#but this uh. it hit something for me few things have. wow. kira really does barely reach jadzia to the shoulder huh!!!

[vaguely-concerned]

normally I do not care one way or the other about height difference in a pairing, but seeing kira and dax standing next to each other is. doing something to me

[shaydeoffical]

Bright as a Diamond. Hitoshi Shinsou x Fem Reader: Chapter Four

Summary: When (Y/N)’s co-worker decided to send a picture of her making a diamond to the paper, her life was over. Gemstone based quirks weren’t all that rare, but being able to make a diamond put a target on her back. After years of hiding in the city, it’s time to hide in the countryside with her Uncle Shota Aizawa and his more than ‘roommate’ Hizashi Yamada. With the promise of training her to be self-sufficient, she’s ready to learn.

Chapter Three: 

https://ambershaydeoffical.tumblr.com/post/611141904327983104/bright-as-a-diamond-hitoshi-shinsou-x-fem-reader

Chapter Five: https://ambershaydeoffical.tumblr.com/post/612522066443436032/bright-as-a-diamond-hitoshi-shinsou-x-fem-reader

Monday

   My alarm was a few minutes from going off, so I sat in silence, waiting for it to cry out that I had to move. The new mattress was firm enough; I didn't sink but soft enough that it supported my curves. Still, I couldn't fight off the nightmares.

   With the first siren, I had shut down the machine. Grasping my compact, I dabbed concealer under my eyes and applied the thinnest layer of blush I could get by with. Pushing my hair up into a tight bun, I was happy with my minimal look.

   Grabbing my phone, I nearly dropped it to the floor—two thousand unread emails on my school account. My lips formed into an o, and I remembered that I had been the main topic of the Wednesday paper, of course, someone would leak my email.  

   As I scanned the emails, most were for charity auctions. Wanting me to demonstrate how my quirk works, then offer the highest bidder one of my perfect diamonds. Others were from geologists wishing to study how I create crystals from nothing but my body. A few were from people spilling their life story and asking for my help. The list went on and on and on.

   "Shota?" I called my uncle, stumbling, from my room. He was in his sleeping bag on the kitchen floor.

   "Hmm?" he glanced up.

   "Someone leaked my university email." I whimpered, pursing my lips together. "How am I supposed to see what my professors post. People know my school now. Like- I-"

   "Calm down." Shota sat up and took my phone. "Go finish getting ready, and I'll fix it."

   "Yes, sir." I went back to my room, pulled on my tighter pencil skirt, then I remembered. Then I put on a purple blouse and a cute blazer. Of course, the jewelry I wore mattered, so I put the necklace my dad made me under my shirt and placed a simple chain to be visible. Then I positioned some magnetic gold studs and put a gold anklet on over my pantyhose. Before leaving my room, I created ruby, emerald, and a diamond to top it off. With the gems in my hand, I crushed them into fine sand then added them to my jar.

   After that, I brushed my teeth, put on honey inspired perfume, and emptied my bladder. Nothing was going to hold me back from making a sale today. Of course, I preferred being in the background, but I could still rock the front line and make some sales.

   When I was back in the living room, Shota handed me my phone, and as he said, all the spam was gone. "Wow, thank you so much," I beamed, scrolling through my inbox, checking to see if my teachers had any important messages.

   "Breakfast," Hizashi yelled. When I entered the kitchen, there sat none other then Shinso. He was at one end of the table, and Shota took the other. With my nose upturned, I sat across from Hizashi and served myself.

   "Good morning," Shinso greeted me, offering me the dish filled with rice.

   "Hmph," I took the dish and plopped out a portion. "Thank you."  

   "So you were raised with manors," Shinso smirked, then raised a brow.

   "It's too early," I warned, popping my fingers and a rouge opal hitting the table. "Shit."

   "Does that happen often?" Hizashi picked up the dime-sized oval and held it to the light. "It's huge."

   "You're embarrassing me," I reached for the stone, but he kept it arms length. "Let me handle it."

   "This is beautiful, we need to have it made into something. Wow, Shota did you know-"

   "Please give it back." Tears were close to spilling over, but I held it back.  The heads of the table were silently watching. God, they were looking at me. I didn't want Shinso to know. I did-

   "This would look great on my guitar." Hizashi was still in his own mind. I couldn't breathe. Why?

   Trembling, I stood from the table and grabbed my phone. I couldn't glance at any of them, having looked like enough of a brat. "Ya know what, keep it. It will look super cool, just never tell anyone where it came from." I winced but kept walking to the door. I needed to change the wrap on my feet. "I'm going to be late."

   "I was going to drive you," Shota interjected, sitting up.

   "No, thank you. I'm leaving with enough time to make it. Thanks for breakfast." I hadn't eaten more than a few bites, but it didn't matter.

   Leaving like this meant I couldn't make lunch or pack a pocketbook for my money. I had a ten in my pocket and a hankie for the rest of the day. Picking up my bike, I hurdled off the porch getting a good first push. I hadn't gotten much taller since I was fourteen, so the seat was still in a decent position.

   Halfway to the main road, I was low on the breath but kept going. Tears had been free-flowing since I shut the door, but I refused to wipe them away. My quirk was dangerous, my quirk was valuable, my quirk was a double-edged sword. It's not that I cared that Hizashi loved my opal. I was ready to kill myself for losing control and making it. Putting myself in danger was the issue.  

   If that happened in public, I'd be in a huge mess. Hell, it already had happened and had been made public. Now I was in the same position as my father, but maybe even worse. Nothing was worse than the world, knowing my secret.

   I must have been a site when I hit the main road. Tears flowing thicker than sweat. Dressed to kill, while pleading a children's bicycle. As long as no one tried to talk to me, I'd calm down before I had to make a good first impression.

   The nice thing about the jewelry industry is they didn't want me to make jewels. Well, not my personal store, they were more interested in keeping the demand high and supply scarce.  In fact, the article published about me probably hurt some of our customers.  We specialized in ethically sourced gems and offering natures best. I was not nature, I was something else.

   When I finally got to the store, I had five minutes before I was to clock in. I ran into the bathroom and splashed water on my face. My phone buzzed, and a picture of my bike was sent to my phone.

   The number was unknown, so I ignored it. Preceding out of the bathroom with caution, I was meet with my coworker from my last job.  Kira Nara, the boy who blew my quirk out of the closet. He was older than me by around seven years, divorced, and easy enough to get along with.

