#i believe he is what the kids call a sad pathetic meow meow

[miniaturemallow]

Big bad design for this season of the adventure zone

[revlischarm]

what are some of your favourite one piece hc's :?

Sorry this took so long I was jotting them down as I went. I’m sure I missed some of them because a few weren’t coming to mind but uhhhh. The list turned out way longer than I thought it would be!!

• All of the ones you listed because they’re great

• Transman Crocodile

• Transman Ace

• Sabo has a tattoo like Ace’s except on his right arm, and it says “SABO” but with the “A” crossed out. heheheheh ‘SBO’ lmao

• Sharp teeth Zoro supremacy

• Ace has narcolepsy

• Luffy has a tattoo of the dawn that doubles as a Strawhat on his forearm!! I saw that idea somewhere and I’ve just. Amassed it into my horde.

• Zoro getting the Strawhat Jolly Roger tattooed on his back after Luffy is King of the Pirates,,,my beloved,,,

• Luffy has a bracelet of beads like Ace’s after Marineford!!! So does Sabo :)

• Zoro instinctively likes doing things in sets of three’s. Has a thing when it comes to numbers and counting. I’m inflicting him with a very specific brand of OCD/Autism. I saw this stuff with him counting certain things in this one Lawzo fic?? Fucking amazing, highly recommend. I’m gonna link it here just for how incredible it portrays Zoro.

Seriously, even if Lawzo isn’t your thing, I recommend it alone just based on that particular Zoro trait.

• Robin can do an impeccable horror girl scream. You know the one.

• Zoro can do math in his head insanely quickly

• Zoro knows how to garden a bit after time on Kuraigana

• Luffy is super knowledgeable about bugs, actually! His favorite kind of insects are Atlas Beetles

• Sabo is fucking unhinged. Good for him. Would crush the skull of anyone who so much as looks at Luffy the wrong way.

• I’m partial to the idea that Luffy has a super high metabolism

• Zoro’s got an oral fixation (Luffy might too, actually)

• Colorblind Crocodile

• Zoro is agender!!! Mostly uses they/he, but honestly, I don’t think Zoro would fucking care what pronouns you use for them

• Luffy has a bad habit of gnawing on things, especially fingernails, when he’s hungry. Which begs the question, are his fingernails rubber as well? When they fall to the ground like rubbings from an eraser, do they too retain their elastic properties? Who can say. Do Luffy’s teeth fluctuate between solid and rubber. Is Luffy capable of breaking any bones at all. I have so many questions about the physics of devil fruits sometimes you have no idea

• Sanji smokes because it can stave off hunger; he’s also always the last to eat, waiting until everyone else has their meal before eating himself

• Law is a fucking nerd and I’ll say it. He’s absolutely the type to try and act/look cooler than he actually is and I think most of the fandom has fallen for that ruse. I love him still, tho. Pathetic wet meow meow. You are sad and depressing and a genuine freak. Good for you.

• I like thinking that Doflamingo is partially blind in one eye from getting hit by an arrow during his whole backstory as a kid, that’s why he’s always wearing the glasses. Yes I know he’s also wearing glasses as a kid, leave me alone, it’s between that and the idea that maybe he and Rosinante have some sort of light sensitivity, since they both have their eyes covered when they’re younger.

• Crocodile’s eyes are the most gorgeous shade of lavender I’ve ever fucking seen, I swear to god

• Goth family. Goth family. Goth family!!!! I don’t care how unlikely it is I FIRMLY believe that all three of them keep avid tabs on each other, and would 100% do frequent calls on den den if they weren’t affronted by the idea that it would seem needy(Idk if that’s the right word but. You know what I mean. They’re embarrassed to admit they care.)

• Zoro picked up a mishmash of behavioral traits from both Perona and Mihawk after the two years. Man knows how to do hair and paint nails now. Picked up a smidge of fashion sense from them both, too (and by that I mean goth)

• Law and Robin get along insanely well, they have the same sense of humor.

• Law loves anything even slightly bear-shaped. He has so many items that go along with the theme. Fucking loser nerd.

• Law also gets super moody on winter islands; I read a fic once where he tends to go to the local church whenever he visits one and. Yeah idk that felt right to me. Law’s got an overall SOMETHING of a relationship with religion (just based off some of what we saw with his childhood I think) that I’m not complex or knowledgeable enough to do a justified analysis of

• Sanji makes recipe books, and labels them with notes on what’s easiest vs more hard to make in case the crew ever needs that. Dude also absolutely has a notebook somewhere on how to prepare human meat should it ever come to that. The ideal way to mourn his passing. Consume the flesh of the fallen. Become feast.

• Sanji’s hands don’t have a single blemish on them, and he moistures them frequently, actually.

• Luffy gives platonic kisses to all of his crew mates!!! All of the love

• Franky sacrificed a lot of the feeling left in his body during the two year skip in order to get stronger for everyone :(

• Law has golden eyes, Zoro’s is silver, Luffy’s are an abyss of darkness. Like a bug!!!! Bug-eye luffy. He’s a creature to me.

• Luffy likes to walk up stairs on all fours

• I think another reason that Luffy’s built up such an immunity to poison is because he puts his mouth on literally EVERYTHING. Consumes so much that should be inedible and takes it in stride.

• On that note, I think that Zoro would deliberately ask Sanji to poison his meals sometimes just to build up his own resistance. Because that’s also the safest way to go about it honestly.

• Sanji burns really easily in the sun actually I think lmao. And he always has one part of his face that’s perfectly off-color

• The arm that Shanks lost was his dominant one :) that’s part of the reason Mihawk was so disappointed he lost it. He would sword fight with that hand. Any letters he tried to write to people came off as shaky and uneven for the longest time

• Zoro is ambidextrous. He can also write shockingly well with his mouth and his feet if need be. Fucker is absolutely planning to go multiple different sword styles one day. Cut off his legs, replace them with blades.

• Luffy will bite Zoro a lot just because. It’s Zoro. Why would he mind. Captain is just releasing pent up energy cause he got excited.

• Luffy is immune to getting acne—as well as most other skin conditions—since he’s made of rubber. Lucky bastard.

• Kidd has a ton of piercings that he can and will use as projectiles. He’s also 100% had tetanus and rabies as a child. It just fits.

• I think that—Zolu or not—Zoro was Luffy’s first kiss. Just based on principle. A captain and his first mate, sitting in a cramped dinghy for who knows how long together?? Listen, all I know is they must have talked about some weird shit. And Luffy probably mentioned that he’d never kissed anyone before if it was brought up, before going suddenly silent and then asking if he could kiss Zoro. Just because. And who’s Zoro to say no to his new captain?

• Sometimes Sabo will sit and just. Let himself be on fire. Just to see if he can feel Ace.

• I firmly believe one of the reasons Zoro and Sanji don’t get along is because of their differing views on woman—or more specifically, how Sanji acts with them that pisses Zoro off to an extent. And that’s due to the whole Kuina thing. The fact that Sanji would not only treat women like they’re glass, so capable of breaking and delicate, to the point where he refuses to so much as lay a finger (or toe in this case??) on them—it really fucking grates Zoro. If a person is demanding you to fight them on equal grounds, regardless of their gender, you shouldn’t disrespect them just because they’re female. Just feels like an insult. Cant fucking believe I gotta argue in defense of hitting women here because of you, Sanji

• Usopp has the second best observation haki on the crew—and I say second only because of the whole Luffy and Katakuri thing. Yeah. Third best would be either Zoro or Sanji, because we see Zoro specifically training with haki during the timeskip, and after losing an eye I refuse to believe that Mihawk wouldn’t give Zoro a pretty decent training in observation haki to make up for that. And Sanji just. Idk man he gives me the vibes, plus he always seems adept at being able to know when someone’s in danger (even if that’s only catering specifically to the female sex)

• I think that Zoro postures a lot whenever Luffy compliments Sanji or talks about how cool someone else is because he doubts his place on the crew a lot. Like. He’s just the swordsman, right? He’s a lot more replaceable than the other members of the crew, a swordsman isn’t totally needed to survive in the New World. Y’know. Stuff like that :)

• Zoro has a super high alcohol tolerance, so it takes a lot to get him drunk. He’s also got a high tolerance to most heavy sedatives.

• Zoro does the boob-grab thing to himself sometimes when he’s thinking. You know the one. I sure do. Hold the titty for comfort and serotonin.

• Law is an EXTREME control freak. Just in general.

• Zoro and Usopp are part of girls nights. Just because. They are.

• Transmac Usopp my beloved also—this is UNRELATED TO THE PREVIOUS HC. Usopp is part of girls nights because of his chill vibes!!!! Don’t get it twisted. I’ll bite you.

• Everyone is autistic. Not just the Strawhats, but like. Everyone in the One Piece universe. Luffy is the most autistic. He’s going to be King of the Autistics. His hyperfixation is pirates and he’s collecting crew mates like plushies at the end of his bed

Idk if I have more, I probably do just stirring around in my brain somewhere

[stormyoceans]

I'm returning the brainrot of ep 6 to your archive. vv brainrot continuation:

a hangover pill vs a hangover carbonarak.

pizza with pink bacon is just no comment. idt Mek was killed with eyes as much as August was killed in the kitchen.

the interlaced hands reminded me of Puen, who asked Talay if he and Mek held hands.

Mork's T-shirt with meaning.

Mork makes Day smile like Talay made Puen smile by making faces.

Day thinking that August forgot his birthday vs Puen in our skyy.

ok, all perfumes belong to puentalay and morkday.

surprise birthday party.

firecrackers, frightening Day and Puen.

why did the departing Mork remind me of Puen leaving, listening to music.

we meet the dawn with hope for a new day and wait for the sunset, because no matter what the day is, there will be something beautiful in the end.

I'm sure I missed a lot of things, but I still can't muster the strength to review ep 6. I had to settle for highlights. also Merry Christmas Monica. may your brainrot not calm down next year.

https://sparklyprettybriiiight.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/10/Twas-the-Night-Before-Christmas-HERO.jpg

im a bit late because of family being around but THIS IS TRULY THE BEST CHRISTMAS GIFT I COULD HAVE EVER ASKED FOR!!!!!!!

thank you so much for taking the time to rewrite the brainrot that went missing, pinkybrain 🥺 even if it may not be as complete as the first one was because the episode was still fresh in your mind, i hope you know i really appreciate this and that it made me really happy!!!!!!!!

and maybe it's because i haven't had the mental fortitude to rewatch it either, but i feel like episode 6 in general doesn't have as many parallels as other ones do, but the few that are in it are very on the nose imho. like the surprise birthday party?????? which was probably the first one for both day and puen?????? puen and mork walking away like poor sad little meow meows because they believe talay and day are gonna be with another man??????

and speaking of puen and mork being poor sad little meow meows....

i call this 'pathetic losers (affectionate) watching the men they love hold hands with someone else'

ALSO I DIDN'T REALIZE THIS UNTIL YOU SAID IT (probably because the italian in me was too busy being horrified) BUT NOT THE DAMN PINK BACON ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME ✋😭

AOF NOPPHARNACH CHAIYAHWIMHON IM IN YOUR WALLS

i don't have much to add to what you said tbh (even if im probably missing something too), but i do keep thinking that the puentalay glasshouse kiss and the morkday rooftop kiss are similar

i mean. they obviously have very different emotions and very different intentions behind them so they can't really be compared under this point of view, but the way they're set up????? LIKE AM I BEING EVEN MORE INSANE THAN USUAL OR AM I ONTO SOMETHING PLEASE BE HONEST WITH ME

[sysba]

– oc tag game.

thank you @stephschoices for the tag, this was so fun!!!

FAVOURITE OC: edith, obviously, i'm obsessed with her

NEWEST OC: i have no concept of time help i wanna say it's my infamous oc kate? or my hockey boy raleigh? sometimes i have a character concept but i take weeks to finally name them and develop them so i'm not sure who came first here

OLDEST OC: i've had what i'd now call ocs before, as a kid/teen, but didn't consciously make one until quite recently. i'd say the first was victoria, my oc for open heart (unrelated i miss bryce)

MEANEST OC: k i m (body count). i have ocs who kill people but kim is still meaner lmao

SOFTEST OC: gotta be zoe (originally a twc detective, now an academic who's in love with a demigod and going thru it) she's just so warm... runner ups would be reyna (wts) who's super friendly and believes in people sm, and jules (ted lasso) who went through hell but stayed kind and supporting and loving and i love her. anyways i love softies i have many sdjksdjds

MOST ALOOF/STANDOFFISH OC: it's probably rieka, my cultist mage from an og verse; they're cold and aloof on purpose :/ similarly but for different reasons it could also be crime family heir aleksei! even tho half the time when he comes off standoffish he's really just socially inept

DUMBEST (AFFECTIONATE) OC: raleigh has more cake than brain god bless him he's not very bright. freddie also here because he's average but being gay sometimes makes him very stupid xoxo

SMARTEST OC: jericho no doubt

OC I'D BE FRIENDS WITH: everyone except nathair<3 kidding kidding uuhhh i wanna say edith but she'd probably think i'm a sad pathetic meow meow so i'll say jericho. or ryuwon so i'd finally watch football.

tagging @night-triumphantt @cashweasel @narrativefoiltrope @fairmonkey @magesmiths

[lifebeginsbyleaving]

We Don’t Know Whats Out There

Description: 

Stiles can't sleep, and if he told enough people that was all it was, maybe he would start to believe it. Still, as tensions were rising about them losing their territory he couldn't bother them with something he didn't even fully understand. Maybe he just needed something fun and easy to help him relax. Like the hot neighbor that he keeps catching staring at him.

Derek can't sleep, and if he cleans his house enough maybe people won't realize how he doesn't care enough to clean up other parts of his life. Still, as he worried about his job and obligations, he couldn't let them down about finding a place they belonged. Maybe he just needed something interesting to keep his mind off of it. Like the clumsy man he can't keep his eyes off of.

This is for @sterek-bingo I used the tags overworked, insomnia, and neighbors. Around 20,000 words.

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

Derek threw his keys on the counter and sighed heavily when he heard them clatter to the floor. In the darkness of his apartment with the dull yellow light from the street lamp outside he could see them pathetically on the floor. He decided to leave them as he headed for his bed, it wasn't worth the effort.

He sluggishly took off his uniform. He placed his BHPD badge on his dresser as he yawned. It had been a long day and an even longer and stressful night. He had come in at one on his day off to help out and the next thing he knew he was helping the sheriff track an omega through the woods at one in the morning.

Now two hours later, he was finally able to strip down to his boxers to crawl into bed. He knew he should take a shower, but he was just so tired. The tired that goes right down to your bones.

He laid on his side staring into the darkness.

His cruiser needed a tune up soon. He should have gotten bagels for the morning so the sheriff wouldn't eat the leftover cinnamon rolls in the break room. He needed more coffee grounds soon too.

He turned onto his back and looked at the dark ceiling.

He closed his eyes. He laid in the darkness for several minutes.

He sighed as he whipped the blanket off.

"Tomorrow is going to suck ass." He spoke to the empty room as he swung his legs over the side of his bed.

He padded into the kitchen and turned on the light. He was met with the sight of a mountain of dishes from the previous lasagna night.

A blur of black fur jumped on to the counter.

Derek smiled and reached out to pet it. "Might as well, huh Lucian?"

Both the name and cat came from Cora. She had picked up the cat while traveling and it didn't get along with her beloved dog nor her girlfriend, so it had to go. When she called him to vent about having to bring him to a shelter Derek had immediately volunteered to drive all the way to pick him up.

Lucian meowed loudly in protest as Derek reclaimed his hand to start running the water.

He yawned once again, but knew he wouldn't get any sleep even if he did lay down. He cleaned the dishes as Lucian perched on the breakfast bar with his black tail slowly swishing side to side.

It was a half hour later by the time he had tamed the messy kitchen and only had a few more dishes to do. His shoulders ached and his eyelids drooped, he longed for sleep he knew he wouldn't get anytime soon.

As he let the pans soak, he went around the house collecting dishes.

He had forgotten a plate on the balcony and as he retrieved it, he caught sight of a light on in the apartments across the street. It was a corner apartment like his own, but this one had two windows. One was facing the woods at the back of their buildings, the other faced Derek's balcony and the alley between them. He set the plate down again on the railing as he took in the sight of a man. It looked like a youngish man, late twenties at the oldest, waving his arms around wildly while pacing in front of a desk in the corner of the room that looked out both windows. He was talking so adamantly Derek almost wanted to listen in. He decided against breaking the man's privacy and just watched. The man had a Batman shirt on and what looked to be matching bright yellow booty shorts on.

A small smile found its way to Derek's face.

The man looked to be practically shouting, for a moment Derek was worried he was shouting at someone, but then the man held up a large rubber duck and pointed an accusing finger at it.

Derek let out a full body laugh.

The man threw the duck with a triumphant grin and ran to his desk, which was facing the window Derek was looking in.

It was hard to make out features from across the street, but he could tell the intense concentration as the man tapped his computer keys rapidly.

Suddenly the man tipped his head forward and banged it against his laptop a few times. He leaned his head all the way back with what must've been a long groan.

Derek wanted to bring the man a cup of tea to soothe his frazzled state, and well, if he also wanted to leave a few marks on that long pale bared throat, that was only in his mind. Derek leaned against the railing to settle.

The man finally looked back up at his computer and muttered a few words. He ran his hands through his chestnut hair, making it stick up haphazardly.

Derek wished he could see the man more clearly, be able to see if he had any wrinkles from how expressive he was. See if he looked as rumpled as he seemed. See if those brown eyes looked as enchanting as he felt like they would. If those eyes w-

The eyes that squinted up at him. The eyes that looked directly at Derek.

He quickly stood up nearly knocking the plate over the side, but catching it at the last second.

When he looked back up he could see the man was bright red.

Derek quickly moved to go back inside and fumbled with the door. The stupid latch always stuck so he had to jiggle it for a moment before he could flee into his apartment.

He closed the curtain behind him and let out a breath. His cheeks were hot at being caught.

He quickly shrugged it off and finished the rest of the dishes trying to not think of the man catching him perving.

---

Stiles raced down the sidewalk trying not to bump into people. As he turned a sharp corner he banged his elbow which made him jump back and shove his computer bag into a very unhappy man.

"Solwry." He mumbled around the papers he was currently slobbering on.

He stumbled slightly as he looked down to shove them in his bag. He looked up and nearly was squashed by the door opening in front of him.

"Whoa! Sorry." He gave the exiting couple a nervous wave.

He entered the cafe with panting breath and his computer bag snagged then hit the wall with a bang.

Everyone in the cozy coffee shop looked up at him.

"Sorry!" His eyes scanned the crowd. "Sorry I'm late."

His father looked at him with an exasperated fond look. "Ten minutes Stiles. I only have a thirty minute lunch break."

Stiles scoffed as he sat down in the corner booth. "You're the boss. Who's coming up to you like," His voice went stern and low as he frowned. "You were ten minutes late coming back from your lunch." He added a wag of his finger to be dramatic.

The sheriff laughed. "Hale would. He's about as upright and lawful as they come. He wouldn't be insubordinate, but he would point it out to be a shit. Anyway it's about setting an example."

Stiles rolled his eyes. He'd heard many stories about Hale before. He was glad that his dad had someone like that to watch his back, but he put him up on such a pedestal. Stiles was worried that when they finally did the meeting his dad was pushing for so hard, he would introduce the wrong man as son.

"Yeah well, tell Hale to take that stick out of his ass." Stiles said before gulping down the molten sugary drink before him.

Stiles frowned. "Did you not get my text?"

"I did, but if I can't have fries you can't have a triple shot." His father looked smug until he took in his son's appearance. "Jesus kid! When's the last time you slept?"

"Counting the time I closed my eyes in the shower too long and almost lost my balance?"

His father didn't look impressed.

"I know, I know. I've just got this really big project right now. The client doesn't care when it's done, it's just really frustrating work. There are so many things going wrong that aren't easily fixed, and I can't figure them out. All these little problems keep popping up and as soon as I figure them out I think I can go to sleep, but then something goes wrong and I ca-"

"You can't just leave well enough alone. When there's a problem your brain won't let you sleep till you fix it." He had a faint smile. "Your mom was eight months pregnant when we bought your crib. We got home from the store exhausted, so we said we'd put it together in the morning. When your mother woke up I was passed out on your nursery floor surrounded by the shreds of the directions and your crib looked just like the display. You're so much like her, but you got some things from me."

Stiles smiled at him. "I've never heard that story before."

He shrugged. "That was back when I didn't think that moment would be important. Back when I thought we would have so many more the little ones wouldn't count."

He had that wistful sad look in his eyes, but a smile on his face. Stiles was grateful for how far they had come. Neither of them were able to even mention her for so long, to be talking freely in public meant the world to Stiles.

His father reached a hand across the table and he took it. He looked at him concerned. "Stiles, are you happy?"

Stiles plastered on too wide of a smile. "You don't have to worry about me pops."

He shook his head. "I always worry about you. I know you said you're good at this programming job, but I still think you should give that FBI offer another try. It was your dream job! You could consult from here, while still being in on the big cases. You'd use your education and degree. It was perf-"

Stiles put his hands up with an uneasy look. "I know dad. But I am good at the progra-"

His father cut him off just like he had to him. "I know you're good at it. Hell you're smart enough to be an astrophysicist if you damn well pleased. Stiles you're good at a lot. And anything you aren't, you've got enough drive and brains to keep at it till you are the world's leading expert." His father gave him a considering look and then deflated. "I won't push you on this today, but one of these days you're going to have to tell me what happened. Stiles you were mooning after that job since the end of high school. Then, you were bummed about having to give it up because you had to move home after college to help me and Scott with all the mumbo jumbo. But now, they offered you an at home position and you can't be bothered with it. I just don't understand, hell I don't even know if you do. I just hope you aren't doing this programming thing because for some reason you think you couldn't do what you really want to."

Stiles sighed. That wasn't it, but he was getting closer. Eventually he would have to explain to his dad and Scott what happened, but he'd have to figure it out himself first though.

"I love you for caring, but I can handle it. And I am really good at this, besides Danny's company needed the help." That was true when it started, but now Danny didn't need his help and they both knew it.

"I just want whatever will make you happy." His father squeezed his hand, then let go.

"My work is great for where I'm at right now."

The conversation switched over to the omega Stiles had narrowed down the possible hideouts for as they got their food.

They parted ways with a hug when his father went back to work.

---

Stiles got out his computer and tried to solve the problem he hit the night before.

Thinking back he wondered if he should have mentioned his stalker neighbor to his father. He dismissed the thought with a snort and got to work.

---

Erica's laugh was so loud he had to move the phone away from his ear.

"And you just went inside?"

Derek called her in his patrol car on lunch to try and get rid of the awkwardness of the previous night.

"What else would I have done? Shouted over, 'Hey sorry for watching you for a creepy amount of time. You just looked cute.' No, I fled like a normal person."

She cackled again. "You should take over some muffins, and then bang him."

Derek choked on his sandwich.

"I'm serious. You need to unwind. Nothing like a good dick to get you to relax."

Derek's cheeks went red. "Erica! I haven't even met him."

"So introduce yourself first. I'm like two weeks away from dragging you to The Jungle myself."

"You're worse than my sisters."

Derek's face went wide with horror at his slip up.

"Have you told them yet?"

"Yes."

She smelled blood in the water. "You haven't!"

"Erica no! Don't even think about it! Erica?" He looked at his phone to see she hung up. He banged his head against his wheel. "You never learn Hale." He would definitely have a couple texts from his sister's by night.

---

Derek had soon enough forgotten about that night after his sister's pokes faded.

He had a quiet week, till tonight that is.

He kicked off his boots not caring where they went.

Half the department had been chasing down a, supposedly, kidnapped teen. When Derek finally sniffed out the end of the trail that lead all over town, the scent of the boy was closely intertwined with marijuana.

