send the wolf



Ok, actually… you’re kinda right. I mean, they just keep punching each other and we’re calling it “being in love”.

Originally posted by dvnkens

Originally posted by teenwolfhowl

Originally posted by teenwolfhowl

And they can’t absolutely stand each other…

Originally posted by inter-somniac

Originally posted by emwatsxn

Also when they were in the hospital in 6x09 and Theo said:

You’re going first.
That’s the only reason I’m with you.
Because while they’re busy wrapping a whip around your neck, or shooting a hole in your head, I’ll be running the other direction.
I’m on your side as long it helps me.

Originally posted by colormayfade

And then Liam said:

I also think whatever happened to you, you deserved it.
When the Ghost Riders find us, I’m not gonna do anything for you.
I’m not gonna help you.
I’m not gonna save you.
I’m gonna do exactly what you would do to me.
I’m gonna use you as bait.

Oh, hang on a second.

Didn’t they save each other from a ghost rider right after that?

And isn’t this Liam saving Theo?

Originally posted by all-decay

And isn’t this Theo saving Liam in the exact same way?

Originally posted by theoraken

And again…

Originally posted by fakehappyalec

Also, is that Theo worrying about Liam?

Originally posted by fytwolf

Originally posted by vxidability-nolan

Originally posted by colormayfade

Originally posted by theoraken

HE PUT A HAND ON HIS SHOULDER AFTER THIS

Originally posted by wolfiehunters

Theo: I went trough all of this to keep you from being taken.

Plus, in 6x15…

Theo: Those two losers killed hunters.
Liam: Who killed their pack.
Theo: So what? I mean, Monroe’s gonna tear through anything standing between her and them. That means you, Lydia, Malia and Scott.

Oh, and here’s Theo looking at Liam with heart eyes!!

Originally posted by animeteenwolflover

Originally posted by asplittingoffrerard

Originally posted by tfimtrash

Originally posted by aztechale

HE WAS IMPRESSED BY LIAM

Originally posted by iamlonelyinvisibly

Theo not only saved Nolan, but he stopped Liam from doing something he would’ve regretted.

Originally posted by wolfiehunters

Originally posted by fytwolf

Liam can’t stand Theo but

Theo: You made the plan.
You wanted me to help.
Liam: If I needed your help for anything, it’ll be so I get angry enough to kill you myself.
Theo: You brought me here because that thing that came out of the Wild Hunt is affecting you, too.

Not Scott, his alpha. Not Mason, his best friend. He choose Theo.

What’s more, they’re such an amazing duo.

Originally posted by imagine-everything-blog

Originally posted by bloggergirl29

We’ll see them kicking Gabe’s ass as well

In season 5 Theo actually said:

I love this kid.

Originally posted by hotdamntheoraeken

And let’s not forget who made all this possible by bringing Theo back…

Originally posted by winifredwevansedits

In conclusion, yeah, you’re right, they make no sense.

But I’m not sure we’re watching the same tv show.

prompts for writing

feel free to use any of these! 

send in requests!

1. “Your hair is so soft..” 

2. “It’s too cold! Come back!”

3. “No, I’m not letting you go. It’s too early to get out of bed.”

4. “C’mere, you can sit in my lap until I’m done working.”

5. “I’m not going to stop poking you until you give me some attention.”

6. “Shh, you’re safe. I won’t let you go.”

7. “What? does that feel good?”

8. “Just pretend to be my date.”

9. “He/She did it.” “No he/she did.”

10. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

11. “It’s not a double date. We’re just third and fourth wheeling.”

12. “No no–it’s alright, come here.”

13. “I’m not going to leave you. You’re never going to have to suffer by yourself again, I promise.”

14. “Look, I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m still worried about you. No one deserves to be alone.”

15. “If I could, I would kiss away all of your scars.”

16. “I think I might be falling in love with you.”

17. “Your lips are so soft. I could kiss them all day.”

18. “It’s not bad to cry. In fact, I think it makes a person stronger.”

19. “Mmm.. you’re warm.”

20. “You’re so cute when you’re half asleep like this..”

21. “I’ve had a rough day and honestly all I want right now is a drink and someone to cuddle with..”

22. “No, you can’t get up! You’re my prisoner for today.”

23. “Shh, it was just a bad dream. Just a dream, okay? None of it was really.”

24. “You know I’m/we’re always here for you, right?”

25. “Please talk to me about it.”

26. “You have something in you hair.. um–do you want me to get it out?”

27. “I remember practicing how to ask you out in the mirror..”

28. “I would’ve had breakfast ready, but you were sleeping on my arm and I didn’t want to wake you.”

29. “I know I’ve kissed you like, ten times, but just like another ten, please.”

30. “Are you wearing my shirt?“

31. “Wanna, like–I mean, if you’re not busy.. We could get lunch? Or even just coffee if you don’t have a lot of time?”

32. “So I was driving past a pet store and couldn’t help but wonder how cute an animal would be like in our home..”

33. “Let’s just stay in bed.”

34. “We live together. You can’t blame this on anyone else.”

35. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

36. “Shooting star. Make a wish.“ 

37. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

38. “Wow, you’re hot.“

39. “I want to marry you.”

40. “I want to take a shower so you should probably join me. It’ll save water.”

41. “You’re just not the same anymore..”

42. “It’s midnight! Where the hell were you?”

43. “What the hell is your problem?!”

44. “Why do you run away from your problems all the time?”

45. “You can’t keep it all inside, you know? Bottling it up won’t do any good.”

46. “Hey, I know you’re hurting.. but, you’re not alone, okay?”

47. “I hate you! I’m sorry it took me so damn long to realize that.”

48. “You lost your chance.”

49. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression.”

50. “You can’t just lose your temper like this every time you get a bit upset!”

51. “Calm down! You’re scaring me!”

52. “Don’t look at me like that.”

53. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

54. “I’m done trying to help you!” 

55. “Sorry doesn’t fix everything.”

56. “You didn’t call. You didn’t text. Nothing.”

57. “It isn’t up for debate.”

58. “I don’t know what’s wrong, okay? I’m just… really tired.”

59. “I’m fine. Stop asking.”

60. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong, and don’t try lying to me.”

61. “I hope someday you get a taste of your own medicine.”

62. “Pack your shit and go. Get the fuck out of my sight!”

63. “Is this how little you think of me?”

64. “I can’t do this anymore.. not with you.”

65. “Are you happy now? Huh? DOES THIS MAKE YOU HAPPY?!”

66. “You said you’d always be there for me… so how did this happened? Why weren’t you there?”

67. “Did it ever occur to you that you’re hurting me too?”

68. “I don’t need help! I just want the pain to stop!”

69. “We can be friends instead.”

70. “I tried to move on, but nobody is you.”

71. “Do I look like I’ve moved on?”

72. “I don’t remember a fight or a reason, so what happened? Why did we break up?”

73. “Can I at least buy you a coffee? For old times sake.”

74. “I can’t take the loneliness anymore.”

75. “What are you talking about? You’re married!”

76. “I feels like everyone just forgot I exist.”

77. “Maybe I’m meant to be alone.”

78. “I gave you your chance, and you just used it to stab me in the back.”

79. “I’ve been alone for so long..”

80. “But you promised..”

81. “Isn’t this, like, illegal?” “Probably.”

82. “You’re really drunk right now. I don’t think you’re gonna remember any of this.”“No, I’m not drunk at all. You’re just blurry.”

83. “I have a feeling we should kiss.”“Is that a good feeling or a bad feeling?” 

84. “Yeah, well, I shut everybody out. Don’t take it personally. It’s just easier.”

85. "You’re jealous, aren’t you?” “I’m not jealous.”

86. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

87. “I can’t believe you dragged me into this.”

88. “Bite me.” “Eat me.” “Kiss my ass.”

89. “You think I’m dumb enough to fall for that stupid move?”

90. “You have to tell me why were committing a felony before we do it. Not that that’s going to stop us, but at least I’ll have all the facts.”

91. “You weren’t supposed to laugh! I’m so embarrassed!”

92. “I vote today be a pajama day.”

93. “You aren’t supposed to laugh! I’m embarrassed!”

94. “It’s a real shame nobody asked for your opinion.”

95. “There’s been some real friction in our friend group lately. I suggest an orgy to save our friendship.”

96. “I saw that. You just checked me out.”

97. “Are you stupid or stupid?”

98. “How about you make me?”

99. “Do it. I dare you.”

100. “Rise and shine, motherfucker.”

101. “Well fuck me!" 

102. "Are you… Drunk?" 

103. "Walk it off." 

104. "Did you just go throw up?" 

105. "Could you turn it down? A bit? Maybe?" 

106. "Don’t drink that! I saw that guy slip something in there!" 

