#*runs hand down his forearm like it's a staircase bannister*

[ballpitwitch]

𝐊𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐮 𝐑𝐞𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐑𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐭𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐂𝐢𝐭𝐲, 𝐍𝐉 - 𝟏𝟎/𝟎𝟖/𝟐𝟑

[andy-clutterbuck]

Black T-Shirt + Sling | requested by Anonymous

[headaching]

august chapter three excerpt because i feel like i'm never gonna finish this fic oh my god

At the foot of the staircase, Zuko began walking, but Sokka stayed motionless. Zuko turned around and asked, “What’s wrong?” as he looked down on Sokka.

Sokka shook his head through a soft smile and replied, “When I came up here earlier, I barely made it.”

Zuko frowned and reached for Sokka’s hands to lace their fingers together, enticing Sokka to step up until they were level. “Why?” Zuko asked.

“I thought about all the times we raced up these stairs,” Sokka answered, and Zuko breathed a quiet, somber laugh accompanied by a nod. “It made me sad,” Sokka added solemnly, Zuko tightened his grip on his hands.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice tight, “I get that.”

Sokka sighed and pulled a hand away to trace his fingers along Zuko’s forehead, the hollow of his cheek, and finally the base of his neck. “It must have been hard for you, to be reminded all the time. I'm sorry,” he apologized, and Zuko shook his head.

“Don’t be,” he replied, then exhaled a content breath. “Hey,” he said inquisitively, his eyes abandoning Sokka’s for the top of the stairs, “who do you think won the most?”

Sokka scoffed. How was that even a question? “Me, obviously.”

Zuko mocked, “You, obviously?” and let go of Sokka’s hand to willfully fold his arms over his chest. With Sokka’s lower body supported by the bannister, Zuko stood a couple inches taller than him, and he craned his neck upward to give the appearance of even more height.

“Well, I guess there’s only one way to settle this,” Sokka replied, and stepped forward into Zuko’s space. He matched his position with crossed arms and determined eyes staring straight ahead.

“I guess so,” Zuko agreed, then broke away and prepared a racing stance.

“Wait,” Sokka paused as nostalgia engulfed him, though this time, it felt just as it should have. “Promise to shush me if I get too loud?” he asked, and Zuko’s grin was overjoyed.

“Only if you promise to get too loud,” Zuko answered, and Sokka matched his smile.

Sokka said, “Sounds like a deal,” and held out his hand.

Zuko grabbed Sokka’s forearm and shook it firmly, but didn’t let go as he replied, “May the best man win.”

Sokka nodded and said, “On three. One, two…”

He let go of Zuko’s hand, then Zuko took off in a sprint up the stairs. “Three!” he yelled, and Sokka bounded forward to catch up.

“Zuko!” he reprimanded, hardly audible over their rumbling feet

Zuko’s head snapped backward and he flashed a mischievous grin, but Sokka closed in on him. He grabbed Zuko’s hips just as they reached the landing at the midpoint of the staircase. Sokka stopped running and effectively halted Zuko as well.

“Cheater!” Sokka yelled as he hurled Zuko into the bannister.

Zuko’s smirk was poorly disguised and his murmur of, “Sokka, shh,” was borderline threatening. Sokka shook his head at him, then glanced at Zuko’s lips, and enjoyed a smug moment when Zuko’s triumph wavered.

Sokka waited patiently for Zuko’s eyes to flutter closed, and when they did, he bounded up the stairs once more. “Gotcha!” Sokka yelled, and laughed at the muffled, “Fuck you,” that followed him.

With the top of the staircase approaching and victory in sight, Sokka’s breath was knocked out of his lungs when a hand curled around his leg and rendered him immobile. He fell face first onto the stairs, and even though Zuko crawled on top of him toward the top, Sokka was determined to win.

One of Sokka’s hands attempted to pry Zuko off him, while the other stretched its way toward the plateau of the top of the stairs. Zuko’s palm closed around the back of Sokka’s hand, and together their fingers inched onto the carpeted level floor.

“Not— fair—” Sokka wheezed between constrained breaths.

A voice belonging to neither of them supplied, “I’d call it a tie,” and Zuko and Sokka looked up simultaneously to find the two Kyoshi guards from earlier standing at the top of the stairs. The shorter of the two was hiding a laugh beneath her hand, while the other grinned and flitted her eyes between them.

“Feeling better?” she asked Sokka, and he looked up at the ceiling shyly.

“Oh, yeah,” he mumbled, then offered them a sheepish grin. “Quite better.” If Sokka’s hands hadn’t been occupied, he would have hidden his face in them.

Sokka accepted the women’s laughter, but he was appalled to hear Zuko snickering above his head. Sokka took advantage of his idle arm and jabbed Zuko in the side with his elbow.

Zuko cleared his throat, and the guards returned their expressions to stoicism. “As you were,” he said diplomatically, and they both nodded, then began their descent down the stairs. Their hushed giggles were immediately audible after they passed Sokka and Zuko, but Sokka ignored them.

He let go of Zuko’s hand and turned around so he was laying with his back against the stairs. “What’s wrong with you?” Sokka huffed, and wished he had the space to cross his arms.

“What’s wrong with me?” Zuko asked with a smile that was somehow both patronizing and affectionate.

“Why didn’t you get up? That was so embarrassing,” Sokka whined.

Zuko’s smile widened, and Sokka glared at his bared teeth. “That was embarrassing?” he asked, then dipped his head forward as he did. Sokka bit his lip and rolled his eyes, all he could seem to manage. Zuko was barely able to contain a laugh as he mimicked, “‘Quite better.’”

Sokka grasped Zuko’s face on either side of his mouth and squished his cheeks so he couldn’t speak. Zuko scowled, and it made him even cuter, so Sokka surrendered his losing battle of appearing angry.

[somebodytolovesx]

I Don’t Wanna Live Forever - Bucky Barnes

Summary - Bucky Barnes and Y/N Y/L/N find themselves having a disagreement that worsens as the hours pass.

Warnings - Angsty

It had been a Tuesday evening at eight fifty-two when the argument had begun for Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes and James Buchanan Barnes. The argument was one like they had never had before in their year of marriage, it had struck a match and blew them both out...

It was after Bucky had come home from work and threw his suit jacket onto the back of the sofa, his suede shoes thrown regardlessly through the living room and the belt of his trousers on the kitchen countertop. He was just too tired to wait until he hit his bedroom. Work was coming down on Bucky Barnes like a ton of bricks; the paperwork, the meetings, the assignments, it was exhausting him at the end of the day and he just wanted to rest.

He dragged himself towards the bottom of the stairs where he would begin his ascent to his Y/N, he had thought of her fondly that day...about what she would be doing whilst he filled out paper after paper and if her parents had returned her call about the holiday they had planned for later on during that year. He had stepped onto the fifth step, holding onto the wooden bannister for support from his dazed state when he had heard the fridge door opening behind him.