He got ready for bed in a haze and the stress of the day finally hit like a weight on his chest. He had been so scared he wouldn't find the boy in time. He was so scared he would have to tell a frantic mother that he found her boy, but it was too late.

He finally realized why the sheriff had gripped his shoulder in a grounding squeeze like they hadn't found him in time while asking if he was alright. It was for this moment. The moment when it all became real. When he realized there was a boy they thought was in trouble and it would've been on them if he wasn't found. It was his job to get him back safely. It happened this time, but the sheriff knew this would come. He'd probably had moments just like this so many times.

Moments of staring at the ceiling and wondering what if. Wondering and imagining the worst, all the while blaming yourself for outcomes that didn't even happen.

Derek sighed and got out of bed. He wouldn't get any sleep with the mood he was in. It was much too somber and contemplative. He figured it had been awhile since he dusted his apartment anyway.

He worked silently while thinking intensely. He had a few morbid thoughts and decided he needed to get some fresh air to clear the dust clogging his lungs and cluttering his eyes. He opened the sliding door to his balcony, but soon enough the night's chill beckoned him out.

It was a welcome sensation on his skin. He breathed in the fresh air for a few moments before he caught sight of a familiar window lit up.

This time the man was sat at his computer furiously typing with headphones on. The man lifted a frankly unlawfully big coffee mug and tipped it completely. He rattled the mug before lifting it to his ear. The man seemed to freeze for a moment before shaking his head while setting it down.

Derek chuckled as he rubbed his hands down his face and slapped his cheeks.

The man must've been up for too long. As if to prove his point he yawned and pushed himself away from the computer. He grabbed the giant mug and disappeared from Derek's view. He came back a few moments later with the mug filled to the brim. He settled back into his groove.

Derek liked watching the man's gestures and how expressive he was, even if Derek couldn't make out all of his facial movements. He only felt slightly creepy for thinking of grabbing his pair of binoculars. Okay, he felt really creepy for that.

The man lifted the coffee to his lips while still typing and burned himself.

Derek could tell he was screaming cuss words.

In jerking back from the sensation the man spilled coffee all over his lap and he jumped up while patting his legs.

Derek was already highly amused and smiling broadly, but when the man left to get a towel only to be yanked back by his headphones he barked out loud laughter.

The man came back, now in black instead of blue sweatpants and looked to be shutting down his computer. The man stretched and Derek could tell his shirt rode up slightly. He was distractedly trying to look at him. When his shirt fell back down he looked back to his face.

One that was now pointed towards where his light was on and he was once again staring creepily.

Derek shot up and was thankful he had left his door open so he could just slip right inside without the wait.

Derek mentally kicked himself as he decided to just lay down, so he wouldn't be tempted to peek out his curtains to see if the man was calling his co-workers. God that'd be embarrassing. Parish would laugh his ass off if he got that call.

After a few moments thinking about the man he fell asleep with a smile remembering the hilarity of his sleepy mistake.

---

Lydia spooned the last of her dressing onto her salad. "And the guy just went back inside?"

"Yeah. He seemed embarrassed both times, but I don't know if I should tell my dad. On the one hand sheriff dad scaring off creepy guy, yay. On the other worried dad shooting creep."

She tilted her head in consideration. "Keep an eye out for him. If it becomes more of a problem or if he makes you uncomfortable then tell him."

"I don't know, I've never see him out there other nights. He doesn't really make me uncomfortable. I guess he's probably just curious about the weirdo up and three."

She laughed. "Probably. And what did I say about getting proper sleep? You'd get laid more often if you ever left your house not looking like a sleep deprived troll."

"Really feeling the love Lyds."

She narrowed her eyes and pointed her fork at him. "You know it's true. I didn't move back to Beacon Hills just for you to get us all murdered because you fell asleep researching and got us the wrong info. You need sleep, you insomniac workaholic." She stabbed a piece of chicken and stuffed it in her mouth menacingly.

"Has that ever happened?"

She swallowed and was undeterred. "No, but you need to be especially on your toes now. We all do. With this Malikhai pack circling we cannot show weakness. They're already sowing doubt about Scott's hold on Beacon's territory. Everyone concerned knows he didn't steal shit, but if they bend enough ears it could be a problem. A big one at that meeting in two months."

He nodded. "You're right. I'll get more sleep."

She assessed him, then shook her head. "You aren't going to do shit. You're restless and won't let anybody help you."

He considered her words. "Sometimes you're scary with how much you know."

She laughed as she gathered her things and dropped money for their lunch. "That's cute. I'm always scary because of how much I know. Kisses."

He waved at her bouncing curls.

---

The third time it happened Stiles could hardly blame him. He should've closed his curtains, but he loved being able to look outside. Even as he was dancing wildly to ABBA at four in the morning while in his boxers. In his defense though, how else are you supposed to organize your house?

Stiles had just finished quite literally boogieing to dancing queen when he looked up and saw that light on again. They both stared for a brief moment. Stiles had no idea what made him do it, but he did a tiny wave. Which the man returned hesitantly. Stiles smiled and it seemed like the man did as well. It was already hard to tell from the distance, but the man also had dark, albeit hot, facial hair.

He was just about to turn when the man started to clap. It confused Stiles for a second, until he realized the applause was for his performance. He bowed dramatically and when he straightened he was met with the sight of laughter. The man pointed back to his apartment before once again waving.

Stiles waved back and in a mindless moment blew a kiss.

He instantly internally panicked.

The man looked confused and he turned half way back to his door before reaching out his hand and catching the kiss. He then rushed inside.

Stiles' joyful insomniac energy was burst and he hid under his covers till he eventually fell asleep.

---

"He blew you a kiss?!"

Derek's voice was muffled by the counter it was pressed against, but it sounded vaguely affirmative.

"And you caught it."

This time the yes sounded more distressed.

Erica patted his back as she let out vigorous laughter.

When she finally settled down she offered, "Well, maybe he won't think you're as weird because he's weird too."

"Thanks for your comfort." He said deadpan.

She responded in kind. "I'm here for you in this difficult time." She steered the conversation back to her weekend plans with little consideration.

---

The only reasons he took night shift were because it was understaffed and if something supernatural happened he needed to be there anyway, but now he was thinking of adding so he could look to see if the light across the way was on.

These last few weeks he didn't linger, but he still smiled when he got home to see that light burning just like his own. He would check and some how that was enough. On the two nights he had stayed until he was caught it was no longer awkward. The man had just looked up and they waved before Derek left. Another night Derek just listened to the man's heartbeat and his soft mutters as he washed his floors.

He knew it was creepy, but something about the man was just...

Comforting.

Derek realized it was comforting to come home and have someone there.

God when had he gotten so lonely that a complete stranger waving at him from across the street felt intimate.

It was soothing, he supposed, to come home after a hard day to see that you weren't the only weary soul too tired to sleep. To know you weren't the only one battling things in the dark.

Derek set his wallet and keys on the table with a yawn. It wasn't an eventful day whatsoever. He had done nothing but paperwork and battle his drooping eyelids. He had been so tired all day, but now that he was home his mind jumped from one thing to another. After he got changed he grabbed a beer out of the fridge and decided to sit on the balcony. Might as well see what his neighbor was up to.

The light was on, but the man wasn't in sight.

Derek sat enjoying the calm night air while drinking his beer.

Just as he was starting to get worried, the man paced past in a flurry.

His arms were flailing and his lips were moving a mile a minute. Derek looked with fondness for a few moments. Then he noticed how heavily and fast the man's chest was heaving.

Something looked wrong. His movements, while normally clumsy, were erratic instead. Almost frantic. Derek knew it was not okay to listen in on the man under normal circumstances, but the man looked about ready to burst into tears.

"You're okay. Stop freaking out. Stop. Ju-just stop. Y-you're ok-kay. Just s-stop!"

The man looked down at his fingers and looked to be counting them. He then looked around his flat to name items with different colors.

Oh.

The man was having a panic attack.

The sheriff had taught them all different methods to calm someone having one, in case they encountered it on a case. The rainbow method was one. The man was trying to calm himself down.

The man repeated that he was okay over and over.

Derek listened to his heartbeat hammer. He needed to calm down or he would pass out. Derek knew he was on the third floor so he'd just have to figure out which apartment number.

He was just about to turn to go inside when the man ran to his desk and fumbled with his phone.

Derek felt a small amount of disappointment, but it was quickly pushed down. He was happy the man was getting help, even if it wasn't him. Besides how weird would that have been. 'Hey I'm your neighbor I heard you having a panic attack from across the street so I decided to find your apartment.'

The line rang for a long time and Derek hoped the person answered and was able to help.

Derek wasn't able to hear the other voice, but he could hear the man's. "Scott. P-panic a-t-t-" The man tried to force air into his lungs.

He didn't talk anymore, but he looked to be listening intently and he nodded his head even though the man on the line couldn't see it.

"B-better. But I- I'm still shaking." The man held up his shaking hand as if to prove it.

Derek listened to his heartbeat. It was no longer thudding, but it was still fast.

"No you d-don't have to. You're already on y-your way?" The man sighed, but went out of sight and Derek heard his door unlocking.

They stayed on the line until a car approached, headlights almost blinding on the empty dark street.

An obviously sleep ruffled puppy of a man got out and walked around to the building's entrance.

Derek heard knocking.

"What's the password?"

There was a sigh. "Rubber baby butter beans." The door unlatched.

Derek stifled a laugh.

Derek heard a muffled thanks and figured the man's face was pressed tightly into a hug.

They both walked in the view of the window and Derek got a little better of a look at the stranger. He looked like he could be handsome, but from this distance it was hard to tell.

He was too busy focusing on the man's face he didn't catch their conversation. Soon enough the lights went out and he heard two people settling into bed. The man's heartbeat had settled slightly, but his breaths still had a few hitches.

"Focus on my breathing. Feel my chest move. We're safe here. I've got you."

Derek started to wonder if maybe they were together. A boyfriend would be more inclined to get out of bed to check on someone than a friend. But then again if he called Erica in the middle of the night she'd break his door down. Maybe they were just friends. Then again, the magenta, purple, and blue flag hanging on the man's wall had Derek wondering.

When he first saw it, it had made him glad, but now it caused a rolling in his stomach. It was ridiculous, he shouldn't be jealous over a neighbor he hadn't even met!

He decided to go inside and clean Lucian's litter box then organize his bookshelves.

He was deeply engrossed in a book by the time he heard movement on the street. He decided to put his book down to check it out.

"Thanks for tonight Scotty."

The stranger, Scott, got his keys out of his pocket as they hugged. "Yeah yeah. You know you can call me whenever."

The man stuck his hands in his pj pants pockets. "Yeah well, still tell Alli sorry for stealing her boyfriend."

Scott grinned. "We all know I'm both of yours."

The man let out an obnoxiously loud laugh for the quiet morning. "True. Now get out of here. Don't want to keep Mr. Cryptic boss waiting. Love you bro."

"Love you too." The man started his car and Derek realized he was dressed for the day. He must've borrowed some clothes. Or maybe he has a drawer.

Derek's head was starting to hurt trying to figure out what their relationship was. He had said both of yours, like he was both of their boyfriend. Maybe they were poly? But then why hadn't this Alli come too? Maybe they were just friends and it was a joke.

Derek got into bed still trying to figure it out, but drifted swiftly after thinking of his loud laughter. It was an oddly soothing sound.

He wanted to hear it more often.

---

Stiles spread the burgers and fries out on the counter. "Oh please, iron man's ass is forged of metal. Cap's is pure squats and muscle."

Scott pinched the skin of the kitten's neck. "You mean, pure super soldier serum." Scott gave it it's shot before soothing the kitten.

Stiles waved a fry at him. "But still muscle. The serum just amplified his muscle definition. But it is still muscle, and there for, it is America's true ass."

"What about Deadpool? He's got a good ass. What about him?"

Stiles snorted. "For starters? He's Canadian."

Scott tilted his head. "Oh yeah."

Stiles rubbed the grease and salt from his hands on to his jeans. He tried to sneak a few fries from Scott's, but he looked over.

"Hey! Paws to yourself! Those are mine."

Stiles stuck out his tongue and grabbed his burger instead. "Best super hero ass hands down is Dick Grayson."

Scott softly placed the kitten back in the pen and grabbed another. "No way. Black canary all the way."

Stiles scoffed. "Sure, bud."

Scott gave the last kitten it's shot before washing up to eat. "That isn't what I called you here to talk about though."

Stiles raised and eyebrow. "What. No way. You didn't call me here to debate superhero glutes?"

Scott rolled his eyes. "I wanted to talk to you about next month."

Stiles took a huge bite so he didn't have to respond.

"This is important." Scott tried to meet his eyes, but Stiles avoided him. He sighed. "What is the matter with you lately dude? We all agreed as a pack, we need this meeting to go well. If we are going to hold Beacon as McCall- Stilinski territory, next month is important. Why does it seem like you're checking out?" Scott focused on his face. "Are you okay? If something is wro-"

"I'm okay Scott. You don't have to worry about me. I'll get my head in the game before then, I've just had some personal shit going on."

He gave him a sad look. "I miss the days when your personal was mine."

Stiles looked down. There was a pit in his stomach as his throat dried. "I know Scotty, but I will tell you, eventually. I just need to work some stuff out."

"You keep saying that, but I don't think you're working anything out. I think you're just keeping things to yourself because you don't want to worry anybody."

Stiles mindlessly stirred his ketchup with a fry.

"But you are. You are worrying us. We just want to help."

"I know." Stiles met his eyes. "We'll deal with the Malikhai pack and their challenge of our territory first. Derek Hale is one of my dad's newer deputies. He brought two other betas with him from New York. They talked and Laura is still their alpha, so the Malikhai pack doesn't have grounds for a refusal because Derek is just a beta. Even if this has been Hale territory for centuries, with Laura setting up a pack in New York, Beacon is forfeit unless a Hale alpha shows up to claim it."

"What if Laura shows up to challenge us?"

Stiles shook his head. "Derek told my dad she isn't interested in Beacon. She gave her word she never intends to take Beacon for her territory as long as we take care of it. She thinks we're doing well enough from what she's heard."

Scott nodded. "Let's go over the protocol again."

Stiles gathered his trash. "You'll be fine, but if you want we can."

---

Derek reached for the bottle of wolfsbane laced whiskey in the back of his cabinet. His eyes had already healed from the puffy state his call with Laura and Cora had left them in, but he felt new tears at the back of his eyes.

A family had left a roast in the oven overnight, accidentally on high, but thankfully it was called in soon enough. Fire calls usually left him shaken, but there was a little girl that looked exactly like Cora. She was coughing the smoke from her lungs that also clung to her clothes and hair and soon enough Derek was the one unable to breathe. He tried to hide his claws and fangs and closed his eyes when they flashed red. He didn't know how long it was before he felt the sheriff's arms wrap around him and send him home, but after his phone calls it was now three in the morning.

He refilled his glass and went to get changed. He struggled with his pants already feeling the alcohol, wolfsbane made the effect almost instant. By the time he had finished getting changed he needed to find the bottle again.

Every time he closed his eyes he saw the frightened ones of the little girl. It was times like this he longed to feel the shift take over and get in a much more simple state of mind, a much more primal one. It felt like the smoke was in him and the flames were licking his face. He needed air.

He went to the balcony and like he knew it would be, that light was on.

The man was hard at work, tapping away at his computer. He was chewing a pen cap in-between his teeth as he focused intently on his screen.

Derek wanted the man to look at him. To notice him so he wasn't alone. He wanted to feel like he was seen and his pain was normal.

He had moved back from New York because everything was just too impersonal. You could fade into the city and no one would ever know you were gone. But a small part of him hoped that the man would notice if he never had his light on at an ungodly hour again. He wished that someone cared about him like he was important.

Derek hung halfway off the balcony as he began to frantically wave. He sloshed his almost empty whiskey as he flung his arms out.

Eventually the man looked up. He hesitantly waved and Derek raised his glass to him.

The man laughed and raised his coffee mug in return.

Derek laughed finding it funnier than it was. He got an idea and before he could think about it he held out his flat palm with his other fist placed atop it. He moved both hands forward in question.

The man looked confused and shrugged.

Derek thrust his hands out again, and then he pounded his fist three times on top of his palm.

The man laughed and mirrored his hands.

They pounded their fists in unison, and on the third beat Derek held up rock and the man held up paper. The man pumped his hands in victory. Derek threw both arms out in mock defeat. Derek watched the man throw back his head in a laugh with rapt attention. He held up a finger to tell him to wait before pushing his computer chair away.

Derek wanted to tell him not to leave, but soon enough he was back. He held up something to the window, it looked like marker. He uncapped it and began writing on the window backwards. He made two columns, one labeled, me. And the other, you. He put a tally mark under the me column before setting the marker down.

By the end of the night Derek could barely see the man with all the marks on the window. He had his computer chair pushed away as he leaned over his desk to get closer to count them. The man won by two points and he did a victory dance. The man acted like a wave was passing through his arms and he pointed it at Derek. He was just drunk enough that he pretended to continue it with a sad excuse of a robot.

Derek could almost hear the man's laughter ringing in his ears as he laid down to sleep. He fell asleep picturing his wide grin and cute dance.

---

Cora's laughter was booming. Laura spoke in a consoling tone, "Oh Derbear. You did your robot?"

Derek just groaned at her.

Cora spoke with no mercy, "Your robot sucks ass."

"I am aware, devil spawn. Well, sober me is."

"Hey call me devil spawn all you'd like, I'm not the one that scarred their cute neighbor with the abomination that is you dancing."

"Laura tell her to stop. Order her to be nicer, use the eyes."

"Sorry lil bro. She's right."

"Ugggh." Derek groaned into his pillow. "You both are terrible."

---

Derek tried to avoid the balcony out of shame for the next week.

The loud banging in the alley drew his attention before he could remember to stay inside. For a second he didn't see anything below, but then a trashcan tipped over and circled before a plump raccoon crawled out. Derek looked up, relieved it hadn't been someone trying to break in. He didn't want to have to deal with that tonight. He saw that light on and inside the man's head was tipped down still looking at the raccoon.

He looked more distressed than normal. Mugs stacked around his desk and there were papers strewn about. His hair was frazzled and he had tension in his shoulders. Derek wondered what stressed him so much. Maybe it was his job, he could have an upcoming deadline. Maybe he w-

He was staring back up at him.

The man brightened and waved enthusiastically. Derek waved back.

There was a pause.

Derek tried to mime that now that he had checked out the alley, and it was just raccoons he was going to head back to bed. But the man looked confused at his gestures. It probably looked like he was trying to make shadow puppets. He pointed a thumb back at his apartment and the man looked down. Derek started to move back reluctantly. He felt so rude, like he was leaving in the middle of a conversation, but he was also still embarrassed.

The man grabbed something from across his desk. He held up the orange marker. Derek stood there considering for a moment. The man took that as a no and set the marker down.

"Don't do it Hale." He whispered to himself.

He held up his hands and the man energetically moved to get ready.

They played till something drew the man's attention to his computer. He held up a hand to motion for Derek to wait.

He clicked for a few moments before pointing to his computer. Derek nodded and settled into a chair while pulling out his phone.

Derek's attention was drawn back upwards when he saw a fast movement. He looked up to be met with the sight of catastrophe. There were papers spewing out of the man's printer at an unearthly rate. The man was shouting and waving for the printer to stop. He jabbed at a few buttons, but to no avail. The printer just kept going and in one final power move the man unplugged the machine. It stilled and he sagged with relief.

The man looked up at Derek. Derek finally absorbed the situation and burst out laughing. The man quickly joined in. Once they had calmed down he gathered the papers and shook his head at them. He closed down his computer and span his chair in a circle before meeting Derek in their next match.

Derek won the night and the man put a little mark on the top window opposite to an identical mark.

So this was a thing. The man clearly expected to play again. He expected to play enough games where they would need to keep track on the window. Maybe this would be their thing. Rock, paper, scissors from across the street.

Derek got cozy in bed as a warm feeling settled in his chest. It was nice to have something, some sort of connection to someone. This was the sort of thing he missed in New York. He missed helping little old ladies at the grocery store and talking to neighbors while getting the mail. He missed seeing the same face multiple times just going to the bank. In the city everything was constantly changing, shifting. Derek just always felt like backdrop rather than a person. He missed being a part of a community. He missed feeling like he made an impact.

He supposed that's why he joined the PD. To help people. Feeling like he helped someone was the best thing to Derek. He wanted to have people around him and to be able to take care of them. No matter how close he was to his sisters, traveling never felt settled enough, and Laura's pack felt solid enough without him. He didn't have an integral place with either of them that truly felt like his own. He'd been back in Beacon hills for months now, and a couple games of rock, paper, scissors and an over protective boss was as close as he got to finding a place he belonged. No matter how much he saw them getting closer or he enjoyed his job, his co-workers were still just work friends and his job wasn't going to make him feel fulfilled.

He wanted someone to belong to. Someone that felt like home.

He drifted off wondering how soon he would meet someone like that for him, or if he already had.

---

Allison looked at Scott concerned. "Stiles, you sound pretty gone."

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "He gave you a pen and I had to convince him to not propose the next time he saw you. I think me having a crush on my neighbor/rock, paper, scissors pal/stalker is sane in comparison."

She gave him a, 'Yeah keep telling yourself that.' look.

"I think if it makes you happy you should do it. You know how to take care of yourself. Maybe you're soulmates."

Allison rolled her eyes.

Stiles slung an arm around Scott's neck. "See, this is why you're my best friend. You always support me."

Scott beamed.

---

Derek grimaced as he tried to not smear blood on his door or walls.

He went straight to the bathroom and put his torn, soaked top right into the garbage. He turned on the water and steam started to billow into the room. He stripped and looked at the damage in the mirror.

They had been looking aimlessly for the omega for weeks now. But the night before another body was found, so they were determined. The sheriff came in with another map that had random circles on it. He had been bringing them in from his pack. Derek was glad that beacon had the McCall- Stilinski pack to look out for it, they wouldn't have been able to search even the narrowed down areas without the pack's help. The sheriff and him finally found the omega and cornered him.

Derek winced as he prodded at the claw mark across his side.

The omega had been able to get in a few surprise attacks before Derek fought back.

He stepped under the spray and let out a content grumble, happy to have the omega's blood swirling down the drain instead of sticking to his skin. He washed away the day and was satisfied that they had finally dealt with the wayward wolf.

He turned off the water wanting to collapse into bed, but still having a little bit of adrenaline left from the fight.

He decided to check in on his neighbor before bed. He threw on a pair of sweatpants before padding out to the balcony.

After his hot shower the air outside raised the hair on the back of his neck and arms. His eyebrows pulled together once he saw the blinds closed with the light on. He could see the silhouette of the man sitting at his chair.

That was odd. He never closed his blinds. Maybe he didn't want to see Derek anymore. Maybe he weirded him out. The man seemed happy to see him last time. Derek shouldn't feel this hurt, this shut out. It just felt like they were building a relationship, even if they just played a game.

Maybe he was just embarrassed about the printer thing, like Derek had been. Or maybe he was having more computer problems.

That thought brought conflicting emotions. First, it brought a smile, but then he thought about how easy it was for the man to be able to shut him out.

Maybe he was in trouble. He doubted it, but maybe. Derek had a worrying thought. What if the man was having another panic attack, but he didn't want him to see?

Derek internally debated for a moment longer before deciding to just listen in to check on him.

He focused and could hear the man's heartbeat thumping rapidly. His breathing was shallow and fast.

Derek panicked. Why wasn't he calling his friend?

There were sounds of movement that Derek couldn't make out.

He heard breathing sounds that sounded like they were coming from his computer and Derek was puzzled. Was the man trying some breathing exercises to calm down? He heard an extended groan and Derek's eyes widened.

Oh.

He heard a loud breathy moan that faded off into a needy whine and his face flamed.

Oh.

