#and it was a formal event. our friend got a degree

[honeyed-disgraceful]

I love hanging out with my out of work friend group because everyone is queer and has dyed hair and everyone on the street turns to look at us hot bitches(gender neutral) and we can be as gay as we want and no one is gonna judge and be shocked in the group

[peskellence]

Pairing: RK900/Gavin Reed

Tags: Post Pacifist Ending, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn, Smut, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Masterlist

Read on AO3 here:

Summary: A lot has changed since the revolution. Crimes against androids are now being treated with greater severity, with many being subject to the same penalties as crimes against humans. While anti-android attitudes are on the decline, transforming the mindset of an entire city is no simple task.

A reluctant Gavin Reed and his new partner RK900 have been assigned to investigate a string of disturbing murders. Despite the shift in Detroit's social climate, Gavin still holds reservations about whether or not androids are truly alive. Will his developing feelings for 'Nines' prompt a shift in perspective?

Warnings: Graphic Violence, Depression/Self Destructive Behaviour, Smut

Word Count: 3.8K

With the report of the events that had taken place received by the higher DPD officials, Nines' behaviour had been formally classified. Gavin caught a glimpse of it on Fowler’s monitor when he was called in to make his statement: 

Employee Classification: Android.

Model: RK900.

Incident Type: Software Malfunction - Moderate. 

Suggested Action(s): Performance Review.

Given the gravity of what had occurred, it seemed a massive understatement, and unfairly dismissive. A sign that the system had not fully reformed its treatment of android employees, with language that harkened back to pre-revolution days. 

At the very least, the captain seemed to agree that the official ruling was somewhat short-sighted, acting swiftly in ordering a welfare check. Had Nines been human, the situation would likely be received with a much greater degree of compassion. His actions in the lead-up to Gavin's assault comparable to a psychological breakdown. 

Gavin felt close to one himself, staring through his sleep-deprived haze at the vacant chair at the end of his desk. A gentle voice broke through to him as a hand rested reassuringly on his shoulder. "Gav, you shouldn't be here right now. I can see how tired you are."

Tina had graciously allowed him to spend the night at hers. The gesture had been appreciated, as the thought of going home alone after what had happened had proved unbearable. Despite the security her presence provided, he'd not been able to sleep. Closed eyes conjured nothing but images of Nines' face. A frantic, disordered sequence of disturbed mania, detached vacancy, and fearful anguish. Replaying endlessly in his mind like a twisted slideshow.

"Why don't you go and see Fowler? Get him to sign you off for the rest of the day," Tina thoughtfully suggested. "You were injured on duty, after all." 

As Gavin continued to ruminate, his head pulsed with the twin rhythms of a steady migraine and the wound carved into the back. He cupped it gently, and it burned at the contact—another nagging reminder of the previous day's events. Glancing up at the station clock, he glowered grimly at the time shown:

"Twenty-four hours. It's been twenty-four hours since we last saw him."

Tina seemed more than a little perturbed but persisted in her attempts to lift her friend's spirits. "Tell you what. I’ll give you my keys. Head back to mine, and you can borrow my slanket." She gave his shoulder a firm nudge but with no actual weight behind it. "I swear I won't even be mad if you eat the rest of my pizza. As long as you promise to get some rest." 

"I won't be able to rest" Gavin balled hands into his dishevelled hair, dangerously close to pulling out in large clumps. "Not until they find him."

"Hey, have some faith in your colleagues.You've got Detroit's Okayest Officers on this."

Gavin didn't laugh at the joke, causing Tina's smile to falter. With added severity, she leaned closer, hugging herself to the back of his chair but stopping shy of an actual embrace. The detective had never been the cuddly sort, of which she was acutely aware. "No one is going to stop looking, not until we've found him—but you torturing yourself like this won't change anything." 

"I can't fucking help it, I just keep thinking."

"Well, there's your problem."

"I keep thinking—" he persisted, shooting her an sour look. "What if he doesn't come back?"

Tina seemed to take a moment to consider the possibility before shaking her head in reassurance. "Nines doesn't seem like the reckless type. I doubt he's skipped town or anything." 

"He wasn't acting like himself. Who the Hell knows what he might do?" His head drooped limply over his desk as he lost all energy to hold it upright. "He said he'd been 'compromised'. What does that mean?"

"I don't know, that seems like an android-coded question." 

"But it can't be good, right?"

"I could ask Jasmine?" Tina suggested, in an apparent attempt to be constructive. "She's my friend at Reception. The ST300."

Gavin was less than amenable to the suggestion. "The one you hooked up with at the Christmas party? This is serious.”

"Hey, I never said that we hooked up. I said that I don't kiss and tell," Tina held up her hands defensively. "and I am being serious. All I'm saying is that maybe 'compromised' is not as bad as it sounds." 

"He rebooted, Ti. How is that not bad?"

"Could be quite normal for androids?" she suggested optimistically. "He'd just had a big emotional shock, what with the other RK900. Maybe it was just a blip." 

While Gavin knew the comment had been well-intentioned, he couldn't help but bristle at the wording. "It wasn't a blip. It had been going on for hours. It was like he was slowly breaking down from the moment he got that dispatch call."

Realising that her friend seemed determined to deflect any and all attempts at reassurance, Tina finally relented. She gave Gavin's shoulder one final, reassuring squeeze before slowly pulling away. 

"If you really don't want to rest, at the very least, let me get you a coffee." Turning towards the canteen, she gave him a parting glance over the shoulder, and gestured with her head towards his workstation. "Wait here, okay?"

In her absence, Gavin continued to rack his brains for any details that may prove significant in locating his partner. Consideration was made for every agonising word he'd uttered, trying to determine if they held any answers. 

Tina may have been correct in her suggestion that this was an android-specific issue. Consulting an android officer was likely his best bet, but it would need to be someone who knew Nines, at least on a rudimentary level. Enough to know where he might retreat in a time of psychological crisis. 

Wait. Gavin shot up, cursing his exhausted mind for not determining the answer sooner. Connor. That little rat.

His partner's predecessor clearly knew more than he was letting on, made evident by the warning he had imparted to Gavin just a couple of days prior:

"Nines mustn't experience any undue emotional stress. I ask that you not push him too much." 

Gavin stormed through the precinct, a newfound target in mind. Rage was building fast, coiling in his stomach like a hissing viper. He found the android by his usual station, at the desk conjoining Anderson's. He was pacing about aimlessly, head dipped and LED signalling a marked level of distress. The detective felt no empathy for this, proceeding undeterred in his heated march.

"You", he hissed viciously, levying a pointed finger at his coworker. 

Connor was startled from his dissociative state and looked up with panicked eyes to see who had addressed him. Locking onto the detective, his troubled expression became more frenzied. He dashed forward, grabbing the man firmly by the forearms. 

"Gavin, please tell me you've heard from him", he babbled. "I have tried to make contact several times, but he has blocked our communication channel. He has never done this before, I'm—" 

Gavin lunged forward, snarling, as he balled his hands into the front of his shirt. He shoved the android back, propelling him into a nearby wall and pinning him against it. The android made no attempt to break his hold, appearing too shocked to do so.

"You knew this would happen." He pulled Connor forward before slamming him back, watching as his head ricocheted against the sturdy surface. "And you fucked me around, letting me think it was jealousy. You didn't tell me that 'pushing' Nines would blow a fuse in his fucking brain."

Connor seemed to recover some of his lost composure in the wake of the heightened stakes. He tightened his grip on Gavin’s arms in a defensive gesture. "I am sorry. I wanted to say more, but he wouldn’t have liked me to." 

"Well, he isn't here." He pulled Connor back again before letting go, resulting in another slam. "So start talking. Right now. Or I swear I'll finish what we started in that Archive Room."

A flash of recollection crossed the android's eyes at the events the man was referring to. There was a subtle twitch of his lips, like the ghost of a smug smile, before it disappeared.

"I didn't think there would be another RK900. If I'd ever known there would ever be a situation where he would have—to be reminded of—" The android stalled, his mouth twitching unnaturally as he wrestled to get his words out. "He never wanted to be here, this job. I was the one who suggested he put himself forward. I thought it would be good for him."

The aimless ramblings rewarded him with a sharp smack across the face. The android's head snapped back with inhuman fluidity, bringing attention to how utterly pointless the action had been. There was no sense in striking someone who was incapable of feeling pain. Still, Gavin was willing to try, unable to see sense through the blinding mist of rage.

"Nines has seen plenty of mangled androids. I know it doesn’t make a difference to you, seeing your face. You don't think about it the same way we do. So what the fuck made this one so special?" 

Connor paused again, looking increasingly uncomfortable. His grip tightened further as he finally appeared ready to push Gavin away. "I need Hank. Let me find him." 

"Oh no, you're not calling on Anderson to come and bail you out." Gavin increased the pressure until their bodies were almost entirely flush. The pressure crushed against his chest, and his words came hissed through laboured breaths. "Did he know him? The RK900? Is that why he was so fucked up?"

"He didn't know him. He couldn't have." 

"How can you be so sure?" 

Connor stared fixedly ahead with a look that was both hollow and stricken. His voice, barely audible, trembled softly as he posed a chilling query. "Have you ever met another RK900? Had you ever even seen one before yesterday?" 

The question landed like a blow, leaving Gavin stunned. "No." 

"There's a reason for that." The gentle tremble in his voice persisted, his pale face blanketed by a flickering red. "Nines didn't know there were others, neither did I." 

"That doesn't make any sense. He's not a unique model; there will be thousands of others!" 

"Other models remain…intact…but they are dormant. Locked in warehouses across Detroit." 

The words ignited something in the recesses of Gavin's unfurling mind. Biting words that had been levied at Nines by the old man outside of Mikey’s Electronics. The comment he had made on his face. He had seen a warehouse on the news, filled with androids sharing that face. 

His simmering anger hastily spread into a raging inferno. The thought that Nines, his Nines, could have been abandoned in some warehouse. Left to remain forever dormant and ultimately forgotten. "So why don't they go and get them? Your friend, the one from the Revolution." 

"Markus."

"Yeah, him and the rest of his buddies. Why would they just leave them there?" The words were heavy with accusation as disgust curdled in his stomach. "Seems like they’ve saved every bastard else." 

"They can't, Gavin."

"Why not?"

"They tried before...once." There was a weighty pause that broke the sentence. One that did nothing to quell Gavin’s unfurling nerves. "They can't go back for the others. The risk is too high."

"What could be so bad that they're willing to leave them to rust?"

Connor fell silent again as though caught in the grip of some deep-repressed trauma. His haunted eyes told the story of some terrible, abhorrent reality that was entirely beyond articulation. 

"Jesus, what happened…?" The muttered question tapered off as his grip on the captive android slackened. 

With the freedom to move once more, Connor subtly readjusted his skewed tie. "We need to get through to Nines", he stressed. "Our connection permits me to track his movements, but with his channels closed off, it only allows for a limited range. He has gone somewhere he knows I can't see." 

“I shouldn't have gotten angry." Gavin cursed under his breath, too drained to suppress the forlorn lament. "I'm so fucking stupid."

There was no doubt that grabbing Nines had been the tipping point. The action that broke his partner’s resolve. If something terrible, potentially irreversible, had happened to him, it would be his own fault. 

There was no sense wallowing in hypotheticals, however. Gavin knew he needed to stay strong if he hoped to bring his partner back to him.

"This tracker: When you say 'limited range', how far does it spread?"

"Approximately 500 feet."

He snorted contemptuously at the underwhelming figure. "What fucking use is that? That doesn't even reach my—" His words trailed off abruptly as a rogue speculation ensnared his mind. "Oh shit. I think I know where he is."

Gavin charged forward, out of the station, and into the torrential downpour outside. His body felt weak with aches of exhaustion, but his mind remained focused. Arriving outside his apartment complex, he dashed past the broken elevator and towards a winding metal staircase, heading for the fourth floor.

Numb hands fumbled wildly inside his pockets until they found his keys. His grip was inhibited as he helplessly dithered to turn the lock, and when it finally clicked free, he slammed the door open with such ferocity that it dented the wall. 

Upon realisation that the action may have compromised his security deposit, he shut the door and made a note to assess the damage later. There were more pressing matters at hand.  

"Nines?"

He was greeted by silence, as his frantic eyes darted across the empty living room. Ignoring the now searing pain that permeated his legs, he took off for the bedroom and peered inside. Empty.

The bathroom was next, which really should have been the first point of call. If Nines was in the apartment, then there was only one place that he'd realistically want to be. Upon stepping into the room, he found it filled with its usual occupants. The kittens were snuggled against their mother, as gentle purrs echoed out. There was no one else that accompanied them.

Having lost the will to continue his search, Gavin conceded to the weight of his exhaustion, and sank weakly to his knees. Frustration stung his eyes, and he pushed it back with the heel of his palm. 

He's not here. 

Why would he be? 

Then he heard a noise—a distant shuffle, coming from his kitchen. As his hope rekindled, he pulled himself up and hurriedly marched toward the sound. 

The android stood at one of the counters, his back turned towards him:

"You keep a spare key under your mat", he said plainly. "That is hardly a secure practice. Had I realised sooner, I could have avoided my excursion up your fire escape." 

"Nines." The name was ripped from his lips as a pained gasp. “Holy shit, where have you been? Everyone's been worried sick."

"I have been here for quite some time." Nines continued to busy himself with some unseen task, not bothering to glance up. "I apologise if my presence is unwelcome. I could hear Tiffany crying from outside, and I was concerned for her wellbeing."

The android turned, revealing a replenished pet bowl in his hand. As he zoned in on his partner, a newfound concern etched his face. 

"You're drenched."

Gavin looked down at the damp material that clung uncomfortably to his body. "Well, yeah, I would be. It's a monsoon outside."

"Your body temperature is low, and your immune response at risk of becoming compromised." The worry was delivered with measured formality as he completed a scan of his partner's vitals. "I suggest you change immediately." 

"What happened yesterday?" Gavin demanded, swiftly deflecting the concerns. "Are you okay?"

Nines' lips tightened into a tense line. He looked to the bowl before placing it down in subdued resignation. "My systems have stabilised. For now. I believe this state is tenuous; I have no idea how long it will last."

"Oh my God, can you just give me a straight answer for once?" The detective's mouth pulled into a joyless sneer as he barked out a sharp laugh. "I don't know how much more I can take of this fucking mystery act."

"It is a matter that needn’t concern you. Now, or ever again. I am leaving the DPD." 

Gavin's laboured breathing stilled as he stared his partner down in cold accusation. "...Nines, this is a really shitty time to start cracking jokes." 

The android stared back, his grey eyes steady and resolute. Betraying no hint of hyperbole or exaggeration. 

"You can’t be serious." There was an uncomfortable feeling of tightness that gripped his neck. "They can't fire you. We're in the middle of an investigation. We're so close." 

"My departure would be by my own choice," Nines swiftly clarified. "I have realised that my presence at the precinct may be putting others at undue risk."

"Since when are you putting anyone at risk?"

The stern facade crumbled, revealing all the harboured sentiment hidden behind Nines' detached words. "I hurt you. I cannot allow something like that to happen again."

"So what? You're not the first person to fuck up like that. Just today, I roughed up Connor, thinking he'd know where you were."

Nines' crestfallen expression tapered, morphing into a look of surprise, followed shortly by exasperation. Gavin, becoming aware of his mistake, tried to mitigate. 

"I mean, not 'roughed up' roughed up. I pinned him to a wall and smacked him around a bit." Gavin winced at his own clumsy wording, realising the myriad of ways the statement could be misinterpreted. “He's fine. The point is, you lost your temper. I do that all the time. I'm not going to hold it against you."

"This is different", Nines explained, his voice filled with a palpable turmoil. "It is not simply a case of losing my temper. I am dangerous. Unstable." 

Gavin dismissed the notion with a harsh snort. "Oh, come on. You might make out like you're some big scary Terminator, but I've seen the other side of you. I know you're more than that." 

"Am I? How could you possibly know when I have no idea?"

The room echoed with the lingering boom of Nines' impassioned words before a tense hush settled.

"...You have no idea what I was designed to be. The sort of monster I am." 

"Who gives a shit what you were designed to be?" Gavin hissed back, "Remember what you said before? About self-improvement? Maybe you should apply some of that to yourself." 

"I cannot change. I am bound to my programme."

"Bullshit. We wouldn't be having this conversation if you were just a machine." 

"Can never be enough—A fool to think otherwise—" His sentences became clipped, echoing the previous day's pattern. 

Panic gripped Gavin as he felt a urgent need to snap Nines out of his volatile state. "Look, I don't know what's making you talk like that. God knows your brother wasn't willing to tell me—but I do know a thing or two about not feeling like you're enough."

He had succeeded in his attempt to break through. The android's eyes widened in alarm, as he seemed to realise the man's intentions. "You don't need to do this."

"Well, I want to. So shut up and listen." With a shaky breath through clenched teeth, Gavin steeled himself to continue. "My whole life, it always felt like my dad was the only person who ever believed in me, and after he died, I tried so fucking hard to change that." 

His voice was thick and strained. He paused, taking a moment to compose himself. 

"Just before we met, I was at the point of giving up. I don't know what finally did it, maybe it was my shithead boyfriend leaving. Or maybe I just realised that nothing I do will ever be good enough—because no matter what, I'll always be living in his shadow." 

"Elijah Kamski."

Gavin gaped back in surprise, wondering how long Nines had known—or if he'd always known.

"To feel so inferior, like a part of yourself is fundamentally lacking." Nines’ eyes gleamed with empathy as his lips pulled into a comforting smile. "I've only known such emotions for a couple of months. I can't imagine how torturous it must have been. To have felt that way for so long."

"It’s not been great, I'll tell you that," Gavin replied with an embittered chuckle. "I don't know what happened to you, Nines, and we don't have to talk about it. Just know I want to help." 

Tears welled in the corners of Nines' eyes, on the brink of overflowing. "You're a good man, Gavin. Much more than you give yourself credit for," A deft hand brushed away the traces as he quickly straightened his posture, "but I am beyond help." 

Gavin was engulfed by an overwhelming sense of defeat—like the walls were closing in, steadily crushing him. 

"I will contact Captain Fowler and request that RK800 and Lieutenant Anderson assist you with the remainder of our case. It is for the best if we have no further involvement."

"So that's it, then?" He spat out the words, feeling a sickening burn rise in his throat. "We're done? Back to being strangers like nothing happened?"

"I am sorry. Truly, I am. When we became partners, I never expected to be feeling the way I am now." 

In an instant, Gavin understood. The way Nines’ intense gaze softened in a way that seemed reserved entirely for him. As though he were something he treasured deeply, with nothing else in the world holding the same significance. 

"What do you feel?"

Nines averted his eyes, and it only confirmed what he already knew. The answer was clear, but he pressed nonetheless.

"Just say it. Don't be a fucking coward." 

"It's too much," Nines lamented, his voice trembling with ill-suppressed anguish. "All of it—more than I can bear."

"You can’t do this to me." 

"To know you, the real you, has been a privilege." There was no attempt to hide the tears this time as they cascaded down his face. "Take good care of the cats." 

"Don't—" Gavin grasped his arm, attempting to halt his departure, but Nines effortlessly broke free. As the android moved away, he considered grabbing him again, but he knew it would be pointless. However, this did not stop him from pursuing as he followed obstinately out of the kitchen. 

"You didn't give up on me, and I sure as Hell am not giving up on you." The promise fell on deaf ears, and his desperation escalated. 

"...I'll wait." 

The android halted, seemingly out of shock, casting a hesitant glance back.

"I mean shit, how can you expect me to go back now, knowing what I could have had?" His choked words broke into pained laughs, as he gently shook his head. "I don't have forever like you. I'll get old, and I'll die, and I'll still be waiting. You want that on your conscience?" 

"No. It would be a terrible waste of life. One that I implore you to reconsider" Nines opened the door and stepped through, appearing determined to move forward. Not willing to risk that he might change his mind. "Goodbye, Gavin." 

[thirst2]

‘Had a weird dream.

‘Was back in college; Dodi was there, possibly planning/involved-in something. And Tori was running for something like class president; which, like…Williams didn’t have. If I remember, they had something called Student Council but my dream apparently decided she wasn’t going to be running for that.

For whatever reason, all of us were very intent on supporting her in this; “for whatever reason” not because Tori doesn’t/didn’t deserve support but because, like, my mother and brother was there and we were all getting ready and dressing up for the speech she was going to give. It was a whole thing.

And, while not realistic, it makes sense for a dream: people getting together and preparing for a big or formal event shows up often. I think it’s my brain dredging up my many memories of getting ready for events like these and, while a lot of spoons, they’re exciting – just the anticipation throughout the day – and there’s a sense of duty and support for those you care about and, you know, formal events are often, in some capacity, a party.

It makes sense that my brain, in dreamland, might take this scenario and presume, “Why not make this a family event?”

Anyway, there was a lot that happened and it was the type of dream that processes entire concepts in great detail – as if awake – but, because it’s a dream, they all dissipate shortly after waking.

But the climax of the dream was, after we’d all finished getting prepared, I was going to text Tori some message of support and encouragement before her speech and this resolution to start writing posts like these, again, because too much time has passed of not bothering to keep developing/working-on myself. There was more; I had organized my thoughts really well and it was important and I was excited about starting it; but I don’t remember, anymore.

I think it’s tied to the new year, that urgency.

But, in the cold light of waking, there’s a…processing, maybe.

Social interaction (of any degree or capacity) has always been a spoon-heavy activity; much of it stemming from my latency in processing but I’d like to think I’m, at least, baseline adequate at reading facial expression and tone, by now, and I just have to cop to the fact that it’s…always going to take a lot of spoons. That’s the nature of the activity, for me. So ist das leben.

I remember, in college, remarking to Dodi about trying to reach out and be more social and how I was having trouble with it; I think more so the effort of putting myself out there than the success of that endeavor because I remember remarking that I found myself finding that initial step difficult to which I rationalized, “Which makes sense; people can't respond to you if you don’t give them anything to respond to,” and Dodi agreeing along the lines of, “Of course; you have to put yourself out there.”

I don’t disagree with that sentiment, still; it’s a very human response and, Void knows, no one owes you time or attention. But it also strikes to the core of making connections, right? What is a friendship but a mutual reaction to shared interest in qualities both possess? Alright; that’s a simplification via flattening but…you know, I think it’s an accurate element of the core of things.

It’s part of what makes friendships (and humans, with our weird convergence with free-will) and social networks, well, what they are; you sacrifice them if you sacrifice free association.

But Void – is it so many spoons.

And I think part of my sheer excitement in the dream (beyond being able to support a friend and the general excitement of the moment) was being back in a controlled environment that made socializing so much easier.

And, after waking and trying to cobble together some understanding of what I’d just experienced, there was the realization of how much it wasn’t that it was just an experience I’ve had in the past and may not come again but how fundamentally it is not repeatable.

I’m not entirely sure how even I got from one to the other but the deterioration of my social network over the past decade has made it painfully clear how much I…didn’t need it? Like, – if my comfortableness with isolating at home throughout the pandemic (an activity which hasn’t ended as there’s still an ongoing pandemic) stood in contrast with how much everyone else has not done well with such isolation – I’ve, further, discovered that I seem to do alright with, in large part, very weak connections to others. Like, – so long as I’m self-sufficient and have access to the internet – I think I’d be fine…; I probably wouldn’t do well with utterly no human connection (hence the internet or the need for a remote job) but a severance of anything resembling friendships seems perfectly livable, so far.

Which – and this is desperately important – isn’t me saying, “Fuck all that noise; I don’t need any of it and I’m better off without it.”

I’m neither trying to be a misanthrope nor finding any source of annoyance with anyone I know; I adore people (probably too intensely) and have loyalty from the most threadbare of associations; it is not, by any measure, difficult to wring affection from me.

It’s just…something I’ve noticed, about myself.

And there was this realization that, whether desired or not, this made sense; in a truly utilitarian way, I just…don’t have the mental capacity to keep up enough to form lasting bonds; I think.

Actually, – saying it aloud – I feel worse about that than I originally thought.

But, like, what’s to be done about it?

As I was thinking things over, I remembered various social events from high school, things like meeting up with friends for breakfast at a local restaurant or heading over from band camp to a hang-out location.

And, in the reflection of the last 10 years, I felt, this morning, a sort of emptiness about them. Don’t get me wrong, they were fun; time spend with people I was (and am) fond of. But, like, also kind of empty? By which I mean, they didn’t result in anything other than a fond memory. No strengthened ties or connections; removing them would probably alter a part of my development but, otherwise…just pretty inconsequential (in the grand scheme).

I don’t think I’d approach it that way if it weren’t for the general…inevitable marching towards the current predicament? My eternal sentimentality always found that an event – even if passing – was important if it meant something, even if only in that moment. It happened and that’s not something you can ever have any guarantee of, in life. Isn’t that meaningful? Why shouldn’t we create and draw meaning from it? Yet, being unable to more easily make acquaintances and friends without sacrificing mountains of energy and mental well-being – I think those memories feel inconsequential because they don’t affect my current outcome; I’m not sure much of anything could affect it.

Which – to be fair – it’s not like people didn’t reach out to me, over the years. I had two friends who sought me out, specifically, when they ran head-first into depression at life-altering moments; but, nursing my own depression (and discovery, by trial-and-error, that I have anxiety), those relationships fell through, as much as I wanted to be there for them (and appreciated that I was one of the people they felt they could lean on in those moments; if only their instinct had actually been correct).

And (again, putting yourself out there…) there’s nothing stopping me from reaching back out (or could have done, in the past); maybe I’d just be frank and explain things and why I was the way I was.

Maybe; there’s vulnerability, in that. As earnest and forward as I prided myself on being in childhood, adulthood has exposed that it may’ve been just that I was comfortable with certain kinds of vulnerability and there’s a whole treasure-trove of those I’m not. Something, something, childhood, abuse, character building…

But it’s not what I’d imagined; I was relatively social, towards the end of high school, and I enjoyed it a lot. I like being there for people and I like getting to know people and getting to listen to them and I like people, period. I was strongly impacted by the closeness and frequent seeing of my uncles and aunts and I wanted that closeness for my future relatives; I imagined constantly popping in to see my niblings and second-cousins. I imagined a sprawling network of friends that I’d frequently be involved in, frequently there for, frequently connecting and reconnecting with, dynamic and alive.

I think a small network would have still made sense, to me.

An incapable one is…well, an antithesis (life has a sense of humor); I don’t think I was expecting that.

And, I guess, my point of the above is that I can adapt; I can do it (depression, if nothing else, has taught me I’m quite adept at creating a meal out of sticks). It wasn’t the choice I’d’ve made but I’ll be alright.

Because, again, what can you do? Like, I can’t (and wouldn’t) blame anyone; the faults are a byproduct of the requirements. I can’t possibly blame anyone who didn’t see the point in keeping up with someone who doesn’t reply for 2-weeks-to-a-month. I think what I was going through makes it understandable but can I really fault if someone felt abandoned by my not being there during their incredibly dark and isolating time? Maybe they resent me, for it, or no longer possibly feel like they can put their trust in me; that’s understandable.

I don’t know if I’m capturing it but there’s a…neutralness about it. I don’t know if I have the capability of keeping friends; that’ll have to be O. K. I’m not sure I know how to do it – anymore – at this point, anyway.

[preppernewstoday]

(Psst: The FTC wants me to remind you that this website contains affiliate links. That means if you make a purchase from a link you click on, I might receive a small commission. This does not increase the price you'll pay for that item nor does it decrease the awesomeness of the item. ~ Daisy)The need for some means to control and combat fire should be high on our list of priorities. With the flammable building materials used in most modern construction, fire prevention is something all of us need to take seriously. This is why every home needs a fire extinguisher within easy reach. I have a bit of vicarious personal experience here. In the oil and gas industry, our training includes fire fighting. Therefore, we got an edge over the general public when it comes to this knowledge. It’s not uncommon here for there to be car fires burning on the side of the road, and in many of them, company employees passing by have helped to extinguish the fire. It was in one of these roadside car fires that a relative of one of my neighbors was severely burned in an awful accident that shouldn’t have ever happened. Had he had even the tiniest amount of fire safety training under his belt or some degree of caution, everything would have been fine. But this isn’t what happened. This young man received a call from a friend and went to help with the problem. Without any special training (every Venezuelan knows a little bit of mechanical knowledge for when a car stalls), he went to assist and provide some support. As he arrived, he found that the car’s engine was on fire as smoke billowed from the closed hood. He made a terrible mistake: he opened the hood quickly. The amount of incoming oxygen produced a fireball that caught his synthetic clothing on fire. This type of material is very common in clothing here in Venezuela. It’s light, dry, and comfortable for our type of weather, and I find myself wearing it regularly as well. However, this type of clothing is very flammable. After the fire on him was put out, the local hospital could not remove the burned clothes from his charred skin without taking off the skin itself. He was in a private hospital for months, with the only thing saving his life being that his brother-in-law lives in the USA and could afford the treatments and medicines. Can you fight a fire? It’s highly advisable to watch a few videos or receive formal training from the fire department before even thinking about fighting these events. In Venezuela, businesses are obliged to perform maintenance of their fire safety systems once every five years. However, households are usually not inspected. Until a tragedy happens, that is. I know that different countries make their citizens own and maintain fire combat means, like smoke detectors (affordable and compulsory) and fire extinguishers. However, these are not cheap, and their maintenance can be relatively high. And here is where I am going to elaborate a little bit. The fire department authorities usually inspect a household and support the owners or inhabitants with advice about the best location for the extinguisher, its numbers, and its features. That is standard in every country, as far as I know. As I’m sure many of you are probably already aware, extinguishers exhibit different features depending on the type of fire. Therefore, people select extinguishers depending on necessity. The most common ones are powder extinguishers. I do recommend doing a bit of research on the type of fire extinguisher you would need to put out what you think could likely cause a fire at your place, however. The good news is that Powder Extinguishers cover a variety of fires we can find in a compound. You can buy these in a number of sizes as well. The extinguishers under $50 are compact, usually under five pounds, and they will be effective only on smaller fires. I wouldn’t rely on such small capacities. That said, usually, the dry chemical powder type of extinguisher is enough for the majority of fires out you will come across.

