There really wasn’t anything too special about the coffee shop on Rosewood Boulevard, but Stiles always found himself coming back. It was small and a little dingy, dusty in some corners and maybe a little odd. But the coffee was good for the price and they offered free, fast wifi and Stiles couldn’t really ask for more as a broke college student. It was also the most convenient place to be when being sexiled from his dorm by his roommate (not having your own car really limited how far you could go to escape that).
Now here he was, working on yet another paper, as the due date steadily approached. But, you see, he couldn’t quite get into his usual groove. No, that just wasn’t happening. Why, you may ask? Because he felt wrong. The day was just wrong. He got there during an unexpected rush hour and his drink was too sweet and he his table had been taken by a greek god.
Yes, today everything felt off center and Stiles really wasn’t appreciating it.
So, yeah, today wasn’t running as smoothly as Stiles had hoped but there was nothing he could do about it so he just had to suck it up. And that had been working, for a solid two hours and he was proud of himself for buckling down and getting shit done. But his brave face just about shattered into ugly tears when his screen dimmed and a small notification in the bottom right hand corner popped up to tell him he was at 10% battery life.
This was so not what he needed right now. He needed three more shots of espresso, maybe a shot or two of whiskey and for his laptop not to die in the middle of a very important paper. Seriously, his Medieval Folklore professor was probably real tired of his bullshit and inability to not ask questions every two minutes, this paper was suppose to make up for that.
He looks up from his spot and eyes immediately land on his usual table. He gazes at it longingly. It was a lovely little table with the perfect dent in it to hold his pen and keep it from rolling away and a window to his side that allowed him to not feel so claustrophobic and a power outlet. There’s a cough and some movement in the corner of his eye and, wow he really didn’t think this day could get much worse at this point. But of course the world found ways to surprise him.
He hadn’t remembered until just then that there was a reason he wasn’t at his usual table. That reason happened to be six feet of hot chocolate sipping hotness that was coughing into his hand and looking mildly uncomfortable. Way to go, Stiles, just looking like a freaking creeper why don’t ya?
Sighing heavily he drops his head into his hands and takes a moment to mourn his complete lack of social awareness and gathers what’s left of his shattered determination from earlier. There was only one way to solve this issue without having to write another two pages on the witchcraft practices of the 12th century with a live porno soundtrack.
He gathers his laptop, bag and half finished latte and makes the trek over to his usual table.
“Hi.” Stiles wants to slap himself, but his hands are full of caffeine and his computer so that’s a no go.
“Uh, hi,” the man replies. God, he’s even prettier up close with eyes that must have made eye color hard to define at the DMV for his driver’s license and cheekbones that could win awards.
“So, I am super sorry for totally freaking you out by staring, I promise I wasn’t creeping on you or anything. It’s just this is my usual spot on Thursdays but today was an emergency because I was sexiled by my roommate and I have a four age paper due tonight and it’s only half done but my laptop is at ten percent and you are sitting in front of the only outlet and it would be really cool if I could just like sit on the floor right here and plug in so I can finish this and not fail my class and like not graduate and therefore fail college and ruin my life.” Stiles takes a deep breath and waits, realizing too late that that was likely considered “over-sharing” and if Adonis wasn’t freaked out already he was probably sufficiently scared now.
“You could just sit across from me?” Stiles refuses to call it blanching, but he will admit to his eyes going a little wide. The man looks down at his cup a little shyly before continuing, “I would just give you the seat but it’s right under the heater and I’m freezing right now.”
“Uh, yeah, of course, dude. No problemo, could you plug me in though?” It takes them a few minutes but they eventually get situated in a way that works with Stiles needing stuff on the table and not taking up all the table space while the man adjusts so that their knees don’t knock under the table. Although Stiles doesn’t particularly mind that.
“Thanks, man. You’re a real life saver,” Stiles smiles once their settled.
“My name. It’s Derek.” Stiles smiles brightly.
“My name is Stiles,” He laughs as Derek’s nose scrunches adorably in confusion before explaining, “A nickname. My legal name is a Polish monstrosity on English tongues, so I try to avoid it.” Derek nods and that’s where it begins - companionable silence and gentle tapping on a keyboard while the warm air from the heater cloaks over them.