Bucky leant his back against the bannister and let his head fall hard against the white-painted wall behind him, he saw his Y/N taking out a slim bottle of the white, Italian Asti from the cold shelf and place it gently onto the marble countertop. She looked beautiful but frustrated, restless; her satin, black robe fell off her shoulder and the belt was so loosely tied, her hair was tousled and ever so slightly frizzy but the eyeliner and dark lip she wore was neat, the black, florally lingerie she wore underneath her robe was elegant and classy. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” Bucky called out to her, his voice was concerned and low for his wife. Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes poured the sweet wine into a deep glass for herself and she filled it to just below the brim. 

“Yeah, are you?” Y/N asked, her voice was suppressing the true tone of anger that she was unintentionally feeling. She drunk from the glass, glancing down at the drink within it because, ‘out of sight, out of mind’ she thought to herself comically. 

“Yeah, what’s with the tone of your voice?” Bucky recoiled and sneered.

“Just a busy day, been housekeeping and dealing with business since seven this morning” Y/N sighed breathlessly, the wrinkles by her eyes appearing as she drunk the Asti.

“Come to bed with me then, I don’t go in till later tomorrow so we can stay in bed” Bucky raised his eyebrows sweetly at Y/N but she carried on looking down and away from him. 

“Let me just finish this then” She spoke somberly. Y/N ran a hand through her hair and pushed it away from her face, Bucky could see from where he stood her faded, dark eyeshadow and took notice of how it looked worn down. 

“Alright” Bucky sighed in defeat and pressed his lips thinly together, he started climbing the spiralling staircase once again. He knew when she drunk before bed it must have been a draining day or someone must have annoyed her but he would have appreciated if she prioritised the time with her husband and wanted to be in his arms as soon as she saw him.

“Maybe you could tidy up after yourself with that extra time off” Y/N mumbled under her breath, putting her empty glass in the sink. Now Bucky knew the had a tendency to get into his wife’s system fast but she had only had one drink.

“What?” Bucky turned around on his heels and looked at her inquisitively.

“Go to bed babe, I’ll be up in a minute” Y/N dismissed him like everything was fine. 

“You said something sweetheart” Bucky spoke.

“I just said I would like if you cleared up your clothes before going to bed instead of leaving them all over the place for me to clean up” Y/N spoke.

“I’ll clean them up in the morning before I go, It’s just been a busy day and I wanna sleep with you” Bucky’s voice was defensive and raised in pitch.

“You won’t though because you’ll not bother and then it’ll leave me to do it and I’ve got enough to do already” Y/N groaned, her face was held tightly in her hands and she was clearly frustrated, Bucky could tell that it wasn’t just a new frustration she had with him.

“I think I'm gonna clean the house that I pay for” Bucky stated matter of factly.

That fight had sparked and was beginning to ignite.  

“And do you need me to also rejig your memory of who pays for half of the bills, runs half of your business and cleans up after you since we’ve been married” Y/N argued back. Her temper had moved her from the counter and into the middle of between the living room and kitchen where Bucky could see her bare legs standing their ground.

“Well, it seems as of late all you’re doing is sitting around on the phone, in underwear that I brought you, drinking wine all-day” Bucky knew that stung her more than it stung him because he knew Y/N prided herself on being a woman of business and never wanted to be a housewife. 

“You never complained when I was just another girl in your bed every night but now that you have to be committed and be responsible to only me it’s all different isn’t it?” Y/N’s tone was furious.

“You are the worst person to argue with because you don’t even listen to what I’m actually saying, you just talk and talk and talk and I don’t want to listen right now” Bucky had shouted back at her.

There was silence after that, it was like there was a cold breeze through the fire. Bucky walked towards Y/N and grabbed his suit jacket off the back of the sofa, walked past her and snatched his belt from the kitchen counter, then trod heavily through the living room to pick up his shoes up from the floor. 

“We shouldn’t leave this” Y/N sighed exasperatedly, she lowered her head and scratched her forearm.

“You wouldn’t listen if I apologised tonight” Bucky’s strained, tired voice reached her ears and it made her feel like she had to take full responsibility for all of what had happened. 

“Might be the last chance you can for a long time” She said out of spite at his ignorance to her attempt to settle things down at least just for that night. 

“I’ll apologise then” Bucky turned to the stairs and began to take a slow, heavy step up them, his voice was left behind him as he disappeared behind the white, cylinder-shaped wall. Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes stood there and her eyebrows turned upwards as the tears filled her eyes, she ran both clenched hands through the front of her hair and gripped at the tangled lox. 

Her and her husband’s fights were always that explosive and were never solved until the next morning despite what might have been said in the heat of the moment. Y/N prayed that one day their fights would change and it would end in them tangled up in the bedsheets like other couples instead of walking away from each other...

Y/N’s black trenchcoat was pulled tight around her body and her ankle boots were pulled onto her feet lazily, the autumn weather would definitely chill her but she would be back indoors quick enough. She questioned if she should stay before going and if it was too dramatic of her to leave so late but Bucky was most likely asleep in their bed already or had already buried his frustrations with her in extra work. 

The young woman pulled their front door open and turned off the lights behind her, she was met with the heavy downpour of rain outside. The street lights illuminated the rain and made them look golden and the emptiness of the streets made her feel as if she had the whole world to herself like there was no Bucky. It was just her. 

Y/N shut the door behind her and stepped carefully down the small set of stairs, the rain began to dampen her coat and bare legs and her hair was returning to its natural waves as it dampened. She walked along the pavement as she pulled her phone out of her pocket and called for a taxi to come and pick her up from the corner of Henry Street, she was embarrassed by how many times she had thought of doing that and now she actually had.

At the other end of the street, Bucky Barnes was sat on the edge of his bed, his duvet was half strewn across the carpet, the lamp on his bedside table was on its side and the wardrobe door was recklessly pulled open. He had heard the front door open and close after their argument when he had thought that Y/N would either come to bed much later or stay downstairs that night. She had never done that and that was the moment he knew that he shouldn’t have been so unforgiving with her. He chugged down the glass of water he had gotten from the bathroom (The light of which was still on) and sat at the edge, accepting his thoughts were too wild and his dreams would be too real for him to crave the sleep he needed. She would be okay, he thought. 

Y/N stepped into the taxi and told the driver where she wanted him to take her, Hotel Le Bleu, it was a hotel that she had been to before when she and Bucky were first in talks of her moving to Brooklyn and in with him a month before they had gotten married. She knew it would have been better for her to go somewhere else for the night that didn’t have any connotation to the man she loved but it was the first place that came to mind and it slipped out of her mouth so easily. 

She leant her head against the rain-drizzled window and watched the different coloured lights blur past her through the traffic and stormy weather, the tears still tracked through her makeup but without vivid emotion, without the groaning or screaming, as she thought of her husband; when would he get tired of this? Not to say that she hoped he would.  

“Rough day, pretty lady?” The taxi driver asked respectfully. He had thin, grey hair, a grey handlebar moustache to accompany and wore thick, black-rimmed glasses. 

“I suppose” Y/N had replied back. She felt uncomfortable even acknowledging that after making such a huge commitment as a marriage that there would be bad days with the person she vowed to love for the rest of her life. 

“Sounds like possibly the worst” The senior man sympathised with her. 

“Perhaps” Y/N was short with her subtle agreement. 

