#despite how significant she was and how horrifying her fate she will be forgotten by the main characters like any other nameless extra | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wygolvillage · 3 years

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have you ever wanted to read a rewrite of the plot of castlevania: lament of innocence that replaced leon with sonia (bc lets face it she deserves better), doesnt overuse the dead wife trope, and has LESBIANS IN IT??? NO??? well too bad here it is

fair warning it might be a bit cringe? im hardly a writer lmao

Sonia Belmont was a peasant girl of insignificant origin, however, she found herself at conflict with a nobleman after her dear friend Sara Trantoul was arranged for a marriage with Count Mathias Cronqvist, who lived not far from her village in a remote castle that few dared to visit. Sara, however, did not wish to marry into nobility, let alone marry a man, and Sonia helped her make an escape to another town.

Mathias was furious with jealousy and rage, and pursued Sonia. They did battle, and Sonia was the victor: Count Mathias Cronqvist was dead. However, having killed a man of significant power and renown, Sonia was now wanted for murder, and she opted to hide her identity so as to not arouse suspicion. She tried to convince Sara to leave her side, out of fear that they may be found due to her previous connection to the Count, however Sara refused out of love for Sonia.

Sonia became a vigilante knight, trying to do battle against injustices in the world in whatever way she could. She often would have to take trips across the countryside to pursue those she thought wrongdoers, often other men in positions of authority like the detestable Count who had targeted her dear Sara.

In 1094 she received a letter informing her of a man named Walter Bernhardt who had been kidnapping townsfolk, however when she arrived at his palace she found it empty. In fact, the letter had been a trap, and when she returned to her home she found Sara gone- with signs of a struggle. When she asked around the town where Sara had been taken, all the answers pointed to the dilapidated castle near the village where she and Sara had grown up.

The Count was dead, of course... There was no way he could be behind this. Still, she followed this guidance, and found that the area around the castle was covered in thick trees and darkness, and her hometown was no more, enveloped by a forest of eternal night. Curiously, the castle was no longer in the crumbling state it had been left in, but instead looked as if it had been built the previous day. One man remained in a shop in the forest, someone who Sonia had known years ago before she had killed Mathias: Rinaldo Gandolfi. He recognizes her, and tells her to stay away from such an awful place, and that his whole family was slaughtered by the vampire that lived there. She refuses, stating her intentions to rescue Sara, and Rinaldo acquiesces. However, he does let her know that should she need any goods for her quest, he will provide them. He gives her a whip said to be able to kill vampires.

Rinaldo explains that he spotted the vampire with a large crystal that was the source of the darkness, and that as an alchemist he theorized it was connected to legends of a Crimson Stone that can impart great power to one who pursues a path of evil, and to be wary. He also stated that the crystal was what had restored the castle to its current state.

Sonia enters the castle and finds it infested with horrible monsters. She fights through the mindless horde, but after facing a first boss, a mysterious red headed vampire appears in the room and identifies himself as Walter Bernhardt. He taunts her a bit with an unwinnable boss fight, says she’ll never find Sara and teleports away.

Sonia pursues Walter through the castle’s various areas such as the House of Sacred Remains and Anti-Soul Mysteries Lab, but is ultimately unfruitful in her search, often being led through the mazes only to find traps with terrifying monsters laying in wait. At one point she tries to confront Walter and he drops her into a pit containing the Forgotten One, and has to fight her way out.

Eventually, after completing the castle’s areas, she finds Sara, but finds that she’s too late, and that Sara has been turned into a vampire. Sara laments her fate, terrified that she’s lost her humanity. Sonia escorts her out of the castle to be cared for by Rinaldo, horrified at what Walter has done and furious at him.

She storms through the castle once more, heading for the Throne Room to confront Walter. However, when she defeats him, he reveals that it was not him who turned Sara- it was his master who had orchestrated the whole thing. Walter dies of his wounds soon after, and Sonia wonders who Walter’s master was- though she does not have to wonder for long.

Mathias Cronqvist, revived from the grave as a vampire by the pure evil in his heart, then reveals himself.

“Sonia,” he begins. “I want you to understand that you took everything from me. My life, and the only woman I thought was worthy of my grace.”

“You’re a monster,” Sonia spits in his face. “You stole much more from her than I ever stole from you.”

“I loved her, Sonia, just as you do. Now she and I can be together forevermore, and you will be punished for your sins.”

“How can you claim to love her?! You’ve never loved, and you never will! True love does not drive people to hurt!” Sonia then attacks him.

The ensuing fight is a near-equal match, and Sonia eventually prevails, but is grievously wounded. Just as she thinks it’s over, Mathias pulls out a large red orb from the wall behind the throne, one that Sonia now realizes is the Crimson Orb Rinaldo spoke of. The roof of the castle opens, and the full moon shines upon the glistening orb in his hands. As he does this, the castle begins to crack apart as the crystal had been removed.

“The blood spilt in the village you called home, and the despair all around us... This shall give me strength! Even Death will be at my command!” He announces to the sky, and the orb begins to emit a horrible red light. “After all... the Dark Lord is given power by the negativity in the hearts of mankind. All that fury and hatred for me will only be your downfall.”

He is then transformed into the ultimate force of all evil, the Dark Lord. He takes on the name Count Dracula, abandoning his former humanity.

