• *sees fanfiction written in Spanish*
  • Me:Goddamit why don't I speak spanish
  • *sees fanfiction written in Chinese*
  • Me:Goddamit why don't I speak Chinese
  • *sees fanfiction written in Indonesian*
  • Me:Goddamit why don't I speak Indonesian
  • *sees fanfiction written in French*
  • Me:Goddamit why don't I speak French
  • *sees fanfiction written in Russian*
  • Me:Goddamit why don't I speak Russian
  • *sees fan fiction in any other language than English*
  • Me:Goddammit why don't I speak
Momma Knows Best

"What’s your name, hun? The waitress rounds their table, asking Jim if he wants a refill, an offer he declines. Her eyes settle on the boy across the table from him whose enamored with the pancakes he’s eating.

"My names James," the four year old beamed, still slipping over his words but his speech was much better than he remembered the last time. The waitress melted in the spot as she awed over him. "Grandpa brought us to pancakes while Mommy and Daddy went to go see my sister."

Jim caught onto Debbie’s glance and bit his lip as she laughed gently. “Your sister, huh? Tall red head that Jim here talks so fondly of?”

James shakes his head. “That’s Lexi,” he tells the waitress, as if she knows who his older sister is outside of Jim’s stories. He takes a piece of pancake and places it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing before continuing. “My baby. She’s still in Mommy’s tummy. I be so careful when I give Mommy cuddles.” He looked up at the woman for approval, grinning when he receives it. “Grandpa says we shouldn’t call her that yet because we don’t know yet but Mommy says she’s a billion percent sure and I don’t know how to count that high, so it must be pretty sure.”

From across the table, Jim laughs gently to himself, knowing his daughters stubbornness better than his grandson does. Katie had been on the nose with James, had told him she was pregnant by giving him a baseball jersey with “Baby Castle” stitched on the back and told him that one day soon he’d have a grandson to bring to games too. It’d been far too soon to tell then but sure enough, she’d been right. She’d called it luck then, but preferred motherly instinct now.

Debbie smiles nonetheless and doesn’t miss a beat to tell him to say hi to his Mommy and Daddy and sisters — he can’t ignore the plural — for her as she moves to the next table, greeting them cheerfully.

"We still go see ball?" James says around his fork, food not quite in his mouth. Katie and Rick had assured him they’d be a couple of hours with their appointment and he’d given them an extra two to collect themselves after learning the sex of their second. After all, he hadn’t had a day with James in months now, his schedule jam packed with cases and court dates. A day off at Shea Stadium with his grandson seemed more than enough.

Especially with James’ ever present hyper energy.

"Of course," he told him finally, taking the last sip of his tea. "You’re wearing your jersey, how could we miss up on a perfect opportunity?"

James grinned at him, the syrup running down his neck and Jim leaned forward to catch it before it dirtied up the jersey. The onesie James owned as a baby had been destroyed within mere months — he’d like to believe there was a possibility of keeping this one in tact, even if it were only for a little while. James swallowed the last bite of his food and leaned back on his heels, grinning. “Now we go?” He asked excitedly.

"How about we get cleaned up first, huh? Your mom would kill me if I bring you anywhere looking like the syrup monster." He grinned, not entirely sure if he was kidding or not. But the boy laughed anyway, babbling something about mommy being a superhero. He just smiled and pressed a kiss against the top of his head as he lifted the boy down from the chair and they moved into the bathroom.

A couple hours later, the game over and his grandson asleep in his arms, Jim met his daughter and son-in-law in the parking lot to switch reins over. She’d been right this time, too, and he’d grinned his congratulations while Rick sulked to the side. He made a mental note to remind the man that there was no winning with a Beckett woman, only moments of triumph that mimicked such.

With James tucked in his car seat, he kissed Kate’s cheek and shook Rick’s hand, moving back to his car at an easy pace. He supposed now he’d have to get another jersey, but he’d hold off a little while longer, if not for the fact that there was still a chance the ultrasound saw wrong, but to hold off on Rick’s already bruised ego.

Three years later, they’d be back again, a tiny brunette that has Kate Beckett’s teen years down to a science already and he’d laugh and shake his head, tell his son-in-law he’s got his work cut our for him and to start looking for real estate with a long tower already. He didn’t mean for the man to take it seriously, but when a week later his daughter tells him over tea that they are now the proud owner of a lovely single tower in England, he tries not to laugh. It doesn’t work out.

