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multistanisms · 3 days

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Opportune Moment || Teen Wolf

FANDOM: Teen Wolf

PAIRING: Stiles Stilinski x Peter Hale

WORD COUNT: 5,817

RATING: PG-13

POTENTIAL TRIGGERS: N/A

SUMMARY: Scott joining the alpha pack, Lydia and Danny dating the twins and the body count of Beacon Hills rising from a darach has Stiles unable to enjoy the Winter Dance. Getting air leads to a brief conversation with the one person Stiles doesn’t want to talk to right now - Peter Hale.

TAGLIST: @no1likemybbgcharlie, @spookidema

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The music had been fine, the punch still as blandly boring as the previous two years. But when Lydia got up to dance with freaking Aiden, Stiles had officially given up on enjoying the dance. There was no possible low lower than watching her dance with someone who had tried to kill his friend (although he doubted Cora considered him a friend) and had helped in killing another. He’d grabbed a cup of the punch and found his way outside. With a sigh, he hopped up, moving to sit on the railing outside of the back of the gym. Tonight had been a total failure in terms of romance. Again. Or well, that was the cover he was still trying to force himself to play. If it wasn’t one thing, it was another getting in his way. He stared at his cup of punch for a while, then shook his head. “Maybe I should give up,” he wondered, taking a long drink of the beverage.

“Giving up isn’t much like you, Stiles.” The voice made Stiles flail and almost caused the teen to fall backwards off the railing. What didn’t almost happen was the remainder of his punch splashing over his outfit. Turning his eyes towards the source, he laid eyes on the one person he wasn’t sure he wanted to see at the moment. Dark jeans hugged the male’s body perfectly, as well as a long sleeved grey shirt, which was a surprisingly normal piece of the wolf’s style, clad the form of the oldest wolf in town; Peter Hale. Sighing and rolling his eyes, Stiles jumped down, looking at the now ruined clothes, shaking the punch off his hands as best he could before wiping them on the pants of his suit.

“Seriously?” he grumbled. He looked back at Peter and gave an irritated look. “Are you happy now? My suit is ruined.”

The wolf raised his hands, giving a soft shrug. “My apologies. I didn’t expect you to throw punch all over yourself if I said hello.” He gave a chuckle as he moved to get closer to the little platform. Despite being a wolf, the movement made Peter look more like a cat. The image of a glowing eyed kitten hissing made Stiles laugh to himself before he realized what Peter had said and frowned a little.

“Yeah, well, you didn’t say hello, Peter. You spewed a bunch of crap and scared the living hell out of me.” Stiles snapped a little, letting his eyes return to his punch soaked clothes. He looked up a moment later, to see the wolf’s brow arched. “What?”

“I was honestly expecting you to at least try to enjoy yourself this year.” Peter said calmly, raising his eyebrows together and kind of swaying his head.

Somehow, Stiles found the will to roll his eyes and exaggerate the movement with a slight movement of his head; a clear knock off of what he had dubbed the ‘signature Hale eye-roll’. “Yeah, because that’s so easy to do when your best friend is siding with killers, your dad is missing and your friends are dying.”

“Is part of it perhaps also Lydia?” Peter inquired, eyes glancing at the cracked door, where a slow song was playing from the dance.

“No, no, NO. Don’t you dare say her exquisitely beautiful name, alright? You have no right, and I mean no right whatsoever, to have her name even blink across your mind. Not after what you did to her.” He crossed his arms defiantly. Yes, he might have started moving on, but he would also always see Lydia as beautiful, and he would defend her; no matter the cost.

The oldest Hale’s head cocked to one side as he arched his brow again. “Stiles, technically I did nothing. I just tapped into her abilities.”

“Abilities she wasn’t even aware she had until you used her to bring your wolf ass back to life.” Stiles said, making a point by cocking his own head and shooting the wolf a look that was clearly daring the were to argue.

“It was a move of strategy, Stiles.” Peter said. “And it worked out pretty well, seeing as my coming back saved Jackson. And yourself. Or have you forgotten that?”

“Yeah, well, even if you did save everyone’s collective asses by helping with Jackson, your strategy sucked, okay?” Stiles said, clearly annoyed that Peter was sticking around. His head shook as he thought about it. “You made people think she was crazy.” He leaned back on the rail and huffed a little. “Basically ruined her life.”

“I wasn’t aware that being Queen Bee made or broke a person’s life. Especially someone as brilliant as Lydia. And if we’re being honest, Stiles, anyone who thought Lydia was crazy were the actual crazy ones.” Peter said. He didn’t seem to notice Stiles faltering as he defended the redhead, giving a shrug. “But, I didn’t come for Lydia. I just wanted to make sure everything was okay. Well, as okay as it can be given our current, blood thirsty visitors…” he amended, giving a look as if he was scolding himself for a second. “But clearly everything is not okay if you’re out here moping.”

Stiles gaped at the older wolf for a moment and scoffed, looking away. “I can go in whenever I’m ready.” He then glanced back at Peter. “Shouldn’t you be like, trying to form a plan of action with Derek? I didn’t think he’d let you out of his sight due to a third of you dying in a coma-like state.” When he got an arched brow as a reply, he paused. Shit, that wasn’t what he’d meant to say. Cora had been a godsend for Derek and Peter both, and now they were losing her slowly. He looked down. “I mean, with Isaac here, and Scott, what’s the point of you hanging around?”

“Isaac came tonight because Derek explained it would make him feel better if Isaac didn’t miss it because of him.” Peter said, shrugging a little. “Although I doubt Isaac is having much fun himself at this point.”

“Wait, why would Isaac have missed the dance because of Derek?” Stiles asked, giving a confused look as he tilted his head.

“He didn’t want Isaac to miss something like this because Derek couldn’t attend as his date.” Peter answered simply. “Believe me, dragging the kid out for a tux was no easy task.” His eyes were once more at the door, as if he was waiting on a reply from the formerly abused beta, and when they returned to Stiles, the human was giving him a droll stare, as if he was speaking a known fact. “Something wrong, Stiles?”

“That just confirmed my suspicions…” Stiles rolled his eyes. He supposed it could happen – falling in love with someone who was loyal to a fault. His mind kind of trailed off from there though, becoming distracted by helplessly erotic images of the alpha and Isaac. He was so lost in his head that he jumped and flailed when Peter reached to touch his shoulder. Of course, the force of his jump and the flailing put him off balance, and he flinched as he waited for the ground to smack him, but instead he felt himself grabbed about the waist. Opening his eyes, he blinked upon realizing Peter had actually caught him. ‘Okay, seriously, it’s getting increasingly harder to hate this guy!’ He thought as he stared up at the wolf for a moment. “Uhm, thank y-” his voice was cut off as the older male leaned in to kiss him. A soft, gentle connection; not forceful or demanding, just…tender. Perhaps even a little needy and uncertain. That kind of connection between their lips made the teen’s heart pick up in rhythm a bit. He liked it, and as much as he would deny he had even entertained the thought, it wasn’t like what he’d thought it would be. Dep down, he knew he wanted more. So much so that he tilted his head, trying to deepen the kiss. Of course, it was at this moment that he realized he was kissing Peter freaking Hale. Flailing again, he shoved at the wolf, almost frantic to get away before he asked Peter to take him home. “Let me go, now.”

“Stiles-”

“Let me GO!” Stiles snapped, to which the wolf sighed, rolled his eyes and promptly released the human without a word. Stiles fell back, ass meeting concrete and a soft hiss leaving him at the pain. “What the hell, Peter?”

“You said to let you go.” Peter said innocently, although the hint of the smartass Peter that Stiles had come to know was evident in the tone. Stiles wasn’t sure if it pissed him off or it made him want to smile. So he forced his face still and replied as he stood up and dusted at his clothes.

“No, I mean what the hell was that? Before you dropped me.”

“I believe it’s called a kiss, Stiles.” Peter replied, once more back to his usual sarcastic self and shrugging a shoulder up. “Unless that terminology has been eradicated by your generation at some point.”

“Okay, let me lay this out here for you, wolf man. I don’t want you. At all.” Stiles said, clearly angry. But was the anger at himself or Peter? He couldn’t tell. He really didn’t care at the moment. The anger would cover the lie with ease.

“Then why did you kiss back?” Peter asked, head tilting. Stiles could see the slightest curve of a smirk on Peter’s lip. Damnit, why did he have to do that?

“You caught me off guard.” Stiles replied firmly, raising his eyebrows together and rolling his head in the tiniest way, almost like a twitch of annoyance.

“Or you actually wanted to kiss back and now you don’t want to admit it.” The wolf said with a slight tilt of his head in the same direction. The smirk was becoming a bit more prominent in the wolf now.

Stiles gave an aggravated sound, his hands clenching in front of him as if he might try to strangle the wolf. “Okay, you know what? Rule number one of me not killing you with wolfsbane. You will not, under any circumstance, scenario or matter of life or death, kiss me with those talented but murderous and lying lips. Understand?” His voice raised a little in volume and pitch, arms flailing as he spoke, as if he needed to gesture to make his point more valid.

Peter actually seemed offended at the little speech. His head even straightened to its proper position. “So says the human that returned the kiss. Although, if I’m being honest, that murderous and lying bit hurt…”

“I’m gonna show you hurt if you ever even think about kissing me again.” Stiles said seriously. He didn’t need this. He couldn’t get involved with Peter. But as with all irony in life, he had to move on from his affection for Lydia by falling for Peter Hale. He’d been pushing it out of his mind for almost a year. Why did he have to be reminded with such a trivial thing as a kiss? Damn, his luck was shitty these days. Right now though, he wanted to rip his hair out in frustration. He didn't need that intrusive thought to win. For one thing, it wasn’t attractive. Another reason was that he kind of liked his hair long.

“I get the feeling you’d return another kiss if I could manage to steal it.” Peter said with an all out smirk. He shook his head as he chuckled, reaching to help the human up. He saw the reluctance in the teen and rolled his eyes in the perfected version of Stiles’ previous attempt at the roll of eyes the Hale family had. “Oh come on, Stiles, I’m not that predictable. Although it would probably make you feel better if I was.”

Stiles kept quiet at the comment, because Peter was right; it would make him feel better if he could easily predict Peter's moves. Instead, he let his eyes move between Peter’s face and the extended hand, and reluctantly took the wolf’s hand, only to be yanked onto his feet and have the wolf lean in again. He tensed on pretext before deciding it would be best if he just turned away when the wolf whispered into his ear.

“If I kiss you again, Stiles, it won't be until you ask for it.” Peter’s voice was so soft, so undeniably sexy, that a shiver ran through Stiles. There was most definitely a need of some kind behind those words. And Stiles certainly didn’t understand what the hell it was. Before he could reply, Peter pulled away, reaching up to fix the tie and continuing. “Go back to the dance, Stiles. Ignore the twins as best you can. Try to enjoy yourself at least a little tonight?” Stepping back when the tie was straightened, he gave the human a soft smile and nodded his head at the gym door. “Go on.”

Stiles openly gaped at the wolf for a moment. Then his body began moving backwards, as if responding to the suggestion without Stiles’ conscious agreement to do so. His head tilted to one side, although whether mocking Peter or just curious, the human couldn’t tell. He jumped as he bumped into something and turned, flailing, to see a trash can knocked against the brick wall of the school. He silently asked who put a trash can so close to a rail, although in any other moment it would have seemed a stupid question. Stopping to glare at the receptacle for a moment, he made sure to right it properly before turning back to look at Peter again. Although he’d deny it if asked, he felt a sudden sadness in his chest to find that the platform was empty of the wolf. Giving a sigh and lightly shaking his head, he sidestepped the can and moved for the door to the gym. As he laid a hand on the frame of the metal door, he paused and looked back, hoping that he would catch another glimpse of the wolf. But still, there was nothing. Not even a trace that Peter had been there with him just moments before. He’d just turned around to finish entering the school when he jumped, startled by Scott standing in front of him, yanking at his sleeve and tugging him over to the side of the door. By the grin on his best friend’s face, it was something good. Thank god. With everything going on, they needed good news of some kind. “What is it, man?”

“Allison!” Scott said, his grin beyond excited as he watched his friend. “I overheard her telling Lydia she still loves me!” The pure excitement was damn near palpable, and it made Stiles feel a range of emotions in one moment. The human sufficed to roll his eyes at his best friend.

“So go talk to her, man.” He said. “I’ll be fine.” He waved his hand dismissively when Scott seemed to hesitate, brown eyes watching Stiles doubtfully. Stiles sighed and shook his head. “Look, seriously, Scott. Something has to go right for us here. And I am not going to let you sit it out with me when you could be getting the girl of your dreams back. Now go.” When the wolf still seemed unsure, Stiles gave a sigh. “Scott, if you don’t go talk to Allison, I’m going to lace your drink with wolfsbane and shoved mistletoe down your throat.” His look and voice were serious, and finally Scott nodded and left to go find the huntress. Going to the long table of snacks, Stiles scooped up a fresh cup of punch, then found his way around the gym until he was at an empty table in the back corner. Sipping at his cup before setting it on the table, he sat in the very corner chair. From this new position, the human could see all of his peers. For roughly five or six songs, maybe even seven, Stiles sat quietly, watching and trying to pay attention to his surroundings. Yet all he could do was get lost to his thoughts. As much as he tried to ignore it…he couldn’t. Or rather, his brain wouldn’t let him. The entirety of his focus kept getting sidetracked to one thing; or the aspects of one thing, bringing with it the conflicting mix of emotions that was spawned by the memory his brain wouldn’t let him ignore.

Peter’s kiss.

Surprised by it or not, it was a default action in Stiles to try and cover it up in his mind. To hide how much he’d liked that contact. But his mind had other plans tonight, and just kept dragging him back to that moment. Like a scratched DVD that only played to a certain point and then replayed one scene over and over. Everything about the kiss was embedded in his brain, and he couldn’t not think about it. The warmth of Peter’s lips, how gentle the wolf had been in kissing him, the way his heart had sped up and his body had ached to draw Peter closer and never let go. Most of all, the emotion that the kiss had drawn out of him. Taking a deep breath, he let it out as a sigh, his honey eyes falling to stare at the glass of punch. Raising one hand, he traced his middle finger around on the rim as he thought about it. He’d been denying it when it made itself known for nearly three years, since he’d been offered the bite. The affections for Peter that seemed to do anything except go away had been ignited when Peter first saw right through him in the midst of his originally playing cool for his best friend's sake. He had, at one time, thought he’d liked Derek, but then the alpha had started turning everyone and Isaac was soon almost constantly with the older wolf. And it wasn’t until he’d seen Peter helping kill – cure, Stiles reminded himself - Jackson that he even realized who his feelings were for. He’d built up sturdy walls on purpose; anything to keep from acknowledging his growing emotions for Peter. However, now it seemed as though the base of those walls was faltering in the design…and they were weakening faster than Stiles could repair it. As if the kiss had blown a hole in his defenses and it was only a matter of time before they finally crumbled into dust. All that was left now was a aching lingering in his body, his mind, of what he wanted. More. Another kiss, to soak in the warmth of the safe feeling he had when he was with Peter. Being honest with himself for the first time with the situation, he just flat out wanted Peter. The closest he could assimilate it to was how much Scott wanted, would always want, Allison.

With that comparison, Stiles raised his eyes to look around the gym floor. It took him a moment to observe the amount of happiness on the dance floor. Allison was holding Scott, her head on his shoulder as they whispered to each other. Aiden was twirling Lydia gently, the banshee’s eyes closed as she smiled. And Danny was tucked against Ethan as the two shared their own moment, laughing quietly together. Stiles actually shook his head. ‘This is ridiculous.’ He thought and moved to stand. Whether he meant himself or watching the happiness around him, he didn’t know or care anymore. Taking the last bit of punch from the cup in a single drink, he set the now empty cup on the table of confetti and glitter. Hand reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his keys, twirling them on his finger and catching them each time they fell towards his palm. Moving to the parking lot and heading for his jeep, he was prepared to go home; the only sound as he walked was the jingling of his keys as he twirled them. Finally looking up as he neared his car, he froze in place, his eyes widening a little as he stared at where his jeep was sitting parked. He wasn’t staring at the vehicle so much as the figure leaning against the back of it in such a calm manner. Waiting casually, as if he belonged there. Even yards from the man, Stiles could feel his body react, his skin warming as if an electric charge had filled the air and made his blood move faster. Everything Stiles wanted was standing right there, as if he had known he would be leaving. That thought alone had the teen’s heart changing into a much more erratic beat, and he stood in place, frozen by indecision. But then Peter turned his head as if sensing he was being watched, and blue hues found Stiles’ gaze with ease. In that moment, the indecision broke and Stiles couldn’t help himself. Starting forward at a brisk pace, he made his way to where Peter was and upon stopping in front of the man, reached up to pull the wolf into another kiss. A delighted little hum escaped him as he was kissed back, his arms moving naturally to wrap at the man’s neck as he tilted his head and was granted permission to deepen the contact. He couldn’t bring himself to pull away until his lungs burned with the need for oxygen, and as he gulped it in, he looked at Peter with a serious and hungry expression. “Take me home with you, Peter. I want you to.” When the former alpha only arched a brow at him, Stiles motioned his head in a ‘you have got to be kidding me’ manner. He then raised his hand with the keys, dangling them a few inches from the wolf’s face. “Don’t make me say it again.” The tone in his voice made it clear there were no negotiations, no debating. He wanted this, and Peter had damn well better give it to him. For a moment, Peter watched him, and then the brow fell from its arch and Peter took the keys. With a light smile and a nod, Stiles moved to the passenger side, opening the door and sliding in.

Seeing Peter slip into the driver’s seat made Stiles smile a little more. When the wolf paused and looked at him, he tilted his head as the other spoke. “Stiles are you-”

“If you ask me if I’m sure, I swear to God, Peter, I will poison you with wolfsbane, mountain ash and mistletoe.” The teen cut him off, turning to stare at Peter with raised brows. He was daring Peter to argue, but the wolf only laughed softly and started the jeep. Relaxing into his seat, he tugged his phone from his pocket and hit the volume button until it was set on vibrate. It was a kind of personal insurance that he’d be left alone for a while. Right now, hell for the next few hours or even the rest of the damn night, he needed to be away from the others. To have who he wanted for a change instead of trying to hide it. To forget about anything and everything going on. To just be a young man in love. That thought made him smile to himself. He was in love with Peter, even though there was a small part of him, the part that hated the idea of because it didn't fully trust the wolf, that kept asking, begging if he was sure. Turning his honey gaze towards the wolf as Peter drove, he gave a minute kind of nod. Yes, he was sure. He loved Peter, more than anything. And he didn’t fully understand why or how, but he knew he always would, that he would always need Peter. That if he gave himself to Peter, trusted him, the wolf would never let him go and would protect him instead of asking to be protected. That thought made a real smile curve his lips for the first time in a long while.

The drive to the apartment downtown was quiet. Only the sound of the jeep kept the utter silence at bay. Stiles wasn’t sure what to say for a while. So when Peter let his hand fall, the teen glanced at the wolf before reaching with hesitance to take the slightly bigger hand in his own. He looked away as Peter squeezed his hand gently and looked over to give a soft smile. It wasn’t the usual kind of smile he’d come to know from the wolf. This one was soft, gentle, and it made the older wolf look more relaxed and calm. He had needed the contact, to feel truly connected, and it was clear that Peter had no problem giving him that. All the simple gestures, paired with the words the former alpha had said outside the school, their kiss and the fact that Peter had been waiting for him…Stiles suddenly realized Peter had been hinting at a confession without saying it. It was a vague way to do so, and frustratingly so, yet Stiles knew that it was also so very like something Peter would have done casually. Like a trail of breadcrumbs, leading the way but never giving the answer outright. Pulling into the complex, Stiles took a moment to look around. He was about to turn and look back at Peter when a familiar car caught his attention just a few spaces down from the jeep’s place. “You have the Camaro? How did you get Derek to give it to you?”

Peter looked over at it, shrugging nonchalantly. “Better than giving it to a total stranger that no one knows how well they’ll treat the car.” He mused. “I forget I have it from time to time.” His blue eyes finally tore from the car to look at Stiles. Tilting his head in a way that kind of read ‘not a big deal’, he opened the door and climbed out, going to the passenger side to open Stiles’ door.

“Like tonight?” Stiles asked as his door opened and he arched a brow at the wolf. The devilish smile on Peter's lips sent a shiver through him.

“No, tonight I left it here on purpose.” The older man said, holding up the jeep’s keys in front of the teen. “Something told me I wouldn’t need it.”

Stiles blinked as he looked up at Peter, unable to keep from smiling as he took the keys into his hand. “I'm glad you listened to that instinct.”

“So am I.” Peter replied, reaching to run his fingers through Stiles’ hair. “ Are you staying the night or should I be ready to take you home?”

“I don't want to go home tonight.” Stiles surprised himself as he spoke, free hand moving to guide Peter's hand to his waist. “I want to stay with you, Peter.” He was fully aware of the way Peter stroked his fingers along the suit jacket. “Take me inside?”

“Happily,” Peter responded, the hand at Stiles’ side moving to lace their fingers together and walk with the teen up to the building. Stiles stays as close as possible as they moved, and Peter is grateful for the proximity of the younger man. “Thank you,” he voices quietly as he leads them into the elevator.

The words catch Stiles’ attention, making him tilt his head. “Hm? What for?”

“For being yourself.” Peter responds, lifting their entwined hands to kiss the back of Stiles’ hand. “For being, well…human.”

“Being human isn't so great,” Stiles countered,his tone sad as he leans into Peter's side.

“Please don't say that,” Peter begged softly. “You are so important, Stiles. Don't ever doubt that.”

“Everyone always has to save me. I can't do anything like you or Derek or even Allison.”

“You're the reason everyone has survived, though. Your plans almost always work. You always think of something or find something we need.” Peter's voice is quiet as he speaks, reluctant to move when the elevator opens but leading the way to his apartment door. “Whether the others show it or not, I will do everything in my power to make you are yourself the way I do. To make you understand how important you are to me if nothing else.” He's aware of Stiles’ attention on him, his inner wolf content to have that much at least, and steps aside to let Stiles’ inside.

As soon as the door closed, Stiles felt safer than he had in over two years. It seemed into his body like a hot shower when you're cold, and he finds himself sighing in relief. He takes the time to look around, eyes slamming in the difference of Peter's living space versus the loft where Derek and the rest of the pack resided. “It's so calm here.” He let his fingers brush over the mantle of the fireplace, pausing to take in the slightly charred images in new frames. “Is this…?” His voice died, unable to form the words.

“Some of the few photos I could save.” Peter finished with a nod. “My nieces and nephews, my sister and brothers. I have the remaining ones in the hall. My parents, a family one from Christmas the year before the fire…” He points at each of them, his own voice twinging on ache as his lips barely curve up; not quite a smile from the weight of his memories. “This is what's left of them.”

“Do you miss them?”

“Sometimes. I didn't have the best family environment, but they were family, and you only get one, you know?” He can see the curiosity behind Stiles' eyes, is very aware of the effort the young man takes to not ask. “That part of my past is for another time, Stiles. Tonight isn't about that.” He doesn't move when Stiles steps closer, allowing himself to be pulled into an emotional kiss, his hands finding purchase at Stiles’ hips.

