#the deputy fanfic

[hatussy]

disciplinary | c.r

pairing: charlie reid x f!reader warnings: smut, nsfw [18+ only], slight dubcon, an homage to fleabag s2 [2019], superior/subordinate, shoe riding, office sex, degradation/humiliation, dacryphilia, unprotected sex, breeding kink, excessive use of the word “cunt” word count: 1729

summary: in which you would do anything for deputy reid...

oneshot | masterlist

You stood before Deputy Reid with your head held high, despite your metaphorical tail tucked between your legs. You listened to him rant and rave about your recklessness, that two of your team are now in the hospital seriously injured.

You knew the plan was stupid. You knew better than to use two rookies as a decoy so you could get behind the target. They’d agreed to it—they knew the risks, but you were the superior. You shouldn’t have even humoured the idea, let alone voiced it.

Deputy Reid paced the room in front of you. You hated that he looked so good, with his curly grey hair and glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. The way the sleeves of his shirt had been rolled up his arms haphazardly to reveal his forearms—tanned and freckled and muscular. How the fuck were his forearms so sexy?

He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose with two thick fingers. You felt your pussy clench at the sight of his hands—his forearms. The way the muscles flexed with the slight exertion.

“I can’t let you walk out of here without some kind of punishment on your record, Captain.”

You hated how crisp his white shirt was, tucked into the waistband of his dark jeans. How his gun holster clung to his side, weapon still tucked away, ready to be used. 

“I’ll take whatever punishment you deem necessary, Sir, but I implore you not to take my wings.”

“What makes you think I give a single fuck about what you implore me to do?” He snapped. “This isn’t the first time you’ve broken protocol, Captain. I have to make an example out of you. This shit doesn’t fucking fly around here, and neither do you. You’re suspended for three months, pending further investigation.”

“Sir,” you pleaded, stepping closer to him, aware of the desperation in your voice.

Charlie’s head snaps towards you, his fiery gaze freezing you in place.

“Sir, I’ll do anything.” You continued, watching him slip his glasses back onto his face. “I know it was a stupid call. It should be me in the hospital, not Jones and West. I’ll do anything to make it right, just please. Please don’t suspend me.”

Deputy Reid chuckled humourlessly and walked towards one of the armchairs in his office. You watched him walk. The way his shirt hugged his muscular back. The way his thick thighs were outlined in his jeans, the denim hugging his ass like a second skin.

“Come here, Captain,” he instructed, eyes trained on your own as you swallowed thickly. He caught the almost imperceptible gulp and the way your gaze dropped to his lips, then lower. And even lower. 

“Sir?” You asked, cocking your head slightly once you were standing in front of him.

“On your knees, Captain. I want you to beg me not to take your gun,” he said, voice rough. He was barely able to stop himself from adjusting his throbbing cock, hands white-knuckling the arms of the chair as you slowly sunk to your knees. 

“Please, Sir,” you began, aware that it was a weak effort. Seeing him before you like this, legs spread, eyes dark and lips parted as he quickly gulped in each breath. You hadn’t even started. “Deputy Reid.”

“What?!” He hissed, voice thick and gravelly as he took in your appearance. Your hooded eyes, laboured breathing. On your knees between his legs. God, you were a sight. 

“Sir, I—,” you let out an involuntary sob. “—I need this job more than anything. Policing is my life. Being a cop is all I’ve ever dreamed of. You can’t, Sir.” You were laying it on thick with the tears and trembling voice, little did you know he wouldn’t be persuaded so easily. “Please, I—the investigation will ruin me, Sir.”

“Fuck you for calling me ‘Sir’ like it doesn’t turn you on just to say it,” he growled, pressing the toe of his impeccably shiny shoe snug against the apex of your thighs. Just a little more and the point would be pressed against your clothed clit. 

You gasped at the sudden feeling, clamping your legs around his shoe and staring up at him through wide eyes and wet lashes and splotchy cheeks. “I–Sir?”

“You said you’d do anything,” he continued. “Prove it, Captain.”

“I don’t–what?”

“Ride my shoe, Captain. Get yourself off. Prove to me just how desperately you don’t want the investigation to happen. If I like what I see…” He shifted slightly and your eyes dropped to his crotch where his erection strained against his trousers. “How desperate are you, Captain?”

Your breath caught in your throat as you rocked your hips against the point of his shoe, a low groan rumbling in your chest as you grazed your clothed clit against the leather. “Sir,” you whimpered, adding more pressure. Feeling your arousal dampening your underwear as you continued your ministrations. The slow rocking of your hips, your hands gripping his leg for stability.

“That’s a good girl,” he purred, watching your head fall back as you succumbed to the pleasure. “Fuck, look at you. So pretty, so desperate.”

“Sir, I–” 

A moan tore through you, cutting off whatever you were about to say. Deputy Reid reached forward to cup your cheek, tenderly at first, before roughly gripping your face and forcing your mouth open. 

“Look at me when you cum all over my shoe, Captain,” he growled, earning a whimper in response. “You’re a fucking mess. Pathetic. You could’ve got your men killed, Captain.”

A strangled sob sounded around the room. You squeezed your eyes shut as tears rolled down your cheeks. When you opened them again it was a struggle. A struggle to see your superior have such control over you. A struggle to hear him tell you that you’d fucked up. A struggle to cum while he goaded you with your mistakes.

But you were so close. You cried out as you came, legs clamping tighter around his shoe, body shaking with the intensity. Feeling both euphoria and disappointment was overwhelming. You’d fucked up and he’d made a spectacle out of you. 

And fuck if that look in his eyes hadn’t branded it’s place in your soul for the rest of eternity.

Deputy Reid chuckled as he dropped his hand from your face and settled back into the chair. “Look at what you’ve done, Captain.” He gestured to his crotch as he lowered his foot back to the ground. You whimpered at the loss of contact. “You’ve ruined my shoe, too.”

“I–I’m sorry, Sir.”

He clicked his tongue. You at least had the nerve to hold his gaze even as his hand brushed over his crotch.

“I should take you over my desk,” he pondered. “Make you walk out of here crying while my seed drips out of your cunt, hm?”

“Anything, Sir,” you repeated. “I’ll do anything.”

If that didn’t set him off, you didn’t know what would. He growled as he hauled you to your feet, undoing his pants just enough to get his cock out. Roughly pulling your own trousers down to your knees as he bent you over his desk and sank his cock deep into your sopping cunt.

You cried out as he roughly spanked your ass. Once, twice, three times. Each cheek stinging under the impact, tears freely flowing down your cheeks. He gripped your hips roughly, cock stretching you to the point it hurt. Giving you no time to warm to the intrusion before he pulled out and his hips snapped against your ass, bottoming out almost entirely.

“Sir!” You wailed, forearms braced on his desk. The solid mahogany roughly scraping against the floor with each relentless thrust.

“Shit, squeezing my cock so fucking good,” he praised. “Knew you’d like it rough. Reckless. It’s how you live.”

You moaned as the tip of his cock brushed the spongy wall inside you that had you seeing stars. 

“Fucking hell, gonna cum deep inside your cunt, Captain,” he cursed. “Beg me for it. Beg for me to finish inside you.”