Jonnor Drabble: Connor Comforts Jude After The Accident

Anon requested: Drabble request: it was a week since the accident happened and Jude was dealing with it really hard. He was lying in the bed all day every day. Callie will then call out Connor in school for not being there for Jude since he’s his Connor, and he says he’s afraid because he doesn’t know what to say. But she will persuade him and then Connor will come there, see Jude in bed and join him, hug him in the bed and Jude starts to cry…

Connor Comforts Jude After The Accident:

It had been a week since the accident. A week since they had all found out Jesus hadn’t made it. It had hit each one of the Fosters like a blow to the head. But Jude seemed to have taken it harder than anyone thought he would. It was weird for him to not see Jesus around the house. Sleeping in his room, staring at Jesus’s empty bed, was a constant reminder that he had lost a brother he had had only had for a short while. For the last few days, Jude had refused to get out of bed or go to school. The other left him alone, even Stef and Lena. They knew each one of their children were grieving in different ways.

Callie was worried about Jude. She had seen him go into depressing spells like this. It could take him weeks to get out of it. The last time he was like this, he refused to speak to anyone even Connor. While at school, Callie thought of Jude and Connor. If Connor was his boyfriend now, why hadn’t he come over? Why hadn’t he tried to call Jude? Why wasn’t he comforting him? Some boyfriend.

At lunch, Callie found Connor sitting alone at one of the tables. She didn’t know what possessed her to walk over to his table. Maybe it was concern for her brother or the fact that she was still angry and grieving over Jesus herself. Either way, she slammed her tray down on the table making Connor look up at her.

“Hey, Callie,” Connor greeted.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Callie snapped.


“Jude told me you were his boyfriend. Haven’t you noticed he hasn’t been at school?”
“I know. I thought it was because of Jesus.”

“It is. But you’re his boyfriend. You’re supposed to be trying to comfort him. Not just ignore him until he decides to come around. Jude’s been through enough and he feels grief and pain harder than most people.”

“I know. I just…”
“If you know, why are you just sitting around? I can’t help my brother. But maybe you can, but you’re not even going to try.”

“I don’t know what to say to him.” Connor blurted it out in frustration.

Callie blinked to process what he had said. Her anger disappeared. “What do you mean?”

“I’m afraid to go see him, alright? I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to say to make him feel better.”

Callie sighed. “You don’t have to say anything. Just be there for him. Or at least try to. He won’t let the rest of us near him, but maybe he’ll let you near him.” Callie picked up her tray from the table. “Come by after school.” She walked away.

After school, Connor went to the Fosters house. As soon as he walked inside, he could feel the gloomy tone that surrounded the house. Without talking to anyone, he went up the stairs to Jude’s room. The door was cracked open. The letters on the door that used to spell out Jesus’s name were ripped like someone had tried to scratch them off. Connor opened the door. Jude was laying in bed, his head turned towards the wall. He didn’t look to see who had just come in. Connor walked over to the bed.

“Jude?” Connor sat down on the bed.

Jude still didn’t turn his head. Connor sighed. He remembered what Callie had said about not having to say anything and just being there. Connor took off his shoes. He laid down next to Jude and wrapped an arm around him so his back was pressed against his chest. Jude didn’t move away like he expected him to. Instead, Jude’s body started shaking with racked sobs. He turned around in Connor’s arms so his face was buried in his chest. And Connor just held him and let him cry because he knew he needed it. And he would be there for as long as Jude wanted because he knew Jude needed that too.

Wingwoman - An Olicity one-shot; AU

Setting: Island-less. Sara and Felicity were best friends, so whenever Felicity called, she expected Sara to pick up. She didn’t think it could be someone else who answered the phone instead.





She, Felicity Smoak, was a failure.

She was a failure, because she couldn’t even flirt with the coffee guy without running her mouth off about a topic he showed completely no interest in.

Archery, really?

She didn’t like archery.

And ‘good aim’ was not something one talked about with casual acquaintances.

With a sigh, Felicity took out her phone and pulled up an oft-dialled number. She pressed ‘Call’ and put her phone to her ear, waiting impatiently for her best friend to pick up. Once the call connected, she barked without hesitation, “One of these days, Sara, you’re gonna have to be my wingwoman.”

“How ‘bout a wingman instead?” the very male voice on the other end of the line asked.