“You aren't alone anymore, Peter. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere, I promise.” Stiles murmured, honey eyes locking on Peter's blue ones. “I love you, and I'm sorry it took so long to realize it.”

“You don't have to apologize, Stiles.”

“Maybe not, but I still want to make it up to you.”

“Oh? What exactly is going on in that clever mind if yours, hmm?”

“Kiss me again and find out.” Stiles remarked with a smirk, fingers tugging at Peter's shirt, laughing out a moan when the older man obliges with ease. The rest of the night is little more than a blur, but Stiles is aware of the way he's practically worshipped over and over. He eventually falls asleep, curled securely against Peter with his head on the wolf's chest.

The room is still dark when Stiles stirs, but there's just enough light behind the curtains to reveal that the sun was rising. Stretching, he relaxes and looks up at Peter, taking in how peaceful the man looks. His lips curl up into a smile, lifting his hand to rest it on Peter's cheek, thumb brushing over the stubbled skin. “My wolf,” he hums quietly, startling when Petered eyes open. “Good morning, handsome.”

“Only yours.” Peter promised, adjusting to steal a kiss. “And good morning. I didn't think you'd still be here.”

“Peter, why would I leave?” Stiles blinked in confusion. “Haven't we been building to this since we met?” He grins at Peter's responding arched brow, laughing quietly. “I know all about the mate thing with wolves; had to learn it when it came to Scott and Allison.” He answered, shrugging his free shoulder. “I just didn't think it could happen-”

“Don't doubt yourself, Stiles.” Peter pleads when he interrupts. “Please don't. You are so loyal, smart and fierce. You never give up, even when it looks terrible. You are the real backbone of the McCall pack, and you would be the perfect wolf.”

“Wolf or not, I'm not sure how Scott will handle this. He may not want me in the pack.”

“Then he's a fool and doesn't deserve you.” Peter countered, pressing his lips to Stiles’ forehead. “Without you, I would not be here, same and calm. That darkness held me for so long, I'd given up trying to fight it. And then you came along.” His hand rests at Stiles’ side, fingers brushing over the soft skin there. “You are priceless to me, Stiles. Nothing is more important than you.” He lets Stiles tuck his head into his neck, eyes closing as he took in his mate's scent.

“Thank you,” Stiles whispers, k owing Peter will hear the emotion regardless.

“What for?” Peter teases, fingers still mindlessly tracing over Stiles’ skin.

“For seeing me.” Stiles answers, clearing his throat when his voice cracks. “When everything started, it was so much, and I've always been on the sidelines of it all.”

“You fail to realize the significance of your role in Scott's survival, then. He would never have made it this far without you.”

“I should have said yes when you were alpha.”

“No.” The word is firm when Peter speaks it, pulling away just enough to lock his eyes on Stiles’. “I'm glad you said no, even if you were lying when you said it. Had I turned you, in that state, stuck in my own despair and darkness? I could have hurt you, and that I would never forgive myself for. I would rather die than hurt my reason for living.”

“No death talk,” Stiles scolded, tapping his index finger at Peter's lips. “You, Peter Hale, are not allowed to die. You are absolutely not allowed to leave me alone.” A pout distorted his face when Peter laughed quietly. “Don't laugh at me, I'm serious.”

“I'm not laughing at you, Stiles.” Peter countered, resting his forehead against Stiles’. “You're just so much like a wolf, that's all.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” Stiles huffed, smiling when Peter listened. He was content to just stay like that the rest of the day, to shut the world and all the terrible things happening in Beacon Hills out for just a little longer. He wanted to just be happy for a little while longer, but the moment was shattered by his phone ringing, followed shortly by Peter's. “Damn it,” he cursed.

“Don't worry, Stiles. I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right at your side.”

“Promise?”

“I swear it.” Peter assured, stealing another long kiss before reaching to hand Stiles his phone. “We're in this together.”

“At every opportunity.” Stiles added, grinning up at Peter as he swiped to answer the call.

#making a fantasy…a beautiful galaxy ✾ my fics #my fics #teen wolf fanfiction #steter #stiles x peter

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slasherhoe87 · 2 years

Text

🌹Loving Michael🥀

Chapter 5

Link to all chapters so far: https://www.tumblr.com/slasherhoe87/711619549600137216/loving-michael?source=share

OG Michael Myers x Fem Reader/You

WARNINGS: Slight mentions of the Spectrum from a characters uneducated in such matters

"And who is this handsome young fella?" asked your mom as she smiled brightly at Michael.

Suddenly nervous and unsure you twiddle your fingers (a nervous tick of yours) while trying to figure out how to explain Michael to your mom. You had thought about what you were going to say over and over in your head for hours, but of course when push came to shove all your thoughts got flung out of the window.

Michael stepped forward and put a comforting hand on your lower back. Holy cow is he sure stepping up or what. With a little boost to your confidence thanks to Michael's subtle show of support you smile at your mom and sweep your hand up towards Michael.

"Mom.... this is Mikey. Mikey Myles. Mikey, this is my mom, Cornelia. But everyone calls her Cora"

Michael extends his hand to your mom and they shake in greeting.

"Mikey is my boyfriend mom. We've been living together for a while now and we... just couldn't part from one another - I hope you don't mind. I know I should've told you beforehand but I was really scared of what you might say" you ramble out, your words fumbling over one another.

Your mom releases Michael's hand and instead pulls him into a big hug "Oh! Well I sure am surprised I'll tell you what!"

"Welcome Mikey, I'm so pleased to meet you. And you left everything behind in Haddonfield for my y/n? I can tell you're a gem already"

Your mom gave you a look to say that the both of you will be discussing this issue soon but her warmth towards Michael was genuine. You have never met a more kinder nor genuine person than your mom - ever.

Michael stood silent as a rock - eyes wide and staring like a deer in the headlights. You could tell he was extremely unsure and uncomfortable. No doubt the motherly love your mom was showing towards him was very overwhelming.

"Uh mom... Mikey has a... hard time interacting with people. He is easily overwhelmed and finds it difficult to communicate. He was also in an accident a few years back which damaged his vocal cords so speaking is painful for him" you internally grimaced at how easily and quickly you could lie.

Living with Michael gave you tons of practice.

Your mom noticed the large scar across part of his throat and neck and gasped before pulling him for another quick hug.

"Oh you poor boy!" she said, worry lacing her words.

A cold gust of wind swept past the three of you and your mom gestured for you all to bring in the luggage and get yourselves settled in your old bedroom while she makes some snacks and tea.

xxx

Up in your old bedroom you had Michael sit at the foot of the double bed while you stood between his thighs, your forearms resting on his broad shoulders while your hands gently cupped his neck. You kissed the top of his head and he looked up at you.

"Thank you Michael. You're doing so well baby. I know my mom can be overwhelming and you handled it well. I'm so proud of you" you praised him knowing that interacting with people in any way other than killing them was tremendously emotionally overwhelming for your lover.

He nuzzled his head against your belly and squeezed your ass. You giggled and stepped away from him while turning towards the door. "Get the rest of your things packed out. I'll go help mom with the snacks"

You made your way down the stairs and into the kitchen where your mom was making a few assorted small sandwiches.

"Hey mom" you say softly. "Anything I can help with?

She smiles up you and places the sandwiches on a large plate.

"Just sit and relax hon, you had a long drive"

You take a seat on the stool by the kitchen island and place your chin in your hand.

"How is dad? When can we go see him?"

Your mom sighs as she pours the water from the kettle into the teapot. "He's stable and can leave in a few days but he'll never be the same again. He won't be able to speak again and has lost his ability to use his limbs" she says as she looks out of the window, sadness overtaking her usually joyful features. "This is why I needed you back, I cannot handle such a large man on my own hon"

"How did this happen?" you ask as your eyes misted over. You always remembered your dad as a big jolly guy always up for adventure and new experiences and to think of him now wheelchair-bound and unable to speak.. it was devastating.

"His blood pressure. I kept telling him all that greasy fast food he enjoyed so much during his lunch breaks at work would kill him but he never listened" she clapped her hands together and walked towards you. "But, unfortunately for everyone involved it is what it is and we're just going to have to deal with this. We'll pull through, together, as a family. We always do"

She motioned for you to bring the sandwiches to the living room coffee table while she brought the tea tray.

"Now, tell me all about Mikey! Why didn't you tell us about him? How long has your relationship been going on for? Is it as serious as it seems to be?" your mom fired off while pouring herself some tea.

You laugh and sit back against the sofa, crossing your legs. "Woah mom, one question at a time"

You sigh and groan internally wondering where to start. "Well, we've been together for 2 years and 4 months - but Mikey moved in with me a little after the 4 month period"

Your mom's eyes bug out and she nearly drops her teacup. "2 years! And he moved in with you only after 4 months?! Y/n I can see why'd you be afraid to tell us. Normally I'd give you the benefit of the doubt but after what happened with Corey don't you think it was a little too soon?"

You cringe and internally shiver at hearing Corey's name. You absolutely did not want to think about him right now, or ever to be honest.

You lean forward and grab a cookie and begin to nibble on it. "Yeah, it was quick mom. The whole start of the relationship was a whirlwind but mom.. when you know, you know. Mikey is it for me. I feel safe with him, protected, loved, cherished and though he can be difficult to live with and understand sometimes due to his issues he has shown nothing but love and warmth towards me. There is no one else for me mom"

Your mom studies you for a moment before smiling again. "I know that look. Its the same one I have when thinking and speaking of your father" she seemed pleased and settled back down against the sofa. "I am incredibly happy for your honey. I know that your previous relationship damaged you in all ways possible. I truly hope you don't go down the same route with Mikey"

Your eyes shift to the floor, dark memories clawing at your mind and heart. You take a sip of your tea and will the feelings and memories away. That is all in the past and you intend to keep those memories dead and buried where they belong.

"Does Mikey work?" mom asks as she takes a bite of her sandwich.

Oh boy... had your mom been any other mother this would have been another strike against Michael. You are so incredibly grateful to have parents like your own. Such good people.

"No, mom. I'm the sole breadwinner. Mikey's issues make it difficult for him to interact with people for prolonged periods of time"

Your mom tilts her head slightly as she sips on her tea. "Is he on the spectrum hon? Does he have any personality disorders? that could explain it... has he been diagnosed?"

Well shit. What do you say now? Although... this was a good question to be honest. Did Loomis ever test Michael for such things?"

"We don't know mom. I don't believe he's ever been tested for such things"

Just as you finish speaking Michael appears around the corner from the staircase and walks silent as ever into the living room.

"Mikey!" your mom greets as she stands and motions for Michael to sit next to you and fill up on snacks and tea.

Michael sits down next to you, your thighs touching. You lean forward and place a few sandwiches and a two cookies on a plate for him before pouring him some tea.

As you and your mom continued to chat about the family and what everyone had been up to while you were living in Haddonfield Michael's thoughts were revolving around one name: Corey.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Short chapter. Chapter 6 (which will be longer) will be up soon.

#michael myers #michael myers x you #michael myers x y/n #michael myers x reader #og michael myers #og michael x reader #halloween #slashers #slasher fic #slashers x you #slasher x you #slashers x reader #slasher x reader #slasher fucker #slasher community

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socialoutsiderwritings · 1 year

Text

Always, Only. You 29.2

Talia had taken Y/N in to her pack after your parents and their pack were brutally murdered. For years she trained and learned under Talia alongside Derek , Laura and Cora. One night Talia tells you along with Derek that you two have to imprint on each other , to become each other’s mates. Your connection to Derek has always been stronger than his to you. So after the fire it killed you to be away from him , but you had to do it for your own survival. 7 years after the fact , you return home. Back to Beacon Hills. But the Derek you return to is not the same Derek you know. Will Y/N ever get Derek to accept the fact they are meant to be together?

Penthouse

"You live here?" Brett asked as you three walked into Deucalion's penthouse. "Alone?"

"No," you answered, closing the door behind you. "My place is too small. Deucalion left me the keys, lease is under my name and he's paid for the rest of the year so." You shrugged. "It's home for now."

Lori, Brett's sister turned around with a grin on her face. "Thank you for letting us stay with you." She thanked you for the hundredth time again.

"Dont thank me yet. Thank me when you're safely back with your pack."

Lori glanced at Brett almost disappointed. You decided not to acknowledge it. It would be safer for them in the long run if they didn't attach themselves to you.

"Anyway, there are two extra bedrooms in the back. Take your pick and, uh, don't worry about what was left behind. The owners wont miss it at all."

********

You stood under the shower head, allowing the cold water to cascade down your skin. Although you were exhausted, you had barely gotten any rest last night. You were up all night thinking about everything. Hunters, Stiles, Oni, Nogitsune, and the uneasy feeling something big was coming.

What worried you more was your newfound status. You were always part of a pack, never the one leading one. Even though this was only temporary, it would be a matter of time before more came. And then you'd have to step up. You just wished you didn't have to do it alone.

“Good morning.” Lori greeted you. She was at the stove placing the food on a plate. “I hope you dont mind. We helped ourselves.”

“Good morning.” You greeted back. Brett was at the table already eating. "Morning," you greeted him. You turned your attention back to Lori, "not at all. Help yourselves to whatever." You walked over to the counter to begin preparing your cup of coffee.

“Shouldn’t you two be leaving for school soon?”

"Devenford Prep is holding lacrosse tryouts today." Brett answered. He got up to put his plate in the sink and then leaned back against the breakfast counter to look at you with his arms crossed.

You glanced at him over your shoulder, "Ok? What does that have to do with school?"

"Everything." He stated plainly.

You frowned as you finished preparing your coffee. You turned around now to face the two teenagers. You looked over at Lori first. She gave you an apologetic look before standing up and walking over to put her own plate in the sink.

“Uhm, ok?” You sighed. “You can take my car. Just be careful, ok.”

"You know Devenford Prep is on the other side of town, right? I dont know how to drive." He stated matter of factly.

You sighed, growing annoyed. "Devenford is a private school, right? Why are they holding open tryouts?"

"They need lacrosse players." He explained. "I can get in on scholarship."

"Using your werewolf abilities? Thats cheating."

"Not if I worked hard." He stood up straight and uncrossed his arms. "Four months ago I didn't know anything about lacrosse. I know I can get in on skill alone."

You smirked as you looked at Lori. You had to admit, you admired his confidence a little bit. She nodded at you, as if agreeing with her brother. "Ok. Let's go then."

*****

The car ride to Devenford Prep was awkward, to say the least. You could still sense a bit of hostility from Brett. Lori, on the other hand, tried to ask you more about yourself. But whenever the conversation started to get a little too comfortable for Brett's liking he would butt in to change the subject or just look at Lori to get her to stop talking.

Out of the two, you figured Lori was the best to talk to. You had already agreed to take them in for the time being. But you wanted-- needed to know why Deucalion put so much effort in convincing them to come to you and not Scott.

You and Lori sat side by side on the bleachers, watching as the coach spoke to the teenage boys. You were a little nervous for him for some reason. You could tell the other students had an issue with him trying out as well. As the boys broke the huddle and moved further away from you, you decided now was your chance to find out.

"So, what sparked his sudden interest in lacrosse?" You casually ask Lori.

She shrugged, "boredom, I guess. He watched a game once and started practicing the next day."

"Why play for Devenford? Does your school not have a lacrosse team?"

"We do. But Brett says this school would be better."

"Oh." You stated. "Whats wrong with your school?"

"I don't know. Brett's pretty popular."

"What about you? Are you…pretty popular?"

Lori shrugged. "Not...really. But its ok. I have my brother...well had my brother. I know he's going to get in." She smiled.

"It doesn't bother you? At all?"

"No. Why would it?"

"I don't know." You answered, questioningly. "If he gets in...where does that leave you?"

"Brett's always watching out for me. So in a way, I think he might be doing this for me, too."

"Really?" You asked now curiously. "What about your parents?"

"Our parents died in a fire a long time ago." She spoke slowly as she looked down at her hands, already fidgeting with her fingers. "Satomi took us in when she found us. She's great, but Brett has always been the one taking care of me. We're all we have left, you know." She finally looked at you.

"Yeah," you nodded sympathetically. For a moment you pictured Derek's face. "I know exactly what you mean."

You turned your attention back to the tryouts. You spotted Brett on the right side of the field, alone. Across from him you noticed four boys glance at each other. The coach hasn't blown the whistle yet and the four boys rushed at Brett knocking him back a few feet.

"Oh shit." You whispered.

The coach blew the whistle and ran towards the boys. You watched worriedly as Brett removed his helmet and then quickly got up to face the four boys. The biggest of the boys took off his helmet laughing and high-fived the other boys. Brett slowly walked towards him.

"Oh no. He's not gonna wolf out, is he?"

"He's mad but he wont fight." She stated. "He doesn't believe in violence, unless he really needs to."

Brett laughed at the four boys and put his helmet back on. You watched the boys get back in to position for their play. You were now eager to see what he was going to do. The coach blew the whistle again and this time Brett took off. He easily avoided each of the boys as they rushed him, trying to stop him from reaching the goal. The bigger of the boys stood his ground in front of the goal. Brett picked up his pace, used the side of his body knock the kid on his back and scored.

The rest of the tryouts, Brett had the other boys out of breath and tripping over their own feet.

********

Brett walked out in to the living room as he dried his hair with a towel. You noticed him as you shut the dishwasher door. "It was really generous of them to give Lori a scholarship." You said out loud to get his attention.

He only glanced at you but didn't say a word. He looked over at the sofa and then around the living room in confusion.

"I took your uniform to the dry cleaners." You told him. "And thats for you." You gestured to the new lacrosse gear. "A gift.. for making it on to the team."

He looked at you a bit taken aback. "Thanks.." he replied. He then grabbed the lacrosse stick to examine it.

"Is she the reason you learned how to play?" You walked out of the kitchen towards the living room.

"She was having trouble making friends at our old school." He answered. "They were bullies. I didn't want her to keep going through that." He set the lacrosse stick down and grabbed the helmet.

"Really? You never thought of, you know, doing something to stop them? Why go through all the trouble of learning a sport you were never interested and trying out for a different school?"

Brett set down his lacrosse helmet and stared at you. "It wasn't trouble." He told you. "I did it because I wanted to do it for the both of us. Teaching those losers a lesson would have been too easy. They aren't worth it. Trust me." He was a little angry now.

"Oh-ok." You hold your hands up to mean no harm. "I was just curious. I mean it must've made you upset when you first found out. I hear you two are pretty close."

"Yeah."

"How did you deal with it? You've got quite a hot head on you, I noticed."

"Me?" He scoffed with a smirk. "You want to know what makes your scent strong? Your anger."

"Ok, fine." You crossed your arms. "I'm asking for advice here, kid. Watching you during the tryouts, kind of had me thinking maybe Deucalion had another reason of sending you to me. Besides us having a few things in common."

"Like what?"

You sighed. You weren't sure if this kid was actually oblivious or if he enjoyed having you practically beg him for help. "Control. Without using anger. Better yet, controlling my anger."

"Satomi taught us how to meditate. We use a mantra."

"Can you teach me?"

Brett looked stunned at first and then nodded at you. He gestured for you to help him move the furniture to create a big enough space in the center of the room.

"Why do you want to learn how to do this?" He asked you. "Do you really think that's why he convinced us to come find you?"

"I've developed a bit of an anger issue." You halfheartedly joke. "I don't know, it's just a guess really." You finished moving around the furniture and sat in the center of the room across from Brett.

"I was taught anger is the best emotion for control. It's easier. So you could imagine how many angry individuals i've been around growing up." You chuckle softly. "I cant run away from what I am. No matter how much I would like to.” you admitted.

"Beacon Hills is really going to need more than one protector. So if I'm going to embrace what I am.. I want to do it my way. Not out of other people's fears."

Brett nodded in acknowledgment. "It took Lori and I months to master it. So don't feel discouraged."

You giggled slightly. "You sound like you've taught this before."

"No," he shook his head, "never. I just remember how I felt when I started. I was easily frustrated. I really tried to fight it; fighting it just made it worse." He then inhaled a breath and closed his eyes. "Start with a clear mind."

You copied him. He took another set of deep breaths and then, "what three things cannot long be hidden?" He asked quietly. You weren't sure if you had to answer at first until Brett answered himself, "the sun, the moon, the truth." A deep breath.

"The sun, the moon, the truth." you repeated.

"Slower." He instructed. "What three things cannot long be hidden?"

"The sun," you answered this time, slowly, "the moon, the truth." A deep breath. Brett got quiet but you could still hear him taking his breaths. So you did the same. It took a while but you felt your body relax, as if you were melting away.

"Now think about the things that have made you angry. Triggers." he spoke softly. "Spark your anger and then use the mantra to calm yourself." He spoke calmly.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" You kept your eyes closed. You were worried now, but somehow your body remained relaxed.

"I trust you."

You inhaled a deep breath. Then you thought back, on every occasion you have gotten angry. The fire, Talia and Deaton, Deucalion, Jennifer, Kali and Ennis. You inhaled another deep breath. Your heart began to beat faster. "The sun, the moon, the truth." You chanted quietly. "The sun," a breath, "the moon," another breath, "the truth."

Then your mind drifted to Derek. You thought about earlier, before you shifted. Somehow, remembering the incident now, it didn’t make you angry. Instead, it hurt. It made you sad. You repeated the mantra in your head again.

Then more memories with Derek flashed in your mind. Special ones. You inhaled a shaky breath. You imagined Derek's hands all over you, you were practically starting to feel them. The warmth of his palms gently caressing up your arms, to softly graze down your back. The way he'd squeeze you gently just to feel you closer to him.

"The sun," you mumbled, your breathing getting heavier as you remembered the feeling of Derek on top of you, "the moon. The truth."

You were startled out of your daze by big hands grabbing your shoulders. You opened your eyes to see Brett staring at you, awkwardly. Your eyes trailed from his eyes, down to his lips, to his neck then back up to his eyes. Realizing what you were feeling, you closed your mouth and gently pushed him away from you.

"I think that's enough for today."

Brett chuckled and helped you up to your feet. "Sounds like someone needs a cold shower."

You glared at the young man. "I'm going to pick up your uniforms."

**********

The voice in your head was screaming, begging you to turn back. But your body had a mind of its own. Before you realized where you were going, you were already in the elevator going up to his floor.

You stepped out of the elevator, made your way to his door and knocked. After a minute or so there was no answer, so you knocked again. The door slid open. You heart was pumping, eager to see Derek.

"Peter." you were surprised to see him.

"Y/N." He was just as surprised as you were. Without a warning, Peter grabbed you and embraced you in a tight hug.

You froze at first, then Peter's scent filled your nostrils. Your eyes fluttered closed and your hands felt up his back and you grabbed his shoulders. You turned your face inwards to the crook of Peter's neck and inhaled his scent again. His scent was intoxicating, it was making you feel warm inside, you accidentally let out a low whimper as indulged in Peter’s scent.

Peter noticed and he leaned away a bit to look at you. Your faces were so close you could feel his breath fanning your face. You gripped tighter at his shirt, pulling him closer to you. He brought one hand up to caress your cheek, then to the temples of your sunglasses.

You immediately turned away as you felt him pull the sunglasses from your face. "Uhm," you gently pushed him back as you stepped away from him and pressed the sunglasses back up the bridge of your nose, "is Derek here?"

Peter cleared his throat. "yeah," he answered. He gestured you to enter the loft. He didn't say anything else as he slid the loft door shut behind you.

