point you both often get asked if you're together

The way he blushes when people ask is absolutely adorable, even more so when he hesitates to correct them

Towards the end you both basically already live together, both slowly easing into a romantic relationship without realising it

Dammon is more than happy once the ilithids are dealt with to make things official, finally not needing to correct people anymore

Zevlor

This man is the king of pining, absolute reigning champion

He knew he was in deep right from the moment he first saw you

It's something he keeps under wraps very well, to the point that you probably won't realise for a while

He tends to sneak peaks at you when you aren't looking, or he comes up with mostly reasonable excuses to come and speak with you

If you call him out on either thing then he'll heavily deny doing any of it, despite the blush on his face giving him away

Even if there wasn't an ilithid invasion happening Zevlor would still be cautiously optimistic about ever having a relationship with you

He's wary of a potential age gap or coming across too strong and scaring you away

A part of him also reminds him that you'd likely want a suitor your own age

The best way to quell those worries is to simply return his advances with some of your own

It could be anything, so long as he thinks you're interested he'll keep up his very subtle flirting

Soon, the two of you are already regularly having meals with each other and finding ways to spend hours together

Zevlor is absolutely already thinking of the life he'll have with you after this

Rolan

Rolan is a dick at first, he honestly is so out of touch with his own feelings that he doesn't realise he's into you

He's completely oblivious to anything that isn't directly spelled out for him, including how much he actually enjoys your company

It takes Cal and Lia teasing him relentlessly before he finally comes to terms with it

Once he does it hits him like a brick to the face

And after that, it's like a switch flips

He can barely speak to you now without second-guessing himself or tripping over words

It's enough to make you wonder what's going on until the siblings start teasing you both, much to Rolans embarrassment

He's always quick to shoo them away and apologise but his feelings are already clear

You're both smart people, it's easy to know now isn't the time to start a romantic relationship, but it's harder to listen to reason when your feelings get involved

After weeks of you both tiptoeing around each other, feelings clearly returned, he finally has enough

Rolans the fastest to take action on his pining, impatient and hating the uncertainty

You'll find yourself in Ramaziths Tower and kissing the tiefling that runs it in no time

Rolan is quick to pull you into him, kissing you passionately before making you promise you'll stay safe