   "What are you doing here?" I shuffled from one foot to the other, feeling a slight squish. If I could catch a break for even one moment, that would be nice…

   "I transferred too," he grabbed my hand and bowed. "I felt so bad over the whole picture thing, that I wanted to move in solidarity. We are in this together." I could see the black hair on his head was thinning, probably a mix of age and stress. "The shop back home was such a mess after you left. News reports kept dropping by, and all these companies asking for donations. The boss thought it would be good if I came with you."    

   "In other words, since you spilled the beans, everyone wanted to talk to you as well." Kicking the carpet slightly, I pulled my hand free. "Alright, let's make the best of this."

   "So you forgive me?" He lifted from his potion, hanging to every word I could utter.

   "Yes, you didn't know. Just don't do it again." I was too soft for my own good. Still, I couldn't cause a riot within the workplace. "So have you meet the boss yet?"

   "I am the manager," he gushed, gesturing to his name badge.

   "Oh. So will I get to meet the head manger?" I asked, stepping behind the counter and finding my case key taped on the side of the safe.

   "At some point, he mainly works the busy hours. Really they didn't need this position, but they felt loyal to our branch. It works in our favor." Kira pressed a hand against the case, and it took everything in me not to slap him upside the head. His large hands left an imprint that I would need to wipe down later, no doubt.

   "Okay, so it's going to be quiet. That's good, more time for homework." I walked over to the stool and started to pull up my e-books. Kira had already put the display out, and I knew that was all I needed to do till a customer strolled in.

   "So did you move somewhere around town?" Kira slid down to where I sat, adding more fingerprints.

   "Something like that," I nodded, scrolling to the next page of my book. "Did you relocate?"

   "I did. You should come by and see the place. It overlooks the ocean and has an indoor pool. You love to swim, don't you?" He pulled up a chair and sat across from me.  It never mattered when acted like this in the back, but now he was blocking the display. Sure there were no customers yet, but it didn't look very professional.

   What are you thinking, (Y/n), you're his only friend in this city? Of course, he's nervous and just trying to settle in. Not everyone is as familiar as yourself with running the front of the shop.

   "Yes, I love swimming. But it's hardly the season for that anymore." Pushing my phone back into my pocket, I smiled. "So do they allow pets. I'm sure you brought your puppy with you. A German Shepard mix, right?"

   "Of course, I brought Miso." He lit up with my full attention. "Did your mother come with you?"

   "Uh, no." I clamed up, trying to refocus the conversation. "I'm so much closer to the university through. It's exciting."

   "Oh yea, I'm sure you're doing well in your classes. You're so intelligent and dedicated, you must be at the top of the class."

   "Don't flatter me, I'm doing well but not that well. I'd be doing better if my mom wasn't so sick." I rolled my tongue over my teeth and started to think about my next training session.

   "It's a quirk related illness, right?" He pried.

   "Something like that. Oh, a customer," an older lady walked in. I cursed for not having the glass spotless. But tended to her needs regardless.

   True to my word, I made a sale on my first day. A fifty dollar glass bead bracelet with customizable charms. She was in love with the birthstone charms and got one for each of her grandchildren.  I was able to explain the properties of the birthstones and offer her a wide array of cuts for the gems.

   My body rushed with emotions, as the lady stepped outside. The simple sale reminding me how much I enjoyed sharing my passion for stones. That was the only customer for the rest of the shift. As I was part-time, and Kira had been promoted to manager, I was able to call it a day.

   Kira had talked my ear off all day, but I did find time to study when he took his lunch break. With so much left to read, I put the audio text reader on and listened to my lesson on the way home. Of course, their big hill that was a bitch to walk up this morning, but fun to glide down now. Using that momentum, to make it the side road to lead home.

   My tummy rumbled, and I was more than ready to eat a horse. I used my ten to buy a few snacks at the convince store that was now secured on the handlebars. I smiled, seeing the small ranch house, and pedaled down the driveway.  

   When I got my shoes off, I realized that I had opened my wounds, and now my blood was dried to my socks. Cursing under my breath, I decided to rip them off quickly. With the first one-off, I curled into my side and breathed through the pain.

   Hips bleeding. Bruises up and down. Sleeping on my back for relief. Neck cramps.

   Gritting my teeth, I pulled off the other and put on my house shoes. Scampering to the tub, I washed off all the sweat from my bike ride and the blood from my feet. Mixing in epsom salt to the water, I leaned back and enjoyed a moment alone. The water was hot as I could stand it, and I twirled in the water and imagined it like a hug.

   A knock on the door broke my train of thought. "(Y/n), can we talk?" It was Hizashi.

   "Can you hear me?" I asked, pulling the curtain back so my voice would travel further.

   "Yes. I wanted to apologize for this morning. Shota told me why it upset you. I'd never seen your quirk in action, and I was blindsided at how cool it was." I could imagine his frown from my position.

   "I'd make you a hundred opals, but I can't risk it. Even with my cover blown, I can't have people tracing them back to me." I popped a bubble as it drifted by. "No matter how awesome or cool, I have to pretend it doesn't exist. I forgive you, and I'm sorry I have made it such a big deal. I lost control of my quirk for a moment and made things awkward between us."

   "We're all good now?"

   "Yes, we're good. We get along too well not be on excellent terms," relief washed over me as I sunk back into the water.

   "Rock on." He cheered, taping the wall before heading' off.

   Once my bath was done, I changed into my pj's early and made a quick sandwich before I went for a nap. After eating, I curled into bed and stared at my phone. The center's number was preloaded, but I couldn't find it in my heart to press call. Instead, I covered my face and closed my eyes, it would be better tomorrow.  

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, @simplyn2deep!

Happy holidays to simplyn2deep! I tried to write something that hopefully checks your boxes - fluffy kidfic human AU incoming - and I really hope you'll enjoy it. Thanks for reading!

Read on AO3

*****

Curly Fries & Solo Cups

There was a time in Derek Hale's life where he didn't have any friends.

He had Laura, who gave up her afternoons to run with him in the woods behind their house, climbing big trees together and tripping over cool and soon-to-be collected sticks. He had Cora, who was still too young to go to school and was always excited when his day was done, eager to smash toys and throw rocks at wasps nests with her brother. He had Talia, because he still wasn't too old to be too cool to hang with his mom, and he had his cousins, his aunts, his uncles.