Sonia cannot hope to win, but she fights on in exhaustion in the midst of the crumbing castle. Dracula laughs as she collapses. Sonia spits out blood, and in her assumed dying moments as Dracula approaches, she curses his name and tells him, in an oddly prophetic way, that one day he shall experience true loss, his children shall turn against him, and her descendants will cheer on his downfall.

Dracula is enraged by her words, and is about to deal the final blow before Sara jumps in front of her. Sara tells Dracula to let her live, or else kill her as well.

Out of perceived "love" for Sara, Dracula lets the two women go, and Sara carries Sonia to safety as the castle falls to eternal ruin. The fog of eternal darkness recedes from the forest and the sun rises as they meet up with Rinaldo.

Sara retreats into the shadows to avoid the sun's rays, but Sonia follows, telling her that no matter what she will go wherever she leads her.

"But I am inhuman. I am a monster, just as Walter and Dracula were." Sara avoids her gaze.

"To be inhuman is to reject love and kindness and to seek evil ends. Dracula made that choice himself... And you have chosen to save me." Sonia embraces her tightly.

"You love me, despite my newfound home in the night..."

"If the night is your home, so it is mine. The Belmont family shall henceforth walk the path of shadows in pursuit of the Dark Lord... and we will hunt the night for eternity."

And then the credits roll yaaaay

After the credits it is stated that Sonia has had a child, and though that child shares the cursed fate of a Belmont and a bloodsoaked lineage of a vampire, that child will one day be hailed as a hero.

The End :)

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stereksecretsanta · 3 years

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Merry Christmas, outtoshatter!

Dear @outtoshatter. You requested fluff, getting together, alternate first meetings, and something!Stiles. This was so much fun to write, and I’m thrilled to have the chance to create something for you. I hope you have the loveliest of holidays!! <3

Read On AO3

*****

Derek is a romantic. He dreams of finding his mate, of connecting with that special someone who will make his heart swoon.

"How did you know Dad was the one?" Derek asks his mom as he digs out a pink, glittery bear from beneath the pile of loose-limbed plushies. "Were there fireworks when you first met, or—?"

His cheeks flame. He can't tell his mom that the spun-sugar scent of Jenna's hair makes his heart race, or that the smell of Mark's baseball jersey gives him a boner. In fact, Derek's embarrassment is so thick she probably scents it despite being surrounded by a bunch of seven-year-olds with sugar highs from birthday cake and soda.

"The first time you meet your mate will always be significant,” Talia says as she hands the bear over to one of Cora's classmates. “It might be passionate and explosive, or it could spark a bond that builds and grows. It's influenced by who you are and where you are in your lives. But deep inside, you'll know. Your wolf, especially, will know."

"But what if my mate isn't a wolf? What if they can't sense the connection?"

"Humans cherish the notion of 'true love' as much as we do. And I bet your mate is someone who's sensitive and wise." She leans down and ruffles Derek's hair.

Derek wriggles out of his mom's touch. He's thirteen, not three.

"You think?" he asks. Maybe it is Jenna or Mark, although he was hoping his mate would be someone more… well, special.

"You'll see." Talia's smile disappears as she studies the line where Cora and her friends are waiting at the stuffing station. She counts their numbers under her breath and shakes her head. "Someone's missing. Will you help me find them, Der?"

Derek sighs. It might be Cora's birthday, but he's missing practice to babysit a bunch of second-graders at a Build-A-Bear. "Seriously?"

"Seriously. I know this seems like an unbearable chore, but it means a lot to your sister that you're here. And to me, as well." His mom runs a hand along the back of Derek's neck and gives him a gentle squeeze.

Perhaps it's because it's close to a full moon, but Derek feels restless and edgy. Guilt washes through him at his snappishness, and he apologizes to his mom, giving her a quick hug before starting his walk-through.

There are bins of bears and cats and dogs and dragons in every color imaginable, their limp bodies waiting to be plumped up with poly-fill. He’s surprised Cora wanted a party here; her interests run more along the line of laser tag than dolls or stuffed animals. Although there's a backstory, he's sure; Cora had mumbled something about wanting to invite her whole class 'unlike that Lydia Martin', whereupon Mom's fangs dropped and her eyes flashed red. The next thing Derek knew, they had made a reservation for all twenty children.

It's not until Derek passes the displays of the Marvel and Star Wars bears that he finds the errant partygoer. Unlike the other boys in the class who dress in athletic wear stamped with Nike and Under Armor logos, he's wearing a faded t-shirt and a plaid overshirt, topped off by a pair of worn trainers.

Derek looks down at the limp plushie in the boy's hand. "Hey. Are you here for Cora's birthday party?" he asks softly.

The boy raises his eyes. They're ridiculously large for his face, amber orbs framed by long lashes and a buzzed haircut that make them look even bigger. Suddenly, they narrow as he looks Derek up and down.

"I'm not supposed to talk to strangers."

Derek frowns, the defiance taking him by surprise. "Maybe I work here."

Any shyness the boy may have seems forgotten as he takes a step closer.

"No, you don't," he says, his tone raised in challenge. "You don't have a nametag and you're not wearing a vest."

The kid's smart. Derek is filled with the weird urge to push his buttons and protect him at the same time.

"You got me," Derek says, holding up his hands. "I'm Cora's brother, Derek." He points to the animal in the boy's hand. "Don't you want to wait in line with the others and get your bear stuffed?"

