#like now is NOT the time to argue about what it was or wasn't!

[creatur3featur3]

Street Rat p2

word count: 3.6k (WOO ON A ROLL LOVES!!)

A/N: DEFINITELY out of my writers block! only took about, 3 hours? usually takes me like a full day when i'm unmotivated but here we are!

----Enjoy Loves----

Okay so maybe you were following Sevika around for weeks on end now, but it wasn't exactly your fault- it was hers.

All that being nice and giving you food, or just being human and providing for someone who obviously couldn't take care of herself properly. She had been dying to get you off her tail with you following her like a stray dog constantly, you were ruining her reputation with your weird attachment to her. 

The regulars she played cards with gave you weird glances but she always seemed to scare them off from bothering you when you were digging around in people's dumped junk with a stern gaze. You definitely seemed to live up to your name of a street rat with your constant wandering off to find someone that shined under the dim lights of the Undercity’s lamp posts, she had even gotten you a small bag as well which had honestly surprised you.

You scoffed when she threw it to you, “Are you serious? I don't need this shit.” you spat sharply, god she wished she could rip that  sharp tongue out of yours out of your mouth. She set down her cup, whatever liquid she was drinking sloushing out.

“You think I don't see you storing your little trinkets out in dumped boxes? You're pathetic, the amount of times I've seen people swipe from your little stashes is ridiculous.” Your brow furrows at her words, you're not pathetic, you're smart, hell- brilliant even! “WELL, Miss.im so smart, i'll have you know I have many stashes around the city,”

“and how many of them stay full?”

you pause.

“...like.. three maybe…” you admit with a pout, “Then take the bag” she says sternly.

You grumble as you snatch the bag off the table, examining it with cold eyes but muttering a quiet “thank you” under your breath- then you're gone.

You choose not to stick around her during the day, too many eyes, you stay on the outskirts of the city- just like today. 

you squirm up the broken fire escape, trying your best to host yourself up with- little success. You hate to admit that Sevika’s ‘gift’ was actually pretty helpful, much more storage for cogs and other useful stuff- only downside is that you put way too much stuff in it.

“come on!-" You hiss under your breath as you hang onto the railing, trying to throw the bag up onto the floor of the fire escape so you can get yourself up. Such you were fit, your worked out a good amount, but.. your weren't exactly sure what to really work out.

The bag thudded onto the rusty fire escape with a loud clang, the sound echoing down the alleyway below. You winced, glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one had heard. The last thing you needed was some nosy thug poking around while you were mid-scramble.  

"Stupid bag," you muttered, wiping sweat off your brow. The thing had been helpful, sure, but damn if it wasn’t heavier than you thought it would be with all the “essentials” you’d crammed into it.  

With a deep breath, you grabbed the edge of the fire escape again, gritting your teeth as you hoisted yourself up. Your muscles strained against the weight of your own body, your arms trembling as you kicked your legs to get some momentum. “Okay... almost there...”  

Finally, with a groan, you managed to drag yourself up, collapsing onto the cold metal floor with a loud huff. You rolled onto your back, staring up at the dim, flickering lights of the Undercity’s skyline, panting like you’d just run a marathon.  

“Maybe I should’ve worked out more…” you mumbled, glaring at the bag now sitting innocently beside you.  

The memory of Sevika tossing it to you came to mind, her cold, stern gaze practically daring you to argue with her. She hadn’t been wrong about your stashes getting raided—half of them were basically public property at this point—but still, you’d never admit she had a point. That’d be giving her too much satisfaction.  

As much as you hated to admit it, the bag was starting to feel like a lifeline. Not just because it kept your things safe, but because... well, it was from her.  

You sighed, sitting up and brushing your hands off on your pants. “Whatever,” you muttered to yourself, swinging the bag over your shoulder again. “It’s just a stupid bag. Doesn’t mean anything.”  

As you climb further up the ladders you find yourself at what you call, home. The climb had left your muscles burning, but as you finally pulled yourself up to the top platform, a sense of relief washed over you. This was your little corner of the world, tucked high above the chaos of the Undercity, where few dared to tread.

"Home sweet home," you muttered, glancing at the haphazard setup before you.

The patchwork of old carpets and threadbare blankets was hardly luxurious, and the wooden crates stacked into a leaning structure could barely be called stable. Still, it had its charm—if only because it was yours. 

You ducked under the slanted “roof” of your makeshift tent, the faint smell of oil and dust filling your nose as you tossed the bag onto the ground with a loud thud. Sliding down onto the pile of blankets you called a bed, you let out a long, drawn-out exhale, the tension in your shoulders finally releasing.  

After a few moments, you sat up, rolling your sleeves as you reached for the bag. “Alright, let’s see what we’ve got this time,” you murmured to yourself, the habit of talking aloud in your solitude one you never quite managed to break.  

One by one, you started pulling items from the bag: cogs, rusted bolts, wires tangled like a bird’s nest, a couple of scraps of metal that might be useful if you ever found a decent buyer. You laid them out in neat rows, sorting them with a critical eye.  

“Junk, maybe useful, definitely junk, hmm… potential,” you muttered, setting aside a few pieces you deemed worth keeping.  

Every so often, you paused to examine an item more closely, holding it up to the dim light filtering through the cracks of your tent. A faint smile tugged at your lips as you found a small, intact gear with its teeth still sharp. “Hah, not bad,” you said to no one, setting it aside with a sense of triumph.  

This was your ritual, your little piece of order in an otherwise chaotic world. Sorting through the refuse of the Undercity, finding bits and pieces that others had discarded without a second thought—it wasn’t glamorous, but it was yours. 

Your contented sorting came to an abrupt halt as the distant noise filtered up through the layers of steel and grime below. First, it was the sharp crack of something breaking—glass, maybe, or a chair being hurled against a wall. Then came the muffled yelling, too distorted by the distance to make out the words.  

You froze, your fingers hovering over a twisted wire. It wasn’t unusual to hear fights in the Undercity; hell, it was practically the soundtrack of the place. But this time was different.  

This time, you recognized the low, gravelly tone of one of the voices. Sevika.  

Your stomach twisted as you strained to listen, hoping you’d misheard. But there it was again—her voice, cutting through the chaos with a sharp bark of anger.  

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, scrambling to your feet. For a moment, you hesitated, torn between staying put in the safety of your little hideout and the nagging pull of curiosity—and maybe worry—that pushed you toward the ladder.  

Another crash, louder this time, made the decision for you. You grabbed the strap of your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as you moved toward the edge of the platform. Your heart pounded as you carefully climbed down, your usual annoyance at the shaky fire escape forgotten in your rush.  

By the time you reached the lower levels, the noise had grown louder, more distinct. You crept closer, ducking behind a stack of crates as you peered around the corner.  

There she was, Sevika, in the middle of a small brawl. Three guys, maybe more, circled her like vultures, but she looked as unfazed as ever, her mechanical arm gleaming under the dim light as she sent one of them flying with a single swing.  

Your first instinct was to turn back, let her handle it. She was Sevika, after all; she didn’t need help. But as another thug lunged at her with a broken pipe, something in you snapped.  

“Damn it,” you hissed, gripping the edge of the crate as you tried to come up with a plan. Or maybe you’d just jump in and wing it. Either way, you weren’t about to leave her hanging.

Though your- stupidity gets the best of you as you reach for a broken glass of whatever and throw it at one of the men, hitting his head

The moment the glass shattered against the man’s head, you felt a rush of pride. Bullseye. But that fleeting sense of accomplishment was quickly replaced with a cold, sinking feeling as the three men turned toward you, their expressions darkening like storm clouds.  

He wiped a hand over his face, now dripping with blood from a jagged cut the glass had left, his glare locking onto you like a predator sizing up its prey. “You’ve got a death wish, kid,” he growled, taking a menacing step forward.  

“Oh, crap,” you muttered, your bravado evaporating in an instant.  

Without another thought, you turned on your heel and bolted, your heart pounding in your ears as your boots slapped against the slick pavement. Behind you, the sound of shouts and heavy footsteps echoed as the men gave chase.  

“Stupid stupid stupid!!” you hissed to yourself, dodging around a stack of broken crates. This wasn’t exactly the first time your mouth—or in this case, your impulse to throw things—had gotten you into trouble, but this? This was a new level of stupid.  

You ducked into a narrow alley, squeezing through the gap between two rusted pipes as the men shouted behind you. Your pulse was racing, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you scanned the area for an escape route.  

Up ahead, you spotted a ladder leading to one of the upper platforms, the kind you’d climbed a hundred times before. “Come on, come on,” you whispered, practically leaping toward it.  

As you grabbed the rungs and started to climb, one of the men reached the base of the ladder, cursing loudly. He jumped, his fingers grazing your ankle, but you kicked out with a frantic yell, forcing him to let go.  

“Keep running, street rat!” one of them yelled.  

“Oh, I plan to!” you shouted back, your voice dripping with sarcasm despite the panic clawing at your chest.  

You scrambled onto the platform above, your legs burning and your breath coming in ragged gasps. From this vantage point, you could see Sevika below, taking advantage of your little distraction you created. For a split second, you thought about doubling back to help her, but another shout from below reminded you of your own predicament.  

"She better appreciate this," you muttered bitterly as you darted off into the shadows, praying you could lose your pursuers before they decided to make good on their threats. 

–

“What the fuck were you thinking?!” Sevika snarled as you sat next to her at the little market you had come to know for your routine feeding, “those guys could've and would've killed you!” She hissed.

“I was helping!” you grumble, “Helping doesn't mean almost getting yourself killed!” Sevika shot right back.

“You should've been able to take those guys easily, they were so much smaller than you!”

“I had it.”

“Didn't seem like it Toolbox.”

“Stop calling me that,”

“Toolbox.”

“Street Rat.”

“Mines cooler anyways.” you hum, Sevika scoffs with a shake of her head, “You fucking wish.”

“Well,” you start, shoving the fruit you had stuffed in your bag into your mouth, biting into it sharply, the juices running down your chin- “I deserve a thank you.”

“You are not getting a thank you for making me worry,” Sevika spat, “awww, so you do care!” you hum sarcastically, “oh, my heart might just explode with joy!”

Sevika rolled her eyes so hard you were surprised they didn’t pop out of her skull. “Don’t flatter yourself Rat. I care because you’re a liability. If you go and get yourself killed, that’s just one more mess I have to deal with.”  

You snorted, chewing noisily on your fruit. “Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that, Sevvy.”  

Her glare could have melted steel. “Call me that again and see what happens.”  

“Sevvy.” You said it sweetly, almost a purr, batting your lashes for extra effect.  

The mechanical fingers of her arm clenched with a faint hiss, and you couldn’t help but grin, even as she loomed closer, her presence casting a shadow over you. “You’ve got guts, I’ll give you that,” she growled, voice low and dangerous.  

“And brains,” you added smugly, leaning back as if her looming didn’t faze you. “I mean, I did save your ass, remember?”  

She scoffed, crossing her arms. “If by ‘save’ you mean ‘made my life infinitely harder,’ then yeah. Thanks for that.”  

You bit into your fruit again, savoring its sweetness as you shrugged. “Same difference. You’d miss me if I wasn’t around.”  

“I’d sleep better, that’s for sure.”  

“Awww, Sev, you’re so sweet,” you teased, wiping juice off your chin with your sleeve. “No wonder people love you so much.”  

Her lips twitched, like she was fighting back a smirk. “You’re lucky you’re useful sometimes, Street Rat. Otherwise, I’d have tossed you into the gutter by now.”  

“Yeah, yeah,” you said, grinning despite her insult. “Admit it, Sevika. You like having me around.”  

She shook her head, muttering something under her breath as she turned her attention back to her drink. You took that as a win, leaning back against the table with a satisfied smirk.

“So,” You hum as you throw the finished fruit onto the street, “Where we going now?”

Sevika stood up, pushing in her chair and throwing her cloak over her mechanical arm “I'm, going home.”

You frowned, tilting your head like a confused pup. “Home? What about me?”  

Sevika glanced over her shoulder, her expression flat. “What about you?”  

You scoffed, standing up and brushing the crumbs off your clothes. “I thought we were a team now.”  

She barked a laugh, the kind that was more mocking than amused. “Team? Don’t flatter yourself, Toolbox. You’re just a stray I can’t seem to shake off.”  

You put your hands on your hips, leaning forward as you shot her a challenging glare. “Stray or not, you’d be bored without me, and you know it.”  

“Bored?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow as she adjusted her cloak. “More like finally at peace.”  

“Sure, Sev, keep telling yourself that,” you quipped, falling into step beside her despite her best efforts to stride ahead.  

She stopped abruptly, turning to face you with a sharp glare. “What do you want, huh? A place to crash? A warm meal? Or do you just like annoying me?”  

You grinned, not missing a beat. “Little bit of all three, honestly.”  

She exhaled sharply, clearly trying to rein in her irritation. “You’re impossible.”  

“And yet, here we are,” you said with a cheeky shrug.  

For a moment, Sevika just stared at you, her jaw tightening as if she were debating whether to knock you out or just walk away. Finally, she shook her head, muttering something about bad decisions as she turned back toward the street.  

“Fine,” she said gruffly, not bothering to look back at you. “Follow me. But don’t think for a second this means I like you.”  

Your grin widened as you fell into step behind her. “Of course not, Sevvy. This is purely professional.”  

“Call me that again, and you’re sleeping in the gutter.”  

“Love you too,” you teased, earning a sharp growl from her as the two of you disappeared into the crowded streets of the Undercity.

God she hated you.

As you follow her not too far behind she doesn't look back- until she hears a loud CLUNK.

She looked back to see you diving into a dumpster, your legs propelling yourself further into it.

Sevika stopped dead in her tracks, her mechanical arm twitching slightly as she turned to stare at you, her expression an unreadable mix of irritation and disbelief.  

“What the hell are you doing now?” she called out, her voice carrying that sharp edge of exasperation she reserved just for you.  

Your legs flailed for a moment, kicking at the air as you wormed your way further into the dumpster. “I saw something shiny!” you shouted back, your voice muffled by the metal container.  

Sevika pinched the bridge of her nose, muttering under her breath. “Shiny? Are you a crow now?”  

“Shut up, it might be important!” you countered, your voice ringing with mock indignation.  

The dumpster rattled as you rummaged around, the sound grating on Sevika’s nerves. She glanced around, noting the amused—or horrified—looks from a few passersby. She sighed deeply, her patience wearing thin.  

“You know,” she said, her tone flat as she leaned against a nearby wall, arms crossed, “there’s a fine line between being resourceful and being a complete idiot. Guess which side you’re on.”  

You didn’t respond immediately, too engrossed in whatever treasure you were hunting. A moment later, you popped your head out of the dumpster, holding up a slightly dented but intact pocket watch. “See? Totally worth it!” you declared, grinning triumphantly.  

Sevika raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “A broken watch?”  

“It’s vintage!” you argued, shaking the watch for emphasis.  

“Yeah, sure. Vintage trash,” she shot back, turning on her heel. “Let’s go, before someone mistakes you for actual garbage.”  

You hopped out of the dumpster, brushing off your clothes as you jogged to catch up with her. “You’re just mad you didn’t see it first,” you teased, tucking the watch into your bag.  

She didn’t respond, but you swore you saw her roll her eyes as she picked up her pace, trying her best to ignore you.

But your voice was grating, the way you chatted away about god knows what, trying to take apart the watch as you walked, proving to Sevika by the brand name on the inside of the watch that it was definitely worth something.

“See? I told you, I know what's useless or, worthy!” You hum happily.

you were definitely a lot different from when Sevika first saw you, when you were a lot more sharp and,I guess hateful. Now here you are, talking her ear off about some history behind the watch.

Cute.

Sevika shook her head firmly, no, absolutely not, you were not cute or anything like that, you were a dingy kid from the streets, probably not even 26, you had your whole life ahead of you.

Sevika’s gaze flickered over to you as you babbled on about the intricate history behind the watch, your hands working quickly to twist and turn its parts, barely looking up as you walked beside her.  

“Mm-hmm, sure, sure,” she muttered, her focus on the path ahead, though her mind was starting to wander despite herself. You were relentless, a flurry of words and energy that kept bouncing from one topic to the next, your excitement practically buzzing through the air. It was almost impossible not to listen to you, even if she didn’t want to.  

But cute? No.  

You were just some kid, a street rat, sure, but not in a pathetic sense anymore. She couldn’t quite pinpoint it. Maybe it was how you had this endless drive to find the value in everything, even when it was so easy for someone like her to overlook. Or how your once sharp edges seemed to have softened over time, the constant biting sarcasm now replaced with, well, an actual willingness to communicate, to engage.  

God, what the hell was wrong with her?

She tried shaking it off, focusing on the weight of her boots as they hit the cracked pavement. She was not about to get all sentimental or soft. That would be a mistake.  

“I’m serious, Sevika,” you continued, eyes sparkling as you looked up at her, “I could sell this for a few cogs. It’s pretty rare, maybe even more than that if I find the right buyer!”  

She made a noncommittal sound in her throat, but inside, something shifted just a bit. You really are something else, she thought.  

Her mind screamed at her to pull away, to put some distance between herself and you before she made a mistake, but here she was, still walking beside you, letting you prattle on and on.  

“Yeah, whatever, just don’t go blowing it on something stupid,” she muttered, though there was a flicker of something in her voice that she quickly smothered.  

You gave her a sidelong glance, not missing the subtle change. “You really do care, huh?”  

She didn’t answer, instead pushing her shoulders back and picking up the pace, determined to ignore the way her heart seemed to tighten. She could still feel the eyes of the people around you—at least, that’s what she told herself.  

But maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t just about saving you from getting yourself killed anymore. Maybe... she was just stuck with you, whether she liked it or not.  

“Keep dreaming, kid,” she said gruffly, her voice betraying none of the warmth creeping up her spine.  

“Aw, you're soft, Sev," you teased, and she felt her chest tighten even more.  

"Shut up, Streetie," she snapped, the words coming out far too fondly for her liking.  

“Streetie? that's a new one,” you giggle slightly, seeming to notice before you cleared your throat.

(turned it into a series :) p3 is out now!)