But he didn't have any friends. His family was big and sprawling and he loved them, but it sucked, being the only kid in first grade who had to spend recess alone. It was his own fault, to some degree; he read ahead of his grade and didn't like lacrosse, so while all the other kids ran around with sticks and nets and screamed really loud on the field, Derek would read books that nobody could relate to and played basketball against himself in the gym. Talia would always tell him to take the first step. To introduce himself, to show an interest. To do more than just hide away and cast fleeting glances at Scott and Paige and Jackson and the rest, wishing he was a part of what they had.

But he never did.

Second grade passed, then third, and Derek started to sneak food into the library so he wouldn't have to find a table in the cafeteria. There was a new kid this year, Stiles, who was gangly and loud and annoyed the shit out of him - a word he was told by his mom not to use when he stated this fact over dinner, but was encouraged even harder to keep saying it by Peter - and Derek immediately took to being jealous of him. The new kid slipped into Scott's social circle like he'd been there all along. Sometimes, Derek would watch the two of them screw around during class, feeling his stomach tighten as they laughed and never listened and got yelled at by their teacher.

He liked him. Derek had gotten used to not having any friends, over these past couple of years. He'd been fine with it. That feeling changed, suddenly.

Fourth grade came, and with it, Derek grew a little more distant from his family. Cora had started growing into herself, and it turns out that she's a bit of a handful, which is great, because she takes after their mom, but horrible, because she's going through a phase where she likes to bite. Laura had started dating, which was frankly disgusting, and the less he heard about that, the better - and Peter, who he'd started spending most of his afternoons with, had begun to side with Talia on this whole not being a nerdy, terrible loner anymore thing that she's constantly on his case about. Always telling him to make friends his own age. Always being annoying about it. God.

Stiles kept being funny. Stiles kept making friends. More and more of them. Derek wanted to be his friend, too.

Weeks of deliberation passed, but eventually, Derek watched Stiles try to laugh until milk came out of his nose to see if it worked in real life the way it did in cartoons, and after he nearly choked to death and Scott cried from how hard he was laughing, Derek felt a sweeping sense of courage in his stomach. It was time to do something about all of this.

He asked Coach if they could maybe set up a basketball team for the students his age - just something small, just for people who were interested in playing together, they didn't have to compete with any other schools or anything, don't worry - and, despite the unwieldy and unnecessary insult directed at Greenberg that seemed to come out of nowhere, Coach agreed. More than that, Coach made him captain.

It was less of a real team and more just something to do after school on days when the lacrosse field was being used by the older kids, but that was enough. Those few nights Derek spent waiting for Coach to announce sign ups to his class felt like hell. He was missing out on sleep, too busy staring at the ceiling above his bed until the early hours of the morning, worrying about everything and putting too much stock into this. He'd have imaginary conversations with himself. He would talk to Scott and Stiles and Kira about how to play ball, bragging about the dope shots he never really took. He'd act cocky and kind of obnoxious, but in his head, that was charming. He'd use basketball as a crutch to finally be looked at as more than just that quiet, unfriendly kid who barely spoke two words to people. He'd make friends.

And he did. But not with Scott, and not with Stiles.

Fourth grade passed, and then fifth, and then sixth. Junior high turned out to be pretty great for Derek, who made friends with his teammates and grew into his own. Basketball turned out to be so well received that it became a bit of a rival to the lacrosse team, snowballing into something real with actual games and actual competition. The kids who liked sport in Beacon Hills were becoming actual athletes, who took their sport of choice seriously and built their fledgling identities around it.

Scott and Stiles didn't sign up, but Derek still made friends with the kids who did. That should have been enough. It wasn't, but it should have been.

By seventh grade, Derek's made a name for himself. He's smart and he's funny and he's sociable, and even though he still never really talks to people he doesn't know, he's been to birthday parties and he's actually flirted with a couple of girls, which was exhilarating, if scary. He's happy. Took a while, but he's happy. He eats in the cafeteria, these days. He's starting to think that he's kind of weird for doing it, but he still just - likes watching Stiles, and Stiles is always at his best in the cafeteria.

On Friday, Scott and Stiles are racing to see who can eat the most curly fries the fastest. They're in their lacrosse uniforms even though it's starting to rain, and they'll probably be forced to share the gym with the basketball team if they want to get any practice in this afternoon. Scott's an idiot who filled up on pizza before he challenged Stiles to the race, but that just makes him all the more determined to win. Derek watches the race, still as hooked on the way Stiles laughs now as he was when he was little. Back when he was just shy and lonely and wanted a friend, instead of - whatever this is, now that he's older. Now that he shouldn't feel jealous anymore, seeing as he has a life of his own.

The race is neck and neck, but ultimately, Stiles wins. He crams his face full of deep fried garbage and chokes it all down with the propensity of a starving pelican. Scott contests the win, arguing that he ate more, but Derek knows that's a lie. His feet start moving before he can stop them.

"Stiles won."

Scott and Stiles look up, alarmed, a fry slipping from Stiles' still open mouth and onto his unreasonably messy tray. They both look at him like they know full well who he is - the quiet guy, the basketball guy - and they cast quick glances at each other, communicating silently the way best friends do.

Derek feels heat prickle his skin, but he doesn't blush. He doesn't think he does, at least. He just stares at the two of them until they look at him again, jaw set and teeth rigid. He must look angry, or something, because Stiles' eyes keep drifting back to Scott like he's in trouble, or something, and Scott looks seconds away from having an asthma attack. Shit.

"Stiles won," Derek repeats with determination, as if aggressively siding with the kid he's been staring at in silence for half a decade without so much as saying hi to him is a normal thing to do. If he was trying to kickstart the conversation, it doesn't work. Other tables are talking and going about their day and nobody's noticed what's going on, but the cafeteria feels awfully quiet, suddenly.

Stiles looks at Derek. Derek looks at Stiles. They haven't ever made eye contact, before. Derek feels his lungs go tight, so he looks back to Scott.

"Uh, thanks, dude," Scott offers to the silence. Stiles cracks a grin, watery and awkward. Derek keeps staring until he feels like he's a brick wall stopping the two of them from having fun with their... fries, and he ultimately nods, turning on his heel and bailing.

He doesn't talk to Stiles for the rest of the year.

Eighth grade is when things start getting messy. Jackson and Lydia start dating and they both want everybody to know about it. Lydia's parties are killer, but Derek never goes to them, which pisses her off a little, because he's turning into the kind of athlete that everybody thinks is gonna get a scholarship, make state and earn millions. Scott and Stiles never go, either. Derek only knows that by chance, having given up on staring at the two of them from across the room all the time. Stiles started staring back, after all. It's hard not to be embarrassed, once you've been caught.

