#imagine someone running over roscoe it would be over for them

[princecharmingwinks]

i cant believe you said you dont write for fandoms!! these are ending up AMAZING! have another fail date for you to make better: we went four-wheel driving over the dunes out bush, we took my car but he drove because he's done the route before. we were the second car in the convoy and because my car is a little smaller than the others it couldnt make it up the last dune! it nearly made it over before sliding back into the sand and ended up half buried! (1/2)

(2/2) the rest of the group had to drag and push us out with planks and chains etc while we were stuck inside because no way in hell i was opening the door to let the sand in! so three wheels in the sand, waiting on our rescue, irl it was a bit awkward but im hoping you'll rewrite a better ending <3

Awww concussed dragon, you are sooo sweet! Thank you! Your unique failed dates are great to work with. Alrighty, let's get into this one! So the pack got big in this one and while most don't have lines, I liked the idea of everyone being there (or almost for anyone I missed haha). I left some of the couple combos up to interpretation so feel free to ship at your leisure.

---

The pack, after much pestering from a certain human/spark, were finally going on their camping trip. The alpha had finally conceded when Stiles had shot him a pout and hopeful eyes. Derek had reluctantly agreed and ignored the snickering of his betas in the corner of the room.

On the morning of the trip, everyone was pairing up into groups of drivers and passengers so no one drove alone and there were less cars.

Derek and Stiles were the last members out of the rebuilt Hale House. Derek had been locking up and Stiles was finishing off some wards to ensure there were no unwanted visitors while they were away. He was still learning to harness his spark but small wards of protection were easy enough. Defensive magic was easier, offensive was another story.

Stiles threw his bag into the back of the jeep and glanced around.

"So, who's joining Roscoe and me?"

Erica snickered, "Derek."

"What?" Stiles and Derek snapped in unison. Well at least Stiles had a punctuation mark, Derek's not so much.

"I'm with Danny, Lydia and Jacks." Kira spoke up. "Scott, Malia, and Isaac are with Allison."

"I'm obviously with my boy." Erica jumped onto Boyd's back, who was used to his girlfriend's antics and easily caught her. "And Theo is meeting us there after picking up Liam from work. Everyone's paired up so that just leaves you two."

Stiles felt his heart flutter but managed to keep his voice even as he spoke, "Alright Alpha My Alpha, let's get going."

Derek didn't say a word as he slid into the passenger seat of the jeep. Everything would be fine.

Everything was not fine. Stiles was definitely going through a quarter life crisis at the realisation most of the pack were in couples. How did he not realise that? When had it become a prerequisite to start dating a pack member? And now it was just Stiles and the alpha. The alpha he had been in love with for years. Great...

"What's wrong?"

Stiles was pulled out of his internal panic by said alpha's soothing voice. Derek had softened over the years, showing care and concern for each member of the pack. He now bought scent-free nail polish for Erica (so the acid smell didn't upset all the were's noses), stocked Isaac's favourite gummybears and even hugged Kira willingly at her university graduation. Derek Hale was a softie.

"I'm fine, nothing wrong here, no sir." Stiles prattled. Even he heard the blatant lies without supernatural healing. He glanced to his side and was greeted by raised eyebrows.

"Ok, so I may have just realised how paired up everyone in the pack really is."

"Except us."

"Yeah," Stiles sighed. "Except us. Do you ever think about that? Like, why you haven't dated anyone since..." He trailed off. Derek didn't have the best track record for his love interests but he hadn't even been on a date for more than 3 years.

Derek looked out the window at the scenary, they were driving into the sand dune part of the journey, and for a moment Stiles thought he wasn't going to answer.

"I've been waiting."

Stiles blinked. Huh?

"For someone so smart, you're really clueless sometimes." Derek huffed, glancing back at Stiles.

"What have you been waiting for?" Stiles dared to ask. They had paused to allow Allison's four-wheel-drive to roll up the last sand dune, waiting for their turn. Roscoe would be the last time to make the climb.

"I thought it was my imagination at first but then you kept coming around and..."

It was Roscoe's turn now and Stiles slowly prepared for the final climb of the dune. He tried to keep focused on the task at hand, allowing Derek to speak his thoughts. You never rushed the alpha when he was being vulnerable.

"I know you kind of like me?" Derek voiced it as a question but all Stiles heard was sirens in his brain. Derek knew? Stiles' foot slid off the peddle and they immediately started rolling backwards, fast.

"Shit! Shit, shit shit." Stiles acted quickly but it wasn't enough. Roscoe descended the sand dune and sank, refusing to move. Sand on either side of them blocked the bottom of their doors. They were officially stuck.

Stiles rested his head on the steering wheel and slowed his breathing. There were multiple crises going on but most had solutions.

The others would work out they hadn't made the climb soon enough or Theo and Liam would find them on their way through. So either way, Roscoe being stuck wasn't a massive deal. The real dilemma was Stiles' outed feelings for Derek.

The same Derek that was eyeing Stiles with concern as he called Kira to request some assist. Stiles heard him hang up before the sound of a door handle being jiggled. He snapped his head up.

"Whoa there sourwolf, there is to be no sand storm in this car, thankyouverymuch." He reached out and tugged the alpha's hand away from the door.

"I figured me getting out and pushing was the preferred option to sitting here with you in a state of panic at my assumption."

Stiles pulled his hand back. "What?"

"Look, we can just forget I ever said anything, alright? I get I'm not the most desirable crush to have. It's probably just familiarity and your sense of loyalty that's fueled your scent around me anyway. Don't worry about it."

Stiles shook his head, "Oh no you don't. You opened that can of worms and I'm no coward." The spark met Derek's gaze. Had he been planning on ignoring his feelings for the alpha? Sure. But was he going to run away from a moment like this? Nope. Stiles Stilinski was a lot of things but after running with wolves and other supernaturals for most of his life, he knew when he needed to tackle something head on.

"Now, before you go down your rabbit hole of I'm-not-good-enough crazy talk, I've got something to say."

Derek nodded like the soft alpha he was and turned to face Stiles more fully.

"You, Derek Alexander Hale, are amazing. A little on the martyr side but that's because you are so protective of your pack. I'd be crazy to not fall in love with you. That's right, love not like. I've been in love with you for years but how was a kid like me going to catch the alpha's eye? I didn't want to ruin our friendship. This," He gestured between them. "This is important to me. I don't want to ruin it."

Derek released a sigh of relief? Stiles couldn't read his eyebrows which was disappointing when he was the most expert at interpreting the alpha's facial expressions.

Then Derek was darting forward and claiming Stiles' lips in a searing kiss. Stiles went with it, almost unbelieving that any of this was happening.

Derek eventually pulled back and rested his forehead against Stiles'.

"Worth the wait." The alpha whispered, grinning, bunny teeth all on display.

"Two way street here. You could've said something too. How long have you liked me?"

Derek blushed and it was only because they were so close that Stiles saw the pink of his cheeks and ears.

"I've always liked you, even if I didn't always show it. But love? I think I've loved you since you woke me up on an elevator floor by punching me. You could have left without me but you didn't."

Stiles pouted, "Since then?"

Derek raised an eyebrow, "What's wrong?"

Stiles pushed Derek back and clumsily crawled across the gear stick to straddle the alpha's lap.

"We could have been having the best sex of my life for years, Derek! Years! We've got a lot of making up to do." Stiles dove in to kiss Derek this time. The alpha happily drew Stiles in closer, curling his arms around the spark's slim waist.

A knock on the window, interrupted their make-out session. Boyd's face appeared with judging eyebrows to rival Derek's.

"Heard you needed a hand." Boyd spoke loudly with a smirk as Derek's hand moved away from Stiles' ass to rest safely on his back.

"What's Erica doing?" Stiles asked, leaning over Derek to squint at the blonde chatting wildly on the phone. Derek focused his hearing.

"Turns out I'm not the only one who was waiting." Derek grinned, "And everyone apparently owes Lydia money."

They did eventually get Roscoe out of the sand dune thanks to the advantages of going camping with multiple supernatural creatures. By the time everyone was settled in the camp and Erica had informed Theo and Liam on the events of the day, Lydia was a very rich woman.

Stiles couldn't complain though. Not when the alpha was snuggled between his legs as Stiles sat on the log and Derek roasted them marshmallows. Apparently no one trusted Stiles near an open flame following the incident with that vampire clan. Stiles combed his fingers through Derek's hair and looked around at the pack. This camping trip was the best idea ever.

--

Ok so I must confess I do not camp like...ever and have no idea how four-wheel-driving works so please forgive any major errors in that department. I tweaked things a bit from your prompt sorry. I just couldn't imagine Stiles letting anyone else drive Roscoe. Hope you enjoyed! Thanks for popping in!

#sterek #teen wolf #derek hale #stiles stilinski #princecharminganswers #princecharmingwrites

[maxineswritingcenter]

You Saved Me - Derek Hale x fem!reader part 18

I’ll be switching point of views for this one so buckle your seat belts. I just hope I do the character’s justice because it’s been a minute since I watched the show. Also going to be changing the perspective because... My writing makes no sense and it probably never will. 

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

“I'm saying we need a new plan, because next time, one of us is going to be too hurt to heal.” Derek led Scott and I into the subway car in the middle of the abandoned depot. The unfortunate reality is that Jackson was no longer Jackson, and we only had one option left. 

Scott sighed, “Ugh, I get it. We can't save Jackson.”

Derek sat down on one of the seats, “We can't seem to kill him, either. I've seen a lot of things, Scott. I've never seen anything like this. Every new moon's just gonna make him stronger.” He said grimly.

“But how do we stop him?”

“I don't know. I don't even know if we can.” He shrugged, sounding defeated. I could imagine how he felt, powerful but so helpless. 

“Maybe we should just let the Argents handle it...” He suggested. 

“I don’t know if they could help.” I crossed my arms over my chest, “Chris filled him with lead and it didn’t stop him. I don’t think they could handle it either.”

“I'm the one who turned him. It's my fault.” Derek let his head hang. 

“That’s not true.” I looked at him sternly.

“You didn't turn him into this! I mean, this happened because of something in his past, right?” Scott asked.

Derek scoffed, “That's a legend in a book. It's not that simple.”

“What do you mean? What aren't you telling me?”

“Why do you think I'm always keeping something from you?” He looked up at Scott.

“Because you always are keeping something from me!”

“Well, maybe I do it to protect you. Both of you.”

“Doesn't being part of your pack mean no more secrets?”

Derek sighed, looking down at his hands, “Go home, Scott. Sleep. Heal. Make sure your friends are safe... 'Cause the full moon's coming, and with the way things are going, I've got a feeling it's gonna be a rough one.” Scott left with a huff, leaving Derek and I alone. 

“Der...” I said softly, running my fingers through his dark hair. He closed his eyes, humming softly. 

“You can’t blame yourself, you could have never imagined what could have happened.” 

“I thought there was something wrong with my bite.” His voice was barely audible, “Something wrong with me.” 

“No, no, no.” Kneeling down, I cupped his cheeks in my hands, “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re perfect.” 

“You have to say that. I’m your mate.” 

I only cringed a little at his use of the word “mate” unironically, “That’s not true. I give you criticism at any chance I get. But that’s mostly because you keep turning kids into soldiers.”

“I guess you’re right.” His lips turned up slightly, “You’re like my conscience, but a lot better looking than this mug.”  He leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss to my lips. Grinning, I kissed his nose and stood up. 

“I gotta get home, make sure everyone’s alright. I’ll see you later.” I winked, making my way out of the depot. 

-

I got home late, but not any later than the usual lately. As soon as I closed the door, I saw Uncle Noah at the kitchen table. He was pouring whiskey into a glass, probably wasn’t his wish. He had dark circles under his eyes and looked like he hadn’t slept or showered in a while. Walking quietly, I placed my hands on his shoulders, squeezing lightly. 

“Come on, let’s get you to bed.” He looked up at me slowly, blinking his pale green eyes at me. 

“I don’t know what I did wrong, (Your Mom’s Name).” He said, “(Y/N) is so distant and she won’t talk to me anymore.” I was told once or twice that I resembled my mother, but in his drunkenness, he must have thought I was her.

“I mean, hell... She was dating someone for months and she didn’t even tell me. Sure, he was a person of interest... But he was also her friend.” 

Smiling softly, I guided him to a standing position, “No, Noah, she’s just going through a lot right now. She’s still learning and growing. And you’re doing the best job you can and she loves you for it.” I helped him to his room and into bed.

“Goodnight, (Y/M/N).” He yawned, pulling the covers over himself and closing his eyes. 

“Goodnight, Noah.” I said, closing the door behind me. I took a deep breath and went down the hall to Stiles’ room. He was sleeping away in the most ridiculous position possible, having fought off a kanima and saving his friend from death. I was just happy to see him there, alive and breathing. 

“Goodnight, Stiles.” I whispered, closing his door all the way. 

-

It was the night of the full moon and my body was already feeling the effects of it. But since my self training/ anger management was doing well, Derek gave a hesitant okay for working with Scott’s Scooby Gang to keep a look out at Lydia’s birthday party. Derek and I had the betas in the railway car in the depot. He was looking through his family’s chest again. 

“What is that?” Isaac asked, looking quizzically at the symbol on the box. 

“It’s a triskele.” Boyd said, “The spirals mean different things: past, present, future; mother, father, child.” 

“Do you know what it means to me?” Derek asked. 

“Alpha, Beta, Omega?”

“That’s right. It’s a spiral, it reminds us that we can rise to one.”

“And fall to another.” I finished. It was one of the few things I remembered word for word from the research we did back when Derek was cousin Miguel. 

“Betas can become Alpha, but Alphas can fall to Betas, or even Omegas.” Derek said, continuing to look through the box. 

“Like Scott?” Isaac asked. 

“Scott’s with us.” 

“Really?” Isaac’s voice held just a touch of sarcasm, “Then where is he now?”

“They’re looking for Jackson.” He looked pointedly at me, then back to the group, “Don’t worry, they’re not gonna have it easy either. None of us will. There’s a price you pay for this kind of power. You get the ability to heal” He handed a leather belt connected to a chain to Isaac, “But tonight, you’re gonna want to kill anything you can find.”

“Good thing I had my period last week then.” Erica chuckled. Derek pulled a metal crown from the box, there were screws turned inwards towards where someone’s head would be. 

“Well, this one's for you.” Erica’s face immediately changed. Beeping made me look down at my phone. 

Stiles: 

2006 Swim Team - Lahey was the Coach.

“That’s my cue to leave.” I shoved my phone in my pocket and backed out of the open door, heading out into the open depot. 

“Wait.” Derek called after me, catching me before leaving out the door in my car that was finally back from the shop. 

“Yes?” I sing-songed, turning around to face him. 

“I wanted to give you something.” He said, reaching into the pocket of his jeans, “You have something from Stiles but you should have something from me. Something that means... More.” From his pocket he produced a silver ring, it had a twisted band towards the top with a triskele cut out of the metal. 

I started down at the ring in shock, “Is... Is this a proposal?” His eyes widened.

“No.” He squeezed his eyes shut, “I mean, not yet. This... This is a promise. For both of us. You uh, could wear it on your ring finger if you want though-That is if you want it-” I silenced his babbling with my lips.

“I love it.” I smiled, taking the ring and sliding it on my left ring finger. It fit surprisingly, “Thank you.”

“Tonight... I’m probably going to get hurt. Just try to block it out as much as you can.” 

“Sounds good. I love you.” I cupped his cheek. 

“I love you.” He smiled. My hand slipped from his cheek and I made my way out of the depot. 

-

I parked outside of Lydia’s house and I was actually able to park in her driveway. From what I remember, Lydia’s parties, especially her birthday parties, were supposed to be insane and packed. Yet, I could only see Roscoe. Which meant that Stiles was finally invited. Good for him. I knocked on the front door and waited, slipping my hands into my jacket pockets. 

The door opened, revealing Lydia who was vaguely confused by my being at her door. She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at me. 

“Sarah?” 

“(Y/N).” I corrected her. 

“Oh. Well, come in.” She opened the door further, revealing the tray of pink cocktails in her hand, “Have a drink.” I grabbed a pink drink from the tray and cheered it towards her as I went inside, going straight to the back where Scott, Stiles and Allison were sitting on the deck of the pool. 

“Is this... everyone?” I asked, sitting besides Stiles in a lawn chair. 

"Maybe it's just early?" Scott said, not believing it himself.

Stiles said grimly, "Or maybe nobody's coming because Lydia turned into the town whack job."

"Well, we have to do something because we've completely ignored her for the past two weeks..." Allison said.

"She's completely ignored Stiles for the past ten years." Scott pointed out.

"I prefer to think of it as I haven't been on her radar." Stiles said in an offended tone.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." I patted his shoulder. 

Scott sighed, “We don't owe her a party.”

“What about the chance to get back to normal?” Allison crossed her arms over her chest.

“Normal?”

She shrugged, “She wouldn't be the "town whackjob" if it wasn't for us.”

Scott nodded, “I guess I could use my co-captain status to get the lacrosse team here...”

I pulled out my phone, “I could pull some strings with some people from my year.” I found the group text I had gotten from when I had been abducted, typing in Lydia’s address and the promise of a party and booze. 

“Yeah, I also know some people who can get this thing going. Like, really going.” Stiles said, looking down at his phone. He was looking through his contacts, finding: Drag Queen from Jungle.

“Who?” She asked. 

“I met them the other night... Let's just say, they know how to party.” He sent off the text then looked over at me. 

“What is that?” He asked, motioning with his phone to my left hand. 

“A ring. You know what those are, right?” I sipped my drink. 

Stiles’ jaw clenched, looking towards the sidewalk, “You gonna marry him.” 

“It’s not an engagement ring, it’s a promise ring.” 

“Whatever.” He got up, walking inside. I avoided Scott and Allison’s awkward gaze and just took a large gulp of my drink. 

In the next ten minutes, the amount of people who showed up was pretty astounding. Town whack job or not, promise people booze and they will come. Walking through the crowd, I saw people that I used to hang around with. A lot of people gave their condolences, lots of staring, sad smiles, but that’s how it was. 

“A little jumpy are we, Jackson?” I took a sip out of my drink. 

While walking through it hit me - shitty, over priced cologne. And possibly, a terrible attitude. And lizard. I turned quickly and saw Jackson. He was startled by my sudden movement. 

He narrowed his eyes at me, then looked away, “I don’t have to explain myself to someone who makes minimum wage.”

"I would watch my back if I were you, (Y/L/N). Full moon makes me feel a certain way." I chuckled and looked down, craning my neck back up to flash him my red eyes.

“Maybe it’s because you’re not a disgusting lizard thing right now, but I could care less that you are trying to intimidate me. You don’t even know why you came here tonight, do you? You’re certainly not here for Lydia.” 

It was my turn to narrow my eyes, “You don’t know why you’re here. So that means...” The puppeteer was here, “Good talk, gotta go.” As I walked quickly, trying to find Scott or Stiles, I found Matt getting a drink from Lydia, but he really wasn’t looking at Lydia. He had his eyes trained on Allison and the way he wasn’t looking at her reminded me of the night Michael took me. I didn’t like Allison at the best of times considering she shot me and all, but this was too much to ignore. As I walked towards Matt I was halted, like my feet didn’t want to move from what I saw. Derek was standing by himself near the outside of the house. I walked up to him quickly. 

“Derek, what are you doing here? Where are the others?” They couldn’t have transformed then transformed back by now, there was no way. 

“There’s been something I’ve been thinking about.” He swirled the drink in his hand, the same drink everyone else had, “You have a habit of making people miserable or getting them killed.”

“Excuse me?” I squinted at me, swallowing thickly. My throat felt dry and was it getting hotter?

“Think about it. Your parents think you’re too weak to keep your secret so they take your life from you, taking you from me. You’re the reason your parents are dead. You got Michael killed.” He stepped forward and with every step, I took one back, “I’m just wondering when it’s my turn to die or even Stiles.” 

“Derek, I-” My eyes were watering. 

“How about I kill Stiles for you? Save some blood for your hands. Or,” He chuckled, “Would you rather do it yourself.” He started to walk back towards the party. I grabbed his arm to stop him when he abruptly turned. 

“You know what, I’ll just let you kill me. You can handle the rest on your own.” He grabbed my wrist and jerked it, my claws flicking out. I tried to pull my wrist away but his grip was too strong. 

“No, stop!” I screamed as he slashed my claws across his throat, blood spraying across my face. Suddenly, Derek and blood were gone. All the party goers were going about their business, I was the only one who had seen Derek use my own hands to kill him. I looked over my hand and made sure the blood had been imagined. My eyes were then brought to the pink drink in my hand. This had to be the reason... Lydia spiked the drinks, but with what? I couldn’t even remember how many of these I had. To make matters worse, my stomach got super queasy-

I turned to the bushes and threw up everything that I had eaten that day. If I didn’t feel great, it was worse now. I got a few disgusted looks but that was the least of my problems. I dumped my drink in the bushes and started to stumble forward, looking to find Scott or Stiles. Thinking about it now, my mouth was starting to get itchy which was possibly the worst possible feeling to add onto everything else. I went into the house and upstairs, finding Matt groaning on the floor and Allison rushing passed me. 

“Matt?” I asked, helping him off the ground, “What happened to you?” Once on his feet, he rubbed the back of his neck. 

“Allison happened. She put me flat on my ass.” Probably with good reason. 

He squinted at me, “Are you alright?” I shook my head. 

“Not really. You got gum or something, that drink left the worst taste in my mouth.”

“No,” He said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a white pill bottle, “But I have some pain meds.” 

“That’ll work.” I took the bottle then looked behind me, grabbing a water bottle out of someone’s hands.

“Hey!” The person glared. I glared right back, “Not the time, freshman.” This seemed to scare him enough for the kid to walk away. I opened the bottle and popped the blue capsule in my mouth and chased it with what was not water but actually vodka. 

“Jesus!” I spat to the side, “What is wrong with people?” I looked at the bottle, realizing that it had no label. 

“Hey, what was that? Tylenol? Ibuprofen?” 

Matt smiled, “Mistletoe actually.” I blinked at him, my heart dropping into my stomach. 

“What?”

“Mistletoe.” He chuckled, “That’s supposed to knock you guys out, right?” I took a step back and hit the doorframe, already feeling the effects of the poison in my system. 

“Using Jackson to kill my murderers is good, but I need protection. You protected me once. From Lahey. And you’re gonna protect me again, whether you like it or not.” 

SCOTT

Scott pushed through the crowd, asking anyone who would listen if they had seen Lydia. The drinks she had made had been spiked to create hallucinations. We had to find out why. She spiked the punch with wolfsbane petals which seemed to cause Stiles and Allison to hallucinate too.

Outside, Stiles ran up to Scott, “Hey, I can't find her. And dude? Anyone who drank that crap, they're freaking out.” They watched two people cannonball into Lydia’s pool with all their clothes on. 

“...I can see that.”

“What the hell do we do?”

“I don't know, but we gotta-”

“I can't swim!” Both their heads turned. Matt was being carried by three people, he was flailing and panicking, “No, no, no, no, stop, guys! I can't swim! I can't swim! I can't-I can't-” The partiers didn’t listen, throwing him into the pool. He went under immediately. And to their surprise, Jackson and (Y/N) ran to the poolside and both pulled him out. 

Once on the pool deck, (Y/N) got Matt on his side, helping him cough up any water he swallowed. They both helped him to stand. Everyone was staring at that point.