[steddie-island]

I Want Your Midnights

Written for @steddiebingo Countdown to Midnight Prompts: Five, champagne, clothed sex Rating: E | WC: 832 | Tags: Getting together, first kiss, semi-public sex, declarations of love

ao3 | Divider credit

Five!

"Oh god—"

Four!

"Shhh, gonna get caught—"

Three!

"Don't stop—"

Two!

"Never— never gonna stop—"

One!

"I love you—"

They were never going to hear the end of it. They'd slipped out before the ball dropped because Steve had needed to get some fresh air.

Fresh air had turned into sharing a cigarette, had turned into joking about midnight kisses and plans for the new year. That had felt less like joking, though. Steve had known what Eddie's plans were— get the hell out of dodge, hit the road with the band. They had gigs lined up in bars that would have way more than five drunks to appreciate them.

Eddie's alleged crimes made him a target in Hawkins, but in other cities they were something that could draw in a bigger crowd. At least there was one good thing that had come from their fucked up spring break.

Talking about plans made Steve's throat tighten and his sinuses burn. There were no more monsters to fight now that Vecna was gone. Robin had offers from a dozen colleges. The kids were getting older, they didn't need him to be the goddamn babysitter anymore. They didn't need him hanging around, hovering even worse than their parents. They didn't need him—

Eddie had been right there, stepping into Steve's space and resting a cold hand on the back of his neck, snapping him out of it before he could spiral into a full blown panic attack.

"You're not supposed to look so sad on New Year's Eve, big boy. Hasn't anyone ever told you that?"

The weight of Eddie's hand, the familiar scent of his leather jacket and the champagne on his breath, it was too much for Steve to resist.

He'd grabbed the lapels of Eddie's jacket, pulled him in, kissed him just this side of too hard.

Eddie's hand had tightened around Steve's neck, Steve had wrapped both arms around Eddie's shoulders before deepening the kiss with a swipe of his tongue.

Their first kiss tasted like Joyce's champagne. Their second kiss tasted like the promise of new beginnings, like open doors and futures that were different than what had been imagined but that fit a hell of a lot better.

They pulled apart just before they could get a third kiss in.

"C'mon." Eddie had taken Steve's hand, tugged him towards the steps and away from the house, towards Steve's new truck. It didn't offer as much privacy as Eddie's van would have, but they hadn't managed to get that back from Hawkins PD yet.

Still, it was better than getting caught with their dicks in their hands on the front porch.

"We'll freeze to death," Steve had argued.

Eddie had just shot him a grin, turned the truck on and got the heat going. "Not gonna be out here long enough for that to happen anyway."

Cold fingers fumbled to get their jeans open. Steve's stomach jerked when Eddie ran a hand up under his shirt and up towards his chest.

"Fuck—" Steve arched towards Eddie's body as Eddie worked a nipple between his fingers.

"Can't believe I get to touch Steve Harrington's tits on the first date," Eddie laughed against his mouth.

"Tit— what?" Steve huffed out a laugh that turned into a moan. They could talk about that later, when Eddie wasn't sucking a mark against his throat and when he wasn't trying to get his hand into Eddie's jeans.

"Jesus, how'm I s'posed to get at your dick? Your pants are too fucking tight—"

"Are you really complaining?"

"…No."

They had laughed together until their cocks were free. Then Steve was taking them both in hand, stroking them together.

"Jesus— Steve—"

Steve just nodded, tugged Eddie in to kiss him hungrily.

This wasn't the first time that Steve had imagined for them. There were no pillows, no roses, no soft lighting that would let Steve see all of Eddie's scars.

There were just cold hands, fogged up windows, the sounds that Eddie made as Steve worked them both closer and closer to the edge.

Hearing Eddie gasp his name as he spilled over their fists was better than any New Year's Rockin' Eve could ever hope to be.

It was only after, when they'd cleaned up and Eddie was curled against Steve's chest, that Steve got a look at the clock. He smiled and turned to press a kiss to Eddie's forehead.

"You think '87 is gonna be your year?"

Eddie turned his face towards Steve's neck, to kiss the hickey he'd left behind. "Did you mean it? When you said you loved me?"

Steve looked down at Eddie's face. The interior truck lights were off but the moonlight reflected off of the snow lit everything up with bright light. "Yeah. Of course I meant it."

Eddie kissed his jaw and held him that much tighter, pushing back any thoughts about whether he'd said it too fast, too soon.

"Then I think it already is."

[nayaesworld]

Mafioso

Part 2

__

Warnings: violence, past mentions of domestic situations, fluff

Terry X OC!Marina

__

Terry had been experiencing true bliss the last month he had spent with Marina. She was intelligent beyond words and found ways to teach him something new everyday. Whether it was her place or his, they carved out time from their busy schedules to spend quality time to get to know one another. Friday had rolled around and Marina was currently napping on his plush couch snuggled up with a thick throw blanket.Hands together underneath her chin as she snored lightly. This had been their ritual. She’d end her work week and spend the weekend with Terry.

And they shared similar stories about how they had grown up. Her mother Zen was also a single mother who was in a large city all by herself and they both were an only child. She spoke of the day her mother had finally finished school and became a labor and delivery nurse, she wanted to welcome babies into the world for the rest of her career. Marina spoke of the day they celebrated and how much she looked up to her mother. And Terry loved his mother dearly as well, he had provided her with the luxury of never having to work again, a gift for her sacrifice as a mother. She knew what he did, what he had to do for them to survive and yet his most current life decision she did not agree with.

She’d heard Marina talking in the back of their phone call one day and was currently icing him out for it. Grace had called Terry everything but a child of god, and was hell bent on not letting him make this “mistake” again. He caught on eventually to what or rather who she was referring to… a past toxic relationship that had fizzled out almost three years ago now. Terry was whoring and running through Houston like an angry bull when he met Carmen. They argued, fucked, and fought on a repeat constantly, tearing through his house, her house, vehicles you name it they had an altercation there.But eventually like most relationships like theirs the shit got old fast and he was tired of his face looking like he had gotten into an altercation with a mountain lion.

But Carmen didn’t leave peacefully, no that wasn't her. She disrespected his mother and attempted to slander his name in the media. It was messy and the cleanup to attempt to scrub his name clean of her lies cost him a pretty penny. Last he had heard, she had successfully trapped some poor unfortunate soul…rather them than him.But Marina hadn't exhibited any of the signs that Carmen had early on in their relationship. She was about her money, had dreams and aspirations, and above all else she was genuinely happy about life. The only words that soothe this mother were future promises of actually getting to meet Marina, that would have to do for now.

__

Terry tossed his head back and squeezed a few drops of eye drops into his eyes. Sleep had evaded him again the night before and his eyes felt tired and dry. His body felt stiff and sore from jumping out of a moving car the day before. Some shit that had to be done. Another day of asserting dominance and knocking heads off, the usual. His hands gripped the bathroom vanity as he closed his eyes to allow the solution to soothe his eyes. He was zoned out and didn’t hear Marina walking toward him, her warm hand reaching out and lightly rubbing his forearm made him flinch and pop his eyes open quickly.

“Oh-oh Terry I’m sorry… were you crying?” Her eyebrows rose in worry and stepped into the bathroom with him.

“No sweetheart, it’s just eye drops… I swear. You nap like a house cat you know..I’m starting to think you only come over to use my couch.” Terry capped the eye solution and placed it in his medicine cabinet before resting a hand on her waist.

“If you did the same you wouldn’t need those drops boo, I take my beauty sleep seriously and you should start Mr.Night Owl and maybe you’ll get as pretty as me.” He placed a hand to his chest in feigned hurt and chuckled at her.

“Oh so I’m not pretty enough for you already?” The hand on her waist slid up to gently rub against her back.

“Mhmh you belong on the cover of vogue.. now shoo I have to empty my bladder.” She rushed a juicy kiss to his cheek before he left her to give some privacy padding across the house to his bedroom.

He let his tense body sink into the recliner in the corner of his room. Body relaxing and sinking further into the plush expensive chair, his eyes slowly rolling into his head.

“Terry…oh Smiley you actually are sleepy aren’t you…so I guess that means I can’t beg you to go to Target with me huh?” He listened to her walk closer to him until she stood next to him, eyes still closed.

He loved when she called him Smiley, the nickname she created because she said anytime he smiled or grinned even just a little all 32 of his teeth would show.

“I was gonna drag my mama with me, but she flaked on me to go wine tasting…Smiley I need to go pick up some makeup stuff for our date tomorrow, will you come with me?” She rubbed her hand over his head softly and he leaned further into her touch and rested his head against her belly.

He pulled her down into his lap and she sat sideways squealing at his quick reflexes. She had taken off her bonnet and her sleek silk pressed hair flowed past her shoulders sleek and shiny.

“Mm I love your hair Mari… so soft and long.” He ran his fingers through the course strands pleased by how the new style framed her face and made her even more irresistible. “So pretty…I’ll go with you just let me change ok?”

__

“Terry no..I am not driving this, are you crazy..What if I wreck it?” Terry was in a fit of tears. He was currently trying to convince Marina to drive his BMW X6 to Target and she was not having it.

“Then I’ll just buy another one…remember what I showed you last time? Just put your foot on the gas and press the drive button right here.” He went over it again with her before she finally felt comfortable enough to back out of his driveway and head towards Target.

They stopped at Wendy’s after Marina got a craving for it a few minutes into the drive and she eagerly ordered them both large combos.

“Man just eat the burger, one burger won’t undo your six pack Smiley I promise.”

“You just got me breaking all my rules. Got me eating red meat and sweets…eating in my car. How you gonna pay me back for all this lack of discipline?”

“Will a kiss cover me for my bamboozling activity?” Terry gripped her chin and pulled her face close to his just close enough for the tips of their noses to touch.

Her dark eyes filled with mischief locked onto his…so tantalizing and expressive, even for him. She had a way with her eyes, and he always felt so bright and important when she looked at him. “A kiss will do just fine, pretty girl.”

He allowed her to lead the kiss, her plump lips pecking gently around his mouth trying to tempt his mouth open. He inevitably gave in, too eager to stroke and roll his tongue over hers. Heads cocked to the side Terry thrusted his tongue into her mouth lost in the feel of her soft cheek and tongue. It was so hot and warm and everytime they kissed he imagined the same feeling on the tip of his dick, pure ecstasy.

A knock to the passenger side window ceased their lip locking session and Terry groaned loudly. The ceramic tint on his windows had him mean mugging the man outside of his car. Motherfucking Scotty, a well known addict in the area that couldn’t be trusted. He would run his mouth to anybody that offered him a fix and for that reason alone Terry didn’t deal with him like everyone else did, and yet here he was In Terry’s face too damn close to the one new thing he was hiding from that part of his life— Marina.

Terry pulled the gold rim glasses from his face before looking over at Marina. “You know him?”

“I’ve seen him around town a few times.. he’s a good man that was dealt some bad cards in life. I help him out whenever I see him.” He reached into his wallet and pulled out a crisp 50 dollar bill and rolled his window down with his back to Marina he was prepared to give a silent warning. He didn’t like being ambushed.

“Hey man you just love popping up on me huh..here’s a little something to send you on your way, stay out of trouble.” Terry sent the man a smile that didn’t meet his eyes before Scotty got the memo and thanked him before he headed back to sit in front of the restaurant. Nosey ass nigga.

“That was sweet Terry, you know your giving nature is one of my favorite things about you.” He met her gaze with a smile before bringing her hand up to his lips to press a kiss to it.

__

Target wasn’t as bad as Terry had anticipated, he had frequented the store maybe once or twice but now he was seeing the hype in it. Marina surprisingly only came for one little makeup product, something she apparently couldn’t live without a brow gel or whatever she had called it. He was enjoying her company nonetheless though, they had a date planned Saturday and he was more than looking forward to it.

“Can I get a hint on where we’re going at least.” She was at the island inside his kitchen, engorging herself on the creamy Alfredo and salmon he had made for them nimble fingers gripping the wine glass filled with moscato.

Terry wiped the white cheesy sauce from his mouth with a napkin before giving her his attention “I want you surprised sweetheart… so no hints unfortunately. Just wear that little red number you showed me today and you got it baby.”

“Aww you’re no fun Smiley… but at least your wine is good to make up for it.” She raised her glass towards his and the glasses clinked together.

“Mm you’ll love it, it’s right up your alley, now that’s all the info I can give you…you’ll just have to wait until tomorrow…how’s the new episode of your podcast coming along?”

“Ehh it’s going..I have two different subjects I wanna talk about but I’m having trouble narrowing it down. One is speaking to me more than the other one though.” Terry chewed and swallowed a piece of salmon repositioning himself on the stool.

“I’d go with the one you favor then…it’s likely that one is sticking to you more because you have great insight on it. Which you usually do on all your topics.” He grabbed their plates and dumped the remains into his trash can before loading the dirty dishes into the dishwasher. “What’s the topic you're favoring?”

“It was more so a cocktail of things honestly, and it’ll probably be a really long episode. But it was drug abuse and the selling of drugs within our community.. and the obvious fucked up results of that on our youth and their futures.”

Terry felt his back tense up at her words before he relaxed himself. She had every right to talk about this and yet the topic couldn’t be any closer to home than it was. Here life was yet again trying to wave a red flag in his face, and it would be yet another ignored one.

“That’s a beautiful topic Mari..a really important one, I’ll be looking forward to hearing your points on it.”

Both tuckered out and tired from the day Terry headed towards one bathroom to shower and Marina headed to his other. His hands pressed firmly against the shower wall as the warm water cascaded over his sore muscles, his body called for plentiful hours of deep sleep. He was feeling deprived at this point but Marina brought him relief that sleep would come to him tonight peacefully and without the constant nightmares that haunted him. It was an attack on his mind and body that tossed him back and forth through REM sleep and deep sleep. Those souls he sought out and took came at a price, a mental one. Sometimes he wondered if he could actually ever shake the dead or if they wandered around him restlessly and unseen, waiting on their turn to torment him in the dreamworld.

He heard the tv in his bedroom switch on, an indication that somehow he was taking a longer shower than Marina had and that he was in his head longer than he had thought he was, he switched off the water before stepping out and wrapping his waist with a towel. Sleeping in bed with a woman that he had never had sexual relations with was new and he wouldn’t act as if he never thought about sex with her when she was around, because he did. Marina was fucking sexy. Her mind, her voice, her intelligence,her body..it was all a turn on for him but he was trying to do right by her, and that meant learning how to be intimate in more ways than sex.

Stepping out of his spacious walk-in closet fully clothed for bed he noticed the tv watching Marina as she laid against his pillows, remote still in hand. He accessed his smart home app from his phone and turned off his bedroom lights, weary body eager to sink into the cool mattress. She sought him out not long after he laid down, her bonnet clad head resting on his chest. He pulled her a little closer that night, her slow breathing and steady heartbeat lulling him into a deep slumber. A slumber where he met no angry souls or demons, only a warm light that encased him and drowned out the weariness.

__

“Only thing that’s saving Terry ohhh is the heart of Marinaaa.” Terry kept his left hand steady on the wheel as Marina held his right hand singing loudly into his ear as she currently butchered Summer Walker's newest single.Why he let her down those three shots of tequila he did not know. Either way it went he loved seeing her let loose, and she wasn’t particularly stuck or or anything he just rarely saw this side of her.

The red satin dress was made for her, and she was practically a magnet for his affection as they both got ready. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. Her soft plush thighs were exposed to him and when she dropped his hand he eagerly rubbed and kneaded them.

He couldn’t wait for her to see where they were going. He had called ahead days ago and made preparations at his restaurant; Stone Pier. It was best known for its plentiful surf and turf meal options, fun and fresh atmosphere, and elegant dining. He had planned a three course meal for them tonight over an intimate candlelit dinner.

It took no time to arrive and Marina’s confused expression was comical to him. The empty parking lot had to look absolutely insane from her point of view, but he needed her to trust the process. She sat still as Terry blindfolded her and waited patiently for him to help her out of his car. He opened the passenger side door grasping her head and slowly leading her into the building. He sat her down at the table and removed her blindfold. Pretty eyes adjusting to the low lighting in the establishment.

“Terry woww…this place is soo beautiful. I’ve passed by it so many times and never had the opportunity to check it out.”

“Well I own it so feel free to stop by whenever. I wanted this to be special, so I figured why not bring you someplace that was as special to me as you are.”

“Well you've definitely made a good impression, this place is amazing…is that a Malcom X quote over there on the wall?

“Mhm ‘A man who stands for nothing will fall for anything’ that’s one I keep with me everyday.” He watched her eyes drag all over the place soaking in one corner and the next.

“All the greenery in here..omg all the black history. Terry, this place is a true gem. Thank you for bringing me here Smiley.” They leaned forward and shared a kiss before Terry poured them both a glass of sweet red wine and signaled for his top chef to serve their first course and he and Marina indulged in more conversation.

__

The second course consisted of herb butter steak and lobster By their third course they were both full of food and wine. They shared a slice of decadent rum cake, savoring each bite of the moist cake. He watched Marina with lazy drunk eyes as she whined her waist slightly in her seat to Marvin Gaye’s ‘I Want You’. Pretty manicured fingers pointing in his direction with every lyric.

“You want me sweetheart.. give me a dance then. Show me.” He watched her confidently strut over to him and hold her hand out.

His long arms wrapped around her waist tightly, pulling her into his chest. His face nuzzled into her neck pecking at it lightly as they swayed under the glass roof, stars twinkling down at them in a dazzled fashion.

“I really like you Terry Richmond, I’ll admit that realistically I’m still a little nervous about this…but I’m learning to live in the moment and trust what I can see.”

“I really like you too Marina Evans. I’m trying my hardest to show up for you in ways that cater to you, my only hope is that in the end you choose me.” He twirled her around and held her back to his front holding her close.

They circled through a few more songs before they were ready to call it a night. He handed her his car keys to get inside while he locked up his restaurant. He shut down the dining lights and music before thanking his chef for being a huge help tonight. His phone vibrated on a repeat in his pocket and pulled it from the picket of his slacks, it was his cousin Semaj. Fuck. Semaj knew not to call him today yet he did, and that only meant one thing. Some bullshit had hit the fan, or it was going to.

[ -What’s the word man..I told you I couldn’t take no calls today about business.

[Scotty’s talking man, going around saying he been seeing you out with some girl..this shit could be a problem T. I told you that nigga was watching…he don’t just pop up.