The boy straightens out his arm. "It's not a bear," he says. There's a slight hesitation, then he's turning the animal over. Derek sees that it has a long muzzle, pointed ears, and plastic blue eyes. "It's Can… um, Canis…”

"Canis Lupus. A wolf," Derek says, surprised.

The boy nods vigorously. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, sure. Why wouldn't it be?"

"I didn't know if I was allowed to get something that wasn't a bear." The boy hangs his head, his fingers digging into the wolf's ample fur. "I've never been to one of these parties before."

Ah. Another reject from Lydia Martin's party list. The news makes Derek inexplicably angry.

"If I was getting one, I'd get a wolf, too," Derek says.

The boy looks up, his earlier disapproval of Derek apparently forgotten. "Yeah?"

"Totally." Derek crouches down and strokes the wolf's fur. "It's pretty skinny though," he says as his hand lingers on the nape of its neck. "We'd better go and fatten it up. Maybe get it some clothes?"

The boy shakes his head. "Wolves don't wear clothes," he says, his exasperation plain. "Duh."

Derek snorts. "Well, how about one of those scent things?" The discs seem to be popular; most of the other kids have one in hand.

The boy lifts the wolf to his face and buries his nose in its fur. "Nah. He smells good the way he is. But he needs a heart."

"Okay. Let's get one, uh—"

"Stiles," the boy answers. "Stiles," he repeats with a small scowl as Derek stares, bemused. "That's my name."

"Oh. Okay, Stiles." Derek stands up and holds out his hand. "Let's go. We've got a wolf to build."

Stiles places his hand in Derek's. It's small and a bit clammy, but Derek doesn't mind, surprisingly. They head towards the front of the store where Stiles takes his time in choosing a red heart out of the bin of hundreds. There's another display close by filled with a selection of noisemakers.

"Do you want one?" Derek asks as Stiles stares. There's a lot to choose from. "They have some songs and animals noises, and—"

"They don't have any wolf ones, though," Stiles says, seemingly put out. He pushes one of the buttons, rolling his eyes as a dinosaur's roar breaks through the tiny speaker. He chooses the dog button next.

God, no, Derek thinks.

Thankfully, Stiles passes on that one, too.

"What about this one?" Derek asks, pointing to number eleven. When Stiles presses the button, they hear the lub dub of a human heart, steady and true.

Stiles' face breaks into a huge grin. "That's perfect."

Derek opens the drawer, takes out the sound chip and hands it to Stiles, who curls his fingers around its edges and holds on tightly. By the time they make it to the stuffing station, Stiles is bouncing on his feet, a bundle of barely contained energy. He's also staring with a horrified expression at a boy who's twirling in a circle while rubbing his bear's poly-filled heart across his chest and down to his belly.

"Uh, Derek? Do I have to do that?" Stiles whispers as a Build-A-Bear employee eggs the boy on.

Maybe it's the vulnerability in Stiles' face, or the wobble in his voice, but Derek wants nothing more in that moment than to soothe Stiles' worry. He leans over and whispers, "You mean, act like something's crawling up your butt?"

Stiles lets out a half-gasp, half-laugh. "I can't move like that! What if I do it wrong and his heart won't work?"

"Listen to me, Stiles. I'm thirteen and I know a lot about wolves. Rubbing your wolf's heart on your pants or doing ten jumping jacks isn't going to make him come to life. What he needs is for you to care for him. To love him, and believe in him with all your might. Okay?"

"Okay." Stiles gives Derek a grateful smile, his face radiating his happiness.

Derek stands a bit straighter and catches his mother's eye. He's sure it's his alpha's approval and nothing else that makes him feel warm and tingly inside.

~*~

Derek used to be a romantic. He once dreamed of finding his true love, of meeting that special person whom he could care for and be cared for in return. But a series of bad relationships with people who either wanted different things in life (sorry, Braeden), or were only interested in him for his family's powerful connections (thanks, Jennifer), or who were, to put it bluntly, vindictive, psychotic stalkers (hello, Kate) has left Derek realizing not everyone is destined to have a mate. Of course, that also means one of the great Hale legacies has come to an end, although he's not sure why the Fates decided to pin that dubious distinction on him.

He doesn't want to end up like his Uncle Peter who, after losing his mate, creeps around with people half his age, filled with snark and cynicism. So Derek tries to settle, without success. His friends and family blame his inability to have a meaningful relationship on 'being too choosy', or 'not trying', or his 'emotional constipation'. He supposes it's a damning statement when even his best friends have given up their matchmaking attempts and relegated him to babysitting duty.

Derek's trying to decide whether he has time for a quick run before he goes grocery shopping, or whether he has enough milk and butter to postpone the errand altogether, when an EMT kit lands by his feet.

"Any plans for tonight?" Erica asks. Her smile is a bit too bright, her tone a shade too innocent.

Derek frowns and gives his co-worker the side-eye as he tries to figure out her angle. He can't believe there was a time where he thought he and Erica could be anything more than friends. She's gorgeous, of course, but she's also too perceptive and blunt as hell, and she calls Derek out on his bullshit more than anyone else aside from his own sisters. She feels like safety—like pack—but his wolf knows there's nothing more. Besides, she's snagged herself a handsome and brilliant ED doctor in Boyd—along with a ring, a two-bedroom Murray Hill apartment, and a five-year old daughter.

"Catching up on the second season of The Mandalorian?" Derek grins, baring a toothy smile of his own.