107. "Get out of here! This is my hiding spot!" 

108. "Quick, pretend your talking to me." 

109. "Could you hold my hand?" 

110. "You’re hiding under that blanket because you’re blushing?" 

111. "Can I kiss you?" 

112. "Quit looking at me with that stupid expression. You’re pissing me off." 

113. “ …Why? Why are you being… so nice to me? I can’t understand. I can’t understand! I just can’t understand… “ 

114. "Don’t you think you’re a little too old to be using cheesy pick up lines?" 

115. "You’re the perfect combination of sexy and cute." 

116. "You know I’ll kill him if he hurts you." 

117. "Can we please pretend I never said that?" 

118. "Forget the douche. He’s a dick. He’s a dickdouche." 

119. "You guys are yelling and I want ice cream!" 

120. "How ‘bout you stick it up your ass instead?" 

121. ”“Punched” is one word, “Fisted” is another.“ 

122. "Please! Leave me alone!" 

123. "It’s too late for you to be out by yourself." 

124. "You seem like a friendly face, mind if I sit with you?" 

125. "You made me this way." 

126. "I think about you all the time, it’s freaking annoying." 

127. "Bill Nye couldn’t even help you." 

128. "You left your shirt at my house. It’s mine now." 

129. "I just wanted to hear your voice." 

130. "I saw a shooting star and I thought of you.”

Drabble prompts! Send one of these and a ship :)

  1. “Oh go sit on a a cactus.”
  2. “The president needs me to do what?”
  3. “Do you even own a shirt?!”
  4. “Was I suppose to be impressed?”
  5. “How am I suppose to be calm at a time like this?”
  6. “Everything is awful and nothing matters.”
  7. “I forgot how much I hate you.”
  8. “Everyone knows the 90s were the epitome of high fashion.” 
  9. “Is that a dragon?”
  10. “Why is the bathtub full of gold fish?”
  11. “You call that a pizza?”
  12. “Stop complaining at least you only broke one leg?” “YOU BROKE MY LEG!” “I said I was sorry.”
  13. “Did you run a background check on me?”
  14. “How was I supposed to know there was someone in the trunk? I was just stealing the car not trying to kidnap you!”
  15. “Are you saying you don’t accept my rose?”
  16. “What do you mean you don’t know who Batman is?”
  17. “Are you trying to psychoanalyze me?” “Well I did take a psych class in college.”
  18. “Just go to sleep.”
  19. “You can’t sing and dance your way our of every problem, this isn’t a musical.”
  20. “If you frown any harder your face will stay like that.”
  21. “You’ve always been trouble.”
  22. “I heard you singing Taylor Swift in the shower this morning, are you okay?”
  23. “I’d tell you to go to hell, but I never want to see you again.”
  24. “I can’t understand a word you’re saying.”
  25. “What are you, a vampire or something?”
  26. “According to US Weekly we’re married.”
  27. “Don’t leave me alone with him, he’s got a murder-y face.”
  28. “You said you were good at baseball!”
  29. “Did you steal someone’s cat?”
  30. “I need a favor.”
  31. “Stop being such a baby.”
  32. “Who said I hate you?”
  33. “You’re not a 1920s mobster, stop acting like you are.”
  34. “Regina George would be impressed with you.”
  35. “Are you crying because we ran out of pizza?”
  36. “Wow she’s way better than you, does that make you feel bad?”
  37. “I bet you ten dollars you won’t kiss me.”
  38. “If you don’t hurry up all the good fruit will be gone.”
  39. “Since when do you have a stand at the farmers market?”
  40. “Did you actually carve that?”
  41. “I can’t get up there are three dogs on my lap.”
  42. “My dad mailed me all my old yearbooks, I never noticed that you were in ever picture with me.”
  43. “Stop playing games.”
  44. “It’s 2 AM, why are you here?”
  45. “… Where are your pants?”
  46. “Please don’t give me a ticket, my dad will kill me!”
  47. “How’d you get here so fast? Can you teleport?”
  48. “Is that my shirt?”
  49. “Are you an undercover cop or something?”
  50. “I’m not a pirate I’m a privateer.”
  51.  “Well my mom thinks I’m special.” 
  52. “I… I think I love you.”
  53. “Make that bird stop chirping, I’m trying to sleep.”
  54. “Stop running away!” “Then stop trying to protect me!”
  55. “Are you… are you growling at me?”
  56. “Look I was suppose to take my sister to the Ed Sheeran concert but she ditched me, want to go with me instead?”
  57. "You look really familiar, do I know you?” “I think we matched on Tinder a few months back.”
  58. “You brood more than Bruce Wayne.”
  59. “We’re closed.”
  60. “Shit! I forgot your birthday didn’t I?”
  61. “Just go with it.”
  62. “I need a favor, and not the sexual kind.”
  63. “Wow amazing, it’s like you’re trying to be an asshat.”
  64. “Your pickup lines weren’t cute in high school, they definitely aren’t cute now.”
  65. “Why did someone just tell me that they ship us?”
  66. “How many seasons did you watch today?”
  67. “If you make one more stupid pun, I will actually stab you.”
  68. “Never do stupid shit alone, always do it with a friend.”
  69. “Stop laughing every time the announcer says 69.”
  70. “You look good in green.”
  71. “You can’t come here and only eat the free samples.”
  72. “I’ve never lost in a bake off.”
  73. “I wrote you a song.”
  74. “It’s been 10 years how do you still look so good?”
  75. “Don’t you dare bite me, I’m mad at you!”
Pet Play Asks  🐶 🐱 🐺🐴 🐰

Questions for both sides of the slash and even for doms who pet play

  1. Are you a dom, a sub, or a switch?
  2. What animal(s) do you enjoy playing as?
  3. What is your favorite part about pet play?
  4. What is something you find romantic? 
  5. How did you and your significant other meet?
  6. Do you prefer Morning or Night?
  7. Do you live in an area that is kink friendly?
  8. Do you like collars?  Leashes?
  9. What animal noises do you like to make?
  10. Do you consider yourself a lone animal or a pride/pack/herd animal?
  11. Describe your most recent pet play experience.
  12. Describe an embarrassing pet play experience.
  13. What is your favorite type of land terrain?
  14. What is your favorite reward?
  15. What is your favorite animal?
  16. What is your favorite pet toy?
  17. What is your favorite pet space activity?
  18. What is your favorite thing about your significant other?
  19. What is your favorite season?
  20. What other kinks, besides pet play, do you enjoy?
  21. If you could be any animal for a day, what would it be?
  22. Have you ever found yourself going into pet space in public?
  23. Does anybody in your vanilla or non-kink life know you’re into pet play?
  24. What is something that can get you immediately into pet space?
  25. Are you on Fetlife.com?
  1. For Doms:   Do you prefer a well trained pet or a feral pet?
  2. For Doms:   How do you like to dom as a pet?
  3. For Doms:   What species of pets do you like to have?
  4. For Doms:   What do you consider most difficult about being a dom?
  1. For subs:  Are you domesticated or are you primal/feral? 
  2. For subs:  As a pet, do you prefer the floor, the couch, or the bed? 
  3. For subs:  Describe your perfect dom.
  4. For subs:  Do you like to play with only your dom or others too?

let me show you

believe it or not, this is where it all started. i knew something was going on between them, i felt a kind of attraction. like, it was so random. when theo said that line i chocked. i was like “daaaamn theo, stop flirting like that”.

but then it actually happened?? thiam actually became a thing and it got me shocked. i was over the moon!

that’s another reason why i love them so much! i didn’t thought they would have actually became a thing, but i lowkey hoped so.

they are my sons, always will be.

2

By the Edge of the Moor
A Gothic Victorian Werewolf Soulmate AU by @shu-of-the-wind​ and yours truly

The year is 1891, and everywhere Others are shunned from society, hunted, given no rights and no voice. A werewolf with a soulmark escapes legal prosecution in the US by fleeing to England, where, unknowingly, a huntress who bears his name on her wrist awaits.

Playlist and ficlet wholly by courtesy of shu:

“Turn around,” says Cassian, softly. His pupils have blown wide in the dark. “I don’t—if I changed now, I’d ruin my clothes.”

She blinks.

Keep reading

It’s not that he doesn’t love Lydia. Of course he loves Lydia. He’s always loved her; been infatuated with her; fascinated with the idea of her. That never really went away. It just changed; grew deeper and more complex with everything that they had experienced.

It’s just that after she drives him to college and leaves him with a lingering kiss and a promise that she’d see him soon, things feel different.

So much has happened since that night he dragged Scott into the woods to look for the body of Laura Hale. So much has happened that he doesn’t really feel like he fits into his own life. He tries to ignore it; to pretend that everything is okay; but after the Ghost Riders, he realises he can’t pretend anymore.

