The morning after Sarah Williams defeats the Goblin King, she gets up and makes toast. She has to brush some glitter off the toaster—it withers and vanishes at the brush of her fingertips, and she stares at her hand for a long time.
It mostly just looks like her hand. Even when she turns it over, and sees where she scraped her knuckles against the oubliette, where the shattered mirror cut the back of her wrist. It looks like she fell, or was playing in the street. That’s all.
The toast comes out burned, and Sarah stares at that too. Eventually, she slumps down against the cabinets and cries, wracking sobs that send her dad and Karen rushing into kitchen. They check her forehead for a fever, put their hands on her, and keep asking, “Are you okay? Sarah, please, tell us what’s wrong…”
Eventually, her dad drags her into his lap and cradles her against his chest, like he did when she was little. Her legs are too long to really fit anymore, but Sarah hugs him around the neck anyway. “It’ll be okay,” he says, keeps saying. “You’ll be okay.” And Sarah—doesn’t laugh, because she can’t, and doesn’t have the words to express what—how—
(None of her stories ever talked about this. What did Sir George do, the morning after he slayed the last dragon in England? Did Tam Lin eat breakfast, or did he sit there, shivering, wondering if his hands were different, having been claws and wings and scales?)
Afterwards, she leaves the burnt toast outside on the back porch. Not an offering. Maybe a reminder.
It’s Didymus she sees the most often, mostly because he’s the one who invites himself rather than waiting for an invitation. He comes for tea, but even if there’s no tea—which there isn’t, usually—he comes to tell Sarah stories. She learns to love poetry because there’s no escaping it with him. (She won’t read Idylls of the King until Brit Lit in college, but she ends up scrawling a lot in the margins; Didymus’ telling of events had been much more interesting.)
Once, she falls asleep like that, her hands tucked behind her head with Didymus curled up and sleepily reciting from the crook of her elbow. “So tender was her voice, so fair her face—though I don’t think he was looking at her face, my lady, pardon me for saying so—”
Sarah buries her nose in his fur. Didymus always smells of rosewater, and a crispness she thinks is just…the Labyrinth. She falls asleep trying to place it.
She wakes up with a wild fox in her bed, animal-black eyes frightened and flat, teeth bared. The fox is whining, and she’s tempted to throw herself across the room, to get away from this wild thing and its teeth. It takes a monumental will to keep herself still and her breathing slow, even; like she’s still asleep and unafraid.
It takes her longer to swallow, and start humming one of the songs he taught her—a knight’s round, he’d said. She’s shaky at first, but the fox’s ears flick forward. It cocks its head, and slowly, the teeth disappear behind its lips.
She almost laughs when noses at her throat curiously, butting its head against her jaw like a cat might.
Give me Dean, muggleborn that he is, imitating Steve Irwin in Care of Magical Creatures class, much to everyone's confusion except for Harry and Hermione who are. On the ground. Unable to breathe. And refusing to explain why.
Give me Harry, demisexual that he is, realizing that the reason he can't stop obsessing over Draco is because Draco is the one who saw - and subsequently disliked - 'Harry', and not The Boy Who Lived. Realizing that Draco was the only one to first talk to him for HIM, in that robe shop, and not his parents or fame (because even Ron and Hermione did that at first). And thus, leading to him randomly starting crying in the middle of lunch and claiming he's doomed, much to everyone's fear.
Give me Seamus, pyro that he is, super happy one Christmas when Hermione buys him a book on fire caution, flammable materials, and elements such as magnesium. Thus afterward, the mysterious fires that have always happened are far more safe and controlled.
Give me Luna, wonderful airhead that she is, being stared at as, calm as anything, she waltzes right into the Slytherin common room and starts talking to the mermaids like its absolutely normal. A first year drops a book he's staring so hard, because HOW DID SHE KNOW THE PASSWORD. Draco just sighs, gets up, goes over to her, and offers her tea.
Give me Draco. Who looks on as Neville offers Harry rhubarb pie that he made himself, as Harry stares forlornly at his Treacle Tart, and makes and annoyed sound. "Dammit Longbottom he hates bittersweets." The Slytherins stare and Pansy just mutters "How do you even know these things. Merlin, help him realize."