“...What are you looking at?” Matt barked at the gawking crowd. Jackson took the time to make his exit. (Y/N) walked towards Scott and Stiles, Matt close behind her. 

“Move.” She growled, flashing her bright red eyes. The two parted, letting (Y/N) and Matt through. Immediately after, a siren cut through the air. 

“COPS ARE HERE!” Someone in the crowd shouted, causing the party goers to scatter. Scott and Stiles followed the ground out and onto the street. Scott looked down the street and saw them. Matt was standing in front of his car, dripping wet and seething with rage. Jackson in his kanima form was in front of him on all fours and (Y/N) stood at his right, claws out and fangs bared. He’d been under their noses for so long but now that they know, that meant they were in danger, all of them.

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

Read Part 19 here!

Who needs a point a view when you’re under mind control, ammi right?

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#derek hale x reader #derek hale fic #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf fic

[justahopelessssromantic]

Without You

Hi love, me again. Any chance you'd be up for writing an imagine with Angel's girl getting kidnapped and him trying to get her back? Literally obsessed with you're writing and curious to see how you'd put a spin on that :) if not no worries!! I don't want to be wicked annoying lol - but either way thank you! @sickofbitches

A/N: Thank you so so much! ❤️ I love this request, so much so that I may have gotten a little carried away with it 😂. I felt I couldn’t do it justice in just one part so it’s gonna be a little series with a total of three parts! Thank you again and I really hope you enjoy! 💕

*gif not mine*

Warnings: Angst, violence and slight animal abuse

It was a regular everyday kind of day, or mostly so. You had just pulled up in front of your house, trunk filled with groceries. The AC was blasting as your music thumped through the speakers. You sat in your car jamming to your favorite song waiting for it to be over before you would finally get out like you would always do. Turning the ignition off you stepped out of the car swinging your bag across your shoulder. Coming around to the back you popped the trunk open.

Your phone buzzed from inside your pocket distracting you momentarily.

Can’t wait to see you tonight, mi dulce. We’ve got a lot of missed nights to make up for ;)

You smiled to yourself biting your lip. You would never get tired of the big flirt you had fallen in love with. Angel had been gone on a run for six nights now and tonight he would finally get back home. Since that was the case you knew you’d have to make a grocery run hence the loaded trunk. Angel could eat more food than anyone you knew and still somehow maintain his amazing physique. You weren’t complaining, just a little jealous by how effortless it seemed for him.

You typed out your quick response before reaching in for the bags.

Grabbing half of the bags from the back you turned towards your house to be greeted by your baby Rosco through the tall chain link fence, wagging his tail rapidly as he jumped around ecstatic to have you back home again. You smiled wide just as excited as him. “Hey baby,” you cooed, “Mama missed you too!”

On the way to the front gate your phone slipped from your grasp as you had foolishly been holding it with the groceries. It fell to the ground with a loud thud and you were almost certain the damn thing’s screen would be cracked.

Setting the bags in your left hand to the ground you bent over picking it up and dusting it off on your shirt. You cursed to yourself examining the damage. The last thing you needed right now was to have to get a new phone.

The hair on the back of your neck raised as soon as you heard it. Rosco had gone from his happy yips to a full blown snarl. You looked at him, his lip was curled back as he growled and started barking viciously, the drool spilling from his mouth.

You tried to mentally prepare yourself for what was to come next but everything happened so fast there was no way you could have. Before you could turn around strong arms grabbed you from behind causing the groceries to fall to the cement, the eggs cracking on impact. You tried to wrench yourself free, kicking hoping to hit anything. You screamed but it was no use. The man muffled your cries with his large hand as he pulled you back dragging you towards the trunk of your car.

Rosco’s barking and snarling never ceased. He jumped and clawed at the fence trying to get free but it was no use. There was nothing he or anyone could do to save you.

You bit down hard on the man’s hand tasting the blood in your mouth as you did so, the taste alone was enough to make your stomach queasy.

“Bitch!” He yelled pulling back his hand and shoving you forward. You fell fast just barely catching yourself with your hands. You hissed, the rough ground scraping up your palms with a stinging pain. You tried to use this to your advantage, tried to get on your feet and get to your yard. If you could only just get to the gate.

But before you could get far your purse was being yanked off you and tossed to the side, the contents scattering everywhere. Next you were being pulled up by the back of the neck before there was a blinding pain in the back of your head. You tried to stay conscious, fought it as best as you could.

The last things you can remember hearing was another man calling out, “Shut that dog up!” followed by the viscous noises of Rosco, the shouting of a man, and then the sickening sound of your precious boy crying out.

Angel zipped up his fly looking at his cell as he made his way back to his bike. He smirked looking at the message you had sent back in return to his.

Better hurry or I’ll just have to get started without you.

Fuck you knew just how to get to him, the vulgar images immediately entering his mind. Adjusting himself he swung his leg over his bike and pulled his helmet on.

“What the fuck are you grinning about?” EZ asked his brother with a smug look. He figured it must have been you, it always was. The two of you were inseparable, it was actually endearing. EZ was thankful his brother had found you while he was locked up. You made him happy and no one deserved that more than Angel.

“None of your fucking business.” Angel shot back smiling just the same. “Now come on I wanna get the fuck out of here. I’ve got my girl to get back to.” Starting up his bike he peeled out of the lot following the rest of his club.

It was a long, tiring ride but having you to come home to made it all worth it. However there was one last thing needed of him before he could be back in your arms and you his.

He shot you another quick message explaining how he was going to be late but he’d be there as soon as he could before tossing his phone into the basket and heading into Templo.

Angel sat at the table looking at Bishop, his mouth was moving but he couldn’t hear anything. He tried to be attentive, he really did but it was just so damn difficult when he kept thinking of your message earlier and those delicate little fingers of yours slipping down your body disappearing between your thighs.

He tapped his foot repeatedly, anxiously awaiting for the gavel to go down and grant him his freedom. By the time it did he practically shot up from his seat and headed for the door.

“Hey Angel!” Bishop called out with a smirk, “Where’s the fire?”

“In his fucking pants,” Taza teased causing the rest of the men to burst out laughing.

They all knew that the minute he got home from a run his first priority was getting home to you and getting pussy drunk as they called it. He did the same thing every time and you’d have a hell of a time getting him to leave the house for anything the next few days after.

Angel turned around shaking his head chuckling, “You’re all just jealous I have someone to go home to and you’re all just stuck with your fucking hands.” He shot back, mimicking jerking off before flipping them the bird. “Now if you’ll all excuse me I have a lot of missed time to make up for, fuckers.”

With that he left the men still chuckling behind him and scooped his phone out of the basket with a smirk on his face. He immediately checked for messages and found none. That could only mean two things you were pissed or were deep into a hot bath soaking the days stress away.

He pulled up your contact hitting call. He listened as it rang and rang while he walked to his bike before going to voicemail where he was blessed by your beautiful voice. “Hey amor,” He said to your mailbox, “I know, I’m so sorry. I promise I’ll make it up to you big time.” He grinned thinking of all the things he was going to do to you. “You better not have watched the next episode without me although to be fair that’d be fair.” He chuckled. You had been watching The Punisher and you were terrible about sneaking in episodes when Angel wasn’t around. “I’m sure you’re just deep in a hot bath, suds surrounding your perfect body with a glass of your favorite wine.” He continued picturing how he’d find you once he got home. “Anyways,” he said, getting back on track for his reason for calling in the first place, “I’m on my way home now. I love you and I can’t wait to see you, mi dulce.” He ended the message slipping his cell in his cut and heading your way.

Pulling down your street he could see the porch light illuminating the yard. Rosco was whining and scratching at the fence with one paw, his right one limp by his side. He perked up as he heard Angel approach. Angel frowned, the sight was unnerving for him, you never left Rosco alone outside at night and the way he was holding his paw made the pit in his stomach sink.

He parked in front of your house where your car should be. You should be home by now, he knew you had been home by the sight of the groceries scattered around the street and sidewalk. He dismantled his Harley in record time pulling his gun from his bed roll before rushing over to where he saw your purse and the contents of it spilled out across the cement. He didn’t like what he was seeing and his heart began racing.

His mind began racing now with all the possibilities of what could have happened. He bent over picking your phone up off the ground. He examined the screen, it was completely shattered and he could just barely make out his messages through the cracks in the glass. You didn’t answer because you were mad or just relaxing, no you didn’t answer because you weren’t fucking here, because something terrible had happened and he had had no clue until it was possibly too late.

He pulled his phone out dialing the first number he could think of as the panic really started to sink in. He felt like he wanted to cry and kill someone at the same time, his world was spinning out of control around him with nothing he could do about it.

“Angel.” EZ answered the call, “What’s up? Shouldn’t you be balls deep by now or something like that?” He chuckled. He was sitting outside on his trailer steps enjoying the peaceful evening, having a smoke with Gilly, Riz, and Creeper.

Angel was not laughing, how could he? Of course EZ had no clue as to what was happening.

“She’s gone.” He croaked out, still trying to wrap his mind around it.

“What?” EZ asked. That was the last thing he was expecting to hear. He sat up more now. The men around him noticed his change in demeanor immediately and perked their ears up trying to figure out what was going on.

“She’s fucking gone! Something terrible happened Ezekiel.” Was all he could say as his chest tightened. How could he have let this happen? This had to be club shit. It had to be his fault. This was all his fault.

He heard the muffled sound of voices on the other end before his brother replied, “We’ll be right there. Stay put, Angel.” EZ said as he headed off in the direction of his bike followed by all the others, “We’re gonna find her.” His own adrenaline was pumping as he sped off into the night, the rest of the club coming behind him soon after.

Angel sure as hell fucking hoped so.

Putting his phone back he grabbed your purse off the ground, picking up the discarded items. Your wallet was still here money and cards all inside so money had obviously not been the motive. Next he grabbed your sunglasses, chapstick, and snack you always carried and shoved them back into the leather bag. Last to have been thrown from your purse was a small picture facing down with a few drops of blood dried onto the ground next to it. Grabbing it he took it and the bag into the yard staring at the dark spots a moment longer and praying it wasn’t yours.

He turned his attention back to the house and his dog that was behind the fence whimpering. He opened the gate and was greeted by the big Great Dane as he limped over to him. Angel rubbed his head crouching down and brining him close. “It’s okay boy, let me see.” He lifted the paw carefully examining the damage. It was a little swollen and would definitely have to be looked at. “You’ll be okay buddy” he reassured him softly, “It’s gonna be okay.”

He sat down on the porch steps to wait for his brother Rosco sitting beside him. Rosco laid his big head on Angel’s thigh, ceasing his anxious shaking with his comforting warmth and weight. Angel hated this, the waiting, but he didn't know what else to do. He was still in shock, so many emotions running through him at once, fear, rage, heartache, all fighting for dominance.

He played with the small photograph in his hand, flicking the edge with his thumb anxiously as he stared forward. Both he and the dog were very aware of their surroundings as they waited to figure out their next move to get their girl back.

This was far from how he saw his night going. He should be holding you tight in bed, Rosco snuggled at the foot of it crushing your feet as you binged tv and ate an awful amount of junk food, not stuck here in this nightmare he was sure he had created himself.

He looked down at the picture in his hands. He swore he stopped breathing for a moment as he stated in the black and white photo before him. His eyes filled with tears, a drop falling off his dark lashes and onto the picture. There in the corner in small print was your name and today’s date.

It was a fucking sonogram. He unfolded the pictures revealing all the images. His eyes took in every detail of the small and cloudy photos before him.

You had mentioned how you had a doctor's appointment today but told Angel it was just a routine check up, nothing to worry about, but now here he was looking at his unborn child and he was more worried than he had ever been in his life. Not because you were pregnant, not at the thought of becoming a father, but at the thought that he may never get the chance to be one, that he may never meet his little boy or girl.

He let out a sob, overjoyed by the revelation and grieving for what may be lost, of the possibility of his family slipping from his grasp before he even had a chance to hold it.

He closed his eyes, sending a silent prayer up, hoping someone or something was listening, hoping his mother could hear him. “Please Mama,” he begged another sob wrecking though his body as the tears spilled out of his eyes, “please watch over her, please protect my family, I need her so fucking much, I can’t lose anyone else. Please.”

Rosco snuggled in closer as Angel wrapped his arms around the big dog, holding him tight as he cried. He couldn’t lose you or your child, wouldn’t lose you.

He couldn't let that happen.

Everything Tag List: @jad3djay @fairygardenss @carlaangel86 @briannab1234 @starrynite7114 @agirllovespasta @howaboutash @gemini0410 @naytraydr @knowles-morgan @woahitslucyylu @everyhowlmarksthedead

#angel reyes #angel reyes x reader #angel reyes imagine #angel reyes fic #mayans mc imagine #mayans mc fic #mayans mc #request

[gorogues]

belphegor1982 replied to your text post: Oh, Roscoe ;__;

I'm afraid there are a few autobiographical elements in this story, and I ended up almost as screwed up as he did :]  What I was aiming to convey with this story were the germinating seeds of frustrated egotistical perfectionism which set Roscoe on a very negative path, and frankly ruined his life.  It's not a great way to raise kids.

(It's based on this page, which maybe should have been included in the original post.)

shadow-wolfhawk replied to your text post: Hmm. Interesting. I love Owen, but I can't see him becoming the Flash. (Although that would probably be better treatment than random af appearance he made in the last Suicide Squad run.) As a new Reverse-Flash, *maybe* that could work, but even then it might be a stretch. He has too much of the old man in him.

Owen's certainly of the Thawne bloodline, of course, so becoming the new Reverse Flash would be an interesting idea.  It'd be at odds with the redemption arc he often (but not consistently) had going though, so for that reason I wouldn't want to see him as the RF for long.  Maybe during a period of anger at someone, perhaps, and he later rejects it to go his own path...I think that'd be fun.

shadow-wolfhawk replied to your text post: 💔🥺 ... I'm not crying - you're crying.. *sniffle* love it! (Shameless plug time, but I wrote a similar story a while back: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20719700 Not sure if you've read it, but I'd like to know what you think 🙃

Holy smokes, I hadn't read yours before but definitely see what you mean!  Seems like we were both channelling the same bit of grief and had the same ideas.

And thank you for your kind words!  Your story is fantastic, and absolutely heartrending.  Owen's pleading is so sad, and one can see how tough it is on his dad :(  You really convey the emotion well.

purplecyborgnewt replied to your text post: I typed a lot of words, but I think tumblr ate them. Short version: vest-and-bell-bottoms look didn't weird me out as much as whatever-in-the-monk-hell else was going on on that page tbh.

That appeared in the story too, when Eobard showed up in the 16th century all old and wizened, though why he was old wasn't explained.  It may have been a way to manipulate Magali (the Aztec woman seen in the page below, who he recruited for his Acolytes), as he got her to de-age him with her powers and then rescued her by killing the Spaniards who hunted her.  We know that he deliberately manipulated all the Acolytes into joining his side by wrecking their lives, but her life was already at serious risk because of the Spanish conquest so he might not have had to do much to manipulate her.

purplecyborgnewt replied to your text post: (The design sketches I'm gonna love forever are the ones for "Running Scared".)

Those are pretty great too!  Not sure if I've ever posted them here, so I'll do that shortly.

truxi-twice replied to your text post: honestly, I'd be kind of interested in seeing Owen try to take the mantle, at least for a while. He was always a character with so much POTENTIAL, just twisting himself into knots to find a place where he belonged and people who would love him. If circumstances shook out where SOMEone needed to put on the shiny red spandex and he was the only one available at the moment, there's a lot you can do

True.  I'm just imagining the legions of Bart, Avery, Wallace, and Irey fans who'd understandably be a bit annoyed that their fave is being passed over for someone who was never a member of the Flash Family -- though making Owen the Flash would certainly be an unexpected surprise we wouldn't see coming if not for the leak/rumour.  It's not that I think the concept is bad, just that there are more experienced people who've been groomed for the role and you'd wonder why they aren't stepping into it.  But it could work under your scenario which needs someone to do it and he's the only one available.

What I'd definitely be curious about is how the writers would manage Owen's speed; as we know, he has bursts of it rather than sustained speed, so would they have to change his powers to make him the Flash?  Or would he be a Flash struggling to maintain his speed?  That'd be interesting.

#belphegor1982 #shadow-wolfhawk #purplecyborgnewt #truxi-twice #Professor Zoom #shadow wolfhawk #truxi twice #words #Flash v4 annual 4

[stellar-alley]

Everfalls

•Chapter 4•

This is based off of the artwork by oceanteeeth on Instagram! Also shout out to my Beta super.rose.cosplays!

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

(Summary: Eddie offers to help Richie after the fight with Bowers. Eddie takes his first car ride and opens up about his past)

~

The scratch needed about 2 more minutes before it would be fully healed. That's when the wolf's eyes shot open, big glowing yellow eyes, and they were filled with furry. Eddie resisted the urge to jump back and tried to continue the healing process. The eyes landed on Eddie and he went stiff as a board. The boy on the ground let out a deep growl. He swung his arms off the ground, grabbed Eddie's shoulders and threw him off of him.

Eddie flew backwards landing flat on his back with a grunt a couple feet away. His beanie came off on impact, but Eddie hadn't noticed. He was too busy focusing on the pain that reverberated through his body.

Richie jackknifed, snapped upwards into a sitting position and without missing a beat, leaned over, grabbed his glasses and put them on. They were in plain sight, yet Eddie didn't see them. He leaped up and onto his feet, his yellow eyes magnified by the coke lenses of his glasses. They scanned the landscape, eventually falling on Eddie.

A deep, bone shaking growl erupted from his lungs that shook Eddie to the core. The boy leaned down, close enough for Eddie to get a clear view of his sharp fangs, hell, he could even smell his damn breath.

Richie's eyes moved from Eddie's chest up to his head, then he saw something. Something that shook him out of his haze of anger. Richie fell backwards, never breaking eye contact with Eddie.

"O-Okay, this isn't what it seems. I-I can't go back... Please, please don't tell the council" Eddie carefully sat up, worried that he'd spook the other boy.

Richie did a double-take, he shook his head "What? What are you talking about? Fuck the council those guys are a bunch of tree-hugging assholes" he shook his head again. Eddie could practically see the gears turning in his guy's head as he tried to piece together this puzzle.

"S-So you won't tell anyone that I'm here?" Eddie confirmed, he couldn't risk losing this new life he'd just started to live.

His voice seemed distant, "Yeah don't worry". Richie slowly got to his feet, he stood up and dusted himself off. "What are you even doing here? What even are you?" His voice was filled with confusion, yet he still offered his hand out to help Eddie up.

Eddie looked at the hand for a moment before he grabbed it hesitantly, Richie hoisted him to his feet. "I'm a hybrid. If you couldn't already tell" He gestured to the perky bunny ears, his cheeks reddened at the sudden attention they got.

Richie looked at them, mesmerized by the way they lightly swayed with the breeze, "They're cute" He said without thinking. His eyes went wide when he realized what he'd said, "Wait what the fuck are you doing here?" He quickly changed the subject in hopes that Eddie didn't hear what he'd admitted previously.

Eddie shied away, not only did the compliment make his ears red and his heart skip a beat, but he also didn't want to get into the whole 'if I didn't run away I would've died' thing. So he stayed quiet for a moment, opted to serve the area and make sure no one was watching them. No one was, thank god, even the cop car had disappeared.

"Well?" Richie asked, his patience was slipping as a headache formed around his forehead.

He didn't look up from his shoes, "I... was going to be killed" Eddie grumbled under his breath.

"Pardon?"

"I was gonna be killed" Eddie repeated, only slightly louder than previously.

"one more time" Richie requested, this time he put a hand to his ear.

"The council gave me the death sentence" Eddie snapped, his voice stern and serious. Only now did his gaze meet the one of the taller boys.

Shit, he's tall...

But it kinda suits him

"Fuck dude! What the hell did you do?" Richie asked a tinge of laughter in his voice.

The bunny rubbed the back of his neck, "Can we not get into this, especially here?" He glanced around at the very public area they stood in. "Fuck... I don't even know who you are" He sighed at the realization.

"Shit you're right" Richie almost gasped. He bent over and grabbed his red beanie off the ground, dust and dirt strained its red material, as well as... Blood? "W-What happened?" He breathed.

"Henry knocked you out. Shit! Dude, you're still bleeding" Eddie cursed and jumped up to reach up to Richie's forehead. The wolf swatted the rabbit's hands away and felt the scratch for himself. He looked at his hand and saw the blood.

"Shit... I can't go home like this. My mom would kill me, especially for putting up a fight like that" Richie groaned as he recalled using his strength to nail Bowers with the rocks.

Eddie pulled his beanie back on, "Come to my place" he offered innocently. Sure Eddie had just met this guy but there was obviously more to him then he was leading on. He wasn't even sure if it was just because Richie was an Ancestor, or if it was his contagious laugh, but Eddie had already begun to trust him. Also the wolf was bleeding, and Eddie always had an urge to help the wounded... Just like his father.

Richie's eyebrows scrunched together as he did the same with his beanie, "Listen Bunny, you don't even know me, okay? So don't-".

"I know you're hurt, and I can help! Plus you can't go home like that, your mom would kill you" Eddie mocked, which earned him a playful shove from Richie.

"God, you're a stubborn little bunny aren't you?" Richie nudged Eddie again.

"Stop calling me that" Eddie rolled his eyes.

"If I knew your name-"

"Eddie. Eddie Kasbrak" he stuck out his hand before him.

Richie's lips curved into a warm smile, he shook his hand "Hiya Eds, I'm Richie Tozier" He said with a wink.

"Uh" Eddie groaned, "Don't call me that".

Richie let out an over dramatic sigh, "uhh, then what can I call you?".

"Eddie?" He suggested.

"Boring" Richie sang out, "Whatever, I'll figure it out as we go. Anyways, you said something about heading back to your place?" Richie offered and Eddie nodded. "Are you sure? What would your parents-"

"I live alone" Eddie stated before Richie could finish his sentence. Then he began to walk, Richie watched only for a moment before catching on and running to catch up to him.

At first Eddie was going to walk Richie all the way back to his place. The walk was about 45 minutes. "No way am I walking that far. My car is parked in the parking lot. I can drive" Richie offered. The idea of stepping into a car stopped Eddie all together, he'd never been in a car before, and the idea terrified him. Fast, metal objects speeding towards an unknown destination. The only stories Eddie had heard of cars were when they hurt someone from the village.

Richie noticed and stopped as well, "You good, Eddie?".

The bunny's eyes were wide as he imagined the car they'd ride in. Some big hunk of junk with dried blood around the tires. He shook at the thought. "I-I... Have never been in one before..." his voice drifted off.

"Oh?" He coaked an eyebrow, "oh..." He said in realization. "It'll be okay. I'll take it easy" He put a reassuring hand on Eddie's shoulder.

Eddie's gaze went from the soft hand on his shoulder to the boy in front of him, "Okay" He whispered.

Richie carefully led Eddie off the school's property and down the street to where he had his car parked. He drove a CJ5 baby blue jeep, "Eddie, this is Roscoe. Roscoe, meet Eddie!" He happily motioned over to his jeep.

"Roscoe?" Eddie asked.

Richie smiled at Eddie, "Yepperoni! She's my baby" he rubbed the hood of the car. "Trust me alright? It'll be a blast" He insisted as he helped Eddie into the car.

At first, Eddie kept his mouth shut. He watched Richie's every move, how his hands held the steering wheel, how he tapped his index fingers on the dash during red lights, and how his eyes always found their way over to the boy in the passenger seat.