It might be the fact that he was stuck waiting in the train station with Peter Hale but he’s been thinking about Derek. He’s been thinking about Derek a lot, thinking that if anyone understands what it’s like to feel like you don’t fit into your own life, it would be Derek.

One night, after a few too many beers, he texts Derek. He doesn’t expect a response, sure that Derek has changed his number many, many times since he left Beacon Hills without so much as a goodbye. Hell, who knows if Derek even has a phone anymore? It’s not like he was good at texting even when he had some semblance of a pack, of people that maybe, sort of cared about him.

I don’t feel like I’m me anymore. Feels like I’m trying really hard to be the same but it just seems hollow.

He doesn’t get a response but it doesn’t really bother him. He wasn’t expecting one anyway. He’s stopped expecting things from people. He’s stopped expecting a lot of things. That voice in the back of his head tells him that he stopped expecting things from Derek when he left without saying goodbye, like hours in a pool meant absolutely nothing, like Stiles meant absolutely nothing.

So yeah, he wasn’t expecting a reply. He just wanted to say the words.




After that, it kind of becomes a thing.

It doesn’t happen all the time. During the day, Stiles manages just fine. He has classes and assignments and even a couple of tentative friends who he’ll grab a coffee with every now and then.

It’s a different story at night though. He tosses and turns for hours, terrified that if he falls asleep, he’ll disappear again and that no one will bring him back. Those endless days in the train station plague his thoughts and he just can’t seem to escape them. It feels like he’s running through those tunnels again, only to end up exactly where he started.

So he tells Derek everything. He pours out the whole story, explains the terror he felt when he knew that he would be taken; when people looked him dead in the eye and had no idea who he was. He explains the frustration he felt when Peter was the only one he could rely on; the bitter disappointment when Peter left and he was all alone. He tells Derek everything and it feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, just screaming into the empty nothingness. The words are out there and even if Derek never replies, it’s better to have written them than to have done nothing. It’s ever so slightly relieved the feeling of slowly choking on the terror.

He ends his text message like this: sometimes I think I’ll disappear again and no one will come looking.

And then his phone beeps.

I would.

That’s it. Two words and Stiles feels like he can breathe again. Someone would come looking for him.

It’s not like those two words opened a floodgate of communication but Derek does occasionally reply.

When I do sleep, I see Allison dying. I wonder if Scott blames me. I blame me.

If I had been a better Alpha, Erica and Boyd would have stayed. No one blamed me for that, just like no one blames you for Allison.

Do you think I’ll ever stop blaming myself?

I’m not the right person to ask about blame.

 



Found handcuffs in my roommate’s closet. Think he uses them for community safety on full moons or he’s just really into 50 Shades of Grey?

Stiles, it’s far more likely that your roommate is an aspiring Mr. Grey than a werewolf. Put them back where you found them. It’s rude to snoop.

Omfg I can’t believe you know what 50 Shades of Grey is!

Everyone knows what 50 Shades of Grey is.

You aren’t everyone though! I didn’t know that you read books. Or watched movies. Or had any knowledge of pop culture.

Derek doesn’t text back. Instead, he gets sent a photo of a bookshelf. It’s so full that Stiles is genuinely impressed; it doesn’t look like even one more title could be added to that collection. He doesn’t know why but he finds himself feeling kind of sad that he didn’t know this about Derek whilst he was living in Beacon Hills. Stiles tries not to dwell on the feeling but he knows himself well enough to know that he’s feeling guilty.

He knows what it’s like to wonder if anyone would care enough to come looking if he disappeared. He imagines that’s how Derek felt after his family died and Stiles didn’t do anything to make him think otherwise.  

He doesn’t text back.



It’s the night of the full moon and Stiles feels strange, like something is missing. He was invited to a party or two but declined, pretending that he had an assignment he really needed to finish. He’s weeks ahead of his course work but he doesn’t want to go out tonight. He knows his friends back in Beacon Hills are going to be okay without him; knows that it’s a good thing that he hasn’t heard from them; but it stings a little.

He doesn’t like feeling so replaceable.

He sends Lydia a text message, asking how everything is going. He doesn’t want them to be in danger; doesn’t want them to struggle without him; but it would be nice if they noticed his absence. He’s hoping that Lydia will tell him that they’re okay but that they miss him.

She doesn’t reply straight away and he doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He can see the moon out of his dorm room window. He snaps a picture and sends it to Derek without thinking. Never thought I’d miss chaining Scott to a radiator, he captions the photo. He thinks he means for it to be a joke but even to his own eyes, the words seem flat on his screen. He sends them anyway. It’s not like he’s been censoring himself recently, not around Derek anyway.

On my first full moon alone, I howled at the moon, hoping that someone would answer. It’s lonely without pack.

I’m not really pack though, he responds. It’s easier than acknowledging the fact that Derek’s family burned to death in their family home; that crazy Uncle Peter tore his sister into pieces; that his only remaining family are either certifiably insane or residing with a pack in South America.

It’s okay to miss being needed.

I don’t know if they ever really needed me.

Derek texts back a photo of a pool.

A quick internet search confirms that it’s just a stock photo from Google but his heart races anyway. He remembers diving into the pool and holding Derek afloat; how terrified he had been that they would both drown; that his dad would find his body and drink himself into an early grave.

He hadn’t cared about Derek then, not really, not the way he cared about him now. He had held Derek afloat because it was the right thing to do and because he was selfish. He knew that if he and his friends had any chance of surviving this, they would need Derek.

Near death experiences don’t count as being needed.

This time Derek is the one who doesn’t reply. It’s fair enough, really. Stiles wouldn’t really know what to say to that either.



When he wakes up in the morning, he has three unread messages.

Lydia tells him that all is well in Beacon Hills and tells him to check his email because she’s edited his latest essay. He tells Lydia thanks and tries to ignore the flicker of disappointment in his chest.

It counts as being needed. You weren’t just kept around because you were better than nothing. You’re an asset, Stiles. You’re smart, yet somehow stupid enough to throw yourself into danger without thinking twice. Underneath that unrelenting sarcasm and attitude, you care a hell of a lot. If it wasn’t for Scott, his attitude towards me and some of his questionable decisions, I’d have asked you to join my pack.

A second message, sent about an hour later, reads tell anyone and I’ll rip your throat out with my teeth.

He can’t help but laugh.



Lydia asks Stiles if he’s coming back to Beacon Hills for break. It had always been his plan to spend break at home, to fall back into things like he had never really left. He goes to reply, to tell Lydia that he’ll leave after his last classon Thursday, but he finds himself lying.

Sorry Lydia, totally broke. Can’t afford flights and I don’t think the Jeep would survive the drive. Maybe you could come here instead?

I can’t. It’s all hands on deck here.

She doesn’t elaborate. More noticeably, she doesn’t offer any financial assistance. Whilst he would turn it down, the Martins are one of the richest families in Beacon Hills and Lydia is generous with her money. If she cares about someone, she shows it with material gestures. He hasn’t seen Lydia in months; since she drove up to college with him. Shouldn’t she want to see him? Shouldn’t he be moving mountains to see her? This is Lydia, after all. He’s been in love with her for as long as he can remember.

All he knows is that something doesn’t feel right here. There’s a gentle hum of disappointment under his skin but when he examines it, he finds that it seems to be related to the fact that he didn’t know Beacon Hills was facing another threat. It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with the fact that he’s not going to be seeing Lydia this break. He doesn’t know much about relationships but he knows that she’s supposed to offer and he’s supposed to care.

His fingers hover uncertainly over his phone, not quite sure what to say. He can’t actually remember the last time he properly spoke to Lydia. They text a few times a week, when he has time between class and she’s not busy with pack business. He scrolls back through the conversation and he’s struck by how superficial it seems. He can’t even remember the last time that they spoke on the phone. They agreed to have weekly Face Time calls but after their plans fell through three times in a row, they stopped making arrangements.

In the end, he sends back a simple good luck. He needs more time to analyse before he says anything more.



He manages to fall asleep before 3am, which is no small feat these days. He dreams of his mum, of her body on the kitchen floor and his tears marking her face as he cries down the phone, begging for an ambulance. He dreams of her body on a cool metal table in the morgue, of his father having to identify the body because his mum was sick and Stiles couldn’t get the ambulance quick enough to save her.

He dreams of Peter offering him the bite but this time he accepts it, sick and tired of being the weak, defenseless human. He can feel the pain, can feel fire coursing through his veins, and he knows that the bite isn’t taking. He isn’t strong enough to survive the bite so he’s going to die, all alone on the cold, hard concrete.