“Look, we’re here pretty lady but I hope you have a good night and feel better” He wished her. Y/N read the money counter on the car’s dashboard and scanned her card onto the card reader that he held out to her. 

“You too” She hummed quietly and stepped out of the taxi, slamming the car door behind her. She turned around to face the steps up to the entrance of the hotel and was blinded by the fusillade of flashing, white lights surrounding her. They were so loud. The men holding the cameras were shouting inaudible things at her, blocking the steps. 

“Can I just get through, please?” Y/N shouted over them but her timid tone was overshadowed by their deep, loud voices and none of them moved. She was caught like a dear in the headlights, stumbling around trying to find a gap in between them to run through.

“I just need to get through, I’m sorry”, Y/N shoved her way through the blinding lights and scampered herself up the stairs rolled with a lavish, blue carpet. The tears streaming down her face were replaced with the aftermath - her bloodshot eyes, strained with exhaustion as she reached the silver door handle and heaved it open. It was warm inside and dry, the calm atmosphere away from the rain and cameras made her want to find the nearest bed and just sleep forever.  

“Miss, can I find you a room or take your coat?” A young lady came and asked Y/N.

“Uh, no but a room will do, just for the night please,” Y/N asked back. Her hands went to take off her coat then retracted when she remembered the clothes that she wore underneath.

“They’re always out there you know? Just waiting” The young lady shared a smile with her. 

It was still raining just as heavy, rattling against the full-body windows when Bucky Barnes had received a phone call from Steve Rogers, his heart had missed a beat considering the time and the quietness of Steve’s phone during working hours. He was reluctant to answer at first, he had only just been able to get comfortable laying down and regaining his need for sleep but it was Steve phoning against his usual routine or work ethic.

“Buck, I’m sorry it’s late but just a quick one, have you seen the news?” Steve kept his voice to a ‘hush-hush’ tone as if there must have been people around him.

“There always news Steve” Bucky stated ignorantly. 

“No, but it’s about Y/N” His best friend informed him.

“There isn’t a day where one of us isn’t in the news, what did they write?” Bucky wondered, his tired state evident. 

“’Y/N Y/L/N-Barnes, wife to James Barnes, arrives at ‘Hotel Le Bleu’ looking distressed and exhausted’ then there’s just a bunch of paparazzi photos of her” Steve read out loud over the phone.

“Alright, thanks Steve, I’ll see you tomorrow in the morning” Bucky spoke then ended the phone call and went to look at them, he couldn’t read through more than two with their assumptions and descriptions or because of how astray Y/N looked. He knew that she didn’t do well with paparazzi following them or the tabloids that they wrote afterwards so he just prayed that she was doing okay but he couldn’t deny the anger boiling inside of him at his and her actions from earlier on during the night. 

Bucky stopped his pacing and for a minute didn’t know what to do with himself, he didn’t know whether he should express his anger and make the room more of the mess than it already was, he knew Y/N would hate him for it if she was home, or to try and fall back into the rest he was beginning to find himself in. The one thing Bucky knew he couldn’t do was to chase after her, it would not do any better for the situation or for the both of them, he had to let her be on her own just for the night...

Y/N stood in front of the bed in the room she had been issued, it was dimly lit, warm and small but nice to be in; the royal blue bedsheets matched the curtains that were closed when she arrived, the bedside lamps radiated a golden hue and the wooden floors made it feel cosy. She invited the warmth and began to untie the belt holding her trenchcoat around her, it dropped to the floor beneath, leaving her in the robe and underwear she wore underneath. She let her back fall to the duvet on top of the bed, it was soft and comforting unlike many other things that happened that night and what she needed, her hands ran tenderly over her thighs and over her chest and then up through to her hair, imagining that they were her husband’s soft touches sending her to sleep and putting her mind at ease. 

It didn’t, as much as she could close her eyes and try to replicate his presence, her sub-conscience couldn’t be tricked enough into thinking it was real. They were still her hands, her body the only one there in a bed she had never slept in before. Y/N’s arms dropped to her sides in an expression of her frustrations and her back arched perfectly as she pulled her back off the bed, she couldn’t describe the emotions that had built inside of her over the last few hours but she worried that that was the last argument they would have, if that was the end of it all. She rested her elbows on her knees and glanced slowly around the room, maybe she didn’t want to be at home because it may be for the best but this wasn’t where she wanted to be either.

The light beside Bucky’s bed had been switched off and the dull gloom of the night was left to lighten their room, Bucky just wanted for her to call him and ask him to bring her back home because at least she was with him.

[capricornus-rex]

Stronger Than Blood (6)

Chapter 6: Lines Are Drawn | Cal Kestis x Reader

Requested by Anon

Summary: Meeting another Force-sensitive was one thing, but having them related to one of the most formidable known duelers was a whole other story to tell. While being stranded in another planet after barely escaping the Haxion Brood, Cal crosses paths with someone who’s at a crossroads with their own identity and lineage.

A/N: Wow, progress is a little slow now. I’m slightly bummed for some odd reason. With the chaos ensuing anywhere in the world, I’m also affected, one way or another. Given that I’ve come back to my work, the good thing is my company has shortened the work hours, though traffic is still a bitch. I’m beginning to see the new pattern to my work-life balance here. I’ve learned that coffee at night while writing gives me a boost of energy to keep writing. But I’m glad you guys are still looking at my stuff, even if only a few of you stop by every now and then. 💞💞💕💕 You guys have no idea how much it means a whole lot to me, the same way you guys matter. The world’s gone fucked, I hope you guys are safe, wherever you are. 🥺😪💝💖

Also tagging: @ayamenimthiriel​

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Force-User! Reader, Force-Sensitive Reader, Sith-Related! Reader

Chapters: 1 – 2 – 3 – 4 | Previous: Part 5 | Next: Part 7 | Masterlist

6 of ?

7 YEARS AGO, BEFORE THE JEDI PURGE

Serenno.

You were only a week shy from being ten years old.

You’ve lived a comfortable childhood. Back then, you didn’t understand the vastness of the family manor—it was so vast that it might have been identical to the palaces in Naboo, but of course in the eyes of a child. The only thing that ran in your mind was the games you’d play in the gardens or the foyer, running around and playing house all with your dolls.

Your parents were perhaps the kindest people you’ve known, especially your mother, Jezria. But there were times that the anger in her voice scared you—even if those harsh, loud words were never meant for you in the first place.

They were for that man, with a snowy white head of hair and a bearded face atop a black ensemble, who comes by your house every once in a while. The only thing that stood out in your eye was the expensive silver chain that clasped the cape behind his back.

“So, you’ve come here again,” Jezria growled as she descended the stairs, greeting the guest rather coldly compared to the welcoming vibe that she usually gives off during gatherings. The skirt of her dress billowed over the marble steps, as her manicured fingers slid down the glossed wooden bannister, complementing her regal yet fierce demeanor.

As soon as Jezria’s heels touched the smooth floor, she took you under her arm, shielding you from the visitor’s sight albeit being quite a futile effort.

“Mommy, who is he?” you muttered.

The man’s head tilted downward, proving that he’d heard you. His serious eyes made you hide away behind your mother’s skirt, leaving only a peep at the corner of your eye.