"How are you enjoying it?" He asked Eddie after 5 minutes of odd silence. Eddie almost thought he was enjoying it until he noticed how tightly he was clenching his fists. Hesitantly, he opened up his hands and saw the dark red semi-circle marks left on his palms by his fingernails.

Richie noticed this as well, he watched as Eddie examined his hands. He forced his eyes back onto the road right on time, as he didn't notice how quickly he was approaching a red light. He slammed on the breaks and the car slammed to a stop.

Both of the boys were breathing heavily. Richie, because this is a bad habit of his and he's worried that it'll cost him one day. And Eddie because he was sure that this was how he was going to die, he didn't even notice the way his hand had gripped onto Richie's thigh, as if that would've helped him. Richie only noticed when he saw Eddie glancing at it.

He kept his eyes on the light but he moved one of his hands from the steering wheel down to where Eddie gripped his thigh. "Hey... Eddie, It's okay" His voice was calm and warm, like the soothing tea that Eddie’s mom used to make to calm his nerves during a thunderstorm.

Richie carefully laid his hand on top of Eddie's tense fingers. Usually if someone he'd just met pulled this move on him, he'd slap their hand away with disgust. This was different, Eddie was different. So he only slightly surprised himself when he pulled Eddie's hand off of his thigh and gently laced their fingers together. "You're okay" Richie assured him again. They spent the rest of the ride like that.

After another five minutes, they finally pulled up to a dead end. Richie looked at Eddie with curiosity as the bunny undid his seatbelt, something he watched Richie do before. "We walk from here," He explained in a soft voice. Eddie slowly slipped his hand out from Richie's grasp and got out of the car, as he tried to make it look like he wasn't terrified of the thing he'd just been sitting in.

Richie noticed almost immediately the way Eddie's mood changed. Inside the car, he was quiet and tense, but not even a minute after they began walking through the forest did Eddie seem lighter. He's in his element. Richie thought and looked around at the forest they were in.

The two walked in comfortable silence through the forest. Eddie led Richie through every twist and turn until he stood in front of an open meadow. "Here she is!" Eddie smiled and opened his arms up wide to gesture at the open field.

"Uhh- Eds there's nothing here" Richie pointed out awkwardly.

"Hm? Oh! Right," Eddie said as if he remembered a vital step of the process. Richie watched the boy turn around and place a hand on something that wasn't there. "Hey, you can trust Richie. He's my friend, I think..." He thought about it before he turned around, "We're friends right?" He asked.

"Yes! We're friends" Richie called out as if he was trying to prove something to some unknown force.

Friends, Richie liked the sound of that.

His face dropped, his mouth turned into a shocked 'O' as he watched a house materialize before his very eyes. "Woah" was the only word he could muster. Finally, he saw the thing that had kept this house a secret, the forcefield. It was almost transparent, but he could vaguely see it reflect the sunlight when he tilted his head.

"Here we are!" Eddie announced.

"Here we are..." Richie repeated and followed Eddie through the forcefield and onto his property. After he stepped inside the house he felt the initial shock of a magically appearing house begin to fade. Eddie ushered Richie into the kitchen. He sat the wolf down at the table and got back to work on healing Richie’s cut.

Richie watched in awe as Eddie began to heal his wound. "So what about your family? Are they here with you?" Richie asked at the sound of a seemingly empty house.

"No... It's just me" Eddie ended the conversation pretty quickly as he wasn't in the mood to talk about his overbearing mother or his dead father. He kept his eyes on the healing scar, watching as it slowly stitched itself back together. Once it was done, he leaned away to admire his work.

"It's cool! Really cool..." Richie tried to lighten the mood, so he took his beanie off as a sign of trust. His wolf ears now out in the open.

Eddie noticed the gesture and couldn't help the way his cheeks began to heat up. Carefully, he tugged the beanie off of his head and revealed his two bunny ears. "Wanna see something else?" Eddie asked with a tinge of nervousness in his voice.

Richie only nodded, unsure of what Eddie was planning next. What he didn't expect was for the boy to lift his hands over his head, he stretched and closed his eyes for a moment. Riche couldn't help it as he glanced down and noticed how a part of Eddie's midriff was showing. His cheeks turned the same shade of pink as Eddie's. Once the boy leaned back into a normal stance, he turned around. Richie stared at his back before he noticed something twitch.

"Awwww" Richie cooed at the sight of the small bunny tail that peaked out from his pants, "It's so cute! And small...".

"Small?" Eddie turned on his heels to face Richie, "Compared to what?" He asked with curiosity.

"THIS!" Richie arched his back and hastily moved his shirt and revealed a brown fluffy wolves tail. Which was indeed, much larger than Eddie's.

Eddie laughed at Richie's choice of movements and at how Richie's tail was indeed bigger, and cute. Richie watched for a moment, unable to hold back his own giggles as if Eddie's laughter was contagious.

Once the boys calmed down from their little laughing fit, Eddie took Richie on a tour of his house. He gestured to each room and explained his plans for them, or mentioned how it was empty and he had no clue what to do with it. When they entered Eddie's personal room, Richie noticed the small things he had lying around. Of course, it wasn't much as Eddie had only been living here for a couple of days, but he took note of a couple of books he had, the clothes he had laid out, and the map on the wall.

He examined the piece of paper, tainted yellow with time, and located The All Lands. He tapped it with his index finger "This is where my dad was from".

Eddie noticed that he was looking at the map and walked to stand by his side. "Really? Why'd he leave" He asked cautiously, unsure if this was a touchy subject or not.

The wolf's eyes didn't leave the map "He didn't leave. He was banished" Richie explained solemnly. Shit, maybe this is a touchy subject, Eddie thought as Richie continued "Fell in love with a human, my mother. So the council made him choose. The All Lands, or the love of his life... Who the fuck does that?" Richie turned, only slightly, to look at Eddie, but his eyes were closed, as if he was trying to forget a bad memory.

Eddie opened his mouth to speak when Richie opened his eyes, "But it's fine... Hey if they never left that shithole they would've never had me. That would've been a travesty."

"Yeah... Sure" Eddie rolled his eyes, but he couldn't hide the hint of amusement that settled over his face.

This earned him a playful nudge from Richie, "oh come on Eddie Spaghetti, you love me" he drags out the O in love. Just the mention of the L Word made Eddie's heart skip a beat. Yes he knew that they just met, and they were just friends, but he still blushed. He tried to hide it by looking at the map, mirroring Richie.

They stood in a comfortable silence for a couple of moments. "My dad was killed at the hands of the council" He took a shaky breath and continued, "He helped a human who was dying. They claimed he put our village at risk, Everfalls" Eddie points to his village on the map. He's never had to tell anyone about his father before, since everyone else in the village had already heard the story, and it's not like he wanted to talk about it. Richie had told him his story, so he thought it was only right that he tells him his story in exchange.

Richie's eyes softened at the news, "Awe, Eds I'm sorry about-"

Eddie snapped, "I said, don't call me that" he shook his head then turned and went to go sit on his bed.

The curly-haired boy stood still, frozen in shock as he's never seen Eddie like this. There was a sharp inhale, it pulled Richie out of his thoughts. He tilted his head up to see Eddie's eyes were red with his hand held up over his mouth as he tried to stifle a cry.

The wolf acted quickly, he sat on the bunny's bed and slid towards him. He wrapped an arm around Eddie's shoulder, he desperately wanted to pull him closer and hold him close. He forced himself not to.

Richie you literally just met this guy, so take it easy. Plus he's probably straight. You're not lucky enough to find a guy who shares the same secret as you and have him be gay. No way.

So he just opted for the shoulder hug. It was Eddie who made the move and leaned in, he rested his head on Richie's chest. He felt a pair of arms wrap around him, it filled him with warmth.

Eddie tried so hard not to cry, but he couldn't hold the tears back any longer. He had cried over his father's death back when it happened, but he never had a shoulder to lean on. Sure his mother would envelop him in one of her rib crushing hugs, but those were always for her own sake. So when Richie sat down and put his arm around him, he knew he couldn't stop the waterworks. Someone had finally offered him that shoulder he craved.

"I-I'm sorry I shouldn't get so worked up over this" Eddie sniffled and tried to pull back and out of Richie's grasp.

"Eddie, it's okay, ya know, to cry. You've gotta do it at some point" Richie looked down at him and with one hand he pushed his big glasses up the bridge of his nose. The shorter boy opened his mouth to protest but Richie had already wrapped him up again, instead Eddie let out a shaky breath. "It's okay, you're okay..." Richie whispered to him while he rubbed circles into his back. Eddie melted into his touch.

Word Count: 3220

I adore these boys so much! I had a blast writing this chapter, especially the scene where they're comparing tails lol.

I hope that you guys are enjoying this fan fic as much as I am! Don't forget to like comment and share, it's a great way to show your support and it inspires me to keep writing.

That's all from me, I will see y'all next week with chapter 5!

Until next time

So Long and Goodnight.

#it!everfalls #it chapter 1 #it 2019 #it 2017 #it chapter 2 #it #losers club #the losers club #incorrect losers quotes #incorrect losers club quotes #stanley uris #richie tozier #beep beep richie #stan uris #ben hanscom #bill denbrough #bill hader #reddie #eddie kaspbrak #ao3feed #mike hanlon #beverly marsh #fanfic #fan fic #fanfiction #oneshot #it chapter one #james ransone #supernatural au #alternate universe

[jjmaybankx]

WHY DO I STILL » STILES STILINSKI » ONE

MASTERLIST

TRAILER

✧☾✧

BEACON HILLS, CALIFORNIA.

A town within Beacon County with a population of roughly 30,000 people. A town in a valley area of hills with suburban homes, high rise urban areas, but with more wilderness than the city scene people think of when they imagine California.

It was like something straight out of a movie: asshole jocks, the outcasts, the pretty popular girls with their small clique of friends.

There was just something else there, under all the normalcy of the town, past the focus of lacrosse games, Bobby Finstock's yells, past the sound of Roscoe driving on the road, Haven Salazar waiting out on the front steps of her porch for Stiles Stilinski and Scott McCall so they could start their another day of another year of high school.

To Haven's surprise, there was a lack of a certain cute, uneven-jawlined-boy in his usual place in the passenger seat of the beat up blue Jeep Wrangler as the Stiles Stilinski and his buzzcut pulled to a stop outside of her house. She got up, swinging her back over one shoulder and hopping down the two steps and sliding right into the passenger seat, throwing her bag into the backseat where she would normally be seated.

"Where's McCall?" she asked.

"Gee, good morning to you, too, Haven," Stiles said sarcastically as he drove off, a smile on Haven's face as she rolled her eyes. "I'm doing just fine, thank you for asking. Yes, I am wearing a new flannel, can't believe you noticed."

She glanced at his attire.

"That looks like the same exact flannel you wore when I saw you yesterday."

"Doesn't mean it's not new," he sassed.

"Anyways, you didn't answer my question."

"He wanted to ride his bike to school," he shrugged. "I, personally, think he's just spooked over what happened last night."

"What the hell happened last night?" Haven asked, puzzled.

——

est. 1941 BEACON HILLS HIGH SCHOOL

"Okay, let's see this thing," Stiles told Scott, all three of them wincing when Scott pulled up the side of his shirt to reveal a large gauze-like bandaid, blood seeping through from the other side.

"Gross," Haven said as Stiles went to touch it, and she swatted his hand away from Scott, glaring at him. "I can't believe you two are so stupid—Actually, I can believe that. What I can't believe is that you guys didn't take me with you while you were being stupid."

"Stiles didn't want to bring you out that late, in the dark, in the woods," shrugged Scott as he put his shirt back down. "It was hard to see much, but I'm pretty sure it was a wolf."

"A wolf-bit you?" Stiles asked.

"Honey, wolves haven't been in California for a long time," Haven chimed in, the three of them falling in a line as they walked towards the doors to our school.

"Yeah, not a chance," Stiles said.

"I heard a wolf howling."

"California hasn't had wolves for like sixty years," Haven said.

"Really?" Scott asked, and Stiles and Haven nodded.

"Well, if you guys don't believe me about the wolf, then you're definitely not gonna believe me about when I tell you I found the body," Scott added.

"You—Are you kidding me?" Stiles asked, getting excited.

"A dead body. I am friends with two idiots who get excited over finding dead bodies. Yup, this is definitely not the life I signed up for. I would like to retract whatever contract I signed—" haven started to rant, but she only trailed off when she realized neither of them were paying attention to her monologue as they continued to talk about the dead body.

"—best thing to happen to this town since..." Stiles himself trailed off, staring at something behind her, and Haven turned to see the Strawberry Blonde queen herself walking towards the school door. "...the birth of Lydia Martin. Hey, Lydia... you look..."

She kept walking, not even noticing Stiles.

"...like you're gonna ignore me."

"You're the cause of this, yanno?" Stiles accused Scott. "Dragging me down to your nerd depths. I'm a nerd by association. I've been Scarlet-nerded by you."

Scott just kept nodding and saying, "Uh huh," to Stiles as the bell rang, the three of them making our way into the school building, Scott in the middle of the two of Stiles and Haven with the girl's arms linked around the McCall boy's arm.

"Also, you can't retract whatever contract you signed," Stiles said, glancing over Scott to look at their girl friend, showing her he actually had been listening to what she was saying. "You're stuck with us."

——

In English, everyone was practically spacing out from how boring it was, but thankfully, Haven had that period with Scott and Stiles. Her eyes were glued to the McCall boy in front of her, who was fidgeting more than normal in his seat. There was two things Haven knew about her friends: Stiles was the one with ADHD and Scott had asthma, yet Stiles was sitting almost perfectly still and Scott looked ready to run out of there on all fours.

The Principal came inside with a girl, introducing her as the new student, Allison Argent. When she sat in the empty seat behind Scott, he picked up one of his pens and handed it to her, not even saying a word when he did it.

Haven furrowed my eyebrows at him, but his lovestruck gaze said it all. Homeboy had a crush.

And suddenly Haven's mood was turning sour.

——

At their lockers, Haven watched as Scott stared at Allison, who was talking with Lydia.

Great, my two best friend's crushes are now friends, Haven thought as she slammed her door shut, getting Scott's attention at the loud noise, which also made Stiles jump.

"Easy there, tiger," he said, a small laugh following. He frowned when he noticed her unreadable expression. "What's up, Hav?"

Haven didn't speak, and was practically saved from spilling her brains when a classmate of theirs asked, "Can someone tell me how New Girl is here all of five minutes, and she's already hanging out with Lydia's clique?"

"Because she's hot," was Stiles' response. "Beautiful people herd together."

Before wandering off, the same classmate said, "Then why is Haven here with you two and not with Lydia and Allison?"

Haven stifled a laugh, that comment actually making her smile as the girl beamed at her and walked off. She looked at her two best friends, Stiles glaring at her for finding the insult to them funny.

"So... you coming to watch practice?" Stiles asked Haven, but she was too busy watching Scott watch Allison with a smile to pay attention to anything he was saying.

Stiles looked down while pressing his lips together in a line, knowing what was probably going through Haven's mind watching Scott.

He grabbed her arm, catching her attention this time.

"Wanna put your things in my car for now?" he asked, earning a confused look from her. "I'm giving you a ride after my lacrosse practice, right?"

"Oh, y-yeah," she nodded, shaking her head as she caught on to what he was talking about. "Yeah, that'd be great."

"We'll be back, I'll meet you on the field," Stiles told Scott, who nodded absentmindedly as his two friends walked away.

Haven was walking in front of Stiles, who had a hand on her back as they maneuvered through the crowd of students. When they got to Stiles' car, he opened the trunk for her to throw her backpack into.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, yeah, of course," she brushed it off.

"Bullshit, Hav," Stiles shook his head.

She sighed, turning to face him after closing the door, leaning on the car. "What do you want me to say?"

"That it hurts you," Stiles said. "Seeing him have a crush on someone."

"Sometimes I regret telling you I like Scott," the girl mumbled.

"That makes two of us," nodded the boy in the plaid shirt, and Haven glared up at him. "What? I have to sit here all of the time wondering why do you still..."

When he didn't finish his sentence, Haven said, "Wondering why do I still? What? Like him?"

"He has an uneven jaw line," Stiles said, putting emphasis on every word.

"C'mon, you're gonna be late for practice," she said, moving between the small gap between the car and Stiles.

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her back for a hug.

"Okay, now we can go before I'm late for practice," he said, making her laugh as they made their way to the locker rooms so Stiles could change into his lacrosse uniform.

TWO >

#jjmaybanks;why do i still #stiles stilinski #stiles stilinski imagine #stiles stilinski fanfiction

[artificialqueens]

Different Names For the Same Thing (Trixya) - Chapter 3 - Pilandok

Trixie is in the middle of an emotional crisis and Katya doubles down on the idea that making-out solves everything.

AN: Category is: inconsistent chapter lengths and jumping from a G rating to an M.

Read chapter in AO3. Read from chapter one.

            Trixie needs T-Rex to stop looking at her like that. He doesn’t really understand why T-Rex insists on acting the part of a concerned mother when he knows they both have the same crass humor and prefer the midwestern brand of pick-me-ups— which is honestly more about the booze than the consolation.

            “Save it for the kicked puppy down the street, T,” Trixie deadpans. Diversions like that only work when it’s entertained and T-Rex pointedly does not stop looking at Trixie like he’s the most pitiable thing in the universe. Trixie gives up and slumps down his chair, lifting his cap to fix the non-existent hair on his scalp out of habit. T-Rex doesn’t even look like he’s going to make a joke about it. Trixie sighs.

            “Kim told you, didn’t she?”

            “You know it, girl,” T-Rex answers, finally breaking eye contact to grab his drink and take a sip. Then a little quieter,  “Shea probably knows, too.”

            “Shit,” Trixie puts her forehead on the table. The opening riff of a Dusty Springfield song echoes in the near-empty bar. Son Of a Preacher Man. Jesus Christ. He could just imagine how pathetic he looks like right now.

            “Frankly, I’m a little offended.”

            “Maybe if you visited me more often…” Trixie says onto the table.

            “Bitch, don’t even start,” T-Rex tells him, “am I not sitting in this straight bar with you right now?”

            Trixie looks up and shoots an apologetic look to T-Rex. It’s easier now that he’s not being treated so precariously.

            “Thank you,” he says, too genuinely that T-Rex looks a little disgusted as if he, himself, hasn’t been a sap all night. Trixie scream-laughs at this reaction and the people around them look.

            “Looks like our cover is blown, they know that there’s a couple of queers in this place,” T-Rex mock whispers at him, “Which is a waste cause I butched up. I wore a denim jacket.”

            “Shut up,” Trixie laughs, “I like it here! The bartender knows me.”

            “Yeah, you and your hillbilly music.”

            “She’s a queer icon!”

            The song swells into its chorus, the only one who could ever reach me, was the son of a preacher man. Trixie scrunches his face like he’s in physical pain.

            “Kim didn’t need to tell me, anyway, everyone saw that picture of you and Katya messing up each other’s faces.”

            Oh. That fucking picture. It’s the blurriest picture someone could take from across the street but it’s undeniably him. He’s always dreamed of being recognized along Hollywood Boulevard and there it is: the make-up is unmistakably Trixie Mattel and she got caught in a reddit-level scandal. And what other drag queen of that build and hair color would make out with him in public if not Katya? Trixie doesn’t know if it’s a good thing or a bad thing that everyone just assumed it was Katya.

            Anyway, why does the universe always have to go out of its way to Aesop’s Fables his life? How many roundabout ways can they tell him that the moral of the story is be careful what you wish for?

            “T, I don’t know what to fucking do.”

            T-Rex looks at him, gaze softened. He reaches out to squeeze Trixie’s hand once.

            “It’s okay—“ he begins but cuts himself off, “actually, I don’t know if it’s okay. I have no idea how Katya thinks. He’s great, really, I just— I just know how you are when you fall in love. I don’t want to see you get hurt again. And he’s done it before.”

            “Don’t,” Trixie says as a warning.

            “I know. I know what happened. You forgave him so I don’t really have a right to say anything. But Trix, if you’re not going to let yourself be worried about that, let me be worried. I’ll hold that little grudge for you.”

            Trixie takes a moment, feelings of affection bubble in his chest. It’s probably the alcohol in his system but he begins to wonder if there’s an alternate universe in which he moved to Chicago after Drag Race instead of L. A. He could go to Roscoe’s and Berlin regularly to watch T-Rex host and hype him up and get drunk with him back stage. Maybe he wouldn’t be as busy as he is now and he would have more nights with Shea and Kim and all the girls that accepted him ten years ago.

            “T…” Trixie begins, her voice cracking.

            “Don’t cry, bitch,” T-Rex puts his hands up and Trixie can see the flush on his cheeks and hear the light slurring of his words, “cause I’m tipsy enough to cry and they’re gonna see that we’re sissies and they will beat us up, I swear.”

            “Ahh! Stop acting like this bar is Westboro Baptist!”

            Trixie is laughing loudly, too emotional to care when a couple of tears slide down his face. He appreciates T-Rex, really, although it begins to dawn on him that something doesn’t add up.

            “What exactly did Kim tell you?” Trixie asks after running the back of his hand across his eyes.

            “That you were fulfilling your fan-manifested destiny and slowly realizing that you were in love with Katya,” T-Rex shrugs. At Trixie’s lack of response, he squints his eyes, “Why? Is there anything else?”

            It’s a half-truth, Trixie thinks. Maybe Kim deserves more credit than they usually give him. The bitch knew what really needed to be kept a secret. Besides, Kim telling their friends is probably as much of a push on Trixie’s back that Kim will ever give him, since he’s always been too stubborn to ask for help. Trixie supposes that “being in love” is a way to summarize it, albeit misleading.

            “There’s a ghost haunting me,” Trixie admits.

            “What?”

            “And I think that he’s haunting Katya, too,” Trixie stares at a space just above T-Rex’ head, “He’s been freaking out and kissing me so much suddenly.”

            “Wait- wait- what?”

            “I don’t know, I think he knows. I think he does, I think it’s starting to manifest onto him and I guess being someone’s reincarnation can drive someone a little crazy.” Hearing himself say it out loud, Trixie recognizes the absurdity of the situation. He begins to suspect that maybe Kim just didn’t believe him after all. “I don’t know if Kim is being a good friend or a bad one.”

            T-Rex, still confused, looks like he’s about to give up on the night. He taps his bottle against Trixie’s, the clink is loud against the song fading to the end. The only one who can ever prove me was the son of a preacher man.

            “What else is new?” T-Rex scoffs, “That’s why I should have been your first call.”

            Katya knows he’s being greedy. He knows that’s it’s just selfishness when his hands wrap around the back of Trixie’s neck so he can pull him down harshly for a kiss. He knows that he’s acting spoiled when he scratches on Trixie’s nape so he can feel him gasp against his mouth, so Katya can slide his tongue between Trixie’s lips. Katya’s always been susceptible to indulgences— no need to hold back when the world is unstoppably racing to it’s tragic finish—and indulge he does because Trixie’s so hot when he has that hazy look in his half-lidded eyes and when and Katya can feel Trixie’s low moan vibrate throughout his body when he kisses him on his throat. He’s only fucking human.

            Really, Trixie should be the one with the self-control about this. As much as Katya feels sorry for burdening the boy with the mental labor, Trixie is the one who picked that role for himself when he decided to be the straight man to Katya’s performative sexual advances.

