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walkerismychoice · 3 years

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Queen of My Heart - Chapter 38 (The End!)

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Drake X MC, Liam X Olivia, Hana X OC Lydia

Rating: PG-13

Summary: The show comes to and end, and Riley contemplates her future

Author’s Note: I can’t believe I’ve finally brought this series to an end. There was quite a long time I thought I may never finish. I want to thank all the readers and friends who’ve read and encouraged me along the way. I want to especially thank @debramcg1106 as of late for helping me work through the ending and pushing me to finish it out. This is the technical end of the story, but I do have an epilogue planned as well.

Tag List: @khakie4 @dreadpirateemma @ritachacha @blackcoffee85 @choices-fanatic @boneandfur @butindeed @simplyaiden-blog @bobasheebaby @traeumerinsworld @theroyalweisme @umccall71 @lizeboredom @debramcg1106 @enmchoices @withice @viktoriapetit @mfackenthal @drakesfiance @drakelover78 @speedyoperarascalparty @silviasutton1989 @krisnicjack @devineinterventions2 @choiceswreckedme @notoriouscs @blackcatkita @hamalu @akrenich @drakewalkerfantasy @jamielea81 @andy-loves-corgis @jlouise88 @jovialyouthmusic @sleepwalkingelite @i-miss-trr @dragonball-luver @gkittylove99 @lovingchoices14

Word Count: 2230

Queen of My Heart Chapter Index

Due to everything that transpired, filming of the finale was delayed two weeks. Riley was grateful for the time and hardly left Drake’s side during his recovery. He was sent back to the palace after a couple days, and Riley had to convince him that whiskey was not a suitable replacement for the antibiotics and pain medication the doctor prescribed. Reluctantly he obliged. He worked with physical therapy, and by the end of those two weeks, you’d have hardly known he’d been injured at all.

Olivia was salty her ball had been ruined, but the production staff made up for it, giving her and Liam an overnight filmed at Olivia’s northern Lythikos retreat. She was still worried the country would favor Riley with Liam, but Kat assured Olivia between her heroic actions, personal growth, and some favorable editing, it would be hard for most people not to be on her side.

As for Madeleine, it was still unclear if she would be charged criminally or would be incompetent to stand trial due to her mental health, but either way, she wouldn’t be a danger to anyone for quite some time. It was questionable if Jo’s involvement in the whole thing broke any laws. She wasn’t Cordonian, so she couldn’t be charged with treason for skirting security and endangering the life of the crown prince, but authorities were looking to see if there was anything they could make stick. At the very least she was blacklisted and would never work in television again.

So finally, on a calm, clear, day, there was only one obstacle left. Riley met with Liam, adorned in a stunning, body-hugging, Swarovski crystal filled dress, to put on the performance of a lifetime and act as if he’d shattered her heart. Of course, it wasn’t that easy. There were a couple of takes where neither of them could keep a straight face followed few that were unbelievably dramatic, but ultimately Riley was able to tap into her vulnerability and the tragedy she had faced to bring genuine emotion and tears to light. It didn’t matter that it was unrelated to what was happening in the scene, it was real. Kat said it was perfect, and Liam was free to propose to Olivia.

-----

Now that all is said and done, who will Liam choose to be his future Queen? Will it be the fierce Duchess Olivia, or the plucky newcomer Riley? Stay tuned for the finale of Queen of My Heart.”

Maxwell draped his arm around Riley’s shoulder. “What do you think, sis? How did I do on my television debut.”

Maxwell, Bertrand, Savannah, Hannah, Lydia, Liam, Olivia, Riley, and Drake were all huddled in the palace screening room to watch the finale as it aired.

Just about anyone would have been an improvement over Chad,” Riley teased, ”but the squid suit was definitely a nice touch. Your delivery was great, but did you have to call me plucky?”

“You know I had to play it cool,” Maxwell explained. “Plucky is good, but not over the top. Don’t want anyone thinking I’m playing favorites because you’re my sister.”

Riley rolled her eyes. “The suggested ‘noble newcomer’ would have been sufficient.”

“It was a stylistic choice.” Maxwell made a gesture with his hand indicating a mock hair flip.

"Ugh, enough about Maxwell," Olivia groaned. "I'm ready to get to the good part. Can we just fast-forward through any mushy Liam and Riley stuff? Nobody needs to see that."

"I second that." Drake raised his hand in rare agreement with Olivia.

Liam just shook his head. "I know nobody watches live network television anymore, so you must have forgotten how this works. There's no fast-forwarding. Not even through commercials."

"That's fine with me." Lydia chimed in. "More time for making out."

"Lydia!" Hannah's cheeks turned a deep shade of pink.

Lydia pecked her on the lips. "Sorry babe. You're just too damn cute when you blush."

Hannah remained quiet but her smile gave her away. Lydia, with her outgoing, bold, and slightly unpredictable personality, was the perfect complement to Hannah being so shy, proper, and focused. They brought out the best in each other, and the difference in Hannah between when Riley met her until now was night and day.

The friends watched the show and Riley only cringed at herself in a few places, which was much less than she thought she would. Things did get a bit awkward during the montage of kissing scenes between Riley and Liam, and Maxwell and Bertrand made a show of covering their eyes for the steamier parts. They all laughed inappropriately when Liam dumped Riley since they knew it wasn't real. And then finally when Liam proposed to Olivia, everyone cheered.

Riley thought of her friends and family at home. She pictured aunt Susan, Sarah, and Daniel all rooting for her and how disappointed they must have been that she "lost." She couldn't wait to tell them, however, she hadn't lost at all.

"Wow, Livvy." Drake quipped, bringing Riley out of her deep thoughts. "How much did you have to pay them to give you such a flattering edit?"

Olivia threw a pillow at his head which he deftly dodged. "Fuck off, Walker. You were so desperate to get on the show, you leapt in front of a bullet."

"Now, now children." Liam said in a mock scolding tone. "Let's all play nice."

"Yes, father," Drake and Olivia replied in unison, causing laughter to erupt around the room.

Riley still didn't have all the answers about what her future would hold, but she had found her people. Where she was in that moment was where she needed to be.

Savannah yawned. "It's getting late. We should probably go and relieve the sitter." Riley hasn't wanted to pry into Savannah and Bertrand's relationship, but they were working together to parent Bartie and things seemed to be falling into place for them.

"Yes, yes." Bertrand agreed. "Time is money!"

"Oh my god, Bertrand." Savannah rolled her eyes. "Life isn't all about money."

"She’s right." Maxwell propped his arm on Savannah's shoulder. "Besides, now that the show is over, we'll be getting some money, and Kat said if viewers responded well to me, they would probably offer to extend my contract in the franchise. By the looks of these tweets, I'm going to be rolling in dough. 'That Maxwell guy is so hot...ridiculously funny...just what the show needed.' Should I read more?

"Please no." Bertrand groaned. "We can talk finances later. Goodnight, all."

As the rest of the crowd dwindled, Liam asked Drake and Riley to stay behind. He kissed Olivia and promised to join her when the conversation was through.

"So what's up?" Drake got right to the point once only the three of them remained.

Liam cleared his throat. "Well as you know, I highly value your loyalty to the crown."

"Heh." Drake let out a terse laugh. "I don't really give a fuck about the crown, but I do care about you."

"In any case, you take your job very seriously and I could see you as head of the guard one day, once Bastien retires." Liam paused before continuing. "However, I do have another proposition for you."

Drake raised an eyebrow skeptically. "Go on."

"How would you like to be the head of Valtoria?" Liam asked expectantly.

Drake' eyes narrowed in contemplation. "I thought Valtoria was unoccupied. Is there a new Duke or Duchess there now that needs a security detail?"

"No, no." Liam laughed. "Well, there could be. That's what I'm trying to ask you. I would like to give Valtoria to you."

"No fucking way. You have to be kidding me. Did you sign up for some royal version of a prank show now?" Drake scanned the room as if searching for hidden cameras.

"I'm serious, Drake. I think you would make a fantastic duke."

Drake scoffed. "I'm a commoner who despises most nobles and everything the monarchy stands for."

"That's exactly why you'd be perfect for the role." Liam explained. "Cordonia needs a fresh perspective - someone who can resonate with the people the monarchy serves. Just think, you could have a real voice in creating change. I don't want to rule like my father has and his father before. I want the people to have the representation they deserve, and you are a key to that."

Drake sighed deeply. "I don't know Li. Even if I could do this - if I wanted to - what makes me worthy? What's everyone going to say when they find out you gave an average dude the title of Duke just because he's your best friend?"

"I'll tell them that Drake Walker is anything but average. He's smart, capable, and fiercely loyal. He's saved my life more times than I count and has more integrity than anyone I know. Public policy can be learned, but these qualities cannot be taught. He may not be noble by blood, but he is my family, and he belongs."

'Wow, Liam." Drake ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know what to say."

"You're quiet over there." Liam directed at Riley. "What do you think?"

"Me?!" Riley had been as shocked by this as Drake, and she didn't know what to think. This was about Drake, not her. Did her opinion really matter? "I, uh.... think this is really Drake's decision."

Drake took Riley's hands in his. "But it's yours too. I mean, if we are going to be together..."

"Oh, well..." How was Riley supposed to help Drake decide such a life altering thing when she didn't even have her own life sorted out?

Drake didn't leave her fumbling for too long. "Liam, I really don't know if either of use is equipped to answer this question right now. It's a very generous offer, and the fact that I'm not totally shutting you down for suggesting such a ridiculous thing as me being a Duke should tell you I'm genuinely willing to entertain the idea."

Liam chuckled. "I completely understand. This life is new to both of you in different ways, and to navigate a new relationship on top of all that is a lot to ask. I'm in no hurry to fill the vacancy. Consider it an open-ended invitation. I trust that you'll be ready to make your decision long before the public pressures me into making a new appointment."

"Thanks, Liam." Drake gave him hug and patted him on the back. "Now get back to your fiancé before she blames me for keeping you too long."

-----

Back in her palace guestroom, Riley nestled into Drake, her head resting on his chest. "It's been quite a night, huh?

"You could say that again." Drake pulled her tighter against him.

"I kind of feel like we're moving so fast, we're skipping steps - like we're being asked to decide the rest of our lives before we even know what we want to do tomorrow." Riley knew nobody was outright asking for an immediate decision, but she felt the weight of everyone's expectations. Whether she stayed in Cordonia or went back home, she'd probably be disappointing someone.

"Who says we have to?" Drake asked. "You heard Liam. He doesn't need an answer right away. I Know you haven't decided what you want, and I sure as hell don't know what I'm going to do yet. Why don't we take some time together to just...be. Do normal couple things and see where the relationship takes us."

"Normal couple things... I mean I don't know how I can go back to my normal peasant life after attending weekly balls dressed in couture gowns," Riley teased, "but I think I could make that sacrifice for you, my commoner boyfriend."

"Hey, watch who you are calling commoner." Drake pinned Riley down and tickled her sides until she begged him to stop, and he collapsed beside her again. "I just may outrank you soon if I so choose."

Riley laced her fingers through Drake's. "It's crazy to think how our lives have changed in a few short months. I don't think I could have made it through all of this without you, and not just because you kept literally saving my life."

"You may not have taken a bullet for me, but you've saved me too. For once in my life, I see multiple paths with meaning and purpose. I've seen so much of myself reflected in you, but it id the version of me I want to be, not the one I was. You've shown me trials and hardships don't have to make you bitter, and that you don't have to fit the cookie cutter mold to find your place here... Oh, God, listen to me. What have you done to me Bennett?" Drake shuddered in mock disgust.

Riley softly pressed her lips to his and pulled back with a smirk. "I don't think I can take all the credit, or the blame as you might put it. But enough talk about the future. You said we should focus on the now, and right now all I need is you."

"Well then, your wish is my command." Drake pulled Riley tight to him and then they lost themselves in each other, completely unencumbered by any decisions about their future. Those could wait for another day.

#playchoices fanfic #drake x mc #drake walker #the royal romance #choices trr #qomh #my fic

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usagi-mitsu · 4 years

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This is something I never thought I would ever write – or would have even considered writing down even a few hours ago. But I feel like this needs to be addressed and I hope you all can forgive me for venting my feelings – about art, the reader/author relationship, art-theft, and the following consequence: deleted art.

And… this is also some kind of diary entry for me, to never forget.

About three to four hours ago, an artist who I truly admire, closed their account on Wattpad. Wattpad is not my personally preferred platform, simply because I’m not sure it’s ok for them to monetize an authors content the way they do – and that is a topic for a whole different discussion. But they had pulled their stuff from fanfiction.net a few years prior and (if it even was their account) even from AO3.

The last message they posted on Wattpad reads as follows:

“DUE TO PEOPLE CONSTANTLY TRYING TO STEAL MY FICS AND CLAIM THEM AS THEIR OWN, I HAVE REMOVED THEM ALL FROM THIS PLATFORM. VERY SORRY TO THOSE WHO HAVE READ AND ENJOYED THEM BUT ALREADY MULTIPLE TIMES MY WRITING HAS BEEN STOLEN AND IM DONE.”

The author I’m talking about was called “Lusterrdust” on Wattpad and wrote the very popular Skyrim Romance Mod fanfiction about their Dragonborn Niamh and the mods main character Bishop. Their first story “Ranger of the Woods” covered the whole of the mod in about 52-53 chapters and told it beautifully: From when Niamh and Bishop first met in Riverwood (?), to them fighting side by side, him leaving her to go fight Alduin alone, them reuniting a few months later, the journey to Solstheim, the battle with Miraak and finally a small wedding far away from the public. The second story was called “Saviour of Tamriel” and was set about four years after the first one, with Niamh yearning to be a mother, while the Aldmeri Dominion was planning on slowly expanding it’s … well … dominion across the continent, with Niamh and the High King Ulfric receiving death threats, her actually getting pregnant and Bishop trying to keep his family as safe as possible. A meeting with the emperor Titus Mede was on the way and I think Niamh and Bishop were about to drop their baby boy Julian off with the greybeards to keep him safe, since the Dominion had already put a hefty price on the not even three month old infant.

The reason for why I write this, why this is affecting me like this, is that Lusterrdust was the first author I ever interacted with: I wrote comments when I read the story and I left my impressions and came back to read it again and again. I even dropped theories in the comments, even though I knew the story was not yet one and when I left my ideas and theories at the end of one of the last chapters, they even asked me, if they could use my idea. And my comments were not there anymore, since I offered them to delete them – just so that nobody else would be spoiled by my … inspirational rants at the end of each chapter. (Which is why I assume Niamh and Bishop were in Ivarstead at the end of the last chapter – it was my suggestion to place the baby with the Greybeards. Who better to look after a baby, than a bunch of super powerful elderly men and an elder dragon..?

But aside from having a baby at the worst possible time, aside from Niamh and Bishop still trying to learn how to communicate with her being the Dragonborn and therefore a person of public and political interest, aside from a potential alliance with Titus Mede and a hopefully good ending for them all.. there was so much more: There was the sub-plot with Breezehome being remodelled to be an orphanage, Niamhs brother having been brainwashed by the dark brotherhood, Lydia and Farkas having a third baby, Vilkas being with a Mere (elven woman), the implication of Ulfric slowly growing old and openly admitting to wanting Niamh to be his High Queen …

There was so much yet to explore.

But the author stopped updating in 2018, when their grandfather died. Which was ok. And everything was still ok to this day. At least for me: Even though they did not publish any new content, I still had all those many chapters to read again and again in my own time, whenever I got to it.

