#with a few additional members like omega

[heyclickadee]

Okay, my turn to go full tin foil hat on Tech living though that fall. So.

Please tell me I’m not the only one who’s seeing this:

“You have to admire ‘em. They find a way to survive.” I know the ice vulture is Crosshair’s thing, but its silhouette also looks like the marauder, and when I think of the marauder, I think of Tech. I think there’s more to tease out here with Tech and Crosshair parallels, but THEY. THEY find a way to survive.

Anyway, I’ll be getting a fitting for a clown wig if y’all need me.

[kaciidubs]

hey kacii boo 💞 i have a request if that’s okay?

hear me out ☝️

a/b/o OT8 skz x omega reader and reader finds out she is pregnant? the boys start noticing her acting different and she accidentally leaves a pregnancy test on the counter, causing the boys to see. When she gets home, the boys sit her down and talk to her about it ending in group cuddles from the boys 🫶🏻

I'm in love with this, truly! ❣ Word Count: 1.9k [I did not mean to type that much] ❣ Warnings: A/B/O Poly! SKZ x Omega! Reader, pregnancy, angst if you squint, mention of birth control, fluff, comfort ❣ Additional Tags: Mentions of Chris being an alpha, Felix, Jisung and Hyunjin being omegas as the only specific pack roles, no clear mated pairings within the pack but it's sort of Chris x Reader centered toward the end

It would begin with the most intuitive of the pack members noticing your extremely slight deviation from your usual routines - Felix.

He was a fellow omega, like Jisung and Hyunjin, but he was the most aware of everyone's trends and habits; which meant it was immediately apparent to him that something was wrong when you start doing small things like wearing pajama pants around the house as opposed to your favorite, work out pajama shorts.

Eventually, the small things he noticed began to grow into big things that the rest of his pack mates would catch onto, such as the way you turned away your favorite snacks when Changbin offered them, or the way you couldn't seem to stand the smell of Seungmin's shampoo though you spent countless nights washing his hair with the same product before. There was even one night where you snapped at Jeongin when he tried cuddling up to you when you least expected it, then immediately started crying because you felt bad.

Since that night you'd resorted to staying in the "guest room", which was simply a spare room for anyone who needed their own space for some time - which was highly disliked by each of your pack mates, but they wouldn't take away your decision.

One day, when you were out running a few errands, Minho was the brave soul who would venture into your temporary room to do a bathroom sweep to clean and take out any trash. What he didn't expect, however, was the waft of an overly sweet scent overwhelming his senses the second he opened the door - nor was he expecting to stumble across a plastic pregnancy test on the counter.

When you walked through the front door, reusable bags in hand, you were met with eight pairs of eyes staring at you, freezing you in place as you stared back with worried confusion.

"Um... Hi?"

The mix of scents usually eased you, but with the thick layer of anticipation and worry threaded throughout, you weren't sure what to expect.

"Kitten, can you come sit with us for a minute?" Minho offered softly as Changbin was the first to stand, walking over to take the bags from your hands and bring them to the kitchen for the time being.

Left with no other choice, you walked into the living room and sat in the empty space between Felix and Hyunjin; Jisung sliding onto the floor to rest against your leg while Jeongin and Seungmin settled against the opposite, before Changbin filled the space behind Hyunjin while Minho remained next to Felix.

Easing into the comfortable, impromptu cuddle puddle, you figured the impending discussion was going to be simple until Chris stood before the group - directly in front of you.

"Love... You know you can tell us anything, right?"

You bristled at his cautious tone, though the feeling of Hyunjin's hand grazing against your own eased your guard. "I know I can - what's this about?"

"You've been acting different lately, and at first we just thought it was because of a period, or a new symptom of your heat coming up, but then you started avoiding food and smells, and isolating yourself from us." Chris tried his best to keep his tone level, to keep the authority that swelled within him at a tolerable value, but his unwavering gaze showed all of his emotions. "Then Minho found this-" reaching into his back pocket, he pulled out the same device that had thrown you into a panicked fit, so much so that you had to leave the house for a sudden errand run, "-and it all started to make sense. Why didn't you tell us you were pregnant, love?"

A pang of shame shot through your heart like an arrow, and judging by the disheartened whines from the boys immediately around you, they already felt the shift within you.

"We aren't upset, Jagi," Jisung pouted up at you as he nudged your thigh with his nose, round eyes filled with love.

Hyunjin nodded against your shoulder, bringing your hand up to press a soft kiss to the back, "We're just worried about you, muse."

A shivering breath rattled through you as you blinked back hot tears, looking up at the eldest, the head alpha among your unlikely pack.

"C-Chris, I- I don't-" You sniffled, cursing the tremble in your voice, "I wasn't trying to keep it a secret, I swear - I knew something was different but I didn't want to assume anything until I took the test last night and-" Biting back a sob, you felt a soft touch against your cheek - Minho's hand wiping away a stray tear. "I just... I didn't know how to say it so I went out to clear my head and figure out the words to say to you - to everyone because I- I'm not sure who got me pregnant! I didn't even skip my birth control, for fucks sake!"

This wasn't planned - despite a few discussions here and there about the potential idea of introducing pups in the future, none of you had done the true mating bond to solidify who would be the one to directly grow the pack with you, and the stress of it all had pushed you to isolation without you even realizing until you'd moved yourself to the guest room.

"Bunny, please take a breath for us." Changbin pleaded, leaning over so you could have a clear view of his comforting gaze, "You know none of us would be any type of hurt over who's pup you're carrying, not when it's the miracle of you being the one bearing them. It doesn't matter who did it, we'll figure that out when the time comes, all that matters is you being healthy and cared for - no more isolating."

"Bin's right," Chris piped up once more, drawing all attention to him with ease, "all we want to do is make sure you're okay - no matter how sudden this is, I don't think any of us weren't aware of something like this potentially happening. None of this is anyone's fault, none of ours and none of yours, you hear me?"

Nodding softly, you smiled at the subtle sensation of Seungmin squeezing your calf in a hug of sorts while Jeongin nuzzled against your thigh.

Minho cleared his throat softly, leaning forward to take your free hand within his, "I... I didn't mean to intrude on your privacy, Kitten - I would never look through your things without you knowing, and I'm sorry for not going to you first."

You squeezed his hand, looking at him with warm, glimmering eyes, "It's okay, Min, I know you meant well - I'm not mad at you at all. Honestly, it would've only been a matter of time until someone clocked it was pregnancy, anyways."

"You do have a new smell, Pup." Seungmin muttered from the floor, Jeongin nodding alongside him.

"Felix thought you were falling out of the pack - Chan had to talk him off the ledge," Jisung laughed, earning a few chuckles from Changbin and Hyunjin at the recollection of the memory.

The blond whined, lips pursed into a pout, "I was worried we did something wrong! I'm sorry I'm the only one who thinks of these things!"

Cooing, you nudged the side of your head against his, "It's okay, Lixie, there's no way I'd ever think of leaving any of you, you guys are my home."

He hummed softly, and you could feel the cuddle puddle slowly begin to set in but there was one final thing missing before you could truly feel at ease with the situation.

Untangling yourself from the tangle of bodies and arms, you made your way toward the eldest who was watching the scene with warm eyes and a soft smile - something he'd taken a liking to doing when he thought he wasn't being watched.

Without a moment to spare, you wrapped your arms around his middle, melting into the familiar mahogany and coconut scent as his arms wrapped around you in kind, securing you in a natural protective hold.

"I'm sorry for worrying you, Channie." You murmured into his chest before leaning back to look at him, "And I'm sorry for not saying anything when I first felt off, I genuinely didn't think it could've been this."

"You don't have to apologize, baby, you were only doing what you felt was right at the time." Pausing for a moment, he studied your face slowly, "I know this whole conversation was a lot to throw at you so soon, but I just want to make sure... Are you okay with this? Do you want to have a baby right now?"

You nodded before he could even fully finish his second question, "I'm sure - I know I was scared on how to say it, but I never felt scared about not being able to take care of this baby, not when I have the world's most amazing pack to raise it in."

It was the truth, there wasn't a single doubt within you that made you believe that having a pup would be difficult in the pack - it was a possibility, a thought that had been floated around enough to start considering the full mating process, and now was the time to turn that thought into a processing reality.

A deep rumble vibrated through Chris's chest and he ducked his head in an attempt to hide away from the blush that had already consumed his ears, the sound making you melt against his body and draw the attention of the seven boys watching from their seats.

"Someone's happy to be a dad," Hyunjin teased with a grin, earning a scoff from Minho.

"Who says it's him?"

"I'm just saying it cause of his reaction! Technically we're all dads until she gets a scent tie, so why can't I place my bet now?"

Jisung groaned, "Placing bets on a baby is so inhumane... I bet it's Changbin's."

"What?! Why is my name in this now? What if it's Jeongin's?"

The youngest made a sound that could only be best described as confused shock as his head shot up to look at the man, "Listen, I'd be honored, but I can say for a fact it wasn't me! I'm too young to be a father!"

"That's not what you were saying when-"

Chris cleared his throat with a pointed look, "Okay, how about we not have this debate and go cuddle and think about dinner, yeah?"

With that, the mini crowd dispersed in a jumble of comments, heading down the hall toward his room since - in an ironic retrospect - that's where the biggest bed was put.

As the living room grew quieter, he looked at you with warm eyes, "I have a feeling it's mine."

You laughed in shock, hitting his chest lightly, "What happened to 'let's not have this debate', Mr. Bang?"

"It's not a debate! It's just a... speculation, a theory, if you will." He murmured softly, leaning down to press his lips to yours in a quick kiss. "Now come on, the last time that combination went into my room, they turned my bed into a wrestling ring and I just found a replacement for my lamp online."

Letting him lead you down the hall, a soft smile settled onto your lips as your free hand came to subconsciously rest over your stomach - the pride of the new life growing within you and the one changing before your eyes filling you with a new sense of optimism and anticipation.

[unedited]

[techs-goggles9902]

Oh oh oh Imma request something 🤔🤔

How about.... female character/reader who is unsure about how she fits in with the bad batch and Tech reassures her?

Was even thinking about my oc Raven and maybe our female character/reader is unsure of her relationship with Hunter and seeks out Tech for (brotherly) assurance 🤔

You can do it however makes sense 😊 also no pressure 💖

Female reader x Tech (platonic)

Summary: You're unsure about your role in the batch and you talk with both Raven and Tech.

No warnings. Fluff and stuff

Word count: 863

a/n: Raven is the lovely oc created by @hellhound5925 ! Go check her out! Sorry Raven doesn’t have a huge role but she’s here! I hope I did her justice 🙏🏻

You sigh, bending over to pick up another piece of mantell mix. 

These things are everywhere! Wrecker, I swear… 

The light chatter from the cockpit reaches your ears as you discard the snack in the small trash bin in the corner of the Marauder. The squad, excluding Tech, are talking about the latest mission. 

Hunter, sitting in the pilot's seat, smiles gently at Omega as she exaggerates how she hustled a man on the last mission in a game of dejarik, earning enough credits to fix the ship. 

“Oh, and then I took out his Ghhhk! He said he’s a ‘Top Tier Player’ but he wasn’t! Hunter, you wouldn’t believe how he put himself in a bad position. Backed himself in a corner!” Omega rants with a grin, making big gestures with her small arms, imitating the game characters. 

Wrecker gives a big, hearty laugh as she continues. Echo sits back in the co-pilot’s chair, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his pale lips. You watch as the girl keeps proudly going on and on about her victory. 

You joined the Batch a few months after they began working for your employer, Cid. Ever since that day where you accompanied them for a mission, you were essentially adopted into their merry band of clones. 

Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you sigh again. Although you’re “one of them now”, you still feel as if they have their own little circle that you’re not a part of. How long will it take for them to see me as one of their own? I’m more than capable…

“Hey, you okay? You don’t look the greatest…” A familiar voice says. 

“Raven, hey. I’m fine, don’t worry about me. Just… contemplating things, I suppose.” 

“K’olar,” Raven says, pulling you to the nearest bunk. Lowering yourself onto the bunk, you pick at your nails. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know. I feel like I’m… not 100% a real squad member. I’m the last addition, not romantically tied to anyone, and just… here,” you admit. Raven has been your lifeline ever since joining the Batch. Both of you are non-clones, even if she did train them, and you related to her the most. 

“Vod… I… I felt that way, too, when I first came along.”

“You did?” Raven nods. 

“Mmhmm. This tight knit group with a very good looking sergeant-” 

“Okay, okay!” You both laugh, easing your nerves. This is why you’ve always liked Raven, she knows how to cheer you up. Always. 

“Cyare, c’mere for a sec,” Hunter calls from the cockpit. Raven gets up and sighs, mouthing the words, so needy, making you giggle once more. 

“Why don’t you go talk to Tech? He listens,” she suggests, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze as she walks past you. 

You watch her go and you see a foot dangling from the ceiling panels. Tech…

You push yourself off the bunk and you stand beneath the opening in the ceiling and watch Tech tinker with the ship’s innards. 

“Tech?” 

“Hm? Oh, hello, vod’ika,” Tech replies, leaning over a little to see you better. 

“You don’t need to call me that. I’m older than you are,” you say with a quiet giggle. 

“Well, given the fact my brothers and I age twice as fast as the average being, I am technically older than you, vod’ika,” Tech says with the faint trace of a smile, emphasizing the nickname. 

You scoff with a smile, climbing up into the ceiling with him. He’s slightly hunched over because of his height, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. 

“Can I ask you something, ori’vod?” you ask, fiddling with one of his tools. Tech hums in acknowledgement. 

“I’m not sure if I… If I exactly fit in with you guys. You’re all brothers and I get that but I don’t feel-”

“Vod’ika, you’ve been one of us since the moment Hunter asked you to stick around. Omega especially felt that you would make a good friend, and I agree,” Tech cuts you off, looking away from his tinkering and directly into your eyes. 

“I…I’m a good friend?” You ask. 

“We may not have known each other very long, but you are an adequate fighter and an even more valuable member of our squad.” 

Our squad… Our squad… 

“You think so? Hunter… He’s nice and all but… We haven’t really bonded I guess,” you say with a small sigh. 

“Vod’ika, Hunter has to put up with Omega and Wrecker, has to find us jobs, feed us, and still sees himself as our leader, our sergeant, our protector. I’m honestly astonished he hasn’t gone gray with all the stress,” Tech remarks, that little smile tugging at his lips. That little grin is so contagious, managing to make you smile as well. 

You’re about to say something else when Tech continues, “Echo will come around eventually. He’s lost brothers and he’s distancing himself to save him the pain of losing a sister. I’m sure he’ll soon realize you’re not going anywhere.” 

Not going anywhere… 

“I guess I’m stuck with you, huh?” You say with a smirk, nudging Tech’s elbow. 

“For the long run.”

Glossary:

Cyare = beloved [sha-rey]

K’olar = come here

Vod’ika = little sibling [vohd-eeka]

Vod = sibling

Ori’vod = big sibling [ori-vohd]

Ghhhk = character in the game dejarik

Taglist: @fionajames @sevdidntdie @will-is-silly @skellymom @dangraccoon (feel free to tell me what you want or don't want to be tagged in!)

Dividers by @saradika

[evanesdust]

you are an obsession (i am your possession)

Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: POV Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Full Shift Werewolves, Alpha Derek Hale, Omega Stiles Stilinski, Stalker, Voyeurism, Possessive Behavior, Getting Together, Explicit Sexual Content, hunting & providing, Werewolf Courting, Minor Violence, mild spanking, Knotting, this is a lot sweeter than it sounds, My Sweet Bloody Valentine

Summary:

Once Derek catches that tantalizing scent, he can’t stay away.

Stiles.

Derek’s completely enthralled by him. Obsessed.

But all he can do is stand in the shadows, watching and waiting. Until he can make Stiles his, that is.

And when that happens, Derek will never let him go.

Derek makes his way through the throng of grinding couples—drunk girls shaking their asses against douchebags wearing too much cologne. One even has his button-up parted to show off the gold chain dangling on his hairy, overly tanned chest.

This was the last place Derek would ever go, but not even the obnoxious thump thump thump from the club's speakers could keep him away. The beat feels as though it's coming from inside Derek's chest. He’s never quite gotten used to the volume in nightclubs, even when he wears earplugs—it's why he tends to avoid them.

But when he caught that intoxicating scent outside, it was as if a hurricane was at his back, pushing Derek toward it and leaving no room for resistance.

It was woody and fresh, like oakmoss and lavender. Nothing had ever reminded Derek so much of home before, and then he saw who it belonged to.

Words, coherent thoughts, oxygen—all that shit escapes him when he spots the owner of the scent. An alluring omega, more beautiful than any Derek's ever seen in his life, and he's seen a lot of beautiful omegas. Fucked a lot, too, but there's something about this one that captivates him.

Derek stands against the wall, not wanting to get too close. No. He wants to watch for a while, absolutely enthralled with the lithe creature before him.

The omega could pass for a pixie or a fairy with his cute, upturned nose, messy chestnut hair, and mole-speckled skin that appears to glow under the club's lights. All that's missing are the telltale iridescent wings of his supernatural brethren.

Arousal courses through Derek as he trails his gaze down the omega's body. He's wearing sinfully tight black pants and an equally tight red shirt with a low collar, showing off the long expanse of his neck that Derek would love to mark up. The omega is slim but not skinny, lean but not lanky—a perfect mix of strength and submission.

Something inexplicably sinister arises in Derek's chest. Dangerous. A wave of possessiveness he's never felt before rushes over him, and all Derek wants to do is break him. Shatter him into pieces, then arrange those pieces to fit against his own. And if they don't—he'll fucking make them.

In that instance, Derek knows he's about to do something bad. That he'll cross lines he'd never be able to come back from because one look from this omega and any alpha would be on their knees.

With just one look, Derek's already obsessed. Already addicted. But he has to resist or else he'll ruin himself. Again. He's finally getting his life back after his obsession with Kate Argent, the woman responsible for his family's death. For years, he'd tracked her, hunted her, as she ran from her heinous crime. Derek wasn't supposed to survive the fire—no one was, but teenage rebellion saved him, and he spent years exacting his revenge.

Now he could almost be considered an upstanding member of society. He owns a small business, volunteers at the local cat rescue and a few other places in town, and even donates regularly to various charities. He's already reclaimed his family's territory and, at some point, hopes to rebuild his pack.

So with a deep breath, Derek steps back and turns away, silently promising to never look back.

-

Five days. That's how long Derek managed to ignore the compulsion to find the omega. He probably would have succeeded, too, if it weren't for the omega popping up anywhere and everywhere Derek went. It was as if he were teasing Derek, taunting him with his enticing scent.

At the bakery, where Derek stopped every morning on the way to his workshop.

At the grocery store, an aisle over, innocently looking at cereal boxes.

At the sheriff's station, when Derek was walking by on his way to the bookstore nearby to pick up a new woodworking book he'd ordered. He'd caught the scent and turned just as the sheriff called out, "Stiles!"

Before Derek could even comprehend what the hell a Stiles was, the omega was there, a tight smile on his face like he hadn't meant to be caught. "Hey, dad."

Even though the omega, Stiles, was the sheriff's son—a glaring danger sign screaming for him to stay away—Derek had made up his mind, the decision fortifying like granite in his brain.

Stiles wouldn't be able to escape him now.

So Derek slinked back into the shadows and waited. Over the next week, Derek followed him. He learned Stiles's routine, where he worked, who his family and friends were—and, most importantly, where he lived. Which is what led to Derek breaking in and standing in the middle of Stiles's bedroom.

He'd meant to be gone before Stiles got home, but Stiles deviated from his usual Friday night plans of hanging out with his friends. That's the only reason he'd be home so early.

Derek freezes at the familiar sound of Stiles's Jeep pulling into the driveway. He could slip out the back, but Stiles's neighbors might see him. The sound of the Jeep door slamming shut springs him into action, and he has just enough time to slip under Stiles's bed.

There's a shirt lying there as if it were tossed aside and forgotten. Derek pulls it to his face, sniffing. Stiles's scent grounds him. Calms him in a way he hasn't felt since his family died.

He can't see anything from where he hides, but it's not long before the front door opens and then closes, followed by the click of the lock.

Derek can't quite recognize the tune Stiles whistles as he walks toward his room, the sound growing louder and louder the closer Stiles gets. Still, it doesn't drown out the rapid lup-dup lup-dup lup-dup of Derek's heartbeat. Thankfully, Stiles is human, so Derek doesn't have to worry about it giving him away.