            An hour ago he invited Trixie over to “hang-out” and the pregnant pause that followed told Katya that Trixie knew exactly what he wanted. Katya waited on the rejection but the only thing he heard was “yeah, okay.” The phone call equivalent of a shrug. Katya feels like a kid being given free reign of the Chocolate Factory.

            What business does Trixie have indulging him in his whims? Katya should really be filing a complaint; this is not the relationship dynamic he signed up for. But then he hears Trixie whimper when he bites his lips and Katya can’t help but think, praise Willy fucking Wonka.

            Katya drags Trixie across the room by the lapels of his shirt. Walking backwards, he’s relying on his muscle memory of the general location of his wares so he won’t trip on a coffee table on the way to the couch. Trixie grunts, complaining wordlessly, but he moves along obediently. When Katya’s calves feel cushions, he spins them both around and pushes Trixie onto the couch and he lands with a huff. Trixie frowns at him, but Katya immediately climbs on top of him, knees on either side of Trixie’s thighs, and smashes their lips together again. He feels Trixie freeze, and whenever he does, Katya thinks Trixie is finally going to push him away and ask questions. He never does. Soon enough, Trixie’s back on the same page, and Katya feels Trixie’s fingers curl around his belt loops.

            Katya is stupidly hard against his briefs, the kind of achingly hard erection that he thinks is impressive for his age. Trixie is, too, probably, but they never go further than this. Katya is sure that that would be too far for Trixie— he doesn’t want to think of what it means if it wasn’t.

            Still, like a true hedonist, he double downs on his kisses. He knows he can make-out for hours, he loves it. Katya wants Trixie sweating under him, he wants his tongue sliding in between Trixie’s lips to press on the roof of his mouth and feel the canines of his teeth. He needs Trixie to swallow all of those questions he won’t ask. Katya knows he’s being greedy.

            In the pause of catching their breath, Katya is resting his head on Trixie’s shoulder, pressing lazy kisses on Trixie’s collar bone.

            “Brian,” Trixie whispers. Katya’s body goes rigid, he can feel his heart beat in his ears. “My jaw hurts. Can we take a break?”

            “Oh,” Katya makes a move to get off Trixie and when he plops down on to the space beside him, he begins to feel the strain on his thighs. He watches Trixie walk to the kitchen, picking up the electric kettle on his way to the sink. Katya can feel the sweat run down from his forehead. He ponders on turning up the AC but he decides against getting up. Trixie already has an unopened box of tea from the cupboard and Katya notes how effectively Trixie navigates his space— he’s pretty sure the tea is something Trixie gifted him from before. When the water boils, Trixie pours it in the mug with the bag he place inside. He waits a few seconds before turning around to face Katya.

            Katya is immediately reminded why he doesn’t like this much distance between them. It’s because Trixie looks at him like that. Like he’s looking for something in Katya, something that’s impossible for him to give. Katya hates it when Trixie has that gaze that doesn’t seem to see him but something beyond him. Something in him that deserves all the tenderness from Trixie that he never worked to earn. It’s because Trixie looks at him like that that Katya kisses him roughly, can’t help but dig his nails into Trixie’s biceps and bite hard at his earlobe. The harsher he treats Trixie, the more that Katya feels like Trixie is really looking at him. The more Trixie bites back, the further away they get from the gentle, school-boy kisses in his dreams. Katya needs this to be realer than the dreams.

            But somehow, after everything, Trixie can still afford to look at him like that.

            “Why are you letting me do this to you?” Katya asks suddenly. The distaste sits on his mouth. Still, it throws Trixie off like he wanted to and the affectionate gaze turns into a scowl.

            “Don’t be a cunt,” Trixie replies curtly.

            Katya deserves it, he’s not the one who should be asking questions. Not when he hasn’t answered any of Trixie’s unspoken ones. He sits up properly and his right leg starts to bounce as soon as his feet hit the floor. He should let it go, just enjoy what he’s getting, enjoy that Trixie hasn’t been demanding anything from him. But Katya sees the angry bruise forming on Trixie’s neck from when he sucked on it so much, he sees the slight swell on Trixie’s lips.

            “I’ve been dreaming about you, you know,” Katya breathes, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees.

            Trixie tries to hide his reaction by sipping on his tea but Katya sees the whirlwind forming in his eyes.

            “Tell me about them, Brian.”

            And Katya should tell him. Tell him about the dreams where he wasn’t himself but Trixie was Trixie and he was looking at not-Katya and kissed him so tenderly. In those dreams he was a different boy and made promises he swore he could keep and counted the bruises on Trixie’s skin. In that other life, Trixie would fiddle with the rosary around his neck while he’s telling Trixie he would never hurt him.

            Katya doesn’t understand it, but he knows that that’s what Trixie has been looking from him, in those longing looks. He feels like if he gives it to Trixie, Trixie will never look at him again. Trixie would only see the stupid illusion of a boy that his brain pretends to be when he’s asleep.

            “Brian, tell me about the dreams,” Trixie asks of him again, his voice cracking, “please.”

            “I was a painter in Vienna at the turn of the 20th century. I first saw you from my balcony window and called for you to come up. I kiss you and every night you would climb my window so I can kiss you some more. I never ask you about your job or your family or the sheet music you dropped that had the name Екатерина crossed out on top,” Katya says this in a rush and he can see Trixie slowly deflate, his lips pressing into a thin, hard line. It’s a lie, he thinks, and Trixie recognizes the lie. “Every time I see you, I paint a little bit of you. My canvas is starting to look like a grotesque monster.”

            After a beat, Trixie sets his cup down loudly on the counter. He marches over to the couch and Katya wonders if he’s finally crossed the line, if he’s pushed Trixie over the edge and he’s going to lose Trixie forever. He thinks that Trixie is going to slap him. Instead, Trixie grabs two fistfuls of his shirt and pulls him up to a rough kiss. Their teeth clack painfully but Trixie doesn’t stop, keeping Katya suspended, half-sitting. The hands are holding onto him so tightly that he starts to feel lightheaded. Trixie’s never been this rough with him. And he hates pain, but if Trixie manhandles him, he doesn’t mind, especially not when he can practically feel his dick pulsating in his pants.

            Trixie shove him back to the couch, the impact knocking the wind out of him. Before he can catch his breath, he’s already being straddled, Trixie grinding roughly against his concealed boner. Katya groans and grabs Trixie’s ass, pressing them down against him as he bucks his hips upward. Katya feels fingers dig at his shoulders.

            When he looks up he sees Trixie glowering over him, hot angry tears sliding down his face. Katya stops. His hands reach up to touch Trixie jawline, he feels the moisture on his thumb. He makes a move to wipe them, he wants to.

            “Trix, let me fuck you,” he tells Trixie instead.

            Trixie throws his head back to laugh a humorless laugh.

            “You’re a fucking psychopath,” Trixie says before reaching down and sliding his hand inside Katya’s pants, cupping his erection over his underwear. Katya’s breath hitches. Trixie leans forward until his lips touch Katya’s earlobe. “If we’re going to have sex, I’ll be the one fucking you.”

            With that, Trixie promptly gets up, collect his things on the coffee table, and walks out the door without looking back. The door frame shakes at the impact of it being slammed shut.

            It takes a minute for Katya’s brain to catch up with him. He finds himself alone in his living room, slumped on a couch, panting. His hard dick is struggling against his clothes, calling for his attention. But Katya doesn’t dare touch it.

#rpdr fanfiction #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #t rex #trixya #reincarnation au #soulmate au #angst #heavy petting #different names for the same thing #pilandok #submission #canon compliant

[lettersofwrittencollective]

Caught

Author @lettersofwrittencollective

Pairing: Stiles x Sarah (OC)

Word Count: 1103

Prompt/kink:  Masturbation (annon prompts: #10 “are you touching yourself” and #13 “friends don’t do that” )

Summary:  Stiles and Sarah have been friends for years when Stiles comes over to her house one day, Sarah finds an unexpected boost of confidence

Warnings: Masturbation, mutual masturbation, getting caught

Masterlist || Teen Wolf Masterlist

Moving her camera to get a picture of her best friend during lacrosse practice,Sarah tried to get the best possible shot. She wasn’t sure if she was blessed or cursed today because Stiles had somehow decided that today would be a good day for him to train shirtless and it was a sight to behold.

Having grown up with Stiles she had always known that he was vastly more attractive than most people realized. Not only was he physically attractive but he was also just an overall great guy. He cared deeply and wore his heart on his sleeve if you knew how to look for it. 

Lacrosse had been good to him, as had running from the supernatural world trying to murder him, and now she was watching as his skin rippled as his muscles moved. They were much more defined than she had ever seen them. Moving about to find the perfect picture, Sarah had just found it and was about to snap it when a voice surprised her.

“More pictures of Stiles?” came Lydia’s voice, pulling Sarah from her trance and she almost dropped her camera. 

“Damn it, Lyds!” she scowled, “I had the perfect shot!”

The redhead simply chuckled before crossing her arms and shaking her head, “You know most friends take pictures together. Not pictures of just one of them.”

“We take pictures together,” Sarah points out. 

“Yes, but both of you tend to take obscene amounts of pictures of the other one as well. Mostly when they’re not paying attention,” Lydia tells her and Sarah can’t help but scoff and roll her eyes. “Look I’m just saying, the amount of pictures that you and Stiles have of each other - friends don’t do that but couples do.”

“Whatever you say Lydia,” Sarah muttered, trying not to let on at the excited thrill she always got whenever someone made a comment about her and Stiles being a couple. 

“You know, for a werewolf, you’re pretty oblivious,” Lydia chuckled before joining her on the lawn.

Sarah just shook her head and set down her camera. With Lydia here, it was unlikely that she was going to get many pictures in anyways. Working with Lydia, the two girls began to study for their upcoming biology test. 

It felt like hours went by and Sarah had to keep herself from staring at her best friend like a loon but she’d hear his grunts whenever he was hit slightly harder than expected and she must have been nearing her heat or something because each one of those shot a jolt of arousal straight to her core. 

 before Stiles was calling her name and it was time to head home. One of the reasons Sarah and Stiles were so close was because they’d grown up next door to each other. Grabbing her books, she walked with Stiles and Scott to Roscoe. 

Scott needed to work on some pack stuff with Stiles but Sarah had decided that they, as the leaders, could handle it on their own. She, personally, wanted to take a nice hot shower and then relax for the rest of the night.

The idea of being around Stiles right now and not getting to fuck him was insanely troubling. 

Stiles watched as Sarah walked into her house, telling himself that he was just making sure she made it okay. 

“Dude you’ve got it bad,” he hears Scott laugh before the two of them make their way inside. 

It’s a few hours later when he decides that he’s going to head over to Sarah’s house and spend some time with her. With any luck, he’ll work up the courage to actually tell her how he feels. 

Opening the door to her house, he makes his way up the stairs when he hears a soft moan. Quickly thinking he realizes that her parents cars aren’t in the house and that means that Sarah has the place to herself. 

He knows he should stop. He should turn around and walk out the front door and pretend he was never here but then he hears Sarah moaning his name and he has to swallow as he makes his way up the stairs. 

He made it up the stairs and found Sarah’s door just partially opened as she was sprawled out on her bed. A hand between her thighs as he watched her rub at her clit furiously, while the other hand worked on her nipples. 

“Stiles, please,” he heard her whimper as her back arched and she inserted two fingers. 

Sarah moved her fingers inside her pussy as she dug the heel of your hand into her clit. She’d already come twice, imagining Stiles but it hadn’t felt like enough. She was still desperate for a release. 

Her fingers moved in and out at a brutal pace, they weren’t long enough to reach where she needed them to but she were bound and determined to get another orgasm out. Just as she was about to come, a strangled moan caught her attention and she looked up to see Stiles falling into her room. 

A small shriek escaped her lips and she moved to cover herself when she realized what she was seeing. Stiles had quickly scrambled to stand and there was a prominent bulge in his boxers. His boxers that were more obvious than his pants and she realized his pants were low on his thighs.

Clearing her throat and licking her lips, she asked him tentatively, “Were you... are you touching yourself to… to me?”  

She watched as Stiles face flushed further and he didn’t answer her but she watched as his cock twitched in it’s confines. 

Feeling a sudden surge of confidence, Sarah leaned back on her bed, into the very position she’d been in just a few moments ago. 

“It’s okay you know,” she told him as she spread herself out further, “I don’t mind you watching me… I was… I was actually thinking about you.”

She heard Sitles groan softly as she trailed her fingertips along her thighs. She looked at him and couldn’t help but smirk when his feet moved him towards her and she watched as he almost fell on top of her. 

Stiles knelt at the foot of her bed and Sarah was confused for just a moment until he pulled her towards him. His head between her legs, Sarah could feel her breath hitch as the warmth of his breath on her sensitive skin when the front door opened loudly. 

“Sarah can you come help me with the groceries sweetheart?” her dads voice echoed through the house...

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Masterlist || Teen Wolf Masterlist

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taglist:  @stiles-o-dylan24​ @nicole-lynne​  @lucifersnipnips​ @all-will-be-well-love @n0rdicstar @mummybear @fandom-princess-forevermore​ Do not copy and paste my writing anywhere without my consent. This work is the property of lettersofwrittencollective . Associated characters belong to MTV and are being borrowed for this work, all OC’s are the property of lettersofwrittencollective. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author/publisher.

Posted 15 October 2019

[triggeringthehealing]

distractions

Derek/Stiles | 2748 | G | AO3

Summary: There are hunters in town. Young, ill-advised, easy targets for the pack. Still, Stiles knows that walking right into the motel they’re staying at is a recipe for disaster. Since it’s precisely what Derek seems to want to do, Stiles needs a distraction. 

A/N: Written for the @fullmoonficlet challenge - prompt #331 - strike

"Look, there's no way we can go into this unprepared," Stiles says, looking up from the maps and scraps of paper on the table. "I know that a surprise strike would be the best thing, to catch the hunters unaware, but we can't make it something that's surprising to us."

"I know," Derek grunts unconvincingly.

"I know you know, Derek, but do you really?"

"Stiles."

"I mean, I don't want to you walk out of here tonight before we get a plan together. Or well, you can walk out without us having a solid plan, but that doesn't mean you should walk out of here with the intention of heading over to the hunters to try and catch them off guard. Because that's not going to work," Stiles rambles, he knows, but he wants to drive it home that walking into the motel where the hunters have set up camp is dangerous and a bad idea.

"I won't," Derek tells him, eyes still on the map and fingers running over the notes that they gathered.

The whole pack was on reconnaissance missions for the past two days, snooping where they could without giving themselves away. It proved a lot easier than they were used to, since this group of hunters from out of town and out of state didn't seem to have done their research. That, in Stiles's extensive experience, didn't mean that it was true, but that was definitely how they were seen. Normally Stiles would be extremely suspicious of that—and he was for the first day—but this time there really seems to be a lack of information and awareness on the hunters' side.

They're young, barely old enough to be in the know. They're only just older than Stiles was when he found out about the supernatural, back in high school. He wonders how much training they could possibly have at that age but he saw them and found that whether they're well-trained or not, they're armed to their teeth and clearly mean business. The problem is that they don't seem to know what their business is.

It's a recipe for disaster already, let alone if Derek or anyone else decide to walk right to them and cause a reaction triggered by surprise. With the amount of weapons of all different kinds, there would most likely be innocent bystanders hurt at best and killed at worst. There is precisely zero need for anything like that to happen. It just means that Stiles will need to distract Derek from whatever half-baked plans he might have for the situation.

"I think you want to go now," Stiles says quietly. "I think you figured that these people are young and would be easily taken down. I think you want to do something before they do something to those we care about."

"I think you're assuming a lot and you know what that means," Derek replies, finally lifting his head to look at Stiles.

"I'm an ass, yes," Stiles says, corner of his lips twitching in amusement. "You love my ass."

"I appreciate your ass," Derek says in a completely flat tone. "That doesn't mean I need to tolerate you being one."

Derek grunts then and that's enough of an answer to tell Stiles that he's right. Not that he really needed a confirmation but he gives himself a moment to preen about it anyway, because it's not often that he gets an acknowledgment like this.

"Look, we'll figure out a way to get them," Stiles says, returning to the original conversation. "Marching in there without a plan has never worked out well for us, has it?"

He can see the moment that Derek remembers that one time when they had no plan and still got out unscathed and with the bad guys out of commission.

"Fine, one time is not a good enough sample though," he concedes.

The smirk on Derek's lips does classify as gloating, Stiles is pretty sure.

"We're almost ready with a decent plan, you know this. You've gotta be patient," he tells Derek.

"I am patient."

There's no way Stiles can hold back the snort at that statement, because the only person he knows with a bigger case of being trigger happy is, well, himself. Derek's patience has the length of about a mayfly's lifecycle considering the grand scheme of things in life. He does like a good plan but he prefers when it's done fast and ideally is ready without the actual planning stage. Stiles can't argue with that, though he does tend to enjoy the strategizing a little more than anyone else in their pack.

"Maybe you need a distraction," Stiles mutters, thinking out loud.

He's met with a wall of silence at that and it makes him look up from the maps that his eyes flicked to as he was musing over Derek's patience issue. When his gaze lands on Derek, he sees the raised eyebrow and an expression that's a strange mix of amusement and disapproval.

"We have a bunch of hunters in town, ready to take out someone just to prove themselves," Derek says when Stiles mirrors the raised eyebrow. "Do you really think any of us should be distracted right now?"

Stiles shrugs.

"Well, yeah," he tells Derek. "I don't mean anything major, just a little something to stop you from trying to get yourself hurt."

To his surprise, Derek doesn't do what Stiles expects him to, which is to shut down the whole direction of their conversation. Instead, his eyebrows both shoot up for a moment and then the corner of his lips twitches.

"Did you have anything in mind?"

Stiles is stunned into a very untypical silence. The thing is, they've been dancing around each other for a while now, both of them single again and both in Beacon Hills for a while, with no plans to leave anytime soon. It's no secret to anyone around them that Stiles has long found Derek attractive in several different ways. He just thought for an equally long time that the attraction was entirely one-sided. It's a very new thing that he started considering if he was wrong all these years and that maybe Derek isn't completely indifferent to Stiles's everything.

"That depends on what you think would take your mind off of rushing out right now," Stiles says, keeping his words deliberately vague so he can turn the conversation whichever way seems the most suitable.

Derek seems to ponder his options and the silence does nothing to keep Stiles's hopes down nor his nerves calm. He's not a blushing teen with a crush, those years are well behind him now, especially after he got to date the person he was infatuated with and found out that reality is a whole lot different than his imagination. He had crushes since Lydia, but not as consuming as that one was. Right now, he has a bit of a deja vu from the way his stomach feels like it's filled with butterflies—not an image he really likes but the best simile anyway.

"Maybe we should go somewhere," Derek offers eventually, just as Stiles's brain is starting to spin dangerously.

"Somewhere like, for a drive?"

"Somewhere like getting something to eat," Derek clarifies. "Have you eaten anything today at all?"

Stiles frowns as he tries to remember if he has because "yes" feels like a lie.

"There was breakfast," he admits. "And I had a power bar when Scott got here."

"Actual food, Stiles," Derek says with an exasperated sigh. "Come on, let's go get some burgers."

Without hesitation, Stiles follows him outside and doesn't protest when Derek nods towards his own car. Since they're going somewhere together, there's no point taking Roscoe too and Stiles does still get a bit of a thrill from being in Derek's current Camaro—he did lose count of how many Derek had through the years—even if it's only on the passenger side.

"So, Hot Wheels," Stiles starts when they pull away from the loft building where the pack still continues to meet for strategy sessions, "where are you taking me?"

"To the morgue, if you repeat the Hot Wheels thing again," Derek huffs in response.

"Oh come on, how can I? You're the one switching one Camaro for another," Stiles tells him, smiling.

"It's a good car."

"I know it is. But it was also one of the first Hot Wheels models," Stiles says.

"How do you even know that?"

"I was a young boy once, dreaming of a shiny hot rod of a car," Stiles grins and his mind wanders away to the calm and innocent days when that was true. Days before werewolves and hunters.

"Because you're ancient now," Derek says and Stiles catches him rolling his eyes.

"Feels like it sometimes," Stiles admits quietly, his mood dropping a fraction. "We've all definitely lived through more than others in their whole life. Some of us possibly are on the ninth life."

Derek only glances away from the road for a second but it's enough for Stiles to see the seriousness and concern in his face.

"Glad you made it this far," he says, to Stiles's surprise.

"Likewise," Stiles replies.

They both go silent then and inevitably Stiles's mind runs over the times when he wasn't sure that either of them was going to make it to the next day. There were way too many close calls for both of them, due to not only the dangers around them but occasionally also because of their shared willingness to dive into danger without a second thought. In precisely the same way that Stiles has suggested distracting Derek from tonight. He doesn't dare think about just how many times they should have had their lives end by now because the answer would probably terrify anyone with a shred of sanity.

"So, you didn't answer my question," he says a while later, twisting his body so he gets a better look at Derek.

"Huh?"

"You said we're getting food," Stiles clarifies. "Where are we heading?"

Derek pauses like he forgot their destination, then he glances at Stiles again for a moment before replying.

"You like the new shake place outside of town, right?"

It's a night for surprises apparently—Stiles doesn't remember mentioning the place more than maybe twice in the space of several months since he first went there—because he never expected Derek to know that tidbit.

"Yeah, the burgers are the best in town. And they do curly fries," Stiles adds because that's a deciding factor for him when it comes to a burger joint's quality.

"Of course they do," Derek nods in what's maybe supposed to be a serious expression but is betrayed by the way Derek's lip curls up at the corner.

"Don't you dare mock my love of curly fries, man" Stiles tells him, knowing that he can't pull off being serious.

"I would never," Derek tells him solemnly just before his face lights up with a smile.

"Liar."

"Good thing you can't tell," Derek replies fast.

Their conversation continues in a similar tone all the way through town and it's easy, simple. There were times in the past when Stiles wouldn't have dreamed of having this easy a conversation with Derek, but it's become the norm now, though the slightly flirty undertones are most definitely shiny and new. They're not obvious—to an outsider it probably just sounds like they're teasing each other in a friendly way—but Stiles knows now how Derek talks to friends and how he talks when he's flirting. Plus, he knows his own way of keeping the door open to double entendres in conversations that are intended to lead them outside of the friendship boundaries.

By the time Derek pulls up to the diner—restaurant, really, since it's a little more upscale than a diner—Stiles is questioning if he imagined where their conversation was going. It's almost like any other night when the pack decides to get food together, only this time it's Stiles and Derek alone. Which isn't all that new either, there have been a few times when everyone else decided to split up and head elsewhere.

Still, Stiles is fighting the urge to ask if this can be considered a date. Mostly because, if he dares being completely honest with himself, he wants it to be. And it shouldn't be awkward, it shouldn't be a big deal to be honest about things. Maybe it would be fine and if Stiles is reading too much into things, they'll just both brush it off and get on with life.

It's just that there's a tiny voice at the back of Stiles's mind that reminds him that getting this wrong might end up causing tension and make things difficult. After all, they do both live in Beacon Hills and the town has never been big enough to hide from anyone.

"You're thinking very loudly over there," Derek says as they find an empty booth.

Stiles freezes. It's not like he's saying his thoughts out loud without knowing it, that much he's sure of. But he's clearly not as good at keeping his face blank as he thought he was.

"Anything I can help with?" Derek asks, leafing through the menu without really looking at it.

"I don't know. Maybe. Maybe not. I mean, if anyone can it would be you, but..." Stiles starts rambling, then he stops himself, bites his bottom lip to keep more words from falling out, and turns his gaze to the napkin box instead.