That was why his blinds were closed. Derek heard more decidedly not breathing exercise noises from the man's computer. Now that he knew what it was Derek could easily tell exactly what the noise of movement was from. There was a gasp then a guttural moan. Derek quickly blocked out the noise again and he scurried inside like he was the one caught jerking off.

He laid in bed with red ears. He closed his eyes to fall asleep, but he kept replaying the sounds over and over. He let out a frustrated groan before pulling his pillow over his face like that would muffled the noise in his head. The man's moans had gotten to him more than he'd like to admit. It would be very uncomfortable to fall asleep now.

He threw the pillow off and muttered, "Oh for God's sake!" Before shoving a hand past his waistband.

Later he fell asleep feeling satisfied, content, and very embarrassed.

---

Erica practically cackled off the couch and even Boyd cracked a small smile.

"Oh God Hale, only you!"

Derek stabbed his spoon into his ice cream and it clinked harshly against the ceramic. "How was I supposed to know! That he was..."

Erica gleefully finished his sentence. "Masturbating?"

Derek looked down to hide his burning face. "Can you stop enjoying my pain please?"

"Nu-uh I'm your friend. I have to make you more embarrassed. It's my job."

He scowled at her and she stuck her tongue out.

She spoke through a bite of cookies and cream, "What did you do after you realized what he was doing?"

"I went inside and I..." He avoided looking at her.

"You what?" She looked at him and then at Boyd's smirking face. "You didn't!" She asked shocked. She laughed at him again.

He groaned and forcefully stirred his ice cream.

"Oh my God, you so did!"

---

Stiles couldn't breathe.

Correction, the breath entering his lungs left just as fast as it entered. He could breathe in the same way that he could think. In a way that only made the situation worse and more panic inducing.

He needed to calm down. He tried to breathe. He tried to think about something else, but his thoughts kept circling back. He couldn't call Scott because he had a difficult surgery in the morning. If he called Allison it would wake Scott. He didn't want to call Lydia because it always freaked her out when she wasn't actually there to help. Sometimes she just made it worse no matter how much comfort she wanted to offer. Jackson was in a completely different time zone. He couldn't call his dad because he would still be on shift. Liam, Kira, and Malia all didn't know about his panic attacks and now wouldn't be the best time to have them figure it out.

He muttered to himself, "Y-you can d-d-o this." He tried to calm himself down, but knowing he didn't have anyone he could call made it worse.

He grabbed at his hair as he paced. "S-stop! S-t-top! Fuck-k!"

The tears were rushing down his face and his vision was blurred. His mind whipped in a frenzy as thoughts frantically raced.

He couldn't take it anymore. He ran over to his desk. He shoved papers trying to find his phone, but he could barely see thought the tears. He looked up and cursed, "F-fuck! Stupid f-f-fucking pho-one!" He closed his eyes harshly and when he opened them that light across the street was on.

He met eyes with his shocked pajama clad neighbor.

His mind was a torrent of thoughts. Oh God he was so stupid. This was so stupid. He was an idiot! Why! Why was he doing this right now! Why did his neighbor have to be there! He wouldn't ever want to see him again. Wh-

He went to move out of sight of the window, but his neighbor waved his hands frantically.

Stiles watched with curious eyes as his neighbor put a hand on to his chest. He slowly lifted it up and held it before placing it back on his chest again.

Stiles looked at him with curious eyes and his breathing still hammered in and out.

His neighbor repeated the motion and deeply inhaled this time.

Oh. He wanted Stiles to synch his breathing.

A small smile fought its way through all the panic and distress previously on his face. His neighbor wanted to help him, to calm him down. Even though he barely knew him he cared.

Stiles payed attention to the rhythm his neighbor set, but his breathing wouldn't calm.

More frustrated tears fell. "I-I can't." He whispered as he shook his head.

His neighbor used his other hand to gesture for him to calm down, then he paused the breathing motion to tap his own heartbeat. He resumed the breathing motion. He said something that Stiles couldn't understand.

Stiles tried again. He dug his fingernails into his palm as he tried to ground himself. He was fine. There was someone with him. They cared. He wanted him to calm down, to breathe. Just breathe. It was going to be okay. He was okay. As he thought he kept his eyes on his neighbor's moving hand.

They stood there together for several minutes.

The motion eventually soothed him into a normal breathing pattern. His tears were still falling, but his head was no longer pounding and he could breathe easily. Stiles wiped his eyes and focused on his neighbor's, which were still staring at him calmly.

His neighbor pointed at Stiles and then himself, after he pressed his pointer finger to his thumb as the rest of his fingers fanned upwards.

He smiled. He was trying to tell Stiles that they were okay. Stiles nodded and lifted his hand to copy his gesture.

His neighbor smiled and dropped his hands.

Stiles tried to convey he was sorry and moved his mouth exaggeratedly while he spoke, "Sorry."

He waved his hand in a dismissal. And once again mimed that it was okay.

Stiles was trying to figure out the best way to flee and watch Netflix, not being able to sleep, while they just stared at each other.

His neighbor tentatively raised his hands in a very familiar way.

Stiles smiled and sat on his computer chair. It was a way to pass the time. And a way to not be alone with his thoughts.

They played till the morning light invaded their hidden game. Stiles counted the tally marks and reluctantly put another tally under the you column. Stiles stuck out his tongue.

He held up a middle finger and Stiles clutched his chest with an overly shocked look. He laughed at him and Stiles smiled in return.

---

"I still wish you would've called me."

Stiles shrugged at Lydia. "I couldn't find my phone."

They both drank their smoothies while walking to the next shop in silence. She looked over at him with an assessing look.

"What?"

She only squinted further.

"What."

"Nothing. I'm just surprised he was able to calm you down like that."

Stiles rolled his eyes. "I was desperate. If fricken Elmo popped up and started counting breaths with me I probably would've gone with it."

She hummed and turned back to look where she was going. "I think you should make him cookies. As a thank you. Besides, it's neighborly."

He looked at her like she was crazy. "Are you crazy?! How weird would that be? To just show up with cookies. Like, 'Hey I'm your crazy neighbor that had a panic attack and you had to spend several minutes calming me down. So thanks. Here's some double chip.' No, thank you. I will stick with rock, paper, scissors and pretending I'm not falling in love with a man I've never met."

A passing couple gaped at them, having clearly only caught the last sentence. Stiles squinted at them and they looked away quickly.

Lydia rolled her eyes. "Do you really want to live your life not taking chances and connecting with people? You live and work in your apartment. The only time you leave is when the pack or your dad drag you out. This guy seems sweet, albeit a bit creepy, but sweet. I think you should give it a shot. Do you really want to play rock, paper, scissors with him till one of you moves? You have no social life Stiles."

Stiles argued, "Hey I trash talk ten year olds in Halo, just fine."

She didn't react to his joke. "Stiles."

He sighed. "Yeah, I know."

She squinted. "Do you? Do you know what it's like to see one of your best friends waste away and not even care about their life? I don't know what the hell happened to you at college, but you didn't come back the same. At first I thought it was some left over nogitsune bullshit, but it's not. You just don't seem to care about your life. Do you know what that's like for us? For your dad?" She got a little choked up. "For me?"

Stiles pulled her into a hug and fought tears. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"And you won't let us help you. Why?"

Stiles kissed her head. "Because you can't. I know that's difficult to handle, but you can't. And I'm sorry. I'm so fuckin sorry Lyds."

She spoke through her tears, "We just want for you to b-"

"To be happy. I know." He rubbed his hands down her arms. "I'll try the cookies."

---

Stiles drummed fingers on the container as he waited for that light to go on. He tried to busy himself with work, but the problems that wouldn't let him sleep couldn't hold his attention.

He was staring off into space nervously chewing a pen when that light flicked on. He shot out of his seat and bulleted to the door, getting to the doorway before remembering to go back for the container.

---

Derek loved his job. He loved it. He enjoyed his work and actually looked forward to it. He liked feeling like he was doing something important. But all this week there was this itch under his collar, his badge felt heavy, and he just wanted to put his gun away. He couldn't wait to get home.

Who knows how long the man had been panicking for at the start of the week. Derek felt unease in his chest all day and night until he could get home to check on that light and the man it created a halo for. Each night they waved and if the man didn't have work to do they added another mark to the window above.

Derek was becoming worryingly dependant on their routine. He was starting to think if the man wasn't there one night his wolf wouldn't rest till he hunted him down to make sure he was safe. Derek shook his head at that thought. He had more self control than that. He kicked his boots off and flicked on his light. He unbuttoned his top button and didn't even have the patience to change first before opening the sliding door. He frowned at the light on, but the chair was empty and moving in a circle. Maybe he went to get something to drink. Derek listened to the empty flat and started to wonder if he had as much self control as he thought.

He went back inside to change.

After throwing on a pair of sweatpants he paced thinking about what could've happened. Why would've he left his light on? Maybe someone called him for something, like Scott. Maybe Derek just couldn't hear him in there for some reason. Maybe he was safe.

Or maybe someone broke in and took him.

Derek strode to his door deciding to just go over and see if he could smell distress outside his door.

He was across the room from the door when there was a knock.

Derek froze.

Who would be knocking at three am? The Erica of his mind supplied that it could be the man, naked, with flowers. He dismissed that thought as he took a deep breath through his nose as he got closer.

One man. Nervous, very, but excited. Home, like baking and happiness. Like cookies and cinnamon. There was a hint of the scent of rain and thunderstorms. There was a undercurrent of a drug. Nothing he was familiar with, so not illegal. Prescription most likely. There was a Woody scent too. Sandalwood, cedar? There was a pungent coffee and sugar scent like it was all the man consumed.

There was another, much smaller, knock.

Derek opened the door. His mouth opened and his breath was lost.

It was most definitely the man. Derek didn't need to have seen his face, he'd know that messy hair and bright cartoon pajamas anywhere. But now that he did see his face, there was no going back after seeing those wide bright brown eyes. He had moles everywhere and God those lips. Having that hair close enough he wanted to run his fingers through it, or just tug on it. Fuck, he was so gone and the man hadn't even spoken to him yet. Derek took in the man's expression, he looked terrified. He could practically hear the man's dry throat trying to swallow. He realized what his own must look like. He probably still had defensive posture. His face still scrunched in what his sister's called, 'The murder face of concentration.'

He opened his lips to talk, but the man blurted instead, "Oh god this was a terrible idea. I can't believe I did this. Why did I listen to Lydia. You were so nice to calm me down and I just show up on your doorstep like a weirdo. This was weird, this was bad. I mean look at you, god look at your arms!" The man flung out an arm vaguely at Derek. "You probably don't even eat cookies, you probably eat bullets! Lydia was so wrong. You were just being nice helping me, and I've made it weird with cookies. God how does someone even make something weird with cookies? You probably were just humoring me with the rock, paper, scissors. Just being nice, waiting till it wasn't rude to just never look over at me again. You were probably just enjoying the night out on your sick balcony, when you saw a crazy person up at three and were curious, but now the crazy person is on your doorstep. And you'll probably call the cops which would be real fuckin awkward bec-"

Derek got the sense the man could go on the entire night. And he didn't know how much he could take without finding some very boundary pushing ways of shutting him up. "I eat cookies." Derek interrupted.

The man took in a large breath. "What?"

Derek held down a smile. "I eat cookies. Not bullets."

The man seemed checked out as he nodded. "That's good."

The man stared up at him with those Bambi eyes and he had to fight the urge to let his wolf maul him. Derek lifted an eyebrow. "So... Cookies?"

The man seemed to come back to himself. "Right! So raspberry and cream cheese kolaczki cookies. My grandmother's recipe. I didn't know what you would like, so I just made the best recipe I have." He shoved the container forward.

Derek took it.

The man pointed a thumb behind himself. "Right, so I'm just going to go die in a hole and hopefully never be reminded of this again."

Derek spoke as the man moved, "You better not die. Not before you can reclaim your pride in rock, paper, scissors."

The man smiled at him and Derek swore he had never been that close to death. "I think it's clear from this encounter I didn't have any pride to begin with."

Derek smiled.

"Okay Jesus that is so unfair, so I'm going to go." He started to walk away.

"The elevator is th-"

"The other way. Yes. Thank you."

The man awkwardly saluted and tripped on the hastily put on shoes before disappearing around the corner. He exhaled and whispered, "Smooth. Real fuckin smooth."

Derek smiled and closed his door.

---

"He gave you cookies?" Erica dug in the Chinese container on the table.

"Yeah. I had to look them up, but they're some polish cookie. He gave me like two dozen."

"Where are they? I want some."

Derek ducked his head as he blushed. "I ate them."

Her mouth dropped open. "You ate two dozen cookies in two days?"

"They were really good, some of the best cookies I've ever had! And small."

She kicked him. "Dereek! Now I really want one! You really are them all?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "I stress ate like half of them that night trying to figure out a way to see him again before I realized I would have to return the container."

She groaned. "You're a mess."

They ate in silence till she put her plate down. "I talked to your sisters the other day."

Derek's stomach lurched. That was never good.

"They filled me in on the meeting next month."

Derek felt unsettled.

"Why didn't you tell us? You know no matter what you do we would support you."

Derek nodded and opened his mouth.

Erica continued, "Even if your decision is stupid. And dumb. And not the right choice."

He sighed. "Erica, it's not that easy."

Her voice was sharp. "So explain it. Because to me it seems like you're shooting yourself in the foot. If you forfeit Beacon now, there will be no getting it back without forcefully taking it. You would have no claim. Laura doesn't want this land, but you could take care of it. You're building a life here. You moved back here, we followed you here. You know as long as you're here we are, but let us know if you don't see a future here. We need to know if we should put down roots or not. Boyd likes it here and I'm starting to come around to it, but if you plan on leaving we need to know."

Derek shook his head. "No matter what happened here, this is my home. This is Hale land."

"It won't be if you forfeit."

He looked down. "We are a pack of three, this is a supernatural beacon. There's no way we could protect it. I do my part at my job. Besides, I could never take this land from the McCall-Stilinski pack. They've taken care of it since we left. I couldn't do that to the sheriff and alpha McCall."

"Doesn't us not having territory make us vulnerable?"

He tilted his head from one side to the other. "Normally, yes. But the alpha and the sheriff know we're here. They have accepted our presence, so we are allowed on this property. That means we won't have any claim to it, but we will still be protected like it is ours. They could always kick us out, but as long as they don't find out I'm an alpha there shouldn't be a problem. We will be treated as accepted guests from another pack."

She nodded thinking. "And what if our pack expanded? What if Issac came back?"

"We could always work out something with them. From what we've heard they're very unorthodox. Hell, just having a true alpha and the sheriff as it's two leading members is crazy enough."

"Hm. Okay. Well, they better not find out. How did returning the dish to hot neighbor go?"

"I haven't yet."

She gaped. "What? Why not? I thought you'd be all eager to see your boy again."

"I didn't want him to think I ate them in two days."

Erica crunched a water chestnut. "But you did!"

"Yeah, but what if when I told him that, he thought I was lying and he thought I threw them away?"

She threw an egg roll at him. "Just give it back you idiot."

---

It was three nights later and Derek had decided to just go to bed. But damn Erica. Her words were ringing in his ears. He grabbed the container before pulling on his boots.

He knocked on the door and wiped his sweaty hands on his pajama pants.

He heard muffled thumping noises and a yelp from the door. There was a soft noise of surprise before Derek heard a chain sliding and the door unlocking.

The man looked as sleep deprived as always, but he had a bat loosely held in one hand. "You scared the shit out of me! The only other time another soul was at my door this late was when someone tried to break in."

Derek was alarmed.

"Don't worry. I had my bat then too." He gave it an expert twirl that didn't fit with the previously clumsy impression Derek had of him.

"And here I thought we lived in a good part of town."

The man laughed. "The bad parts tend to follow me."

"I can't imagine much of anything not wanting to follow you."

The man turned light pink. "Is that my container?"

Derek held it up. "I washed it."

The man started to reach for it. Derek tried to channel everything Erica told him. He pulled it back. The man looked at him with distrust. "I can't give this back until I get a recipe."

The man scoffed. "You bake?"

Derek raised an eyebrow.

"Fair enough. But no can do. Babcia would roll over in her grave, and she's not even dead yet."

Derek laughed. "Well then, fine." He smirked in the way Erica told him to and leaned on the door frame with a forearm. "How about you give me somewhere I can go to get my sugar fix?" Derek really hoped he didn't slam the door in his face.

The man's mouth was gaping and his heart was fast. "Do you know the grocery store on fifth street?"

Derek's eyebrows furrowed. "What?"

"For your sugar fix. They sell them there." The man looked earnest.

Derek straightened back up embarrassed. "Oh. Um, thanks. I-"

The man burst out laughing. Derek realized he was messing with him. "You're a shit aren't you?"

The man shrugged. "I wasn't the one that leaned up against the door frame like a douche."

"It was a little douchey wasn't it?"

The man held up his thumb and pointer close together. "Just a bit."

Derek smiled at him. "Well, there we have it. You shouldn't listen to Lydia, and I shouldn't listen to Erica."

"I knew an Erica once, definitely don't listen to her."

Derek nodded. "Well, I should give this back." He handed over the container.

"How about this, if you have more tally marks by the end of next week, I'll make a double batch just for you."

Derek nodded. "That sounds perfect. But be warned, those were some of the best cookies I've ever had. I'll bring my A game for babcia's cookies."

The man smiled. "I'd expect nothing less." The man hesitated slightly. "But if you want, if you're going to be up anyway, I have some more inside." The man bit his lip nervously.

Derek took effort to not immediately say yes far too loud. "I could definitely be persuaded with cookies. Do you have to work?"

The man shrugged. "As long as I get my stuff done he doesn't care when I work and I'm ahead. If I'm being honest I was just about to say screw work and watch Captain America."

"Which one?"

"The first one." The man tapped the container against his palm.

"That one is my favorite."

He opened his mouth before closing it. "Do you want to? If you aren't too tired, do you want to watch it?"

Derek had just finished a twelve hours shift that was so busy he barely had time to eat. "I'm never too tired for Captain America. Do you need to get some sleep?"

"I'm never too tired to see Bucky Barnes in uniform." The man smiled.

"We have that in common."

The man looked surprised. "Oh?"

"Yeah."

"Good."

Derek smiled. "Oh?"

The man smiled right back. "Yeah."

Derek looked into his mesmerizing eyes. "Yeah."

The man looked down and then away. "Okay, make yourself comfortable on the couch. I just have to shut down my computer and g-"

"Get the cookies." Derek supplied.

The man rolled his eyes. "You're like a child."

He shrugged.

---

Parish clapped his back. "I know yesterday was rough, but you look like shit. Did you get any sleep at all?"

"Nope." Derek said with a smile.

"Damn. Why do you look so happy about it Hale?"

He shrugged. "I got cookies and watched the Captain America movies." He didn't mention how there was also hours of debate originally about the movies, but then moved to the entire MCU and then other things. That one of the many times the man flung out his arms, his brushed Derek's and if he focused he could still smell the cinnamon he originally thought came from the cookies.

Parish looked at him puzzled. "You're a weird one Hale."

---

At the end of the week they were tied and the man held up a container enticingly. They had set up the rule that whoever had the most wins by three am won. It was down to the last second and they both sped up so Derek could catch up. He ended up triumphant and the man acted being put out upon briefly before grabbing the container.

There was a knock and Derek had to count to ten, so he didn't know he was waiting at the door.

"I admit. You won it fair and square. Enjoy your cookies."

"Yeah. I definitely will. But if you wanted some, that could be arranged." Derek offered.

"I have some back at my place, but I could go for a coffee."

Derek grinned. "Coffee can be done." He held open the door.

---

"We talked about everything and nothing. He's so interesting. Just the way he thinks about things, god the way he explains himself is like porn. And fuck, his smile. His smile should be illegal. You know?" Stiles gushed.

Lydia stayed still with an expectant look on her face.

Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes. His voice went low and mocking, "Lydia you were right."

"I know. So what's his name."

Stiles immediately opened his mouth before snapping it shut and his eyes widened comically.

"Don't tell me yo- Oh my god Stiles! You don't know his name?!"

Stiles rubbed his hands down his face while groaning. "Maybe he said it and I don't remember, but now it will be weird if I ask!"

"For someone so smart, you can be so dumb."

---

"Fuck Laura I don't know his name!"

Cora's laughter was a given, but sweet down to earth Toni's snickers weren't hidden even by her girlfriend's outrageous laugh.

---

He had been working on this problem for hours. The code seemingly mocking him just like his rubber duck that was now in time out. He cracked his neck and changed positions.

Stiles' smile was face splitting when he saw the brightness coming from across the street.

The man waved as he came out ten minutes later in pjs with a bowl of what Stiles assumed to be cereal.

They played a few games before Derek started to yawn. He should get to bed. He motioned that he was going to head in and the man nodded before adding a mark to his own side. Derek nearly collided with the door when it didn't open as he expected. He groan before starting to jiggle it. It wouldn't budge. If he broke it the landlord, who already didn't like him, would be angry. He patted his pockets so he could at least call Erica, but he left it inside. Great. Just great. He turned to see if the man had noticed.

Stiles was laughing his ass off. His neighbor had locked himself out. He had tears in his eyes. He calmed down and met his flat face and it set Stiles off again. This time when he calmed down his neighbor had a small smile. Stiles motioned for him to wait a moment.

Several minutes later Derek heard a rustling at his front door.

Oh great, he locked himself on his balcony, and he was getting robbed. Worst of all the man across the street probably left to get a camera.

He listened and recognized the heartbeat just as the door clicked and gave way. That mop of messy hair looked as cute as ever, even if it puzzled Derek how he knew how to pick locks. The man waved and Derek knocked on the glass before pouting out his bottom lip.

The man laughed once again.

He jiggled the door from the inside to let his neighbor back in. "Welcome to my humble abode." He said as he opened the door.

Derek ignored his comment. "Where did you learn to do that?" He nodded towards the door he closed behind himself. If this man was an international thief or something of the like Derek needed to know.

The man turned on his heels starting to walk, after throwing a suggestive at Derek. "I have a lot of talents, but I'm especially good with my hands."

Derek smirked even if he couldn't see it and walked after him. "And here I was wondering about that mouth."

The man stopped dead, and Derek collided with his back. On instinct Derek's hand went to his hip.

"Oh I'm really good with that too." Maybe it was just Derek, but it felt like the man was leaning backwards into his space.

"Yeah? Am I going to have to lock myself out again to figure out your other hidden talents?"

The man shook his head, and Derek could feel his rabbiting heartbeat. "No. A date. Next Thursday, that new Ryan Reynolds movie is out. You wanted to see it. Didn't you?" A little bit of doubt crept into that question he asked to give Derek an out.

Derek leaned in to breath on his neck. The man was intoxicating. "I want to see that movie so bad, I don't know how I am possibly supposed to wait until Thursday. I want to see that movie so bad, I wish it could just be Thursday." Derek ghosted his bottom lip down his neck. "I want to see that movie so bad, I'm practically shaking."

Stiles' voice shook, "H-how do you know it will be worth the wait?"

"The trailers have been a tantalizing."

"Really? Are you sure you don't need a few reviews? I'm sure it has some glowing ones."

Derek gripped his hip tighter. "I prefer to make my own opinions."

"Yeah? Well, it probably will be good, it's got a stellar lead."

Derek nodded letting his lips drag against his neck. The man shivered. "I would let that sarcastic brunet do what ever he wanted to me."

"Ryan Reynolds is one of the hottest actors."

"Oh, him? I guess he's okay too."

Just like that Stiles was at the end of his rope. He spun around and wrapped his arms around his neighbor's neck to pull him down. "I'm going to k-"

Derek cut the man off by beating him to the punch. And boy, it felt like Derek was punched instead.

Stiles buried his hand in his hair. Derek nipped at his lip and the man's mouth fell open in a groan. Derek seized his opportunity. The man tasted of coffee and desperation, probably as much as Derek did. Stiles pulled his hair and he gripped Stiles' hips and harshly pulled them to his own. Stiles walked Derek backwards until they collided with the glass door.