Derek's in the equipment closet, putting everything away after gym class, when he hears Stiles and Scott through the door.

"Dude, why don't you just ask him?"

That's Scott. Derek holds his breath, his grip tightening on the dodgeball in his hands. He'd accidentally hit Scott pretty hard with this, about twenty minutes ago. He still feels guilty. Coach had laughed pretty hard, at least.

"Oh, yeah. Wow. Genius plan." That's Stiles. Derek's stomach does a flip like he's driving down a steep road. "Hey, big arms. Remember me? I know we've never really talked, except for that one time where I was desperately cramming curly fries down my throat like I was the squirrel from Ice Age and it was the only way to keep them safe for the winter, but. Just curious - are you going to Lydia's party this weekend?"

There are footsteps, and Derek panics, looking at the door and waiting for it to open. It doesn't; there's just a soft, gentle thud as Stiles leans his back against it, sighing under his breath.

"Well... maybe don't start with that, but." There's another small thud when Scott rests against the door, too, right next to Stiles. Derek can see their shadows under the door. "I mean, if that's how you wanna go about this, he lives right by the woods? He probably likes squirrels."

"Super helpful."

Scott laughs, but it's not malicious. It's soft and endeared. Derek can't see it, but Scott nudges Stiles' shoulder with his own, rattling the door a little.

"C'mon, man," Scott says. "Just ask him if he wants to go with you."

Stiles makes a noise that's entirely non-verbal, just this long, frustrated grunt. He's about to say something else when Finstock tells them to stop lazing around and they push themselves off the closet door, heading out. Derek stands still, gripping the dodgeball as tight as he can, waiting until the squeak of their sneakers over wood go quiet before he moves again.

His heart is beating so hard he's surprised they couldn't hear it.

By Friday, Stiles and Scott haven't had any more conversations about Derek within his earshot, but Derek's started watching the two of them again. From the way he falls asleep at his desk with his head hidden behind his history book, Stiles doesn't look like he's too worried about anything, which is kind of annoying to Derek, who has spent the entire week stressing the hell out about why Stiles wants to invite him to Lydia's party. Assuming he's "big arms", that is. There's every possibility that Stiles has made an embarrassment of himself eating horrible, greasy food in front of more than one person he never really talks to. Derek would not be surprised.

But he thinks it's a safe bet to assume that Stiles wants to go to the party with him. Or - wants him to be at the party, in any case. So why hasn't he just... asked?

Stiles gets yelled at in history class and wakes up with a sheet of paper stuck to his face. Math goes horribly, with Derek breaking the lead in his mechanical pencil over and over again from pressing it too hard against his notebook. Stiles sleeps in art class, again. Gym rolls around and Derek camps out by the equipment shed, but Scott and Stiles just go straight to their lockers.

Derek's in a bad mood when he slings his bag over his shoulder and makes a beeline for the bus. Lydia catches him in the hall at the last second.

"Derek Hale," she starts, thoughtful and singsong. She's standing in front of him so she can't leave, Jackson's arm slung around her shoulders like he'd rather be anywhere but here. Jackson's turned into a bit of a jerk this year, but Derek doesn't care enough about him to be offended.

She tells him he simply has to come to her party this weekend, saying something about how being shy and mysterious worked for him when they were younger, but they're seconds away from entering highschool, so it's time to start taking the bull by the horns and getting out there. She asks him if he needs her to set him up with one of her friends, and the sharp furrow of his eyebrows and widening of his eyes is enough for her to take that as a no, and she tells him that all of his friends will be there.

He takes this to mean the basketball team and shrugs, pushing past her and Jackson to head out, until she adds, lilting and happy -

"Stiles and Scott were hoping to see you there."

- and he decides that a party might not be so bad.

Laura helps him pick out his clothes. He didn't want to ask her, at first, but he panicked, and she could tell, and even though he's sick of hearing about the guy she's dating, he still relies on her more than anyone. Peter helps, too, once Derek's dressed. He makes Derek take off the tie and leave the jacket at home, because he says it's a party for children, not a business luncheon between CEOs. Derek's about to say something, but then Peter roughs his hand through Derek's hair to give it some life, and Derek's slapping him away and heading out the door.

The party is... a party. Derek's been to a few, but again, never any like Lydia's. For a team filled with guys that actually have a shot at making it if they keep training their skills into adulthood, the basketball team is still kind of nerdy. Most birthdays go by with a gaggle of thirteen and fourteen year old boys playing lasertag while wishing they were old enough to be playing paintball.

Lydia's party is about as sophisticated as a middle schooler's party can be. There's soda served in red solo cups, there's giggles and whispers about games like spin the bottle and seven minutes in heaven that everyone's too weirded out by to actually play, and when Lydia's mom tells them she'll be in the guest house if they need her instead of hovering around and offering people snacks, it feels like they're being given their first real taste of freedom. Life is good for the eighth graders at Beacon Hills.

Derek's nervously rubbing his biceps when he heads inside, looking for someone he knows. He finds Lydia, whose squeal of joy hurts his ears the second it pierces them. She hugs him and starts talking way too fast about way too much, and when she offers him a tour of her house, dragging a sympathetic Allison along with them, he feels like he's being paraded around like some weird guest of honor.

He's shown the garden, the kitchen and the living room before Allison mercifully distracts Lydia by complimenting her dress, and as Allison winks at him and smiles, Derek silently gestures his thanks to her and slips away. He heads out to the pool, already in need of fresh air, and he finds Scott and Stiles sitting on the edge of it, dangling their feet in the water.

Scott sees Derek first and perks up like a puppy, slapping Stiles's arm and telling him to look, pointing at Derek in that way where he either doesn't realize he's being obvious or is too excited to care that he is. Derek feels butterflies in his stomach and immediately heads inside, walking back into the kitchen with his head down and shoulderchecking Greenberg as he goes.

He doesn't know what's wrong with him.

Derek has always been drawn to Stiles. He's funny, he's smart. Everybody loves him. For all the progress Derek has made since he was a little kid, he's still shy and awkward, deep down. Basketball is great, his friends are great, even the suffocating and unnecessary attention he's getting at this stupid party is great, but his formative years were still spent hiding out in the library because he was too afraid of just going up to somebody and saying hello. Without all the bells and whistles, that's all he is. A loner. A loner who has to try really hard not to be one. Abnormal, maybe.