“So, you haven’t told your daughter of her own uncle,” his voice was baritone and spoke in an aristocratic, firm accent. He shakes his head. “Is that how much you hate me, Jezria?”

“Because her life is better without knowing who you are to her!!”

“Foolish woman! Do you think altering your surname into “Moorken” changes anything!? You can change your name, your face, but never your blood!” he bellowed back, cutting the air with a swift sweep of his arm. “You don’t know what your own child is capable of! Only my master and I know the true potential of her power. No matter how many times you deny it, my sister, [y/n] will always have the eyes of Darth Sidious.”

“Whoever he is… No, frankly I don’t give a damn who he is!” Jezria’s teeth were clenched so tightly that her words nearly incoherent. “He will not touch my [y/n]!”

“Underestimating him may not be the wisest thing you’ll ever do, Jezria. And as far as I know you are an intelligent woman.”

With one step forward from your supposed uncle, Jezria—with you still hiding behind her hip—takes one step back away from her brother. Your mother further shielded you with the wide sleeve that dangled from her slender arm, almost veiling you from the eyes of her brother.

“Leave my home, you Separatist parasite! And if you come for [y/n] to try and take her from me, you will never hear the end of me, my dear brother.” she snarled, a true dragon-lady baring her teeth.

The visitor’s beard quivered as he harrumphed, his eyebrows furrowed so much that wrinkles formed across his forehead and the bags under his eyes became more prominent. He strode the grand aisle of the vast foyer, the hem of his cape swept the marble as he departed until he disappeared from the hollow thud of the great doors.

Jezria had kept her ferocious façade on until her brother was gone. Finally, with the dying echo of the door’s thud, her shoulders relaxed and her lungs loosened, but her hand never removed you from her embrace. You repeated the question, hoping that she would answer.

Having no choice, she sighed and melted to her knees, levelling herself to you.

“Darling, you heard him…” she sighed, quite disappointingly at the fact that you’re related to that visitor.

“My uncle? You never told me much about him, mom.”

“I know, dear, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you soon enough,” she gulped. “But… I’ll explain it to you later. I hope that one day you’ll understand.”

Understanding that her ten-year-old daughter had no full grasp of the concept that she and her brother were fighting about, the least she could do was simplify it; and while her elder brother departed their home, Jezria had already concocted a plan for her family.

——————————————————–

“No, you have no right!!” your mother roared.

“I told you it would come to this!” your uncle rebutted.

The same exchange occurred just a few days turning ten years old. You may not have understood it, but it’s as if this man has timed the exact moment where he would have to cause another commotion in your household. Only this time, it has become more physical than the first time—you watched your mother attempt to push your uncle farther away from reaching the staircase, where you’re perched by the railings. Using his forearm as a shield to fight off Jezria’s pushing, he shoved her away as they went verbally ballistic against one another.

“And I told you that you won’t get anywhere near [y/n]!”

“Then I have no choice, Jezria, I will do what I must!”

He pushed her away to give himself some space. Jezria had the foresight that her brother would reach for his weapon—a curved black hilt strapped to his brown leather belt—and she beat him to it. A sleek, silver blaster—a streak of white shine underneath the chandelier light gleamed and adorned the body and barrel—pressed cold against the forehead of her brother.

The drawing of their weapons made you shift from where you perched in full view of them downstairs.

“I will put a hole between your eyes if you even do so much as touch your weapon with your finger,” Jezria snarled, her thumb flicking the safety.

“Are you really challenging me, dear sister?”

“If that’s what it takes, Count.” She firmly said, hinting sarcasm on his title, albeit her voice shuddering.

Your uncle sensed the trembling of her hands, he could feel it from the slight twitching of the barrel against the flesh of his forehead; an arrogant smirk popped out of his snowy beard, he slowly lured his hand away from his weapon, but Jezria knows full well that he’s not yet done with this charade.

“Leave. My. Home.”

Her finger hovered just a hair strand’s length away from the trigger.

Silence. A single heave of breath lifted the man’s broad shoulders.

“NOW!!!”

“This is not over, Jezria. Not until my master has what he wants!”

The Count—as your mother addressed him—backed away slowly until the barrel isn’t touching his head anymore. Again, as he turned tail, his maroon cape swooshed and billowed in the stale air which his heated exchange with his sister remained with. For the first time, you saw that he—in a way—was similar to you: with a single wave of his hand, the door opened at his whim, and he didn’t even lay a finger on the shiny doorknobs!

You’ve had such experience before: making things move at your whim without having the need to touch them. Your mother educated you what she knows—but her brother’s knowledge towers over hers, it didn’t matter, she only told you what you needed to know about the unseen entity they call the Force.

His presence always gave you anxiety, although you couldn’t help but stand witness to the ballistic trade of words between him and your mother. It felt like you were unfurling a family mystery all on your own, and to some extent, you were—but you never imagined it to be like this. As a child, you always had the precedent that whatever adults say are true—and your uncle’s words haunted you ever since he stepped through the front door.

He’s going to take me?

Will I ever see Mommy and Papa if he brings me with him?

Who is the other man they were talking about?

These were the questions that troubled you at night, until they have bothered you to exhaustion that you slept on them and worried about them in the next.

That next evening, the Count didn’t think of paying another visit, but this worried Jezria to a tee. Prior today, she had already put her plan into play: her husband already went ahead, disappearing from the gargantuan family manor to secure a safe route for your escape to the next planet, as she made herself busy getting changed and packing her bags, as well as yours.

Not meaning to disturb you or scare you—even though you’re already the latter—she barged into your bedroom. You were already instructed to get changed as well; and so you’ve been waiting for your mother’s signal to leave. The moment she popped her head into the space of the door she opened, you hopped out of your bed and took her hand.

“Keep up with me, darling!” she whispered, keeping her breath low in the dark.

“Where are we going?”

“To the ship, we’re going someplace far away from here… where he can’t take you,”

Perhaps Jezria’s constant underestimation of her brother—and indirectly the so-called master he always referred to—was her undoing, despite her best intentions of keeping her family safe.

Of course, she did not have that foresight or realization. What only mattered to Jezria weren’t the threats but her husband and daughter and that they were together—carefree and perfect, before her brother’s ugly head poked itself through her doorstep.

Mother and child boarded a shuttle. Jezria alone piloted the ship, prepped it and took off, while you sat buckled up in the co-pilot seat, observing her graceful fingers fluidly dancing across the dashboard controls; beeps chimed into your ears that it was nearly nauseating, the twinkling of the screens blinded you and made you see double, until the rumble of the ship hovering from the ground caused you to sink into your seat.

“Hold tight, dear,”

“Okay, Mom,” you said, ever so obediently.

This was actually your very first time to see the outside of Serenno. You were educated about the different planets and systems from your tutors, but everything you’ve learned about them failed to slam you with the celestial-scale oomph right in the face when you saw the endless sheet of black riddled with stars.

The sight was breathtaking, the neighboring planets’ sizes in a little ten-year-old’s eyes were simply impossible to fathom. Jezria relished the sight of your innocent smile, the fascination twinkling in your eyes, and the gaping smile that remained as your head spanned only a fraction of the galaxy. She hoped that she’d live to see that face again once the family has established a peaceful life, away from the eyes of the Count.