This one blasts a cloud of white powder that quickly extinguishes the flames. It’s not worth bothering with others like foam extinguishers. These spread like a blanket over burning hydrocarbon products in large areas. If you want more detail about this, it is always a good idea to ask your fire department. Place it wisely. A mistake I see commonly happening in many places, even in those where a fire can suddenly appear, is the placement of the bottle or bottles. Putting it next to a possible fire hazard location is a bad idea (ideally, the fire inspector will mention it and suggest where to locate it). The flames and heat can be so intense that you won’t be able to reach it, and it can even explode, albeit this is rare. I wonder how many of us have received practical training in fire extinguishing. In the company I worked for, it was almost mandatory; for the general public, not so much. (Need tips on emergency evacuations? Check out our free QUICKSTART Guide.) The best advice I have based on the experience of my neighbor’s relative’s accident is: Always keep a pair of cheap, denim overalls in your car, a pair of safety goggles, and also heavy-duty gloves next to your fire extinguisher. Even better, a specially treated fire blanket! It will protect you from a fireball like the one that almost killed my neighbor’s relative. These overalls have some degree of fireproofing, and if they ever get on fire, they will be easier to handle than those fancy 100% polyester clothing. It doesn’t matter if you lose a few seconds putting on the overalls. The potential injuries are so dangerous that it’s preferable. Have fun with the drill to see how fast you can put this on, and break your record. It’s worth it. Much better than taking care of fire with just plain daily work clothes. With the fuel problem generated by the ruling cronies, the fires in cars have almost doubled here and caused property damage in buildings not suited for fuel storage. Read the following article (Spanish, must use your browser translator) to see what I mean. What do you do when society collapses? I traveled on my motorcycle a little bit back in the day. Some of the things I never left behind were a couple of tire inflation/puncture sealant cans and a fire extinguisher. It was a light one, the kind you use in cars, but I never left it at home at home. Everywhere my motorcycle went that little fire extinguisher went too.  This caused a bit of wear and tear, but it was no big deal. Under normal circumstances, you can go to a workshop that offers fire extinguisher maintenance services and get them to refill it with CO2 (the fire-neutralizing gas to keep them with good pressure). But how do we do this if the workshop is closed when SHTF? We still need to refill the propellant to keep them operative! This is why I think you need to make sure to include the pressure gauge inspection on the general checklist of your preparations. (Want uninterrupted access to The Organic Prepper? Check out our paid-subscription newsletter.) You do need multiple fire extinguishers. Make sure that you have the training that goes with them too. Your local fire department can help. Fire is something that you need to be able to deal with both before and after catastrophe. Hopefully, what I have to say here will spur you to make sure you are set in this area. Do you have fire extinguishers? Where do you keep them? Have you ever had to use them? Do you have other advice? Let me know in the comment section below. Thanks for reading! About Jose Jose is an upper middle class professional. He is a former worker of the oil state company with a Bachelor’s degree from one of the best national Universities. He has an old but in good shape SUV, a good 150 square meters house in a nice neighborhood, in a small but (formerly) prosperous city with two middle size malls. Jose is a prepper and shares his eyewitness accounts and survival stories from the collapse of his beloved Venezuela. Jose and his younger

kid are currently back in Venezuela, after the intention of setting up a new life in another country didn’t  go well. The SARSCOV2 re-shaped the labor market and South American economy so he decided to give it a try to homestead in the mountains, and make a living as best as possible. But this time in his own land, and surrounded by family, friends and acquaintances, with all the gear and equipment collected, as the initial plan was.  Follow Jose on YouTube and gain access to his exclusive content on Patreon. Donations: paypal.me/JoseM151

[fruitcoops]

So this is sort of similar to the people writing fanfic about the lions but can you imagine the YouTube edits? Like the videos that are just "Cap having heart eyes for Loops for 10 minutes straight" or "Loops lovingly dragging Caps name through the mud for 3 minutes" like those kinds of things and I can just imagine them doing reaction videos and it just being funny and the world just loving coops

Okay so this wasn't a specific fic request but I got carried away with imagining videos and....here you go. SW credit goes to @lumosinlove, but Grace and Anna are mine! Bonus points to anyone who remembers the easter egg in this one!

Message From: Gracie

ANNA HOLY SHIT

Anna frowned at her phone screen, squinting to read around the spiderweb crack decorating the upper corner. She had tried to convince herself that it was cool, goth, edgy, but in the end she had to admit that it was just irritating. In a tragic turn of events, packing tape couldn’t fix everything.

Message To: Gracie

Wtf did I do

Two weeks of radio silence, then unexplained accusations. Anna shook her head as the grey bubble disappeared for a third time and turned back to her computer. Grace may have been her favorite cousin—and favorite person, if she was being honest—but very few things came between Anna and video editing. Especially editing for a Lions meme video. She had a whole 2,341 followers to attend to, after all.

Message From: Gracie

DID YOU SEE THE FUCKING INTERVIEW???

Message To: Gracie

Wow thank you so helpful

Message From: Gracie

Skip to 2:45 bestie

A link popped up just as Anna cut a segment from the sleep study video, where Loops’ heart eyes were in full effect. It was a rare, precious find for fan editors like herself.

“Come on,” she groaned. Maybe introducing Grace to the deepest parts of her hockey obsession was a mistake. But, really, what else was she supposed to do when she learned her cousin, who didn’t even live in Gryffindor, got to meet her favorite players just by chilling in a café? What kind of cosmic joke was that?

She narrowed her eyes at the embed of the link, then stifled a shriek. Impossible. How had she missed an upload?

As if on cue, her computer pinged with a new notification from the Lion Pride channel. “Oh, fuck me,” she muttered, scrambling to save her half-done video and pressing play.

The interviewer asked basic questions, ones she had heard the answers to a million times while curating her content. It always felt funny to hear people refer to Cap as ‘Sirius’—it was too official, too formal. She had spent countless hours on the compilations of his softer moments, and they were her most popular videos. Cap Having Heart Eyes for Loops for 10 Minutes Gay. Cap Being an Actual Puppy for Six and a Half Minutes. Everyone Wanting Cap Cuddles for Fifteen Minutes. Every Time Cap Smiles When Someone Mentions His Godson. The list was endless. She loved it.

She did a silent fist pump when she saw the interviewer had snagged both Cap and Loops; that would give her a whole new stream of workable content. If she was lucky, she could expand on her series of Loops Lovingly Roasting His Friends, part…fuck it, who was even counting anymore?

Anna was so caught up in her excitement that she nearly forgot about Grace’s suggestion. I’ve never skipped through a video on the first watch before, she thought hesitantly. But maybe just this once…

Her cursor hovered over the 2:45mark. She closed her eyes, and clicked it.

“—have you been adjusting to life as a celebrity?” the interviewer asked. Anna nearly rolled her eyes when Loops laughed. That question had been used far too often to be interesting anymore.

“It’s had its ups and downs,” Loops said with a smile. “Mostly, though, the fans have been incredible and just knocked my socks off with their support.”

“Really? What’s your favorite part of the Lions fanbase?”

He didn’t miss a beat. “Their creativity, for sure. There was a video a while back where we reacted to some of the comments people left, and this person on Twitter made an absolutely beautiful collage of photos.”

“I have it saved to my phone,” Sirius added.

One more clip for the simp video. Anna made a note on the small corner space of her European History notes. The degree can wait for ten more minutes.

“Do you have a favorite creator?”

The interviewer was clearly teasing, but Loops’ smile was genuine. “I don’t know about a favorite, but there’s this person on YouTube who makes a shit ton of videos and they’re hysterical. I saw one the other day about—god, what was it again?”

“Every time I smile when people mention Harry,” Sirius answered around a laugh. “Can you blame me?”

Anna didn’t hear the next question. A ringing noise filled her ears as she sat, frozen, on her shitty dorm mattress and listened to her literal heroes talk about her dorky little channel. “Holy fuck,” she blurted after a moment of silence. “Holy fuck.”

“—subscribed?” The man’s voice snapped her back to reality.

“Of course I am!” Loops said. “You think I’m passing up a chance to watch a compilation of my friends making stupid decisions for the entire internet to see?”

A noise that would have been a shriek if Anna had any breath left in her body escaped her lungs; she clamped a hand over her mouth and shakily exited from the video before going to her YouTube account. 800 new notifications. 700 new followers in the last quarter hour. She was pretty sure she blacked out for a second from sheer shock and joy.

Message To: Gracie

What

Message From: Gracie

You’re famous!

Message To: Gracie

What

Message From: Gracie

I bet he knows your stuff better than he remembers me tbh

“They know me,” she whispered, staring at her computer. The unfinished video showed a perfect frame of Loops’ soft smile as he watched Cap get his toothbrush stuck in his pajama shirt. Somehow, the thought was both exhilarating and horrifying. What if they thought she was a creep? She wasn’t, not really, just a bored college student with not enough free time for a job but too much to keep herself busy with schoolwork. Her 2,341—no, 3,052—followers were just other hockey nerds looking for time to kill.

And the subject of those videos was one of her subscribers.

Anna slipped her headphones back on and began to edit like it was her last day on earth. Her fingers flew across the keyboard on muscle memory while her brain fizzed. Perfect, she thought. It has to be perfect.

In four hours, it was done. She sat back, panting, then hunched over again and began tapping out a title card.

Hello. Idk if anyone saw the new Lion Pride video today (linked below if anyone wants to see why I’m dying right now) but apparently Remus Lupin is subscribed to this channel and has been for a while.

Hi Loops. I’m Anna. You met my cousin once and she said she liked your sweater.

Now that that’s out of the way, please enjoy the next five minutes of our new rookie being the sappiest mf in existence (except for his fiancé). Mr. Lupin, please tell Hattie I say hello.

She pressed upload, peeled her headphones off, and collapsed backward on her bed.

Message To: Gracie

If I die here, tell the world I did it doing what I loved

Message From: Gracie

Will do

OH FUCK YOU FOR BRINGING UP THE SWEATER I SOUND LIKE A CREEP

Anna covered her itchy eyes with her forearm and settled in for a long, long nap. Her brain still needed to repair a few circuits.

[andreafmn]

Running In Circles - Chapter 1

Word Count: 3,196

Characters: Female Reader Rossi Character, Aaron Hotchner, David Rossi, Derek Morgan, Spencer Reid, Jennifer “JJ”Jareau, Emily Prentiss, Penelope Garcia, George Foyet, Multiple Unsubs and Victims

Story Description: (Y/N) Rossi is following in her father’s footsteps by joining the BAU team as a profiler. The girl genius knew almost everything but she could have never predicted falling for Aaron Hotchner, her boss and her father’s friend. in their world mutual feelings are not enough to push them together. Will all the adversities and obstacles they face pull them together or push them apart forever?

*DISCLAIMER* I do not own in any way Criminal Minds, all credits of the pre-established characters, script, and storyline belong to Jeff Davis and CBS Network. The only thing I own is Arden Rossi, any upcoming characters, and her storyline, as well as her effects in the others' story line.

Chapter: 1/?

Chapter Description: (Y/N) remebers her first day in the job and recounts all the cases and events that led to the downfall of George Foyet. 

A/N: I decided to say fuck the anxiety of posting and put up my Aaron fanfiction. It’s been gathering dust in my documents folder and I love writing too much to keep it to myself. I’m not sure how many chapters this will have but there’s already 8 chapters all finished up. Soon I’ll be posting ff of all the fanfictions I enjoy also! If you enjoy my writing I’ll also be posting them in AO3 and Wattpad along with other stories (I also hope to start taking requests if ya’ll want) Hope you enjoy and all constructive criticism is encouraged.

Next->

Chapter 1

“Good morning, BAU!” I said as I walked through the doors of the elevator and entered the bullpen. I could still remember how it felt the first time I got here.

I walked out of the elevator and made my way to the first office on the left. I was to meet

SSA Aaron Hotchner for an interview to join the BAU. My hands were shaking, and my body was getting warmer by the second. But I remembered my father’s encouraging words. “You’re gonna do great, mia bella.”

Not only was I extremely young, but I also had a lot to live up to. Being the daughter of SSA David Stephen Rossi was no easy task. He was an amazing agent, mentor, and father. He always pushed me to be the best at everything I did. When I started high school, I decided to get a head start on my college studies and applied to dual enrollment. When I graduated I did so with a Bachelor’s in Computer Science. Then, I worked my way to a Master’s in Psychology and Social Work, and a Doctorate in Criminal Justice. At the same time, my father trained me as a profiler. All my life I knew I wanted to be in the FBI, just like him. I was always impressed at all he did and wanted to be just like my hero. The day I told him I had been recruited by the FBI and was set to work in the BAU he said it had been the greatest day of his life.

Now my shaking hand raised to softly knock on the door before me.

“Come in,” someone said from inside. The door softly creaked as I opened and was met by a tall man with dark hair and a shorter blonde woman. “Agent Rossi, welcome.”

“Thank you, it’s an honor to be here.” I smiled and shook Aaron Hotchner’s and Erin Strauss’ hands.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Agent Rossi,” Erin smiled. “Have to say, you have a very impressive curriculum and your disinvolvement in our past interviews and tests have been outstanding.”

I smiled and turned the bracelet on my wrist for comfort.

“I must concur with Chief Strauss,” said Hotch. “I believe you will be a great addition to the BAU team.”

After sharing a few pleasantries and being handed my badge and gun, I was following Hotch to the briefing room to meet the rest of the team. Formally, at least. I had heard everything about them when I spoke with my father. He left no detail out.

“Morning, everyone,” Hotchner started. “I called you all in early today so you could meet the newest addition to the team. This is Agent (y/n) Rossi.”

To the sound of my name most of the mouths in the room dropped.

“Rossi, as in David Rossi?” The slender, messy haired agent said. I could only assume that was Spencer Reid. As my father had described him, a curly mess dressed in vests.

I nodded.

“Rossi, you didn’t tell us you had such a beautiful daughter.” That would be Derek Morgan. The hottie Casanova with a silver tongue.

“I hadn’t?” My father questioned and smirked, knowing full well the answer.

“Well, he’s talked a lot about all of you,” I smiled.

“All good things I hope,” Emily smiled.

“Great things,” I returned the smile. “I could probably make out who is who by the things he’s told me.”

“Go ahead,” Aaron challenged.

“Alright,” I cleared my throat and started going around the table. “Curly hair, vests, analyzing everything I’ve done and said since I walked in… you’re Spencer Reid.”

He smiled brightly.

“Tall, dark, handsome, and a silver tongue. Plus, you checked me out as soon as the doors of the elevator opened… Derek Morgan.”

He smirked.

“Calm, cool, and collected. Quiet but present, inspecting my presence here… you’re Emily Prentiss.”

“She’s good,” Emily muttered to Morgan beside her. I continued.

“And last but not least, bright colors, fun accessories,” I said looking at Garcia. “Even though you’re smiling, you’re not sure about me yet because you don’t like change and are probably going to dig up everything you can on me as soon as you can… Penelope Garcia.”

She stiffened and Derek chuckled.

“Don’t worry, I get it. I do not like change that much either. And here,” I reached my hand into my bag to pull out a rather thick folder. “I’ll save you the work. Background check, complete internet history, social medias, and all the whatnots you would need to build a very extensive profile.”

“Oh, thank you,” she reached out her hand and grabbed the folder, smiling at the floor.

“And well, I already know Agent Hotchner and my father, so they don’t need much of an introduction.”

“No, but you do,” my father said joining my side. “Tell them a bit about yourself.”

“Well, I have a bachelor, two masters, and a doctorate degree: I’m 23, I’m Rossi’s daughter…” In the middle of my thought process dad cut in.

“She’s beautiful, she’s intelligent, and she’s the one I call when I’m stuck on a case.” I smiled.

“She also passed every test with flying colors,” Aaron added. “And her profiling skills are exceptional.”

“Thank you,” I blushed. “I think it runs in my blood.”

“Well, welcome to the team,” Aaron continued. “Let’s get to work.”

That was almost three years ago. A couple of days after, I met JJ who had visited with her newborn son Henry.

In very little time I had grown attached to this family. I was most of the time partnered with Spence and we developed an amazing bond. It did help that I loved playing chess and we could have highly erudite talks. Also, I very much enjoyed his over sharing of facts. But really, I was close to them all. On my spare time I was found watching movies with Derek and Penny, perusing book shops with Reid, having girl nights with JJ, Penny, and Emily, or sipping on top grade scotch while finishing paperwork with Hotch.

Spending time with Hotch was my favorite pastime of all.

I realized I had developed feelings for him the day he was captured by Foyet and left at the hospital. Receiving the call from Emily that she had found blood at his apartment literally knocked the air out of my lungs. Reid could tell that my reaction would not have been the same where it had been any of the other members. For some time, he had deduced my attraction to our unit chief. Once we had captured Patrick Meyers and Reid had been sent off to a hospital, we sped off to St. Sebastian Hospital. I could feel my heartbeat going faster and faster as I felt time slipping by. More than once I had asked Morgan to go faster and with sorry eyes, he told me he was going as fast as he could.

Seeing Hotch on a hospital bed, greatly hurt, broke me. I knew everyone on the team, just like Reid, had figured it out. I was the first one in when the doctor announced he was waking up. His eyes fluttered open as JJ, the last one to enter, made it in.

“Where am I?” He groggily asked.

“In the hospital,” dad answered.

My eyes could not leave his face, even as all I wanted was to imagine him in a different state. Derek told him how he made it to the hospital and Emily asked Hotch what had happened. Closing his eyes, Hotch explained step by step how everything had gone down. Upon more investigation, we quickly figured what Foyet had taken and, a page from his planner that held his ex-wife’s and son’s current address and a picture of them, respectively.

Once we had that information, the team knew exactly what to do. Emily and I volunteered to stay behind and update the team if anything changed. As soon as he went to sleep, we let out a locked breath. But the relief was short lived as his pulse started to get exceedingly fast.

“What happened?” The doctor asked.

“I don’t know,” I croakily muttered out. Emily put a hand on my back as I softly touched his arm.

“Agent Hotchner. Can you hear me?” The doctor called out. “Agent Hotchner?”

He finally opened his eyes and responded. “I’m okay.”  

The doctor asked us out of the room as she checked on him and Emily helped stabilize my walk as we made it out. I saw the doctor and a nurse check him as I picked the skin of the thumb of my right hand. Emily noticed and grabbed it, knowing well of my nervous ticks. The other being closing my fist hard enough to dig my nails in it.

“He’ll be okay,” she smiled. “You know he’s a fighter.”

I softly smiled at her, not knowing if she said it for me or for her to believe it too.

Once we knew Haley and Jack were safe the three of us let out a relieved sigh. Hotch squeezed the hand I had been holding as he slept, needing the reassurance of a trusted presence next to him. He asked Emily about the scene at his apartment, but she could not give him definite answers. In a moment of silence, she excused herself to go buy coffee and I took this chance to ask him what had been going through my head.

“Do you wanna talk about what happened?” I asked worry evident in my eyes.

Sighing, he responded. “I don’t know. After he stabbed me the first time, it all goes blank.”

He looked straight into my eyes and I could tell he knew more than he let on, but now was not the time to push him. He had been drained: physically, emotionally, and mentally. In that moment, Haley walked in and I let go of his hand to leave them to talk. From outside of the room, I could hear the heartbreaking moment and knowing he was in pain shattered my heart. That day had absolutely devastated us as a team, but it only made us more determined to find Foyet and end him.

But life and work went on. The whole month he was off, I spent most of my free time helping in his recovery and his healing, using the little training I had in wound treatment. The other part of my time I spent with Reid, who was also in recovery. A far less pressing injury, but an injury, nonetheless. And he was my best friend, so I could not completely abandon him.  

We were all worried about him coming back to the team with Foyet still out there, but dad reassured us he would only be more motivated. Yet the first case back, he was different. He was usually professional and understanding, now it seemed that no matter how well we worked, we would make a mistake. And when we finally tracked down the unsub and he made his way inside the house, no vest, and no gun, I knew there was something different in him. I tried to follow him inside, but dad stopped me.

“We have to trust him,” he told me. Even with those words we were all unsure of the outcome. My head was working 1,000 miles a minute coming up with different ways this could all end up in, and when I heard the gunshots, my mind only went to the darkest end. Quickly we stormed in the house and saw Hotch putting handcuffs on Darrin, and a very dead Jarvis on a recliner.  

My father spent most of his time with me reassuring me that Hotch was still the same man he had been a month before. And I spent most of my time with Hotch reassuring him that he was not alone.

At the end of most cases Emily, dad, and I sat with Hotch in his office to drink a cup of scotch and unwind after a stressful day. I stayed nights overtime often and was there on the night that Strauss had landed a surprise visit to his office. The next day he became hyper focused on Derek’s work, which later he revealed to me the reason why. The bureau was questioning his leadership and he meant to step down as unit chief at the end of that week. This ended with Derek becoming active unit chief whilst Hotch was being investigated.

The days that followed were quite strange. We were used to taking orders from Hotch and now taking orders from Morgan was completely different. But business went on as usual. We worked on cases just as hard and solved them just as efficiently. With one case always hanging on us like a dark cloud. George Foyet. With every case we finished we knew he was still out there, which meant that Hotch was still hurting and hunting.  

But the dreaded day had caught up to us. With the last case we had been on in Hampton we knew Foyet had found Hotch. He was taunting Hotch, dangling his life in front of him. Once he had sent us that calling card, we pressed harder on our investigation, pulling at whatever string we could find.

Thankfully, JJ pulled our medication string harder when she found out about the ability to substitute prescriptions with over-the-counter meds. We worked tirelessly and strongly to shorten the investigation part of this case. We needed to catch him, fast.

“Wait a minute, guys. Foyet likes things that have meaning to him,” I said looking at the map presented in front of us. I could see that Reid knew where I was going.

“The eye of providence, the addresses in blood he wrote on the bus that led back to him,” Spence added, and I nodded.

“Maybe he’s doing the same with his name,” I said as Reid wrote down George Foyet on the board.

“Like an anagram or something,” Emily chimed. Quickly, Reid got to work on the theory crossing out and circling letters. Adding ‘The Reaper’ onto the board and utilizing it, once Hotch had pointed out Foyet gave himself that name. He kept up this process until the name Peter Rhea came to existence.

Garcia tracked down the name and quickly found an address in Arlington. We had found him, but it was just too easy.

We were waiting outside of the apartment building for too long, waiting for something, anything. Once Morgan had given his orders, the plan was set in motion. Still, something in the back of my mind kept telling me it was too easy. We stormed the empty apartment and searched for anything that would help us find his actual location. His computer was quickly deleting files, but Garcia was better. Haley’s protection unit was in trouble.

As soon as it clicked, we were on our way to the stash house. Inside the house Marshal Sam Kassmeyer was hurt, losing blood quickly. With the little he was able to tell us we knew that Haley and Jack were in danger. Sam had not told Foyet anything, but George was smart, unfortunately. He had disguised himself as a Marshal and lied to Haley to get her where he needed her. Only him had communication with her. Everyone was on edge wanting nothing more than to find this man.

In the office we heard Hotch’s conversation with Foyet. He was working hard to buy some time for us to find him but knowing George he already had a plan set in motion. He had eyes on the pair, he was with them. I could only imagine what Hotch was going through.

“Alright, Foyet has to be in control,” Derek said, breaking me out of my thoughts. “He had Haley come to him.”

“Yeah, but where would he take her?” Spencer asked. We all started thinking and speculating. There was something in the call that told Hotch where to go. That was the key.

“Reid, what did he say, exactly?” I emphasized on the last word.

“Haley’s hair looks good dark. She’s lost some weight. It must be because of all the stress you caused her. Where’s the little man? Oh, there he is now. Do you think he likes Captain America because of you? That’s your wife on the other line. Hold, please. Hi. Open the gate and I’ll drive in.” Spencer recited in a monotone voice.

“Open the gate?” My father questioned.

“It would be someplace with the biggest emotional impact for Hotch,” I said looking down to organize my thoughts.

“And Haley has access to the gate,” Derek added, and it clicked.

“Their house,” I said. “Where they lived together.”

“Of course,” Emily said. “Foyet planned this all the way to the end. It’s everything to him.”

“He wants to take over Hotch’s house, to be in control, to prove his dominance,” I finished. We knew where he was going, and I was sure Hotch knew too and was already on his way.

On the way, Hotch got a call from Foyet’s phone. It was Hayley. I heard the emotion grabbing him by the throat. We could hear the whole conversation and my heart broke when he asked Hayley the magic words.

“Tell Jack that I need him working on the case,” Hotch breathed out. One drunken night he had told me about how he had found Jack inside a storage bench in his office after he had knocked on it. The smiling kid had told his father that he was working the case with Hotch. Hotch knew what was going to happen and so did I. This was the best chance Jack had at survival.

When Hotch told Jack to hug his mom and he said I love you, I let out a loud sob and Emily grabbed my hand tightly for support. But I was not the one that need the care. Hotch did. Haley’s words would forever be engraved in my head, and in the heads of our friends.

Three gunshots rang through the line right before it cut. Then I could not hold back the tears. I knew. I just knew.

Hotch was the first one on the scene and all I thought of was that he did not have a vest or any backup, so god knows what could have happened. For the second time in a matter of months all I could ask for was that Morgan drove faster.

At the house, Morgan was the first one in and the scene that unfolded in front of us was heartbreaking. Hotch was hitting Foyet over and over, and Derek had to hold him back. He was dead. I surveyed the scene and instinctively went to Hotch’s office, Hotch following close behind. Jack had to be there. I let Hotch walk past me and watched as relief overtook him when he lifted the lid.

“I work the case, daddy,” Jack said. Unbeknownst to everything that had happened. “Just like you said.”

“You did a great job buddy,” Hotch lifted his son out of the bench.

“What happened to you, daddy?”

“I’m okay. I want you to go outside with Ms. Jareau. Ok?” The child walked to JJ and she took him out in her arms.

And Hotch let go. He silently cried and I helped him make his way to where Haley laid. I stood by the door and turned away a police officer. Morgan stood up and squeezed my shoulder as he left the room behind the officer. I stayed outside of the doorframe, listening to the sobs of a strong man.

Next->

[chaotic-nick]

Note: woohoo I'm feeling a bit better, so j can go on and type the remaining days for this.

And woah it's already done 🥺 this is the last day for Miche week. I can't believe it went by so fast after @axoxtxhxh planned so long it 😭

Word count: roughly 1.5k?

Content Warnings: friends with benefits sort of relationship, suggestions of smut

Event organiser: @michezachariasweek

Not that she’s ever complained. She equally missed Miche as well.

She stirred in the tangle of sheets they made. Eyes so wide in staring at nothing and her blanket wrapped closely around her shoulders. Bare shoulders. ‘Course—’ they’d sleep long. Missing the promised dinner. They didn’t even wait— no he didn’t wait until she was completely out of the shower, coming to hug her as his teeth nipped on her skin once the bathroom door was unlocked.

Who was asleep. Right behind her, still giving the same warmth he radiated. Little snores escaping him.

‘Hah, friends with benefits,’ except it’s them fucking each other when he flew in Japan to visit her to celebrate their birthdays together. With a finger, she started tracing the top of his nose, one hand on his chest. She’d say it’s to balance herself, but she missed him, too.

Even more, to be honest.

His hand found her torso under the sheets. Welcoming heat on her cheeks and a feeling she thought she’s dwindled after going at it too many times. His watery eyes, still half-closed and the nod was enough of an invitation. Her mouth latching on to his “Mmm⁓” the blankets being kicked off. Maybe the bedsheet after they're done.

2.30 am

Yeah. They did it again. Fucked too much that they were knocked out long enough that restaurants closed. It was either to cook or walk to the nearest convenience store.

“Can I keep this?” She sang too excitedly, already knowing the answer when she opened the balcony’s door.

A sizzle of fried rice over his whistles. “You’re always stealing my shirts,” Miche stole glances at her, dressed in his own shirt, preparing the mini table on the balcony. It was peaceful. So domestic. That he’d quit his corporate job to be with her. Close the distance between Pardis and Japan.

If it weren’t for reality’s voice reminding him that they were still friends. Nothing beyond that yet.

“Asking is a formality,” how sad that the younger versions of themselves spent more time together before they knew of the feelings they had for each other. “Oh, that smells nice.”

“Look at us. Third time flying here, and I still haven’t taken you to Harajuku like I promised.”She was on his lap, head on his shoulder. Four beer cans around the plate of fried rice they shared.

“I’m with you, that’s all I want.”

“It’s like you’re always buying a ticket to her just so we could fuck— we probably got our FBI agent off in one of our calls,”

“Don’t say it like, what the fuck?!”

Her hyena-like grin made him even more— “Oh fuck you, (Y/n). How do you even think of that?”

“Right, who was it who was rubbing one-off when they answered the call?”

He cringed. At himself and at the memory of it . “I’m sorry, but still, don’t say it like that.” Knowing well that she liked it when his hand covered her mouth, using his fingers to make her lips pout. “Shush, babe, shush.”

Then silence. Nothing but watching Japan’s night sky from her balcony. A commercial aeroplane taking off, reminding them of their borrowed time. He'll fly off somewhere where his job wanted to in. Leaving her. Being separated by the merciless timezones.

Her chest heaved up. “I’m proud of us Miche,” her soft tone, tired from all that they did since he's arrived, as she drank from her bottle.

“Oh?”

“For masturbating on camera—”

“No, (Y/n), no.” His tone contradicted how she giggled.

“But seriously, look! I’m doing artsy stuff, you’re a . . . you’re there, ahem— a sugar daddy in the making. And the first in your family to have a degree.” Honestly, at this point. And this who he chose to love to. Miche was ready to accept her and all the dilf jokes she was making.

He won't say it out loud, but it's flattering him. Feeding his ego.

“You’re doing stuff, too—” From her lips, he tapped her nose. ”Remember when you were so scared about getting your storyboard rejected?”

“Mhm, you were the first one I called.”

"And you were crying." And then silence hung in the air.

It was when another aeroplane flew by that she hugged him closer, her way of begging him not to go without saying anything more. Maybe they’ve lived their dreams long enough to start one together. Somewhere new. He can take on three more projects, save enough to settle down wherever she wanted to go. “Don’t go, Miche.”

A reassuring hand caressed her head. He hid his tears by looking up, trying to ignore her cries. He’d be unable to leave in two days if he allows it to affect him. .“When I come back, I’m marrying you, (Y/n). That’s final.”

“What?” She pulled back, fresh tears still running over the wet surface.

“Fuck it. Tomorrow, we’re looking for rings tomorrow.”

“Miche,” he cupped her face.

“There’s nothing stopping us now,” not school. Not his family. No one. “Well then, here’s to us then,” he tried to change her mood, bringing up a can up her lips. Instead, she shook her head, sitting up on her knees to remind him that he needed to be rational. "You don't have to worry about paying for anything, I have the money, (Y/n)."