[- If he been seeing me the whole time and I haven’t been seeing him.. it’s a chance he’s working with somebody… I thought that shit was weird earlier when he popped up but I couldn’t be too sure

[- Exactly, since when you know Scotty to be anywhere around this damn city besides the Southside… yeah something ain’t right T we need to get hands on him asap!

[- Never a day to fucking breathe around here shit.. I want you, Blue, and Prime with y’all motherfucking ears to the wind behind his ass. And don’t stop until yall find him.

[- Aight I’ll keep you posted every hour on the hour he can’t be far.

Terry ended the call and sighed heavily. He was pissed, fucking enraged. Somebody was snooping in his damn business and attempting to keep tabs on him like some coked out socialite. He wanted to regulate his temper before he was back in Marina’s grace but when he turned around he found a man talking closely to Marina through his passenger side window. His face scrunched up with confusion quickly as he made a quick walk over to his car.

“Hey my man… can I help you with something?” He had to look as agitated as he felt and the stupid expression on the man’s face was hard to ignore.

“Bro this car is fucking sick… I was just asking your girlfriend or you know whatever she is, what model this was, this has to be a custom paint job or something.” The man ran an open hand over the hood of Terry’s X6 irritating him even further.

“It’s not custom, it’s factory now get your hands off of my car and learn to admire some shit without touching it!”

“Are you kidding me man it’s just a fucking car, it’s probably rented anyways.” He sent a kick to his rear passenger door before attempting to walk away.

Terry couldn’t restrain himself anymore and he went flying at the disrespectful man. He snatched the man and turned him around to face him. How dare this man think he would walk up to him, disrespect his car and leave here unscathed.Balling the front of his shirt up Terry used it as leverage to send punch after punch to his face, he never even stood a chance against Terry.

“Terry..Terry.. wait please stop! Terry you’re gonna kill him..please.” Her helpless screeches reached his ears in a panic and Terry realized he had forgotten all about their date, his words to her. What did they really mean if he was going to beat somebody to a bloody pulp in front of her. With a menacing mug on his face he shoved the absolute waste of space to the ground and stepped over him like a patch of grass.

“Remember this ass whooping because next time I put my hands on you, they gone be singing and sending you off dressed in all black."

“Get in the car Marina…I’m ready to go.” He watched her eyes flash from the beaten man to him over and over, eyes clearly not believing the scene in front of her.

“Bu-but Terry he could die we have to call an ambulance..you can’t leave him like this please.” He shook his head no and watched a hand cover her mouth in an attempt to choke back tears.

“Get. In. The. Car. Marina..now.” She jumped at his tone before she hurried into the car, makeup smudged from the tears that came in a steady stream.

He whipped out of the parking lot quickly, headlights catching the woozy steps of the beaten man as he stumbled away.

“See he’s all good..Marina sweetheart what’s all these tears for hmm, I’m the one that got disrespected. Was I supposed to let him walk away after that shit?!” His raised voice boomed in the confined space of his vehicle and he watched her put space between them. Her body pressed into the passenger side door as she thumbed tears.

“Oh I see, I’m the bad guy now…he was all in your face by MY window touching on MY car, but you only feel bad for him…got it.” Terry gripped the steering wheel tightly and sped down the freeway. This night had turned for the fucking worse and even still he was trying to mince his words.

“Why are you yelling at me… you just assaulted someone in front of me Terry, and then you threatened to kill him. You keep speaking like I’m blaming you but I asked you to stop…to just please let him go..and yo-you just wouldn’t stop.”

“What I saw back there…that wasn’t the Terry or Smiley I’ve been getting to know…you didn’t even look like yourself back there, your face and eyes were just..I don’t know. I think I’m going to spend the rest of my days off at my own home.. I don’t even get you right now.” She continued on, and he was realizing each passing minute how royally he had fucked up.

“I fucked up Mari..I see that now. I realize that what I did back there scared you and if you think less of me after it that’ll be all on me, but I don't regret it.” Pulling into his drive way he shut off his car and rested his head against the headrest.

“You keep buckling down on what you did, but you said you would kill him. Terry, that's not something I can just ignore because he kicked your car, that’s not normal to blurt out after an altercation so small. You really hurt my feelings, and I have to think about me first.”

“Am I going to hear from you again..see you…touch you?” When he reached out to touch her she pulled away, her dark eyes turning to stare at him, analyzing what actually was in front of her. She shook her head and sighed to herself before opening the door, but Terry got up to help her out instead. She hesitated to give him her hand, but eventually she let him help her out.

He pulled her into a tight hug, fingers inching up slightly into her hair to tug lightly at it. The hairspray she used tickled his nose as he inhaled the scent of it. Her hands stayed at her sides and she made no attempt at returning the affection.

“I’m not sure Terry, I need time to think and process tonight. It was all going so well before that and I wanted to trust what you told me, but I need time.”

“A kiss goodbye then?” She looked up at him and pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth before attempting to walk away. Terry pulled her back and held her face in his hands, full lips sucking her bottom lip into his mouth as his teeth slowly nipped at it. He wanted to savor what was left of this night because she still looked oh so good, and he still wanted her. He got as far as suckling against her jaw before she put a hand to his chest severing the connection.

“Goodnight Terry” she walked away without a backwards glance and he watched her leave from his driveway until he couldn’t see her car anymore.

He had plans on winning her back, and hopefully gaining what little trust back she had in him from the get go. Terry was a resourceful man with every resource possible at his fingertips, this situation was a bump in the road. Some shit she wouldn’t even remember eventually. So he’d let her run away for the night, get her pretty little head together for a few days. Then he was gonna win her back, one day at a time.

__

A/N: I said 10pm yesterday and it’s going on 8am😭I hope yall enjoy this nonetheless!

@blackmoonchilee @zillasvilla @simplyzeeka @megamindsecretlair @uniqueoutlierblog @blackerthings @keehendrixx @ranikyani @ms-mosley-ifunastyyy @tvchi @23jammy @henneseyhoe @theereina @ovohanna24 @pocketsizedpanther @writingsbytee @venusincleo @grlsbstshot @yassbishimvintage @avoidthings @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @blowmymbackout @kimuzostar @playgurlxoxo @kumkaniudaku @keyaho @brattyfics @uzumaki-rebellion @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

# Aaron pierre #rebel ridge #terry richmond #black!oc #terry richmond black oc

[theeroins]

If I say that I'm not used to people misinterpreting my favorite characters, I'd be lying. But the way they get so many things wrong about Inho's character is kinda pissing me off because you KNOW that most of them do it to cancel out the possibility of InHun being *something* more than what's shown so far. You don't ship them, that's fair, frankly I don't care. Everyone's entitled to their own opinion UNTIL your opinion is wrong.

Let's talk about a couple of things I've seen being talked about on tiktok (🙄)

“Inho joined the games because ilnam said that it'd basically be more fun to play than to watch so he followed his example." loud incorrect buzzer ! Inho has joined the games before, and not only that, he's also a previous winner, so therefore he's very much aware of what it's like to be a part of it, he's experienced them first hand, just like he's experienced the atrocities of it. they've changed him for the worst and possibly caused him a huge trauma —they're the reason he's lost faith in humanity after all— so, why would he crave to relive it just for the thrill of it? i, personally doubt he even enjoys watching the game.

“Inho didn't look at Gihun with love, he likes to watch him suffer” Short answer is no. He doesn't like to watch him suffer, neither he looked at him with love, not the pure kind of love at least. Two things can be true at once. Inho spent half the season staring at Gihun because everything about the man intrigued him; His determination, his stubbornness, his kindness, his hope, his heart that's full of love despite the pain he suffered, even the pain in his eyes every time someone got eliminated in front of him as if it was the first time it had happened, as if the cruelty of it all surprised him every damn time. How can someone, who's been through the same things Inho has been through, be the polar opposite of him?

now, the reason(s) that I think Inho actually joined the games for..

(yes I am an Inhun shipper, does that make my opinion a little biased? maybe. do i still believe I'm right? absofuckinglutely.)

Let me clarify this: Inho is NOT a good man, no matter the redemption arc he might get in s3, he'll continue to be a terrible person because nothing will ever erase the blood he's spilled and the evil men he's worked for. BUT at the same time, he's not ALL bad, not like the VIPS and ilnam. See, Inhun are the average "yin-yang" trope in fictional romance, (which I eat up every time and I find it very interesting when it's done the right way, don't get me wrong) Inho is bad but there's some goodness somewhere deep inside him. And the only person who's brought it to the surface is Gihun. Sure, he does think Gihun is naive, but he's also the only person who's actually challenged him, who's "forced" him to get his stupid head out of the dirt and look around him, even for a short while and Inho definitely liked what he saw. Honestly, it wasn't even that hard for Gihun to do so because the goodness in Inho wanted and waited for someone to pull him out of the dirt, he wished for someone, something to give him hope for humanity or.. anything. Anything that'll help him escape from his misery.

You can definitely argue that he joined the games to befriend Gihun, to gain his trust and stop his plans when the time comes, which is half true. But keep in mind that he needed to justify his choice to join the games. He's not a VIP nor the mastermind to simply get to do that without consequences. He's the frontman, the one who controls and manages everything. He's needed for the games to work and go by smoothly and successfully without unnecessary losses and problems. Gihun would only cause problems, Inho knew that very well and yet he chose to put him in it once again. He recklessly made that choice, risking pretty much everything because of his inner conflict. A part of him wanted Gihun to prove himself to him, that there's indeed good that'll save the world and the rest of him wanted to prove to Gihun that everything he so strongly believes in is merely a fantasy.

Joining the games and befriending Gihun was the only way for Inho to see the real him, without the heroic mask he puts on every time he faces the frontman. I think he believed that someone as extraordinary as Gihun will either break in front of him and he will end up disappointed by the human kind once again, or Gihun will change everything about the way he thinks for the better. But the problem is that Inho hopes for both of those things at the same time.

And that was Inho's arc in season 2. His inner conflict and how it will affect him, the game and Gihun later on.

[copinghex]

Sharing a pair of gloves with Tommy

"How fast do you think a Rolls-Royce can go?" Tommy asked, sitting down at the edge of the bed behind his wife.

"You wouldn't content yourself with less than the fastest," she applied some more cologne and continued, "if you want to get there faster then quit sulking and get my gloves, I'm almost done," 

He sighed and stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Usually, he loved to watch her getting ready to go out, tonight wasn't one of these times. The party they'd attend wasn't too far, but Tommy had the habit of arriving early and she certainly would make him late.

"You look beautiful already," he whispered in her ear, making a shiver run down her spine, however she knew it was just another trick of his.

"Tommy," she pushed him away, "the gloves, will you?" 

"Tsk, which ones?" he walked to the wardrobe.

"The black ones, to match my coat," 

He lit up a cigarette before opening a drawer with scarfs, stockings, hats, but no black gloves.

"Where are they?" he asked.

"There," 

"No, not in the drawer," 

"Of course they are, Tommy, just take a better look at it," she argued while fixing her lipstick.

He held himself back from cursing at her petulance. He wasn't blind nor stupid, the gloves weren't there.

"They're not here, I'm telling you," 

"Tommy, they're my black leather gloves, the winter ones! Look at the glove drawer!" 

"I am! And they're not here," 

"Look somewhere else then, I'm almost done," 

"Look where? I don't do the fucking laundry," 

"Neither do I, Tom, they should be at the drawer," 

"Well, they're not," 

"Oh, for fucks' sake," she cursed "ask Frances, she'll know," 

"We don't have time for that," 

"Tommy," she finished her makeup and took her coat from the hanger, "it's freezing outside, I need gloves," 

"Alright, fine," Tommy walked to his part of the wardrobe and took his own pair of leather gloves, it looked exactly like hers, except for the size, "there you go," 

She stared at the gloved in his hands and gulped, "What about you?" 

"What about me?" 

"Don't you have another pair?" 

"Of leather ones, no,"

"Then I can't take these from you, Tommy, it's not fair," 

"Love, for fuck's sake, I just want to leave," 

Sitting down at the bed, she sulked like a child, unwilling to admit that the reason why she was taking so long to get ready was because she didn't want to go, it's freezing outside and all she wanted was to stay home with her husband.

"Don't," Tommy scolded, "don't give me a fucking pout, it won't work, put the fucking gloves on and take yourself to the car," 

"I-" she shrugged off, "I can change my dress to match another pair of mine," 

"No, no fucking way, stand up," despite his harsh tone, he pulled her up gently, "c'mon, we have ten minutes," 

"Take it," she gave his gloves back, "I'll change,"

"You take this coat off and I'm leaving you here," 

"You wouldn't," she stood close to his face, "you wouldn't," 

Tommy pressed his lips together and slowly nodded, holding her arms, he explained the situation like he'd do to a child, "Listen, this dinner is important for the legitimate business,"

"...why?" 

"Because if we cause a good impression, more people will believe we're legitimate and we'll get more partnerships, do you understand?" 

With a frustrated sigh, she agreed, "...I still won't take your gloves though," 

"Alright, take just one then," 

"What?" she giggled while Tommy put one glove on his hand and the other on hers.

Holding her naked hand with his own, he put them in his pocket, in a way both could be warm, "It's not ideal, but it's the best we have now, eh? Let's go."

[heartssturnioloo]

could you do virgin!bsf chris and reader.

eg. they were playing truth or dare and it starts to get freaky and chris couldn’t answer the questions and ended up admitting he was a virgin so reader decides to help him learn how to have sex ect.

also can i be 🧸 anon?

virgin ~ c. sturniolo

warnings ‼️: nsfw content ahead, 🔞, consume with your own risk, smut, p in v, unprotected sex, fingering, loss of virginity

a/n: working through requests i promise 😫😫, not proofread, first time writing smut so may not be that good 😢

a/n: anon added

dividers by @/anitalenia 💞💞

wc: 794

“Truth?” you respond to Chris, “Let me think.”

At this point, you were high on dopamine, the rush blurring your consciousness, not fully in control of your actions.

“Are you a sub or a dom?” you ask Chris, your best friend. This was definitely crossing some unexplored boundaries in your friendship— but you were too into the game. Plus, there was no harm in answering such a vague question, right? It wasn't too invasive.

As the words leave your mouth, a hint of a blush quickly dusts over Chris’ cheeks, panning down onto his neck.

“Come onnnn… it's not that bad!” you argue, “Unless, you accept losing?”

“No, it's not that, it's just…” Chris starts.

“Are you a switch?” you interrupt.

“No, it's that…” Chris tries again.

“Don't enjoy either?” you interrupt again.

Having no choice, Chris decides to just blurt his answer out, “I'm a virgin.”

That instantly shuts you up, your eyes widening at him, just staring at him.

“...What?” you manage to say.

Chris groans in embarrassment, hiding his face in his hands, the previously dust of red has now become a roaring shade of red, coating his face and ears.

“Listen, I know how it sounds…” he tries to defend himself.

“But how? You're always flirting with basically everyone and all the girls have a crush on you,” you ask, completely bewildered at his confession, thinking it must be some sort of joke.

“Fuck… this is embarrasing,” Chris says, looking up from his hand covered face, “It just never happened. It's not a bad thing, alright?”

“Right, it's not a bad thing, but I just didn't expect that from you of all people.”

“It doesn't mean anything, I'm still experienced in other ways,” Chris justifies.

“Like what?” you continue, prying to know more. This wasn't something you two would ever talk about, but since you have the opportunity now, why not take it?

“Kissing, fingering, all that stuff. Nothing much I haven't done.”

“But nothing is as good as the real thing,” you argue.

“Yeah?”

And that's how you found yourself laid on your back, your sweatpants pulled to your ankles as Chris towered above you, pulling out his semi-hard length with one hand and rubbing your clit through your panties with the other.

He goes to pull your panties down, and you help him by lifting your hips up, Chris sliding them to your ankles.

You kick off the clothing gathered at your ankles, now somewhere on the floor, scattered with clothing, as Chris pulls off his shirt.

“We'll just start off with missionary?” you ask Chris.

He nods along, resuming working his fingers on your clit, while lazily stroking hwitcock with his other hand.

Spitting on his fingers, his fingers linger on your clit for a few moments before inserting one of his fingers inside your already dripping pussy, clenching around him.

At this point, his cock is rock hard, resting upright against his stomach.

“I think I'm wet enough,” you say, almost a whisper.

Chris nods and pauses fingering you, “Can I?”

“Yeah, we'll go slow,” you reply, despite it being his first time, he actually seemed to have an idea of what he was supposed to do.

Pulling his fingers out briefly, he quickly replaces them with the head of his length.

You both pause for a moment, adjusting to the moment before you lock eyes with each other, knowing you both want more.

Chris pushes in more, filling you up, eliciting a simultaneous gasp from both of you— he was stretching you out and you were clenching around his cock.

He can't keep his eyes off at the way he enters you, the way you accept him.

By the time he's completely buried in you, all previous awkwardness has faded, replaced with lust and desire for each other.

Slowly, Chris begins thrusting in and out of you, each thrust stronger than the previous, each thrust making you wetter, each thrust making him want more.

Your moans fill the room, at that point, your friendship boundaries had been crushed and swept away, too entranced in the moment.

Chris’ head falls back, groans spilling from his parted lips, still thrusting.

Your legs wrap around his waist, wanting more as you begin to feel the familiar feeling of the knot in your abdomen.

“Chris, I'm gonna…” you manage to breathe out through your moans, captivated in ecstasy.

“I know… me too,” Chris whispers, breathily his thrusts become more sloppy.

Chris aids you towards release by focusing his fingers on your clit, enhancing your pleasure.

Eventually, you see white and pleasure rushed through your veins, all around your body.

Similarly, Chris pulls out and finishes on your lower abdomen, laying beside you.

“I think I prefer being a dom.”

taglist 💞:

@joces-wrld

@madisonsfavgirl

[ahsoka-in-a-hood]

Crawling out of my cave for one more round.......