"Are you thirty-five or sixty-five, Derek? Because seriously, I can't tell. And since you phrased your answer in the form of a question and this isn't Jeopardy, I'm assuming those plans aren't set in stone."

Fuck. Erica had promised after the last disastrous blind date that she wouldn't try to set him up again. "I'm really not in the mood for company—"

"Even if it's a little girl who loves her godfather more than anyone else in the world?"

Derek sits up straighter. "You need me to watch Hailey?" He couldn't love Erica and Boyd's daughter any more than if she were his own.

"If you're up to it," Erica says, actually looking contrite. "I know it's your first day off in almost two weeks and I normally wouldn't ask, except… Well, the New York Public Library's doing this Children's Authors series, and her favorite writer's going to be reading today."

"The Fox and the Spark? I'm somewhat familiar," Derek says drily. He's read the story so many times he could recite it in his sleep.

"Yeah." Erica lets out a small laugh. "So, there's a second book that's coming out and the author's signing copies. Boyd was supposed to take her, but he has to cover for someone who called out with a family emergency. Greenberg won't let me change my shift, and I know you just finished yours, but—"

Derek puts a hand on Erica's shoulder. Next to Laura, Erica's his closest friend, and it's not like he really had plans.

"Don't give it another thought. Of course I'll take her."

A wave of relief sweeps over Erica's face. "I owe you one, Hale."

Derek lets out a small huff. He's pretty sure that if they were keeping tabs, he's going to come out on the short end when it comes to Erica and Boyd. Besides, an afternoon out with Hailey is bound to be better than his last several dates, even if he has to put up with a bunch of screaming kids.

~*~

As it turns out, there are a bunch of kids, but none of them are screaming because the man in front of them's woven some kind of crazy magic and has them in his thrall. He has thick brown hair that's the epitome of hipster chic, a wide mouth that pulls into an easy grin, and is wearing a heather grey t-shirt paired with khakis and a red hoodie. He looks young—young enough that Derek thought he worked for the library at first, a notion that's dispelled once Mrs. Purcell, the head librarian, gathers everyone together. His smile is bright and engaging, although it falters a bit when Mrs. Purcell stumbles over his name.

"Mieczyslaw," the man says with a self-deprecating grin. "Like 'mischief'. But I'll tell you a secret. No one calls me that, not even my family. You can just call me 'M'."

The news seems to delight the kids, who shout "Hi, M" in a loud chorus. M shows his appreciation by running across the front of the room and handing out high-fives.

"Is that really him?" Hailey wriggles in Derek's arms and cranes her neck, trying to get a better look. The construction-paper fox ears that they super-glued to her headband earlier that afternoon gets pushed aside at a precarious angle.

"That's really him," Derek affirms, which earns him an excited squeal.

"Put me down, D!" Hailey says with all the imperiousness of her mother, and it's all Derek can do, even with his superhuman strength, to keep her from toppling over.

"You can find a spot up close. No pushing or shoving, and if you can't see, ask politely. I'll be back here, okay?" He leans in and nuzzles her cheek to let her know she's safe and protected.

"Okay!" Hailey gives him a quick squeeze back before making her way up front. Derek is glad to see one of the other girls make room for her as Hailey sits down in the second row and clutches her book happily.

Derek straightens and runs a hand through his hair. He feels someone watching, and when he looks up, he suddenly locks eyes with M.

M rubs the back of his neck as a light flush spreads over his cheeks. It doesn't help to diminish his already-youthful appearance; in fact, it makes him look vulnerable—like prey—and the thought causes something to flare hot in Derek's belly. It's only when someone nudges him impatiently that he realizes that he's gawking in the middle of the room, surrounded by a restless audience that comes up to his knees. Derek mutters his apologies, then takes his six-foot frame to the back of the room where he watches from behind a row of brightly colored, miniature plastic chairs.

M starts off by saying that his best friend Scott is a veterinarian who works at a wolf sanctuary, and that M always thought wolves were the coolest. The tidbit makes Derek straighten to his full height and he puffs out his chest, inordinately pleased.

Most of the children already own copies of M's latest but choose to watch as M holds up a giant book that's nearly a foot-and-a-half tall. The pages are filled with illustrations—courtesy, M says, of his friend Isaac. The pictures are warm and soft, and detailed in a way that appeals to both a young and older audience. But even though they're beautiful, Derek finds his attention drifting elsewhere. He's mesmerized by the way M's fingers dance across the pages as he reads, how his eyes grow bright and animated when he hears the children laugh at his vocal impressions, and the way M's mouth—god, his mouth—turns down at the corners when he reaches a poignant scene. His voice defies categorization: it's raspy yet young, melodious but slightly off-pitch, and serious yet mischievous, as if an old soul had somehow merged with an adolescent’s energy.

The truth is that Derek's too distracted by M to pay close attention to the story. But after his brain momentarily shorts out from watching M lick his thumb to turn the page, it manages to reboot and catch the his next words:

"You need to care for him," the fairy said as Milo hugged his wolf. "You need to love him and believe in him with all your might."

Derek listens in a daze as M tells the group how Milo's wish for his wolf to come to life comes true. His own wolf perks up, and against the stench of the colognes and soaps and sweat of the crowd, he can pick out the welcome scent of citrus and cottonwood from back home. It's intoxicating, yet soothing and breathtakingly familiar, and in that moment the thread of hope that Derek's long thought cut manages to wriggle into his heart and take hold.