Time was lost to Stiles. All he knew was the person in front of him. He felt a hand sneak under his shirt. He pulled back. "Fuck." He breathed harshly. "Fuck, if you do that I won't make it to Thursday."

Derek started to bite and kiss at his neck instead.

"Fuck if you do, that, I won't last five minutes." He could feel a smile press against his throat.

"What do you recommend I do?"

Stiles closed his eyes to clear his mind. "Don't do, any of what you're doing." He peeked his eyes open. "In fact, your face? That's got to stop too. It is much too distracting."

"Oh okay. And what abo-"

"Yep, your voice is another thing that isn't going to happen right now."

He leaned back into his neck. "Sorry. How's this?" He rubbed his beard against his neck.

There was a gasp before he gripped his hair and pulled his head back. He spoke forcefully, "You, are doing that Thursday! Everywhere." Stiles slammed their lips together again.

Derek pulled back. "Do you need to get back to your computer?"

"Fuck my computer." Stiles spoke the last word practically against his lips.

Stiles pulled back. "I left your door open."

"Fuck my door." Derek pressed his smile to his lips.

"I'd rather fuck you."

Stiles went to kiss him again, but his neighbor burst out laughing. "No! No laughing. Kiss me!"

Derek's laugh rang out regardless of the pout. They kissed until they were interrupted by a small meow.

The man pulled back with wide eyes. "You have a cat!"

Derek was concerned. "Are you allergic?"

Stiles left him pressed against the glass door. He looked around. "Here, kitty kitty."

Lucian sauntered closer.

Derek started coming closer. "I wouldn't try to pet him! He hates all people and will bite you if you don't leave him alone. Really he's a huge asshole named Lucian."

Stiles held out his hand and Lucian eagerly pressed his head against his hand. Stiles looked back. "Right, sure. A big asshole. He's a sweetie. Aren't you?" He did a pet voice. "Oh, yes you are."

Lucian practically rolled over on to his belly and purred. Derek looked in disbelief. "He doesn't normally do that."

The man scoffed. He went to pick Lucian up cautiously and he almost leap into his arms. "Of course not. Because you're the huge asshole. Isn't he Luci? He is. Lying about you being mean, but you're a little sweetheart." Lucian gave a little meow of agreement.

---

Over the next few days Stiles found just about every single way to tease a man while not being able to speak and with an alley in-between them.

Thursday Derek knocked on his door and was breathless when it opened. "I thought sleepy you would kill me, but those jeans are a sin."

The man flushed. "Oh, well I prefer you without a shirt. I haven't had the pleasure yet, but I figure that rule applies to pants as well."

"Be good tonight and you might get it."

Stiles closed the door behind himself and leaned in to peck his lips. "I'm never good." He winked and walked away.

They whispered jokes back and forth the entire movie and almost got kicked out for laughing. They barely made it up into Derek's apartment before they were tearing each others clothes off. They fell into bed in a whirlwind.

While their breath was calming Stiles had a thought. "I should probably give you my number, huh?"

Derek laughed and agreed, "Yeah, you should." Before he rolled over, caging him with his arms again and nosing at his neck.

---

He felt someone staring at him and he looked up. "What?"

Parrish had a haunted look on his face. "What is your face doing?"

"What do you mean?"

"You look... Happy?!" Parrish ran away laughing as Derek threw paperclips at him.

The sheriff appeared beside him with a disapproving look.

"Sir, I-"

He clapped him on the shoulder. "Happy looks good on you, Hale."

Parrish looked surprised. "Are you letting go of your five month plan?"

The sheriff sipped his coffee. "Nah. It just might have to be moved to the five year plan."

Parrish laughed and he smirked. Derek was confused, but he let it go figuring they wouldn't tell him anyway.

Derek called after the sheriff as he headed toward the break room. "I put a yoghurt in the fridge for you! Leave the donuts alone!"

"Christ Hale, you're worse than my kid."

"To be a deputy I need a sheriff!"

"Love you too kid." He called before shutting the door to eat his yoghurt.

Derek felt pleased, but tried not to show it. The warmth in his chest blossomed anyway.

---

Scott's neck nearly snapped as he turned to him. "Dude you got laid!"

Stiles grimaced. "That's so gross! I showered like three times."

"It's not that, you just have this settledness. A contentment that comes after."

"Still weird dude."

---

They texted constantly. Now that Stiles could gloat in-between games and make sarcastic comments it was constant. Derek gave as good as he got, though.

Whenever his phone buzzed he was smiling before he could even realize it. They talked about anything and everything. The man went down the programming rabbit hole once, till they banned work talk before he could even find out what his neighbor did for a living. But other than that they shared everything. Well, he still didn't know the man's name, but that was unimportant when you've held a person as they told you about losing their mom and in turn told them about all the family you'll never see again. Derek was never tired of the man. For two weeks they kept getting closer and texting constantly. It was like normal social rules didn't exist with the man. One moment they'd be talking about video games and the next they spoke about their third favourite ice cream flavor, or how they've disappointed the people closest to them. They always had an argument about something, but it always ended in laughter. This had been what he was missing. This had been what he wanted. Someone to share the little parts of his day with. Someone that cared and couldn't wait to see him.

But in the small moments when they sat in silence he could tell there was something the man wasn't telling him. Sometimes he would chew his nails staring off into the distance with a worry on his face. When Derek would ask what was wrong he would dismiss it as nothing. He kept getting more and more on edge through the two weeks, but he acted like normal until Derek got his text.

It had been a busy day, if it wasn't one thing it was another. Paperwork and deadlines that had to be met, things to be catalogued, and someone to be arrested. He got off around two that night thankfully. Derek wanted to kick off his shoes and just go straight over to his balcony, but his phone buzzed almost immediately after his light went on.

His smile dimmed as he saw that the man had a very important work problem and couldn't be distracted.

Derek understood. He really did. He went to take a shower and tried not to feel the unwarranted disappointment. Sometimes people were busy, that was fine. He tried to settle into bed, but he couldn't close his eyes without thoughts of the man. Maybe if he just saw him, he would be able to sleep. His bare feet hit the cold floor as he walked out to the balcony.

As soon as he opened the door his face fell into a frown. His blinds were closed.

Surely he wasn't... Derek thought about how the man couldn't keep his hands off of him. He listened in, but was met with the sounds of computer typing, frustrated noises, and mumbled complaints. He was definitely working, but why would he close his blinds?

Derek got back into bed still thinking. Maybe he just needed a break from him. Or maybe it was really a big work problem that he couldn't handle being distracted from.

Thoughts about the man kept Derek awake and not even Tom Hardy in a lobster tank could lull him to sleep.

It was four am and he had gotten no sleep. He shut off the movie on his laptop. The more he thought about it the more confused and frustrated he was with not knowing what happened. He was now beyond tired and grumpy. He switched shifts with someone so he went to the kitchen to make himself something to eat and get some much needed coffee before work. He put some toast in before reaching for the coffee tin.

He sighed so loudly Lucian came into the room out of curiosity. "Why of all days? Why me?" Derek threw the empty coffee tin in the garbage. Yesterday was so busy he forgot to get some. There was no way he was going to work without coffee, but nowhere would be open this early.

He had a thought. Hm, worth a go.

He listened and sure enough the man was still up, pacing his flat. Derek grabbed his keys.

He knocked and soon enough the door swung open. The man looked disheveled and Derek was instantly hit with a wall of stress, anxiety, and fear.

Derek immediately forgot that he had been agitated or that he was under caffeinated. "What's wrong?"

The man looked caught off guard. "What? Why are you here?"

It wasn't said unkindly just with curiosity, but it still hurt. "I'm out of coffee, and I have to work in three hours."

"Right. Fine. I've just got to focus on this work thing. It's really-"

Derek lifted an eyebrow then looked over at where his computer was off.

The man scrubbed a hand down his face. "It's complicated."

Derek nodded. "I get complicated. That's okay if things are complicated. I just don't want, you feeling comfortable talking to me, to be one of them. So I'm going to go make us some coffee. And if you want to talk we can sit on the couch until you find a way to make it sound uncomplicated. If not I can take my coffee, go to work, and wait for the day it either is too complicated or it isn't anymore. I'll wait if you aren't ready or if this is too soon, but there is nothing that you could say that I wouldn't want to hear. Simply for the fact that it's you saying it."

Derek was tackled into a kiss that tasted like stale coffee. "It's in the cabinet by the sink."

They stood in silence as Derek made them coffee. The man went over to his bread box and pulled out a container of peanut butter cookies. Derek looked at him softly.

"I know they aren't your mom's, but I figured I-"

Derek pulled him into a hug. "They'll be perfect." Derek turned to get the sugar out and set the mugs down.

"I want the big ba-"

"The big Batman one. I know. It's the one you use the most at your desk."

Stiles wrapped himself around his back while he poured them coffee and he kissed the back of his shoulder. "More sugar."

He shook his head and set the sugar down.

Stiles turned to mouth at his neck and then whispered, "More sugar, please?"

He swore before dumping more in. "Jesus. You'll be the death of me."

Stiles smiled and bit at just the right spot as he crept his hand under his shirt.

"Fuck your hands are cold."

"Why don't you warm them up then?" Stiles danced his fingers along his skin.

"I know what you're doing."

Stiles pulled his ear between his teeth and whispered breathily, "Is it working?"

"No."

He scraped his nails down his side and Derek shivered. "Yes." Derek turned around and held his chin to kiss him. He leaned back to look into his eyes. "If you don't want to talk about it you don't have to distract me, we just don't have to talk about it. I just want you to have someone to talk about things with, even if they aren't happy."

The man looked at him with an undecipherable look, before tears started to gather in his eyes. He pulled him in for a sweet kiss and leaned their foreheads together. "This is much too soon for just how deeply I care for you. This is weird."

Derek smiled at him. "Yeah, it is. So what? You're weird. I'm weird. Why wouldn't we be weird together?"

Derek walked over to the couch and set their mugs down. "So, am I taking a seat?"

Stiles nodded at him. He sat down and started drinking his coffee and pulled his legs up. He waited patiently as Stiles began to pace. "Are you sure?"

Derek shrugged. "There are few things I've been more sure of than you."

Stiles let out a humorless laugh as he shook his head. "You see that right there! I can tell you're a defensive and closed off person. You don't trust easily. You had people take advantage of you, so you don't let people into your life, but with me you, you just trust me. And that scares me. Because what if I hurt you? Then I'll just be another one of the people you trusted that hurt you. And God we're moving so fast! Surely this is too fast? People normally don't go this fast. But it doesn't feel wrong. Well, I mean it does, but only for the fact that it doesn't feel wrong to be going this fast. Does that make sense? It probably doesn't. But God you just scare me because I've dated, I've had boyfriends and girlfriends. I've had casual hook ups and serious relationships, but I have never once thought about if my dad would be proud to walk me down the aisle to any of them. That is a crazy thought to have! And I thought that after the first time we had sex! That's crazy! I'm crazy! I shouldn't think about getting married after knowing you for like less than a month! And I've never felt like I had to be fake with you. I've never thought oh God what if my laugh is obnoxious? What if doesn't like the way I walk or the way I dress or the way I act? What if I'm too much of a nerd for him? What if I like him more than he likes me? I mean you're sex on legs, practically a Greek god and I'm just me. But you never make me feel like just me. You make me feel special. I never once have thought what if I'm too skinny or not muscled enough. I've never thought any of that."

He took a big deep breath in.

"Not a single thing like it. It's just so easy to be me around you, and it scares me. I tell you everything. You know about Scott and my mom and the boy named Theo in eighth grade that broke my heart. I tell you about the history of male circumcision and my time at Berkeley. And I know things about you. You told me that she took advantage of you when you haven't even told your sisters that. Sometimes I think I know you inside and out, but then I remember just how little I know, how little time we've know each other. Hell, I sat on your face and I don't know your middle name, fuck or your first! But I know you had a dog named Lucky when you were six. I know all these things, but when I think of a day I don't get to learn more about you it ruins my mood. I want to know everything about you, and I want you to know everything about me."

The man's eyes looked wild and scared as he flailed his arms.

"I ramble! It's a thing I do! I'm doing it right now! And you don't even care. You just get this look in your eyes like it would kill you if I ever shut up. And let me tell you, I'm used to having the exact opposite. I am constantly told to shut up. But you, you just calm me down from panic attacks and text me so my day isn't boring and look all super hot when you kiss me. And right now I should feel different. I should feel sorry for talking this much, but I don't. Because it's you."

He stopped moving and looked into Derek's eyes deeply. "Because it's you. You scare me. Because it's you. You don't make me feel sorry for being me."

Derek nodded. He sat his mug down and put his legs back down before widening them and patting the space between them.

Stiles walked over and collapsed into his lap. He straddled him and wrapped his arms around his neck.

When Derek encircled his torso the man slumped against him as he buried his head into his neck.

They clung to each other for several moments before Derek spoke, "It scares me too. My sisters are sick of hearing about you and Erica is dying to meet you. I'm nervous to meet Scott and down right terrified to meet your dad. My middle name is Samuel. I thought about if we would move or live here and if you would want kids. This scares me. I haven't had a proper long term relationship where they didn't try to kill me. I closed myself off from everyone for so long to heal that I forgot what it was like to trust someone. How to do it. I shouldn't trust you, not this soon. But I look into your eyes and my life is yours. We already disregard the social norms, why should this be any different? You scare me. But fuck what we should do. Fuck how it's supposed to go. Let's just be scared and trust each other entirely too soon." Derek didn't know if it was instinct, or just the universe finally giving him something, but he knew down to his bones that he could trust Stiles.

Stiles exhaled shakily. "I've started sleeping better because I know you're there. I don't have as many panic attacks, because I know you're a text away. I know you're across the street. I know you're there for me, and I'm not used to that and it freaks me out. It freaks me out how it's felt like there's been this hole in my life for so long, and when I look in your eyes everything seems just a little bit less hard. A little bit less like tomorrow isn't going to happen the way it's supposed to. A little bit like you're the solution to a problem I didn't even know I was asking."

He seemed to absorb that all for a moment as he rubbed soothing circles into Stiles' hip.

He stopped his circles and after a few seconds Stiles prodded, "What, what is it?"

"You don't have to answer, but if you do, answer honestly. I would rather your silence than lies. And it's okay if you don't have the answer." Derek resumed the circles.

Stiles leaned his head up and looked at him searchingly. He put his hand on the side of his face and swept broad lines along his cheekbone. "What is it?"

"Why are your lights on at three am?"

Stiles scoffed and pushed lightly on his chest. "Because I can't sleep dumbass. Why are you seeing my lights on at three am." He asked rhetorically.

His heart hadn't skipped, but it quickened. Derek looked contemplative and serious. "Because I was lonely. Because nighttime feels like the kind of peace around you that you can't help but pull it inward. Because I work the night shift. Because some days it's hard to face myself, but nighttime is made to shadow sin. Because I like to look at the moon. Because sometimes daytime is too stressful. If you want a more recent answer, because my cute neighbor is up then too. And since the first time I saw him I knew he was the type of beautiful that sunlight burned with insincerity, but moonlight kissed with truth. I'm up because sometimes my body just doesn't want to sleep no matter how tired I am." His eyes had a piercing quality. "Why are your lights on at three am?"

Stiles looked down.

"There's stuff I can't tell you. At least not yet. It's not just my secret to tell. I don't want to lie to you, but there is just this one thing, this one side of me that you aren't ready for. But I will be honest about it as soon as I can be."

Derek knew he was honest. Christ, Stiles was the most brutally honest person he'd ever met. Rarely did his heart skip a beat when Derek wasn't doing something to cause it. But every once and awhile Derek could tell he was trying to not lie. Trying not to keep anything, but also not giving. Derek was okay with it. Because even in his big secret Stiles was being open and honest with him... Even with the things he couldn't be. "Okay." Derek nodded.

Stiles' head shot up. "Okay? Just okay? No interrogation? No dramatic, 'What how could you?' come on, where's your sense of flair?"

Derek knew he was trying to hide his genuine shock.  "I trust you, remember? Trust me and tell me about what you can. If you can't tell me it, don't lie. There's things I can't tell you yet either, but I will."

The man still looked like he was trying to peer through his eye sockets to find something that was etched in the back side of his skull. He must've found it, because his air of defensiveness left him in such a big whoosh Derek could almost taste the change in the air.

"I'm awake, because I have insomnia. I'm awake, because my brain won't just shut off sometimes. I'm awake, because if there's a problem that needs solving, I can't sleep until it is. I'm awake, because I was lonely too. I'm awake at night because I'm good at coding and if I do it at three am the only person I have to lie about it being fulfilling is myself. I'm awake, because failed dreams don't belong in the daytime. I'm awake, because in the mornings I itch to solve cases and help people while doing my dream job, so it's easier to just sleep through them. I'm awake, because I'm too tired to sleep. I'm awake, because there's this sleeping beast inside me that slumbers enough for both of us, and sometimes I am terrified if I sleep too much I will awaken to it having woke up before me. I'm awake, because I am scared."

Derek could smell the saltiness of tears. "Scared of what? Something other than me?"

Stiles gripped him harder. "You're a part of it. Well, more like this is the reason you scare me so much."

Derek rubbed up and down his back and waited.

"I'm scared of my life. I'm scared of my future. The only easy part about high school was I knew where I fit in. I was the sheriff's kid. I was up to no good. I was a nerd. I wasn't popular. Scott and I were the most important thing in each other's lives other than our parents. Now it's just like, I'm adrift. Do I stay in Beacon Hills? Do I leave? Are me and Scott still best friends? Should I date, or should I be happy alone? Should I do this job or that one? Should I tell Scott that he should stop being such a cabbage and just marry her already? Should I be encouraging my dad to get back out there more? Should I buy this or do that? It's all of these choices that will shape my future and I'm terrified to make the wrong one. And you know, I can actually see it. My perfect life. The life I think I could never deserve but want to be able to one day. I see it all. And the thing is, I'm great at plans. I made them for everything, but how do you plan for your entire life when so much could go wrong? And it terrifies me. It terrifies me that I could break it. That if I don't do one thing exactly right I'll ruin all the other things. Or if I try one of the things it will break all of the others. I don't want to do that. I can't. Because I see that life for me, and I don't see how I could be happy in another, so I just- I don't mean to- I just accidentally- I-"

"You wreck things before they can break. You turn down jobs because they're your dream job, but you don't have the rest of your dream yet. You push people out of your life, because you don't have all of the people you want in it. You don't build a home that will feel hollow with just you in it. You try to hurt yourself before anyone else can do it for you, I know the feeling." And my god, did Derek. It was like hearing from himself. As Derek finished he could smell the relief coming off of him in waves.

"I don't mean to wreck it, I just do. And some nights I just panic, because how could I be that stupid? Others, I just feel so numb to everything. I don't know how to get to where I want to be and it's fucking terrifying."

Derek nodded. "I guess I don't think about my future. I'm just waiting for it to be taken from me. I know I want to be there for my sisters and my friends, but long term I don't have a clue what I want. It's always just what I have in front of me. I love my job. I have a workable apartment. Things like that matter, but I don't think about them long term."

"Wow. I can't even imagine that. Not thinking about every possible thing."

Derek shrugged. "I usually only think about what could go wrong."

"What do you see going wrong with us?"

"Most of the time? You getting tired of me and just waking up on day wanting to leave."

Stiles laughed. "Well that's bullshit. We already talked about how hard it is for me to get to sleep."

They both had soft unseen smiles.

"Will you tell me about it? What you see for yourself? Do you feel comfortable sharing that with me?" Derek was a little bit worried to see if he would somehow fit into his dream.

"We've swapped enough bodily fluids for that to not be a crazy request."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Will you tell me what you see? What you see for yourself, your future?"

Stiles sighed contemplative. "I see Scott and Allison happily married with kids. At least two, who call me uncle Stiles and I spoil rotten. I see my dad happy and healthy. Hopefully, with someone that makes him even happier and enforces the no double bacon cheeseburgers rule. I see my friends happy and safe, never too far away. I see the town safe, not necessarily quiet because I'd get bored, but manageable."

He paused long enough for Derek to realize he was done. "And for yourself?"

"That's a bit trickier. I see myself working from Beacon Hills. For the FBI as a profiling and strategy consultant. I see my Jeep still clunking around. I see a house. A big one. Not the type you would buy because it was cheap or convenient. The type that you only get when you're ready to fill it. I see family and friends gathering at our place. I see a spouse, a husband."

He seemed shy admitting that and Derek grinned. "Does this spouse have, and I quote, 'The cheekbones of an Adonis and the ass of Captain America.' by any chance?"

"In all my fantasies before they were amorphous. Never male or female for sure. Well, except when I pictured Tom Hiddleston or Jennifer Lawrence. They never looked like any one thing. They were just a concept. Now, he has the most amazing eyes. You would swear they were green, but then again maybe they're a little bit of everything."

Derek was grinning before, now he was beaming. Tears almost pouring out of kaleidoscopes.

"I see a couple of kids. Maybe fostered. But fostered, adopted, surrogate it doesn't really matter." Stiles shrugged. "I want to feel like I'm important to people. Like I'm the person they can't wait to see when they get home. I want to have a home. One that no one can ever take away or claim, because it's mine. People shouldn't be able to take homes from people. Before anything else I have to make sure what is mine, can't be taken."

"I don't think homes should be taken either. Even if you leave, that doesn't make it any less yours. You should have a place for your family, your future. People shouldn't take that from you, they should give it to you."

They just sat there breathing together and clinging to each other.

"If you think about it, what do you see?"

Derek didn't reply right away.

"I don't really know. I mean I know some things. Like I want Erica and Boyd to be there, Issac too if he wants to move back. I want my sisters to be alive and happy. I just want to be a part of a- a family again."

"Would you move back to New York? You mentioned you have family there."

When Erica had asked him things seemed so clouded, now they were clearer than they'd ever been. "No. That is my sister's place. I-" Derek's mind was clear and sure about the future for the first time in awhile. "I have a place here. This is where I belong and I never should've thought otherwise. Besides, I have a reason to stay here now. To build a life. One where I'm happy, in love, and annoyed at my husband. One where I have a family. A job I love, an over bearing boss too. One with kids and a house. Hell, I'd throw in a picket fence to go for the full cliche. One where I have someone to tell all about the family I lost. One with things to keep me on my toes, and people. One where I'm supposed to be."

Derek looked at him appreciatively. "I never knew I wanted that, or that I could. I thought I didn't deserve it, but you've made me yearn for it now. I want a life. I will make a life for myself. And for the people that want to share it with me." Derek's voice had a tone of awe, but certainty.

Stiles laced their fingers together.

Too soon Derek had to disentangle himself for work. As he went to walk towards the door the man caught him by his arm. "At first I thought it was cute and a great story to tell, to see how long we could go, but now I just want to be able to say your name. To hear you say mine. But not yet. There's this thing with Scott. Next Friday night. I'll do that and after it I want to know the name of the man I'm going to build my life with. Next Friday. Okay? After that we can be all cute and shit saying each others names with love in our eyes and all that garbage okay?"

Derek rolled his eyes then nodded. "I'll be ready after Friday too. It's time I made something right. After Friday we can start our lives anywhere in Beacon Hills. It will be ours."

Stiles looked at him with a spark in his eye. "Exactly. It will be ours." He said it like a promise.

---

Stiles' shoulders had been up to his ears the entire week leading up to Friday. Well, until Derek came by to massage them back down. They slept together every night to stave off Stiles' panic attacks. Both of them being soothed by another heartbeat. Stiles tried not to be nervous, but the Malikhai pack had been taunting them all week. Stiles knew it was serious because Jackson flew in. Jackson would only come if Lydia asked, and if Lydia was asking they were in deep shit.

Stiles and Derek had said goodbye that morning with Derek offering words of encouragement in exchange for weak smiles.