Felicity shrieked, pulling her phone away from her ear to check the ID. ‘Sara L.,’ it read.

“Who the hell are you?” she demanded as she raised her phone back to her ear. “You better not have stolen Sara’s phone, or you’ll find yourself regretting it very soon.”

“Don’t worry, Sara’s in the shower. I’m her friend Oliver.”

“As in the Oliver she once told me she was friends with? Oliver Queen?” Felicity asked disbelievingly. “The Oliver who got kicked out of his father’s house? Former-billionaire Oliver Queen?”

“Wow,” the voice answered, “you don’t mince words. That Oliver, yes.”

Felicity cringed. “Sorry,” she apologized, “I tend to talk faster than I think. Which is kind of amazing, when you think about it, because I think pretty quick. Wait, what are you doing at Sara’s apartment? Did you sleep with her?”

“No! … Well, yes, but that was a long time ago. Actually, she overslept all on her own; we had plans to grab breakfast.”

“Oh,” Felicity replied lamely. In the background, she could hear Sara’s faint, ‘Ollie! Give me back my phone!’

“Guess who’s out of the shower now,” Oliver told her cheerfully. “I gotta go. Nice talking to you, Felicity-According-To-the-Caller-ID.”

There was a loud rustle before Felicity could answer anything in return, and then Sara’s voice came onto the line. “Hey, Felicity, what’s up?”

Felicity sighed.

And then started on her tale of woe, which was the original purpose of her call, anyway.


Keep reading

After Hours just hit 50,000 hits today, and that’s wild! That was easily one of the riskiest initial prompts I’d ever finally done, and it continues to blow my mind how many people have taken to this story <3 Thank you so much!

P.S. I’m not saying I’m working on chapter 8, but… I mean, I MIGHT be? :P

Worth the Wait

I guess I’m semi-unretired now.

Holly straightened her tie and smoothed out her vest as sheplastered a grin on her face to hide the frustration that she felt as she made her way through the crowded room holding a tray of unappetizing looking spring rolls. She had taken the cater-waiter job last year when her funds were low, (turns out that a full ride scholarship didn’t cover everything like toothpaste and Holly was a big fan of dental hygiene) but since her other part time job interning at the forensic lab paid her a stipend she didn’t really need this pain in the ass job any more. Holly sighed as a drunk party-goer accidently grabbed her boob while reaching for a spring roll, “Just a few hours left and I’m done.” She thought as she accidently stepped on the drunk man’s foot.

Keep reading

terrible, horrible, no good, very bad

Today is Mod Rach’s birthday, so here’s her present; have some Percabeth everyone! Read it here on AO3.

When Annabeth opened the door to their apartment, she expected a lot more noise than the sound of the radiator running. Man, did they have to get that thing fixed, it sounded like the Minotaur with a head cold.

Percy wasn’t exactly a quiet housemate. He was always up and doing something, whether it was sitting on the couch and playing video games or singing “Part of Your World” at the top of his lungs as he cooked dinner. The quiet in the apartment was eerie. Annabeth let her bag fall off her shoulder to the floor and kicked off her shoes before entering.

She checked all the usual places that Percy might’ve left a note: the refrigerator, the XBox 360, under a fancy paperweight they had gotten in Greece. Nada.

There weren’t any signs of Percy in the living room or kitchenette, which left the bedroom and the bathroom. Percy was the kind of person to fall asleep while taking a bath, though luckily he couldn’t accidentally drown from it. Annabeth wouldn’t worry yet.

She found him in the bedroom. At the sight of him, she got worried.

Percy was curled up on himself in a fetal position, one arm covering his head. His body was a small bump in a mountain of blankets piled on top. For a split second, Annabeth was more than a little impressed that Percy managed to construct a blanket fort of such size…but a fort like this would mean…

“Percy? Are you feeling alright?” Annabeth asked softly. The lump that was her boyfriend moved a bit as Percy curled up tighter at the sound of her voice.

“Percy, please, talk to me.” Annabeth tried again. She walked to the bed and sat down, placing one hand on Percy’s shoulders. “Please tell me what’s wrong.”

“Don’t feel good.” Percy said, almost inaudibly.

That could’ve meant a number of things when it came to Percy. She checked the back of Percy’s neck for a fever but didn’t find one. Goose bumps rose to the surface of Percy’s skin, and he pulled away a little. “Cold,” He muttered.