And it inspired me. It inspired me so much, that I went ahead and dove head first into Elder Scrolls Lore. A few years back, I could name all the Daedric Princes (Sanguine is the god of tits and wine – change my mind) and tell you which of Tamriels nine gods ruled over which dominion and why the fight between the Elves of Summerset and the other peoples of Tamriel was utter religious bullshit.

It even inspired me to think about my own Dragonborn, a nord woman called Kahira van Rae, and what she would do in a situation like Niamhs. A train of thoughts, that lead to me having RP sessions with my friends via WhatsApp and hour long talks about the politics of fictional lands. It even made me call my new character in the next fandom I’d dive into “Shia Tamriel”. In honour of a story and fandom I had come to love deeply.

And while it has been some time since I last checked in with these stories, I never forgot them. I did keep on coming back, enjoying them again and again. And every time I read them, I discovered something new.

These two stories were important to me.

The author was important to me.

And now, all of those things are gone, because someone apparently copied their work and posted them as their own.

And that’s what really gets me.

Some random person out there on the internet thought it was ok, to simply copy-paste another persons hard work and put their name on it.

And let me put this as simply as possible:

THAT IS NOT OK! NOT IN ANY WAY!

Because of your selfishness, a few hundred people will never get to know the end of Niamhs story.

Because of your selfishness, a few hundred people will never get to reread the story.

Because of your selfishness, an author was hurt and annoyed so badly they decided to pull all their content.

You should be ashamed.

You stole someone’s precious art that they decided to share with the world and let me be clear – just because they shared their art, you are not allowed to simply make it your own!

Copyright is an iffy topic in fandom culture, with different countries having different rules and different companies going after fan works in highly differing intensities. But it should be common curtesy to not simply steal another persons art! Be it literal artworks as in pictures or edited videos or cosplay ideas or written art like fanfiction!

If something inspires you, that’s great! But you always ask consent before doing anything with the art! And if asking consent is an entirely new concept to you, I’d like to ask you kindly to go educate yourself on it. It will not only pop up in fandom culture.

To conclude this…

I’m just sad at this point. I remembered the story two nights ago and I jumped right back into it at some random point and read it. I even put up with Wattpads shenanigans like forcing me to log in to keep on reading or requiring me to download the app so that they can show me stupid 30 second long ads in between reading.

I know that the world is not ending because of this.

I am well aware of the fact, that it was just a story.

And I truly support the authors decision.

But until they pulled all the content, until they deleted their account, I had always hoped to maybe one day read more about Niamh and Bishop. And Bragor and Julian. About their Ulfric and Ralof, Lydia and Farkas and their children. I had hopes to discover their Titus Mede and how they were going to resolve the conflict between Skyrim, the empire and the Dominion

But now I cannot even go back and reread the sassy exchanges between Casavir and Bishop. I will never again be able to experience Bishops anguish when Niamh receives an almost mortal wound. I’ll never again know the inner thoughts of the Dragonborn, who thought she was barren, getting told that she is pregnant.

I think the author did the right thing. It saddens me nonetheless.

So let me end this here with one last plea to everyone in every fandom out there:

Do not steal art.

Thank you for reading.

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spitefulinamillionways · 4 years

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bj and lyds go trick or treating oneshot idk

hey so this is (one of) the drafts i was talking about before just i edited it a bit to fix any mistakes as i wrote this at like 2am oops

let me know if you want more

——

Lydia had always loved Halloween. It was pretty obvious, judging her character. Charles was never fully on board with it, seeing it as a waste of money and time, but as long as Lydia was happy, he didn’t really mind. Delia had also offered to help make the costume, so that saved a bit of money for him, too. Betelgeuse was trusted to keep Lydia safe during Halloween, which was a terrible choice to everyone, though he had to promise that he wouldn’t hurt Lydia or anyone around him. Betelgeuse wouldn’t have to hide himself to make sure nobody knew there was a literal demon walking around anyway as they’d either think it’s just a costume or they’d barely notice because of how dark it’d be.

“So, what do you think?” Lydia stood infront of the mirror, looking at Betelgeuse’s reflection. He looked up from staring into space and he stood up, putting a hand on his heart.

“I’m so proud..” He sobbed, slightly over exaggeratedly. Lydia laughed and sat down on the chair near the mirror, her smile quickly fading as she noticed he still hadn’t put on a costume.

“What’re you doing? Quick, we’re leaving soon!”

Betelgeuse looked at her, confused, for a moment. He then looked down and realised, rushing into his own room (the old storage closet) in the attic to put on his own costume, which he had made with Barbara a couple days before. It was probably the funnest thing he’d ever done with her, but he isn’t telling anyone that. He threw it on and messed his hair up even more than it already was, by shaking his head rapidly. He heard a knock at the door, presumably from Lydia.

“Wait a second!” He shouted, slapping on some fake blood near his mouth. He was dressing up as a vampire, and Lydia as a witch. They’ve been waiting for Halloween since Betelgeuse got resummoned and he got used to the place.

“Come ON!” She whined from the other side of the door, kicking it. Betelgeuse eventually slammed the door open, causing Lydia to stumble backwards. He walked past her and mocked her ‘come on’. He leaned against the wall near the front door and looked at his wrist, as if checking a non existent watch.

“Took you long enough.” He grinned, he liked winding her up for no reason. She just gave him an angry look and opened the door, pushing him outside. He grabbed her arm and pulled her outside as he was falling. They both ended up on the floor laughing, even though things weren’t too funny.

“Hey!” A voice shouted from outside the door, though then revealing itself to be Barbara, “Come back inside and put on a coat!”

Betelgeuse snickered at her, shouting a bit too loudly, “Yeah, LYDIA! PUT YOUR DAMN COAT ON!”

She tried shushing him but a few people were already staring at them, so she rushed inside and put on a coat, storming back outside down the porch. Betelgeuse followed and looked around, trying to find the perfect house to knock at first. He was never an expert at it as he never got to go out trick or treating when he was younger, this was even his first time, because of his mom, even though he had told Lydia that he’d gone out many times before to him seem cooler than he really was. He was only used to scaring people from inside the house, not outside, anyway. Lydia pointed to big house with a bowl of candy infront of it, with a sign saying ‘Take one’ on it.

“Hah! As if.” She started scooping handfuls of the candy into her bag, Betelgeuse doing the same.

“This Halloween stuff is really fun! We should do this more often!” Betelgeuse smiled at Lydia, running away from the bowl with her, afraid of getting caught.

“Well, duh! Halloween happens every year! You told me you’ve done this countless of times.”

“I- Yeah, of course I have. It’s just that I- Yeah, yeah, I do Halloween every year!” He lied, laughing nervously. Lydia looked suspicious but just laughed it off and went to the next house.

“Remember, you can’t scare people when trick or treating, okay? No snakes or lizards or spiders or anything like that. Okay?”

Betelgeuse sighed, “Fine, I guess..” He knocked on the door, him and Lydia having to refrain from laughing as the woman at the door looked just like your typical Karen they always made fun of. “Trick or treat!”

“Those are some very scary costumes you’ve got there! But, aren’t you too old to be trick or treating?” The woman pointed at Betelgeuse.

Betelgeuse stared at her for a moment.

“No.” He took two handfuls of candy and ran off with Lydia, laughing.

“Hey! Come back here, you—” They were already gone before the woman could finish her sentence. The two were still running even after she wasn’t in sight anymore.

“Betel- Beej! Why- Why did you- Why did you do that?!” She was out of breath but trying to laugh at the same time, which didn’t work out too well. Betelgeuse wasn’t able to answer as he was almost on the floor in laughter. Lydia managed to calm herself down and attempted to pick him back up, failing miserably.

“Okay, okay, I’m cool, I’m fine,” He slowly stood up and the two stared at eachother for a moment before bursting back into laughter, “I can’t believe I- I fucking did that!”

The two slowly started walking to the next house and knocked on the door, yelling ‘trick or treat!’ way louder than they should’ve, causing them both to snicker. They had gone through a couple houses and each of them had ended in them running away and when the time for them to come home, 10pm, had arrived, they walked as slowly as possible to enjoy the last moments of their favourite time of the year, with spooky carved pumpkins and bright, neon green and orange lights covering (almost) every home. Once arriving back at the house, Beej practically fell onto his bed, falling asleep instantly. Barbara tucked Lydia into bed once she (extremely quickly) got changed into her pyjamas, although she insisted she wasn’t a small child anymore and that she was, in fact, 15. Barbara kissed her goodnight anyway, and smiled at her before leaving.

The next morning, Betelgeuse woke Lydia up to remind her of everything had happened the last night, and to her horror, he was still wearing the costume.

“Eh, I can’t be bothered to take it off.”

“I- fair enough,” Lydia sighed.

“We’re doing it again next year, right?”

“Of course we are.”

#IF ANY OF YOU BEETLEBABES EVEN BREATHE IN THIS POSTS DIRECTION I SWEAR I WILL DELETE YOUR TOES #beetlejuice #beetlejuice headcanon #beetlejuice headcanons #beetlejuice the musical #bjtm #beetlejuicebway #beetlejuice incorrect quotes #beetlejuice fanfic #beetlelands #goldenrat

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creativeskullcreations · 4 years

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HTaHHQ Episode 1: First Meetings(part 2)

Okay, so this was originally gonna be a two part thing, but part two ran long so now it's gonna be a three parter! Which is fine, since each "episode" is gonna be it's own little fic anyways, though it does mean a little more time before I can work on Outside again. Shouldn't take too long though, as part three is already written out and just needs edited.

Stacy was vaguely aware that Lydia and Riley could turn their attention to her any moment, but she remained frozen. She stared, with wide eyes, at the space where Riley's puppeteer should've been. Rather than a human, like there should've been, there was instead a strange, wheeled, metal stand. Between the wheels was a joint of some sort, since the stand was tilted forward as Riley leaned over the counter

'WHAT THE SHIT?!' Stacy stared silently, hand resting on the fallen beaker as her heart pounded in her ears. 'Are all of them like this?! Was Mortimer?!' She swallowed thickly. 'What was really on that paper he wanted me to sign?!'

The stand started to tilt back, and Stacy quickly stood up, beaker in hand. Without a word she put it back in place and quickly left the room, shoving her hands into her shorts pockets to keep them from shaking.

Luckily, nobody seemed to have noticed, as they simply restarted the scene without saying anything to her about anything. Taking advantage, she rushed to the bathroom, locking herself in one of the stalls.

'-shitshitshitshitshit-' Was the current commentary going through her head at the moment as she paced in the small space. Her hands covered her mouth to keep the sobs in as tears streamed down her face and she tried to will herself to stop crying. 'I can't! I can't stay here! Oh god...' She sniffed, rubbing at her eyes and sitting on the closed toilet lid. 'I want to go home...'

"Hey! Hey, Human!" Stacy's head snapped up just in time for something to fall on her face. She flinched and it slid off, landing on her lap and giving her a good look at it. It looked like a rather large hand puppet, like the ones given to the guest children at the end of filming. Only this one was moving on it's own, like Riley and, possibly, the others.

"Uh..." Was all Stacy could think of to say. It had snapped her out of... whatever that was, but this was yet another Puppet. Granted, it was certainly more adorable than the others, but still...

"Why are you in here? Shouldn't you be out there, doing Human stuff?" It -she, she had a female voice- asked, "standing" up in her lap. When she started to tip over, Stacy reached out a hand to help keep her steady.

'I felt like I was literally going to die because I discovered you guys have no puppeteers.' Yeah, no. She wasn't going to answer with that. "Well, this is the bathroom, so..."

"Yeah, but you aren't doing bathroom stuff. You're just crying." The Puppet dismissed, and Stacy felt vaguely offended at being called out so bluntly. "Why were you crying, anyways?"

"No reason..." 'That I will ever tell you or anyone ever.' She rubbed at her eyes, trying to get rid of the tears. "Where did you even come from, anyways?"

"The vents." She pointed up, and Stacy looked to see an open vent right above her. She would've said something about it, namely how creepy that was, when the Puppet spoke up again. "Anyways, my name's Scout! What about you?"

"Uh, Stacy. Stacy Al-Stein! Stacy Stein..." She looked back down at Scout. "What were you even doing up there?"

"Escaping, duh!" She then covered her mouth, looking almost sheepish. "Uh, please don't tell anyone, though. I'm not actually supposed to be out here right now."

"Don't worry. Nobody will hear about it from me." The girl promised. 'Not that anyone would even believe me, anyways...'

"Awesome!" The Puppet gave a open-mouthed grin that, in Stacy's opinion, killed any cuteness she had. "I'd still better go, though. Just, like, close your eyes or something."

Stacy did as asked, and felt the light weight vanish. She looked up in time to see the Puppet disappear from sight. '... That was really weird. I kinda hope I see her again before I leave, though...'

Feeling somewhat better, thought not really knowing why, the girl finished up and left the bathroom. Somehow, she felt confident enough to try and finish out the day. And, with any luck, she could convince Mary not to make her come back ever again.

Moving quickly, she managed to find Lydia again. To her relief, nobody seemed to have even noticed she was missing. Thus, she was able to smoothly rejoin Lydia as she led the kids over to the next segment.

"Ah, there you are Stacy!" She was greeted cheerfully. "We're just setting up for the next next segment. Then we've got Daisy's bit, and then it'll be time for lunch."

"Okay..." Stacy helped get the kids in place at the many different easels, making sure everyone had their markers and pads of paper. She paused briefly, staring when she saw Nick Nack helping a girl set up her paper. He was leaning over the table, showing her the proper way to put her pad on the easel. It was almost sweet, watching the usually stuck up Puppet help a kid out.

But knowing what she did now, Stacy found it pretty creepy.

But she ignored it. She helped Lydia make sure everyone had what they needed, and then moved off set so the cameras could get rolling. But even though she wasn't on set, she kept as close an eye as she could on the Puppet without being obvious. Danny was around somewhere, and like hell would she let these things get him.

The segment went as they normally did. The kids drew something and Nick Nack sang some stupid little song about being creative or something. It made Stacy scoff internally. 'I could write a much better song than that. I thought Nick was supposed to have standards.'

"Hey, kid." Lydia leaned in, trying not to be caught by the mic. "Head on over to the kitchen set and help Daisy get set up." Stacy gave her a horrified look, but it was misinterpreted. "Look, I know you're supposed to stick close to me, but she always needs the extra help. So if you could give her that today, I'll make sure she saves some pie for you, okay?"

'It's not like I have much of a choice, do I?!' The girl nodded mutely, and quietly started to sneak over to the proper set. She paused when she reached the edge, the angle allowing her to watch Daisy without being seen herself.

So far, it didn't seem the Puppet was doing anything sinister. She was just "pacing" back and forth behind her counter, setting out ingredients for whatever she would be baking on the segment. Most likely it would be pie, but from what Stacy knew she did occasionally make cake, and at one point she made donuts. She was also humming the theme song as she worked, which made her seem just a little bit more... human. At the very least, it gave Stacy enough courage to actually approach, making sure to make a bit of noise as she did so.

"Oh!" The Puppet jumped as the girl kicked a pen someone had left on the floor, turning to face her. "Well hey there Stacy! I didn't expect to see you here yet."