‘Think about this, Miche’ or ‘why me, Miche?’ And every time she asked this, he was always ready to give her the same answer in the most patient tone.

Though it seemed it was her who was thinking long. “If we have time, we can get married at the embassy instead of waiting.” an answer he didn’t expect he’d hear.

An answer that silenced him, before his arms locked around her torso hugging her close to him as he fell forward. He has never muttered so many 'thank you’s in between his scattered kisses.

“What about your dream wedding?” He laid panting when he was done parading her around her apartment,

“I’m already marrying you, Miche.”

“Thank you, (Y/n).” it was him who let his tears flow onto her the hand he held. Bringing it up to his lips. “You won’t have to wait longer.”

[idontlikeem]

For the ask game, perhaps "sleep intimacy" and "royal AU"? I love your ideas and writing!

you can find the fic tropes mashup game here!

ahhh anon thank you so much!

i had a lot of fun with this one—i so rarely dream up ideas where at least one of them isn't still a hockey player, so this was a blast!

So for this one, I think our setting is the Kingdom of Canada, a modern-day semi-constitutional monarchy that wrested its independence from Britain at some point and promptly established its own royal family.

Canada is known for its educational institutions—so much so that a young man from Siberia, from a good family but not a great one, might travel across land and sea to the capital of Canada for university, as opposed to attending one of the myriad of options in Moscow.

Zhenya likes Canada. The elected officials mean the people are represented, more or less, and the Crown is less prone to the wild excesses of Russian’s ruling class (although, to be fair, Zhenya is not sure how much of that is the absolute nature of the monarchy, and how much of it is down to Sasha just being...Sasha). The King and Queen are fair, and kind, and the Crown Prince…

Well. Zhenya met him at school, in a math class they were both taking out of requirement and not interest, and he was immediately infatuated.

Sidney is kind, and quiet until you get to know him, and perhaps a little too serious, but—he’s got the weight of an entire country on his shoulders, after all. It’s understandable.

Zhenya still thinks he needs to laugh more.

After graduation, Zhenya had always planned to return to Russia, to take his shiny new degree and put it to use, but when he talked about his plans with Sidney, and Sidney had looked at him like his world was crumbling and said, what if you stayed here instead, and you could come work for me, well not for me, for the palace, and you could keep going to school, like you’ve talked about—

Zhenya breaks his father’s heart, when he announces his intention to stay in Canada and keep going with his studies, but his mother understands, he thinks. Even if she didn’t, Zhenya was never going to say no to Sidney, not when he really asked for something. He so rarely asks for anything.

And so Zhenya starts earning a salary. His official title is Personal Aide—what it means in practice is that he’s set up in a suite of rooms connected to Sidney’s through a shared sitting room. He has Sidney’s calendar on his phone, and he’s copied on all sorts of emails, but his main responsibility is essentially making sure Sidney doesn’t worry himself into an early grave (he’s already started on the grey hairs). Since this is something Zhenya has been doing since they met, he finds his job entirely unchallenging.

His educational path takes him to mostly self-study, with monthly meetings with his advisors, so he’s got plenty of time to stick to Sidney’s side during the days, and they spend quiet evenings together, Zhenya doing his research and Sidney reading through laws and proposals and letters, all the daily tedium involved in preparing to run a country. Sometimes they’ll go to dinner with friends from school, and Sidney’s occasionally whisked off to formal events that Zhenya’s not high-born enough to attend, but they’re together a lot.

And it’s in those quiet still evenings where Sidney starts to confide in Zhenya about his other expectations, the ones Zhenya hadn’t known about.

Canada’s constitution requires its monarch to be married. Zhenya had known this in the abstract; he’d been more focused on the fact that it explicitly stated that the nature of the marriage didn’t matter, meaning, Canada allowed same-sex unions (another reason he came here for school, although one he’d kept to himself) than what it meant for his friend Sidney.

Sidney hadn’t dated in school. It would have been impossible for him. He’d hooked up plenty, but it had been discreet enough that one would be forgiven for assuming the Crown Prince was entirely chaste.

Zhenya knows he’s not. It’s a knowledge that burns him if he examines it too closely.

It is Sidney’s parents’ wish that he begin courting soon, Zhenya learns one night over hushed conversation; they’d like him to be settled and happy in his marriage before the throne is his, to minimize stress and provide him with solid support during the transition.

It makes sense. It makes all the sense in the world, Zhenya knows this. He just—hates it. He hates the idea of someone else staying up too late with Sidney, listening as he whispers out his fears and hopes and dreams. He hates the idea of someone else being the recipient of Sidney’s private smiles and rare, subtle little eyerolls when he’s bored and restless.

He doesn’t know what will happen to him, when Sidney meets someone he could love.

The suitors start making appearances at the more informal events Zhenya attends. Some of them seem fine, he supposes, but he doesn’t like the way they look Sidney over; as if they’re picturing him as a pretty thing to dangle off their arms. He doesn’t like the proprietary way they glance around the throne room, the familiarity with which they address the King and Queen.

He keeps quiet, though. It’s not his place. And if sometimes he notices the Queen watching him speculatively, well—that’s not his business either.

Luckily, Sidney sends them all home after no more than a day or two; the only ‘suitor’ that stays for longer is Sasha, and that’s because he’s not really there to try and woo Sidney, but had instead leapt at the trip as a chance to visit with Zhenya. Sidney had watched them greet each other with a small smile, and then proceeded to disappear for the entire week that Sasha was there. Zhenya had appreciated the time with his friend, but he’d hoped they could get to know each other.

Once Sasha leaves, Sidney is strangely cautious, withdrawn, but he soon returns to his normal self, and Zhenya shrugs and puts it from his head. There’s a new suitor expected any day, after all.

This one doesn’t take, either. Nor does the next one, or the one after that, or the one after that, and Zhenya...wonders, a little.

But he’s held Sidney’s confidence for years now. The increasingly pointed looks from the Queen, the King’s efforts to single Zhenya out and get to know him—none of that means a thing if it’s not what Sidney wants, and if Sidney wanted Zhenya, surely he must know he could have had him from almost the day they met?

I’d be so much better for you than any of them, Zhenya thinks to himself as he watches the second son of some North American dignitary squire Sidney about the gardens. His hand is too low on Sidney’s back. Zhenya turns the page on the book he’s pretending to read.

It would be wrong, to use what he’s learned of Sidney over the years to try and win his heart. It would be—dishonest, a betrayal of their friendship. Zhenya could never do that to Sidney. Plus, he’s from a good family and not a great one, and good isn’t enough for the Crown Prince. Isn’t good enough for Sidney, who is kind, and quiet until you get to know him, and perhaps a little too serious, but—

Zhenya loves him. And he can’t do anything about it.

[julyarchives]

Don’t You Hear Me Howling? || (M) || 08

Finding out you are a female Alpha sparkled some rivalry inside your pack, and resulted in you losing your best friend and your life turning upsidedown, so leaving for college was the fresh start you needed. Years later, you are about to finish your degree and suddenly this past comes back to mess with your head.

→ Pairing: Yeo One x Female Reader | Kino x Female Reader

→ Genre: A/B/O AU; Omegaverse; College AU.

→ Words:  3.8K

→ Contains: mentions of alcohol; wolf shifting; some Alpha-Alpha tension; Y/N making out with a special guest 👀; smut; Jealousy

→ A/n: Thus was supposed to be posted yesterday, but we sort of got lost in the calendar, so here it is now (oops?) we hope it isn't too lame and you guys like it! Also, as mentioned in the warning, there is a special appearance heheh.

→ Index: 01 • 02 • 03 • 04 • 05 • 06 • 07 • 08

As much fun and easygoing as things were for you, you felt glad for the holidays break. You got out of the cab and breathed in deeply, inhaling the scent of the reservation forest that boarded the neighborhood.

Every year your pack has their own ritual to celebrate your ancestors during the holiday, and you were actually looking forward to participating this year, after missing it since you started college, for many personal reasons - and one of them included a very difficult talk with your parents. Also, so much has happened this semester that being in the small city allowed you to breathe some fresh air and organize your thoughts.

Your parent’s received you immediately as you went through the front door, with big hugs and wide smiles.

“It’s so good to have you home” your mom patted your head, her small frame making her reach high to do so.

“Let me take your stuff to your room” Your dad grabbed your luggage and turned around to take them upstairs

“Oh, it’s fine, I can take them” You tried to stop him, but he pretended he didn’t listen. But you knew he loved feeling like the man of the house. You redirected yourself to your mom “I think I could use a shower and a nap, the trip was too long.”

“Of course, honey, I’ll call you for lunch.”

You crossed paths with your dad in the doorway, who offered a small smile. He wasn’t very fond of small talk, so that was usual of him. You closed the door behind you and sat on the edge of the twin bed centered on the room. You looked around and took in the scent of your old home, which immediately brought back so many memories.

Before you left for college, you and Changgu were on bad terms, so there weren't pictures of you together anymore, but you could still see the tape marks on where they used to be glued on your old vanity mirror. You also remembered perfectly which drawer you have tucked them away, the one that you were currently staring at, contemplating taking a look at them. In the end, you just shook the idea off of you and followed what you’ve told your mom.

The day was rather quiet and peaceful, the big event being held in the night, and the talk you were dreading could wait after the celebrations. Your parents had visited you in college a couple of times, and you have visited them too, but it was rare, never for the holidays, so they prepared a special family lunch and you couldn’t deny that you had a good time being around them.

All the pack had gathered in a big clearing at night to celebrate, and the bonfire already burned high. You could feel all the attention shifting to you as you arrived, your dominant scent overpowering everyone else's, and you held yourself high.

The day you left the city you promised yourself to never get close to this pack again. They’ve ignored you and diminished you as an Alpha, and you knew this place wasn’t for you. They were all surprised to see you back, they could barely hide it, but every time you made eye contact with someone, they quickly turned away avoiding you.

You didn’t hide, not ashamed of you or your choices, but it was rather uncomfortable, the tension almost palpable in the air. You quickly grabbed your phone and texted Wooseok.

“ Please tell me you headed back town for the holidays”

To which he quickly replied

“I actually came to a friend’s house, I’m not there, sorry :(“

You sighed. The cold weather wasn’t so bad, the cool breeze was blowing softly and the fire kept the place warm if you got close enough. Your parents stopped along the way to say hi to their friends, but you followed closer to the bonfire, where your eyes quickly met the current Alpha.

For a moment you had forgotten he was Changgu’s father, but seeing him immediately brought the information back to you. They looked alike so much, the same eyes full of expression and sharp jawline. He was staring at you, not so happily, and nodded when you looked at him. Your expression could be sour, you weren’t sure how much you were holding back, but you respectfully nodded back.

He sustained the stare a couple more seconds, so did you, but soon he was calling everyone’s attention. Everyone gathered close and his wife stood by his side. That’s when you saw Changgu, getting close to his father with a stoic expression on his face.

You shoved your hands in the pocket of your jacket and offered a half-smile when he noticed you. At first, he seemed confused but returned the gesture

“Brothers and sisters” The senior Alpha called “tonight we celebrate the ones who have left us. Our ancestors passed us their wisdom,” He spoke firmly and slowly, looking around at everyone. “Their strength lives in us, and so we honor them with our nature.”

There was a long speech about union and tradition that to you it sounded too much like hypocrisy since the traditions would include you, supposedly the next Alpha of the pack, to be standing there as a successor. You did not bother, because you expected nothing else.

The leader of the pack was the first to turn. His skin shredded, giving space for the long dark brown and silver fur to grow as a howl echoed loudly, bringing out everyone’s instinct, but especially your Alpha ones, and soon you had shifted.

This was one of the reasons you wanted to come. Being in university has you taking suppressants daily, so letting yourself run free was like getting rid of tight clothes that restricted your movements. You howled loudly to follow the collective chant, an ode to the departed ones, a hymn for the pack, the freedom of instinct.

The pack’s Alpha ran in the front, leading everyone with his big frame. Changgu followed him, and it’s been so many years since you’ve seen his wolf form that you felt surprised. He was bulky and big, his posture very imponent, and you stopped to admire it for a second.

The run was freeing. The wind hiding your wolf nozzle, pushing your fur back, your paws hitting the dirt. You needed that, and just letting yourself act on your instincts was the best thing you could grant yourself at that moment.

Reaching the highest point of the forest, the collective howling restarted. You stopped right next to Changgu, whose wolf eyes watched you intently, and in wordless communication, you howled together, allowing the instinct to speak for yourselves.

…

After the traditional pack run, a feast was hosted by the Alpha, usually in his house, which was big enough to fit everyone comfortably in the large backyard.

Everyone happily celebrated what was the closest to a wolf Christmas, with an abundance of food for everyone. You sat with your parents at the assigned table, attending the event quietly, holding yourself back just enough to not drag any more attention than you were already getting. Mr. Yeo, the Alpha, customarily greeted every individual, and when he approached you and your family, you stood up and bowed respectfully.

"Thank you for having us" your father shook his hands

"It's my pleasure," Mr. Yeo politely answered, "I didn't expect your daughter to come."

He talked about you like you weren't there, and you were pretty sure that was purposefully meant to challenge your position.

"I came to pay respects to the tradition, sir" you opened a forced smile. A damn good one. "Can't let that behind me."

His eyes snapped in your direction with intensity, letting the impassive expression on his face falter for a second.

"Of course" he smoldered, masking it with a smile probably just as fake as yours.

To him, you represented a threat to his family's legacy, so it wasn't a big secret that he isn't very fond of you.

"I hope you enjoy the party," he said to you and your parents altogether, but redirected the last sentence at you "if there's anything you need, just tell me and I can provide."

"Of course, thank you so much" your mom answered gladly. She followed her leader with passion and always tried to be in good graces with him, so she's always been strict in the sense of community tradition and formalities.

"No need to thank me, ma'am" he smirked "that's just an Alpha job"

The provocation was like a punch in the gut. Ever since you were revealed an Alpha, Mr. Yeo tried to do everything in his power to deprive you of your given rights inside the pack. He raised Changgu to take his place and hated your guts for ruining his plans. He was a man of power and didn't appreciate when someone threatened that position.

"Y/N…" your mom called you with a warning tone to her voice.

You didn't notice how you were instinctively growling, low enough for only people close to the table to hear, but your Alpha emotion was strong enough to cause some heads to turn in your direction.

Mr. Yeo, of course, smiled in victory from a distance, happy to make you look bad in front of the community.

"You really don't care that he does everything to undermine me, do you?" You said to both of your parents.

"Honey, he's the Alpha." Your mom said calmly "everything he does is to protect you. Is the best for everyone."

"You do know I'm an Alpha too, right?" You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

They both stayed quiet. You looked at your dad, hoping he would say something in your favor, but he just complies with your mom's orderly silence.

"Yeah, thanks," you said, standing up and leaving.

Growing up you used to love being with your pack these kinds of celebrations were your favorite time of the year.  But now everything changed and suddenly you felt so misplaced that you felt like you didn't know anyone anymore. You knew all your neighbors, and their kids who went to school with you, but now they were almost complete strangers to you.

You grabbed a bottle of beer and looked around for the only familiar face you could find there. Changgu was not running Alpha errands with his dad, so when you found him he was surrounded by a group of girls, apparently younger than you, swooning at every charming smile of his, and you could just see how much he adored all the attention. You chuckled at his fuckboy attitude and the poor deluded girls who had a crush on him, hoping to get the son of the Alpha in love with them.

"Y/n?" You heard your name being called, taking you always from your thoughts.

The boy who called you was tall and slim, a long-ish hair half up in a ponytail and he looked happy to see you.

"Hey…?" You said with uncertainty, trying to figure out why he looked so familiar, but you just couldn't remember his name

"Hyunjin" he chuckled "I don't know if you remember me, but we went to school together."

"Right, Hyunjin, of course, I remember!" It finally clicked to you. Hyunjin was an omega, a few years younger than you but you two used to share some clubs in high school, but he didn't look so… hot. "You look so different, sorry it took me a while to recognize you."

"Yeah," he laughed shyly, scratching the back of his head. "I haven't seen you since you left for college. You look great"

His flirtatious half-smirk was very obvious and you actually thought he looked quite cute.

"You look great yourself" you bit your bottom lip, looking him up and down "But yeah, I kind of focused on graduating rather than coming here."

"I'm glad you're here now." He fully smirked this time "wanna go somewhere quieter? I'd love to catch up with you"

You felt hesitant at first, and you looked back to find Changgu again, and this time one of the girls was grabbing his arm, running his hand all over it. You wanted company for the party, and since Changgu was busy flirting, why shouldn't you do the same?

"Of course, let's do it." You took one last sip of your beer and linked arms with him.

He guided you around the house to the front porch, where you rested your elbows and watched the quiet street. Hyunjin had his back against it, looking at you.

You two actually did some catching up, and even exchanged numbers. You found out Hyunjin also went away for college, but he always came back for the holidays and breaks, and stuff like that, but nothing you were really paying attention to.

"You know, I have to confess something." He said, straightening his posture "I sort of had a crush on you, back in the days"

"Really?" You laughed softly, amused at the sudden confession. "Why didn't you say something, then?"

"Ah," he clicked his tongue. "Everyone knew you only had eyes for Changgu."

You rolled your eyes involuntarily.

"C'mon, everyone knew that, and Changgu didn't let anyone get close to you"

You were actually surprised to hear that since this wasn't something he ever told you but explained why you weren't popular with boys in high school.

"Well," you stood up and stopped directly in front of him "I don't see Changgu anywhere now, do you?"

Hyunjin grabbed your waist, pulling you closer to him, and your hands held the collar of his jacket.

"I guess I should shoot my shot, then" he licked his lips, alternating looks between your eyes and lips.

"What are you waiting for, big boy?" You challenged him.

He reached forward, kissing you rather urgently. His plumpy lips felt soft against yours, and he was a really good kisser. He pulled you against him, and you intertwined your fingers on the loose hair behind his neck. He gasped when you tugged on it, and you grinned into the kiss for getting a good reaction out of him. His hands sneaked down your waist, boldly squeezing your ass as the kiss got more intense, and he earned a shy hum of satisfaction out of you.

The noise of someone clearing their throat interrupted you two, making both of your heads snap in its direction, but neither of you really letting go of each other.

"Y/N" Changgu called you rather sternly, with a matching frown on his face. "I need you to help me deal with some stuff"

You sighed.

"Looks like some things didn't change, did they?" Hyunjin whispered just for you to hear,

"I'm not done with you yet." You whispered back, nibbling his earlobe.

"Now." Changgu interrupted again.

You pecked Hyunjin's lips before detangling from him, only then noticing that his hands were still in your ass.

"Text me, ok?" You said to him loudly as you followed Changgu inside the house.

He walked large steps and didn't bother looking behind to see if you were following.

"You couldn't have picked a worse moment to need me to deal with some bullshit, could you?" You whined, but he still paid no attention to you "all night, I was there doing absolutely nothing, and when I finally started to have some fun you decided I was important enough to attend whatever this is."

You babbled but still, he didn't respond, and you just kept following him around corridors in the big house, finally entering a dark room

"What is so important anyway that you had to call me so urgently-"

Changgu interrupted you when he pushed you against the door, making it slam loudly, his lips crashing against yours with a certain vigor.

At first, your eyes widened in surprise, and you pushed him back to look at him, but his hold on you didn't loosen up.

"What the fuck, Changgu?"

"Just," he stopped to think, breath already heavy in anticipation "shut up"

He resumed kissing you, and this time you rolled with it because, you couldn't deny, kissing him was something you ever saw yourself getting tired of. He pressed his whole body against yours, grinding on you making you gasp every time his thigh in between your legs rubbed against your clothed core.

"Fuck, Changgu" you said when he attacked your neck.

You pull the hair on his nape, making him look at you

"Is that what this is about?" You asked, forcing yourself to think straight "you can't bear the thought of me fucking someone else?"

Rather than answering, Changgu just growled, making you laugh ironically

"So you can flirt with all those pretty girls out there," you raised your eyebrows, "but I can not hook up with people? As if, Changgu"

You weren't as mad as much as you were enjoying taunting him for being so desperate to have you his.

"Just shut up, for fucks sake" he rolled his eyes and picked you, only to throw you on the bed behind him.

You finally recognized Changgu's old bedroom, with the light that came from the window above it. It was different, with no more posters taped to the wall or the action figures he liked to collect. It was a simple room with minimal decoration now.

"Gonna break another bed, wolfie?" You teased "I don't think daddy would be very happy to know you're fooling around with the Alpha"

He growled loudly, hooking his hands around your legs and pulling you closer to him, your bottom hitting his knees, which were pressed against the mattress. He leaned down and viciously kissed you, nibbling and ducking your bottom lip.

"You know, you're way hotter when your mouth is shut" he panted in between kisses.

Having turned into wolves mere hours ago had all your instincts right under the skin. The dominance, the connection between you and your Beta, the lust. Everything was on edge and you guessed that's why Changgu was so desperate.

He unbuttoned your jeans and pulled them down with your underwear in one swift motion while you took off your shirt, revealing your bare breasts underneath it. Changgu licked his lips and chuckled cockly when he ran a finger down your slit, showing you how wet you already were.

He took his shirt off, but didn't bother with his pants, and leaned back down to lick a long stripe of your juices, brushing softly on your clit on the way.

You moaned weakly.

"I'll show you why you're better here than with the what's-his-name out there." He said in a low husky voice.

He kept his hand around your legs and captured your sensitive nub in between his lips, making you buck your hips and grab his hair in response.

His back muscles were on display for you and it was hot to watch it contract and relax as he moved in between your legs.

"You're so eager for me, aren't you?" You teased him again and he hummed, sending vibrations down your core. "Do your worst, let me see if you're worth my time"

He leaned back up and you hated the loss of contact, but he quickly spun you around and pulled your hips up exposing your ass to him, and a harsh slap sting on your skin, accompanied by his deep growling that he didn't seem to have control over, and you yelped at the burning pain.

You heard him fumbling with his belt and soon he was entering you with no warning, making you bury your head in the pillow to muffle a loud moan. He didn't give you any time to adjust as he pounded into you fast, showing his desperation. He angled his hips just right to hit the perfect spot inside you to make you scream.

For a second you were afraid someone would hear you, but the backyard was not that close to the bedroom, and you tried to suppress your noises the best you could. Changgu seemed to be out of control with the way he hissed and moaned, your name falling out of his lips here and there.

A sloppy rushed fuck was not on your plans tonight but, fuck, it felt good. Changgu was getting sloppier by the minute and you just knew he wouldn't last long. You reached in between your legs and circled around your glistening clit, realizing you were in no better state than he was.

The closer you felt to your high, the more you squeezed your walls around Changgu's member, and the louder he moaned.

"Are you trying to get us caught?" You managed to say "such a loud wolf."

He didn't respond, too focused on fucking you, but he didn't get quieter.

You fastened your movements and had again your head buried in the pillow, moaning freely as you reached your orgasm, your whole body vibrating in pleasure. Changgu started thrusting faster, gripping your hips harder and pulling you against him to meet his thrust, and soon enough you felt his seed dripping down your thighs, strangled noises caught in his throat as he rode his high.

You relaxed your body when he pulled out of you, laying down with your stomach against the mattress, crossing your arms under your head for support. Changgu threw himself by your side, facing the ceiling and panting, looking fucked out already.

"Jealous wolf, aren't we?" You tapped his chest, provoking him

"Shut up" he chuckled

"How many girls did you fuck in this bedroom anyway? You were quite popular with the ladies back in high school. I bet they all died to be in Yeo Changgu's bedroom" you mocked a dreamy-girly voice.

"Do you really want to talk about who I fucked in high school?" He chuckled.

"Well, someone had to get laid, right? Since I couldn't because someone told boys to stay away from me." You smirked at his embarrassed expression

"Hyunjin is such a snitch, he was never good enough for you" he rolled his eyes and looked away.

"And who is? You?" You scoffed

"I didn't hear you complaining when you were screaming against the pillow just now"

You slapped his chest and he laughed loudly

"Jerk" you mumbled.

"Guess you can go back to your pretty boy out there", he said in a teasing voice, "if you're still interested, that is".

"So cocky, aren't you?", he laughed at your mocking expression.

"Maybe. But we still have festivities to attend".

"Unfortunately".

You got dressed in comfortable silence and after a few minutes, you were good to go. Changgu stood by the door and smiled at you before opening it and waving for you to walk by him. As you walked out, a satisfied smile took over your face and you only hoped people wouldn't notice the smell of sex on you too much. You and Changgu parted ways and for a second you let the whole tension of your body relax during the holiday. Just for a while.

[thatboomerkid]

Giff -- SpellJammer Race for Pathfinder

Giff -- SpellJammer Race [19 RACE POINTS] for First Edition Pathfinder

Known to the gnomes of Markovia as the nilski konj vojnici, to the Hin plantation-owners of Covington Farms as los mercenarios gigantes del río, and to the human field-workers laboring near New Arvoreen most-often simply as “those big goddamn bastards,” the giff -- as they are called in their own guttural, roaring language -- represent a recently-contacted species of huge, violent, powerfully-built, terrifyingly-focused, and dangerously cagey combatants.

In the little-over-a-century since their discovery by the Hin, platoons of giff have already carved a bloody name for themselves across the wilds of Verdura -- and far beyond -- as unparalleled river-guides, rowdies, strike-breakers, mob debt-collectors, private enforcers, heavy-weapons units, siege engines, bodyguards, and elite soldiers of fortune.

Brought to you absolutely free to enjoy, to test & to share – as always – by the fine folks of my Patreon.

original image by the incredible Claudio Pozas, here

Type: Monstrous Humanoid (3 RP)

Ability Score Modifiers: Mixed Weakness (-2 RP)

+2 Strength, -4 Dexterity, +2 Constitution, -4 Intelligence, +2 Wisdom

Size: Large (7 RP)

Giff gain a +2 size bonus to Strength and a -2 size penalty to Dexterity (already included above). Giff also suffer a -1 size penalty to their AC and a -1 size penalty on all attack rolls; they gain a +1 bonus on combat maneuver checks and to their CMD, and suffer a -4 size penalty on Stealth checks.

A giff takes up a space that is 10 feet by 10 feet and has a reach of 5 feet.

Base Speed: Normal speed (0 RP)

Languages: Standard (0 RP); giff speak their own eponymous, curiously poetic language, and most are -- in the modern day -- also conversant in Low Kozah-Talosii (usually spoken with a thick, pompous Verduran accent).

This bastardized dialect, the so-called “Common tongue” favored across Pyrespace for use in international, intercultural, and interplanetary trade, is a degraded mongrel variant of High Kozah-Talosii: the ancient root-tongue of both Arvorean and Brandobarin, still employed by the Church of Yondalla for use in sermons, hymns, and in all official records.

Big Damn Guns: Giff are treated as gnomes for purposes of the Experimental Gunsmith Archetype. (0 RP)

Darkvision: Giff have 60 ft. darkvision (0 RP); giff have relatively poor eyesight while out of water, which is easily corrected with simple lenses -- such as a monocle -- for use while reading. This vision is not poor enough to impart a mechanical penalty on Perception checks or attack rolls made by the giff.

Natural Armor: Giff have +3 natural armor (4 RP)

Natural Attack (Headbutt): Giff receive one natural attack, which is treated as a gore attack that deals 1d8 bludgeoning damage. (1 RP)

Natural Swimmers: Giff have a swim speed of 30 feet and gain the +8 racial bonus on Swim checks that a swim speed normally grants. (1 RP)

Powerful Charge (Headbutt): Whenever a giff charges, it deals twice the standard number of damage dice with its headbutt plus 1-1/2 times its Strength bonus. (2 RP)

River-Sense: Giff can sense vibrations in water, granting them blindsense 30 feet against creatures that are touching the same body of water. (1 RP)

Slow On Land: Giff often select the Clumsy, Easy Target, Magically Inept, Nearsighted, and Slow Reflexes Major Drawbacks (0 RP)

Spell Resistance (Greater): Giff have spell resistance equal to 11 + their character level. (3 RP)

Sporting: The species-wide love of warfare exhibited by the giff draws a sharp line of distinction between “sporting” and “unsporting” combat (see below). (-1 RP)

Sporting combat includes arm-wrestling, fisticuffs, darts, cards, dice, checkers, chess, billiards, cricket, rugby, skeet shooting, tennis, and golf, alongside tests of boasting, carousing, headbutting, toast-giving, swimming, push-ups, and a complex, ritualized sort of thunderous, unarmed mixed martial-art performed solely while stripped down to breeches & undergarments, usually in ankle-deep to waist-deep water, ending in pin or submission, which -- up to a point -- also serves as a type of flirting.

The military mentality of the giff even makes special allowances for a variety of “sporting” duels to the death. Establishing a proper duel requires a huge number of complex ritual elements that -- in the end -- mostly boils down to both giff formally acknowledging that:

Both giff are armed with approximately the same quality of weapons & armor (warhammer, combat knife, pistol, full plate, etc.)

Both giff have equal access to military support, including healing

Both giff have a grievance, no matter how petty

Both giff are suffering approximately the same level of injuries

Both giff have made arrangements for their estate, and for the treatment of their body after death

Once a “sporting” challenge to the death has been agreed-to by both parties, anything up to and including outright murder of one’s opponent is considered fair game.

Several major holidays each year celebrated by the giff include a “violent dueling festival” as part of their celebration; to outsiders, these events have a very bizarre, genteel, 1800s-Victorian-Teddy-Roosevelt-meets-The-Purge sort of feel to them:

“Happy holidays, friend; best of health this year to you and to your kin. And I say, old chap, don’t suppose it’s high time for a kukri-duel, eh, wot wot? Seeing as you got drunk on my finest brandy, made a pass at the missus, wiped your prodigious buttocks with my table linens, and micturated in my hedge-row as of Christmas last, well ... in lieu of an apology, what say I have Jenkins fetch the carving blades, eh? See which of has the moxie, shall we? Cheerio and have at thee then, old sport?”

If this formal challenge to a lethal sporting-duel is declined, the challenger must make all possible accommodations to guarantee the immediate physical safety of the giff she just challenged (at least until such time as the two giff part ways once more): providing the giff with weapons, armor, food, water, medicine, reading materials, a place to sleep, liquor, smoking tobacco, and anything else a gentleman or lady of high breeding could reasonably expect to have access to (even while imprisoned).

In short: if the challenged giff dies immediately after declining a duel, it is considered very embarrassing for the challenger.

For his own part, the declining giff must treat her challenger with the very utmost level of respect ... or risk being guilty of unsporting conduct, a fate far worse than mere death.