Eh, for that I'd have to subscribe to the idea that they didn't work at all in the outer rim as hard canon, which I don't. See I'm far too fond of Quinlan Vos. A character that has grown across multiple continuities from a random tall dark and handsome guy in the background on Tatooine in the phantom menace to beloved star of my heart. What exactly was he doing on Tatooine? Who knows, he is mysterious as the dark side of the moon. He works in the shadows. Why did he not interact with Qui Gon in TPM? Aside from the fact that he wasn't really a character then… maybe he was in deep cover. Maybe he had whole networks of lives on the line. Maybe he was helping an underground railroad. Maybe he was rescuing toddlers from the jaws of death while I Need A Hero played in the soundtrack

(it's not like there being no activity in the outer rim is an unfair extrapolation from just the film, mind, it's not just not a given. "the republic doesn't exist out here"- Shmi. "i didn't come here to free slaves"- Qui Gon. But Shmi did say the republic and can hardly be omniscient, and Qui Gon was talking about himself, as a guy on an entirely different mission with a ship full of political refugees being actively hunted down who ended up stranded entirely by accident on random planet number however many thousand that he nevertheless knew enough about to be the giver of exposition to the literal ruler of a neighboring planet and now that I think about it, that's sort of funny. The film is pretty clear on the jedi not being able to maintain justice across the entire galaxy, for sure, but it also doesn't argue that they don't do anything at all, and there's a pretty big difference between doing nothing and doing a bit, in my book.)

Anyway, on Mandalore. Is there an implication that Mandalore at that time wasn't worthy of aid? Obi Wan is sometimes loose with the truth, but even if he was exaggerating when he said that most of Satine's people were killed in the civil war, that's still a major level of brutality and civilian death. If more than half a world's population is getting killed, that's a huge crisis and tragedy. Is that alone not enough of a motive?

And then let's consider Deathwatch, the major faction that was active at that time. We get to know deathwatch in tcw. We see how they operate- they conquer a settlement, steal all their resources, kidnap all the young girls as hostages and force them to serve them. It's dark as shit. And they are explicitly imperial revivalists. I'm going to make a silly comparison, but imagine if like. Britain was in a civil war, and there was an army of far right extremists who were gaining ground in a reign of terror under a banner of rebuilding the british empire, with like maps of imperial britain on their flags and plans to take back the colonies etc etc. Would it be politically motivated to protect the leaders of the opposition to that when they were in exile with assassins after them? Sure. But like. Maybe the rest of the world doesn't want to have to deal with an attempt at british empire number 2.0, if they won their internal war. And I would say that's fair enough, actually. So maybe the "potential resource" they would gain is not having an army of mandalorians trying to invade planets and enslave people in 10 years time.

Intervention is a tricky thing though. We're all familiar with the damage missionaries can do, and with how 'soft power' is often exploitative. If this were a history book, the basic assumption would be that there's very little altruism in politics. But this is a story. The thing about Satine and Obi Wan is that we get a strong sense, from the very first arc about them, that Satine is not a client queen/puppet/corrupt and Obi Wan is not there to manipulate her on the chancellors behalf. This is, in fact, the plot of those three episodes. Satine is fiercely protective of Mandalorian independence, does trust the jedi as long as they're acting as an independent body, and Obi Wan actively helps her thwart not only deathwatch, but also Chancellor Palpatine's scheme to get Mandalore under his control. He explicitly does not subvert Mandalore on behalf of those controlling the republic.

And now I'm going to invite you to imagine Quinlan again. Standing on a sand dune, a breeze ruffling his hood, gazing out into the soft light of dawn, with a face that could have been chiseled by the gods,

Okay so I’m thinking about how Satine’s initial reaction to Obi Wan’s visit is really hostile until he explains he’s there on behalf of the jedi council, not the republic, causing her to immediately relax. How that whole arc is about her resisting republic attempts to encroach on Mandalore and the neutral system’s sovereignty and independence, and how she is so consistently insistent on that. And I’m thinking about Obi Wan’s description of his year on Mandalore during their civil war- how they were ‘living hand to mouth,’ aka they had little to no funding or resources for the mission, and also just the simple fact that… as far as I know Mandalore isn’t in the republic so how they operate there is fundamentally different to how they would operate on a republic planet?

So anyway I’m now convinced that that mission was not affiliated with or funded by the republic. This was a jedi operate independently sometimes sort of situation.

[betsj]

Battle

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍵 ⋅

✩°｡🦦 warning: angry izuku, public??, degrading, pet names, maybe OOC? and smut

✩°｡🦦 summary: you threw yourself into battle, it was a risky move but it saved so many people. other hero’s were proud but izuku thought differently.

✩°｡🦦 he isn’t a minor, he’s 28 😒

Cheering erupted as the hero rose from the dust and smoke on the ground. "The heroes have done it again!" A reporter yelled above the loud crowd in the street.

You were put above the crowd, name being chanted by kids and their parents along with elders. Ochako ran over to you as soon as the hero's put you down, "Are you okay?!" Nodding with a hurt-smile, "Yes… Shoto was able to help me as well.” High-fiving him as he walked past you.

She was talking to you but it was cut short when Izuku grabbed you by your arm and dragged you off to the side of broken buildings, where multiple cars laid around and debris. Shoving you against a car, "What the hell was that?" Knitting your eyebrows together...

Izuku has never reacted like this before...

Calmly, you said, "What's the matter Izuku?" Trying to get off the car but Izuku wasn't having none of that. In a frustrated voice he yelled, "You could've died!" Eyes widening, looking around to see if anybody was peeking around corners... nobody, you thought. "I know but if somebody didn't do anything, everybody could've died." Izuku wasn't breaking.

"You need to stop throwing yourself out like that!"

Scoffing, "You cannot talk!"

Izuku and you have been together since the last year of high school. You knew everything he's been through so, he has no room to talk... "Izuku I understand you're mad but you can't be a hypocrite as well." His green eye twitches and that was the last straw.

Flipping you around, making sure your stomach was flat on the hood of the car. In a gasp, he pressed his legs against yours, using all of his strength, you couldn’t move at all. "Iz-Izuku, what're you doing?!" No answer. So you asked him again in a panicked tone when you felt him pull the zipper down. "Out here?! Really?!" Before you could push yourself up, he took your wrists with his right hand while his left worked on your hero suit.

"You're going to feel how mad," Pushing his bulge against your now exposed panties, groaning "I get when you put yourself at risk."

Closing your eyes, panting and probably drooling... you and Izuku have talked and argued about the risk of throwing yourself in danger but you didn't know it angered him this much. Believe when you say, you like when Izuku is in control but not like this... he's usually soft and gentle. Mad Izuku? It made you shutter.

Letting out a loud moan when three fingers were shoved into your now, soaked hole. Likewise, he wasted no time to start fingering and opening you but it was so rough it made you start crying. Hearing him chuckle, "C'mon don't act like you don't like this." Once he hit a spot that made your thighs squeeze his hand, he said "You're always begging me to go harder and faster, so here ya go." Shaking your head, finally looking back, "No-Not like this! Not out in the open!”

Izuku almost falters from seeing how desperate you looked for him to be softer but he couldn't, you pissed him off for the last time. You also haven’t yelled y’all safe word: hunter.

Rubbing your clit hard and in circles to ring an orgasm out. It took everything in you to overpower him. In a whimper, "At least look at me Izuku, please."

It was quiet before you felt your wrists being let go and you were put into missionary. Seeing him made you feel better... still soaking wet, so you moved your hips. "Such a whore sometimes," He grinned and smacked your pussy... his dick was already set free, seeing it made you whine.

Anytime y'all had sex missionary, you held your ankles up but not this time. Izuku had a tight grip on them, using one of his hands to align himself to your entrance, "Ready?" Nodding immediately, he laughed and pushed in quickly.

Both letting out a moan in unison. "Fuck you're tight..." He began to move and it didn't take long for him to pick up a quick pace. Hips slamming hard into your thighs and his balls were hitting your ass.

"Izuku! Oh God!" He was sweating and panting over you and his right hand left your ankle to push down on your stomach, "That feel good?" Nodding, feeling tears run down your face again, "Yes!" You didn't realize it but your own hand began circling your hard clit.

That turned Izuku on a lot.

Pushing himself to the brim, whimpering, "Oh fuck... your pussy feels so good, baby."

"Izuku, my love, I-I'm about to..." He nodded, "Come on my dick, you whore." Throwing your head back while pulling him down to kiss him. Moaning into his mouth... it took four thrusts for him to pull out and jerk himself off, finishing on your stomach.

Y’all both were panting in sync, not saying a word before you mumbled, “I should throw myself out there more if this is what I get.” Izuku sat up, glaring down at you.

Giggling, “I’m joking.” Sitting up and pulling him into a hug.

izuku mmmm

[veggiesxxx]

POV: You spend time with a guy "behind their back." (Part 3/4)

(reader is NOT cheating!!)

ft. Jealousy, fluff,

𝒵𝒶𝓎𝓃𝑒

3pm. Your upcoming consultation with Dr. Zayne was in about...15 minutes, give or take if he wasn't too busy with a troublesome patient. You sat in the waiting room of Akso hospital, fiddling with your fingers, waiting for your appointment with the surgeon.

"Y/N! Hey, hey... Long time no see!" A cheerful voice pulled you from the mindless gazing around the room you had been doing. You straightened out your shirt, not wanting to look sloppy in front of an acquaintance.

"Oh, hey..!' Your lips played into a smile, quickly taking in your friend's appearance. You noticed a small box of exquisite chocolates in his hand, and they had a cute ribbon tied to it, like a gift. "Who's the lucky girl?" You teased, eyeing the box.

"Ah.. They're just for you. Don't think so much about it.. Didn't know what you liked– and I know I missed your birthday. Sorry about that." He answered sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck, eyes on the polished floor.

'Oh- me? That's sweet. Thank you so much-" you said, touched by the gesture. You were just about to take the chocolate from him, when an authoritative voice rang out.

"She can't have them."

Huh?

You raised your head, averting your gaze to the direction the familiar voice had come from. Your friend looked up, puzzled, arm still outstretched to give you the box, pausing mid-way. You blinked in confusion.

"Dr. Zayne?"

"Sorry.. who is this?" Your friend's confused voice echoed your own perplexed remark.

"I'm her doctor," He replied coolly, expression somewhere between subtle annoyance and false politeness. He placed himself a little between you and your coworker, effectively joining the little exchange. Your friend's outstretched arm fell to his side, the chocolate box hanging loosely in his grip.

"Is she sick? Y/N, are you allergic? I'm so sorry-"

"No- no, I'm not." You quickly clarified, not wanting to tell an untruth to someone who you didn't meet too long ago. The man tried to hand you the box again after your confirmation, only to be blocked by Zayne.

"She can't have sugar.. You'll have to keep them." Zayne used a gloved hand to push the chocolate box back firmly towards the other man, his words telling him one thing, but his eyes were telling a different story.

"She says she's fine, though." Your friend tilted his head, obviously skeptical.

"Sorry. Doctor's orders."

After a moment, you sighed, defeated, shifting in your seat to make eye contact with your friend. Apologetically, you shook your head. "Uhm.. You should go, I'll see you another day."

At a loss of what to do, he heeded your advice and nodded, bidding an awkward goodbye to you and Zayne before heading out of the hospital.

"What was that about?" you frowned, standing up.

"Your health."

"Really? Well then, I'm sure everything is alright now." Your eyes narrowed, tone sarcastic, moving to look Zayne in the eye. He turned around to face you. 'You can't just do that," you added.

He didn't respond, expression softening, though his posture remained unyielding. He gestured for you to follow him to his office for your consult. You first wanted to refuse, and not follow until he apologised or something, but you also wanted to have the freedom to chide him.

"I 'can't have sugar'? Aren't we going to a dessert café right after your shift?" You replied, trailing behind him.

"It's different."

"How?"

"I'll supervise whatever you consume."

You realised it was quite impossible to argue with Zayne a long time ago— this man could be so very stubborn if he wanted to. Like an unmoving ice wall.

"You could've let me handle it-"

"I could've," he acknowledged. "But that would have also included you accepting the gift."

You sighed, shaking your head, though a small, fluttery feeling bubbled up in your chest despite your annoyance. “Zayne, you can’t just scare off everyone who gives me a gift.”

“I didn’t scare him,” Zayne said defensively, his voice lowering as he leaned in slightly. “I just… prioritised your health."

"Right.. because doctor's orders.." You mocked lightly.

"I did him a favour. He just doesn't know it yet." He answered nonchalantly, pushing open the door to his office, letting you in. You took a seat on his little sofa.

"A favour?" You repeated incredulously, raising a brow. "For what, exactly?"

"To not waste his time on someone he can't have." Zayne sounded calm, casually adjusting the stethoscope into his ear, pressing the cold chest piece over your heart. After a minute, he removed it. "It's fast,"

"What?"

"Your heart. But there's no fluctuation. Still, would be safer if I conducted a quick test."

"You're being ridiculous.. You can't scare off my colleague then proceed like nothing happened-!" you complained, but not resisting when his fingers lightly pushed against your shoulder, lowering you to lay on the sofa. He pushed up his glasses, expression unchanged, raising his eyes to look at you.

"Consider this an official prescription then: No accepting gifts from other men." He had a little smile on his face, like he was very happy with himself.

"...Why do I put up with you?" you asked, exasperated.

"..Because you know I'll always take care of you."

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧༶

Hope you enjoyed!!

Next :

╰┈➤ Xavier (Part 4/4) [coming soon]

Previously :

╰┈➤ Sylus (Part 2/4)

[myriadparacosm]

Black Beats Black - snippet 2 chapter 9: Blazing Star

because this part still makes me laugh

"How come you're so fine with it?"

"Wormy, shut it," James says with a scowl. "I'm starting to think you're actually plotting— are you?"

Peter throws him a flat look and glances at Sirius. "Why would I do that? I just find it weird that Sirius almost threw his brother in your arms."

"I can't just be a nice supportive brother?" Sirius argues but he doubts that Peter is actually trying to mess with them. "And I didn't throw them in each other's arms. I just saw good— opportunities."

"Well, you and Regulus don't really get along. Until now. And then Prongs is all— Prongs."

"What? What does that mean?" James asks when he sees Remus nodding wisely at Peter's words.

"And that's exactly why."

"Oi, insult me to my face at least."

"It's a compliment, Prongs," Sirius dismisses.

"I'm pretty sure we agreed that we never date mate's siblings. Don't you remember with Marlene's sister?"

"What's that?" Remus perks up at Sirius' gasp.

"Shut it!"

"She had this gigantic crush on Sirius."

"It's not my fault!"

"Meryl?"

James nods. "And Peter has always been sweet on her-"

He gasps. "That's not true!"

"Oh, you liar," Sirius hisses because it's his fault that it was even brought up.

"What happened?" Remus asks.

James grins viciously. Sirius kicks at the table's foot instead of his shin as he throws him a dark look. "That was the first time Sirius could sleep over, back in second year, and we had Marlene over with Meryl."

"She studies in— Belgium, right?"

"Yeah at the Naaszcademy. Meryl was pretty much always into Magizoology so she only did her first 4 years here, passed exams to enter the school and studies there for— another year, I reckon? She is doing a speciality or something."

Sirius busies himself with his butterbeer. Peter shoots him an accusing look, to which he replies with a scoff and foam spitting around.

"I vaguely remember her. She was in Ravenclaw, right?"

"She was. Wormy and I knew since we were children and he had this huge-"

"I didn't!"

"You let her do everything on you."

"Woah."

"We were playing healers!"

"And potioners. And tailors. And magizoologist."

Peter glares at James with flaming cheeks before turning on Sirius. "Anyhow, she met Sirius once when we slept over at James and Sirius broke his heart."

"I didn't!"

"You did!"

James shakes his head at them and leans across the table to reach Remus. "See, Wormy liked Meryl who was seduced-"

"I didn't seduce anyone!" Sirius exclaims.

"So it was an awkward weekend."

Remus chuckles, amused eyes pausing on Sirius as if it's his fault. "I can imagine."

"I didn't do anything," he insists with a scowl. "I was just having fun with my mates and she was there!" His head snaps toward Peter muttering in his drink. "How is it my fault?! I was only twelve! And you could have told her something."

Peter blushes and his jaw tightens in indignation. "Not with you around."

"Merlin, you're a prat."

"You're a slag!"

"Obviously nothing happened," James resumed. "Marlene got pissed that Meryl pestered her about Sirius and she made this huge scene after the break that no one is dating anyone's siblings because that would be disgusting. We all agreed."

Peter scoffs. "And yet you're dating Sirius' brother, hence breaking the deal."

Remus bursts out laughing at that and Sirius straightens in his seat to look at James.

"That's true!"

"No! We promised about sisters, si-sters," James insists. "And back then you weren't even talking to Regulus."

"Oh, this is such a low blow! You know it counts and we did say siblings!" He argues, despite the half-truth. At that time, Regulus had been barely on his mind. How foolish.

"Brotherfucker," Peter mutters.

Sirius slaps his hand on the table. "I should have tattoed-" Remus quickly hushes him- "that on your lying arse!"

"Regulus wasn't part of the deal!"

"He is my brother!"

James pauses. "Well, it was about sisters."

"It was about siblings!"

[beef-brisket]

Charlie gasped as a spear touched her throat. Once Adam and Lucifer realised she wasn't following, they turned and saw a short haired woman standing behind Charlie. Her spear outstretched.

Exorcist: Holt! In the name of the Father!

Charlie's eyes widened and slowly turned around. The woman's mouth hung open as she looked at the taller woman, her spear dropping.

Vaggie: C-Charlie...?

Charlie smiled and gently cupped her check: I'm so glad you're okay-! I thought they would have made you fall!

Vaggie leaned into her touch, resting her hand on top of Charlie's: N-No, I didn't fall. They... made a lot of threats. But I'm okay. And you're... with Adam?

Charlie glanced back at the two men who had unreadable expressions: Uh, yeah. It's a long story. Look, I think I'm going back to Hell, so maybe I'll send word to you somehow.

Vaggie: Okay, love. If not... maybe I can see you during the extermination-.

Lucifer: Extermination?

Adam: Hey, babe? Maybe not now.

Lucifer glared up at Adam: "Not now"? What do you mean by that? I'm the king, I should know about whatever this extermination is.

Adam rolled his eyes: Don't throw that king bullshit around with me. It won't work. Second, there's a lot of shit going on in Hell that you need to know about. But that's a conversation for when we get back.

Lucifer wanted to argue but decided not to. This wasn't the time or thr place, and he wasn't sure what headspace Adam was in.