"Uh, Lydia said that you, y'know, might need help getting set up before all the kids showed up." She couldn't quite keep her voice from shaking, and prayed that it wasn't too obvious. Luckily, the southern belle didn't seem to notice, though Stacy wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

"Well shoot, I sure could. Some of these assistants just put my things far too high on the shelves." She pulled a pad of paper and pen from her apron and scribbled out a quick list. "If you could just get me these out of the storage closet, I'd be ever so grateful." She handed over the list,, which Stacy took with some hesitation. "The closet is right over there, sugar. Shouldn't be too hard to find it."

"Yeah." She said, but Daisy had already moved on, disappearing from sight as she ducked under the counter. It left the girl feeling very much like character from a video-game. Still, she shook it off and went over to the closet, finding it easily as it said Kitchen Storage on the door.

Entering with only a brief hesitation, she found the entire small room completely unorganized. "Jesus Christ! Did a hurricane come in through here?!" She glanced between the list and the mess piled around her with a heavy sigh. Even though there were only three items on it, she felt her heart sink as she looked around the room. "This is gonna take forever..."

"Stacy!" Came a cry from above, followed by something soft landing on her head. The girl gave a stifled scream as the Hand Puppet from before slid off her head onto a box in front of her.

"Scout?!" She struggled to keep her voice low. "What the hell?!"

"Are you getting stuff for Mom?" The Puppet asked, "hopping" from the box she was on to a lower one.

'... Mom?' Stacy's mind went blank for a moment, trying to figure out the logistics. "Uh..."

"Cause I know where everything is in here." She climbed up onto a set of boxes set up like stairs, ending up at almost eye level with the teen. "Sometimes Bonzai likes to hide stuff, but I always know how to find it. Just tell me what you need!"

"Uh, okay!" Stacy perked up, not one to ignore a miracle when it happened. She looked over the list again to make sure she got it right. "Okay.. First thing she needs is a hand mixer."

"Over there!" Scout pointed to a shelf and Stacy made her way over. Right there, underneath a box meant for a set of mixing bowls was the mixer. She picked it up, then looked at the list again.

"She also needs some measuring spoons, and some sort of special rolling pin, I think." Stacy scratched her head, confused, but Scout nodded.

"I know what you mean! The spoons are in here, and the rolling pin is way up there." Stacy could feel her hopes shatter once again as she looked up at the tall shelf the Puppet pointed to. "But don't worry, I can get it for you. You grab the box of spoons!"

"But-" Stacy looked back, only to find Scout had vanished. "Okay, then." She picked up the box and put the mixer in it. After a moment, she also dropped the list in too, in case Daisy needed to double check.

"Look out!" Stacy caught the falling objects in the box as well, said objects being Scout and the rolling pin. "Awesome catch! Totally saved my life there." She climbed out of the box, and the girl watched in concern as she dropped to the floor.

"Uh, don't you want to, I dunno, come with?" Stacy asked as the Puppet crawled away behind some boxes.

"Nah, I got stuff to do, vents to map out." She answered flippantly as she disappeared from sight. "I'll see you later, though!" Stacy looked behind the box, but couldn't see the Puppet despite there being nowhere she could go.

"Huh..." She chose to ignore that for now and left the closet, not sure if she was leaving or entering the Twilight Zone. She went back over to where Daisy was, hefting the box up onto the counter. "Um, here you go. This is everything you needed, right?" She backed away quickly as Daisy sped over to where she was, rifling through the box.

"Yep, sure is sugar!" She had a beaming smile on her face, but it just made Stacy uncomfortable, so she looked away. "Thank you so much for your help. Now I can get everything all set up before the kids get here."

"No problem..." Stacy muttered, backing up slightly. She watched as Daisy set everything up, unsure of whether to help or not. On the other hand, it felt wrong to simply stand there doing nothing. On the other, well...

Stacy had seen the older episodes of the show. One wrong move, and she was "burnt toast, sliced thinly" as the quote went. So she just stayed back and watched, waiting in case she did need help.

In the end, however, she didn't make a move to help. Not that it mattered much, as soon Lydia had showed up with the kids, and Stacy had her hands full helping get the in their places and sitting still.

"Thank you so much for doing that." The woman muttered as they helped everyone get set up for recording. "Seriously, it's making everything go so much faster."

"No problem..." Stacy said, wondering how much worse things would've been if she hadn't helped. 'It really didn't take that long. Although Scout did help me out. Maybe they should ask her for help next time they need stuff from in there.'

She helped finish getting things set up, then hurried out of the way so they could film the segment. She sat nervously next to Lydia, watching as the kids ran around "helping" Daisy bake a pie while she sang about it. It was all very typical for the kid's show, and Stacy found herself bored again very soon.

"Y'know, after this it'll be lunch time." Lydia whispered when she noticed her fidgeting. "Why don't you head on over to the cafeteria and get something to eat. I'll meet you over there when this is done."

"Are you sure that would be okay?" Stacy questioned. It wasn't that she didn't want to leave, but what Mary or Lydia's boss might say if they saw her just "wandering" around.

"It'll be fine. If anyone complains, just tell them that I sent ya on ahead to save me a seat." The woman told her with a wink and a grin which Stacy hesitantly returned. "It's down that hallway over there, and is the big room with the big windows. You can't miss it!"

"Okay." Stacy went off in the indicated direction, dodging around a few other workers. Nobody said a thing, or even seemed to take notice of her as she made her way down the hall, easily finding the cafeteria. Looking in the large windows, she saw a buffet style set up, not unlike the one at her school. The only difference was that it looked, and smelled, far more appetizing.

She was just about to open it, when she heard voices coming from the room across the hall. Before she had even registered who exactly was talking, she was already making her way over to listen in. Carefully, she opened the door just a crack, then crouched low to look through the opening.

"I can not believe those children! They ruined my set, and refused to listen!" Stacy watched as Riley wheeled back and forth, looking and sounding madder than Stacy would've thought possible for the seemingly nice Puppet. Nick Nack also watched her from where he was leaning against a desk, looking quite bored.

"Riley, please, he knocked over one empty beaker. The new girl even picked it up for you. It's fine." He sounded exasperated, but quickly backed up with an almost fearful expression as the scientist got in his face.

"Shut up you paint covered fool! I value each and every tool!" She shouted, making Nick and even Stacy flinch back. "One day a brat will make a mistake insurance can't cover! This is why I prefer working with children that are older." She hissed out.

"Yes, well, these segments are still integral to the show. The parents love them, more than the kids I think." The artist had recovered quickly, now looking unfazed by the rant. He took a paint brush out of his pocket and examined it, making a show of not looking at his fellow Puppet. "Besides, we're recording the actual story after the humans eat, and you're on first again. So surely you can keep a hold of yourself until then."

Riley just grumbled, crossing her arms. Nick sighed, putting his brush away, and Stacy ducked to the side when he turned to face the scientist and, consequently, the door.

"What do you think of the new girl, anyways?" He asked. "She seems rather shy to me."

Riley scoffed. "It's her first day Nick Nack, and she's being taught by Lydia of all people. Just give her a week, and I'm sure she'll, uh..." Riley trailed off, and Stacy found herself trying to think of what could possibly rhyme with "people".

"Talk yourself into a corner, did you?" He asked smugly, and Stacy looked back to see the absolute smirkiest smirk on his face. Riley was on him instantly, smacking him with both hands.

"Shut up shut up SHUT UP!" She snarled with every hit. "At least I actually try! Not my fault you can't continue the rhymes!"

"Now you wait just a minute there!" The artist snapped as he backed away from her, but anything else he would say Stacy didn't hear, as something - or rather, someone - once again landed on her head. She snapped her head forward and caught Scout as she fell.

"Hi Stacy!" The hand Puppet greeted, a little too loudly for the girl's taste. She felt her heart stop as the argument beyond the door did, and quickly backed away.

"Hey, Scout..." She said quietly as she hurried away. The cafeteria, while not full, did have people in it. Which meant it wasn't a good hiding spot so long as she had Scout with her. Instead she ducked around the corner, hoping the two Puppets wouldn't be curious enough to look very far. Her heart sank when she noticed it was a dead end, but she ignored it for the moment. "What were you up to?"

"Looking for you." The Puppet said. "How'd Mom's part of the show go?"

"Uh, good?" She winced at the questioning tone. "I don't really know, Lydia sent me over here, so I didn't get to see all of it."

"That's too bad." Scout said, then almost deflated as the squeaking of wheels approached. "Oh no."

Stacy felt everything go cold, and started to hold Scout tighter. Her heart pounded, and she backed up as Riley came around the corner with a glare.

"Scout!" She snapped. "We have told you before, during the day you're not to venture beyond your door!"

"Indeed." Nick said as he joined the scientist. Together, they managed to block a good portion of the narrow hallway, blocking any escape. Stacy felt her throat constrict, heartbeat quickening as she realized she was cornered. "You should know better by now."

"But I wasn't seen!" A pause as the small Puppet glanced at the human holding her. "By more than one person. But Stacy's my friend! She's cool with it! Right, Stacy?" Scout looked up, frowning when she gave no answer. "Stacy?"

Pupils shrunk and breathing quick and shallow, the girl was staring straight ahead and clutching the Hand Puppet in an ever tightening grip. It was starting to hurt, actually, and Scout was beginning to worry about her new friend. "Um, Stacy..."

Riley ignored the girl and simply sighed, approaching and reaching for the Puppet. "Enough of this nonsense! It's time to-"

Stacy shrieked, flinging Scout at Nick and catching him in the face. While he stumbled back, scrambling to grab the Hand Puppet, she shoved Riley to the floor and bolted. The three of them watched as she vanished around the corner, the sound of her footsteps fading fast as she raced away.

"Well." Nick said, holding Scout as he stared after the girl and Riley struggled to pick herself up off the floor. "That was certainly... something." He cleared his throat, desperate to think of what he should do, but nothing came to mind.

"Man, I can't believe you two chased off my only friend!" Scout lamented, interrupting his tumbling thoughts. He stared down at her as she flopped over in his grip in the most over dramatic way possible. "She was so cool! Didn't talk down to me or anything. And now I'm never going to see her again!"

"Er..." He blinked, now even more confused. He wanted his paints back, as at least he understood those. 'Blasted humans, making a mess out of everything. Father, at least, was never this bad!'

"Just help me get off the ground!" Riley demanded, shaking the artist from his thoughts and confusion. "And don't worry about the girl Scout, I'm sure we'll see her around."

"But, not you." Nick told the Hand Puppet as he helped Riley up. "You, I'm sure, will be grounded."

"Boooooooooo!" But Scout didn't complain beyond that, letting Nick haul her back to Daisy's room. Riley, meanwhile went in search of another human. There was a human child now lost somewhere in the studio, and proper procedure was to tell the adults so they could handle it. And Riley wasn't one to ignore proper procedure.

#hello puppets #scout #riley ruckus #nick nack #daisy danger #stacy stein #lydia harris #happy times at handeemen hq #htahhq

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hwu-adventures-blog · 4 years

Text

So considering we are getting to the probable end of the Desire and Decorum in the next chapter or two (and I really don’t want it to end, it’s a very close second favourite series only beaten by Bloodbound because I love vampire myth and lore not sparkly Twilight vampires and believe me it is very very close between the series), I’ve decided it would be actually quite fun to properly introduce the future Sinclaire clan (the children of my MC, Beatrice and Ernest) as I have alluded to in most of my Desire and Decorum fanfics so here they are:

In order of birth:

Vincent Harry Sinclaire:

the eldest of the biological children (biological because the MC and Ernest could adopt Percival at the end of book 3).

Named for his grandfather, Vincent and his uncle Harry.

His godparents are Briar and Edmund.

he was born two months early in 1821 (unless Pixelberry pull a oh and the MC is pregnant at the end of book 3 or the Christmas special, which I am half expecting because Pixelberry need something to happen in the Christmas special and considering contraception was literally non existent in regency times the chances of MC getting pregnant soon after the wedding are high) in which case his birth year will be moved to like 1817 or 1818 to keep with the cannon of the book.

almost killed his mother in the process due to her Hemophilla (I headcannon that my MC has Hemophilla but is just extremely lucky and doesn’t get hurt very often despite the fact that she does some risky stuff that could end up getting her hurt in Desire and Decorum) but they were both perfectly fine in the end.

He is a very intelligent and strong willed boy with the same sullenness his father had as a child

protective of his younger siblings

Seriously don’t touch them or you will die

There was a rumour going round that he was illegitimate due to his early birth (probably spread by Henrietta) which were constantly called into question right up until Ernest had enough and presented the birth certificate of his son to a court and got that to verify that Vincent was his at some point when Vincent was about to question it himself in his teen years (the plan was not entirely fool proof but still this was the 1800s)

Probably bisexual

Has his mother’s dark hair and his father’s blue eyes

Doesn’t want to be heir to Edgewater but does become the earl in the future.

Mary Lydia Sinclaire:

Born after Vincent in 1822 with her twin brother George.

Older twin by twenty five minutes

Named after her parent’s mothers.

Her godparents are Annabelle Parsons and Luke Harper.

Very loud and Rambunctious child

She could rival lady Theresa Sutton (her probable aunt considering where book 3 is going with Harry’s romantic attention) in her loudness

At age six she goes almost mute with grief only talking to her mother, father and close friends for years

She’d probably be a Gay idol in today’s world, and she turns out to be gay but she does marry for convenience (although her mother does know about her daughters sexuality and is completely accepting of it, shocker for the time, I know but remember she’s friends with Mr Chambers and Mr Konevi and was accepting and supportive of them so why should it be any different for her daughter?)

Has her father’s hair and mother’s green eyes

Idolises Annabelle Parsons like she’s a godesss (she is her godmother after all)

Inherits Ledford Park From Ernest after his death (breaking the tradition of properties going to the first born son or any sons before daughters) which is a surprise that nobody but Ernest and Beatrice were expecting to happen.

George William Sinclaire:

Born 25 minutes after Mary in 1822.

Named for King George (III) as that name was a very popular name at the time anyway and being the Championess of the Realm his mother needed to honour the crown in some way and William Shakespeare, the playwright who’s play, ‘Much Ado about Nothing’ was the first book she read upon arriving at Edgewater.

His godparents are the same as Mary’s.

Quiet boy

Follows his sister’s lead a lot of the time.

Has a teddy he loves more than anything (except from his twin sister of course)

Very close to his uncle Harry

Enjoys playing sword fights with his brother Vincent

Looks like Ernest. Like a lot. Split image of him.

Becomes ill with yellow fever during his father’s birthday celebration

Passes away days later at the age of six

Doesn’t get to say goodbye to his twin or other siblings as they are at Hazelvale with Annabelle at the time.

His parents are there though

Impacts the entire family dynamic forever.

Eustace Fitzwilliam Sinclaire:

Born in 1823.

First of the unplanned children.

Named after Fitzwilliam Sinclaire (the guy who’s initials are engraved in the family gun) in his second name. He is also named after St Eustace (the patron saint of difficult situations)

Godparents are Viscount Harry and miss Theresa Sutton.

His parents had pretty much called time on having children after the surprise of twins but obviously weren’t calling time on having fun 😉 (lack of sexual education and communication at the time meant most people didn’t have a clue that not having protection meant more risk of conceiving) and therefore he came into existence.

Inherited Hemophilla from his mother (the only one to do so)

Age 4 he fell down the stairs and had an uncontrollable bleed in his leg. Doctors were able to save it and him.

But he is stuck with a often painful limp as a result and using a crutch or something to walk.

He’s basically the tiny tim of the family (apart from the dying)

Quiet and clingy child. And is another child with the sullenness his father had as a child.

Mummy’s boy

Has Ernest’s eyes and his mother’s hair

Headcannon that he is my bloodbound mc’s great grandfather and he married into the the bloodkeeper line.