Give me Parvati, who is being constantly mistaken for her sister by Ron, who panics and screams "IM A LESBIAN" when it gets to be too much.
Give me Ron, who stares wide-eyes from a distance whenever he sees Padma from that moment on for a full week, until Padma flips out too and hexes him. Parvati awkwardly wonders why Ron starts getting scared whenever she tries to approach from then on, since she knows Ron doesn't have problems due to that sort of thing from how he handles Harry.
Give me the thirty or so of the school's Muggle-raised, who made the mistake of showing their folks howlers, and react accordingly whenever one of the families sends one that is just a recording of Rick Astley, or High School Musical, or spoilers for Doctor Who. And the Wizard-raised just... staring... in fear... watching their savior and multiple other students as they run around screaming and crying in an absolute panic for some reason even though it was a different student that got the weird howler.
Give me Harry, whose hair surprises people by being dark red like his mother's when in direct sunlight. And usually at the Weasley den they're inside, but one day Harry joins them outside for a picnic, and Molly is so confused about where Harry went to then has do do a mental tally of her children.
Give me George, who in the midst of the final battle, hit Lucius with an Anaticula curse, so that every spell he tries makes a duck instead. And the Death Eaters are just so confused. "Lucius... is that a duck?"
Give me the Gryffindor common room. The new first years suggest Monopoly for game night. The entire room goes dead silent. One first year tries to ask what they did wrong. "Never mention that game again," is the only response they get. "But why-" "NEVER TALK ABOUT SIXTH YEAR. WE NEVER TALK ABOUT SIXTH YEAR." Their brave upperclassman Neville yells, trembling. Hermione starts crying. Harry goes into a panic attack. Ron whispers, "There are many reasons we don't talk about sixth year. If The Incident had been the only thing that happened, we would only not talk about The Incident. Many things happened that year. Thus, we do not speak of that year, or of that game."
Give me McGonagall, who struggles to control the cat population, because while students are told to have their cats fixed you know not all 100 students that brought cats did so. Her curling up around a litter that lost their mother to illness. Training them to stalk the corridors. Albus had his ways of getting information, and hers is the spy network of cats.
Give me muggleborns singing everything from Phantom of the Opera to Katy Perry in the corridors. Singing We Will Rock You to a pureblood who disses them for it. The purebloods thinking the weird songs and their tunes are some kind of Rite of Passage and fleeing whenever a muggleborn student starts singing. Altering song lyrics. "I throw my ferret in the air some-times, singin EEEEEEEYO, this is DRAAAAAACO!"
Give me muggleborns that are really confused about the whole quill instead of pens things, throwing transfigured pokeballs in Care of Magical Creatures, the band students bringing kazoos and harmonicas and the wizrd-raised students that are just so confused as to how those things even work, because it must be some sort of air magic, right??
Give me muggleborns making entire conversations out of pop culture references specifically to confuse some Slytherin who just called one girl a Mudblood. "These are not the droids you were looking for." "I'm right on top of that now Rose, I promise." -jazz hands-
Give me muggleborns with Patronus that are things like Pikachu, velociraptors, the quiet Canadian transfer student with a moose patronus the size of a SMALL HOUSE, the one whose is a angeled-out Castiel, the one whose patronus is the democrat donkey and another the republican elephant and the two, previously best friends, become mortal enemies rivaling the fame of Harry and Draco.
Give me muggleborns hugging each other before break, promising to 'call' each other, trading weird codes, how they can't wait to go for 'sushi' or planning that trip together to 'disneyland' where they can go flying?? But no one's allowed magic?? Or flying?? And the wizard-raised think that somehow, shockingly,<i> these children totally new to our world have developed a way to cheat the system?? Muggleborns are badasses!!</i>
Give me muggleborns who are fully aware that the anti-tech wards were made when, like, radios barely even existed, much less cellphone towers and microprocessors, so while they can't turn them on inside the stone school walls there's this group that Harry joins constantly that just sit there in silence staring at these tiny things and sometimes randomly laughing hysterically, and every now and then standing and just running all the way across to the other side of the lake all at the same time with no signal whatsoever. The purebloods are <i>terrified</i> of this frequent happening.