~*~

Derek absolutely does not push his way towards the front of the line. He just has longer legs.

His heart is in his throat and he's holding tight to Hailey, who's clutching her copy of Build A Wolf close to her chest. Derek doesn't understand how he could have missed the signs: the smattering of moles that grace M's cheek, the adorable tilt of his nose, or the warm intelligence of his eyes.

"Hi," Derek says when they reach the table where M's seated, his voice catching.

The Sharpie that M's twirling lazily between his fingers falls with a clatter. M stares at Derek, seemingly lost for words. A beautiful pink flush highlights his cheeks that Derek wants to trace with his thumb.

"You're a bit older than my usual fan. Bigger, too," M croaks. His face turns even brighter, and Derek can smell his surprise and the faint spice of his arousal.

"Stiles?" Derek blurts out. Upon seeing M's shocked expression, Derek tries to backtrack. "I'm sorry, it's just… well, you remind me of someone I knew from back home." When M doesn't deny the assumption, Derek continues, "I'm Derek Hale. Cora Hale's brother?"

M scrubs his face. "Wow, dude… wow, yeah, I am." He looks around and lowers his voice. "I'm surprised you recognized me. Or that you even remember who I am." When he smiles it's small and embarrassed, but Derek can also detect the happiness that colors his scent.

"I know you're probably busy, seeing as you're on a book tour and all, but do you want to grab a bite after you're done?" Derek feels breathless, and it's totally unlike him to be so forward, especially in the midst of an increasingly antsy crowd, but he feels like he's been waiting for this moment forever. "I mean, it can be something low key," he adds hastily, in case he's laying it on too strong. "I haven't been home in a while and it would be nice to catch up, and—"

There's a strong tug on his shirt sleeve. "Hi, Mr. M," Hailey pipes up. She's wearing a sweet smile but her eyes are impatient and determined. "Can you sign my book for me?"

"Sure, I'd love to." Stiles gives Derek an apologetic look. He greets Hailey with a complicated fist bump after commenting on her fox ears, uncaps his Sharpie, and opens the book to the front page. "Who should I make it out to?"

"To Mommy and Daddy and Hailey," Hailey decides. She tugs on Derek's sleeve more forcefully. "Do you think Mommy will like that?" she asks in a loud whisper.

Derek bends down and kisses her forehead. "I think she's going to love it," he says, nuzzling her neck. When he stands back up, Stiles has finished signing, but his smile seems a bit forced. "So, about dinner..." Stiles doesn't answer immediately; Derek falters as he takes back the book, his hopes sinking with each passing second.

Stiles' eyes lower, his once-happy scent souring. "Sorry," he says, his expression unreadable. "I'm on a tight schedule."

Both the human and wolf sides of Derek are confused by Stiles' sudden rejection. "Maybe a drink?" he tries again, desperate. He may have been a terrible judge of character in his previous relationships, but he can't be wrong, not about this.

Stiles shakes his head. Before Derek can press his case, there's a cough as the father and son behind Derek fix him with matching glares. Derek and Hailey get shuffled towards the door, and by the time Derek regains his bearings and looks back he discovers that Stiles is posing for a selfie with the kid, his scent now off, his smile a bit too forced.

~*~

There are several truths about the holidays—and the end of the year in particular—which are that the crowds are larger, the stress is higher, and people tend to avoid hospitals as much as possible. It also means that Derek's unit is flooded with calls, from decorating mishaps and drunken shenanigans to medical emergencies that are so far gone they can no longer be handled by an urgent care. He hasn't hung out with both Boyd and Erica in nearly a month, and even though it's for a quick bite in the hospital's cafeteria, he'll take it.

"Seriously, Hale. You'd better have a smile on your face after your PTO."

Derek looks up from his burrito, his brows furrowed.

"I don't know why you think I have PTO, Erica, but I don't," he says, grimacing as a glob of beef and avocado drop onto the wax-paper wrap. He's never requested a holiday week since he started with the FDNY eleven years ago. His family's all on the West coast, and he'd rather leave the prime vacation weeks to his co-workers. It's not like he has someone special to share the holidays with, after all.

He ignores the ache in his chest as he thinks of Stiles.

"Yeah, well the thing is, now you do. The week between Christmas and New Year's," Erica clarifies as she takes a bite of her burger. "You never exercise the perks that go with your seniority, and don't think it's gone unnoticed. It's the department's gift to you. "

Derek stares, flummoxed. "Greenberg will never go for it."

"Are you kidding me? He was the first to say 'yes'. Said he's tired of seeing your grumpy mug whenever he rings in the New Year."

Boyd grins at Derek's obvious discomfort. Derek gives him the middle finger, which makes Boyd chuckle out loud.

"I don't even know if my family's around," Derek protests. Laura often spends the holidays with her husband's family in Sun Valley, and Cora's hard to pin down any time of year.

Erica and Body give him twin looks of guilt. "They are," Boyd says as he takes something out of his coat pocket and hands it to Derek. "We already spoke to Laura. She can't wait to see you."

"Ho, ho, ho." Erica grins.

"What's this?" Derek asks as he stares at the envelope in Boyd's hand.

Boyd shrugs but Derek's not fooled by his casual stance. "A first-class plane ticket. An early Christmas present from us to you." His usually placid expression grows sheepish. "Look man, we don't want to put you in a bad spot. If you really don't want to go, use the credit for another trip. But we knew that if it were up to you, you'd be spending Christmas alone, eating leftovers and watching It's a Wonderful Life for the hundredth time."