Moves to America in the future

Clementine Briar Sinclaire:

Baby of the family

Born in 1828 a few months before Ernest’s birthday

Named for Pope Clement I, patron saint of Marines and Stonecutters (which is very relevant) and her step-aunt and mother’s best friend, Briar.

Her godparents are Bartholomew Chambers and Viscountess Lavinia (I headcannon that Beatrice becomes very good friends with the Viscountess after the whole wedding and nobody can tell me otherwise)

She also wasn’t planned ��

Was born early due to stress from a incident involving Mr Richards and her mother (Richards being a d**k, basically asked to see her on his deathbed and then was a arse to her causing her to become stressed and go into labour- I have a fic in the works about it)

Often Feels left out as she’s the youngest

Especially when her siblings are remembering about George since she was a baby when he died.

Daddy’s girl

Ernest is very protective of her because of the whole Richards thing and because he feels guilty about it.

Has her father’s eyes and her grandmother Mary’s hair colour (genetics are funny).

Probably Autistic but because autism hasn’t been identified yet, she is undiagnosed.

Gets lost in her own world quite often

Enjoys stories and make believe

Loves pretending she is on the sea sailing off to far off lands.

Transcribes her mother’s diaries into a published book when she’s older- becomes a best selling author under the pen name, Clemence Bartholomew Smyth.

Marries a navy officer and sometimes travels to different countries with him in the future.

List of Fanfics they appear/ are alluded to/ mentioned in:

Family Life Series (series ongoing but very slowly and does have some cannon inaccuracies as it was started before book 2 ended)- part 1 (first part is a little hard to read due to dialogue being not spaced out so sorry part 2 is easier to read), part 2, part 3, part 4

Late Night Visitation- (this is now an AU and for some reason it wouldn’t let me edit the fic so I couldn’t change a mistake in the writing back to the way it originally was)

The Next Great Adventure

Goodbye, my Ernest

#pixelberry #mc #desire and decorum #choices: desire and decorum #ernest x mc #mc x ernest #ernest sinclaire #future children

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anotherimaginescollection · 5 years

Note

TW imagine the reader is Scott sister and she finds out she's pregnant with Theo's baby and everyone is not happy about it of course and Stiles makes snide comments about it and she does the same w/ him about his own future kids and they have a talk about chimera babies and stuff like that and Peter makes comments about the baby too and they have to deal w/ the Doctors or something and the Doctors know that the reader is pregnant when Theo sees them.

A/N: I’ve edited the time of this slightly, so that they’readults as it felt awkward for me to write it any other way, sorry about that. Iwasn’t really sure what to write for this, but I tried my best with it. Thankyou for the request and I hope you enjoy it.

‘Pregnant?’ askedStiles, looking between you and your brother as if he might be able to makemore sense out of the situation than he could. But Scott was just as blankfaced as you’d worried he would be. As if he was still trying to take the wholething in. ‘How?’

‘Did you reallymiss the sex ed lessons when we were at school?’ you countered, rolling youreyes when you spotted Peter. He looked about as enamoured with the idea of ababy in the pack as anyone else. Not that you really considered him a part ofit. But he was there. After all, the Doctors were back, somehow, and you neededall the help you could get.

Stiles sneered overat you. ‘Last thing we need is chimera pups running around the place.’

‘Better thanwhatever you’d end up having.’

Stiles opened hismouth to say something more but Peter cut him off. ‘There literally couldn’t bea worse time for you to be pregnant, you know that, right? The Doctors will know. They’ll use this somehow.’

‘First time would’vebeen worse,’ you countered simply, but you could see his point. Reluctantly.

‘Can we stop,please?’ asked Scott, and you could hear the weariness behind his voice. Youstill couldn’t figure out if it was to do with the baby, or the fact that theDoctors were back.

‘We need to thinkof a plan,’ agreed Lydia, but you could tell that she wasn’t happy either.Everyone in the room was thinking the same thing. Even though years had passedsince Theo was officially “bad,” nobody fully trusted him yet. No one was happythat he was the father. Not that you cared. You just wanted him to be allright, to get him back from the people who thought that they had some kind ofhold over him, all over again.

You just nodded,hoping that they were going to remember the things he’d done to help, as wellas the other things in his past.

Theo was trapped.Maybe not physically, but he knew that there wasn’t anything he could doagainst the Doctors. He still couldn’t figure out what they wanted with him,how they’d even come back, and that was the thing that had him stuck there. Themachines beeped; the Doctors clicked at each other, and all he could thinkabout was (Y/n). They’d told him about the baby. He didn’t think that it wouldchange everything, but it had changed enough. Enough to make him want to fightmore than ever before.

Because he wasn’tgoing to leave them alone with all this. Even with the Pack by their sides, hewanted to be there.

‘Theo!’

He shook his head.It couldn’t be (Y/n). He was imagining it. He’d only heard them because –

‘Theo!’

It came again,closer this time. He moved forwards quickly, but the Doctors were quicker. Theyblocked his path, making him feel like a child again, and not the adult that hehad grown into. Not the young man who had done what he could to change, to stopbeing the person everyone assumed he was.

They clicked, somethingeven more ominous about the sound than before. They looked back, and Theowondered if they could see (Y/n) when he couldn’t, if they knew…

But of course theydid. They knew everything. And when they faded away he knew that they were onlythinking of something else to do. Something else they could use to hurt him.

‘Theo,’ (Y/n)breathed, pulling him in for a tight hug.

But he could onlyhug back loosely, too lost in the worries of what the Doctors might do thistime.

And then, hetightened the hug, his resolve strengthening. He was going to make sure thatthey were both all right, (Y/n) and the baby. No matter what.

#Teen Wolf #Teen Wolf Imagines #Teen Wolf Imaigne #Theo Raeken #Theo Raeken Imagines #Theo Raeken Imagine #Stiles Stilinski Imagines #Peter Hale Imagines #Scott McCall Imagines #Lydia Martin Imagines

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stereksecretsanta · 5 years

Text

Merry Christmas, @Superwhumper06!

For @superwhumper06. Happy holidays and I hope all your wishes come true!

(Edit: This may look completely different later after the reveal. I had to wrap the story up somehow in a time crunch to hand it in on time and try somewhat to respect the word limit but it’s literally missing two scenes).

Read on AO3

******

Home for the Holidays

“So...Stiles...What do you say?”

For someone that always had something to say, in this precise moment, Stiles couldn’t say a whole lot. He wanted to, though. He wanted to scream it out actually. But for the first time in his life, he was rendered speechless.

Maybe it was because the love of his life was on his knee in front of him asking him a question he’d been dying to hear. Or because the Golden Gate Bridge was like the most romantic location for something like this ever. Or maybe it was because Derek had given such an inspiring speech before asking Stiles to marry him. Maybe, it was all of it. Yeah, definitely all of it.

If only he’d had an inkling that this would be taking place today. He would’ve made sure to be more prepared. Derek had gotten him good, asking Stiles’ parents to invite them on a hike so he could pull this off. And he’d been successful, Stiles was completely surprised and in a state of shock. He was also sweaty and gross and starting to ugly cry. A mess. He was a complete mess.

Of course, it didn’t help matters that Stiles still hadn’t answered yet. He knew exactly what he wanted to say, but had difficulty processing how to get the words out of his brain and into his mouth. Thankfully, his dear old dad was there to come in the clutch.

“Son, why don’t you cut the boy a break, huh,” John Stilinski joked, yanking Stiles out of his silent stupor.

And with that, Stiles was able to compose himself, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, before letting out an eloquent shriek and gracelessly jumping on top of Derek, sending them both crashing into the dirt.

“Yes! Fuck yes!” He could finally say, kissing Derek eagerly and laughing against his mouth. “Did you honestly think I’d say no?”

“You had me worried for a minute there,” Derek admitted, letting out a sigh of relief.

Derek sat them up and held out the ring box. Stiles gasped, it was so beautiful and sparkly; a white gold band with two rows of diamonds. Stiles loved it, like beyond loved. And he’d totally show Derek later just how much he appreciated it once his parents weren’t in the near vicinity.

Stiles could barely sit still as Derek slipped the ring on his finger. Once it was on, he turned to his parents and pointed at his mother accusingly.

“Did you know!?”

His mom was his best friend and they told each other absolutely everything. Nothing was ever “too personal.” So, if Claudia Stilinski actually managed to keep this to herself, then who knew what else she could be holding back from him.

“Of course I didn’t, sweetie,” Claudia scoffed, easing Stiles’ concerns of his mother being a potential sociopath. “If I knew, I certainly would’ve spilled the beans. Your father knew though. I guess Derek thinks he’s the better secret keeper.”

“Sorry!” Derek winced when Claudia crossed her arms over her chest with a sour expression.

“Oh, don’t be like that, honey,” John said, wrapping his arms around her from behind. “Just because you’re god awful at keeping secrets doesn’t mean we love you any less.”

Claudia harrumphed and pinched him.

John just laughed, nodding at Derek to say, “Welcome to the family, son.”

“Yes, welcome,” Claudia said warmly but scowled and rolled her eyes when John kissed her on the cheek.

Stiles grinned, well used to his parents' silly bickering by now. It was pretty gross how they were still so in love after all these years. Stiles looked back to Derek who was laughing as well watching Claudia tell John to talk to the hand. He smiled to himself, thinking about him and Derek being like that in the future.

“Now moving onto decorative napkins…”

Planning a wedding was a breeze when your best friend was a wedding planner. As soon as Stiles broke the news to Lydia that he and Derek were engaged, she immediately hijacked the operation, citing that Stiles’ taste was trash and he would just mess everything up. Stiles indeed had trash taste and, on his own, would definitely have messed everything up. So, while her harsh delivery needed work, he was grateful to have her on board.

“You do know the wedding is in a year and a half, right?”

Stiles knew that most couples couldn't wait to get married, but he and Derek had only been dating for a year. Not that Stiles had any doubts that Derek was the one for him, but they had always moved kind of fast in their relationship…

They first met at the hospital Derek worked at when Stiles was asked to paint a Christmas-themed mural in the nursery. Of course, Stiles saw a hot doctor and just had to make a move, but he hadn’t expected his shameless flirting to work. He also hadn’t expected for them to go on their first date that very night or for them to fall so in love with each other by their second date. By their third date, they were already living together and adopting a cat.

It was quite the whirlwind romance, to say the least. And they were still in the infatuation stage, fully wrapped up in each other as they swung their laced hands back and forth while following Lydia through the store. This wedding was going to be the best day of their lives and, with such a quick beginning, they didn’t want to rush it.

Lydia stopped and swung around, placing her hands on her hips and donning a menacing power pose that had both Stiles and Derek shrinking back a little bit. “I will not let you guys procrastinate in the planning of this wedding,” she lectured, glaring hotly at them. “A year and a half is barely any time to throw together a wedding. And every detail matters, no matter how small!”

With another scorching glare, she turned and flounced off, her voluminous red hair bouncing fiercely with each step. Stiles looked over at Derek and lifted his finger to his temple, twirling it and mouthing that she was cuckoo before rushing to follow her so they wouldn’t get in trouble again.

“I’m confused,” Derek said as they watched Lydia deliberate between two different table runners for twenty-five minutes. “Are we paying her? Did we ask her to do this?”

“Nope,” Stiles said, popping the p. “She most definitely took this upon herself and we’ll almost certainly be getting a bill in the mail.”

Derek groaned, looking miserably up at the ceiling as if the boredom of picking out cloth napkins and napkin rings was actually painful for him. Stiles knew just how to lift his spirits, singing along loudly to Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas Is You.” Nothing was more healing to Derek than Stiles’ beautiful singing voice, and sure enough, Stiles’ shrill crooning and pitchy high notes managed to get a laugh out of Derek.

Stiles loved when Derek laughed, especially when his eyes got all crinkly and he wrinkled his nose. He couldn’t resist kissing his adorable dimples, then just had to taste his lips, then absolutely needed to slip in a little tongue. Then they were lost in it and it was just the two of them making out in the middle of a department store as cheesy Christmas music played over the speaker.

A throat cleared and they jumped apart, finding Lydia standing there tapping her foot testily. “Seriously,” she condemned, “Would you two keep it PG and stop dilly-dallying when we’re supposed to be working.”

“Sorry,” they both said in unison; Derek blushing a bright red while Stiles shrugged unabashed.

“She’s scary,” Derek whispered after Lydia walked away again.

“Eh, her bark is bigger than her bite.”

If you asked him years ago, Stiles actually would have thought he’d be doing this with Lydia: getting married, that is. He’d had a crush on her since grade school, and in high school, they’d dated for a while before Lydia realized she kind of liked girls and Stiles realized he kind of liked boys. Luckily, they were still able to remain close friends.

“Hey, Lyds, can we get an In-N-Out truck at the wedding?” Stiles called.

“Absolutely not!” Lydia cried from a distance.

Stiles snickered and elbowed Derek, looking over at him and expecting to see him laughing as well. But Derek wasn’t laughing or smiling; in fact, he looked deeply unhappy. Stiles was about to ask him about it when out of the corner of his eye he saw why.

Even though they lived in San Francisco, the gay capital of the world, there were still asshole bigots out there whose strived to ruin other people’s happiness even though they were doing nothing wrong and hurting nobody. Homophobia didn’t bother Stiles as much as it bothered Derek, probably because Stiles had always been out and proud. Stiles was Derek’s first boyfriend; his first everything when it came to that. And it always made Stiles sad to see Derek get so upset over the fact that some old geezer had a problem with them being in there affectionate in public. Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek and kissed him again in spite, which made Derek smile again and had asshole grandpa over there huffing and puffing and going on his way with the rest of his Christmas shopping.

Derek’s phone rang in his pocket, and he pulled away from Stiles reluctantly to fish it out. “I have to take this. It’s probably work.”

“‘Kay,” Stiles nodded, well-used to Derek’s work interrupting their private time by now. Being with a doctor that brought new life into the world each day, Stiles had discovered that babies were major cock blocks. Cute ones, though.

Stiles located Lydia in the dinnerware aisle perusing charger plates. “Want to know what I think?” he asked.

“Not in the least,” Lydia shot down.

Though his singing talents were somewhat questionable and his wedding designing left a lot to be desired, Stiles wasn’t without some capabilities. He was still an artist, a well-known one at that, with artwork displayed in famous galleries all over the world. He knew colors and which ones went well together. After annoying her enough, Lydia begrudgingly let him help, which made things go so much faster. Lydia was actually impressed with his choices and they managed to get the place settings all sorted out by the time Derek got back.

“Looks like I’m going to have to cut out early,” Derek said, tucking his phone back in his pocket.

“Nooooo!!” Stiles whined, latching onto him so he couldn’t leave.

“I’m sorry, but a patient at the hospital needs me.”

“Let her die!”

“Stiles,” Derek said sternly then rolled his eyes.

“You can’t leave me here with Lydia! I’ll die. So pick, your patient or your fiancé.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Derek snorted, kissing Stiles’ pout. “I’ll see you at home.”

“I’ll remember this!”

“Love you.”

“Traitor!”

“Have fun!”

“Fuck you!”

Stiles slumped his shoulders, life bleak now that he was off to war on his own. Cheerfully, Lydia linked their arms together and dragged a spiritless Stiles off to more stores for stupid wedding stuff.

“We must talk seating arrangements,” Lydia informed him. “Has Derek made a list of everyone he’s inviting?”