He dreams of the pool, of Derek growing heavier and heavier. “It’s okay”, Derek whispers, as Stiles has no choice but to let go. He watches Derek’s paralysed body sinking to the bottom of the pool, his lungs burning as they fill with water, and he cannot do anything.

He sees Erica standing on his front porch, smiling at him. He relaxes. Maybe this is a nice dream. Erica is alive and happy, which is how things should be. He tentatively smiles back, lifts a hand in greeting. Her smile grows wider, showing bloody teeth, and he reels back. Blood keeps dripping, gushing out of her mouth, until she keels over on his welcome mat. He doubles over and vomits on his front lawn.

He dreams of Gerard. He manages to get free, trips as he tries to run up the stairs and escape the basement. Gerald just laughs as he slowly walks up the stairs and takes hold of his leg. He screams as Gerard drags him back down the stairs, knowing exactly what fate awaits him there.

He dreams of motel car parks and road flares, of Scott going up in flames because Stiles isn’t enough to save him; because Stiles has never been enough. He says all the right words but Scott just scoffs and tells him that he wishes he had never met him, that his life would have been so much better without Stiles, that it was Stiles’ fault they were in the woods that night. Scott tells him that everything has always been his fault, then drops the road flare and the whole car park burns a fierce red.

He dreams of the Nogitsune, of the darkness. He pushes the blade into Allison’s stomach, hears Lydia’s screams reverberating off the tunnel walls. He wants to take it back, to do something, to save the girl his best friend loved; to save the girl he once considered a friend. He can’t do anything though; he’s not strong enough to fight the darkness.

He dreams of the Ghost Riders, of endless days and nights waiting for someone to remember him, of thinking that maybe it would be better for everyone if he didn’t come back. Easier, maybe. He dreams that he comes back and his dad’s face contorts into something unrecognisable, twisted by anger and grief; the regret of choosing to remember his son at the cost of losing his wife all over again.

He awakes suddenly, covered in sweat and gasping for air. He doesn’t think, just grabs his phone and dials the only person he thinks will understand.


It doesn’t matter that it’s nearly 4am. Derek answers the phone after the second ring and god, Stiles has missed his voice. He didn’t realise just how much until he hears it again.

“Stiles?”

Months ago, Derek texted I would and Stiles felt like he could breathe again. Now, Derek has said his name and he feels grounded again, like his feet are back on the ground.

“Bad dream”, he answers. “Sorry for waking you”. He knows Derek wasn’t asleep but it’s the polite thing to say.

Derek doesn’t say anything. Years ago, back when they first met, Stiles interpreted the silence as frustration, like Derek was purposely not fulfilling his role in the conversation so that Stiles would get the hint and shut up. After a while, Stiles started to think that Derek was silent because he was socially awkward and just didn’t really know how to participate in a conversation. After all, he had been alone for a long time.

Derek’s silence seems different now, though, like he’s giving Stiles a chance to process his thoughts and decide where he needs to begin.

“Why did you leave without saying goodbye?” he asks, acknowledging for the first time that he was bothered by it.

“I didn’t think anyone would really care”, Derek says, like it’s that simple. In Derek’s eyes, it probably was that simple.

“I did”. He pauses and the silence stretches between them for a few more seconds as Derek allows Stiles to collect his thoughts. “I was the one who realised you were gone. I went to the loft after school and the place was empty. I don’t have werewolf senses so I couldn’t just track you down… I drove around for hours looking for you. I was fucking terrified that you had been taken by someone or something but then I found Peter at that stupid abandoned train cart you used to live in. He told me that you had gone and that you didn’t want to be found. That fucking stung, by the way. You said goodbye to Peter but not to me”.

“He’s family”. Again, his words are spoken like it’s just that simple.

“Blood isn’t always thicker than water, Derek! Peter is a fucking lunatic, alright? He killed Laura! That’s unforgivable! I know I’m just some stupid, spastic teenager and that you’d happily rip my throat out with your teeth if it wouldn’t stain your upholstery but I deserved a fucking goodbye”.

It’s not until he says the words aloud that he realises how angry he is. He cares about Derek. He has done for a long time now. He trusts Derek in a way that he doesn’t trust anyone else and that’s not a recent thing. The reason he feels comfortable enough texting Derek all his deepest, darkest thoughts isn’t just because he thinks Derek will understand. It’s because he trusts Derek. Quiet, angry, hurting Derek who proved himself time and time again; who proved that despite all his faults, he would show up when it counted; would save and protect Stiles no matter what. He thought that maybe, just maybe, Derek trusted him too; that maybe Derek cared just a little bit; but then he left without so much as a goodbye or a forwarding address.

Stiles doesn’t know what else to say so he hangs up.

I should have said goodbye.

I wanted to but I wasn’t sure you would care.

Actually, that’s a lie. I think I knew that you, out of all people, would understand why I was leaving. I think I was just trying to avoid an honest conversation that I wasn’t ready for.

I’m sorry.

Thank you.



He doesn’t text Derek for about a week. He tells himself that it’s because he needs to invest more time into his studies and into his relationship with Lydia but he knows that’s a lie borne out of self-preservation.

In all honesty, he’s scared.

He hasn’t been scared of Derek for a long time. He’s been scared for Derek and whilst around Derek, both of which are common feelings considering Derek seems to have an annoyingly persistent habit of getting into life threatening danger.

He’s scared now though because Derek can be awfully perceptive when he wants to be. Derek also happens to understand him more than most other people these days, which is why Stiles has been messaging him in the first place. If Derek was really listening – and Stiles thinks that he was – then he’s revealed just a little bit too much about his feelings.

Stiles has always found Derek attractive. Even when Derek was threatening to rip his throat out or pushing his head into a steering wheel, he’s been very aware that Derek is more attractive than most people in Beacon Hills combined. Stiles has eyes after all. He’s sure that Derek is aware of it; that he’s smelt the arousal that seems to follow Stiles everywhere he goes, particularly where Derek is involved. Derek, to his credit, has politely ignored the attraction rather than acknowledging it and causing never ending humiliation.

Somewhere along the way, things shifted. The more time Stiles spent around Derek, the more he realised that Derek wasn’t just a pretty face. He had been through hell and somehow still survived but it was more than that. Weaker men would have crumbled if they had gone through half as much pain as Derek but he came through it all and somehow, he still cared about people. He turned Isaac, Erica and Boyd because he was lonely but also because he thought he was giving them a better life. He showed up, time and time again, even when he didn’t have to. Even though he said that he didn’t, he knew that Derek trusted him. Derek’s actions spoke far louder than his words and somewhere along the way, Stiles had proven himself to Derek. The threats and the violence had been replaced with an understanding that they had each other’s backs.

When he went to Derek’s apartment and found it empty, he had realised. Things had just clicked into place and he knew that his physical attraction to Derek had grown into something deeper and stronger. It was a secret that Stiles had intended to take to his grave. He had shoved it into the far corners of his mind and pretended that he wasn’t bothered by Derek’s absence; he had dated Malia and then Lydia and acted like everything was fine.

He had never talked about it so when those words tumbled out of his mouth, the anger and the frustration and the hurt feelings were still so fresh. Derek is smart enough to put the pieces together and realise that there’s something more there, at least on Stiles’ end.

So yeah, he’s scared. He’s not scared that Derek won’t reciprocate his feelings because he already knows that Derek doesn’t feel the same. He’s terrified that he’ll lose Derek completely and he doesn’t know how he’ll be able to handle it.

It’s pathetic but he’s felt more human over the last few months than he has since Derek left. He isn’t ready to lose that.





He and Lydia break up during the week that he’s ignoring Derek.

They manage to have a Face Time conversation and about three minutes in, she tells him he looks like complete crap. He tells her that he’s struggling with the distance, that after everything, he just isn’t ready to come back to Beacon Hills and she’s far too valuable to travel to him and leave the town unprotected.

Lydia doesn’t even look surprised and she’s polite enough not to call him on his bullshit.

“It’s better that we end it now. I’ve received an early acceptance to the University of Cambridge so in the near future, we’ll be on different continents”, she says in agreement.

There’s a lot left unsaid. They’re both aware that Stiles is no longer the same person he was in third grade, when he decided that he was going to be in love with Lydia Martin forever. They’ve both lost people and gone through more trauma than most people see in a lifetime. Rather than growing together, they grew apart. Stiles knows that a lot of the responsibility for that rests on his shoulders; that he should have worked through his issues with Lydia, that he should have trusted her with the burden he was carrying.

He was just so in love with the idea of Lydia; so desperate to have the perfect relationship that he had been dreaming of for years that he refused to share his darkness out of fear that it would taint everything.

He ignores the voice telling him that Derek Hale has already seen him at his worst and seems to tolerate him regardless.