Stiles talks to himself as he walks around the room, making a grocery list since he spends Saturday mornings running errands. There's a soft thunk as he kicks his shoes off. Derek's watched Stiles enough to know he won't bother picking them up and setting them out of the way. Even now, he can see them lying haphazardly near the doorway—much like everything else in Stiles's home.

He's organized chaos. Instead of a junk drawer, Stiles has a junk counter littered with papers and books piled high and about a million other little things that are one breeze away from being blown over. Derek didn't touch anything for fear of it toppling. Derek knows the boxes scattered around the living room and dining room are because Stiles still hasn't finished unpacking after moving back to Beacon Hills. He'd been away at college for the past four years, which explains why Derek hadn't met him.

Derek angles his head, watching Stiles's bare feet as he pads across the room to his attached bathroom, keeping the door ajar. The pipes in the wall rattle as Stiles turns the shower on.

God , Derek wishes he were in a better position to watch Stiles undress—his shirt and pants hitting the hamper just outside the bathroom door, which teeters a little before righting itself.

As much as he'd love to stay, as soon as he knows Stiles is in the shower, he slides out from under the bed and slips stealthily out of Stiles's house. It was a close call, but not enough to keep Derek from sneaking in again.

-

It's been a couple of days since Derek broke in, but this time, he didn't leave when Stiles got home. Instead, Derek stares at him through the slats in the closet door. The small, stuffy, and slightly claustrophobic closet that he's been in for the better part of two hours since Stiles got home from work late.

Stiles is worth it, though. So beautiful. Always. But especially when he thinks no one is watching—even wearing sweatpants with a threadbare graphic T-shirt. His rosy nipples poke through the thin material, and Derek's mouth waters with the need to take one into his mouth, sucking on it until Stiles wriggles beneath him.

Derek licks his lips.

Soon.

Stiles stands at the foot of the bed, glancing around for a moment, not really looking at anything in particular before a soft smile creeps onto his beautiful face.

Derek's not sure what or who he's thinking about, but he has to bite back a low growl when Stiles lifts his shirt over his head, then slips out of his pants.

His tantalizing, creamy skin is on full display, and with the moon high in the sky, Derek can see all the beauty marks scattered over his gorgeous body.

As Stiles pulls back the cover on his bed and bends over, pounding his fist into his pillow and fluffing it up, Derek focuses on the beauty mark directly on the swell of his left ass cheek. He wants to lick it. His cock hardens, and his mouth waters as he stares at Stiles's ass, at his hole.

Derek closes his eyes, working to regain control; otherwise, he'll storm out from his hiding spot, ruining all his plans.

But it's so difficult when Stiles is right in front of him, only a flimsy wooden door separating them. All Derek has to do is push it open, then he can mark, mate, and claim Stiles as his.

It's such an odd feeling. One Derek's never experienced before. He's never been in love. Never even given thought to a serious relationship. Rarely even fucks anyone anymore, and the few times he has, it's always a quick fuck before he's gone—the release rarely easing any tension.

And now, it's as if he's a fifteen-year-old boy who's just discovered what his cock is for. Ready to bust in his jeans from simply looking at Stiles in all his naked glory.

Derek wants to touch him, kiss him, and make Stiles his in every sense of the word until Stiles submits—because when that happens, Stiles will have no chance of ever escaping Derek.

Stiles climbs into bed, none the wiser to Derek being in his closet.

Derek watches Stiles get comfortable under the covers. Watches as he runs a hand down his chest and stomach, grabbing his cock and stroking. It's long, hard, and leaking.

When Stiles lets out a soft, pleasured sigh, Derek closes his eyes and bites his fist. He wants more. Wants to bury his nose in Stiles's groin and ass, inhale his omega scent, taste the first drops of pre-come as they leak from his slit, and feast on his slick.

As Stiles strokes himself, Derek ever so slowly unzips his pants and pulls out his achingly hard cock.

It isn't easy keeping all his senses on alert when he should be sinking into this pleasure he's managed to steal. His breaths are shallow, and as dust fills his nose, he brings his other hand up, covering his mouth and smothering a soft sneeze.

He warns himself against moaning too loudly when Stiles comes, his scent hitting Derek right in the balls.

It's too good.

As Derek fucks into his fist, he can't help but wonder what Stiles would be like in bed. Would he sound the same? Letting out those breathy little moans and whimpers. Or would he be loud as Derek fucks him? Begging and pleading for more, and harder, and please. He's imagined the answers vividly in his shower and bed every night since first seeing Stiles in that club, before even knowing his name.

Derek's heart hammers in his chest as pleasure crashes over him, and with a silent cry, the warmth of his release spills over his hand. After catching his breath, he grabs a shirt off the ground, using it to clean himself up. He clutches it tightly as he zips up his jeans and peeks through the slats.

Stiles is already asleep, his soft snores filling the air.

Derek smiles as he tiptoes out of the closet, slowly approaching the bed. He stares down at Stiles for a moment before gently brushing his hair away from his forehead and whispering, "Soon."

These stolen moments aren't enough anymore.

-

Derek sits in his Camaro outside Brewed Awakening, the coffee shop Stiles works at, waiting for him to get off work. For the past two hours, he's caught glimpses of Stiles through the window and watching him work. He's so expressive and animated when he talks to his customers—a little furrow appearing between his brows when he listens intently to whatever story they tell. And the way his tongue peeks out from between his lips as he concentrates on making their order is absolutely adorable.

He's so perfect, and Derek can't wait to claim Stiles as his. Finally. He wanted to wait a little longer; had a plan to befriend Scott, Stiles's childhood friend, but then he overheard Stiles agreeing to dinner with some guy for Valentine's—tonight.

They're supposed to meet up after Stiles gets off work.

Supposed to.

But it didn't take much tinkering for Derek to disable Stiles's Jeep, and with how old the jeep is, Stiles shouldn’t suspect a thing. When Derek had been in Stiles's house, he'd recognized the sky blue CJ-5 in some old pictures of the sheriff with a woman who must have been his late wife—Stiles's mother.

At a quarter past eight, the lights in the coffee shop go out. After a few seconds, Stiles walks out, locking up behind him. He strides through the dark parking lot as if he doesn't have a care in the world, not bothering to be watchful of danger. Doesn't he know there are predators out here? Just watching and waiting for their opportunity to strike?

Like you? his traitorous mind supplies as he watches Stiles climb into his Jeep. Their vehicles are side by side, but it's dark, so Derek doubts Stiles can see him through the windshield.

Stiles grips the steering wheel with one hand as he attempts to turn the Jeep on. Three tries and nothing.

After a few seconds of listening to Stiles muttering curses when the engine doesn't turn over at all, Derek gets out. Smoothing down his shirt, he rounds the Jeep and raps his knuckles on Stiles's driver's side window.

When the window rolls down, Derek meets his frustrated amber eyes.

"Hi," Derek says, giving Stiles his best smile. "Need some help?" Out of sight, he clenches his right fist. His whole body thrums with excitement at finally being so close to Stiles. The car smells like Stiles and the Irish Spring body wash he uses—the scents have long since faded from the T-shirt Derek stole. The one he used to wipe himself clean after jerking off in Stiles's closet.

Derek wants to rip open the door and bury his face in the crook of Stiles's neck. Wants to roll around in his scent until it sinks into his pores.

Christ! Derek's never had such a visceral reaction to a person before. It doesn't help that Stiles's big doe eyes make him look like the most delicious, seductive prey.

"Shit. Yeah, I've got a date I don't wanna miss." Stiles smirks at him as if he knows something Derek doesn't, but Derek ignores it when his scent grows spicy with arousal—making it even more delicious.

Derek barely holds back a growl but can't stop his eyes from flashing crimson. Nothing and no one has ever tested his control like this before.

"I apologize," he says quickly, regaining control.

There's a distinct lack of fear from Stiles, though. If anything, his scent intensifies. He licks his lips—those plump, pink lips that Derek has the urge to kiss until they're puffy and raw, to see stretched obscenely around his cock. Would Stiles's eyes water when he tries to take all of Derek in?

"Thanks, man." Stiles slides out of the Jeep. It's really more of a flail that shouldn't be cute, but somehow works for him. He circles the front of his Jeep and lifts the hood. "Fuck knows what the hell happened, but I appreciate it."

"It's not a problem." Derek walks up beside him, wiping his hands on his jeans before holding one out in greeting. "I'm Derek."

Stiles's fingers are cold as he grasps Derek's hand in a firm handshake. Forget the cold; Derek's practically burning up by the second. A kind of thrill he expected but still wasn't prepared for.

"Stiles."

Stiles's voice does things, weaving fantasies Derek will be jerking off to all night, moaning into that T-shirt he'd stolen from Stiles's house.

"It's nice to meet you. I've got jumper cables if you need a jump," Derek says, gesturing to his Camaro.

"I think it might be my starter. The engine wouldn't turn over at all."

"I can take a look if you'd like."

Stiles shoves his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. "Thank you, that'd be great."

Derek takes off his leather jacket, draping it over the side-view mirror before glancing under the hood. He's wearing a tight grey tank top and a pair of fitted black jeans, flexing as he pretends to check the starter. As an alpha werewolf, Derek knows what he looks like. In fact, he works hard to maintain his physique and, in this instance, uses it to his advantage.

It works because Stiles's arousal hangs heavy in the air.

"Roscoe's always breaking down," Stiles says from beside him, aiming his phone’s flashlight under the hood.

Derek peers up at him, meeting Stiles's gaze. His eyes are so intense they practically burn molten. "Roscoe?"

"My Jeep. That's her name."

"Have you had her for a while?" Derek asks, smiling fondly at the name. He wonders if Stiles named the Jeep or if his mother had.

"Since I was sixteen. She belonged to my mom."

If Derek hadn't already known about his mother's death, Stiles's somber tone would have tipped him off. So he steps away from under the hood and lays a hand on Stiles's arm. "I'm so sorry for your loss."

Stiles gives him a grateful smile. "Thank you. It was a long time ago, though."

Derek feels a twinge of guilt for messing with the Jeep, but not enough to fix it. Because then Stiles would go on his date, and Derek's not that selfless. Instead, he ducks his head, continuing to play dumb as he checks the Jeep over.

He could have it fixed in a few minutes, but honestly, Stiles is right. He needs a new starter—which is funny, since that's not even what Derek had tampered with. He'd loosened the Jeep's battery connectors.

"Man, if I wasn't so attached to Roscoe, I'd love a Camaro," Stiles says.

When Derek glances over, Stiles is trailing his long fingers over the hood of Derek's car. His thoughts immediately flood with images of Stiles bent over, his face pressed against the hood as Derek fucked him hard and fast.

Derek lets out a low growl, stilling Stiles's steps.

Stiles smirks. "That should not be as hot as it is."

"What?"

"The growling." Stiles's voice comes out a little breathy. "So you're a werewolf? That wasn't just a trick of the light earlier?"

"No trick." Derek lets his eyes bleed red, loving the way Stiles's pupils dilate. The way his gaze turns hungry.

A flush rises to Stiles's cheeks, and Derek wonders what he's thinking about. Could it be about Derek's knot? About how it'd feel filling him, stretching him. Or maybe he's also having fantasies about Derek bending him over the Camaro, fucking him senseless.

They stare at each other for a little longer before Stiles lets out a nervous laugh. "Sorry. Sorry, I just—I should be mad about missing my date, but you're…really hot, and I'm just waiting for someone to jump out with a camera, telling me this is a prank or something."

Derek huffs a small laugh. "No prank. And you're right," he quickly tightens the battery connectors before slamming the hood down and re-clamping the hood latches, "it's your starter."

"Damn. Guess I should see if my date would be willing to pick me up." Stiles slides a hand into his pocket for his phone, but Derek gently grips his wrist.

"Or." Between Stiles's arousal and the flirting, Derek knows the attraction isn't one-sided.

"Or…?"

Derek nods toward the Camaro. "There's a diner a few blocks over. It's probably not as nice or fancy as wherever your date was going to take you, but they've got the best curly fries." And he knows how much Stiles loves curly fries.

"Those are my favorite," Stiles says, a pleased smile on his face.

"Really?" Derek puts his leather jacket back on. "That's good to know."

After Stiles calls for a tow, leaving his keys on the driver's seat, they get in Derek's Camaro. The scent of Stiles's arousal is still so strong that it'll be days before it fades.

It's a short drive to the diner, where Derek parks right in front. Even though it's Valentine's, it's not that busy—only a few cars in the parking lot. After turning off the engine, Derek gets out and jogs over to the passenger door, opening it for Stiles.

"Thank you."

"Of course. I might not be who you intended on having dinner with, but I'd like to make this date special."

"Date?" Stiles blushes prettily when Derek holds an arm for him to take.

Derek leads him inside. "First of many, I hope."

He'd worry about coming on too strong, but Stiles seems to like it.

They're seated quickly. Derek slides into the space across from Stiles, leaning back with one arm thrown along the back of the booth. He feels Stiles's foot tap against his own.

"Okay, since this is a date—the first of many, apparently," Stiles says with a teasing grin, "tell me something about yourself."

"Well, I'm an alpha werewolf."

Stiles's eyes trail down his torso. "Yeah, that's pretty obvious. But what about work?"

"I actually do woodworking. I own The Cranky Carver downtown."

"The Cranky Carver? You named your business…The Cranky Carver?" Stiles bites his lips between his teeth, holding back a laugh.

Derek can't help but smile. "It's an old nickname. My older sister gave it to me when we were younger and I first started learning."

"You're Derek Hale."

Definitely not a question. Honestly, Derek's not surprised that Stiles has heard of him—most of Beacon Hills would be familiar with what happened to the Hale family nearly twelve years ago. Plus, Sheriff Stilinski was there that night. Back then, he'd been a deputy, the first on the scene and the one who found Derek curled up against a nearby tree. Derek hadn't been home when the fire happened. He'd snuck out to meet some friends, but as soon as the pack bonds snapped, he shifted and ran home. His entire body froze in shock at seeing his home engulfed in flames, knowing his entire family was dead.

"I am," he whispers, thankful his voice doesn't crack. It's not that he doesn't think alphas should show emotion—but after hardening himself as he hunted for Kate, it's second nature to shove down any vulnerability so no one can find it.

Stiles reaches over, taking his hands and squeezing them gently.

Derek gives him a grateful smile, relishing in the contact, but the moment is broken when the waitress comes over to take their order.

Once she leaves, Derek tells Stiles more about his business, especially some of his favorite custom pieces: a wooden sink and bathtub, which seem to fascinate him, so Derek shows him pictures.

"Oh, man. That's so cool. I don't think I'd want a tub or sink, but it'd be awesome to have a dining set or something. I don't know. Not that I could afford it anyway," Stiles adds, leading him to talk about his job as a barista. He tells Derek about some of the funniest things that happened in the small coffee shop, one of which was a woman Stiles thought was talking to herself, only to find out she was talking to the small dog in her purse.

After their food is served, it's as if the world dissolves to just them as they continue talking about anything and everything. Werewolves, television, baseball. The few things Stiles has around his home definitely didn't prepare Derek for Stiles's woeful tale of being a long-suffering Mets fan.

All too soon, they're done eating, and Derek pays. He barely holds back his grin as Stiles slides out of the booth, pouting. It probably shouldn't be so endearing.

"Next time is my treat," Stiles says when they get outside.

Derek raises a brow but nods. It'd been his intention to spoil Stiles, to take care of him in every way, but after watching Stiles for the past couple of weeks, Derek knows that Stiles isn't some meek omega. He's not a pushover or someone who'll just sit back while others wait on him hand and foot.

No.

Stiles enjoys being in charge, even if he's allowed Derek some semblance of control this evening.

Derek unlocks the Camaro and opens the passenger side door for Stiles, helping him inside. "We're equals, Stiles."

"Good." Stiles beams at him as he sinks into the seat. "Fuck. I love your car."

His eyes flutter shut as he strokes the leather seat, and Derek can't help but imagine the light, feathery touch gliding across his skin. He slams the door shut, racing around to the driver's side. The Camaro purrs to life, sending vibrations through him. Derek doesn't miss the way Stiles shivers or the way he subtly adjusts himself, eyes latched onto Derek's arms as he pulls out of the parking lot, giving Derek directions to his house.

Derek wishes he could prolong the inevitable, but ten minutes later, the familiar exterior of Stiles's house comes into view, and Derek pulls into the driveway.

"I'll walk you up," he says, turning off the engine. Just as he did at the diner, he gets out and opens Stiles's door.

Stiles smirks. "Such a gentleman."

If you only knew, Derek thinks, placing a hand on Stiles's back as he walks with him up the short path to his front door. It's probably far too forward, but he crowds Stiles against the door. "I really want to kiss you right now."

Stiles licks his bottom lip, glancing from Derek's eyes to his mouth.

"Yes," he breathes out after a moment.

As soon as their lips touch, Stiles sucks in a breath—just a little gasp that goes straight to Derek's cock.

Derek cups the back of Stiles's head to deepen the kiss—he never knew a kiss could be this hot. So consuming. Stiles kisses like he's starving, his breathing erratic and shallow as he ruts against Derek's leg.

But the first time he has Stiles won't be like this, so Derek reluctantly pulls away, making Stiles whimper.

Derek presses their foreheads together. "Gimme your number. I'll call you."

Stiles nods, holding his phone out. "Put your number in and text yourself right away."

So Derek does. And after making sure that Stiles gets inside safely, he walks back to his Camaro, fingers pressed to his lips, marveling at how something as simple as a kiss could be so powerful. He'd wanted to devour Stiles. 

Next time.

-

Steam billows around Derek as he wraps a towel around his waist after stepping out of the shower. His phone pings twice from the bedroom, so he pads across the room to check his notifications.

There's a message from Stiles on the home screen.

Stiles: Been practicing some latte art. Wanna see?

Derek opens the message and stares at the picture Stiles sent. It kind of looks like Slimer from the Ghostbusters movies.

'Stiles,' Derek types out. Even though Stiles can't see him, he bites his lip and heaves a dramatic sigh, 'I hate to be the one to tell you this. I mean, this hurts me more to say than for you to hear.'

He grins, already imagining Stiles's response, which—

Ping ping ping.

Three notifications pop up in quick succession.

Stiles: You can tell me anything

Stiles: You know that

Stiles: What is it?

Dear God, Derek hasn't smiled this much in a long, long time. His face hurts as he sends off his reply, 'You have zero artistic talent,' and barks out a laugh as soon as the middle finger emoji pops up on his screen.

-

'Do you really volunteer at the local cat rescue?' Stiles asks, his voice tinny as it comes through the speaker on Derek's phone.

Derek smiles as he details the edges of his latest piece with sandpaper. It seems someone's been looking into him. "Yes, I do. How'd you know that?"

'I told my dad about you.'

Derek's not really surprised since Stiles and his dad are close.

Stiles's name is called, and he says, 'One sec.' Then his voice comes through the line muffled. 'Yeah? I've got five more minutes.' There are a few seconds of silence before he speaks again. 'Okay, I'm back. Sorry.'

"It's not a problem. Is everything okay?"

'Yeah. Quinn was just wondering when my break was done. But anyway, back to my dad. He may have mentioned a few things about you when I told him we were dating.'

Derek loves how that sounds. Dating. And it's also not a surprise that the sheriff would know about him, considering Derek's work with the community. He's been called in a time or two to assist with search parties when hikers would get lost in the preserve.

"Good things, I hope," Derek responds as he walks to the sink to wash his hands.

'Wouldn't you like to know?' And Derek can damn near hear the smirk in Stiles's voice.

-

The doorbell rings as Derek sets the rolls on the counter next to the pot roast, mashed potatoes, and about a million other side dishes.

Stiles is here.

It's been nearly a week—five torturous days—since their not-so-impromptu date, since dropping Stiles off and kissing him. But, unfortunately, work's been busy. Not exactly a surprise, considering how much work he put off following Stiles around. The text messages and phone calls have helped, though. Especially when they made plans for Stiles to come over after his shift for dinner and a movie.

And, of course, Derek still went to his house every night. It's not as if he can help himself now that they're together. Stiles occupies his thoughts day and night, taking a dangerous hold on him.

Derek places the oven mitts back in the drawer, using the moment to calm himself. But he also doesn't want to keep Stiles waiting, so after a deep breath, he walks over to the front door and opens it, smiling when he sees Stiles standing on the porch.

"Hey."