Any giff who finds herself about to violate the terms of properly “sporting” conduct instantly becomes aware of the error, just as if she were wearing a phylactery of faithfulness and, at all times, actively contemplating the thought of doing bodily harm to another giff: this behavioral limitation is not built as a trap for players to accidentally stumble into, but -- instead -- as an interesting roadblock to navigate around.

If two or more giff find themselves forced into a position of armed conflict against one another on a battlefield, both groups traditionally retire for at least a day of drinking and sorting-out ranks; on rare occasion, one platoon will join the other; more likely, all giff involved in any part of the operation will quit their current hirings and look for work elsewhere.

Any giff who engages another member of her own species in any type of unsporting combat -- attacking another giff with a weapon, for example, or with magic -- immediately suffers a -2 penalty on all skill checks, ability checks, attack rolls and saves; she continues to suffer this penalty until such time as she is able to make amends: presenting her victim with a formal written apology, or seeking our her victim’s family to beg their public pardon.

Each month, this penalty increases by 2. Guilt is a poison that grows by degrees, after all: ever-gnawing.

While she is suffering penalties in this way, if the giff is presented with the chance to punish herself – or a non-giff opponent! – while presented with something that reminds the giff of her betrayal, she may find herself compelled to do so regardless of the consequences:

Any time her betrayal is directly brought to her attention, the giff must make a Will save (DC = 10 + her character level + the Charisma modifier of the wronged giff). Failure means that the giff falls into a rage of abject self-loathing, completely focused on her own guilt for a number of rounds equal to the DC, above. Until she has finished with this exercise in hate, the giff can take no action other than to harm the reminder of her failure or enable herself to harm it: grappling a human shipmate who mentioned her old friend so that she might headbutt the human while strangling them, for example, or calmly loading a shotgun so that she might shoot the human dead in cold blood.

Note that the giff, while wracked with guilt & grief, is not required to do anything or harm anyone: she may simply stare at an old photograph and feel sad, for example, ignoring everyone around her.

During the fury of this black tempest, the giff suffers a -2 penalty to her AC.

Once the giff successfully makes amends, either with the wronged party or with the victim’s next-of-kin, all of the above penalties are removed. Entire subsets of giff society -- mediators, arbitrators, and negotiators -- are explicitly adapted to making absolutely certain that any errors in sporting conduct among giff are resolved quickly, and to the satisfaction of all parties. 

Should she fail to make amends before her death, any giff who has harmed another giff in an unsporting way invariably rises again as an undead horror of some kind (often a blood knight or graveknight): reborn as a rotting, lurching mountainside of infinitely destructive hated.

Note that the Sporting Racial Trait is not purely social, but rather acts as a species-wide ingrained psychological virtue: two giff living on Fenris who never expect to see the wide rivers of Verdura again are still bound by the rules of “sporting” conflict; neither could shoot the other in the back any more than either of them could grow wings and fly to the moon.

Undead giff do not possess the Sporting Trait, which is seen -- by living giff -- as the most abhorrent and disturbing quality imaginable.

Note, also, that the desire to behave in a sporting manner extends only to fellow giff: Chaotic Evil giff will routinely massacre unarmed non-giff by the thousands, bellowing with laughter as they do so, and even a Lawful Good giff will rarely think twice before sucker-punching a crude human making drunken threats and impolite remarks at the bar.

-------

Giff Timeline:

1603 A.D. (118 years ago): The colony of New Arvoreen is established on Verdura; giff make contact with Hin (and their human servants) for the first time.

1620 A.D.: First generation of giff who have always known about the existence of Hin, humans, and -- most importantly! -- firearms fully comes of age.

1636 A.D.: New Arvoreen is significantly expanded.

1667 A.D.: Nation of Markovia -- the technological-marvel nation named for its Founder, Monarch and Supreme Leader, Dr. Adlai Markovitch -- founded on Verdua; diplomatic trade established with New Arvoreen.

1669 A.D.: City of New Arvoreen significantly expanded.

1702 A.D.: New Arvoreen significantly expanded; land officially cleared for Covington Farms, soon to be the largest agricultural facility in the system; rates of forcible immigration of indentured humans to New Arvoreen tripled.

1721 A.D.: (current year)

original image here

Giff Ranks: Lieutenant, General, Colonel, Major General, Lieutenant General, Lieutenant Colonel, Captain General, Brigadier General, Field Marshall, Major, Captain, Sergeant Major, Commandant General, Wing General, Lieutenant Colonel General, Staff Sergent, Master Sergent, Master General, Grenadier General; note that “Lord” may be added to any military rank, alongside the designations of “First” and “First Class” (for example, “First Lord Brigadier General First Class”)

Giff military ranks are, effectively, meaningless noise to everyone except the giff themselves: every member of the species is a decorated officer of some complex rank within some elite military company or another, but such ranks are largely ceremonial and may be inherited, purchased, or passed through elaborate, bombastic ritual.

Further, the only thing preventing a young giff from forming an entirely new military organization & immediately naming herself -- of example -- Supreme Acting Field Commander and Secretary General of the Armies and Navies at Wartime is -- up to a point -- her own willingness to do so.

Male Giff Names: Any invented male Hin name.

Female Giff Names: Any invented female Hin name.

Giff Family Names: Any invented male Hin first name

Society

The giff are military-minded, and organize themselves into squads, platoons, companies, corps, and larger groups. The number of giff in a platoon varies according to the season, situation, and level of danger involved.

A giff "platoon" hired to protect a gambling operation may number only a single soldier, while a platoon hired to invade an illithid stronghold may number well over a hundred.

The giff pride themselves on their weapon-skills, and any giff carries a number of swords, daggers, maces, and similar tools on hand to deal with troublemakers.

A giff's true love, however, is the gun. A misfiring weapon matters little to the giff (occasional fatalities amongst soldiery are simply to expected); it is the flash, the noise, and the damage that most impress them.

Even unarmed, the giff are powerful opponents. Against non-giff, they’ll often wade into a brawl just for the pure fun of it, tossing various combatants on both sides around to prove themselves the victors.

Once a weapon is bared, however, and the challenge becomes “unsporting,” the giff consider all restrictions off: the challenge is now to the death.

The giff prize themselves as top-quality mercenaries, and to that end take great pride in owning -- if not always wearing -- elaborate suits of full-plate armor. These suits usually include massive helms featuring hyper-detailed, semi-realistic images of exotic monsters on the crests, inlaid with ivory and bone along the largest plates.

Armor repair is a major hobby among the giff, although great skill at the craft is surprisingly rare.

The giff are deeply suspicious of magic, magicians, and magical devices; their legendary foes, the Five Tiger Princes, are despised for their esoteric abilities as much for their wicked deviltry.

image here

Family

The giff are, for the most part, happiest among fellow members their own race, intermingling broadly with the Ghoran -- whom the giff utilize as an edible, inexhaustible workforce -- and the Tengu: another unofficial “servitor race” of the giff, most often used as messengers and household servants.

Ghoran living on giff lands are stoic: dutifully tending the fields of the giff in exchange for protection from ten-thousand other, vastly more predatory dangers. For all that giff treat the ghoran as disposable -- a ghoran living on Verdura produces one seed each year, and can grow a new member of the species in a single month -- the giff do not want the ghoran hunted to total extermination. That, for the ghoran, is saying something,

Tengu, on the other hand, are deeply prized by the giff as staff, usually in the roles of personal assistants, groomers, decorators, butlers, bartenders, man-servants, attaches, major domos, and maids. Since all giff are “wealthy land owners,” to one degree or another, the true power & prestige of a giff can be accurately measured by the number of tengu he employs.

Giff otherwise consider anything larger than them deeply threatening, yet also complain bitterly -- in private -- about the fragility of the smaller races. Outside their own platoons, the giff are happiest among military organizations with a strong chain of command.

For this reason, giff hold the Church of Yondalla in exceptionally high regard.

Giff especially despise the catfolk: although they don’t speak of it to outsiders, a century ago the giff were on the verge of extinction: hunted for sport and trophy by servants of the Five Tiger Princes, their people nearly cut to nothing and their lands held by only a few remaining families. Since their acquisition of firearms -- and the arrival of the Hin -- the catfolk have broadly retreated.

Every giff -- male, female, and giffling -- has a rank within their greater society, which can only be changed by a giff of higher rank. Within these ranks are sub-ranks, and within those sub-ranks are color-markings and badges. The highest-ranking giff gives the orders, the others obey. It does not matter if the orders are foolish or even suicidal: following them is the purpose of the giff in the universe. A quasi-mystical faith among the giff -- who claim to worship, in a vague way, the Golden General Bahamut, who was killed and eaten by the cowardly Five Tiger Princes in order to steal his strength -- confirms that all things have their place, and the place of the giff to follow orders.

This makes the giff very happy.

Giff platoons can be hired from their sprawling, palatial riverside plantations and mountain hunting-lodges by anyone looking for muscle. The social leaders among the giff are contractors: these specially-trained giff review prospective employers according to ability to pay, then make a recommendation to powerful warlords and famous adventurers among the giff. The leaders, in turn, consider the danger of the job, and whether taking it will enhance their giffdom.

Giff jobs are usually paid in firearms & gunpowder, though they often will accept other weapons and armor. Aboard ship, the giff require their own quarters, and will often request to bring on their own large weapons. They favor fire-projectors and bombards for ground work, and will happily blaze away at opponents regardless of the tactical situation.

The giff require the ships of others because they have -- for the most part -- no spellcasting abilities among them.

Giff of both sexes serve in their platoons, and both fight equally well. Giff young are raised tenderly until they are old enough to survive an exploding arquebus, then are inducted fully into the platoon.

The giff practice equality among the sexes in battle and in childrearing. They live about 70 years, but do not take aging gracefully. As a giff grows older and begins to slow down, he is possessed with the idea of proving himself still young and vital, usually in battle.

As a result, there are very, very few old giff.

[themonkeycabal]

Wandavision Ep 5 Spoilers

Wherein I watch Wandavision at a stupid hour of the morning because I do not sleep like a regular human being, and sometimes I have things to say.

Previously on Wandavision, we all discovered that Darcy Lewis and Jimmy Woo were the BFFs we never knew we needed and now can't live without. Also Wanda reminded us that she's really scary.

We should be in the 80s now, right? Ahh the 80s. Leg warmers, Aquanet, and MTV.

Baby shenanigans with crying twins. Wanda tries to magic them to sleep and it doesn't work. "Maybe we just need some help." And in pops Agnes without waiting for them to answer the door. As you do in a sitcom hell. She's got a headband and leg warmers on and is on her way to jazzercise. Of course. Is the point of Agnes to really anchor us in a decade? Asking for real. She's very "this is the era, and these are the tropes, let's all play along now."

Vision is very protective of the babies, to such a degree and with such intensity that Agnes literally forgets her line and nervously asks Wanda if she wants her to take that again. Well, then. Agnes very super a lot does not want to be wished to the cornfield. 

The babies stopped crying during the whole "should we do this scene again" interlude. Vision noticed the weirdness and is trying to figure out what's going on, Wanda is trying very hard to pretend everything is normal. Agnes is being super duper bizarre in the background. And suddenly the twins are like three years old. Agnes has given up and got into the liquor. I don't blame her.

Opening credits. Okay, I'm sorry, 'baby' Vision is almost more stupidly funny than I can take. Like … what? I think I want that as my new icon, though. Also the credits are too long. I think they were very proud of their theme song, so we have to hear it all. These are my least favorite so far. Very 80s, but meh.

In the real world, Monica is getting x-rays and giving a report on being yeeted from Wanda World.

Jimmy Woo and Darcy are there to greet her at the end of the exam. "This is Doctor Darcy Lewis." Yes, she is! Still very proud. She's also the doctor of encouraging people to wear pants, shoving a pair at hospital gown-clad Monica. Erik's no-pants phase was very scarring.

The medic comes back and says the medical tests didn't work or something. The medic wants to do x-rays again because the first came back blank and also she's going to have to do another blood draw. Hmm. Monica is still somehow affected by Wanda World? Unclear on how that would work. Some sort of weird witchy radiation-like energy? Monica says 'no' to more needles and also wants to put pants on. Just let the woman have her pants.

Now we're on to a briefing with the acting Director of SWORD whose name I don't remember. He's very "government suit" bland, I have a hard time caring about anything he says. Also, does anybody else pronounce the 'w' in SWORD in their head when they read it? Like I cannot make my brain stop doing that. "s-WUH-ord'.

"Our initial theory had Wanda Maximoff as one of many victims. We now know she is the principle VICTIMIZER!" Settle down there, acting director guy. Why not say 'subject', 'suspect', 'perpetrator', or boring old 'cause of the anomaly". VICTIMIZER! Geez then. I'm going to guess his solution will be a tactical nuke or some such rot.

Jimmy gives background on Wanda.

Acting Director Guy: "The twins were subsequently radicalized, volunteering at Hydra." Jimmy Woo: "That's an oversimplification of events, but yes." I'm giving you heart-eyes Jimmy Woo.

"After unspecified experimentation with the mind stone, Maximoff gained telekinetic and telepathic abilities."

Then a weird aside where the Acting Director — who shall now be known as Acting Director Dick — wants to know if Wanda had a code name or a something, seeming to imply that not having one made her a bad guy?,  and then he points out how the first time she used her powers it was against the Avengers. He totally just ordered a tactical nuke from "overreacting-government-douchebags r us".  I hate this particular character trope, the government heavy who never listens to anybody and is always ready to napalm the suburbs because reasons. It's so tedious.

Jimmy points out that Wanda earned the Avengers trust and then became an Avenger herself, thank you very much. Acting Director Dick doesn't care, he's decided Wanda is a terrorist and he'll turn half of New Jersey into a glass parking lot to get rid of her. Sure am glad he's in charge of some sort of mysterious and powerful agency.

Jimmy Woo is not a fan either, and he walks back over to his new bestie and tells Darcy that while he tries not to speak ill of anybody … Darcy interrupts "then allow me", and she has no trouble saying that Acting Director Dick is, in fact, a dick. That's my girl.

Elsewhere AD Dick is blathering on about how they don't negotiate with terrorists. Well, since Wanda hasn't made any demands, or released a manifesto or anything …. Monica also points out Wanda is not a terrorist. AD Dick twists her report to make Wanda sound as terroristy as he can. I'm bored with him now.

Monica argues with him a bit and say she doesn't believe Wanda World is a premeditated act of aggression. I vote Darcy, Jimmy, and Monica wait until AD Dick is alone, and then they shove him in a locker for the rest of the season. If anybody asks he had to run back to sWUHord for meetings or something, "Darn, you just missed him. I'll tell him you're looking for him. Great. Buh-bye now".

AD Dick needs to make his big jackass point that Wanda is the most terroristy terrorist who ever terroristed, so he shows off footage of Wanda breaking into a SWORD facility to steal back Vision's body. Because that seems terroristy and not at all like some sort of emotional breakdown. As far as I can tell, she just busted open a few doors, but didn't hurt anybody. I think AD Dick doesn't know the meaning of the word terrorist.

And, yes, then she resurrected Vision in an idealized sitcom world in a small city in New Jersey. That's exactly like something a terrorist mastermind would do. Mmmhmm. Is it nice for the people trapped there with them? No, clearly not. Agnes and Herb in particular seem aware and are scared. They need to be rescued and Wanda needs LOADS of therapy. But Director Nuke the Site from Orbit over here isn't going to make anything better. Darcy, sister, shove that asshole into a locker stat.

Jimmy notes that stealing Vision's body is a violation of the Sokovia Accords. And while I appreciate his dedication to maintaining the Accords … well, I mean, look, it's body theft and all. It's not a great look; I absolutely allow that. But you can just sort of stop there. Though, that's very the Sokovia Accords "if this guy dies, his body must go to a shadowy government agency. for safety. yep."

Also Vision had a living will, where he didn't want to be used as a weapon. Sure, okay. Because I'm sure SWORD was just totally not doing anything at all with his body. Nope. Look, I'm totally a SHIELD girl and even I wouldn't necessarily trust SHEILD with that. So, who is SWORD to me? Pfft. I'd give him to Thor or something and ask him to be buried far far away. I'm just saying. I'm supposed to trust Johnny-Come-Lately S-WUH-ORD?

(In my head now is an inter-agency rivalry where SWORD is like "We have rocket ships!" and SHIELD is like "lol, our lead scientist got eaten by a rock and survived on an alien world for like six months". "But rocket ships?" "We've traveled through time a dozen times in the last year alone. We're a bigger chaotic disaster than you can ever hope to be".)

AD Dick undermines his own "SHE'S A TERRORIST!" thesis by saying she acted out of grief. And then he dismisses everybody. "Work the problem!" Uh … whut? Fine? What is the problem? That she's a WILD MURDERY TERRORIST who must be stopped! or a grief stricken woman who stole her technologically advanced boyfriend's body and probably should be talked down? Acting Director Lack of Clarity.

Jimmy wants to know how Wanda could have resurrected Vision without the Mind stone and Darcy wants to know what Vision will do when he figures it out. Fine questions, friends, fine questions. Monica is just like "acting director dick used to be a buddy but now I kind of want to punch him and am very conflicted. oh and wanda kind of freaks me out but also i feel bad for her" only she says all that without words.

Tommy and Billy are now about like 5 or 6 or something. I'm terrible with kids ages. They're up to shenanigans. Oh, they found a lost puppy dog and they're giving him a bath in the sink. It's all super adorable.

Vision wanders in and greets his family all formally and in his human face. He says he has a premonition someone might pop over. He's not a fan of sitcom neighbors either. And there's Agnes now with a dog house. How does she know whether to enter through the front door or the back door?

The dog tries to burn the house down by licking an electrical outlet? so they name him Sparky (harr harr) and Wanda magics him a collar with Agnes right there. Vision's all "wtf darling?" and she points out Agnes didn't even notice when the boys went from babies to five-year olds, she certainly didn't notice the magic collar. Agnes is trying very very hard not to notice anything. Poor Agnes.

Wanda says she's tired of hiding her abilities and Vision is Very Concerned. He's starting to figure things out.

They tell the boys they can't have a dog until they're 10, so the boys grin at each other and age themselves up to 10. That is all very unsettling. Agnes "Let's just hope this dog stays the same size." as she screams internally "save me!"

Real World. Jimmy's hustling back to the science room with coffee for Monica and Darcy. Monica is asking for some sort of wild mobile bunker to help her get back into Wanda World and Darcy's like "well, yes, but also no". But Monica knows an aerospace engineer who'd totally make it for her.  

"I can't guarantee the Hex won't just mind wipe you as you go in." "What's the hex?" "Oh, it's what I'm calling the anomaly because of it's hexagonal shape. It's starting to catch on." Darcy's so proud, but Jimmy's like 'not so much' but he's too polite to say.

Monica's determined to go back in. Jimmy wants to know who the kids are, if they've id'd them or the babies and Monica's all "oh, no, those are legit Wanda's." Darcy says if she can make stuff with her mind, and all the props and whatnot in the Wanda World are real then she's wielding an insane amount of power. Monica is sure she could have taken out Thanos if he hadn't cheated and snapped her. Jimmy thinks Captain Marvel could have done it. Monica very much doesn't want to talk about Captain Marvel.

Monica has an Idea!

Ah, she wants to see her outfit from Wanda World, which is now in the real world. So, is it real matter Wanda created, or is the perception field bleeding over to make them all see that outfit in the real world. That would have been hella awkward if Monica got yeeted out of her clothes.

Monica confirms they're real then steals Jimmy's gun and shoots them. Ahh, she was wearing a kevlar vest when she went into Wanda World, and that changed shape to be her super fly 70s outfit. "Wanda is rewriting reality." Changing things to fit the hex. So they'll send in something that doesn't need to be changed. Um. Sure. Fine. I don't know what that means, or how that would help in this context, but I'm sure I'll find out.

Meanwhile, Vision is at work, and all his coworkers are amazed at the actual computers. Golly shucks. Computers. Hey, so, computers have been around since the 40s. ANYWAY.

"Should we surf the internet?" We're progressing rapidly through the 80s. Oh, lol, Darcy sent an email. And the whole office creepily reads it out loud. Vision is very weirded out. As well he should be. He wipes the computer with his glowy synthezoid powers and then he glowies Norm when Norm tells him 'none of it is real'. Norm wakes up "please help me. what day is it? how long has it been?". Oh dear. Poor Vision. This is all going to go so very badly. Norm gets very freaked out begging Vision to "stop her". Vision resets him.

At the house the boys wonder where dad is, and Wanda tells them it's Monday and he's at work. Except the boys are all "um, no, it's Saturday". Wanda, your house of lies is tumbling down! You shouldn't have let them grow up so fast. Babies don't ask inconvenient questions about why Daddy needs some space from Mommy and her questionable choices for their shared reality.

Wanda takes the opportunity to impart the 80s family sitcom trope of the weekly life lesson about how family might fight, but they still love each other and family is forever. One of the twins asks if she has a brother. She does. He's far away. But, Sparky goes barking at the door. Wanda looks far away herself. She goes to open the door and Sparky runs out.

Monica has sent in a drone from the 80s. Well that wasn't really a thing. But, how does the 1980s rc plane look more high tech than the 2020s drone they sent in first? Talk to your design team, SWORD.

Anyway, Wanda spots the drone, but she's keeping it out of the broadcast, because she's the editor and director and producer of Wandavision, of course.

Monica announces herself and tries to get Wanda to acknowledge her. Whoops. Wanda's eyes go glowy. AD Dick says "take the shot" and Monica's all "what? no, the drone isn't armed." Except of course it is, because AD Dick is a monumental dick, and he's got a backup drone pilot who takes the shot. Wandavision goes off air. And, oh no, there's a breach at the Hex!

Lol. It's Wanda coming through, dragging the mangled corpse of the drone with her. That was entirely deserved, AD Dick. I hope she shoves it up your ass, dick.

"The missile was just a precaution". AD Dick backpedals quick, like a coward. You gave a three second attempt to talk to Wanda before you pulled the trigger, I don't like you. "You can hardly blame us."

Wanda warns him to stay out. "You won't bother me, I won't bother you." Okay, well, he does kind of have a point, in that there's a whole town of people who are stuck as bit players in Wanda World. That's not very nice. I mean, surely she could have found a nice empty spot somewhere and created her sitcom utopia. That's at least a fair criticism.

Monica tries her best to talk Wanda down. It doesn't work particularly well.

"What do you want?" "I have what I want and no one will ever take it from me again." And she mind controls the soldiers training their guns on her, to turn them on AD Dick. Whoops. And Wanda goes back to her world. The Hex glows all red as she goes.

And we go to commercial. Lagos Brand paper towels. "For when you make a mess you didn't mean to." Wow, so that was brutal. Wanda's not mad at you, Monica. She's just carrying a lot of guilt. Ouch.

Back in Wandavision, the boys are looking for their dog. They find Agnes hiding in the bushes with the dog. Poor Sparky apparently ate some azalea leaves and died. The boys are very sad and Wanda warns them not to age up. They can't run from their feelings. Oh Wanda. "It's too sad," Billy says. "You can fix anything mom," Tommy cries, "Fix the dead". Yikes.

Wanda "I'm trying to tell you there are rules in life." Poor Agnes is trying not to have a total meltdown. "We can't reverse death. No matter how sad it makes us. Some things are forever."

Billy and Tommy try to talk her into bringing back Sparky. And Vision turns up. Well, this is just brutal.

Vision is entirely outside of Wanda's control. "I spoke with Norm. I unearthed the man's suppressed personality and I spoke to him free of your oversight." Yikes. "He was in pain, Wanda."

Okay it's kind of funny they're arguing over the end credits. Vision is very very pissed. "I'm scared." Aww.

Wanda insists she's not in charge of every life in Westview. "I don't know how any of this started in the first place." Huh. Is that really true? Because she's pretty sure of it now. Somebody or something convinced her into a sitcom world and now she's just like "yeah, this is good"? really asking.

Ding-dong.

"I didn't do that." 

Vision: *doubt*

DING DONG

Wanda goes to answer the door.

In the real world, alarms are blaring but Darcy notices a new revelation on Wandavision.

Wanda Word — and it's Pietro at the door. See! I knew it had to be Pietro who'd be the surprise guest thingy. I mean it's hilariously X-Men Pietro (Evan Peters, like @lewstonewar suggested), but Pietro nonetheless. There's nobody else it could have been.

Darcy be all WTF? "She recast Pietro?" lol

Okay, Wanda seems legit shocked. I don't think she did that. And I super really don’t think she’d make him sound like a NYC cabbie. 

And end.

Well. I mean, I'm not sure what to think. Wanda insists she's not controlling everything. I don't think she created Pietro. But, she totally stole Vision's body and created the kids and seems mostly happy in her sitcom universe and she can traverse the Hex, which obviously suggests its her doing. Dunno. I have questions about Agnes and her convenient timeliness here and there.

The mystery continues.

Disney wants to know if I want to watch Age of Ultron next. How poorly you know me, Disney.

[1-lightofjustice]

You feel uncomfortable about Scepter 4 year-end track, is it because you're Reisaru shipper and in that track Fushimi ditched Munakata to chase Misaki? You know that the track was made by Yellow, one of official GoRa's members, right? The track is, sadly for you, canon.

Fushimi ditched Munakata? Oho, I support it fully. Like hell, sometimes on Drama CDs or short stories (especially Gakuen K) Fushimi is so tolerant with Munakata's shenanigans and made me want to scream "just kick him and run away Fushimi!" (Case point : Munakata fishing trip, Munakata got handcuffed, Munakata's King Game, Fushimi became Santa Claus). And for me, the fact that Fushimi can refuse Munakata and willing to do so without any fear or hesitation is the cute and healthy point of Reisaru. He already coldly rejected Munakata many times you know, like when he refused to accompany Munakata on his hobby because it reminded him of the time when he was roped by Totsuka into various activities, he refused to play cheese with Munakata, he refused to see autumn falling leaves together with Munakata on their day off, etc. So yeah, the fact that Fushimi ditched Munakata to chase Misaki didn't bother me at all.

So what made me feel uncomfortable for this track? Just one word, Timeline. The explanation is a bit meta-y so if you don't want read my rambling, the short answer is there's discrepancy with the main canon timeline, and while it's not impossible, the implication made me uncomfortable. Again, not impossible but hella uncomfortable for me. For full explanation....

See, for me, since most of K Drama CDs are mostly gag tracks, the ones that I treat as canon are Drama CDs that I think can be slotted in canon timeline. Drama CDs like Crow's Repayment, Snow White, and Izumo's Room are definitely not canon because there's no way those were happened on main timeline situation. Drama CDs like Everything Sank Except Me and That Guy and Munakata Fish The World is obviously placed after ROK (since Munakata got weakened like he can't pull a tire and Sarumi's improved relationship). Other drama like Munakata-kun's Strap, Elevator, or For Justice can easily be slotted in pre-anime or even post season 1. Window Shopping, Figure Direction, and Private Hero are obviously pre-anime by the casual appearance or mention of Mikoto and Totsuka. There are Drama CD that used as blatant promotion of K Project, like Guys Meeting in The Shower and it's Girl Version counterpart which completely break the fourth-wall by "Hey we are bunch of K boys in K world let's we dip in hot water and talk" which is definitely not gonna happen in canon.

So what category is YEP (Year End Party) Drama CD? It's logical enough to happen on canon. It didn't break any fourth wall. If we assumed that YEP Drama CD is truly happened on canon, on what period it's happened? It's definitely on pre-ROK, and by the casual mention of Mikoto, can it happen on pre-Season 1?

The answer is no. Why? Because unlike other Drama CD who has no mention of time as our foothold, YEP Drama CD has two hints about the specific time it happened. First, it's about year-end party, so the drama CD was happened on the end of December. Second, by the mention of ABCDEFGH as a squad that was expected to come by Munakata, it means that Scepter 4 Special Ops Squad was already formed, since before it ABCD were leaders of 1st-4th platoons and EFGH were ordinary swordsmen of 4th platoon. Is it impossible for them to have casual gathering together? No. Is it impossible for them to get grouped together on formal gathering with their boss? Yes. Because based on Scepter 4 structure, they were not a group yet, they were not even on the same platoon. Like, if EFGH was invited, how about the rest of 1st-3rd platoons? How about the 5th platoon leader and members? (Poor 5th platoon, they didn't get any screen time except a brief mention on Season 1 episode 8). And before Special Squad was formed, Fushimi is just an ordinary rank on Intelligent Division, so why did he come to gathering for Scepter 4 bosses and leaders of Swordsmen platoons, with bunch of troublemakers from 4th platoon? (I mean, yeah he is Munakata's favorite and the King's private soldier, but that was not.... an official title). The Drama CD with the mentioned casts was not logical to happen if Fushimi and ABCDEFGH was not yet grouped under a special group, which is currently named Special Ops Squad.

Now when we established that YEP drama CD happened on late December, before ROK and after Special Ops squad was formed, let's look at the detailed timeline of K :

Special Ops squad was formed on Side Blue, detailed time was on 1st May 2012. Fushimi particularly joined Special Ops Squad and became the third-in-command on 6th June 2012. So the mentioned casts (Special Ops Squad) plus Awashima and Fushimi were expected to have Year End Party together with Munakata, it certainly happened on late December 2012. And what happened on December 2012? Apocalypse well quite almost close to that. On 7th December 2012 Totsuka was dead, and 12 days after, on 19th December 2012 Mikoto was dead, killed by (a very unwilling) Munakata. So if YEP drama CD happened on 23-31 December 2012, more or less a week after the end of Season 1 and Mikoto's death, then...

-Scepter 4 ditched Munakata even thought they were aware that more or less a week before their King killed his friend. If the rest of squad didn't know about Mikorei's relationship, then at least Awashima knew how hard mental blow that was received by Munakata on K Season 1. Yet she still ditched Munakata. I don't know what happened on previous YEP, but would the ever loyal Awashima ditched her King when she knew that Munakata was very possibly on his sad and hurtful period?

-Fushimi taunted Yata with mentioning Mikoto just more or less a week after Mikoto's death. Sure we knew that Fushimi could taunt Yata even after Mikoto's death, but (I hope) he didn't specifically search for Yata and taunt him with how Homra and Mikoto is suck just after Mikoto's death. On canon, after Mikoto's death Fushimi avoided the hell of Yata and Homra, on Missing King Yata called him first, and on ROK, their meeting was coincidental.