Jezria was finally able to relax and breathe easy as she cruised the shuttle through space. For once, the silence was comforting, she would banter with you, make little guessing games about the planets the shuttle has passed by or what system you could be in.

“Can you name at least another planet in the same space region?” your mother quizzed.

“Well, since home is in the Outer Rim, then another Outer Rim planet could be… Felucia!”

“That’s right, Felucia is also in the Outer Rim Territories!” your mother beamed. “You sure kept your lessons to heart.”

That smooth sailing was interrupted in the blink of an eye when another ship from behind has opened fire, damaging the stern of the shuttle. The screens flashed erratically while Jezria desperately multitasked in stabilizing the ship while taking damage.

“Mom!” you shrieked, tongue-tied and terrified that you were mute for a second.

“It’s okay, [y/n]! It’s going to be okay!”

From the graceful dancing of fingers that you saw moments ago, your mother’s arms flailed in all directions trying to stabilize the ship while being tailed and fired at the ship.

“An assassin, of course!” she growled under her breath.

“What’s going on!?”

“We’re being tailed. Hold on, [y/n]! Whatever happens, just hold on!”

You continued to observe your mother throwing her hands to all sides, attempting to keep the ship flying. The center screen, the widest in the dashboard, flashed a bright orange while projecting the cross-section view of the engines. Whatever button Jezria presses, the orange on the screen never disappeared, rather it gradually turned red to emphasize the severity of the damage.

Suddenly, she could no longer steer the ship forward. The shuttle had been caught into a tractor beam for boarding. A brief thud shook the ship. The magnetic field of the beam has already taken hold of your shuttle.

There’s nothing much she can do right now.

She hopped out of her seat and took you out of yours as well. In her burst of adrenaline, she was able to carry your entirely—the same way she has cradled you as a toddler—to the escape pods. The banging against the door pounded at the same time your heart beats. The assassin has boarded the ship. A single unit can only fit one person, and there were two; before shutting the pod, she cupped your face so that you heed her well.

“[y/n], listen to me. You’re safe in this escape pod, the coordinates have already been entered in the controls. I’ll go in the second pod. And we’ll go see Papa together, okay?”

At face value, you understood well enough that you’re being separated from your mother. You began to choke while fighting back tears, never have you ever clutched your mother’s arm, and the fright was too great for you to bear alone. You weren’t even sure if you’d keep up with her in your own escape pod.

“Mom, please don’t leave me,” you cracked.

“I won’t, darling,” she kissed your forehead. Another bang from the door. “You know what to do, don’t you? I taught you this, remember?”

You nodded nervously, suddenly unconfident, but the lessons were still intact.

“You will be alright,” she removed her necklace and wore it around your neck. She pulled you in the tightest embrace she has ever given you, it was almost suffocating but you didn’t care. “I love you, darling. Oh my baby. My baby [y/n].”

You could hear her sobbing. It took a lot of her willpower to pull away, you sensed it that much. Just when she was about to board her own pod, the assassin had already broken down the door and attacked your mother. By sheer instinct, she slammed the eject button with her fist—but only for your escape pod.

“NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” you screeched at the top of your lungs, the fiberglass window muffling the full volume of your cries. Your tiny fist pounded the door but it was too thick. From that small circular window that only occupied the whole of your face, you watched your mother defend herself against the assassin.

The assailant was fully covered from helmet to boot. Not even a peek of the eyes through the visor. Jezria and the assassin traded strikes with their vibroblades. You were so caught up with crying for your mother that you didn’t feel the loss of gravity around your escape pod. As the vessel throttles minutes later after ejection and drifts away into space, the less you saw of your mother. You continued to shriek through the door, unable to realize that there’s nothing much you could do except repeat the words “No” and “Mom.”

Farther away, you had full view of the shuttle, but no better view of Jezria. The next moment, the shuttle burst into flames. It felt like time had frozen itself, cruelly forcing you watch it for as long as the galaxy could take. Orange and red coated the original color of your irises, you held your breath even though you still had enough oxygen, you couldn’t take your eyes off of the destruction.

Your mother was in there.

You didn’t see the second escape pod be jettisoned. It never did.

You know the words, you just don’t have the strength to utter it through your mouth or your mind.

You’re now alone, stuck in the middle of space in a claustrophobic vessel that well may be your casket. Just when you were close to sulk on the floor and give up, the temperature around the pod flared, the turbulence rattled the pod so strongly that you practically shook with it.

Luckily, dejection still hasn’t devoured you fully. You followed the safety protocols of the escape pod from entering the atmosphere until you’ve landed and touched a planet’s surface. You buckled up, remembering what your mother taught you; upon realizing that your mother never entered any coordinates and just jettisoned your pod to safety before the assassin could reach you, now you could never reunite with your father as well, the only thing left to do is try to land the pod as daintily as you can.

“I hope this works…!” you groaned as you parroted the same dexterity your mother possessed when manning the ship.

The escape pod had a rough landing, but following the procedure greatly factored in your survival. You emerge out of the crash, bruised and dirtied, you gathered what you can from the wreckage and hiked your way to nowhere. With every step, you attempt to register every single thing has transpired. You may only be ten years old, but you were able to put the pieces together and assume the worst.

It was your uncle. No doubt about it.

“Now he’s done it,” you snarled, the searing heat of the sun burned along with the rage that colored your cheeks.

You decided to stick with that, overlooking one crucial question: can you prove it?

It all seemed hopeless. You’ve been wandering around in this temperate planet for hours now with little supplies. You’ve fought off the temptation of rummaging your bag for rations, you’re too famished to even think about conserving them.

That is until you met a kindly Iktotchi, the same Iktotchi who will foster you in the next few years into the woman you’ve grown to be now.

[deusaeverythingcomestoanend]

D. Series: The Pirate

Chapter 24

Step on Glass

The choice is yours to make,

Will you fight for their sake,

Or will you stay alive and keep your head down,

Until you are finally able to wear the crown.

Cronus sat next to his father’s bedside. It made him feel uneasy seeing him in such a state. He does not allow any of the so-called doctors into the room. When he is not around he gives his mother the order to not let anyone in. He grinds up dried up chamomile flowers along with a few other ingredients into a fine powder in a mortar using a pestle. Satisfied with chamomile powder he takes a spoonful into a cup and fills it up with hot water. He adds a spoonful of honey along with a squeeze of lemon juice and hands it to his shivering father to drink.

Godiva switches the cold rag resting on Clement’s forehead with a new one. Each time his body shudders in protest to cold being reintroduced to it. This goes on for a few hours until Clement stops shivering and his breathing has returned to normal. Cronus observes as Clement takes in deep soothing breaths and falls asleep. He glances over at his mother who is holding Clement’s hand as he peacefully sleeps. The way she looked at him was different then the way she would look at her children. There was love in her eyes that felt more raw. Unlike the love she had for her children which was pure.