"Peter," You heard Derek's voice first and then he appeared descending the spiral staircase. "who was at the door?" He froze when he saw you descending the stairs towards the center of the loft.

You looked around the room, "is Cora here?" You already knew the answer though. You began stripping yourself of your jacket as you approached Derek.

"She's out with Erica and Isaac. They're actually looking for you," he spoke slowly, watching you carefully. "Is everything ok?"

You were already in front of him. "Fine." You all but whispered, you wrapped your arms around his neck, instinctively Derek placed his hands on either side of your waist. Derek's scent was different from Peter's. It wasn't intoxicating. It was fresh, nostalgic; almost like home.

You slowly leaned in, Derek noticed and grabbed your waist to pull you in and kissed you. The tiny hairs on your body stood up as if your body had been ignited with electricity as soon as your lips met. Without removing himself from you, Derek guided you towards the bed. When he hit the edge of his bed he spun around, still holding your waist, and laid you down on his bed.

You moved your hands down his chest to the hem of his shirt, to pull it over his head. Derek put his hands over yours to stop you and pulled back a bit.

"What?" you breathed.

Derek didn't say a word, instead, he grabbed the sunglasses and slowly removed them from your eyes. You allowed him but you kept your eyes closed. "Open them." he gently instructed.

"No."

"Y/N," he kept his soft, "open your eyes. Please."

You exhaled a deep breath and slowly opened your eyes. Derek stared down at you, one his hands cupping your face as he rubbed his thumb against your cheek. "I'm sorry."

You removed his hand from your face, went to gently grab him by the neck and pushed him to the side so you could straddle him on the bed. You removed your shirt and tossed it behind you.

"I didn't come here for sorry." You reached behind your back for your bra strap, undid it, and then slowly and teasingly pulled it off your body and dropped it next to you on the bed.

Derek swallowed dryly, as he lustfully looked at you and down your chest. He sat up a bit and removed his own shirt. He stayed here, hands reaching up your back as he pulled you in closer to kiss you.

You whimpered out when you felt him softly drag his nails down your back. "Fuck," you moaned, "Derek." Your hands found the button of his jeans, and you hastily worked on unbuttoning them

Derek wasted no time and did the same. He spun to lay you down on the bed again. In one quick motion he got his and your jeans and undergarments off and settled himself between your legs.

You breathed heavily as you watched him. He hooked his arms behind your knees and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed.

"Are you just going to stare?" You asked, losing patience. Derek softly chuckled. He leaned down, simultaneously slowly inserting himself as he kissed you. You let out a sigh of relief and wrapped your arms around his neck.

He thrusted himself in and out of you slowly. He moved one of his hands to the side of your head and gripped the sheets tightly and he buried his face in the crook of your neck. Your hand found it's way to the top of Derek's head and you gently pulled and tugged on his short hair, earning a soft(sexy) moan from him.

"Faster." you moaned. "Fuck, Derek. Faster."

He did as you told. He could feel you getting closer and he pulled back to look down at you. He watched you, listened, made sure he was giving you exactly what you wanted.

"Oh fuck," you whimpered. Yo stared up at Derek, his eyes glowed blue a moment as he rode out his climax with you.

He laid down beside you to catch his breath. He kissed your cheek, and pulled you in closer to him.

You turned you head to look at him, softly caressing his cheek. "I have to go." You whispered.

Derek blinked lazily. "Stay." He whispered. "Please," he breathed, "stay with me." Derek's eyes slowly closed, and you watched him quickly fall asleep.

You untangled yourself out of his grip and grabbed your clothes to get dressed. You searched his pants for his phone and typed your new number into his phone. You looked back at Derek sleeping on his bed. You deleted your number in his phone and put it back where you had found it. You looked back at Derek one last time before leaving and sliding the loft door closed behind you.

#derek hale #derek hale teen wolf #derek hale x reader #derek hale x reader imagine #derek hale x reader fanfiction #teen wolf #teen wolf fanfiction #teen wolf fan fiction #teen wolf fandom #peter hale x reader fanfic #peter hale teen wolf #stile stilinski teen wolf #stiles stilinski #scott mccall teen wolf #scott mccall #teen wolf masterlist #teen wolf fic

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adoracora-elizabeth · 1 year

Text

Drabble - waking up next to you.

Thank you for the lovely people who reached out yesterday! Wrote a drabble as a thank you note.

Robert had woken up due to the scullery maid lighting up the fires. He rarely woke up from her, but this morning he had been in a light sleep. He kept still, so the girl would not notice, she woke him up. He did not want to embarrass her.

Once the fire was burning high again and the maid left to tend the rest of the fires in the house, he turned on his side. Cora was curled up, sleeping on her side of the bed, facing in his direction. Her hair had gotten loose and was draped over her face and pillow.

The soft light of the fire gave Cora an angelic look. She had a serene look on her face. Robert was relieved to see her finally in a peaceful state again. Since her treatment started, Cora has, had many restless nights. She rarely admitted that to him, but he could see it in her eyes. There was a deep exhausting visible.

It reminded him of the many broken nights when the girls were young. Cora had insisted on feeding the girls herself. Much to his mother’s disdain. It resulted in her being awake a lot during the night. Even though she did not sleep much, her exhaustion had been different. She did get so much in return, she had said repeatedly and he could see it in the smiles their little girls gave her when she entered the room. As soon as she picked them up or started talking to them, they settled down. He had never been surprised by that, because her voice had the same affect on him.

This exhaustion was much deeper as if her whole body was weighing down on her. Every inch of her body was tired. It was no wonder she was this exhausted, her body had to work hard to keep her going and the treatment was far from, a fun ride on the carousel.

It was Rosamund who got her to take it easier. Cora had kept going on and on, not taking it any slower. Not wanting to disappoint anybody. Who did she think she would disappoint? Robert had thought. She had been the strong countess, especially on the day of Violet’s funeral. And even the days after, when there were no house guests and Dr. Clarkson started her treatment, Cora insisted on going on in their normal rhythm. Robert had tried to get her to slow down. He had told her, it was alright to not come down before lunch. It was even alright when she would decide to only come down for tea.

One afternoon, Rosamund had been over. They were all sitting in the drawing room. Tom and Lucy were talking about the plans they had with the villa when out of nowhere Cora dropped her cup. Rosamund had been the first, to take action.

“Cora, we better go upstairs.” She had said in a firm voice and helped Cora get up from the sofa. Robert had been scared when he saw how unstable she was. He had told her dinner would be brought up to her.

From that afternoon on, she stayed upstairs most of the day. Not wasting energy by walking downstairs. Robert carried her down, as soon as the walls of her room closed in on her. He was glad Cora let him take care of her.

Cora stirred in her sleep, Robert looked at her face again. A curl rested on her cheek, it had lost its deep chestnut brown colour. He loved the shimmering parts of grey in her hair. Scooting closer, he carefully put the curl behind her ear, and before he pulled his hand back, he traced her jawline.

Her skin was as soft as the first time he touched her, almost 40 years ago. He could not resist and pressed his lips on her forehead. He could still smell her night crème, it had a soft flowery smell.

Robert moved his hand to Cora’s shoulder and upper arm. He brushed over the silky fabric of her nightdress, he would love to feel her skin. It was a long time ago, she had enough energy for him. He felt instantly guilty because Cora had never denied him anything before they went to France. And she had been sick already. She had shown so much strength. He could never be that strong, he thought.

Cora moved and the curl that he just tucked away, draped over her cheek again. He picked it up and twirled it around his finger. He loved these stolen moments, where Cora did not know he was looking at her. Studying every line on her face, every little movement of her eyebrows. His other hand rested on her pillow, just above her head.

He saw her mouth twitch and a soft smile appeared, but her eyes were still closed. He knew she was waking up, he could see a slight change in the tension in her jaw. Her hand moved and now rested against his chest.

He moved his hand that was resting on her pillow and buried it into her hair, softly massaging her scalp. Cora let out a deep sigh and nestled herself firmly against Robert’s body. His left arm wrapped around her and rested between her shoulder blades. He felt Cora angle her face up and her lips pressed against his chest. Right on the spot where his nightshirt fell open. A slight shiver went through his body. “Good morning” she murmured.

Robert pressed a kiss on the top of Cora’s head. “Good morning my love.”

Cora wiggled herself even closer to his body and he felt another deep sigh leave her body. One of her feet found its way between his calves, he loved that feeling. As if she was trying to become one with him. Her hand had found its way under his shirt, making sure she was connected with him. He admired her so much, how she found ways to stay intimate with him, even though she lacked the energy to truly be with him.

“How long have you been staring at me?” She asked.

Robert felt embarrassed, he did not realize she had noticed. He had done it so many times over the last weeks. Not only when she was sleeping, but every chance he got he studied her. As if he wanted to ingrain every memory of her in his mind.

“I am not going anywhere.” Cora said as if she had read his mind.

Robert pressed her even firmer against his chest. He knew Dr. Clarkson had said she was not going to die. Not yet, but he could not rest before she was truly better.

While her one hand stayed on his chest, she moved the other one up and touched his cheek. He felt how she pushed herself up, so her face was at the same level as his.

“I will get better. And I feel better already.” Her eyes met his and he did not see anything besides her love for him.

“Oh, darling.” His words caught in his throat. He used the exact same words that night in France. Another escaped curl rested on her forehead. He picked it up, twirled it around his finger before tucking it away.

“Do you think I should dye my hair?”

Robert was surprised by her question. “I love the silver linings in your hair. They represent all the silver linings you brought into my life.” He touched the wrinkles next to Cora’s eyes and mouth. “As do these beautiful lines. They tell me the story of our life together.”

He felt Cora chuckle. “You romantic fool.” She said softly, but with so much love in her voice.

“Only for you, my darling. Only for you.” Softly he pressed his lips on hers.

#cora crawley #robert crawley #downton abbey #fanfiction #downton #cobert #drabble #grey hair #wrinkles #unconditional love

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tciddaemina · 2 years

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If you don't mind me asking, what was the process of writing the thing that remains like? Idk, no pressure to answer or anything.

haha nah, i'm happy to answer. to be honest, the thing that remains was probably the hardest project that i've ever worked on, and one with that i struggle with a lot. don't get me wrong, i absolutely loved it and even now it is still my favorite out of every fic i have written, but like heck it gave me a time

(fuck this turned into a long response, so have a read more to spare all other poor passersby)

i spent the better part of three years working on it, essentially, and during that time i went through basically every scene in the manga which law shows up in with a fine tooth comb. not just trying to figure out what he said and did in any given moment, but looking at all the context around it to figure out what it was it was feeling, why he made any given decision he did. which is fun with law, because oda typically uses him for a sort of 'gotcha' type plot reveal in which he makes law look very ruthless and suspicious and often untrustworthy, doing stuff that seems to throw the straw hats under the bus, only to turn around a dozen chapters later and reveal the whole plot law had been building up, complete with flashback explanations

so like, there was a lot of reading back and forward looking at those reveals then heading back to piece together the clues that had been scattered in the lead up. which, yeah all this endless reading and fact-checking might sound like a chore, but honestly i really enjoyed it.

a lot of the time, i really thoroughly loved writing law. part of it is just because he's just honest to god so dramatic. he's cynical and he's jaded and he's so done with everything. he needs a cup of coffee and a nap at all times and shit keeps piling up in his lap anyway, and watching him crack under pressure and steadily give less and less fucks was just so fun. things like his fight scene with vergo, and the one with doflamingo, i had so much fun with the sheer emotion and intensity in those, you can't even imagine.

and yeah, working with luffy was also a very fun part to write. luffy's a character thats much easier to write from an outside POV rather than an internal one, but i still spent a lot of time in luffy's headspace trying to figure out how he'd react to any given thing - when we get the moments of silliness and shenanigans, when it is he turns intense and we see that sharper more insightful side of him. there's a lot of fun stuff to write there with luffy just catching law off guard, both by him being silly and him being serious, and having law have to process and deal with the fallout of any given emotional breakthrough luffy has forced on him was just also very fun

cuz like - half of why the fic is so long and so slow burn is because law just spends so much time thinking. their entire relationship rests on a foundation of law having to come to terms with survivors guilt, that he can and should continue to be happy and live despite the things that he has lost, and the very fraught decision about whether to open himself up to further vulnerability and let himself care about people. every step he concedes into his relationship with luffy is a philosophical debate that changes the way he is choosing to live his life. a lot of the fic is actually just how laws experiences and traumas growing up - the people he lost, both his family and cora - have shaped the man he is today and the lasting effects that has on his personality and character.

and again, you would think that would be the hard agonizing thing to write, but really it wasn't. i loved writing that stuff as well.

the thing is though, this fic took a lot of time. its 220k long, i spent weeks writing it, months, hours and hours and hours, and whenever i wasn't working on it, it was always on my mind. at any given time for the duration of three years, a part of my thoughts was always dedicated to it. it was such a dedication of effort and commitment and just sheer brain space that it honestly feels like i gave birth to and raised a child.

still, the length and duration of it alone meant that yeah, there were times where i got very bad writers block while working on it and times i didn't touch it for months at a time. i struggled with some chapters a lot, just never quite feeling they were right until i rewrote them again and again. i rewrote the opening scene in the first chapter three times after it was posted, for example, each time just changing it minor ways and making edits to the dialogue, because i wasn't satisfied.

some chapters, when i was working on them, took upwards of three or four complete rewrites of the chapter, just because i kept getting stuck and not being satisfied with it. to be honest, this was much more a phenomenon of the later chapters of the fic, when it reaches the wano arc, because that's where i started having to put in a lot of my own concepts and events, since the manga was still in progress for that section. like, the kaido/big-mom/luffy and them on the dome fight was still in progress when i wrote the chapter with that fight - and so i incorporated a lot of the details that were coming out in the new chapters into it even as i wrote it, before ultimately finishing it my own way, since it hadn't reached its conclusion in the manga yet by that point.

ultimately though, the chapters that i had the most difficulty with were the post-kaidou defeat wano chapters. like, when everything's settled and its just playing out the aftermath and the culmination of luffy and law's relationship. those chapters killed me. i spent weeks rewriting each, creating a timeline of possible events again and again and then redoing it, modifying it, shuffling it round, trying to just make things feel right.

a lot of that struggle came down to just trying to get a characterization of law and luffy that felt right in those romantic scenes. law and luffy were each characters i knew well how to write by then, but oh my god getting them to actually be like romantic together is like herding cats. luffy's mode of being is so wholesome and, well, asexual (and yes that's a valid head-canon, though i didn't use it for this series) that making the scenes happen takes some very very specific maneuvering and tone management. like, not going to lie, that is what caused half the rewrites of those chapters, just me trying to make it all feel right and well-characterized.

(which is why i sometimes find it a little disheartening when people leave comments being like - oh i liked it, but i wish luffy had been ace. because i made a choice to have him not to be specifically. i get it, he's a beautiful ace character, and i enjoy him that way as well, i do. hell, i'm fucking ace, give me ace rep any day of the week, but him not being ace was a side i wanted to explore in this fic, and i did a lot of work to make it happen and make it feel right, so having people comment on that is just- okay, on a tangent now, moving on. see here for my more in depth thoughts on luffy's sexuality)

another part that added difficulty there was just the pressure. not from like the readers or anything, but i had spent 3 years and 200k words leading up to these big payoff scenes where they finally get together and their relationship becomes a thing that there was a lot of internal pressure from myself to get it right. like, i needed them to be good, i needed them to be perfect, i'd been working so long to get to the moment where these scenes could be written that writing even a single sentence was exhausting. i agonized over each sentence, i work-shopped each paragraph again and again. it took so much effort that even just writing a tiny bit felt like writing entire pages, just because i was thinking so much about it.

and like, yeah, that final stretch, dealing with that, was really what was the most difficult when writing the fic. its an odd feeling, sort of, because even as i was really struggling to write it, those were also scenes i was really enjoying. like there was a real sense of masochism to it - of writing these bits that were excruciating in the amount of effort and criticality that went into them - but also like, the joy of having law and luffy finally reach that point after all the stuggles they went through, and getting to the moment of payoff when law really and truly opens up and decides to risk his heart on luffy.

it was so fun to write, so fun, but also fuck me i was exhausted the whole time. putting up the final chapters actually sort of felt a little bit like dying - not just because i was really nervous about whether they would do justice and be the good payoff for this fucking huge work readers had been following, but also just because i didn't know what to do with myself afterwards. i spent so long thinking about or working on that fic, literally for years, that when it was done i just felt sort of hollow inside. i didn't know what to do with myself.

and yeah, i've moved on to other projects that i'm happily chewing away on now, lot least me being in a neck-deep spiral of gan/link LoZ fic, but the thing that remains is still that fic. its the longest fic ive ever completely, the one i've put the most effort and blood and sweat and tears into, and it holds a place in my heart that no other one of my stories does.

tl:dr the thing that remains is a fic that i had a lot of fun writing, like so much fun, it was absolutely fantastic and i loved ever moment, but also sometimes putting words to paper was like pulling teeth and by the time i was done it felt like the same amount of effort as if i'd torn off my own arm and fed it into an incinerator one atom at a time.

so yeah, hope that answers your question 😅

#note in a box #asks #the thing that remains #my writing #honestly thank you for the question #its not often i get to talk about the behind the scenes of writing that fic #so its nice that someone wanted to hear about it #anyway sorry if the reply was a bit long #i apparently had a lot of things to say #one piece #law/luffy #fanfiction

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if-you-fan-a-fire · 2 years

Text

"SHAMEFUL STORY MAN'S ABUSE," Hamilton Spectator. May 15, 1912. Page 16. ---- William Hunter Sent Up For Trial To-day ---- Wife Said He Slashed Her With Butcher Knife ---- Heavy Fines In Two More Blind Pig Cases. ---- Limping painfully into the court room on the arm of Dr. Luna, who has been attending her, Mrs. Cora Hunter, 6 Cannon street cast, told the court this morning that about 2 o'clock fast Saturday morning, her husband, William Hunter, attacked her with a botcher knife while crazed with liquor.

"He lost his job through drink, and when he came home he was almost mad. He told me that he might a well finish me, and I tried to escape from the house, but he lunged at me with the knife and stabbed me in the thigh," said Mrs. Kunter. Continuing, the little woman said that her husband was continually under the influence of liquor and he abused her shamefully. The left him some time ago, but he came to her and pleaded for her to go back to him, saying that he had quit drinking. When she went back to him he was worse and he kicked and hit her, so she said.

Sergeant Teck and Constable Dove testified that they were in the vicinity of the house in the morning in question and they heard the woman scream, the neighbors were all at their windows and they decided to make an investigation. When they gained an entrance to the house, Mrs. Hunter was lying exhausted on a sofa, her clothes soaked with blood, and Hunter was in the kitchen, mumbling to himself. Sergant Tuck said the man was on the verge of delirium tremens. Dr. Lunz was summoned by the officers to attend the injured woman and Hunter was taken to the cells.

"It's a wonder to me that he stopped after the first blow with the knife. It might easily have been murder," said his worship.

Through his lawyer, Carmen Awres, Hunter pleaded "not guilty" and declined to elect. He was committed for trial.

FINED $100 EACH Paul Ropeswick, 391 Sherman avenue north, and Attetic Tafanio, Sherman avenue north, enriched the court treasury to the extent of $100 each this morning, a result of the police locating more "Joy Juice" than the laws allow at their homes on Saturday afternoon. Sergeant Gills and Constable Heals told of dropping in unexpectedly at the bungalows, and although it was vigorously denied that there was any nectar in the houses, the discovered sufficient "wicked water" to put a small army to sleep.

"I am receipt of a communication effort that the police were aware of the fact that Tofanio breaking the law, but they refused to arrest him and he gave them liquor. It was also stated in the communication that he would not have been arrested yet but for the Inspector," said his worship

"I suppose you mean the inspector of the division, not the license inspector. Well one good thing about this case is the fact that it proves conclusively that the morals of the police force are improving. That's one consolation,' replied Chief Smith.

SERIOUS CHARGE William Arnold, a young lad residing on Clarke avenue, was committed for trial on a serious offense, preferred against him by Vera Boughner, Aikman avenue, a little girl of 14 years. Arnold pleaded not guilty and declined to plead. If Arnold is found guilty of the offense he is liable to an imprisonment of 14 years in the penitentiary, with the lash.

MUST STAY AWAY. "I don't want to live with her. Not me. There won't be half as many cups broken if I get out of the house, believe me?" shouted Thomas Simpson. 217 Queen street south, when his wife, Mary, told the court that her breadwinner assaulted her. She did not want him punished - just wanted him to stay away from the homestead, that was all.

Simpson gave the court to understand that tea-cups, saucers, plates and kitchen utensils in general volleyed against his dome of thought. like hail against a window.

The magistrate ordered Simpson to stay away from his wife in future, and with a smile of victory beaming on her face. Mrs. Simpson gave a glance of disdain at hubby and stormed out the door.

WORKED ON SUNDAY. While the church bells were pealing merrily last Sunday morning, Dima Minot, James street north, was plying the trade of his forefathers, that of a shoe shiner. When Constable Tuck peered through the window, he spied Minot slapping a mirror-like shine on the pedals of a customer. Minot pleaded guilty and the cashier's trained right arm slid over the throne and plucked a five case note

JAG COST $10. Henry Woodrow was designated on the roster as a d. and d. He admitted it and breezed over the bridge, when his worship requested a $10 fine. Constable Piper said that Woodrow attempted to gain admittance to a house on Ferguson avenue north in the early hours of this morning.

WIFE DID NOT APPEAR. A non-support charge was registered after the name of John Charney on, the roster, but Mrs. Charney forgot to call around to press the charge and hubby was remanded until to-morrow.

RODE ON SIDEWALK. William and Donald Henderson, 195 Emerald street north, are brothers. Each is the proud possessor of a bicycle. Thoughtlessly they rode the prized machines on the sidewalk and right in plain view of a constable. The Henderson family is poorer by $10 to-day.

LIGHT WENT OUT. Harry Lampman, 178 Queen street south, admitted that the rear light on his automobile was out last evening. By the magistrate's ruling Lampman is out $5.

LIGHTS OUT, TOO. Nelson Gross failed to put in an appearance to explain why the rear lights of his 'gasoline buggy' were out. That did not deter his worship from imposing a $5 fine, however, and Constable Piper was detailed to break the heart-breaking news to defendant. CASE DISMISSED Truancy Officer Hunter complained that John Taglerino's son did not attend the 'knowledge foundry' as regularly as he should. Taglerino explained that the boy was suffering from an attack of mumps and the case was dismissed.

#hamilton #police court #assault #knife attack #drunken assault #intimate partner violence #blind pigs #blind pigging #illegal possession of alcohol #dangerous driving #motor vehicle regulations #life of the bicycle #life of the automobile #fines or jail #fines and costs #peace bond #restraining order #crime and punishment in canada #history of crime and punishment in canada

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snipsnsnailsnwerewolftales · 3 years

Text

Blue Moon - Part 1

A/N: See masterlist for prompts used. (And the list of amazing people who have helped me with this.)

I do not own Teen Wolf or it’s characters. Sadly.

Warnings: See Masterlist

Word count: 2,746

Xxx

“So what’s it like living with a Hale?” Stiles asked, turning away from your locker after you shut it. Both of you fell into step with Scott as you made your way to your next class.