"Stiles."

"Yeah?"

When he looks across the table, Derek is looking right back, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes and a small smile on his lips. It's one that Stiles doesn't see a lot—it's fond, for lack of a better word—and it jolts something in Stiles's chest. There's nothing that would stop the question that pushes itself to the forefront of Stiles's mind then.

"Is this a date?"

His whole body tenses as the words spill out and Stiles watches every minute movement of Derek's face: the twitch of his eyebrow, the curling of the corner of his mouth, the way his eyes widen just a fraction. He doesn't miss the way Derek's cheeks darken a little under the harsh lights of the restaurant either.

"Do you want it to be?" Derek asks in return.

"You didn't answer," Stiles says automatically, as he always does when someone answers with a question. "But yeah, I do. Want that."

"Okay," Derek nods. "Then it can be."

That's it. It's that simple, apparently. Stiles's smile mirrors the one that he's looking at and for a blissful moment, his mind is blank. But then his thoughts come rushing back and he tries to remember what it is that people do on dates, besides small talk and eating. He can't imagine having a mindless conversation with Derek just to fill the silence and there's no food yet since they didn't order. Stiles wonders for a beat if he can summon the wait staff to their table before it gets awkward.

"Stiles."

Derek says his name like he knows exactly what Stiles is thinking and how he's internally freaking out.

"Yeah?"

"You're thinking way too noisily again."

"We have met before, right?" Stiles asks lightly and a layer of his worries starts peeling away.

"It looks like you're panicking about this," Derek tells him, not bothering to answer the question.

"Maybe. A little," Stiles admits.

Derek smiles that soft and fond smile again and drops the menu on the table, then reaches across until his palm in on top of Stiles's hand. Without thinking, Stiles turns his hand over and his eyes drop down just as Derek's palm meets his own.

"Let's get food first," Derek says, glancing to the side.

Stiles follows the movement and sees a waiter approaching.

"Okay. I can do that," he says when he looks back at Derek.

He wonders if his heart will be able to handle seeing Derek's face the way it is now, soft and relaxed, happier than Stiles has seen him over the years. Most of his doubts vanish into thin air as his mind processes the fact that he is the cause of Derek's expression.

As far as distraction tactics go, Stiles thinks that maybe he found the best one yet. Not only is Derek not rushing into danger, but Stiles gets to live a dream.

#sterek #eternalsterek #sterek fic

[winterisakiller]

Get Better - Chapter Two

Title: Get Better

Chapter: 2/18

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Cath Richardson (OFC)

Genre: Romance

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Love. Companionship. Family. These are all of the things Tom Hiddleston desperately wanted. But his life and his choices left that a distant and unlikely prospect. So he did his best to move on and live his life as is. When an opportunity to return to the theater arises, he jumps at the chance and along the way finds that maybe, just maybe, those distant and unlikely prospects are closer than he could have imagined. Sequel to Brave Face.

Authors Notes/Warnings: So as I was writing Brave Face I knew that Tom’s story wasn’t over, even if that particular part of it was. And while I knew, more or less, what the overall ending to the story would be, its taken me a while to figure out the time in between. Thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for letting me continually throw ideas off and at you. I still can’t fathom why you put up with it, but I am eternally grateful you do. This story will update on Thursdays.

Tag list: @tinchentitri @theheartofpenelope @nonsensicalobsessions @blacksuitofdoom @noplacelikehome77 @messy-insomniac-bookgirl @wolfsmom1 @just-the-hiddles @theoneanna

Previous Chapter

CHAPTER TWO

 The heat of August gradually cooled into early September. It was with a twinge of nostalgia that Tom found himself sitting around with Joanna Hogg, Mary Roscoe, and Kathryn Worth discussing Unrelated. It had been his first film and therefore quite the learning experience. But one that he remembered fondly. Later that same week he’d found himself on a red carpet and then on a stage presenting an award to a man he’d first seen on a big screen in a film he adored, and feared, as a young boy. The same man he later had the pleasure of working with in another film in Australia of all places. Funny thing time, he thought smiling as he stood beside Jeff Goldblum, chatting about life and film and the world. It still brought him up short the chances and opportunities he’d been blessed with in his career. Funny, sometimes painful, but wonderful all the same.

 And now he found himself once again waiting on the side of another stage, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He chatted amicably with his fellow actors and readers, waiting for the signal from the now closed double doors. He could clearly hear the excited murmurings of the crowded auditorium and felt the familiar nervous energy bubbling in his gut. It was the same feeling he got anytime he’d prepared to walk onto a stage or a set. It was an old friend at this juncture and one he both missed and dreaded.

 When he’d been approached with this project two months back, he had all but jumped at the chance. Getting not only to read but debate with fellow actors and writers over literature he’d loved for years, to be able to perform and share that love with others. It would a nice testing of the waters, so to speak. He hadn’t been on stage in a performer sense in over a year, and hadn’t done something of this nature since school. It had seemed like an interesting challenge and one he couldn’t see turning down. Rehearsals had been full of laughter and amusement.

 Tom was sharing the stage with several talented actors; amongst them an actress in talks to join him in the Pinter production he was very much looking forward to in the New Year. Zawe Ashton was her name and while he’d seen bits and pieces of her work in the past, she was not someone he’d had the pleasure of working with beforehand. He found her funny and a delight to play off of. She had a wicked sense of humor that went very much along the lines of his own. And what was best was she hadn’t seemed to give a toss who he was. Yes, she’d known his name and was familiar with his work, but none of that seemed to matter to her. He could very easily see them getting along quite well during a grueling show run. If things went well tonight and the following week at the gala, then schedule permitting she would be a shoe-in for the role of Emma.

 Beyond the doors, a hush fell over the crowd and he could see the lights begin to dim. Not long now. He could feel the tension and excitement running through their small group as the talked and laughed amongst themselves.

 “Alright, places,” the woman manning the door called. Tom took a deep breath and walked through the doors and onto to the stage.  

 The debate itself seemed to fly by and Tom found that he had enjoyed himself immensely. His competitive nature was certainly getting its chance to shine and he was absolutely delighted when his team, the correct team as far as he’d been concerned, won. They’d taken their respective bows and headed off stage in ones and twos. “That was absolutely fantastic,” Zawe breathed, smiling as she turned back to face Tom.

 “Oh completely. I haven’t had that much fun in longer than I care to admit.”

  Zawe laughed in earnest. “Same.”

 They were ushered around the auditorium and handed collection buckets before being let loose to collect as much money for charity as they could. Tom had smiled, laughed, and talked with as many people as he could; never fully able to turn off the ‘public Tom’ persona he’d worn for so many years now. It was him, in a way, but more like a perfectly sculpted mask. Something he could slip in and out of depending on the place and the company he kept. In the past he’d been more open, more playful and less guarded with how he spoke and acted, but time and experience had taught him to pull back. To keep a respectable distance between who he was and who he was expected to be. To still be warm and engaging, but to never cross that line. It had been a difficult lesson to learn.

 It was with a grateful sigh that Tom folded himself into the backseat of the black cab, leaning his head back against the seat rest. He watched with half lidded eyes as the brightly lit streets of London flitted past. He loved the city; loved its hustle and history. It was one of the main reasons he still lived in the converted terrace he’d owned for several years now when he could so easily have moved to California like so many others had before him. London held his heart in a way very few other places had.  

 He blinked in momentary confusion as the cab slowed to a stop. It took far longer than he cared to admit to realize that he was, in fact, home. With a warm smile, Tom paid his fare and lumbered slowly to the black gate surrounding his home. He absently entered the code, pushing the gate open and heading up the dimly lit walk to his door. From behind it, Tom could hear Bobby’s excited barking and smiled to himself. It wasn’t quite the welcome home he’d longed for, but it was nice to have someone waiting for him. He made quick work of the lock and slowly pushed the door open.

 The spaniel’s barking increased in pitch and volume, jumping and wagging his tail as if his life depended on it. Tom sighed and shook his head. “Alright you heathen, let’s get you outside.” More excited barking followed as Tom padded through the hallway and into the kitchen towards the back door into the garden. While Bobby rummaged around outside, Tom filled his food bowl and topped off his water bowl. “Come on now, food’s ready!” he called out the door to little effect.

 Tom let out a grunt of exasperation and headed out into the dimly lit back garden. Bobby was snuffling around the bushes at the far end of the garden, telltale small piles of dirt surrounding him. Tom grumbled under his breath and yelled for the dog again. Reluctantly, Bobby heeded his master’s call and trotted back up the yard and into the kitchen.

 “You, my friend, are very lucky indeed that I am as fond of you as I am.” Bobby raised his head from his supper bowl and gave Tom an astonished look before returning to his meal. Tom merely shook his head and headed back through the house and towards the stair case to the upper level and bed. He stripped mechanically, making a brief stop in the bathroom to wash his face and clean his teeth, before falling into bed.

 The next morning dawned bright and cool. Tom stretched his arms above his head, a jaw cracking yawn echoing through the sunlit room. Bobby, who had been curled up contentedly at the edge of the bed, raised his head. He’d tried, when the spaniel was younger, to keep him downstairs in his own crate overnight. It had lasted all of about the span of a week for the puppy’s pitiful cries to break Tom’s resolve and allow him into the bedroom. ‘Just for the night,’ he’d sworn. And now nearly a year later, it was quite clear Tom had lost that battle.

 With determination, Tom pushed himself up and out of the bed, padding down the stairs and into the kitchen, Bobby quick on his heels. He opened the back garden door and let the spaniel out, turning his attention towards the coffee press and feeding his much needed caffeine addiction. He set to work boiling his kettle and gathering the bag of coffee from the cabinet above the sink. Tom took great pleasure in setting about brewing his morning coffee, loving the way the strong, warm scent filled the kitchen.

 Once it had brewed he poured the steaming liquid into his mug; a green one with a chip in its lip, one that Amy had given him. The thought of her still stung, though the pain had lessened throughout the intervening years. He still missed the life they’d had…Still bitterly regretted the stupid and selfish choices he’d made that had broken them. But he had slowly begun to come to terms with them and, in turn, with himself. Little things still caught him off guard but he’d learned to accept them and to try to move on from them. It was a hard road but one he was beginning to believe he could navigate on his own.

 Coffee doctored to his liking, Tom headed out into the back garden. He lowered himself into one of the wooden patio chairs and watched Bobby run around like mad chasing squirrels. It was a wonder any still dared to enter the garden with how valiantly Bobby guarded his territory. That dog was a menace and Tom loved him dearly for it. Closing his eyes, he savored the warmth the bloomed inside him as he sipped the gently steaming mug in his hands. There were many things he could make do without, coffee was most definitely not among them. He took his time, enjoying the sun on his face and the slowly dwindling coffee in his mug. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that man could not survive on coffee alone.

 “Bobby!” He called, pushing himself to his feet. The spaniel, paused mid-bark and turned to face his master. “Come.” Tom laughed as the spaniel broke off into a mad dash towards the door, nearly knocking him off his feet. Apparently someone was wanting his breakfast as well. Once kibble was added to Bobby’s bowl, Tom turned his attention towards his own meal; a quick toast and egg would do. He’d glanced at the clock above the stove when he’d entered the kitchen and found it to be well after nine. He would need to get moving soon, especially if he wanted to get a decent run in before heading into town to meet Emma.

 Not bothering with a shower, after all what would be the point if he was just going to end up a sweating mess again, Tom changed into his running kit and slipped into his trainers. He thundered down the stairs and towards the front door, grabbing Bobby’s lead from the key hook. Bobby, sensing walkies were afoot, was standing at the front door and began to twirl in tight little circles as Tom approached. He laughed and hooked the lead to the spaniel’s collar before leading them both out the door and into the crisp, late morning air.

 Several circuits around the neighborhood and nearby park helped to clear his head and focus his mind. He loved running, loved being able to lose himself in the rhythm and peace of it. It was the one pastime he could do anywhere and had been a godsend on long and grueling shoots. Tom was, in fact, a sweating mess when he and Bobby pushed their way back inside the house. Unclipping Bobby, and patting him playfully on the back, Tom climbed the stairs two at a time, stripping his clothing as he went.

 He showered quickly, enjoying the feel of the steaming water on his protesting muscles, and padded back into his bedroom to dry and dress. A quick glance at clock on the bedside table told him it was half eleven. With a grunt, he pulled on a pair of jeans and his well-loved blue jumper, which he noted with a fair bit of disdain was starting to get a hole in one of its sleeves. He ran a quick comb through his damp hair and shoved his feet into the grey boots he’d had for nearly as long as he could remember.

 Another quick glance at the watch he’d fastened onto his left wrist as he pounded down the stairs told him he needed to leave, and quickly, if he had any hope of meeting Emma at the restaurant she’d chosen on time.

 “Shit,” he cursed at himself, ushering Bobby into the back room and his kennel.

 Things situated, Tom grabbed his wallet and keys from the hallway table and darted out the front door. He considered trying to cab it in, but all things being equal and knowing London traffic far too well, he dismissed the matter out of hand; the tube was often a great deal faster than the car.

 Forty minutes later, Tom dashed into the warmth of the fairly busy café; woolen coat open and breathing heavy. He’d made a mad dash from the underground station once the train had finally come to a stop. He was late and Emma was sure to give him hell about it. He scanned the room, finally resting on her strawberry blonde head at a table in the corner.

 She smiled up at him as he took the opened seat across from her, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “I’m dreadfully sorry. I lost track of time and…”

 Emma simply rolled her eyes and held up her hand. “Tom, the day you show up to a non-work event on time is the day I know the world’s ending.”

 “Oh ha ha,” he retorted, shaking his head. “I’m only what, ten minutes late?”

 She snorted, “Only…But I guess coming from you that is actually pretty decent. I was honestly expecting at least twenty minutes.”

 Tom looked up at her, affronted. True he did tend to run slightly behind if not harassed, but surely not that badly and with such consistency? “I am not that bad.”

 “My darling brother, unless you’ve got someone there to push and pester you, you are indeed that bad. Need I remind you of mum’s birthday last year…?” Emma quirked an eyebrow at her brother as if daring him to challenge her.

 He scoffed. “That was once time…”

 “And I can list at least a dozen others offhand, if you’d like. My wedding, Sarah’s wedding, last Christmas, the Christmas before…I could go on,” Emma countered. “But I don’t have all day. I left Jack minding Alice and while I love that husband of mine, our offspring has been cutting a new tooth and has frankly been crankier than you on a bad day.”

 Tom narrowed his eyes in mock annoyance. “Why are you always such a brat, Brat?”

 “Because someone needs to put you in your place, brother dear. And since I am here, I guess that leaves me.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as they locked on Tom’s. “Lord knows you aren’t going to manage it yourself and Luke’s earned a break don’t you think?”

 The teasing volleyed back and forth throughout their meal. It had been a good while since he had done anything with his baby sister, save for larger family gatherings. She’d been busy between the chaos of new motherhood balanced with local and national theatre work and he’d been in and out of the country with promotional work. He smiled as he watched her talk, the way her face lit up as she told him about the latest thing his tiny niece had done or the mishap she’d had with a prop during a sold out performance. It was difficult to reconcile the grown woman before him with the bratty little sister she’d always been in his eyes, but it was wonderful all the same.

 “Oh,” Emma started, placing her half-drunk mug of coffee onto the table. “Have you talked with mum recently?”

 Tom shook his head, “Not in the last week or so? Has something happened?” He leaned forward, anxiety clearly painted across his features.

 “No. No, she’s fine. She’s just trying to get things sorted regarding Christmas.”

 “Christmas? It’s barely October,” he countered.

 “Which I tried telling her, but alas, she wants to get everyone together this year and with you and Sarah and your insane schedules, she figured starting sooner rather than later would make sense.”

 Tom laughed and shook his head. He loved his mother, loved her dearly, but she was a planner. Had been his entire life. And the holidays were her weakness. They had always attempted to gather for Christmas, with varying success; between Tom’s own insane schedule over the last several years and Sarah and her family living and working in India, it was rare to have all three Hiddleston siblings under one roof. And as inane as it sounded, Tom could see the sense in her trying to plan so far in advance.

 “…usual nonsense. And she is thinking of trying to have Amy and her family around on Boxing Day.”

 Tom blinked in confusion as Emma’s words sank in. “What now?”

 “Mum is talking about inviting Amy, Teddy, and their little one over for either lunch or dinner on Boxing Day.”

 His heart clenched at the mention of Amy and her husband but slowly relaxed as he let out a breath.

 “Is she now?”

 While he’d run into both Amy and her husband on several occasions since the wedding, the idea of spending time with them in his mother’s home felt…strange. Not as unbearable as it would have been even a year ago, but still strange. ‘And their little one.’ He’d known they’d been expecting, Emma had mentioned it months back, but hadn’t really let himself think on the matter. He was…happy for her, for them both, even if they idea set uneasily in his gut. And it wasn’t the idea that it should have been him, he’d long since come to terms with that, more so a longing. Something he’d felt when he looked at Sophie as she held either of her and Ben’s sons. Stupid and selfish, but very much real.

 Emma nodded. “Henry will be four months by then and mum is desperate to meet him.” She sighed, “You’d think she didn’t have any grandchildren of her own with the way she’s acting.”

 Tom shrugged. “You know mum, she always had a soft spot for Amy…”

 “That she did,” Emma echoed. “But still…The nerve of the woman.” They both chuckled at that. “So just be aware that she’s most likely going to call and pester you.”

 “I don’t doubt that for a single moment,” Tom laughed. “Has Sarah said if they were coming yet?”

 Emma took another sip of her coffee and nodded. “Yeah, they should be able to come. You are the wild card at the moment.”

 Tom stroked his beard with his free hand. “I should be able to come…As of now I don’t think I have anything that would make that impossible. The con in Phoenix isn’t until the new year…I’ll double check with Michael and Luke to make sure.”

 “I still cannot believe people pay actual money on purpose to meet my dork of a brother. Cannot wrap my head around it.”

 He chuckled, “It’s still strange for me, Em.”

 “I bet.” She paused and pulled her mobile from her purse, glancing at the screen. “And on that note, I have to run. It’s nearly three and I promised Jack I’d be home before four.” She reached for the bill their server had left on the edge of the table but Tom beat her to it, flashing her a warm smile.

 “My treat,” he said in way of explanation.

 Emma shot him a pointed glare, “You are a menace, you know that right?” She pushes her chair back and pulled on her coat.

 Tom chuckled, climbing to his feet himself and pulling his sister into a warm hug. “Give Alice a kiss for me and give Jack my best.” Nodding, she slipped her bag over her shoulder and headed for the door. Tom followed behind, pausing to pay the bill before venturing into the chill of the late afternoon and home.

 He spent much of the following week juggling the things he’d been putting off. He’d called and visited his mother; and she, as Emma had predicted, pestered him about his schedule around Christmas. He’d assured her, with back up from Luke, that he was indeed free and would most definitely be coming home this year. He’d also started sorting through his clothing and washing and packing for his trip to the states. He found himself both excited and wary for the trip. Conventions could be a thoroughly enjoyable experience; he’d had several wonderful ones and had enjoyed interacting with fans at the events. But just the same they could be draining and demanding. Sometimes it seemed, no matter what he did, it wasn’t enough. Tom hoped for the former this time around.

                                                             —

 The evening of the gala celebrating the life and work of Harold Pinter arrived far sooner than Tom had anticipated. He was excited and anxious and terrified all at once. He’d been so wrapped up in trying to organize his life and make sure he had his lines memorized, that when the driver rang the bell on his gate he’d stood staring in complete confusion for several seconds before realization dawned. God, feared he’d lose his head if it weren’t attached. Tom had been approached for the event shortly after talks began regarding his involvement in reviving Betrayal in the West End. He’d agreed almost immediately, looking forward to sharing the stage with several talented actors and testing out the material on stage before fully committing to the play. The nervous energy had run off him in waves as he’d darted upstairs and dressed quickly. Thankfully, Luke had seen to having his suit pressed and waiting in his closet. Tom dressed in a mad dash before heading back down stairs and out to the waiting car.

 It was half past five when Tom slid into the leather backseat, apologizing profusely for his tardiness. Luke would murder him if he were late. As the car started off, Tom pulled out his mobile, shooting his publicist a quick message that he was on his way. It most likely wasn’t necessary, but Tom knew Luke liked to be kept in the loop as much as possible. Shoving his mobile back into his pocket, he turned his attention back to the present. He made small talk with the driver as they moved along, chatting about the weather and later about the dismal amount of traffic they’d run into. They’d pulled aside the theatre half an hour later and once he’d climbed from the car, Tom was ushered inside and backstage. He chatted with Zawe and several other familiar faces as they waited for the theatre to fill and for the start of the evening.

 Things had been going rather well, in Tom’s humble opinion until he’d gone to grab his folder and managed to slice his thumb open. He’d stared, dumbfounded, at the welling blood before he was rushed towards the side of the room and quickly patched up. “Score one for my dumb luck,” he joked as he once again picked up his folder, this time taking much greater care. His scene with Zawe had gone off splendidly. They played well off each other and he looked forward to working more with her, providing she was willing and able to commit to the run.

 Bows taken, they were all rushed backstage and then quickly to their waiting cars to be driven to the Brasserie Zedel for the after party. Once arrived, Tom walked the short carpet and took his time talking with the various reporters encamped along it. He enjoyed talking about not only Harold Pinter and the fun he’d had that night but of theater and acting in general. He knew, without a doubt, that he was allowing his inner theatre and literature nerd run amuck, but couldn’t find it in him to care.  

 Tom mingled with the arriving guests. He caught sight of several familiar faces and did his best to talk with them all. As he allowed himself to scan the room once again, he found his eyes drawn to the short dark haired figure talking animatedly with Zawe. She was all of five foot nothing in her heels but commanded the attention of those around her as though she were much, much taller. Her dress was navy in color and came to mid-calf, clinging to her curves in ways that made Tom desperate to trace with his own hands. Her dark hair hung in a low, loose pony over one shoulder. She tossed her head back, laughing at something Zawe had said and the sound that echoed from her lips was captivating even from such a distance.

 Stealing himself, Tom made to start for the both of them, wanting nothing more than to know just who this tiny, vivacious woman was. He just managed to work his way through the densely packed room when the announcement was made for all to begin to filter their way into the restaurant proper. He cursed under his breath and allowed himself to be moved with the crowd inside. He’d found his table easily enough and was quickly pulled into conversation. He caught glimpses of the mystery woman throughout the night but never quite managed to catch up with her.

 He’d managed, however, to catch Zawe on her own and, despite feeling very much like a desperate twelve year-old, ask her about her earlier companion. Confusion flitted across Zawe’s features for a moment before understanding seemed to dawn. “Oh! That was Cath. She is a doll. Worked with her on a few projects a handful of years back.”

 “Is she an actress then?”

 Zawe shook her head, “Nah. She works behind the scenes; hair and make-up. Talented as hell, that woman is.” He tried then to arrange an introduction, ignoring the odd regency undertones such a thing invoked, but the woman, Cath, had been nowhere to be found.

 Tom sighed, just as well then. He did his best to let the disappointment flow off his back and made a few more circuits around the room, smiling and talking with various guests before calling it a night. He had a flight to catch in the morning (an international one at that which tended to be a headache at the best of times), and while he could sleep just about anywhere, he wanted to have at least one last good night’s rest in his own bed. Hotel beds, and airplane seats for the matter, were never quite as comfortable as his own bed. A few moments later, Tom stepped out into the brisk October evening air and climbed once more into the backseat. He closed his eyes, resting his head back against the seat and allowed the hum of the car’s engine to lull him into a state of almost sleep.