"Hey, yourself." Stiles leans in, giving him a quick kiss. "Something smells good."

"I could say the same about you," Derek says, leading him to the kitchen and closing the door.

"You didn't have to do all this." A small smile plays on Stiles's lips as he looks at the veritable feast Derek prepared.

"I wanted to." Derek shrugs and smiles back, pressing up against him. He settles his hands on Stiles's waist before burying his nose in the crook of Stiles's neck and inhaling. Stiles always smells so good. "I missed you."

Stiles hums contentedly, leaning back into Derek's embrace. "I missed you too," he breathes. "But I'm here now."

It'll be hard to let him leave once their night is over, but soon Derek will mark, mate, and claim Stiles as his. Soon he'll be able to keep Stiles forever.

"How about a quick tour before dinner," Derek says, taking Stiles's hand. When he had his childhood home rebuilt, he made a few changes to the original layout. Rather than closed-off spaces for each room, he opted for an open floor layout.

Besides the kitchen, dining, and living rooms on the main level, there's also an office and a bathroom. The laundry room is just off the kitchen, along with stairs leading to the second level.

Upstairs, he shows Stiles the bedrooms and bathrooms, leaving his own for last. It's the largest room, with a king-sized bed against the far wall, two nightstands on either side and a chest at the foot of his bed for extra blankets. Not that he needs them, but Stiles might. Humans get cold so easily.

"It's really beautiful," Stiles says, running his fingers across the smooth wood of the dresser.

"I'm glad you like it." Derek pulls Stiles into his arms. "I made it all myself."

Stiles looks up at him, a soft smile on his lips. "It's amazing. You're very talented."

Derek leans in, pressing a gentle kiss against Stiles's lips.

The small touch should be insignificant, but it's like an electric shock traveling down his spine, straight to his cock, quickly turning into something more. Something urgent and desperate.

Stiles's heart races against his chest, but then Derek hears it. A quiet grumble.

Stiles's stomach.

Derek pulls away, chuckling as he brushes his thumbs over the deep flush spreading across Stiles's cheeks.

"We can finish this later," he says, giving Stiles one last squeeze. "For now, let's eat."

Once they're back in the kitchen, he grabs a couple of plates from the cabinet.

Stiles takes the one Derek hands him. "Are you expecting more people?"

"I…may have gone overboard," he admits. Besides the pot roast, mashed potatoes, and rolls, Derek made steamed vegetables, roasted asparagus, apple coleslaw, cheesy hashbrown casserole, and creamy green beans with bacon bits.

"It all looks amazing."

Derek smiles when Stiles puts a little of everything on his plate, doing the same with his own. He grabs a couple of beers—Stiles's favorite, of course—from the fridge before moving to the living room and settling on the couch.

As they eat, they talk about work and Stiles fills him in on an asshole customer he had just before closing.

Derek stamps down the need to find and hurt them for being a dick to Stiles. Or 'douche canoe,' as Stiles calls him. Derek's not typically so violent, but when it comes to Stiles, he gets so protective that all he wants to do is punch something. Or someone, in this case.

"Hey." Stiles pokes him in the side, effectively pulling him from his thoughts. "It's okay," he says, placing a hand over Derek's heart. "Nothing I haven't dealt with before."

Derek nods, taking a deep breath before leaning in and kissing him.

"Thank you," Stiles murmurs against his lips.

"For what?" he whispers, smiling as his heart fills with warmth.

"For caring enough to want to do something. But I'm just venting."

"I will always care." Derek draws him closer. "No matter what."

"I know."

Derek hums in satisfaction, his heart swelling, knowing that soon, very soon, he'll make Stiles his.

"Are you done eating?" Derek asks.

Stiles looks at the mostly empty plate in his hands. "Yeah. I think so. Though I feel bad because there's so much left. Have you thought about…I don't know, growing your pack? Bringing in some betas?"

Derek sets their plates on the coffee table and turns, facing Stiles as he throws an arm across the armrest. "I have. I'm just not sure…" He sighs. "I was never meant to be the alpha. It should have been my sister, Laura."

"I remember her. I think she babysat me once."

"Probably." Derek chuckles at the memory of Laura making plans to have a business, like something out of The Babysitter's Club. She used to read the books to him and Cora all the time. "She always stole my art supplies to make her fliers."

"I know a couple of people who are looking for a pack. They contacted Scott, but he doesn't really want a large pack. He's got Isaac and says that's enough."

"Yeah? I could talk to them."

"Their names are Erica Reyes and Vernon Boyd, but he just goes by Boyd. I'll get their numbers from Scott."

"Sounds good."

"But for now, how about that movie?" Stiles says, already grabbing the remote.

Derek smiles at his soon-to-be mate. "Sounds perfect."

He pulls Stiles close before grabbing the throw blanket from the back of the couch and tucking them both in. He rests his arm around Stiles's shoulders as Stiles leans against him, laying his head on Derek's chest.

If Derek thought watching a movie with Stiles would be no big deal, he's quickly dissuaded from that notion as Stiles reacts aloud to the plot unfolding on the screen. He mutters under his breath, sighs in frustration, and chuckles with glee. In no time, Stiles becomes Derek's source of entertainment rather than the television.

Once the movie ends, they clean up, Stiles insisting on washing the dishes while Derek wipes down the counters. Though it's completely mundane and domestic, the air is charged with electricity. Derek can practically feel Stiles's eyes on him, studying his face. The intensity of his gaze makes Derek warm in places he wasn't entirely aware existed.

Stiles turns the water off, wiping his hands on the dish towel before leaning against the counter.

"Derek," Stiles breathes out.

"Derek," he commands.

"Der—"

Derek drops the rag and crushes their mouths together in a bruising kiss. All he can think about is how perfectly Stiles fits against him. Tangling his fingers in Stiles's hair, Derek lays teasing nips and bites along his neck and shoulder, earning an encouraging moan from Stiles. His nostrils flare as Stiles's scent grows spicy with arousal.

He slides his hands down Stiles's back, gripping his ass and lifting. Stiles quickly complies, wrapping his long legs around Derek's waist, rolling his hips for friction as Derek walks them back to the living room.

"Fuck!" Stiles cries out, inadvertently baring his neck for Derek.

Derek's gums tingle with the familiar pressure of his fangs dropping.

"Stiles," he slurs, nipping gently at the crook of Stiles's neck as he presses him into the couch. Their bodies mold together, creating a dangerous cyclone of fire and ice.

Derek trails a hand down Stiles's sides, but then Stiles grabs his wrist, stilling him.

"I want to be on top."

"Oh, yeah?"

Stiles nods, slowly rocking his hips, grinding his hard, swollen cock against Derek's abs. "Got a problem with that?"

Derek growls, his hands curling into fists so he doesn't just hold Stiles down and take what he wants. The image of Stiles over him, taking control, is delectable. "No."

And with a strength he didn't know Stiles possessed, Derek was suddenly on his back with Stiles straddling his waist, smirking down at him. "Good. Now take off your shirt."

Derek complies easily—willingly and eagerly. As soon as his shirt is off, he impatiently tugs on Stiles's shirt, sliding it up and over his head, letting out a pleased rumble-purr when all that smooth, soft skin is displayed.

It's quiet, save for their panting breaths as they stare at each other for a moment. Stiles is a solid weight against him, and it feels so fucking good. Derek's cock somehow gets even harder, especially when Stiles cards his fingers through Derek's hair, tugging his head back.

Stiles nips and sucks at his neck, making Derek's cock throb. He's never had an omega take charge like this—would never allow himself to be this vulnerable—and he's surprised by how much he likes it. Though it might be because it's Stiles.

Derek can't stop touching him now that Stiles is in his arms. He runs his hands over Stiles's chest and stomach, over his back, down to the swell of his ass. There's a damp spot on the back of Stiles's pants, and Derek groans, squeezing his ass. "So wet for me."

"Fuck." Stiles rocks against him, and then it's a flurry of limbs as they get the rest of their clothes off. "Yes."

Stiles rises to his knees. There's a red flush from his cheeks down to his hard cock. He ever so slowly brushes his fingers over Derek's cheek and neck, down his arm to his hip, until he finally—finally—wraps those long fingers around Derek's cock.

Derek bucks up into his fist as Stiles swipes his thumb over the tip. It feels good, too good.

When Stiles speaks, his voice comes out strained and gravelly. "I've wanted to touch you for so long."

"Do it." Derek's entire body vibrates with need. "Whatever you want."

When Stiles finally moves, aligning their cocks and wrapping his hands around them, Derek shivers.

"I love that you let me do this." Stiles's words are punctuated by a roll of his hips.

"For you," Derek pulls Stiles in by the back of his neck, kissing him hard as Stiles jerks them off, "Anything." He throws his head back, unable to think when the pressure teeters on the edge of pleasure-pain.

"I wanna suck you off so bad," Stiles says with a moan.

It's hard to breathe, especially when Stiles leans over, his tongue flickering over Derek's nipples, lapping at one and then the other.

Derek's hips buck as he fucks into Stiles's fist. Ridiculous sounds rise from his throat, escaping in the form of whimpers and moans that would be downright embarrassing if Stiles weren't making the same sounds.

His muscles are coiled tight, needing release, until it finally crashes over him like a wave cresting the shore.

A moment later, Stiles followers him over the edge, shouting Derek's name. His head's thrown back, mouth gaped open in apparent ecstasy, but he keeps stroking. Stroking, stroking, stroking until neither has anything left and their muscles stop convulsing.

"Fuck," Stiles says, slumping forward, smearing the sticky mess between them.

Once Derek gets his breathing under control, he quickly realizes that Stiles is asleep, evident by the dead weight over him. His even breathing and drool are another clue.

Derek chuckles as he reaches for his shirt, using it to clean them up as best he can before gathering Stiles in his arms and carrying him up to his bedroom. Stiles doesn't stir as Derek carefully lays him in the middle of the bed, or when Derek presses up against him, pulling the covers over them.

So Derek lies there for a moment, watching Stiles's chest rise and fall—his own chest constricting with emotion. Then he presses his lips to the back of Stiles's head, murmuring, "I love you."

He smiles and closes his eyes, reveling in the feeling of happiness that Stiles brings to him. His chest swells with joy at just being near him, and for the first time in a long time, Derek actually feels content.

As he drifts off to sleep, he can't help but be grateful for this moment with Stiles.

-

It's late afternoon when Derek's phone rings.

Stiles.

Did he somehow figure out Derek's surprise? Derek didn't want to go so long between seeing Stiles since those five days last week had been excruciatingly slow, so he's bringing Stiles lunch. He purposefully parked down the street so Stiles wouldn't see his Camaro.

As he rounds the corner, he answers his phone with a smile. "Hey, baby. Didn't expect to hear from you—"

'Why are people dicks?'

It's not the first time that Stiles has complained about customers, but something in his tone suggests this is more, so Derek doesn't interrupt.

'I mean, listen, like take the hint, y'know? If someone says, 'hey, sorry about our date, but no, I wouldn't like to reschedule,' maybe don't keep hounding them about another one.'

"What." Derek stops in his tracks. The plastic bag with Stiles's lunch digs into his palms with how tightly he grips the handles.

'Remember the night we met? I was supposed to go out with this guy named Theo.'

Of course, Derek remembers. It was that date that finally spurred him into action. "Has he been bothering you?"

'He texted and called a few times. I thought he got the hint, but then he showed up here.'

"Why didn't you tell me?" Derek asks, his voice strained with the effort not to shift. All he wants to do is track this Theo down and rip his throat out.

Stiles sighs. 'Because it's not a big deal. I can handle it.'

Derek nods even though Stiles can't see him. "I know you can."

'Good. Anyway, after seeing him, I just wanted to hear your voice.'

As much as Derek wants to turn around, get in his car, and find Theo to smash his face in, Stiles needs him right now. "Well…what if I told you I had a surprise for you?"

'A surprise?' The smile is clear in Stiles's tone. 'It wouldn't happen to be like the surprises I've been finding on my doorstep lately, wouldn't it?'

"Did you not like them?" A pang of hurt lances through Derek at the thought of Stiles not accepting his courting gifts. Stiles knows about werewolves, so he should understand the gesture's significance.

'I didn't say that. I love them, and I accept, by the way. You're courting me, right?'

"Yes. I know it's a bit outdated and more traditional, but—"

'But nothing. I didn't mean to make you think I didn't appreciate them. I do. I just wanted to tell you that I won't have anymore room in my freezer after the buck you left this morning.'

Freezer?

Is Stiles saving his gifts? Usually, people accept them but then donate the meat.

'Also,' Stiles continues, 'I'm pretty sure I'm the butcher's favorite new client. He cut me a deal when he picked the buck up this morning. Said I was very lucky to have such a strong alpha.'

"Butcher?" Derek asks dumbly, still in awe that Stiles not only accepts but keeps the gifts.

'Well, yeah, of course. That's what it's for, right? To show you can provide for me? I'm not going to waste anything. Plus, the venison is good for my dad. You don't mind that I share with him, do you? I like to make sure he eats healthy.'

"No, no, of course not." And now that he knows, Derek will be sure to hunt even more. Though he'll definitely have to talk to Stiles about paying for the butcher, since it's supposed to be a gift. Derek peels himself away from the brick wall and hurries to the entrance of Brewed Awakening.

The chime from the door echoes through the phone, and Derek can hear Stiles suck in a breath. 'You're here?'

Two seconds later, he comes out from the back, launching himself at Derek, who catches him easily.

"Surprise?"

And from the look of awe on Stiles's face, it's a great surprise.

-

It doesn't take much digging to find Theo Raeken, a lone beta who recently returned to Beacon Hills. Derek found his address quickly and drove over, breaking in—as one does. A smarter man probably would have staked him out for a day or two, but knowing that Theo's been harassing Stiles, his mate, makes Derek's blood boil. So he sits and waits.

An hour later, a key turns in the lock, and as soon as Theo walks through the door, Derek beta-shifts, snarling in Theo's face as he slams him against the wall. "Stiles Stilinski. That name ring any bells?"

Theo's eyes round at the edges slightly, enough to reveal recognition, though he tries to play it off. "Never heard of—"

"Here's the thing about liars," Derek cuts in, slamming him against the wall again. "I really don't fucking like them. They make me twitchy. I don't think you want me getting twitchy right now, do you?" He tightens his fingers on Theo's neck, his claws seconds away from piercing skin.

Theo's lips tighten into a hard line. "Hey, he's the one that came onto me. Batting his fucking lashes and then he just fucking ghosted—"

"Do I need to remind you how I feel about liars?" Derek asks, grinning when Theo snarls in irritation. The unbridled anger pulsating through him is relentless—unstoppable. "You stay away from him, understand? No more texts or phone calls, and no more dropping by the coffee shop. If you so much as breathe in his direction again, I will come after you."

Theo narrows his eyes, glaring at him. He opens his mouth as if he wants to speak.

Stupid bastard.

"Don't. Make me. Repeat myself," Derek warns, his voice lowering to convey just how serious he is. "I know where you eat, sleep, and shit, and I will not hesitate to kill you next time."

Derek has to bite back the grin from the look on Theo's paling face.

"Yeah, okay. Fine."

"Glad we could come to an understanding." After a second, Derek finally lets him go, smoothing out Theo's shirt before seeing himself out.

-

Last month during the full moon, Derek spent the night shifted outside Stiles's house—the impulse to be close to his mate was too strong to fight. Usually, he runs through the woods behind his house, mourning the loss of his pack.

Thanks to Stiles, though, that will change soon.

He talked to Boyd and Erica last week and has plans to meet up with them soon, so by the next full moon, he might have two betas running alongside him. As for tonight—

The sky is clear, and the moon is full and bright as it hangs above them, filtering through the trees, casting shadows over Stiles's face as he stares at it, taking in its beauty.

"Thank you," Derek whispers. He knows Stiles could literally do anything else tonight—like stay home, wrapped up in the cozy Minky Couture blanket Derek got for him. But instead, Stiles walks beside him, fighting March's sharp, crisp chill threatening to pierce his skin if he wasn't wearing a coat, hat, and gloves at Derek's insistence. Stiles put his foot down when Derek looped a scarf around his neck.

Stiles takes his hand, lacing their fingers together. "For what?"

"Being here. With me." As the breeze rustles the leaves, Derek can't help but smile. "I'll make you some hot cocoa when we get home."

Stiles grins and nods. "Deal."

Derek loves how easily Stiles has started seeing his house as home. The past two weeks have been incredible. Stiles stays over more often than not, and Derek even spent the night at Stiles's house a couple of times. The only times they don't see each other are when they're working or when Stiles hangs out with his friends or visits his dad—though Derek's usually parked down the street.

"So is this all you do during full moons?" Stiles asks, spinning around to face him. "Walk around the preserve?"

"Usually, I shift and run. It's the best way to burn off all the excess energy. When I was younger, my family would have a big dinner before running together. It'll be nice to do that again."

Stiles nods. "You know you can shift if you want."

"Do you want me to?"

"I'd like to see it."

Derek nods, reaching behind his head and pulling his shirt off. Stiles folds it as Derek finishes undressing. Then the magic happens. The air ripples around him, his muscles and bones shifting and contorting as black fur sprouts along his skin.

Stiles's eyes widen in fascination as Derek stands before him, a hulking black wolf.

"Wow." Stiles cards his fingers through Derek's fur. "So soft."

Derek bumps his head against Stiles's stomach, leaning into his touch. Nice. Good. Mate.

Everything is so much simpler like this. No worries or stress. Derek's only instinct right now is to hunt. Hunt for his mate.

So he does.

Through the trees he goes, a large buck catching his eye, but he remembers what Stiles said. That he has no room in his freezer. So as much as it pains him not to hunt down the biggest buck, Derek finds something else.

It's not too long before he comes across a small creature no bigger than a cat. His shift to predator is automatic as he crouches to the ground, tracking its movements. Its fur is deep brown, almost black, in the forest's darkness. There are five toes on each paw that Derek will have to watch for, knowing it could have retractable claws.

After a couple of minutes, Derek springs forward, pouncing on it. He bites down on its neck, giving it a few sharp shakes until it stops moving.

Thank you for your sacrifice, he thinks before returning to Stiles, gift in hand.

He drops the small creature at Stiles's feet, awaiting his reaction.

Stiles hugs him tightly, burying his face in Derek's fur. After a few moments, he pulls away. "Thank you."

Derek licks his face, making him laugh.

"Alright, alright," Stiles smiles as he pushes Derek back. His scent is sweet, radiating happiness. "How about we save the kissing until you shift back."

Derek stretches, rolling his neck as he shifts, body contorting until he's kneeling in front of Stiles. "So it's okay if I kiss you now?"

Stiles snorts. "Did you seriously just shift back so you could kiss me?"

"Yes." Of course, he did.

"You're a dork. You just had a…whatever that is in your mouth." Stiles gestures to the creature next to them. "You've gotta brush your teeth. And use mouthwash."

"Then let's go home." Derek wraps his arms around Stiles's waist and stands.

"Fucker!" Stiles snaps, banging his fists against Derek's back. Derek would be concerned, but there's laughter in his voice. "I'm not a sack of potatoes, y'know!"

Derek slaps his ass in response, growling when Stiles's scent turns spicy with arousal.

Oh.

Derek does it again, making Stiles cry out. He rubs his cheek against Stiles's ass, inhaling.

"You're already so slick," he slurs around his fangs, rubbing his fingers along the seam of Stiles's pants.

Derek keeps teasing him, eliciting little whimpers and breathy moans that sound like angels singing.

Stiles lets out a whine that goes straight to Derek's cock. "Fuck me. God, I want you to fuck me. Please."

"Yeah? Thought I had to brush my teeth." Derek punctuates his statement by biting the swell of Stiles's ass.

"I don't care. I want it. I want you."

Derek sets Stiles down and growls, "Run."

"What?"

"If I catch you, I fuck you," Derek says, flashing his eyes. "So…run."

Eyes widening, Stiles nods before he catapults into action and runs.

Derek gives him a thirty-second head start. It's not much time, but he can't wait any longer. It doesn't take him long to find Stiles, considering his scent is so strong right now. They'll definitely have to explore this more. Was the spanking getting him so worked up or Derek chasing him?

Fire licks at his insides, igniting his entire being as he hears Stiles suck in a breath and hold it, likely to listen for Derek.

Derek gives him a sense of safety for several seconds before stepping forward—twigs and leaves crunching under his feet.

Stiles swears, turning on his heel. But he hasn't run off yet. Instead, he calls out a taunt, "I'm not gonna make this easy for you, asshole," before breaking into a sprint.