“Sorry,” Annabeth said, pulling her hand away. She rubbed her hands together to get some blood flowing to them. “This isn’t sick-not feeling good, this is PTSD-not feeling good.”

It wasn’t phrased as a question, but Percy nodded anyways. “Today is a bad day.” He said from under his blankets.

He squirmed under the covers for a second to shift and look at Annabeth. She took in the sight of his red-rimmed eyes, unshaven face and the frown tugging the corners of his mouth down. He looked so small and so upset, Annabeth felt the overbearing need to hold him and never let go.

She thought back to their time in Tartarus (she’d like to say she’d forgotten about it, but she can’t and probably never will) when Percy was giving his all to keep her safe. Of course, she wasn’t exactly a damsel in distress but everything he did, he did it to make sure she was safe. She’d done a fair share of saving his ass, of course, but maybe it was time to start a new tab.

Percy had taken his PTSD diagnosis with a sardonic chuckle and an offhand comment of, “We can add it to the list of things that fuck up my life. A triple threat.”

But later that night, with a panic attack so severe Annabeth had had to call Sally to talk Percy out of it, they both realized that maybe this was bigger than the both of them.

Being a half-blood is dangerous. Most of the time it gets you killed in painful, nasty ways. Other times, it causes things that are even worse.

“Do you know what triggered it?” Annabeth asked. They had a list going of Percy’s triggers. The list wasn’t huge so far, but the stuff that was on it was common enough that they sometimes had trouble learning to adjust around them.

“Burned myself making some fucking eggs. All of a sudden I was back at the River Phlegethon.” Percy said, bitterly. “I fucking hate this. I want to get better.”

“You will,” Annabeth said, “You will. Probably not right away, and it might never go away but one day you’ll get to a point where you have more good days than bad ones and you don’t feel so controlled by this. You’re not your diagnosis, Seaweed Brain.”

“For a pep talk that made me feel even shittier.” Percy said, covering his face with a blanket.


“Can’t help that I’m better at impromptu speeches than you are.” Percy said, poking his head back out of the covers. There was a small smile on his face, showing the barest hint of Percy’s usual grin. The knot in Annabeth’s stomach lessened a little.

Percy raised the mountain of blankets up enough to make room for Annabeth to slide in, “Cuddle with me?”

Annabeth leaned down to kiss her boyfriend’s forehead, “Yeah, ok.”

She shucked off her t-shirt and jeans because Percy had a vendetta against cuddling in bed with clothes on. Down to her underwear, she slid in and slotted herself against Percy. He was down to his boxers, his Flounder ones that he’d been given a Christmas before as a gag gift but quickly became his favorite pair.

They settled so Percy could put his face between her breasts and wrap his arms around her middle. It was Percy’s favorite thing to do when they cuddled and Annabeth didn’t mind, even if his stubble was kind of scratchy. She could kiss the top of his head like this and massage the back of his neck, which made him breathe out, long and slow.

The tension in his muscles gave out as he relaxed into her. For the moment, the crashing tide inside of Percy had calmed down to a gentle roll of waves on the shore.

“I love you,” Percy mumbled into her chest.

“Me or my boobs?” Annabeth laughed. She felt Percy smile against her before he said, “Mm, both.”

“We all love you too.” Annabeth said. Percy laughed, quietly with a small shake of his shoulders. He pulled her closer to him. She threw one of her legs over his side.

They fell asleep like that, hopelessly tangled and hopelessly in love, but a little less hopeless in how they would figure everything out.

There was a knock on the front door of the mansion. “Get the door,” Dark Pit groaned, painting his nails black on the couch. “No, you have to get it, you’re closer!” Little Mac replied without tearing his eyes away from Call of Duty. How he managed to use the Xbox controller with his gloves was beyond him, but he just got a 360 noscope. “I can’t, my nails are wet! Just pause your game.” “Dude, I can’t, it’s online.” Dark Pit sighed. “Fiiiine.”

He slouched up, stretching his arms and swings out and trudging over to the door. “What the fuck do you-“

It was his boyfriend, Lucas.

The angel’s eyes widened. “L-Lucas! What are you doing here?” The blonde smiled, tears in his eyes as he held up a suitcase with a large white sticker that read “DLC”. “I’m… back,” he laughed, like he couldn’t even believe it himself. “Seriously?” “Seriously!” Dark Pit picked him up and twirled him around, both of them giggling and cheering. “I missed you, so, so much,” he sighed, starting to tear up. “I missed you too, Pittoo.”