“P-please,” you sobbed. “Please cum inside me, Sir. I need it. Need to feel you filling me up. Need to learn my lesson.”

“That’s fucking right.” He growled lowly. “Gonna flood your womb. Fuck, Captain. Taking my cock exactly how I always imagined.”

His grunts and moans drowned out your own whimpers and sobs. He was so close, you could feel the way his thrusts got more frantic. The way his breathing hitched and you flexed your pelvic muscles around him. He came hard, grunting out your name and praising your cunt for squeezing him so good. 

No praise for you, just your cunt.

He stilled his movements, planting one more solid smack to your left cheek before pulling out. He admired his work, your stinging ass, swollen cunt, and his seed trickling out. Thick fingers worked it back inside you, not to get you off—to make good on your promise that you’d do anything to keep your job, even spreading your legs for your superior. 

Deputy Reid’s fingers were thick and covered in his cum—your own arousal. He gripped your face, watching your mouth fall open as he turned you to face him, the digits slipping past your open lips. 

“Clean my fingers,” he instructed, breathing heavily as he watched you suck them further into your mouth. Tears stained your cheeks, eyelashes wet—pupils dilated and eyes red. Fuck, you were a sight. So eager to clean him up—to do whatever it took to keep your job. “Get dressed. Pack up your desk. You’re still suspended for three months pending investigation.”

Your breath caught in your throat. What the fuck was that? All that for nothing—the same outcome? Your shoulders sank, heavy under the weight of the consequences of your own actions. 

Deputy Reid looked far more put together than you—not a hair out of place, shirt tucked back into his jeans, and his thick cock hidden behind the wall of denim. Your cunt was used—full of his seed, and seeping into the fabric of your panties as you donned your pants and attempted to make yourself presentable. 

“Leave like that,” he said—no, he ordered. Not caring to look your way as he grabbed the file from his desk and dismissed you without a second thought. 

[sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy]

Who's in Love With the Big Bad Wolf

Masterlist | AO3

Sterek

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

~14k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Her,” Derek asked incredulously.

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

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

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

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

“Fucking, fine. Your boyfriend, then.”

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

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

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

“Put your seatbelt on.”

“Are you serious?”

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

“You never wear a seatbelt, Stiles.”

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

Derek rolled his eyes but put on his seatbelt.

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

“Stiles,” Derek sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why,” Derek asked.

“That, I’m not sure of,” Deaton said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then it escalated.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you,” Derek said exasperatedly.

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

“Bye Stiles.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stiles,” Eli whimpered, pulling his attention.

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

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

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

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

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

“Did he see anything,” Sheriff asked worriedly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I wasn’t—”

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

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

“Then just ask.”

“Fine. Are you dating my brother?”

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

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

“Even if I do—”

“You do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Derek nodded. “Thank you for protecting him.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Derek kept looking behind them, cursing under his breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Used to,” Derek shot back questioningly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Almost on instinct, he called Derek.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Derek hummed. “Bye Stiles.”

“Bye Der,” Stiles mumbled, hanging up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where’s the bat,” Derek asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about Cora,” Stiles asked.

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

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

“Eli is fine,” Derek growled.

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry,” Derek grumbled.

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

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

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

“I’m fine,” Derek grumbled.

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

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

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

“Stiles—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Too much like the past,” Derek offered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want,” Stiles choked up.

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

“You mean Derek?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stiles?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“GET THE FU—”

“Stiles…”

“Derek?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is it,” Derek asked back.

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

“Yes.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about significant other,” Stiles suggested.

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

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

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

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

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

Stiles smiled, “that works for me.”

[dozing-marshmallow]

BIMBO! (CONTESTANT) READER HEADCANONS

Bimbo (Y/N) had a lot to say

You weren’t paying attention at the starting line; you were making sure your nails stayed on in the gloves.

So because of that, you died when “Frankie” came out the door.

Retry.

So like, so far, you were avoiding death beautifully and getting more used to what you needed to do in this place, just running and jumping around like a lapdog.

You were never alone though, which was kinda reassuring? You always knew a beaut like you could blow up and make money on tv, but no one’s talked about how stressful it is! You should’ve worn your other lucky lingerie!

You arrived at a door and crossed your arms, stepping around the dead guys.

“Okay, last time, some fashion rabbit looking freakazoid came out and like killed me, without giving me a chance to go out in dignity! Nuh uh!” you zipped down the suit down to your cleavage, whipping out your compact.

You were expecting your face, just oozing glamour, staring at you, not that dumb bunny mask.

“Oh right. Well if I can’t take this off, I’ll at least give it a makeover! It needs one.” you huffed, stroking some lipgloss onto the plastic cover’s mouth,”Aw, no fair! It’s barely showing! Okay then... Blush will definitely stay on!”

Shoving your lipgloss back in your cleavage in place for blush, you dabbed some pink on the cheeks of the mask,“Aw! Why didn’t I like try this sooner? She’s soooooo cute!”

Satisfied, you held your head up to a nearby camera, hands by both sides of your head,“It’s Frankie! Frankie’s a girl, and I’m a girl!” you turned back to the locked door, breaker in the middle yelling at you to press it, rusting with a painting of the mascot and the words “I LOVE YOU!”. You wanted to say “me too!”. 

Instead you commented,“I always thought the name Frankie was so hip. Just like, whenever you hear it, it could either be about a dude or a chick. Too bad it’s been given to a rabid rabbit. Hey, that rhymed!”

You pressed the breaker and what do you know, that rabid rabbit was set free.

“Oh come on!” you whined, sprinting,”God gave me tits, not stamina!”

After that workout and an eventual completed round of obstacle courses, your brain brought light to the drops of sweat tickling down your hidden face.

You pulled out a wipe from your bra and rubbed it all over, as best you could,“Sweat? That is so 2004.”

And stopped at the motion of uh, “Debuty Fuck”

Deputy Duck.

Poor thing fell down!

You threw the wipe away to the waste basket somewhere and creeped towards it. You pinched it up...

And it was pecking you! You threw it to the board, now on the floor.

“Don’t even think about it! My neck’s already gone through a lot!” you scowled, hands on your hips,“That was just rude, Mr Deputy Duck! For a police officer of the law, you’d think you’d have gone through more better training than this!”

You bent over to gear him into your hand.

“Quack quack.” he pacifically let out.

“Aw, aren’t you just so adorable?!” you squealed, petting the head of the tablet duck, causing your grudge to fly over your own air head,“Your eyes are like so cute, it’s almost like I have my own puppy! Ah, OMG! When I get outta here, I am so putting you in a designer bag! Not that I don’t like carrying you or anything, but a girl has two hands: one for lipgloss, the other for her phone, and those are never up for negotiation.” you explained, walking and crawling with him through the vents.

“You! You did this to me! It hurts!” the disturbing thing known as Henry Hotline blamed his pain on you, then stomped backwards into the darkness.

You shook your index finger, far into his absence,“Well, soz your head looks like a busted cash register from 300 BC!” you scoffed, wondering in, your voice a lot more sweet here,“Come back Mr Henry man, we can talk about this! I have just the perfect face mask for you! We could have the best spa session in history!”

You didn’t see him. Though it’s hard to tell, since the entire environment was painted in darkness, with the exception of a few glowing things stuck on the floor and wall.