Stiles's words elicit a hunger that claws its way from Derek's throat straight to his cock.

Derek imagines that Stiles's chest is tight as he works to calm his erratic heartbeat while taking deep, long breaths.

The wind rustles the leaves on the ground, stirring up dirt and debris, drawing out goosebumps across Derek's skin as he waits in anticipation.

Stiles's heart thumps wildly as Derek takes one step, then two.

Derek catches the moment Stiles notices him, his eyes widening.

Stiles turns and runs, pumping his legs and arms as fast as they can, but he's still too slow for Derek.

Ten long strides is all it takes before Derek catches up to him, reaching out and wrapping his arms around Stiles's waist to draw him back.

Stiles struggles against his hold, fighting to get away.

It only makes Derek's cock harder. He chuckles, his breath fanning over the shell of Stiles's ear. "You can't escape me, Stiles."

"Are you gonna fuck me now?" Stiles asks, his pupils blown, voice dripping with lust.

"That was the deal."

"But what if someone finds us? Sees us?"

"Do you think they'd watch?" Derek asks, spinning Stiles in his arms and pinning him to the ground. "Do you think they'd enjoy the sight of your naked body on display? Maybe they'd get off on seeing your ass, so slick for me. Or the pretty flush on your chest when you come. I think they'd even enjoy watching your eyes roll to the back of your head when my cock fills you so fully that you can't fit any more of me inside you."

Stiles gasps. His heart beats faster, but the scent of his arousal never wavers. Derek can even smell the fresh slick dampening his pants.

"You'd be okay with other people seeing me naked?" Stiles challenges breathlessly.

Never.

"I'd let them watch. I'd let them watch me claim you as mine and own every inch of your body. They'd watch my cock fill your hole and then watch you cry because of how hard you came. And then I'd fucking kill them."

Stiles gasps, his breath stuttering, but he doesn't try to escape. "You're psychotic."

Derek trails a hand down Stiles's stomach to his pants. He grins when Stiles groans and his cock jumps. "I have a feeling you love it."

Stiles groans again, rolling his hips and pushing his cock into Derek's palm.

"So beautiful," Derek murmurs, his lips ghosting along Stiles's shoulder to his neck, only pausing on the spot right below Stiles's ear.

"One day, I'm going to claim you. Right here," he says, right before his teeth clamp down.

Stiles arches into him, moaning. He grips Derek's shoulders, holding him close as if he's scared Derek will leave him there.

Doesn't he know by now that Derek will never leave him?

That Derek will never let him go?

Severe shivers wrack Stiles's body when Derek licks a wet trail down to the juncture of his neck. The way his body responds is more potent than a drug.

Derek bites down again, pulling an animalistic sound out of Stiles that's music to his ears. So he does it again, over and over, leaving a trail of bruises down Stiles's neck and across his shoulder.

Mine mine mine.

Stiles blinks up at him, his eyes bright and pleasure-dazed.

"Do you know what these mean?" Derek asks, mouth ghosting along the bite marks.

Stiles shudders beneath his touch.

"They mean I own you. That you're mine."

And then Stiles rears up.

At first, Derek thinks Stiles is going to kiss him, but instead, Stiles mouths at his neck and bites him.

Hard.

Derek growls. His cock throbs, and all he wants to do is bury himself in the tight heat of Stiles's body.

"You're mine too," Stiles breathes into his ear when he lets go. "Mine, Derek. Do you understand?"

Derek nods, staring at Stiles in awe, his brain short-circuiting for a second on the fact that Stiles bit him—practically claimed him.

Perfect, Derek thinks. So perfect.

"I look at you and I want to destroy you," Derek admits, his words slurred around his fangs. "You should run from me. Leave while I have the willpower to let you go. I'm not safe for you. I want to break you."

"I want you to, Derek." There's no hitch in Stiles's breath; his heartbeat remains steady. "I want you to own me. Mark me. I want to feel it tomorrow. I want you to do your worst because I'll like it. I will. Fuck me, Derek. Fuck me hard."

Derek watches as Stiles reaches between them, his fingers deftly undoing his pants. Derek might be the predator, but Stiles can bring him to his knees. "I'm yours. Only yours."

Stiles's clothes fall in tatters when Derek rips them away. He'd apologize, but Stiles spreads his legs and bites his bottom lip, looking like debauchery and sin.

Derek can't decide which is better—the way Stiles looks splayed out beneath him or the way Stiles feels as Derek enters him with his fingers.

The groan Stiles lets out as Derek stretches his hole, getting him ready, is so sensual and so full of need that it spurs him on—faster, deeper, and way past the point of wanting to get inside him.

With his eyes closed and lips parted, Stiles is the sexiest bit of sin Derek had ever had the pleasure of fucking, and he's going to commit every second of tonight to memory.

The scent of Stiles's slick hangs heavy in the air, his cries of pleasure echoing through the trees.

As much as Derek would love to bury his face in Stiles's ass, he's too impatient. Too keyed up. Needs to be in him. Now.

Stiles clenches around his fingers, and he doesn't have to say anything more. Derek removes his fingers but takes his time lining up, teasing Stiles's hole before finally—finally—sliding into him, watching every little emotion cross Stiles's face as he takes Derek inch by inch.

Derek shudders at the intense pressure and pleasure that almost makes him lose control.

Cries of pleasure echo through the trees as Derek starts out slow and forceful. Short, harsh thrusts, then dragging himself out at a torturous pace before slamming inside Stiles again.

"You feel so fucking good," he murmurs, mouthing at Stiles's neck. The pleasure is blinding.

"Everything, Derek. Gimme everything."

Stiles's eyes roll to the back of his head as Derek readjusts their position, sliding each arm under his knees and hiking them up until Stiles is damn near bent in half.

Stiles lets out a loud moan at the new angle, his legs shaking as Derek nails his prostate.

"Oh my God," Stiles cries out, fingers digging into Derek's shoulder. His eyes shine bright with unshed tears. "Fuck! Yes! Right there! Fuck fuck fuck!"

Stiles's pupils are practically blown, barely any hint of amber to be seen as he reaches for his cock.

Derek growls, shoving his face into the crook of Stiles's neck, fighting the urge to bite him as his knot swells. Euphoria consumes him, wrapping Derek so tightly in its clutches that all five senses are lost to it.

When he finally shakes out of his orgasm-induced stupor, Stiles chuckles.

"Welcome back," he says, trailing his fingers down Derek's back.

Derek sits up, making Stiles moan when his knot tugs at his rim. "Sorry."

"S'okay." Stiles hums, closing his eyes. "Sleepy."

It really shouldn't surprise Derek at this point, considering Stiles always passes out after he orgasms. "Go ahead and sleep."

Stiles blinks one eye open. "Here?"

"My knot isn't going down anytime soon," Derek points out. "Might as well get comfortable."

"It, uh," Stiles arches his back, reaching beneath him and pulling out a twig. "It's a little hard to get comfortable with twigs digging into my back."

Derek wraps his arms around Stiles, lifting him up and flipping them so Derek's on the bottom. "Better?"

"For me, yes. But this just means you're uncomfortable now."

Derek shrugs. "It's fine. I'm pretty used to sleeping in the preserve." He runs his fingers through Stiles's hair. "Sleep."

Stiles closes his eyes and draws circles on Derek's chest with his finger. "Just for a little bit."

But as usual, he's out within seconds.

Derek kisses the top of his head and, as soon as his knot goes down, carries Stiles back to his house.

-

The club is dark, lit only by black lights and a flashing strobe. The air is hot. Humid. It reeks of cheap beer and even cheaper cologne and perfume, thanks to the gyrating bodies next to him on the dance floor. The skunky scents seep through his clothes and into his pores.

Derek would much rather be home. He's not the most social person, but he can't deny how much less pressure it is getting to know Erica and Boyd in a setting like this. Here, he doesn't have to talk. Here, Stiles acts as a buffer, smiling and laughing with them. Dancing. Having fun. Which is good because if Derek's going to be their alpha, they should also like and accept Stiles as his mate.

With the way they smile and gravitate toward him, Derek doesn't think that'll be an issue.

Derek leans in as Stiles grinds against him, his hair plastered to his forehead as sweat drips down his beautiful face. He has to yell over the too-loud music. "Are you having fun?"

Stiles gives him a megawatt smile that rivals the sun. "Hell yeah!"

His arms go above his head as he shimmies and shakes his hips. He's somehow offbeat as he matches the obnoxious music thumping through the speakers.

Derek chuckles, amused and enthralled. He grabs Stiles's waist, pulling him in closer. Heat radiates off his body. His movements, hypnotic.

Stiles grins, their noses nearly touching. Teasing. But just as Derek thinks Stiles is about to kiss him, he pulls away. "I'm going to get a drink!"

Derek stares after him, only turning away when Erica laughs, throwing her head back on Boyd's shoulder as he dances behind her.

"What?" Derek asks, raising a brow.

"You're so whipped."

Derek would be offended if it weren't for the pleased smile on her cherry-red lips. Besides, Stiles is unlike any omega Derek's ever encountered, and he loves it. Loves knowing that Stiles wants him just as much as he wants Stiles.

Instead of denying it, he flashes Erica a satisfied smirk. "Damn right."

After a few seconds, he looks around the club, spotting Stiles by the bar. It's crowded, and he stands off to the side, clearly waiting for an opening to get the bartender's attention. Derek hates that Stiles feels he has to do that. Hates that he can't just get what he needs without being overlooked.

Without hesitation, Derek strides away, pushing his way through the throng to get to his mate.

He's almost to Stiles, can practically feel his gaze through the people waiting at the bar when there's a tap on his shoulder. He turns, one brow raised at the stranger—an omega with stubble and messy hair.

"My friend and I were wondering if you'd buy us a drink," the stranger asks with a sly smirk, gesturing to another omega just behind him.

Derek gives them a tight smile and shakes his head. Just as he opens his mouth to reject the offer, Stiles is there. His face is red, anger rolling off of him in waves.

"He's mine!" Stiles yells, eyes narrowed on the omegas.

Derek's never seen him like this before, so jealous. Sure, there have been moments where he's possessive and dominating—hell, Derek's neck would be riddled with hickeys if he didn't heal so fast.

But this? This is new and takes Derek's breath away.

The omegas look scared, their eyes wide, especially when Erica and Boyd appear at Stiles's side, arms crossed. Their menacing glares broker no argument that they'd be willing to fight for Stiles no matter the consequences. The one who approached Derek apologizes before they hurry away.

Stiles turns to Derek and smiles. Though it's not a smug, happy grin. No, this smile is damn near feral with the wild expression on Stiles's face.

"You're all mine, Derek. You have no idea how long I waited—" Stiles huffs out a breath, running his fingers through his hair, tugging on the ends. "They can't take you from me."

Derek grabs his hands to stop him from pulling his hair out. To assure Stiles that no one is taking him from Stiles, but before he can say anything, Stiles drags him back to the dance floor, his drink obviously forgotten.

Erica and Boyd follow, but keep their distance as they dance. They must realize this is a time for Derek and Stiles alone. Something that Derek appreciates.

"You're mine, right?" There's a hint of insecurity in Stiles's voice.

Derek nods, cradling Stiles's face. "Yes, I am."

"Good," he breathes, finally relaxing under Derek's grip. His hands roam Derek's body, the heat of the night escalating to an almost boiling point.

Derek's never felt this need before. "You're mine, too. I love you."

Maybe it's too soon to say it, but Derek doesn't worry when Stiles grins.

"I love you, too," he says, eyes twinkling under the strobe lights as he tugs Derek down, kissing him. There's nothing innocent about the kiss. It's fierce and demanding. Between the slow glide of their tongues and the heat emanating off Stiles's body, Derek wants so much more.

Instead of continuing to stand under the haze of strobe lights, Derek loops an arm around Stiles's waist, searching for privacy.

"We'll be back," he calls out to Erica and Boyd so they don't worry.

Boyd nods, glancing toward a hall off to the side.

Derek takes the hint, leading Stiles off the dance floor.

Stiles nibbles on his earlobe. "What are we doing?"

"You'll see," Derek says.

The hall leads to the bathrooms, but there's a door at the end. Derek pushes it open, the heat of the club replaced by a mild spring breeze.

He grins, turning to Stiles as he steps out into the alley. It's dark and narrow, just big enough for the two of them. Without another word, Derek pulls Stiles close, their mouths crushing together as the door clicks shut behind them.

Stiles presses Derek back against the brick wall, hands tugging at Derek's shirt. "I wanna suck you off."

Derek can't help it. He laughs, the sound low and gratified as he pulls out his cock. "Anything you want. Always."

Stiles drops to his knees, licking his lips before sucking on the head of Derek's cock, and it feels so good.

Derek leans back against the brick, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as he lets out a long, drawn-out groan. It feels unreal. He draws in a steady breath, sliding his hand through Stiles's hair. "You look so good like this. On your knees for me."

Stiles moans around his cock, the vibrations sending ripples of pleasure through him.

When Stiles pulls off his cock, Derek damn near whimpers, but then Stiles says, "Fuck my mouth," before sucking Derek deep again—so deep Derek's sure his cock hits the back of Stiles's throat.

Derek tightens his fingers in Stiles's hair, and Stiles widens his lips and relaxes his shoulders, giving Derek the best blowjob he's ever received.

God, Derek wants to kill anyone and everyone Stiles has ever been with while also thanking them for whatever part they had in making Stiles so good at this.

Derek rolls his hips, rhythm speeding up, and Stiles grips his ass, urging him on—his face practically buried in the coarse hair at the base of Derek's cock.

"Christ," Derek grunts, dropping his head back against the brick wall and pumping in and out of the most talented mouth he's ever been inside.

But it's not enough.

He glances down at where Stiles's cheeks are hollowed and his lips are stretched taut around his cock. It's better than any fantasy.

Reluctantly, he pulls out, and Derek's rock-hard cock throbs in protest.

Stiles's molten gaze finds Derek's, his cheeks flushed with desire.

Derek grabs a handful of Stiles's shirt, urging him to his feet, and then Stiles is up, pulling Derek into his body before either can think beyond getting their hands on the other.

"More." Stiles demands, and a bossy Stiles is Derek's favorite.

Derek sucks on his ear as he unbuttons and unzips Stiles's pants, sliding them down below his ass. "Turn around."

"Yes. God, yes," Stiles says as he complies, thrusting his ass back as he plants his hands on the wall.

With one hand, Derek pries his cheeks apart, groaning at the sight of his slick hole.

Stiles, impatient as ever, pushes back against him. "Don't fucking tease me. I need you in me. Now."

Just for that, Derek fucks him slowly with one finger until he whines.

Then two.

Stiles's breath catches, his moans getting more and more impatient, and if Derek doesn't fuck him soon, he's sure Stiles will take things into his own hands. So, finally—because it really is pure, unabashed torture not to be inside him—Derek shoves his own jeans down and lines himself up.

"Ready?" he asks, teasing Stiles's hole with the head of his cock.

Stiles groans, his fingertips white from where he's gripping the brick wall. "God, Derek. I want you to fuck me until I can't walk anymore."

With one sharp thrust, Derek pushes inside him. Balls deep, his muscles tense, and he stays flush against Stiles. "You feel so good. Always so good."

That second is all he gives himself before biting down on Stiles's neck, knowing the slight sting of pain turns Stiles on. Sure enough, Stiles lets out a lewd moan. It's loud and desperate and utterly carnal. Anyone walking by will know exactly what's happening in the alley.

Derek doesn't go slow, drawing out the breathy little pants and quiet moans that go straight to his cock. Instead, it's a vicious punch and pull of his hips that make them both curse unintelligibly. And Stiles is just as forceful and greedy as him—hips snapping back to meet every thrust.

"Harder. Please. Pleasepleaseplease. Give it to me."

Derek plants a hand on the wall by Stiles's head and grabs his waist with the other, drilling into him over and over at a relentless pace, letting the sublime feeling of ecstasy take him over.

Stiles shouts Derek's name, his hole clenching as the scent of his release fills the air.

It takes everything for Derek not to pop a knot, so he pulls out and spins Stiles around. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes bright and pleasure-dazed as he drops to his knees and opens his mouth.

Derek fists a hand in Stiles's hair, tugging his head back before fucking Stiles's mouth again in hard, fast, and shallow strokes. It doesn't take long before his orgasm slams into him. "Fuck. Fuck!"

Stiles swallows every drop, moaning before he licks his lips and rests his head on Derek's thigh, trying to catch his breath. "Goddamn."

Derek pets the top of Stiles's head, tucking himself back in with his other hand. After a few minutes, he says, "C'mon, baby. Let's get back inside."

Stiles nods as he gets up, Derek helping him fix his clothes. "I wanna dance some more."

And so they do, lost in the chaos and the moment where nothing else matters but them.

-

Derek carries the last box inside, setting it down on the dining room table. Erica and Boyd moved in two weeks ago, and now his pack is complete with Stiles here, too—even though Stiles has practically been living with him since that first night he stayed over.

"Was that it?" Stiles calls out from the living room, unpacking his movies.

Erica walks over, palm up as she wiggles her fingers. "Keys? We'll return the truck and grab some food on the way back."

Derek reaches into his pocket and tosses her the keys. "Be safe."

He watches as she and Boyd leave, a feeling of contentment washing over him. Despite the chaos and the mess and the noise of more people in his space, this is what he's been missing all along—having a pack, a family.

"Got anything that needs to go upstairs?" he asks Stiles, looking at all the boxes.

Stiles waves a hand toward the boxes near the stairs. "They should be labeled. Bedroom, bathroom, books."

"Your books can go in my office with the others if you want."

"That sounds good." Stiles holds up some of his treasured Funko pops. "What about these guys?"

Derek walks over to where Stiles sits on the floor, his legs crossed as he digs through boxes. "Wherever you want, baby."

"What if I wanted to display them over there?" Stiles gestures to the entertainment center.

"This is your house. If that's where you want them, then that's where they'll go." Derek leans down and brushes his lips over Stiles's forehead. "You don't need my permission."

Stiles smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "I know. I just like hearing you say it."

"Brat."

"Maybe," Stiles says with a cheeky grin, "but you like it."

Yes. Yes, he does. Derek steals a kiss. "I'm going to take some things upstairs."

"Okay. Don't worry about unpacking them. I want to do it."

"Alright." Derek grabs a stack of boxes and carries them to his room. Their room. Because Stiles is officially moved in now.

He chuckles as he sets the boxes on the chest, opening the one on top. The word Closet is scrawled in black Sharpie across the top, so Derek lifts it to take it into the walk-in closet, but the bottom falls out. A couple pairs of shoes, door hooks, some hangers, and a leather-bound book land on the floor.

He sets the box on the bed, picks up the book—a journal of some sort—and flips it in his hands, reveling in the buttery soft leather under his fingertips.

A smile breaks across Derek's face as he trails his fingers over the inscription on the cover.

Mieczysław Stilinski.

A leather cord is wrapped around the journal, holding it closed. Derek strokes his fingers over it, smiling softly. He should put it down. Leave it on the bed and walk away, but as he turns to leave, his eyes linger on the journal.

Slowly, almost reverently, Derek undoes the cord and opens it.

A picture falls out, and his gaze lands on Stiles's familiar scrawl on the back.

'You are an obsession, I am your possession.'

Derek frowns, flipping it back over. It's a picture of him in his workshop, his brow furrowed as he staples packaging foam to the top of a custom cat house he made for the shelter in late December.

Before Derek even knew who Stiles was.

He opens the journal again, landing on a page that's torn and crinkled as if Stiles tried to rip it out but changed his mind. Derek smooths the page out and reads:

January 26th

Patience has never been my strong suit, but I know the payout will be so sweet. It'll be worth it because he's worth it. I just know it.

But waiting. Waiting, waiting, and more waiting!

What's taking him so long?

Why hasn't he come yet?

Patience may be a virtue, but my stomach churns as I sit. As I wait. As I hope. As I try to remember that the longer I wait, the sweeter the reward will be.

That he'll come for me. Finally.

Derek quickly flips back to the beginning of the journal, going through and reading the random scribbles and notes that Stiles wrote. Complaining about customers, hanging out with his friends and dad, and then about Derek. When Stiles first saw him around town. Following him.

Stiles's handwriting gets messier the more he talks about wanting Derek. Needing him. How he purposefully put himself in Derek's way to catch his attention and then orchestrating their meeting when he noticed Derek finally taking an interest in him.