Kissing her girlfriend, Charlie promised to see her again before going to the men's side to continue their way.

Charlie: Okay, we should be further enough away for you to open a portal, Lu.

Lucifer nodded and did as suggested. As Adam and Charlie walked through the portal, he felt eyes on him. Turning around, he saw Michael standing a few yards away.

He couldn't read his emotions. His face was blank, and his eyes looked dead. It was actually unsettling. But with a glare, Lucifer stepped into the portal and arrived back in Hell.

Once he stepped foot into his palace, he saw Adam checking over Charlie, making sure she was okay.

Charlie: I promise Adam, I'm fine! Really!

She laughed as he checked her hair and face.

Adam smiled: I don't know, kid. I could have sworn you were fighting the first man by yourself.

Charlie scoffed: Like he was a match for me.

Adam smiled. He felt bad for not really working with her when it came to her powers. Life seemed to keep getting in the way.

Adam: That's good to hear... I uh... how about later on, I show you how to do some cool shit, yeah? I've kinda been slacking on that front.

Charlie beamed: Really?! Can you show me how to summon a weapon?!

Adam: Sure, kid!

Lucifer: Adam. Can I speak to you out here?

Adam glanced at Lucifer before turning back and reassuring Charlie. He walked over to Lucifer, and they left the room.

Adam: What's up? Why do you sound so serious all of a sudden?

Lucifer: ...I understand it might be hard for you, Ad. But I need to know what happned once you arrived in Heaven.

Adam tensed: ...Why?

Lucifer: Did they tell you anything? Whatever this extermination is, I need to end it and gather as much dirt on Heaven as possible.

Adam sighed: Babe. You're fighting a war you can't win. And Hell has enough of those already.

Lucifer: Please, Addy. I... I'm in control, I need to know.

Adam: ...you've been in control for a few days. You can't rush into this, you know-?

Lucifer: Just- TELL me, Adam!

Adam: ...they told me how pathetic I am. Is that good enough for you? Or do you need it more words? How about this, they read me the letter you sent. Over. And over. They threw your ring at me. Told me you hated me. You never loved me. They cut off my fucking legs and arm, Lucifer! They didn't say anything interesting, just how much they want me dead and how funny it would be with my blade. So, don't pull your king of Hell shit out on me. I'm fucking, Adam! And Adam's had a rough fucking day. alright?!

Lucifer: Adam- u told you the latter was a lie-!

Adam: Oh yeah? Was giving them your ring a lie?

Lucifer: Yes-!

Adam: Then why didn't you grab it?! They threw it around and you didn't take it!

Lucifer: I'll make a new one-!

Adam: That's not the fucking point-!

Lucifer sighed; Then what is?!

Adam: I gave you that ring! I picked it out! Specifically for you! And you just... gave it to them... fuck, maybe it's a stupid thing to be pissed about, and it doesn't help that I haven't been laid in nearly a week, but fuck, Lu. I've... felt like fucking shthese last few days. First Seth and then Heaven... you gave me to them... like I was nothing to you. And maybe I am... Look. I don't want to talk about this now, I have to train the kid. Like I said, I would.

Adam rubs his face and walks out of the room, leaving Lucifer alone with his thoughts.

Lucifer: ...Shit...

I miss our God!Adam Au

Sequel 👀

In Canada Eh! Lmao

CANADA FOREVER

Yes plsss! I miss our stupid, power-hungry boy 😫😫

[concretejunglefm]

Poltergeists: Chapter 14.

Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Bonus Chapter, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Bonus Chapter, Chapter 6, Bonus Chapter, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Bonus Chapter, Chapter 9, Bonus Chapter, Chapter 10, Chapter 11, Chapter 12, Chapter 13

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader, Nicholas Ruffilo x Reader, possibly more BO members.

CW: Missing person, elements of supernatural horror, mentions of blood and possibly violence, unreliable narrator, implied smut. will update as it goes on. Heavy trigger warning for mentions of alcohol use, ptsd and panic attacks.

WC: 1.5k.

AN: This series will be told throughout a variety of flashbacks and present day, all which will be marked.

Divider: Silent-stories.

Tagged: @enemiestolovershoe, @fadingangelwisp, @littlepeachwhispers, @concreteangel92, @deathblacksmoke, @1toreyouapart, @lacy1986, @chaoticwineaunt, @ichoosetenderomens, @baddestomens, @blade-dressed-in-red, @halfalgorithmhafdeity, @geminigirlfromfinland, @fuck1ng-queen, @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard (if anyone else wishes to be tagged lmk)

PRESENT DAY

“Will you just let me pass so I can go with her!” Detective Green, or Detective Douche as I like to now call him, is keeping me back as the paramedics wheel her out from the house on a stretcher and into the back of an ambulance.

She wasn't pronounced dead on their arrival, which was a good sign, but the bruising around her neck raised some questions, not only from the paramedics but myself.

Nick is barely saying anything, keeping himself back, even as I continue to argue with Detective Douche about me going with them.

“I’ll take you down to the hospital myself but right now you need to be checked over.” He explains, but I refuse the help which comes my way from a small blonde yet hesitant paramedic, who's hand I swat at the moment she tries to reach for me to check me over. 

“Can’t we do this down at the hospital?” I argue and Kit relents, stepping back as he allows me to move forward and toward the open back doors of the second ambulance. I climb up and in, with Nick following silently. He can barely look me in the eye at the moment but my concerns aren't with him, they’re with the ambulance which already has a head start on us.

There were a lot of questions which came with apparently being missing for a year.

Missing. That was what they called it. Missing or dead. The latter somehow didn't scare me as much as it should've, perhaps because where I was felt enough like heaven that being dead was the last of my worries.

Detective Green was the one who questioned me, though even he seemed to have no understanding as to how I'd appeared out from the closet in our own home and unharmed at that. 

All that blood and there was not a mark on me.

I shudder at the memory of that night. I remember everything, as much as I wish not to. Sometimes it would play as a loop during the dull moments of the limbo I resided in.

Other times it would plague me as a literal repeat of events, taunting me as I yelled and called for bubs, only for my fate to always be the same.

My favorite moments were always those by the lake. Our spot.

I knew it was never her, but when the creature came to visit me disguised as her, wearing her skin as close to her image as possible, I could convince myself that I was happy here. 

Because it told me I should be.

“You’re free to go Mr. Seb—”

“Where’s Bubs?” I cut Kit off the minute he lets me go free from being observed, from being questioned, from everything, jumping up from the hospital bed as Nick reaches out as if to hold on and steady me.

“A room down the hall, but be warned Noah. It's not… she’s not in the best state.”

The warning is one I ignore, already half way through the door before heading down the hallway, questioning a nurse I pass on the way and following her direction.

I come to a stop as I reach the door, peering in at her through the glass before taking a step inside. I don't know what I'd anticipated seeing; perhaps the sight of her hooked up to a monitor and a machine or two, but there were tubes and wires everywhere.

Steadily approaching the bed, my fingers ghost along the blanket which lays over her before meeting her fingers. They’re warm but there’s no movement. There’s nothing. She looks as if she's sleeping and peaceful enough that I could be convinced she’s an angel.

From behind me I hear footsteps and when I turn my head I catch Nick standing in the doorway, his lip between his teeth as his brow furrows in worry.

There's a tightness in my throat as I go to speak and  I attempt to hold back the emotion wishing to push free.

“What happened?” 

FLASHBACK

DAY OF NOAH'S DISAPPEARANCE

You've been down at the station all day answering question after question. They didn't hold you. You don't think you're a suspect, though they treat you like one.

You can't remember the things you were asked, or what you said, all you know of that you kept repeating yourself with the same four things; you weren't awake when he was yelling, it was too dark for you to even see anything, you don't know where the blood came from, you don't know anything.

You don't know anything.

Except you do, but don't know if what you know is even real. Your mind has been playing so many tricks on you these last few months that even now, nothing feels real. You feel as if you're living in a daze, everything around you is hazy except there's no lightness, only a heaviness in your body and a thickness to the air which makes it difficult to breathe.

"Are you sure you want to go back in there?" Nicholas asks you from the drivers seat.

"Yeah, bubba. We can grab some stuff for you if you want?" Folio chimes in from the back. 

Everyone had taken shifts throughout the day to wait for you to be released from questioning after making their own statements. Nicholas had been there all day waiting for you, while Folio had been the last to come out and told Matt and Jolly to head home.

You haven't answered. You sit silent, looking out the passengers side window up at the house. It feels daunting to enter, but you know that have to.

"You can stay at mine." The feel of Nicholas' hand on your knee pulls you back from the drain of thoughts you'd been circling, your head snapping in his direction.

"No." You finally answer, your voice is horse from all the crying you've been doing. You're out of tears now, you think. "I... I'll be fine." Your voice isn't assuring, not even to yourself. "I just really want to be alone right now."

From the corner of your eye you can see Folio attempting to reach for you and stop you as you open the passengers side door, before he retreats. You know he's just worried about you, but he doesn't protest your wish to go back to the house or to even be alone.

Nicholas doesn't even voice his own concerns about you being left to your own devices when in such a clear vulnerable state but you realize why when you hear another door opening and as you step out, you turn to see Nicholas has followed your lead in climbing from the car, offering the keys to Folio who's climbing into the driver's seat from the back.

"Nick."

"No. Noah wouldn't want you to be alone right now and I definitely don't want to leave you on your own."

Tears prickle at the corners of your sore eyes once more. You believed the well to have run dry, only to be proven wrong. You don't have it in you to argue and you nod, turning and allowing Nicholas to lead you up the pathway to your home.

Yours and Noah's home.

When you enter you almost expect him to be sat in the couch playing a video game, or over by his desk working on something new, or to come bounding out from the kitchen and greet you, but the house is empty.

It feels as empty as it looks. It feels cold and menacing, like a beast which has now gone to lay dormant after a feast. Because that's what happened, wasn't it?

You sound stupid to believe the house took Noah from you, but it did. You know what you saw. At least you think you do.

Nick's voice doesn't reach your ears as you walk towards the couch, picking up Noah's hoodie which lays over the back of it. You slip it on and it feels like a warm embrace from him. It still smells enough like him that it provides a slight comfort, as if he'd worn it earlier that day.

Exhaustion is quick to hit you the minute you crawl onto the couch and you curl yourself up as small as you can, cocooning yourself in the safety of Noah's hoodie.

You can't bear the thought of going upstairs, of going to your room and where it happened. You know that the police have no hand in cleaning up the aftermath of any incident. Not even one where there's a pool of blood staining the floor and splashes of it coating the walls.

You want to pretend that none of this is happening, that it isn't real and that you haven't just lost your best friend, your boyfriend, in the most inexplicable way.

You hear Nick in the kitchen, cooking or tidying up, you have no idea, but you choose to ignore his presence and close your eyes, until you realise that having him here is perhaps a slight comfort after all. With your eyes closed you can almost convince yourself that it's Noah and that he's not gone at all.

[sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy]

Stiles is Supernatural Crack

10. Road Trips Are the Best When You Don’t Have to Drive

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9

And, with an epilogue longer than the first three chapters combined(11.6k words), our story comes to a close. It's been a fun ride, y'all, but this is it.

Derek kept a hand on Stiles’ back as they walked out of the train depot. Stiles looked at the full moon and grabbed his head. It was like an echo chamber of howling wolves. They wanted out. They hurt. They wanted to go home.

“Derek, we need to go. Now,” Stiles huffed, gritting his teeth as he trudged to the jeep.

Derek opened the jeep door to help Stiles in, telling him “we will. Need to stop at the loft and tell the others. We can—”

“No. Now, Derek,” Stiles said seriously. He glared at Derek as if it was his fault. He was breathing heavily, trying to suppress the anger and fear and sadness of the wolves in his head. “We are leaving now. I’ll call Scott but we are going,” Stiles said, getting in the jeep. He left no room for argument, closing the door behind him.

Derek rolled his eyes, biting back a growl. Stiles wasn’t thinking. He wasn’t himself. Derek didn’t like it. It was all wrong.

He got in the jeep and looked at Stiles. What he saw in Stiles’ face… it was like he wasn’t there. It wasn't like when he was possessed by the Nogitsune, not like someone else controlling him. No, Stiles looked vacant, like no one was there, like he gotten so into his head that he couldn't get back out. They didn’t have time to wait around or to argue with the pack about going. Stiles was struggling for control. He was fighting for his own mind, his own body, and didn't seem to be winning.

Derek had to help him. If he wanted Stiles back, they had to find a way to give the magic back to the wolves it was stolen from. The only way he knew how to help do that was to drive. he could drive and make sure Stiles was physically well but the mental and magic was up to him.Derek would have taken it all for Stiles if he could but he couldn't.

He started the jeep, his grip tight on the wheel. Derek huffed, getting them on the road. “Where are we going?”

“Sacramento.”

Derek nodded and started for the highway. There weren't many others out at this time of night but Derek felt like they were in a room full of people and completely alone all at once, the scents of the wolves in Stiles' head surrounding them. Emotions rolled off Stiles like waves in a storm. It was terrifying, not knowing what was going to happen. Derek couldn't help glancing at Stiles as he drove.

Stiles sat, looking absently at his hands as they drove. Tears trailed down his face, slow, and silent. He could feel the wolves in his head crying for their other halves, for their families, for their homes… They were hurting. Being away from where they belonged hurt. Some told their stories, called out names, or begged for comfort. They were old and young and in between. The youngest was only ten, a child who had half of them taken away without warning.

Seeing the tears rolling down Stiles’ face, Derek wanted more than anything to reach out to him. To pull over and hold him until the tears stopped but knew it wouldn't be better until Stiles was alone in his own mind again so Derek drove and he kept driving. He drove because it was the only thing he could do. He was relieved when Stiles fell into an uneasy sleep.

The sun was breaking the horizon when Stiles sat up, breaking out of sleep like he rose from the dead. “There. That one,” Stiles said, pointing at an exit.

Derek followed the directions as Stiles gave them but it didn’t sound like him. His tone and cadence were strange. He sounded like a different person and smelled… off. He was a flood of excitement as they got closer. Derek felt uneasy, the smell of multiple people filled the jeep again.

Derek parked in a lot near a bundle of houses. It looked like a summer camp with people– werewolves– running around. When the jeep parked in their space, everything stopped.

Derek reached across the front seat, grabbing Stiles. He didn’t need Stiles jumping out and accidentally starting a war. The pack moved closer and a low growl resonated in Derek’s throat. He might be on their territory but they were too close to. Too close to Stiles.

“Stay in the jeep,” Derek told Stiles, unbuckling his seat belt. “I’ll tell you when to get out.”

“I know their Emissary and their Alpha. We’re on good terms,” Stiles said, watching Derek. “I can help. I’m–”

“You are not an Emissary, Stiles! You don’t know how this works. I do,” Derek said seriously, sounding more harsh than he meant to. He turned off the jeep and set the key in Stiles' lap.

Stiles crossed his arms and leaned back in the seat. He rolled his eyes and looked out at the pack. Something in Stiles’ eyes changed, longing filled his eyes as he looked at them– the feelings of a torn spirit. Stiles came back to himself and swallowed the lump in his throat. Sympathy washed over him as he started out the windshield.

Derek stepped into his view, towards the pack, and Stiles couldn’t think. Before he thought not to, Stiles got out of the jeep and rushed to Derek’s side. He got a glare from Derek as he walked toward him.

Derek huffed a sigh, turning to hold a hand up to stop Stiles. “Stay behind me,” he said, more worry and exhaustion than anger. “Listen this time.” He turned back to the pack and gave a respectful nod to the alpha. “I’m Derek Hale, a beta in the McCall pack of Beacon Hills. This is Stiles Stilinski, the future Emissary of the McCall pack.”

“I am Alpha Julia of the Rosewood Pack. This is my Emissary Saffi,” she motioned to the smiling young woman next to her, “and we know who Stiles is,” the tall woman said. She gave her full attention to Stiles and smiled. She knew his work and trusted many pack issues to his care. “What are you doing here, dear?”

Stiles smiled back at her, a feeling of safety that wasn’t his rise in him. “It’s about Casey and Willow,” Stiles said softly, knowing it was hard to talk about.

The alpha frowned, her nose scrunching at the familiar scent coming off of Stiles. “They are in no state to answer questions and we know nothing we haven’t told you.”

“I know,” Stiles nodded, licking his lips. “I think I can help them. Can you take me to them?”

Derek’s arm was once again blocking Stiles from the other werewolves. “Take us. I need to stay with Stiles, you understand that.”

The alpha looked at her second, a silent conversation playing out, before she nodded. “That is acceptable but I will have two of my own stay with you. You understand,” she said and Derek nodded.

Two betas lead Derek and Stiles to a small house. The first room they entered was filled with medical supplies. As they walked down a hall, they stopped outside a door. When it opened, two people sat inside, looking almost catatonic. Stiles flinched, feeling two of the lost spirits howling with joy.

Stiles walked into the room and kneeled in front of the first person. He knew her name instantly. “Hi Willow, I’m Stiles,” he whispered, looking the girl over. She was lost, unable to focus on anything. “I think I know how to help you. Can I hold your hand?”

Stiles looked back at the betas that had escorted them in and got a nod. He looked back at Willow and carefully took the woman's hand. He could see her ripped spirit, the jagged edges of where part of her had been ripped away. She was half a person. Stiles could feel the wolf trying to get to her. It was clawing at him, trying to get to her. It screamed and cried and howled, longing for its other half. Stiles closed his eyes pushing at the wolf’s spirit, trying to return it where it belonged.

It was like an explosion of energy when the two halves found each other. Stiles was knocked back on his ass. Before he even opened his eyes, Derek was by his side. He looked at Willow. She was crying in joy, one of the beta holding her in their arms.

“Are you okay,” Derek asked, helping Stiles up.

“I'm fine. Is she,” Stiles asked, watching her. “Is she okay?”

Stiles looked at Derek and knew. Derek would help him. He’d walk with Stiles to the ends of the Earth. The only question was if he wanted to or had to. Stiles looked at Derek, looked beyond what even an alpha could see. He looked at Derek's spirit and found it entwined with his own. He couldn’t see where his ended and Derek’s started.