"Now… let’s go get you unpacked. I don’t want my eyeliner to run.." He kissed Lucas on the cheek and took his hand, leading him inside.

My god, this is the perfect way to start out Lucas’ return! This was pretty damn adorable I’m not going to lie. It’s nice to see Dark Pit showing off his soft side as well.

this cruel world [chapter two] | naruto au

prompt: See chapters: [1]

pairing: Naruto | Hinata

notes: This is the second chapter of the zombie AU I will be working on for a while. And remember, this is zombies! That means blood, and guts and scary things, so if you’re afraid or not into zombie, this probably isn’t the fic for you. Still, I hope you read and enjoy it as I did writing it! Thanks!

— “How do you kill something that’s already dead?” She asked, her entire body shaking. 

— “You don’t. You wait for it to kill you.”

Keep reading

just-a-zombie-killing-ninja asked:

hartwin prompt: harry`s cover identity for meeting Valentine was a gay man. (an angle i headcanon as common even if harry was bi or straight. they see a fancy suit and an old school gentlmen and think poofter. its easier to lean into the curve) and maybe his cover id also had a thing for younger guys. so when they run into valentin at the tailors Eggsy not his valet but his sugar baby. cue harry`s suprise at Eggsy really selling the role.

Hi there! I hope you like this, it was super fun to write!

Keep reading

Click for larger res!

As finished as it´s going to get, probably! Done with palette knife, brush and gouache.

Fanart for Grief And Happiness And All The Letters In-between by perfect_plan on ao3!

Go check out the rest of their stories if you like Stucky, (even if you don´t and just like to read good literature, romance, humour and meet-cutes) plus, perfect_plan is a super nice human being!

“To  Brothers” - a Thor/Loki drabble

I was feeling guilty about talking in length about what fics I wanted to write, so I went and wrote one.
The year is like 3000, Thor is a king, Loki drops by, not much happens. Also comes with a side of enviromental warning. 900 words.

“You don’t like the Earth anymore.”

Thor closes his eyes briefly, thanking the Norns that he managed not to jerk in his surprise.

Keep reading

Clearing the Air - Solangelo

For littlemiss-booknerd  who asked for solangelo. Rated T - this is complete fluff. 

This gift ficlet turned into something a little longer, but I do hope you enjoy it. If you have an Ao3 account, let me know what it is and I’ll gift the fic to you there.

I want to give a head nod to maecafe because This Art inspired me. 


It’s odd, Nico thinks, Will Solace has always seemed to be the sort of guy that has his shit together.

During Nico’s three day stay in the infirmary, Will functioned like he was an extension of the room itself. He’d check up on Nico at regular intervals, not-quite pulling off ‘professional’, but certainly competent and in control.

Will had listened to Nico’s half-assed excuses – that the stitches on his werewolf scratches were fine as they were, that he didn’t want to wear the infirmary gowns and even an orange camp T-shirt would suffice, that he honestly could recuperate in his own cabin and didn’t have to take up space when the infirmary bed might be used by someone who really needed it – and then cracked a grin and firmly said no. And even though Nico grumbled and acted moody, Will got his way and worked his healing magic with a smile. By the end of the third day, Nico had felt good, healthy even for the first time since before his fall into Tartarus, but even more than that, he felt like all the parts of himself were finally slotted in the right order.

It wasn’t only Will that accomplished that; Nico’s not stupid. He’s not going to start hero-worshipping another guy so soon after moving on from his obsession with Percy, but he does admit, if only to himself, that he’s very aware of Will’s presence at camp. He watches him from time to time, even stops by the infirmary with a coke and a snack on occasion. The odd part though, is how Will seems to be turning into a klutz.

Keep reading

Excerpt: Brunch

The knock at the door comes precisely at 10 and she opens the door to find Charles standing there impeccably but casually dressed in dark jeans, a dark plaid shirt, and a cardigan.  Perfect, she thinks for a nice Saturday morning.  She asks him in, tells him that if does not mind she would like to cook for them, that she has a nice spot in her back garden where they can enjoy their food.  She notices that he seems genuinely pleased, tells her that he does not mind at all, that he is quite handy in the kitchen himself if she would like some help.  The pretty blush that flushes across Elsie’s face is answer enough for him.

AN: This is a short drabble based on Blanania’s little drawing of Gajevy HERE I just had to write it when I saw it. Gihi. 
In my head, Levy is kinda like an Information Broker?? That’ll be cool. 