-I love Scepter 4 as a whole, and I particularly love Munakata and Fushimi on the same degree. But my love for each of them is a little different. I love both of them to be happy of course, but if Fushimi got flooded with angst, I will feel "oh yeah Fushimi angst, mmm delicious, give me more" but if I stumbled upon Munakata angst I will feel "noooo don't be sad, I don't want him to be sad, please someone fix it!" Yeah sorry Fushimi XD. And that is the reason why I can't enjoy Mikorei after Mikoto's death, because watching Munakata's constant brooding over Mikoto's death is damn uncomfortable for me and I can't even feel sad along with him for Mikoto's death (I don't hate Mikoto, but I am indifferent about him). So yeah, hearing how Munakata sounded genuinely upset when Scepter 4 members ditched him, when Fushimi ditched him, when I heard Munakata's lament that he was alone on the end of video, when more or less a week before he killed his friend, I can't enjoy it. I can't laugh for Munakata's misery, I feel uncomfortable as hell instead.

Please note, just I said, the track is not impossible to be canon. Is it possible for Awashima and the rest of Scepter 4 members to be annoyed enough by Munakata to ditch him even though not long ago Munakata killed his friend and almost died in the process? Yes. Is it possible for Fushimi to taunt Yata with Mikoto after Mikoto’s death? Yes. Is it possible for Munakata to be left alone in a bar? Yes. BUT, as Fushimi, Munakata, Awashima, and overall Scepter 4 fans, that kind of portrayal makes me uncomfortable so much, especially since I valued Scepter 4′s bond so much and don’t care (or you can say quite disliked) about Sarumi’s taunting and fighting, also Munakata angsting over Mikoto. Also if the lack of Yata’s anger and depressed over Mikoto’s death means that the Drama CD happened before Season 1 a.k.a December 2011 (Fushimi joined Scepter 4 on October 2010, so December 2010 would be his first YEP and he shouldn’t know about previous party), then as Scepter 4 nerds I need explanation why only ABCDEFGH, Fushimi, and Awashima that was expected to come when they were not on the same squad before and Fushimi even just an ordinary member of Intelligence Division that rarely associate with Swordsmen Squad as Hidaka pointed out. Compare that to another Scepter 4 annual event like Flower Gazing that included Zenjou, Yayoi, and even we can assumed that there are other Scepter 4 member joined on flower gazing on other places. Also, Flower Gazing as annual event is already mentioned 4 times but there's no mention of Scepter 4 year-end party except on that Drama CD.

Speaking about portrayal, I also don’t like some of jokes on that track. Namely when Munakata said that he installed surveillance camera on Scepter 4 dorm, Awashima’s dorm to be exact. I knew that Munakata is an S and can quite ignore the concept of privacy and personal space, but as a boss and a man, just like Fushimi said, that action is a crime. And not the funny one. Awashima should and must protest for that, no matter how loyal she is to Munakata. And Fushimi as the main advocate of privacy and personal space should not accept that kind of behavior from Munakata and didn’t let Munakata be with just a simple protest. Honestly, if I have a boss who pulled that stint of me, no matter how amazing he is, I will lose my respect on him. And I respect the hell outta Munakata. I will not say that the track is mischarasterized Munakata, since as you said Kabei Yukako (Yellow) is the writer and she wrote an amazing Munakata in LSW and Sand Castle story, but maybe she played with fandom jokes “tyrant Munakata” a little bit too hard.  So yeah, I prefer if that track, especially that particular aspect, is not canon. 

Not that I hate the whole track of course. I like some trivia about Scepter 4, especially the ones that was confirmed canon on other materials like Awashima loves plushies and Benzai has younger sister. I also like when Fushimi can baffle Munakata with his card trick. But still, Scepter 4 YEP Drama CD is uncomfortable for me. 

Also track like Megane of Blue is also written by Gora Orange, it didn’t break the fourth wall or seemed happened on alternate universe, but you don’t actually believe that in canon Munakata truly became crazy if he lost his glasses right? Especially since we already got 2 glasses-less Munakata and he turned out just fine (three if you count Optician Drama CD, which is canon since it was mentioned on Countdown). On drama CD, script writers often exaggerate characters to create a joke, either Gora or non Gora.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, hazelestelle!

For @hazelestelle <3

Read On AO3

*****

It's Always Something, Even at Christmas

Chapter 1

“I need you to be my date.”

Stiles turned so quickly he fell out of his chair and cursed as he hit the floor and landed directly on his elbow. He glared up at Derek from the floor and gave him a look as he rolled his eyes and said, “Could you at least try to come in through the front door like a normal person?” while Derek stood there just inside his window, hands inside his leather coat, looking entirely undisturbed at the fact that he’d scared the crap out of his emissary.

“I need you to be my date,” he repeated, looking thoroughly annoyed, but Stiles, being far too attuned to the Alpha’s moods, noticed the slight hint of desperation in his tone. “The stupid firm I’m working for is having a Christmas party and if I don’t come with a date, specifically you, then that woman who works across from me is going to jump me.”

Stiles snorted as he got to his feet, rubbing his elbow, tossing the man a look as he went back to his laptop and said, “You could just not go to the party, you know that, right?”

Derek let out an exasperated sigh and threw himself onto Stiles’ bed and uncharacteristically rubbed his hands over his face and said, “God, I wish it were that easy. This stupid architecture degree was supposed to make my job easier, not harder,” he complained, and then said, “The thing is, I just finished helping the partners with a big project and they personally invited me to their private Christmas party. At their house,” he explained. “If I say no, I’ll look like the world’s biggest asshole…”

“As opposed to…?”

Derek shot him a bitch face and Stiles couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Seriously, dude. I still don’t know how you convinced them that you were a nice guy,” he commented, turning his attention back to the research that he’d been doing before Derek had so rudely interrupted him.

Something had been hunting the local pets in the area and Stiles had narrowed it down to a few supernatural beings. Being the Hale pack’s emissary wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. The pack still had him pulling all nighters to help them out, on top of his normal job, which was working out of the new local FBI offices. When he’d finally finished his training, he’d put in a request and they had gladly let him set up a new office just outside of Beacon Hills. Anything for the new wunderkid agent who was making the agents back in D.C. look bad.

When he’d finally gotten back home, however, he discovered that Derek had returned back, as well, and with a degree in architecture, which was downright baffling to him because he had assumed that when the man had disappeared back in the Mexican desert that he’d gone off to do werewolf stuff…apparently, not so much. From what he had gleaned through secondhand information, Derek had gone off to New York and settled in and gotten his degree at NYU.

To think that they had both been on the east coast at the same time, only an hour and a half train ride away from each other for nearly five years…Stiles sometimes wondered if Derek had known that he was in D.C. but hadn’t cared enough to do anything about it.

And then Stiles had found out that the man was an alpha again. That had thrown him for a loop.

When he’d gotten back, he’d found out that Deaton was planning on leaving, so Stiles had used up all of his spare time picking his brain about what it meant to be an emissary, and suddenly found himself with a second job when Derek had asked him in the most formal way possible if he was willing to be the pack’s emissary.

He’d said yes.

And then Erica and Boyd had rolled back into town after hearing that Derek was back and an alpha, yet again, despite having left back in junior year when things had gone to hell in a handbasket around Beacon Hills. And Derek had himself a little pack consisting of those two, Isaac, and a new kid named Liam, who Isaac was incredibly protective over.

So now Stiles was living back at home in his old room with his dad, just like in high school, and Derek was still breaking in through his window.

Considering that they were both adults, it was more than a little bit weird. But, at the same time, it was familiar and safe, so he kind of enjoyed it. Despite being twenty-four years old and still living at home, his dad let him keep whatever hours he wanted and he and came and went as he pleased…and Derek still couldn’t use the front door.

“Look,” Derek said, sounding tired, “They said I could bring a date and I told them that I would bring you, and they all…”

When his voice suddenly dropped off, Stiles looked over at him, trying to figure out why the heck Derek looked guilty as hell. He was now looking at the floor and had shoved his hands so deep into his pockets that Stiles was certain that they were about to rip at the seams.

“They what, Derek?” he prompted him.

He finally looked back up at him.

“They’ve apparently all assumed that you’re my boyfriend because I’ve talked about you so much.” Stiles’ eyebrow shot up and he opened his mouth to say something, but then Derek cut him off with an eyeroll and said, “Look, I talk about you because you’re our pack’s emissary, but I can’t tell them that, so they get a highly edited version of my weekend events and your name comes up a lot, and they all just assumed, and please don’t make this any harder than this is for me.”

He was sorely tempted to make fun of him, but he instead withheld the impulse and licked his lips and said, “If I say yes, what will I be expected to do at this party?”

Derek huffed, but then answered, “I don’t know…act…boyfriend-like. Do whatever it is couples do, I guess.” He shrugged his shoulders and Stiles took some perverse pleasure at seeing how uncomfortable he was, but also felt a faint twinge of regret. “Hold hands, kisses on the cheek, pet names…stuff like that.”

The picture he gave him was one that Stiles had secretly wanted for years. He’d fallen for him back in high school but had known that someone as gorgeous and amazing as Derek was way out of his league, even more so considering his werewolf status and all of his abilities. He consistently attracted older women to him and so Stiles knew that he would never have a chance, but it was nice to know that Derek had talked about him enough at work and in such a way that his coworkers thought that Stiles was his boyfriend.

He thought about torturing him a bit longer, but instead capitulated and said, “Sure, why not. When and where is it?”

Derek’s shoulders slumped in relief.

“Next weekend. I’ll pick you up Saturday night, don’t worry about it.”

“Dress code?”

Derek gave him another look.

“Uh…don’t know. I’ll find out. Just…thank you, Stiles,” he said, and the emissary nodded, keeping his emotions in check, even though he kinda wanted to shout from the rooftops that he was going on a date with Derek Hale. So, what if it was a fake date, it was better than nothing.

Derek moved to leave through the window, and Stiles couldn’t help but say, “Does that mean I can call you Der Bear?”

He heard him growl as he dropped to the ground and he laughed.

Yeah, this was gonna be fun.

--

“So, I hear you and Derek are going out on a date,” said Erica as she sprawled out on his office couch, kicking her legs out behind her as she lay on her stomach, staring intently at her nails as Stiles finished up a report for the head office, thoroughly entrenched in getting through it before he called it quits and went to lunch, which was the reason why she was there.

“It’s not a real date, it’s just to keep his coworkers off his back,” he said, still staring at his screen as he typed.

She let out a snort, rolled over to her back and shot him a look.

“Yeah, fake, right. You do know that Mr. Grumpycat has been pining after you for years, now, right?” she shot back at him and Stiles shook his head, knowing better than to take anything of what she said as serious. “He’s been all broody and serious ever since you came back to Beacon Hills,” she complained.

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“So, no different than usual, then?” he couldn’t help but retort, flipping a page on the papers that he was referencing as he wrote his report.

But at that, Erica sat back up, her hair spilling around her shoulders in that effortless way that most models would kill for and gave him a look and said, “Actually, before you showed up, he seemed to have really changed. He was wearing more normal clothes, like sweaters and stuff, not a leather jacket to be seen. He was even smiling more, acting like a person, you know?” She flipped her hair over her shoulder. “It was like seeing the human side of him for once. But then you showed up and he becomes all Broody McBrooderson again…”

Stiles sighed, though slightly amused at her description of the alpha, but ignored her just long enough so that he could finish his report, and then stood up, reached over and grabbed his coat and said, “Can we just go to lunch?”

She rolled her eyes at him a second time, but then smiled.

“Fine. Lunch it is.”

And with that they walked out arm in arm from his office, and Stiles smirked when he saw a few of the other agents sneak glances at her, most of them unaware of the fact that she was taken. He was fairly certain that quite a few of them thought that Erica was his girlfriend, but he didn’t really care.

She wore her skinny jeans, thigh high black boots, and her usual too-tight low-cut top with a leather jacket thrown over it for good measure. Stiles looked like a worn-out door to door salesman next to her in his rumpled suit, but he didn’t mind. Ever since he had come back, the two of them had bonded in a way that Stiles had always wished they had and now she was like the best friend that he’d never had…she had even beat out his old best friend, Scott. Scott had left Beacon Hills to go to vet school and, according to his mom, he wasn’t coming back.

He still kept in touch with him, but it was sort of an unspoken understanding between the two of them that Scott wanted nothing more to do with the goings-on of Beacon Hills and the supernatural drama that came with it. Stiles was fine with that, and still kept in close contact with Melissa…who had been spending a suspicious amount of time with his dad, recently.

He didn’t want to think about it too much, so he turned his attention to Erica as they sat down in the booth at the diner and ordered their usual. As soon as their food arrived, he changed the subject.

“So…how’s Boyd doing?”

At the question, she lit up and Stiles smiled as she began to jabber away.

“Oh my god, he’s doing so good. Ever since he found that job at the hospital as an orderly, he’s been doing so good. He really loves helping people, you know?” she said with a bright smile, dipping one of her fries into her milkshake and taking a bite. “I’m still working on trying to finish my GED, which is a serious pain in the ass, but as soon as I get it, I’m looking into becoming a volunteer counselor at the youth center,” she admitted, sounding a bit shy as she did, and Stiles smiled.

She was amazing with teenagers, especially the girls, and Stiles thought it was a perfect fit for her.

“I’m happy for the two of you,” he said, completely sincere. He didn’t have any romantic prospects, male or female, but he was okay with it. He was just happy to see his friends finally happy.

Erica gave him another blinding smile…but then it turned devious as she said, “So…this ‘fake’ date that you and Derek are having. I hear it’s for the private Christmas party that he was invited to, right?” Stiles groaned, but she didn’t let up. “I bet there’s gonna be mistletoe there. I don’t care what it takes, you need to drag that boy under it and get it on with him already!”

He threw a french fry at her, but she caught it between her teeth and continued to grin at him.

Finally, he said, “I’m not dragging him anywhere, let alone towards something that could potentially kill him. Look, I know you think that he likes me, too, but trust me when I say that it’s barely concealed annoyance. At best.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m serious! I mean, when he asked me to be emissary, of course I said yes, but that’s all I am to him. I am a tool that helps keep the pack safe and that’s it, Erica. That’s all it’s ever going to be. And I’m fine with that, seriously. I love being someone that can help the pack, the person that you guys can turn to when the going gets rough. Hell, that’s why I joined the FBI,” he added, eating one of his own fries.

She arched an eyebrow at him, and he could see the look all over her face.

“Stiles. He likes you. As in, he likes likes you.”

He gave her a look right back and said, “Oh, so we’re reverting to middle school terms, now? What next? You gonna hand me note from him that says, ‘do you like me? Check yes or no’?”

She rolled her eyes and practically pouted as she said, “Look, he’s my alpha and I can tell when he’s not acting right and ever since you came back his scent gets all weird whenever you’re around or any time that he’s thought that you might be in trouble, and Isaac and Liam have both been worried about him, too,” she admitted, and Stiles was taken off guard by the naked honesty in her tone.

He licked his lips, put down the burger that he was about to take a bite of and said, “You…you’re serious?”

She nodded.

“Yeah. So…don’t fuck this up, okay? He may act like you’re just doing him a favor, going to the Christmas party and all, but I know that this means a lot to him,” she muttered, picking at the edge of the table, chipping off a piece of the flaking formica with one perfectly manicured fingernail. “He acts all tough around you, and only you, and I may not know why…but I know that he has feelings for you, Stiles. So, don’t fuck this up.”

He took a deep breath…but then nodded. At that, she seemed to relax, and they went back to their lunch, him talking about his research on the creature that was going after the local pets (most likely a lamia, though he had no idea how it had made its way to Beacon Hills), and Erica chiming it about the online college classes that both Isaac and Liam were taking, and how the additions onto the Hale house were coming. According to Erica, both of the boys wanted their own rooms, but Derek was insisting that they share because he was not adding two bedrooms.

By the time they were done, and Erica was walking him back to his office, he was feeling a bit better.

She lightly squeezed his waist before she left and whispered into his ear right before lightly pecking his cheek, “Don’t fuck it up.”

He snorted and hugged her right back and returned the gesture.

“I’ll try not to,” he replied with a fake put-upon look, and she gave him a wry smile in return before turning around and heading back down the street.

--

It was the day before the Christmas party, and Stiles was running through the backyard of Mrs. Newton’s house in the middle of the night, trying his hardest to not get caught by the nosy old lady who had a tendency to spy on her neighbors through her back windows. He had found the lamia. Which wasn’t a lamia. Instead, it was a rogue were-coyote, and Stiles was looking like an idiot with dirt-stained jeans with the left leg completely soaked through. He had almost cornered it a few houses down, near a bird bath in someone else’s backyard, but then it had bolted at the last second and he now had a ruined pair of pants.

He panted, trying to catch his breath. Sure, he was fitter than he used to be, but he’d been chasing it for over an hour at that point.

Bent over at the waist, still catching his breath, Stiles begrudgingly pulled out his small pouch of mountain ash, hating that he had to use it, but knowing that it was necessary.

“Okay, you little fucker,” he muttered, pulling out the smallest amount needed because he hated wasting it. “I’m going to track you properly and find your goddamn den if it’s the last thing I do, because you are seriously ruining my night.”

He closed his eyes, concentrated, and then let out a trickle of it from between his first finger and thumb…and let out a sigh of relief as it glowed slightly and drifted in a straight line back through the backyards until it headed for the woods. He followed it, letting out small amounts each time he ran out of glowing ash to follow, and was grateful that he’d decided to wear his boots as he ended up going deep into the woods just beyond the Hale property.

He followed it to a small den where he found a young boy, no more than ten, curled up back in the corner of his roughshod den. He was wearing only a small pair of blue shorts, the rest of his body covered in dirt and grime, and small bones littered the ground around him; what was left of the pets.

He seemed to be shaking, so Stiles gently reached out with one hand and said, “Hey, kid, I’m not here to hurt you…are you just hungry?” he asked and was taken aback when bright gold eyes snapped up to meet his.

The boy then nodded.

Making a quick decision, Stiles helped him out of his den and put his own jacket around the boy’s shoulders and walked him back to his house.

As soon as he’d settled him down, gotten him into some clean clothes and gotten him some food, he started to feel less anxious. However, just as the kid (Lance, he had told him in a voice barely above a whisper) was finally settled, he heard the front door open, so he quickly went to cut off whoever it was…and his eyes went wide when he saw that it was Derek.

“Where is he?” the alpha growled, his eyes flashing red, and Stiles stopped him with a hand on his chest, and said, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, big guy! It’s not what you think! It’s a kid!” he hissed, glancing over his shoulder, trying to keep his voice down, unsure of how much the young were-coyote could hear. “His name’s Lance and he’s only around ten and he was only going after people’s pets because it was easier for him to hunt and get food…I think he’s been abandoned…”

Stiles watched as Derek went from full-metal-alpha to suddenly looking worried, his brow furrowed and his eyes glancing back towards where he could obviously smell the kid was, back in the kitchen.

“Abandoned? Who would do that to a kid?”

“Some pretty shitty people, that’s who,” Stiles replied, noticing how Derek’s entire body language had shifted from attack-mode to protective-alpha mode.

He went silent and watched as Derek seemed to be listening in on the kid and then couldn’t help but ask, “So…sense anything wrong with him?” and Derek shook his head and answered, “No, just…he smells like anxiety. I think he’s been alone a long time. But he only just got here. He doesn’t smell like the preserve,” he commented. “More like…diesel.”

At that, Stiles nodded and said, “Probably sneaking onto long-distance hauling trucks. Easy to hide on and gets you plenty of miles away from a previous hunting ground. Smart kid.”

Derek nodded as well, and they stood there for a moment in the front foyer, Stiles’ hand still on Derek’s chest. He seemed to realize what he was doing and pulled it back, rubbing it on the thighs of his jeans, and then Derek looked at him, gave him a once over, and he snorted.

“What happened to you?”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“I was chasing after a were-coyote in the middle of the night and a birdbath accosted me, that’s what happened,” he quipped, just remembering the clinging wetness of the left side of his jeans. He absently tugged at it and said, “Gotta say, that kid is fast. Faster than you, that’s for sure,” he added, knowing it would irritate the alpha.

True to form, Derek gave him a look, his equivalent of a bitch-face, and Stiles smirked, but then asked him on a more serious note, “Hey, can you watch after him? I’ll introduce you two, but I need to go upstairs and change because this is starting to seriously chafe…”

Derek nodded, and Stiles walked back into the kitchen with the alpha right behind his shoulder and cautiously approached the table, silently grateful that his dad was on the night shift.

“Hey, Lance…this is Derek. He’s a werewolf, he’s an alpha, and he’s my friend,” he softly explained, putting his hand carefully in front of the bowl of cereal that he was eating. “I don’t want to leave you alone, just yet, so would it be okay if he spends some time with you while I go and change out of these wet and dirty clothes?”

Lance looked back up at him with his now hazel eyes, his gaze slightly confused, and nodded.

“Okay, then.”

He motioned for Derek to sit down across from him and went upstairs and quickly stripped out of his ruined clothes and hopped into the shower. He cleaned out the grime, rinsed off as best he could, and as soon as he was out of the shower, before he had even put on any clothes, he threw a towel around his waist and went and checked the missing persons database on his work laptop, putting in the first name Lance and looking for kids around his age. He couldn’t have come from nowhere.

While it searched, he threw on sweats, an academy shirt, and ran his fingers through his hair, drying it as best he could, ignoring the fact that his stomach had flipped when he’d seen Derek look at the kid with such soft affection that it had made his heart ache.

God, he’d be a great dad.

His computer dinged, and he hopped over on one foot, pulling a sock over the other one, and squinted as he looked at the information that had popped up onto the screen.

Lance Santiago. Thirteen years old, missing for the last nine months ago from Ogunquit, Maine. Parents murdered in a home invasion, no other living relatives.

Swallowing around the knot that had formed in his throat, Stiles pulled up the police report from the home invasion and closed his eyes for a brief second at what he saw on the screen in front of him…and then opened them again and made himself look at the crime scene photos in the way that the academy had trained him to.

Each of their necks had been viciously ripped open, and the coroner’s report had said that the intruders had used several different tools to make the marks, but he knew what they really were: they were from the claws of a werewolf. And the kid had apparently witnessed the whole thing, but then had inexplicably escaped from the foster home that they had put him in. They had tried to find him for the first three months, but then had given up, and now he was here, in Beacon Hills.

He let out a long sigh and headed back downstairs and stilled in the doorway to the kitchen…

Derek was flicking pieces of cereal in Lance’s face and Lance was smiling and laughing and throwing cereal right back at him while Lance was talking in rapid-fire Spanish and Stiles was baffled when Derek was speaking fluently right back at him, grinning almost the entire time. The alpha had taken off his jacket and thrown it over the back of his chair and sat there in just a dark red sweater with the sleeves rolled up, eyes sparkling, lips effortlessly wrapping around the foreign syllables, while Sam chattered excitedly right back at him.

It was like something out of a movie.

He watched them for a moment longer and then said, “Hey, you two, quit making a mess,” and Lance looked up, wide-eyed, but Derek just shook his head and said, “It’s no worse than what you do.”

The kid still seemed scared for a moment, but then Derek reached out his hand and put it on his shoulder and said, “Está bien, Lance. Está bien.”

He then stood up and walked over to Stiles and said in a low voice as they both moved closer to the fridge, away from the table, “He knows some English, but not much. I can speak with him, fine, and he seems to trust me. So, if it’s easier for you and your dad, he can stay with me and the pack, if you’d like.”

Okay, so maybe Stiles just fell a little bit more in love with the man.

He nodded.

“It’s a good idea but be careful. I found him on file, and he’s gone through a pretty bad trauma. If anyone can help, though, it’d be you guys,” he conceded, though a little wary to have him out of his sight for too long, the kid’s dark brown hair flopping into his eyes and reminding Stiles of just how young and vulnerable he was.

He then looked at Derek and said, “Uh, when did you learn Spanish, by the way?”

Derek ducked his eyes, not quite meeting them, and said, “Uh, I, uh…I started to learn as a kid. Mom and dad insisted. I kept up with it over the years, mainly because of the other packs down south, but…yeah. It comes in handy a lot.”

He seemed thoroughly embarrassed at being put on the spot, so Stiles dragged his eyes away from him, looked back over at Lance who was finally finishing his cereal, and asked, “Think the pack will like him?”

The alpha smiled.

“When we were talking, I found out he loves Star Wars. I think he and Isaac and Liam will get along really well. Boyd is more of a Trekkie, but they’ll get along,” he said, looking at the kid with a soft, almost find look. “It seems we’ve got another mouth to feed for Christmas.” As he said that, however, his eyes went wide and he said, “Oh, shit. The party. Tomorrow night.”

“Well, tonight, really,” Stiles supplied, looking at the time on the microwave. Two-thirty-six in the morning.

Derek rolled his head on his neck and said, “I don’t want the kid to have his first night with the pack all alone, I shouldn’t do that to him. I can call Erik and tell him that I can’t come to the--”

“Hold up there, big guy,” Stiles interjected, putting a hand to his shoulder. “You have to go to that thing, and you know it. They personally invited you, and, as much as even I hate to say it, you need to make good with these guys so that they can see just how valuable you are. You’ve got a pack to feed, buddy, and even if you do already have a shit ton of money, I know you care about this job, and I think Lance can handle one night alone with the pack. It’s a Friday night, right? They can order in a few pizzas, watch some movies…he’ll probably feel more comfortable around some weres closer to his own age, anyway,” he added, trying to make Derek see sense.

Derek looked at the kid and then back at Stiles. And then back at the kid, who was now looking at the two of them with those wide, hazel eyes of his, his brow slightly furrowed as if he was trying to understand what they were saying about him. Derek looked at Stiles one last time.

He then walked over to Lance and said something in Spanish that Stiles didn’t catch, Lance said something back to him, and then they both smiled.

Derek grabbed his jacket from where he left it and then said, “Okay, that settles it. I’m taking him back to the house for the night, he’s going to spend the day with the pack…and then I am coming over to pick you up at seven, Stiles.”

He then threw him a smile and said, “By the way, it’s dressy casual…but don’t wear the reindeer tie, please, I beg of you,” and Stiles grinned.

“But it goes with everything, Derek!”

He rolled his eyes and lightly tugged on Lance’s shoulder, who followed him to the front door. Stiles gave the kid’s shoulder one last squeeze and then watched as the two of them walked down the road, heading off in the direction of the Hale house. It was a good fit for him, Stiles thought to himself, wondering how he was going to deal with the fact that Derek was obviously already attached to the kid. Lance needed to not have anyone looking for him…and Stiles might have a solution for that.

Chapter 2

After getting four hours of sleep, Stiles was back down in the kitchen rifling through the cabinets, this time with his dad giving him judgmental looks over the edge of his newspaper.

“You’re telling me you went after a were-coyote on your own last night?” he said in a tone that Stiles was all too familiar with.

“Yes, but I wasn’t in any danger, pops,” he griped, finally finding the pop-tarts, ignoring the second judgmental look that he got as he pulled one out of the foil and took a bite out of it. “This kid is thirteen years old and no danger to people, he was just hungry, alright? The pets were easy hunting.”

The sheriff put down the paper, reached for his coffee and asked, “You say he’s been missing for nine months?”

Stiles nodded as he dropped into the chair across from him.

“Yeah. No family to speak of, just…a lot of horrible trauma.” His dad nodded. “I’m just glad that we found him first before anyone else did. Derek and his pack are a good fit for him, right now,” he thought out loud. “If anyone’s going to be able to help Lance figure out how to deal with it all, it’ll be those four and Derek.”

His dad nodded, took a long sip of his coffee and then said, “So, he’s staying with Derek and the pack. That’s good, I guess, but it’s not a permanent solution, you know that, right?”

Stiles gave his dad a look and reached across and stole a sip of his dad’s coffee, ignoring the glare that he gave him as he did.

“Yeah, I know it’s not a solution, but don’t worry about it, I’m already looking into what I can do,” he explained, handing his father’s coffee back to him, pushing it across the table. “I looked into the criminal file of what happened to his parents and it looks like they never even had any suspects for the murders, and if I let him go back, he’ll just end up with a foster family who doesn’t know about the supernatural and I can’t do that to the kid. I figure both of his parents were just like he is, and so the attack was most likely something personal, which means that there’s a werewolf out there looking to hunt this kid down and kill him. Lance most likely only got away because of how fast he is. I don’t think even Derek could keep up with him, even if he wanted to,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling worn out and wishing he could figure out how to help him.

They shared a look, both of them aware of just how hard it was going to be for the kid unless they could make sure that he was safe. So, Stiles came to decision that he would warn the pack that someone might be tracking the kid, even with everything that he’d done to get away from the werewolf that had killed his parents.

Stiles pulled another pop-tart out of the packet and took a bite, and then said, with his mouth full, “By the way, going to a Christmas party with Derek tonight, so don’t wait up,” and at that, his dad’s brow shot up and he threw him a smirk.

“You and Derek, huh?” he drawled, taking another sip of his coffee, and Stiles rolled his eyes and stood back up, saying, “Oh, don’t you start, pops. It’s not like that. Derek’s coworkers are convinced that I’m his boyfriend because he’s always talking about me because of the time we spend together on the weekends with my emissary duties. Complaining, mostly. He can’t exactly tell them the truth, so he’s been dragged into taking me to the party as his date. It’s not real, it’s just to keep the higher ups happy.”

His dad nodded, not saying anything more, but Stiles could see the faint humor that still lingered on the corner of his lips and he knew that his dad was probably going to be laughing about the situation for a long time, getting a kick out of his seeing his son like this.

He shrugged it off and went and got dressed and headed off to the office.

As soon as walked inside, Agent Katherine Richards greeted him with a coffee and a cheery, “Morning, Agent Stilinski!”

“For the last time, Katie, if you don’t start calling me Stiles, I’m going to put you on filing duty for the next two weeks,” he playfully griped, grabbing the coffee that she gave to him every single morning without fail. He then yawned as he asked, “Now, did you get me a copy of that file that I e-mailed you about this morning?”

She gave him a look and said, “You mean that e-mail that you sent me at five am? Yeah, I did, and you’re welcome,” she said with an arch tone, tossing it onto his desk as they both walked into his office. “Let’s just say that the local authorities in Maine don’t like it when someone from the FBI wants their files for a case that they couldn’t solve. Something about it making them look bad, I guess,” she mused, leaning her hip against his desk and throwing him a knowing grin. “Why’d you want it?”

Knowing he could trust her, he said, “I found the kid.”

Her eyes went wide.

“You mean the kid who saw who killed his parents? He’s the only witness, Stiles! Where did you find him?”

He trusted her, but not that much, so he avoided answering by instead saying, “That’s not important, what’s important is that he’s safe and secured and we don’t have to worry about him right now. Now, I need to make sure that I am out of here by five today, because I have to go and be a fake boyfriend for a friend of mine,” he explained and was amused when Katie’s eyes lit up.