Stiles pulled out of Derek’s hold and shook his head. For a split second, Stiles saw hurt in his eyes that quickly returned to the cold demeanor Derek kept. He glanced at Willow, telling Derek he still had work to do.

He wanted to stay close to Stiles. He wanted to be next to him, he needed to, but Stiles… He pulled away from Derek. He needed space. He wanted Derek to back off.

He watched Stiles, silently cursing the universe for picking mates. Derek didn’t want to have a mate. It was exposing in every way, being impossibly attached to another person. It didn't feel like their feelings didn’t matter, as if the choices had been made from them.

Stiles approached slowly, knowing that two scared and confused werewolves could destroy their only hope of salvation if spooked. Now he wished Derek was at his back. Stiles looked past the nervous betas and into Willow’s eyes. They didn’t look empty or lost any more. She looked back at Stiles with tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Can I see your hand,” Stiles asked gently, unsure what she’d be feeling.

Willow held her hand out to him and he took it in his. When he touched her hand, he lost his breath. He felt like he was watching a masterpiece form. Her spirit looked like a Kintsugi bowl, shattered to pieces and repaired with gold. The lines running through her torn spirit where she was putting herself back together. Even being newly returned, Stiles could see the girl was very strong, her spirit burned brighter and larger than any of the others.

Stiles let go of her hand with a smile. He could do this. He could help them. And if he could help them, he wouldn’t stop until he’d helped all of them.

Stiles moved to the other person, Casey. They were staring at the ceiling, no life to their eyes. He took their hand, focusing on the wolf spirit trying to rip its way out. This time he was ready. This time, the blast of magic didn’t knock him off his feet.

When Stiles looked up at Casey, it was beautiful. The same lines of repair ran through their spirit but another thing appeared too. Casey’s and Willow’s spirits were entangled like Stiles’ and Derek’s were. Stiles couldn’t stop smiling when the two felt each other’s presence. They were crying and holding each other. They whispered how they loved each other and never wanted to be apart again.

Stiles looked at them in awe. He wanted that. He glanced at Derek, seeing how tense and nervous he was. He looked back to how Casey's and Willow's spirits came together. Could he have that? Could he and Derek have really have that, too?

Stiles turned to look at Derek. He still had that same scowl set on his face but his eyes gave him away. Derek wanted that, too, just like Stiles. He wanted a love so strong it was an anchor in the real world. Even when they couldn’t keep going, they stayed together.

Stiles thought for a second he saw Derek’s spirit reaching for his even though he wasn’t touching him. He closed his eyes and felt the world tilt. It stopped, his body not hitting the floor like he thought. When he opened his eyes, he was looking right into Derek’s eyes. The world came into focus and he saw how tired and worried Derek truly looked. He held onto Stiles to keep him up right. He held Stiles close just to be sure he was safe.

A muttered conversation was had. At least, it sounded muttered. Stiles closed his eyes again. He was exhausted. His body felt like it weighed a ton. He was hungry too, but he needed sleep first. Stiles let himself give in, becoming dead weight in Derek’s arms.

He freaked out, lifting Stiles more so he wouldn’t fall. Derek leaned against the wall, carefully sitting down with Stiles held in his arms. He looked him over, seeing how pale and cold Stiles was. Derek whined deep in his throat, taking off his leather jacket to wrap around Stiles.

“Please,” Derek begged, “he gave all he had to help you. He needs sleep.”

One of the Betas shook their head. “That’s not for us to decide.”

“Then ask your alpha,” Derek growled, not happy with the silly pups they’d been left with.

One of the Betas left and Derek turned his attention back to Stiles. He pushed the hair off his forehead, trying to tell how badly Stiles had overdone it. He was still so cold. Derek’s eyes went wide, listening closely. He could have screamed in joy when he heard the steady beat of Stiles’ heart. He heaved a sigh, leaning his head on Stiles’ shoulder. Derek wrapped an arm around Stiles, holding him close to keep him warm.

Stiles woke up in a small bed. He was sweating from the warmth, the familiar weight of Derek’s wolf form pressed against his chest. He looked around, not recognizing where he was. He moved to rest a hand to Derek’s back, feeling safer knowing the wolf was nearby. Stiles blinked, looking at his arm in Derek’s leather jacket. He was wearing Derek’s jacket.

Derek seemed to feel Stiles wake up and looked up at him with sleepy eyes. Before Stiles could even ask, Derek growled softly at him. Stiles smiled, understanding what Derek was saying.

As soon as they were able to eat and get back on the road, Stiles made it their mission to help as many packs as fast as possible. Giving the power back was easy. It was draining and took a heavy toll on Stiles. He refused to stop until he was done.

Stiles charged his phone in the jeep as they drove to the next pack, cringing when it turned on. Derek glanced at him and Stiles held up the phone. “Scott. He called a few times.” By a few times he meant twelve. Derek nodded and Stiles groaned, calling Scott back.

As soon as he picked up, Scott yelled “where are you? Where’s Derek?”

Stiles cringed. “Hello, Scott. I’m doing great, really. Thanks for asking,” he said.

“Stiles,” Scott said frantically.

“We’re fine,” Stiles assured him, rubbing his face. “We left last night and I,” he sighed, “took Evander’s powers.”

“You did what,” Malia yelled, obviously having heard Stiles comment. “Do you want to go insane? You were already teetering on that line before!”

“Wait,” it was Kira’s voice this time, “does that make Stiles a Darach?”

“No! Not unless he did it for his own gain. He did it to someone,” Mason told her.

“Where are you now,” Scott asked Stiles.

“So, that’s the other half of it,” Stiles told Scott. “You know how werewolves had their powers stolen? Well, we’re returning them.”

Scott’s side of the line was full of loud arguing and overlapping yelling. Scott must have used the look because the pack quieted. “Where are you right now? I’m coming with you.”

Stiles hissed. “Oooh… I don’t think that’s a great idea.”

“Stiles!”

“I’ll text you updates,” Stiles said, talking over Scott. “Okay, I’m going to lose service so I’ll talk to you lat—” Stiles hung up in the middle of his sentence, earring a look of confused bewilderment from Derek. “What? He was never going to shut up!”

After they helped one pack, they’d get food or snacks for the road and move to the next pack unless Derek needed sleep. Stiles insisted on sleeping in the jeep while Derek drove to save time despite his protests. He only agreed to stop when he knew Derek was too tired to drive more.

They'd stop at a motel along the highway to rest. At first, Stiles tried to do more work on his phone while Derek rested but they quickly found that didn't work. Derek couldn't sleep if Stiles was up and pacing. He would make excuses about Stiles being loud or his phone being bright, anything to avoid the truth. When Stiles would finally agree to lay down, Derek would wander off to the bathroom and return in his wolf form. Stiles teased him about it the first few times, offering to make a pillow wall if that's what Derek really wanted. Derek would lie and tell him it was more comfortable like this. If Stiles knew it was a lie, he didn't push it. Even when Stiles laid in the bed with him, Derek found himself laying away until he knew Stiles had fallen asleep. He'd listen to Stiles' steady heart rate and his sleep mumbling. Eventually, the soft sound of Stiless peaceful sleep would lull Derek off himself.

Sometimes, Stiles would fine himself just looking at Derek as he drove. Stiles would watch how their spirits intertwinded and moved together. Sometimes they would end up stranded when the jeep broke down. Stiles made comments about how it was Derek’s fault because every time he got mad or they would argue, he’d push Roscoe too far. Two months later, they were ready to head to the last pack and Derek had basically rebuilt the Roscoe’s engine.

“Where’s the last pack,” Derek huffed. They had just gotten back into the jeep after changing clothes at a gas station.

“O-K,” Stiles said, looking at a map on his phone.

“That wasn’t something you can answer with an ‘okay’,” Derek grumbled.

“Not okay, OK as in Oklahoma,” Stiles told him.

Derek took a deep breath and glared at Stiles. “Sometimes I want to rip your throat out.”

“With your teeth,” Stiles mocked, knowing damned well he was safe. “I hope you feel like a dick when we get there,” he mumbled.

Derek rolled his eyes and started on the road. He listened carefully when Stiles turned to the GPS. Derek looked over, wanting to talk to Stiles, to find him retreating back in his mind to talk to the last of the wolf spirits. Derek sighed. This was going to be a long drive.

Derek saw Stiles’ face flick back to life as they crossed into New Mexico. He wanted to say something or crack a joke but that was more Stiles’ department, so he opted for silence.

Stiles looked out the window and then to Derek. “How long was I out,” he asked, not recognizing anything.

Derek hummed, “four hours, give or take.” He shrugged, glancing at Stiles. “Welcome to New Mexico.”

“Do you want to switch,” Stiles asked and Derek huffed a laugh.

He shook his head. “You are not driving when you can’t stay in the moment,” Derek said.

Stiles groaned but didn’t argue more. Actually, it was worse. Stiles started back up his never ending game of finding plates from all fifty states and rattling off fun facts about every state they see.

They were an hour away when Stiles' demeanor made the distinct change. He went from Stiles to a child’s excitement, then to an adult’s calm. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the former was the child Evander took the power from.

Stiles would return to control to at least answer a question. Derek had been very clear before with how uncomfortable he was asking the wolf spirits questions.

This pack would be the worst according to Stiles. It was a child and the alpha who had lost their powers. The pack that was left behind was a glorified orphanage. It was a place for children to go when their parents died and the pack couldn’t care for them.

Derek slowed, turning onto a long dirt driveway. The sides of the drive were fenced in, keeping the kids clear of the cars. As they drove it, they saw groups of kids running and playing outside. They were on the swings and playing tag. There were kids of all ages, some of the older ones stopped to watch them drive up.

Derek put the car in park and the front door opened. A nervous looking teen walked out with a crying baby on his hip. He walked to the gate as Derek and Stiles got out of the car.

“Who are you,” the teen asked, eyeing the two men.

This time, Derek deferred to Stiles, letting him take the lead. “This is Derek and I’m Stiles. We’re here to help your alpha,” Stiles told him. “She’s not well and neither is Andy, right?”

The teen’s apprehension was obvious. Stiles wanted to do something to gain his trust. It was like a flash of light when the small boy’s wolf spoke.

“They’re your family, your brother and mother…” Stiles mumbled. “Your name’s Garrett, right?”

The teen seemed to relax slightly but straighten up. He had been acting as Alpha. He knew he had to be the protector. “How do you know about that?”

“I helped Evander,” Stiles said and the teen froze. “I’ve been able to give all of the affected packs their powers back. I’m going to help yours, too.”

The teen, Garrett, looked behind himself and then opened the gate. “Okay,” he mumbled.

He led them into the house and took them up the stairs. He opened the door and let them in. “Momma doesn’t like when I let people in without permission. We do most of the dealing on the porch.”

“Derek,” Stiles whispered.

Derek knew what he was suggesting. He wanted Derek to go downstairs so it wouldn’t be as invasive on the pack missing their alpha. Derek shook his head, glancing at the lost alpha.

“I’ll be outside the door,” Derek relented, looking at Garrett and the baby. He didn’t like leaving Stiles with people they didn’t know but stepped out like he’d said.

Garrett shushed the baby, rocking to try to calm them. He looked frazzled, like he was on his last leg. “How are you going to help them,” he asked, letting the baby cry.

Stiles frowned, looking at the kid sympathetically but answered the question. “I’m an Emissary for a pack in northern California. It’s hard to explain but– in simplest form– the wolf half of them was taken and I can return it. That half of them have been using me to keep going. In a way, it’s like your mom and brother have been living in my head.”

“How?”

“It won’t look like much to you,” Stiles explained, sitting down next to the alpha. “I’ll take her hand like this,” he held her hand, “and then the magic moves from me to her. She’ll want you close when it happens.” Gerrett moved closer and Stiles turned to talk to her. “Hi Leanndra. I’m going to help you and your son. It’ll be better soon.”

Stiles closed his eyes, feeling the pull of the magic. He let it go, helping the two halves of the spirit return to each other. When he opened his eyes, he saw the woman light up in a beautiful pattern of gold and sky blue. Each spirit had their own color that fit them.

Leanndra came back with a huff. She opened her eyes and Stiles let go of her hand. Garrett attacked her, hugging his mom and crying. She seemed surprised for a moment but hugged her son back.

Stiles smiled at her and stood up. He looked around the room, seeing the little boy laying on the bed. He could see the care Garrett had taken to be sure they were okay. Stiles sat beside the child. His name was Andy.

“Hey buddy. I'm going to make it better, okay,” Stiles whispered, placing his hand on Andy’s arm. He looked at Leanndra and then at Andy.

He let go, pushing the magic into Andy. He watched as the two halves met, swirling around as they rejoined. He closed his eyes as the spirit burned brighter, forming the golden lines.

Andy slowly sat up and Stiles helped him up. “Your mom is right there,” he whispered, supporting the boy as he crawled closer to his mom at the end of the bed.

Leanndra scooped him up in her arms, holding the boys closer. She softly cooed at the still crying baby, his sobs turning to whimpers. She sighed, “oh Eli,” rubbing the side of the baby’s face.

Stiles looked at the door and then to the baby. “Do you want me to hold him,” he asked, keeping his distance.

Leandra and Andy both looked at Stiles. It was like they knew him. They did know him. They shared a head for the months it took to bring them back to their bodies. They knew him on an instinctual level, a way stronger than if they’d met in the traditional sense.

She looked at Stiles and then the baby. “Do you want to? He’s fussy. I can never get him completely settled,” Leanndra told him and Stiles nodded.

Garrett let Stiles take the baby. Stiles blinked hard, feeling magic pushing him to look at Eli’s spirit. It was a feeling he got anytime he touched someone now. Stiles held his breath, looking down at the small thing. He wasn’t used to babies but he knew the family would want to have their moment. Stiles swallowed the lump in his throat and sighed.

“Hi Eli,” he whispered, rocking him like Garrett had.

Eli went from hiccuped whines to silence as he looked up at Stiles. He hummed a small noise of confusion and reached up for Stiles’ face. He grabbed at his shirt and giggled.

Stiles smiled down at the baby. “You aren’t fussy,” he whispered to Eli as if he understood. Stiles smiled, blinking back the rising pull of exhaustion. He’d done this enough to know and fight the feeling. Stiles sighed heavily and Eli went quiet. He could feel his mind begging him to look at the baby’s spirit but he knew it would make his tired state worse. “Uh, can– can Derek come in? I need…”

Leanndra looked at Stiles, then the door, and back to Stiles. “Of course,” she said, looking at Stiles as he grew weaker.

Derek was in the room and at Stiles’ side before anyone could say more. He wrapped an arm around him, keeping him up right. “Do you need to sit or a snack? Are you cold,” he asked, his mind running through the list of things.

Stiles shook his head. “I’m okay,” he mumbled. “Just not a hundred percent…” and Stiles felt better with Derek close. It didn’t need to be said and it never had been, they just knew.

In all his worry about Stiles, Derek never noticed the silent baby in his arms. Eli was looking up at Derek with big green eyes. He reached up for Derek, grabbing at his shirt. When Derek looked down at him, Eli squealed happily, a smile on his face.

Derek seemed confused, looking between Eli and Stiles. “You can barely hold yourself up, why do you have a baby,” he asked. “Give him here. You need to sit.”

“Derek, I’m fine,” Stiles told him, rolling his eyes. “I’m not going to—” Stiles let himself slip into the comfort of his magic, looking at Derek’s spirit like he would in the jeep, and rapidly lost what little strength he had left.

Derek didn’t miss a beat, holding Eli to his chest with one arm and holding Stiles up right with the other. He slowly lowered them to the ground. “You’re an idiot,” He grumbled, holding Stiles to his side.

Stiles looked around them with wonder in his eyes.When he and Derek were close, their spirits’ became entangled in a mess of shades of red. It was impossible to tell where one ended and the other started. But now Eli was there. His Spirit burned a deep fiery orange-red. His spirit slotted right in with Derek’s and Stiles’ like he was meant to be there, wrapping around them and tying them together.

Stiles looked at Leanndra, Garrett, and Andy. their spirits were slotted together just the same. They all held onto each other, lines of gold running across them. They stayed together, moving as one. It was only changed as Leanndra moved to help Stiles. Even then, her spirit left a trail back to her family.

Derek let out an unintentional growl when Leanndra came too close to them. He glared at her, holding Stiles closer. She moved back. She didn’t challenge the disregard of her authority. They might be on her territory but Stiles was Derek’s mate. Leanndra knew they were mates, she felt it the entire time her wolf was stuck in Stiles’ head. She knew that strong protective instinct respected no authority. She saw the way Derek held Stiles when he was tired and overworked from the inside. Derek would protect Stiles no matter what.

“Can I help,” Leanndra asked, watching the way Derek held Eli as close as Stiles– like he was protecting his family. ���Food? Water? Sleep?” She looked behind her at the boys. She wouldn’t have them back without Stiles’ help. That was why she needed to help.

Eli whimpered in Derek’s arm, the tense feelings hanging in the room upsetting the baby. Stiles closed his eyes and forced the magic back. He placed a hand on Eli’s back next to Derek’s. The movement pulled Derek’s attention to Stiles again. He pulled him closer, looking over him for any signs of distress.

“I’m fine,” Stiles told him, smiling at the tense expression covering his face. “Hey Sourwolf, stop making that face.”

“Stiles,” Derek huffed, dropping his head on Stiles’ shoulder. “I hate you.”

Stiles leaned against his head and laughed. “No you don’t.”

It was palpable when the room relaxed. It was like a breath of relief rolled through the room. Even Eli was quiet. Derek moved Eli so he could see both Derek and Stiles. He seemed to relax and Stiles chuckled. Derek looked down at the baby and smiled. He started to play with the baby, tickling him and making him giggle. When he grabbed Derek’s finger, the man melted and Stiles really understood what he’d seen.

"Eli has not stopped or slowed down since I met him,” Leanndra said, looking at the three with a smile. They fit. “I'm not sure he's ever been quiet."

Derek’s smile grew and he looked up at her "Sounds familiar,” he turned to Stiles, “doesn't it, Stiles?"

Leanndra perked up at the comment, looking between them. “Do you have kids?”

Stiles turned to look at her with wide eyes. “What? Oh, no! Definitely not,” he sputtered quickly.

“You just described Stiles to a T,” Derek explained.