“Mother, I have to go help Lord Alfric prepare,” stated Cronus spitting out that monster's name. Clement had broken out of his fever meaning that he was out of the woods. Cronus could not help being uneasy, he felt that today was going to be the last day he would ever see them again. He stole a quick glance back at his parents and left the room. He was too valuable for Lord Alfric to lose. Cronus hoped Lord Alfric would let them go. He could not help fearing that his family would soon be joining the rest of the townspeople in the dungeons.

‘Argh! Don’t think like that. Even if you are doomed to remain behind at least they will be freed. They have to be,’ sobbed Cronus as he made his way down the spiral staircase. It felt as if he was walking in a daze as he took down each step. Before his mind could even process it he was standing right in front of the door leading out.

“Does Cronus know about the plan?!” shouted Sir Harold in disbelief.

“Be quiet, do you want him to hear you?” hushed Sir Oswald.

“I don’t think we have to worry about that. He is up in the tower taking care of his old man,” sighed Sir Harold, “I don’t know why he even bothers though. We all know that Lord Alfric has given the orders to have both Godiva and Clement executed.”

Cronus slapped a hand over his mouth to prevent himself from making any noise. He fought back the urge of bursting through the door demanding answers from the two knights. A part of him is frozen in place as both his mind and heart begin to race. Did he still have time to get them to safety?

“If only Cronus had not finished the weapons,” sighed Sir Oswald, “then maybe, they might have had a chance.”

“You are suggesting that they should have fled before they were completed?” asked Sir Harold.

“Well, yes,” responded Sir Oswald.

“You do know that Lord Alfric would have pursued them to the ends of the earth right? It wouldn’t matter how far away they ran. He was bound to have found them and it would have been worse for them,” argued Sir Harold.

“I know but still they could have traveled to other countries where Lord Alfric could not reach them,” reasoned Sir Oswald.

“Like where exactly? Let’s say they do manage to get to Scotland or Wales. People around the Drataines would take notice that Cronus is DIFFERENT. He would have his family killed right in front of him and either sold off to the higher bidder or killed off for witchcraft. Neither scenario sounds good to me,” raged Sir Harold, “Not only that in the boy’s veins runs the blood of dragons. Just like his parents.”

“You care too much about the boy, don’t you Sir Harold?” observed Sir Oswald.

“He is an annoying brat, but I cannot argue that he has grown on me,” agreed Sir Harold, “Cronus, would have made a grand knight considering his father’s blood line. I heard that the Drataines are supposed to be one of the strongest warriors. One man is capable of taking out entire armies by themselves. So the legends say, but I have spared Clement from time to time and doubt that is even true.  Though I guess he might not have been giving it his all, seeing his true nature. With time I am sure that I can take on an army of Drataines with-”

“It’s a good thing that most of the Drataines are going to be killed off today,” remarked Sir Oswald.

“What do you mean?” demanded Sir Harold.

“You won’t get a chance to prove that to be true,” replied Sir Oswald.

“What about Cronus?” asked Sir Harold.

“Real noble of taking down a child,” remarked Sir Oswald sounding rather done with Sir Harold.

“Whoever said I would be fighting him now?!” growled Sir Harold.

“Well, you do enjoy finding the easy way out of most of your situations,” reasoned Sir Oswald the echoing sound of his footsteps as he walked away.

“Damn, it!” barked Sir Harold as he punched the wall in frustration. Cronus jolted at the sudden noise. He refused to step out the door until he could no longer sense Sir Harold’s presence right outside the door. He did not have to wait long. He could hear the echo of Sir Harlod’s footsteps. Cronus felt a drop of water hit the back of his hand.

“A leak?” Cronus questions the roof in the spiral staircase. Seeing that there wasn’t one he accepted his despair. He had worked so hard in completing those guns for Lord Alfric. Hoping beyond hope that if he finished his task on time they would be freed. He had to remind himself that this was Lord Alfric, the man got his own flesh and blood killed. He should have taken his word with a grain of salt. His God’s Armor wasn’t even close to being completed yet, nor would he be able to complete it by tonight. His father was still too weak to make it down those steps without help.

“Today is Friday the 13th ....of course it was going to be an unlucky day,” sighed Cronus, “God, do you hate me? In what way have I insulted you, that you see it just to have me punished in this way. True I have teased my older sister and argued with my parents, but tell me... What child doesn’t?”

Cronus glared at the empty seeking an answer from the darkness. Knowing none would come, though he was positive that someone would have to answer him. He had already watched one of his family members die, he wasn’t ready to lose them all to the Reaper. He took a deep breath and rubbed his eyes clean of his tears. He did not want the others to know that he knew of Lord Alfric’s plan. He kept his head held high as he made his way to Lord Alfric’s office. He tried his best to act as if nothing was wrong. He bowed his head and faked a smile up at Lord Alfric.

“How did you like your parent’s new accomodations?” questioned Lord Alfric standing right next to a window looking at the view below him.

“You are being more than gracious to us, my Lord,” responded Cronus crossing his arms. His fingernails cutting into the flesh of his forearms. His blood began to stain his shirt.

“I am glad to hear you like it. I need to keep my Weapons Expert happy, do I not?” asked Lord Alfric glancing over at him.

“I was wondering, could it be possible that my family would be released?” questioned Cronus keeping his eyes on Lord Alfric.

“Why would they want to leave? They have everything they could want here,” remarked Lord Alfric, making it clear that he had no intentions of letting them go.

“They are of no use to you,” reasoned Cronus glaring at the man.

“On the contrary, your parents are rather useful to me,” argued Lord Alfric as he continued to look out the window, “your father is Clement Drataine afterall. A crown jewel among the knights. As soon as I laid my eyes on him, I knew that I could not just let him go. How can I allow myself to lose such a prize. Especially when it was presented to me particularly on a silver platter. I have no use for your mother...true. Still she is Clement’s mate and it is best to keep her close to his side. A payment for allowing me to have their pure daughter pass off as my own.”

“Are you worried that the Royal family will find out about what you have done?” asked Cronus feigning to be concerned with Lord Alfric’s well being.

“No, why should I fear the crown? Knowing that will soon be mine,” remarked Lord Alfric, smirking as he glanced at the land beneath him, “it is not like they have a Weapon’s Expert as brilliant as yourself.”

“Isn’t that treason? Won’t you be killed?” asked Cronus, not understanding why he would risk everything he had on a fleeting dream.

“I thank you for worrying about me,” smirked Lord Alfric stretching his arms up, “but I have nothing to be concerned about. That is if I play my cards right. Like I have been doing for the past twenty years.”

“Are you a man of your word?” defied Cronus stepping up closer to the being before him.

“How dare you ask me such a question? Of course, I am,” scoffed Lord Alfric crossing his arms and turning around to face him. Cronus noticed that Lord Alfric’s eyes were devoid of any emotion whatsoever. Did this man even feel remorse for what he had done to his own family? The answer was no, he did not. He must have been the only son of a wealthy merchant, who had bought his way into Lordship. At first he must have been ecstatic with his new position of power, but he knew that without a male heir he could not secure it for much longer. Then his wife died during childbirth, turning him desperate to keep his title. The only way he found was to have her married off to a Knight of a higher status than himself. This way he would be able to not lose that which he fought so hard to attain.