"Who says I need to be in a relationship to be happy?" Derek asks, his hackles rising. Besides, Boyd has it all wrong. Derek has Die Hard on his Christmas queue.

Yippee ki yay.

Boyd holds up both hands. "Not me. If you want to be a bachelor forever, I'm not one to judge."

"But I am," Erica says. "You don't date anymore, Der. Hell, when's the last time you even got laid? Which would also be fine, except it's not, because you're miserable and it's obvious that's not what you really want."

Sometimes Derek has a hard time following Erica's logic. Unfortunately, this is not one of those moments.

"It doesn't matter," he says, digging the excess rice out from his wrap. "I'm better off alone."

Erica and Boyd share a look. Derek feels a pang of envy at the way they so easily read each other's thoughts and their mutual love and support. He'd always fancied himself a romantic, but to finally find his mate only to be rejected flat out hurts worse than anything Kate had put him through. Which… well, it says a lot.

Boyd nudges the envelope towards the remains of Derek's burrito. "Do what's right to you." And just like that, he changes the subject as they argue over whether Brees or Brady will end the season with the most touchdown passes and have the better chance of securing a berth in the Super Bowl.

~*~

Minutes after Derek sets foot inside JFK, he remembers why he hates flying. It's the noise and the stress, the smell of impatience and sweat, and the lack of personal space as he waits to clear security. He jams his beanie down to cover his ears, and the glower he's wearing doesn't help the dubious looks being cast his way. By the time he reaches the concourse, he has to duck into a coffee shop to catch a break from all the commotion.

He's standing in line, trying to decide whether he'd rather have a green or carrot smoothie, when someone's suitcase catches his heel.

"Shit! Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" The stranger pulls back the offending piece of luggage, and Derek suddenly catches a whiff of a familiar scent amongst the flurry of clothing and limbs. "Are you okay? I'm not exactly graceful on most days, but I'm working on like two hours of sleep and… " The man's voice trails off as he meets Derek's gaze, his whiskey-colored eyes widening further. "Derek?" he squeaks.

"Stiles," Derek answers, his voice equally strangled.

Stiles blows out a deep breath. "Oh, wow. What are the chances?" he mutters. His face turns blotchy.

Derek's wolf is pawing at his chest, begging Derek to not waste this second chance. "Uh… seeing as we're both here, I'm going to repeat my offer. For the drink. And a meal, if you'd like. Although I guess it's more like a grab and go." He's stumbling over his words and he feels the tips of his ears heat.

Stiles glances at the breakfast wraps and fruit bowls displayed behind the plexiglass counter. He pastes on a grin, although it seems strained at the edges. "Yeah, okay. Thanks, man; that'd be great." He orders an OJ and an egg wrap, while Derek finally decides on the green smoothie.

"Is that all you're getting?" Stiles asks after an awkward moment of silence.

Derek shrugs. "I ate before I got here. But you can order something else. I'm in a generous mood."

"Haha, big spender. I mean… " Stiles ducks his head and bites his lower lip. Derek watches helplessly as it reddens and swells. "Doesn't your daughter or wife want something, too?"

"I don't have a daughter or a wife," Derek says, his brow furrowing. "Or a girlfriend or a boyfriend, for that matter."

Stiles' mouth drops. "But who was the girl you were with at the book signing?"

Everything starts to slot together. Derek lets out a small chuckle of relief. "Hailey? She's the love of my life. She also happens to be the daughter of my best friends, Erica and Boyd, and my goddaughter. They couldn't make it to your signing because of a scheduling conflict, and I jumped in as a favor." He hands over a twenty to the cashier and deposits the remaining change in the tip jar, his shoulders suddenly lighter.

"Ohhh." Stiles wheels his bag around as they head out towards the gates. He stays close to Derek and his scent grows brighter and sweeter. "I totally jumped to the wrong conclusion," he confesses with a rueful grin. "And I don't want to make the same mistake twice, so I'm going to ask you straight out: are you heading back to Beacon Hills? Because if you are, I'd like to take you to a real dinner. If you're interested, of course," he hastens. "If not, that's cool, too—"

Derek stops and places his hand on Stiles' arm. "I happen to be going back to Beacon Hills. And I'm definitely interested."

A quick check of their tickets shows they're on the same flight into Sacramento International. When they reach the gate, Derek marches up to the counter and trades in his first-class ticket for a business-class seat next to Stiles. He hurries back to the waiting area, flashing a 'thumbs up' sign and grinning like a loon. The look of pure joy that lights up Stiles' face makes Derek's wolf howl with glee.

"So I was curious... why did you choose Mieczyslaw as your nom de plume?" Derek asks as he sits, resting his bag on the floor between them.

Stiles huffs out a laugh. "Mieczyslaw is my name—at least, it's the one I was born with. But it was too complicated to say, so my best friend Scott nicknamed me 'Stiles' when we were younger." He shrugs, as if to say, the rest is history. "Anyway, I wrote The Fox and the Spark for Scott and Allison's son and they finally convinced me to submit it to a publisher. I really didn't think it would go anywhere, and it seemed like it would be less of a rejection if I sent it as 'Mieczyslaw' instead of 'Stiles'."