You must have grimaced or made some face with a slight slant of your eyebrows only a Stilinski could read, because Stiles let out a snort. “That bad?”

You shrugged, sighing. “I mean, it’s not like I expected it to be a walk in the park, it is Derek Hale after all.” Scott chuckled with a gentle shake of his head, making you smile before you continued. “But I didn’t expect it to be this…. easy….. either.”

“Easy?” Scott questioned, making the same face you must have initially as Stiles let out another snort of laughter.

“Yeah, I mean, the first few days were awkward. If we weren’t training we weren’t doing anything. The man is silent, had no TV, or any of that-”

“Wait, ‘had’?” Stiles held out his hand, effectively cutting off your sentence and your steps, your shoes screeching on the floor at the sudden stop.

“Yes, had. He now has a TV, streaming services- yes, Stiles, services as in plural, if you keep your eyebrows that high they may stick that way, and it’s not the best look for you…”

“So at least there is something to fill the silence at least.” Scott resumed walking, you followed a few steps behind, Stiles lagging, jaw still dropped in shock.

“Well, yeah,” you agreed with Scott, and this time you felt your eyebrows making the face.

“But….?” Scott’s prodding was gentle, but his face held a smirk.

“But somewhere along the way we went from off handed comments during a news broadcast, or some show we were watching, to actually pausing it to have some discussion, or referencing some situation later and asking if the other had had something similar happen, or just opening up about random experiences and stuff. It’s…”

“Weird?” This time Stiles prodded, earning a glare and gentle whack on the arm from Scott.

“Well, maybe it’s because you’re…. new.” Scott opted for a more discrete word for ‘werewolf’ in the crowded hallways. “He may feel like opening up more because of the pack mentality and all.”

“No, it’s not because she’s…. new.” Stiles raised one eyebrow on the word as he addressed Scott, earning a sigh and eye roll from the young Beta. “The man is a brooding wall of leather and growls.” You chuckled at the description, making Stiles grin. “I think we finally found our miracle cure for our Sourwolf!”

“Woah, woah, woah, hold up.” You held up your hands as if to physically stop their words. “What?”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. We know you two like each other. It’s so obvious.” Stiles immediately closed his mouth, his lips a tight line, eyes wide and eyebrows in his hairline in his signature “I was not supposed to say that” face.

“What?” you deadpanned to your friend.

The bell rang, and Scott, wide eyed and smiling too broadly, gave Stiles a shove on the shoulder in the opposite direction of your next class as Stiles muttered, “Oh, look. The bell.” They both began to walk quickly the opposite way.

“Guys!” you yelled. “This is not over! But I am not responsible for you guys missing another class, what does that make, like fifteen already this semester?”

Your two friends stilled and turned on their heels, ushering past you quickly, avoiding your glare, Stiles looking at Scott and muttering, “See, Scott? I told you our class with Miss Blake was this way.”

“Ugh,” you mumbled under your breath. The sour expression stayed on your face even after you sat at your desk in the back of the class.

Chuckling, Stiles chanced a glance your way from beside you, hoping to change the subject from his ultimate fail in the hallway. “You still don’t like her?”

“I still don’t like her.” You overlapped his last few words, matching his gentle nod with one of your own as you stared straight ahead at the teacher’s still vacant desk.

“What is it about her you don’t like?”

“I just have a really bad feeling whenever I see her. Something just isn’t right.”

Scott chuckled, opening his book to the proper page. “You’re just mad that she gives you a little bit of a harder time.”

“You mean she gives me ‘more attention’?” you asked, your words rising to a ridiculous octave as they repeated Jennifer’s words she had used when she assigned you some extra credit to help raise your grade so you could stay on the lacrosse team. Your friends chuckled at your words. “I’m sorry, not everyone can be amazing at everything, being a wer-” you stopped yourself, clearing your throat before continuing- “new-” you looked at Scott pointedly, earning you a glare and Stiles’ laughter on your other side- “doesn’t allow for a whole lot of extra studying time.”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. I know you feel that way now, but it will pass,” Scott said with a smile as Miss Blake walked in, setting things on her desk, and he chuckled as you glared at her. “This is all ephemeral.”

You looked at Stiles, your face blank, voice a deadpan. “You ever buy him a word of the day subscription thing again, and I will rip your throat out.” You flickered your yellow eyes at him discreetly. “With my teeth.”

“With your teeth,” Stiles mumbled, overlapping your words, both of you nodding in agreement again. “I asked what it’s like living with a Hale, and now I got my answer.” He looked at you, shaking his head mockingly. “You’re becoming one of them. It’s contagious. We’ll call it ‘Sourwolf Syndrome’.”

Xxx

Due to your parents’ professions taking them all over the place constantly, like Allison, you were actually a year older than your friends, having to repeat a year a few grades back. But you wouldn’t change it for anything, because that’s how you met your best friends.

It helped that your parents were away on business most of the time, so no one questioned your staying at Derek’s loft for so long. You stopped by every few days to get the mail and check on the plants around the house, packing some new clothes if needed, Derek sitting outside in his car the first few times, but lately he had taken to coming in and helping you do the few things you had to do.

You told yourself it was just because of the increased threat that he wanted to be closer to his newest Beta. He didn’t have too many of those these days, you thought bitterly, smirking to yourself. You stared blankly as you rinsed out your coffee cup in the sink, and a wave of sadness washed over you as you thought of Erica, her absence still fresh and raw. The two of you had never really been close; just acquaintances at school, then pack members briefly, before she was gone.

Boyd had really withdrawn himself after that, and you didn’t blame him. You knew he probably felt how you did times ten. When Cora had been here briefly she mentioned losing a pack member was like losing a limb, and she hadn’t been wrong.

Then Derek had kicked both Cora and Isaac out of the loft, claiming it wasn’t safe with the Alpha Pack around. Isaac was staying with Scott, but you didn’t know where Cora had disappeared to. Peter was a wild card, so you didn’t even try to factor him in, and Scott outright refused to be a member of Derek’s pack. He was an Alpha with Beta eyes, and an enigma for another time.

The point was, Derek was running low in the Beta department lately.

The only reason Derek had you staying at the loft and followed you around the house when you had to go was because you were the newest, or so he said. Deep down you knew he just didn’t want to be responsible if something happened to you. He wanted to control the situation as much as possible which, you guessed, you were kind of glad, being new to this whole werewolf thing, and admittedly not wanting to stay home alone again, human or werewolf.

At least at the loft, even in the times before Derek brought home the TV and stuff, the silence had been comfortable. You’d never admit it to anyone, but just being in the presence of another living, breathing being, even one as brooding and somewhat annoying as Derek Hale, was nice.

And you sure as hell weren’t going to think about how he had helped you with your homework sometimes, especially with that English extra credit. He had a side he didn’t share often, and you were glad you got to see it. It was like a rare spotting of a mythological creature.

You smiled to yourself, watching the water in the cup filling clear now, the mug long clean, and you let your feelings wash away down the drain with the water as you turned it off.

Setting the mug in the sink, you took a deep breath, letting the feelings whirling around you fully roll off your back, rolling your shoulders back as they did.

Stepping into the doorway to the living room you saw him delicately watering some houseplant your mom babied. The first few times he had just poured water at its base, and you had to stop him, showing him how it had to be done, otherwise he’d over water it. And since then, though he had said initially that it was stupid under his breath, he took meticulous care to check if it even needed watering, and then watered it properly, like you showed him, even bringing books home to the loft about how to care for the various types of plants your mom had around the house. You found it endearing.

Smiling softly, you gently shook your head. One second you were bitter towards him, the next finding little things that made him amazing. “I’m going to go grab some clothes, my stuff got torn to hell last week when we dealt with what’s his face,” you said offhandedly, starting up the stairs. So many baddies came through this town, you got them all confused.

Derek chuckled. “Okay. You know you can always borrow some of my clothes if you need to.”

You stopped midstep on the staircase, each foot on a different step, and your grip on the bannister tightened, your knuckles turning white.

This.

This is why you had such conflicting emotions about this man. Wolf. Wolfman.

“Are you sure?” You kept your voice even, smiling softly.

He shrugged. “Yeah, I mean, makes more sense then driving all the way over here.” His voice tried to be neutral, but it was evident he was trying to cover up something he had let slip before really thinking about it.

“Thanks. I’ll remember that next time.” You nodded once to each other before you took two steps calmly and then practically ran up the rest of them to your room.

Holding a hand to your chest, taking deep breaths to try and stabilize your heartbeat, you slumped against the door after you closed it, sighing.

You tried not to over analyze what he said, but failed.

You knew he probably was making some underhanded comment about your abilities, “coming all the way over here”, really he wanted to say, “you suck at being a werewolf, you’re always getting hurt and your clothes destroyed in the process”.

“You too, wolfman. You too,” you mumbled under your breath as you angrily rifled through one of your drawers, grabbing a few things.

You chuckled a dark laugh. “But I’m an Alpha, Y/N. I’ll heal faster.” You mocked his deep tone, your search in your drawer turning into an aimless activity, the contents totally mixed up now.

He had never been around whenever you had gotten in a hit or takedown on the baddies you guys had encountered so far in your short time in this world. For some reasons you ended up on opposite sides of the battle fields, and he never said it directly, but you knew he probably thought you sucked. How else does one end up with torn shirts from claw marks and blood being covered by your jacket?

Everyone else had called you a badass, but Derek had yet to compliment or even comment on your fighting ability. But maybe, since he trained you, that spoke more to his ability and not yours, you thought with a smirk. Satisfied with the thought, you grabbed a few clothes out of the drawer before snapping it shut.

After a few steps toward the door, you slowed to a stop, absently staring at the clothes in your hand as your thoughts cleared a little from your earlier anger.

If it was a reflection on how he thought he was, that was kind of sad. Did he really think so lowly of himself and his abilities?

You had only been in this world a short time now, but even you had to admit he was a good Alpha. A good wolfm- werewolf. A good man. He was a great person to have at your back in a fight and in mundane things like math, which was also a fight, but that was a thought for another day. He was a good friend to have, period.

Shaking your head and chuckling gently at yourself, you wondered why your thoughts were everywhere. Glancing at your calendar on the wall, you saw the full moon was coming up soon and rolled your eyes. Of course.

This would pass. This was ephemeral. You groaned softly as you made your way back down the stairs. Stiles was going to pay.

Derek met your eyes when you made it to the last step, hopping the last few inches to the first floor. He set down the watering can softly.

“Do I really sound like that?” His lips twitched upward slightly.

Screwing up your face in confusion it took you a second to realize he had heard your mutterings as you disorganized the contents of your drawer upstairs. Realization crossed your face before your palm slapped to your forehead, the groan passing your lips before you could stop it.

Derek laughed, and you looked at him apologetically, to which he motioned with his hand as if waving it away and smiled at the floor where his gaze was focused. “Don’t worry about it. I just always thought my voice was deeper than that.”

He chuckled even more as you swatted his arm, laughing gently yourself. He grabbed your wrist playfully before you could withdraw your hand, and you found yourself pulled closer to him, almost toe to toe and having to crane your neck to look up and meet his eyes that looked down at you with some emotion you couldn’t decipher.

That comfortable silence hung around you two like a blanket… Until his phone rang.

As he fished it out of his pocket, you softly cleared your throat and took a small step back, feeling Derek’s gaze on you the whole time.

“Hello?” His voice was gruff and annoyed, and he was still staring at you. It almost seemed like he was upset at whoever was on the other end for interrupting his moment with you.

But that thought quickly evaporated.

“Jennifer!” He said it with a broad smile on his face, his voice a total about face from his greeting, and his eyes moving from you to the wall behind you.

It couldn’t be who you thought. There was no way. That would be too much of a coincidence.

“No, I’m not busy,” he said, turning to the door.

Grabbing his arm to stop him, he turned to look at you, eyebrows raised in question and, if you weren’t mistaken, slight annoyance.

“What?” he mouthed.

“Who is that?” you whispered.

“A friend,” he hissed.

“Who is it?” you hissed back at him.

“Your English teacher, Jennifer Blake.” He shrugged out of your grip and out your front door, motioning you to the car.

You seethed as you turned off the lights, grabbing your bag of clothes, and locking the door after you.

Reason number five hundred and sixty two to hate Miss Jennifer Blake.

Xxx

Tags: @mayahart02, @palaiasaurus64, @shydinosaurcandy, @lucyqueenofthestars, @c-breanne1999, @l4life, @ethereallysimple, @teenwolffan-with-nolife, @bellabadacadabra What’s This?

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darthwheezely · 4 years

Text

i walk the line - f.w. - 1

1950s american carnival! au

Summary: The Weasley Bros. Circus has always been a family affair...until they pick up a highly unusual girl with wicked talents...

Warnings: 1950s America and all the shit that comes with it, NSFW/SMUT MINORS NO INTERACTING :) , alcohol usage, cussing, tw violence (fights), carny folk, contortionist, language and desc of intense circus acts, clowns, sad boy George, GRAPHIC DEPICTIONS OF BULLYING IN THIS CHAPTER, angst

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“...welcome to our home!”

George listened as the crowd erupted before his father. He had always admired Arthur “Art” Weasley, for many a reason. The way he could walk in and command a room, the way he could silence an entire audience with a simple flick of his wrist of wave of his hand, the way his voice alone could stop his cries in the night, the way he would come up behind him when taking care of the animals was too much and say, “Georgie, go to sleep, son.” but most of all? The way his father noticed him.

Baltimore, Maryland. 1933.

George Weasley was on the run. Again. Charlie Dooley, a boy from his class, and his gang of (as Fred said) “chickenshit babies” had made it a habit of following George home from school and doing one of the following: a) chasing him on bikes, b) cornering him in the bathroom, or c) sprinting after him on foot.

Today, it had been on foot.

“C’mon monkey boy!” Charlie howled, the other boys closing in on him. George sprinted a quick right realizing he dropped his lunch box and thinking a violent but rapid mom’s gonna be so mad, oh no oh no-

George barreled down the street, his house in sight, tears stealing on his cheeks from the sheer speed and necessity to get home. His feet seemed to be operating without him knowing, his body throwing itself backwards and forwards with the blinding need to be home, to hug his dad and say he wasn’t going to school anymore, to ask his mom to stop packing bananas in his lunchbox even though it was his favorite snack because mom don’t you know they call me monkey boy-

“Thought you could really get away from us this time huh, Georgie boy?” Charlie had pinned him to the concrete, George’s heart screaming in his ears. He could barely register that his lip was bleeding, and that maybe if he focused on the sky, his eleven year old shrimp of a body wouldn’t feel-

Pow.

Isn’t that what superheroes say? Pow? Let’s think about superheroes, Georgie, Charlie doesn’t last long with punches anyway just keep lookin’ at the sky, he thought wildly before-

Pow.

He vaguely felt his eyes roll back into his head, but he made a very clear rule to himself that he wouldn’t cry, Fred wouldn’t want him to cry, not that Fred was mean, Fred just hates seeing him cry-

Pow.

P-

And suddenly there was something off his body. He could hear punching noises but they were not aimed at George, but rather someone else. When he was able to open his eyes he saw his brother, Fred, landing blow after blow to Charlie Dooley, Charlie mewling under Fred.

“Touch my brother again, and I promise I won’t just break your nose next time, yeah?”

Art Weasley sat with his son George in the red chair in his caravan. It was George’s favorite chair, as he learned the word “red” from that chair and then equated “red” to his own hair.

Arthur had known his son would have it harder. It wasn’t his fault the boy was different, he loved him just the same for it if not slightly more so for the way he was a bit quieter, the way he listened and thought and thought and then wanted to make choices. The way he asked his mom if he could pack Fred’s lunches for school because only George knew Fred hated crunchy peanut butter sandwiches with white bread.

But more so for the way George wasn’t afraid to show love. To cry. To feel things Art sometimes couldn’t articulate.

George was curled into his father, tears staining his button up shirt and his body shuddering with every anxiety laden breath. Art put a hand on his son’s back and put his lips to his hair.

“George, you have to breathe for me or you’re gonna get sick.” He rubbed his son’s back soothingly.

“I’m sorry, dad, I promised I did what you said and tried to protect myself and when I couldn’t do anything else I just didn’t look at h-him I p-promise, dad p-please don’t be mad at me...” he took another shudder and released a cry into his father’s shoulder. Art was not a helpless man, but there was something that destroyed and cracked his very soul at the sight of his most vulnerable child, the most angelic of his seven children. The one that everyone protected. And at times like these, sometimes all a father can do is hold his child. So that’s what he did.

“I know, son...I know...”

“George?”

George jumped out of his thoughts, his palms sweaty from the inevitable stage fright that always accompanied him before a show. It was no matter how many times he grazed the trapeze with his sister Gin and his brother Ron, the nerves were always the same.

At least this time, no pows would be administered from anyone besides himself.

He heard his name again, the daze breaking as he looked at his oldest brother Bill.

“George. You’ll be fine. You always are, baby brother.” He said softly, placing his hands back on, Cora (short for Corazon) the lion. George gulped and nodded, and Fred patted his back, giving a hearty wink. George smiled a small smile, clapping Fred’s forearm.

“Ready, Fred?”

Fred grinned.

“Ready, George.”

George belonged to the trapeze. The way his body seemed to elongate with grace and dexterity when he grabbed his sister, the way he gave flirty winks at the girls in the crowd, the way he never dropped a muscle unplaced-

The way their father always noticed.

Fred saw these things in his younger brother and couldn’t help the fit of jealousy in his stomach. Don’t get your tightrope in a twist, he was possibly the most proud of his brother, and his hand to God if he didn’t say he hooted his name the loudest watching him do his thing.

But he never felt like he could ever match that.

He knew his hands were meant for something greater, same as his mind. Juggling came almost as easy to the older twin as breathing, smoking cigarettes, witty banter, and sex (in no particular order). But George had something Fred didn’t have.

Approval.

Fred was, for all intents and purposes, a good person. A great person. But his habits could’ve said so much otherwise.

Fred had a nasty habit of letting his temper get the best of him. Ever since he could talk, he had taken on the role of protector to not only George, but to Ginny and Ron as well. Frequently, his hands always seemed to have more things to say than he could which says a massive fucking lot. At the ripe age of 20, he’d gotten into more bar fights and straight up blacked out sober more than his own father, and all of his other siblings. He’d been in and out of detention when he did go to school, and in and out of-

Well, you get it.

The one thing that always seemed to follow him? His charm.

Fred Weasley was a charismatic motherfucker.

And he knew it.

It was simple. All he had to do in between acts was make a couple jokes, a few magic tricks, and by the end of his little charade? He’d have at least 3 girls lined up for that night. And if he was in a particularly bad mood?

Well, it could get a little more than that.

On nights like this, he was fine with just two.

I mean...Fred knew what he was doing.

And on a night like this - he was damn proud of it.

Until he saw you...

Last night.

Fred’s dessert was named Candy. He honestly couldn’t remember what her actual name was, but he did remember she said:

“Call me Candy. I taste like it, too.”

And honestly? That was really all he needed.

It didn’t take him long to press her small body against his caravan. She wound her arms around his neck and fisted into his flame colored hair and yanked, his hips rolling as he moaned into her lipstick stained mouth.

Fred always did have a thing for gals in red.

Fred realized his pants had begun to be a tad too tight, as Candy’s tongue licked into his mouth. his hands found their way under her dress, fingers kneading at her thighs and she squeaked. He lifted her legs at her noise and he wrapped them around his body, his bulge pressing into where she needed him the most.

“Fred, please” she whined, his mouth attaching to the valley of her breasts, the exposed skin of her dress warm and inviting.

“Please what, doll?” He teased roughly, his free hand sliding to cup her ass and squeezing. She gasped at his rough touch and he bit her collarbone.

“Fred, please, fuck me” she said airily. He smirked before pressing a quick kiss to her mouth.

“Absolutely, baby, see how easy that was?” He licked her bottom lip and bit, before pressing his forehead to hers, the sheer strength of his body pressing her against the van enough to use his hands to pull her panties down enough for her to kick them away. She reached down to unzip his pants when he motioned for her to do so, his hard cock free of his boxers.

“You ready, pretty girl?” He growled against her earlobe. Candy whispered a breathy “please” and Fred slid into her cunt, her wetness echoing sinful noises at the contact. They groaned at connection, and Fred continued to go deeper into her until he bottomed out. He looked at her for confirmation to keep going and she nodded. He pulled out and slammed back into her, beginning to set a rough pace against the van.

“Freddie, fuckfuckfuck you feel s-so good” she sputtered, Candy’s back hitting and arching against the van, causing it to move slightly against her. Fred nipped and sucked at her neck, determined to always leave a map of where he left his treasure behind...

“Look at you, unraveling like a ball of twine. Never had cock this good, doll?” He reached a particularly good angle in her causing her to claw deeper at his back, biting in a scream.

“Thereeee it is, baby. You like that don’t you, c’mon be a good little cock slut and tell me what you want, want everyone in this whole fucking camp to know I’m fucking you so good.” His hand went to her clit, circling it harshly. He wanted her to finish, his dick was twitching all to hard in her and he needed her to release before it was his turn. Her moans and gasps and mini clawings were getting sloppier, losing their tempo.

“Fred-Fred-“

“Yeah, baby, I’ve got you” he groaned against her mouth at her clenching pussy. She gave a final sputter and screamed into his shoulder, a hot electric wave coursing over his cock, with one, two, three harder pumps, he released into her as well. He leaned his forehead against hers and kissed it lightly. But when he looked back at her face, she was already losing interest. Just like the others. But it didn’t bother him...at least not anymore, right?

Just another night.

Memories of Candy and Janie and Jessica and Portia and all the other girls seemed to wash away at the sight of you waiting after the show. Your eyes were full of life but somehow had something tired behind them. The way your hair wasn’t perfectly coiffed but still looked like you had tried to, the way your dress was crinkled at the bottom like you didn’t give a shit if it was crumpled in the bottom of your dresser.

And then you looked at him.

Fred Weasley could have sworn time stopped at the way you walked across the hay to him, your body positioned in a way that would’ve given him every reason to hold you. he realized his face began to flush at the sight of you getting closer.

That, he thought, was an alien feeling.

“Hi.” You said warmly to him.

“You’re Fred, right? I loved your act.”

He blinked twice and then returned your smile.

“Yeah. Thank you so much, I...I really try, I am so sorry but what is your name?” His eyes scanned your face. You stuck your tongue in your cheek and returned the search on his face.

“Y/N. Y/L/N. I’m looking for a job.”

#fred weasley #george weasley #Fred weasley smut #Fred weasley x reader #bill weasley #charlie weasley #Ron weasley #Harry Potter #Ginny weasley #arthur weasley #molly weasley

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maxineswritingcenter · 3 years

Text

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 27

------------

"So it's safe now?" I asked into the phone, a little less enthusiastic as I would have been four years ago. Four. Years. In those four years, I had moved out of Castle McLeod, gotten my own little cottage on the mainland, and Nicholas has been taking Gaelic classes to prepare him for school next year. But it seemed that they were unnecessary now.

"Yeah, now it's finally safe." Scott said, nervously.

"Scott, have you looked at a calendar?"

“A lot of stuff has happened!”