Looking at Stiles makes Derek feel like a little kid again. Like he's afraid of saying hello. That stupid, pointless, small little moment in the cafeteria last year - that inconsequential, irrelevant moment based on Stiles' powerful curly fries-eating skills not getting the recognition it deserved - that moment where they actually, for the first time, talked? It came from nowhere, and it filled him with adrenaline, and he's thought back to it again and again and again every time he's toyed with the idea of just going up to Stiles and saying hello. The excitement he felt, from having Stiles look at him. The eye contact they made. It felt better than anything. He wants that again.

He just wants Stiles to be his friend.

So he takes a breath. He thinks of the work he's put into being sociable, being strong, and he looks back to the pool, and he starts to walk. He swerves away from the door leading outside at the last second, deciding he needs a drink to get through this, and that even though soda isn't booze, it's the closest he's gonna get until he's older and it'll do in a freaking pinch. He throws back a full cup of coke and pours a second, then gets back on track, mouth already dry as he steps outside onto the wet ground.

Beside the pool, Stiles is talking to Greenberg.

Derek watches the two of them for a second, faltering, feeling the wind leave his sails now that his big moment has been interrupted by that dick. Derek suddenly understands Coach's resentment for Greenberg. He bites the inside of his cheek, patiently waiting for them to be done so he can talk to Stiles, really talk to him, like he's been wanting to for years. It's then a thought strikes him - what if Greenberg is big arms? As far as he knows, this is Greenberg's first Lydia Martin party, too, and he's on the lacrosse team with Stiles; if anyone had the opportunity to see Stiles do something stupid and embarrassing, it'd be someone like him.

Derek feels his stomach drop. He stares at Stiles, and Stiles catches his eye, and Derek suddenly feels like coming here was a mistake. He turns around, he walks through the house, and he leaves.

Lydia's voice catches him as he heads out the front door, an inquisitive "Derek?" followed up by an "oh my god, can you stop" from Jackson. Derek ignores them both, walking fast with his drink in his hand, something which ruins the otherwise dramatic atmosphere that typically pairs so well with a guy bailing from a party due to a cliched romantic misunderstanding. He walks, and he walks, and he realizes he's going to have to go back inside and ask Lydia's mom to call Laura for him seeing as he doesn't own his own phone, and that's when Stiles catches up to him.

Derek turns, and Stiles is right behind him, panting hard with his hands on his knees. Way too hard, given how short that run was. He's making these horrible noises with his throat, like his chest has collapsed in on itself and he's having trouble breathing, or something, but when Derek looks at him with concern, Stiles just holds up his hand and tells him to wait.

Taking a sip from his drink, Derek waits. Stiles keeps panting. Derek offers him his drink. Stiles shakes his head, bent over with his hands on his knees. Derek keeps waiting.

"Where are you going?" Stiles finally asks, each word punctuated with a hard wheeze.

"Uh."

Stiles says oh my god, bending even further down, his fingers gripping his jeans as tight as they can. Derek takes another sip of his drink.

"How are you this out of breath? I literally just walked to the end of her driveway."

"Shut up," Stiles wheezes.

"You're on the lacrosse team," Derek says, actually laughing. "How are you this out of shape?"

"Oh my god," Stiles says again.

"It's like you've never used your legs before."

"Can you-- shut up?" Stiles says, pounding his fist against his knee as if it'll make him catch his breath faster. Derek takes another drink and waits.

It takes a bit of time for Stiles to stand up straight, but he does, soon enough, and Derek doesn't say anything. He just arches his eyebrows and presses his lips together like he's trying not to smile, which makes Stiles sarcastically pull a face, almost annoyed. Derek smiles a little wider at that.

"Hey," Derek says, clutching his solo cup close to his chest. He's still not good at forcing himself to smile when he doesn't want to, so he's relieved one is coming to him genuinely.

"Yoooooooo," Stiles says, with the look of horror that could only belong to a boy who has never said yo in his life and doesn't know why he's starting now.

"Ran pretty fast there," Derek says.

"Yyyyeaaaahhhhh."

Derek takes another sip of his drink, but there's none left in his cup. He doesn't want to look like an idiot who takes a sip from an empty cup, though, so he pretends that there's still some soda left, holding the cup up to his lips until a sufficient amount of time has passed. Stiles saw that the cup was empty before he did this, but he doesn't say anything about it.

"Where are you going?" Stiles asks again.

"I was just, uh." Derek drops his arms to his sides, then feels like he's not doing enough with his hands, so he crosses his arms over his chest, instead. It's hard to do while he's holding the solo cup, so there's a bit of a shuffle that looks about as awkward as it feels.

"I was just gonna go home," Derek says, lamely.

"Why?" Stiles asks, a little red.

"I... just... was. Why do you want to know?"

"I don't? I mean." Stiles pales, now, awfully quickly. "Everyone wants to know. Everybody. Scott. Lydia. Not Jackson. Jackson's kind of a dick. Boyd wanted to know, though. Isaac, too. You're friends with them, right?"

"Right," Derek says, staring.

"Right," Stiles says, staring back. The conversation ends.

Stiles dusts his hands off on his shirt, his palms sweaty and his face evening out to its normal pasty complexion. Derek nods like he's listening to a relative spout political diatribes he doesn't agree with, but is too polite to say so. They look at each other until the silence feels like an enemy, and they both need to do something to kill it.

"Do you want to -"

"How long have you -"

"Oh, sorry."

"It's - no, it's..."

This isn't really how Derek thought their first real conversation would go. He throws his head back, looking up at the sky, the moon glowing overhead. He watches the clouds listlessly drift on whatever current is taking control of them, and again, he feels a vice in his stomach and a fear he wants to conquer. Swallowing, Derek looks back at Stiles, who is staring at him with a softness in his eyes, like he was captivated by the way Derek looked in the moonlight. Derek's too amped up to say what he wants to say to notice.

"Look," Derek says, pulling himself together. "Listen," he says, immediately losing his nerve.

Stiles waits. This annoys Derek, who both wants to speak his mind and desperately wants the earth to swallow him whole. He takes a breath.