Stiles wanted to be more sure. He did. This was their land. They fought every fucking monster that was drawn to Satan's wooden dildo. And no matter how many times they got reamed up the ass they just picked out the splinters and carried on and protected the damn supernatural beacon. Because this was their motherfucking land. This was their home and no body was going to take that. Certainly not some asshole alpha who had no claim besides, 'The pack that abandoned it and left it all to a bunch of teenagers might want it. And they should have first pick because they called dibs.' It was bull.

Stiles' angry thoughts served as a pep talk and his hands stopped their shaking. Scott gave him a reassuring look and Stiles looked back with an affirming nod. They could do this.

They stood shoulder to shoulder in the clearing. All of the people that were important to him were here, Scott, his dad, Allison, Lydia, Jackson. Everyone except him, but he was doing this for him. For the future.

Deaton was off to the side as an intermediary.

Stiles was just about to make a comment about tardiness when Scott stiffened.

Stiles looked to the treeline ahead of them and straightened his shoulders and hardened his face.

Six figures, the same as their number as they agreed, emerged from the trees.

Everyone assessed for a moment.

There was an overly happy voice. "Well, nice to see even a bitten wolf and a human can accomplish showing up."

"And nice to see a born one can disregard tradition and be late." Stiles earned a few snarls.

The snide remarks kept being thrown back and forth till finally Stiles had enough. "This is not your land! You have no right to it!"

The other alpha's second spoke up, "Oh? And you do? True alpha my ass. There's no way he is one at his age and skill level. And one that co-alphas with a human nonetheless. What about the rest of your so called pack? Two weak humans, a lizard, a girl who can scream, and worst of all, a hunter." Her fangs grew as she spit out the last word like poison. "You're not a pack. You're an after school club that needs to go down for a nap. Grandpa too."

Stiles chuckled. "Debating our pack's strength will get you nowhere. You could've taken this land right after the Hales left, but you didn't. We took care of it. We made sure this land's people lived. We kept those who wished it harm, out. We made this our home and you can't take it without breaking the most sacred of laws and traditions. This is our land, it is ours. As we have taken care of it, it too shall take care of us. As we dwell within it, it dwells within us. As we draw on it's power, it draws on ours. As we are a part of this land, this land is a part of us." Stiles recited just like the book he read said. He took his father and Scott's hand and the pack linked hands. Stiles smirked. "In other words, I speak for the trees bitch."

His eyes began to glow and the wind picked up. The trees around them all began to bend. The branches closest to their pack shielded them while the other pack was batted and scraped.

The wind died down. The other pack looked pissed, but knew better than to challenge a pack on their own turf with even numbers.

Their alpha turned to Deaton with a sickly sweet smile. "Druid, I request you let one more person enter the circle of sanctuary. No harm will come of anyone, but they will shed some light on how this is their land. They recently changed their minds about some things. And since the rituals of claim need till tonight to solidify, their claim is as valid as any. This is their birthright after all." He said with a sneer towards Scott.

Stiles had a momentary freak out. What if Laura changed her mind? But she said she wouldn't. She gave her word. This was likely some sort of trick.

Deaton looked to him and Scott. They both shared a brief look then nodded to him. Deaton spoke steady and clear. "One can draw near, but they may not cause harm nor fear." A small break in the barrier was broken and they could see outside the circle.

Derek walked in and both Stilinski men stood stock still with shock. Derek looked to the other alpha and nodded before scanning both packs. He looked guiltily at the sheriff before freezing at the man next to him.

"What are you doing here?" Two voices demanded in unison.

Stiles crossed his arms. "You first."

The chill and guard in his eyes hurt Derek. "I came to claim this land."

Just as easily as the bond took hold, the pack felt it ripped from them to neutral territory.

Scott nudged Stiles. "You know him?"

Stiles squinted. Was this all just some ploy from the other pack to steal their land? Had this stranger really cared? Stiles looked into those eyes he had trusted till the moment they walked through the barrier. He was conflicted and confused. "I don't know."

His dad stepped forward. "Derek son, your alpha already forfeited this land. What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm sorry sir." He did look apologetic.

Stiles' eyes widened. "Derek?" His neighbor's eyes looked over to him. Had this all been some big lie? Had Derek been there to surveil him? And what, he just got bored and decided to play with his emotions? Stiles' face hardened once again. "You have no right. Your pack abandoned this land. Your alpha isn't here to claim it. You have no right to take from us. We protected this land. We cared for it, we bled for it! It is ours!" Stiles was speaking with force and anger.

That smarmy bastard had another smirk. "Why would Laura need to come? You see, Derek let me in on the most delicious little tidbit a few days ago. He's an alpha."

Stiles' blood ran cold. If Derek was an alpha, if he wanted the land it was his. His family lived here for generations. Hell, they practically built Beacon Hills. All he would have to do is say the words. If he claimed Beacon he could force them out.

The sheriff spoke with conviction, "Derek's not an alpha. He gave me his word. He gave his word that a Hale wouldn't claim Beacon."

Derek looked up with guilt in his eyes. "I said Laura wouldn't claim Beacon." And just like that the guilt was replaced by crimson.

The sheriff stepped back like he'd been slapped.

"I'm sorry sir. I know this is your pack, but this was my home. My territory. I want to build a future. I intended to take Beacon for my pack."

Stiles nearly flinched with how close the words were. If he just changed the tense they would lose this.

"But I think something might have changed." He turned to Deaton. "May I and one of their pack speak in private?" He motioned to the man next to the sheriff.

Deaton looked to Stiles and he nodded once again.

"Whoa, whoa wait. I'm not letting you go out there with some stranger, Stiles!" He grabbed his arm as he spoke.

Derek nearly growled and slashed at him until he recognized him as Scott. He looked and now that he was paying attention, he had seen all of these people in photos the man, Stiles had shown him.

"It's fine. I can handle it. If he tries anything," Stiles twirled his bat. "This is freshly wrapped in wolfsbane and ready to be shoved up an asshole."

Deaton spoke, "Pass may two, the door will shut until they are through."

The barrier once again opened and Stiles followed Derek out.

It was tense till they saw the barrier close.

Derek stepped closer. "I'm so sorry. I don't know what is even happening." Derek went to hold Stiles' arms, but he stepped back.

"I have granted your request. Speak alpha Hale." His voice was detached.

Derek looked crushed and confused. "No, no. Why are you doing that? No."

"You're the one that showed up to steal my land. After all that talk about home, family, and how no one should have theirs taken from them, you go and do this." Stiles scoffed. "To actually think I believed you. God, I am an idiot. Tell your sister bra-fuckin-vo. She must be one hell of a liar to have taught you so well."

"What are you talking about?"

Stiles looked murderous and he let out a scoff with a small deadly smile. "Oh don't give me that! You can stop lying now. God, after all that bullshit about not lying and being honest." The heat of rage flickered out for a moment and blinding hurt could be seen. "After all that shit about not lying, after me telling you things I haven't even told Scott, after we- I thought- I- I-" Stiles had tears threatening to spill as his voice cracked. "I was an idiot. You never cared for me. All you wanted was to take back Beacon."

Derek's eyes went wide with understanding. "No! No. No. No!" He tried to grab for Stiles again, but that made him grip his bat tighter and Derek decided to explain first. "I didn't give two shits about Beacon until a week ago. My pack and I were content to just live in peace on your land. Like I was a beta. I didn't want the responsibility, the weight of it, but you changed that. I realized I was being selfish. My pack deserves an alpha that provides. They deserve a home. And so do you. You made me want Beacon. You. You did that." Derek smiled at him.

Stiles felt a rock in his stomach. His family was about to lose their home and future because Stiles thought with his dick. After all the trouble he gave Scott. "So take it. You know we can't fight a Hale's claim." Stiles went to turn back to the barrier.

"God damn it, just wait! I wanted Beacon for you!" Derek softened. "For us. For our future."

The picture was starting to get clearer to Stiles. He spoke measured and clear, "Derek. You realize, that if you do this, if you take Beacon and force my family out, we won't have one. My future lies with my pack."

Derek looked overwhelmed. "Jesus, give me a second to figure this all out. I just had everything turned inside out. I wouldn't force you guys away. We would find another way."

Stiles shook his head. "If you claim this land we could never be together. It would feel like I was choosing you over Scott and my dad and my pack. That's something I can't do."

Derek looked lost. "If he claims this land my family's tradition and ties would die."

They stood in heartbroken silence.

Stiles tensed like he was shocked. "What if neither of those things happen?" Derek looked confused, but he continued, "What if they both do?"

"If two rivaling alphas compete, it would go to whoever completed the ritual first."

Stiles smiled wide. "Not if they weren't rivals or competing. What if we all claimed the land? I read somewhere that if two people have intent to marry or claim each other, they can share a territory until their bond is solidified."

"What are you saying?"

"Derek, I'm going to ask you something very important."

"Okay?"

"What is your favorite gummi bear flavor?"

"What?"

Stiles looked insistent.

"Orange. Why?"

Stiles looked gleeful. "All Stilinski's hate orange flavor. As soon as I found out Scott loved them I knew he was a keeper. I have something else important to ask you." Derek still looked confused, but was going with it. "I know we are no where near ready for it, but do you, somewhere in the very very distant future see yourself agreeing to eat orange gummi bears for the rest of your life?"

Derek looked confused before looking very freaked out. "Are you asking me to get married?!"

"No. Well, yes. But not until very very far in the future. It doesn't actually have to happen, the intent just has to be there in order to claim the territory. So if you have intent to marry the Stilinski alpha, three people can technically claim the territory, because Scott is the werewolf alpha, not just the human one. The human alpha would claim the territory and their pack alpha and their intended would also have equal claim on the territory."

Derek still looked freaked out and like he was going to throw up.

Stiles started dragging him back. "Magic wall, we're ready."

Derek's eyes widened. "No! No we're not!"

The barrier opened and Stiles shoved both of them through.

The air was tense and more than one person had claws out.

Stiles bulldozed ahead anyway. "We have a solution." He caught all attention. "As the law mandates, if two are intent to marry they can both claim the territory they will one day share. And if one is human, their alpha also has part ownership of the land. In this way three people can claim territory jointly. I declare intent for the Stilinski alpha to one day, very very distantly, to marry the alpha Derek Hale."

Everyone looked shocked, but especially his dad and Scott.

Derek was more red and green than adverts at Christmas time. He yanked on Stiles' arm. "No! Stiles stop! I'm not going to marry your dad!" With that harsh and very loud declaration everyone went deadly silent as they stared at Derek.

"What?" Derek felt like he was in one of those dreams where you'd forgotten your underwear.

Stiles looked calm as he spoke like he was speaking to a child, "Derek. Why would you think I meant you'd marry my dad." It sounded like a statement.

Derek made a wounded noise that seemed like he was saying it was obvious.

Stiles face dawned understanding, but was still carefully blank besides a faint trace of amusement. "Derek. Who do you think the Stilinski alpha is?"

Derek just huffed and threw out an arm to the sheriff like it was the only option.

Stiles narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips to mean, 'Try again.'

Derek stood dumbfounded.

Stiles groaned. "Derek, I'm the Stilinski alpha."

Derek's eyebrows went up to his hairline.

A snooty voice spoke, "Derek, just claim the land already. Your mother would be turning over in her grave if Talia knew what a pathetic bitch and his little human slut were ruining her town, much less that her son didn't immediately put a stop to it."

Stiles found it nice to know that Derek's face could go from, 'I might be a murderer.' to, 'I am two seconds away from ripping you limb from limb.' in two seconds.

"In case you've forgotten, my father was human. My mother welcomed all to her pack and was stronger for it." He had to snarl around large fangs. He grabbed Stiles' hand. "I declare intent to eventually marry the Stilinski alpha."

Stiles reached out for Scott's hand and he took it after a long look and a nod from Stiles.

Stiles spoke, "I declare intent to one day, a really mother fuckin long time from now, marry the Hale alpha Derek."

Stiles squeezed their hands and they spoke in unison. "We claim this territory." All of their eyes briefly flashed red.

Derek was still snarling. "Now get the fuck out of our territory before we declare intent to kill you for daring to use my mother's name like that."

"You can't-"

Deaton dropped the circle of sanctuary.

Stiles had a shark-like grin. "As we take care of it, it takes care of us." His eyes glowed as the wind whipped and trees and vines started to chase them out.

It was calm and still.

Stiles broke the silence. "So... Who wants pie?"

His dad grabbed him by the back of the neck. "Stiles, did you just get werewolf engaged?!"

"Easy pops! No. I got regular, 'Hey we're dating. This might lead to marriage, let's move in together.'ed.

His dad squinted before cuffing him on the back of his head. "I need pie. Then a nap. Then maybe an explanation as to what the hell just happened."

Scott raised his hand. "Ditto." His mouth dropped open. "Wait! Oh my god, dude! Is this hot neighbor! I thought his scent was familiar! But he didn't smell like a werewolf before when I smelled him on you."

They all looked to Derek in shock.

Allison got there first. "That's hot neighbor? Have my babies neighbor that you wouldn't shut up about is Derek Hale!?"

Stiles groaned. "Pie first. Then embarrass Stiles to death please. I want to go out on a full stomach."

An unidentified female voice spoke from behind some trees, "Pie sounds good. Who's treating?"

Instantly everyone was on alert except Derek. "Wait! It's okay. It Erica."

Everyone looked at him like, 'Who's Erica.' except Stiles.

A bombshell blonde walked out followed by a tall quiet black man.

She stepped right up to Stiles and looked scrutinizing. "So this is him?" She looked unsure. "He's so skinny. And nerdy. He doesn't look like he can handle you. He looks like you could eat him alive."

Stiles expertly, and impressively twirled his bat then rested it on his shoulder with a lecherous smile. "Believe me, he already has. Multiple times."

Her face lit up. "Ooo Derek, I like this one! Let's keep him!"

Derek turned to Stiles. "I will buy everyone as much pie as they want. As long as you promise not to be friends with her."

Stiles put a hand on his cheek and looked into his eyes lovingly. "Derek, I love pie. I would do anything for pie. But if you think for one second we aren't going to make your life a living hell, you've got another thing coming."

Erica laughed and Stiles linked arms with her leaving Derek behind.

Scott gave him a pitying look. "He's just like that, no he will not apologize at any point. Get used to it, or get gone."

The fierce protectiveness reminded him of Laura, but not the alpha in her, the sister.

He nodded. "I'm acclimating fast."

Scott nodded and his normal puppish look was back.

Allison wrapped Scott's arm around her neck and spoke to him as she passed almost as an after thought, "Hurt him and I know the best wolfsbane to make you die the slowest and most painful."

Lydia just gave him a look that was somehow more terrifying that facing down fifty alphas that wanted his head. She hmphed and left.

Lizard man was next. "I hate Stilinski. But if I have to deal with his bitchin and crying I'll paralyze you and by the time I wrap my tail around your throat, you'll be begging me to kill you."

By far none of those comments prepared him for the last one. Especially not coming from a man he respected so much. The sheriff clapped him around the shoulders. "He is my world and the only thing I have left of her that means a damn. If you hurt him, know that you'll hurt five people irreparably. One, him. Two, yourself. Three, me. And son you don't want to cross a man who knows the law. We know how to break it, and get away with it."

Derek swallowed. There was nothing quite like a significant other's parent terrorizing you. "And the other two people sir?"

"It would be awful for your sisters to have to lose one of the only remaining family members they have left. Hurt my boy and I'll put you in a hole God herself couldn't find. And they will never know what happened to you." The sheriff smiled. He walked off.

Derek had never known terror until that moment. His future father-in-law was insane. His boyfriend's friends were insane. He remembered all of what just happened and freaked out.

Fuck. His boyfriend was insane!

---

They rode separately, but as soon as they got there they all squished into the biggest setup the diner had. They all ordered food and ate like they were starved. Everyone was laughing and getting along just as much as they bickered. Erica and Jackson instantly mixed like oil and water, but Boyd and Lydia were deep in conversation. Derek could tell this would work, could feel it.

His eyes were glassy and he felt someone squeeze his hand. He looked down and then over at Stiles. He squeezed his hand back.

Stiles looked happy. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just, thank you."

Stiles tilted his head. "For what?"

Derek leaned over to kiss his forehead and then brought his knuckles to his lips. "For showing me, that homes shouldn't be taken. They should be shared."

Stiles grinned at him and then leaned his head on Derek's shoulder as he finished both of their curly fries.

The terror was worth it. Everything was worth it when it came to Stiles.

The sheriff gave him a soft smile. He leaned over to clap Derek's shoulder. "Welcome to the family son." His attention quickly wandered again.

Derek looked down to a beaming Stiles. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"I think I'm just realizing the possibility of something wasn't as dead to me as I thought." Derek smiled with shiny eyes.

Stiles leaned up for a kiss. It was too much grin and a weird angle, but Derek swore it was the best kiss that had ever happened. Stiles pulled back with a fond look. "Welcome home."

Derek ended up paying for everybody's pie.

[whumpster-fire]

Hi, Tumblr! It’s your favorite cartoon star and overall badass, Wendy Weasel! IHC left a little crack in the fourth wall, and as you know us weasels can slip through a space one sixth the thickness of a human hair, so I’ve taken over this blog for April Fool’s Day. You probably won’t notice any difference other than the posts actually being on topic instead of making stupid jokes about a ship stuck in a canal.

And “on-topic” means... “whump?” Seriously, that’s a stupid name - anyway,  apparently this sick fuckin’ creep made an entire blog dedicated solely to torturing fictional characters. Can ya believe it? Obviously even reading about such twisted, wanton cruelty is going to scar my young, impressionable mind for life, but based on my meticulous study of this blog, I think I can write prompts that are completely indistinguishable from the ones usually posted on this blog. Check this out!

(Jokes aside, this is going behind a cut for jokes about animal cruelty and suicide, read at your own risk)

Imagine the whumpee attempting to rollerblade down an endless flight of stairs. The moron. The dunderhead. The absolute buffoon. Imagine your favorite character immediately losing control, falling, and tumbling down the unyielding concrete steps like an idiot slinky. Imagine them breaking the sound barrier, hitting a landing, and their rollerskates disintegrating on impact. Imagine the whumpee lying, bruised and broken and mangled at the bottom on an infinite flight of stairs, in a pool of their own blood, as bystanders point and laugh and take videos to put on Youtube. Imagine a single rollerblade wheel bouncing down the stairs and smacking them in the face.

Imagine the whumpee slipping on a banana peel. And breaking their spine. And then being in a wheelchair for the rest of their life. But then their wheelchair also slips on a banana peel and flips over. And they can’t get up, so they have to crawl around everywhere. But then their strength gives way, and they collapse from exhaustion... onto the original banana peel. Which is really fucking gross because it’s been like a month by now. And that causes them to throw up in their mouth.

Imagine a box of meowing kittens. Imagine all of them being taken home by kind, loving owners, except one. The kitten’s all alone in the box. Orphaned. No friends. And it’s raining. Imagine your favorite character walking by, and hearing the tiny kitten crying, and their heart being moved by such a pathetic sight. Imagine them reaching into the box and picking the little kitty up. Heartwarming, isn’t it? Now imagine them picking that little kitty-cat up by the scruff of its neck. Imagine them taking a lighter and, uhh, breaking it open and pouring all the lighter fluid on the kitten. And then taking another lighter and setting it on fire. And drop-kicking it onto the busy freeway. And the kitten being run over by a truck. And then as it’s lying there, guts all over the fucking pavement, meowing “Why doesn’t anyone love me?” imagine a guy on a motorbike stopping and walking up to the kitten. And stomping on its face. Because it’s still on fire. See, this is the realism and internal consistency Whumpster-Fire prides himself on, he’s really fucking full of himself. And then a limousine screeches to a halt, but runs over the kitten again anyway, and a Hollywood talent agent steps out. And he goes “Oh my god, what a heart-wrenching emotional performance! What do you call it?” And your favorite character says: “The Aristocats!” And then Mickey Mouse shows up and he runs the kitten through a meat grinder and sues it for copyright infringement!

Imagine a dragon. But it’s a nice dragon. It’s a nice adorable tiny baby dragon but nobody knows it because humans are mean and nasty. Get it, I’m subverting fantasy tropes by having the monster be the good guy. Aren’t I original? My Nobel Prize in literature’s in the mail, I swear. Anyway, imagine a bunch of evil knights kicking the baby dragon, and hitting it with swords, and then stapling its wings to a billboard and leaving it up there. Forever.

Imagine the whumpee’s this sad-eyed raccoon kid, who’s a criminal because raccoons are sneaky. And he gets caught and taken to jail because he’s not as sneaky and clever as he thinks he is. And all the other criminals all make fun of him because he has this stupid fucking fake British Oliver Twist accent. And his voice always cracks and gets really squeaky whenever anyone calls him a Trash Panda. So he’s sad and he ties his orange prison jumpsuit into a knot and hangs himself from the bars. The end.

Imagine the whumpee is a robot who gets kidnapped and they smash dents with her with a crowbar and force her to wear clown makeup, and go out on stage and perform for a bunch’a dumbass kids, but nobody likes her because clowns aren’t funny. So she snaps and tries to scare the kids instead, but nobody scared of her because clowns in horror is so fucking overdone. And they all boo her and throw tomatoes at her, and the clown robot just stands there and cries tears of oil that ruin her clown makeup.

Imagine the whumpee’s a fairy, but with bird wings because he saw what happened to the kitten and doesn’t want to get sued by Disney. But then he flies into one of those bug zapper things and gets electrocuted - but he’s still alive - and then a bunch of kids burn him with a magnifying glass.

Imagine the whumpee shivering, and trembling, and whimpering, and breathing heavily, for ninety paragraphs straight, until they pass out from exhaustion and boredom at the repetitive writing.

Imagine the whumpee getting stripped naked and chained to a bed... and then the bed getting thrown out a window and the whumpee getting sliced to ribbons by the glass cuts, and then falling into an icy cold river and nearly drowning! Gotcha, didn’t I? This is a family friendly blog, so that means no actual porn, only torture porn!

Imagine a cute, innocent puppy being horribly mauled to within an inch of its life by other dogs, and dragging itself across five miles of rusty nails and broken glass and barbed wire, but then the caretaker picks it up and cuddles it and gives it a band-aid so everything’s fine.

Imagine the whumpee slowly sinking into quicksand. Nah, how about a tarpit. Or that slime stuff they have on Nickolodeon.

Imagine the moment when the whumpee realizes they’ve just walked off a cliff and there’s no ground underneath them, and looking back with a really sad look on their face before they start falling.

Imagine the whumpee is a pokemon who gets caught by Michael Vick and forced to brutally fight other pokemon and get mauled over and over and over.

Imagine the whumpee sobbing into a bowl of Cheetos as they realize nobody reads their fucking animal cruelty torture porn or cares about their dumbass opinions, and nobody’s laughing at their shitty bloodstained solo cup background image.

Wow... y’know, I really think I’ve captured the essence of this blog perfectly. You might as well just shut it down after this, it’s all downhill from here. I’ve broken “whump” down to its bare essentials. All the emotion! All the character development! All the poetic imagery! Hey, maybe I should just run this blog all year round! I’m obviously a way better writer than you - although that’s kinda scraping the bottom of the barrel.

Fuck it, I’m going to bed. Actually, nah, I’m printing this out for Riley to read. Maybe he’ll recognize himself in one of the characters, who knows...

[satan-the-avatar-of-wrath]

A Worthy Life

This is a submitted story, writer wishes to remain Anonymous. Credit to the anon, this is not my work.   (A story with Satan)

Inspired by true events.

~A Worthy Life~

Satan never thought of humans as something special to him. He neither liked nor disliked them. He only regarded them as fragile beings that have shorter lifespan and more vulnerable than demons like him. However, his view changed after that encounter. It all started when Satan had to go to the human world again after he begrudgingly received another troublesome task from the asshole Lucifer.