“I’m well aware of that. Including stuff I should have been there for.” Nothing like hearing your best friend was possessed by a Nogitsune. I sighed, happy at least that I could come home. I had the paperwork done for months, it took almost four years to get the paperwork for Nicholas’ citizenship. It’s almost as if the United States was making it harder and harder for people to enter the country.

“Alright, I’ll pick up Michael from work and get Nicholas in the car.”

“You’re bringing Michael?”

“Yeah, I have to. He’s my bodyguard.”

“Derek’s not gonna like that.”

“Yeah well, I wouldn’t know that would I?” I snapped. Derek had become a touchy subject in the house. Considering that I hadn’t heard from him in three years.

“Okay, okay, but Derek said-”

“I don’t care what Derek said. I don’t.” I put on a smile when I saw Nicholas walk in, “I’ll see you tomorrow.” I hung up before he could continue. I slid my phone in my back pocket and grinned down at my son.

“Guess what, sweetie.”

“Wha?” He asked, his green eyes wide. His long, dark hair in his eyes. He picked up an accent from living here, mostly from Lachlan who had become his favorite person.

Bending down, I swept the hair away from his eyes, “We’re gonna move to America. We get to see mama’s family.”

“Really?!” He started bouncing up and down.

“Yeah!” I picked him up in my arms and held him close, “Uncle Stiles and Grandpa Noah and Uncle Scott.” I paused, trying to figure out how to add his other family in without him asking questions, “All of them.”

“Yay!” He cheered. Pressing a kiss to his cheek, I carried him into his room and started to pack his bag.

"Hey, darlin'." Michael sat down in the passenger seat of my rental car, pressing a kiss to my cheek before looking back, "Sin mo bhalach! (There’s my boy)." I really wasn’t a fan of these but he was trying to keep up appearances for the locals that we were just a little family.

"Bidh thu a ’sabaid ris na droch ghillean, Mikey?(You fight the bad guys?)" Nicholas was almost fluent in Scottish Gaelic. Sometimes, he spoke words that I didn’t even know yet.

"I sure did, bud!" He smiled and then looked back at me, "You wouldn't believe what we went through today. Rouge teenage werewolf pack, no alpha. Major power struggle. We put them in detainment and we're looking into a pack that'll take them in."

"Yeah sounds... Fun." He was in his maroon uniform that Lachlan created for all Lunar Circle bodyguards; it looked like a cross between the Green Berets and navy camo. On his breast pocket was a bronze and gold wolf-print medal.

"What's wrong, darlin?" He asked. I looked behind and pressed the screen icon on the touch screen on the dash.

"Hey, honey.” I looked back at Nicholas in the rearview mirror, “Why don't you watch a movie? Yeah?" He nodded with a grin, putting on his blue earmuffs with built in sound protection and happily started watching whatever movie I had put in the DVD player, Strange Magic I think.

“What is it?"

"Well, first: you don’t have to call me darlin when we’re alone.” I glanced at him and then the road, Two, Scott called. It's safe to go back home." I looked back at Nicholas in the mirror, he looked so peaceful. Just humming along to whatever was playing.

"And I want to see Uncle Noah and Stiles."

Michael stared out the window, "And Derek too, I'm assuming.” He said grimly, “(Y/N), I thought you were over him. I thought we were finally moving on with our lives. Are you playing with my emotions-"

"Do you think this is a game? I love my life here, but I need to see my family. I want him to know his family outside of a computer screen. And if that means he sees Derek, then he will."

"Alright, alright, fine. Let's go back. I gotta pack-"

"Oh, already did that. Clothes packed, Lachlan’s having the rest shipped on his freighter.”

He chuckled, "Figured. You're always prepared." Michael smiled, looking back at Nicholas who was halfway asleep, struggling not to drop his sippy cup.

"What are we going to do about Derek?" He asked.

Sighing, my shoulders slumped, "I don't know, Mikey. I really don't."

Lachlan met us at the airport to see us off. Well, more to see Nicholas off. Since he was born, Lachlan had gone above and beyond for the little boy. From boat rides, to swimming in Loch Ness, to whatever toy his little heart desired. The Praetor spoiled him for sure.

“He’s got everything?” Lachlan asked nervously, “All his clothes? Does he have puppy dog because you know he can’t sleep without it-”

“Lachlan, relax.” I held onto his shoulders, “Nicholas has everything he needs.”

“I’m just nervous.” Lachlan said, looking over as Nicholas slept on Michael’s lap, “I don’t know what we’ll do without him.”

“You mean you don’t know what you’ll do?” I lightly punched his shoulder.

He sighed, “I just... You two are family to me. The family that I never got to have.” He looked back at me, “Maybe I should come with you. I’ve never been to America before. Plus, our ground team of security has already been dispatched to Beacon Hills.”

“We’ll be safe. It’s finally safe back there.” I smiled. Lachlan sighed loudly, combing his hair back from his face when the overhead voice called for us to board our flight.

“Okay.” He mumbled, walking over to sleeping Nicholas and taking him into his arms.

“I’ll see you soon, kiddo.” He kissed the top of his head. Nicholas mumbled something in his sleep, tightening his grip on his wolf plush - puppy dog.

"There she is!" Uncle Noah walked out of the house, arms wide. I squealed, running up the driveway and into his arms. He squeezed me tight, swaying us from side to side. Uncle Noah smelled like home, something that I had missed for so long. He sniffled a little, pulling away to look down at me.

"Awh sweetheart..." He held my cheeks, wiping away happy tears.

"Happy tears, happy tears." I hiccupped, looking back at Michael who got a sleepy Nicholas out of his car seat.

"Stiles off being an FBI man?" I chuckled.

"You bet, but he's gonna be home soon."

Once Nicholas rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, they opened wide when he saw Uncle Noah.

"Grandpa!" He ran up, replacing me in Uncle Noah's arms.

"Look how big you are!" He said through a grin, "Oh I have waited for so long to hug on you." He startled tickling the little boy, causing a fit of giggles.

"Let's get you guys inside, I bet you're starving." He led us inside, Nicholas talking his ear off.

Dinner was good, but anything would be good since we had been eating Scottish cuisine for the last four years. Not that I didn't like the food there, it's just that nothing beat the tastes of home.

After dinner, Nicholas had crashed in the middle of the living room floor. Even after a cross-continental flight, he had enough energy to stay up way past his bedtime back home to talk and place with all the toys that Grandpa had bought him. Oddly enough, it was around that he would go to bed time-wise. Lachlan said that werewolves had an internal clock and always knew when to wake up and when to sleep. Yeah, tell that to all the sleepless nights in the first few months of his life.

Michael patted my hand and stood up, going into the living room and oh so carefully picked up the sleeping boy and took him upstairs to my old room. Leaving Uncle Noah and I with our coffee.

"Still nothing from Derek, huh?"

"Nada. Nicholas has never really asked."

"Does he think Michael's his dad?" He said over a sip from his mug.

"Oh absolutely not. As far as he knows, his dad is off having great adventures. That's what he's come up with."

"I thought you said Derek was going to be a part of his life."

"He was." I sipped my now cold coffee, "He tried for a while. He used to video call us for a couple months."

"There's daddy." I held the four month old in front of the camera as soon as Derek's face filled the screen. Nicholas made a cooing noise and reached for the screen with little grabby hands. Derek grinned brightly, the special twinkle in his eye that made my soul want to melt.

"There's my boy." His eyes searched the screen, "He still has so much hair."

I nodded, "Yeap. All thanks to you, Sasquatch." I sat the baby boy on my lap and kissed the top of his head. My attention was brought back to Derek where he was just staring at us with so much love and adoration that I wanted nothing more than to fly back to Beacon Hills.

"Did you get my package?" He asked, referring to the large box full of toys, clothes, pictures and random items that he was completely spoiling our child with.

"If you mean all the toys, yeah, we got it." I smiled, "He's in love with that little wolf plush. He can't sleep without it." As if on cue, Nicholas started whining until he was given the toy which was beside us on the bed. When I gave it he promptly started gumming on the ear.

"Yeah, I thought he might." He leaned on his hand and watched him, "Cora said that it was cliché but I don't care." Then he sat up like he had thought of something.

"What about your gift?" He leaned in towards the screen.

I shook my head and smiled, "I'm wearing it, aren't I?" I tugged at the hem of the shirt I was wearing. It was one of his black t-shirts, one that hadn't been torn or soiled with blood. It smelled just like him and I had been wearing it at night to sleep.

"Has he started showing any signs?"

I looked down at my baby, "Not that I can think of. But he's only a couple months old. Lachlan said that if he hasn't shown signs now, he may have the dormant gene. Since I was a werewolf when he was conceived he should more than likely be one. But no dice, he sleeps all night during the full moon. Or, that's what Michael tells me." He scoffed.

"What?"

"I guess Michael's the expert now."

"Derek, we're not doing this again." Michael was a touchy subject.

"You know what?" He said, "I gotta go. I'll call you tomorrow." The video call ended.

"And that's the last time I heard from him." I got up and poured my cold coffee in the sink and started rinsing out the mug.

"That doesn't sound like Derek." He looked back at me, "But... It will be nice having people in the house again. With Stiles being gone all the time. Nicholas is great." He grinned, "A little rambunctious, but he's pretty great."

"You're telling me." I leaned against the counter after I turned off the sink, "His first word was momma. After that he started getting better and better. Talking all the time. He's almost fluent in Gaelic." I added, "Lachlan basically started a preschool program for the other kids after he was born. And while he's at preschool, I am leading their research team on the negative effects of the Wolf Eclipse spell and the intergenerational trauma that comes from it."

"Well look at that, my little girl, head of the research team." He stood up and walked to the sink, rinsing his cup and leaving it there.

"Just no big deal." I smirked.

"So when is Derek coming?" He asked, leaning against the counter.

I inhaled through my teeth and shrugged, "He doesn't know we're here. I've been trying to figure out how to talk to him since we got on the plane."

"Oh..." Uncle Noah grimaced, "Cause ya see, Stiles is working with Derek on something. And Derek's been staying here."

My eyes widened in shock, and my head whipped around just in time for the door to open. Stiles stood in the doorway, dressed in a collared shirt, tie, black slacks and dress shoes. I had not seen him this dressed up in a decade. But my focus was on the werewolf standing behind him, staring right back at me. He hadn't changed a bit, not that I expected him to look so different. But I hadn't heard from him in so long that he almost felt like a different person. Not even our connection could travel that far so seeing him now was strange. The connection we had was back again, my heart felt full after feeling half empty for so long. I was back where we started four years ago, the familiar strangers.

"God dammit." I whispered to myself before smiling awkwardly, "Uh... Surprise?"

"(Y/N)... Hey..." Stiles said in his Stiles fashion of being incredibly awkward. He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting from me to Derek.

Derek had not taken his eyes off of me, just kept on staring on in confusion. It was like he couldn't fathom that I was actually standing in the kitchen.

"Where is he?" He asked softly.

“I-...” I had come up with some many things to say to him. I had even written them down. But they went poof out of my memory.

"Where is he?" His eyes changed color, but his eyes weren't alpha red, no. They were beta yellow again. He had lost his alpha status... But how. And how come they weren’t blue anymore? Obviously, Scott and Stiles had missed a few details. His eyes scanned the room and locked on Nicholas’ dinosaur sippy cup that he left on the table. That was all he needed before he started for the stairs. I blocked his path to the stairs, flashing my red eyes at him to show dominance. He couldn’t go past me, I was the alpha here.

Or, at least, that’s what I thought. When it came to his child, Derek Hale would stop at nothing to get to him. I would admire that if he wasn’t trying to get around me to get upstairs. He grabbed me by the arms, throwing me back towards the living room, storming up the stairs. I scrambled to follow, Stiles and Uncle Noah behind me, calling for him to stop.

When I made it up the stairs, I found him staring into the open doorway of my bedroom. He had an expression I couldn’t read, but his emotions came flooding out in anger and betrayal. Since he was distracted, I grabbed him by the back of his neck and threw him to the ground. He pulled me with him, flipping us so that he was on top, roaring down at me.

“Why did you keep him from me?!”

“You kept him from yourself!” I roared back.

“Mommy!” We both looked towards the doorway where Nicholas stood. He was wearing little footie pajamas, clutching onto his wolf. He was trembling at what he was witnessing.

Derek growled, sitting up quickly. I grabbed his arm, trying to get up. He had caught me so off guard that I was scrambling to keep up. He glared back, shoving me into the wall and walking towards the door. Nicholas screamed, running back into the room.

“YOU’RE SCARING HIM!” I screamed, reaching out. In his rage, I don’t think he realized what he was doing.

Then there was a pop and Derek fell on his back, a tranquillizer dart in his neck. I looked up, seeing Michael with the gun in one hand and crying Nicholas in the other. I stood up quickly, taking Nicholas in my arms, holding him close.

“It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s here. Everything’s alright.” I tried to sound reassuring, but it was hard too when I was looking down at my child’s father on the floor.

"It took a while but Nicholas went down. I was with him until he fell asleep." I slumped down on the couch next to Stiles. Stiles wrapped an arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. I missed moments like this.

“I should have killed him.” Michael grumbled, pacing in front of us. Derek was tied up and sat against the wall. He was still passed out, he would be for a while. In the meantime, we need to figure out what we were going to do with him.

“Alright, cool it, dude.” Stiles narrowed his eyes up at him. He said that he still didn’t like Michael. Truth is, I didn’t either. A lot of things were still unclear, even now.

“We all just need to calm down and figure out what we’re doing.” Uncle Noah said, leaning forward in his recliner chair.

“Look, we just need to let him wake up and...” I sighed and leaned my head on Stiles’ shoulder, “I just need to talk to him, figure out what happened.”

Uncle Noah looked between Michael and I, “He told us that he-”

“It doesn’t matter what he told you.” Michael snapped. I looked up at him, narrowing my eyes.

“Watch your tone.” I said sternly. Michael sighed, sitting on the couch beside me, putting a hand on my knee. Stiles and I stared at his hand. I grabbed his hand and put it on his own knee.

"What?" He asked in an exasperated way.

"Please, we can't do that right now." It wasn't the answer he wanted to hear. But I don't really care about that. All I know is that we need to talk to Derek in a controlled environment. Which, unfortunately, was the last place I wanted to be.

"We need to bring him to the bunker in the Hale House.” Michael said.

I winced, "Do we have to? It's just..." I thought back to the day where I thought Derek and I were going to die. I thought our last moments together would be pain and ache from seeing each other die.

“(Y/N), he just traumatized Nicholas. I don't give a shit if he has PTSD. He's not under the protection of the Lunar Circle, his safety and well-being is not my priority." He stood and walked to Derek, ready to grab him.

“Wait a minute.” Michael stopped at my voice, his eyes darting from me to the sheriff, “Uncle Noah.” I turned towards him, “What did Derek say?”

“That doesn’t matter.” Michael said quickly.

“She isn't talking to you.” Stiles said, standing up and moving between Michael and I. I looked at Uncle Noah.

“What did he say?” I asked calmly.

Uncle Noah sat back in his recliner, “Well...” He rolled his shoulders back, “Derek said that he was frustrated that he couldn’t get ahold of you. And when he tried to go through Michael, he said not to call because you didn’t want to talk to him.” I smiled to myself, clicking my tongue. I turned to Michael, my smile falling and my eyes burning red.

“Did I?” I chuckled, “I had no idea.” I stood up and stalked forward, shoving Michael, “You kept him from calling us, didn’t you?”

Michael raised his hands in surrender, “You just seemed so angry with him after that call, I thought-”

“No, you didn’t think.” I interrupted, “You selfish son of a bitch.”

“I am doing what’s best for Nicholas.” He shot back.

“Whoa whoa.” Uncle Noah got between the two of us, “Put the claws away.” Stiles pulled me away from the situation, leading me outside. He brought me to the backyard, the cool night air felt nice against the hot anger I felt.

“Thanks for taking me out of there.” I smiled, “I probably would have killed him.”

“Trust me, the thought crossed my mind.” Stiles shoved his hands in his pockets, “I mean,” He shrugged, “It wouldn’t be so horrible if ended up in a ditch somewhere. He’s a murderer on the run for four years, I feel like it would be fine.”

I laughed, pulling him close into a tight hug, “I missed you.”

He smiled, wrapping his arms around my shoulders, “I missed you too.”

The next morning, Stiles, Scott, and I met outside the Hale House cellar. Michael was already there, having taken Derek down already to ‘secure’ him.

“Well, if it isn’t Scott McCall.” I said, spotting the alpha. The computer screen didn’t do him justice. He had grown so much in four years. He had a new energy about him, he wasn’t a curly haired boy anymore.

“(Y/N).” He grinned, pulling me into a quick hug, “I was gonna visit yesterday to surprise you but Stiles said it was a bad idea.”

“Very bad idea.” I looked towards the entrance of the cellar. Going back in there was going to bring up memories, I could almost feel the phantom pains from the acid on my legs.

“You okay?” Stiles asked, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“I got this.” I smiled back at both of them, “I got my boys with me.”

Walking through the tunnels to the cellar was more than enough to give me nightmares for a long time. But Michael was right about one thing: we needed to tell Derek what was going on in a controlled environment.

By the time we got down to the main area, Michael was putting the handcuffs on Derek, leaving him chained to the wall surrounded by mountain ash.

“You brought back up, huh?” Michael asked, shoving the bottle of mountain ash in his pocket.

“I brought my friends. Derek will feel more comfortable around people he trusts. I would be one of them, no thanks to you.” I looked back at Derek, "He'll be awake soon?"

Michael only nodded.

"Will he be okay? This won't hurt him, right?" He turned to me and glared.

"You're still in love with this asshole, aren't you?" He growled, "After everything he's done to you? After everything we," He motioned between us, "Have been through? After I have spent four years of our lives taking care of our child? You still care about this sack of garbage." Scott and Stiles stepped forward, I stretched my arms out to keep them from moving.

I narrowed my eyes at him, “Michael-”

"No, you're going to listen to me!" He shouted, "I can't believe you. You went through all his shit and you still love him? You still love that stupid son of a bitch. You see this?" He motioned to Derek, "You see this asshole? Who scared the shit out of our baby? You didn't see what I saw. He was screaming and crying out for me, begging me to save you, begging his father to save you from the bad man. Even he can tell who loves him, who his real father is!"

“The.." We all looked at Derek, who was just starting to wake up, "The hell do you mean," He began to growl, beginning to shift, "His father?" Derek stood up, a little wobbly at first but he stood strong. He had also shifted form. “Nicholas is my son! My flesh and blood! My family! You kept him from me, you kept both of them from me!" He roared and stood, pulling at the chains.

"You left them behind because of all your jealousy. I took care of him! I've protected him from everything, and for the rest of my life, I will protect him from you!" Michael pointed, barking his words harshly.

Suddenly, Derek broke his chains, "I'll kill you!" He pushed against the mountain ash barrier. Scott rushed forward to keep Derek at bay while Stiles started a shouting match with Michael. All of this shouting began to overload my senses. I hadn’t felt like this since the spell broke all those years ago. I had to do something, and I had to do it now.

"ENOUGH!" I roared, making the walls shake and thankfully bringing their attention to me, "No more talking, I'm talking now." They all shut up and looked up at me.

“Michael, I’m not even going to get started with you since this whole situation is your goddamn fault.” I rubbed at my temples, “The only reason that I am even still entertaining you being here is because of my son. Mine. Not yours.” I looked at Derek, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that Michael had cut off our communication.”

“So he told you?” Derek continued to glare at Michael.

“No, I had to figure it out for myself.” I walked towards the barrier, my heart beat rising, “You deserved to be a part of his life from the beginning. I should have fought more.” I took a deep breath, “I should have fought for us.”

“It’s not your fault.” He said softly. Stiles walked towards us, breaking the barrier with his shoe.

The force of Derek’s arms wrapping around me nearly knocked me over. His strong arms held me tightly against his chest. I could feel his heart pumping against his chest. One arm was wrapped around my wait, his other hand cradling the back of my head like I would break. I wrapped my arms around him with the same force, if not more. He was so warm, I could almost feel his heat melting away the sadness I had felt for four years. Honestly, I wanted the whole world to fall away at that moment, it felt like I was falling in love with him all over again starting from the time we were teenagers.

The game was in its final minutes, we were behind by two points. One shot from the three point line and they would win. After the toss up, the opposing team got the ball, leading to our hoop. Derek's teammate quickly weaved through the other players, intercepting the ball and passing it to Derek. I stood up with the rest of the crowd, my whole body tensing up as the clock ticked down. He shot the ball.

Watching Derek play basketball was almost as nerve wracking as being on the lacrosse field. It took everything in me not to make call outs to him. I was bouncing my feet instead of my usual finger twiddling since my arm had been torn up yesterday. Laura had to practically hold me in my seat from her spot besides me. It was a training incident that had gone wrong. Derek had his claws out while I had our training shield. I had gotten distracted and Derek scratched me by accident. My parents were pissed.

Three...

Two...

One...

The ball rolled around the rim and then fell through the basket.

I cheered, raising my arms in the air, ignoring the pain from my cuts. The team surrounded him, jumping up and down in excitement. Derek looked up at the stands, pointing towards, realistically both of us but I felt like it was right at me. My heart fluttered a bit and I smiled so hard my cheeks hurt. My cheeks burned hot.

“You blushing, (Y/N/N)?” Laura smirked, looking down at me.

“What?” My eyes widened, “No.” I started rubbing my cheeks in circles, but Laura stopped me by grabbing my hands and carefully putting them to my sides. Which was helpful since it was starting to hurt my arm.

“Chill out.” She smiled, nodding her head towards the exit, “Let’s go see the big winner.” I nodded, focusing more on hiding my blush than walking so Laura helped me off the bleachers and outside.

-------------

Read part 28 here!

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when-they-write-stuff · 4 years

Text

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

That’s what Derek would like to say.

Fucking Stiles Stilinski and his stupid face, his stupid smile, and the stupid way that Derek would always see him in the hallways and that bright look in his eyes always made him stumble. Fucking Stiles Stilinski and the way that Derek couldn’t get him out of his head for some reason.

For some stupid, unbelievable reason.

Cora thought it was hilarious. Derek thought it was the most annoying thing ever.

Stiles was the most annoying thing ever.

“Hale!”

Derek nearly stumbled over his own feet at Coach’s shout, turning around to see a basketball sailing right toward his face. Eyes rounding, he barely had the chance to duck as laughter filled the air and he glared across the gym— where all the cheerleaders stood in their little group, Stiles right splat in the middle.

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

“I said, Hale!”

Growling, Derek turned back around as Coach stalked toward him. Derek’s older sister used to tell him that Coach’s bite was worse than his bark, but Derek had come to realize that was utter bull. If there was one thing BHHS’s basketball coach was good at, it was yelling.

“Where the hell is your head, Hale?” Coach shouted, jabbing him on the forehead. Derek swallowed another growl and let the man poke away, knowing better than to ever avidly seek out Coach’s wrath. “You’re living in a daydream today!”

“Sorry, Coach,” Derek mumbled, dropping his gaze. The sound of laughter was still in the air, though, and his eyes snapped back up unconsciously, over Coach’s shoulder as he took in Stiles’s bright and grinning face.

He was always grinning and that bothered Derek like nothing else. The way his eyes would dance, his laughter would make Derek’s heart skip a beat, and— and—

“Hale!”