For someone who once thought that Lydia Martin shined brighter than the sun, he’s remarkably okay with their breakup.

Scott texts him for the first time in weeks, a simple

heard the news. Hope you’re okay.

He replies with a smiley face. He doesn’t think there’s much else to say. He and Scott will always be brothers but they’re living different lives now.

After a particularly sleepless night, he texts Derek. He figures that if Derek was going to make a scene over Stiles’ little crush, he would have done it already.

Would your arm have grown back?

Do you think about that a lot?

I’ve done a lot of research and can’t seem to find the answer.                       

We aren’t related to starfish. I’m 99% sure I’d have ended up with a stump.



He gets to know Derek a lot better over text.

Breaking Bad or Walking Dead?

Is that even a question, bitch?

Summer or winter?

Winter. I remember learning how to snowboard when I was younger. My family had a lodge.

Favourite Harry Potter character?

George Weasley or Sirius Black. Ten minutes later, his iPhone indicates that Derek is still typing a message. It’s worth the wait when Derek practically sends an essay about why he likes each character. That leads to a three hour phone call about why Severus Snape is a bad person. Stiles falls asleep while Derek is ranting about the scene in the movie where Severus steps over James Potter’s dead body to see Lily.

The fact that Derek’s a secret Harry Potter fanatic makes him way happier than he should be.



Late at night, their text messages grow more serious.

Worst relationship?

I don’t think I’ve had any truly terrible relationships. I haven’t really been heartbroken or betrayed. I think I’ve been a bad boyfriend though. Both Lydia and Malia deserve better.

You weren’t heartbroken over Lydia?

Not really. I was more in love with the idea of her.

That’s how I feel about Kate.

He doesn’t reply; chooses to call Derek instead. It’s 2am and for the first time ever, Derek tells another person what happened with Kate Argent. Stiles had put most of the pieces together a long time ago but hearing Derek tell the story is the most horrific thing Stiles has ever heard. The police reports had noted that Derek, Laura and Peter were the only survivors; that Derek’s mother and father, his grandmother, three younger siblings, and four cousins of various ages had all perished in the fire.

Derek’s voice doesn’t waver as he tells Stiles that Kate had seduced him; that he had told Kate all about his family; that he had mentioned a family gathering that he wanted her to attend. He tells Stiles that he came home from lacrosse practice to see his family home burning to the ground.

Stiles only utters four words that night but repeats them like a mantra until Derek’s breathing evens out and he drifts off to sleep.

It wasn’t your fault.



Did you love Jennifer?

No. I think I could have in time but we both know how that ended.

Why did you believe me when I told you she was evil?

Because it’s you. You’re one of the only people that hasn’t lied to me. That earned you a little bit of faith.

Did you love Brayden?

No. I think I wanted to show the world that I had survived Kate and Jennifer and didn’t have any emotional wounds. I think most people would call that a rebound relationship.

Do you think you could fall in love again?

Stiles waits for an excruciating seven minutes before Derek replies.

Yes.

 



I tried to tell my dad that I was bisexual once. I think he thought I was joking.

I never got to tell any of my family that I’m bisexual. After the fire, Laura and I moved to New York. I wanted to tell her but I couldn’t find the words. I couldn’t find the words about Kate either. I like to think that she knew anyway and loved me regardless.

I’m sorry I accused you of her murder. That was really fucked up.


I was never really going to rip out your throat with my teeth.

I know.

It was easier to just be angrier all the time. Anger is easier to manage than grief.

Was easier? Are you not angry anymore?

I’m still angry but it’s not the only thing I feel anymore. These messages help. So does therapy.

Derek Hale in therapy? I never thought I’d see the day! In all seriousness, I’ve thought about therapy a lot. I went after my mum died and it helped a little bit. I just don’t know where I’d find a therapist who knows about the supernatural.

Derek texts him a phone number for a counsellor about fifteen minutes off campus. He doesn’t ask Derek how he knew what college he was at.



Peter offered me the bite once.

I didn’t know. I’m glad you didn’t take it?

Because I’d be a terrible werewolf?

Because no one should be connected to Peter in that way. I think you’d make an excellent werewolf. Far better than Scott.

 



Have you seen the latest episode of Game of Thrones?

He calls Derek and they talk for hours. He almost hangs up the phone when Derek tells him that he doesn’t understand the appeal of Jon Snow but he likes the sound of Derek’s voice far too much.



On April 8th, he gets sent a photo of a cheesy card wishing him many happy returns.

Happy 18th birthday, Stiles.

He sends Derek a photo of his face with his widest grin. He didn’t even know that Derek knew his birthday.

When’s your birthday?

11th July.

And how old are you going to be? I vaguely remember starting at Beacon Hills high as you were getting to graduate but then when we saw you in the woods, you looked like you were 80.

I’m only four years older than you, Stiles. I’ll be turning 22 but I haven’t celebrated in years.

But if someone wanted to hypothetically post you a card and a present, where would they send it?

Derek sends him an address in New York City. Stiles doesn’t need to ask; he instinctively knows that this is the apartment that Derek and Laura lived in before her death.



Do you think you’ll ever go back to Beacon Hills?

Not unless it’s an emergency. I was supposed to go back with Laura when we heard about the killings in our territory but I told her that I wasn’t ready. I made her go alone.

It wasn’t your fault.



Stiles can’t sleep. He Face Times Derek and pesters him until he finally agrees to start watching Parks and Recreation.

Stiles has the same episode playing on his laptop but he finds himself paying more attention to Derek’s face than the episode. He’s never seen Derek laugh before and the sight of him chuckling is mesmerizing.

It becomes a regular thing. Derek watches something on Netflix; Stiles watches Derek.



I hope you fall in love with someone who loves you as much as I do.

Stiles should not be allowed access to his phone while under the influence of alcohol. He texts Derek that exact sentiment the next morning but Derek doesn’t respond.



He doesn’t hear from Derek again.



I’m really sorry, Derek.

I shouldn’t have made things awkward between us.

Your friendship is more than enough, I swear. I’m not going to push for something that you don’t want.

 



None of his messages elicit a reply and god, it hurts like a fucking bitch. He thinks he finally knows what it’s like to have a broken heart.


He receives a text from Lydia.

A little bird told me that Derek Hale is currently moping in New York City.

Peter?

Cora.

I didn’t realise you were in contact with Cora. Hell, I didn’t realise that Cora was in contact with Derek.

Of course I’m in contact with Cora. She’s a useful contact. As for her contact with Derek, that’s only a recent development. Their pack bond still exists in some form; she reached out when she realised that something didn’t feel right.

What am I supposed to do about Derek moping? It’s kind of his thing.

Check your email.

There’s an email from Lydia. It’s a forward from a travel agent, confirming that a flight for a Mr. M. Stilinski has been booked for this Saturday.

He doesn’t know what to say. It turns out he was right about Lydia Martin – when she cares about someone, she shows it in materialistic gestures. This might be the greatest gesture that she’s ever done.



Stiles can barely sit still during the flight to New York City. He’s terrified that Derek will slam the door in his face but he knows that if he doesn’t try, he’ll regret it.

The cab ride to Derek’s apartment takes an eternity. He almost forgets to grab his bag in his rush to get out of the cab and forces himself to take a deep breath; to slow down just a little.

He mentions to get into the building without buzzing, darting through an open door as one of the tenants leave the building. Before he got on the flight, Lydia had texted him the apartment number, and his hands shake as he knocks on the door.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice sounds even better in person. “What are you doing here?”

“You didn’t reply to my texts”, he says like it’s just that simple. In his eyes, it is.

It seems like it might be just that simple to Derek too because he grabs him and pulls him close. Before Stiles can protest about being manhandled, Derek’s lips are against his and the words die on his tongue.



“Why didn’t you reply?” he asks a few hours later. He and Derek had eventually made it to the bedroom and it was everything Stiles had imagined and more. It was worth forgoing the conversation but Stiles couldn’t ignore the obvious for much longer.

“I panicked. Over text, it was easy. I could say whatever I wanted and not worry about the repercussions. The thought of it becoming something more was terrifying, Stiles. You know my relationship history”.

“And you know that I’m not like any of them”.

Derek nods in agreement. “You’re not like them. You’re more than them. You already mean more. I wanted to be in a better place before giving this a chance”.

“That’s why you’re in therapy?”

“Yeah. I’ve been considering it for a long time but that night when you yelled at me for leaving without goodbye was the final push I needed”, Derek explains. “I’m still not completely there. There are still things we need to talk about and things that will require a lot more therapy but I’m in a place to give this a chance, if you still want to”.

“If I hadn’t have shown up on your doorstep, what would have happened?”