“No, because the wedding is a year and a half away and we’re not thinking that far ahead,” Stiles said, using his favorite excuse for when Lydia asked him why they hadn’t done anything for the wedding yet.

“The both of you are slackers,” Lydia complained. “I mean, you, I understand. I’ve known you almost your whole life and you’re only getting worse, but Derek is a doctor. He should be a lot more organized.”

Stiles shrugged. “Derek doesn’t have that many friends, so it won’t be that long of a list.”

“What about his family?”

“Hmm?” Stiles cocked his head to the side.

“His family, Stiles,” Lydia said slowly, “Does Derek have a lot of relatives…”

“Oh,” Stiles frowned. “I don’t know. I’ve never met them.”

Lydia’s eyes bulged out of her head. “What?!” Her jaw dropped. “You haven’t met Derek’s family? Like his immediate family? Oh my god! Why are wemarrying him then!”

“Because I love him loads and want to spend the rest of my life with him,” Stiles responded, not sure why Lydia was making such a big deal about this. Or why she always used we when talking about his and Derek’s relationship.

“Don’t you think it’s a little weird that you haven’t met the family of your fiancé?” Lydia asked. “He’s met your parents, right?”

“Of course,” Stiles said. “Plenty of times.”

“Has he even talked about them to you? Are they close?” Lydia’s questions were coming too fast for Stiles to respond. “Do they send Christmas cards or birthday wishes? What about Facebook? Have you tried stalking them though Derek’s Facebook?”

“Derek doesn’t have a Facebook.”

Lydia gasped, “What if you finally meet them and they hate you? That’ll make this wedding so awkward. You’re a very hate-able person, Stiles!”

“Relax, Lydia.” Stiles places his hands on her shoulders. “I don’t think it’s that weird. I think he said his family lives in New York or somewhere far. And we don’t get to travel much with him working all the time.”

“Whatever,” Lydia huffed. “Just get me that list.”

“Fine.” Stiles surrendered. “Will do.”

The more Stiles thought about it, the more he realized that Lydia was right. It was weird that Stiles knew nothing about Derek’s family. And now that he was paying attention, he noticed that Derek never talked about having a mom or a dad or siblings.

Stiles had the good fortune of being extremely close with both his parents and his Babcia. They were all so important to him and were the reason he was the person he was today. He talked about them constantly and shared many stories from his childhood, but was wondering now why Derek had never shared anything back. Had something terrible happened when he was a kid, and if so, wasn’t it still something that Stiles should know?

“Stiles, would you please sit down. I think we have enough snacks to watch this movie.”

“Hold on,” Stiles yelled from the kitchen, “I forgot the raisinets!”

Derek didn’t get nights off from work very often, and it was kind of chilly out, so they were staying in to watch cheesy Christmas movies. Derek already had the Netflix queue up and ready to go, starting with A Christmas Prince: Royal Wedding. Stiles, on the other hand, was running behind with the snacks, but only because he completely disagreed with Derek. One could never have enough snacks while watching a movie.

“Okay, I’m ready now,” Stiles said and dropped down onto the couch next to Derek, placing the box of raisinets on the coffee table with all the other junk food. Derek shook his head disapprovingly and picked up the remote to press play when Stiles stopped him again, “Wait, we need marshmallows!”

“Stiles!” Derek groaned.

“And hot chocolate!”

Stiles ran back into the kitchen to grab the hot cocoa mix and the marshmallows, ignoring Derek’s bitching and moaning. He was positive it was moments like these that had inspired Derek to propose in the first place. He came back out with two cups of steaming hot chocolate and grimaced when he saw Derek cuddling with their evil, ugly, fat cat, Mojo Jojo in his place.

“Get you gone, demon!” Stiles shouted, sending the vicious fiend scurrying off.

Ever since the first day they brought her home, “Bubbles” as she once was called, had been nothing but nice to Derek and vicious to Stiles. So, Stiles renamed her Mojo Jojo so she had a name that better suited her mean personality.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Derek reprimanded and picked up the remote to press play again.

Stiles intercepted him once more to say, “Before we start, Lydia wants a list of all the people you want to invite to the wedding.”

“Oh,” Derek frowned. “I thought we were keeping things small.”

“Yeah, we are,” Stiles told him, “but we still need a list.”

“Alright then,” Derek said, scratching his brow, “I guess some of my close colleagues at work like Erica, Isaac, and Boyd.”

Stiles picked up his cup of hot chocolate and took a sip then asked, “What about your family? Don’t you want them to come?”

Derek winced and averted his eyes, a sign he used often when he wanted Stiles to drop a subject. But Stiles couldn’t let this go now. Not after that reaction.

“Why don’t you ever talk about them?” Stiles continued. “Did something bad happen?”

Derek didn’t say a single word. A queasy feeling ran through Stiles’ gut as an overwhelming sense of dread came over him. Had something horribly tragic happen to Derek’s entire family? Had he been keeping it inside this whole time and dealing with it all on his own? If that was the case, then all Stiles could do was cry.

“No, Stiles, it’s not that,” Derek said quickly when he noticed Stiles getting emotional. “Nothing bad happened. My family is alive and well. They just don’t…” He stopped, making a face as he fought with his words, “They don’t know that I’m... bisexual.”

“What?!” Stiles screamed so loud that even Mojo Jojo came up from her nest in hell to check out what was going on.

“They don’t know about us.”

“Why the hell not?!” Stiles demanded, shooting up from the couch.

“It’s complicated,” Derek explained and stood too. “My mom and sisters aren’t like your parents. You grew up in San Francisco around all sorts of LGBT+ representation. I grew up on a ranch deep in rural California and the only reason I knew our community even existed is because my family hates it so much.”

“Ohh my god!” Stiles paced, rubbing his temples. “We’re about to be married, Derek! Shouldn’t you have told me sooner that you’re on the DL!”

“I didn’t think it was that important,” Derek mumbled, looked down at the floor as he shifted from one foot to the other. “I don’t communicate with them a lot.”

“Did you use to?”

“Yeah.” Derek squirmed. “We were all pretty close before…”

“...Me,” Stiles whispered, his stomach dropping to the floor.

“Don’t do that,” Derek snapped. “I love you and I’m not ashamed of the life we have together. Of course, I want them to know the person I’m madly in love with, but I don’t think they’ll change.”

Stiles couldn’t feel anything but deeply saddened. Because of him, Derek now had an uncomfortable relationship with his family. How could he live with himself knowing that he and his dick were at fault for this?

“Fuck it.” Derek dug into his pocket and yanked out his phone. “I’ll call my mom right fucking now and tell her about us.”

“No!” Stiles yelled before Derek could do anything drastic. “That is not how you’re supposed to come out, Derek!”

Derek’s forehead puckered. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that you should be doing this for yourself,” Stiles argued then muttered bitterly, “Not for me.”

“This is for me, though,” Derek stressed. “I want to marry you and I don’t want this to become a thing between us where you start having crazy thoughts—”

“I think we should call off the engagement.”

“—Kind of like that. Stiles, you are not breaking up with me over this.”

“It wouldn’t be a breakup,” Stiles said weakly.

“It sure as hell feels like one!”

“I don’t want you to have to choose me over your family, Derek.” Stiles twisted the engagement ring on his finger. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Stiles, come here,” Derek prompted, beckoning him forward. “Come on, you’re standing too far away. I can barely hear you.”

He stepped forward, upset and unsure, then laughed despite himself when Derek pulled him close and smothered him in kisses.

“Listen, I will call my mom tonight and tell her I’m coming home for the holidays and that I’m bringing a friend. She’s been begging me to visit for a while now so I’m sure she’ll be fine with me bringing whoever I want.”

Stiles opened his mouth to protest but Derek thoroughly kissed him silent.

“Please come with me. If I’m going to do this, I need you with me. If you’re there, I know I’ll have the courage to face them.”

“Okay,” Stiles nodded, cupping Derek’s cheek.

“Okay,” Derek grinned back, the corner of his eyes crinkling as he smiled and kissed Stiles again fiercely.

Stiles honestly hadn’t believed Derek when he said his family lived in the middle of nowhere. After all, Derek had lied to him for months when he told Stiles that his family resided on the other side of the country, which was why they could never meet. He assumed Derek was lying to him once more or exaggerating, especially after finding out that the Hales not only lived in California but were just a few hours away from San Francisco.

However, the closer they got to Beacon Hills, the town Derek had grown up in, the more Stiles was starting to believe that Derek’s description might actually be true. As they drove through acres and acres of pastors and plains on the open road, Stiles hounded Derek with questions about his upbringing, wanting to know every detail.

He thought it was so cool that Derek got to grow up on a farm with lots of animals, like cows and chickens and ponies. Derek told him that the farm had been in the family for generations, but not many Hales ventured off into the big city. Only his Uncle Peter had done it before him, going off to L.A and marrying another man, which wasn’t exactly well-received by the rest of the family.

Stiles questioned Derek on how he thought his family might react to his coming out, but Derek seemed conflicted. Apparently, he’d had a bunch of girlfriends growing up (which Stiles wasn’t jealous about at all, nope, he was totally fine with finding out his fiancé was a former manwhore) and they would have trouble understanding that he was bisexual and that it wasn’t by choice.

“There are two very important things that I need you to remember,” Derek said seriously as they turned onto a narrow dirt road. “One; the things my family say and do and the ideologies they hold dear have never been a reflection of me and what I think. And two; I’m really, really, really sorry. We’re here!”

Derek pulled into the driveway and put the car in park, turning off the ignition. He jerked his head forward, directing Stiles’ attention towards the house, though Stiles wouldn’t have missed it on his own. When Derek had talked about his life on the farm, he’d made it sound a lot like Little House on the Prairie, and from that description, Stiles had imagined that Derek’s family lived in a cute tiny farm house with no heat, electricity or modern technology. Which was why he was obviously surprised when he saw that Derek’s childhood home was neither cute nor tiny, but a massive extravagant mansion.

“Wait a minute, I thought you said you lived on a farm.”

“A ranch, yes,” Derek concurred, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Dude...are you rich?!”

Derek flinched. “Kind of,” he downplayed then gave in when he saw Stiles wasn’t buying it. “Yes, okay. My family is rich, extremely so. This place makes a shit ton of money and I do have a sizable inheritance, but don’t freak out.”

Stiles gaped, mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Don’t freak out?” he echoed. “How can I not freak out, Derek! You’re farm boy royalty! How can I even compete with that! Do I even know you at all?”

Derek huffed, “Stiles, are you ready?”

“No,” Stiles said truthfully.

“Great!” Derek opened his car door. “Let’s go.”

After seeing the house, Stiles was scared of how Derek’s family might look and act. He was worried that they’d be too sophisticated for him and was annoyed that he now had two strikes against him, instead of one. How could he make a good first impression on Derek’s family if he was both gay and lower class.

His fears were put to rest though when he caught his first glimpse of Derek’s mom as she ran out to greet them, dressed in a pair of cowboy boots and jean short-shorts, which weren’t exactly the luxurious ball gown he’d been imagining her in.

“My goodness,” she squealed as she raced over and jumped into Derek’s arms. “Is that my baby finally home? Glad to see, Mr. Doctor-Man, that you’re remembering you have a momma!”

Derek laughed and wrapped his arms around her in a tight hug. “Sorry, it’s been so long, Momma.”

“I guess I can’t be too mad at you,” she said and put a hand on Derek’s cheek as she beamed with pride. “You’re out there saving the world and such.”

“I just deliver babies, Momma.” Derek ducked his head, his ears turning pink. “Something I learned from helping with calving right here on this very ranch.”

Her eyes moved onto Stiles next, smiling graciously as she regarded him. “And just who is this?”

“This is the friend that I telling you about,” Derek said as he placed her back down on the ground. “Momma, this is Stiles.”

“Ooo, he a Doctor-Man too?”

“Nope, just merely an artist,” Stiles answered for himself with a nervous laugh.

“A very talented one, though,” Derek interjected in his defense.

“An artist, huh,” Derek’s mom hummed, sizing him up and down. “Well, alright then. Great to meet you, Stiles. I’m Talia Hale.”

“It’s great to meet you too, Miss,” Stiles smiled, shaking her hand as she held it out to him.

“Gee, you artists sure got dainty fingers and wrists,” Talia commented, squinting down at Stiles’ hand in displeasure. She turned Stiles’ palm up and tssked at it, shaking her head. “We’ll have to toughen you up in the next four days. Get you some calluses on these palms and teach you how to give a firm manly handshake. No matter the profession, there’s never an excuse to be a sissy. Now come on in, Stiles, I’m sure everyone will be ecstatic to meet you!”

Inside the Hale mansion was just as lavish and luxurious as the outside. And, like Talia, Derek’s two sisters, Laura and Cora, weren’t dressed up in expensive designer brands or silk princess dresses. Stiles was sure glad that he wasn’t underdressed, because for once in his life it wasn’t his sense of style that was being critiqued; just everything else about himself that he’d ever taken pride in.

Hit after hit after hit, it was like a firing squad of finding every fault in Stiles for why he wasn't man enough. His name was too weird; real men didn’t use nicknames. He slouched too much and needed to carry himself better so he wouldn’t get beat up. He was too scrawny; his bird chest and long limbs made him much too effeminate. He needed to grow facial hair; he looked like a teenage girl.

He did get one nice compliment from Derek’s older sister Laura, though. She told him he was hot and was thankful that he wasn’t gay because all the hot ones were nowadays. Oh, the irony! It’d be funny if it didn’t stab so much.

“You were right,” Stiles said when they managed to escape to get their luggage out of the car. “You were right and I was wrong. This is bad, Derek. This is horrible, actually. Let’s leave now. I’m cool with us living in sin forever and never telling anyone about us.”

“Stiles,” Derek called, catching his arm before he could pull open the passenger side door, “We can’t leave. I came prepared to tell my family about us.”

“Yeah, I know!” Stiles cringed, looking over his shoulder anxiously, lest anyone catch them touching for too long. “But that was before I knew the circumstances! And I understand it now, Derek. I get it loud and clear!”

He realized Derek’s dilemma now after having experienced it for himself because Derek’s mom and sisters weren’t necessarily bad people. They were actually nice! Like super nice and welcoming and friendly, well except for Cora but Derek had already told him that it took her time to warm up to new people. They all truly thought they were helping Stiles in their berating of him, like a charity case without the tax breaks.

Things would have been so much simpler if Derek’s mom and sisters had been genuine assholes. In fact, Stiles would have preferred it, because then he wouldn’t have to give a shit about hurting their feelings and could hate them outright. But here, he sensed how deeply they cared for Derek and how excited they were to have him back home and just didn’t think he could mess that up. Damn those pesky microaggressions!

“What do you want me to do then, Stiles?” Derek requested, “How do you expect us to survive the next four days?”

“I have no idea!” Stiles raked his fingers through his hair, “But you told them that I’m your friend, so let’s just be that for now, okay. I’m just your good friend Stiles with the dainty wrists and sissy fingers.”

“Hey, I love these fingers.” Derek reached out and took Stiles’ hand in his, dropping a light kiss to Stiles’ fingertips. “I’ve come with them inside numerous times.”

“That is so gay, Derek!” Stiles snatched his hand back. “We’re just buds now.”

“Buds.”

“Bros.”

“Alright then,” Derek nodded.

“Alright then,” Stiles echoed back.

Being a guest at the Hale Ranch kind of felt a lot staying at a five-star hotel. Stiles had been put up in a ginormous guest suite with what had to be the world’s most perfect bed. It was like laying on a heavenly cloud. Too bad Stiles hadn’t gotten much sleep in it last night.