Derek blinked at the shout right in his ear, feeling like he’d just been dunked into cold water. Coach was scowling now and Derek felt his face turn redder, wishing he could be anywhere else but practice at the moment. “Uh, right. Sorry, Coach.”

“Yeah, kid, you’ve said that already. Are you feeling alright today?”

“I’m fine,” Derek said, forcing himself not to look back over at where Stiles was. “Really.”

“Good,” Coach said. “Because if you miss the game this week, I’m taking you off the starting lineup for the rest of the season.”

Derek looked back at the man in alarm, but Coach just raised his hands, turning away.

“Don’t force my hand, Hale.”

Derek watched him walk away and then despite himself, despite everything, glanced over his shoulder. Most of the cheerleaders had lost interest at this point— except for Stiles. Stiles, who was still staring at him, that crooked smile still hanging on his lips. And the moment his eyes met Derek’s, something in his expression changed. He grinned wider, raised a hand, and Derek quickly turned back around.

He wasn’t doing this. He wasn’t… ugh.

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

“I don’t know why, man,” Stiles said, slamming his locker shut. “But the guy hates me. You should’ve seen him at practice yesterday.”

“I don’t think he hates you,” Scott said, shrugging on his backpack. Stiles shot him a disbelieving look and the boy shrugged, starting down the hall with Stiles at his side. “I just don’t think he knows you. I mean, you guys never even talk, right?”

Stiles glowered. “I was his chemistry partner last semester and I’ve been on the cheerleading team since I was a freshman. He should know me well enough to at least smile back when I wave hi.”

“He just ignored you?”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “I dunno, dude. He gets all weird, clams up, and then pretends like I don’t exist.”

Scott gave him a curious look, but Stiles wasn’t paying his friend any attention anymore. Speaking of the devil, he eyed Derek as they passed him and a few of his buddies gathered around their lockers. And for a moment— one brief, making Stiles’s stomach clench moment— grey-green eyes met his own.

But then Hale’s face tightened, his eyes snapped away, and he slammed his locker so hard, all of his buddies jumped.

Stiles rolled his eyes, walking faster past. “See what I mean?”

Scott was still giving him a strange look. But Stiles only half-noticed it, forcing himself not to glance over his shoulder as the sounds of the jocks' voices faded. Glaring down at the floor, he wondered what the hell was so wrong with him. Or maybe what the hell was so wrong with Derek Hale.

So Stiles might have been crushing on him for three years now. So what? It wasn’t like it actually mattered judging by the fact that Hale had never even really acknowledged his existence anyway.

“Whatever,” Stiles said. “Screw Derek Hale.”

“Sure, man,” Scott said, shaking his head. And honestly, Stiles thought he was holding something back. But did he care? Absolutely not. Stiles had no cares in the world.

Especially not about Derek Hale.

“I’m just saying,” Erica said, readjusting her uniform and dabbing at her glossed lips. “If you like him so much, you should consider talking to him once in a while.”

Derek pulled a face, making Boyd snort at the girl’s side, one arm wrapped around her waist. The rest of the cafeteria was far too loud around them and he was trying to concentrate on the chemistry homework that he had definitely not done. Back when Stiles had been his partner, Derek had actually been driven to get it done, if only to impress the boy. Not like it’d ever worked, he didn’t think.

He didn’t really know how the hell to impress Stiles Stilinski.

“I don’t like him,” Derek growled, ignoring Isaac’s disbelieving scoff. “I just think he has no right being so loud and what the hell is up with the outfit?”

Erica shot him an obvious look, gesturing down at her own, and Derek rolled his eyes.

“That’s different.”

“Is it?” Isaac asked mildly, attention fixed on the orange he was trying and failing to peel. “Or is it because whenever you catch the sight of Stilinski in a crop top on the court, you trip over your own feet and lose the ball?”

Derek shot him an annoyed look. Isaac wasn’t even paying attention.

“He’s right,” Erica said, smirking wickedly. “But if you’d like, Der, I can put in a good word. Stiles is my Batman and he sure could use his own Clark Kent.”

“Shut up.”

“Okay, whatever,” the girl shrugged. “Just tell me if you change your mind.”

Derek glowered even more, gaze still drifting across the cafeteria. Totally not toward the table where Stiles sat surrounded by his friends, Scott’s arm slung over his shoulders in a way that definitely didn’t make Derek frown.

“Whipped,” Erica snorted across from him. Derek turned the weight of his glare toward her, trying to wipe at least some of that knowing smirk from her lips.

It didn’t work.

If Stiles was sure of one thing, it was that Mr. Harris hated him.

It wasn’t like chemistry was his least favorite class or anything— or at least, it didn’t use to be. But he was pretty sure Mr. Harris hated him with all his heart and soul, and that had kind of soured the class for Stiles as the year went on.

Which was why when the man stuck them with some lame-ass book assignment and proceeded to get on his phone, acting like none of his students existed, Stiles shot Scott a grin and held out his hand, making a grabby gesture.

“How much money would you give me to flip this table, right here, right now, in the middle of class?”

Scott gave him a wide-eyed look, which only made Stiles grin wider.

“Cause I swear, I’ll do it.”

“Don’t,” Scott said, eyes darting nervously to where Harris sat. “He’ll have you in detention for the rest of the year.”

“It’s almost over anyway,” Stiles said, still grinning. “And he can’t give me detention if I accidentally ‘fall’ now can he? Twenty bucks and I’ll make him forget all about this stupid time filler assignment, easy peasy.”

“Stiles—”

“I’ll take you up on that.”

Stiles turned around, blinking in surprise at Erica Reyes. She smirked, nodding toward Harris.

“But you have to do it so hard, he falls out of his chair.”

Stiles looked at her for a long moment, debating. At the desk beside her, Boyd shifted a little nervously, but didn’t say anything to talk his girlfriend down. Chewing on his lower lip, Stiles thought for one more moment, then grinned brightly, holding out his hand.

“Deal.”

“Money after,” Erica said, eyes glinting. “But he has to be out of his chair, Stilinski.”

Scott was still giving him a pleading look, but Stiles pretended like he didn’t see it as he turned back around. Harris was still fixated on his phone, feet propped up on his desk. Stiles studied the man, tilted his head, and then shoved himself up so fast, his chair went tipping and he caught the underside of the table, taking it with him as everything went spilling to the floor.

There was a shout, a yelp. Stiles watched in absolute glee as Harris jerked so hard, he kicked his coffee cup off his desk and his chair tumbled backward, taking the man and the cord of his laptop, wrapped around his foot, with him.

For a moment, the classroom was silent. Stiles glanced back at Erica, who looked like she was just barely containing a fit of laughter.

Then, “Stilinski!”

Stiles winced, shooting Erica one last look. Her face was bright red now. “Twenty bucks, Reyes.”

“Derek will cover me,” Erica said, jerking her head to the table across the room. Stiles looked over, startled, to see Hale looking at him with wide green eyes, face a little pale.

Stiles offered a weak smile, raising a hand in a small wave. And then the boy was looking sharply away.

Stiles didn’t even have a chance to feel insulted before Harris had grabbed the back of his collar and dragged him from the room.

Stiles did, after all, get Friday afternoon detention for the next month, despite his protests that the whole ‘table flipping accident’ was really an accident. He supposed it was worth it though; twenty bucks was a two or three milkshakes at his favorite diner if he didn’t get fries.

“I can’t believe you, dude,” Scott said, elbowing him in the side. “That was so stupid.”

“That was so genius,” Stiles said, elbowing him back. “Harris completely forgot about the assignment and I’m up twenty bucks.”

The boy just grilled his eyes. “From Derek?”

The grin slipped off of Stiles’s lips. In all of the excitement, he'd completely forgotten about Erica absolutely screwing him over. Catching his expression, Scott barked a laugh, patting him on the back and starting away.

“Best of luck with that, man.”

“Hey, wait! Scotty? Scott!”

The thing about Derek Hale is that Stiles wasn’t really intimidated by him, per-say. Sure, the guy was a year older, constantly gave him the cold shoulder, and was always surrounded by his ‘too cool for school’ jock buddies. But Stiles was also pretty sure Derek was a bit of a nerd. Even if it was just secretly so.

He’d probably been the best chemistry partner Stiles had ever had. Even if he’d pretended like Stiles didn’t exist the entire time.

He sought him out before the game, heart thudding against his chest in a way that Stiles didn’t really understand. It was hard enough separating Derek Hale from his buddies, but his sister also stuck to his side— and she was intimidating.

Cora was Stiles’s grade and, like him, a few classes ahead. She also scared the crap out of Stiles whenever those eyes lit up with anything close to mischief.

“Good afternoon, Stilinski,” she said as Stiles approached, arms folded across her chest. “Nice top.”

Stiles glanced down at himself and then rolled his eyes, glancing at Derek. For some reason, the boy looked a little constipated and his face was bright red. “Erica owes me twenty bucks.”

Cora raised an eyebrow, glancing over at her brother. Derek just stared.

Stiles sighed. “She said you’d cover her.”

“She— what?”

“Twenty bucks, dude,” Stiles said, sticking out his hand. “Pay up.”

Cora made a scoffing noise and clapped Derek on the shoulder before giving Stiles an amused look. “And that’s my cue to leave. Go easy on him, Stiles. Derek gets a little tongue-tied when he can see skin.”

Stiles blinked, unsure what to do with any part of that sentence. But Derek’s face was red all the way to his ears now and before Stiles could say a word, he was turning away too, starting toward the locker room.

Stiles blinked again, rooted to the spot for a moment. Then, shaking his head, he started after the boy.

“Hey, dude, wait!”

Derek did not, in fact, wait.

Stiles followed him into the locker room, stumbling over his own feet as he tried to catch up. Derek went straight for his locker and started to tug off his shirt, making Stiles yelp and avert his eyes.

Which was stupid, right? Yeah, that was stupid. It’s not like he’d never seen another dude change in the literal locker room before.

“I don’t have your money,” Derek said, sounding like he was grinding his teeth together. Stiles licked his lips nervously, turning to face the boy again.

He was still shirtless.

“Uh, right,” Stiles said, shaking his head. Silently, he willed Derek to pull on his jersey or maybe just stop stripping altogether. His mind was blank for the entire time that Derek finally pulled his basketball jersey over his head, raising an eyebrow afterward as if he didn’t know why Stiles was still within spitting distance of him.

“Well?”

Stiles opened his mouth, closed it, and then frowned. “Okay, dude, what the hell is your problem?”

Derek paused with the jersey half pulled down his torso. Stiles tried not to blush.

“You’ve literally only spoken to me like twice,” Stiles said. “And still hate me for some reason. Have I ever done something to offend you? Are you offended by all that is—” he gestured to himself up and down— “This?”

Hale looked taken aback. Stiles’s throat tightened.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I don’t…” Derek shook his head and pulled his jersey all the way down. “You’re fine.”

“I’m fine?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

Stiles stared at him. He couldn’t see much of the boy’s face in the darkness, but he was pretty sure he was still lying about something. Derek grabbed his bag, starting to brush past, but Stiles caught his arm before he could go anywhere.

Derek made a noise of surprise, spinning back around. And Stiles quickly let go, retreating a step back, and promptly got his feet caught in his own bag, a noise of surprise leaving his mouth before he started to topple over.

He definitely wasn’t going to be fine after this, some part of his brain supplied helpfully.

Only, Stiles didn’t brain himself. Suddenly, there was a hand around his forearm and seconds before Stiles hit the lockers, Derek hauled him back up, grunting slightly.

Except, just because Stiles excelled at making bad things even worse, he found himself lurching forward with the momentum, slamming right into his so-called “you’re fine, I guess” savior.

This time, it was Derek’s turn to go toppling. And the only help Stiles provided was him falling right after the boy.

In all the ways he could die, Stiles never thought it would be death by angry-jock-who-just-got-tackled. Underneath him, Derek’s eyes were wide, face pale, and Stiles stared back, pretty sure his heart had stopped beating in his chest.

For a moment, he was almost terrified to breathe. Then, slowly, he realized he wasn’t dead yet.

“Um,” Stiles said, face turning hot. “Sorry.”

He half-expected Derek to shove him off or maybe give him a good punch in the face first. But instead, the boy just stayed there, frozen, eyes wide and pupils dilated. Stiles felt his throat close, carefully starting to push himself up.

“Stiles,” Derek said croakily. Stile abruptly froze.

“Oh my god, dude, I’m so sorry. Did I break something? Please tell me I didn’t break anything.”

Derek was still staring at him. And Stiles didn’t mean to drop his gaze to the other boy’s lips, he really didn’t. It wasn’t like he’d never imagined what it would be like if Derek one day kissed him. Possibly after he realized Stiles actually existed, possibly after he realized how damn hot Stiles was.

Because he was, thank you very much.

“Stiles,” Derek said again. And Stiles realized he’d been staring for much too long.

Shit.

In a second, Stiles was pushing himself up. He half dragged Derek with him, swaying a little as his heart thudded against his chest. The silence in the locker room was almost too loud as Derek stared at him for a long moment, chest rising and falling a little too fast.

“So,” Stiles said, running a hand through his hair awkwardly. “About that twenty dollars—”

He was cut off by the action of Derek kissing him.

Derek Hale. Derek Hale was kissing him and Stiles was pretty sure he hadn’t just hit his head too hard when they both fell or something. For a moment, he was too surprised to do anything but make a startled noise at the back of his throat, and then Derek was crowding him against the lockers, one hand carding through his hair as Stiles came snapping back to himself like a rubber band stretched too far.

Derek Hale was kissing him. And dammit if Stiles didn’t kiss him back the moment Stiles exe. was working again.

If he found out later that he had just hit his head too hard or maybe Derek had actually killed him, Stiles supposed he’d be fine. He’d be fine because yeah, he’d probably thought about this a thousand times, but he’d never actually seen it happening.

He also kinda hadn’t ever done anything like this before, so he really hoped Derek wasn’t about to call him the worst kisser ever or something.

Stiles let Derek take the lead as the boy tightened his grip in Stiles’s hair. And yeah, he was so glad he’d decided to let it grow out Sophomore year. Because this? This was every one of his fantasies.

Suddenly, there was the sound of a buzzer from outside.

Stiles jerked so hard, he slammed his head against the lockers, groaning in pain as the kiss broke. He felt a little dazed, a lot shocked, and the moment he opened his eyes, Derek was looking at him with that ‘caught in headlights’ expression again.

Buzzer, some part of Stiles’s brain offered.

The game.

“Oh, shit,” Stiles said, snapping back to reality. If he was the reason that the star player of the basketball team was late to the game, Lydia was totally going to kick him off the cheer squad. Derek was starting to look a little more grounded too, thankfully, and even in the dim light, Stiles could tell his face was bright red.

“Um…”

“Yeah.”

“That was—”

“Mm-hm.”

Derek snapped his mouth shut, eyes flitting from Stiles’s face, to his lips, and then back up. And that was Stiles’s move, wasn’t it? “Was that bad?”

Stiles blinked. Once more, Stiles exe. logged off for a second and then he shook his head, staring. “No? No, definitely not. No.”

“I, uh, don’t hate you,” Derek said. A small, almost shocked laugh built up in Stiles’s throat.

“I could tell.”

Derek looked down at himself, his uniform, and then toward the door. When he looked back, his expression was almost hesitant, and Stiles was almost surprised he’d never seen a look like that before. “I have a game.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, finally cracking a small smile. Because his heart had stopped thudding against his chest now and he just felt a little warm. A little tingly. Which, if this was all real, was actually quite pleasant. “Yeah, dude, I’m usually there too.”

Derek’s ears turned red. “Oh, yeah.”

Stiles looked at the boy, hesitated for a moment, and then leaned forward, pecking him on the cheek. Derek immediately went statue-still again and Stiles snorted despite himself, patting the boy on the shoulder as he slipped by. “That’s for good luck, Hale. I’ll see you out there?”

Derek was still wide-eyes and speechless when he turned around. Still grinning, Stiles offered him a wink and salute, before all but stumbling toward the door.

He could feel Derek staring after him. But the boy didn’t say another word.

Stiles had never seen himself the one to break Derek Hale.

Derek stayed after the brown-haired, amber-eyed boy in silence, his thoughts moving slowly. For a moment, he felt dazed. Then winded. Like he’d already played the game, won, and had maybe been declared MVP or something.

But then Stiles was gone, Derek was left in the silence, and he finally snapped out of his trance.

A trance, yeah. That’s what he could call it.

Because he had just kissed Stiles. He had just kissed Stiles Stilinski.

Derek blinked, then reached up, touching his lips. And fuck, Stiles had tasted like cinnamon and spices. And somehow, it had all been better than Derek might have ever always wondered.

He had just kissed Stiles.

“Oh,” Derek said, as the sound of the scoreboard buzzer went off outside the locker room again. Game— starting— right.

Oh.

Fucking Stiles Stilinski.

Oh gosh, so I've never actually written a Sterek High School fic, so I apologize if it's a bit rough around the edges. I couldn’t figure out to work the jumper part in, but I hope crop-tops were a okay substitute @wolfile! Thank you so much for the prompt <3

(if you enjoy my writing, consider sending a coffee? You can also request a prompt if you’d like!). https://ko-fi.com/rh27writer

#sterek #teen wolf #derek hale #stiles stilinski #teen wolf fanfic #sterek fanfic #sterek moodboard #teen wolf moodboard #teen!au #high school au #derek hale x stiles stilinski #first kiss #ficlet #wolfile #prompts #fluff #humor #petition to let stiles wear crop tops

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hopelikethemoon · 4 years

Text

Wandering Star || (Ezra x Reader) || {Moonbeams} || [smut]

Title: Wandering Star Rating: Explicit Length: 4,100 Warnings: Pregnant!Reader, mild angst, smut (fingering, missionary, girl on top). Notes: Hey, this is what we call the “calm before the storm”. Part seventeen of the Moonbeams series.

Ezra thought you were asleep. You had been asleep up until a point. But it was hard to sleep through someone stroking and kissing your stomach while talking to it.

“I have never been a particularly religious man. I’ve seen too much for that… dark things, even still. But I pray to the stars and the fates and whomever would listen to a man like me…” Ezra’s words were muffled as he pressed his lips to your skin. “I just want to make it to see you.”

He shifted, pressing his cheek to your stomach, his prickly scruff tickling your skin as he listened within you. “Your mother can do this without me… She’s so much stronger than she acknowledges. You’ll be a very lucky little pup.” Ezra ran his hand along the curve of your waist as he stayed right where he was. “I have no doubt that her friends will be there for you too.”

You wanted to reach out and play your fingers through his hair, to soothe the anguish in his voice. But he needed this. He needed to talk about his feelings, without you listening.

“I’m scared, little one,” Ezra admitted and you felt a hot tear slide off his cheek and land on your stomach. “I was ready to free myself from this curse before she came into my life and now… I don’t want to lose my mind. I’ve seen all reason leave their eyes — what if I fall to that?”

He turned and peppered kisses over your stomach, fingers trailing over your skin with such reverence. “I find some solace in the fact that the beast is at ease with her, that she has given herself to its base desires, but what comes next?” He sighed heavily, pressing his forehead to your stomach.

“Ezra,” You whispered, reaching down to play with the curls at the nape of his neck. He tensed briefly, before turning his face towards you, his eyes red with unshed tears.

“Moonbeam,” He sniffed, wiping at his eyes hastily. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“Come here,” You beckoned him. “You should be talking to me about the beast’s base desires, not our baby.” You teased lightly as he moved up the bed and sank into the mattress beside you.

“I don’t have a Shiva or Quinn to talk things through with,” He admitted, keeping his hand draped over your stomach. “I only have myself.”

“You have me.” You reminded him, brushing your fingers through the hair that fell against his forehead. “I know you want to shield me, but you don’t have to. I would prefer it if we actually discussed the future… together.”

Ezra exhaled slowly, wiping at another stray tear as it trailed down his cheek. “The thing is… I don’t know. What I’ve learned from my brief encounters with the others, what I’ve seen… It’s all been different for us.”

“What about Sybil and Cora? They seem normal.” You pointed out, cupping Ezra’s cheek gently.

“I have watched Sybil murder a human, without hesitation or provocation.”

You felt your heart sink, “Oh.”

“That’s how I got hurt before… Not Sybil directly, but the rest of the pack she was welcomed into. I smell too much like you.” He scooted closer, pressing his face into the crook of your neck.

“How much do you remember?”

Ezra ran the tip of his nose down your neck, “It’s like a dream that’s just out of reach. The full moons are more vivid, more like a waking nightmare.” He pulled back a little.

“It always feels like you’re still there,” You told him, brushing your fingers over his cheek. “I see it in your eyes — the beast’s eyes. The way you respond to things I say… there’s an intelligence there.”

He nodded a little, running his hand down your side and curling his fingers around your hip. “At some level I’m there, but the memory just slips through my fingers.” Ezra held your gaze. “I could hurt you and have no recollection of it.”

“You’re not going to hurt me.” You told him flatly. “I have been around the beast to know that isn’t true.”

“You may tame the beast, but he’s still a beast, moonbeam.”

“We seem to get along pretty well,” You gave him a look, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I just need you to hold on, Ezra. I know it’s hard, but I truly believe we can get through this.”

Ezra brushed his knuckles over your cheek, “I’m trying.” His gaze dropped to your lips, before he leaned in once more. His breath danced over your lips as he lingered briefly before kissing you. “It’s better when you’re here.” He whispered before adding, “Which is not to say I want you to give up your freedom to leave this rock.”

“If only you knew the kind of deals I would make for you,” You told him without really thinking.

Ezra’s eyes widened, his brows rising upwards. “You didn’t.”

You swallowed thickly around the lump in your throat, “I meant dealing with Quinn and Shiva.”

He looked unconvinced, “Do they cast a dark shadow over things for you too?”

“I couldn’t say.” You held his gaze, your breath caught somewhere in the back of your throat as you added, “I really can’t say.”

Ezra pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he held your gaze. “Neither can I. If we were saying something.”

You reached out and cupped his cheek, brushing your thumb over the rise of his cheekbone. What had the shadow done to him? Was it tormenting him the same way it was going after you?

Ezra leaned into your touch, his eyes sliding closed as he exhaled shakily. “What have you done, moonbeam? What sort of deal have you made?” He questioned, curling his fingers around your hand as he kept it pressed against his face.

“I can’t say,” You whispered, leaning in to press your forehead against his. “But I would do anything for you, Ezra. I mean it.”

“So would I.” He tilted his head so he could kiss you gently as his eyes opened to meet yours. “But we’re playing with fire.”

“I know.” You pulled away from him, just enough to slide down his body so you could rest your cheek against his chest, curling your arm around his middle. “I don’t know how much is known. If this will be known.” Your voice wavered. “I don’t like keeping things from you, but… I have to.”

Ezra kissed the top of your head, exhaling against your hair. “Are you safe?”

“I think so.” You traced your fingers over a scar on his stomach. It was already over — you both knew that the shadow had his hooks caught in both of you. You had broken your deal. What came next?

Would you return to Arcadia and never leave? Would you be forced to brandish the shears? Would you end it?

You wanted to blame it on your pregnancy, but the underlying current of fear took hold of you swiftly. A quiet sobbed escaped you, one that you had been trying to keep locked away in your chest. But it broke free.

“Moonbeam,” Ezra murmured, running his hand down the length of your back as he kissed the top of your head. “It’s okay. Shhh.”