"And then you ended up with a best-seller," Derek finishes with a grin. He stares at the label on his cup, rubbing an edge that's grown worn from condensation. "Hailey's favorite book is The Fox and the Spark. But I think I'm partial to your latest. The one where a boy builds a wolf out of snow and wishes he'd come to life."

Stiles sucks in a deep breath. "It's based on one of my greatest memories."

"The memory of a wolf? Or someone else?"

Stiles' cheeks stain a beautiful pink. "Uh, a little bit of both? I've always been drawn to wolves, but I've also never forgotten how nice you were to me at Cora's party. I mean, you're Derek Hale—Cora's cool, older brother. I kind of built you up after that, turned our meeting into some kind of mythos, but even then I hadn't been prepared for you to be so…" He gestures with his long, graceful fingers up and down Derek's torso. "I mean, look at you. You're ridiculously hot, plus you were so amazing with your goddaughter. You probably work saving kittens or puppies or endangered wildlife or something—"

Derek coughs. "People. I'm an EMT."

"See! I mean, your fucking perfect. It's a good thing I didn't know all these things before, because otherwise, like, mind blown." Stiles mimes an explosion with his hands.

"I'm hardly special. Although I do have a book written about me. How many people can say that?" Derek teases.

"Yeah." Stiles' grin fades slightly, his hands falling to his sides. "About that. I know it must seem weird, but I'm not some obsessed fan, I promise."

Derek shakes his head. It's too early to tell Stiles about werewolves and their mates, but he wants Stiles to know that the feeling is mutual. That Stiles' story is the same one Derek's been living in since they first met.

"It's okay, Stiles. I feel the same way, too." Emboldened, he takes Stiles' hand in his, his eyes dropping to Stiles' mouth as his mate licks his lips.

"Dude," Stiles whispers, awed.

~*~

By the time they touch down in Sacramento, Derek's learned all about Stiles' closest friends. He learns that Scott is a werewolf as well, though bitten and not born, and that Stiles is considered part of Scott's pack. He's surprised to know that the infamous Lydia Martin is now one of Stiles' closest confidants, and that they'd briefly dated before deciding they were better off as friends. He also discovers that the Sheriff who busted Derek and his friends on Senior Prank Day (and let them off with a warning) is none other than Stiles' dad.

Derek and Stiles eventually connect the dots and realize that Stiles' friend Isaac went to the same college as, and remains friendly with, Erica and Boyd. He's happy to know that Stiles also lives in New York, on the Upper West Side near Riverside Park, which happens to be one of Derek's favorite places to jog. And he discovers other things about Stiles—like how Stiles is ticklish along his sides (just below the curve of his lowest rib), and how his lips are just as soft as they look, and how Stiles goes absolutely crazy when Derek scents and mouths his neck.

In fact, by the time they disembark, their mutual attraction is pretty much apparent to everybody—including the Sheriff, who pointedly avoids looking at Stiles' neck, and Laura, who just laughs.

Stiles lifts the hem of his scarf to hide the evidence, his cheeks flaming. Derek's just glad that neither the Sheriff or his sister can see the other places Derek's marked.

"Looks like you've finally found a flight you enjoyed, baby bro," Laura says as she wraps her arm around his shoulders and squeezes. "I'm so glad you're home."

Derek closes his eyes and breathes Laura in, his wolf settling at the smell of her shampoo, the warmth of his skin, and the feeling of home. "Me too."

Laura nuzzles the crook of his neck. "You smell different," she says as she leans back, her gaze sharp and assessing.

Derek glances at Stiles, who looks over to Derek at exactly the same time and waves at him with a blinding grin. "Um, yeah. About that..."

"I don't mean in that way," Laura says, wrinkling her nose. "Although he is a cutie. What I mean is that you smell... happy."

"I am," Derek says, realizing he means it. He can't wait to introduce Stiles to the rest of his family and begin formally courting his mate. But for now, he and Stiles know they have something special. They've entered the next chapter of their lives, one that already has a great beginning.

And the romantic in Derek knows this story will have a happy ending.

#outtoshatter #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

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murdochmysteriesimagines · 7 years

Text

Not Without You- William Murdoch

Request: Can I request here?? Well, Can you do a William Murdoch X reader please? Just keep it X reader though no name :) Could the reader be suicidal or if you don’t write that stuff, just depressed? Thanks :)

A/N: Sorry for the ridiculely long wait, from here on out it won’t happen again. I wrote the reader as female (because it wasn’t specified) in some sections via pronouns and customs but for the most part it’s gender neutral. Again in the future please include a gender so it can be written accurately. This took a bit longer than I wanted because I had to do some hours or research so I was more knowledgeable and respectful of the subject. ___________________________________ The ringing of the alarm clock brings you’re attention back to reality. It’s already time to start you’re day but you’d rather crawl back under the sheets and hide from the world. Having suffered from depression for most of you’re early life this is not a unfamiliar feeling but still unwelcome non the less. In recent years you have been able to overcome this disorder but from time to time it manages to creep its way back into you’re life.

But despite the disadvantage, the threat of becoming locked in a asylum and own thoughts you managed to go through medical school, becoming a doctor and getting a job at the Toronto city morgue alongside Doctor Julia Ogden since recent pasted bills required two professionals on sight. It was through this how you meet William Murdoch, a detective at the station house across the street. You both found and immediate connection and not long after meeting you both started courting.

You go through your morning routine on automatically, washing yourself and getting clothed in a fine dress all blurred into a second. It’s not until you’re walking up to the front doors of the morgue that you are brought out of your thoughts by someone calling for you.