Wordlessly, Derek passed Stiles his phone. The draft messages are illuminated on the screen and Stiles scrolls through them. There’s countless messages, dating back at least two weeks, and they’re all different versions of an apology; of an explanation. Even if Stiles hadn’t shown up on his doorstep; Derek was trying. Derek has proven himself time and time again; Stiles knows that he would eventually have sent a message explaining everything.

“I still love you and I’m all in”.



Stiles calls the university the next morning and defers his enrolment.

University can wait. Right now, he and Derek have a lot to work through, both individually and together. Stiles hopes that if things go well, he can transfer his studies to a university in the city. Based on the course catalogues he finds in Derek’s study, he thinks that they’re on the same page.




He has seven missed calls from Scott and twelve text messages, all urging him to come back to Beacon Hills.

There are three messages from Malia, stating that he needs to get his ass into gear and help them out.

There’s even a text from Lydia, saying that she wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t serious.

He looks over at Derek, who looks more relaxed and happy than he has in a long time. “Shit’s going down in Beacon Hills. They need me to save their asses”. He wants Derek to come with him but doesn’t want to ask; doesn’t want to be responsible for Derek’s shoulders growing tense as he heads back to the town that took everything from him. “I shouldn’t be gone for more than a week”, he says as he’s packing a duffel bag and throwing it into the back of Derek’s Camaro.  

“That’s what Laura said”.

There is no other explanation; nothing else that needs to be said. A second duffel bag is tossed into the back of the Camaro and Derek gets into the passenger seat like he belongs there.

Turns out he didn’t need to ask. Maybe Derek needs him just as much as he needs Derek. After all this time, it’s a nice thought. It helps keep the darkness at bay; helps Stiles feel just a little more grounded than he has done in a long time.




“You didn’t think you were doing this without me?”

“Without us?”

Yeah, it feels pretty damn good that they’re an ‘us’ now.

anonymous asked:

Ugh :( Just saw someone under a post you reblogged and one of their hashtags was something like "people who sympathize with theo are truly disgusting and tiring" like come on it's just a show... why be so upset about people liking a character you might not like?

Yeah, people can be rude. I mean, why would you feel like send hate under a post dedicated to a character? You don’t like him? Ignore the post. There’s not need to express your hateful opinion when no one asked.

Also, I noticed the comment: “probably gives a fuck now that he has nothing left and needs scott’s pack to survive”.

Let’s focus on this for a moment.

Theo could’ve run away and hide, try to save himself, but he didn’t. It would’ve been easier to do it if he hadn’t nothing left. Truth is, he does have something. And that’d be scott’s pack. He wants to be a part of the pack. He choose to stay. He choose to help, even if he could die trying. He knows it’s worth it. He knows what he has done, and wants redemption. He really does.

Originally posted by ludi-lin

Please, tell me why do you think he doesn’t care. No, seriously, tell me. Because only thing I can see is a boy who really wants to help and care, he just doesn’t know how to do it. Theo has never been taught how to love or care. He was manipulated since he was little. And now he wants to feel something. He wants to help people, he knows that it’s the right thing to do. He’s learning.

Originally posted by teenwolf--imagines

Give him a fucking break.

I Will Personally Put You In This Morgue! (Sherlock)

Request: Sherlock x reader. The reader has a prosthetic leg. Anderson calls her a freak 

Warning(s): prosthetic leg (obviously, if that even is a warning), slight language, insults 

Word Count: 1,589 (geez) 

Reader Gender: Female (if this was supposed to be male/nonbinary PLEASE TELL ME AND I WILL FIX IT) 

Authors Note: SO SO SO SORRY ON HOW LATE THIS IS! I’ve had a lot of schoolwork and I’ve been out, but here it is. It was also a little challenging to write so I hope I did it correctly. I hope you like this, anon. :) Personally I can’t stand Anderson so I love this. 

Another Authors Note: This takes place in “The Great Game” (s1e3) for reference. I tried to get it as close as possible, but I did have to change it up some for the request. :) 

“He’s not gay! Why do you have to spoil-he’s not!”

That’s what I hear as I step into the room. I see Molly standing at the end of a table. Sherlock is at the other end looking into a microscope, with John behind him. I had been outside of the building talking to Lestrade about the case, when John texted me, telling me to come in. Apparently, he had done that so that he would not be alone when this argument went down. Really, I had to walk all the way down here for this? 

“With that level of personal grooming?” Sherlock says, snorting. It comes off as a question, but I know he doesn’t mean it that way. He looks up from the microscope, and glances at me. His hand moves to gesture toward an empty chair, and I accept gratefully. I hope I’m not blushing too much at him helping me. 

“Because he puts a bit of product in his hair?” John asks, “I put product in my hair.” I giggle at how offended he looks. 

“You wash your hair,” Sherlock responds, “there’s a difference.” He turns to Molly. “No,no - tinted eyelashes; clear signs of taurine cream around the frown lines; those tired clubber’s eyes. Then there’s his underwear.” 

“His underwear?” Molly looks dumbfounded, raising her eyebrows as she speaks. I look at him too, wondering where he’s going with this. 

”Visible above the waistline – very visible; very particular brand,” He says, leaning toward the Petri dishes. He pulls out a slip of paper, then says: 

“That, plus the extremely suggestive fact that he just left his number under this dish her…and I’d say you’d better break it off now and save yourself the pain.” Damn. At least he’s thorough. Molly runs out of the room, and I turn to Sherlock. 

“Charming,” I say, rolling my eyes. Even though they’re blunt, I think it’s amazing how he is able to make his deductions. But, people get hurt sometimes. He looks over his shoulder at me. 

“Isn’t it kinder to save her the time?” He asks, and I shake my head. He shrugs and looks over to John. He points to the shoes, the actual case itself. 

“Off you go,” he says to John. The man looks surprised, but picks up the shoes to attempt to get as much information as possible. Sherlock gets up, walks over, and sits down next to me. 

“I still don’t quite understand how you manage to walk so well on that leg,” he says. His voice is slow, as if he’s trying not to offend me. Strange, I think, with others he wouldn’t care. I look over at him and shrug. 

“I’ve gotten used to it,” I say as I place my hand on the prosthetic. As I do, my mind goes back to the accident. Riding in the taxi, when another car runs into the side. My leg pinned, people trying to get me out, but I couldn’t. The pain, the excruciating pain all in my leg. When people finally got me out and got me to the hospital, only to be told I’d have to lose my leg. The grief that followed. 

A hand on my shoulder brings me back to reality. I look to see Sherlock looking at me. Maybe I’m imagining it, but I swear I saw concern all over his face. As I start to say something, the door opens. In walks Lestrade and the rest of the team, including the irritating Anderson. 

“Find anything?” Lestrade asks. He looks at John, but we all know the question is for any of us. Sherlock jumps up and walks to John. 

“Tell me what you’ve found, doctor,” Sherlock says. John starts rattling off different things to do with the shoes. I get up to go look at the Petri dish still under the microscope’s eye. As I walk over, I can feel eyes on me. People always look at me strangely, due to the way I walk, so it doesn’t faze me much. I sit down at the microscope and look into it, only for someone pull on my wrist. I look over, annoyed at being drawn away from the case, and see Anderson.

Stupid prick. I roll my eyes and pull my arm out of his grasp. When I head for the microscope, he pulls it away from me. Reaching to grab it, I step off of the stool. Thanks to my prosthetic, however, I lose my balance and have to grab onto the counter to stay upright. He smirks at me, then gets up in my face.

 “You’re pathetic, Y/N,” he sneers, “and a freak. You can’t do anything on your own. You think you’re smart but you’re as smart as a rock. Why don’t you do us a favor and hobble out of here, and let the professionals handle this?” I sit there, shocked into silence. The words cut through me like razors, and I fight back tears. 

Then, I hear a calm, but deadly voice. 

“John, take Y/N out please,” Sherlock says. “Everyone else out, except for Anderson.” I see Lestrade start to protest, but after seeing the look in his eyes, stays quiet. John walks over to me, and offers his arm. I accept, and he doesn’t complain when I put a lot of weight on him. He knows what Anderson said, and he understands that it hurt. Once we get out, I head to a bench. I sit down and put my face in my hands. Don’t cry, don’t cry. Then, I jump as I feel an arm around me. 

“Sorry,” John moves his arm. I shake my head. 

“It’s okay, just wasn’t expecting it,” I respond, “some comfort would be nice at the moment, actually.” He puts his arm back around me, and I lean in. Then, the yelling starts. 