“I don’t want to lose this.” You muttered, moving to hide your face in the crook of his neck, your fears wetting his skin. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He assured you, wrapping both of his arms around you. “Just go back to sleep, little lamb.”

You focused on the weight of his hand as he ran it down your spine again and again. You focused on the way his chest rose and fell. You focused on the rush of your own pulse in your ears.

It had been almost a year since you started visiting Lykaios. Ten months, more or less. You lost track of time in between departures and arrivals. You used to be better about knowing what day it was — back when you were focused on signing up with the program.

But then things changed. Everything changed.

You weren’t sure you could go back to that life. Especially with your child. If something happened — if the shadow reneged on the deal because Ezra knew now… You were going to lose him.

Ezra had tried to prepare you. Not just tonight. He’d slip in little comments about the others on the moon, the ones who had succumbed to the madness of the curse. The ones that blurred the line between humanity and beast. That spent more time as the beast than in their human skin.

He’d started losing control after you arrived. The second time you came to Lykaois, he’d barred you from entering until he could control himself and then you had seen the beast hunting near your transport.

Even now, as Ezra tried to quiet your tears, his features looked worn around the edges. Like no amount of sleep would erase the exhaustion in his eyes.

“I don’t get it.” Ezra muttered, propping his elbow up on the edge of the table as he pushed his fingers through his hair, smearing a streak of black grease across his forehead.

You laughed a little, curling your fingers around the warm cup of tea, tapping your fingernails against the metal sides of the container. “I didn’t anticipate it being this complicated.”

“I’ll figure it out,” Ezra assured you, glancing up from the center foil carburetor he was trying to retrofit. “How’s your tea?”

“Good.” You smiled a little, blowing on the surface of tea. “I miss caf though.”

He smirked, “I think Shiva would have my balls if they found out I was letting you drink caf.”

You scrunched up your nose, sitting the tea down as you pulled the blanket around your shoulders further. “You’re not wrong. They’ve been quite the hoverer. Which frankly surprised me, considering how against this,” You gestured between the two of you, “Shiva was.”

He plucked up one of the wrenches off the table, “Huh,” Ezra tinkered with foil, swearing under his breath as the bolt he was working on refused to budge. “I suppose that’s good. I’m always looking for approval.”

“Really?” Your brows rose upwards as you looked across the table at him.

Ezra shrugged, “What?”

You shook your head with a quiet laugh, “Nothing.”

He stretched his leg out and tapped his foot against your ankle, “What?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, stifling another laugh as you looked down at your tea. “That was my poor attempt at seeing whether you have a praise kink, Ezra.”

Ezra snorted, tossing the wrench back on the table as he raked his fingers through his hair, “It was a rather poor attempt.” He winked at you. “I guess I do.”

You propped your chin up on the palm of your hand as you looked across the table at him, “I might have to use that piece of knowledge.”

He arched a brow at you, leaning around the table so he could curl his fingers around your knee, his chest pressed against the edge of the table to facilitate that. “Oh? And here I thought you had decided you preferred the beast over me.”

You felt a flash of heat rise to your cheeks, “I have a good excuse for that.”

Ezra rubbed his thumb over the bend of your knee, “I’m listening.”

“You know that thing we’re not actually discussing?” You questioned, your voice wavering as you held his gaze. He gave a stiff nod and you continued, “I had a nightmare that I’m still processing.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as his eyes searched yours. His lips parted like he meant to say something, but he thought better of it and instead pulled away from you to pick up his tools. “The bolt’s corroded. If you happen upon de-c when you’re back on the Block, I might be able to finish upgrading the carburetor next month.”

Ezra abandoned you at the table, taking his little kit of tools and stowing them away again. He had his back to you, but you knew him well enough to know that he was uncomfortable. You could see it in the rigid line of his spine and the way his fingers curled into fists.

“Ez,” You started, waiting for him to look back at you, but he kept himself busy with reorganising the shelf of tools. “Remember what I told you about Alia?”

He muttered something under his breath, before looking glancing back at you over his shoulder, “You know about Roz.”

You nodded slowly.

Ezra sighed heavily, pulling the storage hatch closed with a little more force than necessary. “Kriff.” He quipped, folding his arms across his chest as he turned around to face you. “That’s why things have been off between us?”

“It was so similar to Alia.”

His jaw set hard as he looked away, “If it’s any consolation, I do regret it. I regretted it seconds after I killed her, but…” He hung his head. “I’m not that person anymore.”

“I know this.” You rubbed at your temples slowly. “But I was her… in the nightmare.”

The crease between his brows deepened as he frowned, “What?”

“The empty promises, the sex, the fatal blow… I saw all of it in my nightmare and I haven’t been able to fully shake it.” You admitted, lowering your own gaze because you couldn’t stand to hold his.

He was quiet for a long moment before he spoke, “I’m sorry.”

“So am I.” You told him, curling your fingers around your cup in a vain attempt to hide the way they were trembling. “The beast is easier because… it’s you, but it isn’t at the same time. I can forget what I saw.”

Ezra moved towards you then, kneeling on the ground beside your seat. “Moonbeam, if this isn’t what you want… I’m begging you to just tell me.”

“You are what I want.” You told him, winding your fingers through his hair gently. “It doesn’t help that I’m processing the nightmare, while dealing with so many new emotions. Quinn told me some long winded story about a toy he lost as a child and I cried.”

“You cried over that?” He gave a short laugh at that, shaking his head.

You shrugged, “You had to be there in the moment. But look, Ezra… I’m trying, alright?”

“I know you are.” He exhaled shakily as he looked up at you. “I wish I could’ve just told you what happened. You didn’t need to see it.”

“But I did and… I just need a little more time.” You traced your thumb over the rise of his cheekbone. “I want to be able to look at you and see the eyes I love again.”

Ezra met your gaze. “Take as much as time as you need.” He murmured, curling his fingers around your hand and bringing them down to his lips. He rubbed his thumb over the center of your palm, before kissing the spot that had turned into a scar.

“Have you had nightmares?” You questioned, suddenly wondering what parts of your life Ezra had been made privy to.

He shook his head, “I don’t need nightmares to be tormented.” Ezra leaned forward and rested his forehead against your thigh.

You ghosted your fingers down the back of his neck, “We’re going to get through this, Ezra.” You assured him, though a part of you wasn’t even convinced.

Your stomach felt like it was twisted into knots and it had nothing to do with your morning sickness, which had blessedly ebbed away these last few weeks.

Tomorrow you were leaving Lykaios, which meant visiting Arcadia. What would happen now that you had both broken part of your deals? While neither of you had confessed outright, you both knew. Would the shadow know? Would it be able to look into your mind and see what you had done?

There was a world of unknowns waiting for you tomorrow.

“Love is not love, which alters when it alteration finds or bends with the remover to remove.” Ezra drawled out, trailing his fingers down the length of your arm, your body molded back against his.

“It is an ever-fixed mark that looks on tempests and is never shaken. It is the star to every wand'ring bark, whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.” He brushed his lips over the back of your neck as his fingers fanned out over your stomach.

“Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks within his bending sickle's compass come. Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, but bears it out even to the edge of doom.”

You rested your hand over his at your stomach, leaning back against him as you turned your head just enough to look back at him, “Pulling the Shakespeare out?”

“It’s been on my mind.” He told you, pressing a kiss to the curve of your shoulder. “We’ll get through this, moonbeam.”

“How did you know I was worrying about tomorrow?”

Ezra laughed softly, “Because I am worrying about tomorrow and the days following.” His breath was warm against your skin as he exhaled. “What if you can’t come back.”

“I will come back.” You assured him. “Nothing is going to be able to keep me away.”

He didn’t seem convinced, “Just take care of you and the baby.” Ezra dipped his fingers beneath your shirt, stroking his fingers over your stomach. “You’re going to be showing soon.”

“I have a feeling I might pop by the time I come back.” You smiled at the thought of how excited Ezra was going to be when that happened.

He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, a quiet little sound escaping him. “You have no idea how badly I want to see that, little lamb.”

“You will.” You reassured him, slotting your fingers in between his and squeezing his hand. “I can’t wait to see your reaction.”

Ezra snorted softly, “What do you think my reaction is going to be?”

“I’m hoping that you’ll go a little feral over it.” You taunted lightly, grinding back against him pointedly.

He inhaled sharply, “Am I reading this situation correctly?”

“Yes.” You breathed out, sliding your fingers over the back of his hand. “Tell me about those primal urges.” You guided his hand downward.

“Are you sure?” Ezra questioned, dipping his fingers beneath the waistband of your pants.

You nodded, “Please.”

“Fuck.” He swore under his breath, his lips trailing down the length of your neck. “Tell me to stop and I will. Without hesitation.” Ezra shifted behind you and you could feel the hard length of his cock.

“I won’t.” You didn’t want to leave Lykaios without this, without him.

“I can’t fully explain it, moonbeam.” Ezra told you as he stroked his hand over your stomach. “It’s a sort of pride, knowing that my child is growing within you. Seeing the changes for myself.”

You let your eyes slip closed as Ezra spoke, focusing on the warm timbre of his voice.

“I am in awe of you,” He drawled out as his fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, traveling downwards to the apex of your thighs. “Does this turn you on?” He asked as he traced his fingers over your slick folds. “Knowing that I can’t wait until you’re heavy with my child and everyone knows that you’ve been claimed.”

“Ezra.” You breathed out, desire pooling hot in your lower belly, even as he pulled his hand away from your cunt.

He maneuvered you onto your back, his body still curled around yours, but now he could look down at you. “Do you know what winds me up even more than thinking about your belly rounding with our child, moonbeam?”

You reached up and traced your thumb over the scar on his cheek, “What?”

Ezra leaned down and brushed his lips over yours. He drew back, bringing his glistening fingers to his lips and licking them clean. “The way you give yourself to the beast. Even when the beast falls away, I still feel this deep seated joy that I have never felt before.”

He moved to straddle your lower thighs, working to drag your pants down your hips. “It drives me crazy.” Ezra told you as he moved over you, knees braced on either side of you as he planted his palms on the mattress by your shoulders.

You reached downwards to unfasten his pants, dragging the zipper down so you could free his hardened length. “The beast is still you.” You reminded him, holding his gaze. “And I told you… I want you.”

Ezra surged towards you, his mouth crashing against yours in a desperate kiss that teetered on the edge of too rough. Your fingers sank into his hair, nails biting into his scalp, matching his kiss with your own need.

His pants were barely pushed down beneath his ass, but they were forgotten as he settled himself between your thighs.

Your lips parted with a breathy moan as his cock slid against your slick folds. He teased you, grinding into you without giving you what you really wanted. “Ezra.”

He dragged his thumb over the curve of your jawbone as he met your gaze, “Tell me what you want, moonbeam.” Ezra drawled out, reaching down between your bodies to guide his cock through your slick folds.

You ran your fingers down the back of his neck, your gaze flickering between his eyes and his lips. Those were the eyes you loved — kind despite everything he had gone through.

“Just you.” You told him, your lashes fluttering as he chose that moment to sink the full length of his cock into you.

Despite the desperation in the way that he had kissed you, Ezra took his time with you. He didn’t move at first, his fingers curling around your hip as he held still within you.

He leaned down and pressed his forehead to yours, his breath mingling with yours between your lips. “I’m gonna roll us over. Alright, little lamb? I want you to lead.”

You nodded, tilting your chin to press a fleeting kiss to his lips. Ezra managed to rearrange the two of you without unseating himself. “Oh.” You breathed out, inner walls fluttering around as you straddled his hips.

“That’s it.” He encouraged you, running his hands over the tops of your thighs as he watched you move above him.

You peeled off your shirt, tossing it off the bed where your pants had landed before.

“You are the most radiant visage of perfection.” Ezra told you, smoothing one hand over your stomach, as he reached up to gently fondle your breast. “There is nothing better than this.”

“I could say the same about you,” You retorted, far too occupied at riding his cock, than you were to think of flattering remarks to stroke his ego. You rolled your hips just right as you moved above him.

Ezra licked the tip of his thumb, before reaching for the juncture where your bodies were joined to stroke his thumb over that throbbing bundle of nerves. You clenched around him, losing your pace for a moment. “Wish I could stay just like this.”

“That would be inconvenient.” You retorted with a smirk, planting your hands on his chest so you could lean forward to kiss him.

“I do like inconveniencing you.” Ezra nipped at your bottom lip, grinning up at you. His fingers tightened at your hip as he held you steady so he could thrust upwards, catching right against that sweet spot within you.

“Oh, fuck.” Your eyes clenched closed as you sat back up right and started moving with more haste. You were close — teetering right on the edge of coming undone.

He grabbed at your hips roughly, hard enough to leave bruises and guided your movements as he moved beneath you. “Come on.” He urged, “Look at me.”

You curled your fingers around his hands, opening your eyes to look down at him right as your release washed through you.

Ezra followed right behind you, his lips parting with a throaty groan as he came apart. He rolled his hips beneath you, losing some of the momentum of his movements as he basked in the afterglow of his release.

He pulled you downwards, winding his arms around you tightly. “You have to come back to me, moonbeam.”

You pressed your lips to the spot above his heart. “No one can stop me.” You assured him, but you weren’t truly sure about that.

#ezra (prospect)#ezra x reader #ezra (prospect) x reader #pedro pascal x reader

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bella-caecilia · 3 years

Note

Cobert prompt: home alone

Thank you for the prompt! I know it has been in my inbox for a while but here is my answer now. I enjoyed imagining different scenarios for this one. Hopefully, you like the one I chose to go with. I set this prompt pre-series. Hope you enjoy it!

Home alone

1891

Cora strolled the gardens on her own. Normally she would have a morning tea with Mama in between the large and luscious bushes of roses at this time. Her mother-in-law was a very demanding woman and Cora did have a hard time with her, there was no denying it. But Mama’s penchant for gardens and flowers led to some of the most beautiful moments Cora had experienced at Downton so far. Violet had made it their habit in summer to discuss the day’s tasks outside amidst her favourite part of the gardens instead of in her sitting room. Every morning, after Cora had joined Robert on his walk on the grounds, she sought the rose garden where her mother-in-law had advised the footmen to prepare a seating area.

Violet wasn’t there at the moment. She was in London for new frocks which were her usual excuse for seeing Rosamund. She spent the day looking at several fabrics and dresses and pestering her daughter with questions. Rosamund had told Cora that Violet hardly ever purchased anything and she suspected that her mother only wanted to have a closer look at her daughter’s new life as a married lady in far-away London. Today was one of the days the countess had chosen to grant her dear daughter a visit, and Cora was walking the paths in the rose garden alone. She enjoyed it though. The heavy scent floated around her and Cora relished the dream-like moment.

After her walk with Robert, he had returned to the house and she had decided to turn to the rose gardens nevertheless. Robert had to deal with some estate business because his father had left for London too. The earl was away for a few days, staying at the club and settling some business. He had advised Robert to manage a few minor tasks that would come up during his absence. Robert was eager to fulfil them responsibly and with care. He didn’t want to show a lack of interest or success right at the start of what would be a long career as ‘caretaker’ of Downton Abbey. Cora supported his ambition into the still rather small tasks he had to handle and she had urged him to tell her every detail of how it went afterwards. She used her time at hand trying to recall the different types of roses and their names Mama mentioned by the by with such great ease. Cora could relate to Mama’s interest in flowers but the older lady was a bit ahead in her knowledge and Cora always looked like a disinterested amateur next to her mother-in-law. She knew that by remembering the roses’ names she would hardly manage to impress Violet but she had to start somewhere. Humming, Cora wandered between the bushes, easily recalling the distinct types. There was only one type of intensive pink and Cora had gotten the hang of telling the different white roses apart immediately after her first visits to the garden. But the apricot roses still posed quite the challenge. The shades and forms seemed to differ more within one bush than between the different types, and Cora thought all of them as equally lovely. If she would want to make real progress on her gardening knowledge, she should consider consulting the gardener, she thought.

Being up to Mama’s mark proved to be more work than Cora had thought when she had married Robert a year and a half ago. Still, she hasn’t given up to find a way into Mama’s good graces, although she doubted, she would find a way into Mama’s heart.

Shrugging her shoulders and taking the last whiff of her favourite yellow bloom (she always imagined having a perfume of that particular rose, it would be lovely), Cora decided to return to the house and look how Robert was doing. In the hall, she already encountered her husband who was in discussion with a footman. It seemed he had received a telegram just now.

“Ah, Cora! Guess who is staying in London tonight?” Robert spoke when he spotted her.

“Uhm… Papa is, I guess,” Cora attempted an answer while trying to discreetly shift her hat whose pins began to prick unpleasantly into her scalp.

“Well, yes,” Robert replied with a shrug of shoulders. “But so is Mama. She just informed us that she would stay at Rosamund’s overnight. She isn’t feeling well and doesn’t want to travel today.” His tone was elated and he now accompanied her to the stairs, nodding his dismissal at the footmen silently.

“Oh, I am sorry,” Cora exclaimed.

“She will surely be alright by tomorrow morning,” he assured. “But she doesn’t have to bother us until she is back.” Cora chuckled at his statement.

“I will hurry to take off my hat. Might I find you in the library in a few minutes?” she asked.

“Yes, of course.” Robert smiled softly at her before she ascended the stairs.

When she met him on the red settees not much later, he already reclined casually on the seat next to the fireplace, the one his father usually occupied. He patted the cushion next to him and Cora sat down by his side.

“You know what we can do when we’re alone at home,” Robert said in a low voice, searching her eyes.

Cora furrowed her brow, trying to think of something he could possibly mean. “What?”

“Well, … everything,” Robert concluded. “It is our house for now, and there is no one to tell us what to do and what not to do.” He reached out his hand to caress her thigh.

“I see,” Cora murmured and a tentative smirk appeared on her features. Robert watched her reaction.

“What are thinking about?” he asked when she was silent for a while and her gaze had left his.

“I just thought that every single room is ours at the moment is all,” she gave back without meeting his eyes. His grip on her thigh grew firmer and eventually, she looked up at his face. She was met by a wide grin and relaxed a little at this sight, not really knowing where this former tinge of nervosity came from. This was her dear and familiar Robert after all.

“I like that thought,” he spoke softly and cupped her cheek with his other hand. He was rewarded with a content smile of hers. She leaned into his hand and her eyes swept adoringly over his features.

“What do want to do in this room for instance?” Robert inquired. Enveloped by her warm gaze he only focused on her vision in front of him.

“Well, I thought about using this comfortable settee in a manner your parents wouldn’t approve of if they knew about it.”

“Is that so?” he grinned and his voice held a teasing tone. Cora nodded and without breaking their warm eye contact she pulled up her legs and unbuckled her shoes.

“Yes, it’s a shame we’re having these cosy settees and no one ever gets really comfortable on them,” she explained while stretching her legs on the part of the sofa that faced away from Robert and leaning her upper body against his. He chuckled and she felt the rumbles that shook his body where her side pressed against his.

“You are really one of a kind, Cora,” Robert stated and began running his fingers through her pinned-up curls.

“Don’t! You’re messing up my hair,” she argued with little conviction.

“I am careful,” he assured. Cora turned until she faced him and her lips were mere inches from his. Without further words, she extended her definition of ‘getting really comfortable’ and covered his lips with hers, her arms looping around his chest. Robert moved his lips softly, relishing the opportunity to drag this unusually sensual kiss in the library. His eyes closed, the feeling of her warm lips was as present as the touch of her small palms on his back, and he enjoyed how her body moulded against his more and more. His hands splayed across the small of her back. Cora emitted low hums into their sealed lips before she tentatively tried to dip her tongue into his mouth. Robert gladly went along with her plans. After all, she was right, it was their room for now and the best way he could think of to use it was exactly what Cora initiated. But feeling growing arousal well up in him, he wasn’t sure how far they should really take it. Therefore, he was glad when Cora pulled back to catch her breath, leaning her forehead against his. Robert brushed his fingertips across her spine and Cora tucked her head underneath his chin.

“I like having the library to ourselves,” Robert pondered.

“Yes, me too,” Cora purred, letting her fingers graze the skin of his neck just where his collar ended.

“You know? One day it will be like that every day,” he said. Cora laughed without restraint.

“I don’t think so,” she chuckled.

“Why is that?”

“Well, I am sure your mother will never cease keeping an eye on us. Apart from that, we won’t be alone, Robert. Not only will there be our dear Mama but also a bunch of children,” she stated.

“Oh, right. I forgot about your big plans for the nursery,” he teased. He could never forget her dream of a nursery full of their children. It was only a few months ago that baby Mary brought life to the nursery.

“These are our plans, Robert. Or am I mistaken?” she inquired, still fiddling with his collar.

“No, of course not. It takes two after all,” he answered. His hands began pressing against her corseted waist more persistently. “Then we have to make the best of our peace in this house now.”

Cora turned again in his arms, lifting her face to his height by pressing her palms to his chest. Her close-up grinning face made Robert chuckle lowly. “I totally agree,” she purred.