Derek's chest tightens as he realizes Stiles has been in love with him longer than he ever thought.

Stiles. His Stiles did all this—went to such lengths to capture Derek's interest. To make Derek want him.

Derek snaps the journal closed, overwhelmed by his emotions. It's a silly, silly thing to be so touched by. But he is, and he can't help it.

He puts the picture back in the journal and gently closes it, pressing a kiss to its cover. His lips linger for a moment before carefully tying the cord around it, preserving the little piece of Stiles he now holds.

God, could anyone be more perfect for him?

"Derek?"

At the sound of Stiles's voice, Derek looks up.

Stiles stands in the doorway, playing with the hem of his shirt—his bottom lip pulled between his teeth, his expression wary. "Wh-what are you doing with that?"

Derek offers him a gentle smile as he walks over and holds the journal out. "It fell out when I was moving the boxes."

Stiles takes it with a shaky hand, his eyes wide in surprise. "Oh. I…" He takes a deep breath and looks away. "I didn't mean for you to see that."

Derek steps closer and cups Stiles's face in his hands, forcing him to look up. His voice is low and husky, all of his emotions bubbling to the surface. "Marry me."

Stiles pulls back, eyes wide and mouth agape. His searching gaze finds Derek's, and Derek can see the silent thoughts written all over his face.

"Are you serious?" Stiles's voice is barely above a whisper.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Stiles." Derek trails kisses along Stiles's jaw, grazing his teeth along Stiles's neck, nipping lightly at the spot he wants to put his mating bite. He can already picture how it'll look—bright red on Stiles's creamy skin, a strong and healthy bond. "I love you. I knew you were mine from the moment I saw you in that club."

Stiles blushes. "I didn't think you'd seen me that night."

"I did. And I tried to stay away."

"I know," Stiles says, annoyance creeping into his voice. "Do you know how much that sucked? How long I waited? I waited and wai—"

Derek cuts him off with a kiss. The kiss is gentle and sweet, filled with all Derek's love for him. "You don't have to wait anymore. I'm yours. Always."

Stiles looks at him with so much love and adoration that Derek can't help but smile.

"So…is that a yes?" Derek asks.

"Yes." Stiles nods, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and his lips spread in a wide, genuine smile. "Yes. I'll marry you."

Derek grins, gathering Stiles in his arms and spinning him around. Then, he sets Stiles down and kisses him again.

Stiles was right—it was worth the wait. Every single second of it.

[nuntia]

A Ghoul's Cry

Omega Ghoul

Preface: Omega Ghoul, the most loyal and faithful servant – who is known to have had more than just a professional relationship with third son Emeritus – had the worst and most agonizing reaction to the death of his master and lover.

warnings: mentions of blood, self-mutilation, Emeritus Brothers death, aggressive and uncontrolled behavior

[SECRETS FROM THE CLERGY]

The death of the three Emeritus brothers was not easy to recognize and accept to anyone in the world. Whether it is members of the high clergy, Brothers, Sisters or Siblings of Sin, fans of the Ghost Project; it was not easy for any of them.

Although, I say it was much less easier for the Ghouls who, while seeing themselves self-destruct, felt the pain of not knowing what was happening, but feeling everything in their body and soul. Part of special Summoning Ritual requires that the Master whom they will serve donate part of his blood so that the summoned creature can be part of the Master's body.

In addition and many other things, Omega was the hellish creature who showed the most pain with loss – but not just physical pain. He felt much more than that.

The chronicles that I present to you describe what happened moments after Omega discovered that Papa Terzo had died.

----

The Abbey was never as afraid of a Ghoul after what happened in 1976¹ as it was that day.

It was frightening. Terrifying. Shocking. Alarming. Daunting. Agonizing... especially as everyone feared for their lives to come closer.

Not even the Ghouls themselves dared to enter that Hall, even before each of one cringed and slid down the wall, clinging to everything they could to try and save themselves from self-destruction. One by one.

Omega entered the great hall and left the door wide open behind him. He began by looking around in an almost primitive sense, wild growls reverberating through the walls and mirrors; then fell fragile pieces of crockery, metal carvings, stewed wooden chairs, the large solid wood table, a marble stand. Before long, whatever was left unharmed was used against the mirrors and centuries-old paintings. Damage was mostly irreversible.

Animalistic sounds echoed through the corridors mixed with inconsolable weeping. Every inhale was turned into a growl; every exhale was a cry of despair and lamentation. He had no room or time to breathe.

The Ghoul only stopped when he approached the only two things he left intact besides the lamp – which he had the wise decision not to hang on to, only to have thought it over several times: a mirror, and the vinyl player with the vinyl record heard just hours before.

'Popestar'. The stopped needle halfway through two songs denoted the last one that had been listened to. The one that was not so secretly their song, the one that was not so secretly the soundtrack to a silly slow dance of after dinner, of before bed, of a cold late afternoon when it was dark outside too early. 'Nocturnal Me'.

There was lull. An audible cry, muttered wails, but no rooms to be destroyed. Maybe that was because Ghoul defanged like his bandmates, creatures of his kind who didn't even have time to mourn before they themselves fell into a misery.

He clutched his chest, tearing at his black garment with the long claws. He looked at himself in the mirror blinking several times lest the stain of black blood cover his kiss mark in black ink that the third son Emeritus had given him before meeting his brothers. So faded and smudged that, if it wasn't something somewhat usual to the discerning eye, one would never realise what it meant.

Suddenly, he let out a cry of pain and ran out of there. The few who dared to remain in the hallways followed the outcome of their beloved Papas. And the Ghoul continued to run, undressing as if the clothes suddenly caused him allergies, slipping in his own black blood that oozed both from his eyes and his mouth, from the deep scratches on his torso caused by his claws that tried uselessly to relieve the pain that, as physical as it seemed, not even if they took his heart out would stop.

He threw himself against the double metal door, too heavy for him to push even if it was unlocked².

Wild sounds were heard again. They started out like those of a predator, but subsided until they sounded like a wounded animal. Wounded, but not enough to die a quick death.

No one dared to come out. Absolutely no one came out of their rooms or wherever they hid, even though the Ghoul was visibly weak and shattered. A hare caught by the hawk that dropped it from the highest heights.

But what could be done? Hug him? Comfort him? Help him lie down properly on the floor instead of the awkward half-sitting, half-lying position against that frigid double door? Hand him a silver dagger?

Nobody did anything.

Even without knowing so, they all obey Sister Imperator's orders. And she gets happy when things work out the way she planned and envisioned.

– Chronicles of a Sibling of Sin, signed as E.D., dated 01st May 2018.

° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° ° °

¹ It was in 1976 that an Earth Ghoul named Rime died from a failed ritual of return. This event resulted in the biggest revolt of the Ghouls ever recorded in the millennial Emeritus' Abbey.

² represented in @vanmec art

Not just the Abbey, but the entire Ministry has suffered from the Profane Brothers' mysterious deaths. A situation that took everyone by surprise, and left sequels that are still present today.

I can tell you that the Sibling who wrote this letter left shortly after I wrote it. Sibling E. knew things that perhaps should not have, so the question remains whether they left the Abbey willingly or was "invited" to leave. The doubt rests on the fact that Mr. Saltarian was seen chatting with them before they left.

For all intents and purposes, what has been reported is true. There is purposeful silence, but you could easily hear the same a testimony if you ask to a Sibling of Sin you pass in the halls nowadays.

His Eminence Papa Emeritus III and his Ghoul Omega had a very intimate relationship. As much as this is against the law, it was no secret to almost anyone that they saw each other as someone that they nurtured a lot of affection and care for... and desire. However, it cannot be denied that Omega was a key to Papa Terzo becoming the phenomenon he has become and paving the way for His Eminence Papa Emeritus IV to continue to spread His word.

Misfortunes mark the floor, the walls, the air and the pages of many books that exist in here. I will bring you more soon.

Until then, go in sin.

May the Lord Below guide you into the night,

Nuntia

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(The Bad Batch) Beach Vacation Intro

The Bad Batch lands on the tropical resort planet of Spira.  A contact of theirs is helping you all out by letting you lay low in a private beach house on one of the islands.  You and a certain Bad Batcher have been secretly dating for a little while, and you hope to make the most of the romantic setting.

Choose your own ending!

Word Count: 2,123

Warnings: None

   You gazed out at the golden sandy beach that stretched on for miles beneath the Marauder as Tech maneuvered it to land among the green palms that lay farther inland.  On the other side of the sandy shore, there was an endless expanse of blue shimmering like topaz in the sun.

   “So,” you spoke up, stealing a glance at the Sergeant who was in the next seat over taking in the scenery just as you were.  “Are you sure we can trust this contact of yours?”

   Hunter folded his arms.  “He’s all we’ve got right now.”

   “That sounds promising.”

   “He hasn’t given us a reason not to trust him.”

   You shrugged, grasping at your safety restraints as Tech’s landing became a little too rough for your liking.  “This just seems too good to be true.  It looks like a vacation spot.”

   “It technically is,” Tech replied, flipping a series of switches to shut down the Marauder.  “Spira is a well-known trip destination.  Some of the islands are far more populated and filled with luxury hotels.  The island we’ve landed on is sparsely populated due to this side being privately-owned.”

   “I read that there’s a town with a market!” Omega spoke up from her seat.

   Tech adjusted his goggles.  “That would be on the other side.  It’s a bit of a hike, but according to reviews on the holonet, it’s worth visiting.”

   “We’re supposed to be laying low,” Echo reminded, walking up to the cockpit.  He rested his scomp arm on the head of your chair.  “This place is practically run by the Empire now.  I don’t like it.”

   “Now there’s something new,” Crosshair muttered.

   “We get our own bungalow and our own beach!” Wrecker pointed out with a grin.  “I say we at least try to have some fun!”

   You removed the safety belts and stretched your arms up over your head.  Hunter stood from his chair and turned to brief the squad.

   “Remaining undetected during our stay here is top priority,” he said.  He caught Omega’s hopeful gaze.  “But I don’t see why we can’t have a little downtime too.”

   “Yes!” she whispered under her breath.

   “We’ll set up some ground rules at the bungalow.  Alright, squad.  Let’s move out.”

   You moseyed to the back of the ship to grab your pack, taking a quick peek inside to make sure you didn’t forget anything important.  Extra clothes, a few basic toiletries, and a holopad.  It was all there.

   You filed down the ramp and smiled instantly at the lovely rush of salty air that filled your lungs.  A warm breeze ruffled your clothes and kicked up particles of sand against your skin.  To your right, palm trees and other greenery were swaying to the rhythm of the waves crashing on the shore.  Omega was already kneeling in the sand, letting a handful of it slip through her fingers curiously.

   “It’s so beautiful!” she exclaimed, jumping to her feet.  Her eyes wandered the scenery.  “Where’s the bungalow?”

     “It’s just up ahead,” Tech replied.  His face was practically buried in a holopad.  “Farther down the beach.”

   Wrecker lifted Omega onto his shoulders with a cheery laugh.  “Let’s go, kid!”

   You fell in step between Tech and Echo while Wrecker and Omega went ahead of the group.  Their excited chatter filled the beach, and the rest of the squad couldn’t help but be amused at the youngest member’s enthusiasm.  Even Echo cracked a smile out of the corner of your eye.

   The beach house came into view.  The exterior looked as if it were constructed from materials gathered near the beach itself.  The walls were made of faded wood boards with darker frames to outline the windows, and the whole place was complete with a thatch roof.  It was much larger than you had expected with an additional two shacks, identical in appearance but smaller in size, that connected to the main structure by a porch that wrapped around.

   “Are you sure this is the right place?” you asked, mouth falling open.

   Tech nodded.  “This would be it.”

   “It’s amazing!”  Omega exclaimed, and Wrecker set her back down on the sand so she could run over and investigate.  The first thing you did was climb the stairs to get a peek at the view from the porch.  It was midday, so the sun reflected brightly off the sand and the water, and it was absolutely gorgeous.

   Hunter knelt down and picked up one of the conch shells that lined the front walkway.  “Just where he said they’d be,” he said, lifting a pair of key cards.  “_______, take the other one?”  You held out your hands to catch it.

   “Don’t mind if I do.”

   You went to the front door with Omega at your heels.  She was nearly bursting with excitement as she waited for you to unlock it.  The key card registered, and the door slid open with a rickety woosh.  As charming as the outside of the bungalow was, the inside took your breath away.  The main room was bright and airy.  You had the ample number of windows to thank for letting the lovely sunlight in.  The kitchen was immediately to your left with aged wooden cabinets and gray stone counter tops.  On the right, there was a spacious living room with wicker furniture to add to its beachy charm.  The couch had turquoise cushions and sat opposite two matching chairs, separated by a low caf table.

   Omega started exploring right away, tossing her bag aside at the front door and hurrying into the living room first.  You shook your head in affectionate amusement as she sat in each of the chairs as if to test them out before stretching out on the couch momentarily.  Then, she went on to look out the nearest window.

   “This one has a nice view of the beach!”

   “Yeah?” you joined her at the window and rested your hands on the sill.  “That water looks so refreshing.  We should definitely swim later.”

   “Well, the conditions are certainly ideal,” Tech informed you.  “At this time of year, the water isn’t too cold.”

   “Aw yeah!”  Wrecker plopped down on the couch, brows shooting up at the snap and creak of the wicker under him.   Fortunately, the thing held it together.  Hunter was walking through and doing his initial survey of the surroundings.  He opened one of the doors straight back to peek in.

   “Bathroom’s here,” he called.  Next, he glanced in the other room.  “This is the master bedroom.  There are three bedrooms total and two beds to each one.”

   “Someone’s going to have to take the couch,” Tech said.

   “I will,” Echo volunteered.

   “_______ and I will share a room,” Omega added, and you nodded in agreement.

   “Sounds good.”

   Wrecker grinned at Crosshair, who had gone into the living room to scope it out for himself.  “What do you say, Crosshair?  Want to share?”

   The slender sniper rolled his eyes, his face scrunched up in a dramatic display of disdain, though you knew it to be an act.  The two brothers were known to stick together more often than not.  “Fine.”

   “Then me and Tech will take the last room,” Hunter decided.  “Glad we got that settled.”  You and Omega got dibs on the master bedroom, so you both headed back to check it out and drop your belongings there.  It was roomy and with simple decor reminiscent of the sea.  Omega claimed one of the twin beds, so you set your things down on the remaining one.

   “What do you think we’ll do first?”

   “We should probably get something to eat,” you said.  “Then maybe we can see if the guys want to take a look around.”

   “And go swimming?”

   You laughed.  “Yes, and go swimming.”

   Seemingly satisfied with your answer, Omega hopped off her bed and headed out the bedroom door, most likely to see what the group had planned.  You took a few moments to compose yourself in front of the charming vanity mirror.  While the squad’s stay on Spira wasn’t technically a vacation, you couldn’t help but get excited over the opportunity to spend some quality time with a certain Bad Batcher at a romantic place like this…  

   The two of you had been keeping things on the down-low, which is very hard to do on a crowded ship like the Marauder.

   You had ditched the armor before landing and changed into an extra set of clothes Suu had gifted you with.  Being that the Lawquanes were leaving on a transport on such short notice, they couldn’t bring everything with them.  She gave you several short- and long-sleeved tunics that were adjustable to the wearer’s size, just as Cut had passed on some of his things to the others.  It was very fortunate since you and the squad had to stop at a variety of planets and ports every now and then to fuel and stock up.

   You smiled at your reflection in the mirror.  You felt beautiful and ready for the day.

- - - - - - -

   “Got you!” Omega exclaimed, pointing.  You splashed her right back, laughter from both of you ringing out in the salty air.

   “Alright, break it up!” Wrecker hollered as he ran waist-deep in the water until he was close enough to make a huge splash that hit you right in the face.  He roared with laughter as you and Omega teamed up to go after him.  Hunter waded into the water, shielding his eyes from the sun with one hand while observing the shenanigans.

   Echo was sitting comfortably in a chair under the protective shade of a beach umbrella.  If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he wouldn’t be moving from that spot for the next few days by how he leaned back with his arms folded behind his head.  

   Crosshair was perched on another beach chair with a pair of dark shades over his eyes as he surveyed the scene.  His expression was short of a scowl, which meant he must have been enjoying himself. 

   Tech was still in the process of applying sunscreen.  It was amusing to see just how invested in the task he was, though it didn’t exactly surprise you considering the lecture he gave the entire group about the importance of protecting oneself from the harsh rays of the sun.  Eventually, once he was satisfied with the coverage, he shuffled down to join Hunter as he ventured deeper into the water.

   “My data was correct. The water is rather nice.”

   “Yeah, not bad,” Hunter agreed.

   You were having a blast.  Everyone was having such a good time.  Not to mention you kept catching the gaze of a certain Batcher.  Several times.  It was subtle, and anyone who wasn’t paying attention wouldn’t think much of it…but for you, it was making your heart race.  You couldn’t wait to spend some time with him…

- - - - - - - 

   Bright afternoon sunshine softened into orange light that washed over the water.  Everyone had their good times, but the day wasn’t quite over yet.  You emerged from the bathroom with new clothes to see the squad having a discussion in the living room.  Wrecker leaned against the wall casually with arms folded.

   “I saw these little lanterns glowing in the jungle on our way back in the house,” he said.  “I kinda want to explore and see where they lead.”

   “That’s cool, Wrecker!”  Omega nodded.  “What about you, Crosshair?  Want to go see the lanterns?”

   Crosshair removed a toothpick from between his lips to respond.  “No, thank you.  I’m going to take a walk on the beach.”

   A curious decision on his part, considering how disdained he looked earlier while on the beach with everyone else. 

   “There’s an old telescope in the shed,” Echo said from one of the chairs.  “I thought I’d dig it out and take a look at the stars.”

   “That sounds fun,” Omega nodded.  “What about you, Hunter?”

   Hunter glanced up.  “The village sounded interesting.  Tech said there’s a path that leads to that side of the island.”

   “That, I did.”  Tech confirmed, raising his pointer finger for emphasis.  “I also read that there is a series of caves nearby.  It seems like something worth looking into, so that’s where I’ll be headed.”

   “________?” Hunter asked, and you froze on the spot.  “What are your plans?”

   “Oh, um…”  You paused, catching a certain someone’s attempt at a casual glance in your direction.   He made a point to let you know where he’d be.

   All you had to do was follow.

   “I think I’ll…”

   “...go to the village with you, Hunter.”

   “...check out the caves with Tech.”

   “...explore with Wrecker.”

   “...stargaze with Echo.”

   “...go back to the beach with Crosshair” (COMING SOON).

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

okay i have a question for the pack, bear with me-

what do everyone's beds look like? now hear me out, i know this probably sounds silly but i have good questions!

what kind of bed do the omegas have? a king? custom made to be really big? since they all sleep together, do they sleep squished or hsve enough space to not have to cuddle all the time?

also, do they have lots of teddies and pillows and blankets, on the bed? if so who has the most?

it's the same questions for the other members of the pack, what type of bed, how is it when it comes to multiple people sleeping in the bed? what extra things do they usually keep on their bed -if they do- like teddies or extra pillows?

here's an additional question: who has the most teddies out of all the members? my guess is felix or jisung!

"I love this question." You say genuinely, glancing around at your pack mates. "Because I really think someone's room can tell you so much about who they are as a person."

"Absolutely." Chan nods in agreement. "My studio space tells a lot about who I am as a producer, and it's the same with my room, although it's more personal."

"So." You grin. "Get ready to learn a whole lot about us that you probably didn't need to know."

"Let's get it." Jisung claps his hands and rubs his palms together, voice excited, expression determined.

Chan glances to Jeongin. "Let's start with the omegas' room, yeah? Cause you guys share with the most members."

"Okay!" Felix agrees excitedly, and Jeongin grins wide, his eyes crinkling.

Both the omegas look to Hyunjin, who takes it as his sign to start them off.

"We have a king bed. It's the biggest bed in the house currently cause, you know." He shrugs with a smile. "Three of us."

"Gives us enough space to spread out if we want or need, but we usually sleep cuddled up anyway in the middle, so it's not utilized probably as often as it could be." Felix laughs.

"Hey, it's nice when we all gather for a cuddle pile or movie night though." You point out, and the omegas nod. "We always use your room as a central gathering point if we don't wanna come to the living room."

"Basically, the bed is just a free for all?" Jeongin muses, looking thoughtful. "We don't like split it into three sections or anything. Everyone can just kinda input and put their stuff wherever."