“ANDERSON, YOU INCOMPETENT, UNINTELLIGENT, IMBECILE! YOU CALL HER PATHETIC, YET YOU PAY WOMEN TO SPEND TIME WITH YOU! ALSO, DON’T YOU DARE SAY SHE CAN’T DO ANYTHING ON HER OWN!” There’s a pause, and I hear a fist connect with a stomach repeatedly. “YOU CANNOT EVEN MAKE A SANDWICH WITHOUT HELP! AND YOU WANT TO QUESTION HER INTELLIGENCE? SHE HAS MORE INTELLIGENCE IN HALF A BRAIN CELL THAN YOU WILL EVER HAVE!” Another pause. Someone is probably getting punched again. “ANDERSON, YOU ARE THE MOST WORTHLESS SCUM ON THE PLANET, CALLING THIS ASTOUNDING GIRL A FREAK! IF YOU EVER TRY TO TEAR HER DOWN AGAIN, I WILL PERSONALLY PUT YOU IN THIS MORGUE!”

I stare in disbelief at John. His eyes are wide, and he stands up. I realize then that my face has gotten hot. I stand up, being careful this time as to not lose my footing. Lestrade comes over to me, and places a hand on my back to guide me to the door of the room. He leans down towards my ear. 

“Just so you know, this means Sherlock likes you,” he whispers. I look at him, not knowing what to say. He sighs, then whispers: “That means you should ask him to dinner, then.” 

I open my mouth but once again say nothing, being met with a smirk by John. He knew this entire time, I think. We walk back into the morgue to see Anderson on the floor, unconscious. There’s blood on his face, from being hit by Sherlock. I look over at where he is sitting. I see something different in his eyes, something I’ve never seen before. John goes to him and whispers something to Sherlock. After, he motions for everyone to leave. As I start to walk out, John puts his hand on my shoulder. 

“Not you,” he says, smiling softly. He leaves, and I turn back to Sherlock. He looks back at me, then at his hands. They’re covered in blood. I walk to a sink in the corner of the morgue, and wet a cloth. Sitting down next to him, I put the cloth over his knuckles and hold it. He looks at me. 

“Thank you, Y/N,” he says quietly. I smile a little. 

“No, thank you, Sherlock,” I reply, “for defending me. You didn’t have to.” 

“That pig deserved every bit of it,” he responds quickly. “Besides, you should never have to hear all of those lies.” I feel my face heat up again. 

“Lestrade said I should buy you dinner to thank you,” I proceed cautiously.

“That would be lovely,” he says. I look at him to say something else, then notice that I’m only a few inches away from his face. Sherlock sees it the same time I do, and I know he can tell what I’m thinking. Yet, I’m still surprised when he leans in. I close my eyes, and our lips meet. The kiss is light, as if he’s afraid he will scare me off. Yet, there’s so much there, the sense that he deeply cares for me, but in a different form than how he cares for John. 

When we pull away, we sit there for a moment. Then, Sherlock starts to smile, and I start to laugh a little. He takes the cloth and throws it across the room. Instead of an arm, he offers his hand to me. I take it, and we walk over Anderson and out of the room. As we step out of the building, all I can think is, I can’t believe I just kissed Sherlock in a morgue, and my leg didn’t get in the way.

the road trip ☼ stiles stilinski

request : hii! love your writing! could you write an imagine where Stiles and the reader are dating and they go on a road trip and just fluff. thanks <3

word count : 2.7K

author’s note : this deviates from the original request in the aspect that the reader and stiles are not yet together, but are getting there. thank you for requesting and for reading !! 

  “Stiles? Any reason why you’re half asleep in front of my locker right now?” Y/N peered down at her friend, whom, as stated previously, was slumped in front of her locker with his backpack curled in his arms and his lips parted in a way that told pretty much everyone he was on the verge of passing out. He jerked awake suddenly, a familiar spasm of flailing limbs that Y/N had seen on many occasions previous to this one. 

   He got to his feet, slinging his bag over his shoulder and greeting Y/N with an all encompassing hug that lifted her slightly off her feet because of how tight it was and made her heart do a little nervous flip because of who was doing the hugging. “Sorry, was waiting up for you ‘cause I have a question but then… well, you know the rest,” he gestured to where he had been sleeping just moments before with a little laugh and an awkward rubbing of the back of his neck. Y/N noted that boys do that quite often, from what she’s seen. 

  She touched a hand to the back of her own neck to see if it brought her the same sort of comfort that it seemed to bring every boy she had ever come into contact with, but she just felt odd, so she brought her hand back to her side.  

    “Oh,” Y/N smiled at him, she couldn’t help it, and turned to open her locker as he leaned against the row next to hers. “So, what was the question, buddy?” She prodded, thrusting her bag into Stiles’ hands without warning and instructing him to open it for her. She adjusted her hair in the mirror on the door before chucking it into her bag along with the books she hadn’t bothered to bring home already. She knew for a fact that Stiles had cleaned out his locker ages ago and only insisted on coming back to school every day for two purposes: he had nothing better to do, and he loved the vexed look that would cross Bobby Finstock’s face whenever the man glimpsed the lanky eighteen year old in the hallways. 

    The look on coach’s face was enough to send Stiles running down the hallway with a gleeful look on his face, screaming at the top of his lungs how much he loves Finstock until Lydia’s mother was called out of her office to stop the disturbance he was causing. 

   He had been paying more attention to the side of Y/N’s face than the words coming out of her mouth up until she slammed the locker shut, causing Stiles to flinch and jerk back. “Ouch, Y/N, cool it with the slamming, would ya?” 

   “You were gawking at me like an idiot,” she explained, not letting him justify himself before she continued on, “What was your question, again?” 

    Stiles, struggling to recover from his faux pas but failing due to the new color in his cheeks, placed Y/N’s bag on the ground and made sure it was secure before answering her. “Right, that…” He paused, not sure if he wanted to ask her the question anymore after what had just happened. If he couldn’t manage to keep his cool around her for a mere five minutes, how was he supposed to manage doing so for what was most likely going to be a trip that was a week long, possibly more depending on the amount of stops they made. She waited patiently as ever. Y/N had learned to be patient when it came to Stiles.  

    “Um, well, I was just wondering if you maybe, possibly, wanted to go on a little bit of what sort of is an adventure with me this summer?” Before Y/N could answer, Stiles was talking again. “Well, okay, it’s not really an adventure and it’s more of a thing where I don’t wanna go move into my dorm alone and I was wondering if you wanted to go with me on the drive and help me move in and stuff. It’s a two day drive with no stops but I figure you’ll probably wanna stop and whatnot and that’s fine as long as you’re with me on the trip and then I’ll pay for your plane ticket back I just really want someone to drive with me and also I need you to drive because I lost my license inside that stupid wild hunt train station….” 

   Y/N gaped at him for a second. She was slightly baffled that so many words had just come out of his mouth, though considering it was Stiles and she had known him since the age of eleven, she probably shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was. “You don’t want Scott to come?” She asked, lifting her bag from the ground and holding it securely in her arms. 

    Stiles, now afraid that she had no desire to accompany him on this road trip and feeling sufficiently embarrassed, said, “Oh, that’d be, you know, cool, but Scott’s staying in California and he still wants to stay for his mom and stuff and you were my first choice to come with me, anyway, but if you don’t want to that’s fine I’ll ask Lydia or something-” 

   “Oh my gosh, Stiles!” Y/N exclaimed with a shake of her head, grabbing his arm before he could run away. “I’ll do the road trip with you! God, calm down sometimes, will you?” 

   He scoffed. “Do you not know me at all, Y/N?” 


     “You can’t complain about the music I listen to.” Y/N told Stiles, stern. He rolled his eyes at her, stacking one box precariously on top of another. She had folded down the backseat of her mother’s car in order to make more room for Stiles’ stuff, since he was moving into his dorm as well. They had fit as much as they could in there for now; he would whatever else he needed when his dad came up before the first day of his classes. 

     “As the passenger of this car, I have a right to complain, Miss Y/N.” 

     “As the person driving your dumbass across the U.S. and then driving myself back, you have absolutely zero right to complain, Mieczyslaw.” Y/N laughed to herself as Stiles let out a loud groan, scowling at her from the passenger seat as she climbed into her car. 

    “Now, you-” he shook his head at her- “you’re terrible. Just terrible. I don’t know why I’m best friends with you. At all. I should be given a large present just for putting up with your bullshit.” 

    “Yeah, yeah, Stiles,” Y/N laughed, patting his knee as she started the car. “Just remember, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole.”

     “Stop trying to be Dean Winchester.” 

     “Bitch.” 

      “Jerk.”


       He stared at the empty place in front of her as they sat in the diner. Y/N was sipping on her water, confused as to why he was so fixated on the fact that she wasn’t hungry right now. 