You groaned,“No, a maze! I feel like I’m at school again! I got suspended on the first day for lateness, then I got suspended on the second for “inappropriate clothing” while Jamie...Jane...Jennifer? Well, her and that disgusting vomit green sweater were off the hook! Can you believe it?” you pressed a telephone you found,“My crop top had apparently violated the dress code, when that filthy thing that may as well have been stolen from Maccie’s was a-okay!” clicking another,”Well I’ll tell you what, my crop tops are justice to the idiots who spend their time in classrooms and behind a desk all day!” and another,“Maybe I should put some money towards law school, so I could like, totally rewrite the law and send people to jail! What do you think, Mr Deputy?”

“Quack quack.”

“Harsh? Well you’re right, I normally wouldn’t fashion shame people like that, but she was a huge bitch to put it simply! Telling me that science was upstairs, like I was a loser with no sense of direction!” you vented, then shuddered in confusion,“Uh... We haven’t gone there before, have we?”

Deputy Duck knew yes, but you couldn’t understand.

“Um, excuse me, Mr Henry Hotline, I’m- We’re having trouble!” you called out, and got an immediate response.

At first, you were excited. Had he finally decided to get the face mask? But the thudding footsteps reeked of unfriendliness. And Deputy Duck hiding again was enough to convince you to run and slide into the conspicuous safe room. Doing that left Henry clueless and he went thudding off in cold-blooded search for you.

“Oh no, not another one of these!” you whined, hands on your hips as you were kneeled down,“Listen Mr Henry man, I gave you all the time you needed, a simple yes or no was enough!”

Were you upset to see his head explode later? Kinda. You thought it harsh, but not as harsh as Deputy Duck’s alteration.

“Dontcha worry, don’t think about it as getting maimed, ducky, think about it as from being a Pomeranian to a chihuahua!” you reassured in your chirpy voice, drawing a heart on his tablet with lip gloss.

You followed the orange line and went still at the open room it snaked into, occupying...Frankie?

He came to stand right in front of you, just grinning.

“...Wait, who are you?” you asked, pointing.

An eternity later, he started speaking,“I’m the real Frankie!” and all that.

Real Frankie? So that thing chasing you was decoy Frankie? Rip-off Frankie? Oh it’s on, you weren’t scared of him anymore-

“Wait so, you’re like the announcer guy?” you asked, clocking the similarities in the voice,“Damn it! I’ve been mugged!”

And even more so when he implied that you wouldn’t leave at the end.

“Whaaaat? Are you like, offering a second season to me? Cuz if so, hell yeah!” you jumped up on the spot,“All this mandatory exercising has actually helped me lose weight and apparently it’s good for avoiding dragon pox! But that’s just a bonus. The real prize, getting more money? Ooo I’m so in!” you sat down in the red armchair, leg smugly over the other,“Do you have any idea how many shoes and designer bags I could buy with $5 mil plus? Oh, it’s Heaven!”

The announcer guy was clearly pleased with your positivity,“Excellent! That enthusiasm will do us all proud, my dear!”

“Duh! No one likes a buzzkill! People like sexy, gorgeous, life of the party kinda chics!” you boosted, stroking the cheek bits of your mask,”Once they’ve seen me, they’ll all want more! May I make some suggestions though?”

Real Frankie rapidly nodded,“Feedback is always welcome!”

“Hooray!” you replied, arms up to the air,“So like, I must say, those like dead bodies you had around the park, looked sooooo real! But it’d be so like cool if you like splashed some pink and some glitter!”

Frankie paused. Looked real? Did you not understand what was at stake for this show? Was that why you were so cheerful?,“I...I’m not sure if that would work for this kind of show, contestant.”

“Ohhhh, then at least spray some perfume since this meat smell is like a total put off! Could really distract your competitors! Perfume! That’s what I was missing! Gah, I can’t believe it!” you despairingly looked down into your cleavage’s collection again,“I remembered my mirror, makeup wipes, lipgloss, blush, mascara, face masks, but no perfume! And three of my nails are broken! This is the worst day ever!”

Frankie didn’t know what to do or say to that. So he did nothing.

Hereafter, the contestant mask will be muted.

[idkwhatimdoingbutslay]

hurts to say, but i dont think they'll ever be a caitvi spin off show because Arcane was the CaitVi show. they were the main relationship and ended the show together. I definitely think we'll get cameos but a full on show of caitvi just doesn't seem super plausible to me

[alien-slushie]

Hans: Uh sir, about the Young Master...

Deruth: What did Cale do now?

Hans: Um, he brought a strange man to the mansion last night.

Deruth, staring blankly as he misunderstands what he just heard: ...he what?!

[dallianceangel]

𝐃𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐀 𝐓𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 🚓

Here’s a random short fic for you 😁

🦋 comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated 🦋

You step out of the holding cell, bruised but victorious. Your brother, Jax, meets you with a grin.

“Deputy Hale told me everything,” Jax says, eyes twinkling with pride. “Ima’s in the next cell, looking pretty defeated.”

You smirk, adjusting your jacket. “Well, she needed a lesson. You don’t mess with a Teller and get away with it.”

As you pass Hale on your way out, you flash him a flirtatious smile. “Thanks for the quick exit, Deputy. I promise I’ll be a good girl from now on.”

Hale blushes slightly, nodding awkwardly. “Just… have a good rest of your evening.”

You wink at him. “You too, handsome.”

Jax shakes his head, rolling his eyes. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

[dropofbittersea]

Stiles finds himself on the doorstep to his home in Beacon Hills, not remembering how he got here or why he’s barefoot. As it turns out, he was abducted a couple of weeks earlier from a college party and bears the same marks on his body as victims of a serial killer his dad just can’t seem to get a hold of. So there he is, with no memories of what happened, the last couple of weeks like a blank line in his mind and knowing all too well that he’s the best shot they have at catching this guy. As a key witness and in acute, assumed danger, he finds himself under surveillance 24/7 and more often than not, his dad’s best Deputy: Derek Hale, is sitting at his kitchen table.

[the-unidentified-author]

Unsanctioned | Deputy Hank | The Silo

There are no fanfics about this man that I can find anywhere on the internet so I went ahead and made one. Idk if there is anyone in love with this man as much as me to read it but I just had to write a little something for him. IDk if its good I just needed SOMETHING.

Warnings/ Tags: SMUT[NSFW], smut, minors DNI, established relationship, p in v, creampie, a little rough, consensual!, hes a big man.

Words: 3,306

Not my gif, if its yours and you would like me to remove it just ask <3

You hooked your thumbs under the straps of your backpack and exited the stairs. Working as a mechanic always consisted of long, strange hours that often had you walking alone along the streets of the silo. You didn’t mind it, walking empty streets at almost five in the morning, no one running past you, just you alone with your thoughts, was a welcome rest bite from the hustle and bustle of the day. You knew that in little more than an hour the streets of the silo would be filled with people either coming home from work or heading to it.

Hank would still be in his office, the officers under him patrolling the streets to ensure that everyone who should be inside was. He was likely still filling in paperwork, there seemed to be a never-ending amount of it recently. More than likely exacerbated by the fact that Juliette made it over the hill. Something that had never been done before.