Give me Harry, Hermione, Dean, and Justin from the D.A, muggleborns they are, doing a movie night every week to help the D.A. relax and bond. They re-start this after the battles, during eighth year, with several other people such as the returned Slytherins joining in. The entire year they play things like Tangled, The Breakfast Club, Brave, Lion King. But then the last four weeks, they announce they don't want to mislead everyone that everything is all fun and rainbows. The last four movies are My Sister's Keeper, The Shining, Marley and Me, and for the last week, a marathon of the entire Jurassic Park series.
Give me Hufflepuffs, who secretly are very relieved to be the 'normal' House. Jocks over there, know-it-alls over there, goth wannabees over there, now lets go camp out by the kitchens we're gonna need it to survive the next seven years like this.
Give me Ravenclaws who are so done with the riddles when they stumble back at midnight after having fallen asleep in the Library. "What's the truth?" "THE TRUTH IS THAT I WILL SET YOU ON FIRE IF YOU DON'T LET ME IN."
Give me the Trio, who use the Marauder's Map to find the most absolutely ridiculous routes to class, knowing every single one of the shortcuts. It's not odd for them to simply appear out of the ceiling. One day the new first years try to follow them, to learn the school better, but it doesn't go so well because then they try to go through a disappearing wall the Trio just did they instead run headfirst into it, and the next time they do behind a tapestry, down a waterside, around some sort of tower, causally past an entire doorless room full of bats, and somehow come out on the complete other side of the castle.
Give me Draco whose just completely had it with Harry's staring and confronts him, like they always do, and Harry just blurts out that he likes Draco's new haircut and can he touch his hair, and Draco so shocked he lets him. "Potter stop treating me like a cat I'm evil remember? Bloody hell have you gone daft?!" "But... it's soft..." "I hate you." But he just can't find any anger over this, so there's like no venom whatsoever in it and Harry can't stop giggling.
Give me Ginny, who can't stop giggling as Luna confuses the fuck out of an entire crowd with her way of speaking, and who during seventh year could 100% get away with insulting the Death Eaters because of the way she said things. Who after Luna used said tactic to get her out of a Crucio punishment just clung to Luna, shaking, and realizing that she loves Luna so much for this very reason. That there will never be another person like Luna in her life, ever.
Give me Harry, who was not really well educated while living at the Dursleys, who couldn't read very well but was wonderful at sneaking around, little tricks like hiding things, and loved music. He taught himself magic tricks, and MERLIN ALMIGHTY THIS 11 YEAR OLD KID HAS MASTERED VANISHING SPELLS, WHAT, HOW, and Percy, uptight prefect he is, just looses it.
Give me Ron walking in on Harry talking to some random snake in their dorm room, laughing like the snake said a particularly good joke, tipping his head and smiling as he responds, the python slowly curling up his arm to rest over his shoulder. Ron freezes, stares, and then slowly backs away, closes the door and stands there staring at it for a full half hour in absolute horror.
Give me the rest of the D.A. walking into the Room of Requirement and hearing screaming, Dean shrieking that he's going to murder someone, Hermione crying, Justin cursing like a sailor yelling for everyone to stop, and the rest panic and run around the corner and there the four Muggle-raised students are. With some sort of odd device in their hands. Playing Mario Kart.
Another wave on sickness rushed through Bendy as the last bit of his last meal was again rejected by his body now laying in the bucket before him which he was gripping for dear life. Tears where starting to collect them self’s at the edges on his eyes and the bitter sting left behind by the thick black liquid dripping down his chin made him want to throw up again but there was nothing to throw out anymore.
“come on Bendy big breaths” his brother said in a soft voice, gently petting his back to help him through the pulsing pain wreaking his body.
Bendy gripped the bucket a bit tighter feeling something all too familiar slowly crawl its way into his senses sticking his nerves with a fear of what’s about to come next
Boris pulled his hand back a little so it was hovering above Bendy’s back but not touching him.
A scream ripped itself from Bendy’s throat, a hot shot of crippling pain wreaking through his abandon as if his body was rejecting its own stomach. His arms shot out to his lower body gripping into his own skin so tight that if he wasn’t crippling under the pressure of his disease slowly destroying his body, he would have feared he tear open his skin.
Bendy was vaguely aware of the bucket tipping over and falling out of his lap, spilling the black stuff everywhere and leaving behind an gut wrenching sour smell.