“What do ya’ mean she ain’t back yet?” He grumbled as a small person with a big nose helped him measure his last official measurements for his coat. Lily sat in his small form on their chest of drawers with his arms crossed, the cat looked slightly amused. 

“The girl had to go away on business, it is a part of her job after all.” The exceed grinned, rolling a Kiwi between his paws expertly. “All I know is, is that she is on her way. She said she’d see you after they give you the captaincy since she can’t enter the room at the time. Give her some faith, Gajeel.” 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Number 21 for the writing prompts w/ Raven and Wick

21. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?”

They heard it first when Raven and Wick were outside fixing one of the pieces of the Ark. It took days just to figure out which parts connected to where, and now that they were almost finished it was pouring rain. Raven was pretty sure she saw a flash somewhere in the distance. Now everyone was rushing to get inside. Bellamy’s loud, booming voice was no match for the thunder rolling over camp.

But Wick…he was just being Wick.

“What are you doing? Get your ass inside!” Raven yelled. She was already soaked through to the bone.

Wick didn’t seem to hear her, or he just didn’t care. He was smiling, his face lifted up to the sky and his arms held out wide, as though he were waiting for the dark clouds to carry him up to the sky.

She rolled her eyes and stomped over to him, her shoes practically filled with water. She grabbed his arm to get his attention. He looked like he just woke up from a dream.

“Wick, what are you doing?”

“Oh, come on. It’s our first real storm. Might as well enjoy it, right?” he said.  

Raven gave him a look of disbelief. “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain? Are you crazy?”

“Maybe I am.” They were both yelling at this point, competing with the thunder. “But you’re out here too, so doesn’t that make you crazy?”

She felt her eyebrows knit together. “Well, it wasn’t exactly my idea to—“

Raven stopped short when Wick pulled her to him. The dampness of his shirt wasn’t exactly welcome, but she didn’t mind it all that much, or the fact that she somehow managed to get even more wet. If that were even possible at this point.

His gaze was focused intently on hers and a smile spread slowly across his face. “Have I ever told you that I love you?”

She eyed him suspiciously. “Yes…”

Wick’s face brightened. “Good,” he said. “Then you shouldn’t be too mad if I do this.”

“Do what?” Raven didn’t like where this was going.

Before she had any time to react, his hand collided with her face and he began to smother mud all across her cheek. The never-ending rainstorm only made it worse. She could feel it spreading everywhere—everywhere. Somewhere in the midst of all of this, Raven’s jaw had dropped. She wasn’t at all concerned with the dirt that was so dangerously close to her mouth, because right now she had better ways to spend her time.

“You are very funny,” she said, “You know that, don’t you?”

Wick shrugged. “It’s a gift, Reyes. You either have it or you don’t.”

“Hey, remember when you said you loved me?” She was rubbing the mud off her cheek.

“But of course.” He smiled.

Raven grabbed his face, pulling him down to her and kissing him. She made sure to wipe her hand clean in the process. Wick didn’t appear to notice even after she pulled away.

“I love you, too,” she said. “Now let’s get inside before we get struck by lightning.”

With that she turned on her heel and began walking toward the front entrance of the Ark. Wick was still behind her, and she didn’t have to turn around to see his reaction, because she could picture it perfectly in her mind. He’d follow her inside once he noticed. Any moment now. 3…2…

“Damn it, Raven,” she heard him say. “I’m going to need a new shirt.”

colorful-alien asked:

Don't know if you still do the song thing but i just couldn't help sending you this after I found this song: Alpha dog by Fall Out Boy. With Steter plz~

“Alpha Dog” by Fall Out Boy

He tries to make for the door the second he sees Peter lounging in his desk chair with red eyes and dirt clinging to his clothes.  Stiles thinks he can smell blood in the air, but the metallic taste in his mouth might just be panic.  

Peter catches him by the back of his shirt, dragging him away from the door before slamming it shut.  Tossing him to the floor, Peter breathes deep, and Stiles watches from the carpet as he rolls his shoulders.  There is power in the lines of his body; it makes Stiles quake in more ways than one.  Peter smiles. 

“I’ve got an offer for you,” Peter says. 

“One that I can’t refuse?” Stiles quips, but his voice shakes, and Peter laughs softly. 

“No,” Peter breathes.  “One that you’d be stupid to.”