Stiles never really liked going to sleep without Derek and Derek’s bedroom was all the way on the other side of the house. So, in the middle of the night, he decided that he was going to sneak over there, but the operation was a total fail. Stiles got so lost that he couldn’t even find his way back to his own room and ended up having to be saved by Cora like some pathetic damsel in distress. He made up some lame excuse about not being able to find the bathroom, even though he had two of them in his suite alone. He promised himself that he wouldn’t venture anywhere too far to get lost; so not needing Cora emasculating him to happen again anytime soon.

Other amenities of the Hale Ranch included a gourmet breakfast cooked by the ever so charming Laura Hale. Her flapjacks had honestly been what brought Stiles back to life after a restless night of tossing and turning. Her flirting was also pretty hilarious, and if things didn’t work out with Derek, Stiles knew he had a backup Hale to fall onto.

There were quite a few facilities on the grounds as well, Stiles’ favorite being the horse stable. Watching Derek muck out messy horse stalls and fork manure all afternoon, in theory, hadn’t sounded like a very pleasant experience. But Stiles found himself changing tunes the second he saw Derek in his sexy cowboy gear.

He also got to feed and pet all the pretty horses, and even sat on one for three whole minutes before freaking out and begging Derek to help him get down. Thank god, Cora was nowhere to be found for that scene; he didn’t think her opinion of him would improve much by seeing him whine like a little bitch.

Stiles still really liked the horses though and wished he could take one home as a replacement for Mojo Jojo. Derek promised to teach him how to ride someday but seemed to be forgetting that Stiles already knew how to ride. He rode Derek all the time, didn’t he?

It was so captivating to see how well Derek thrived out here. He could tell that Derek had missed it. He was so nurturing with all the animals and worked his butt off all day while still being patient with Stiles whose clumsiness wasn’t always conducive to most ranch tasks. Stiles would definitely be encouraging Derek to come back more often. It seemed like things were looking up and that the trip wasn’t as doomed as they’d originally thought. Or at least, those were Stiles’ sentiments before supper later that night.

“It’s frightening how much control the LGBT community has over the government. I mean, you can’t say anything without offending someone today. It’s all part of their agenda. Our lawmakers have allowed them to worm their way into our judicial system and corrupt all of our core values. I tell you, I have no idea what direction this country is heading in, but I know it isn’t a good one.”

After a long day in the field, Stiles was famished and, up until this point, had been dying to eat. Sadly, he couldn’t eat a morsel off his plate, too sick to his stomach to even pick up his fork.

Thinking back to Derek’s preemptive apology in the car yesterday only made Stiles feel even more ill, because Derek had to have known with absolute certainty that this was going to happen. And Derek could only know that because he’d been forced to endure this kind of vitriol in the past. And that made Stiles see red. He was absolutely furious for him.

What made it worse was that this tirade began completely unprompted. As soon as they sat down at the table, Talia unleashed her narrow-minded ideologies as if these were things that were totally okay to say. At one point she blamed pregnant women and their choice to consume foods with GMOs for the reason why the number of transgender youths in the world was growing.

As for the reactions around the table? Well, Cora nodded her head along with everything her mother said, fully endorsing all of the sheer ignorance spilling from Talia’s mouth. Laura appeared indifferent, choosing to examine her split ends instead of taking a stance. Derek hadn’t looked up from his lap the entire time, expertly hiding his hurt after years of practice. And Stiles, well, he’d just about heard enough.

“Say, wasn’t America one of the last few modern countries to legalize gay marriage? Which means the LGBT community and their nefarious agenda couldn’t have sunk their claws in that deep. If they had, I’m sure it would’ve happened sooner, so I think we’re all safe.”

All eyes were on Stiles now that he’d abruptly cut into Talia’s rant. Laura and Cora looked astonished as if they’d never seen anybody challenge their mother’s opinions before. Derek was silently pleading with him to fall back and retreat. But Talia’s eyes gleamed now as she regarded Stiles and he knew he was in for it now.

“I know that was sarcasm, young man,” Talia laughed merrily, “But I don’t fault you for it. You grew up in a place full of propaganda that makes you think my unpopular opinion makes me a bigot.”

“Oh, I don’t think anything like that,” Stiles waved, keeping his tone serene and sweet. “Trust me, you’re not the first homophobic person I’ve met.”

“Homophobic?” Talia looked appalled. “Oh no, honey, I’m not anything like that! I have nothing against those kinds of people. My own brother is one of them.”

Stiles was a little thrown off by that. “Then what exactly is your problem with them?”

“My problem is that men in this country aren’t acting like men anymore and families are breaking up all over this country. Look at the divorce rate, it’s sky high!”

Stiles gasped loudly and covered his mouth. “The gays had a hand in that too?”

Talia grinned, “Is sarcasm always a rebuttal for you?”

Stiles pursed his lips. “Yeah, pretty much.”

Talia noticed the uncomfortable tension at the table then and smiled, picking up her fork and knife. “Let’s just agree to disagree,” she said courteously, “Who am I to tell you how you should view the world. I just know my Derek always agrees with me. Right, baby?”

Stiles didn’t think he’d ever known such a rage until he watched Talia reach out and take Derek’s hand, forcing him to pick a side. For a moment, Derek looked torn, eyes flitting over to Stiles but ultimately going back to his mom as he smiled and gave her a small nod.

Talia winked over at Stiles, her smile smug as she sat back in her chair.

It took a lot of self-control for Stiles not to slam the fucking door when he got back to his suite. His hands were clenched into fists and he was shaking all over, his heart galloping at a fast pace due to all the adrenaline. It was usually best for him to go for a walk when he got this angry, but he couldn’t exactly leave the ranch house. What if he got lost again and Cora wasn’t there to rescue him this time?

Good thing his suite was fucking massive and he could pace all over it like the maniac that he was. Stiles went from room to room, burning a hole in the carpet as he fumed and talked angrily to himself. He didn't even notice that Derek had slipped into his room, too busy muttering under his breath about Talia’s audacity.

“I’m sorry.”

Stiles froze mid-pace, whipping his head around and finding Derek there, leaned up against the door and looking distraught and in need of comfort. He cursed, feeling selfish then, well almost selfish as that narcissist Talia. He should have checked on Derek first thing after supper was over. It had to have been a difficult dinner for him to sit through, what with his fiancé going up against his mom like that.

“It’s not you.” The pacing started back up again. “You have nothing to be sorry for. But phony people like her that are the worst kinds of people in this world!”

Derek looked away, sticking his hands in his jean pockets. “I would say she’s the worst. More like misguided, misinformed, ignorant…”

“Oh, shit!”

Stiles may not appreciate Talia’s toxic gender restrictions, or her harmful political views, or the fact that she truly thought she wasn’t being a hateful person when she spouted her bigotry, but she was still his future mother-in-law. She was still Derek’s mom.

He softened and abandoned his pacing to rush over to Derek and throw his arms around him. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, “I didn’t mean that.”

“No, don’t apologize.” Derek brushed his thumb against Stiles’ cheek. “I’ve dealt with this for a lot of my life and I know her opinions can cut pretty deep.”

Stiles leaned into his caress. “Has she always been like that?”

“It’s a generational thing,” Derek told him. “My grandfather was just as bad.”

Stiles hugged Derek again, burying his face into his neck. He felt for Derek and for so many others who experienced rejection for who they were by their own flesh and blood on a daily basis. It was almost 2019 and families were still inflicting this kind of pain on queer folk. Who knew how many people were suffering through this type of awkwardness this holiday season.

“I will say, I’ve never seen anyone hold their own so well against my momma. It kind of made me hot.”

Stiles snorted. “The weirdest things make you hot... and you took her side.”

Derek lowered his head. “You know I had to.��

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles said, even though he didn’t completely agree.

Derek could’ve spoken up, he could’ve done something to challenge her, hell he could have come out. But Stiles knew these things couldn’t be rushed and Stiles had his own fears about Derek’s family finding out about them, which was why he’d suggested they pretend to be friends in the first place.

Though, they didn’t have to pretend to be friends behind this closed door. Stiles released a harsh breath as Derek’s mouth seized his; it felt like ages since they’d last kiss. They traded spots, Derek kissing him hungrily as he pressed Stiles up against the door. In the haze of tongue and lips and teeth, Stiles heard the sound of the lock click shut on the door and pulled away, panting as he struggled to catch his breath.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his chest rising and falling.

“What’s it look like?” Derek rumbled and nibbled along Stiles’ neck.

“Here? Now?” Stiles hissed, jolting off the door as if someone was already on the other side listening in. “We are supposed to be bros, Derek!”

“It’s a big house, Stiles!”

“Yes, I am aware!”

Of course, he knew that after having gotten lost in it.

“No one’s going to hear us, Stiles, and if they do,” his expression hardened, “then tough shit! I fucking miss you and dinner was awful and I just don’t give a shit anymore! So fuck everybody today, okay? Fuck the world! I just need to be with you right now. Just you and me.”

Stiles’ eyes rounded at the intensity in Derek’s voice and the weight of his words. He’d never seen Derek like this, like he was ready to jump off an edge. Stiles was ready to go with him though, for better or worse.

“Okay,” Stiles swallowed and stepped forward, approaching Derek cautiously like he would a wounded animal. He kept his voice gentle as he consented again, “Okay.”

He allowed himself to fall easily into Derek’s brutal embrace. The want was something feral. There was nothing tame about the way they kissed now and it both thrilled and scared him. It was almost spiteful the way he let Derek use him, put him wherever he wanted, take whatever he needed. It was just the two of them as they lost control. And the world was loudly and thoroughly fucked.

After last night’s tumultuous supper dispute, Stiles was rather nervous to be back at the same dining room table for a festive Christmas Eve meal. He didn’t feel much like getting into another altercation with Derek’s mom or wasting more of Laura’s delicious food due to a lack of appetite. However, none of that was really up to him and depended mostly on how Talia would act.

Thankfully, Talia was in a jolly good mood and hadn’t said a single rude thing to Stiles all day. He thought she’d have something to say about his dinner attire at least since his tight burgundy suit wasn’t exactly traditional or masculine. He’d also styled his hair when she’d told him on the first day that real men didn’t use hair gel, just spit.

The talk at dinner wasn’t exclusively limited to gay bashing either. Talia touched on lighter topics and even shared some stories with Stiles about what Derek was like as a kid. His favorite one so far being about the year Derek spent only wearing roller skates as shoes when he was nine. Stiles couldn’t stop laughing now that it was confirmed that Derek had been a dork his whole life. Stiles was just about to beg Talia to tell him more when the doorbell rang, interrupting their meal.

“I’ll get it!” Laura hopped up from her seat and headed towards the front door.

“She’s exaggerating, you know,” Derek told him, rolling his eyes while Stiles continued to snicker. “It wasn’t a year. It was just a couple of months and I wasn’t allowed to wear them to school. Why’d you let me do it anyway, Momma?”

Talia grinned. “I’ve always believed you kids should express yourselves any way you see fit. And you did pose a good argument when you brought it up to me. You did get your chores done a lot faster on roller skates.”

The hypocrisy of the statement instantly jumped out to Stiles and he was flabbergasted that Talia couldn’t see it for herself. How could she possibly think that she’d encouraged her children to express themselves when she constantly restricted them to heteronormative gender roles. Stiles had even heard her telling Cora earlier that she needed to be more ladylike so she could find herself a husband. But Stiles didn’t understand why that was necessary when Cora was badass just the way she was.

Laura had been gone for some time, which made Stiles start to wonder who it could be at the door. Talia hadn’t said anything about expecting other guests and they lived in the middle of nowhere, so it wasn’t likely that it was some friendly neighbor deciding to pop in on Christmas Eve with sugar cookies.

“Oh, Momma, you won’t believe who’s here,” Laura exclaimed, smiling brightly as she re-entered the room with three new dinner guests.

Talia stiffened and sat up straight in her chair, the comfortable smile she’d worn all evening falling from her face. Cora’s dinner utensils dropped from her hands, the fork and knife scraping loudly against her plate. Derek didn’t fare any better with the surprise, choking on his water and sputtering everywhere. And judging from all their different reactions, Stiles had a strong hunch of who this mystery visitor could be.

Talia was the first to recover from the shock and Stiles watched as she awkwardly stood and greeted her brother and his family. Derek was able to recuperate as well, introducing Stiles to everyone as a work colleague which was just weird. How had Stiles gone from being his fiancé to his friend and now demoted to a work colleague? Meanwhile, Cora resumed eating without saying anything in what was so obviously a snub.

Only Laura was most genuinely excited to see her uncle Peter, jumping to get more plates of food for him, his husband Chris, and stepdaughter Allison. Stiles looked over at Derek, curious to know what his opinion was of his black sheep uncle, but Derek left his face completely blank and purposely so. Stiles was very intrigued as to why as well.

“It’s been years since we’ve seen you, nephew,” Peter said, taking a large bite out of his steak and chewing noisily. “Allison is starting to grow boobs now.”

Allison snorted, her dimples deep as she cracked a smile. “I’m twenty-five, Dad. I think this is as big as they’ll get.”

Peter took another bite of steak, his interest still zeroed in on Derek. “Where’d you say you’re living again?”

“San Francisco,” Derek said evenly.

“Oh!” Peter’s eyes lit up. “Have you tried the cock?”

“Peter!” Talia scolded. “We are at the dinner table.”

“Since when did you start bringing home male friends?” Peter asked, eyes moving over to Stiles next.

And Stiles understood now why Derek was being weird and emotionless. His uncle Peter was kind of a creep. He had a very keen and invasive gaze that made Stiles squirm as his eyes scanned over him. Stiles wondered what profession he must be in to have that kind of superpower; it was like he was downloading information about Stiles without even talking to him first.

Peter began smiling then, slow and sly, like a cat that got the cream. His eyes darted between Stiles and Derek then down to the band on Stiles’ left ring finger then once more between Stiles and Derek. He simpered, practically bouncing up and down in his seat, “Well isn’t he a cutie.”

“Don’t, Peter,” Chris cautioned sternly.

Peter pouted, “But you don’t even know what I’m thinking.”

“Still. Don’t,” Chris smirked, dropping a fond peck onto Peter’s mouth.

It was barely a kiss. Hell, Stiles had seen people do more with their dogs. But from Talia’s extremely repulsed reaction, you would think Christ and Peter had been fucking right there in the middle of the table.

“I see you still hate Anderson Cooper, sister,” Peter remarked.

That was all it took to get Talia started in on a rant about how CNN had this big conspiracy to force people to accept gays by shoving Anderson Cooper into their homes every New Year. It was just as ridiculous and outlandish as her claims during last night's dinner. Only now her words were a bit more vicious as she started attacking Peter directly, which then caused Chris and Allison to get involved, which then brought Cora into the mix as she came to her mother’s defense, then Laura naturally swooped in an effort to keep the peace...and yeah, weren’t holidays with the whole family just amazing?

“I just don’t agree with you marrying, Chris,” Talia yelled. “It was obviously just rebellious attention seeking behavior to tear a rift into this family!”

“Alright, that’s enough!” Derek slammed his fist onto the table and jumped to his feet, his chair flying out from behind him with a loud screech. “That’s enough, Momma.”

Talia frowned, looking around and behind her as if Derek was talking to his other mom that he didn't have because that went against Talia's beliefs. She furrowed her brows when she saw no one and pointed at herself, “Wait, you mean me?”