“I’M GONNA DIE, I WANT TO DIE”
Boris quickly placed his hand back on Bendy’s lower back and let the other find its way to the others knee, little tear welled up in his eyes, not being able to bear looking at his brother in so much pain.
“n-no Bendy don’t say that be strong oke, you’ll be oke.. j-just hold on”
Another scream was forced out Bendy, still gripping into his stomach, the red hot pain ripping both his mind and will apart like it was a piece of paper.
“BROTHER I CAN’T IT’S TO MUCH I CAN’T PLEASE JUST LET IT END”
Bendy sobbed, it was too much to handle. The heat it was too much he was losing his damn mind, He couldn’t he just couldn’t.
A pair of arms wrapped themselves around Bendy’s shoulders, pulling him quickly but gently against Boris chest that was shacking from the sobs and hiccups going through him.
“please it’ll be oke brother just don’t lose hope please”
Boris held Bendy closer to himself like his was trying to squeeze away the illness that was wreaking his brother.
Bendy breathing picked up some more, swallowing big gulps of air like he never had taken a breath in his life. trying to shut it out the feeling of his nerves burning and screaming out in bloody murder. Trying to push through and passed the crippling hot pain and the feeling his lungs where getting skinned alive.
If not for himself he was trying for somebody who still needed him, the person he cared about most in the world, “for Boris” he told himself .
Slowly ever so slowly relaxed even if it was just a tiny bit, the pain died down enough for him to regular his breathing and lean against Boris, too exhausted to move.
Boris squeezed Bendy a little closer to him, tears now freely going down his face.
“it’ll always be oke, I know you’re strong enough Bendy”
A little smile showed itself on Bendy’s lips when Boris started wiggling his tail happily, glad that his brother was more or less oke now.
“I’m not strong” Bendy said with a weak voice that was still tuckered out from all that screaming. “you’re the only reason I keep fighting Boris” he said with a soft sigh, now relaxing fulling against the other, leaning his head against Boris chest.
you probaly get a fuck ton of these already but meh i thought you might like this one
(sorry i’m a shitty writer)
anyhow this is based on that little comic when bendy was pretty much dying but not quite
I AM SO OVERWHELMED BY THE FEELINGS IN MY HEART RIGHT NOW. MY TINY HEART IS TOO TINY FOR THIS NONSENSE LIKE WHAT IN THE FUCK
EMMA IS MAKING FUCKING PANCAKES
IN A ROBE AND WE ALL FUCKING KNOW WHAT HAPPENED THE NIGHT BEFORE WHILE KILLIAN WALKS UP BEHIND HER IN AN UNBUTTONED VEST WHICH LBR IS BASICALLY HIM BEING NAKED LIKE THE NUMBER OF LAYERS ON THIS MAN AT ALL TIMES IS ABSURD BUT LIKE
THIS IS TOO MUCH. I CANNOT LOOK DIRECTLY AT IT.
THIS IS LIKE THE FUCKING SUN. I AM BLINDED BY THE JOY AND THE HAPPINESS AND THE CONTENTMENT AND THE WAY HE’S GRINNING INTO HER SKIN AND THE WAY SHE BITES HER LIP. THIS IS AHHHHHHHHH MAKE IT STOP
AND SHE LIKE FUCKING POUNCES ON HIM AND HER HANDS DON’T FUCKING STOP MOVING AND HER LIPS ARE SO INSISTENT AND
SHE KEEPS FUCKING PULLING HIM CLOSER AND CLOSER AND WHAT T H E F U C KKKKK I CANNOT HANDLE THIS EVEN A LITTLE
ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT HOW WILD HER HAIR IS? SHE CLEARLY JUST WOKE UP AND CAME DOWN TO MAKE THEM BOTH PANCAKES BECAUSE THEY MUST BE STARVING AND HE GOT DRESSED HALF WAY AND CAME DOWN TO FIND HER WHEN HE SMELLED ALL THE NICE THINGS AND THEN HE SEES HER WITH HER HAIR ALL WILD AND HER FACE ALL FRESH AND GLOWY AND HAPPY AND WHO CAN BLAME HIM FOR WANTING TO KISS HER OK?