Stiles isn’t sure how long it’s been when Derek seems to magically come back to their table out of no where. He hadn’t even noticed he left. He looks up at Derek in confusion when he sets down a new cup.
“You picked up your empty cup about three times to take a sip, thought you could use another,” he shrugs sheepishly. Warm creeps up Stiles’ neck making his thanks stutter slightly as he hides his smiles behind his new latte. It isn’t too much (well, as far as Stiles can tell) before Derek is rewrapping a scarf and getting up.
“Where are you going?” Stiles pouts, watching as Derek readjusts his coat.
“Oh, uh, my ride is here, I need to go.” Derek points a thumb over his shoulder to where the exit is. Stiles frowns some more before realizing this is probably a little crazy but he might never run in to Derek again.
“Can I have your number?” Stiles tugs Derek’s sleeve as he turns to leave, almost desperate to draw him back. He feels like he’s wasted time. Sure, he wrote nearly all of his paper with the exception of his conclusion, but he’s barely said a word to his table partner. His heart pounds but something warm blooms in his chest when Derek cheeks go pink.
“I think I already covered that for you,” the man tells him quietly, gesturing to Stiles’ cup. He looks and sure enough there is a neat little row of ten digits.
“I could have accidentally thrown it away!” Stiles says in equal amounts horror and bashfulness, obviously not sure if he should be elated that he has Derek’s number or terrified that he could has possibly, literally thrown away his chance to talk to him.
“Well, I really hope you don’t.”
“Me, too. I would really like a better shot at this whole coffee date thing.”
“Yeah, a date.”
“Cool. So, text me?” Stiles smiles with a nod, watching his eyes crinkle in the corners as his own lips lift. That’s just seconds before Derek seems to swoop in and give him the sweetest, most chaste peck on the cheek and walk away with cheeks so red they could be harboring tomatoes.
It takes Stiles significantly longer to write his conclusion than normal when he can’t help the way his mind wander to warm lips and hot chocolate drinking sweethearts.
Thank you to 900 (now 938 ‘cause this is soooo late) followers!!! You lovelies make me so happy and I’m so happy you’re here. I hope you enjoy what you find as we fantasize over these two assholes in love :)
‘We’re both in a teen organization/club/thing in our city and you’ve never given a public statement before and the leader is making you give one in five minutes, oh my gosh let me write one for you’ AU
The wind hits my face in a rush, smelling of vanilla and roses as I fly through the dark, starlit skies. I shouldn’t be out so late, flying alone at such a late hour, but I couldn’t help it. I felt that tugging, that thing inside me telling me to go for a flight.
So here I am, flying in the dark with the strangely sweet-scented wind mussing my dark hair. I can’t pretend that it doesn’t feel good to stretch my wings and it’s not like I was getting anymore sleep tonight. Not after the dream.
I always have the same dream. Of a young girl running ahead of me, slightly-curly, blonde hair flying behind her in the wind, and singing. Singing such lovely songs, always different and always beautiful.
Sometimes they’re sad songs that make me want to wrap her in my arms forever and never let her go and other times they’re love songs that make me want to take her in my arms and dance with her, spinning her around for as long as she’ll let me.
But I never see her face at the end of these dreams.
I can’t pretend I haven’t tried to picture what she should look like and try to draw or paint her. It never worked out. I can only ever draw her running away from me. Maybe one day she’ll run towards me.
I sigh and turn around as I see the sun starting to rise.
I fly onto the balcony of my room in the townhouse in Velaris and quickly lose my wings. I collapse on my bed and go over tonight’s dream in my head.
It started out quiet, only the crickets humming, then I heard it. Her lilting, silvery voice faintly singing.
You’re the lullaby That’s singing me to sleep You are the other half You’re like a missing piece
I raced after the voice, trying to find it’s source. I ran so fast I was sure she could hear my feet slapping from wherever she was.
Oh my love Oh my love Oh my love You don’t know What you do to me
Her voice was louder then, closer. I thought I saw a strand of golden hair a few feet away, disappearing into the treeline.
You are all four seasons Rolled into one You’re like the cold December snow In the warm July sun
I saw her then. Her golden skin, her long silky hair, her petite form, the light blue dress that flowed behind her.