As you neared the door to the police station, you slowed your stroll and pulled the hair-tie from the end of your braid. Running your fingers through your hair to separate the strands.

Slowly you made your way towards the door, twisting the handle and pushing the old heavy door in. Just as you had expected, the precinct was quiet and empty. The main light was off, with the two desk lamps and the screen at the back showing the dark outside world the only sources of light. You walked around the table in the middle where the officers sat and circled toward the door to the left. It was open a crack, warm light spilling out.

“Hank?” You questioned, placing your palm on the door and pushing it open.

Hank was sitting at his desk, crouched over some paperwork. He looked up through the hair that had fallen into his face as you entered. His tired expression replaced with a smile as he sat up.

“This is a surprise.” He said, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands into his lap.

“Well, I just finished a double, and the showers were empty so, so I washed up at work.” You turned and pushed the door gently to a close before dropping your backpack on the chair opposite his desk.

He pushed his chair back from his desk and opened his arms, allowing you to sit down in his lap. His arms encircled you and pulled you back against his chest, nuzzling his head into your neck.

“What time is it?” He asked, pressing a delicate kiss to the soft skin of your neck.

“Almost 5am, how long have you been working?” You replied, leaning forwards away from him and towards the desk. “Are these reports on the riots?” You asked, lifting one of the papers and peaking under it.

“Since almost this time yesterday. And yeah, they are just non-stop at the moment. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Mayor calls for more curfews just to stop people from being out on the street.” He mumbled, kissing the back of your shoulder and gently pulling you back into his lap, so your back was to his chest.

He carefully pulled the fabric of your shirt from where it was tucked in your trousers, and then he snaked his hands under the fabric. Hands moving to cup your bra, giving your breast a gentle squeeze.

“All the workers in the mechanic shop are riled up. I don’t think a curfew is going to work.” You whispered clasping your hand over his as you continued to glance over the paperwork in front of you.

“Ah, it can wait until tomorrow.” He said, moving your hair from your neck and placing kisses along up towards your ear.

“It is tomorrow, my love.” You replied, standing up.

His hands gripped your hips, trying to pull you back towards him. You turned and ran your fingers through his hair. He pulled you towards him, wrapping his arms around your hips and pressing his forehead to your stomach.

“Fuck, I should get some sleep before the mayhem begins again.” He mumbled against you, the words muffled.

“Would you like me to go?” You asked, running your fingers through his messy shoulder-length curls. “You could pull out the sofa bed in your office and get an hour or two of sleep.”

He tilted his head back, looking up at you, and you moved your hands to cup his face. His big brown eyes never failed to make you melt when he looked at you. Hank moved his hands to the curve of your hips. His fingers absentmindedly fiddling with your belt loops.

“No, I…” He let out a long sigh and sat back in his chair. You leaned back against his desk in front of him and folded your arms.

His legs were splayed out, you between them as he propped his elbow up on the armrest of his chair and rubbed his hand across his lower jaw, letting out a sigh. Looking off to your left instead of at you. Even though he hadn't slept for the past day, he still looked as handsome as ever. His thick, dark curly hair always seeming to fall perfectly around his face, regardless of what he was doing. His moustache always sitting perfectly, no matter how many times he rubbed his hand over his face. He was slouching in the chair slightly, but it did little to diminish his large frame and broad shoulders. Hank was always complaining of back pain, as the doors of the silo were not built for men as tall as him.

“What is it Hank, you’re not breaking up with me, are you?” you joked, raising an eyebrow at him.

“No, I just think that with everything going on. Well, I just shouldn't be in an unsanctioned relationship. The sheriff is coming down today, and I just think it would be better if we had everything squared away.” He lowered his hand and began picking at the frayed edge of the padding on his armrest, not meeting your eye.

You let out a slow, long sigh, tilting your head to either side to crack your neck. It was a conversation, the two of you had been having on and off for months now. He had been ready to sanction the relationship the first week, you, however, were a little more hesitant. Most people in the down deep didn’t really both to get relationships sanctioned, at least not in the early days. Many waited years, only caring to get the officially sanctioned when they wanted to move in with one another or to have a baby.

“Well then,” you started, and he met your eye, those big brown puppy dog eyes silently begging. “Send in the paperwork, I know you’ve had it filled in for months now.” You whispered, unable to stop the smile from creeping onto your lips.

“Really?” he asked, leaning forwards in his seat, an exited smile on his face.

“Yep.” you replied, moving slightly to the side as he wheeled his chair forwards towards the computer to your left.

He clicked the mouse a few times and then grabbed your hand, looking up at you, the smile gone, a nervous expression in it place.

“What if they don’t approve it?” he asked, cupping your hand in his and bringing it to his lips.

He kissed it softly and sat back in his chair, dropping your hand and staring at the computer screen.

“Well,” you started, stepping towards him. You placed your hands on the armrests and climbed into his lap. His hands grabbed your waist, guiding you to make sure that you were balanced. You moved your forearms to rest on his shoulders. “We will just have to make use of the time that we have left. One last hurrah.”

You kissed him, tangling your hands into his hair. Moaning into the kiss as his hands squeezed your arse. He pulled away.

“Or the first of many legal activities.” he mumbled, peppering kisses on your lips between each word.

“I don’t think fucking the Sheriff's Deputy in his office is legal, my love.” you giggled brushing his hair out of his face.

“Yeah, I think I might have to arrest you.” He couldn't hide the grin on his face as his hands moved to the buttons of your shirt. “Might have to do a strip search to make sure that you aren't carrying any illegal contraband on your person.”

He undid the top button of your blouse, leaning forwards to place a kiss on the skin it exposed, then the next one popped open, and he placed another kiss on the skin revealed by that button. His hands fumbled with the last few buttons, hastily pulling the fabric from your frame and discarding it to the side. Hank the leaned forwards and kissed the top of your breast, just above the cup of your bra.

Your hands move to his jacket, pushing it back off his shoulders, his hands leaving your body just long enough to pull his hands from the sleeves and drop it to the side.

“Why are you wearing so many layers.” you mumbled, fumbling the buttons of his shirt, realising he was wearing a white t-shirt under it.

“Hey, you said I look hot in my uniform.” he mumbled against your breast.

“You look hotter out of it.” you replied, struggling with his buttons.

He let out a deep sigh and sat back in his chair, undoing the buttons you had been struggling with and taking his shirt off. He then pulled off the white shirt he was wearing, exposing his tanned, muscular chest. Dark sparse chest hair decorated his pecks, thicker darker hair trailed from below his belly button down under the waistline of his trousers. You pulled your bra from your body, and he smiled, leaning forwards and trailing kisses from your neck down until he took one of your nipples in his mouth. The sensation drew a moan from your lips as you tilted your head back, your hands tangling in his hair. He gently rolled your other nipple between his thumb and fingers, drawing more moans from you.

“Fuck, I missed you.” He mumbled against you, the vibrations seeming to travel straight down to your pussy that was already aching for him.

Then his hands were on the buckle of your belt, he fumbled for a moment, and then you felt it release. He pulled it from your trousers in one swift movement, kissing back up your neck before he popped the button of your trousers open. His hand moved down to palm you through your trousers, his other hand moving to your waist to help you roll your hips against him.