OK BUT WHAT KILLS ME THE DEADEST IS THAT SHE PULLS AWAY JUST SO SHE CAN LOOK AT HIM. CLEARLY SHE WANTS TO KEEP KISSING HIM BUT IN THAT MOMENT, SHE NEEDS SO SEE HIS FACE, TO SEE AGAIN HOW MUCH HE LOVES HER AND WHAT SHE HAS NOW AND I CANNOT LOOK AT HIS SMILE THIS IS TOO MUCH *SHIELDS EYES*
GUYS, GUYS, GUYS. I THINK SHE LOVES HIM.
AND I THINK HE LOVES HER.
SHE’S SO FUCKING HAPPY AND SHE LOOKS SO YOUNG HERE AND SO HAPPY AND IN LOVE AND SHE LOVES HIM SO MUCH OMG
HE CAN’T BELIEVE IT EITHER BECAUSE WHO WOULD HAVE FUCKING THOUGHT RIGHT?
AND THEN SHE’S LIKE FUCK WAIT MUST GET BACK TO THE KISSING. HE’S SO GOOD AT THE KISSING. MUST TOUCH SOFT LIPS AGAIN.
AND UGH IT STARTS SO SOFT BUT PICKS UP SO FUCKING QUICK LIKE WTF AND HE JUST RESPONDS WITHOUT MISSING A BEAT LIKE THIS IS TOO MUCH FOR ME BECAUSE THEY LOVE EACH OTHER AND WANT EACH OTHER SO MUCH, IT MAKES MY HEART MELT ALSO SEEING THAT RING ON HER FINGER IS HURTING MY EYES AGAIN.
THE HANDS, THE HANDSSSSSS
WILL NO ONE THINK OF THE POOR FANGIRLS?! WHY WOULD YOU KISS THIS WAY?! WITH THE FRANTIC PULLING EACH OTHER CLOSER AND THE HANDS THAT WON’T STOP TOUCHING. WHY WOULD YOU HURT ME THIS WAY YOU ASSHOLES?!
I CAN’T TAKE IT BECAUSE THEY’RE SMILING THE ASSHOLES DO THEY NOT KNOW WHAT THIS IS DOING TO MY SMALL TINY HEART?!
TO HELL WITH THE PANCAKES. YASSS EMMA, YASSSSS.
AND SHE FUCKING PUSHES HIM INTO THE TABLE AND SHE’S PROBABLY BETWEEN HIS LEGS RIGHT NOW AND HIS HAND IS RUNNING UP AND DOWN HER BACK AND HIS HOOK IS HOLDING HER STEAD BECAUSE SHE CANNOT STOP MOVING HER HANDS
AND LIKE FUCKING SOMEONE HAS TO KEEP THEM FROM FALLING ONTO THE TABLE BUT BY THE LOOKS OF IT, EMMA TOTALLY WANTS KILLIAN TO FALL ONTO HIS BACK RIGHT THERE OK?! LIKE NOPE LET’S JUST DO THE DO RIGHT HERE. SMOOSHING BOOTIES ON THE DINING TABLE.
AND LOL THE SHOCK! THEY’RE SO DAZED THIS IS HILARIOUS
AND KILLIAN SAYING LIKE OH YOUR MOTHER HAS A KEY. THAT’S GOOD INFORMATION. YES OK. TRY TO CALM DOWN NOW.