As usual, after he finished the task, Satan chose to spend his remaining time by reading his book in the local park. He was still in the middle of reading when he heard a faint meowing sounds from the bushes behind him. “Hm? Oh, hey there kitty kitty~ are you alone? Come here, I won’t harm you,” Satan closed his book and reached out his hand to the kitten, but that only made the kitten more frightened and ran away from Satan. “Uh- hey wait!” Satan decided to chase after the kitten. He was concerned with how dirty and frail the kitten looked.

Satan didn’t even notice where he was going or which road he took while he was chasing the kitten, but in the end, he managed to catch the kitten. “Hey come on- stay still. I just want to check and treat you.” Satan said as he lifted the kitten to inspect for any wound.

“Let go of my cat! You evil ugly blondie head!” Satan was surprised to see a little boy standing in front of him. ‘Where did this brat sprout from?’ Satan wondered. “Were you talking to me cheeky brat?” Satan asked in an irritated tone.

“No, I was talking to the garbage can. Of course, I was talking to you panini head. Now give me back my cat!” the boy shouted and stomped on Satan’s foot. “YOU-“ Satan almost snap and go demon mode before a woman appeared from across the street; visibly looking panic. “Vian! Where have you been?! You know I was worried sick looking for you! You shouldn’t be out in your condition!”

Satan turned his attention to the woman. “Is this rude brat your kid? Or perhaps your little brother? Maybe teaching him some manners would help” Satan said as he put on his usual fake smile; trying to keep every last bit of his self-control. “I’m truly sorry! Please forgive him. He isn’t my son or my brother but I feel responsible for taking care of him.” The woman pleaded with teary eyes.

“Don’t be mean to missy! She is the only one who cares for me. And you! Give me back my ca-ugh” the boy suddenly doubled over and coughed violently. “Vian-“ the woman immediately carried the boy and excused herself; leaving Satan alone. Satan could only stare. Dumbfounded. ‘Tch, humans are so fragile’ was the only thought that crossed his mind.

He glanced down at the kitten and felt a bit responsible. The boy got agitated because of him after all and besides, he just realized that he…is kinda lost. He didn’t know his way back, he also wanted to return the cat so he decided to join them.

The woman thanked Satan once they settled into the woman’s house, “Thank you for returning the cat, Mr. Sam. And once again I offer you my sincerest apologies on his behalf. He…has a hard time trusting new people,” Satan could only listen to the woman while he stared at the little boy who was already asleep. Satan was still annoyed, but the boy looked pathetic in his eyes so he decided to just let bygones be bygones. He won’t go as far as avenging someone way weaker than him, especially not a puny defenseless little human.

“I bet he is really a handful for everyone isn’t he?” Satan noticed there was something wrong when the woman looked quite offended when he asked that. “This is quite a sensitive issue. Especially for Vian. Vian is actually a good boy. But everyone reject him, even his parents, because of his chronic disease. Most people still believe the disease he is suffering from is extremely the contagious one and should be avoided at all costs. That’s why he always put on a brave front because he immediately thinks that everyone hates him.”

Satan fell quiet with an unreadable expression and only then the woman realized she was spilling too much information to a stranger. “Ah, I’m sorry, I’m blabbering too much. Uh you previously said you need me to show you the way to train station right? I’ll guide you there.” Satan put on his trademark smile again. “Very well, thank you for your assistance.”

—

It was already a few days since Satan returned to the Devildom, but something was bugging his mind since then. ‘Ugh that brat. Maybe I’m still annoyed with him after all? Maybe I should avenge him? Wait, no. That time was different. I didn’t sense any malicious intent from him. In fact, I only sensed…fear? Sadness? Anger? Hurt?’

Meanwhile, Mammon who was counting stolen his money across from Satan could see it clearly how distraught Satan had become. “Yo! Is there somethin’ wrong? Ya have been puttin’ on serious scary face but ya seem stuck at the same page of your book.” Satan finally snapped and retorted back; venting his anger toward Mammon. “Uh- shut up. If you are looking for what’s ‘wrong’ then you can try putting your face in front of a mirror and you’ll see what’s wrong.”

“Geez calm that temper will ya? You’re more salty than usual that means there’s somethin’ up with you. Well, I don’t know and I don’t really care but if ya want to do somethin’ you should just act by what you really desire. You’re a demon and yet you think too much before even following your desir- oops that’s my cue to go, adieu!” Mammon immediately bolted out from the room as soon as Satan gave death-glare to him. “Damn it. I guess I’ll just go. I can check up on the cat. Yes, that’s the only valid reason,” Satan tried to reason to himself.

After he managed to get Lucifer’s permission, Satan came back to the human world. It was a good thing he still remembered the way to that boy’s house.

“Ah! You are the yellow-head catnapper from before!” the boy already jumped to his defensive mode as soon as he saw Satan in front of the house. “Vian, please be polite, I already told you he was only trying to tend to Bobby.” the woman lightly scolded the boy.

“Ahaha that’s right. You should listen to your missy, cheeky brat,” Satan plastered his usual fake smile, but he didn’t feel as annoyed as before.

“Don’t call me that! My name is Vian! Missy, you are wrong! That yellow-head is an absolute meanie!” Vian ran up behind the woman.

“You are calling me with weird names so why can’t I also call you with one too?” Satan smirked. He was satisfied. He felt like he won an argument.

“Come on Vian. You shouldn’t judge someone immediately like that. I’m sure he is a…nice gentleman. Although a little petty-minded?” The woman added the last words only in her thought. “As proof, he was trying to help Bobby right?” the woman tried to reassure Vian. “And Mr. Sam, is there something I can help you with?” the woman asked.

“Oh err right. This may sound out of the blue, but I came by just to make sure if the cat is all right. I’m quite confident in my knowledge about animal anatomy so I thought I can offer you some help since your cat looked a bit unwell the last time I saw it,” Satan said; trying to find a strong excuse. It’s partially true that he was concerned about the cat, but he felt like there is another thing he was more concerned about and Satan still wouldn’t admit that the boy was part of his concern.

“Oh, my. Really? Actually, you are quite right. I’ve been trying to tend to it but I think my effort alone is not enough so I’m grateful for your help. Please come in. Vian please wait here and keep Mr. Sam accompany while I go fetch Bobby, okay?” The woman said before she went off to another room; leaving Vian alone with Satan.

Now that they are alone, Satan could sense the nervousness and confusion emanated from the boy more clearly. “Why are you helping my cat? Or more like why do you still bother to come here?” The boy finally broke the silence with a low voice, almost as a whisper.

“Hmm? I see you still have the guts to talk. With how you look now I was sure you’ve turned into a stone, but I see you still want to talk and ask me before throwing anymore accusation at me again?” Satan showed his exasperation passive-aggressively with his smile. The boy instantly felt guilty. “I- I’m sorry.” The boy was on the verge of tears while saying that.

“Uh- okay, okay apology accepted. Anyway, why do you think it’s weird for someone to come here and offer help?” Satan quickly went back on the topic and decided not to intimidate the boy any longer. It would be troublesome for him to handle a crying child.

“Didn’t missy already told you? I- I’m different. I’m different from everyone. Everyone is healthy and I’m..not. Because of my disease, everyone around me never thinks of me as a worthy one. They only see me as something bad and they all avoid me. At least I still have missy who can still accept me.” The boy looked crushed when he explained it.

At that moment Satan felt like the boy would crumble into dust and gone at any given moment. There were also that sharp pangs tugging his heart. It was a very unfamiliar feeling for Satan. He gave it a moment, but he still couldn’t put a name into that new feeling.

Satan was speechless until the woman came back. “I’m sorry to make you wait. Here’s Bobby.” The woman said while holding the kitten. “Please lie it down in here. I’ll check it.” Satan began to dutifully check the kitten. It didn’t take long for Satan to pinpoint the problems. “Yes, your cat is sick. I have the remedy for the cat, but I need a few days to gather it. I’ll come back when it’s finished. Until then, please keep your cat hydrated, clean, and fed well. Luckily, I brought some special wet cat foods. You can feed it with these.” Satan said before leaving. Satan smile when the woman thanked him, however, his eyes were more focused on the boy who only kept silent.

—

Back in the Devildom Satan prepared the remedy faster than expected. Preparing it wasn’t a problem for him. What troubled him was the weird feeling he got that day. He wasn’t sure at first, but after he gave it more thought he got some idea. ‘Maybe, just maybe I can relate to that brat?’ Satan thought to himself. They are both very different. He is a demon, a high-ranked demon and that boy is a human, just a powerless little human. However, there was one thing in common and Satan only came to that conclusion after he was finally sure of what he sensed from the brat. It was mostly a feeling of insecurity.

Satan hates to admit it, but he is aware of his own insecurities. How he felt he needed to prove himself, his worth, so his existence won’t merely be seen as someone else’s shadow. While that boy, even if that boy struggles over a different thing, Satan could see the boy also wanted to be seen as someone worthy, as he really is, not as something else, especially not as a weakness.

Since he started to realize it, a new desire started to grow on Satan. Satan didn’t want to take Mammon’s word, but that time, he just followed on his desire. A desire to support that one little fleeting life.

Satan began to rummaged through his pile of books; trying to find any explanation and cure for the said disease. Satan was devastated when he found out there was still no cure that can completely heal the boy’s disease. “AARGH! Damn it! Can’t I really do something about it?! Satan threw his book away in frustration. Satan didn’t know what else to do. For the first time he felt powerless and his demon power won’t do any good. In the end he went to the human world again with a heavy heart.

—

“Welcome, Mr. Sam. Thank you for sparing your time to come here again.” The woman welcomed Satan as he arrived.

“I already promised that I would come here again so it’s only normal if I keep my words, right? And here, you can feed the cat with this medicine” Satan flashed his smile when he handed the medicine to the woman, but his eyes were busy scanning the room. “Is the boy not with you today?” The woman looked hesitated to answer when Satan asked her. “Ah, you mean Vian? He is resting in his room now. His condition is worsening again.”

The woman then looked at Satan with a pleading look. “Umm I know it would be rude of me to ask a request to someone I just know recently, but could I ask for your help to look after Vian for a while? There’s no one else I could ask for help and I need to go buy medicine and some supplies for Vian. Also I believe you are a good person, so, please?”

Satan gave it a thought. There’s no harm in helping her and he is also curious with the boy’s condition. “Sure, I’ll help. Don’t worry about it.” Satan said. The woman thanked Satan and showed Vian’s room, after that she went off to buy things.

Satan sat beside the bed where the boy sleep in. Satan could only look at the boy’s face in silence. ‘He looks paler than before. What could’ve happened to him while I was away?’ When Satan was lost in his thought, the boy suddenly shifted uncomfortably in his bed. He looked as if he was in agony. “O-oi! Brat?! What’s wrong? Wake up!” Satan gently nudge the boy, but panic was clear in his voice. He was afraid if the boy is in pain or having nightmare.

The boy’s eyes shot open, his breath was ragged. At first the boy didn’t notice Satan presence. It was Satan’s gentle voice and touch that brought the boy back to reality. “Are you ok now?” Satan asked; genuinely worried. He was never this worried over someone else before, not even to his brothers.

The boy couldn’t process anything. He only covered his face; trying to muffle his cries. “Oi, come on. You should tell me what’s wrong. I won’t know unless you tell me.” Satan kept urging the boy to speak; his hand rubbing the boy’s head in an attempt to soothe the boy.

“I-I’m s-sorry. I just had a-a bad dream.” The boy said with a hoarse voice. Satan handed the boy a glass of water and said, “here, drink this first, then tell me what was it about.”

There was only silence until the boy finally spoke. “I dreamt about it again. I was alone. Then I saw in the distance there were people. They were having fun and looked very happy. I wanted to get close to them to join them, but they immediately steered away from me. They only saw me with disgust. Then I heard they all talked badly about me. ‘He is different, he shouldn’t mingle with us.’ I always heard that same words.” A shed of tears streamed down the boy’s cheek as he retelling his dream.

Satan couldn’t take the heart-breaking sight. He brushed away the tears from the boy’s cheek gently with his finger; trying not to startle the boy. When he realized the worried look on Satan’s face, the boy quickly added, “umm sorry, please don’t worry about my silly dream. This is something I usually get when I feel down and sick.” The boy said. He tried to lighten up the mood and put up a smile.

But Satan won’t be fooled by something like that. “No, you shouldn’t say sorry. And about dreams, someone I know, well, my brother, once said that dreams are the manifestation of our subconscious mind. They are often influenced by our experiences and they reflect what we really feel about it and what we really want from it. So I wouldn’t think your dream as a silly one and you too, shouldn’t think of it as silly.” Satan held the boy’s hand in his. He put on a serious expression, but his touch was calming. The boy could feel the warmth from Satan’s touch and words. “You mentioned that you only got this dream when you feel down and sick. Care to tell me what happened? What triggered your dream?” Satan asked.

“Umm…so yesterday when I was strolling around with missy to take fresh air outside, there were some neighbors who shooed us away. They didn’t want us to get any closer to their house and said something about being ‘vile outcast or a ragtag bunch of misfit’. I don’t really understand what they meant, but missy wouldn’t explain it to me and she looked sad. So I think that must be something bad.” The boy was fiddling with his fingers as he told Satan what happened. Satan felt the anger inside him instantly rising up. He wanted to throw curse words and go hunt the culprit right there and then, but that time, he knew the boy needed him more.

Satan took a deep breath; trying to calm himself before he began to talk. “Listen, I won’t hide anything. I’ll be honest and tell you everything you need to know and hear. You are right. Those huma- I mean people are talking bad about you. BUT, those people are wrong. People who can only oppress the weaker and can’t try to understand the others are the real trash, not you or your missy.”

The boy looked like he was going to cry again. He thought only his missy can try to understand and give him the support he needed. He already gave up on his wish to be accepted by other people, but he knew deep down he still yearns to be accepted and recognized. And here he found another person who can understand and support him.

Seeing the boy started to cry again, Satan gave the boy a hug and patted his back. “I may only know you just recently and I may regard you as cheeky brat the first time I met you. But after knowing more about you I think you worth more than you ever think, more than other people think. Wait, scratch that. You are more worthy than those people who can’t see your worth. Those people have no place to decide your worth because you are the only one who can decide your worth. So, for now, you shouldn’t worry about being liked or not. Those who see you as you are and appreciate you will still like you and grow together with you. That means if you are doing something right they will support you and if you are doing something wrong they will help you to correct your way. You have your missy and Bobby that can support and help you. And now you also have uh…me at your side.” Satan said the last words with faint blush dusted on his cheeks.

“Ahem, do you understand it now, Vian?” Satan released Vian from his hug. Vian was moved by what Satan said so he eagerly nodded his head, he felt better after hearing that.

“Good.” Satan smiled. Satisfied with Vian’s reaction. He then ruffled Vian’s hair playfully until the Vian feels irritated. “Ughh…stop it!” Vian swatted Satan’s hand from his hand. Satan didn’t take Vian’s act as offensive at all. In fact, he was pleased. “There you go. I like it more when you show that fiery spirit. Remember, you don’t have to worry too much. You won’t know what the future has in store for you. I’m pretty sure you’ll find your own place to be happy and when you do find it remember your hard time as a lesson. That way you won’t fall into the same level as those trash people.” Satan smiled again, but that time it was a genuine smile.

His smile then shifted into a low key malicious one. “And if anyone dares to talk or do something awful to you, just tell me. I’ll make it certain that I will pay them a visit and give them a ‘lecture’ or two.”

Vian, who didn’t really understand the hidden meaning behind Satan’s choice of word with ‘lecture’ could only agree. “Um, okay! Pinky promise!” Vian said. He showed his pinky finger to Satan.

Satan was a bit confused at first, but then the boy showed Satan how it’s done. A new warm feeling began to spring inside Satan. It was different from the usual hot boiling sensation he felt whenever he is angry. This new feeling was very pleasant for Satan. “Ahahaha, you are really something aren’t you” Satan laughed. At that moment Satan had decided that keeping Vian’s life as a worthy one is something he can do. Meanwhile, Vian only tilted his head. Confused by what Satan meant or why Satan laughed.

“It’s a bit too late to ask, but umm since when you were here?” Vian asked Satan. He just realized his missy is not with him. “Oh, your missy is out to buy things and ask me to stay with you while she’s out.” Satan explained everything that happened before.

“Brat, do you want to hear some interesting stories?” Satan suddenly wanted to tell some stories. Satan was thinking about telling stories from some books he had read before, but maybe he can also use his brothers’ shenanigans as a bad example.

“Hey, stop calling me that, or do you want me to call you with weird names again?” Vian pouted. “Ahahah, sorry that name kinda stick with you. And actually, I don’t care anymore if you call me with anything weird. I know you don’t really mean it.” Satan said jokingly, but he really didn’t mind it since the boy is special to him now.

“Sorry, I’m late. Oh, you’re awake already Vian? Thank you for your help, Mr. Sam.” The woman said when she returned home. She noticed the cheerful look on Vian’s face and that was the first time he ever showed such look in front of someone else other than her and that also made her happy. “Missy, missy, come join us! Yello- I mean mister said he wants to tell us some stories.” Vian excitedly called her. They all gathered and enjoyed their precious moment.

END

Thank you to the individual who i can not name, for submitting this good read. 

To anyone who reads this, and is inspired to write, you too can submit to this blog if you wish to be Anonymous. It doesnt just have to be about Satan, it could be about anything.

Thank you x - Ty the Mun

Satan: .... Please kittens do submit, we enjoy reading all stories you write to us.

[darylandbethfanforever9]

Downfall Of Us All: Chapter 14

Downfall of Us All

Chapter 14

AN: I hope everyone is alright, and staying safe. This chapter is full of angst and sadness.

Warnings: Child loss, grief and depression

Grace was busy making the coffee buttercream for Tony's dark chocolate and coffee cake, she'd just finished making the sugar glass Iron Man for him. The chocolate cake was baking in the oven, giving her and Sophie time to get the decorations done. Tony had done so much for them and was trying to help her find Zach. And this was she was keeping herself busy, she knew deep down that her son was dead but a part of her was in denial. She didn't want to believe that her son was dead. She was just hoping for a miracle, Clint came over quietly and she smiled at him as they started writing Iron Man on the cake. "I know it's been two years, I know Zach might be gone but am I stupid for trying to keep faith?" She asked quietly, Clint was silent as he looked at her quietly. "No, I don't think you're stupid. I think it's good that you're open minded, and not giving up," Clint said finally, if he was in Grace's position, he'd never give up. Grace nodded in thanks and watched as Sophie took the cake out of the oven. She then carefully put it down to cool.

With patient twenty-five and patient twenty-seven successfully impregnated, Dr Rodchenko had focused the attention on Darcy Lewis. She'd attempted to escape twice, and Rumlow always had like a fight.

"Miss Lewis, do you really think Miss Potts and Dr Foster want to abort their babies?" He asked calmly, looking at the girl who was tied down to the bed. She had an IV and the Extrimis serum pumping into her veins, she was glaring at him. Rumlow would enjoy her. "They're not babies, they're......things born out of rape!" Darcy screamed enraged, and he narrowed his eyes at the insolent, pathetic girl in front of him. "I had hoped you'd listen Miss Lewis. However, it seems, you are too stubborn to realise the good you will do by carrying the new generation of HYDRA," Rodchenko said disappointed, and nodded at the hidden camera.

Darcy didn't want kids, she never wanted them and the fact that Jane along with Pepper had quickly given up was unbelievable. This was forced impregnating, these bastards were forcing to have babies. She said nothing as Laura entered and calmly injected her with something, she didn't feel anything for a minute. But then a burning sensation was ripping through her, as she saw a handsome man with dark brown hair. His eyes were cruel and looked excited, he strolled over and very firmly gripped her face. "You're not killing our babies, bitch. They're gonna bring down our enemies, and you're not doing a botched abortion." He growled menacingly, cupping her right breasts with his right hand. Darcy whimpered, maybe if she made out she liked his sadistic sexual fantasies, he'd let her go. Hell, she'd bring him the woman he was obsessed about.

"Harder," Darcy whispered. Rumlow quirked an eyebrow at her. "This is new." "I've always enjoyed it," Darcy said flippantly. "I'm just tired of pretending I don't. It's getting old." Rumlow chuckled at that. "You're not playing a game with me, are you little girl?" Ah, Darcy thought. Is that what he likes? "What do you want me to be, handsome? Your little? Your baby girl?" Darcy asked cautiously. Rumlow slid his hand down to the hem of her gown, back up to her breast under it. "Not from you." "From her," Darcy said quietly. "Your blonde girl. What's her name again?" "Grace," he said tightly. "Grace," Darcy said with enthusiasm. "It's a beautiful name. I'm not half the woman she is…" "You're not," Rumlow muttered, his other hand cupping his erection. "I could help you get her back," Darcy teased, pressing her breast further into his hand. "I haven't met her, so they'd never suspect me of anything. Especially if I were a poor rescued, traumatized survivor. Think about it. They'd be so busy trying to take care of me, I could pretty much do what I wanted." His hand stopped moving. She could see in his face he was thinking about what she was saying, considering it. "Yeah, and how would you secure her for me?" "However, you want me to," Darcy went on. "You want her, not me. I get her for you, everyone gets what they want." "Or," Rumlow continued, "I keep her, and you and we have more HYDRA agents. What do you think of that?" "You want a HYDRA agent with my personality traits? I don't think so," Darcy explained. "I don't follow orders. I don't play well with others. How would any child of mine work out for what you guys want." Rumlow's smile didn't reach his eyes. "Because we could brainwash the little bastard into doing what we want if he doesn't comply."

Don't let him rattle you, Darce. Keep your composure. "Did she give you children?" "Yes," Rumlow's movements stopped at that. "It was a boy." "What happened?" Darcy wanted to keep him talking. Talking wasn't rape. Talking wasn’t being impregnated. "She had a son," Rumlow explained. "Named him Zach. Raised him even though she conceived him the same way you will conceive yours. I guess in some perverted way I loved her for that. Fucking S.H.I.E.L.D. took him." Darcy frowned. "What do you mean S.H.I.E.L.D. took him?" Rumlow's laugh was cold. "Fucking Ross came and had him taken away from her. It was cold as shit, especially when they run around calling themselves the good guys." Her heart clenched in her chest. Jesus, what did Ross do? "What happened to him then?" Darcy asked intrigued by the story, she wanted to know what had happened. His expression darkened. "They… You know what? Why am I talking to you? Stupid bitch." Darcy hissed in pain when he backhanded her, putting his strength into it. "I see what you're doing. It won't work. You should be grateful. You're not a Pepper Potts. You're not an astrophysicist. You're nothing. When you get knocked up with my kid from HYDRA, then you have something to be proud of. Until then…" Rumlow hopped up on the bed then, ripping away her clothes and his while Darcy screamed.

She didn't want this, she didn't want to be used as a broodmare for HYDRA, she wanted things to be normal. She blamed Jane for this, not admitting that she'd caused this by hacking into the old Soviet files.

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The team had arrived back from the bakery, after Sophie and Grace had taken cake orders from regular and old customers. One customer had asked if they could do an Avengers themed birthday cake, for her seven-year-old twin boys.

The flavour was a chocolate cake with salted caramel, and chocolate buttercream. They'd just finished the cake for Saturday, and just needed to finish the decorations. Grace smiled at Tom who meowed, and she fed him, before scratching him behind the ears. Lucky, Clint's golden one-eyed Labrador was happily eating his dog food. She smiled at Clint who smiled back, as it was Tony's turn to cook dinner tonight. He was cooking Italian pasta, with beef meatballs and for dessert was tiramisu. Lilia was helping, and she had her dark mahogany hair pulled up into a fishtail plait. She was wearing a black pencil skirt, with a white shirt.

She couldn't help but feel safe here, as she finished the sugar glass pieces, and let them cool overnight. She was now going to take a shower, and then look for information on her son. She wouldn't give up on him.