"I really like you," Derek says, finally, running his fingers through his hair. "I've liked you since - well, not since I first saw you, because I felt like you were stealing my friends. Which is insane, because Scott wasn't ever actually my friend, because we never even talked, but. But I've liked you since... okay, actually, I don't even know if I like you? I just watch you a lot. Which - I know that that sounds sinister, but it's not, not really. I just think about you, and I look at you, and I used to get jealous and annoyed with how easygoing and friendly you are, but now I... okay, I still get jealous and annoyed, but it's..."

Wow, Derek did not prepare for this at all. He opens and closes his mouth, staring at Stiles, and if he were a better man, he'd be able to recover from this and say something charming. Instead, he just stares, and Stiles stares back, and it feels like all they ever do is stare at each other. Derek regrets this. Derek hates this.

"Like..."

Stiles said that. Derek thinks he did, at least. Derek's not really sure what's happening right now.

"Like - like like me? Or..."

Derek keeps staring, and then he realizes what Stiles just asked, and he holds his hands up in horrified surrender.

"What."

"What?"

"What."

"Don't what me," Stiles says, combative. "You're going full romcom on me. This is, like, Notting Hill if everybody in Notting Hill had each suffered from some pretty major headwounds. Multiple major headwounds. Successively."

"What--"

"I'm just a girl standing in front of a boy asking him to love her, said Anna, like a stupid idiot with no friends."

"Excuse me?" Derek stands a little taller, and Stiles waves his hand through the air like he's annoyed with Derek for getting defensive.

"I'm just saying," Stiles rushes, tripping over himself. "I don't know what I'm just saying. But - I - okay."

He drops back down, hands on his knees, taking another few breaths. Derek's starting to get annoyed again. He's not even sure why he's still here, honestly.

"I like you too," Stiles says, standing up straight and trying to put some real punch into the words. "I like like you."

Derek stares. Stiles stares back! Derek's sick of Stiles staring at him like that! His heart's in his throat and his stomach is twisting over itself and he feels like he might pass out, and no matter how many times he opens and closes his mouth, he can't seem to make the right words. Part of him wants to push Stiles in the mud, and he thinks that's because he like likes him, but he can't really make heads or tails of this to know what he's thinking.

He's happy. He's just terrified, and awkward, and Stiles has never even spoken to him before. Well - except for that one time.

"Wait," Derek says. "Wait. We've only spoken once, and it was when I told Scott that you--"

"When you defended my honor, yeah. Curly fries. Very valiant." Stiles takes Derek's cup like he needs a drink, then remembers that it's empty, and he looks at Derek in such a way that Derek realizes Stiles absolutely knew the cup was empty when he pretended to drink from it.

"But that just started it," Stiles says, a little shy. "You were this weird, big, strong dude who just came out of nowhere and knew my name. You were funny and weird and awkward and I started noticing you. The way you play basketball, the way your eyebrows pinch when you read. It's... I don't know."

Stiles shrugs his shoulder, looking for the right word.

"C... ute?"

This time, when Derek feels heat prickle his face, he knows he's blushing. Noticeably, for that matter. He scratches his cheek, red and speechless, and he doesn't really know where to go from here. This hyperactive, insane little asshole likes him, and Derek thinks he likes him back. It's - a lot.

It's a lot.

"Do you want to..." Derek falters. "We don't-- we don't have to. But do you want to go back to the party? With me, I mean.".

Stiles laughs, visibly relieved. He has the air of someone who's been watching someone else, waiting for a chance to speak to them, hoping to connect with them, hoping for something, and getting far more than he ever thought he would get. Derek knows that feeling, because he's got it, too.

"Okay."

He smiles, shy, and he laughs, dragging the heel of his shoe in the ground. They're young, and they're clumsy, and it's too early for this to be anything more than just... something, but it's exciting, and it's thrilling, and Derek feels like it could really be something good. Stiles keeps looking at him like he wants to make a joke, or like he wants to be funny, and Derek keeps trying to pull himself together so he can look cool and collected and mature, but.

They're both just happy. They're happy, and they have somewhere to be. Together.

"Okay," Stiles repeats. "Wait, one thing."

Derek looks up, eyebrows together.

"Can we get you a refill? I'm dying here."

[just-jordie-things]

Just Friends (part eight) - Stiles Stilinski

You stood at your locker, taking your time as you exchanged your things for books and folders you actually needed.  Stiles was standing some what behind you, waiting patiently so he could walk you to your class.  Every once in a while you’d shoot up straight and look around the halls, and each time he’d say something soft, rub your back a little.  Until you’d go back to your locker.  But you never said anything about it.  When you finally stood from the bottom shelf, and closed your locker door, you turned and looked at him.

“Ready to go?” He asked, and you nodded a little.

“Yeah I’m good” You said, holding your books to your chest.

“Hey, Stiles” A voice said, and you jumped a little, eyes finding the ones of Scott McCall.  The second your gazes connected you looked away, staring at your feet.  “I don’t think that we’ve properly met, I’m Scott” The boy said, smiling at you but you didn’t look back at him.

“Scott, this is y/n” Stiles said, placing a gentle hand on your back.

“Oh, trust me, I know her name” Scott said with a wink.  You didn’t question his weird tone.  “Hey, why don’t you come eat lunch with us tod-”

“I have class on the other side of the school” You finally spoke, looking up between both boys.  “I think I’m just gonna go to class” You nodded at Stiles and began to walk away.

“Hold on a minute” Stiles said quickly to Scott, and jogged to catch up to you.  “Hey, hey y/n wait” You slowed, peering up at him from below your long lashes.  “I uh.. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable with Scott” He told you, and the both of you continued to walk to your class.

“It’s not that it’s... he’s you know...”

“He’s what?” Stiles asked, brows drawn in confusion.

“Popular” You said quietly, almost embarrassed.  Stiles laughed, lips pulled into a big grin.

“Yeah, yeah I guess he is huh?” He said, licking his lips and shoving his hands into his pockets.  “But he’s not some douche lacrosse player just trying to get into every girl’s pants” He added, and you just softly nodded your head.

“I know” You said.

“So.. so would you maybe want to sit with us in lunch? You can sit right next to me on the end so you’re not too overwhelmed... my friends are a little rambunctious sometimes” You bit your lip.  You didn’t want to disappoint him by saying no.  But you also didn’t know how to say yes.

“I’ll think about it, okay?” You said, pausing in place.  Stiles gave you a smile, turning to face you.

“Alright, we’ll talk later then” He said, and you nodded a little again.

“This is my class” You said, jerking your thumb towards the doorway of the room.