THE SHOCK AND THE WIDE EYES LOLOLOL
BUT OK I FUCKING LOVE HOW EMMA JUST LOOKS AMUSED PRETTY MUCH THROUGH THIS WHOLE EXCHANGE BECAUSE THOUGH SHE REALLY, REALLY WANTS TO DO THE DO WITH HER FIANCE IN THEIR HOUSE (WHAT THE FUCK HOW DID WE GET HERE FROM CLIMBING A BEANSTALK TOGETHER ONE TIME FUCK FUCK FUCKKKK)
SHE NEVER THOUGHT SHE’S HAVE THIS EITHER? HER MOTHER ACCIDENTALLY WALKING IN ON THEM AND LIKE IT’S LIKE EMBARRASSING OR WHATEVER BUT SHE’S JUST SO FUCKING HAPPY TO HAVE ALL THIS IN HER LIFE NOW? THESE MOMENTS OF PEACE AND LOVE AND SILLINESS
AND LOL SHE’S LIKE NOOOO AND KILLIAN IS LIKE HAHAHA YES WE WERE ABOUT TO BANG YOUR MAJESTY. I HAVE A SERIOUS PROBLEM RN LOL ALSO I LOVE THAT THOUGH SNOW IS RIGHT THERE, EMMA STRAIGHT UP DOEAN’T MOVE FOR FUCKING AGES AND JUST KEEPS RUNNING HER HANDS OVER KILLIAN’S SHOULDERS, SOOTHING HIM AND TOUCHING HIM STILL AND KILLIAN’S HAND DOESN’T MOVE FROM HER WAIST EITHER
LIKE DESPITE THE DISCOMFORT, IT’S ALSO SUCH A COMFORTABLE MOMENT?! IT’S SO DOMESTIC AND ORDINARY AND EMMA IS STILL STROKING KILLIAN’S ARM HERE AND I AM IN SO MUCH PAIN *CRIES TEARS OF BLOOD* AND THEY ONLY FUCKING STAND WHEN SNOW IS LIKE UMM PANCAKES LOLOL
AND THIS ASSHOLE LOLOLOL HE IS SO UNAMUSED. I’VE LOST MY APPETITE. BRACING FUCKING SHOWER HE SAYS LOLOLOL
THIS CHEEK KISS, THE PANCAKES, THE KILLIAN’S HAND ON HER WAIST AGAIN. THE DOMESTICITY OF IT ALL
LOOK HOW HAPPY SHE IS. DO YOU SEE IT? DO YOU SEE THE JOY IN HER EYES?! SHE’S SO HAPPY GODDAMNIT
*THROWS ALL THE THINGS*
THIS IS TOO MUCH. I CANNOT HANDLE THIS. FUCKING FUCK FUCKKK
Peter stares, watching them all a little blankly. By his side, Tony has his head in his hands. He’s been groaning for the past twenty seconds.
“So… you went on a ten-year murder spree where you joined a terror organisation of your own free will in order to kill Tony, who wasn’t even responsible for the death of your parents in the first place- and then decide that just Tony isn’t murderous enough for you, and go for the rest of his team for some reason, too?”
Across the room, Wanda bristles. “It wasn’t like-”
“And then your team leader let you on the team you were trying to murder? Almost immediately after the one single fight you helped them with?” Gamora interrupts. Her eyes are cold and dangerous.
Steve opens his mouth to defend himself, but Drax cuts in. “And you,” he gestures harshly at clint, “you were willing to abandon your family and get yourself arrested, just so you could involve yourself in a matter that did not concern you anyway?”
“You think I wanted to be arrested? That was all Tony-” Clint begins, but Drax roars, and Clint rears back, eyes wide and hand reaching for the bow at his hip.
“TONY STARK DID NOT FORCE YOU TO BREAK YOUR LAWS! I WAS PUT IN JAIL BECAUSE I FOUGHT FOR MY FAMILY, NOT-”
“Drax, stay calm. These people are breakable,” Gamora warns, although she is staring at them all as if she wants nothing better than to let Drax get himself worked up over them.
“You know, Tony has only been giving you his view on everything that happened,” Steve counters. He’s looking at Tony like… like he’s disappointed in him, and that’s enough to get Rocket yelling angrily.
“Oh, so you sayin’ you didn’t tear the team he invested his time, his love, his effort into, apart- all so you could save a guy that Tony had offered to rehabilitate in the first place anyway? Or what about the fact you didn’t tell him that your best bud murdered his parents? That a lie too?” He snarls, and on his shoulder, Groot’s arms are slowly growing, pricklier and heavier- he can feel the weight on his shoulders.
“I think everyone needs to calm down, here-” Sam begins, but Gamora silences him, knuckles cracking as she steps forward.
Sam, wisely, takes a step back.
“You do not get to talk- not when you chose to put your trust in a man you met for three seconds, whilst he was breaking into Tony’s compound, over the actual Avenger and team-mate himself,” she hisses, hands thrown up into the air as she turns to face all of them now.