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"You're absolutely sure it's this place, Mack?" Coulson asked urgently, the man nodded as they overlooked a mass grave that had been discovered. "Positive, we better alert the Avengers, and Miss Drăgoi." May said quietly, overlooking the mass grave that had been located in Siberia, Russia. Diplomatic relations between Russia and America, had softened thanks to the Avengers who had exposed HYDRA agents working in the government. Coulson nodded, and looked at the lifeless body of a blonde-haired young boy, being placed gently into a body bag.

"Sir, two agents from S.H.E.I.L.D wish to speak to all of you." Jarvis announced, Tony frowned but nodded at the AI. He had a bad feeling about this. "Let them in, Jarvis." He said wearily, seeing the others looking wearily at the security footage. The two agents were let in, and Grace looked nervous. Coulson and May entered the room, and the tension in the air thickened. Clint saw Grace looked anxious, and wordlessly held her hand, and she held onto it tightly as Sophie wrapped an arm around her. "What's going on, Coulson?" Natasha asked finally, sensing that something was horribly wrong, and the agent took in a deep breath. He nodded at May, and she pulled out a dark brown teddy bear. Grace stiffened at the sight of the stuffed teddy bear, she could feel her heart pounding away in her chest. This was her son's teddy bear, Zach's favourite stuffed animal. "Where did you find that? That's my son's teddy bear?!" Grace asked fearfully, walking over and Coulson swallowed. "Our agents who were working with the Russian task force on HYDRA, discovered a mass grave in Siberia. I'm so sorry to ask this, but is this your son's teddy bear?" He asked gently. Grace swallowed but felt like she was drowning, she nodded and reached out to touch it. "Yes, it's my son's teddy bear. Where is he?!" She asked desperately, and Coulson took in a deep breath. "There's no easy way for me to say this, Miss Melnychenko Drăgoi. Your son's body was found in the mass grave," He explained quietly, and Grace went numb. Her son was dead....no, he couldn't be dead.

Clint caught Grace up in his arms before she could fall. He watched her crumble, curl in on herself. His heart ached, knowing that pain and knowing that there wasn't a damn thing he could do to fix this for her, to make it better.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "Coulson," Steve was in full Cap mode. "Was it really necessary to handle it like this? With no sensitivity to Grace whatsoever?" Coulson looked horrified, being taken to task by his idol. "Sorry Captain. "We'd been tasked by Stark to see what we could find, and we wanted to let you know our findings right away. I guess I didn't…" "No, you didn't," Steve said with a scowl.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Clint had already scooped up a sobbing Grace, Sophie and Bucky on his heels as he steered them out of the living area and back to Clint's own apartment. Sinking down onto the couch with her, he just held onto her. Sophie sank onto her heels next to them, crooning and smoothing her sister's hair while tears ran down her face as well. It had been her nephew. For long moments, the only sounds in the room were the ragged sobs that tore from Grace. Sophie rose, whispering she'd be back, and dragging Bucky from the room behind her.

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Sophie couldn't breathe she was so upset. Bucky had followed her back to her room, allowing her to shut them in her bedroom so she could be confident Grace couldn't hear. "Doll, are you okay?" Bucky's expression was edged with concern. "Breathe." "I don't feel like I can breathe," she told him, barely holding herself together. "I'm so scared, Bucky." Smoothing his palm over her face, he meant to calm her, get her focused on him. "No one is going to hurt you or Grace. We won't allow it." "I'm not worried about me," Sophie told him, her voice breaking. "It's Grace. I don't know why they took Zach or why they killed him, Bucky. In time, maybe we'll find out why they did this to us. But Grace… We have to watch her, night and day, Bucky. She'll go after them. I know it. I can't lose her. She's all I have." Bucky hadn't expected them to find the boy alive. He hadn't said as much and had hoped by some miracle he was wrong. Now that he'd been found, there were questions to be answered. Somehow it didn't feel him like this was the resolution of something, but the beginning. "We'll be there for Grace," he told them. "We need to talk to Steve and Tony. There's a lot of things I'm wondering here." The pain he read on Sophie's face blended with confusion. "What questions?" "We can't assume anything," he said carefully. "We need to know who killed him and why. And some of the answers aren't going to be easy for you or Grace to hear. This is all connected somehow to Pepper's disappearance, Dr. Foster and Darcy. What happened to Grace. It's all connected. We have to find those answers. We have to stop it." Sophie nodded, trying not to lose her composure. "Okay?" He whispered. Sophie nodded before pressing herself into his arms, seeking comfort.

Bucky held her tightly, feeling her tears stain his shirt but he didn't care about that. What hurt him, was seeing Sophie cry and mourn for her beloved nephew. He kissed her forehead, holding her tightly.

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Grace didn't blame Coulson, he was only trying to be kind, but her heart felt like it had been ripped out. Her baby boy, her precious boy was dead. She clutched at Clint like he was her lifeline, he held her tightly and she felt like screaming. She felt like going on a murderous rampage and sobbed. What had her son done to deserve this? She could only imagine what those animals had done to Zach, her son must have been so frightened and alone. "He must have been so scared, Clint. And I wasn't there to keep him safe, I'm his mother and I couldn't save him." She sobbed brokenly, Clint held her tightly. "This wasn't your fault, he knew you loved him. Zach knew that you loved him, Grace," Clint said comfortingly, Grace sobbed brokenly and buried her face against where his heart was beating. He rocked her gently, singing an old lullaby that his mother would sing to him when he was upset. She held onto him tightly, as he saw Bucky and Sophie come in. Sophie nodded at him, and held Grace's hand tightly, tears sliding down her face silently. Bucky sat beside her, and his own face was saddened.

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"What the hell was Zach doing in Siberia? He wasn't dressed for that type of weather." Steve asked horrified, Zach's body was being prepared to be sent back to the states. "I think it's safe to say, that either HYDRA or someone else were experimenting on him and other children. Daisy Johnson is sending us files, and there's a link," Tony said quietly, pulling up the emails between Thaddeus Ross and Senator Ellen Nadeer. "Senator Ellen Nadeer is part of the committee that oversees the Sokovian Accords, she voted in favour of it. But, Coulson's team have linked her to the Watchdogs, Gonzalez and to Ross. She and Gonzalez were the ones that had Zach and four other children arrested and taken away." Tony said grimly, when Jemma entered. "Zach's body will be here in the morning, two Russian agents will be bringing the evidence they found. They found four other bodies, and the families are being notified." She said quietly. "It's all somehow linked to Pepper, Dr Foster, Darcy, Sophie, Natasha and Grace. Something is going on here, Tony." Bruce said gravely, when a red eyed May and Peter entered with Michelle and Ned. "Is it true, Tony?" Peter asked shakily, he'd known Zach since he was a baby. He and Ned would babysit him and play with him.

Steve was worried about Tony at this point. His friend truly looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His dark eyes met Peter's and he nodded. Peter crumbled, and Tony pulled the young man into his arms. "I'm so sorry, kid. I really am." Meeting May's gaze above Peter's head, Tony looked so sad. "Why?" May asked, her voice breaking. "Who would do something to a little boy like that. He was… so sweet. The sweetest little boy since Peter… Why?" "I wish I knew, May," Tony told her. "But we will find out." His gaze swung to Steve who nodded. "We will get to the bottom of this, Ma'am. You can be sure of that." He watched Peter turn to be captured in a group embrace with his friends and May. Tony motioned for Steve to follow him into his office, closing the door as soon as Steve was inside.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Steve waited for the other man to say what he needed to say. "There will be an autopsy done," Tony began. "I want to know exactly what they did to him and why." Steve did as well. "What is Ross doing?" Tony said quietly. "This fascination with both Grace and Sophie has been obvious since the beginning. Am I the only one who thinks that?" Steve shook his head. "It crossed my mind. But we're going to have to move forward carefully, Tony. We can't include everyone on the team in this." "Agreed." Tony stared at the floor for a moment, deep in thought, before looking back up. "Grace. From what you know of her, is she capable of going, vigilante? Would she try to go after them on her own?" "She's a mother, Tony," Steve said carefully. "Of course, she is. It's how to prevent it that I'm trying to work out." "Clint," Tony offered. "He's her mentor. She trusts him. I don't care if we have to handcuff her to Clint, we have to make sure she doesn't get away from us." Steve frowned at that. "What are you so concerned about happening?" Tony's gaze never wavered. "If she goes rogue, Ross has an excuse to put her down or worse…" "Wait," Steve followed that train of thought. "You really think Ross is in this?" "Up to his ass." Tony's jaw locked. "We can't give him an excuse to kill her, or worse, arrest her. If they did whatever they did to her son, what would they do to her? Her sister?" Steve saw his point. Ross would likely go after Sophie too and that Steve wouldn't allow. Bucky was falling for the young woman. Steve knew how this would go. Bucky wouldn't hesitate to go to extremes to keep her safe, to do what he thought he should do for her. Well, hell. "We'll need to keep Bucky and Clint apprised of what's going on," Steve stressed to him. Tony nodded. "We'll need to allow for a funeral service, Tony," Steve continued. "It's going to be hard, but we have to it." Tony nodded again, seemed to not be hearing him. "Do you think… I mean. Pepper…" Tony looked like a man burning alive on the inside. "Is there a chance?" Steve's heart sunk for his friend. "I hope so, Tony. I really do." Tony walked around to his chair behind the desk, sank into it heavily. "She's pregnant, Steve. She's pregnant and didn't want the child. Because it's mine. Or because she didn't want to be tied to me. Will I…" "See him or her?" Steve offered, trying to keep his voice even. It was hard. All of HYDRA's dealings in this arena, tampering with the lives of innocent children, was the worst sort of evil to him. So unforgivable that he wondered how he would keep control if he were to encounter certain scenarios. "The child is valuable to them, Tony," Steve said slowly. "Because it's yours. That give him or her a chance. I'll do whatever I can to help you bring that baby home, Tony. I promise you that." Tony nodded, then his face crumbled. Tony Stark, the Tony Stark, burst into tears causing Steve to rise to his feet. Tony waved him away with a hand. "No, go. I'm sorry…" Steve understood. He closed the door behind him as he went to see out Nat, to get her take on how to proceed here. He'd have to take the lead on this one. He was the only one who wasn't emotionally compromised. He'd get Sam's input too. The only thing he was sure of? He'd put a stop to HYDRA hurting his team.

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tagging list: @jtargaryen18​, @marvelfansworld​, @sapphirescrolls​, @nomadicpixel​, @sweater-daddiesdumbdork​, @queenoftheunderdark​, @redfoxwritesstuff​, and @my-favourite-fics​, and @kitkatd7​

[mordellestories]

The Haunted Couch

A Beetlejuice AU fanfic. Rated M.

Part 1

"Marriage is bullshit," Lydia muttered bitterly while weaving her way through all the junk that was leftover from an estate sale.

"It doesn't have to be," Bertha chimed in with optimism. Her smile fell. "Divorce is definitely bullshit."

"No," Lydia argued, "divorce is more like hippo-shit." 

Bertha barked out a laugh as she checked out a crooked standing lamp. "What?"

Lydia picked up a rusty hose nozzle from the pile of odd trinkets on a table. "Ever see a hippo take a crap?" She nodded sagely. "Sprays shit everywhere. Like throwing a pile of shit at a fan on high." She waved her hands wildly and then pointed the nozzle at her best friend. "It's only aim is to soil everything in the vicinity."

"Shit." Bertha frowned with concern. 

"Hippo-shit." Lydia agreed.

Lydia had become so bitter and rightly so, but she hoped this day out shopping for her new apartment would lift her spirits. Lydia should have known better. If her husband - no, ex-husband - Vincent had not ruined the best years of her life, she wouldn't be in the position she was now; divorced, broke, and living in a moldy apartment that she was pretty sure was being illegally rented out to her.

"I think you need a hobby," Bertha advised. "Oh! Maybe get back into photography!" She held up an old film camera and waved it excitedly in Lydia's direction. Her friend scowled the instant she laid eyes on it. "I know you blame him for quitting your dreams, but you used to love it! And it's never too late to start over or change careers."

Lydia turned away from the offending thing in Bertha's hands. "Change what career? I have no career. Threw my career in the toilet for that," she growled and picked up a samurai sword, "cheating, sack of human garbage!"

Bertha sighed but kept the camera on-hand. "Put the weapon down, and let's just try to find something for your place."

"I should never have signed that prenup," Lydia grumbled as she checked the sword’s sharpness. It was dull. As dull as her pathetic new life was turning out to be.

At least Lydia would leave this place with something, well, she hoped. There was so much stuff laid out everywhere, and she was surprised that the site wasn't overrun with people. The owner of all the junk had been standing on the street corner with a bullhorn, sounding like a bad infomercial. He got a lot of attention, but not the kind he wanted. Lydia thought it was funny, and she was looking to furnish her place. Most things were priced reasonably, but she couldn't afford much. What Lydia really needed was furniture. She'd been eating her meals on the floor for two weeks. The little money that her considerate husband had given her would run out soon if she didn't find a job, and she was still unwilling to take up her father's offer of financial help. 

Financial help being taking up the job that Delia had offered her to be her personal assistant. Lydia would stoop to survive on locusts before she'd ever work for that woman.

After claiming the dining set and kitchen supplies, Bertha and Lydia made their way to the guy in charge. 

When Lydia saw Bertha taking out her wallet, she stopped her. "I'm not letting you pay for my stuff."

"I'm not gonna," Bertha defended. "I'm buying this." She placed the camera on the table next to the cash box.

"That was the top of the line back in the day," the man behind the table said. "Took good care of it too, it's like new. Eighty bucks and you can walk outta here with a vintage that-- "

Lydia raised a suspicious eyebrow at her friend. "Am I to believe you have a sudden interest in photography?" 

"It's a gift." Bertha cleared her throat. "For a friend."

"No, Bertha."

"Yes."

"No. Even at that price, it's too expensive." She turned to the man. "Yeah, she's not getting that."

"Ahem, eighty dollars is not expensive for something like this," Bertha said then turned to the man as well. "Right?"

The guy scowled. "I can let it go for sixty. It's been a slow day."

"See?" Bertha beamed at her friend. "I'll take it!"

Lydia blushed with embarrassment and turned away while Bertha chatted up the dude. She continued scanning the lawn as she eavesdropped and noticed a For Sale sign on the lawn, the picture of a realtor with the fakest smile Lydia had ever seen plastered on her face. Jane Butterfield, Lydia read as the man introduced himself. The man's name was Barry Menot, and he needed to sell everything, including the house, because of a divorce.

Lydia whirled around. "Did you cheat, or did she?

"Lydia!" Bertha's mouth hung open in shock.

"Um," Barry scratched the back of his head nervously and sent his gaze sideways, "I guess you could say she did?" He chuckled mirthlessly and started to sweat.

Lydia narrowed her eyes and looked to where his gaze had landed. All she saw was a striped vintage looking couch. The stripes were black and white with engraved wood trimming painted black. It was beautiful and very much Lydia's style. Well, her old style. Dark and strange. Goth-like. How she used to be before her prince, Vince, robbed her of that too. The sofa was way too pretty to be cheap.

Lydia asked, anyway. "How much for the sofa?"

Barry choked on air and stared at her with wide, scared eyes. "Y-you mean, the black and white futon?"

Futon? "Uh, no, that nice victorian-looking one," she pointed.

Barry did an exaggerated double-take and sputtered. "Oh!" He paled visibly. "Yeah, that one. Um, name your price!" He laughed, sounding a bit deranged.

Lydia considered him a moment longer. Obviously, there was something wrong with the couch. "Nevermind, I don't have any more room in the budget."

"Okay, then just take it!" Barry exclaimed a bit too loud. "Free."

Bertha elbowed her friend. "Gosh, mister! That's awfully nice of you--"

"Yeah, that's nice, but I'm not looking to date." Lydia turned around and made to leave, but Barry grabbed her arm. She sent him a glare of death, and he let go at once as if burned.

"Sorry! I just - I mean - no, that's no - um, look, me either. I just got divorced!" He let out another crazed laugh. "That couch ruined my marriage!"

"What? How--"

"No, no. I meant - I mean - it holds a lot of bad memories for me. I was gonna junk it if no one took it." Barry's eyes widened pleadingly. 

Bertha looked between the two and decided to jump in. "Okay, we'll take it! Right, Lydia?" She elbowed her again.

"Sure," Lydia relented dubiously. 

The haul was fruitful, in Lydia's opinion. She now had an oak dining room set, essential kitchenware, a simple black nightstand from IKEA, a standing lamp... and the odd but beautiful sofa. Lydia, Bertha, and her other friend, Prudence, stood next to each other and stared at the couch while Adam, Lydia's godfather, pushed it against the wall in the living room.

"You sure there's nothing wrong with it?" Lydia asked. "No rats, or termites, or anything?"

"Positive, sweetie," Adam replied as he patted the couch and then gave it a good shake. "Solid wood. Definitely an antique but well cared for. It's a great find!"

"See?" Said Bertha. "Not all men are evil, bastards."

Adam widened his eyes. "Well, I would hope not."

Lydia rolled her eyes and smirked. "Adam, you're the only good man in this world, and Barbara is lucky to have you."

"Nah," he waved away her comment. "I'm lucky to have her!"

The man was just too sweet. Lydia smiled. "Thanks for helping me out, Adam."

Her godfather gave her a hug. "Anytime. Come by for dinner tomorrow, okay? You live a lot closer now, and we've really missed you, kiddo!"

Lydia felt awful suddenly. "Yeah, yeah. Of course. I'm pretty settled already. I miss Barbara's cooking." She hadn't visited her godparents in over two years. Her husband didn't like traveling out to the sticks.

Engaged at nineteen years old. Married ten years. Ten years! And, now she'd be thirty by the time her divorce went through. Sad, sad... sad.

Lydia watched her friends, and her godfather drive off as she waved from her front door.

Why couldn't Lydia have found a man like Adam instead of a rich, mama's boy, who suddenly decided he identified as polyamorous after he was caught with his dick in Claire Brewster's preppy, bald cunt. Because he was tall, dark, and handsome, and filthy rich, Lydia chided herself internally. And I was stupid. 

She sighed and entered her lonely, almost bare apartment. A little mewl called out to her from her bedroom. At least she wasn't entirely alone. Lydia opened her bedroom door, and a lanky black cat rubbed against her leg before heading to his bowl of food.

"At least we got each other, right, Percy?"

Meow.

Even though Adam was the perfect husband, he was perfect for Barbara. Make no mistake, Lydia loved her godfather, but he was just so, so, so boring. Lydia had always wanted to live a unique and adventurous life. Vince had provided that because he had the money to keep her on her toes. They traveled the world together, rubbing elbows with many of her idols. He had catered to her every whim. At first.

Money was not a big deal for Lydia. She would have been happy working at something she enjoyed doing like photography or designing clothes, heck, even work at a nice gallery. Vince had enticed her to a life of gallivanting around the globe instead. That was okay because she was in love. She was an idiot. That life lasted about five years, and then they settled down right next door to her horrible mother-in-law. They tried to have kids, but it just didn't pan out. At around the seven-year-itch, Vince's mummy dearest started pressuring Lydia into trying fertility treatments, but Lydia put her foot down. She decided that adoption would be good enough for her, but Vince's mother was disgusted with that idea. Of course, Vince took mommy's side. Things went downhill from there. 

Lydia knew she should have left Vince sooner, but at the time, she just couldn't find a good enough reason to leave him. It seemed selfish to leave her husband because she was unhappy. They tried couples therapy, but nothing changed. She saw less and less of her husband as the days went by. They were both aimless and just barely tolerating each other. The final straw was the cheating. Lydia knew Vince was screwing around for years, but she couldn't prove it. Like all affairs tend to be unveiled, it happened by accident. The moron had left his iPad laying around, and Lydia saw the text messages. 

The divorcee made herself a cup of tea and sat at her new dining table. "I guess ramen for dinner again, huh, Percy?"

Meow.

Lydia sipped her tea and looked out of her curtainless window. It was already dark, even though it was only six-thirty. The clouds parted, and Lydia gasped at the full moon that was revealed to her. It cast an eerie light into the room, and very suddenly, Lydia felt as if she was no longer alone.

Not like she felt happy, content, or at peace, or anything like that. No, no. She literally felt like there was someone else in the apartment - watching her.

She shuddered. Slowly, Lydia turned in her seat towards her living room, fully expecting someone to be there. There was no one, but the feeling of being watched remained. Swallowing down her tea hard, Lydia stood and wandered to the area. The light of the moon blanketed the striped sofa. For a long moment, Lydia's imagination ran wild because the ridiculous thought that the couch was leering at her entered her mind. 

Quickly, Lydia flicked the switch on the wall, and the light turned on. She scoffed and shook her head at the sofa — what a weird thing to think. Couches can't leer. She laughed softly, turned off the light, and headed to her bedroom. Before she closed the door to her bathroom within, Lydia thought she heard someone snicker.

Must have been Percy.

The couch was haunted. 

It was the only explanation. 

Lydia was just about going bonkers at the amount of weird shit going on, and she had tried to rationalize it away with every sane, logical, and sensible explanation she could come up with.

The first week since the sofa was placed in her home, Lydia continued to feel the odd sensation of being watched whenever she was near it. It was so unsettling that Lydia avoided sitting on the damned piece of furniture even when she finally got a TV. It was ridiculous, and Lydia knew this, but even Percy was avoiding the living room entirely. Sometimes that cat would just sit on the dining room table and stare at the sofa, ears flattened, tail a bit puffy and twitching, and pupils blown wide. 

Lydia had finally landed a temporary job at a Spirit Halloween store that still had Toys R Us decals and ads on the walls. She started working right away. She was getting home late because she had no car and had to bike six miles back home. Not a long ways away, but Lydia was out of shape, even though she was still a twig, and had to stop often to catch her breath and rest her screaming legs. 

So, on day six of her trudging through the first week of employment, all Lydia wanted in the whole wide world was to shower, eat her burrito bowl, and vegetate in front of the TV to watch The Haunting of Hill House on her stolen Netflix account - and-just-fucking-unwind. 

Lydia had entered her apartment with purpose. She was going to sit on that damned sofa and get over her paranoia. It was just a couch for Pete's sake! With narrowed eyes and steeled nerves, Lydia slammed the door behind her and looked pointedly at the ominous piece of furniture. She could swear it was staring back. The minutes ticked away during the childish Mexican standoff, but Lydia finally hung her bag and keys on the foyer rack, never taking her eyes off the sofa. 

"I'm going to shower." She said out loud as if the couch were sentient. "Then I'm going to watch tv."

Only silence ensued, but the air seemed charged with provocation as if the sofa was silently daring her to make good on her promise. The energy in the room was almost suffocating, and Lydia swore she heard the couch groan. Quick as a whip, Lydia switched the light on in the living room, and the overwhelming sensation was gone in a blink as if it had never happened. 

Because it didn't, she scolded herself. You're tired, and you've never lived on your own. 

Lydia left the light on, regardless of her rationalizing and made straight for her bathroom. She liked her showers piping hot, never settling for a temperature less than what would inevitably leave her looking like a boiled lobster by the end of it. As the steam filled the bathroom, and the hot water hit her skin, Lydia sighed contentedly. This was the highlight of her daily existence now. The shower was a safe space, and Lydia could let her mind wander without becoming too attached to her problems. It was almost meditative, and it was the only place she would allow herself to picture a better life and believe it was possible to attain. 

While her thoughts ran amok, she acknowledged her earlier realization; she'd never lived alone before. She'd lived with her parents, then shared a dorm in college, and then moved in with Vince after that. Annoyed with herself for not celebrating that she could now be her own woman and a self-sufficient adult, Lydia wondered what dating app she should try. Hadn't she sworn off men? Should she try dating women? Why couldn't she just shut the door on romantic love and focus on loving herself for once! Regardless of her depreciative musings, she couldn't help visualizing the perfect man.

