Okay, so, I was in @frizz-art‘s stream last night, and felt So Inspired that I wrote some things based on their humanizations of the bosses! Have some Weepy/Reader fluff because he’s a baby and I want to protect him.
Working with The Root Pack was certainly hard work, but it was rewarding. Especially because you got to meet some pretty good new friends. Silus liked to tease you and always seemed to know just what you’re gonna say, but it was all in good fun, even if it was a little uncanny sometimes. Moe always seemed to be a little grumpy, but he was a hard worker and he taught you everything you needed to know.
Then, there was Westley. Or, as the others tended to call him, Weepy. He seemed to do fine, he might have been a little shy, but he did his best. The others told you he startled easily, so you made sure not to surprise him.
But one afternoon, you may have accidentally messed that up. You only wanted to ask where the fertilizer was, because it wasn’t by the watering cans like yesterday. Apparently you didn’t give him enough of a heads-up, because you saw the handle of the shovel in his hands go rigid before barely starting to tremble.
You asked him if he was okay, and he slowly turned to face you with wide eyes. He lifted up one of his arms and quickly tried to scrub at his face with his sleeve. Was he crying? You suppose that was why he gained the nickname Weepy… Still, you felt a little bad.
He tried to point you over to the shed behind the radish patch, but he couldn’t find the words, and his hand was shaking. Weepy hid in his scarf, holding his shovel close for comfort again. Oh, come on, you couldn’t just leave him like that!
You stepped up closer to him, and he shrunk a bit, but with a patient smile you took off your work gloves and carefully cupped his soft cheeks in your hands. He blinked up at you, as if surprised that you’re not yelling at him for crying. Those couple of blinks caused his tears to roll down his cheeks, and you carefully brushed them away with the pads of your thumbs.
Weepy gave you a little wobbly smile, and you couldn’t help but lean forward and give him a gentle peck of a kiss to his round nose. When you pulled away, he was starting to cry again, but he had an even bigger smile on his face, and his cheeks were turning a healthy beet red. But you both had work to do, so you pulled away from him and gave him a little wave as you scurried over to the shed.
He gave you a little shaky wave back. What you didn’t know is that he was already building up the confidence to talk to you again later.
Derek’s mouth cuts him off and he writhes into the contact, wrists tugging, testing, against Derek’s hold above his head. His body rises up, undulating into the press of Derek’s free hand raking up his side. His mouth moves like an argument, all panted breath and anger-rough moans.
Derek’s hand releases his, and he’s in motion immediately – one going to shove at Derek’s chest, the other to his nape, tugging and roughening the kiss until it hurts.
“What we both want,” Derek says almost a minute later, and it’s supposed to come out strong, in control. Not as this wild, half-panted groan when Stiles bites into his bottom lip and clings there.
“I don’t,” Stiles whines, hand wringing at Derek’s shirt. “I fucking hate you. God, you’re so. Coming in here, just expecting me to—“ He kisses Derek again, fast and frantic. “Just expecting…”
“Stiles,” He draws back just enough to take in the boy’s heavy lidded eyes, for his own to flash alpha red. “Shut up.”
Stiles’ eyes flash back, totally human, all amber gleams of defiance and want.
“Witty, Derek. You’re winning no points for your clever banter here, you know.”
Derek smiles, all teeth, and ducks in against Stiles’ ear.
“My tongue has other talents.”
He feels Stiles shudder all along their pressed together frames. Watches his mouth drop open to drag in a deep, panted breath.
“That’s… you asshole, fuck.”
“Witty,” Derek returns, and sucks a bruise into Stiles’ pale neck.
The boy keens, pressing up into the pressure, writhing all over every time Derek’s teeth scrape like a threat… or a promise. Derek doesn’t know which idea turns Stiles on more, that Derek could turn him with a little more pressure, or kill him if he chose to. If he gets off on the threat, on standing at the razor’s edge.
With the fresh alpha strength screaming through him, promising pack and power, Derek’s not sure which thrills him more either.
Stiles is pawing at his hair, hips rolling, whole body lifting to grind into Derek’s as he sucks a line of claim into Stiles’ skin.
“Possessive bastard,” Stiles coos, like a compliment. “Think you can just come in here and take me? Mark me up, make me yours?”
The alpha power sings through him, screaming yes, he has that right. He has the right to take whatever he wants, whoever he wants. And he wants this infuriating boy, wants to rut him and claim him and make him beg.
Stiles’ hand is at his cheek, guiding him away from his throat, up until he’s staring back into those eyes, steady and lust dark and daring.
“Get this, Derek. I’m never gonna be yours. Whatever power high you’re riding right now, you’re not my alpha. I’m Scott’s friend, Scott’s pack.” Before Derek can do more than drag his lips back in a startled snarl, Stiles is pressing a wet, dirty kiss into his teeth. He pulls back, smirking.
I’m taking a shuttle from the airport tomorrow and I think I’m gonna cry.
I’ll be thinking of Bitty quietly sitting there, totally flabbergasted and still managing to text at the speed of sound.
Shock slowly passing as a besotted smile takes over his face.
And then a nosy old lady will smile and ask kindly “girlfriend?” Gesturing to the phone with her head.
“Boyfriend” Bitty will correct instantly, and then flush because dear God, really? was this stranger the first person he told? About his maybe boyfriend?
Then unable to keep wondering if he had just accidentally lied to this nice old lady, he’d text Jack.
B: ‘I just told the old lady next to me my boyfriend was texting me’
J: 'was she trying to flirt with you?’
B: 'Jack Laurent this is not the time to chirp me!’
J: 'If I can’t chirp my boyfriend then what’s the world coming to.’
Later, once he’s in Georgia, Bitty will wake up and see a new text message.
J: I just told the old woman in the plane next to me that I’m going to visit my boyfriend. I can see the appeal now.
First I wanted to wish you an Happy New Year again ! Hope it’ll bring you everything you need, want and wished for ! Also I wanted to thank you very much for following me, I’ve had an awesome and thrilling year with you and Tom ! I couldn’t thank you enough for that, you’re truly the best !
Then, I also wanted to let you know that I’m leaving for London tomorrow for a least 2 weeks to find a job and hopefully settle in there (God I’m freaking out right now you’ve no idea x)). Anyway, I’m sorry to bother you with this and even doing a whole post about it but the thing is that even if I’m taking my laptop with me, I’ll stay in a Youth Hostel, in a room with (eventually) 10 girls and I’ll stay there to find a job and maybe try to make friends (well I said ‘try’ x)). So I don’t really know if I’ll be able to post as much as I’d like to. And I just wanted to warn you about that. I’m really sorry in advance.
Now I’m going to go back finishing packing my stuff, and hopefully I’ll make some gifsets later. (I’m also going to reblog some gifsets of mine that I find inspirational to give me some courage because as I said I’m kind of starting to freak out about this so… x))
adjfhskhfjhlshfk guys !
I just read all your sweet and wonderful messages and wishes… I can’t
I’m about to cry (and I don’t cry easily)
You’re all too good to me, I don’t deserve you, you’re all like little angels !
Thank you so so so much for your support, it means so much to me.
If I could I would hug every single one of you, but since I can’t, there is a virtual hug for each one of you :