Next Chapter

#tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston rpf #tom hiddleston x ofc #tom hiddleston x oc #tom hiddleston x original female character #tom hiddleston x orignal character #get better fic #Tom and Cath

[winterisakillerwrites]

Get Better - Chapter Two

Title: Get Better

Chapter: 2/18

Character: Tom Hiddleston/Cath Richardson (OFC)

Genre: Romance

Rating: Teen and up

Summary: Love. Companionship. Family. These are all of the things Tom Hiddleston desperately wanted. But his life and his choices left that a distant and unlikely prospect. So he did his best to move on and live his life as is. When an opportunity to return to the theater arises, he jumps at the chance and along the way finds that maybe, just maybe, those distant and unlikely prospects are closer than he could have imagined. Sequel to Brave Face.

Authors Notes/Warnings: So as I was writing Brave Face I knew that Tom’s story wasn’t over, even if that particular part of it was. And while I knew, more or less, what the overall ending to the story would be, its taken me a while to figure out the time in between. Thanks to @redfoxwritesstuff for letting me continually throw ideas off and at you. I still can’t fathom why you put up with it, but I am eternally grateful you do.

Previous

CHAPTER TWO

The heat of August gradually cooled into early September. It was with a twinge of nostalgia that Tom found himself sitting around with Joanna Hogg, Mary Roscoe, and Kathryn Worth discussing Unrelated. It had been his first film and therefore quite the learning experience. But one that he remembered fondly. Later that same week he’d found himself on a red carpet and then on a stage presenting an award to a man he’d first seen on a big screen in a film he adored, and feared, as a young boy. The same man he later had the pleasure of working with in another film in Australia of all places. Funny thing time, he thought smiling as he stood beside Jeff Goldblum, chatting about life and film and the world. It still brought him up short the chances and opportunities he’d been blessed with in his career. Funny, sometimes painful, but wonderful all the same.

And now he found himself once again waiting on the side of another stage, adrenaline coursing through his veins. He chatted amicably with his fellow actors and readers, waiting for the signal from the now closed double doors. He could clearly hear the excited murmurings of the crowded auditorium and felt the familiar nervous energy bubbling in his gut. It was the same feeling he got anytime he’d prepared to walk onto a stage or a set. It was an old friend at this juncture and one he both missed and dreaded.

When he’d been approached with this project two months back, he had all but jumped at the chance. Getting not only to read but debate with fellow actors and writers over literature he’d loved for years, to be able to perform and share that love with others. It would a nice testing of the waters, so to speak. He hadn’t been on stage in a performer sense in over a year, and hadn’t done something of this nature since school. It had seemed like an interesting challenge and one he couldn’t see turning down. Rehearsals had been full of laughter and amusement.

Tom was sharing the stage with several talented actors; amongst them an actress in talks to join him in the Pinter production he was very much looking forward to in the New Year. Zawe Ashton was her name and while he’d seen bits and pieces of her work in the past, she was not someone he’d had the pleasure of working with beforehand. He found her funny and a delight to play off of. She had a wicked sense of humor that went very much along the lines of his own. And what was best was she hadn’t seemed to give a toss who he was. Yes, she’d known his name and was familiar with his work, but none of that seemed to matter to her. He could very easily see them getting along quite well during a grueling show run. If things went well tonight and the following week at the gala, then schedule permitting she would be a shoe-in for the role of Emma.

Beyond the doors, a hush fell over the crowd and he could see the lights begin to dim. Not long now. He could feel the tension and excitement running through their small group as the talked and laughed amongst themselves.

“Alright, places,” the woman manning the door called. Tom took a deep breath and walked through the doors and onto to the stage.  

The debate itself seemed to fly by and Tom found that he had enjoyed himself immensely. His competitive nature was certainly getting its chance to shine and he was absolutely delighted when his team, the correct team as far as he’d been concerned, won. They’d taken their respective bows and headed off stage in ones and twos. “That was absolutely fantastic,” Zawe breathed, smiling as she turned back to face Tom.

“Oh completely. I haven’t had that much fun in longer than I care to admit.”

Zawe laughed in earnest. “Same.”

They were ushered around the auditorium and handed collection buckets before being let loose to collect as much money for charity as they could. Tom had smiled, laughed, and talked with as many people as he could; never fully able to turn off the ‘public Tom’ persona he’d worn for so many years now. It was him, in a way, but more like a perfectly sculpted mask. Something he could slip in and out of depending on the place and the company he kept. In the past he’d been more open, more playful and less guarded with how he spoke and acted, but time and experience had taught him to pull back. To keep a respectable distance between who he was and who he was expected to be. To still be warm and engaging, but to never cross that line. It had been a difficult lesson to learn.

It was with a grateful sigh that Tom folded himself into the backseat of the black cab, leaning his head back against the seat rest. He watched with half lidded eyes as the brightly lit streets of London flitted past. He loved the city; loved its hustle and history. It was one of the main reasons he still lived in the converted terrace he’d owned for several years now when he could so easily have moved to California like so many others had before him. London held his heart in a way very few other places had.  

He blinked in momentary confusion as the cab slowed to a stop. It took far longer than he cared to admit to realize that he was, in fact, home. With a warm smile, Tom paid his fare and lumbered slowly to the black gate surrounding his home. He absently entered the code, pushing the gate open and heading up the dimly lit walk to his door. From behind it, Tom could hear Bobby’s excited barking and smiled to himself. It wasn’t quite the welcome home he’d longed for, but it was nice to have someone waiting for him. He made quick work of the lock and slowly pushed the door open.

The spaniel’s barking increased in pitch and volume, jumping and wagging his tail as if his life depended on it. Tom sighed and shook his head. “Alright you heathen, let’s get you outside.” More excited barking followed as Tom padded through the hallway and into the kitchen towards the back door into the garden. While Bobby rummaged around outside, Tom filled his food bowl and topped off his water bowl. “Come on now, food’s ready!” he called out the door to little effect.

Tom let out a grunt of exasperation and headed out into the dimly lit back garden. Bobby was snuffling around the bushes at the far end of the garden, telltale small piles of dirt surrounding him. Tom grumbled under his breath and yelled for the dog again. Reluctantly, Bobby heeded his master’s call and trotted back up the yard and into the kitchen.

“You, my friend, are very lucky indeed that I am as fond of you as I am.” Bobby raised his head from his supper bowl and gave Tom an astonished look before returning to his meal. Tom merely shook his head and headed back through the house and towards the stair case to the upper level and bed. He stripped mechanically, making a brief stop in the bathroom to wash his face and clean his teeth, before falling into bed.

The next morning dawned bright and cool. Tom stretched his arms above his head, a jaw cracking yawn echoing through the sunlit room. Bobby, who had been curled up contentedly at the edge of the bed, raised his head. He’d tried, when the spaniel was younger, to keep him downstairs in his own crate overnight. It had lasted all of about the span of a week for the puppy’s pitiful cries to break Tom’s resolve and allow him into the bedroom. ‘Just for the night,’ he’d sworn. And now nearly a year later, it was quite clear Tom had lost that battle.

With determination, Tom pushed himself up and out of the bed, padding down the stairs and into the kitchen, Bobby quick on his heels. He opened the back garden door and let the spaniel out, turning his attention towards the coffee press and feeding his much needed caffeine addiction. He set to work boiling his kettle and gathering the bag of coffee from the cabinet above the sink. Tom took great pleasure in setting about brewing his morning coffee, loving the way the strong, warm scent filled the kitchen.

Once it had brewed he poured the steaming liquid into his mug; a green one with a chip in its lip, one that Amy had given him. The thought of her still stung, though the pain had lessened throughout the intervening years. He still missed the life they’d had…Still bitterly regretted the stupid and selfish choices he’d made that had broken them. But he had slowly begun to come to terms with them and, in turn, with himself. Little things still caught him off guard but he’d learned to accept them and to try to move on from them. It was a hard road but one he was beginning to believe he could navigate on his own.

Coffee doctored to his liking, Tom headed out into the back garden. He lowered himself into one of the wooden patio chairs and watched Bobby run around like mad chasing squirrels. It was a wonder any still dared to enter the garden with how valiantly Bobby guarded his territory. That dog was a menace and Tom loved him dearly for it. Closing his eyes, he savored the warmth the bloomed inside him as he sipped the gently steaming mug in his hands. There were many things he could make do without, coffee was most definitely not among them. He took his time, enjoying the sun on his face and the slowly dwindling coffee in his mug. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that man could not survive on coffee alone.

“Bobby!” He called, pushing himself to his feet. The spaniel, paused mid-bark and turned to face his master. “Come.” Tom laughed as the spaniel broke off into a mad dash towards the door, nearly knocking him off his feet. Apparently someone was wanting his breakfast as well. Once kibble was added to Bobby’s bowl, Tom turned his attention towards his own meal; a quick toast and egg would do. He’d glanced at the clock above the stove when he’d entered the kitchen and found it to be well after nine. He would need to get moving soon, especially if he wanted to get a decent run in before heading into town to meet Emma.

Not bothering with a shower, after all what would be the point if he was just going to end up a sweating mess again, Tom changed into his running kit and slipped into his trainers. He thundered down the stairs and towards the front door, grabbing Bobby’s lead from the key hook. Bobby, sensing walkies were afoot, was standing at the front door and began to twirl in tight little circles as Tom approached. He laughed and hooked the lead to the spaniel’s collar before leading them both out the door and into the crisp, late morning air.

Several circuits around the neighborhood and nearby park helped to clear his head and focus his mind. He loved running, loved being able to lose himself in the rhythm and peace of it. It was the one pastime he could do anywhere and had been a godsend on long and grueling shoots. Tom was, in fact, a sweating mess when he and Bobby pushed their way back inside the house. Unclipping Bobby, and patting him playfully on the back, Tom climbed the stairs two at a time, stripping his clothing as he went.

He showered quickly, enjoying the feel of the steaming water on his protesting muscles, and padded back into his bedroom to dry and dress. A quick glance at clock on the bedside table told him it was half eleven. With a grunt, he pulled on a pair of jeans and his well-loved blue jumper, which he noted with a fair bit of disdain was starting to get a hole in one of its sleeves. He ran a quick comb through his damp hair and shoved his feet into the grey boots he’d had for nearly as long as he could remember.

Another quick glance at the watch he’d fastened onto his left wrist as he pounded down the stairs told him he needed to leave, and quickly, if he had any hope of meeting Emma at the restaurant she’d chosen on time.

“Shit,” he cursed at himself, ushering Bobby into the back room and his kennel.

Things situated, Tom grabbed his wallet and keys from the hallway table and darted out the front door. He considered trying to cab it in, but all things being equal and knowing London traffic far too well, he dismissed the matter out of hand; the tube was often a great deal faster than the car.

Forty minutes later, Tom dashed into the warmth of the fairly busy café; woolen coat open and breathing heavy. He’d made a mad dash from the underground station once the train had finally come to a stop. He was late and Emma was sure to give him hell about it. He scanned the room, finally resting on her strawberry blonde head at a table in the corner.

She smiled up at him as he took the opened seat across from her, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “I’m dreadfully sorry. I lost track of time and…”

Emma simply rolled her eyes and held up her hand. “Tom, the day you show up to a non-work event on time is the day I know the world’s ending.”

“Oh ha ha,” he retorted, shaking his head. “I’m only what, ten minutes late?”

She snorted, “Only…But I guess coming from you that is actually pretty decent. I was honestly expecting at least twenty minutes.”

Tom looked up at her, affronted. True he did tend to run slightly behind if not harassed, but surely not that badly and with such consistency? “I am not that bad.”

“My darling brother, unless you’ve got someone there to push and pester you, you are indeed that bad. Need I remind you of mum’s birthday last year…?” Emma quirked an eyebrow at her brother as if daring him to challenge her.

He scoffed. “That was once time…”

“And I can list at least a dozen others offhand, if you’d like. My wedding, Sarah’s wedding, last Christmas, the Christmas before…I could go on,” Emma countered. “But I don’t have all day. I left Jack minding Alice and while I love that husband of mine, our offspring has been cutting a new tooth and has frankly been crankier than you on a bad day.”

Tom narrowed his eyes in mock annoyance. “Why are you always such a brat, Brat?”

“Because someone needs to put you in your place, brother dear. And since I am here, I guess that leaves me.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief as they locked on Tom’s. “Lord knows you aren’t going to manage it yourself and Luke’s earned a break don’t you think?”

The teasing volleyed back and forth throughout their meal. It had been a good while since he had done anything with his baby sister, save for larger family gatherings. She’d been busy between the chaos of new motherhood balanced with local and national theatre work and he’d been in and out of the country with promotional work. He smiled as he watched her talk, the way her face lit up as she told him about the latest thing his tiny niece had done or the mishap she’d had with a prop during a sold out performance. It was difficult to reconcile the grown woman before him with the bratty little sister she’d always been in his eyes, but it was wonderful all the same.

“Oh,” Emma started, placing her half-drunk mug of coffee onto the table. “Have you talked with mum recently?”

Tom shook his head, “Not in the last week or so? Has something happened?” He leaned forward, anxiety clearly painted across his features.

“No. No, she’s fine. She’s just trying to get things sorted regarding Christmas.”

“Christmas? It’s barely October,” he countered.

“Which I tried telling her, but alas, she wants to get everyone together this year and with you and Sarah and your insane schedules, she figured starting sooner rather than later would make sense.”

Tom laughed and shook his head. He loved his mother, loved her dearly, but she was a planner. Had been his entire life. And the holidays were her weakness. They had always attempted to gather for Christmas, with varying success; between Tom’s own insane schedule over the last several years and Sarah and her family living and working in India, it was rare to have all three Hiddleston siblings under one roof. And as inane as it sounded, Tom could see the sense in her trying to plan so far in advance.

“…usual nonsense. And she is thinking of trying to have Amy and her family around on Boxing Day.”

Tom blinked in confusion as Emma’s words sank in. “What now?”

“Mum is talking about inviting Amy, Teddy, and their little one over for either lunch or dinner on Boxing Day.”

His heart clenched at the mention of Amy and her husband but slowly relaxed as he let out a breath.

“Is she now?”

While he’d run into both Amy and her husband on several occasions since the wedding, the idea of spending time with them in his mother’s home felt…strange. Not as unbearable as it would have been even a year ago, but still strange. ‘And their little one.’ He’d known they’d been expecting, Emma had mentioned it months back, but hadn’t really let himself think on the matter. He was…happy for her, for them both, even if they idea set uneasily in his gut. And it wasn’t the idea that it should have been him, he’d long since come to terms with that, more so a longing. Something he’d felt when he looked at Sophie as she held either of her and Ben’s sons. Stupid and selfish, but very much real.

Emma nodded. “Henry will be four months by then and mum is desperate to meet him.” She sighed, “You’d think she didn’t have any grandchildren of her own with the way she’s acting.”

Tom shrugged. “You know mum, she always had a soft spot for Amy…”

“That she did,” Emma echoed. “But still…The nerve of the woman.” They both chuckled at that. “So just be aware that she’s most likely going to call and pester you.”

“I don’t doubt that for a single moment,” Tom laughed. “Has Sarah said if they were coming yet?”

Emma took another sip of her coffee and nodded. “Yeah, they should be able to come. You are the wild card at the moment.”

Tom stroked his beard with his free hand. “I should be able to come…As of now I don’t think I have anything that would make that impossible. The con in Phoenix isn’t until the new year…I’ll double check with Michael and Luke to make sure.”

“I still cannot believe people pay actual money on purpose to meet my dork of a brother. Cannot wrap my head around it.”

He chuckled, “It’s still strange for me, Em.”

“I bet.” She paused and pulled her mobile from her purse, glancing at the screen. “And on that note, I have to run. It’s nearly three and I promised Jack I’d be home before four.” She reached for the bill their server had left on the edge of the table but Tom beat her to it, flashing her a warm smile.

“My treat,” he said in way of explanation.

Emma shot him a pointed glare, “You are a menace, you know that right?” She pushes her chair back and pulled on her coat.

Tom chuckled, climbing to his feet himself and pulling his sister into a warm hug. “Give Alice a kiss for me and give Jack my best.” Nodding, she slipped her bag over her shoulder and headed for the door. Tom followed behind, pausing to pay the bill before venturing into the chill of the late afternoon and home.

He spent much of the following week juggling the things he’d been putting off. He’d called and visited his mother; and she, as Emma had predicted, pestered him about his schedule around Christmas. He’d assured her, with back up from Luke, that he was indeed free and would most definitely be coming home this year. He’d also started sorting through his clothing and washing and packing for his trip to the states. He found himself both excited and wary for the trip. Conventions could be a thoroughly enjoyable experience; he’d had several wonderful ones and had enjoyed interacting with fans at the events. But just the same they could be draining and demanding. Sometimes it seemed, no matter what he did, it wasn’t enough. Tom hoped for the former this time around.

                                                           —

The evening of the gala celebrating the life and work of Harold Pinter arrived far sooner than Tom had anticipated. He was excited and anxious and terrified all at once. He’d been so wrapped up in trying to organize his life and make sure he had his lines memorized, that when the driver rang the bell on his gate he’d stood staring in complete confusion for several seconds before realization dawned. God, feared he’d lose his head if it weren’t attached. Tom had been approached for the event shortly after talks began regarding his involvement in reviving Betrayal in the West End. He’d agreed almost immediately, looking forward to sharing the stage with several talented actors and testing out the material on stage before fully committing to the play. The nervous energy had run off him in waves as he’d darted upstairs and dressed quickly. Thankfully, Luke had seen to having his suit pressed and waiting in his closet. Tom dressed in a mad dash before heading back down stairs and out to the waiting car.

It was half past five when Tom slid into the leather backseat, apologizing profusely for his tardiness. Luke would murder him if he were late. As the car started off, Tom pulled out his mobile, shooting his publicist a quick message that he was on his way. It most likely wasn’t necessary, but Tom knew Luke liked to be kept in the loop as much as possible. Shoving his mobile back into his pocket, he turned his attention back to the present. He made small talk with the driver as they moved along, chatting about the weather and later about the dismal amount of traffic they’d run into. They’d pulled aside the theatre half an hour later and once he’d climbed from the car, Tom was ushered inside and backstage. He chatted with Zawe and several other familiar faces as they waited for the theatre to fill and for the start of the evening.

Things had been going rather well, in Tom’s humble opinion until he’d gone to grab his folder and managed to slice his thumb open. He’d stared, dumbfounded, at the welling blood before he was rushed towards the side of the room and quickly patched up. “Score one for my dumb luck,” he joked as he once again picked up his folder, this time taking much greater care. His scene with Zawe had gone off splendidly. They played well off each other and he looked forward to working more with her, providing she was willing and able to commit to the run.

Bows taken, they were all rushed backstage and then quickly to their waiting cars to be driven to the Brasserie Zedel for the after party. Once arrived, Tom walked the short carpet and took his time talking with the various reporters encamped along it. He enjoyed talking about not only Harold Pinter and the fun he’d had that night but of theater and acting in general. He knew, without a doubt, that he was allowing his inner theatre and literature nerd run amuck, but couldn’t find it in him to care.  

Tom mingled with the arriving guests. He caught sight of several familiar faces and did his best to talk with them all. As he allowed himself to scan the room once again, he found his eyes drawn to the short dark haired figure talking animatedly with Zawe. She was all of five foot nothing in her heels but commanded the attention of those around her as though she were much, much taller. Her dress was navy in color and came to mid-calf, clinging to her curves in ways that made Tom desperate to trace with his own hands. Her dark hair hung in a low, loose pony over one shoulder. She tossed her head back, laughing at something Zawe had said and the sound that echoed from her lips was captivating even from such a distance.

Stealing himself, Tom made to start for the both of them, wanting nothing more than to know just who this tiny, vivacious woman was. He just managed to work his way through the densely packed room when the announcement was made for all to begin to filter their way into the restaurant proper. He cursed under his breath and allowed himself to be moved with the crowd inside. He’d found his table easily enough and was quickly pulled into conversation. He caught glimpses of the mystery woman throughout the night but never quite managed to catch up with her.

He’d managed, however, to catch Zawe on her own and, despite feeling very much like a desperate twelve year-old, ask her about her earlier companion. Confusion flitted across Zawe’s features for a moment before understanding seemed to dawn. “Oh! That was Cath. She is a doll. Worked with her on a few projects a handful of years back.”

“Is she an actress then?”

Zawe shook her head, “Nah. She works behind the scenes; hair and make-up. Talented as hell, that woman is.” He tried then to arrange an introduction, ignoring the odd regency undertones such a thing invoked, but the woman, Cath, had been nowhere to be found.

Tom sighed, just as well then. He did his best to let the disappointment flow off his back and made a few more circuits around the room, smiling and talking with various guests before calling it a night. He had a flight to catch in the morning (an international one at that which tended to be a headache at the best of times), and while he could sleep just about anywhere, he wanted to have at least one last good night’s rest in his own bed. Hotel beds, and airplane seats for the matter, were never quite as comfortable as his own bed. A few moments later, Tom stepped out into the brisk October evening air and climbed once more into the backseat. He closed his eyes, resting his head back against the seat and allowed the hum of the car’s engine to lull him into a state of almost sleep.

Next

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston RPF #Tom Hiddleston x oc #Tom Hiddleston x ofc #Tom Hiddleston x original character #tom hiddleston x original female character #Tom & Cath #Get Better

[mutualpiningandawkwardness]

Distracted Driving

Sterek, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Bicycle Cop!Derek, College Student!Stiles, Car Accident, Erica Reyes/Vernon Boyd

3977 words, Rated T for language, (on AO3)

The sound of crumpling plastic and fiberglass snaps Stiles’ wandering mind to the present. He blinks, pulled from a daydream of a gorgeous, tightly muscled bicycle cop in booty shorts who is slowly peeling himself out of his skin-tight uniform. Stiles slides his gaze away from the real-life bicycle officer on the nearby sidewalk, the inspiration of said fantasy, to the car in front of him.  The rear bumper of his friend Erica's hatchback is cracked, tail light shattered. He can only imagine what the front end of Roscoe looks like.

"Stilinski!" Erica shrieks, and then she’s getting out of her car and stomping towards him. How she manages such an earth shaking murder stomp in stiletto boots he’ll never know.  “What the fuck? What kind of idiot dumb fuck rams into a car that is  stopped  in front of him?”

He sets his hazard lights and jumps out of his car, holding his hands out to her placatingly.  Cars honk angrily and pass around them as they step between the safety of their two cars.

"I'm sorry!  I'm sorry! I was, um," he steps in closer and drops his voice, "...distracted."  His eyes cut to the sidewalk where the bicycle cop, Officer Hot Stuff, tall dark and broody, keeper of the eyebrows, is making his way over. Oh shit!

"Oh shit. Me too!" Erica whispers and grabs his hands.  "Those shorts are  unreal  !  I thought they only wore those in movies-"

"Are you both okay?"  Officer Stubble asks. “What happened?”

"Um."

"Um." Their eyes dart towards each other guiltily.

"Are. You. Okay?” he repeats, a little more slowly this time.  Maybe he suspects they sustained brain damage in the accident.

“Oh, we’re  fine alright.” Erica purrs.  Officer Dangle - it’s the shorts, and the whole thigh area to be honest - gets a confused look on his face.