"Jinnie-hyung picked out most of our decor and bedding and stuff." Felix continues, nodding now. "Because he loves decorating and he's awesome at it."

"Not like you can see the bedspread anyway." Hyunjin snorts in amusement. "The bed is always piled so high with blankets and stuffies and pillows that I don't know why I even bothered."

"Felix does indeed have the most stuffies."

Felix raises his hand shyly and everyone coos at how cute he is.

Hyunjin continues. "As far as personal space, we have our own dressers and share the big walk in closet equally. Everybody kinda has their own space in their own corner of the room, the bed is the only central part with everyone's shit really."

"We do however," Felix points out. "Keep a tote of used clothes from all the other pack mates in the back of our closet, easily accessible, in case one of us feels the need to nest and the blankets and stuffies aren't getting the job done."

"Oh yeah." Jeongin nods. "That's come in handy a few times."

"Jinnie-hyung's dresser is just overflowing with miscellaneous art stuff and skin and hair products. Plus all of his perfumes."

"Lixie-hyung's is covered in more stuffies, and some cute little statues the other member's of the pack have brought him from various trips. He also can't even use his mirror because there's pictures of all of us literally plastered all over it."

"Cute." You hear Chan say under his breath beside you.

"And mine," Jeongin thinks for a minute. "Mine is just a catch all for any shit I don't know what to do with-stray papers, accessories, stuff like that."

"It's a nightmare." Hyunjin shudders, and Felix chuckles.

"You guys have a really nice ambiance in your room though." You add, glancing between the omegas. "Like you always have a candle lit and soft mood lighting and the little canopy over the bed with the twinkle lights."

"Yeah, it's cozy." Jisung nods.

"Speaking of," Chan motions to the beta now. "Why don't you and Minnie go next, Sung?"

Jisung claps his hands and grins. "Cool. Beta Bros. Let's go."

Seungmin rolls his eyes.

"We have a queen bed, which is also what all the alphas' have in their rooms too. Basically gives us enough space for visitors and each other without feeling squished."

"Our room is dark, modern, sleek." Seungmin adds, and Jisung nods his head in agreement. "I don't like a lot of clutter, so the decor we do have is limited and purposeful."

"Yep." Jisung agrees again, before grinning. "Though my half of the room-"

Seungmin shakes his head in horror. "It's a pigsty. I can't even look at it."

"It's not that bad."

"It really is."

"We have a lot of books, because Seungmin is a nerd, and I love anime and comics." Jisung continues, ignoring the other beta now, even as he rolls his eyes once more. "Channie-hyung and Binnie-hyung built us modern, custom bookshelves a few years ago that line pretty much all the walls."

"We also have a lot of recessed lighting above the bed so that we can read at night without straining our eyes."

"Ooh, ooh!" Jisung gets excited again. "We also have snacks in the night stands, just in case, and I have a giant bean bag chair filled with soft cozy blankets and my KAWS stuffed animal collection. Perfect reading nook."

"And of course-" Jisung looks smug now. "We've got those cool remote controlled LED lights all along the ceiling that match to music and can be changed to any color. Usually red." He winks at Seungmin, who flips him off.

"I'll go next." You offer, once it's clear the betas' are done, and everyone looks to you. You shrug. "I don't know if I have a clear style really, but my bedroom is very minimalistic. I have some reading shelves and a desk area and it's all light natural woods and calming colors. I don't really keep anything on my bed, besides a few throw pillows and an extra blanket at the foot. The only thing I really collect is house plants, I have a bunch hanging from a corner of the ceiling, right above the desk, and a bunch in the bathroom and last year, the boys gave me a little plant shelf to sit in front of my big window, and I've slowly been filling that up too."

"Incense." Chan points out, glancing at you, and you nod.

"Oh yeah. I really like smells? So I burn incense quite a bit for different occasions and have a bunch of candles all over for different moods."

"Tell them about the wall above your desk." Jisung says gleefully, and you sigh, already feeling yourself blush.

"God, but it's embarrassing."

"It's cute." Chan reassures you, reaching out to cover your hand with his own.

"Fine." You sigh and roll your eyes. "The wall above my desk is covered in a kind of wallpaper that I designed myself. It has all of the members' scents listed out in their individual, complex chemical compounds in script. It's like nerdy and personal and fun at the same time."

"My turn." Changbin announces, throwing his arm over the back of the couch behind Seungmin. "My room is industrial. Lot of exposed metals in the decor, dark colors, low lighting. I like it to feel relaxing when I get home from school or work or the gym."

"I taught him the word industrial." Hyunjin points out proudly, and Changbin chuckles.

"Yeah, you did." He considers. "I have a work corner, that's like a mini studio at home for me to write and work on stuff when I have the time or inspiration? It's separated from the rest of the room by like this metal grate wall and the space is really cool. It's probably my favorite place to hang out by myself."

"He looks neat." You point out, and Changbin shoots you a glare. "But don't look in his closet cause he just shoves all his mess in there and it's a warzone."

"Oooh, he also has this really cool expensive sound machine!" Felix adds excitedly. "And he hides it in the corner behind this like little desk, room fountain thing, and so his room just always sounds like running water or rain or something else soothing."

"Yeah, I love having noise in there all the time, even when I sleep. Helps me focus."

"My room is Scandinavian, which I also learned from Hyunjin." Chan winks at the omega, who gives him a big grin and a thumbs up. "It's dark, exposed woods and metals and very simple. I love the look of wrought iron and untreated wood and so I've used that a lot in my shelves and bed frame and personal style."

"His closet is a black hole though." You chuckle, and Chan looks at you in betrayal. You shrug. "Not that it's a bad thing. It's exceptionally organized, just all one color."

"And he's a huge sap. He keeps every picture and every letter or note every member of the pack has ever given him in a drawer by his bed." Minho rolls his eyes and once again, Chan looks betrayed.

"It's cute." You bump his side and he rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, yeah." He goes on. "I also have a mini studio space in my room, but it's in a little loft area above the main room, above my bed. There's like a wooden ladder that goes up there and a wood and iron railing and it's super nice to just go up there when I need to work at home or clear my head."

"As far as my room goes-" Minho shrugs blankly. "A room is a room, a bed is a bed. I like my things put away where they go and everything kept simple."

"Hear, hear." Changbin nods, and Minho sighs.

"I allow two exceptions to this rule when it comes to my room. One," He holds up a finger sternly. "Recipe books. I keep an entire corner shelf for them. And two," He holds up a second finger. "Pictures of my cats that my parent's send me monthly. I frame all the new ones when they get here and add them to the gallery wall across from the bed."

"It's huge." Jisung nods reverently. "I've never seen so many cat pictures in my life."

"I also-" Minho adds. "-allow two orchids to inhabit the space of my windowsill. They're good for prosperity."

"Plus they're pretty." Jeongin chirps helpfully, and Minho sighs, but rustles the baby's hair regardless.

"Yes, they are very pretty."

"You have that little glass plant terrarium in your bathroom that holds your super old bonsai tree too." You point out, and Minho nods.

"Yes. Because I enjoy taking care of something so fickle, yet knowing that in the end, it will ultimately outlive me."

"Deep." Jisung nods appreciatively. "Is now a bad time to tell you that I used your little spray bottle to slick my hair the other day?"

"-My bonsai mister?"

"Is that what it was? Oops."

Hyunjin grins wickedly as Minho glares at his moonmate murderously.

"Looks like your bonsai tree is not only gonna outlive you, hyung, but now it's gonna way outlive Jisung too."

********************************************************************************

Keep scrolling to see example pictures of the pack members' individual room styles! 😘

Chan

(Y/N)

Minho

Changbin

Omegas

Betas

[moonlitinks]

what fate decides [taehyung x reader] [part 2]

join tag list for future works | masterlist of all works previous | next drabble

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 become a member on my ko-fi page! or buy me a coffee 💞

summary: You're a beta in love with your best friend, alpha Kim Taehyung. Except you know that you can never fulfill his dominating urges, so you draw a line between the two of you. Cherish his small kisses and embraces until an omega has to come along.

Until one day, you're not a beta anymore. Now, it's nearly impossible to resist the protective, endearing alpha in front of you.

pairing: taehyung x reader

chapter tags/warnings: angst, self-depricating thoughts, fluff, alpha/omega, a/b/o dynamics, best friends to lovers, slow burn ish, smut, mature, swearing, car accidents

tags: @theblueslytherin @tatyhend @tinyoonsblog @vsmith0099 @midnightsora @cupcakesxdomjoon @likeshatteredrainbowglass @scuzmunkie @kookiwu @xjiminsthighsx @dreadity @lovelytaes-blog @noooodlllleeee @ggukkieland @namjoonshug

You remember how he used to creep through your window and curled up next to you. Your bed creaked as you let him settle, but every sound—as he took off his shoes, chucked off his jacket, ran a hand through his hair, all this illuminated in the moonlight—shattered your heart. It’s as fragile as glass whenever he’s around, and wonder how many more times you’d have to mend it together until it’s just not possible. 

“What’s it like?” You had to ask. “Being an Alpha?”

You’re sure that your memory is different from his. All you remember is coming home one day, ready to throw the kid out the window because he annoyed you all day, placing pranks for you around the school and sticking his tongue out. It’s not fair that the sunbae’s loved him too, and that he got away with everything if he smiled wide enough. The boxy smile and crinkling in his eyes were enough to melt any girl’s heart, including yours. Though you expected to confront him about that and skipping classes, his mother confronted you—telling you he was an alpha. 

He was sixteen then. You seventeen. But by then, you were well-aware of the impacts of designation. Enough so that you left without asking questions. 

His arms went around your waist. Mouth near the back of your neck, him burying his face in your shoulder. Legs tangling up with yours. As a beta, senses weren’t as heightened, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t smell someone else on him. Mijun. And it made you want to throw up. Because it’s all too clear what he spent the night doing—calming his urges down.

Well, not urges, but… yeah. It was mutual for the two of them, and you liked Mijun as an acquaintance. She was one of the few people who treated you nicely and hung around Taehyung at the same time. 

“What’s it like?” He asked in return. “Being a Beta?”

“Dull,” you responded. Hopeless. Beta’s and Alpha’s don’t go together. They just don’t. Biology demands for an Omega to be with an Alpha. Same with the other way around. You, you were like the leftovers the world created. The followers—the secretary in the movie that cleaned up after everybody’s mess, but was never given credit for it. 

At least, that’s how it felt as a teenager. 

“Uncontrollable,” he told you. Added, “The only time I feel like I’m in my right mind is with you.”

Yeah, because you’re logical. There’s nothing more to this exchange except that you two will be friends. And it only made the bitter taste in your tongue get worse. 

That part didn’t change. 

There are certain telltale signs—other than the additional signs of aggressiveness, stronger scents that even you can pick up, and constant growls—that accompany Taehyung when he’s about to go into rut. For one, the idol becomes impossible overbearing, becoming attached to your hip and hovering over you like you’re either pregnant or weak. 

This is one of the many reasons I didn’t come to Korea, you think, as the alpha comes in with several grocery bags. Like come on, you are a Beta. Capable of carrying both an Alpha and Omega on your backs, which is why usually you had positions where you were the mediator. It’s a talent, multitasking—doing jobs and calming down both so called levels simultaneously. 

“Did you want to eat something?” 

“No,” Taehyung mutters, scowling at the string of hoodies on the ground. In your defense, you were entranced in a scene, and refused to be sucked out of it. Cleaning up after yourself would cause you to lose all the ideas you came up with plot wise. “I’m cooking tonight.” 

“You learned how to cook?” You laugh. 

He scowls. “Of course I learned how to cook. Who’s going to take care of you? All you do is order to-go food.”

It’s not just the food that’s annoying him—you can tell. It’s the fact that the two of you fought over where you would stay. Taehyung kept arguing that his apartment was available, but you didn’t want to take advantage. And yeah, you understand that it’s stupid not accepting a free space where you don’t have to pay rent, but then when you think about how the media would portray it, it all sounds wrong. So you reside in a small apartment a bit larger than your studio, and let him come over. 

“Hey!” The protest rings loud and clear. “I can cook a great ramen, where the noodles aren’t overcooked and there’s just the right amount of broth. Doesn’t that count for something?”

“No, because ramen isn’t healthy.” 

“If you’re going to be like this, find an omega to spoil, Taehyung ah,” you joke. Your heart clenches, but you force the smile to remain on your face. It’s better this way, to create distance. Now that you can’t do that by land or ocean, you have to do it through words. 

Yes, it’s painful, pushing Taehyung away. But you’ve lived with the fantasy of a beta and alpha being compatible for years, only for it to be crushed whenever he slept with another girl, or snapped at you through his ruts. Just like the alpha could be gentle, he could be vicious, too. And it wasn’t—isn’t—your job to calm him down in that area. 

It’s his omega’s.

98% of marriages between an alpha and beta end in divorce, you tell yourself when the idol clenches his jaw. Taehyung and you won’t be any different, not that he’s even interested in you in the first place. 

“So, what are you going to cook?”

“Curry,” he mumbles, running a hand through his hair. The other hand is placed on the small of your back as he kisses your shoulder, then your forehead. “Go rest, love. You look like you’re about to topple over.”

Yeah, because the mattress that you bought—one of the cheaper ones—isn’t as great as the one in America. And as you’re getting older, your back is only annoying you more. So you lay on the sofa as Taehyung cuts the green onions and starts chopping the carrots in silence. When he started cooking, you can’t even recall. All of a sudden, he just starting to grow taller than you did, and take care of you like you used to take care of him. 

It’s unsettling, really. 

You want to scream.

In joy, of course.

Heading home from a cafe, you’re beaming, nearly tripping over the sidewalk as you run home. You managed to finish plotting your novel, and are finally—finally—satisfied at how it would turn out when you start writing it. And today is the day—it has to be. You’re running home when the idol himself calls. 

“You have a meeting today with the PD?” You ask. “Or do you not have anything better to do than annoy me?”

“Ha,” Taehyung mutters. “Funny. I was wondering—” That’s when you spot him. Wearing a coat and dress pants, along with a pair of sneakers by the streetlamp. The wind’s blowing, sending the December snow scattering into your eyes, but you squint through it to get a better glance at him. Your nose is cold, and your teeth are chattering, and you should be home. But here you are, picking Taehyung up. There’s a scarf around his neck, but you know it’s not from him. It’s not his. Shivering, your hands are too numb to press the end call button. 

Taehyung’s eyebrows knit together, but then he glances up. His eyes are smiling already when he steps forward. And you don’t think. You run.

Stupid, stupid mistake. The light might be green, but the snow’s heavy. And your timing has always been terrible. Your legs ache, but then you slam into something. Lights—yellow? white?—flash in front of your eyes, and you don’t know what happens. You’re just on the ground. Your bones feel like they’re shattered, and you whimper. It’s more than numbness you’re feeling now.

Fire. Fire is spreading all throughout your body, and it’s like something has knocked out your voice, making it impossible for you to do anything. 

Then fear. It sets in like the ice pricking your skin. You want to thrash, but you can’t. 

“Love? Love. Love,” he repeats. First with the nickname he gave you, then your actual one. Hovers above you, calling your name, voice hoarse and throaty, panic laced in the edges. Just like always, you’re drawn into Taehyung, your senses tunneling in to focus on nothing but him. Even the sirens drift into the background, along with the other hands that are grabbing you, checking your pulse, making sure you’re alive. 

“Stay with me!”

BONUS (cause I was bored and wanted to stay in this drabble for a little longer):

Providing for you pleases Taehyung. You don’t know it, of course, but the way you unconsciously react to him—eyes brightening, lips curving upwards, and head tilting back—it tells his alpha that you’re submitting to him, eager for his return. Sometimes, before he can think better of not ruining the friendship the two of you established, he’ll lean in and wrap his arms around you, burying his nose in the crook of your neck.

Fighting the urge to mark and bite it. Leave hickeys around in the area so everyone—including you—can know you’re his. For now, he has to provide indirectly. Making sure that you have a nice apartment, one that isn’t blocked by other buildings and has the right amount of sunlight. You also like the garden balconies, so he gets you one. 

Anything you want, anything you need, it’s yours. 

“We could sleep. It’s just the same bed,” he protests. “We’ve done it since we were kids. Fuck, we take naps together even now with you and top of me.”

“That’s on the sofa.” 

“And what’s the difference of it being on a bed?” 

“There is no difference,” you hesitate. “But you are in rut, Taehyung.”

“Noona,” he sighs. “I’m not a teenager anymore. I’m in tune with my alpha, and I know when my rut will hit me hardest. I promise I’ll be out by then, but I just want to cuddle with someone who’s not my members at all. So come upstairs, okay? I’ll be waiting.” 

He’s not wrong—he is comfortable. Legs tangled together, you let him play with the strands of your hair, arms wrapping around his waist. You can hear his heartbeat, head laid directly over it. That, along with the soft coos his alpha makes, causes your eyes to grow drowsy. So when Taehyung pulls away for a second, you mumble incoherent words, something about your heating pad disappearing. 

And then the alpha hears it—the soft whines that settle when he molds himself to you again. It subsides in an instant, and his eyes widen when he takes in your closed eyes and parted lips. If anything, your beta is calling out to him, and though the two pairs—alpha and beta—aren’t usually mated, this itself shows that you’re attached to him. 

More than attached. Attracted. 

[snarkythewoecrow]

promised snippet of new Buddie wip

It's meeting differently, mpreg, misunderstandings, all that jazz, oh, and Eddie totally knocked Buck up on a one-night stand. And because Buck is now on leave for that, Eddie has been hired at the 118 to cover for him. No one is aware of their connection, and Eddie isn't aware that this omega named Buck they all love and are so protective of is the guy he slept with a few months back.

(oh, and omega who are pregnant and don't have the alpha involved can get sick because of this, which Buck has)

Anyway, the shit will all hit the fan for them soon enough 😈

Now for the snippet--it's behind the cut, enjoy!

Bobby cleared his throat, pulling Eddie from his thoughts. “Well, I deeply appreciate that—as you are new here, so it means a lot that you’re willing to go the extra mile for a team member you haven’t even met.”

“I’m sure he’d do the same for me if I ended up in his shoes,” he said, then pulled a face as he realized the impossibility of that, though he hoped Bobby understood the sentiment remained. And at the huffed chuckle from the man, he did. “Uh, sorry, I swear I’m not always this bad with words.”

“You’re fine, son,” Bobby said, then reached into his pocket for a pen and grabbed a little notebook on the counter. He scribbled something down, then walked over to Eddie, handing him something that turned out to be a list. “He needs his meds—the pharmacy should already have them ready when you get there, and if you could grab those few things for him, too. He’s going through a weird pickle-flavored chip phase right now, which is not enough nutrition, given how often he’s puking, hence the addition of the shakes on there, too. Strawberry ones only—the others don’t stay down.”

Eddie nodded, eyeing the list before tucking it away. The next shift had already started up the stairs, their pre-shift meeting having ended. “This seems easy enough—shouldn’t be a problem at all.”

And then Bobby winced. “Actually, the hard part is—and if you aren’t up for this, I can try to get someone else—that Buck really could use someone checking him over—just a quick BP, heart rate, maybe check his sugars.”

“I’m guessing he won’t like that?”

“Not one bit,” Bobby smiled, patting and squeezing his shoulder. “I really appreciate this, Eddie—it’ll put my mind at ease knowing you’ll be checking him over.” Then seeming to remember something, he patted his pockets, then pulled out a keyring, sliding one off it. “And take this, just in case.”

Eddie slipped the key onto his ring. “No problem, Cap. Just text me his address—oh, if you do hear from him, maybe give him a head’s up that I’m coming. Might make it a little easier, you know.”

Bobby nodded. “He really is a good kid.”

“I’m sure.”

Then he headed to the lockers to change, but before getting that far, Bobby shouted down from the loft, “Oh and, Eddie, he’s not supposed to have sweets—so try to gently persuade him to give them up if you see them.”

Gently persuade, he mouthed silently to himself, shaking his head as he went to get ready, remembering his first-hand experiences with a pregnant Shannon and only those with a death wish would try to come between her and her ice cream.

[lightwise]

2 and 12 for the ask game please

Since you had to share one question I’ll answer an extra one here as well for you 😉 also wow these got really long and a little more intense than I expected. Hoping to not incite any violence with these answers but I did get pretty heartfelt here.