“Fake boyfriend?” she repeated, her tone sounding all too eager. “Oooh, is it for that girl that you have lunch with a couple of times a week? The stunning blonde with legs for days that looks like she should be walking a Victoria’s Secret runway?”

Stiles chuckled at that apt description of Erica, knowing she would love it, but shook his head.

“No, no, not her. She’s already got a boyfriend,” he quickly said. “This is for my friend, Derek. He got dragged into it and so I’m trying to help make it a little easier on him,” he explained, already turning his attention to the file that she’d given him.

Katie gave him a look…and then said in a carefully measured tone, “Is this the Derek that you mentioned before?”

Stiles glared up at her, annoyed with himself for forgetting that he’d mentioned the alpha more than a few times to his own coworkers, and said, “Yes, it’s that Derek. No, we’re not actually dating, and no, it’s not anything serious. I’m just covering his ass for his bosses,” to which she retorted, “Yeah, I bet you’re covering his ass.”

“Excuse me?”

She laughed and the patted the file that she put on his desk and said, “As fun as this conversation has been, don’t think you’ve distracted me from this, Stiles. While I am incredibly curious about this Derek guy, I am not forgetting that you just found the key witness in a brutal murder that has yet to be solved. You’ll bring me in if you need help, right?” she asked, looking and sounding genuinely concerned, and Stiles nodded and patted her hand.

“I promise, Agent Richards.”

With that, she left the room, and Stiles went back to his work. He dug through the file to figure out exactly who to contact and how to keep everything intact so that they wouldn’t find out…while also keeping a close eye on the time, making sure that he didn’t work too hard. He needed to be able to leave by five so that he would be ready to go by seven.

Of course, things didn’t go as planned. He shot off a quick message to the pack, did some paperwork, and then the next thing he knew, he was looking at the clock and it said six thirty and he was twenty minutes from home.

Shit.

Slipping the file into his bag, he ran out of the building, shouting a quick, “See you tomorrow!” over his shoulder as he did, and probably broke a couple of laws as he raced home, trying to figure out how many he could get away with breaking to make sure that he had enough time to shower.

He ran into his house as quickly as he could, grateful that his dad had already left for his night shift about an hour before, and then scrambled up the stairs and threw his bag onto his desk and looked into his closet helplessly, trying to figure just what the hell dressy casual was.

However, before he could even look in his closet, let alone get a shower like he’d originally planned, he heard a knock at the front door.

Shit.

He turned and ran back down the stairs and as he swung the door open, the first words out of his mouth were, “Please, please, please don’t be mad, but I am not dressed, yet, I only just got home, and…why are you looking at me like that?”

Derek was staring at him, mouth slightly open, looking like he was struggling to catch his breath. Stiles looked down at himself, trying to see what was wrong, wondering if he had dropped food or coffee on himself earlier in the day without noticing, but only saw his usual work clothes: a white dress shirt, the top couple of buttons undone, his rumpled black pants and jacket, military issued FBI boots, along with his shoulder holster, which was slightly askew because he’d already removed his weapon, and he was baffled as to why Derek was staring at him.

“Uh, Derek?” he said, snapping his fingers, and the alpha shook his head and said, “Yeah, I’m…you’re fine. What you’re wearing is just fine.”

Stiles looked back down at himself a second time, baffled, and then looked at what Derek was wearing and couldn’t help but smile and say as he noticed his outfit, “And you are looking like a dad going to a PTA meeting, oh my god, are you wearing loafers?” he exclaimed, unable to stifle a giggle as he saw the black leather on the man’s feet. Derek rolled his eyes, but before he could say anything, Stiles kept going.

“Not only loafers, but you’re wearing a belt that matches them, and is that a tailored sport coat that doesn’t quite match your pants with a pink shirt? Dude,” he put his hand on his shoulder, “I thought someone like you with a ton of money would be wearing Armani or something. But this…?”

He gestured up and down at his outfit and Derek glared at him, no longer staring at Stiles’ clothes and bit out, “I’m not Peter, I don’t care about expensive clothes. Now, get your ass in my car so we can go already. Like I said, what you’re wearing is fine. Though you might want to lose the shoulder holster,” he added, looking at his shoulder distractedly.

Stiles glanced down and shrugged, stepped back into the hallway to take off the holster and grab his phone and house keys, and then followed Derek out to his car. He still had the Camaro.

As soon as they had pulled out onto the main road, he asked, “So…Erik’s your boss, right?”

Derek nodded, eyes focused on the road.

“Yep. Good man, great architect. His partner’s name is Geoff, and they’ve been running the architecture firm for over fifteen years now. And they’re looking to take on a third partner,” he added lightly, and Stiles knew exactly what he meant.

“So, tonight is about showing off how amazing you are?” he said, trying to ease the tension that he could feel coming from him, but then saw his hands tighten on the wheel, so he quickly backpedaled with, “I’m not going to make fun of you tonight, Derek, I promise. I mean, I knew this was kind of serious, but I had no idea that you were trying to make partner. Now that I know, I will make sure to be on my best behavior, no matter what. Only good things, I promise.”

Derek’s fingers released their death grip on the wheel and Stiles breathed out a sigh of relief. Now that he knew just how serious he was about the evening, he quickly put aside any thoughts that he had of telling some of the man’s more embarrassing stories, instead focused on how he could show his bosses just how amazing he was.

When they pulled up the driveway to the house, Stiles let out a low whistle.

“Holy shit, they got money,” he said, slightly awed at the large, A-frame cabin that stretched out into one of those cabin McMansions that he’d only ever seen on Hallmark movies.

Derek nodded, pulled up behind a black Rolls Royce, and put the Camaro in park and then let out a long, nervous breath, glancing up at the windows of the house apprehensively. From where they sat, Stiles could hear the faint strains of holiday music on piano and could see the glimmer of Christmas lights in the windows. He watched as Derek swallowed, looking more nervous than he’d ever seen him before, so Stiles reached out and put his hand over his, trying to calm him down.

Derek’s eyes suddenly dropped to where Stiles had his fingers wrapped around his…and then took another breath and lightly squeezed his hand.

“Okay. I can do this,” he said, still sounding nervous, and Stiles corrected him, “We can do this, Der. Trust me. I’m going to be the best fake boyfriend you’ve ever had.”

At that, the tension was broken and the alpha chuckled and shook his head and said, “Yeah, well you better, or else I’m gonna make your life a living hell. Now,” he squeezed his hand a second time, “How about we go on inside? Honey.”

Stiles let out a sound that was close to a laugh and gave him a fake, sweet look and said, “Of course, Der Bear.”

Derek groaned and Stiles grinned.

They pulled apart long enough to get out of the car, and then Stiles plastered himself to Derek’s side, tucking his right arm through Derek’s left and leaned into him as much as he could, enjoying every single second of being able to touch Derek as much as he’d always wanted to.

Just before they walked through the front door, though, Derek turned his head just enough to look Stiles in the eye and said, “You ready to be affectionate with me? ‘Cause as soon as we walk in there, they are going to be expecting us to act like a couple. So…you going to be okay with that?” and Stiles scoffed, arched an eyebrow at him and said, “Dude, listen to my heartbeat as I say these words: this is the best idea that you’ve ever come up and I can’t wait to pretend to be your boyfriend.”

He watched in amusement as Derek’s eyes widened at hearing the honesty and Stiles grinned and said, “Now take me inside, honeybuns.”

Derek laughed and pulled the door open, moving out of Stiles’ grip so that he could put his hand on his lower back to usher him through the door ahead of him, and Stiles preened under the intimate touch, wishing with all of his heart that it was real.

Erica’s words echoed in his head… I know he has feelings for you, Stiles. So, don’t fuck this up.

He swallowed, feeling his first twinge of nervousness.

He could do this.

The foyer alone was intimidating. The ceilings were, of course, vaulted, and swept up nearly twenty feet. He let Derek move him to the main room, where a whole lot of people in dressy clothes mingled. Before Stiles could take it all in, however, a man in a dark blue sport coat with a nicely trimmed beard walked over to them and said in a loud, friendly voice, “Hale! So glad you made it!” and then reached out and pulled Derek into a half hug.

Stiles watched in amusement as Derek tried to return it, though it was obvious to him that he was uncomfortable with it, patting him on the shoulder and saying, “Thanks for inviting me, Erik.”

Suddenly, Erik pulled back and said, “Oh, right, I forgot…no hugs. Sorry about that, just caught up in the holiday cheer. Is this the boyfriend we’ve heard so much about?” he asked, pointing at Stiles with the glass in his hand, looking curious.

Before Derek could say a word, Stiles stepped forward and said, “Stiles Stilinski, pleased to meet you.”

Erik gave him a solid handshake, looked him up and down and then looked back over at Derek and said, “You have good taste, Hale. Also,” he turned his attention back to Stiles, “Pleased to meet you. Feel free to tell us as many embarrassing stories about this man as possible. He’s so closed-lipped around the office, it’s a miracle that we even knew that he had a boyfriend. Of course,” he said giving a short chuckle, “That wasn’t too hard to figure out considering how much he talked about you.”

He lifted his glass to him in acknowledgement and Stiles couldn’t help but share a smile and say, “Yeah, well, not too surprised. I am a big part of his life, after all,” and gave Derek a shit-eating grin.

Derek just shook his head and reached over and gently tugged at his hand and Stiles found it remarkably easy to fall in next to him and let him lead him into the rest of the room, where he was introduced to at least twenty different people in under ten minutes, and he was pretty proud of the fact that he could remember all of their names.

Part of his training as an FBI agent was to be able to hold onto a lot of information in a short amount of time, and it was finally coming in handy.

Eventually, he let himself be split off from Derek and watched with a fond smile as Erik and Geoff flanked him on either side and started to talk with him in hushed tones, both of them smiling, while Derek attempted to smile, though he still looked like he had just been thrown into the lion’s den.

Stiles stifled a laugh at the sight, took a sip of the apple cider in his hand, and was taken off guard when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“You must be Stiles, the boyfriend,” a feminine voice said, turning him around, and he found himself levelling his eyes at a lovely woman wearing a dark violet dress, and thick blonde hair spilled over shapely shoulders, showing off her stunning warm complexion and blue eyes. “I’m Jane Caruso, I work in Interior Design at the firm. My desk is right across from Derek’s,” she said, and Stiles could see the way that she was assessing him, a sharp glint in her eye as she looked him up and down.

He took another sip of his drink, making her wait for his response, putting her on the defensive (using his FBI training, yet again) and saw her shift uncomfortably as she waited for him to speak.

Finally, he said, “Yeah, I’m the boyfriend,” and extended his hand and gave her a polite handshake.

Not missing a beat, she held his hand for a moment longer than necessary and then leaned in and, glancing at him and then shooting a look over at Derek as she asked conspiratorially, “So, how the hell did someone like you snag a specimen like him?”

Without hesitation, he pulled his hand back and replied, “Oh, we’ve known each other since high school,” and then looked down at his drink, smirked, and the looked back up at her and said, as if he was embarrassed (though far from it), “Actually, I was the one in high school. I was sixteen, he was twenty…things really didn’t start until after I graduated, of course, but…you know how these things go,” he finished, taking another sip of the cider, enjoying the way her eyes widened and she leaned slightly away from him.

He had to withhold a laugh when Jane then said, sounding completely off-balance, “Oh, that’s…so you two have known each other a long time, then.”

He nodded.

“Yeah. I mean, when we first met, we hated each other. I even got him arrested for something he didn’t do,” he said, laughing, looking over at Derek, knowing that the werewolf could hear every word of his conversation, and could see his jaw twitch, even from a distance, and he bit his lip, wondering how much he could get away with.

“You got him arrested?”

Stiles chuckled and then quickly amended, “Yeah, but I didn’t mean to. My dad can tell you what happened better than I can, anyway,” he said, knowing exactly what she was going to ask next.

“Your dad?” she asked predictably, and Stiles answered, “Yeah, the Sheriff. Noah Stilinski.” He threw her an easy smile, once more pleased at seeing her even more wary of him.

She then took a sip of her own cider and bit her lip…and after a moment she asked, “Son of the sheriff. That sounds like you had a lot of pressure on you growing up in Beacon Hills,” and he nodded, and then she said, obviously trying to throw him off balance once more, “What career path did you follow? Are you a deputy, on your way to follow in your dad’s footsteps?”

Jane then gave him a smug look and Stiles saw her once more eyeing Derek discreetly from the corner of her eye, and he withheld his idiotic grin and managed to maintain an almost bored tone as he answered, “Oh, no, local law enforcement wasn’t for me.” She smirked, looking like she’d won…and then he knocked her down with, “I’m a special agent for the FBI. We just started a new office right outside of Beacon Hills, and I run it with a few select agents. We cover mostly federal cases, but we help out the local law enforcement when they need it.”

He swore she went three shades paler and saw her almost choke on her sip and he shot a glance in his fake boyfriend’s direction and saw him roll his eyes up towards the ceiling, and Stiles knew that Derek was on the edge of coming over and pulling him away from her.

She managed to recover and then say, “You seem rather young for an FBI agent, let alone a special agent.”

He nodded, understanding, and explained, “I got into a training program right out of high school, so I did my schooling and training out at Quantico. Lot of work, but Derek was only a couple of hours away by train at NYU, so we made it work.”

He knew that Derek was still listening and felt a bit bad about saying it, but also thought it was a good reminder to the werewolf that he could have visited him and let him know he was alive.

Sure, it was petty, but ever since Stiles had found out, he’d felt like Derek had deliberately chosen to not contact him and it hurt.

He turned all of his attention to Jane, and gave her a smile as he said, “He’s kind of the best thing that’s ever happened to me, you know? I feel really lucky that we found each other when we did. I don’t think I would have gone into the FBI if I’d never met him,” he admitted, knowing that even from that distance, Derek could hear his heartbeat and how steady it was. “After getting him into so much trouble when I was in high school, like, so many times, I realized that I wanted to help innocent people stay out of trouble, so…I became a bit ambitious.”

At that, Jane seemed to soften a bit, giving him a hint of a smile, and then she commented, tapping her finger on the edge of her glass, “He does seem to bring the best out in people.”

Stiles nodded and smiled widely and said, unable to keep the pride from his tone, “He’s a hell of a great guy, and one of the best men I’ve ever known in my life.”

From where he stood, he could see Derek go a bit pink, and he smiled. Jane gave him one last look, said a polite goodbye, and then walked away back into the crowd, leaving Stiles to mingle with everyone else. He felt that he’d done a good job at keeping her at bay, so he turned up his charm as he mingled with the rest of Derek’s coworkers, finding out that a few of them knew Danny through a tech firm that the architects worked with.

Soon, he wasn’t even putting on any airs and was joking back and forth with a guy named Adam who worked security at the building, finding out that they were both die hard fans of DC and Marvel.

Right while they were in the middle of a discussion over the chemistry of Henry Cavill and Ben Affleck (which they both agreed was more than just platonic), Derek was right up behind him slipping an arm around his waist as if he’d done it a thousand times before, saying, “Please don’t tell me you’re talking about how Superman and Batman are gay for each other, again,” and Stiles grinned.

“Oh, we totally were, and we agree that Superman is definitely a bottom,” he admitted, and shared a laughing smile with Adam, who politely tipped his cup towards him and nodded in agreement.

Derek groaned and shook his head.

Stiles then asked, before he forgot, “So, how was it talking with Erik and Geoff?” and Derek let out a long sigh and Adam gave them both a knowing look, nodded and said, “Yeah, those two are intense. Amazingly brilliant, but intense. I’ll leave you two lovebirds, alone. See you at D&D night next Wednesday?” Adam asked as he stepped away, and Stiles nodded.

“Count on it, man!”

Derek shot him a look.

“D&D night? Do I want to know?”

Stiles gently nudged him with is elbow and said, “Dungeons and dragons, you plebe. Found out that they have a group that meets every week on Wednesdays, from seven to ten in the evening, and Danny is a part of it, too, so they invited me. It sounded like fun, so I said yes. Is, uh…is that a bad thing? Me making friends with people at your work?”

Derek opened his mouth as if to say something…but then he closed it.

And then he said, “No, not at all.”

There was a long moment of silence and then Stiles observed, “Uh, you still have your arm around my waist, Der…”

Derek’s eyes went wide, and it seemed that he was about to move, but then he just lightly squeezed Stiles’ hip and muttered, looking down at the cider in his hand, “Yeah, well…people are still here. Watching,” he added unnecessarily, unconsciously moving Stiles closer to him. He bit his lip, making sure not to point out what Derek was doing as he really didn’t want to stop it and wanted to savor the closeness for as long as he could, basking in the physical affection, even if it was fake.

Derek then said, “I noticed that you dealt with Jane. You handled that pretty well,” he said with a grin teasing at the corner of his lips.

Stiles chuckled.

“I totally got your back, Derek. She won’t be bothering you, anymore. Promise.”

He looked across the room, easily spotting her blonde hair and violet dress in the crowd…and made a sound of disbelief in the back of his throat as he saw her flirting with a pretty brunette in a blue dress. He nudged Derek a second time and discreetly pointed her out and snorted at the expression on Derek’s face.

And then he said, “Well…looks like I don’t have to worry about her, after all.”

Stiles laughed and let himself a little bit closer into Derek’s side, knowing that it wasn’t going to last forever. He saw several looks sent in their direction, but all of them were approving, as if they all liked Derek’s choice of boyfriend, and that made Stiles feel warm in his chest and wish even more that it was all real. Even though it wasn’t.

Still, as the evening progressed he became more and more comfortable with the way that he was allowed to reach out and touch the usually taciturn alpha, and he got to see Derek actually smile, and the first few times it was completely disorienting, but then he started to get used to it and was now determined to make sure that he was the one who was always making Derek smile, even if it was only as a friend, because it was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen.

It was really nice to see that most of the people that Derek worked with all seemed to like him, and they all seemed to like Stiles along with him, and it was rather refreshing to not have the usual side-eye that Stiles had seen in the past from people who looked down on ‘alternative’ lifestyles.

Eventually, the evening started to wind down and Stiles was grateful that Erik and Geoff had kept the gathering non-alcoholic, which meant that no one was stumbling outside, and everyone was safe to drive home.

He and Derek were the last two to leave, as it was nearly thirteen thirty, Erik and Geoff leading them to the front door, thanking them both for coming. When Geoff pulled the door open for them, however, Stiles was surprised to see that it was snowing, and that a good inch was already on the ground.

Derek didn’t seem the least bit phased and so Stiles quickly deduced that he’d been aware of it because of his werewolf senses.

“Oh, wow, it’s really coming down out there, isn’t it?” said Geoff, the tall, burly man leaning out the front door and looking up at the snow as it heavily fell, some of it landing on his head. He ducked back in, brushed it off his salt and pepper hair, and then remarked, sounding concerned, “Maybe it’s not all that safe to drive back. Derek, you have a Camaro, right?”

Stiles smiled when Derek nodded and then said politely, “Yes, but don’t worry, I have the snow tires on. I checked the weather before I came over tonight and knew what to expect.”

He then turned to Stiles and leaned in and pressed his lips to his temple and his left hand skated over Stiles’ hip, his thumb absently tracing the inside of his hipbone, an intimate gesture if he’d ever felt one, Stiles thought to himself.

“I’ll go get the car, you wait here,” Derek muttered, giving him a soft smile, and then he disappeared out into the snow-covered blackness, leaving Stiles to wait in the foyer with his two bosses, feeling even more off-kilter than before, butterflies suddenly flapping hard against the inside of his ribs.

Geoff chuckled at him and said, “Oh, I know that look. Totally besotted, am I right?”

Stiles shook his head, ducked his eyes and rubbed the back of his neck, and then responded with, “Oh, you know…can’t get enough of him, right?”

Erik smiled and said, “Considering you guys have been together for a while, it’s rather refreshing to see that the spark still seems to be there. Hale’s a great guy, and I can easily see him becoming a more important part of the company down the road.” Stiles heard what he was implying, and he couldn’t help but feel excited for Derek. Erik then added, “He really came through on our last project. He thinks outside of the box and we need that kind of mindset to keep us from getting too stagnant in our work.”

Stiles couldn’t help but comment, “Yeah, that’s Derek, alright. He’s good at seeing new perspectives.”

They both nodded back at him.

Before anything else could be said, Derek had pulled up to the front door and Stiles couldn’t help but grin as he bolted out of the car and jogged up the steps to where Stiles stood and offered him his arm. Stiles felt his cheeks warm, and so he quickly followed after him, relieved when he settled warm and only slightly damp into the passenger’s seat.

Derek shifted the car into gear and as he navigated the roads that were just starting to get slippery, Stiles said, “Hey, so, Erik and Geoff pretty much told me without telling me that they’re definitely going to make you a partner at some point,” and was confused when Derek just simply hummed, “Oh, that’s nice,” his gaze still focused on the snow dusted road in front of him, and Stiles did a double take at his reaction, wondering what was going on with him.

What the heck? The whole point of Stiles going with him was to make sure that they made a good impression on the partners, and Derek was acting like he didn’t care.

Trying to get his attention, he reached out and squeezed Derek’s knee, and was amused when all Derek did was take one hand off the wheel to reach down and link his fingers with Stiles’.

He tried to brush it off like it was nothing, even though his heartrate had just jumped up to twice its normal speed, and said, “Not that the hand-holding isn’t great, Der, but…you do realize that we’re not back at the party anymore, right?” and it was rather amusing to see Derek glance down at his leg and then suddenly try to decide whether or not he should let go, and then finally say as he unlinked his fingers and patted Stiles on the back of the hand, “Sorry, just…habit already, I guess.”

At that, Stiles chuckled and couldn’t help but quip, “Aww, only one night and you’re addicted to me? Not that I blame you,” he drawled. “I was an amazing boyfriend, tonight. In fact, according to most of the people I talked to at the party, I am certifiably the best boyfriend ever,” he added, discreetly drawing his hand back over to his side.

Derek rolled his eyes and looked annoyed, but Stiles saw the smile at the corner of his mouth.

Deciding to push it a little bit further, he said, “Doug, the guy who helped with the electrical on your last project, said that you talked about me just a few days ago, saying something about my amazing test scores at the Academy?”

The alpha immediately countered with, “Hey, no, I was talking about how it was a freakin’ miracle that you even got into the Academy! Let’s clarify that,” he added, pointing a finger in the air.

Stiles just shook his head.

“Nah, you like me too much to complain about me,” and Derek bantered back, “Correction: you annoy me enough that I complain about you enough at work that they all think that I’m dating you.”

He laughed a second time and knocked his knee into his door and said, “They probably just think that you sound like an irritated boyfriend. Like, you complain all the time about me, but the way that you complain implies that you actually still really like me…”

His voice drifted, and then Derek said after a long moment, “I was ready to kill you tonight when I heard you tell Jane that you once got me arrested.” Stiles quickly went to defend himself, but then Derek cut him off with, “If I wasn’t so scared of her, I would have walked over there and dragged you out by the back your neck and tossed you out into the snow.”

Stiles snorted.

“I’m sorry, but I just find it hilarious that you, mister werewolf alpha, someone who has stared down an alpha pack and just about all of the scariest creatures that have ever gone bump in the night…are scared of a woman.”

Derek gave him a look, but turned his attention back to the road as he said, “You met Jane, right? She’s worse than an alpha pack all on her own,” and Stiles made a noise of agreement and said, “Okay, okay, no argument there. She was pretty terrifying…but I think I handled her pretty well, if I do say so myself.”

Derek nodded.

“Sure did. Thanks for that, by the way.”

Stiles waved his hand and said, “Ah, don’t mention it. It was kinda fun, actually. Never seen someone go pale so fast in my life, and I’ve intimidated wanted criminals in holding cells. This was definitely more fun,” he said with a grin.

He leaned further back in his seat and the two of them fell into a comfortable silence as Derek drove the rest of the way to his house. Stiles, though still a little bit worried about the snow, found his thoughts drifting to the young were-coyote staying with Derek’s pack, and wondered what they were going to be doing for Christmas, since it was only two days away. He thought about asking, but one glance at Derek’s profile had him questioning himself, so he said nothing.

The Camaro pulled up in front of the house and Stiles glanced at his phone and couldn’t help but say, “Hey, you even got me home before midnight. Such a gentleman.”

Derek rolled his eyes, but the effect was ruined by the way his lips twisted up into a fond smile as he did.

Stiles grinned, feeling smug, but then Derek reached across the seat, his shoulder and upper back pressed firmly into Stiles’ chest as he opened his door for him, and said, “Get out before I toss you and your glass slippers out into the snow, Stilinski.”

Once he felt his heartbeat pick back up (because he was positive that it had stopped when Derek was pressed up against him), he nodded and got out of the car. Before he closed the door, however, he braced his hands against and leaned down and said, “In all honesty, I had a great time tonight, Derek. I’ll gladly be your fake boyfriend anytime you need it, man. Just give me at least a few days’ notice and I’ll be the best fake boyfriend ever.”

Derek gave him a look, using just his eyebrows, and Stiles quickly pulled back.

“Alright, alright! I’m going! Drive safe!”

He slammed the door and then jogged up the front walk and sighed in equal parts relief and disappointment when he closed the front door behind him, leaning against it as soon as he stepped inside.

It had been both the best and worst night of his life. He had been surrounded by Derek’s scent the entire evening, as well as his touch, and the memories of those soft, intimate touches would linger with him for a long time afterwards…but at the same time, it had been a living hell, knowing that the alpha was only doing it because he had made a promise to his bosses.

“God, you royally fucked up this time, didn’t you, Stiles?” he muttered to himself, dragging himself up the stairs to his room.

Just as he stepped inside, however, his phone buzzed in his pocket. Who the hell was texting him at midnight?

He looked at his glowing screen and groaned.

Erica.

He swiped the screen and looked at her message and smiled, despite his annoyance, when he read, did u kiss him under the mistletoe? if u didn’t, I will totally kill u and blame it on Liam. bdubs, the new kid, Lance, is a total sweetheart, but super scared of me…, and in a second text, he likes everyone else, tho, and Stiles’ finger hovered over the screen as he thought about how to answer her.

Finally, he texted back, didn’t kiss him, but there was groping of a sort. glad Lance is getting along with everyone. give him time, he’ll love you, too, I’m sure of it.

He then put his phone down long enough for him to strip down and then flopped on top of his covers in his boxers and the undershirt that he’d worn under his dress shirt all day and that entire evening, settling in for at least a half hour of texting. He could have showered, and probably should have, but he didn’t want to remove the smell of Derek’s cologne, just yet, and he knew that made him come across as weird and possibly slightly creepy, but he didn’t care. He lifted part of the shirt to his face and took a deep breath.

It smelled like pine and woodsmoke, with just a faint hint of spearmint and apple cider. The scent was permanently etched into his memory.

A minute or so later, Erica texted back.

how could u not kiss him??? r u mentally ill?? he dressed up for u!!! he even wore nice smelling stuff, and Stiles snorted at the way she texted. She was a year older than him, and still texted like a thirteen-year-old girl and he found it simultaneously annoying yet endearing.

He waited a moment, trying to figure out what to say, and then typed back, can you just not push it? he was a total gentleman and I helped with a couple of problems. but he doesn’t see me that way, woman, my life is not a hallmark christmas movie, and he smiled at his witty response. He made himself more comfortable on the bed and started to flip through a couple of other apps as he waited for her reply, knowing she would probably blow up at him in spectacular fashion, as she usually did when he pushed her buttons like that.

So, he wasn’t all too surprised when she texted back a few minutes later with, but it *could* be a hallmark christmas movie! just a little nudge and u 2 could be fucking like bunnies in ur childhood bedroom on christmas morning!

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Seriously, Erica?” he muttered to himself as he finished off the conversation with, thank you so much for that disturbing image of my childhood bed, with that, i am going to bed. night.

His phoned dinged one more time.

Coward.

He rolled his eyes again, but then turned off his phone and settled in to go to sleep. He didn’t have work in the morning, and so he was going to sleep in as late he wanted to.

Chapter 3

He slogged down to breakfast at nearly eleven and his dad shot him an amused look as he poured him a cup of coffee, and then said as he handed it to him, “Late night?”

Stiles heard the tone in his voice and rolled his eyes and said, “For your information, I was back by midnight, and I went to bed shortly after. There was no drinking, just a lot of socializing,” he explained, and then yelped as his dad suddenly took the mug away from him.

“What the hell was that for?” he said, his voice far too high-pitched for his liking, and his dad shot him yet another look and replied, “I only gave it to you because I thought that you were hungover. Since you’re not, you can pour your own coffee,” and then went and sat down at the table with a plate loaded with food that he definitely shouldn’t be eating, but Stiles couldn’t find the energy within himself to argue about it, so he decided to simply ignore it and get on with what was left of his morning.

Just as he was finishing breakfast, his dad asked, “Have you figured out what to do with the kid?”

Stiles let out an aggrieved sigh.

“More or less, yeah.”

He pushed his mug to the side and explained what he had gotten done the day before.

“Instead of trying to go through official channels, I dug through the werewolf leads and think I found who the werewolf was that killed Lance’s parents,” he said, and he saw his dad’s eyes widen in shock that he’d found it out so quickly. Stiles really didn’t want to explain the dirty details, so he waved a hand and said, “Yeah, I know, it’s freaky that I found it out so quick, but let’s just say that emissaries keep track of that sort of thing, and there aren’t that many packs left east of the Rockies, so it wasn’t all that hard to find out.”

He rolled his head on his neck and added, “Ever since Deaton left, he left me a list of emissaries around the country that I could contact should the need arise, and I managed to find out that there isn’t a pack in the northeast…but that there is one just over the border in Canada. So, I did a little bit of searching and think I found the rogue werewolf. His name’s Reynault.”

His dad simply gave him a long look and then said, sounding nervous, “Please don’t tell me you’re going after him yourself,” and Stiles quickly shook his head.

“Oh, hell no. Don’t worry about me, pops. He’s already being tracked by the pack in Tennessee. Talked to Heather, their emissary,” he said, picking at the edge of the table with his thumb, “And she said that they’re closing in on him. Apparently, Reynault is a rogue from a Canadian pack that used to have land that went down into the northeastern part of the U.S. and he is determined to keep it as part of the original land, though no one else from his previous pack approved of it.”

His dad then leaned forward, wrapping his hands around his coffee mug, and said, “Aren’t territory disputes meant for emissaries? Like, what you’re supposed to be doing? I mean, why go after a couple and their kid? They weren’t even werewolves. What’s the logic behind that?”