       “You’ve gotta be hungry,” he finally said, glancing down at the generous heap of curly fries that were piling on his plate. He had ordered two plates for himself and combined them without realizing that Y/N hadn’t ordered a thing besides the glass of water she had managed to make last throughout the hour. “C’mon, order something.” She shook her head adamantly. 

      “No, no, I’m not hungry, I swear,” she insisted for the third time that hour. It was also because they had about twenty dollars to their name at this point, and they were only halfway to D.C. and needed the credit card to pay for a motel on the nights where they couldn’t bear to sleep in the stuffy car or outside.

      “You’re too stubborn,” he sighed. Stiles took another look at his fries, called the waitress over, and asked for another plate. He shoved more than half of his fries off his plate and onto hers, pushing it toward her. “Eat, okay? For me?” He gave her a tiny smile as he bit into one of his own fries, and Y/N felt her stomach squeeze when that soft grin was sent her way. 


     She was snoring and Stiles couldn’t find it in him to care. He just didn’t. Nothing she did ever bothered him, or could ever bother him. They were in the car, the air conditioner blasting as high as it could go. They were parked somewhere in some state that Stiles couldn’t remember the name of because he was so damn sleep deprived he wasn’t thinking straight. He figured her snoring was what was keeping him up, but waking her up was something he’d rather not do. Mostly because he never seen someone with a look of such serenity on their face whilst they were sleeping; her window was wide open, a pillow was propped on it so she could rest comfortably, and she was doing just that. She looked incredibly peaceful and calm and happy and Stiles loved this look on her. 

    Well, he had grown to love every look on her, but that was a whole different conversation. 

     He reached behind his seat and grabbed a blanket, placing it over her but still careful not to wake her up. Just in case she was cold. Stiles turned away and slumped against his seat, closing his eyes. He was just being a good friend. It didn’t mean anything, right?


    Y/N wakes up first that morning, her eyes peeling open and staring almost directly into the soft rays of the just rising sun. She feels the warmth on her face, the sky a pink so lovely when she looks at it, it could rival the way she feels when Stiles Stilinski looks into her eyes as if maybe he’s in love with her, too. She had felt his hand reaching for hers in the middle of the night, when she was somewhere in between awake and asleep, and had grasped it in hers as tightly as she could. It was a moment she had wanted to keep locked away in her mind forever. 

    “Y/N? You up?” Stiles called out, his voice still raspy with sleep. He released her hand from his as soon as he had woken up, reluctantly so. She hummed in response, glancing over at Stiles as he struggled to sit up. He had twisted himself into an odd sort of pretzel shape in the middle of the night in an effort to get comfortable. He groaned as his back cracked. “Jesus, that was the most uncomfortable I’ve ever been, ever.” 

    “Don’t be a baby,” Y/N said teasingly, sending him a smile. He squeezed his eyes shut, then opened them again. It was too early for such a lovely sight, he thought to himself, rubbing his eyes. Stiles playfully punched her arm in response, not knowing what else to do. “No, but seriously, should we get a motel next time we’re too tired to keep driving?” 

    “Yeah, why not? We haven’t used the credit card yet, we should splurge,” he joked, knowing a motel was not a luxury in the slightest. It was still better than their current situation, though. “I’m cheap, though, so we might have to spring for a single bedroom only. Like, you know, with only one bed.” 

    “I know, Stiles,” she replied, seemingly unfazed. 

    “So… you’re cool with that?” 

    Her heart hammering in her chest, she said, “Why wouldn’t I be?” He shrugged in response, secretly just a little giddy. 


    Stiles worriedly peered out the car window, waiting for Y/N to return from the little convenient store next to the gas station. She had told him she needed to grab a few things from the store but they were down to their last five bucks and they had a good two days to go. And Y/N was pretty much always hungry. Suddenly, the door to the shop flew open and Y/N came running out with multiple bags of snacks in her hands and a mischievous grin on her face. Stiles quickly opened the car door and she threw herself inside, shoving the snacks between them and screaming, “GO, GO, GO!” Alarmed, Stiles fumbled with the keys and was screeching out of the parking lot before they knew it. 

    “Did you just fucking steal those?” 

     “We had two bucks left, Stiles!” 

     Laughing hysterically despite the fact that Y/N could have just became a known fugitive across this town, Stiles beamed at her as he drove. He wasn’t technically supposed to be driving, but he wasn’t thinking about that in this moment. All he could think of was- “God, I love you,” he said, louder than necessary and with more force than he ever thought possible. He said it so loud that the words prevailed over the thump of the music pounding through the car speakers, and he knew once the words slipped past his lips he could never take them back. And maybe he didn’t want to. 


   They were in his dorm room now. She was sitting on his roommate’s bed, the roommate that had yet to arrive, and folding Stiles’ jeans neatly because Stiles was hopeless when it came to neatly putting his clothes away. Stiles was putting his books on the small shelf he had been granted that was next to his new desk, where he had set up his computer already. He had a framed picture of him, Scott, and Y/N on his bedside table. It was almost perfect. He looked over at Y/N, putting the last book on the shelf and taking a deep breath. He sat on his own bed, patting the seat next to him. 

    “You okay, Stiles?”  She placed a hand on his shoulder.

     “Yeah, no, I’m totally fine,” he said, his voice squeaking slightly. His hands were clammy and his lips now felt oddly dry and cracked. He licked them nervously. “I just need to tell you something really, really important.” 

      “Go for it.” Her smile was encouraging, and so he did. 

     He sighed again, struggling to find the right words to tell this girl how he felt, how he had always felt, how he’d been feeling this past week and the way he knew he’d feel for the rest of his life. “Love is… love is stumbling through life with your best friend, you know? It’s this beautiful, wonderful thing. And I think that… that when you think that you’ve found love, then you’ve gotta go for it, right? Well, this is me going for it. You’re my best friend, all right? And you’re my person. The person I wanna spend my life with, as messy and shitty and complicated as it may be. I wanna stumble through life with you, okay? So, I’m just hoping that maybe you’ll wanna stumble through life with me, too.” 

      She didn’t need to think twice before reaching for his face and kissing him, her Stiles, the idiot she loved so much it made her brain hurt sometimes. He was hers, too. And if there was one person she was going to live a messy and wild and unpredictable and great life with, it was going to be him. Stiles pulled away first, bumping his nose against hers playfully. 

    “I don’t want you to leave now,” he frowned, his face still in close proximity to hers as he brushed her hair out of her face. “Wanna transfer schools?” His eyes lit up when he had this idea, but in his heart he knew that going to NYU had been a dream of hers for awhile and he would never ask her to seriously give such a thing up.

    “I’m a three hour drive from you, Stiles, I’ll come to see you all the time. Or you can come to me and I’ll show you around the city,” Y/N kissed him again. “I’m not letting you go now that I’ve got you.” 

     “Likewise, pretty girl,” he said with a stupidly dreamy smile on his face and a blush on his cheeks that wouldn’t leave so long as he had her, and it only took a ridiculously long overdue road trip to bring them together. 

eyeslacedwithsmoke  asked:

Thiam headcanon where Liam (or Theo your choice) won't shut up and everyone is getting hella annoyed at the rant (even though he's making a valid point) and before anyone says anything Theo (or Liam ) just straight up kisses him to shut him up. And not like a peck like a FULL BLOWN KISS. And shocks everyone into silence. What happens after is your choose I just really wanna see this

OOH WHAT A PROMPT!! thank you SO MUCH!! as always i am totally ready for new hc prompts. i love you all :D

  • when liam starts comparing supernatural things to historical events, stiles gets it. understanding and rationalizing the (pretty wacky) supernatural can lead a person to do some crazy things. human behavior, at least for the most part, is predictable and rational.
  • and a lot of times, stiles appreciates it. liam, for all he comes across as anger anger go go rawr, is one of the more well-read military history buffs stiles knows and when he picks liam’s brain, the connections liam makes are, frankly, inspiring. it’s saved their asses on occasion, when everything they’ve come up with isn’t viable for one reason or another
  • unfortunately, it’s the opposite of helpful when it comes to a plan already in motion. 
  • a group of sidhe (which stiles quickly finds out are lydia’s supernatural cousins, which is amusing for about two seconds–or until lydia starts glaring at him for teasing her) has come to beacon hills and they’re starting to kidnap young girls and women as brides, which obviously has to stop
  • but the sidhe never do anything for free: even their information has a price. they’re old-fashioned that way. besides, they’re only ever bound to their word; otherwise, they can and will do anything to convince you to stay, and they’re the absolute masters of half-truths, which makes them dangerous to bargain with.

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anonymous asked:

what was the moment that made you start shipping thiam?

“we just spent three hours watching this dude play video games in his bedroom”

“soap. it’s nice. it smells good”

“why do i get the feeling this kid is tougher than he looks?”


— teen wolf, 502