12. Name a common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing.

Since @heyclickadee covered some of the opinions I have about pro-Jedi vs Jedi-critical perspectives, I’m going to go with a Bad Batch peeve I have. Honestly, it extends to more of a general media critique and concern as well.

I get really sad when I see people choosing one of these three stances:

1. Hating Crosshair for what he’s done/claim he needs to spend the rest of his life making amends and that he deserves everything that’s happened to him,

2. Hating the rest of the Batch (and Hunter specifically) claiming that they didn’t do enough, that they abandoned Crosshair, that they are horrible people who left their brother behind with no remorse and that they deserve everything that’s happened to them,

3. Hating Omega and considering her a dumb little kid who took Crosshair’s place with his brothers, ruined the show, and is otherwise just a stupid girl character that they don’t want to take seriously.

Now, of course it’s everyone’s right to like or dislike any character(s) or parts of a story that they want to. But one thing that is always really beautiful about TCW and TBB especially is the amount of nuance they strive to convey through their characterizations and plot lines. Very few people in these shows are all good or all bad, and even if they fall squarely on the side of evil vs good, we’re often given reasonings as to why they’ve chosen the paths and beliefs they have.

In addition—family is complicated. The close relationships that are portrayed between the Batch members, the addition of the chip’s influence and circumstances outside of their control, and the twisted difficulties that can come when the people closest to us hurt us, is something that is not one sided and requires a lot of nuance to navigate. Everyone and no one can be to blame in a situation, everything can have gone horribly wrong and yet people can still be sorry over it and seek reconciliation, and people can seek to repair the mistakes they’ve made and it will never erase or make up for the harm that has been done.

All of those contradictions exist in real people, in real life, and I believe that these shows want to portray that as best they can. Broken people who care and who are doing the best they can with the information they have and the motivations that they carry, in a world that they did not create and don’t fully have control over. I think this makes good storytelling (even if the story itself doesn’t always go the way I expected or wanted), and I think it’s good to have compassion for fictional characters just as much as real people. That’s how I hope to approach stories that I love, at least.

Also, sorry, but I have to throw in this classic. Stop blaming Kathleen Kennedy for everything. Like seriously people. I am neither for nor against her, I really don’t have strong opinions one way or the other. But I do know how corporate structures work, and I do know that she may be atop the structure and therefore the most visible for disgruntled fans to throw their ire at, but in all seriousness, she does not know the details of every single tiny aspect of what gets put out there, and she is not the only person making decisions on everything. She either directly or indirectly brought us Rogue One as well as the Kenobi show as well as Andor as well as Mando and TBoBF. In other words, there have been critically acclaimed and fan loved content under her leadership, as well as fan hated and critically meh projects. She’s not (always) the problem that fan bros like to claim she is. Lots and lots of people work on these projects. She’s just doing her job as well as anyone in that position likely would.

3. What is the worst part of canon?

I’m going to go with something that I figured out today as I’ve been rewatching both the Sequels and the OT—I started with The Force Awakens and was trying to decide why some parts of this movie are so freaking great and others fall just completely flat, especially compared to the original it’s styling itself after, A New Hope. There are lots of points I could make here especially related to Kylo Ren and Finn, but I had this revelation today for something that bothers me.

In TFA, and other modern Star Wars projects, there’s so much exposition where a character is essentially explaining themselves to the audience via a monologue to another character, but the topic isn’t necessary to their interaction or the scene. Whether it’s bringing in “fan service” moments or trying to explain 20 years of backstory that we’re never going to be shown on screen, too many things are just spouted off and/or overexplained for the audience’s benefit.

Whereas in ANH, everything we learn about the Force, Anakin, Luke, Han, Han’s debts, who Jabba is….it all comes from natural conversations between two characters. It doesn’t just feel like it’s for our benefit, it feels natural for both characters to be adding in these details or talking about certain things. And if it’s not something that these characters would need to say to each other in a particular scene, we don’t find out more details until we need to know.

I wish that modern script writing took into account that audiences are intelligent, we can have patience, and we can watch a story unfold without knowing everything up front. (I know, I know, Star Wars Twitter would beg to disagree with me). I just want to watch a story unfold, not be lectured at or be patted on the head through a screen. The good old adage “show, don’t tell.”

[littleohs]

night snippet

in celebration of momrry and everything to read in that tag, here's the first snippet of my fanfiction of @momrryficfest this year!

this will be posted soon! (25 this month)

“The bed was still warm when the alpha turned them over, the mattress was round, very big and it almost felt like sleeping in the comfort of Louis' lap. Louis bought it specifically so that Harry could nest without feeling too exposed, since he already knew that smaller places were cozier. The base was the same, with the occasional metal bar to get out and many blankets and sheets that made everything warmer, the pillows were fluffy and covered in soft textures to prevent Harry from getting overwhelmed. The image of Louis just woken up was one of Harry's favorites, his hair was messy and almost in knots, in addition to the slight marks that the pillows made when he slept, his eyes were more crystalline than during the day and his lips were the best part, barely swollen and reddish. The beard on his cheeks made him look softer and more confident, his arched eyebrows gave Louis a good impression and he almost always had a relaxed scowl so as not to give other types of impressions with his image. The alpha thrust his hips into Harry, failing a couple of times to access that hole of pure wetness and pleasure, to have a moment inside the paradise between Harry's legs. The wetness that the omega was getting was more and more, warm slick that wet the sheets under them and that made Louis wrinkle his nose when perceiving that aroma that was his favorite in the whole world; of that liquid that the alpha could never have enough of and that he always fought to get on his lips, to taste and delight in the universe itself in his throat. Harry let out a higher-pitched squeal than he would have liked as his body finally gave in to the intrusion into his core, his hands going straight to his stomach in fists, happy to get the second time in a row from his fiancé's knot like that, more intimate than before. Maybe Harry whined a little from the back of his throat at him the whole time and the few seconds that Louis constantly pushed into him. Louis wasn't exactly small, and although Harry had already seen him a thousand times and had even held it in his hands, it was always the moment he entered his mouth or hole that the difficulties began. The pleasure never left, the omega had learned to enjoy it after a few seconds of Louis pampering his face, always squeezing his canal to be able to please himself in all the places that Louis's member could reach and his own hands couldn't. The alpha's knot was still on the edge of him, so Louis really didn't enjoy how tight Harry was still after a night full of prodding to loosen him up a bit. Harry came a few minutes after just warming Louis' cock inside him, just clenching and releasing his grip against the girth as the alpha kissed his eyelids and licked his neck and collarbones, cleaning his skin more accessible to his position. "Woah, who knew that just being full makes you cum?" Louis' words were accompanied by the start of thrusting, his hands clenching to the sides of Harry's head. It wasn't subtle, he started with the sudden movements that he always made and his eyes were well focused on the omega's gaze, the one that was permanent when they tied a knot and the minor felt like he was on fire.”

thanks for the tag @thinlinez , xx!

[cherryeol04]

Valentine’s Surprise

❥ Pairings: Chan x Minho

❥ Genre: Wolf au, Soulmate au

❥ Additional: romance, angst, humor, cheesy Chan, omega Minho, alpha Chan

❥ Word Count: 3.5k

❥ Warnings:

❥ Author’s Note: This is a work of fiction. The members displayed in this story are not meant as an accurate portrayal of the members of Stray Kids. Everything is made up and not real! ❥ Translation: Russian

“And then Mr. Kim mansplained why doing the project earlier was more beneficial.” Minho sighed, closing his eyes at the memory, though mostly to help ease the tension in his eyes from staring at the glowing screen in front of him. Though he didn’t keep them closed for long, not wanting to miss a moment of seeing Chan’s beautiful face. It was hard for them to get time to talk like this. Even if Chan was only a few more hours ahead of him in timezones, they both lead pretty busy lives. So Minho was greedy when it came to his time with his boyfriend.

“And what could he have possibly explained -”

“Mansplained.” Minho corrected and Chan rolled his eyes lovingly at the other.

“You’re a man too, babe.”

Snorting, Minho crossed his arms, glaring at Chan as hard as he could, though judging by the laughter, he probably came off more of like a cute kitten as Chan has often told him. “It’s the principal of it, Channie. He was talking down to me like I was some helpless omega.” he scoffed. “I wouldn’t put it past him to be the type of person that still believes an omega’s place is in the home, caring for twenty litters of pups.”

“Twenty - oh my god.” Chan choked. “That’s an excessive amount of pups, don’t you think?” he asked, eyeing the screen warily.

“Of course not!” Minho grinned as he leaned in closer, eyes locking on the camera lens. “Don’t you want to have a big family with me, Channie?” This time he was pouting and perhaps laying it on a little thick. Though it was worth it as he watched Chan’s cheeks heat up, despite the graininess of the video call. Even Chan’s HD camera was no match for Skype’s shit quality. “Hmm?”

“Of course I do, Minho.” Chan cleared his throat. “But twenty is definitely too many pups to have. We’d be eaten out of house and home.” Well, Chan did have a point about that. Okay, maybe they wouldn’t have that many pups, but they would at least have one and that thought alone pleased his wolf in ways that Minho really didn’t want to acknowledge. He wasn’t the type that liked to rely on his instincts and be the “typical” omega type. But there was something about Chan that had him wanting to do all the homely things that many associated with his second gender. He wanted to provide a wonderful home and family for his alpha.

“You win this round, Mr. Bang.” he teased as he sat back in his chair. “But just so you know, this war isn’t over.” He giggled, beaming when Chan laughed as well. He loved the way Chan laughed - how his shoulders shook and eyes turned into crescents. And his dimples were always on display when he laughed. They were possibly Minho’s favorite part of Chan’s body. Their happy little bubble burst when Chan’s alarm went off, startling them both. Minho watched with sad eyes as he picked it up and turned off the annoying sound before looking back at him.

“I have to go.” He whispered.

“I know.” Minho could feel the sadness radiating off of Chan through the computer and he was sure it was the same for the other. Ending their calls was always the worst, but they couldn’t stay on video all the time, as much as Minho liked to argue. Even with all his cunning ideas, it still wouldn’t work out, but he gave it a valiant effort every time. “I miss you.” He could feel the heat dusting his cheeks, but decided to ignore it. He hadn’t meant to say that out loud, but it was too late to take back the words. Not that he was lying or anything. He really did miss Chan, even with him right in front of him like this.

“I miss you too, Minnie.” Minho’s heart fluttered, chest swelling with an emotion he had felt so many times that it could only be love. That or it was heartburn and he still hadn’t deciphered which it was yet. “I love you.”

Minho scrunched up his face, looking away to avoid making a fool of himself. He wanted to giggle, or coo or flail about. Every time Chan said those words, he had such a visceral reaction that he just couldn’t handle himself. “I love you too…I guess.” he shrugged, hoping his voice sounded as indifferent as he wanted it to be.

“I would hope, you’re kinda stuck with me for life.” Chan lifted his right wrist, his fingers grazing over the mark and watching it glow a beautiful golden yellow. Looking down his left wrist, Minho watched as his own mark glowed, reacting to his soulmate, even though they were miles apart.

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” He whispered, lifting his eyes back to the screen. “You should go. Text me when you get home.”

“Always.” Chan grinned. “Remember to eat today.” Chan’s set him with a stern gaze.

“I will.” He probably wouldn’t, especially if he got wrapped up in the choreography for his upcoming dance evaluation. But Chan didn’t need to know that, right now at least.

“Good. Talk to you later, baby.”

“Bye.” Minho always refused to be the one to end the call, and he silently hoped each and every time that Chan wouldn’t end the call either. But just like all the previous times, the call ended and Minho was left in nothing but the static silence of his bedroom - feeling alone. His wolf howled in agony, the dramatic little thing because he knew it wasn’t the end of their relationship. Chan would text like always, Minho was sure of that, but trying to convince his wolf of that was like talking to a brick wall.

So Minho resigned himself to his daily cycle of sadness and forced himself out of his chair to go and get ready for dance practice. At least if he was doing something, he wouldn’t notice the sadness as much.

------

Felix stared worriedly as Minho paced the floor of their practice room. He looked flushed and agitated and if it wasn’t for the thick Eucalyptus scent wafting from the other, Felix would have been inclined to believe that Minho was sick.

He felt that way. Minho felt absolutely nauseated- wrought with worry because Chan had stopped answering his calls and texts. Minho would be understanding if it had been a one time occurance, or if Chan called him back, but he didn’t. For the past couple of days, no matter what Minho did, Chan never answered. His read receipts were suddenly turned off as well as his location services. Every phone call would ring twice before going straight to voicemail and Chan’s status on Skype was always offline.

It’s like the man just disappeared off the face of the Earth! How was that even possible? For a popular and good looking alpha like chan to just go missing?

Minho froze in his tracks as a horrendous thought crossed his mind. What if Chan was cheating on him?

He snorted to himself. No, not Chan. He was as loyal as one person could possibly be and not a mean bone in his body. He wouldn’t cheat.

But…

It was the only explanation for the sudden behavior change. It all made sense if he thought about it. And it’s not like he could blame Chan. They were separated by miles of land and ocean, and at least two if not three time zones. They’ve only ever seen each other through video calls. Their relationship was the epitome of long-distance.

“Hyung.”

What if Chan had met someone else? Someone prettier and better? More willing to bend to the stereotypical behavior of an omega? Someone who didn’t sass back as much as Minho did. Who expressed themselves better than Minho ever could? Someone who was within arms reach that Chan could touch and hold and kiss and…mate with.

“Hyung?”

What if Chan had met a better mate and was getting ready to break their soulmate bond?

“Minho hyung!”

Jerking back at the touch to his cheek, Minho blinked rapidly, clearing the tears blurring his vision. Since when had he started crying? Frowning, he reached out and wiped the tears aways with a little more aggression than necessary. Stupid tears. Stupid emotions. Stupid Chan!

“Minho hyung, what’s wrong?” Minho knew Felix had been standing there, but it wasn’t until that moment that he actually registered his presence fully. The younger beta was staring at him with such worried eyes that Minho wanted to cower from the gaze. He didn’t want to feel like a burden.

“Nothing.” He spat and immediately regretted his words at the forlorn expression tossed his way and was quick to apologize. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay hyung.” Felix whispered, eyes shaking with emotion. “But something is wrong.” He stated firmly. “You can tell me, I want to try and help.”

Minho took a few shuddering breaths, trying to calm himself down because he certainly didn’t want to snap at Felix again. He really was only trying to help. And it’s not like he put these horrible thoughts in Minho’s brain. No, Minho only had himself to blame (and Chan). “It’s really nothing.” He tried to assure, but faltered. “Actually…Chan stopped texting me and answering my calls.” He said slowly. “Did he mention anything to you about…anything really?”

There was a look of realization that crossed Felix’s features only to be quickly replaced by a look of deliberation. Minho squinted at him, poking his side a few times.

“Felix…what do you know?”

“Huh? Um, well…” the way Felix trailed off was a bit suspicious, like he was trying to think up an excuse. “I remember him saying something about a deadline and you know Channie hyung gets when he’s composing.”

Oh yes, Minho knew first hand how wrapped up in his work Chan could get. But even when focused on his work, Chan would always call him back when he was done. This wasn’t normal working Chan behavior. But the fact that Felix didn’t seem worried did help to put the Omega’s worries at ease. If only slightly.

“I guess.” He muttered, heaving another sigh. Reaching up, he rubbed his cheeks, taking note of how hot they were, but that was to be expected. He was still pretty worked up. “Whatever. Let’s just start practice.”

“You sure hyung?”

“Yeah.” Turning, Minho headed over to the counter and started the music, effectively ending all conversations.

——

Minho really should have listened to his body more. Despite the fact that he had been hot during practice, he had told himself at the time that it was just because he was upset. And that wasn’t a lie. He had been upset and was still upset, even days later. It was going on a week and half since he last heard from Chan and no matter how hard he pressed Felix, the younger Australian had no information about his older cousin. And that only added to the stress and worry and negative thoughts. But even all that couldn’t explain how hot he was becoming. He should have realized days ago that this was a sign his heat was coming, but Minho was so wrapped up in the “cheating” scandal he had fabricated in his mind that he lapsed in caring for himself.

Now he lay prone on his bed - a naked, panting mess that absolutely refused to do anything to help ease the pain. And why would he when the one thing - one person that helped him through his heats was missing in action. Over the three years that Minho knew Chan, the other had always been there for him, talking him through each orgasm until they were both a trembling, sticky mess on a video screen. Not the ideal way Minho wanted to be with Chan, but he would take anything and everything he could get.

But his alpha was gone and he was in pain. It was like his body knew Chan wasn’t there and was rebelling against him like it was Minho’s fault. His wolf was antsy, howling and searching for that connection, but in his heat induced delirium, he couldn’t find it. Had Minho had a better grip on his thoughts, he would have known their bond wasn’t broken if he only touched his mark. But as it was, he could barely remember his own name as he writhed and curled up into a ball as another cramp claimed him. A harsh sob wretched itself from his throat and all he could think about was just wishing for the heat to end.

A sudden knock to his door pulled Minho out of his spiraling thoughts, the fog momentarily lifting as he tried his hardest to process what had just happened. Another knock sounded shortly after, leaving Minho confused. Who would be at his apartment now of all times? He had already called off work, put in his absences with his professors and told his friends he would be out of commission for the next week. Everyone who needed to know he was going through his heat, knew, so they wouldn’t be coming to his apartment. At least he hoped not. It would be highly unprofessional if his boss or professors decided to pay him a visit. And while the thought of a teacher-student or boss-employee relationship was appealing, the only person he wanted in that authoritative role was Chan.

But Chan wasn’t there. He was probably off screwing some omega and starting his happy life while Minho laid there suffering. Begging and pleading for a higher power to bring Chan back to him. He absolutely hated this.

Another knock and Minho snapped. He pushed through the pain of the cramps, forcing himself up and out of his bed. The thought of putting on clothes sickened him, body too overheated to be confined, but he knew he couldn’t answer the door naked. Well he could, but the resulting consequence that may happen far outweighed and won over the need to be comfortable. So Minho pulled on his pajama pants and left the safety of his bedroom. The once stale air of the house came alive with a mixture of mint and eucalyptus as Minho made his way to the front door. As he reached it, another knock sounded and without so much as a care of who could be on the other side, Minho yanked the door open harshly.

“What the fuck-” he stopped mid sentence, eyes widening as he took in the body before him. “C-Chan?” There stood a very sheepishly looking alpha. His normally styled hair, now just a heap of messy black curls. There was not a lick of makeup on his face and if Minho squinted hard enough, he could make out the very light dusting of freckles along his cheeks, just like Chan had always said he had. It was a family thing, though Felix had been more blessed in that area with a whole galaxy of freckles covering his face. He was adorned in all black, but that wasn’t something unusual as it seemed to be Chan’s favorite color.

“Hey, Minho.” He said, voice barely a whisper as he looked Minho over slowly. Minho watched the way his pupils seemed to dilate, steadily growing blacker the longer he looked at him. He felt so vulnerable under the gaze, yet desired, especially as Chan’s tongue swiped across his lips. As Chan dragged his eyes back up, he seemed to come back to himself, the tips of his ears turning a beautiful shade of red as he held out his hand, thrusting a bouquet of red and purple Baby’s Breath towards him.

Minho was stunned, blinking rapidly as he tried to formulate some sort of coherent sentence that wouldn’t sound dumb, but everything he came up with always fell flat. He wanted to interrogate Chan on where he had been and why he hadn’t been answering his calls and texts. Another part of him wanted to ask why he was even there. In the end, he settled on probably the safest topic as he took the offered bouquet. “You remembered.”

“Of course I did. I remember everything you tell me.” Chan chuckled softly before clearing his throat. “Except for when your heat is supposed to hit.” Minho tore his eyes away from the flowers to glare at Chan, the alpha gulping in response.

“You would have known if you had answered my calls!” he snapped. “Where the hell have you been?! Do you know how worried I was? What’s her name?”

“Huh? What?” Chan was taken aback by the angry outburst.

“What’s her name?”

“Who?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, Bang Chan. You went off the grid for over a week and you don’t think I wouldn’t know that you’re cheating on me?” he growled. “I never would have thought you would be such a no good, low down alpha to-to do this!” Minho was angry, his scent spiking exponentially. Unfortunately it wasn’t its usual sour scent. Nothing could mask the smell of his heat and the more worked up Minho became, the more potent and thick the scent filled the air.

“Baby, I don’t think this is the best place for this. Your heat.”