And she was running again, but not towards me.
I’m the jet black sky That’s just before the rain Like the mighty current Pullin’ you under the waves
That song. If only she had slowed down. If only I could have caught her. I would pull her close and show her just how true it was.
Oh my love Oh my love Oh my love You don’t know What you do to me
Slow down. I chanted in my mind. Slow down. Let me catch you. Let me see your face.
I nearly caught her, my hand slipped through a wisp of golden hair.
That was the end of the dream.
I sigh and look out my window only to find that the sun has completely risen. Time to head to breakfast.
I stroll out of my room and downstairs, admiring the paintings that hang along the walls as I go. Most are my mother’s and only a few are mine. I’m afraid my artistic skills aren’t as on point as my mother’s but I love painting and sketching so I continue.
I pause briefly when I catch a glimpse of the only painting of my mystery girl that I ever let my parents see.
The painting features the young girl running away into a deep, emerald green forest with golden curls and a plum dress flying behind her in the mystery of the dark of night - most of the dreams are set in the middle of the night - a shower of stars shining above her head.
I only showed them that one because I thought the plum dress made her match with the night making her look like a wisp or spirit of the night. They were so proud, my mother’s eyes shown and my father thought it deserved to go next to her works of art.
When I step into the dining room Aunt Nesta slaps a heaping plate of blueberry pancakes and syrup with a glass of milk at my usual seat at the table.
I smile and salute her. “Yes, ma'am.”
She glares but sends me a smile as I sit down and dig in, barely tasting the pancakes before I swallow them.
“Please chew before swallowing. If you choke, your mother will kill me.”
I nod, but keep eating them the way I was before.
Uncle Cassian walks in and his eyes widen while his mouth makes an ‘o’ shape, “Where’d you get those?” then his eyes find Aunt Nesta. “How come you never make me blueberry pancakes?”
She shrugs and says, “I didn’t know dogs ate pancakes.” but even as she says it I can see love glinting in her eyes.
He pouts at her and she rolls her eyes, walking into the kitchen. She returns with a plate for him too.
He digs in and mumbles, “I knew I loved you for a reason.”
She snorts. “I love you even though you never make me blueberry pancakes.”
He looks up from his plate. “I wasn’t talking to you. I was talking to the pancakes.”
She cocks her head. “Well then, looks like my darling nephew is the only one getting pancakes from now on.”
I chuckle as he narrows his eyes at me. “I’ll fight you for the right to the pancakes.”
My mother’s voice floats into the room, “Please don’t fight my son over pancakes.” I look behind me and see my parents standing in the doorway watching us with amusement.
I stand and walk my now finished plate to the sink in the kitchen and stride back to the dining room. I nod my head towards my parents. “You ready to go?”
My father rolls his eyes. “As ready as I can be.”
My mother gets a far-away, pained look. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for the Spring Court.”
I always hate when spring comes if only because it reminds my mother of her time at the Spring Court. She sometimes gets these sad looks and has different nightmares than her usual ones. This visit is going to be horrible for her and it’s really going to test mine and my father’s control. I might actually try to kill the High Lord because of the shit he put my mother through. But we need this, we need to try to fix the strained relationship between our Courts.
I look up from my thoughts to see my father cupping my mother’s cheek and looking deep into her eyes. Sometimes they stare at each other for hours, not talking just staring. Their mind-speak gets creepy sometimes, but I know that right now my father is telling my mother about how we’ll always be right next to her and how much he loves her and how much her children love her.
That’s right, children. I’m the oldest of three. Everybody thinks that my mother being human before being High Fae makes her able to conceive easier than a normal Fae. My younger siblings are twins. Stella and Aedon, Aedon was named after my mother’s father, they’re only eight years old and they’re total pests. Aunt Elain and Uncle Az are going to watch them while we’re gone.
I walk up to my parents and place my hand on my mother’s shoulder. “Mom, we should probably go.”
She nods and turns away from my father to face us all. “Do I look scary enough?”
She’s wearing an all-black, quarter-sleeved dress that shimmers like diamonds in the sunlight whenever she moves and she has her hair up with her crown tucked into it. She likes to think that all the black and the crown makes her look scary, but I think it just complements her and makes her look prettier.