“Get on the fucking desk.” he commanded between kisses.

You reluctantly pushed yourself off him, he stood with you. Seemingly believing you were taking too long to obey his command. His hands moved down your body, scooping you up onto the desk in one swift movement. Hank pushed the files to the side and then kissed you once more before dropping to his knees, his hands grabbing at the waistband of your trousers at your hips and pulling them down. He was impatient, taking the underwear with the trousers and discarding them off to your left before he pushed your thighs apart, moving between your legs. He trailed kisses quickly down your thighs as one of his hands pushed against your stomach, prompting you to lie back on the desk.

You leant back, propping yourself up on your forearms, he smiled up at you running his hand though his hair to get it out of his face. He propped one of your feet on the chair and made sure the other leg was supported by his shoulder. Then he, in one swift, firm motion, licked from your entrance to your clit. One of your hands balled the paper resting under it into a fist as the other flew to grab his hair. He barely allowed you a second to process the pleasure from the first taste he had before he was tasting you again. Repeating the same motion, this time circling your clit with his tongue. Your head lulled back, and you moaned at the ceiling as he began to devour you. His tongue moved across your pussy, determined to draw as many moans from you as he could. He explored you with his tongue, just the way you liked it. Sometimes careful and slow, and then he would speed up chasing you to the edge before slowing down teasing you away from it, spurred on by your frustrated moans and the way you pulled at his hair.

“Please, Hank.” you muttered between moans as he pulled you back from your release once again.

You looked down at him, and he pulled away from your clit, making you whine a little as he looked up at you. Those big brown eyes filled with a cocktail of lust and love. His moustache slightly slick with your arousal.

“But baby, I like to hear you beg.” he whispered, his hot breath torturing your swollen clit as he pressed a rough kiss to it.

“Please, Hank.” you replied, your voice sounding pathetic.

He looked up at you with a devilish glint in his eye, and then began to devour your pussy with renewed effort. Chasing you once again to the edge. But this time he didn’t slow down or stop. No, he chased you all the way to the edge, his hands gripping your thighs to keep his face between your legs as you bucked your hips to ride out your orgasm.

Your heart rate began to lower as you regained your senses, you opened your eyes and looked down at him. He placed another kiss to your sensitive clit, making you flinch a little, before he stood. The low light of the room outlining his muscular frame and broad shoulders. The sight of him made your pussy ache with anticipation.

Hank unbuckled his belt, then undid the button of his trousers, pushing them down with his underwear. You couldn't help but gasp at the sight of him. Every time he went down on you, he always seemed to be thicker, harder, as though the act of eating you out turned him on more than you. He took himself in his hand and pumped his large fist along the length of himself before he stepped towards and pushed himself between your folds. The sensation of him rubbing against your clit made you clench. Teasing was his favourite thing, and even after the long shift he just pulled, he wasn’t about to skip it. He rocked his hips back and then forwards, slowly letting his dick rub across the outside of your pussy. The head falling to tease your entrance before sliding back up your pussy to your clit. You wiggled your hips in a vain attempt to prompt him to hurry and fuck you, but all it earned you was a thumb at your clit as he continued to rub his dick over the length of you. You tilted your head back towards the ceiling in frustration before looking back at him. He smirked at you as he rocked his hips back again, moving his hand to guide his dick into you as he gently thrust forwards.

His mouth opened slightly, allowing a moan to escape from it as he slowly moved into you. Both his hands grabbing at the flesh of your hips as he leaned towards you, fully seating him inside of you with a low grunt. You grabbed at his wrist as he barely gave you a second to acclimatise to the size of him before he withdrew him, self. Then in one quick thrust of his hips, he was back deep inside of you, drawing a moan from your lips and a grunt from his with the action.

Then Hank began to fuck you, slow at first, then he began to build speed as the thrusts started to become less controlled and more needy. He held your hand with one of his, interlocking your fingers together. His other pressed just below your bellybutton as he rubbed circles around your clit, ensuring your were racing towards the finish line with him.

Hanks thrusts grew sloppier and his breathing heavier. He dropped your hand and grabbed the flesh of your hip, fingers digging into your skin, not enough to hurt but enough for him to keep you in place as his thrusts became more needy and desperate. His other hand maintaining the stimulation of your clit. You could feel the heat building in your lower stomach, and you could see he wasn’t far behind.

“Cum with me baby.” he whispered, the thrusts becoming harsher.

Your climax came seconds before his, your back arching as pleasure ripped through you throwing your head back and causing you to scream at the ceiling. He came, too, with a guttural grunt and a harsh thrust followed by a few lazy ones before he pulled himself from you. His hands moving to your face, pulling you up to kiss him. He pressed his forehead to yours, the two of your still breathing hard.

“I love you,” he whispered, pressing another kiss to your lips as you sat up on the edge of the desk.

The sound of a notification came from the computer next to you. Hank pulled away from the kiss and turns to his computer, you catch his face and gently guide it back into your direction.

“Hey now, baby, I thought you needed a break from work.” You whispered, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone.

He was smiling at you, a glint of something in his eyes.

“We got sanctioned.” He said, the smile turning into a grin as he moved his hands to the armrests of his chair.

You turned to look at the computer screen. Sure enough, there was the response from IT, green letters that read RELATIONSHIP: SANCTIONED.

Before you even had time to turn and kiss him in celebration. He stepped to the right and stooped, pulling his trousers back up his legs. He then stooped again, picking his shirt up from the floor and pulling it over his head.

“So where the hell are you going then baby, surely we should celebrate.” you replied, turning your attention from the computer screen to Hank.

“That’s precisely what we're going to do, Darlin’.” He moved back towards you, pulling his buttons down onto his arms and quickly doing up the buttons.

“So why the hell are you putting your clothes back on then, Hank?”

He smiled at you as he tucked his shirt into his trousers, buckling up his belt.

“We are going to celebrate.” He stepped forwards, putting his hand on your chin and tilting your head up towards him. “I’m going to make sure that everyone knows you’re mine.”

He placed a delicate kiss on your lips before pulling away and continuing to dress.

“Then why do you look like you’re about to leave?” You asked, stepping down from his desk and picking your trousers up from the floor and pulling them on.

“I'm putting my clothes on,” he started pulling on his jacket. “Because, you and I are going to walk hand in hand all the way back to my apartment where we are going to have round two.”

He met your eyes as he spoke the last words, a smile playing on his lips as he stooped to pick your shirt from the floor, handing it to you, your bra in the bundle of fabric.

“Well, make sure you bring your cuffs.” You replied, hurrying to get dressed.

A Link to My Complete Inventory

[loserreinawriter]

Can I get a Jess Black fluff? I always imagine that once Jess let's people into her life she becomes much more softer and touchy, especially with Dep since they met

The Heart Of The Huntress

Jess Black X GN Deputy reader

Fluff- 1.1K words

This isn’t as long as I wish it was, but I think it’s fitting enough given the theme! Sorry for the wait <3

•❅──────✧❅✦❅✧──────❅•

It was always so clear to the Deputy when they first met Jess Black that if there was one thing the woman had, it was one hard and cold shell. It didn’t mean she lacked the ability for openness, no. She could be open and vulnerable, even if indirect about it. It seemed all was laid out before the Deputy when they went on to help her defeat The Cook, her story leading the path of their journey and soon enough the anger Jess felt towards the sadistic man had burned It’s way into the Deputy. It was sickening. It was enough to make even the strongest stomach churn with the upset it caused. If there was something Jess Black deserved, it was the right to be cold after all she’d been through.