“This is the best place for this!” Minho snapped at him. “You have some fucking audacity to show up at my door step -” Minho paused, brows knitting together as he stared at Chan before looking around the empty apartment hallway behind him. “How did you know where I live?”

“Felix.”

“Felix?” Minho huffed and crossed his arms over his bare chest. “I knew he knew something.”

Chan laughed, though Minho was not amused. “Yeah, he knew. I had been planning this for months.”

“You had been planning to cheat on me for months?”

“What? No!” Chan groaned and rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. “Baby I’m not cheating on you. I was planning to surprise you by visiting.”

“Surprise me? By visiting?” he parroted as if repeating the words would help him understand better. “So you turned off read receipts, turned off your location services and stopped answering my calls and texts because you were coming to visit me?”

“Yes.” Chan nodded quickly. “Surprise! Happy Valentine’s day.”

“Valentine’s…” Minho trailed off, thoughts racing a mile a minute - each train of thought getting lost in the fog of his heat as the inferno grew stronger. This was crazy, ludicrous even but made more sense than Chan cheating on him. “Oh my god.” he whispered.

“Yeah, so then. Can I come in?”

Minho stared blankly at him before stepping back quickly. “Yes, come in, come in.” he ushered the other in. “Don’t mind the mess, I didn’t have time to clean. Been lost in my-”

“Heat. Yeah, I know.” Chan chuckled. “The whole building probably knows now.” Minho flushed as he closed the door quickly and locked it, sliding the chain for extra protection because Chan was indeed right. The whole building probably could smell him now and he didn’t need an unwanted alpha or beta to try and force their way into his home just because he smelled so alluring.

“Probably.” he muttered as he leaned back against the door, staring at Chan. “ I still can’t believe you’re here. I thought…I was so stupid.” Shaking his head, he gave a small laugh. “You were just coming to visit me. I swear to god Channie.” Chan chuckled as he stepped closer to him and gently pulled Minho into his arms - cradling him so carefully it was like he was made out of glass. And maybe he was. Minho certainly felt delicate enough at the moment. His body was in turmoil; hormones raging as he felt like he was burning alive while simultaneously being stabbed to death. The cramps were no joke.

But for a moment, Minho’s mind was cleared of all thoughts of his heat. This was the first time Chan was holding him, touching him. Minho had waited for this moment for too long. Had dreamt of this very moment more times than he could count and yet he never thought it would happen so soon - so unexpectedly. His heart skipped a beat, racing in his chest as he snuggled into Chan’s embrace, resting his head on the other’s shoulder. “Channie,” he whispered.

“Yes, love?” Minho’s fingers curled in Chan’s shirt, clutching the fabric tightly as he nuzzled into his neck.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I probably would have thought the same thing, honestly.” Chan placed a gentle kiss on the top of Minho’s head. “I love you Minho.”

Tags:

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[depressedhouseplant]

🔞 In Darkness I Found You 🔞

Chapter 9

Tags: Mentions of miscarriage

A/N: This one goes out to the Taekookers

Yoongi was taking a nap in Hobi’s lap when his phone dinged. It was Tae.

Need your input. Do we have space for another Breeder in the house?

Hobi read the text several times before replying.

What do you mean?

Tae: Got a Breeder in at the hospital this morning. Bad shape. Wouldn’t let anyone near him except me b/c I smelled like Yoongi. Haven’t been able to do anything other than clean him up.

Hobi: Guest room is free again. I can get Yoongi to sit in there for a bit to make it smell like Omega. Is he pregnant, too?

Tae: No idea. Like I said, he won’t let anyone examine him.

Hobi: Bring him & we’ll take care of him.

Tae: Thx x 1000

Hobi: We’re suckers.

Tae: LOL definitely.

Hobi: See you when you get home.

“What was that?” Yoongi rolled over and looked up at Hobi.

“We’re getting a new addition,” Hobi said.

“What do you mean?” Yoongi yawned.

“A Breeder ended up at Tae’s hospital this morning. He didn’t let anyone near him except Tae because he smells like you,” Hobi replied.

“Did he know his name? I might know him,” Yoongi said.

“I don’t think they’ve even gotten that much out of him. It sounds like he was pretty spooked,” Hobi said.

“So was I,” Yoongi smiled when he sat up.

“I’m gonna need you to sit in the guest room for a little while without me. We’re going to put him in there and I want it to smell as little of Alpha as possible,” Hobi said.

“I can do that. Though pup’s favorite spot is my bladder right now,” Yoongi replied. He’d hit the 6 and a half month mark and was looking very pregnant. Hobi put his mouth next to Yoongi’s belly.

“You need to let Omega daddy sit still for a little while. We need to help Uncle Tae. Okay?” Hobi said and kissed the bump. Yoongi laughed. “What?”

“You’re gonna be a great dad,” he said.

“Thank you. Now let’s try and make the newest member of our family welcome,” Hobi smiled back.

Tae got home a few hours later & texted Yoongi this time.

Can you come outside?

“Looks like it's time,” Yoongi said. Hobi was across the hall in their bedroom.

“I’m here if you need me,” Hobi said. Yoongi got up and waddled his pregnant self out to the driveway where Tae was waiting. There was a young Omega in the front seat looking at the floor. Yoongi recognized him, but couldn’t place him. He was just as thin and ragged as Yoongi had been.

“He kept saying ‘they left me to die’. Do you know what that means?” Tae asked.

“Unfortunately I do,” Yoongi replied. “I’ll explain later. Let’s get him inside first.”

Tae opened the door and the Omega flinched. Then he stopped when he smelled Yoongi.

“I know you. You’re the one who escaped,” he said.

“I am. My name’s Yoongi. What’s yours?” Yoongi asked.

“Jungkook,” he said quietly.

“Let Tae help you in the house. I’m not in the best shape right now,” Yoongi gestured to his belly. “He won’t hurt you. He’s been taking care of me and the pup for almost 4 months.”

“Okay,” he said. Tae picked him up and carried him into the house. Even though they went straight to the guest room, Jungkook started to whine when he smelled Hobi.

“It’s okay. That’s my mate, Hobi. He won’t hurt you either. They’re good Alphas,” Yoongi assured him. Tae put Jungkook on the bed. “What does he need?”

“A full checkup including a pregnancy exam,” Tae replied.

“I’m not pregnant,” Jungkook said.

“We need to be sure,” Tae told him.

“I miscarried about a week ago. I think I was 4 months,” he replied.

“So they put you out,” Yoongi said. Jungkook nodded and wrapped his arms around his stomach.

“What does that mean?” Tae asked.

“If a Breeder can’t get pregnant or stay pregnant after a certain amount of time, they’ll get rid of you. They strip you naked and dump you in the middle of nowhere to die of exposure or starvation. They were never short on creativity,” Yoongi explained. “How’d you survive?”

“I found a trail that led to a road. Then someone dropped me off at the hospital,” Jungkook said. “It was my third miscarriage.”

“How long were you there?” Tae asked.

“Two years. I think,” he said.

“It’s August 17, 2019,” Tae said.

“About 2 years then,” Jungkook nodded.

“How old are you?” Yoongi asked.

“Twenty. I’ll be 21 on September 1,” he replied.

“I know you just miscarried, but let him check anyway. I had a stowaway,” Yoongi patted his belly.

“Okay. You’ll stay, right?” Jungkook asked.

“The whole time,” Yoongi assured him.

Yoongi sat up against the wall and Jungkook nestled under his arm.

“Let’s do the worst part first,” Tae said.

“You can do it,” Yoongi said. Jungkook warily pulled down the scrub pants he was wearing and opened his legs only wide enough for Tae to get his hand in.

“Well no wonder you keep miscarrying. You’ve got a cyst the size of a walnut in there,” Tae said.

“A what?” Jungkook asked.

“It’s basically a benign tumor,” Tae clarified.

“Can you get it out?” Jungkook questioned.

“Not with my bare hands,” Tae said. “You’ll need surgery to get it out.” Jungkook squeaked.

“No one’s making you do it right now,” Yoongi said.

“It will have to come out eventually, but it’s not an emergency,” Tae explained.

“Okay,” Jungkook relaxed slightly.

“Let’s get these back on,” Tae helped him pull the pants back up.

“Is it a boy or a girl?” Jungkook asked as Tae continued with the exam.

“Dunno. Decided to be surprised,” Yoongi replied.

“Everybody talked about you after you escaped. No one could figure out how you did it until they changed the pen,” Jungkook said.

“What did they do?” Yoongi wasn’t sure he wanted to hear the answer.

“They made it concrete and smooth. There’s barbed wire at the top now,” Jungkook told him.

“Did you go in there?” Yoongi asked.

“Only twice. I didn’t fight. I just gave up,” Jungkook said.

“I guess in your own way you escaped,” Yoongi said. “They think you’re dead.”

“I think they stopped looking for you or maybe just stopped talking about it where we could hear them,” he replied.

“You stumbled your way into the right hospital, Jungkook. Tae is the best there is,” Yoongi told him.

“Just doing my job,” Tae said, but Yoongi didn’t miss the hint of a smile. It was the first time Yoongi had complimented him. “Speaking of, we need to get some food and water in you. What do you like to eat?”

Jungkook stayed glued to Yoongi’s side the rest of the evening. They briefly ventured to the kitchen for dinner. After Tae got Jungkook to eat, Yoongi took him back to the guest room.

“You want to meet my mate?” Yoongi asked.

“Okay,” Jungkook said tentatively.

“Hobi, you can come out now,” Yoongi said. Hobi opened the bedroom door and came out into the hall. Jungkook shrunk more into Yoongi’s side. “It’s okay. Jungkook, this is Hobi. He’s my mate. He’s the one who saved me and this pup. I was going to die and Hobi took us in. He didn’t even blink.”

“I couldn’t exactly leave you half dead in my yard, now could I?” Hobi grinned. Yoongi took his hand.

“Nope, you couldn’t,” he smiled. “They’re good Alphas, Jungkook. Not like the ones we’re used to.”

“Hi Hobi,” he said quietly.

“Hi Jungkook,” Hobi replied.

“It hurt so bad,” he said.

“What did?” Yoongi asked.

“Losing the pups. I didn’t get a break because I didn’t give birth to a full term pup. It still hurt. I still hurt. They were so rough…” he started to cry.

“You’re safe here. I promise. They can’t hurt you anymore,” Yoongi hugged the shaking younger Omega. Hobi looked at him sadly. Less than 6 months ago that had been Yoongi, but there hadn’t had another Omega to comfort him.

“I can sleep by myself tonight. I’ll live,” Hobi told them. Yoongi nodded as Jungkook cried into his shoulder. Omegas who miscarried regularly had it the worst. Especially good looking ones like Jungkook. He may have looked like he’d been on a Breeder farm for 2 years right then, but once he filled out he’d be very handsome. Yoongi understood why he’d been so horribly mistreated. He was probably one of the most desirable, but he was physically incapable of carrying to term. Yoongi knew the surgery to fix it would be minor. Tae mentioned them periodically. The unspoken caveat was Jungkook would need to have it removed if he ever wanted to stay pregnant. There was plenty of time for that. Right now he needed to feel safe.

“Come on. Let’s get you into something not hospital issue,” Yoongi said.

“They smell like Alpha, but they should fit,” Tae came down the hall with some of his old clothes. He was slightly bigger than Hobi and so was Jungkook.

“Thank you,” Jungkook said as he took them.

“My room is upstairs, but I’ll stay down here tonight in case you need anything,” Tae said. “The couch is very comfortable when the dogs aren’t hogging it.”

“Thanks Tae,” Yoongi said. “Go get changed.” He pointed Jungkook toward the bathroom.

“What’s your expert opinion?” Tae asked.

“He had it rough, but in a different way. I’m sure they bred him like crazy and then blamed him when he lost the pups,” Yoongi replied.

“That cyst will have to come out eventually whether he wants to get pregnant or not,” Tae said. “I’m surprised it isn’t causing him any pain.”

“It might be and he doesn’t know it. We suffered a lot and it’s hard to tell what hurts and why after a while,” Yoongi sighed. “As the rest of him heals, it might start to hurt.”

“Then we’ll talk about it,” Tae said.

“Exactly,” Yoongi replied.

They heard shuffling behind them and Jungkook had come out of the bathroom holding the scrubs.

“Thank you,” he held them out to directly to Tae rather than passing them through Yoongi. Yoongi remembered that feeling - a paralyzing fear of Alphas, body in so much pain you can barely move, but the smell. The smell that cut through all of it. Tae smelled similar to Hobi, but that wasn’t unusual for siblings. He had the same warm, spicy undertone. Jungkook had gotten a whiff of it and there was no going back.

“You should sleep,” Tae said.

“I’ll stay with you,” Yoongi said.

“Tae can stay,” Jungkook looked at Yoongi.

“Are you sure?” Of course he was sure, he was drunk on Tae’s scent.

“Yeah,” Jungkook looked at Tae. “What Yoongi said is true, right? You’re a good Alpha?”

“I’ll sleep on the floor if you want me to,” Tae said.

“I’ll let you two sort this out. Pup’s on the bladder again,” Yoongi said.

“Good night,” they said.

“I thought you were bunking with Jungkook tonight,” Hobi said when Yoongi came in the bedroom.

“Jungkook has fallen victim to the intoxicating fragrance of your younger sibling,” Yoongi replied.

“Oh really?” Hobi said.

“Not all that different than my first night here,” Yoongi got into bed.

“What do we smell like?” Hobi asked.

“Warm, comforting, safe,” Yoongi replied.

“And you say I stink like an Alpha,” Hobi got behind him and wrapped his arms around Yoongi’s belly.

“A good smelling Alpha,” Yoongi said.

“I’ll be interested to see how this turns out,” Hobi said.

“Me too,” Yoongi agreed.

When they got up the next morning, the door to the guest bedroom was still closed. Hobi motioned for Yoongi to open it. After flailing back and forth at each other, Yoongi finally cracked open the door. Jungkook was nestled into Tae’s chest with Tae’s arms wrapped around him. Hobi peeked in over Yoongi’s head.

“I think pup has another uncle,” Hobi whispered.

“I think you’re right,” Yoongi said quietly as he closed the door back. Yoongi didn’t mind at all.

[sublimenol]

Art by Vee

Deirdre's setting deviates a bit from current Sonic canon. She originated for some roleplays with a friend and at the time they were really into Archie. I hadn't read any for well over a decade by that point, but either way a good chunk of Deirdre was originally designed to at least fit in adjacent to that setting.

Things have changed since then, but I was not entirely wanting to totally redesign the character. So I instead took stock of whatever I enjoyed from all over the canon to sort of build her world into its own thing.

I think I'm going to put in a few bits and bobs here and there about Deirdre's AU world. Starting with the current status of several characters.

Freedom Fighters

Rotor: a weapons R and D guy for GUN. He's still a heroic type, and definitely there for their military technology. But he has no Resistance ties, and works hard as one of the relative few Mobians

Bunnie: She is the one that got away from the Empire. She did work for them as an Enforcer. That's why her limbs were upgraded and weaponized. But she grew disillusioned with it, especially when Metal Virus fucked everything up. But the Virus, and it's removal, fried the chipset that allowed control of her by more fully integrating her with her components. Allowing her go escape.

Antoine: A vainglorious but great hearted member of the Resistance/Restoration. Tries very hard to live up to the dashing swordsman archetype despite it not really being in him. His willingness to stand for and alongside Bunnie has brought them close together as a duet/

Sally/Nicole: Acorn Archipelago still exists among the many islands in the world. Still a kingdom. Sally wants to help everyone and is a genuine heroic type. But she's a princess and expected to stick to the royal lifestyle. In her loneliness, she befriends an experimental AI that was intended to organize and safeguard the kingdom, through their connection, the AI self actualizes as Nicole.

IDW Cast

Basically the Same: Sonic, Tails, Amy, Knuckles, Silver, Clutch, Rough/Tumble, Tangle, Whisper, Surge, Kit, Metal Sonic, Lanolin

Changes

Rouge/Shadow/Omega: They once again work for GUN, though not to the degree they do for Archie. They’re basically called on when needed to corral larger threats and treated as though they are on a short leash and close eye as the three are all considered threats in some form or another, but too capable to waste as enemies.

Jewel: More or less the same, but with The Restoration being a more proactive entity, she’s just busier with her organization of teams and heroes all around the world in addition to the local rebuilding efforts. The Restoration is becoming a sort of Tiny Island based counterpart toward GUN, but with a community and rebuilding focus rather than a militarization focus.

Babylon Rogues: Explicitly anti Battle Bird Armada. While the Battle Birds are weakened, and the three are functionally thieves, they do have direct antagonism toward their former home.

Blaze: The Sol Universe still has pirates so she’s not entirely without things to do, or threats on her side. Leaving things open to maybe use stuff later.

Eggman: Biggest change is the fact he has his Empire. His personality is unchanged for the most part. He is still a cunning and cruel man whose overall desire is to conquer everything. He tangles with Sonic not just because of his own personal pride, but because he knows after Forces that pure overwhelming power will never just win over Sonic. He can’t just conquer everything else because he knows that Sonic always has that extra oomph to win the day. So he plots and schemes with his hidden empire.

Starline: Officially, he is dead since the end of the events of Issue 50. But genius doesn’t stay dead forever.

And that's the current crop of changes for most individuals. Will I use any of them? Iunno. I just like having ideas down. Thanks if you took the time to get this far.

[ao3feed-peterstiles]

The Oppression of Stiles Stilinski

Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54623293 by stilestrashinski In this world where Alpha is feared and revered, and Omegas are treated like garbage, it is few and far between when an Omega gets a good Alpha. Stiles Stilinski has been at the Eichen Omega Facility for months and is getting auctioned off sooner than he thought. Things begin to get complicated when the man who buys him is an estranged member of the Stilinski Family. It becomes even more complicated when Derek and Stiles discover they are mates. Words: 3266, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Categories: M/M, Multi Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Jackson Whittemore, Isaac Lahey, Theo Raeken, Liam Dunbar, Brett Talbot, Rafael McCall, Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf), Vernon Boyd, Original Male Character(s) Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski/Jackson Whittemore, Isaac Lahey/Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski/Original Male Character(s), Stiles Stilinski/Brett Talbot, Rafael McCall/Stiles Stilinski, Liam Dunbar/Stiles Stilinski, Vernon Boyd/Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Slave Stiles Stilinski, Sex Worker Stiles Stilinski, Intersex Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Sexual Slavery, Master/Slave, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Omega Verse, Dark, Alternate Universe - Dark, Forced Feminization, Forced Prostitution, Forced Crossdressing, Training Camp, Possessive Alphas, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Shapeshifter Stiles Stilinski, Cat Stiles Stilinski, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Sex, Sex Toys, Gay Sex, Public Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, Werewolf Sex, Sex in Full Shift Werewolf Form (Teen Wolf), Bad Parent Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf) Read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54623293

[sterek-ao3feed-archive]

The Oppression of Stiles Stilinski

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54623293 by stilestrashinski In this world where Alpha is feared and revered, and Omegas are treated like garbage, it is few and far between when an Omega gets a good Alpha. Stiles Stilinski has been at the Eichen Omega Facility for months and is getting auctioned off sooner than he thought. Things begin to get complicated when the man who buys him is an estranged member of the Stilinski Family. It becomes even more complicated when Derek and Stiles discover they are mates. Words: 3266, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Categories: M/M, Multi Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale, Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Jackson Whittemore, Isaac Lahey, Theo Raeken, Liam Dunbar, Brett Talbot, Rafael McCall, Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf), Vernon Boyd, Original Male Character(s) Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski/Jackson Whittemore, Isaac Lahey/Stiles Stilinski, Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski/Original Male Character(s), Stiles Stilinski/Brett Talbot, Rafael McCall/Stiles Stilinski, Liam Dunbar/Stiles Stilinski, Vernon Boyd/Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: Slave Stiles Stilinski, Sex Worker Stiles Stilinski, Intersex Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Universe - Slavery, Sexual Slavery, Master/Slave, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Omega Verse, Dark, Alternate Universe - Dark, Forced Feminization, Forced Prostitution, Forced Crossdressing, Training Camp, Possessive Alphas, Bottom Stiles Stilinski, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Shapeshifter Stiles Stilinski, Cat Stiles Stilinski, Anal Sex, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Sex, Sex Toys, Gay Sex, Public Sex, Rough Oral Sex, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Werewolves Turn Into Actual Wolves, Werewolf Sex, Sex in Full Shift Werewolf Form (Teen Wolf), Bad Parent Sheriff Stilinski (Teen Wolf) read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/54623293