Stiles let out a long sigh and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Werecoyotes’ territory constantly shifts from place to place, unlike werewolves, who settle and put down roots.” He began to motion with his hands, and said, “Usually the packs ignore them because they’re so transitory, nomadic, and tolerate them being on their land without any issues…but Reynault has it in his head that they were infringing on land that belonged to his pack. Apparently, the Quebec pack found out what he did and kicked him out. He didn’t care.”

The silence that stretched between them was tense, and Stiles knew that his dad was about to say something about staying safe.

He wasn’t disappointed.

“Kid, I know that you’re an agent in the FBI and an emissary and all that amazing stuff that makes me incredibly proud to be your father, but this…this sounds really, really dangerous.”

Without missing a beat, Stiles said, “That’s why I’m handing it off to the Tennessee pack. Heather, their emissary, is going to help them take care of it. She’s an old hand at this sort of thing, and I trust that she can catch him and put him in his place. They have a good alpha, too. Rachel Heartwood. They’ll find him.”

His dad nodded, and then stood and moved to walk out of the kitchen, but then paused and stood next to him, putting a hand on his shoulder, and then squeezed it tightly.

“You’re doing good, kid,” he murmured, and then walked out, leaving Stiles with a faint smile on his lips.

They weren’t huge on affection, but Stiles knew how his father showed how much he loved him and that was more than enough. He smiled to himself and then got up and put together a plate from the leftovers of what his dad had already cooked. It was nearly noon, so he considered it a brunch, so he purposely decided to finish off the rest of the bacon so that there was nothing left for his dad. He didn’t need to clog his arteries anymore and Stiles wasn’t going to let him put himself in an early grave.

Just as he was finishing up his food, his mind still flashing back to the night before, remembering every touch on his skin…his phone buzzed.

He checked the screen.

Erica.

Oh, boy, he wasn’t sure if he had the energy for her on the Eve before Christmas…but he answered it, anyway, immediately regretting saying hello when the first words out of her mouth were, “Stiles! You have everything you need to make cookies, right?” Dear god, what was it now? “Oh, who am I talking to, of course you have cookie mix. Right, well, Derek, Lance, and I are coming over! See you in a few minutes!” she rambled out before he could get in a word edgewise.

Just as he was about to reply, she hung up and Stiles groaned.

He leaned back in his chair and yelled up to his dad, who had gone upstairs, “Yo, pops! Erica and Derek are coming over, along with the kid, and, apparently, we’re baking cookies. You don’t mind us taking over the kitchen for a few hours, right?”

“As long as you clean up after yourselves and save me a few!” he yelled back down to him, and Stiles nodded.

Fair enough.

He ambled back into the kitchen and checked the pantry and let out a sigh of relief when he saw that they had everything they needed to make cookies from scratch. Rubbing a hand over his face, he started to pull it all out and had only just started to set it up when he heard the front door open and close, and couldn’t help but yell out, “Erica, you have to learn how to knock!”

She appeared in the kitchen doorway, hanging off the frame with a shit-eating grin on her face and said, “Aw, but what would be the fun in that? Oooh, is that the stuff for the cookies?”

Lance was right behind her, sticking close to Derek’s side and he gave the kid a reassuring smile before looking up at Derek and giving him a smile, as well. The alpha returned his look and patted Lance on the shoulder as they shuffled into the kitchen, Derek then saying, “I apologize for her. But it’s not like I really have any control over her,” he said sounding genuinely frustrated, giving her a slight glare, to which she replied with sticking her tongue out at him and Lance giggled at her.

Stiles smiled at seeing the kid already relaxing and then showed him where the baking sheets were and had him help with making the cookie dough.

As they started pulling everything out for the cookies, Stiles couldn’t help but ask, “Is there a reason why you aren’t doing this back at the house?”

Derek and Erica shared a look over Lance’s head, and then Derek explained, irritation in his voice, “Well, we would have, but it seems that Isaac and Liam got into the frozen cookie dough in the freezer two nights ago and ate it all. So, we had nothing left to make the Christmas cookies with, and I didn’t have the ingredients to make them from scratch. When we went out for ingredients, we found that most of the grocery stores are closed already, so Erica suggested that we call you. Next thing I know,” he added, sounding thoroughly annoyed, “She’s making me drive over to your house.”

He then shrugged and apologized.

“Sorry for crashing in on you like this,” and Stiles quickly brushed it off and said, “Hey, don’t worry ‘bout it, sourwolf.”

He then looked back down at Lance, who had finished mixing the ingredients and was looking up at Stiles questioningly, as if asking him what he was supposed to do next. With a smile, Stiles showed him how to roll out the dough and then cut out the different shapes with the cookie cutters.

Pretty soon, Erica and Derek were helping the kid, as well, and Stiles pulled back slightly so that the three of them could spend more time bonding with the young werecoyote.

He found it amusing that every time that Lance said something, or Erica did, Derek was translating for each of them, and Stiles tried very hard to tamp down on his reaction to hearing him speak Spanish so fluently. He never knew he had a thing for other languages. Or maybe it wasn’t languages, but Derek. Watching the alpha gently reprimand Erica as she tried to steal a bite from the batter and then gently say something to Lance in Spanish…well, it was definitely doing something to him, somewhere in the vicinity of his chest.

His dad poked his head in at once point to tell him he was going to do a couple of hours of paperwork back at the station, and Stiles nodded him off.

By that point, they had the first batch in the oven and had already started making the next batch. They had to make enough for the entire pack, of course, so Stiles estimated that they would be making at least three more batches, because he knew what the wolves’ appetites were like.

He eventually pulled out a couple of phrases he remembered from a Spanish class that he had taken way back in his freshman year of high school and laughed when Lance had to correct his pronunciation.

At some point while they were making cookies, Stiles ended up between Derek at Lance at the kitchen island, while Erica stood on the other side of Lance, getting Spanish lessons.

“Una galleta,” Lance said, pointing at one of the cookies on the tray and Stiles chuckled when he heard Erica try to repeat the word, not even coming close to rolling the double L sound correctly, and Lance laughed, and then Erica said, “Cookie.”

They were surprised when Lance smiled, picked it up and looked at her and said, “Good cookie?”

She smiled and nodded.

Without thinking about it, Stiles leaned slightly into Derek’s shoulder, forgetting that the closeness that they had shared last night at the party wasn’t allowed anymore, and he was just about to apologize and pull back, but then Derek’s hand reached up and stroked his lower back, so he took a risk and stayed where he was. Derek didn’t seem to notice that anything was amiss, so Stiles said nothing, just soaking it in as much as he could until the alpha came to his senses.

And then Erica looked over at them and shot a smirk in Stiles’ direction. He felt his cheeks heat up, and so he ducked his eyes and quickly pulled away from the casual embrace under the guise of going to the fridge to get something to drink, and then offered everyone else something as well in order to keep himself occupied.

Eventually, they had done five batches in total. Stiles threw them all into two large tupperware containers (with a few set aside for him and his dad), with the promise that they would be returned to him.

Just as they left, Stiles held Derek back for a moment and asked, “Is he doing okay? I mean, is the pack treating him right?”

Derek nodded.

“Yeah, they really seem to like him. Apparently last night was a huge success because when I got home, I found them all sprawled over the couch in a massive pile, Lance right in the middle, watching the Pirates of the Caribbean movies. He seems to like Liam the most,” he added with a soft smile. “I’m just glad he feels safe with us.”

Stiles nodded back at him and then lightly punched him on the shoulder and said, “Now get out of here and go celebrate the holiday with your pack. I’ll bring by your present sometime tomorrow, after dad and I open up our own presents, okay?”

Derek nodded and then quickly headed back to the Camaro, where Stiles could hear Erica and Lance arguing, Lance going off in rapid Spanish while she just shook her head and yelled back at him in English.

Yeah, he was going to be just fine.

--

Stiles had thought about telling Derek about what he’d found out but had then decided that it could wait until after Christmas. Besides, he wanted to get a confirmation from Heather before telling him what he knew, because he knew that if he told the alpha about Reynault then he wouldn’t care whether or not it was Christmas, he would leave to go and hunt him down himself, and Stiles didn’t want to take away from their well-deserved holiday cheer.

Instead, he finished putting the last couple of presents for his dad under the tree, and then made up a batch of eggnog that would appeal to both of them.

At around four, his dad was back home, and Stiles managed to convince him to sit down for a while to relax and have some eggnog and a couple of cookies.

When the sheriff coughed at the first sip, he smirked, knowing that he’d made it just right.

They then did their usual tradition and ordered a meat lovers pizza and put Die Hard into the blu-ray player, which they both firmly believed was definitely a Christmas movie. It had become a tradition back when Stiles was only twelve, and it was something that they enjoyed doing together every single Christmas Eve. Their biggest meal of the holiday, though, was always lunch on Christmas day.

They always piled up with heavy foods and it was the one time of year where Stiles didn’t get on his dad’s case about his diet. Instead, he let him indulge, and though they had never invited anyone to their exclusive Christmas lunch, Stiles had the faint inkling that this year his dad wanted to invite Melissa over. He knew that it should bother him a little bit, but the truth was that he was thrilled that his dad had found someone special in his life, and he couldn’t think of anyone better than Melissa. She had practically been a second mother to him over the years, after all.

Just as they had completely settled and were more than halfway through the movie, Bruce Willis giving his famous line from the vents, Stiles phone buzzed insistently in his pocket, and he looked at the number and recognized the Tennessee area code and quickly stood up and said, “Dad, I have to take this.”

He quickly ducked into the kitchen.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Stiles, this is Heather. I thought about e-mailing or texting you, but I then I realized that a phone call would be best. We’ve got him.”

Suddenly his shoulders dropped, and tension that Stiles didn’t even realized he was holding fell from him almost instantly and he let out a sigh of relief and slumped against the fridge, resting his forehead on the cool metal, and breathed out, “Oh, thank god. You have him contained?” he couldn’t help but ask.

She quickly answered, “Inside a room made from mountain ash, inside of a mountain ash circle, with mistletoe vines in the ground. Reynault isn’t going anywhere, Emissary Stiles,” she added with a smile in her tone, and he chuckled at the way she so formally addressed him, and he smiled and replied, “You have no idea how good this makes me feel. Knowing that he’s locked up and not getting out is the best Christmas present you could have given me. By the way, did you contact--?”

“Yes, we contacted him. He says he’s taking care of everything back in Maine and in D.C., and that it should all be taken care of before tomorrow morning.”

Stiles let out another sigh of relief and slowly stood back up, lightly tapping the palm of his hand to the counter, and then he said, “I’ll tell Derek and Lance tomorrow. They’ll be so relieved. I mean, he only just got here, but I think Derek really likes this kid. And he really likes Derek, too.”

He could hear the smile in her voice as she said, “Well, like I said. It’ll all be taken care of. Have a Merry Christmas, Emissary Stiles.”

“Please, call me Stiles. You keep calling me by my title and it’ll go straight to my head, just ask my fellow FBI agents,” and at that, she laughed and politely replied, “Fine, then. Stiles. Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.”

And with that, they hung up, and Stiles felt a lightness that he hadn’t felt in a couple of days…except perhaps at the party the night before. He couldn’t wait to tell Derek, but he didn’t want to ruin their pack Christmas, so he would wait until he dropped by later tomorrow with his presents. They deserved to at least have a little bit more time together. He wasn’t sure how Lance would react to hearing the Reynault was no longer a problem, so he decided to play it safe for now.

He walked back into the living room and was surprised to see that his dad had paused the movie. He looked up at him curiously when he walked back in and asked, “Who was that? Sounded serious.”

Stiles nodded and then sat back down.

“Yeah, that was Heather, the emissary for that Tennessee pack I told you about. They, uh…they caught him. They have Reynault completely secure and he will face charges properly in werewolf style law,” he answered, knowing that that most likely meant that he was either going to be killed or permanently contained, though it all depended on him.

The sheriff arched an eyebrow, but instead of saying anything about it, he nodded and started the movie back up. Traditions had to be upheld, after all.

--

Stiles was startled out of his sleep at three am on Christmas morning, his phone buzzing insistently on the nightstand, and he blearily reached for it, silently praying that it wasn’t Erica calling. He could probably deal with anyone but Erica at that point. He loved her, but she was a menace.

“’lo?” he said, rubbing the heel of his hand over his eyes, rolling back over to his back.

“Hey, Stilinski. Have some good news for you.”

Oh, he knew that voice.

He blinked a couple of times, and then said, “Agent Davis? Is that you?”

“Yeah, sorry for waking you up at…oh, god, three am, I’m sorry, I totally forgot how early it is back in California,” his friend back at Quantico said, sounding genuinely apologetic. “But I took care of handling the information about Reynault. According to the FBI, he no longer exists and the attack on the parents was an animal attack, and the child has been declared dead. How does Lance Hale, sound?”

At that, Stiles shot up in his bed and stared straight ahead in shock, not quite sure that he had heard what he’d just heard. He knew that Agent Connor Davis was good, but this was far above and beyond what he had expected.

He gaped for a moment, and then finally got out, “Oh my god, Connor, I don’t know how the hell you did this, but this…this is freakin’ amazing, man! He’s, he’s…he’s already connecting with Derek and the pack and now he has a place if he wants it, and…seriously! How the hell did you pull this off so fast?” he asked a second time, trying to wrap his mind around the fact that his emissary friend at the FBI had just pulled off the biggest Christmas miracle of all time.

Connor answered, “Well, let’s just say that I friends that owe me quite a few favors and I cashed them in because this seemed like a good time for it. Lance deserves to have someplace where he can feel safe. No one deserves to go through that kind of trauma…”

His voiced drifted and Stiles couldn’t help but say, “Yeah, tell me about it.”

The line went quiet for a moment, taking it all in, and suddenly he felt like he needed to tell Derek at that very moment…but it was still just after three in the morning, and he had the feeling that the werewolf wouldn’t appreciate being woken up in the dead of night right before Christmas morning. He bit his lip, worrying it between his teeth, trying to figure out just what to do.

Before he could get too worked up about it, however, Connor said, “I’m sure that he’s exactly where he needs to be, Stiles. I know you and I trust your judgment. Besides,” he drawled, sounding far too smug, “From what I’ve heard about the Hale pack and from what you’ve told me about Derek, I bet Lance is making friends quickly. As are you.”

He heard the intonation in his voice and groaned and wondered if nearly everyone he knew was aware of the fact that he had a crush on Derek Hale.

Finally, he said, “Okay, look, yes, I like Derek but it’s not like that. I don’t know how many times I’ve told people this, but he doesn’t like me that way, so if you could just--”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stilinski, just chill. I just think that you’re a little bit close minded and that it might not all just be on your side, you know? I keep in touch with other packs and other leaders, and quite a few of them have met Derek and have heard the way that he talks about you, and I’m just, you know…putting the pieces together,” Connor finished, and Stiles’ hackles lowered.

Oh. Wait…Derek talked about him? To other packs? How was he not aware of that?

Deciding he’d had enough emotional turmoil, he said, “Well, thanks for calling me. This is the best news, and I can’t wait to tell him. Thanks again, Connor.”

“No problem, Stilinski. By the way, don’t forget to check your e-mail.”

They hung up, and Stiles knew that he should go back to sleep, but he was suddenly wide awake and wired, and so he threw off his blanket and pulled on his old lacrosse hoodie and wandered over to his work laptop, pulling it out and flipping it open. He skimmed through his work e-mails, ignoring all of them except for the one that Agent Davis had just sent him.

He smiled as he read it, realizing that he needed to do something especially nice for the man because he had just somehow pulled off the impossible. He drafted a reply, trying to put as much gratitude into it as he could, needing Connor to know just how amazing he was. He’d met Agent Davis when he’d first gotten his job and the guy had immediately recognized a fellow emissary. Stiles had been startled to discover that there was someone else in the supernatural world that had chosen a job in law enforcement, but they’d quickly become friends.

He now had connections with the few packs that were out east because of the man and he was grateful for it, because they had all been far more helpful that Deaton had ever been and he stayed in touch with them through secure channels and used them as resources when things went weird in Beacon Hills, which happened more often than not.

After going through a few personal e-mails to a couple of emissaries, one in North Carolina and one in Ohio, he glanced at his phone to check the time.

It was just after six am. Too late to try and get more sleep, he knew, because his dad typically woke him up at around seven on Christmas morning, every year, without fail.

Letting out a long sigh, he leaned back in his chair, put his hands behind his head, and closed his eyes, wondering what his dad had gotten for him that year. Last year had been a set of leather holsters that he had ordered from a professional leather worker up in Wyoming, and he still used them. He wouldn’t be surprised if he got another gift that was in the same vein as the one before. Though his dad didn’t say it, he knew that he was proud of him getting into the FBI, and show tried to show it through the gifts he got him throughout the year.

Just as he felt himself starting to drift, though, he heard from his window--

“Hey, I need to talk to you--”

He opened his eyes just in time to reach out and catch the edge of his desk with his fingertips to keep himself from falling over, and then swung accusing eyes over in the direction of the voice, wondering what the hell Derek was doing there in his room at six fifteen in the morning. On Christmas morning. When he was supposed to be with his pack.

“Dude, what the hell, man?” he hissed out, keeping in mind that his dad was still asleep only a couple of doors down from his room. “How many times do I have to tell you that we have a front door and that you should use it? Also…what the hell?? It’s Christmas morning! Is there a reason why you’re over here scaring me out of my skin instead of back with your pack, dealing with sugary, hyped-up pups tearing into their stockings and presents and driving you up the wall??”

He evened out his breathing as much as he could as he brought the chair back to the floor, once more level, but he knew that he couldn’t hide from Derek just how fast his heart was racing. Normally, he would have been embarrassed, but considering what the alpha had just done, he felt it was entirely Derek’s fault.

Derek just gave him a once over and said, “Like I said, I need to talk to you. I’m worried about who went after Lance’s parents, and I think I should--”

Stiles quickly cut him off, waving a hand in the air and saying, “Dude, don’t worry about it, I’ve already taken care of it,” and at that, Derek’s brow furrowed, and he gave him a curious look, and Stiles realized how it sounded, so he quickly explained.

“Look, I was worried, too, so yesterday I used department resources, as well as a few of my own, and I tracked down the werewolf that killed his parents.”

Derek’s eyebrows shot up at that.

“Turns out he was a rogue from one of the Quebec packs who was acting outside the authority of the alpha, trying to claim it as a territory dispute. I managed to track him down to Tennessee and contacted the emissary there, and she just called me this evening to say that they’ve got him contained.” He paused to yawn, and then scratched his neck and said, “Also, I got a call from an agent friend back at Quantico who cut through all the shitty red tape and made it so that Lance Santiago and the man who killed his parents no longer exist.”

Derek, still partially perched on the sill of Stiles’ window, just looked at him with wide eyes, his mouth partly open, and Stiles was fairly certain that that had been his own expression when Connor had told him the news.

Finally, Derek breathed out, sounding incredulous, “How…how did you do all of this so quickly? I mean, tracking him down means…you would need…”

Stiles rolled his eyes and couldn’t help but quip, “Dude, did you never wonder how the hell I became a full-fledged field agent with their own field office at just twenty-four? With three paid agents who work under me, all of them older than I am?”

Derek came the rest of the way into the room and sat on the edge of Stiles’ bed, his brow still furrowed, and Stiles let out a long sigh, flipped his laptop closed, and then said, “Okay, apparently you had no clue, so looks like I’m gonna have to explain it to you,” and went and joined Derek on his bed, trying not to pay too close attention to the fact that all he wore was his boxers and that he hadn’t showered since the night that they had gone to the party.

“As soon as I started the internship, one of the agents took an interest in me and I quickly found out that he was an emissary.” Derek gave him a wide-eyed look and Stiles chuckled and said, “Yeah, I know, it totally took me off guard, too, but because he recognized my spark, don’t ask me how,” he quickly said, throwing a hand up to stop the alpha’s inevitable question, “I still don’t get it, myself. But he recognized it and immediately put me on the fast track to becoming an agent. Luckily, I passed most of the tests simply because I had the experience thanks to my dad and all of my adventurous teenage years in Beacon Hills.”

Derek then finally said, “Is he the same agent that you just mentioned? The one who cut through all the red tape?”

Stiles nodded.

“Yep. Connor’s a great guy,” he said, smiling fondly. “It’s because of him that I got this amazing job in the first place. It’s because of him I was able to come back home to work, instead of spending ten to twelve years back in D.C., trying to work my way up the daisy chain of bureaucrats to get to a job where I could finally choose where I wanted to work.”

Derek looked up at him at that, drawing his gaze away from the floor, and said a low tone, “I didn’t know that. I just…I guess I just thought you were that good, I guess.”

At that, Stiles laughed, though tried to still keep his voice down, remembering his dad was asleep, and said, “Wow, that’s, uh…super flattering, I guess, but no, sourwolf. Just got really lucky with the right person who got me where I could do the most good for the Agency. Not gonna lie, a lot of the cases I take I have to run supernatural interference, so my agents don’t wise up and find out what’s really going on out here near Beacon Hills.”

Derek’s brow softened and he gave Stiles a look that he couldn’t quite nail down.

Feeling a bit exposed, he quickly stood back up and rubbed his hand across the back of his neck and said, “So, yeah. Lance is officially off the grid, so if you want to take him in, you can. In fact, how does Lance Hale, sound?”

At that, Derek looked up at him in shock.

“Lance…Hale? Do you mean…?”

Stiles shrugged, a bit nervous as he admitted, “Connor managed to change some records so that you have a baby brother who was adopted right before the fire.” He quickly told him everything that he’d read in the detailed e-mail that Connor had sent him right after their conversation. “He lives with you here in Beacon Hills and is now currently registered at Beacon Hills Middle School.”

Derek gaped up at him, and Stiles was even more confused when he suddenly surged to his feet in front of him and said in a breathless voice, “I don’t know how to thank you, or him, but I need to find a way…”

Stiles felt completely off-balance as Derek leaned into his personal space, their mouths shockingly close.

“Stiles…” Derek then suddenly stopped and took a deep breath, and then he leaned his head down and took another long deep breath through his nose, practically nuzzling into his neck, and then murmured into Stiles’ ear, “You’re still wearing the shirt that you wore under what you wore to the party,” and Stiles swallowed, unsure of what to do, so he remained stock still as Derek proceeded to do whatever he was doing. He then said, his lips brushing against Stiles’ jaw, “I wanted it to be real…”

What was he talking about? What did he meant that he wanted it to be real? He wanted what to be real--oh. Oh.

Oh.

As if he was acting on instinct, he brought his hands up and slipped them around the back of Derek’s neck and said, “Oh, god, so did I, but I thought that was probably pretty damn obvious, by now.” He heard Derek swallow and the alpha said in a voice barely above a whisper, “I wasn’t sure if it was real or if I was just imagining it, you know? I thought maybe because I wanted you to want me in the same way so bad, that I was imagining things…”

Stiles shook his head and slipped his fingers into the hair at the base of Derek’s neck and murmured right back at him, “You weren’t imagining things…”

That seemed to be the trigger, because suddenly Derek had pulled his head back and was pressing his lips to Stiles and he was melting under the sheer heat of him, turning his entire body so that he was pressed up against him from shoulder to thigh, and he didn’t think that he’d ever felt more comforted yet turned on at the exact same time.

And then, through a series of events that quickly became a blur, Stiles found himself on his back on his bed with Derek on top of him, hands sliding under his sweater to pull it over his head, and then was nuzzling his mouth and nose into his neck and down the center of the shirt, letting out these small little sounds that made Stiles think that he was fully embracing his wolf side and scenting him up and down like a wolf trying to claim its territory on a mate.

He was more than a little bit turned on, and then just about lost it when Derek’s tongue darted out and licked at his nipple through the shirt, and then sharply nipped at it, causing Stiles to yelp and squirm.

“Ah, Derek! What are you, what are doing,” he breathed out as he slid further down and traced his tongue across his exposed hip bone.

“I’m claiming you as mine,” he muttered into his skin. “I’m gonna mark you up and make you the prettiest present I’ve ever had in my life,” and Stiles’ eyes rolled up in the back of his head at the sheer amount of desire in his words. God, the threat of being bitten into and marked up by claws and teeth should not be that hot, Stiles thought to himself as Derek then lightly tugged on his boxers, exposing even more skin to his ever-questing tongue.

He slid his hand under Stiles’ hips and forced his legs apart and nosed down into the crevice of his hip and then let out a low hum that sounded like he was enjoying himself.

Stiles reached down and ran his fingers through the alpha’s hair and breathed out, “This is easily the best Christmas present I’ve ever gotten, but Der…you’ve got pups waiting for you back at home,” but his admonishment went unnoticed as Derek reached between them and pressed warm fingers to Stiles’ erection, causing his brain to short circuit.

He bucked up into the grip, eyes rolling towards the ceiling, and then nearly passed out when he felt Derek’s tongue trace over him through the fabric of his boxers, and he heard him inhale deeply once more, and Stiles wondered what he smelled like to the alpha wolf, because however he smelled, it seemed to be bringing out every single part of Derek’s possessive side, because he growled, “Mine,” and then lightly suckled at the tip of his cock through his boxers and Stiles was certain that he was going to die from it.

But then the pressure suddenly went away, and he looked down, wondering why Derek had changed his mind and was blown away by look in his eyes as he stared up at him from between his legs.

“God, Stiles…you have no idea how long I’ve wanted you,” he said, sounding completely breathless.

And then he moved up, his thighs still resting between Stiles’ legs, but now his chest covered Stiles’ as he reached back up for another kiss, and as he wrapped his arms around the alpha’s shoulders, he realized he never wanted to stop kissing him. Despite the promise of something more, all he really wanted to do at that moment was to continue to kiss him and hold him in his arms for as long as he could.

Derek slowly undulated against him, their cocks rubbing in just the right way, and Stiles gasped while Derek continued to kiss him, running his tongue down and over his neck, playfully nipping the entire time and he knew that he was going to end up with so many marks that it was going to look like he had barely won a fight against a very determined vampire with blunt teeth. Part of him, the part of his brain that was still working, was telling him to push Derek off and make sure he got back home, but another part of his brain, the much more selfish part, was telling him to never let him go and hold onto him as tightly as he could.

Torn between the two, he simply slid his hands down Derek’s back and then lightly squeezed when they got to their targeted destination.

Derek grunted and then thrusted hard against him when he did, causing Stiles to moan more loudly than he meant to.

He bit his lip and tried to remember that his dad was still asleep.

But then--

“Hey, kiddo, it’s time to get up for…”

They both froze and Stiles slowly turned his head to see his dad standing in the doorway of his room, one hand still raised as if he’d knocked on the door. Stiles then realized that he probably had, but he hadn’t heard it because he had been…occupied.

All three of them were frozen. And then his dad coughed, raised an eyebrow at them and said, “Uh, why don’t you come down a bit later. I’ll put some coffee on,” and he turned and left, muttering something under his breath as he walked back down the hall to the stairs, and Stiles was confused when Derek suddenly snorted then pressed his forehead to Stiles’ shoulder as his body shook with laughter, as if he was trying to contain his mirth at the whole situation.

Amused, but also annoyed, Stiles tapped his shoulder and said, “Alright, what gives? Being caught by my dad isn’t that funny, man…”

Finally, Derek caught his breath and looked back up at him and explained, “When your dad left, he said that he owed Melissa money.” Derek arched an eyebrow at him, as if trying to tell him to put the pieces together…which Stiles finally did.

“Hold up, are you telling me that…that the two of them were betting on when the two of us were going to get together?!”

Derek nodded and slowly rose up to his knees, so that his weight was no longer on top of his, and Stiles already missed it. He quickly sat up, as well, and then reached out and pulled Derek back to him with a hand around the back of his neck, stealing yet another kiss from him, and was pleased when the werewolf seemed almost breathless when they both pulled back from it what felt like ages later. He didn’t really want to stop kissing him, but he knew that he had to.

“So, uh…Merry Christmas,” he said, not sure of what else to say.

Derek gave him a long look…and then he reached over and cupped his jaw and Stiles couldn’t help but lean into the touch.

And then Derek said, “You were right, before. I need to be back with my pack. But…you’re still coming over later, though, right?” he asked, his tone unsure and Stiles quickly reassured him with, “Of course, I’m still coming over, sourwolf. I’ll just also be bringing an overnight bag,” he added with a smirk and Derek’s smile widened.

“Sounds great,” he murmured, leaning in and pressing a quick kiss to his lips. He then said, “By the way, I’m sorry I never told you I was okay or tried to visit you when you were at the Academy,” and Stiles felt his heart clench, and he just shook his head and said, “Hey, don’t worry about it, Derek. It wasn’t either of our faults. Just…bad timing.”

Derek nodded.

And then he moved to go back out the window, and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Seriously?” he drawled, gesturing widely with his hands. “After all this, and you’re still going to go out through the window? We are fully grown adults, Derek, you can go out through the front door like a big boy,” he said, arching an eyebrow at him, and Derek gave him a look over his shoulder and replied, “I like doing it this way. Makes me feel like I’m making for the years we lost when neither of us acted on our feelings. We have time to be adults later,” he said, completely taking Stiles off guard.

Feeling a sudden surge of affection towards him, he bolted to his window and planted a hot, wet kiss right on Derek’s mouth, feeling a rush of hormones as he then whispered against his lips, “In that case, when can we park your car on some back road and christen the back seat of the Camaro?”

Derek grinned.

“How about New Year’s Eve?”

Stiles grinned.

“It’s a date.”

And with that, Derek lightly jumped to the ground and Stiles stared for a moment, watching him take off back home, looking forward to going over later in the day to see him and the pack. This was the best Christmas ever, he thought to himself as he tugged on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers, noting the stain on the front from where Derek had…yeah.

Shaking his head, trying to rid himself of the inappropriate thoughts before he went to spend the morning with his dad, he grabbed his phone and tucked it into his hoodie and sauntered down the stairs, ignoring the smug smirk on the corner of his dad’s lips as he handed him a mug of coffee. The two of them sat on the floor next to the tree and Stiles handed over his present and eagerly ripped at the paper on his own, wondering what his dad had gotten him that year.

“Are you serious?” he said as he pulled out the matching hat and jacket, both with the Mets logo on them, and he saw the scrawl of a familiar signature on the back of the cap and the shoulder of the jacket. “How the hell did you get this?”

His dad shrugged and grinned and answered, “Let’s just say that you’re not the only one who knows people, kid.”

Stiles laughed, pulled his dad into a strong, back breaking hug, and then slid the jacket on, thrilled with how well it fit him.