Leanndra nodded and Garrett jumped in, seeing what his mother did. “Have you two thought about adopting,” Garrett asked genuinely.

Stiles chuckled, “no. We’re not even dating.”

Leanndra looked at Stiles with wide eyes. "Nonsense,” she declared. “You must have been together a long time. My wolf could feel it. Your bond is so strong." She shook her head, not really believing Stiles.

“We’ve known each other for years. Since I was a sophomore in high school,” Stiles said.

Derek looked at Stiles in surprise. “We met before that,” he said, looking almost hurt that Stiles didn’t remember.

Stiles shook his head. “When?”

Derek licked his lips. “After the fire,” he whispered.

Stiles looked at him and shook his head. “I don’t—”

“We can talk about it later,” Derek said quickly and Stiles watched the tough facade cover Derek’s face.

“Let us feed you before you leave. It’s the least we can do,” Garrett said, looking to his mother for approval.

Leanndra stood up and wrapped an arm around her son. “He’s right. Why don’t you sleep too? You must be tired.”

They took them up on the offer– or Stiles did since Derek wasn’t talking. Stiles ate like he hadn’t eaten in years. He was starving. Derek tried to give his food to Stiles too and got a death stare telling him to eat.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to sleep now,” Derek said at last, having only eaten half his plate.

Garrett took Derek to the room he’d set up for them. One bed, great. Derek laid down in the bed and tried to sleep.

Stiles sat at the table, watching the stairs that Derek had gone up. Was it really that important that he didn’t remember something that happened thirteen years ago? Thirteen years ago, Stiles’ mom was dying. She was delusional and thought Stiles was trying to kill her. Claudia’s disease was the only thing Stiles remembered from thirteen years ago– it was all he remembered until middle school and then he remembered his dad's drinking.

“He really loves you,” Leanndra whispered and Stiles huffed a laugh.

“He tolerates me,” Stiles muttered, picking at his food.

Leanndra frowned. “What makes you think that?”

Stiles looks at her and rolls his eyes. “You don’t know what I’ve done…” Memories of the past six years ran through his mind. Derek being framed for murder. The Nogitsune. Leaving Derek with the Darach. Kate attacking and kidnapping Derek multiple times. “I’ve been a shit friend, which makes me an even shittier partner. I don’t expect him to forgive me, let alone love me.”

“He did and he does,” Leanndra said softly.

Stiles chewed his lip and pushed his plate forward. “I think I’m going to head to bed too.”

Gerrett was coming back when Stiles was heading up so he took him to the room. Stiles waved goodnight to Eli and opened the door. Derek was lying on top of the blankets facing the wall. He sighed and walked over.

“Can we talk about it now,” Stiles asked, nervously looking at Derek. Stiles licked his lips and sighed. He’d start. “My mom was dying.” he shook his head. “I don’t remember much of anything other than that. The fire… it was right in the middle of all that. I just don’t…”

Stiles was fighting back tears when he felt the bed move. Stiles looked back and saw Derek looking at him. He sighed, laying down with Derek. He searched Derek’s face for any emotion to go off of.

“You hate me,” Stiles asked.

“No.”

“You should.”

“I can’t hate you, Stiles.”

“Will you tell me about it,” Stiles asked in a whisper.

“About what?”

“About the first time we met.”

Derek took a breath and licked his lips nervously. “After the fire, your dad brought me back to the station. They were waiting to figure out who I would go to while Laura was in the hospital. You were there, too.”

“Was I just too cute? Did I steal your heart,” Stiles teased.

“Stiles, you were eleven and I was fifteen.” Derek paused, pushing the hair off of Stiles’ forehead. “You were asleep on the couch when I first got there. Your dad let me sit in the dark office and he wrapped a blanket around me. He promised it would be okay and then he went to deal with other stuff.”

“What'd I say,” Stiles asked and Derek smirked.

“You were asleep.”

“Not for long, I bet,” Stiles wagered.

“Not for long,” Derek agreed. “You woke up and saw me sitting there. You called me weird for just sitting in the dark.”

“I didn't!”

“You did, “ Derek said seriously. “Then you asked if I wanted to color or read.”

“Whish one did you pick,” Stiles asked, having a pretty good guess.

“I let you pick. I actually wasn't much of a reader then,” Derek told him. “You gave me your copy of The Lightning Thief to read and you started drawing something in a notebook.”

“You read Percy Jackson?”

“Because of you,” Derek said with a nod. “It was the first series that I was really able to escape into.”

Stiles smiled, “So you love reading because—”

“Because of a nerdy little kid I met at the police station let me borrow his book.”

“I made you a nerd too,” Stiles told him. He took a hard breath and looked at Derek. “What do you want to do now?”

Derek thought about it. He looked at Stiles and a small smile pulled at his lips. “I want to rebuild Hale house. What do you want to do?”

Stiles bit his lip. “I need to learn to control my magic,” he said and Derek nodded. “I’m a danger to all of you and myself. I’ll tell Scott and… take off.” Derek scrunched his eyebrows at the statement. “I’ll travel to different packs and learn from the more experienced Emissaries.”

Derek hummed and thought. “We can do that.”

“What?”

“We can do that. We’ll take the same path we did getting here. We can stop and spend time with each of the packs on the way. You can learn from them that way.”

“What about Hale house,” Stiles asked. “You can’t not do what you want because of me…”

Derek sighed. “I’ll call the contractors and Peter or Malia or someone in the pack can handle the day to day. I’ll stay with you, making sure you don’t hit your head on a rock and die when you pass out.” Stiles chuckled and Derek smirked. “I know you. I can tell when you need to eat and when to check for when you over work yourself.”

“I could hurt you,” Stiles said, his smile falling.

“You haven’t and I don’t think you will,” Derek whispered.

Stiles nodded. “Okay. We’re going to travel together,” he smiled, leaning into Derek.

“What else is new,” Derek asked.

The next morning, Stiles found himself moving closer to the warm body behind him. He hummed, feeling Derek’s stubble rubbing against his head. The arm over his waist pulled him closer. They were slow to wake, finding warmth and comfort in each other. It was the sound of children that woke them at last. Stiles rolled over to hide against Derek.

“Stiles,” Derek grumbled, his voice gruff from sleep. “Stiles, we have to get up. We need to get on the road.”

Stiles huffed, slowly opening his eyes. He looked up at Derek quizzically.

“What,” Derek asked, not prepared for snarky comments so soon after waking up.

“This is the first time you didn’t go full wolf when you slept in a bed with me,” Stiles stated.

“What about when I had stitches?”

“So it's the first time you've done so without necessity,” Stiles corrected, “but it sounds nicer the first way.

He was right, though, and there would be many more nights after.

It took six months getting back to Beacon Hills. They stopped with each pack as Stiles learned from their Emissaries. At some point, they started dating but there really wasn’t a specific moment it happened. It was more of a gradual slide until they realized what they were doing.

Their trip back started with the pack of orphaned children. Derek found it hard to leave. They were all so sweet and small and lost. He felt just like them. He knew they couldn’t teach Stiles without an Emissary but Derek learned. He learned how good they both were with kids.

From the second pack, Stiles learned about herbs and animal communication.

It was a Native American pack that saw Stiles as one of them for returning the power that was taken from them. They stayed with them the longest as Stiles learned to identify plants and their uses.

Stiles and Derek were both in awe when they first arrived. The entire pack– bar a few young children– were able to fully shift into wolves. Their Emissary was able to easily understand the wolves and recognized every one thought. She told Stiles that each Emissary has a specific talent they excelled at and was amazed to see Stiles utilize many.

They spent many evenings laughing and talking as they ate. The pack would then go for a group run. They told Derek he could come with them when he felt comfortable. Derek stayed close to Stiles for the first few nights, joining the run when he knew Stiles was comfortable and safe.

When working one night Stiles' familiarity with the ability was brought up.

“You understand the wolves,” the pack Emissary asked him and Stiles smiled, laughing nervously.

“I can understand Sourwolf,” Stiles said with a shrug. “I don’t get your pack on the animal esp.” he laughed at his own joke.

The Emissary, Kateri laughed too but for other reasons. “That’s not the same,” she chuckled. “He’s your mate. That has its own thing going.”

“Oh shit,” Stiles said, laughing hysterically. “How does that work? Could you imagine,” Stiles huffed, his voice reaching Derek as he looked for him and drew him closer. Derek found himself relaxing at the sound of Stiles' voice. “Can you– can you imagine someone like me being with Derek,” Stiles asked as if it were hilarious. “Shit… Mates, soulmates. It’s magic and fun and stupid! What if you hate your mate?”

It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on Derek. Stiles’ thought it was stupid. Someone like Stiles with Derek? What did that mean? He made himself walk away. Derek had really thought they were on the same wavelength about being mates when they decided to do all of this but he must have been wrong. Stiles didn’t want to be with him. He needed to run.

“What! Do you hate your mate,” the Emissary asked, completely bewildered.

“No! No, of course not,” Stiles said quickly, his face turning bright red. He thought about Derek, how he'd been there for Stiles every step of the way as he'd learned about his magic and how he planned to be with him as he kept learning and, “I actually think I might be in love with him,” he admitted. It was the first time he'd admitted it to anyone including himself.

“Oh, Stiles,” Kateri cooed. “It can be very scary to know you were meant to be with someone. It can feel like everything is out of your control and you don't have a choice, but I can promise that you will see why you're meant to be together.” Her tone was gentle as she explained to him, like she was soothing a child after a nightmare. “I've been around this pack since I was very very little and I have yet to see a set of mates who shouldn't have been. You and Derek, you're good friends?”

“I think so,” Stiles said nervously, as if it could be a trick question.

“Then you have nothing to fear,” Kateri said, placing her hand to Stiles’. “If it's too much to think of him being your mate as a romantic connection, then you can take comfort in knowing that all of the people I knew who had mates were the best of friends with them. Take a breath dear. You're already there.”

The night before they left, a huge party was held. They danced and sang and ate and ran and laughed and talked. Derek watched Stiles dance. He watched clumsy, awkward Stiles dance with his new friends. Derek smiled. Seeing Stiles so happy, looking free and unburdened, was a welcomed change from when they'd left Beacon Hills.

Stiles saw Derek sitting off to the side. “Come on, Sourwolf. A little fun won't kill you,” he teased, waving Derek over.

Derek just shook his head, staying firmly in place. Or, he did until Stiles walked over and took his hand. Then, Derek was following like a puppy as Stiles pulled him up to dance.

From the second pack, Derek learned even though he didn’t like it otherwise, he loved dancing with Stiles.

From the third pack, Stiles learned about water magic.

It was a blended pack. Two alphas, a born wolf and a turned wolf, had fallen in love and settled their mixed pack by an ocean bluff. Their Emissary was a nervous man who found the crashing waves and sea breeze a form of comfort. He showed Stiles how to move water like an extension of his own body. He showed him how to find a relaxed center in a noisy environment and how to soothe the bubbling of the magic inside.

While Stiles learned, the pack hounded Derek to tell them about his relationship with Stiles. They wanted to know how they met and when and where. How did they figure out they were mates and what would they do now? The little kids would jump on Derek and sit in his lap. He had a constant following begging for details.

“When did you meet Emissary Stiles,” a little girl asked, her eyes, as blue as the ocean, looked up at Derek expectantly.

“Well… his friend got turned into a werewolf. I was trying to help his friend,” Derek told them, “but Stiles is really stubborn and thought he could halp better than me.”

“But Emissary Stiles isn’t a werewolf,” one of the little boys declared. “How would he know about us?”

“That’s what I thought. He knew nothing about it,” Derek said with a tone of mock exasperation.

“Oh please, Sourwolf,” Stiles scoffed, walking over to Derek and his herd of followers. Stiles picked up one of the small kids, sitting her on his lap. “See, Derek is forgetting that figuring things out and learning secrets are what I do best.” The kids ‘oh’d and ‘ah'd about Stiles' addition, turning the tides of the story in his favor.

Stiles would smile and laugh when he saw Derek surrounded. The kids would mob him too and Stiles took the pups into his arms without a second thought. He’d jump in and change the story to make himself the hero or to add a dramatic flair he claimed Derek lacked. They were never alone and Derek found that that idea was growing on him.

From the third pack, Derek learned he enjoyed the noise and togetherness of Stiles and kids.

From the forth pack, Stiles learned about electric magic.

The grandfatherly Emissary taught Stiles to harness the power of a storm. He taught him useful magic and a few tricks for entertainment. The pack was made up of a lot of other people, including a Kitsune. The Emissary and Kitsune taught Stiles control over wild magic. Lightning was difficult to work with because of the discipline it required.

Derek saw Stiles practicing and stopped to watch him. He was focusing on holding a ball of electricity in the air in front of himself. Derek closed his eyes, trying to feel what Stiles felt, smelling for any sign of distress but he was calm. His emotions were level. His magic hummed at a balanced, steady frequency. As Stiles learned to control the magic, it didn’t feel nearly as overwhelming.

The Kitsune walked up beside Derek as he watched Stiles. The Kitsune explained how impressed they were with Stiles. He learned quickly and– though often scattered– how focused he became when learning.

From the forth pack, Derek learned Stiles could always surprise him.

From the fifth pack, Stiles learned about intentional magic.

The fifth pack they visited was… odd. They weren't like Derek and Stiles were used to, at least. None of the werewolves seemed interested in learning about the visiting pair. They didn't seem all that interested in members of their own pack, really. The best way to explain it was that they seemed more like neighbors than packmates. Everyone had their own lives that didn't necessarily require the others.

The Emissary, Ameila, was excited to see Stiles, though. She pulled him into her workshop as soon as they set their bags down in the cabin that had been made for them. Derek was not a fan of her. The way she grabbed Stiles' arm and just started to pull him away didn't sit well with him. If nothing else, she was immature.

Of course, she did teach Stiles some really interesting spells of intention. Many of them, you could hardly tell she was doing a spell. Most of them were silent. You had to focus, setting what you wanted in your head and sending that intention to the object of your desire.

It took two days for Stiles to get a spoon to stir a cup of water from thoughts alone, even when he made the accompanying physical guestures. He could help but compare himself to Ameila, who could make things float off the shelf and into her hands without words or movement.

When working one night while maybe, possibly, drinking a bit too much, Stiles and Ameila started talking about the other abilities he had gained from his wealth of power.

“You can understand bend water like the fucking Avatar,” Ameila said in amazement, the alcohol making everything more exciting than normal. “And the wolves! You said you could understand them in their full shift?”

“Not really,” Stiles laughed, his face rosey from the alcohol. “I can understand Derek. I can't even understand the other werew— well, Malia's a werecoyote but she full shifts too and I can't understand her. When I was learning from Kateri, she blew my skill out of the water. I guess I can understand Der because he's my mate, though.”

Ameila gasped, “oh my god, I didn't know! Uhg, that explains so much. That must be so freaky! I mean, he's a wolf and your mates? Is it, like, so intense when he kisses you? I heard it's all different with your mate.”

“Oh shit,” Stiles said, laughing hysterically. “Could you imagine,” Stiles huffed, his voice reaching outside the workshop.

Derek heard Stiles, he had been looking for him and he walked closer, listening to the conversation even if he shouldn't have. The sound of Stiles' voice was relaxing for him, hearing his rambling was soothing and he had admittedly been a little worried about him.

“Can you– can you imagine someone like me being with Derek like that,” Stiles asked, trying to laugh even as he wished it were true. “Shit… Mates, soulmates. It’s magic and fun and stupid! What if you hate your mate?”

It was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on Derek. Stiles’ thought it was stupid. Someone like Stiles with Derek? What did that mean? He made himself walk away. Derek had really thought they were on the same wavelength about being mates when they decided to do all of this but he must have been wrong. Stiles didn’t want to be with him. He needed to run.

“What! Do you hate your mate,” Amelia asked, completely bewildered in her drunken state.

Stiles giggled, looking up at the ceiling from his place on the floor. He shook his head, “no. No, I… I love him, actually. Not that he wants me, just the stupid mate magic or whatever…”

“Ooooohh,” she cooed, devolving into a laugh, “you love him.”

Stiles smiled up at the ceiling, knowing that at the end of the day Derek would be there when he went to bed and when he woke up. Hell, if he yelled, Derek would probably be there in seconds. “Ya,” he said wistfully, “I definitely love him…” Stiles sighed, finishing his drink. “That’s why I think he deserves better than me.”

Stiles heard Ameila tisk at him and she muttered in French. While Stiles was far from fluent, he was pretty sure she'd called him an idiot. “That man is so in love with you, it makes him look stupid! He’s ignored traditions so many times,” she said, shaking her head.

“That’s just Derek. He's not much for pleasantries,” Stiles laughed.

“No, it's about you,” she hummed. “I thought he might just be… himself—”

“Rude. You thought he was a rude asshat who didn't care about making a good impression,” Stiles said and sat up. Ameila hummed, considering the words. “you can say it. I thought he was when I saw him. I also thought he was a psychopathic murder.” Stiles looked at his empty bottle and leaned over to throw it away. “turns out that was his uncle.”

“Sorry,” Ameila said, pushing for details without saying so.

“Long story,” Stiles huffed, not adding more. “Point is, he doesn't exactly make a good first impression.”

Ameila sat back in her chair, trying to get past the crazy not-story with the alcohol clouding her brain. “I— No… He followed every convention, every tedious word and action perfectly, until you were involved. Like, uh, normally he wouldn’t go into the med rooms without our Alpha present but he’s rarely more than a few steps away from you. Hell, I'm shocked he's not here now,” she laughed, sipping her drink. “Oh! And the look he gave poor Marty for getting too close to you? He's still scared of him!”

“He has that effect,” Stiles snickered. “I wish I could say he’s all bark and no bite to put you at ease, but it'd be a lie.”

“He’s obsessed with you,” Ameila said, rolling her eyes and opening another drink for Stiles.

He shook his head at the drink. “I'm good,” he said and Ameila shrugged, setting it next to him.

“You have to tell me all about this prospective lover boy,” Amelia teased, opening another drink for herself.

Derek found himself wandering back to the Emissary’s workshop around midnight. Stiles had yet to come back to their room and, despite his confusion on where they stood, Derek couldn't sleep without him.