When Lady Rebecca became pregnant with her lover's bastard. She had unknowingly brought her father’s plan down the shithole. He could not present her to Sir Dicun Bannister as his pure and innocent daughter.Considering she had already evidently taken a bite of the forbidden fruit. How did he find out that his daughter was with child? More importantly how did he know who had sired the child? He had Lady Rebecca’s Lover killed right before her eyes by the way she acted when he mentioned him. After that he sent her to a secret compartments within the castle where she was beaten and at times starved. She must have fought at first, with time becoming weak.

“Will you be using the guns on your hunting trip?” wondered Cronus as he tried not to burn a hole in Lord Alfric’s skull with his eyes.

“Now, why would I waste such craftsmanship on such trivial animals?” questioned Lord Alfric rubbing his beard.

“You won’t use it on a boar? Don’t tell me you aren’t tired of feasting on chicken,” disputed Cronus in disbelief.

“Oh, do not fret. I will be killing plenty of long pigs with those weapons before the sun goes down,” smirked Lord Alfric, placing a hand on Cronus’ shoulder, “I am grateful for all that you have done for me. You will soon be rewarded for everything.”

“I appreciate all that you are about to give me, but the only thing I truly want is for you to allow my family to leave,” requested Cronus bearing holes into Lord Alfric’s eyes, “you know like you had promised.”

“I did, didn’t I? Before you go, I have a question for you, Cronus. You and your family could have left at any time you wanted. You are the ones who chose to stay out of your own free will,” taunted Lord Alfric, walking back, “the power I have over your family is the same power they gave me. Why didn’t you flee?”

“If we had made a run for it you would have had your men pursue us,” answered Cronus glaring up at that man, “when they capture us things would have gone so much worse.”

“That is true, I would have ordered for your Father’s head on a silver platter. I would have accused both your Mother and Sister as witches and had their bodies mutilated and hung. As for yourself...” paused Lord Alfric and turned around to look at him, “I would have chained you near the furnace and forced you to create weapons for me every single day without rest.”

“I’ll stay,” mumbled Cronus.

“I am sorry, I did not hear you,” teased Lord Alfric cupping his left ear.

“I said I’ll stay. Just please, let them leave,” begged Cronus collapsing down to his knees.

“I will, your family will be gone before the sun sets,” sighed Lord Alfric “now get up and stop crying.”

“No, I heard that you plan on having my parent’s killed,” wept Cronus as tears leaked out of his eyes and fell onto the wooden floor beneath him.

“Did you really?” questioned Lord Alfric walking over to him. As soon as he was right in front of Cronus he knelt down. He brought Cronus’ face up to look at him.

“I know that... that you never planned on keeping your promise,” sobbed Cronus, his tears wetting Lord Alfric’s hand.

“I am a man of my word,” lied Lord Alfric as he roughly dried Cronus’ tears.

“Prove it, make the order right now. Have your men give my family a horse and carriage to leave this place,” implored Cronus grasping onto Lord Alfric’s forearm.

“Very well, if it will seize your crying,” groaned Lord Alfric getting up, “Brutus! Come here!”

The large wooden door creaked open and Brutus walked in. He seemed to be observing the room as if he was trying to taste the atmosphere. He bowed to Lord Alfric, his eyes appeared to be locked on him. If Cronus did not know any better, he could almost swear that Brutus was looking at Lord Alfric like a wild predator stares at their prey.

“You called, my Lord,” noted Brutus as he got up from his bow.

“Yes, I want you to arrange a horse and carriage for the Drataines to leave,” ordered Lord Alfric.

“Consider it done,” stated Brutus as he stared at Lord Alfric, “would that be all?”

“Yes, thank you, Brutus, you may leave,” dismissed Lord Alfric sitting down on his chair.

“Very well, my Lord,” sighed Brutus leaving the room and closing the door behind him.

“I want to say good-bye,” requested Cronus getting up from the ground and whipping the tears off his face.

“Why? It’s not like you are never going to see them again,” argued Lord Alfric, shrugging his shoulders.

“Who knows I might not,” protested Cronus as he looked at that door with longing.

“Very well, but I want you right back here as soon as they get on that carriage,” ordered Lord Alfric dismissing him with his hand.

“Thank you,” cried Cronus, bowing down and running out.

Previous Chapter:

https://deusaeverythingcomestoanend.tumblr.com/post/618061108847263744/d-series-the-pirate

[fear-frost]

Maggie

Written for Sterek Bingo 2017 Kids Theme, Rated Teen

Also on AO3

It’s only been two days since he brought her home and already he’s forgetting what the house smelled like, sounded like, without her. Derek steps back into the strip of moonlight that’s painting the nursery with a silver glow and looks down to the squirming little bundle in his arms.

She’s so tiny.

When a pregnant omega had shown up half dead on Deaton’s doorstep the vet had done everything he could to save her and the child she was carrying. He’d only been half successful and even then it had been close. The baby was early and if she wasn’t a werewolf cub the chances of her making it would have been lower than Derek likes to contemplate. Still, she pulled through and today she is officially three weeks old and weighs a whole five pounds.

Werewolf or not, Derek is constantly terrified he’ll break her. Honestly, he’s been terrified since Deaton put her in his arms two days ago. Maybe even since he looked down at that sweet little face for the first time and told Deaton not to reach out to any other packs to find a place for her. She was an orphaned cub in his territory and despite his fear something slotted into place in his chest when he’d said, “I’ll take her.”

Of course he has no idea what he’s doing and has spent every available second of the last couple weeks memorizing how to take care of your baby books and getting the nursery in order. The pack has been unbelievably supportive. Isaac and Boyd took care of painting the room and assembling all the furniture while Erica and Lydia gleefully took his credit card to purchase a truly staggering amount of baby clothes and necessities. Scott has been working with his Mom and the Sheriff to get all her paperwork in order. Kira and Allison have happily offered to babysit anytime he needs a break, and all of them have been in and out just to help out ever since he brought her home.

Then there’s Stiles…

Sitles who sat beside her incubator at the vet clinic for hours every day reading Batman comics or text on ancient runes or the newspaper to her because Deaton said it would help for her to know someone was there. That she wasn’t alone. Stiles who presses his nose into the downy red mop on her head and just breathes her in. Scenting her so she’ll know she belongs. Stiles who tucks her into the crook of his arm and sings to her so softly when he rocks her to sleep. Who is the only person who has coaxed a smile from her.

Stiles who is currently slouched in the rocking chair in the corner with a tiny stream of drool on his chin. Derek can’t help the tiny snort he lets out and Stiles immediately flails, eyes shooting directly to Maggie’s crib before he spots Derek next to the window.

“Is she ok?” Stiles whispers, wiping his face and stretching as he gets out of the chair and comes towards them.

Derek glances down at her, his daughter, and his heart threatens to burst. “Yeah,” he answers just as quietly. “She’s been a little fussy, but that’s to be expected.” It’s her first full moon, and while Deaton assures them she won’t actually be able to shift until she’s a bit older or even flash her eyes while she’s still so weak, she can still feel it’s pull.

Stiles reaches his side and touches his index finger to one of Maggie’s little hands where she’s struggled them loose of her blanket. Instantly, she takes it into her grip and Stiles grins. “She’s getting stronger everyday.”