“Yes, you! I can't listen to you anymore!" Derek shouted, then took a deep breath and came clean, "Everyone, Stiles isn’t my friend. He’s my fiancé.”

“Hi,” Stiles addressed everyone, displaying his engagement ring helpfully to the room.

“I love him," Derek informed Talia, "And I know it’s disgusting to you and goes against your beliefs but I refuse to let you and your opinions ruin my relationship. I understand if you never want to speak to me again, but I’m not going to apologize for who I am.”

"Never speak to you again?" Talia's mouth opened and closed several times as she stared at Derek in disbelief, "I don't want that. I don't care if you're gay, Derek."

"Bisexual," Derek corrected. "And I don't want to hear that you don't care because I want you to care about me and about Stiles. I want you to be more tolerant of people that are different from you and I want you to know more about my community. I want you to come to my wedding and I want you to be a part of my life. I want Stiles and I to be able to come home for more holidays. I want you to do better. I want you to accept me."

“Derek," Talia stepped closer and pressed a hand to his cheek. She smiled softly, "I want a lot of that too. Stiles seems like a really nice boy and I want to learn and better for you, but it might take me some time. Still, I think you and I should have a really long talk."

Derek nodded, tearing up as he took her hand off of his cheek and kissed it. "I'd like that."

They left the room together to go somewhere private to talk, leaving everyone else in the dining room who'd been a witness a little touched. Stiles was shocked at how receptive Talia had been to Derek wanting to talk things out. He was so happy for him and hopeful for the future. Even Cora surprised him. He thought it would take her much longer to come around because of how tough she was, but she softened pretty easily, giving Stiles a hug as she welcomed him to the family. Laura hugged him as well and asked him tons of questions about the wedding plans. He ended up Facetiming Lydia so that she could give Laura all the details herself, but didn't miss the way Cora's eyes locked on Lydia through the screen.

Stiles left them with his phone and moved over to Peter, needing to ask, “You were a bloodhound in a previous life, right?”

Peter nodded. “Yeah, I was. I was also Lady Godiva."

#Superwhumper06 #stereksanta18 #*fic18 #*gifts18

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papesandcigars · 6 years

Note

Could you please write a canon era Albert?

I’ve Got Ya {{albert dasilva x reader}}

a/n: I actually don’t know a lot about Albert so this was a bit of a challenge for me! I apologize if I didn’t portray him accurately but I’d also love it if someone would send me fanon about him

word count: 1320

warnings: mentions of alcohol

canon era

unedited/ lightly edited/ fully edited

You brushed wisps of hair away from your face with your elbow, your hands busy kneading out the dough for the last batch of bread you’d make that day. It had been a long week, and you were ready to get out of the deli and have some real fun. “You ready for tonight, (Y/N)?” Thomas, asked, lightly patting your shoulder and leaning against the counter you worked on. Thomas was one of your close friends you’d gotten to know while working your first shift at Jacobi’s. You two, along with your other coworkers, Lydia and Clara, loved going out after the evening shift you all shared on Friday nights. “Thomas, I’m working,” you laughed, rolling your eyes. He was a flirt, and the last thing you needed was for him to distract you. Jacobi was generous when it came to letting you and the other three kids work in his family owned business, and you didn’t want him to second guess his decision because of an unproductive staff. “Alright, I’ll leave you alone,” Thomas laughed, pushing himself off of the counter. “But I’m telling you now- I made friends with a customer who just so happens to own the saloon a couple of blocks down. I think he’ll probably let us in free tonight if you’re sweet enough.” You rolled your eyes, excited at the prospect, but determined to stay on task. Thinking about the drinking games could wait. You finished kneading and set the dough to the side to rest. Right on time, the front door chime rang, so you rinsed your hands, grabbed a pencil and notepad, and walked out to the lobby. It took everything in you not to roll your eyes. Those newsboys were back again, and they always came in a huge pack. You tried to hide your slight distaste for them as you strolled over to the tables they began to take up. It was nothing personal or deep, really, they just always took up so much space that could be used for paying customers. They were rowdy and wild, and there was always that one boy who tried to flirt his way into getting free food. And then there was the other one who just flirted to flirt. They were a funny bunch when you were in the mood to laugh, but for now, you just wanted to get out of the deli and have fun with your own friends. “Hey boys,” you smiled, trying to prepare yourself for the craziness to come. “What can I get for you today?” Every boy at the table asked for a glass of water, except for the green eyed redhead you’d always been a little fond of. “A glass’a seltzer, miss,” he beamed, his buddies hitting his shoulders and hyping around him. “Seltzer?” you teased, alluding to the many times the boy had asked for it but could really only afford water. “You sure you can afford it today, friend?” “Sure can, miss!” he proudly exclaimed, pulling out a silver coin. “Got a whole extra nickel I been waiting to spend.” “Wow,” you sarcastically replied, to which the boy chuckled. “Guess I should start calling you Rockefeller, huh?” “You can call me Albert,” he extended his hand to take yours, which you unintentionally allowed, and he placed a kiss on the top of your hand. You rolled your eyes and hoped no one could see the sudden blush that flared upon your cheeks as the other boys laughed and cheered at their friend. “Nice to officially meet ya…” “(Y/N)”, you replied, an unexpected giggle in your voice. “(Y/N),” he smiled softly, then flipped the coin in your direction. “Keep the change,” he smiled, as you caught the coin. The change, of course, wasn’t much. But you held your tongue to allow him the shining moment you were sure he’d never had. You giggled your way all the way back to the kitchen, and after bringing the water and single glass of seltzer out to the boys, Jacobi was kind enough to let you and your friends leave early. You hung your apron and pulled the hair tie out of your hair. Lydia and Clara took the lead, Thomas sticking by your side to flirt as you all walked out of the deli. You laughed at something stupid he’d said, and couldn’t help but notice Albert’s smile falter as he locked eyes with yours. Despite his earlier success with you, Albert’s mood turned gloomy as he watched you walk down the street with your friends from the window. He should’ve known- it didn’t matter that he’d always had a crush on you, you two were from totally separate worlds and hung around totally different people. Your family was pretty well off and you’d only gotten the job at Jacobi’s to earn some extra money and learn a little responsibility- whereas he was selling papers so that he’d be able to eat at least a meal a day, and most times what he earned still wasn’t enough. Embarrassment suddenly rushed throughout him at the excitement he felt, giving you a nickel to keep. What good would it do you? He was ashamed of himself. Meanwhile, you were having a great night out, until things started to get a little too crazy. Several other kids your age had stumbled their way into the bar and nobody was giving anyone grief about it. You lost count of how many shots of liquor you’d had after… you didn’t even remember. You decided to get out while you still could, when you weren’t too far gone, but you couldn’t find Clara or Lydia or even Thomas. You’d find out later that they deserted you on purpose. You stumbled out of the saloon alone, trying hard not to stumble, but tripped on a crack in the sidewalk. He didn’t mean to meet up with you again. He’d told the boys he was just going on a walk, and whether it was by fate or circumstance, he’d ended up crossing paths with you just in time. “(Y/N)?” Albert muttered to himself as you fell forward. He quickly rushed to you, arms extended out, and caught you just before you would’ve hit the pavement. He pulled you up and assessed you for damage. “Albert!” Your head was spinning, but you were sure it was him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t… Thank you for… I don’t know where…” He was trying to follow along with your broken sentences, but he was just as confused as you were. “Are ya alright?” he asked, trying to make contact with your wandering eyes. You didn’t answer, still searching desperately for your friends, the people who were supposed to have your back. He followed your switching gaze, and finally understood. “I don’t….” he tried to be as gentle as he could, “I don’t think they’re here, (Y/N). Are you okay?” You finally met his green eyes, which held so much concern for you. Suddenly your heart stopped as you saw the sight before you- his signature red hair was shining under the dim street lights, his lips were almost too close for you not to kiss. Against your drunken judgment, you kept your distance and nodded. “Hey, I’ve got ya. Let me walk you home, yeah?” He steadied you with one arm around your waist, his other hand resting on your shoulder. “Where d’ya live?”“I can’t go home,” you slurred slightly. You really weren’t that far gone, but if your parents caught just a whiff of your breath, you’d be in a world of trouble. You were supposed to stay the night at Clara’s, but you knew that wouldn’t be happening. “Alright,” Albert nodded. “You can stay with us, if ya want. They’s an open bed right next to mine.”And for once, you were relieved to be welcomed in by the ragamuffins of Manhattan.

#albert dasilva #albert dasilva x reader #albert x reader #newsie x reader #newsies fanfiction #newsies fanfic #newsie #newsies #papesandcigars #albert dasilva asks

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dragon-temeraire · 7 years

Text

We Have Potential

Summary: Derek has finally been invited to the annual North American Werewolf Convention. The only problem? They’re expecting him to bring a significant other. He doesn’t actually have one, but everyone volunteers Stiles for the job.

Notes: A ‘fake dating-werewolf convention-bed sharing’ trope combination! Also an AU where nobody died and Derek leads the pack. This is the second longest thing I’ve ever written, whoo. This fic is complete, and I’ll be posting part two in a few days, when I’ve had time to edit it. (On AO3)

(Part Two)

When Stiles usually strolls into the loft, Derek is either napping, cooking, or pretending he’s annoyed by Stiles’ arrival. (Stiles was never actually given a spare key, after all. But he also knows that Derek doesn’t really mind). This time is different, though.

Derek is too busy reading a letter to notice Stiles at all, his expression a strange mix of happiness and fear.

Stiles hesitates a few steps from the door, wondering if he’s intruding on something personal. Maybe he should just sneak back out. But Derek is looking more and more worried by the second, so Stiles stays right where he is. “Derek?” he tries cautiously. “Everything okay?”

Derek startles a little at his voice, looking up from the letter with wide eyes. “Stiles,” he says, swallowing thickly. “This is—I’ve been invited to speak at the North American Werewolf Convention. Apparently they’ve heard about me. Heard about what I’ve done.”

Normally that last sentence would be laden with guilt, but this time Derek actually sounds kind of…proud.

“They want me to be on the panels for Integrating Bitten Wolves and Managing Pack Dynamics,” Derek continues, looking like he doesn’t quite believe it.

Stiles thinks Derek would also be highly qualified for a panel on Dealing With Loss and Overcoming Hardships, if such a thing existed. “Are you going to go, then?” he asks instead.

“I—the last time my family was invited, I was too young to go. And now I really want to see what it’s like; I want to meet the other packs, and other werewolves. I’d love to go to as many of the talks and panels as I can, but—”

Stiles waits for the rest of that sentence, but it doesn’t come. “Is there…some kind of catch? What’s wrong?”

Derek points to the bottom of the letter. “They want me to bring my Mate or my Potential.”

Derek gives those two words a lot of weight, and Stiles finds himself intrigued. “What’s a Potential?”

“Adult werewolves, if they are without a Mate, are always aware of one or more people that they would be compatible with, usually determined by scent. This person is then courted by the werewolf, and is referred to as a Potential,” Derek says, with the air of someone reciting something by rote.

“So…they essentially want you to bring a date, then? What’s the problem with that?” Stiles asks. “Is your Potential someone random that you’ve never talked to before, like a grocery store clerk? Gas station attendant? The new librarian—”

“The problem is that I don’t have one,” Derek cuts in, scowling. “But if I want to go, I have to take someone with me.” He sighs and looks down at the letter again. “I’m calling Scott.”

“Why, are you picking him?” Stiles asks, feeling irrationally hurt.

Derek sends him an odd look. “No, because I want him and the rest of the pack here, so we can discuss this together.”

“Good plan,” Stiles says, mollified. But he can’t help looking at Derek speculatively, wondering what, exactly, it means that he doesn’t have a Potential at all.

It’s summer and they’re all on break from college, so the rest of the pack come over right away, with the exception of Allison, who’s doing survival training in the woods with her dad. This isn’t an emergency, so they don’t call her in.

Derek waits until everyone is settled comfortably, then explains the whole situation.

“So, since I don’t have a Potential,” Derek says, and Stiles doesn’t miss the sad look Scott sends Derek’s way at that. “I’ll need a…pretend one. Just for the convention weekend.”

“Okay?” Isaac says, looking unconcerned. “Just pick someone from the pack, that’ll make it easy.”

Derek nods. “That’s why you’re all here. So we can decide who it should be.”

To Stiles’ surprise—and evidently Derek’s, too—everyone immediately points at him without hesitation.

“Scott, why do you think Stiles would be the best choice?” Derek asks curiously.

“He loves research, so I know he’ll bring back a lot of good information for the rest of us to learn from. Also, it’d give him a chance to wear all of his ridiculous werewolf-themed shirts around a fresh audience.”

Stiles laughs and high-fives Scott, because that’s totally true.

Derek makes a sour face, but moves on. “Erica, how about you?”

“Stiles is a good choice, because he already has a—”

“Erica,” Stiles cuts in warningly.

“—an excellent grasp of how to hopelessly crush on someone. I’m sure he can make his attraction to you look convincing,” she finishes sweetly.

Boyd, Isaac, and even Lydia say similar things about Stiles’ ability to compile information, and suggest that he’d be a good date for Derek. After hearing everyone out, Derek sighs and says, “Stiles, would you be willing to act as my Potential?”

“Uh, I don’t think we covered this, but does your Potential have to be a werewolf?” Stiles asks warily. It wouldn’t do to get his hopes up needlessly.

“No, of course not,” Derek says immediately.

“In that case, I’d be happy to be your pretend wolf-mate.”

“Pretend Potential wolf-mate,” Derek corrects, smirking. “Everyone else can go, I need to talk this over with Stiles.”

The rest of the pack file out, though Erica stops to pat Stiles on the shoulder and say, “This is a role you were born to play. You’ll do great.” She gives him a wink before she goes, and Stiles can’t help huffing out a laugh.

Derek waits a few minutes by the door, likely making sure everyone else is out of hearing range. “Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks. “We’ll have to make it believable—you’ll need to sleep in the same bed as me, we’ll share meals, and…there will have to be a lot of touching. Often.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows. “Is that a euphemism? Are you telling me we have to have sex?” He’s certainly not against that idea, but—

“No,” Derek says, a hint of pink on his cheeks. “I just mean that wolves are very tactile with their Mates—or Potentials—so it would be unusual if we didn’t kiss or hug or hold hands publicly.”

“And you don’t want us to stand out for the wrong reasons,” Stiles says agreeably, though he doesn’t miss the soft, almost longing way Derek says the word hug.

“Exactly,” Derek says, nodding.

“Then I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Stiles says, because this is clearly important to Derek. “And I will cuddle with you for the entirety of the convention, if need be.”

Derek rolls his eyes at that, but Stiles can see how pleased he is.

Stiles goes back to his apartment to pack a bag, because Derek thought it would be best if they started getting used to living together right away. The convention is only two weeks away, and Derek wants to make sure they’ll be completely comfortable around each other by then.

Stiles also vaguely suspects that Derek wants him to bring his clothes over so that he can roll around in them until they smell…Derek-y, or something. Or maybe he just wants to try them on, for old time’s sake. Stiles would like to wear some of Derek’s big, soft sweaters, so he can’t really talk.

He also packs a bag of books and movies, along with his laptop, because he knows he’s going to need some kind of distraction. Just thinking about all the snugging they’re going to be doing sets off a bunch of DANGER signals in his brain. He’s pretty sure there’s no way he’s getting through the next few weeks without Derek figuring out just how big of a crush Stiles has on him. And that’s going to be really awkward.