But I indulge her. “If you looked like that when you used to scold me I might I have run away screaming from your terrifying appearance.”
My father winks over her shoulder, casting an approving glance at the comment, as my mother smiles and kisses my cheek.
She grabs my hand and my father’s hand, ready to winnow out, but stops and glares at my aunt and uncle, “Please don’t destroy our house while we’re gone.” and we winnow away.
The darkness pulls around us and I marvel, as I always do, at the magic that sends us to a completely different place in seconds. I see starbursts in the darkness and suddenly we land in a room decorated in emerald green and gold tapestries and rugs.
As I survey the room, I feel something tugging, the same tugging I feel that makes me fly in the middle of the night. Tugging me towards the furthest side of the room.
I see a man with a sneer on his face seated in a throne on a dais. Tamlin. High Lord of Spring. Abuser of my mother. My fists curl of their own accord before I can stop them. I’ve never seen nor met this man before but I want to bash his face in.
But then I see her and I freeze, unable to even let out the gasp that clogs my throat.
A young girl standing with her back to me. Golden curls spill down her back and her tan skin stands out against her pale pink gown.
I’ve seen that back a thousand times. Always running away from me. Always in a dream.
I hear my mother’s voice pierce the silence of the room. "Hello, Tamlin, it’s been awhile.“
I feel my father’s eyes on me and I know he’s already compared this young girl to the one in the painting and wants to know how exactly I painted someone I’ve never met. Well, I want to know how I dreamed of someone I’ve never met.
But then the girl turns around and I swear I forget how to breath. I’m seeing her face for the first time and I swear she’s an angel.
She keeps her head down but I can still make out her facial features. Her sharp oval face looks full and healthy and - even though she has dark circles under her almond-shaped eyes - her green eyes look lively as she takes us in as her full, archer’s bow lips part in awe.
She even more beautiful than I imagined.
Her eyes roam over us, studying us and they widen as she looks over my father and I, probably noting how similar we look, but then she gasps and realization races into her eyes.
Her eyes widen even more as she looks at my mother and father in awe. It’s when her eyes roam over me again that I lose the ability to speak, otherwise I would introduce myself.
Head still bowed, those jade eyes roam from my head to my toes in awe, maybe even attraction or at least appreciation, and I realize I stand at least a head taller than her, maybe more, she’s so tiny. Short and thin like a twig - she doesn’t have the curves that most of the Night Court and Illyrian women seem to have - and it makes me wonder if maybe she doesn’t eat as much as she should, like how my mother ate when she was here.
I realize I’m searching, searching for any reason to believe she’s actually the girl from my dreams - the girl I draw every day - other than how similar she looks from behind, when her eyes slowly meet mine.
She’s gaping and as she notices that I’m staring at her as much as she’s staring at me she slowly closes her mouth and a pretty redness flames her cheeks. Damn, she’s gorgeous when she blushes.
She bows her head again. I wish she would stop doing that, I’ve been waiting over a year to see the girl from my dreams in person and now I can barely see her face. But then she slides into a curtsy and I hear the silvery voice that always sings in my dreams say, "Welcome to Spring Court.”
post-series au thing in which all the key kids live happily ever after together, bc why not :)
- Sora has a terrible habit of leaving the bathroom door unlocked/slightly ajar when he’s in there. He doesn’t want to be walked in or anything, he just… forgets a lot of the time. Ventus, on the other hand, has a terrible habit of waltzing into places unannounced. Needless to say, this has led to several unfortunate encounters between the two.
– Bathroom door swings open. Both, simultaneously:
Sora: *screeching & flailing* W-WHOA, HEY, I-I’M IN HERE–
Ven: *recoiling violently* DUDE! What the– ?!
– Ven backpedals rapidly, slams the door shut. A long, uncomfortable silence ensues. Then:
Sora: *rattled, to the point of embarrassed indignation* You ever hear of knocking? Sheesh.
Ven: *sputtering & equally affronted* …Yeah? How ‘bout next time you try locking the damn door?