“Oh” Stiles said, his hands laying in his hips.  “Alright well em, well I’ll see you third period then” He said, and you nodded once more, heading into to class as the hallway slowly became emptier.

“Wait Stiles!” You turned, rushing back out of the class.  He spun around from halfway down the corridor, looking at you intently.  You glanced to your classroom, then took off towards him, hugging him tightly  Stiles let out a slight gasp of shock, not expecting you to come back after him.  He held you closely, pulling you up off the ground slightly.  You closed your eyes shut and inhaled his scent deeply.  “Don’t let go just yet” You said, and his hands squeezed your back.

“I wasn’t planning on it” He said, ducking his head down into the crook of your neck.

You were sitting in your second period class, doodling in your notebook while the rest of your class was finishing their worksheets.  Your mind often wandered to Stiles, being in his protective arms and warm hold, making you feel safe again.  Or your eyes would land on your long sleeved sweater, and you’d tug a little on the cuffs to make sure that the gauze wouldn’t be noticeable.  

Your pen was drawing a little flower in the margin of your notebook when you heard a whisper.  Quiet, but noticeable.

“I wonder where she got them from. The bruises” You took in a sharp but silent breath.

“I’ve seen her hanging around Stiles...” The other girl said.  “He’s got big hands, you know?” You froze this time, a fear and humiliation settling in your blood.  “My thoughts? She just wasn’t listening to him the way he wanted her too” You didn’t even know you were tearing up until a little splash landed on your paper.  

But you wiped your eyes quickly before anyone else could see.  And when the bell rang, you were already packed up, and bolted out of the room.  Again, you wiped your eyes as you made your way to you locker, as you always did before third period.  Stiles met you there, and together you walked to an hour long study hall.  (he’d switched into yours shortly after you became friends).  You didn’t want him to see you crying, you didn’t want anyone to see you crying, but especially not him.  You’d already been a nuisance enough in his life and didn’t want to push him away.

So when he bounded up to you, you gave him the biggest smile you could. 

“How was Chem and Algebra 2?” He asked as the both of you walked together.

“Boring.  But fine.  As always” You lied breezily with a slight eye roll.  “You have cards?” You asked, and he nodded, pulling a deck out of his pocket, and you grinned.

The next hour you both spent sharing earbuds and playing card games in the back lab table of your study hall.  This was practically a tradition for the both of you, and it felt extra good today.  All the bad things seemed to wash away from your body every time he laughed quietly or smiled when he’d win- it made you feel good to see he was good.

“Put any thought into lunch?” Stiles asked casually, and you shrugged a shoulder.

“I mean... I guess I could stay with you guys” You said, a smile forming on your lips as his eyes it up.

“Really?” He asked, trying to hide a toothy grin, and you nodded curtly.

“Never bad to try new things... right?”

“Yeah-! Right” Stiles lowered his voice.  He looked back at his hand of cards, and you snuck a glance at him.

You hated to admit it, but he was really cute when he got all excited.

When you weren’t looking, Stiles stole a few second stare at you.  He’d never tell you, but he thought you were beautiful when you were concentrating.

“Don’t freak out, it’s just a cafeteria” Stiles told you, chuckling a little as you’d stood frozen at the entrance, staring with wide eyes at the ocean of students.  “How about we put our things at the table, then I’ll go with you to the lunch line?” He offered, and you nodded, swallowing a big gulp of nerves.

“You must be y/n! Hi! I’m Kira! It’s nice to meet you! Stiles tells us all about you-” Scott cleared his throat and the petite Asian girl that had sprung up to you stopped her rambling.  “Hi” She she said calmly, and held out her hand.  “I’m Kira” You managed a small smile as you shook her hand.

“y/n” You said.  “But I guess you already knew that..” You chuckled, giving Stiles a funny look.

“Here, I’ll put your things down” Stiles offered, and you gave him your bag with a quiet thank you.

“So.. he told you... all about me?” You asked, a little anxious to know if Stiles really did tell his friends all about your problematic life.

“Well,  I’ll tell you what I know” Kira giggled.  “I know you have magical y/e/c eyes, soft y/h/c hair that smells like berries, a button nose that he thinks is adorable when you crinkle it, that you have small fingers and love to draw little things in your notebooks.  I know you love music and are hardly ever not wearing earbuds.  I also know that you’re super bad ass and apparently beat up Jackson?” You stared at her with wide eyes and parted lips.

“Wow... I can’t believe he said all that” You said in shock.

“I’m not, I mean it’s a boyfriend thing, Scott does stuff like that all the time.  Just mean he’s crazy about you” She shrugged with a sweet smile, and you nearly choked.

“Boy- um what? b-boyfriend? No Stiles and I- me and Stiles- we- we aren’t dating” You stumbled out the words in a mess of syllables.  Kira’s eyes instantly widened as realization hit her.

“Oh no I did it again didn’t I?” She cursed herself.  “I always do this, I always say things I’m not supposed to” Kira shook her head and stomped her foot slightly.

“No no, it’s fine, he doesn’t like me like that anyways” You waved your hand dismissively.  Kira’s brows furrowed she cocked her head slightly.  But you spoke before she could say anything.  “Want to get lunch with me?” She nodded eagerly, and you both headed to the line.

“I guess they’re friends now” Scott said from where he sat at the table.  Stiles watched you walking with her, talking about something that involved a lot of smiles and little laughs.  He smiled at you.

“Yeah...yeah that’s good”

“What? You can’t share?” Scott chuckled, opening his home lunch bag.  Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“I can too” He argued.  “It’s just... don’t get me wrong I love Kira, but she can’t close her mouth” Scott laughed, showing off his crooked jaw.

“Worried she’s gonna blab about you being totally in love with-”

“Will you close your big mouth!?” Stiles hissed, throwing his arms around in the air.

“Talking about y/n are we?” Lydia asked, setting her things at the table.  Stiles put his elbows on the table, and hung his head in his hands.  He let out a long groan.

“Scott.  You and Kira are just fucking made for each other” He grumbled.

“Awe, thanks” Kira’s voice rang, and she took her seat between Scott and Lydia.  Stiles sat across from Scott, and you sat next to him.

“Hi” You said to Stiles as you looked over the table.

“Lyds, this is y/n” Kira introduced.

“Ah, so this is the lovely girl I’ve been dying to meet” Lydia said with a cheeky smile towards Stiles.  He glared back, but you didn’t see.  Just blushed as Lydia held her hand out to you.  “Lydia Martin” She said, giving a firm but gentle handshake.