Because as much as Stiles wishes he actually was Derek’s Potential, he’s clearly not. The fact that no one else is, either, doesn’t exactly cheer him up. Because it has to be awful for Derek, knowing that there’s nobody out there who’s suitable for him.

So if doing this can make Derek feel a little less lonely, Stiles figures it’s definitely worth it.

The afternoon at the loft is pretty uneventful, except—

Except that Derek touches him. And while that normally wouldn’t be a big deal—Derek has literally pulled him out of danger, after all, and has taken his pain many times—but it’s the way Derek touches him that gets Stiles.

He’ll reach out toward Stiles’ shoulder, or his wrist—always where Stiles will be able to see it coming—slowly, hesitantly, almost like he’s expecting Stiles to pull away. Like he’s not sure he’s really allowed.

And it makes Stiles’ heart hitch, because this is clearly contact that Derek wants, but is afraid to initiate.

So Stiles tries to encourage him by leaning into it, by smiling when Derek’s arm carefully drapes over his shoulders. But Derek stays tentative, cautious, and as the evening stretches on, Stiles decides to say something.

They’re on the couch, watching one of Stiles’ old Batman movies, and when Derek’s hand drifts nervously toward his thigh, Stiles says, “It’s okay. I’m okay with this.” He wants to say you don’t have to be so careful or don’t be afraid, but Derek is already tensing up.

He looks uncertainly at Stiles for a long moment, then his hand settles, heavy and warm, across Stiles’ knee. Stiles grins and wiggles closer, so he can lean against Derek’s side, and it’s not long before Derek lets out a long breath and relaxes against him.

It’s been a long time since Stiles has felt this safe and comfortable, and he settles into it, contented.

Of course, Derek notices when he starts to doze off, and says, “Come on, it’s bed time.”

Stiles lifts his head off of Derek’s chest, sighs and pats the couch cushion. “You want me to sleep here?” he asks drowsily.

“No,” Derek says, and uses the arm he has around Stiles to make him stand up when he does. “Not when I have a perfectly good bed.”

“You sure?” Stiles says. “We have two weeks.” He certainly wasn’t expecting Derek to start the ‘sleeping together’ phase the very first night.

Derek shrugs. “We might as well get used to it now.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, following Derek up the stairs. “But I have to warn you, I’m a restless sleeper.”

When Derek glances back at him, he doesn’t look too worried about it.

Stiles brushes his teeth, gets changed into sweats and an old shirt, and heads back to the bedroom. Derek is already there, propped up on the headboard and reading a paperback book. He looks so soft and vulnerable there, with his relaxed expression and his hair falling down onto his forehead, that Stiles feels his heart clench.

Derek looks up and catches him lingering in the doorway. “You okay?” he asks cautiously, his eyebrows starting to furrow. “You don’t have to sleep here tonight, not if you aren’t comfortable with it. I can give you more time.”

“No, it’s just—I don’t want to disrupt your sleep.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. “And people who have to share a bed with me usually end up pretty annoyed by morning,” he says.

“Well, I won’t be,” Derek says, pulling back the covers invitingly. “And if you do keep me awake, I’ll just take a nap tomorrow. No big deal.”

“All right,” Stiles says, and then yawns before he can say anything else. He is tired.

And the bed is pretty big, so Stiles figures he can keep away from the edge without encroaching into Derek’s space too much. He turns on his side and curls around his pillow, trying to will himself to stay in the same spot all night.

He doesn’t, of course.

But it doesn’t actually seem to matter.

Stiles has never shared a bed with someone like Derek—no matter which way he moves, no matter which direction he flings his legs, Derek just moves with it, adjusting himself automatically.

Stiles wakes up at one point and finds that he’s sprawled at an angle, stretched across the bed almost corner to corner. It’s strangely comfortable, and he realizes quickly that it’s because one of Derek’s thighs is tucked under his knees, taking pressure off of his lower back. He’s pushed his feet under Derek’s other leg, and his toes are nice and warm.

Derek doesn’t seem bothered by the contact, so Stiles goes back to sleep.

He wakes up another time to find that he’s leaning back against Derek, who is supporting him, even while he sleeps. Stiles considers rolling over, moving away, but Derek’s chest is warm and comfortable against his back, and one of Derek’s hands is gently curled around his hip, so he just closes his eyes instead.

When he wakes up in the morning, feeling surprisingly well rested, it takes a moment for him to realize that he successfully shared a bed with someone—as far as he knows, neither of them got kicked or elbowed. He’s tempted to snooze a little longer, but Derek’s not beside him anymore, and Stiles wants to know what he’s up to.

He stops in the bathroom first, though, making sure to brush his teeth before he heads downstairs.

He finds Derek in the kitchen, in front of the stove. When he hears Stiles come in, he turns and smiles. “See, I told you not to worry.”

Stiles doesn’t tell him that worrying is practically his job, at this point. He’s sure Derek already knows.

Derek walks over and leans in, gently brushing his stubbled cheek against Stiles’. He smells like cinnamon, and Stiles wants to bury his face in Derek’s neck and never leave. “Traditional greeting between a wolf and their Mate, or Potential,” he explains, then steps away again.

“Um, okay,” Stiles says, clearing his throat nervously. “Do I need to, like, wear your clothes or something?”

“You can if you want to,” Derek says, looking amused. “But it shouldn’t be necessary. Us spending time together should mix our scents really well, or at least enough for another wolf to accept you as my Potential.” He points to the stove. “I’m making oatmeal, you want some?”

“Sure,” Stiles says, blinking a little at the change in topic. But Derek doesn’t sound too worried about the scent thing, so Stiles decides not to be, either.

Stiles asks Derek later, after he’s had breakfast and a shower, if it’s okay to reciprocate—if he can touch Derek the way Derek’s been touching him. Because he wants to be sure, before he leans his cheek against Derek’s shoulder, or before he walks up behind Derek and wraps his arms around him.

He might be a little touch starved, and he suspects Derek might be too, but still. He doesn’t want to do anything Derek’s not comfortable with.

“You can,” Derek says softly, looking away. “I especially like to have my hair played with,” he mumbles, looking embarrassed.

That night, while they’re watching tv, Stiles gets Derek to lay down with his head in Stiles’ lap. Then he slides his hand into Derek’s hair, finding it pleasantly soft and silky between his fingers. He traces the edge of Derek’s hairline, gently massages the back of his neck, then slowly cards his fingers forward and back again.

The contact must be soothing, because Derek falls asleep there, curled as far into Stiles’ lap as he can get, nearly boneless with relaxation.

He traces his fingers across the breadth of Derek’s shoulders, the muscle surprisingly yielding under his hands, and then trails them down the curve of Derek’s ribs, awed by the strength he can feel there, even now.

There’s a lot of emotions welling up him in him as he gazes down at Derek, his body lax and completely trusting under Stiles’ hands. He’s sure, if Derek awoke now, his heart would give him away.

Instead, he leans his head back against the couch, and goes to sleep.

He wakes up to Derek’s hand, resting warm and heavy on his chest. He realizes, after sleepily looking around, that he’s upstairs, in bed. Derek must have carried him, and he missed it because he was asleep. How disappointing.

Before he dozes off again, he covers Derek’s hand with his own, tucking his thumb against Derek’s palm. It sends a soft feeling of comfort through him, and he lets his eyes flutter shut.

Stiles goes out on the balcony the next afternoon, and hangs his feet out over the edge, letting the wind ruffle his hair. He keeps his legs tucked under the railing, and leans forward to smile at the city spreading out before him. He feels good. Happy.

Derek joins him after a while, and hands Stiles a book filled with post-its and page markers. “It’s stuff I thought you’d want to know,” he explains. “I marked the most important parts, and made some corrections too.”

“Cool,” Stiles says, turning the book so he can read the faded title on the spine. He smiles when he sees that it’s called Werewolf Etiquette and Social Structure. “Thank you.”

He starts flipping carefully through the pages, and stops on a chapter entitled Meetings Between Werewolf Packs. On the post-it next to it, Derek has written now called conventions. Curious, he starts reading immediately.

Derek gets Stiles to work out with him, and despite his protests and complaints, he actually enjoys it. Derek is kind of notorious for doing angst-fueled workouts, so it’s nice to see him doing pull-ups while smiling a little.

He follows Derek through sets of pushups and sit ups and a bunch of other exercises he doesn’t even want to give a name to. It’s clear that Derek has a routine, and Stiles is pleased to find that he keeps up pretty well, even if he can’t do as many reps.

Derek walks him through some stretches afterward, and Stiles can’t help noticing that he smells really good. Nobody should smell that appealing while they’re covered in sweat, but somehow Derek does. He catches himself trying to lean in and get another sniff, and wonders if this is how werewolves feel all the time.

Personally it makes Stiles feels like a weirdo, but thankfully Derek doesn’t seem to notice his…interest. And when he offers to let Stiles have first shower, he doesn’t hesitate to take him up on it. He needs to get away from Derek’s pheromones or whatever, before he does something really embarrassing.

After a week of them cuddling on the couch and sleeping in the same bed, along with all the casual little touches in between, Derek decides to call Scott over.

“I want to know what we’d smell like to a wolf that hasn’t been around us recently,” Derek explains when Stiles asks why. “I want to make sure our scents are compatible.”

“Can’t you tell that yourself?” Stiles asks curiously, and doesn’t miss the odd little change in Derek’s expression. It’s subtle and brief, but it’s there.

“I’ve gotten used to it,” Derek says, shrugging it off. “I’m too acclimated to our scents.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, because Derek seems a little agitated. Maybe he’s getting tired of having someone underfoot all the time.

And admittedly, Stiles has had to adjust to that, too. But that’s mostly because he’s sure he likes this situation too much, being in Derek’s space almost non-stop, and he knows it’s going to be difficult to go back to the way things were.

And it’s only been a week.

He’s definitely screwed.

Scott shows up a little while later, and reels back as soon as he walks in the door. “Whoa,” he says, blinking in surprise. “You guys smell really good. It’s kinda intense,” he adds, rubbing his nose, “but still.”

“That’s because we’ve spent so much time together here,” Derek says. “But there’s nothing discordant or strange about our scents?”

“No,” Scott says, shaking his head. “Not at all. It’s hard to describe, but you smell sort of…sweet and warm. Like herbal tea with honey, or something.” He shrugs. “Nothing weird to me.”

“Thank you,” Derek says. “I needed to make sure.”

“Of course,” Scott says, smiling sunnily. “You’re going to leave the day before the convention starts, right?”

“Yeah, we’ll have to. It’s a seven hour drive,” Derek says. “And the letter mentioned that they’d have a room for us available on Friday if we wanted to use it.”

Scott nods, and pulls Stiles into a quick hug. “You’re gonna have a really great time, don’t worry too much,” he murmurs before letting go.

“Thanks, dude,” Stiles says, and playfully ruffles Scott’s hair before he steps away. He does appreciate the sentiment, though.

And it reminds him that, even if he ruins his not-quite-relationship with Derek because of his feelings, at least he’ll still have friends to support him.

“We’re all gonna come and see you off,” Scott says cheerfully. “But I’ll let you get back to your snuggling now.” He’s out the door before Stiles can get out a reply.

“You know,” Derek says slowly, speculatively. “I am in the mood for an afternoon nap.”

Stiles grins.

The convention is only two days, Saturday and Sunday, so he gives Derek a disbelieving look when he says to pack more clothes.

“I already have four shirts in the bag, Derek,” he says wryly. “How many more could I need?”

“First of all, you need something better than this,” Derek says, holding up one of Stiles’ plaid shirts. “There’s going to be a nice dinner Saturday night, and this isn’t going to cut it.”

“Plaid is nice,” he huffs in response, mostly just to mess with Derek. “But yeah, I’ll pack a dress shirt. In case there’s something a little more casual, though, you should let me borrow one of your Henley’s. They always look good.”

Derek freezes for half a second, then says, “I don’t think it’d fit right. But if you really need—”

“Ah, don’t worry,” Stiles cuts in, since Derek seems a little flustered. “I promise I won’t steal too much of your wardrobe.”

Derek can’t quite hide his amusement at that, and shakes his head. “You’ll also need something warm to put on. Werewolves tend to run hot, so most humans find the convention to be quite chilly. At least, that’s what I’ve heard,” he says, shrugging.

“I’ll make sure I can bundle up,” Stiles says agreeably, because he does get cold easily. He strolls casually to Derek’s dresser and pulls a couple of sweaters out.

“I thought you weren’t going to steal my clothes,” Derek says, eyebrow raised.

“Just these,” Stiles says cheerfully. “You have the best sweaters. They’re so soft.”

Derek watches Stiles rub his cheek against the soft material, looking uncertain. “It’ll make you smell more like my Potential anyway,” he says gruffly.

Stiles can’t say he minds that a bit, so he just shrugs. Derek watches him for another moment, then wordlessly brings a couple more sweaters over before leaving the room.

Stiles immediately puts one on, feeling nice and snuggly, then carefully packs the rest with a smile.

“What time are we leaving tomorrow?” Stiles asks. His face is half-buried in Derek’s pillow, but he knows he’ll be heard anyway.

“I was thinking we could get an early start. Maybe leave by 8 am?” Derek says, sitting on the bed next to him.

Stiles gives a muffled groan, pressing his face deeper into the pillow. It’s not exactly late yet, but he still wants to be well-rested, especially if he’s going to have to spend hours in a car. He tends to get squirmy and short-tempered when he’s tired, and it’s worse when he’s confined to a small space. He wants this trip to go well; he doesn’t want to make Derek miserable.

So he needs more sleep than an eight o’clock departure will afford him.

Derek gives a quiet chuckle. “You obviously have strong feelings about this,” he says, sounding amused. “I just want to make sure we don’t get there too late. How about we leave at ten, instead?”

Stiles makes a noise of assent, but doesn’t lift his head. He doesn’t want Derek to see him grinning.

“Well, I’m glad we got that settled,” Derek says, his hand stroking warmly down Stiles’ back. “And I know you want to get some rest. I’ll be back once I’ve finished up downstairs.”

He feels the bed shift as Derek gets up, hears his quiet footsteps receding, but he stays right where he is a little longer, feeling strangely contented. But before he drifts off, he remembers to text the rest of the pack and update them on the new departure time.

Stiles digs through the bag of goodies the pack gave him at their send-off. There’s snacks and puzzle books—Sudoku and crosswords—and even a Rubik’s cube. And it’s probably for the best that they included stuff like that, because he’s mostly had to entertain himself. Derek hasn’t exactly been talkative.

He’s digging through the center console, looking for a pen, when he suddenly notices how tense Derek is. His shoulders are stiff, his jaw clenched, and his hands are gripping tight around the steering wheel. They’re not in heavy traffic, and they’ve only been on the road a few hours, so he knows he can’t have annoyed Derek that much already.

Derek generally has a pretty high tolerance for his antics, anyway.

So it must be something else, and Stiles is pretty sure he knows what.

“Hey,” he says carefully. “I read everything you marked for me in that book, and I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. I’m not going to screw this up for you.”

Derek glances over, his expression full of surprise. “I’m not worried about you messing anything up,” he says. And though he has to look back at the road, he reaches over and squeezes Stiles’ shoulder reassuringly.

“Oh,” Stiles says, leaning into the contact.

He spends the next hour reading out crossword clues, and they solve several puzzles together. It takes a while, but eventually Derek stops sounding like he’s giving the answers through his teeth, and begins to smile instead.

#sterek #eternalsterek #werewolf convention #pining #fluff #snuggling #my fic

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