The Deputy remembered the look on her face when she’d gotten her revenge. It wasn’t enough, it never had been. Her revenge was the first step to being able to heal, but that was going to be a hell of a trip for her to do alone. how much they wanted to reach out, just to place a single hand on her shoulder but they knew better. She didn’t seek their comfort, and they didn’t need to make this more uncomfortable for her than it already was. They didn’t know each other enough then but that sparked an idea in the Deputy. She sparked a light in the Deputy, and they could excuse it as wherever they wished but they knew from that moment on. They enjoyed her company, they wanted her with them.

So the Deputy kept her around, of course they did. A skilled woman like herself, her witty comments were enough to make them smirk and it sometimes even brought out a small laugh while the pair were supposedly undercover. It never gave them away, they were too good. They always had been, but it made it so much more enjoyable. She was truly one of their favorite people to do this with, their joint strategy of stealth and takedowns, Jess watching the Deputy’s back as the Dep went through each outpost and mission given to them. They worked wonderfully together.

The pair soon found themselves together at the end of a long day, seated comfortably at a campfire somewhere in the county. It didn’t really matter where they ended up, though they both tended to avoid the Henbane. It felt more private without the bliss tainting their fresh air. And that’s where they were at that fateful sunset, seated beside each other with Peaches across, sleeping soundly while the two watched over the county from a high up mountainside view. They were in a good enough spot to see trouble, and possibly even shoot it down if it was close enough.

The wind very slightly picked up for the pair, pushing Jess’ hair all around her face as it couldn’t escape her lifted hood. The grin that dawned on the Deputy’s face was enough to earn a playful shove from the woman, the pair laughing together as Jess reached up and pulled her hood down.

The soft stare from the Deputy was unintentional. She looked so much more free.. so comfortable. A smile adorning her features as those teal eyes watched over the county, one hand reached down to lightly stroke through Peaches fur. Her mouth moved as she voiced her opinions so openly, so strong in everything she said and declared. The huntress was unaware of the Deputy’s admiration of her growth and just.. her. They didn’t think they’d see the day she’d be so comfortable with them, it almost made all this fighting worth it.

They must’ve been staring for much longer than they thought, however, because within a second those teal orbs were now facing their way, a look of questioning on the woman’s face as she lightly jabbed at their shoulder.

“Earth to the grinning gunslinger, did you hear me? Or is this just how you take a conversation now? Jeez, I know silent and deadly is our thing, and silence is your entire vocabulary but I didn’t think you’d take it to this extent.”

The jab to the side didn’t hurt and helped pull the Deputy from their gaze much quicker, looking almost sheepish before just laughing it off with a chuckle and shoving her back. Their playful banter had become a daily occurrence, if it weren’t for the comments on the Deputy’s weapon choice Jess managed to find something about them to pick some fun at. She knew they could take the playfulness with her and it felt so.. refreshing. Their entire relationship, whatever it was, was refreshing. They always found time for each other, even after the most eventful and tiring days. Even when the Deputy ended up in the Hope County Jail Medical room for a full day and night, they forced Jess into a trivial card game. One where the rules escaped both of them. It was so much more than a partnership against the resistance now, they were truly something together. It didn’t need a name, they didn’t need any type of label for their friendship. They were closer than anyone knew, and that was perfect for them.

“Sorry. Miss what you said, my bad?” The Deputy’s head turned to look over the county once again as they smiled, feeling Jess shift on the bench they shared before they felt her against their arm. They didn’t flinch or move, but their gaze shifted immediately back over to her as their smile remained. She had leaned against them. Her head falling to rest on their shoulder. A silent gesture, one of many the pair had shared together. It was always so shocking when she made any attempt at being physical with the Deputy, but it was always accepted. It was becoming more of a common occurrence now and it made the pair feel a sense of warmth they couldn’t find beyond each other.

The Deputy’s shoulder tensed just enough to keep her upright as they tilted their own head to rest atop of hers, the pair letting out soft breathes as they settled into silence and their new position. It seemed the night followed their peaceful gesture as night fell over them, the dark blanket of the deep blue sky pulling over them as the sun settled away beyond the mountains. The twinkling of the stars begin to poke out and shoot their winks down playfully to them. They knew they’d remain here until the moon’s rays were coming over and above them and neither could complain, they’d find their way to a bunker or safety once they decided to do so. For now, their companionship was enough for them both, and contentment had settled into them both.

[noodlecupcakes]

The Unravelling of Deputy Murphy - Part 1: John

The link for the fic can be found here! (Tumblrs link feature is still not working right for me 😠)

Deputy Murphy is on a mission to save her friends from The Seeds. Only each encounter with the siblings doesn't quite go according to plan.

This fic is pure Seed porn with maybe touches of plot in places if you squint. This fic is also technically an AU for me considering Tabitha isn't usually the Deputy in my canon verse. But I wanted to do a little Deputy fic.

You might notice if you've read Salvation that Tabitha seems to be a little different in this fic. Lets imagine that in this fic she got the help she needed with her addiction, got clean and moved to Hope County for what she hoped was a quiet life. Hence why she has a bit more of a backbone here!

This took me forever to write because I am not a John girly.

Tagging: @simplegenius042, @g0dspeeed, @josephseedismyfather, @la-grosse-patate and @cassietrn

[inafieldofdaisies]

Ship Art | Eloise x Staci | Ship: The Legionnaire and the Sparrow

"You've got that look again, Birdie." Staci's eyes darted back up to her face as he rubbed the back of his neck, "What look, Lou?" "Like you're plannin' something."

Had the utmost pleasure of commissioning @derelictheretic for a chibi couple piece featuring these two and I'm just heart-eyed at how adorable it came out. ❤️✨️

[ @socially-awkward-skeleton @lilywatt @simonxriley @derelictheretic @kyberinfinitygems @cassietrn @strafethesesinners @strangefable @voidika @josephslittledeputy @trench-rot @purplehairsecretlair @carlosoliveiraa @cloudofbutterflies92 @killyourrdarlingss @shellibisshe @aceghosts @vampireninjabunnies-blog @la-grosse-patate @katsigian @dumbassdep @imogenkol @josephseedismyfather @direwombat @simplegenius042 @elligatorrex @raresvtm ]

[animasolascreenshots]

[127lovegalaxyperson]

I FINALLY KNOW HOW TO POST AO3 NOW

YIPPPPPPP

anyways, full version below

...

'Huh?Where am I?'

As Henry Hotline slowly opens his eyes,he sees Monster Frankie, the contestant ,the Real Frankie and Deputy Duck in a minecart.</p>

'Guys,the phone finally awakes from his beauty sleep'

As Henry look towards the screen of Deputy Duck with Cartoon Frankie inside, Real Frankie looks over to him.</p>

'Henry !You haver finally awake, guys, I guess that all our efforts in saving him didn't gone to waste.'