From the few words she’d said to you, and the shake of her hand, you knew she was going to rule the world one day.

“y/n l/n” You replied.  “But I guess you knew that too” You added sheepishly.  Lydia winked.

“Oh yeah, I know lots-” She was abruptly stopped by a kick under the table that you also didn’t catch.  

“So y/n” Scott said, pulling the attention away from your confused glance towards the strawberry blonde.  “Do you like lacrosse?” You thought for a moment, and shrugged your shoulders.

“I guess so, I mean I don’t not like it” You answered.

“Well maybe you could come to Scott and Stiles’ practice with me” Kira perked up.  Stiles closed his eyes.  Sure, you knew he was on the team, and that he didn’t really play most of the time.  But what you didn’t know was how bad he was at it.  And he didn’t exactly want to completely, utterly, and totally embarrass himself.

“Yeah! I’d actually love that” You said happily, smiling over to Stiles.  He gave you a tight smile back.  But the look he gave Scott was deadly.

“So are you going to Prom?” Lydia asked you.

“Sorry?”

“Prom, are you going?” She repeated, and you licked your lips.

“Um, maybe I don’t know it’s not really my thing” You said, rubbing your neck awkwardly.

“Oh please, it’s everyone's thing” Lydia said, and you laughed gently at her.

“It’s kind of expensive, and I need a dress and it’s not like I have a date or anything” You said.

“Stiles could be your date” Lydia replied instantly, and the freckled boy snapped his head over from where he was talking with Scott.  He hadn’t been listening to your conversation with the girls until he heard that little detail.  “What?” Lydia asked innocently.  “If she needs a date to Prom, she needs a date to Prom" Lydia said simply.

“Who else would you have gone with anyways Stiles” Scott jumped in, seeing what Lydia was doing.

“I think it’d be fun, we could all hang out together” Kira said quickly.  You nervously smiled down at your food.  Not glancing to Stiles until it was completely silent at the table.  He turned to you, a smile on his features.

“Whad’ya say sunshine? Wanna go to Prom with me?”

“I’m so excited!” Kira squealed.  You were walking with her to the field at the end of the day to watch lacrosse practice, as promised.  “It’s gonna be so much fun! I’m so glad I met you y/n.  I love Lydia to death but I can’t do all the girly stuff all the time” She giggled, and you smiled at her warmly.

“I’m glad I met you too, it’s nice to have a girl friend for once” You told her.

“What? You don’t have any gal pals?” You smiled awkwardly and shook your head. 

“You’d be my first” You told her.  “I’ve only hung around Stiles for like.. a bit more than a month now” You said.  Kira felt sadness sink in her chest.  She should’ve forced him to introduce you to her sooner.  She wanted you to have all the friends in the world

“Well I’m happy to be so” Kira smiled as best she could, and you both went up the bleachers.

“Here okay?” You asked, picking a seat in the middle.  

“Works for me” She responded, sliding along next to you.  “Stiles is 24″ She told you.  “And Scott’s 11″ You nodded.  “Soooo” She said, not so causally.  

“Sooo” You copied.

“You and Stiles are totally going to Prom together!” She nearly screamed, kicking her feet on the bench.  You blushed, looking down to grin at your shoes.

“Yeah..” You said sheepishly.

“So do you like him? You totally do I can tell- oh mY GOD YOUR BABIES WILL BE SO CUTE-!”

“Shh!” You said, holding your finger in front of your mouth.  “What if the heard?”

“Oh please.  Those two are the most oblivious people in the world” Kira said with a small laugh.  “I mean one time-”

You jumped on the seat when a loud whistling rang through the air.

“ASSES ON THE FIELD!” You looked to Kira with a panicked eye, and she giggled.

“That’s Coach Finstock.  I’m guessing you never had his Economics class” Kira said.

“DO I NEED TO REPEAT MYSELF BILINSKI?” You watched as Stiles hurried off the bench, jumping as he tied his shoes while standing.  “ASSES! ON! THE! FIELD!” He finished his sentence with a loud whistle in Stiles’ face, and you suddenly felt bad for him.

Especially when some of the other boys snickered at him for Coach calling him Bilinski.  Your heart ached.

“Oh” You said softly, watching every move on the field.  Kira looked at you for a moment, then turned her gaze back to the players.

“It starts like that a lot- but it usually gets better” She added the last part with an optimistic tone.  But she gnawed on her lip, flashbacks of the boy being pummeled.

“Okay” You responded, and watched intently.

“Dude” Scott said to Stiles, nudging his arm.  When he caught his friend’s attention, he pointed to where you were sat with Kira.  Your eyes instantly caught Scott’s gesture and you smiled at them both.  Stiles smiled back, and you gave a little wave.  He jumped a little with excitement.  Today he was going to do good.

“Lacrosse is crazy!” You screamed, rushing down the bleachers once Coach had said practice was over.  Most of the other boys ran back to hit the showers, but you Kira Scott and Stiles stayed.  You ran all the way into the grass, and as soon as Stiles pulled off his helmet, your hands came around his face, inspecting the slight bruises on his skin.

“No.  Stiles is crazy” Scott said, taking off his own helmet and revealing that he didn’t have a single blemish.  Your brow furrowed when you looked at Stiles.

“What’s that mean?” You asked.

“Scott you stink” Kira spoke before she could stop herself.  “I’ll walk you to the school so you can shower”

They bolted.

You looked at Stiles, still waiting for your answer as to why he was so beat up.

“Okay... so maybe I suck at it... like a lot... like a really lot- I mean no one else even had body contact! I’m sorry I’m so bad- I don’t even know how I’m still on the team-”

“Are you okay?” You asked softly, putting a hand on his arm to stop his rambling.  Stiles blinked.

“Yeah.. yeah I’m fine”

“And you like playing lacrosse?”

“Love it”

“Then why are you apologizing to me?” You said, a smile growing on your face.  Stiles smiled too.

“So you don’t think I’m a loser”

“Nope.  In fact I think you’re a smelly winner who has the keys to take me home” You smiled cheekily, walking backwards towards the school.  “Coming?”

He ran up to you, walking with you to the building.  A few more steps and he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and tugged you against his side.

tagged: @seninjakitey, @morganschiebel, @spn--addict--i-may-need-help, and of course my bestie @lena-lightwood happy things are finally.. well... happy xoxo ~Jordie