Your name is yelled from behind you, turning you see the owner of the voice. Murdoch is briskly walking towards you to close the gap. Now standing in front of you he speaks.

“Good morning Doctor.”

“Good morning Detective.”

“Are you ready for Professor Black’s lecture tonight?”

The memory resurfaces, you agreed to a evening out the other day as a date. It was a sweet offer, Murdoch always did have the more interesting plans than any other suitor you previously had. Despite how you would rather shy away from at this moment you already made the commitment and it was too late to pull out.

“Uh…yes I’m ready, just a bit distracted right now, my apologies.” You reply in a low volume, looking to avoid his gaze.

Before Murdoch can continue his line of questioning you turn around and push into the building. Heading straight to your desk only exchanging simple greetings with other morgue attendants you pass. Once alone you take a shaky breath trying to restore some feeling of normality. Thankfully Doctor Ogden is out of town and the only work you must do is paperwork as there is no autopsy to preform today. Meaning that you can be relatively alone for the better half of the day. With this knowledge of peace you sit at your desk and take out a pen, thankful that it’s only you in the room.

Hours later you’re still at the desk trying to complete the copious amounts of paperwork. You planed to have it finished ahead of schedule but your mind seemed to wander more frequently, leading to horrible, almost undesirable thoughts. Tears threaten to breach your eyes but you manage to hold them back, breaking down in the middle of your workplace wouldn’t help your career in the long run.

A stern knocking on the doorframe brought you from these thoughts, Constable Crabtree’s voice follows. “Doctor y/l/n your needed”.

Releasing a silent sigh and standing from the chair you move to properly address the officer.

“Hello Constable, a suspicious death I assume?” Putting on a cheerful smile to hide your true colours.

Crabtree gives you a brief puzzled look but it quickly disappears as he sees the look of glee in your face.

“I’m afraid you’re right, apparently someone hanged themselves in their boarding house.” George says as he holds open your coat, allowing you easy access. Soon enough after a carriage ride you are standing in a small room with Detective Murdoch, Constable Crabtree and the body of a young woman formerly hanging from the ceiling, but unlike a typical suicide victim she appears to have slit her wrists and hung herself siamotainously.

“y/n what can you tell from the body?” The detective questions.

You move around the body carefully observing the various clues to the true nature of her death all over the corpse. “The rope was likely what killed her, the lack of bruising around the cut marks indicate they were made after death. Along with fact there’s no such blade she can cut herself with I believe you have more than reason to suspect murder.”

“Thank you Doctor, George I want you to…”

You stopped listening to his instructions and focused on the poor girls face, the look of pain and sorrow permanently fixed onto it. How many times it could have been you in the same position? Lying dead on the floor with not a soul caring for you’re disappearance, to be dropped into a dirt grave and forgotten within the year as no one would bother to remember.

Absentmindedly you start to rub the area under your elbow on your arm, the first and last place you cut yourself when you were still a teenager, trying to meet such a fate as the girl in front of you. Thankfully you didn’t manage to do more than blackout but the memory and marks still linger.

Murdoch firmly calling your name brings you out from another session of deep thought. He’s asking you to move away from the body you’re still crouching next to so the constables can move her to the ambulance. You oblige only for Murdoch to softly grab your upper arm preventing you from leaving. Once the two police officers remove the body and themselves from the room he closes the door and turns to you.

“y/n what’s wrong? you’ve had a cloud hanging over you all day.” He speaks with a tone of concern rather than annoyance.

“It’s nothing to concern yourself with William, I’ve just had a poor day I’m fine.” Not exactly telling a lie, just leaving out significant details. His soft eyes go to where your hand still rubs the old wound, covered by cloth. When you notice he sees you immediately stop.

“Roll up your sleeve please y/n.” He politely asks, not as if you were a suspect in a case but rather a companion in need of aid.

Unknown why you follow his command and slowly remove the fabric, revealing the wounded flesh dulled by time but still showing strong on the otherwise smooth surface. Williams eyes show the greatest change, the control always held in them has been replaced with a overwhelmingly horrified look.

William guides you to the bed in the corner of the room and sits beside you, his eyes and hands never leaving your own. If it was anyone else you would feel exposed, almost naked but William’s kind nature prevents this. Slowly, almost as if asking for permission he envelopes you in a hug, your head being cradled in his neck and your body in his arms. Without a sound the pent up emotions get released as tears fall from your eyes and onto the collar of the Detectives shirt.

“Why didn’t you say anything y/n?” The way he’s positioned he’s speaking into your hair beside the ear, oddly comforting.

“It’s hard enough to become a women doctor in this day and age, imagine having a mental disorder tacked on top.”

“Your right, I can’t think of what it must be like, but I can’t imagine you going through it alone.”

At this point the tears have left a noticeable impression on both your face and Murdoch’s shirt, leaving them red and dampened respectively. But you both remain in this position, he knows you need the support and you more than want it.

“You can talk to Julia, she will keep it off the books and you can get the help you need.”

“I don’t know if I can do that alone, not without you William. Would you be there with me?”

He gives you a small squeeze to bring you in closer. “If you want me there and if Julia will allow it, I would be honoured.”

#murdoch mysteries imagine #murdoch mysteries one shot #murdoch mysteries fanfiction #murdoch mysteries #william murdoch #William Murdoch x reader #Murdoch x reader #reader insert

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