“Yeah, yeah, fine. No damages.” Stiles says hurriedly.   “I mean, maybe damages, but I’ll pay. My bad and all.”

“What. Happened.”  Officer - Stiles peers at the badge pinned to the nicest uniformed chest he’s ever seen, and he's seen plenty - Hale is starting to look and sound impatient. Which is a shame because now that he’s looking, Stiles can see the blue-green-hazel swirl of Hale’s eyes, the sharpness of his jawline, the cute, bunny-like front teeth that show, just a little, as he’s waiting for them to answer. When he’s not frowning that is.

Stiles looks at Erica again.  He really doesn’t want to tell the officer he was too busy ogling him in his shorts uniform that he wasn’t paying attention to the road. She stays silent as well, widening her eyes and tilting her head at Stiles, a clear “you tell him” gesture.

“Is there something going on here?"  Officer Hale looks between the two of them.  They must look guilty, holding hands, huddled together, because he grabs the radio on his shoulder.

"Boyd.  I could use some back-up."  The radio crackles.

"What? Noooo. No back-up needed.  Nothing going on here. Just your run-of-the-mill fender bender. We're totally cooperating.  See?” Stiles holds his hands up and wiggles them in a faint approximation of jazz hands.

An even taller, broader shouldered and just as attractive officer approaches, walking quickly from the Jamba Juice on the corner. Unlike Hale with the grumpy cat frown and judgy eyebrows, Officer Boyd is stoic and calm looking with kind eyes. He must play the Good Cop, Stiles thinks.  Though, he also looks like he could take down a perp without breaking a sweat. Boyd glances at them, then around the scene, assessing the situation. The just-stepped-from-the-pages-of-safety-officers-monthly models nod at each other. "Hale. What’s going on?"

"Now that’s what I call  back-up  ." Erica mutters to Stiles.

"What was that?" Officer Hale turns back to ask her.

"I said,” Erica repeats, loudly enough for them all to hear, ‘Now that’s what I call back-up!’" She looks at Officer Boyd, smiling and batting her eyelashes.

There’s a moment of stunned silence.

“Uh.  What’s going on here?”  Officer Boyd asks again, eyebrows lifting, looking wary.

“Fender bender.”  Hale answers. “But…” He looks between Erica and Stiles again.  “Maybe we should get statements. Miss?” Hale holds a guiding hand out towards Erica, but she slinks past him and up to Officer Boyd.

“I’ll give you my statement.  If I leave anything out, you can take my number and give me a call.”  She slips her hand into the crook of his elbow and they move up the sidewalk a bit. Boyd holds her hand on his arm like he’s been cotillion trained (Stiles is around Lydia enough to know what that is, okay?) and looks down at her, a bit stunned but also enthralled.  And who wouldn’t be? Erica is a bombshell.

“Um.” Hale looks at Stiles cautiously.  “I guess I’ll take your statement.”

Great.  Could he sound any less enthusiastic?

“Sure.” Stiles is a little… sad.  Not that he expected a love connection or anything, just not the reluctance that is so apparent in Hale’s voice.

-

“So, I guess I glanced at the side of the road and didn’t notice that Erica hadn’t moved yet.  I saw the light turn green though, so I took my foot off the brake.” Stiles scratches his cheek, more out of nerves than actual itchiness.  Talking to attractive people has always made Stiles nervous. Lydia, once they became friends, told him she thought for years he had a thyroid imbalance, he was so sweaty and jittery around her.

“How did you see the light turn green, but not the car stopped in front of you?”

“Um.  I don’t know.”

“Were you looking at your phone?”

“No!”

“Are you sure?”  Hale gives Stiles a skeptical look.

“Dude, I said  no . I wouldn’t do that!” Stiles folds his arms in annoyance. Even if his dad hadn’t threatened him with a slow, painful death if he ever texted while driving, he’s seen enough case file pictures of traffic accidents to know better.

“It’s just, it happens a lot nowdays.  You’re lucky this was just a minor accident.  People are killed all the time from distracted driving.  Lots of innocent bystanders too.”

“I wasn’t looking at my phone,” Stiles mutters sullenly.

“Do you know the other driver?” Hale continues with the questioning.

“Yes.” they both look over to where Erica and Officer Boyd are doing the same thing they are, albeit a lot more cheerfully.  Erica is laughing, the fingers of one hand on Officer Boyd’s arm, her other hand toying with her necklace. Boyd is leaning in, close-talking like they’re sharing secrets. His hand comes up and - is he stroking her neck?!  Erica tilts her head side to side and, oh. He must be checking her for injuries. That’s... a good idea actually.

“We went to school together.”

“Dating?”  Hale is looking at his notepad, pencil poised above it as if he’s going to write Stiles’ answer down.

“Nooo?” It comes out sounding like a question because, well, was it relevant to the accident? “I guess she sort of liked me, like, a long time ago, but that was before she knew me.”  Stiles thinks about how that sounds. “Not that I’m unlikeable, like you get to know me and think ‘yikes, no way’ or anything. I don’t think...” Come to think of it. Stiles really hasn’t had any relationships that lasted longer than a couple of weeks. Did that mean something? Did people-

“It’s just, you two seemed - intimate. And she wasn’t that angry with you.” Luckily, Officer Hale’s words cut off his self-loathing downward spiral.

“Oh, no.  She’s angry.  She’ll get me back.” Stiles has no doubt about it.

Hale raises an eyebrow.

“Nothing bad. Nothing illegal, like, bodily harm or anything.“

“Hm.” Hale looks skeptical again. He turns to look at the cars.  “I’m going to file a report. The damage is probably going to be over five hundred dollars so it’s-“

“No!” Stiles yells, then, at a more normal volume, “Uh, I mean. Can you, can you skip it?”

“Sorry, the damages dictate-“

“I would really, really like it if you didn’t file this.  I really need you to not do this.” Stiles wonders if getting down on his knees would be overkill.

“Is there some reason you don’t-“ Hale stops and looks more thoughtfully at Stiles. “I’m going to need to see your ID.”

“Fuuuck. Oh fucking, fuck no,” Stiles breathes quietly.

He gives one last try, “Look, my car - barely shows any damage. It’s always looked like that.  And Erica’s will be under five hundred, I swear! I know a guy. That’s like, three hundred, max!” Stiles’ hands gesture wildly, going nowhere near his wallet.

“Again, I’m going to need to see your ID.” Hale is speaking slowly and deliberately.  He looks angry, his eyebrows furrowed even more than before.

Stiles’ hands twitch as Hale crosses his arms over his chest.  Is it wrong that he takes a moment to admire the thick forearms and muscular chest shown to such advantage in that pose?  Now if only he could get Hale to bend over and pick something up.

Stiles slowly takes out his wallet and pulls out his driver’s license, hoping against hope that Hale changes his mind in the next two seconds.  But, no such luck. (He briefly considers dropping it so Hale has to pick it up, but restrains himself.)

Hale takes it and turns to walk to his bicycle which is parked in front of the sandwich shop one storefront over. “Don’t move,” he throws over his shoulder.

Stiles looks over at Boyd and Erica. They’re both laughing, heads thrown back in companionable humor.  Ugh. Hale is probably searching his name for priors. Stiles wonders if the search will notify his dad. Fuck.

Erica finally glances over and must see Stiles’ misery. She leans up and whispers something to Boyd who nods in response.  They make their way over, but Boyd detours and joins Hale.

“Hey, ready to go?” Erica asks.  She looks too happy for someone with significant - but hopefully not costly! - car repairs in her near future.

“Uh. No. Officer Hale is going to file a report for this.”

She looks shocked. “Why?”

“He says it’s because the damage looks like it would be over five hundred dollars.  I totally disagree. Hey. You think you could ask Officer Boyd to tell Hale to, to  not ?”

“Hm. I dunno.  I’ll give it a shot.”

She saunters her way over to where Hale and Boyd are standing at their bicycles, Hale looking at a laptop.  Officer Boyd smiles when she gets to them, but his smile disappears after she says a few words. Boyd and Hale look over at Stiles with identical questioning frowns.

Hale walks back.

“Mr. Stilinski, you are acting very suspiciously for a minor fender bender. That doesn’t give us enough probable cause for a search, but I’m telling you right now, I’m considering bringing you in for questioning due to-"

“Oh God. Please, no!  Boyd- Officer Boyd wasn’t even going to file the report on Erica! Why do you have to?”  Stiles is flailing and sweating at this point. He knows he’s not helping his own case, but he’s just moved into his dorm and classes are about to start on Monday. Couldn’t he just do this one thing without his dad being alerted to another fuck up on his part?

(He’s  just  finished paying back his dad for repairs to the high school chem lab after the small -  tiny - fire that broke out when he and Scott tried heating their nacho cheese with a bunsen burner. Stiles still maintains it wasn’t their fault since kids did that all the time.  Except this time, someone - not them - neglected to properly clean up an earlier chemical spill, which was what caused the, uh, the fireball.)

Stiles looks around for Erica and finds her over by the police bikes talking to Officer Boyd again, not paying attention to him at all.

Hale gives him an exasperated look. “It’s not that bad. If the repairs are as low as you expect, your insurance won’t even go up by much.”

“Please, I’m begging you. Isn’t there anything we can do so that you don’t file this?  Anything?” Stiles puts on his best Scott-like puppy dog eyes, dipping his chin low and blinking slowly.  Officer Hale’s mouth drops open. Ha! It’s working. Stiles reaches forward to try Erica’s fingertips on the forearm trick.

That causes Officer Hale to step back abruptly before they make contact. “What.  What are you saying.”

“I’m  saying  ,” Stiles gestures emphatically, giving up on the pleading look - apparently only Scott can make that work, “that I really,  really  don’t want you to file a report.  If we can work something out to that effect, I would be very,  very  appreciative.”

“That- Why do you sound like… Why do you sound so guilty?

“Me? No!  No guilt! Just a guy trying to stay off the radar, so to speak.”

Hale pinches the bridge of his nose and audibly exhales for what feels like a long time.  “Stay here,” he says and turns to go back to the bicycles. The bicycles with the computer.  The computer that files reports from the field.

“No, wait-“ Stiles, in a fit of unthinking hubris-slash-idiocy, grabs Officer Hale’s arm.

Before he knows what’s happening, he’s face down on the sidewalk with his arm twisted behind his back, a knee holding him in place, digging into the back of his thigh. Jeez, that was fast and he’s not even - Stiles does a quick inventory for bodily pain - not even injured.

“Boyd!” Officer Hale calls.

“Oh my God, Stiles!” He can hear Erica yell and footsteps running towards him.

He turns his head and sees Officer Boyd stopping Erica from reaching him, one strong arm holding her across the shoulders, her back to his front.

“No, no nononono.  Oh my God. My dad’s gonna kill me! He’s gonna kill me and then make me move home and put a detail on me!” Stiles would be shouting but the pressure holding him down is also preventing him from inhaling too deeply. His words come out more like strangled whimpers.   “I won’t be able to go out of the house without supervision until I’m thirty!”

“Why would-  Is your dad a diplomat or something?”

“Wha? No. He’s a sheriff,” Stiles says, all the fight leaving his body.

“Not- John Stilinski?” Hale’s movements still.

“Uh, yeah. Shit. You know him?”

“Yeah... it’s our county department. We work together, share resources sometimes.  You’re really his son?” Officer Hale removes his knee from Stiles’ thigh and pulls him to standing in one smooth move. Really, it’s smooth. The ease with which he can move Stiles from standing to prone to standing again would be alarming if it weren’t so… arousing. Then Hale’s words sink in.

“Oh shit, you know my dad!  And you’re gonna tell him about this, aren’t you?”

“You don’t think he should know his son was in a fender bender, which he tried to get out of by flirting with the responding officer-“

“Flirting!? That was not flirting!  Why would-“. Stiles pauses. Why would Hale say that? But then, he guesses, it’s probably something that happens to Hale and Boyd often, considering how good looking they are. Stiles looks up and notices the corners of Officer Hale’s mouth are twitching. “You’re fucking with me aren’t you?”

The corners of Hale’s mouth pull down, but it’s still a smile, Stiles can tell. It’s in his eyes.   “Sheriff Stilinski is a great guy. I wouldn’t want to upset him by possibly increasing his son’s insurance premium. I think we can let you off with a warning.  But,” Hale’s expression goes from smug to confused. “Why were you being so weird about it?”

“Ugh! Not weird! I just. Didn’t want my dad getting any notifications about me - I’m sure he’s set up an alert for my name. He’ll call me and give me hell. Or worse, I’ll get that tired, disappointed voice. ‘What did you do this time, Stiles?’”  Erica makes a noise of sympathy. She knows how mad his dad had been after the lab incident, plus any of the many other incidents that his dad has had to weather over the years.

“Disappointed?  I doubt it. You know how proud he is of you, right?  I mean, the guys basically know to not ask about you or he’ll talk our ears off about how you graduated top of your class or that you’re going to Berkeley on a full scholarship.  Or about the time - what was it Boyd? The missing minor case?”

“Yeah. When you figured out how the suspect communicated with the victim in their blog tags, when the detectives didn’t have a lead.”  Stiles glances at Boyd as he chimes in. He still has a hand on Erica’s shoulder but the tension, the ready anticipation for a fight is gone from his stance.

“Or the fact that you created the Dinner with a Deputy fundraiser to pay for the mountain lion specialist after all those attacks that one year.  The office upgrades you organized, the digitization project you implemented. Do you want more?” Hale looks wry but fond, however he makes that possible.

Stiles does not have tears in his eyes.  The wind must have blown a piece of dust in there.  Great, he’s blotchy, sweaty and red eyed: making a great impression on the hot-like-the-sun officers who are letting him know how proud his dad is of him.

“Oh. Uh.” His voice is raspy. He clears it.  “I guess you really do know him.”

“Yep. So, are you going to tell me how you crashed in the first place?” Hale crosses his arms again and the straining shirt sleeves make Stiles’ eyes glaze over.  

Erica’s bright laughter brings back his focus. When he turns to see her she’s leaning up, whispering something to Boyd.  He throws her a glare, but it’s probably less effective because of his burning cheeks. He sighs. Might as well fess up now, get all the embarrassment out there at once. “There might have been something, an attractive person. Who might have. Distracted me.”  It comes out in fits of words.

“Oh, okay.”  Something shutters over Officer Hale’s expression and he glances around the street, then looks back down at his notebook, the corners of his mouth pulled down slightly.

“He’s talking about  you, numbnut!” Erica yells.  Boyd laughs.

Stiles looks over and Erica is leaning back on Officer Boyd, almost like when he’d held her before when he was restraining her, but now it looks cozy.

“Oh.” Officer Hale’s eyebrows perk up considerably.  “Really?”

“Yeah. I mean…” Stiles gestures at Officer Hale’s everything, but then lets his hands move into a more neutral arm flail. Implying he’s only interested in Officer Hale for how well he fills out his uniform is probably not the path to take.

Hale smiles and - wow, he should do that all the time because it’s like those butterfly wings that look all plain when they’re folded but open to reveal their irridescent beauty, it’s that stunning - and looks down at his notebook as if to hide it. Or maybe he’s trying to hide the pinkness of his cheeks; they’re adorably pink and it spreads to his ears too!  “Oh, well. Would you. Do you think you’d. Like to. Um. Get coffee some time?”

“Yeah, get it, Stilinski!” Erica cheers. Stiles ignores her.  He nods at Hale vigorously.

“Coffee would be great. Um. When do you- when would you-

“We’re off duty in half an hour.  Want to meet us at the station? Does that give you enough time to take care of your cars?”

Stiles looks at Erica who gives him a thumbs up.  He turns back to Officer Hale, “Sounds awesome.”

“Woo hoo! Double date!”  Erica holds out her hand and Boyd meets her with a high five.

-

“Did you really raise that much money for the station?” Derek - Hot Bicycle Cop’s first name is Derek - asks.  They’ve finished their coffees and are still lingering at a table, talking. Erica and Boyd have moved to squeeze into a nearby oversized beanbag chair and are probably naming their future kids.

“Yeah. I mean, it wasn’t hard after the explosion.  You heard about that, right? We have a lot of nice old ladies in Beacon Hills willing to pay to spend a day with their favorite deputies. Why?”

“Well, we wanted to start a mentoring program with the high schools, but our budget is strapped since we just spent all this money starting the bike patrol.”  Picturing Derek mentoring kids melts Stiles’ heart even more than when he talked about Stiles’ dad.

“Oh.  Yeah, I can- You can do Coffee with a Cop. But, you know what would bring in even more money?  A calendar. You know. Each officer with a different themed photo shoot for each month. I could…art direct.”  Stiles thinks of a theme that would suit Derek. “Do you have a surfboard?”

Derek scoffs and looks down into his lap.  “Yeah, maybe if the Sheriff’s department does one too.  And only if the junior deputies are included.” When he looks up his smile is mischievous.

“Oh my God. Did my dad tell you I'm a junior officer?  Did he show you pictures?! Those were terrible!”

“Yeah - I mean - You turned out… better than expected.” He's smirking and giving Stiles a once over.

“What?- Rude! It was a bad haircut!  And. I’ve filled out since then! And Lydia’s trying to fix my clothes but-” Stiles is indignantly waving his arms when his hand is grabbed mid-flail and brought gently down to the table.

Derek pulls and Stiles is dragged bodily forward before he realizes what’s happening. His hand is now tucked under Derek’s and their faces are inches apart over the small table. Stiles can only blink and stare dumbly at the beautiful face in front of him.  

Derek smiles and looks down at Stiles’ mouth.  “I’m saying, if your dad had a more recent picture of you I’d have found an excuse to try and meet you sooner.”

“Oh. Oh cool. Maybe-“

He’s cut off by Derek moving in and bringing their lips together softly.  It’s slow and lingering and hints at more to come. Derek pulls back and Stiles opens his eyes, blinking away the haze of lust threatening to overwhelm him.

“Wow,” he breathes. “Totally worth paying six hundred dollars in car repairs.”

“What.”

-

The next week a new framed picture appears on the Sheriff’s desk. In it, Stiles is smiling broadly, the arm not taking the selfie wrapped around someone whose nose is turned into Stiles’ cheek.

“Is that … ? Stiles!” The Sheriff stomps out of his office into the deputy bullpen. “Why is there a picture on my desk of you, hugging one of my officers?”

Stiles looks up from the cabinet where he’s pulling his notes from the last fundraiser.

“Okay, A, he’s not  your officer. And B, I was told that your lack of recent pictures of me was hindering my love life. Not that I need it anymore, but I’m rectifying that.”

“When were you going to tell me you were dating one of  my officers?”

“Um, I’m telling you now?”

“He’s coming over for dinner Sunday. Would you like to tell him or should I send an inter-office notice?”

“I’ll let him know,” Stiles says hurriedly.  He’s sure Derek would appreciate not being publicly singled out at his workplace by the county sheriff.

His dad gives a curt nod and takes the photo back to his office. He might not even realize he’s doing it, but Stiles sees his dad smile before disappearing through the door.  The fist pump reflected in the window to his office is definitely intentional though.

#my fic #sterek fic #distracted driving #bicycle cop!derek #derek in uniform #but also in shorts #the best of both worlds #imo #another fic ripped from real life #it's like I have no imagination #or live a fic worthy life #I like to think it's the latter #but who am i kidding

[tricksterrune]

Can you tell me anything about James Jesse changing his evil ways and ceasing to be a villain? I know it retconned a lot turns to the better for rogues, but someone said Trickster was particularly hard hit and had a good redemption arc. I already hated Identity Crisis, but need to know if I should hate it even more. And whether Trickster (and others) should be permanently reformed in my headcanon/re-imagining.

strap in, bc that is going to be a long one as he is my favorite fictonal character.

James had always been a Rogue who was never in it for the money (there have been cases where he gave back is loot because he wasn’t interested) but for messing with the Flash. He also doesn’t injure people.

If you can get your hands on them, you should check out his appearances in Blue Devil Volume 1 where he becomes a friend/annoyance to Dan Cassidy. This includes two issues where he is on the run from a criminal organization who tried to trick him and use the anti-grav technology in his walkers to secede California from mainland USA (no, really), he also tries to rob a helicopter in flight with Looney Toon actions; that’s also where he dressed up as Trixie, his friend Len didn’t realize it was him and then was duped. That was a fantastic run!

His big turning point was Underworld Unleashed 1-3. That was during the probably lowest part of his life (doubted himself and his abilities, felt worthless, and then found out that after losing Roscoe and Sam, almost all his other friends died, too). Then he stole Roy’s invitation and went to Hell. I love those issues because they show that James is a true Trickster as in he has the choice between A and B and he always picks C. He is offered to sell his soul for a wish or return to his old, powerless, meaningless life. So he chooses neither and sticks around to see what happens. He doesn’t say no, but he doesn’t say yes either. He witnesses what the supervillains who took Neron up on his offer did on earth, what the big baddies (Luthor, Joker, etc.) did in Hell and what the heroes have to face. Then he finds out how to break Neron’s spell and tells the only person who can do it. Altruism saves the day and the Trickster was the catalyst to make that happen. He basically saved the world and in the end, realizes that his life has meaning, that he doesn’t care if he’s not important - he knows his own value. He beat the Devil.

Then he reforms more. He had already started during his Blue Devil days, but after that point he actively tried to go against bad guys still using his old methods.

Three fantastic issues are Catwoman Volume 3 69-71 where he is hired by the mob to spy on Selina Kyle and teams up with Catwoman to do it. His connection to Neron is mentioned and he admits that he tries to stock up on good karma since he knows that Neron wants revenge and James doesn’t dare to end up in hell after death.

For him, messing with bad guys counts as a good actions.

He continues that streak in the Impulse run where he screws over bad guys and Impulse but has actually good reasons for doing so.

Then there’s the New Year’s Special where he is contacted by his ex-girlfriend Mindy to rescue her son who turns out to be their son and also the messiah for a god and kicks Neron’s ass. He also brought his friends to help.

For me, that was him at his peak, because he suspected Neron. He knew the Rogues would be reluctant to fight him (having been killed by him, then sent back to earth as brainwashed zombies who went after lots of peple including James - he was hit by a mirror ray, turned into glass and was in immediate danger of shattering and dying painfully....that reminds me, I still need to write a fic about that), but he used his tricks to gain his advantage, help his friends heal, help his ex-girlfriend, gained a son and actively goaded the devil. He wasn’t afraid. He was boasting. He challenged the Devil and won!

That’s the best Trickster.

And supposedly all that just happened because Roscoe had planted a hypnotic suggestion in his mind. All those years of development, of hardship and triumph...supposedly caused by an outside influence. That’s a travesty. I maintain that he changed out of his own free will.

Before that is uncovered he turned into an FBI agent (which on the one hand, continues his streak of messing with bad guys, now with back up; on the other suggests that he willingly placed himself inside of boundaries and rules and chose to serve superiors. The only way I can somewhat justify this is that he needed to rack up even more ositive karma, but this is an idiotic way of doing it)

So, the Trickster had an epic redemption story we were robbed of in the end. It’s maybe not as drastic since he wasn’t an evil guy to begin with, but he did come a long way. In my mind he again chose option C. He isn’t a good guy, he’s not a villain, he is the Trickster and walks between. He does commit crimes, but they harm bad people and help good people

[neshabeingchildish]

08. Am I Dreaming?

Detemined: A Chasper Fic

Charlotte could hardly believe that, "Of all the people in this world, my Uncle Roscoe is actually getting married. I honestly can't even imagine it."

"Uncle Rox is getting married??" Jasper asked.

"To whom?" Henry followed up with.