He didn't have to be handsome - look at where that had gotten her. He didn't have to be rich - it would probably trigger her anyhow. He didn't even have to be that young - maybe a more experienced man would actually be able to get her off once in a while. He just needed to love her, really love her. He needed to contribute to their home. He needed to compliment her flaws and be less like her. She wanted someone with a sense of adventure, who could take charge and - oh - it'd be great if he had a sense of humor! That was more important to her than the occasional good sex requirement. Vince had been such a bore! Her ex could only rely on his money to keep Lydia entertained, and he never got her jokes. True, Lydia had a dark sense of humor, but she could make others laugh with her deadpan wit, except Vince. 

The shower dipped below Lydia's standards, and she groaned with disappointment. The loud squeak of the nobs turning while she shut the water off was enough to feel like she crash-landed back to reality. The high-pitched noise was so grating, she shuddered. Before Lydia could spiral thinking about her real problems, like how she was going to pay for her student loans - good God, how am I going to pay for my student loans? The growl from her angry stomach veered her away from imagining herself pole dancing at the Beaver Barn two blocks down.

There were more important things to do than panic over bills and plummeting credit scores, like slipping into the baggiest give-up-on-life pants and an oversized hoodie. Then nuking her leftover burrito bowl and --

Lydia halted at the living room as she towel-dried her hair. She looked around, feeling something was off. Off...

The light was off.

Lydia had positively left the light on. Or did she? Exhaustion won over trepidation as she made her way to the couch. Standing before it, towel in one hand and a plate of food in the other, Lydia sighed and shook her head.

"Stupid."

She plopped down on the sofa and paused to see if it would swallow her whole and send her into another dimension. She bounced the cushion for good measure. Damn, this couch is comfy! Then she shrugged, crossed her legs, and hit the power button on the tv remote. Lydia let out a snicker as she powered up the Apple TV that she'd stolen from her previous life and excitedly hit the play button on episode two of her new favorite show.

A loud yowl nearly sent Lydia into cardiac arrest, and she snapped her gaze to the dining area. Percy was sitting at the junction between the cheap linoleum of the dining room and the living room carpet. 

"Percy!" She scolded and chuckled with relief. "You scared me. Come," she patted the seat next to her, wiggled her fingers, and made kissy noises, but Percy would not budge. 

HISSSS!

Lydia flinched at Percy's new noise. She'd never heard him hiss before. His tailed puffed and twitched, and he looked pretty pissed. 

"Fine." As odd as that had been, she was too engrossed with what was happening on screen. 

Burrito bowl thoroughly scarfed, eyelids heavy, and body slouching forward, Lydia willed herself to stay awake to finish episode four--

She passed out.

With a loud gasp, Lydia shot to sitting and looked around wildly while she panted. What happened? Where was she? Her eyes landed on the TV, the annoying "are you still watching" message on the screen. What-- oh. She was in the living room. On the sofa. She must have fallen asleep on the sofa. Why is it so hot?

Despite the chill in the air, Lydia was sweating, her heart was racing, and her panties were--

It was then she realized she'd been having the most erotic dream ever, and yet she couldn't remember anything about it. The only thing she knew was that her orgasm was incredibly intense, stronger than any other she'd ever experienced, which really wasn't saying much in her case.

Lydia laughed out loud - she had a wet dream. There was still a satisfying little ache between her legs. She squirmed a bit, stretched, and languidly made her way to her bed. Whatever the dream was about, she hoped she'd have another one before morning. 

What sounded like snickering echoed in the hall before she closed her door. Maybe it's rats.

It was not rats.

The incident could have been overlooked. After all, it was not like anything out of the ordinary had happened. Lydia had fallen asleep on the couch and had a sexy dream. What's strange about that? Nothing. Except that two days later, Lydia had fallen asleep on the couch again only to experience the same thing. The only difference from the first time was that Lydia remembered one detail from her dream; black and white stripes. That made sense, didn't it? The couch was striped. She'd conked out on said couch.  

But things got weirder.

The living room light kept going out, and on one odd occasion, it turned on all by itself. Obviously, her shitty apartment had electrical issues. The Haunting of Hill House would come on during the night, waking Lydia. Perhaps she left the tv on, and Percy sat on the remote. Yeah, that's it. And was that moss that had grown on one of the armrests? Odd. Maybe Lydia dragged it in when she used the shortcut through the old, foresty cemetery. She'd seen moss on the trunks, certainly. Yeah. The couch would groan at the oddest moments, like when Lydia would give into her guilty pleasure of watching old episodes of Grey's Anatomy. Or, when Lydia decided not to watch tv and head straight for bed. Or when Lydia finally made her profile on Bumble. Then there was the time the sofa pinched her ass. Or, rather, Lydia sat on something pinchy. That had to be it, but she couldn't find the culprit for the life of her.

Look, it's not like Lydia was completely oblivious. She'd watched enough horror films to know that her place was haunted, or, more specifically, the couch was possessed. She wasn't an idiot. But there's always that inner skeptic that pushes obvious signs aside or squashes any thoughts of the supernatural down into "the nope vault." Everyone does it, even the ones who want to believe - and Lydia wanted to believe once upon a time. Now she was pretty sure she had a horny poltergeist sleazing around in the upholstery of her beautiful sofa, and she wasn't sure she wanted to believe any longer. So, her brain did its damndest to ignore the strange and unusual happenings that had become a daily occurrence.

But after seven thunderously climactic occurrences on that godsend of a sofa, it could no longer be ignored. Lydia remembered more details of her dreams each time. There was wiry, white-blond hair, blue eyes, pale hands, and stripes. Lydia was sure it was the same man in the dreams, but she could only hold on to glimpses and never remember the face.

Although the orgasms were terrific and very much appreciated - truly grateful, she was - the dreams were getting downright creepy. In fact, she wasn't so sure they were dreams anymore. More like nightmares. Or worse, real.

Bah! Psh. Nah... Well... only one way to find out.

Lydia's place was mostly decorated, even if all the furniture was mismatched, so she wasn't too embarrassed to have her friends over for dinner and wine. Bertha and Prudence were a bit tentative and awkward at first, which made Lydia feel nervous. She'd been awful at keeping in touch with them after college, but when they started meeting up towards the end of her marriage, things seemed to go back to how they used to be after some alcohol and time. Hence, the wine was already served before they even knocked on the door.

Mostly they just caught each other up with happenings since the last time they saw each other. As the wine dwindled, so did the nerves, and they were back to their old selves. Lydia sighed with relief when Bertha let out some incredibly crass things to say over dinner. They nearly choked on their food as they laughed. It was turning out to be such a great night, and Lydia wondered why she hadn't done this sooner. 

Right. The haunted couch.

There was only a smidge of guilt as Lydia ushered the women to the living room after dinner.

"You girls get comfy, I'll get the cheesecake!" Lydia dashed the fridge and removed the desert. Then she quickly stood at the edge of the dining room and watched her friends take their seats.

Both Prudence and Bertha sat on the sofa. 

Lydia waited.

"Lyds?" Prudence called. "Everything all right?"

They were staring at her with concern. "Yep," she smiled and walked to the green armchair she had gotten at GoodWill. "I'm just really happy we've reconnected. I know I haven't really..." she trailed off and placed the cheesecake, paper plates, and plastic forks on the coffee table.

"Life happens, girl," Bertha consoled. "Pru and I weren't much better at reaching out."

"Yeah," Prudence lamented, "I'm sorry."

"Me too," Lydia nodded and pursed her lips.

"Okay!" Bertha exclaimed and rubbed her hands together. "Now that we've got that awkward business outta the way, let's dig in! I fucking love cheesecake." She served herself and took a bite before anyone else could. "Mmm!" She let out the most obscene moan.

Lydia snapped her head up with wide eyes, thinking the couch had already put the moves on Bertha. 

"Have I ever told ya" Bertha said with her mouthful, "bout the time I smeared cheesecake on a guys dick--"

"Oh, God..." Prudence closed her eyes and prepared.

"-- because he tasted so nasty! It worked. If you ever run into that problem..." She lifted her plate of cake and nodded with a wink.

"Christ," Lydia breathed, but she and Pru giggled hysterically anyway. 

The three continued to talk and reminisce. By the time they were on the third bottle of wine, Lydia had forgotten all about her other goal of the night.

Until...

"Fuckn'-A!" Bertha tugged on her blouse, trying to air it out. "It's so hot. It's hot, right?"

Prudence shrugged, but Lydia immediately grew suspicious.

"Maybe it's the wine," Prudence offered. "I'm feeling a bit h-warm, but it's nice," she all but slurred.

"Yeah, right. The wine," Lydia agreed. That made sense, but she narrowed her eyes at Bertha, who shifted in her seat and furrowed her brow. "You okay? I can lower the AC."

Lydia didn't wait for Bertha to respond. She got up and lowered the temperature even though the thermostat read sixty-one degrees. Lydia could feel the wine, but she wasn't sweating. Bertha was dripping sweat, and Prudence was shiny and flushed.

"Hmm," Bertha hummed and stared into her glass of wine with a quirk of her brow and a frown. "Y'all ever get horny after drinking wine?"

Prudence snorted and then giggled like a virgin.

Lydia nodded and realized her mistake in the choice of alcohol. Drinks usually left her feeling a slight sense of arousal too, and wine was most effective to induce that sensation. Damn it, Lydia thought. Now she would never know it was the sofa--

"Wow," Bertha's eyes fluttered, "I've, um, I know I bought this before..." she closed her eyes. "Never, uh, never... felt so... oh shiiiiit..."

It was then that Lydia heard a mousy, hiccup-like laugh, and when she set her eyes on Prudence, she found the ginger was scarlet, blotches of red on her face, neck, and ears. And she looked terribly embarrassed.

It was definitely the sofa. 

Lydia's eyes bugged out as she switched her gaze between the women. Lydia was momentarily horrified with herself. She'd subjected her friends to molestation via a lecherous couch. They seemed happy, though, and suddenly Lydia was feeling something else. 

Anger.

So, the sofa was not monogamous, huh? Just like her fucking ex-husband. How dare the couch-bastard feel up her friends! Right in front of her no less! 

"Off." Lydia blurted out with a frown.

The women looked up at her and froze with guilty faces. 

Bertha cleared her throat. "Um, what?" Her pitch was higher than usual.

"Off. The. Couch," Lydia pronounced.

Prudence rocketed off the sofa and adjusted her clothes, pinching her jeans at the thighs and pulling them down a bit. "You know, um, it's getting late," Prudence squeaked.

"Yeah, it is," Lydia agreed with a sneer. 

"I'm too drunk to drive," Bertha whined and squirmed in her seat again.

Lydia held up her phone. "Lyft ordered. Two minutes."

"Lydiaaaa," Bertha pleaded, "can't I just stay here and sleep on the sofa?"

"NO!" Lydia shot out of her chair and snatched Bertha's glass out of her hands. "It's not the wine that's messing with you," she confessed. "It's the couch." 

Her guests looked at each other and then back to their host with furrowed brows. Oh, well, now she put her foot in it. What the hell was she going to say? That the sofa was possessed by a predatory phantom Don Juan, and that she was jealous?

JEALOUS?!

"I just realized I cleaned it with some strong stuff, and we've been inhaling the fumes this whole time!" The lie came easily, half sober.

"Oh, my!" Prudence declared and stumbled away from the furniture.

Bertha looked slightly concerned but didn't budge, so Lydia continued. "My grandmother almost died mopping her floor from cleaning chemicals, Bertha! Who knows what it's doing to your brain cells?!"

"Bertha, get off the couch!" Prudence shrieked.

Finally, Bertha sighed and pushed herself up on unsteady legs. "Fine," she pouted and collected her things.

Prudence was scurrying around and opening all the windows in the apartment when the notification came that their ride was outside. Lydia ushered them out the door as quickly as possible and assured them she'd be alright, promising to turn on all the fans and air out the place. She waved at them as they rode off, a forced smile plastered on her face until the car disappeared.

Once her friends were out of sight, Lydia about-faced and stormed into her apartment, slamming the front door.

With a face that screamed murder, Lydia jutted an angry finger at the sofa and seethed. 

"You motherfucker," she groused. 

She ran to the couch, picked up a decorative pillow, and began whacking it with enough force to send a dust and lint cloud into the air around her. 

Lydia yelled in between hits. "Dead...," WHACK, "or alive," WHACK, "you're all," WHACK, "the same!" WHACK. "I'll gut...," WHACK, "your stuffings out!"

WHACK-WHACK-WACK

Lydia's fury was volcanic. She hadn't even been that angry with Vince, and from an outsider's perspective, a woman beating the shit out of a couch because she thought it was cheating on her was outrageously ludicrous. It was that notion that made Lydia stumble backward and away from the abused furniture only to start laughing in a hysterical fit. 

"Oh, I'm losing my goddamn mind!" She continued laughing and wiping away her tears. "Jesus Christ, Lydia, get a grip. It's just... a couch." 

The memory of its previous owner came to her in a sudden flash. Barry had said the couch had ruined his marriage. She panted and stared at the womanizing sofa for a long moment and came to a decision. 

Lydia needed to find Barry.

To Be Continued...

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

AN: Thank you for reading! I’d love to know what you think of this so far! 

I hope to finish this story soon and post the whole thing as a oneshot on Ao3 and FF. You can subscribe to me on either site to get the update of when it’s posted (search for mordelle) or just keep a look out here on tumblr!

Please like, comment, send asks, or reblog if you enjoyed this! It always makes my day.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

[bucket-girl]

Chapter 2-1 Personal Info logs

In chapter 2, it’s possible to buy the personal info of Nao, Reko, Gin and Q-Taro with tokens, but it’s easy to miss. Reloading saves and redoing minigames is a hassle so I wrote them down for convenience. Most of them are in the form of conversing with AIs, I’ve put Sara’s lines in italics. Text under cut.

Gin > History ...History? What should I talk about, woof? "Hm... Just an introduction would make me happy." Gin Ibushi from Heiwa Elementary Class 6-3! I'm 12 years old, meow! I take care of the animals, meow!! "Is school fun for you?" Hmm... It's not that fun 'cause of some guys I don't like, meow. But it's fun to meet friends, woof! We play games together, meooow! "Do you wear that outfit to school, too?" Nah, because people get mad. It's only when I'm at home, woof! ...It's kinda easier to talk when I wear this, meow. But I can't wear it to school, so I get uneasy, woof. So people at school tell me I'm obedient, woof! But that's wrong... meow... My aspirations are to live with animals all the time, meow! "Heehee... What kinds of animals?" I'm way into gators right now, meow! They're cute, wooooof!

> Physical Info I'm 138 centimeters and 35.5 kilograms, meow! That's 4 foot 6 inches and 78 pounds, woof! And I grew 2 centimeters at my last checkup, meow! "Your growth spurt and voice change must be coming up soon." Obviously, meow! I'm gonna be bigger than you, big sis Sara! "Ahaha, I'm sure you'll look really cool. I've got high hopes for you." Yeah! I'll sweep you off your feet, meow! Be grateful, woof! "Okay, let's make it a promise." Got it, meow! A promise for when I outgrow you, woof!

> Relatives My family's a double-income household, meow! I don't have siblings, so... It's lonely when I'm there by myself, meow... My mom's super nice even when she's exhausted, woof. No matter how late she gets home, she always makes dinner... And no matter how much I tell her not to overwork herself... "Do you like your mom?" I love her, meow! I'm worried how she's even busier lately, woof... "What about your dad?" I don't like some things... but I like him, meow. But I super hate when he's a drunkard who causes trouble, meow! It's embarrassing, woof! And he's always getting yelled at by mom and apologizing, so it's like he's got no dignity, woof. I don't wanna be that kind of pathetic grown-up, meooow! ...But I'm sure I won't, meow. 'Cause I'm not blood-related to dad, woof. "Huh...?" I heard he married mom when I was 2, meow! So that genetics stuff won't make me turn out like him, woof! "Is that so...?" Well, it's not like I hate dad, woof. It's true, meow!

> Death Game info I dunno, meow... It's scary, woof... What's dying feel like, meow...? "I... don't know either." I don't wanna never meet mom and dad again, meow... Big sis Sara... are you scared too, meow? "...Yeah, I am." "...Really scared..." .......... I'll definitely protect you, meow! Come see me anytime, woof! "Heehee... Thanks..."

> What he holds dear What I hold dear...? That's hard, meowww. Hm... It's gotta be mom and dad, meow! I'd be sad if they went away, woof! Ah! And the Mew-chan cushion I'm always with! They're super precious to me, meow! We're always together, so I forgot, meow! Sorry, Mew-chaaan! Woof... "Mew-chan is family to you too, huh?" That's right, meow! I got seriously mad when dad was gonna throw them away, meow! Unforgivable, woof! Get me a new one?! No way, meow!! You're a dummy, woof! I'm getting furious just remembering, woof! Mom should yell at him again, meowww!

Q-Taro > History I was raised up in an orphanage that's just a mite bit weird. Had people from all sortsa countries. I got a lotta dialects and stuff mixed in me... 'Course, they sent me to compulsory education up 'til high school. Can't thank the place enough. An' now, I'm a pro baseball player. ...Kiddos at the orphanage root for me, too. I wanna hurry up and show 'em... That even guys in situations like ours can get on a mound and have the stadium roarin'... Well, point is, I got no history yet. I'm about to be makin' some radiant records! Better get yer autographs early, Sara!

> Physical Info 6 foot 4 inches! 230 pounds! And lemme tell ya, it's all muscle, not fat! My position's pitcher, but I got confidence in my batting, base-running, and fielding! But my greatest weapon's my head. Gotta be smart to be a first-class athlete. "Is that how it is?" 'Course, I'm reflecting on the time I tore apart those puzzle rings by force, but...

> Relatives .......... "Is it hard to discuss?" Nah... there's just nothing to discuss. 'Cause I've never seen my birth parents' faces. Only place I knew was the orphanage. That's why... the people there were my moms and dads. Doesn't matter our blood relation. But, well... I do get thinkin' sometimes. What kinda people was I born to, and what kinda genetics do I got...? I started baseball jus' for fun, but... I've thought how if I pitch as a first-string pro... maybe my birth parents'll be watchin'. "...Do you want to meet them?" If we could talk and laugh it up, that'd be the best. All at ease, like "I'm havin' a great life"...

> Death Game info Huh, you're doin' this Death Game, right...? Knowin' me, I doubt I got even the slightest notion of dyin'. Hell, to a second-stringer, baseball's a Death Game with my life as a player on the line! But to do some self-analysis... I wonder if maybe I'll try an' win within the rules of the game... In the saga of a sports player, ya tend to forget about breakin' the rules. Maybe somebody like you, young and not knowin' fear, is more suited to findin' a path to survival. "...Is that so..." ...Sorry to make it sound like it ain't my business. I mean look, I'm an AI, y'know?

> What he holds dear Hold dear, huh... The caretakers at the orphanage, the kiddos... Of course, baseball, and... Myself... probably. I ain't gonna sugarcoat it. I don't wanna die, and I don't want the people I like to die. So I don't like to kick people... But if I gotta, I got the resolve. But I hate the kinda asshole who's got that as their first thought! ...Sorry for gettin' all fired up. Shouldn't have said that all cocky-like when you're involved in it... Don't you mind me.

Reko > History Err... I'mma super cool, 23-year-old singer-songwriter... Something like that? I've liked music since I was a kid. Classical, folk, heavy metal... I listened to all of it. Think around grade school, I found myself starting to compose and write lyrics. My instincts moved my body. That was a fun time... People praised me, and my parents were just plain happy... Once they started calling me a gifted kid... Then there started being more noise. Old bastards in the music industry wanting money... My pops craving the limelight... Before I knew it, I was making music that my heart wasn't in. In middle school, I rebelled. I was a rocker! I made tons of songs nobody even wanted! But even then, noise swarmed around me. Man, even my spirit had to give in. From high school on, all the spice was gone... Didn't even have anger... My activity dried up. I had tons of chances to be famous. But I smashed 'em all. I was totally just the industry's problem child. Everybody kept their distance from me. Once I couldn't even gather members, I borrowed Alice to make a band... Hahaha. Then two and a half years ago... He caused that incident... ... Well, at any rate, I am who I am now 'cause of that shitty past. Learn something from that, Sara?

> Physical Info 5 foot 7, 121 pounds. Pretty proud of my reflexes! And I can remember choreography in a snap, so... My memory's bangin'! Well... I'm not great at baseball and stuff... Hell, maybe I'm not great at anything that's got nothing to do with music. "By the way, what are your measurements?" N-No reason to tell you that, right?

> Relatives Family... Well, uh... ...I like my mom. Though she's a little weird. She's affectionate... and I cause her lots of trouble. Yeah, I gotta show my appreciation more. My old man... Well, he's a good guy... But let's say he gives in to temptation. He's not the most true to his convictions. I hated him for the longest time... But he's woken up now, and gone back to his plain and simple personality. After them is... Alice, huh. He's... what should I say? Why'd he do something like that...? A while after he got arrested... I left music Ahh... I just remembered. At the time, I wrote in my diary, which is rare... I wrote that music, the thing I'd poured my soul into all this time... suddenly felt like a cold series of notes... this inorganic thing. I wondered, was this how music sounded to people who didn't care about it...? ......... I always thought I didn't care about my brother, and never listened to him, but... Truth is... Maybe I was a little jealous of my normal brother. And acted that way out of spite. ... ...You shouldn't ever murder somebody...

> Death Game info Why do I gotta go through this shit...? Do we have anything in common...? I haven't got a clue...

> What she holds dear Believe it or not... I think family's important, right? I wanna show appreciation to my parents. But like, right now... The original me is being put through this Death Game, yeah? If she dies, she can't do... anything. So when you think of it like that, what's important's my own life, ain't it? "...What about your instruments?" Instruments...? "When I first met Reko... I heard she treasured her bongos." Bongos...? Well, sure. I'm playing bongos in my new band, but...

Nao Unlike the others, Nao's personal info comes as documents you can read wherever. > History Egasaki Elementary School ... Graduated Egasaki Middle School ... Graduated Third Kurotsuki Private High School ... Graduated Takesasa Private College of Art ... Currently 1st year Middle-class, born and raised by a very ordinary family. School grades below average. Focused on art starting in high school, and now seems interested in pursuing only that. Looks up to an art club advisor she met in high school, staying deeply intimate with him even post-graduation. Often seen going to the man's atelier. Doesn't appear to have many friends, but has a long association with most she does have, so it's suspected she values relationships. Also, refrains from going out at night, generally staying at home even on days off. No information known on what men she associates with.

> Physical info Nao Egokoro Age: 19 Gender: Female Height: 162cm (5'4") Weight: 55kg (121lb) Has little experience in sports and the like, limited to P.E. classes in compulsory education. Even so, her reflexes are poor. Perhaps due to her inclination toward art, she has very good eyesight. Her ability to remember a scene for a long time or recognize the individual flaps of a bird's wings is within reason, yet superb. Since much of this comes from practice, about the only thing that can be called a born talent, it is thought, is her passionate love for art. No other notable characteristics, although she has a large bust. (Sara will remark that the last line is harassment and tear it out)

> Relatives Born to a middle-class, extremely average family. Both parents are in good health. Having good relations with them, her situation is common yet happy. The father has been an office worker for 20 years. The mother has carried various jobs. No siblings. The father is under his wife's thumb. When they fight, it appears Nao Egokoro often defends her father to resolve the conflict.

> Death Game info Safely cleared the First Trial. Survived the first Main Game. Greatly affected mentally by death of her teacher. Took off with teacher's head and ran amok. This could be taken as mental weakness, but endurance of great shock could make her that much more mentally sturdy going forward.

> What she holds dear Most likely, Nao Egokoro treasures the artworks she has created, and brushes et al. received from her high school teacher. Due to minimal desire for money, she does not seem the type to want expensive things.