#cobert drabble #cobert #pre-series #cora crawley #robert crawley #cora x robert #downton abbey #downton abbey fanfiction

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lis-likes-fics · 3 years

Text

His Little Songbird (Niklaus Mikaelson x Reader)

Chapter 8: The Revisit Summary: She's the poor girl he saved in the field, he's the hero who saved her, and things could not have been better. Except, that was centuries ago and things have long been changed. Now it's her turn to save him.

~~~~~

Y/N knocked on the door, folding her arms across her chest as she sighed, scratching Cora behind her ear as she perched on her shoulders. When the door was answered, her friend gave her a smirk and a surprised look. "Y/N, long time no see."

She gave a small smile, "Hey, Damon."

"Come on in," he told her, stepping aside so she could walk in. Y/N sighed, "Sorry to barge in like this."

Damon shrugged as he closed the door, "It's no problem really. It's been a while since I've seen you. A couple of years, maybe?"

"Yeah, it has. I was here with the Mikaelsons last time I saw you. Any supernatural problems lately?"

"It's been as quiet as Mystic Falls can possibly get. Who's the cat?"

Cora jumped down from Y/N's shoulder, onto the couch, and then onto the floor as she sauntered over to Damon. She sniffed him, seeing if she approved of him or not.

Y/N answered, "This is Cora. If she likes you, she's nice."

Damon bent down to pick up the cat. "I wouldn't-"

Cora yelled and scratched him before running away.

"Ow!" Damon exclaimed. "Damn cat."

"You picked her up."

He sighed, "So why are you here?"

Y/N spoke, "I...need a new place to stay."

"Don't you live with the Mikaelsons in New Orleans?"

She sighed, "Yeah, but Klaus banished me. So I was wondering if I could crash here until I can get a place."

Damon thought about it before nodding, "Sure, it'll be nice having you around anyway. You can grab one of the free rooms, or you could double with me."

He wiggled his brows suggestively and she laughed, rolling her eyes, "I'm good, Romeo. But maybe you could join me at the Grill later because... I need a drink."

"That, I can do," he smirked.

She chuckled, "You can also help me bring this stuff in from my car."

They headed outside to her car to grab her bags. As she opened the door, she was greeted by the other Salvatore.

She smiled and held out her arms, "Stefan! It's good to see you again."

He smiled and hugged her back, "Hey, what are you doing here?"

"Moving to Mystic Falls. I'm kind of homeless at the moment," she told him.

He understood and didn't press on, "You're welcome anytime. I actually know this cabin out in the woods that you would like. Are you up for it?"

"Look at that. Yeah, you know I dig cabins in the woods," she told him with a smile, "Why don't we head out there and put my stuff up and then we all go to the Grill for drinks?"

"Sounds like a plan," Stefan agreed. Damon sighed, "Yay."

"Aww, Damon, you want me here," she teased.

He rolled his eyes, "Har, har. Come on." He paused and pointed into the house, "What about your little demon?"

Y/N sighed, "Cora!" The cat came darting out of the house, jumping into the door Y/N had opened for her as she ran back inside.

"Done," she smiled. Stefan chuckled, opening her own door for her, "Come on."

After dropping her cat and belongings off at the place she'd be calling her home from now on, the three of them went to the Grill for drinks.

It was nice to have time to hang out with her friends again. She hadn't seen them in a while, and she was looking forward to seeing Caroline again, who was supposed to be coming too.

"Guess who," someone said behind her, her hands covering Y/N's eyes. Y/N smiled widely, turning around and calling her friend by that ridiculous name she hated, "Care Bear!"

Caroline rolled her eyes at the name and they hugged, happy to see each other again. It had been too long. Caroline exclaimed, "It's been forever since I've seen you!"

Y/N nodded, pulling away to see her. Caroline continued, "Stefan said you were moving here and that you're homeless at the moment! What the hell happened in New Orleans?"

Let's just...not even talk about New Orleans or Mikaelsons or anything. Let's just drink," she said, raising her cup and handing Caroline the one she'd been harboring from Damon.

"But what happened?" She demanded, taking the glass. Y/N sighed heavily, groaning, "Ugh, this is going to be a Sob Fest. Drinks first. Sit."

She set her hands on Caroline's shoulders and sat her in the seat she reserved. Caroline sighed and succumbed to her wants, taking a sip from her glass.

"It's also Karaoke Night, it's fate you'd show up tonight," she giggled.

Y/N groaned again, smacking her head on the counter next to her drink, "Ugh, don't even with 'fate'."

Caroline shrugged, "Alright, fine. Drink up, we're singing tonight."

Y/N nodded, her head still on the table as she clinked her glass with Caroline, "I get drunk first."

It was late when they finally left the bar, heading back before deciding to just parked in a field and enjoy the sky. The stars were twinkling in the sky, it was a sky scape that she imagined Klaus would love to paint, or maybe already has painted.

The field they chose had patches of flowers. Knowing Y/N, they headed straight to one of the biggest patches and laid in that. Her fiddled with one of the flowers at the edge of her fingertips as she looked up. It truly was brilliant.

It reminded her of the times she had stayed up late watching the sky with Niklaus all those years ago.

She sighed and shook her head of the thought when Caroline broke the silence. "So what happened?"

Y/N picked the flowers and watched it as she twirled it in her fingers, answering her question. "You know how my last relationship was with Damon?"

"You mean the sex spree?" Damon so elegantly put it.

She and Caroline rolled her eyes. "More or less," Y/N said.

Damon sat up and glanced over, "Wait, I was the last relationship you had? In 1897?"

"Yes, keep up," she told him before starting her story, "This guy named James asked me out after I'd sang at a ball and I said yes because I really had nothing better to do. He took me to a restaurant and that was...not the best."

"Wait, do you haven't been with anyone until now, over a hundred years later?" Damon asked, eyes bugged out of his head.

"No, Damon. Now shut up, I'm recapping," she told him sternly. "Then we had fun when we left and went to this vampire club. I should've known he was playing me. He kept asking about Klaus, he covered his tracks well," she muttered.

"So he was just out to get to Klaus?" Stefan asked.

"Yeah," she trailed off, "He prolonged it for a while too. We were going out for a couple months before he tried to kill Klaus and then tell him I was in on it."

She swallowed hard then, entirely upset by the situation, "Then Klaus...he exiled me from New Orleans and said that if I come back, he'll kill me."

Caroline scoffed, "That's bullshit, he's not going to kill you. He has a thing for you."

Y/N rolled her eyes. She got that hint. "Well, I wouldn't like to test that theory, Caroline."

"That's why you came here?" Stefan asked, glancing over at her.

"Yeah," she nodded, sighing deeply as she set the flower back on the ground and explaining, "I don't know where else to go. I don't want to have to start over, so...I'm sticking here."

"Why not just move back into that mansion?" Damon suggested.

She shook her head, "I don't want to live in the mansion, Damon. Especially not by myself."

"You'd rather live in a creepy old cabin in the woods?"

"It's not creepy" she defended. She shrugged, "it's actually quite cozy. And yes, it's small. I like small."

A small silence set over them and she looked at the time. She sighed and said, "It's been a long night, I should feed Cora and then crash. I'll see you later?"

Caroline nodded and they all stood, getting to their feet and exchanging goodnight before going to their own homes.

Y/N arrived back at her new home, immediately being embraced by Cora. She was still adjusting. She didn't want to leave New Orleans and now she was here. She wanted to go home.

"I know. Come eat and we'll go to bed," she told her.

Cora didn't eat as much as she should have, but Y/N wouldn't force her to eat. That would result in a missing arm. For who? No one wants to find out.

Y/N washed up and went to bed, Cora cuddled at the foot of the bed. It had been a long day, staying in Mystic Falls would take some getting used to.

Y/N woke up, sighing and stirring in the bed. She wanted to stay in bed, but she had to get to work. She stood and got ready, heading out of the door after deciding she was presentable and heading out with Cora laying in her bag.

She got in her car and drove to her workplace, parking and walking inside of the flower shop with the bell ringing behind her when the door opened. "Hey, Ana," Y/N greeted, headed to the staff room and setting Cora down in there, telling her to behave. She was lucky the manager allowed her to bring Cora to work with her. They loved Cora, who didn't?

Y/N went straight to her duties. She turned at Tommy was ringing someone up for their order. "Here are your peach ranunculus', Ms. Brown," he told her, grabbing one of the flower bouquets from below the counter.

When he set it on the counter, Y/N told him quickly, "No, the other one. Those are roses."

He glanced at her before looking back under the counter. She was right, the ones he had grabbed were roses. "They look alike, it's okay."

Tommy gave her a grateful smile, "Sorry about that, Ms. Brown. Here are your ranunculus'."

She thanked him and grabbed the bouquet, leaving the shop with the bell dining behind her. He turned to her with a grateful smile, "Thanks for that, I can never tell the difference between them."

Y/N told him, "Ranunculus' look 'fluffier' than roses. But no worries."

"How do you know all of this? You could name every flower in the shop."

She shrugged, "Call me a flower expert." He chuckled and got back to work.

When lunch came around, she grabbed Cora and they went out to meet Caroline. When she saw her sitting at a table outside, waiting for her, she gave a small smile and sat down across from her and ordering a drink.

"Hey, Caroline," Y/N smiled, flipping through the menu. Caroline greeted her back and they started talking. Their food came and Caroline continued talking while Y/N sat and listened.

After a moment of silence that Y/N had not picked up on, Caroline watched her pick at her food. She sighed, "So how was work?"

"Hm?" She questioned, looking up at Caroline. "Oh," she said, "It was good. What about you? How's your day going?"

Caroline shrugged, "I'm doing fine. I was hanging out with Elena earlier. She's doing okay, too. I know you hate Elena but at least I'm making conversation because you would have known this if you were actually listening. Come on, talk to me!"

She sighed, "Oh, sorry. I'm listening. What do you want to talk about?"

Caroline looked at her with concern in her eyes, "Y/N, it's been two months and you haven't gotten any better."

"Yes, I have," she defended herself, "I'm doing good at the flower shop. It's nice there, it's like home..."

"Y/N, come on. You need to do something to take your mind off things."

"I'm fine, Caroline."

Caroline sighed heavily and began picking at her food, her other hand petting Cora, who was laying lazily in her lap. Now she was just pouting. Y/N rolled her eyes and looked up at her, "If I agree to a Girl's Night, will you be happy?"

"Maybe," Caroline cracked a smile, "When?"

"I don't know," she looked at her watch and sighed, "But I'll text you because have to go before I'm late for work."

Y/N went to get her cat, but Caroline grabbed her and said, "I'll take her until you're off work. She loves me."

Y/N rolled her eyes and agreed, waving goodbye to her two friends before heading back to the flower shop she'd been working at. "Love ya," she told Caroline quickly.

"Love you, too," Caroline replied.

Just as she said she would, she allowed Caroline a Girl's Night. It was her, Caroline, and Bonnie at the Salvatore's place while they were away.

They tried to convince her to sing something for them, but Y/N refused. She wasn't really in the mood to sing anything at the moment.

They were there until around two-thirty in the morning before returning home. Y/N greeted Cora, who had already been fed before she left, and went straight to bed, not even caring to change into bed clothes.

"Night, Core," she told her cat, laying down. Cora moved to sleep on her chest. Y/N rolled her eyes but succumbed to being Cora's new home.

She closed her eyes to sleep. It took an hour for her to finally get to sleep.

"Gave up so soon?"

Y/N opened her eyes and groaned when she found herself in the same place she was the first time she was visited by the witch.

"What the hell do you want now?" She sighed.

The witch looked at Y/N with a smile and a shrug, "Are you going to let fate take charge? Or will you let this beast continue to purge the world?"

Y/N rolled her eyes, crossing her arms and plopping down in a chair in the room. She slumped down, "Why do you speak in riddles? And, as far as I'm concerned, the Mikaelsons are doing just fine without me."

"Haha, if only that were true. But they fall into madness without you. You need to fix it," she told her plainly.

Y/N sighed. "Fate is fine. The sky hasn't fallen. Whatever you thought was going to happen, didn't."

The witch sat down across from her, leaning forward and looking Y/N in the eye, "Do you know who the beast is?"

She scoffed, "Niklaus, naturally." She rolled her eyes at the end.

"No, no, no, you are mistaken," said the witch, "Niklaus is not the beast you face. He is not a beast, at all."

"Have you ever met Klaus before?"

"I've met him," her tone was slightly firm, it was a little strange for her to hear, but she didn't push on.

Y/N answered, "Then you should know that's not correct."

"Niklaus is not the beast. You know this or you would not have fallen for him years ago." Her smile had left her face, but she still looked kind.

"Years ago. Not anymore," Y/N mumbled the last part. She didn't like to talk about it. At some point, it was true. She had fallen in love with Niklaus, but she didn't love him anymore. Not like she did.

"Perhaps because the one you know now is not Niklaus," the witch suggested.

"Who is he, then?"

"Take a guess."

"I don't like guessing games, witch," she complained.

"I do," her lip twitched into a smile, "Trust me, this one is not hard."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Y/N told her.

"You should know the difference between Niklaus and the beast. You point out the difference every time you speak to him." Her voice rose slightly.

Y/N thought for a moment, trying to catch on to her riddles. Maybe she was just slow, but she couldn't understand her.

The witch sighed and leaned back in her seat, setting her hand son the table between them. "What do you call him?" She asked.

"Klaus," Y/N said.

"Why?" She pushed.

"Because that's his name."

"Ah, ah, ah," she tutted, "His name is Niklaus but you call him by the name others gave him." She leaned forward again, her tone firm and an bit louder than before, "Why?"

"I don't know," Y/N stated, eyeing the witch with anger in her eyes. She didn't like the tone, she didn't like it.

"Yes, you do." She raised her voice, placing her fingertips on the table and pushing herself up to stand. She was now hovering over Y/N, force and volume in her voice as she began to yell, "Why? Why call him that?"

"No, I don't know," she replied. She fidgeted with her hands. She hated being yelled at. It reminded her of being in the field, when she was just a peasant girl serving her master. She hated it. She hated being yelled at.

The witch didn't care. She continued to yell, raising her voice at her, "Why don't you call him Niklaus?"

"Stop yelling at me!" Y/N exclaimed, yelling back at the witch as she leaned away.

"Tell me why you no longer call him Niklaus! I know that you understand what I mean and you will tell me!"

She snapped, standing and flipping the table out of the way. It crashed into the wall, splintering into pieces. Y/N yelled with fury in her eyes, "Because Niklaus Mikaelson was the man I once knew, the man I loved! He was the kind, sweet, caring man I met in the field. But he's a monster now, he's a beast. I loved Niklaus, but I hate who he is now."

"And who is he now?" She continued.

"He's just Klaus," she replied, a rogue tear slipping from her eye as she glared at the witch who was pushing her, "He's Klaus Mikaelson, the monster people learn to fear."

The witch didn't say anything, falling silent as she stared at Y/N. She slowly smiled. She'd gotten the answer she wanted.

Y/N realized what had just happened, what epiphany she had just come to. She calmed her breathing, which had picked up with her anger, and leaned back against a wall.

She sighed, "How do I stop him? I would never hurt him. No matter what he is."

"You won't hurt him," she told her, "You'll change him back. With your gift."

Y/N groaned loudly. "Again with the gift. What gift?! I don't understand you, witch!"

"Eudora."

"What?"

She spoke and shrugged it off, "My name is not 'witch', it's Eudora."

Y/N stared back at her. She was telling her, her name? Did she normally do that?

"Well," she shrugged, "it's not not like you told me that... Eudora."

"You never asked," she shrugged.

"I asked who you were when I first met you. That was my first question."

"Exactly," Eudora spoke, "Who I am and what my name is are two separate things. Who I am isn't important to you. You should have asked for my name."

Y/N rolled her eyes, "I can't believe I'm arguing with you about names."

"Then stop arguing with me and do something," she told her firmly, "Fate has not yet taken him. Change it now or change it never. Niklaus cannot be lost forever."

Just as quickly as she'd gotten fallen asleep, Y/N woke up suddenly. She gasped for breath, sitting up in a cold sweat and looking around. She groaned loudly and started Cora, "Damn it, Eudora! Give me a straight answer!"

Cora jumped out of the bed and darted out of the room and away from her. Y/N rolled her eyes and sighed, laying back down in the bed to get more sleep before she would have to get up in the morning.

She was so tired of fate meddling with her life.

#niklausmikaelson #niklaus mikaelson #niklaus x reader #niklaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus x reader #the originals #the originals fanfiction #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction #TVD #tvd fandom

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teenwolffan-with-nolife · 4 years

Text

The Witch and The Wolf Pt.13

Word Count: 1,763

Characters: Derek Hale, Isaac Lahey, Stiles Stilinski, Allison Argent, Reader, other characters mentioned

Pairings: Eventual Derek Hale x Witch!Reader

Warnings: angst, cliffhanger

A/N:.... this part is actual crap

Masterlist Series Masterlist

You stirred slightly, feeling movement from the other side of your bed as you opened your eyes, glancing at the clock. It was 3 in the morning. You turned, watching as Derek put his jacket on.

“Where are you going?” you asked softly.

“I’ll see you a little later, don’t worry about it,” he replied softly.

“Wait-”

“Bye.”

As you tried to speak, he grabbed the rest of his belongings before walking out of your apartment.

---

You laid on your side, slightly frustrated, feeling your chest aching, along with your body. Something was wrong, whether it was Derek or stress from Chris now knowing your secret. Possibly even your dad texting you, after all that time.

Derek began to ignore you, you never talked to Chris, only Allison. Any text or call you would send Derek wouldn’t go through. You were worried, feeling a pit in your stomach. You made a mistake that night and you would take it back if you could.

You sighed deeply, before pushing yourself up, grabbing some form of clothing that you could wear at school, along with a cup of coffee. You checked your phone once more, hoping to see a message from Derek. There wasn’t anything. You put your phone in your pocket, walking out of your apartment.

---

“Stiles, get up,” you put your hands on his shoulder, shaking him fiercely in an attempt to wake him up. It didn’t work.

“You’re dirty,” he laughed, sleep-talking.

You rolled your eyes, before noticing a small cup of water on the table next to you.

“Stiles, last chance to get up,” you muttered, getting no response.

“Okay then,” you poured the water on his face, as he shouted and jumped up.

“Good morning, Mr.Stilinski, how was your sleep?” you teased.

“You’re a horrible person,” he wiped his face before you handed him a napkin.

“Get up, we have to get to school,” you said.

“What? Oh, I’m not going to school. I’m staying here with Lydia,” he shrugged.

“Stiles,” you sighed.

“(Y/N), you don't understand. I love her,” he looked up at you.

“I know you do. But, Stiles, she didn't even know you existed until a few weeks ago. She’ll be here while you’re at school. And, your dad has his men just around the corner. She’ll be okay,” you put your hand on his shoulder, giving him a look.

“Fine, but I’m coming straight here after school,” he said.

“Okay, now let’s go. We’re gonna be late,” you wrapped your arm around his shoulder, heading out of the hospital.

“How come you haven’t hung out with Derek in some time?” Stiles asked, sitting in your car.

You tensed slightly, before frowning.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Like, these past few weeks, you’ve been hanging out with me or Scott, or Allison, and not with him. I was just curious,” he said.

“I haven't seen him since he became an alpha,” you sighed, thinking back.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know, I don’t really need to keep tabs on him at all times,” you shook your head before hearing your phone buzzing.

“Someone's texting you,” Stiles said, picking up your phone.

“It’s your dad,” you could hear the shocked tone in his voice.

“Again? Block that number,” you sighed.

“You’re texting your dad?” Stiles asked, putting your phone down.

“No, he’s texting me. Non-stop for weeks. Every time I block a number he texts me from another one,” you clenched your jaw slightly, trying not to focus on him.

“Why don’t you reply?” he asked.

“I’m not talking to him ever again. I don’t care what he has to say,” you continued looking ahead, driving.

“Why not? What happened between you and your dad anyway? You don’t talk about him,”

“Nothing.”

“Well, clearly something did, and-”

“Shut up and drop it,” your eyes glew purple as Stiles tensed, before you mentally scolded yourself, closing your eyes for a second.

“Sorry,” you tightened your grip on the steering wheel as Stiles gave you a look.

You ignored it, keeping all your focus on the road.

---

“(Y/N),” you heard Isaac’s voice from behind you. He approached you as you opened your locker before you tensed.

“Isaac! Oh my god what happened to your eye?” you gasped, running to him.

“It doesn't even hurt, I’m fine,” he gave you a small smile.

“What happened?” you asked, putting your hand on his shoulder to pull him down, examining his eye.

“I just had an accident. Really, I’m fine,” he explained. You could feel him holding back

“It doesn't look fine,” you said worriedly.

“I have to get to class,” he sighed, walking away.

You frowned, giving him a look before sighing. Isaac always showed up with bruises, some form of harm, but anytime you brought it up, he would make up an excuse to walk away. You wanted to know what was wrong, you wanted to help him, but he didn’t want you to.

---

“I wanted to apologize, about Kate, a-and,” Allison stuttered, standing in front of you. You stood across from her in the empty classroom.

“Hey, we talked about this already. You aren’t to blame here. Kate had a way of twisting things. Are you okay?” tears came to her eyes as she shook her head.

“It’s okay,” you wrapped your arms around her.

“Everything, I mean my dad, my mom, I don’t even know where to begin. M-My dad...” she let out her feelings between her cries.

“Hey, it’s gonna be okay. Your dad is… well, he’s him. He’ll come around sooner or later,” you said softly.

“If he’s a good person, why did he try to kill Scott?”

You sighed, before replying.

“Hunters have a different mindset, it's really complicated to explain, but,” you took a pause, not really sure what to say.

Allison began coming to you for everything, it made you feel happy. You were like her older sister and she was like your sister.

“My dad hates you too,” she took a deep breath.

“All the hunters that know are going to hate me now. I’m not like them, I'm not human. Your dad’s just doing what he thinks is right,” you leaned on the table opposite of her.

She nodded her head softly.

“Thanks, (Y/N),” she sniffled.

“Yeah, of course,” you gave her a small smile before holding her arm, walking out of the classroom with her.

---

Your head was busy in your thoughts, while you made your way through the hall, feeling someone hit you as you jumped slightly.

“Excuse me…” you started, before you tensed.

“Derek,” you whispered.

“(Y/N),” he replied.

“Where have you been? I haven’t seen you in so long,” you started.

“It’s complicated. I gotta go,” he said.

“Derek, stop. Why are you avoiding me? Why are you running away?” you stood in front of him, trying to stop him from walking away.

“I’m not, I’m just busy,” he sighed, pushing past you

“Derek, wait-,” you called, getting ignored by him.

You felt a tear rush to your eyes before you quickly wiped it away.

Fuck

You sniffled, before making your way to your next class.

---

“Isaac, what’s going on? You’ve been acting differently all day,” you put your hand on his shoulder as he sighed.

“Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind,” he said softly.

“Like what?” you asked.

“Well… if I had the option to change myself, should I do it?” he asked.

“What do you mean change yourself?” you asked.

“Like, I don’t know, change things about myself,” he shrugged.

“Like what?” you asked again.

“I don’t know, it’s complicated,” he said softly.

“Well, I’d say no. I like you just the way you are,” you gave him a small smile.

“Thanks,” he returned your smile.

“Will you tell me how you got your black eye?” you asked him softly.

“I already told you,” he rolled his eyes.

“Isaac, I know you’re lying. You’re terrible at lying,” you leaned on the table.

“I told you. Please, just leave it, (Y/N), I have to go,” Isaac grabbed his bag, walking away.

---

You sat in the Hale house, waiting for Derek to arrive. You decided it was time to confront him.

You looked around, thinking back to memories.

You remembered when you and Cora scribbled all over the walls, smiling softly to yourself. You remembered when times were simpler when your powers weren’t failing you. When you didn’t even know you had powers. Before everything happened with the fire, with Kate, with your dad. Now the house was mostly gone, destroyed years ago. Sometimes, when you needed time away from everyone, you would come here. You always felt safe here, always felt at home.

“(Y/N),” you heard Derek’s shocked voice as he entered the house.

“Cincinno,” you said softly, locking all exits to the house.

Derek tried to push the door open.

“Open the door,” he turned to you.

“After you tell me why you’re avoiding me,” you said.

“I’m not avoiding you-” he started.

“Yes, you are! I haven’t seen you in so long, Derek. You don’t reply to my texts, you don’t answer my calls. You’re avoiding me,” you exclaimed.

“It’s complicated-” he said.

“It’s not! Just tell me why. That’s all I’m asking,” you said softly.

He stayed silent, trying to open the doors again. He almost got them open, as you took a breath, remembering your powers failing. You knew he could probably overpower you soon. You swallowed your nerves, gathering your strength to speak.

“Do you regret it?” you asked softly.

He avoided your gaze, keeping his back to you and tears rushed to your eyes.

“Do you regret sleeping with me? Is that why you’re avoiding me?”

“You could’ve just told me that,” you sniffled softly.

“(Y/N)...” he started.

You exhaled, releasing your spell as the door open. Derek walked to you, while you looked away from him.

“Listen to me for a minute,” he put his hand on your shoulder.

“Sorry,” you pushed his hand off of you, before walking away.

---

You looked down at your feet, as you walked home, ignoring all the texts and calls from Stiles, Isaac, Scott, Allison, Derek, and your dad.

Just take a breath, (Y/N) you told yourself, walking to your apartment, seeing the door open.

You groaned.

“Stiles, if you’re just gonna break into my apartment, I should just leave the door open,” you sighed, walking in and closing your door.

You turned around, as you jumped, your eyes going wide.

“Dad?”

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