- Namine, Roxas, Xion & Ven pulling random all-nighters together… Baking cookies, building pillow forts, watching scary movies, eating ice cream, talking and laughing about all sorts of things. They try to be quiet, so as not to wake the rest of the house up, but their efforts aren’t always 100% successful. o.o
- Sora joins them sometimes (when he’s not passed out on the couch already or bunked up with Riku & Kairi). Lea just shakes his head when he half-sleepwalks past them on his way to the bathroom, muttering something incoherent about ‘crazy kids’ and needing to get his beauty sleep.
- Aqua is totally the house mom, regularly checking to make sure everyone is home and safe at night (unless she’s been notified otherwise), that the doors are locked, stove is turned off, etc. Terra does this, too, if only to relieve Aqua from time to time.
- Dance Offs –> Almost always come down to a threeway battle between Aqua, Ven, and Kairi. Aqua kills it figure skater style, Ven’s a breakdancing machine, and Kairi can twerk swag it like nobody’s business. Riku’s actually a really good dancer, too, when he’s in the (rare) mood for it. Every once in a blue moon he’ll bust out some crazy moves that shock everyone and turn the competition in his favor.
- Lea scores points for who-can-look-the-most-ridiculous, although Sora isn’t far behind. Namine doesn’t participate so much as end up giggling the entire time. Also, she’s the only one to consistently try & vote for EVERYONE; she just feels too guilty not to.
- Xion spoils their pets so bad. Seriously (even worse than Terra, tbh). She’ll sneak them copious amounts of scraps under the table, rub bellies for an indefinite length of time, let them all cuddle up on the couch/in bed with her, and give them Lea’s socks to use as chew toys. …Okay, the sock thing was one time, to be fair. And they had holes in them.
- Roxas & Ven have a(n unspoken?) twinning competition going on. Ven’s actually a little bit taller, to Roxas’s ultimate chagrin. Ven loooooves to rib him about this by resting his elbow on Roxas’s shoulder, reaching things that Roxas juuust misses, telling Roxas he better eat his veggies if he wants to catch up!, making short people jokes, and so on. Sora, who’s the same height as Ven is, gets in on the ribbing too a lot of the time. Poor Roxas.
- Both Terra and Sora love food, but neither are particularly skilled/motivated in the cooking arena. Hence, they’ll eat anything and everything readily available. (Terra has a bit more self control, and won’t really go for the super sugary/processed stuff, but still.) So, if you’re saving that leftover slice of pizza for later, you’d better explicitly mark it with a ‘do not eat OR ELSE’ note, complete with a signature and doodled angry face. Otherwise, chances are it’ll be gone by the time you get to it, courtesy of one of the aforementioned parties. Anything unclaimed is fair game!
- Aqua is the only one who can truly be classified as a neat freak. The others will tease her about it, especially Terra (but it’s good-natured teasing, of course). Xion & Riku come pretty close to her level, but they’re not nearly as vigilant. Riku in particular though can’t stand clutter and keeps his room limited to the bare necessities.
- Roxas & Namine are, overall, pretty good about not making a mess/picking up after themselves. Kairi can be very organized when she wants to be (which… isn’t necessarily all that often). At the very least, she knows where most of her belongings are at any given moment.
- Terra is borderline messy, and tends to be oblivious easygoing about things like laundry heaps and dirty dishes– Until it reaches a point of near-disaster (or Aqua walks into his room and gets that look of barely-concealed-horror on her face, and… You really don’t want to be the subject of that look; believe him).
- Lea, if he’s being honest, in no way, shape, or form enjoys cleaning. And so, he chooses to not partake in that activity unless forced to it’s absolutely necessary. Ven is the same way, but takes it a step further by falling into the looks-like-a-tornado-ripped-through-here category.
- And Sora, well… Sora is the tornado. Also (not so?) lovingly referred to by his roommates as The Disaster on Legs. <3
What if Danny Fenton was just 14 when his parents built a strange machine, designed to view a world unseen. When it didn't quite work, his folks, they just quite. Then Danny took a look inside of it and decided that it probably wasn't going to do anything anyway and left it alone, never receiving his ghost powers.
Then life would continue as normal. Danny would go to high school, be an unpopular nerd with his dorky friends, spend weekends watching movies and going to theme parks, study for tests so he can get good grades and get into NASA, and otherwise have a fairly uneventful life until Jack and Maddie’s college reunion. Two parents would leave and at most one would return.