With his optimistic voice,Monster Frankie gives a low growl to him.The contestant looks towards Henry but Henry doesn't know his reaction as he was seeing him with his mask.

'What's going on in-'

'YOU STILL WANNA CHAT ABOUT IT ' cartoon Frankie shouted.'GO AND HELP THEM'

Henry was confused, why would they all worked together? As Monster Frankie tries to kill the contestant, so as the Cartoon Frankie for ruining his gameshow.And now they are all together with him in a minecart.He didn't knew what to do or happened, but he knows......

Before another thought popping of of his head,the phone rang, making him annoyed,and when he tries to pick up the phone....

'NO!' all of them shouted and put their hands on the phone, forcing Henry not to pick it up.The contestant immediately sealed the phone with duck tape and taps him with some werid code.All of them are confused but Henry seems to know that he said:

'No matter what happens, DON'T pick up the phone,or we will all be in chaos.'

Later on, the contestant went to the front of the minecart where Deputy Duck and Cartoon Frankie lies, lightly pushes the Real Frankie from them and use Deputy Duck to scan the place while they were on the minecart.Then shows signals to the two Frankies that there are three switches, on the two sides and the ceiling, Henry felt werid as he knows them well, and he knew that BOTH of them doesn't like to be ordered (the real one doesn't show it ) ,but now not only they didn't kill the contestant, they nodded and prepared for the signal that the contestant as he raises his hand.

Three ,two ,one!Both of them had a tacit agreement and knew where were their positions. The real one lifts the ceiling one and the monsters lifts the rest.As the gate opens,the minecart continues to side down to the railroad.

Henry cannot understand what's going on, from the biggest enemies , now are each other's biggest allies .

'I couldn't understand what's going on !' Henry asked.

'YOU REALLY WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT NOW!' the Cartoon one said.'WE ARE ALL IN GRAVE DANGER, EVEN YOU, AND NOW WE ARE TRYING TO ESCAPE IT ,and I don't know why DO WE HAD A MINECART WITH RAILROADS INSIDE THE FACILITY!' As he angrily looks towards to the real Frankie.

'Told you that this would be useful.' He replied.

Henry then looks at the contestant going back to the back of the minecart, tell the monster one that they are slowing down . The monster one didn't hesitate about what he said and began to push the minecart with his hands . Henry felt even more confused. A robot who can kill people in seconds and doesn't like to be ordered, listen to a normal person, who would just die in a simple game ? How is it possible?

'Em.... Henry?' The real one turns his head towards him.

'Can you stop thinking for a second and START HELPING US'

As his voice turns even mad. Henry didn't hesitate as well and began to look for things in the minecart,thinking about what he could do.But what? How could he know what to do if he didn't know what has happened when he blacks out? Then Henry found something.....

'NOOB NOOBS?!' Henry replied in surprise.

'HOW ARE THEY IN HER-'

Without saying another word, the contestant took his and threw it outside the cart. Explosion sound was heard,Henry began to fell scared about what might happened but now he knew that he shouldn't waste more time thinking of it, took 2 Noob Noobs and gave one to the contestant and start throwing them.

They began to throw more until the contestant warns him not to throw too much as they will ended up losing them all,so Henry went back to the middle of the cart and give the noob noobs to the contestant.

'That’s the spirit. ' the real one said in a cheerful voice.

'It would be more helpful and efficient if you DO SOMETHING. '

the cartoon and Henry shouted at him.

'I am!' the real one replied. 'look!' As he was holding the tool box and a laptop. He was checking the security cameras to look for the thing that chases them. The contestant holds for a while. Threw the noob noob that he was holding, tells Henry not to give more to him and went to Deputy Duck to check more switches.

As he expected, there was a lever needs to be pull the open the gate,but it's too close to the gate itself, they will get crash into it as the cart was going too fast.

'Em....guys?' Henry said as they all looked at the gate. Before the contestant could say anything.

'CRACK'

the gate opens and they all went through it safe,but not all....

Chapter 2 might come soon

[acourtoffandomsandfics]

OOPS accidentally wrote a really long and fucked up chapter in my Jake fic. Here's a snippet.

[kumeko]

A/N: For the Rowoon Runaway zine! I loved writing this, it was just so fun writing as poor, pathetic Hans (I too would love for the cats to adore me, and I too would also be scorned by them XD Truly the realest one of them all).

…

…

…

…

Special Correspondent on the Royal Gala

Any good butler knows his duties, and first and foremost amongst them is attending to all of their master’s needs. That is no different for yours truly. Whether it is ensuring your charge wakes up in the morning, feeding his adorable cats, or even just making sure nothing is broken in a drunk bout, a butler is always within reach. Unfortunately, there are some places even the best of servants cannot breach, such as the royal gala. Even most nobles are unable to enter the event and the invitations are scarce and hard to get a hold of.

And yet, of all people, my master managed to make it on the list. Sometimes I wonder if he has uncanny luck or knowledge or both.

Not that his luck is holding on right now during the carriage jam in front of the royal palace. There is only one place for the carriages to drop off their illustrious passengers and a long line up of carriages waiting to get there. My master is currently sitting in his carriage, slouching against the door as he idly gazes out the window. At least he’s not angry about the delay. Though he might be grumpy about the lack of alcohol. 

If he is, I hope he holds out long enough for us to reach the palace entrance. 

There is not much for even a good butler to do now. The coachman has the reins, the footman is hanging off the door, and I am forced to sit up here and wait because my master is sometimes cruel and likes to deprive me of my alone time with the cutey lil kitti cats and children in our house who require my special attention. 

However, there is a lot for a special correspondent to do. For those who cannot witness this spectacle themselves, I shall do my best to let you feel like you’ve witnessed it yourself. The royal family is already inside, though I did catch a glimpse of Crown Prince Alver earlier at the palace balcony. His Highness was as radiant as the sun, partially due to his golden hair, and partially due to his smile. His white uniform and golden tassels lent him an air of grace and nobility. A proper model of what a young master should be. My young master refused to look out the window when I pointed him out so I suppose that image will only be in my memory. 

Princess Rosalyn was amongst the first to enter the castle, her signature red curls pinned up elegantly. With a red dress, she was the very image of a rose. A tired rose; she did not seem excited to enter. Though I wonder how she got there before us considering she is residing as a guest of my master…perhaps she did not want strange rumours floating about. It is hardly befitting for a young lady to travel alone with a man, let alone the sometimes famous and other times infamous young master of Heintuse. 

Currently, Lord Neo Tolls and Lord Venion Sten are exiting their shared carriage. I am sure I am not imagining the black aura curling around their carriage or the rotten stench from it. I feel sorry for their horses. Even their outfits are lacking. Lord Neo’s green vest looks like it was scratched up by wolv wild animals. Not that I would know that from first-hand experience, since I only care for wuvy kitt cats. They also scratch, but out of love. But if they were more violent and enthusiastically destroyed clothing, that is what it would look like. Lord Venion looks marginally better. Marginally.