Derek smiles and just can’t tear his gaze away from those tiny little fingers wrapped around Stiles’ larger one. “She is. She’ll be ready to spend the full moon out with the rest of us in no time.”

“Yeah?”

“Well, she’ll mostly stay with you,” Derek flushes, realizing he’s just assuming Stiles would want to stay with her on full moons and quickly stammers out, “...or Allison or Lydia. If one of you is coming out with us that is.” He clears his throat and looks out at the moon. It’s a clear night and he can see almost as well as if it were high noon. He watches the wolves of their pack darting amongst the trees. Probably playing tag while they wait for the moon to reach it’s zenith.

“You hear that little wolf? You get to hang out with me while your dad goes running with your aunts and uncles. I’ll teach you the proper way to roast marshmallows. None of that lightly toasted nonsense your Aunt Lydia is always going on about.” Stiles glances up and seems startled to find Derek’s eyes on him. Like he’d been so engrossed talking to Maggie that he’d forgotten Derek was there. Dark shadows fan out across his cheeks when he drops his eyes again to Maggie’s face then to the window. “Is it almost time?”

“Yeah. We should probably head down.” Stiles moves before Derek’s even finished talking to pick up the the littlest pair of coveralls and jacket on the planet. Together they get all of Maggie’s limbs where they’re supposed to go and once she’s all bundled she looks nearly three times her size.

“Oh wait,” Stiles says before turning to pull something out of the backpack he’d tossed next to the closet when he’d arrived earlier. “I..uh, got her a first full moon gift.” In his hands is an adorable little lavender beanie with a cartoon wolf embroidered on the front. “I hope that’s ok.”

“Of course it’s ok, even though you didn’t have to.” Derek says as he takes the cap from Stiles’s fidgeting hands and slips it on Maggie’s head.

“Well, it’s a big deal isn’t it? Baby’s first full moon? Having a new cub in the pack?” Stiles reaches out and smooths the material over Maggie’s head. “I mean, I know I’m not a wolf or,” his voice cracks, “...you know, her parent, but I still want her to be happy. To know...to know that she’s loved.”

Derek’s gaze snaps up just in time to see Stiles flush, but the younger man doesn’t drop his eyes. He just stares steadily back at Derek with his hand still softly cupping the top of Maggie’s head. Derek already knows that he, himself, loves Maggie. He thinks he’s loved her from the moment Deaton led him back through the clinic and he’d walked over to her incubator. The weak scent of cub thick in the room as she’d struggled just to survive. He’d reached inside and placed his hand on her round little belly, offering her an alpha’s scent and comfort, and she’d opened her eyes. He’s been a goner ever since. He just didn’t expect anyone else to fall as hard as he had.

Apparently, he’d been wrong and really he should have realized. Stiles has been ever present and fiercely protective from the second he laid eyes on her. It has become apparent in the years they’ve known each other that while Stiles is cautious to love, once he chooses to love someone there’s no one more loyal. Derek is abruptly, overwhelmingly grateful that Maggie has him in her corner.

He reaches out the arm not cradling Maggie and grips Stiles’s shoulder. “She knows.”

Stiles nods and Derek can see his adam’s apple bob. “We should get out there or we’ll miss it.” Stiles says taking a step back and glancing to the window.

Derek turns to the door, but then stops and looks back to Stiles. “You want to carry her down?”

The answering smile is blinding as Stiles steps forward and gathers the now sleeping cub from Derek. There’s a moment when Derek’s arm is pressed against Stiles’s chest as they transfer her over and he looks up to find Stiles staring back at him. They both freeze, faces scant inches apart. Derek glances down then back up and says softly. “You know, she’s incredibly lucky to have you.”

A small, private smile pulls at the corners of Stiles’s mouth. “You’re going to be a great dad, Derek.” HIs gaze is intense where it’s meeting Derek’s and the warmth blossoming over his skin isn’t just from Stiles’s arm pressing into his stomach from under Maggie’s bottom or the heat radiating from the cub herself.

Maggie shifts and grunts and they both jerk their gazes back to her with little huffs of laughter. Derek disentangles his arm leaving their cub resting against Stiles’s chest. He turns and makes it all the way down the staircase when the thought stops him dead in his tracks.

Their cub.

He’d just thought of Maggie as if she belonged to both of them. Derek and Stiles. Like they’ll be raising her together. Something molten unfurls in his belly, pulls at his insides and he has to reach out and grasp the bannister to keep from stumbling. He turns to see Stiles still about halfway up the stairs, Maggie clasped securely in his arms. He’s rearranged her so that she’s upright with her head tucked under his chin with one strong forearm snug under her bottom and his other hand pressed against her back. He’s whispering to her about all the things she’ll get to see outside and how her pack can’t wait to scent her and welcome her. How she’ll always be protected and loved because he and her daddy will always love her and would never let anything happen to her.

Stiles stops just a couple steps above him and asks, “You ok, man? You kinda look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“Stiles.” The word comes out raw and so weighted he’s surprised it doesn’t bear him down to the floor.

Somehow, Stiles seems to understand, even though Derek barely does, and takes the last two steps giving Derek that soft little smile again and taking his hand from Maggie’s back to pat Derek’s chest as he walks by.

Once Derek collects himself and reaches the porch, he finds Stiles standing at the bottom of the steps still cradling Maggie with all the pack surrounding them, each taking turns to run their hands against the back of Maggie’s head down to the tiny bit of neck left exposed between her cap and jacket.

After each of them have taken a turn, Stiles lowers his face to the side of her head and presses the lightest of kisses against her cheek whispering, “I love you my little wolf.”

Derek’s heartbeat triples. When Stiles lifts his gaze to Derek, the alpha moves in close and wraps one arm around Stiles’s waist pulling him close and running his other hand over Maggie from the top of her head down to one tiny foot. He looks Stiles in the eye, but he can still see the half shocked, half smug expressions of the pack around them. He tilts his head, resting his forehead against Stiles’s temple, and quietly asks, “You’re sure?”  

Stiles simply turns his head and presses a warm, chaste kiss against Derek’s mouth.

Derek grins into it before he drops his head back and howls. The betas join in before the last echoes fade and then they’re all jumping and whooping with joy.

“Derek!” Stiles says and jabs an excited elbow into his ribs.

Derek looks down to see little golden beta orbs gazing at him. Maggie’s eyes are open wide and she’s making a little grunting “uh-uh” sound and squirming against Stiles’s chest. He lets his eyes bleed alpha red and scoops her up, carefully cradling her head, and presses his face to hers while a pleased rumble boils up out of his chest.  

“This is your pack, Margaret Laura Stilinski-Hale and we’re so happy to have you.” Derek tells her. She coos at him and he presses kisses all over her face before passing her to Scott who is dancing around beside him like he’ll die if he doesn’t get to hold her soon. As soon as she’s in Scott’s arms the others converge on them and Derek takes a step back to where Stiles is wiping his eyes on his shirt sleeve.

“Okay?” Derek asks him as he pulls him close and buries his face in the side of Stiles’s throat like he’s ached to do for ages.

A wet laugh bubbles up out of Stiles as he clings to Derek. “Perfect.”