"They met at the Couch Potatoes Cafe," she told them. They went in to sit and order and both selected the same couch at the same time and decided to share it. 

"Awwww," Jasper cooed.

Meanwhile, Henry joked, "And now they'll live forever and ever on somebody's couch together."

"I think she's got a place of her own. I haven't met her, but the wedding is this weekend, so I've got to get out of work to go."

"I wanna come! I love weddings. I love Uncle Rox. This is like a perfect event." Jasper said. 

"Yeah, sure. You want in, Hen? If for nothing else just to see who is marrying my uncle?"

"I actually am morbidly curious." 

"There should still be those tuxedo gumballs in the Man Cave."

"Naw. Those taste like butt," Henry said.

"Right. Schwoz did put some butt in there," she told him. 

"Ewww. Gross!" Henry declared.

Jasper submitted, "Who's butt did he put in? Butt tastes good if done right."

"Done right?" Henry asked. Charlotte was simply equal parts horrified and mortified.

"You know, hygienically and genetically. Like…" he glanced at Charlotte, then at the ground and said, "If they're well put together and take care of themselves, it's a treat for all."

"That's quite enough on that subject," Charlotte said.

"I have additional questions later," Henry told him.

.

Whenever the guys met at Charlotte's house, Jasper said, "I made you a corsage."

And Henry chimed in, "I picked out the flowers."

She gave them both looks, withheld calling them idiots and instead informed them, "You guys know that we're guests at a wedding, not the prom, right?"

Henry rolled his eyes and said "Jasper will do the honors…"

But, she snatched it, set it down and said, "I'm not wearing that. Let's go."

Henry gave Jasper a pat on the back as he grabbed the corsage. "I'LL wear it, Dude." And he did.

When they were seated in their seats and everybody stood up for the bride, Charlotte gasped and Henry stared, speechlessly as Nurse Cohort came walking in, wearing a bridal gown. "HEY! Look who it is!" Jasper said. "Uncle Rox has great taste."

Henry whispered to him, "She's a villain and an enemy and she's about to be married into Char's family."

"A hot villain," Jasper corrected.

"Obviously," Henry agreed. Charlotte was still just staring, glad that the woman didn't remember or recognize her as she met with Uncle Roscoe at the altar. 

Whenever the officiator asked if anyone had any objections, Charlotte's nervous foot syndrome was in overdrive. She should definitely say something, right? Point out to everyone that the woman is a known villainess and enemy of Swellview, yeah? She didn't have to.

Dr. Minyak came bursting through both double doors with the loud announcement, "I have an objection!"

Now… Charlotte had no idea if this was better. Henry, on the other hand commented, "Well, this just got interesting."

"Interesting is definitely a word," Charlotte said. 

Minyak went on to ask, "Who is this man and for what reason are you marrying him?"

"Newsflash, Horatio. That will they/won't they you made up in your head? A resounding they won't! Now, leave. Before my husband to be takes you outside." 

"But I ask, again, who he is!"

"He's Roscoe. A simple man who doesn't ask for much and lets me run the show. Roscoe, Dear?"

Uncle Roscoe nodded and picked Dr. Minyak up. He used to be a bouncer and he bounced him right out of the building before the ceremony proceeded. "Well… maybe she's not going to be doing evil anymore now that Dr. Minyak is clearly out of her life," Charlotte said, hopefully.

"WOOOWOOOO! GREAT JOB, UNCLE ROX!" Jasper called out.

Charlotte had no clue why Jasper was such a huge fan of her uncle, but simply asked him, "Can you calm down over there?"

"I told you, I love weddings and this one had an action/adventure element to it!" She rolled her eyes.

Henry said, "Hey. It'll be okay. If she's up to no good, we'll stop her before she can harm or taint him." She nodded and he beckoned her closer, "But what's the deal with you and," he gestured his head towards Jasper, who was pointing his phone to record and said as he did, "Uncle Rox, you're doing great, Sweetie."

"What do you mean, what's the deal? You told me to back off and I backed off," she said.

"I mean… I told you to back off if you didn't really want him, but things seem different for you these days. Like, you like him."

"Well, if I do, it doesn't matter if I can't treat him how he deserves. You pretty much made the decision for me. Are you backpedaling, now?"

"No! Not backpedaling. Just… seeing if YOU'VE changed since our last chat. You like him?" She folded her arms. "He likes you. Like, he loves you."

"Hen… Has Jasper said something about me?"

"Kinda got mad whenever I inserted myself last time. But, last report I have him was that you're definitely on the same page. Should I recant?"

"I’ll talk to him later."

"Good, I don’t know WHAT to say. But, if you're still… Just… Let him down easy, though. 

"I said I’LL talk to him."

"LET HIM DOWN EASY THOUGH!"

Jasper and a few guests looked at the two of them and Charlotte panicked and said, "He has tourettes."

"Insensitive and ableist," Henry commented.

She told him, through her teeth, "This is no longer your business. Thanks though." The last time she listened to him, he made her rethink every emotion and observation that she had about Jasper. Now, he was essentially saying that she should have just followed her first mind anyway! Which..  now she wasn't sure was correct. If she had let the advice of Henry move her, maybe it was because deep down, some part of her agreed with his doubts.

.

At the reception, she asked him to dance, "But, you hate dancing." She furrowed her eyebrows and he quickly hopped to it, "And yet, you're gonna bless me with a dance!" 

She took him to the floor and started to sway in his arms as the Ol School ft XScape & Keith Sweat Am I Dreaming remake came on. Her uncle and new aunt were singing to each other nearby and she laughed a little bit, but got right to business, "You know… I'm not interested in romance and coupling. That stuff is like one of those things that I think I might one day get bored after doing everything I needed and wanted to do and reluctantly give it a try. What about you?" 

Jasper shrugged his shoulders and admitted, "I love love. I want a soul mate, wife, kids, pets, all in one house, no custody disputes or visitation rejections. No divorce. No different last names. Just a family that I built with my bare hands alongside a life partner."

"Cool. So, you know what you want and that means that you'll be more likely to go after that and only that with someone who also wants that." He knew what this was. She was finally addressing his interest in her and she was declining, as he could have guessed she might.

"Yeah. It's gonna be quite a find, if I ever find anybody that would even consider me that way."

"You will. I have faith in you."

"I do too. I believe in my dreams. But, maybe instead of having faith in me, have a little in yourself. How do you know that you won't want anyone until your life is over? Maybe you just haven't paid attention to the right person."

"Maybe. But, I'm not ready to start doing that for anybody. I've got goals and plans and I never factored in even the possibility of connecting before any of them are met. Plus… I don't even get… well… you know. I've been openly ace for like 3 years. Guys don't even want to be my friend when they find that out."

"Guys like that never wanted to be your friend in the first place then. If they truly did, they would be willing to try anything for you."

"What's there to try? I'm not quite as adventurous as you, what with your butt taste buds and all…"

He blushed. "I only meant that I'm not against trying it, with the right person."

"Here's the thing, Jasper. For you, the right person is kinda whoever you're into at the moment. We've spoken about this before. You get into somebody, and you're in love, hard and heavy until you're not. Then, you just move on. Any girl who knows you probably would never date you. What happens when you get bored with her? You just bounce."

"I… didn't realize that my actions could be read like that." He sighed, "Okay. It's not hard for me to fall in love and I put a lot into things, whenever I do. But, if it isn't working out, I might move on, but I'm also latched on a lot of the time. I don't get over it as easy as it looks. You have to remember who you're talking to. Just because I'm not whining doesn't mean I'm not pining." She stared at him and the song was ending. They pulled apart and he said, "But, I get what you mean. Somebody who's slow to jump and neutral with her response might need a little more evidence as to how badly I want her."

"Or. She might not be interested in any of that and just likes having her friend."

"Or that. Thanks, Char. You're always good with advice." Even about yourself, he guessed. He found Henry and wondered, "Ready to go?" Henry took one look at Jasper and knew which direction Charlotte had gone.

"Yeah. Did she at least let you down gently?"

Jasper bit his lip and nodded, "Like it hurt her to do it, but like it had to be done."

Henry sighed and wrapped an arm around him, sending Charlotte a text that they were going to head out. Outside, there was a girl waiting at the corner and she said, “Hey! Excuse me! Dr. Minyak stole my Uber and I’d just put my purse down in it. Can I catch a ride and pay you guys back? I promise, I’m good for it.”

Even though they weren’t about to order a car, Henry said, “Sure thing!” Jasper tried to decline and walk instead, but Henry practically forced him into the agreement. He didn’t feel like being a wingman, but Henry did leave the party early for him, and the reception was always one of the best parts, because hot girls with marriage on the mind… So, he agreed and they waited with her for the car, sprinkled with small talk and heavy flirting.

.

After work, Charlotte and Henry met Jasper upstairs, in the store. He was on the phone, but still locked up with them. Whenever they got outside, Charlotte wondered, “Who in the world is he talking to?”

“I think her name is Emily or Honalee? We met her outside of the wedding.”

“Amelie?”

“Yeah! That’s it! I guess you know her?”

“Yeah. Uncle Roscoe dated her mom years ago and she still sorta sees him as a father figure.”

“Which is ridiculous, because he is literally an oversized child,” Henry said. They heard Jasper giggle on the phone and Charlotte shook her head. Unbelievable. Just because I’m not whining doesn’t mean I’m not pining. Yeah right. Pining for Amelie, who apparently was literally the first girl you saw after we parted ways! 

“You okay, Char?” Henry asked, sure that he knew exactly what her suddenly sour mood was about.

“Yeah. But, we’ve gotta vet her. I know that she’s like family to Uncle Roscoe, but Uncle Roscoe isn’t a great judge of character, and Jasper doesn’t have a very good track record with selecting girls!”

“She seemed alright to me,” Henry said.

“From the one car ride that you shared with her, when she was most likely being polite in order to appease the guys that just helped her get home?”

Henry rolled his eyes and wondered, “How do we figure out if this girl is good for him, or not?”

“Simple…” Charlotte invited Amelie over to hang out at her house with the three of them. Jasper thought it was weird, but didn’t make a big deal of it. But, whenever they were all there, Char was acting weird. First, she kept asking Amelie pretty intense questions like, “What is it that you think that you might see in Jasper? Because, I’ve known him nearly half my life and only saw any appeal a very short time ago.” Then, there were comments, “Well, I guess it’s a good thing that you ran into Jasper and Henry, real regular heroes. Especially Jasper. Great guy, but don’t let the dimples fool you. He’s quite the heartbreaker.”

“Nothing could be further from the truth,” Jasper said, laughing, uncomfortably. “What is with you?”

Amelie said, “I’m sorry, Charlotte. I didn’t realize that you and Jasper had history. I wouldn’t date my cousin’s ex!” 

“I am not your cousin,” Charlotte said at the same time that Jasper said “I’m not her ex.” But, she heard it and tilted her head at him, “Maybe not, but let’s be really honest about the circumstances in which you met this girl…” She didn’t say anything else. She didn’t have to. He met Amelie when he was leaving from being rejected by Charlotte and of course, if this DID go anywhere, it would definitely simply be some type of rebound.

“But, that doesn’t mean that you should get to be rude to your guest,” he told her. “Or, to me, for that matter. Why do you feel like you have the right to say anything about who I may or may not date?”

“Whoa oh,” Henry said.

“I think I should go,” Amelie said.

“No. I’LL go, since I’m the one making everybody uncomfortable,” Charlotte said.

“YOU LIVE HERE!” Jasper snapped. 

Charlotte got up and retired to her room. It was quiet for a while before Henry said, “Well, the chicken was just lovely.” Jasper got up and stormed after Charlotte and Henry got up and tried to stop him. “Hey, Jasper, Buddy. Where ya goin’?” “She can’t brush me off, then get mad whenever I’m trying to move on!” 

“Okay. BUT, can she feel insecure about trusting you after you indirectly professed love, then started talking to another girl mere hours later?”

“NO! She didn’t even want to give me a chance. She has no right.”

“Can she actually be concerned that maybe, just maybe you’re making a bad decision, since you do kinda have a track record for going all in after girls who turn out to be disasters.” Jasper stopped. “I just don’t think you getting mad is the best way to deal with whatever Char has going on in her head.”

Jasper folded his arms and said, “I just want her to be real with me and say whatever she actually means. I want her to explain it to me like I’m stupid, because getting me to take a hint is clearly not working. The hint I took was that she wanted me to leave the thought of us behind completely. I even said that I was willing to work harder to prove myself and she told me not to!”

Charlotte appeared at the end of the hallway and said, “I can hear you, Jasper!”

“Good! Because we need to talk!” He complained.

She leaned against the wall and said, “Henry, can you go check on Amelie and maybe apologize to her? I’ll call her to speak for myself in a little while.” He nodded and reluctantly left them alone. Charlotte sighed and said, “You’re right. It would be unfair of me to turn you down and get mad at you for moving on, but that’s not what this is. I’m upset because, like Henry said, you seemed all about me, then suddenly, you were back into the same old habits. Amelie is cool, or whatever, but you know absolutely nothing about her! She could be a criminal. She could be a… Republican!” He leaned against the wall next to her. “Everybody gets concerned when you like a girl, because you’ve had not only bad luck, but bad judgment in that department. I’m the only one who will tell you, while Henry and the guys at work are content to let you look a fool, so long as you possibly get some action. I’m the person that usually has your best interest at heart.”

“You're the person who makes me feel the worst about everything that's wrong with me!”

Now, she was really sad and slid down the wall to sit down on the floor, “I see. Sorry. You will not have to deal with it again. You can leave whenever you want.”

He sat next to her. “It’s not completely like that. I mean, you can be pretty harsh and don’t really compliment me very much, but… I feel like I have to always be trying to be a better person with you and that gets to be heavy.”

“I’ve never placed that responsibility on you, so how is this my fault?”

“It’s not about fault, it’s about… You like me right?”

She couldn’t bare to look at him right now, because her emotions were all over the place and she didn’t even like when her emotions were present, much less active, “You're one of my best friends. Of course I like you.”

“That's not what I mean.”

“Well I mean it.”

“And you don't think we could ever be more than that, right? I mean… we like each other more than that. I don't understand why we can't act on it. You’re the one who basically told me to get over it and move on. I didn’t understand, but I tried to respect it, and now HERE we are.”

“I think that if we did that, we'd be taking on a huge risk. Do you want to possibly ruin what we already have?” Her hands were so interesting, right now. She traced them with her fingertips, stretched and wiggled those digits, meanwhile studying them.

“No… but if we make it, the risk will have been worth it.”

Finally, she looked at him. His optimism and dreamlike wonder was becoming such a problem and worst, she felt like he had a point. Jasper. He couldn’t have a point. She had thought about this. She thought about everything. “Knowing yourself and knowing me… do you think that we'd make it? Honestly. One or both of us would have to go through a lot of changes, and even then, that would be two people we've created to make it work making it work, not necessarily who we are..”

“You're so smart.”

She nodded her head and pointed to him, because finally, he got it. “And that's never going to change.”

“Unfortunately for you, I'm not nearly as smart,” Jasper said and moved in to kiss her. Now, she saw it coming and she knew that she strongly believed everything that she had just said, so the smart thing, the responsible thing would be to dodge his lips and get up and go. The thing that she did was lean forward to meet him in the middle, and wrapped her arms around him as she kissed him back.

#A Chasper Fic #chasper #henry danger #hd fanfic #Nesha HD Fics

[missmarrypotter]

I did not search for anything but i don’t mind what i found today

Writing stories kinda relaxes me so i thought i’d write some dabbles from time to time and use this acc for something else than just stalking and reading imagines 😂 Remember englisch is not my First language 😂💞😉

Scott Reed x OC

IMPORTANT :This Story takes place before Hannah Baker appears ✨ so Bryce and Monty will be mentioned so if that's a no for You don't read it :)

WARNINGS: alcohol!?,  kissing?!😂

Who does not Like a good Party?! Well Lots of people actually but not the jocks from liberty high school. They were always hosting Parties. This Weekend there was a Party at the house of Bryce Walker, the probably richest of the jocks. At least talking about the money his family owned not necessarily talking about the social aspects. There were about 234 people in that house celebrating today's win over some other high school’s Baseball team. Zach Dempsey - a really really tall asian jock, Jeff Atkins - Liberty’s beautiful Star Athlete and Scott Reed - a Baseball Player with cheekbones sharp as a seashell had some Drinks in the kitchen, talking about their game and how Well they managed today as a girl stumbled in. “ Uhm…  guys who is that?!” Scott asked his friends while slightly staring at her. He moved here 5 Month ago so he was still Meeting New people at every Party. She had pastel pink, waved hair with some lilac streaks and a dark brown hairline. Some strands just Fell into her face while the the Rest was tied into a messy bun. She slowly looked through the Kitchen somehow confused, maybe searching for something her amber colored eyes looking slightly tired and exhausted. When she saw the boys she smiled weakly and waved. The boys sheepishly smiled and Zach patted Scotts back saying: “ that’s my sisters Babysitter, Jeff’s Best friend and.. “ before he could finish Justin Foley - the Basketball’s Team Captain entered the room. Shirtless and smirking. “ oh… “ Scott sighted when he noticed the girl who caught his attention was wearing the missing shirt. Meanwhile that girl had made her way to the freezer where she found herself some massive Box of chocolate cookie Ice Cream. There she sat on the kitchen table happily eating the treasure she found and feeding every second spoon to a laughing Jeff. The smirking Justin grabbed himself a beer while high fiving Zach. “ Dude, Foley how hammered is she!?” Jeff asked while watching his Best friend trying to feed ice cream to the Cat that was pictured on the calendar hanging in the Wall next to the table while snorty giggling. The guys bursted into laughter watching her smearing the cream all over the picture. Damn alcohol?. After a few seconds Justin managed to answer: “ she drank some beer not much but then she found some brownies..  Guess extra Butter wasn't what made them that tasty” he shrugged. “ Oh dang she is so not good with Weed..  Luckily it never lasts long ” Jeff stated quietly laughing as he remembered his Bestie sitting in a circle with some stuffed animals explaining the female suffering while being on their period the last time she had some marijuana. Alcohol made her touchy, cuddly and just so cute but marijuana..  Oh Boy. Justin noticed the kinda creepy gazing Scott. He winked at Zach and nodded to the door signaling him to leaf Scott alone with her. “ Guys Bryce just texted me Sheri is going to get some More Alcohol and she needs some strong guys with her.. “ he lied. Jeff noticed their Plan and stepped towards Scott while having his girl piggyback riding him - brushing his hair with a fork.” On my way, Scotty You take care of my girl!” he instructed His friend while somehow managing to shake his backpack of himself and placing him next to his slightly overwhelmed Team mate. Quickly the three boys made their way outside, giggling Like some Kids that just did something their parents forbid. Scott awkwardly laughed before smoothly asking:” so… i’ m Scott   Scott Reed,  what's your Name?! “. “ Phee” was all he got as an answer After she managed to escape the spell his bluish-green eyes had over her. But it just sounded like some random weird giggle cause her laughter mixed with the answer. He laughed as well. “ what?!”.  She inhaled some air and concentrated. “ Phee. That’s what i am called.” she began slowly, still a little mumbling, “ my full Name is Penelopee Ava O’ donnal but when Jeff was bout 2 years Old he just managed to say Phee and yeah..  It stayed with me” she explained while poking his side with her fork. He nodded. “ Sounds Like a long Ass friendship. That's cool. Jeff is such a cool cool guy.” he tried to Start a conversation. She jumped happily and nodded, “ Yeah he totally is, Justin, Zack, Monty and Jeff are the loveliest jocks i know, i know them since..  Almost always ” she told him very fast. He smiled. Seeing her that happy made his heart jump. “ And Justin is..  Is he your.” “ Boyfriend?!” she interrupted. “ no. Are we having Sex!? yes. But that's it, just two friends having a good time. I mean..  I sure love him. But just the way i love my other boys, i’m not really a relationship type of girl or at least i’ve never met someone who convinced me otherwise.. ” she cleared the circumstances. Scott sighed in relief. Well at least relieved about the not being Justin's Girlfriend . So he had a Chance. Something about her smile made his heart jup, her freckles made him want to trace them around her body with Kisses, he wanted to know her better. He wanted to know everything. Every good and Bad Detail about her life and herself. Did she think the Same way!? At least she looked at him as if she could or was it just the brownies!? As he watched her smile he noticed something. “ Woah are those Piercings?! “ He asked looking at what he First thought were dimples.” Yeah “ she grinned and stuck out her tongue revealing another Piercing.” So cool” he said amazed. “ Your parents were ok with that?!” he asked in disbelief. “ Well they believe in self determined parenting and they are gone for months quite often so…  yep kinda” she shrugged. Her eyes were much brighter and fresher now so apparently the brownies started to fade away. “ How come i never met You even though You’re so close with the guys ?! “ he wanted to know. “ My parents took me with them to some of their Business Trips to Sweden four Month ago.. And I really liked it there so they convinced the school i could do some online schooling while traveling through scandinavia..  I came back two days ago “, she explained.” So cool!” he answered amazed. So the welcome Party the boys hosted for their friend who just came back had been for her. And he decided to practice with his dad as they asked him to come. What a shame. They talked Like that for a while. Telling each other about their families, their dreams, laughing together, drunk hugging, being touchy, drinking some more,  walking around in this huge house and making fun of Bryce's Baby Photos. After a few hours and most of their friends leaving or passing out they went to take a walk to Phee’ s Home After they both got annoyed by the Couples making out at The Pool they decided to use the Pool at Phee’s Home instead. Her parents currently left for some Business in France and her brother decided to spend the night at his Boyfriends. Perfect night to bring some totally adorable stranger Home. After thirty minutes of walking they got to a house not as big as Bryce's of course but still pretty big. With some red roses in front of it. She turned around and looked at him excited. “ You afraid of dogs!?” she asked.” Nah, why?!” he wanted to know but right After his words he saw them as she opened the gate. Three massive Dogo Agentinos running towards them. He stumbled a step back and just watched the small girl being greeted by her cuddly giant guardians. They sat down next to her looking at Him with their wiggling tails. “ Woah not Bad… did You train them?!” he wanted to know kinda impressed.” My brother and I did, yeah. Those are Rosco, Desoto and Butternut” she introduced her babies. “ Not Hard to guess which Name You picked”, he laughed. She laughed with him Knowing it was not her idea to call the youngest one “Butternut”.She guided him to the Pool, the dogs waddling with them. They decided underwear swimming would be much cooler than putting on bathing Suits so they went in just their undies. After a while of fooling around Scott decided it was time to ask a question he was dying to ask since she forked Jeff’s hair:” so.. I know You are not really searching for a Boyfriend but is the idea of having a Boyfriend really that unthinkably to You!?” he said while swimming towards her and putting his Hands behind her neck playing with her hair, smiling at her softly. “I did not search for anything but i don’t mind what i found today , and I totally don't mind finding out if maybe i could be a Relationship Person After all..” she replied putting her fingers on his cheeks stroking them slightly, pulling him near her. “ I guess we will see” he whispered stroking his nose against hers before gently putting his lips on hers. He definitely was someone special and definitely worth the try.

Soo that's it 🤗 Hope some of You guys enjoyed it even though it's so short 😂✨ Tips and feedback are welcome all the time 🍀

#scott reed #13rw scott reed #13 reasons why #13rw #13rw imagine #13rw au #13rw headcanon #Justin Foley #monty de la cruz #jeff atkins #scott reed x OC #Own character #OC #zach dempsey