Oh, no wonder Lord Venion looks like he has an upset stomach! His elder brother, Lord Taylor Sten is also here! As usual, Lord Taylor looks as calm as can be even while meeting the filth of humanity his estranged brother. Only the finest things for the potential young heirs and while Lord Taylor does not have his customary wheelchair these days, he does take to walking around with an ornate cane. His legs are still weak from disuse. I wonder if he imagines hitting his brother with his cane. I would love to see it. It has a nice, gold head; it could do damage. Lord Taylor is also wearing a white suit with gold trimming. Maybe he’s trying for a ‘who wore it better’ situation between him and Lord Venion. 

It looks like I am not the only one left out of these events! His companion and priestess of death, Kage, is not here as well. Maybe we can throw a cruelly-forgotten-people party. Maybe she’d appreciate talking about the kitti cats.

We are almost there! The carriage in front of us opened its doors, revealing Lord Eric, Lady Amir, and Lord Gilbert. No doubt they wanted to arrive before the lout my master, just in case there were any problems. Lady Amir looks lovely in her simple green dress, almost humble in fact. Meanwhile, Lord Eric’s cleaning his glasses. Maybe Lord Neo dirtied them with his presence. Lord Gilbert cuts a lean figure in his black suit as he waits for us to arrive.

Which is now. Our head butler does know how to pick an outfit. Lord Cale appears sharp as he steps out of the carriage, his red suit several shades darker than his bright red hair. Instead of a bottle in his hand, there is a black coat; is he expecting to get cold? Maybe we should have picked a thicker fabric. 

I might have to stop writing here. Lord Cale just looked up and I am not sure if he saw my notebook, but he did glare. If you are reading this, young master, consider giving a good (great!) butler a raise or at least allow him to bring the kittie lovable cats to wait with him next time.

Signing off,

Hans

[seedofjoseph]

hellbent (WIP)

Author's Note: After posting homebound (link), I immediately began working on a ficlet featuring the overprotective love interest trope starring John Seed. However, I've only picked it up again this week, so I'm posting this early on WIP Wednesday.

The whole of Holland Valley knew John Seed as a madman. You? All you knew was that he was mad. Wrath he called you, though it sounded like it suited him better. Especially during his last radio call.

“Wrath,” he screamed through the static. “Godammit, Wrath! Where are you?”

“Language, Seed,” you shot back, not being able to see if you’ve hit your target, but hearing the words had wounded him instead. “Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain.”

“I’ll find you, girl,” his words were muffled, his mouth probably planted close enough to kiss the microphone. “Even if I have to burn down every dive bar and liquor store in this valley to draw you out, I’ll find you.”

“Thought you let me break curfew so that I could go bar hopping,” you smirked. And, while he couldn’t have seen you do so, he sure as shit heard it in your tone. “I thought you let me out so that I could indulge in my sins.”

“I did and you have,” he answered, the coolness of it making him out to be as inhuman as the receiver his voice was coming out of. “And now I’m coming to save you from yourself.” Before you could press the button to press his buttons, John Seed went completely cold as the receiver went silent.

Feeling only a little bit frustrated by his lack of fire on this chilly night, you finally dismount your bike and let it recline on the stand instead of your legs. After, you unfasten your leather jacket on your short walk to the rest stop entrance, feeling only a little bit heated. Then, taking in the neon-lit shelves and the yellow-stained floors, you cool off with the thought of a cold Coke.

The truth is that you didn’t set out to indulge in anything else besides caffeine tonight. And the lie is that you bask in the fire your wrath left in its wake. That is the lie you fed to John Seed through your shared frequency, the target you put on your back as you drove away from Holland Valley, from everyone you wouldn’t want to be in his crosshairs. And the truth was that businesses that you were a patron of were going up in flames.

So you sigh in sweet relief as the taste of the sugary drink elevated some weight off of your heavy shoulders. “Needed that,” you paid for the half-emptied bottled as soon as you made it to the counter. “Keep the change.” And you exit before the kid on the other side of it can lift his head and recognize you.

All you knew was that John Seed was mad and you wouldn’t bet a poor boy’s life on him not blowing a gasket along with the rest stop.

“That you, Deputy?”

The door slammed loudly behind you, but it’s a shouting human voice that startled you.

You shake your head frantically and walk back to your bike briskly. “Not tonight I’m not.”

The man is indignant and you can tell from the sound that comes out of his throat. Because you weren’t facing him. You couldn’t face him. Not after what happened the last time you did.

“It’s me,” you hear him hop out of the pick-up and bounce back on his boots like he’d lost his footing. “It’s Jean. But you called me Jaaawn,” he slurs like he’d forgotten how you speak. “Yes, Jaaawn. Fuck yes,” he spits your own drunken words back to you.

It’s like he’s getting the both of you shitfaced again. It’s like he’s in your face and up your shirt and in your pants again. Like you never shoved him off of you and locked him in the bathroom stall. Like the bar is still up and running and not in ruins after some Peggie recognised you stumbling out of it and gave John Seed the excuse to indulge in his wrath.

“I’d buy you a drink, buuut,” he stumbles between you and your bike. “But John made them all go BOOM.”

Jean didn’t look much like John Seed tonight, so that drink he’d bought you was strong enough to make him shape-shift before your very inebriated eyes. Though he stands at the same height and combs back the same dark hair with fingers covered in just as much ink, his eyes are more murky green than clear blue. And though he stands before you untouched by the collateral damage your indulgence has caused, you don’t hesitate to lay your hands on him and shove him to the side.

“I’m going sober,” you decline, determined to quit drinking Coke, too, and drive off.

“Least you could do is moan my name,” he spits. “My real name. While I'm fingerin’ your pussy. That was me, bitch, not John fuckin’ Seed.”

The whole of Holland Valley knew John Seed had eyes and ears everywhere. All you knew was that Jean’s slurred speech had summoned him and the empty rest stop you’d pulled into is now crawling by his cavalry.

“Oh, my God,” Jean tries and fails to find his footing and stumbles backwards into your bike. “Oh, my fuckin’ God,” he turns around and takes you in, eyes filled with fear. “Don’t let him kill me, deputy. Please don’t let him kill me.”

Your voice is steady as you instruct him to get inside, even as your heart is rattling the cage that is your chest. And your body shields the entrance, even if your soul threatens to make its escape. But you won’t let it or yourself get away. And you won’t leave another trail of fire in your wake.

“Wrath,” he calls you, but this sin burns brighter in his words than they ever did in yours. And he hops out of the van in a hurry, already heaving like he’d been chasing you on foot through the Valley. “How many more lives have to go up in flames before you’re satiated?”

“None,” you raise your hands in front of you, adding more distance between the Reaper and the two lives. “Not a single one. I’m done.” Then, you stretch your arms above your head. “I’m done, okay?”

You were far from done, far from having your eyelids ripped open, the furthest you can be from amazing grace. And his big brother would’ve called you blind still, but you needed him to see you as enlightened right now.

What your blind eyes do see is something strange in John Seeds eyes, something which resembled a comforting warmth and not a punishing fire.

“It’s suffocating, isn’t it?” His voice is horse like he’s been shouting, and your throat dries like he is right. You are suffocating. “Your wrath has set the world on fire and you’re the only one left to breathe in the ashes.”

The little air left between the two of you is enough for you to exhale: “Yes.”

TO BE CONTINUED