When Derek noticed that the shop's lights were off, he froze. His heart rate spiked. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit, where's Stiles? He was just here, he could still smell him. He could swear he was still here.

A squeaky screen door opened on a nearby house and someone stuck their head out. “Hey,” they called and Derek looked over at them. “You're Stiles' mate, ya? Nevermind, that was a stupid question. I can smell him on you from here. Come get him before he throws up on my couch.”

Derek hurried over to the house and followed the wolf into the house. Sure enough, there was Stiles laying on the couch, very drunk.

Derek sighed, patting Stiles's cheek to get him to wake up but he only hummed and leaned into Derek’s hand. “Idiot,” he mumbled to himself.

“Listen, I agreed to be responsible for that one,” the wolf who'd let Derek in said, pointing to Ameila, “but that one is all yours. Word of advice though, might keep an eye on him and the liquor. He can drink like an alcoholic.”

That one? Keep an eye on him? Did they think Stiles was a child? She was talking about him like he wasn't even a person and the way they talked about Ameila? What the hell did they mean, responsible for her?

“I don't need your advice,” Derek growled, carefully picking Stiles up and glaring heavily at the other wolf.

The wolf scoffed, rolling her eyes. “I was just making sure you know. Didn't mean nothing by it.”

Derek took a breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I'll take him back so he's not your problem anymore. And, by the way, His name is Stiles,” Derek grumbled and the other wolf shrugged, holding the doors open for Derek to carry Stiles out.

Derek was fuming as he walked Stiles back to their cabin. Who talks about another person like that in a serious tone? As a joke, maybe. Saying Stiles drank like an alcoholic? That was over the fucking line. You don't just say that shit! You just—

“Derek,” Stiles mumbled, opening his eyes tiredly, a slight slur to his words.

“It's me,” Derek answered, glancing at Stiles as he walked.

“You're warm,” Stiles hummed, leaning into Derek more.

How could someone see this as a burden? He knew what Stiles was like when he was drunk. He'd ramble about his favorite shows or his current hyperfixation. He talked without a filter and was about as graceful as a newborn baby deer, sure, but he wasn't trouble. If he felt sick, he'd lay down and eventually fall asleep just like he had. And the one time Stiles had thrown up from drinking, he felt like shit about it and tried to clean it up himself. How was he a problem?

And calling him an alcoholic? Stiles was fucking terrified of becoming an alcoholic. Derek had seen Stiles drunk a total of 5 times in the years he's known Stiles. That fucking asshole had known Stiles for, what, a week? Maybe two? Where did they get off saying Stiles was an alcoholic?

“Sorry you had to come get me,” Stiles mumbled, yawning. He wrinkled his nose. “Shit, is that me? I smell awful.”

“You smell like alcohol,” Derek mumbled, not disagreeing. Like alcohol and that fucking house.

“Fuck,” Stiles groaned, “I didn't… We were talking about magic and the wolves and mates and this whole mess and I didn't even realize..” Derek hummed in acknowledgement, listening to Stiles and, shit, he was being so nice about it. Stiles felt like shit. This was his fault. Derek must ave been so worried about him and, fuck, he must be pissed!

“I'm really sorry, Der. We were just venting about the crap half of the magic and then Ameila offered me a drink and we were talking about our packs and all the crap we've been through and then she asked about you… I don't know and being mates and it's all so much and, come on, you got stuck with me, out of all people! And everytime she got herself another, she got me one too andI said I was good but I guess I didn’t realize. I'm really sorry Der…”

Derek stopped, looking at Stiles seriously. “One more time. What happened,” he asked and Stiles's face went red.

“Do I have to?”

“You told her you were done and she kept giving you drinks,” Derek asked.

“Kind of? I guess,” Stiles rubbed his face, “I mean, ya. I didn't think they were that strong but maybe I was wrong.”

“Stiles, you said you were done?”

“Kind of? She asked if I wanted another and I said I was good.”

Derek gritted his teeth, He took a while to say anything else. Stiles was starting to think Derek was mad at him.

“You said you were done and she kept giving you more?”

“Ya, but I drank them. I should've stopped.”

“So should she,” Derek scoffed, bumping the door to their room open. “Why don't we head for the next pack tomorrow? you can sleep in the jeep if you still don't feel good.”

“I'm sorry,” Stiles mumbled.

Derek sighed, putting Stiles down to lean on the bed. He took a breath and looked at Stiles. He looked so upset, it made Derek's heart sche. He held Stiles’ face in his hands. “I'm not med at you,” he told him. “I'm not particularly happy with Emissay Ameila at the moment or that fucking asshole she lives with.”

“Sarah? She's a little rough around the edges but—”

“Stiles,” Derek said. “I don't really care who it was. You're upset, I'm slightly less pissed now, but, between the two of us, I think it's time we go. If you really want to stay… just know that it might feel like I'm glued to you.”

Stiles laughed, leaning into Derek's touch. “I don't think leaving early would be that bad,”

“Thank god,” Derk huffed. Fuck, he relly wanted to kiss Stiles. He was so close and that fucking smile. He looked so cute when he was tired… “You should probably take a shower,” Derek mumbled, stepping back from Stiles. He saw how Stiles’ shoulders sagged when Derk let go of him.

“Uh, ya. I should,” Stiles said, grabbing his clothes and headed for the bathroom.

From the fifth pack, Derek learned that they both might have been a little too trusting.

They both learned for each of the twenty-three packs they visited. Stiles learned about magic and Derek learned how much he didn’t know about Stiles. The more Derek learned about Stiles, the more he loved him.

As they drove across the state, Derek made a list of things he loved about Stiles. Stiles' smile could light up a room. His eyes were honey golden in the sun. He loved kids and kids loved him. He was a fast learner. He was polite and respectful. He asked so many interesting questions Derek would never have thought of. He was a horrible dancer but didn’t let it stop him from having fun. He would scream the lyrics of songs he really liked. He had a serious caffeine addiction that made him a sleepy mess in the morning. He focused on things he enjoyed like they were the only thing in the world. He noticed everything. He would yell in triumph when he gained a new skill. He would try any food once. He would say he would say he wouldn’t to do a task he hated the entire time he did it. He liked to complain but would freak out if you actually tried to accommodate his complaints. Stiles was amazing and irritating and stupid and a genius and Derek loved him. It wasn’t because they were mates and some cosmic force decided they needed each other. No, Derek had slowly fallen in love with Stiles.

From the twenty-third and final pack, Stiles learned about spirit vision– the ability to see the souls of others.

Saffi was the Emissary to teach Stiles about seeing the souls of others. It was almost fitting since she was the person who told Stiles that cloaking magic didn’t work on mates because she could see Stiles and Derek’s mate bond from a mile away.

A lot of time was spent watching the pack. Stiles was trying to learn to see souls without having physical contact with another person. He’d done it twice: one with Willow and Casey and once with Leanndra, Garrett and Andy.

Derek had been walking when he heard Stiles talking. “What do family bonds look like,” Stiles asked Saffi. Really, Derek should have kept moving but he found the lessons Stiles learned to be interesting.

Saffi smiled at him. “It’s very similar to a mate bond but the child’s, or children’s, soul is distinct from their parents. It still swirls and wraps around the others.”

“I saw one,” Stiles muttered, looking at Saffi. “Derek… When we were with this pack that takes in pups without family to care for them, he held this little boy.” Stiles smiled thinking about Eli. “I looked at Derek and his spirit and how it's attached to mine but I saw what you described. I got this feeling like he belonged with us…” Stiles shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

“That’s amazing, Stiles,” Saffi told him with a huge smile. “Did you tell Derek?”

That was Derek’s cue to move along. He went on with his day, at least he tried to, but the conversation ran through his head on loop. He was supposed to have a family. A real one.

From the twenty-third pack, Derek learned that he was supposed to be a family with Stiles and Eli.

They drove into Beacon hills as the sun was going down. Derek drove to see the progress on the Hale house. He parked in front of the nearly completed house and smiled. It was perfect, just how he remembered.

Stiles woke up and glared against the jeep’s lights. He saw the Hale house and yawned. “Is it done?”

“Almost. They need to finish the plumbing,” Derek said, looking at Stiles and something clicked. He was head over heels in love with Stiles. "Marry me…"

Stiles looked at Derek, processing what he said. "What," was all he could manage.

"Marry me," Derek repeated and Stiles groaned, rubbing his face.

Stiles huffed a sigh and turned in his seat to look directly at Derek. "Derek, you're tired. You're going to wake up tomorrow and all of this will be a really embarrassing sleep deprived mistake," Stiles told him, more than sure he was right.

Derek shook his head. "I have never been more sure of something in my life," he mumbled.

Stiles wanted to scream. This wasn’t happening. Derek was not asking his to marry him in the jeep they had spent eight months driving around in. When he was finally about to open his mouth without screaming incoherently, Stiles told him "ask me in the morning when you haven't been driving for five hours straight."

Derek agreed and Stiles Melted into his seat. He could not do this. He was too tired. He wasn't able to sleep where he was comfortable. He wanted to collapse into the pile of werewolves and werecoyote and banshee and kitsune and humans. Stiles was bone tired.

They drove to the loft and stumbled in with bags of clothes and keepsakes they had acquired along the way. It was late. Stiles trudged up the stairs and into the room that had been turned into the designated cuddle pile room.

When he found the pack up and dressed, ready for a run, Stiles went off. “Oh Hell no! You aren’t doing any such thing,” Stiles yelled at the people blankly staring at him. “Every goddamned one of you better be in pjs and ready for a damn cuddle pile in an hour or I will show you what I’ve learned.”

Stiles glared at them, waiting for the surprise to wear off. When it did, Stiles was attacked by an onslaught of hugs and whining and mumbles that told his he better never leave them again.

Stiles got what he wanted. The entire pack was curled up in a pile, fast asleep. They made faces when Derek laid behind Stiles and wrapped an arm around his waist. There were probably more stares when Stiles rolled over and hid his face against Derek but he didn’t care.

Stiles woke up the next morning more well rested than he’d been since he left Beacon Hills. He smiled when he found a warm pot of coffee left by Lydia. He poured himself a cup and Sat down at the breakfast bar. Derek wasn’t far behind Stiles, but stopped to look for something before he walked down stairs to see Stiles.

Stiles looked at the stair when he heard Derek coming and grinned. "was I right or was I right," he asked, waiting for Derek to act all embarrassed about last night.

Instead, Derek stood behind him, wrapping an arm around Stiles’ waist. He kissed Stiles’ neck and held out a ring. "Marry me," he asked again.

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

The jeep was parked at the edge of the Preserve. The passenger side door was open and Stiles leaned over the baby seat. He had already tied the sling to his front and the collection bag on his back.

“You’re going to help dada collect ingredients,” Stiles cooed at the baby and he giggled. “Ya,” Stiles said with a smile. He unbuckled the baby, tickling him. The baby giggled and Stiles laughed with him.

“Stiles,” a voice, Derek, called from behind him.

Stiles whipped around, grabbing an exploding pouch. He sighed when he saw Derek. “Hey Sourwolf. You scared me,” he said with a smile.

Derek looked at him skeptically, leaning to the side to see into the jeep. “Did you bring Eli out here?”

“What? No,” Stiles scoffed, blocking Derek’s view. “Why would I do that?”

Derek hummed, walking closer. Eli giggled, blowing spit bubbles, and Stiles had to stop himself from smiling. “Then whose baby is in the jeep,” Derek asked and Stiles didn’t answer. “Nothing to say?”

“Well,” Stiles sighed, turning to pull baby Eli out of his seat, “it would be a lot harder to explain bringing someone else’s baby out here.”

Derek hummed, kissing Stiles. He smiled when Eli grabbed his hand, trying to eat Derek’s finger. “Be careful, especially collecting the wolf’s bane.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I packed a cure just in case,” he said, slipping him into the baby sling. “That’s why bubby is facing dada, ya. So we don’t grab things,” Stiles smiled, kissing the top of Eli’s head. “Do you want to walk with us,” he asked Derek.

“They finished construction on the house so I want to finish painting Eli’s room today,” Derek hummed.

Stiles pulled Derek down for a kiss and smiled. “I think I won this whole dating thing. I got a boyfriend, a house, and a baby in one go.”

“It would be husband if you would say yes,” Derek said snarkily.

Stiles chuckled and Kissed Derek. “Then woo me! Make me want to be a Hale,” Stiles told him, walking off into the trees.

Derek smiled. He was definitely going to marry that man one day.

[cassiewritessalot]

scream! ༉‧₊˚.

jj maybank x fem!reader

inspired by scream from high school musical 3!

୨ৎ summary: you moved away and left jj, you didn't tell anyone anything before you left. he doesn't know what to do with himself anymore without you.

୨ৎ warnings: cussing, arguing, i think that's it?

୨ৎ cassie's notes: so sorry for going complete m.i.a, and also this is so short i hate it. i've been so burnt out and wrote this the second i got the idea, enjoy! with love always, cassie <33333.

you left him.. you left him all alone, and he doesn't know what to do.

jj rides the twinkie around obx, thinking if he mindlessly drives around he'll find you. or maybe he'll find reasons as to why you left. he wanted to figure out why you left the pogues, why you left him.

what do i do now without you?

i don't know where to go

what's the right team?

i want my own thing

so bad i'm gonna scream!

he didn't know where to look first, thinking you'd be at the beach catching some waves but you weren't there. he thought you'd be with kie and sarah, but you weren't. you weren't in any place that you'd typically be. shortly after he began spiralling and called john b to try and calm himself down.

"i don't know where the fuck she is man! i gotta find my girl!" jj screamed into his phone as john b tried to give him places to look but jj was one step ahead and already checked those places.

"did you try her place? or the beach? maybe she went to help pope with deliveries." john b's voice echoed through the speakers.

"dude her parents are assholes she'd never go home to them, she's not at the beach and yes i checked both and pope hasn't seen her.." jj says into the phone and begins to get even more worried than before causing him to spiral more.

he knew if you were with him he would know what to do, but you weren't. if you were here he wouldn't be in this situation of frantically looking for you everywhere.

which way i can't tell

i'm searchin, searchin', can't find a (way that i should turn)

i should turn right or left this?

it's like nothing works without you!

jj felt like he was losing his mind. he knew he wouldn't be able to cope with you not being by his side. he needed you, he wasn't afraid to admit that. he needed you like how the earth needs the sun to revolve around it. you were his sun, you made him glow happiness and love.

you made his life better, you made him a different person. a better person at that. he ends the call with john b after several minutes have gone by and he didn't listen to a word john b said in those minutes. he keeps his eyes on the road and tries not to lose focus and he stops by one more beach, a beach only you two knew about where you'd go for some alone time.

he gets out of the driver's seat of the twinkie and walks to a spot you two had gone. it was a secluded spot with a massive rock covering most of it.

he put his face in his hands when he didn't find you and began walking back and forth angrily talking- actually, screaming at himself. he was angry at himself for letting you get away, he thought it was his fault you left.

yeah the clock's running down

hear the crowd getting loud

i'm consumed by the sound

is it her? is it love?

can the music ever be enough?

"gotta work it out, gotta work it out, you can do it.." the blond boy whispered to himself as he started thinking of unhinged ideas to get you back as he gazed at the open ocean infront of him.

the voices in his head started to sound like a crowd with the amount of overlapping commencing in his head, he tried to clear his head. he tried. but they didn't stop, every voice was chanting your name and he couldn't take it anymore. so he screamed.

"fuck!" he screamed loudly knowing nobody had heard him as the beach was just outside of town and he began kicking the sand. after his little outburst he stroked his hair with hand before making his way back to the twinkie thinking of a new plan already.

[emeraldtied]

{➹} – IF ARROW HAD noticed it, the other hedgehog's slip, there was no indication of it. Current predicaments didn't lend themselves for a lapse like that anyhow, and the most the elder offered was a nod. Lil didn't need to worry about them. There was a relief when the other speedster and fox didn't argue and disappeared into the vent without another word. Seemed even the pair knew that time wasn't a luxury for them while they were in the base.

Still, Arrow didn't move until he was sure the others were safe. And it was with some humor that he noticed the door's sturdiness. Seemed the base was built enough to be too good for its own people.

Regardless he wasn't going to stand around and wait to see what had caused that sound or the tremor in the door. He only gave it a moment more before turning and heading to the vent himself. Truthfully he had expected more room and may have given a sound of surprise when he nearly bumped into the other two. Luckily he was steady on his feet and gained balance before the could send them all tumbling to the floor.

But that was just one of their problems.

"Well, so much for the noiseless approach," he remarked, dusting himself off for a moment before looking around. Not the most helpful room so he gave it little regard before looking at the other two.

"Now what? We don't have a lot of time before we're found out, or found for that matter. And, no offense, but the vent thing is a little clique. I doubt we'll get away with it twice."

Especially if their enemies knew they were there now. The places the trio could hide was going to dwindle fast and that wasn't beneficial to them. Plus they still had a job to do and now there was a wrench in that plan. It didn't deter the hero, but he did want to know what the others thought.

"Don't stray too far behind, brother."

He was far too focused on the situation at hand to argue or to notice his slip-up with his words, even if it was true. As much as he hated the fact Arrow was coming last, there was no time to argue. He spun directly into the vent and down the ventilation shaft to what seemed to be a supply closet of sort, hoping down in a rather cramped feeling room, even if both him and Gold would have plenty of space between them and Arrow once he arrived.

Meanwhile it wouldn't take long for one of the heavies' arms to punch straight through the door, yet it held up enough to where they hadn't broken through yet. It would take more time for them to do so, giving the elder hedgehog plenty of time to escape.

The fox hadn't noticed which of the two had hopped into the room with him, but began to speak to either one of them in a hushed tone.

"Dammit, those blueprints must have had a trigger to alert the system when they are accessed. It was a trap that I sprung so easily..."

"Don't beat yourself up, you couldn't have known. Besides, it's info we needed to know. Their security system is still down, so we can still move around the place with some resemblance of stealth."

"At least we don't need to be quiet anymore..."

It was at that point the fox turned to meet the eyes of whoever else was in the room with him.

"Will you hurry up and fix the cameras already?!" The intercom cried out with an annoyance of the robotic weasel that was on the other end. not realizing the security sent to the room they were in would only get through minutes after the escape from that location.

[thesnacken]

Uhhhhhhh