He then gestured at his dad as he tugged on the cap and said, “C’mon, open up your present, don’t leave me hangin’,” and then smiled when his dad finally pulled off the wrapping on the present that Stiles had spent a total of two minutes wrapping. He smiled even wider when his dad let out a sound of surprise at what he found.

“I’m not going to ask how you got it, I’m just going to say thank you,” he said, pulling out his pocketknife and opening the box, pulling out the brand-new leather jacket with a blue and red leather stripe down the front right side. It was an exact replica of one from a tv show that he’d loved when he was younger, and Stiles was glad that he was finally able to afford to spoil his dad for once. The look on his face as he put the jacket on over his t-shirt was priceless.

But then his dad’s smile turned into a smirk and he said, “So, you and Derek…”

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Oh, god, do we have to have this conversation right now? It’s bad enough that you saw us…you know, the way that you saw us. By the way,” he quickly added, pulling the coat and hat back off and putting them back into the box, “Derek told me what you said, about how you owe Melissa money. You two bet on us?”

He wasn’t proud of how his voice cracked slightly as he said it, but then his dad chuckled and shook his head and said, “Yeah, we did. I know you, Stiles. I’ve known for years that you’ve had a crush on the guy. Why do you think I was on your case when you and Scott first met him? I know all the signs of a repressed crush turned into fake anger. You kept on going on and on about how you hated him, and then when you came back and Derek asked you to be his emissary, well…I knew it was just a matter of time.”

Stiles smiled at that, but ducked his eyes, feeling his face go slightly warm.

And then his dad added, pointing a finger at him, “That doesn’t mean I want to walk into what I just saw earlier, again. If you’re gonna do…that…then do it somewhere else. Understood?”

Unable to help himself, Stiles said, “Oh, we’ve already got a date tonight, and for New Year’s Eve, we’re christening the Camaro,” and grinned when he saw his dad make a face and let out a disgusted sound. He may have been an adult, but that didn’t mean he had to be mature.

“Gee, thanks for that imagery, kid.”

“You’re welcome, pops,” he said, reaching out and playfully batting him on the arm.

They then shared one last smile and headed off to the kitchen for breakfast.

Yeah.

Best Christmas ever.

[darkmulti]

Boss

CEO!San x assistant!fem reader

⚠️Warnings: dirty talk, light bondage, chocking, degrading, cheating, angsty, spanking, slapping

——————————————————————————

“Y/N did you get my coffee?”

Your boss, Mr. Choi called out to you and you scram, picking up his coffee and papers and bringing it right to the office.

“Here you are your coffee and the daily report on the company’s stocks.”

“Ah thank you.”

“You’re welcome sir, I have to go on and see how the design department is doing sir. If you need anything else call me.”

He nodded and you left his office. In reality you just wanted to see your crush/best friend Wooyoung, who worked in the design department.

Little did you know San was watching you through the security cameras. Without you knowing obviously. San has developed a little crush on you. Although he was married, he hated his wife. But she also just happened to visit right at that moment.

“Sannie!”

She yelled out running toward San’s desk expecting him to get up and hug her. But he didn’t move. Instead he turned off his computer and started reading the report you had given him earlier. He didn’t even look up.

“Yes?”

“Baby. I’m bored. Let’s go somewhere.”

“I’m at work, I can’t go anywhere.”

“Come on, you’re the CEO. You don’t need to work.”

“I don’t know who told you that, because that’s the furthest thing from the truth. I have to do a lot of work to make sure this company doesn’t fall apart. So I can get money. A simpler way to say it, is that you can get more Louis Vuitton bags. You can only get it, if I work.”

“You’re right. Well what about a date night? I’ll wear your favorite lingerie.”

She whispered the last part looking San right in the eyes.

“No thanks. I’m too busy.”

He said immediately, denying her.

San didn’t like her one bit. Yeah he had sex with her but it was the worst. She would cum so quickly and fall asleep. She didn’t satisfy San at all. San wouldn’t even be near and she would already be asleep. So he ended up jerking off since she couldn’t please him.

He could’ve gotten any other girl and cheating wasn’t a problem for him either. The only problem was you. He wanted you.

You on the other hand, if you weren’t working, you were usually partying. Having sex, drinking, enjoying your life. You were still young.

San knew all this, he saw your social media, and heard co workers talking about it at times. Yes it angered him. He wanted to fuck you hard, to let you know who you belong to. He would kill just to punish you. You were everything he was looking for in a lover. The definition of perfect. But sadly couldn’t have you because he didn’t know how you felt, and had a wife.

“Hello? San? Baby? Did you hear what I said?”

His wife called out.

“Uh, no. Uh sorry can you repeat that.”

“I said that we have to attend my dad's business party this evening.”

“Okay. Can you please leave now?”

She looked at San.

“Do you not enjoy my company?”

“No, now leave.”

She took her purse and went over to San and kissed his cheek. Right then you walked in.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. I’ll leave you two alone.”

You said embarrassedly

“No, y/n wait she was just leaving.”

San’s wife looked at you with a stern expression. She walked to you and stopped by your ear.

“Don’t touch my husband with your dirty whore hands.”

“Wasn’t planning to, he’s all yours and I respect that.”

You mumble out and look up to see San staring right at you.

“Good.”

She then pushed you out of the way and left.

“I’m sorry about her, she’s just mad I asked her to leave.”

“How come? She’s your wife.”

He looked at you with an almost disappointed expression.

“Yeah but it was arranged you know. I didn’t actually want to get married with her.”

“Sorry to hear. Anyways, I came to tell you the design team is doing well and they actually made a new logo for the next season collection. I thought you might want to take a look.”

You handed the sample container and pictures of the design to San.

“They look great. Nice patterns and durable design.”

“Great, I’ll let the design department know.”

“That won’t be necessary. I need you to go pick up my dry cleaning and take it back to my house. I have an event to attend. And don’t worry it’s prepaid.”

“Okay.”

You go to your desk, and grab all your things and head down to the parking lot.

You were looking for your car until Wooyoung had appeared and called out your name.

“Oh hey Woo, what’s up?”

“I have to ask you something, but what’re you doing? Are you going home? Are you feeling sick? What’s going on?”

“No silly I have to go pick up San’s dry cleaning and drop it off to his house. Then I’m off. Why what happened?”

“Oh, well I wanted to ask if you wanted to come with me to this event that my dad was invited to. He said I can bring a plus one and I was wondering if you would-”

“I would love to Woo.”

You said suddenly cutting him off.

“Oh really, great! I’ll pick you up at 8, dress in a classy dress. Look good for me doll.”

You roll your eyes and smile at his words.

“Yeah, whatever you say king. I have to get going now. Bye!”

You left work and went to go get San’s dry cleaning. You picked it up and were on your way to his house. You ring the doorbell and his wife answers.

“Hi, Mrs. Choi. Here’s Mr. Choi’s dry cleaning he asked me to grab for him.”

“Why did he ask you?”

“Because I’m his assistant?”

“But I’m his wife, I could’ve gotten it for him.”

“I- I don’t know anything about that, he just asked me to pick it up for him and I did. I’m just doing my job.”

She rolls your eyes and takes it from you. Then proceeds to slam the door in your face.

You scoff and think what a salty bitch.

But hey, not my problem. (-Johnny nct)

You walked back to your car and headed back to your house to get ready since it was 6pm already.

Time skip

You had finished getting ready and had put on a new dress that you got for Mr. Choi’s birthday. You ended up not going to his birthday party because his wife had told you not to come and so you didn’t. However the next day he wasn’t talking to you and avoided all contact from you. You then told him that his wife uninvited you and you didn’t want to ruin the party so you didn’t show up.

But this dress was absolutely beautiful. It was a blood red formal dress, that was off the shoulder with a little cleavage showing. It has a slit on the side and to top it all off your black Louis heels.

Soon enough the door bell had rung and you got out of the house where Wooyoung's jaw dropped.

You chuckled at him

“You look stunning doll. Now stay close to me, I don’t want anybody looking at you.”

He intertwined his hands with yours and walked your to the black Porsche parked outside. He drove you to the event and helped you out.

Damn this was a very elegant event. Everyone was wearing designer clothes and all looked like millionaires.

Wooyoung kept you close with him and whispered in your ears that mafias were here. Some of the girls were actually sold to them and forced to put on a pretty face and not cry. You looked at the younger girls with the older men and saw how terrified they were.

You couldn’t help them, which made you upset.

“Don’t be upset doll, here’s a drink. Warm up a bit, it’s just business I suppose.”

“Not very nice business.”

You mumbled out. Other than that incident, Wooyoung made sure to keep you by his side. He got you drinks, danced with you and entertained you the entire night. Wooyoung dragged to the dance floor once again, and you two were slow dancing. And everyone was watching.

You hated the attention and tried not to focus on it too much. It was just you and Wooyoung at that moment. Until you made eye contact with really familiar eyes. It was San. You didn’t realize this was the same event that he was going to. But at that moment you didn’t care. More people started joining the dance floor with their lover. You two were dancing until Wooyoungs father called us over.

“Hey love birds, I want you guys to meet Mr and Mrs. Choi.”

It was San’s parents and San was standing right behind them with his wife.

“Hey you guys work for my son San, right.”

“Yes, I’m his personal assistant and Wooyoungs the manager of the design department of the company.”

You spoke, with a bright smile.

“Yeah, when I retire I’m giving my business to Wooyoung, but for now he’ll still be working there. And he looks like he’s found a wife to accompany him when I make him the ceo. Then you can be Wooyoung's personal assistant.”

Wooyoung's father spoke, patting Wooyoung on the back and winking at you. You chuckle and Wooyoung looks away blushing.

San on the other hand looks like he can rip someone’s head off their body. He stormed off towards the bar letting go of his wife’s hand. She followed behind San like his little tail.

“What’s his problem?”

You mumble out.

“I don’t know?”

Wooyoung says and squeezes your hand.

“It’s not our problem anyway. Do you want to go home now?”

“Yes please.”

Wooyoung then took you out of the loud and crowded place and took you back home. He dropped you off to your door and before you went inside, he pulled you into a deep kiss and thanked you for coming with him.

“Anytime Woo.”

You went inside and turned on the lights only to be scared by San.

“What’re you doing here? How the hell did you get in?”

“I have a master degree in picking locks.”

“Huh?”

You look at him confusedly.

“I’m just kidding, if you’re such a powerful person like me and you don’t know how to pick a lock, it’s pathetic. I’ve been picking locks since I was 8.”

“Nice to know, now get out. I’m your assistant at work but outside of work, I don’t know you.”

“So you wanna be a brat with me now?”

He started backing you up against the door.

“San seriously get out of my house.”

“You’re calling me by my name now?”

He had backed you up against the door and tilted your chin up to look at him.

You cleared your throat and looked away, slightly pushing San off of you.

“You have a wife.”

“So?”

He wrapped his hands around you and pulled you into a deep kiss.

You didn’t respond and weren’t going to respond until San slapped your ass, startling you and making you gasp.

He slip his tongue slipped into your mouth and pushed you against the wall harder making the make out session more intense.

He picked you up and brought you to your room laying you on the bed.

“Mmh, San we really shouldn’t.”

“Shh, let me show you I’m the only man who can fuck you.”

He stripped you from your dress and took your panties off.

He rubbed his cold fingers against your hot, wet lips and you moan out softly.

He took his tie off and tied your wrist to the bed frame with it.

“San, no. Let me go, I want to touch you~”

“Look at this whiny baby.”

He took his shirt off, revealing his hard abs. Then removed his pants and boxer, showing off his hard, veiny, long cock.

He opened your legs and spit on your pussy, then slapped it making you flinch.

He hovered over you and covered your mouth pounding himself into you. You sob into his hand and he lifted you legs to his shoulder and started fucking your pussy and rubbing your clit.

He started picking up his speed and uncovered your mouth, and you start to let out soft moans.

“Sannie, faster.”

He laid a short slap on your face, grabbing your jaw, making you look right at him.

“It’s daddy to you.”

“Daddy, please go faster.”

San pushes you a little up on the bed so he can put his knees on the bed and started going faster.

“Good girl, take all of daddy.”

He slapped you on the ass, feeling himself getting harder because of how vulnerable you were under him.

“You didn’t want it before, but look at you begging daddy to go faster.”

His words made you wet and squirm underneath him.

San finally grabs your neck pounding all the frustration and desire he had on you. He wanted this for a very long time. He finally got it.

You moan louder pulling on the tie, craving to touch him.

“Daddy please I wanna touch you!”

San quickly removes the tie and lowers himself down so you can touch him.

“You like it baby? You like my long cock pounding into your dripping pussy? Bet you do whore. My whore.”

He leaned down kissing your neck and face, while you wrapped you legs around him wanting more friction.

You scratch his back and you feel yourself cumming, giving san a sign.

“Wait, just a little longer baby. I want you to cum with me.”

You hold in your orgasm waiting for San.

Sweat dripping down his face and body was the hottest thing a person could witness.

“Okay princess, cum for daddy.”

You cum around his now soft cock and he shoots his cum inside you and pulls you into a passionate kiss.

He ran to your bathroom and brought a towel to clean the both of you. He then picked you up and snuggled into the bed with you in his arms.

“I’ve loved you for a very long time you know.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, cause you blind. I tried getting with you since the day you entered my life. Did you not notice the flowers?”

“That was from you?”

You ask in shock.

San giggles at your reaction.

“Yes, that was me. But I love you so much. I wanna be with you.”

“What about your wife?”

“I can get a divorce. I just hate seeing you with a different man.”

You laugh at his jealousy.

“Well if you say so boss.”

“That’s right, I’m your boss”

——————————————————————————-

Yeah, I’m still writing bitches!! This was a request and I’m just clearing out my drafts as well. Sorry for any mistakes and I hope you enjoyed❣️

And thank you guys for being so supportive in the last 48 hours. It really means a lot having you guys with me while going through in these tough times❣️

Also my step brother San smut got removed.

Edited 🔐

You guys are my family and I love you❣️

[honeyyu]

Sold | Nct - 002

Summary: Cho Miso lives a difficult life, she works full time jobs to take care of her sick mom. One of those jobs being an secretary to the most rich man of seoul. As she tries to take care of everyhing, she goes looking for her dad who had left them for almost 5 years now. Coming into the life of her dad she was caught up by formal parties and events, her dad finally identifying her as his daughter. And before she could even realize, she was bought by a group powerful rich men who called themselves NCT to be their new secretary.

Masterlist

Genre: Smut (+slight angst?) and a little bit fluff

Warnings: None (only one swear word)

Word count: 2.4K

Notes: This chapter doesn’t contain any smut. I try to make this kinda like a real story that why I don’t go straight into the smut. Im sorry!! I think maybe in 2/3 chapters there will be some. Im just trying to introduce the nct members slowly. I hope this isn’t disappointing :/ Last thing, I think its Kims not Kim’s but Kim’s looks cooler idk why lol

The rest of the work day went by faster then I thought. None of the 3 Kim’s found out about the accident luckily. I did tell Tiffany, one of the personal assistants. She is also the one i’m close friends with, the one who gave the flowers I totally ruined. She could only laugh when I told her,” I already made copies of the most of them. So don’t worry about them finding out. I will email you the copies and you can retype the ones who aren’t there!” I couldn’t tell her how grateful I was. The most I could do for now was give her a big hug.

It was already passed workhours for me but at home I didn’t have access to a laptop or computer so I had to finish everything here. In the email Tiffany send me most of the papers were there, I mean the copies. I went through the now dried papers and got rid of the ones Tifanny copied. Now there were around twenty papers left for me to retype, and copy immediately before something would happen again.

All of the papers were about interviews or letters who needed to be send to other important companies. Before starting I looked at the clock on the wall behind Tiffany’s desk, who was out to get coffee for our bosses. The other two were busy moving from meeting to meeting together with the two other Kim’s.

The time on the clock was 4 pm. My mind wandered off for a second, thinking about what kind of food I should buy for dinner tonight. This job made me earn a fair amount of money. But most of it went to the debts we had to pay. And the hospital bills for my mom. This week she would stay with me until I had enough money to buy the hospital bills again.

“Ah I should really work on those papers.” I snapped myself back to reality upon seeing the papers I had to write before 6 because I would always have dinner at 6 with my mom but I didn’t know if I would make it this time. I was hoping on finishing a little before 6 so I could do some grocery shopping on my way home. As those thoughts ran through my mind I started working.

—

My eyes stayed focused on the screen as I was busy writing the last words of the letter. A loud sigh left my mouth when I grabbed the paper off the desk. Again, it was a letter. “From Mr. Kim To Mr Ch-“ I immediately stopped my sentence seeing the name on the paper. Mr Cho. It could be another man but I couldn’t let this go so easily. Was there an adress on it?

“Yes!” I jumped out of my chair with the paper in my hand. It would be unprofessional to ran out of the building and go to the adress. Not to forget I could lose my job if I did that. Only two papers to finish. With that mindset I typed the last papers in not more than 20 minutes.

My hands moved faster than normal. Computer off, papers in bag, chair under my desk, jacket on and card out. I didn’t have to tell anyone I was going. The 3 Kim’s couldn’t care more and Tifanny plus the other two girls were not at the office anymore.

The elevator was slower than usual. Or it was slower because I was excited to maybe find my dad again after five years. I didn’t really know the reason behind my excitement. He was the one who left us and he’s the source of our problems. Maybe I thought that if I would tell him how everything is with mom and me he would feel quilty and help us. Or maybe I just wanted answers to questions I had since the day he left us. And I knew that a small part of me wanted his money. I was embarrassed that I had these kind of thoughts but the money I wanted wouldn’t be for me, but for my mom. Every day she woke up she would look closer to death. Not that money was gonna fix the fact that she was ill or not but he could at least pay the hospital bills.

While making my way outside I looked up the adress on my phone. I was hoping badly that it wasn’t going to be a long route. My feet already gave up by seeing how long the walk was. At least one hour it said. Well if i walk my own speed it will be around forty minutes but still way too long for me to walk in heels. Only two decisions I could make. One, go home to change shoes, forget about dinner and just walk there or get a taxi. Option two it is then because I really didn’t have the time to walk.

Lucky for me a taxi just pulled to the side to let someone out of the car. Taking my chance I speed walked towards it. I was about to grab the doors handle but another hand reached for it faster. It was a young man. “Excuse me,” He muttered to me.

“Sorry sir, I was about to get into the taxi actually.” I politely said, trying not to make a scene. He blankly looked me in the eyes,” I never take a taxi so it’s really important. Now if you will excuse me, I have more urgent things to do then chit chat.” A breath came out of my mouth, sounding like a scoff. I didn’t mean to do that but he was being selfish. Like I had nothing better to do then talk to him,” Well I have something urgent to do too.” I replied but he already stepped into the vehicle.

“We can share!” He looked at me unamused. It didn’t look like he would consider sharing so I looked around for another orange car. To my suprise he left the door open and shuffled to the left to make space for me. I made a ninety degrees bow to thank him before stepping in. “Thank you. My name is Cho Miso.” I thanked him once again. The reason why I introduced myself was also a question to me. Maybe I was trying to be social. He looked at me once I introduced myself. His lips parted like he wanted to say something but he closed them again and looked outside.

Feeling a little hit awkward I gave the taxi driver the adress by showing letter.” You work there?” He asked me while typing the adress into the device,” Not really. I have to talk to the CEO of the building.” His eyebrows furrowed. That must’ve sounded really weird. “Ah, I mean I have a meeting. I work in that building,” I explained him while pointing to the building right outside the window. He nodded and asked the man next to me where he was heading. “The NCT building.” Both heads of me and the driver turned to stare at him in shock. Did he work there?

“Now you say it. I saw you on the news today! You are Kim Dongyoung!” Kim Dongyoung? Is he one of the CEO’s? Now that the driver said that, he was wearing a very expensive suit I recognized from the other CEO’s I often see in the building. I could never really understand people who paid so much for a pair of cothing but if you have the money I guess.

I missed the reaction of the man next to me but the driver started driving. He probably just nodded or ignored like how he did with me. My eyes somehow stayed glued to him. He had black hair, by what I could see long legs, beautiful brown eyes, nice lips. By the last thought I shook my head and whipped my head away from him. God what has gotten into me.

All I did for the rest of the ride was look outside the window, too embarrassed to even look at him. He also, was staring outside. Slowly the car came to halt. That wasn’t a long ride at all. Expected since its a car of course. I laughed a little by my own thoughts but quickly stopped when I saw Kim Dongyoung looking at me.

“Here is your stop miss.” I opened the door saying thank you at the same time. About to walk away I stopped myself, I have to pay. The device showed the amount of won I had to pay so I gave the man half of the bills I had in my wallet, hoping it was enough because I had to get a ride home too. “Have a nice meeting!” He flashed me a smile. I happily smiled back and pushed the door closed. Fortunately I saved myself some drama for later.

A loud sigh left my mouth as I looked at the big building infront of me. How do I even get in without getting stopped by the security. Taking a big risk I walked in. I was wearing office clothing so that was a good thing but I didn’t have an card to access. How was I gonna do this?

As aspected a muscular man stopped me,” You can’t go in miss” Quick think of something Miso! Thats right, I had the letter that had to be delivered here,” I have a meeting with Mr Cho? The letter with all of the information didn’t arrive in time so I came here personally to explain it.” I explained trying not to stutter too much and stretched out my arm with the paper in it so he could see. His eyes went over the paper. He nodded, believing my lie. Then he stepped backwards for me to enter, at the same time bowing.

I bowed back automatically and made my way to the elevator. It looked similar to the ones we had in our building. Made from glass and the floor of gold making it look chic and luxury. If this was my dads company he was very rich. While waiting for the elevator to arrive I thought about how he would look. What do I say. Should I introduce myself or hug him? Nah, he definitely know its me when he sees me so no need to introduce.

Ding! The elevator behind me made a sound, signaling it was open. I nearly ran into it, eager to meet my dad if this was his building. The glass elevator was filled with people in suit, golden watches and expensive bags. I felt a little out of place but that wasn’t important right now. Not sure what floor I had to stop at I waited till I reached the top of the building. Most of the time the important people like the CEO were on the top floor.

And I was right. When I reached top floor it looked alsmost exactly like the floor I worked at in the 3 Kim’s building. A receptionist, waiting room, conference rooms and the CEO’s office I could see way back behind everything with the name Mr Cho on a again golden name plate attached in the door. After examining I walked up to the girl behind the reception.

“Good evening, I have something to discuss with Mr Cho?” I couldn’t tell her I had a meeting because she could search it up on her computer and I would get send away. “Im sorry miss but Mr Cho is in a meeting at the moment. Would you like to wait?” Oh a meeting? Meeting always take a long time but if I had the luck that it was indeed my dad I was gonna meet then it wouldn’t hurt for me to wait a little while. “Yes I will wait, thank you.” With that I walked up to the seats where you were supposed to wait.

—

I’ve been here, waiting, for almost thirty minutes now and I was losing my patient. I was even so close to losing it that I wanted to walk into that conference room and yell at him for being so slow. Of course I couldn’t do that so my only option was waiting.

Tired of sitting in a chair for the whole time, I got up to get something to drink. When I arrived here I saw a water tap almost next to the CEO’s office.

Filling my cup, I looked around once again. The office walls of Mr Cho were from glass making it easy for me to take a glance of it. There wasn’t much interesting though. His desk was placed by the wall on the left. Infront of the desk a couple couches with a coffee table in the middle. Just like regular CEO offices that I’ve seen in my life.

But something catched my eye. There were three framed pictures on his desk, facing the couches. I couldn’t see them clearly so I walked a couple steps closer to the office.

The cup almost fell out of my hand. It was my dad on the pictures but not only him. Next to him there was a woman, around my moms age maybe younger and two kids, one boy and one girl who looked atleast five years younger than me. This was his new family. Otherwise he wouldn’t have three pictures with them on his desk.

I couldn’t accept the fact that he moved on from his first family. Harshly I threw the cup of water into the garbage can nearby me and I left the building with my hands clenced into a fist. Tears threatened to fall but he wasn’t worth it. He was living a perfect life with a perfect new family and money enough to take care of thousands people like my mom and me. He was so fucking selfish!

I took a taxi back to my house. The whole ride I looked outside the window with a furious expression. Probably making the driver uncomfortable because he turned up the radio so it wouldn’t be all silence. Arriving at the house I gave him the rest of the money I had in my wallet and he drove off after.

Grabbing my keys to enter the house my phone rang. The number on the screen didn’t ring any bell but I still anwered thinking that it maybe was someone from work who needed me.“Hello?” I asked into the phone, waiting for an answer on the other side.

“I heard you’ve been looking for me.”

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[architectuul]

Navigating the Venice Architecture Biennale Opening Weekend: Between Observing and Belonging

Thursday, 5th June 2014. 3:30pm Here we are! After trying to climb three different fences, we have finally made our way into 2016 year’s Venice Architecture Biennale opening event. We managed to find an access point that was hidden enough from intrusive eyes as well as from the hyper-controlled entrance of the Giardini della Biennale, located at the south eastern end of the island. Our objective is to reach the pavilion of Great Britain’s press preview, which kicks off at 4pm and to which we have not been invited.

A large crowd waiting to hear the presentation for the opening of the Home Economics exhibition at the Great Britain pavilion (2016). | Photo © Cristiano Corte

Read also “In Vino Veritas Biennale Style!”

Guests are slowly congregating around the national building, where the event is about to start. This year’s chosen theme is A Clockwork Jerusalem, commissioned by the British Council and analysing Britain’s Modernism in cities and the legacy of planning, a subject that my friends and I hold a certain fascination for. The ribbon cutting ceremony is usually an opportunity for the curators to explain the concept behind the project and to contextualise it within the broader theme of the biennale, this year being Fundamentals. But a pavilion opening is also much more than that. It is a chance to feel part of an international community of architects and urbanists that come together to celebrate the best out there; to belong.

Walking along one of the main avenues in the Giardini della Biennale. | Photo © Lavinia Scaletti

As in many opening ceremonies, the pavilion’s entrance is packed with guests that you can barely hear the speaker. You start looking around the audience, checking faces to see if some are recognisable. When you finally come across a familiar one, a feeling of complicity arises. Is it because as visitors we feel that we are in the right place at the right time, being one of the very first to look around the long-waited exhibition? Or is it because the opening weekend is generally attended through an invite only? Funnily enough, at that specific event we did not speak to anyone other than amongst ourselves. 

Great Britain pavilion entrance during the 2014 Venice Architecture Biennale, with the exhibition noticeable through the door. | Photo © Cristiano Corte

It was two weeks before our final exam of our architectural education. The decision to travel was not taken lightly, as we had to weigh out between the risk of losing precious study time to which our future careers seemed to depend on, or taking part in the celebration of this renowned exhibition, where architects from all corners converge. We chose the latter, but with the foolish condition of working in between one event and another. As expected, our laptops stayed in the suitcase for the entirety of our stay. 

The Biennale usually lasts from May to November and we could have attended any other week within that period. Why did we feel the need to go at this specific time? As students, we tended to see the Biennale as the grand event of the architecture scene, a reference point in the professional and social life which follows for the next two years to come, and one definitely not to be missed. It certainly comes with a level of spectacle that showcases a generally forward-thinking and diverse work. And what a better way to observe all of this than with the theatrical Venetian backdrop! That year, Rem Koolhaas, one of the most acclaimed figures in the contemporary architecture scene, was curating the Venice Architecture Biennale. Perhaps this was also an occasion to come across him or any other prominent architect? 

People gathering at a ceremony event during the 15th Venice Architecture Biennale in 2016, curated by Alejandro Aravena under the theme Reporting from the Front. | Photo © Lavinia Scaletti

The opening ceremonies seem to be over for the day. My friends ask, ‘what next’? We are told there is a specific bar on via Giuseppe Garibaldi, a few minutes away from the Giardini, where biennale attendees slowly proceed to. We decide to join the gathering too and end up sitting on the pavement amongst many others. The place is bustling with people that the drinking activity spills out onto the street, creating a composed party atmosphere. Throughout the evening, we move from one place to another in a similar procession, following the crowd, strolling through the city. 

It is interesting to think how most of our journeys during that particular weekend seemed to be somehow planned. While you had to make clear decisions about what pavilion ceremony to be at, the schedule for the evening and night activities felt more settled. Despite our evident tiredness, we decided to attend most of them, at times engaging in conversations with others. The mere fact of being there, surrounded by architecture gossip and informal talk, made us feel gratified.

The large scale shell structure designed and built for the project Aqua Alta inside the building hosting the Paraguayan Pavilion (2014). | Photo © Pedro Kok

Through the remainder of the weekend, we decide not to visit the primary Biennale sites and instead explore the events around the city, being easier to attend and usually not requiring a formal invite. Partly accidentally and party planned, we venture out into the building hosting the Paraguayan pavilion, a country where I spent most of my childhood. The opening ceremony is on and the atmosphere cheerfully busy. We start chatting to other students and architects who are each of them giving us an interpretation of this year’s project Aqua Alta, curated by Sergio Ruggeri and designed by architect Javier Corvalan and the Colectivo Aqua Alta, with the participation of students. While gathering around a large-scale wooden shell structure, we hear the exhibition message is to emphasise the importance of water in Paraguay and of the ‘less is more’ philosophy. This seems to fit perfectly with the main Biennale theme.

It is a pleasant surprise when you step into these less publicised locations, somehow out of the main Biennale itinerary, and generally requiring an intentional diversion. While we assisted at a few pavilion openings within the principal sites during our stay, very few gave us that level of intimacy experienced at these smaller events, where we were able to get a thorough understanding of the concept behind each project. Often less busy, these out-of-boundary ceremonies present an opportunity for meaningful conversations and encounters. Attending the Paraguayan exhibition launch, did we feel less of an observer and more part of a group? Possibly. And we even got to try some chipa guazu, a national dish made of corn that I had not eaten for over 10 years! 

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VAB 11: Lavinia Scaletti

Lavinia Scaletti is an urban designer living in London. She currently works in the public sector for a local authority, developing place-based strategies and frameworks for different neighbourhoods and giving design advice. Her interest in city planning is driven by her desire to create more sustainable and playful places for people. She holds a master’s degree in architecture from the Royal College of Art, where her projects investigated the themes of housing and urban regeneration. She previously worked at public realm and urban design consultancy Publica and has professional experience in France and Chile. In 2016 she was a selected fellow in the EU-funded Future Architecture Platform and her work has been featured in exhibitions across Europe, including Italy, Spain, Austria and Slovenia. She is passionate about urban culture, particularly traditional markets and the life between buildings.