“You sicken me. I may fight and argue and be frustrated with my team- but at the end of the day, they are still my family. They are still the people I would trust without a second thought,” she shoots a glare at Sam, “who I would always tell the truth to, even if it hurts,” Steve looked at the floor, jaw set in a grim line, “and who I would never, ever ask to be on the same team as a woman who subdued them to their worst fears and tried to kill them. I would rather die.”
She spat on the floor, and then turned away. “I am going back to the ship. You may continue your discussions if you must, but I am finished. I will only kill one of them if this continues.”
“That would be a shame,” Drax says quietly, his voice low and threatening.
Tony, who spent the majority of the conversation absolutely silent, speaks up at that point. “Hey! Drax used sarcasm!”
No one laughs. He goes back to holding his head in his hand.
Peter just looks slightly sick. His hand is wrapped very, very tightly around Tony’s.
“You know that post of text that Tony showed us a few weeks ago? He called it a… a me-me? With the breadsticks and the asshole date?” Rocket pipes up after a few seconds of silence, gun still spinning ominously in his fingers. “I think it’s time for us to shove Tony in our spaceship and say we have to go, right now, immediately.”
Despite everything, Tony lets a huff of laughter escape at that. Peter- seeming to suddenly snap out of his horrified trance- nods his head approvingly, beginning to tug on Tony’s hand. “Yes. I agree. Wonderful though this diplomatic meeting of teams was, I’m afraid we have urgent business to attend to. We have to… show Tony… something awesome.”
“Yes. LOVE, AFFECTION AND VALIDATION!” Drax roars again, curling an arm around Tony’s shoulders and placing the most violent and angry kiss possible on top of his hair.
“Later, losers!” Rocket calls out, sticking his middle finger up behind him and then turning to punch Tony’s thigh gently before scarpering back to the ship.
Groot hops down from Rocket and then latches on to Tony’s forearm, clambering up his arm until he was resting on Tony’s shoulder instead. Tony glances over at him and grins happily. He’s always had a bit of a soft spot for Groot.
“hey,” he whispers, as the tiny tree alien quickly began to grow a few flowers, and then plucked them off his hand and tucked them into Tony’s hair. “I am Groot,” he whispers right back in reply.
Tony smiles, rolling his eyes. “Yeah yeah, I know. Don’t worry about them- I left them behind a long time ago.”
Steve hears that. He looks at tony for a long time, his eyes a little sad and regretful.
Tony just stares right back, and then raises his eyebrows and shrugs, adjusting the beginning of the flower-crown Groot was making for him.
“Call me the next time it gets too much for you guys to handle,” he calls out after them, as Peter and Drax both steer him hurriedly back toward the ship and away from his old team.
Groot giggles on his shoulder, and then places another flower behind his ear. “I am Groot!”
“I agree,” Tony says, just as Peter nods his own approval, gently bumping their shoulders together. “Let’s go and play Space-Tag.”
you turned your face to the side waiting for him to get angry, loving the rush of adrenaline that ran through your veins at the thrill of riling him up for the fun of it.’
A/N: the fluffiest thing i think i’ve ever written
The sunlight filtered into the room, stirring you from your sleep as you moved around vaguely aware that there was an arm over your chest, you wriggled trying to get a look at whose arm it was, brown hair splayed over his forehead and fast asleep, Jeongguk frowned slightly before turning his head a few times before settling. A few small snores left his mouth, his arms and legs were splayed on the bed and you tried to ease yourself out from under them, to no avail.
Summary: You spend your Friday evening at Bryce’s party with Zach as your “Date”, but things went wrong…
Warnings: Swearing, Sexual assault (very slightly), Angst, Drunk
A/N: Hiya, I’m finally back with an update! I was pretty busy those last weeks with watching 13 Reasons why & school, and now I’m finally back with an imagine; I hope you will enjoy my shitty writing skill. There are some mistakes since I wrote this in a rush. (gonna fix it soon)
Loud music was blasting through the speaker, filling the room with a deafening volume while people dancing body against body probably too drunk to realised that they are dancing with a person they hated once, I only could shake my head while seeing everybody drunk and having fun, even throwing a party after everything that happened in these last weeks.
Thought; spontaneously dragging Steve of Bucky into random makeout sessions throughout the day and then just leaving him out of breath as you continue in with your business” And a very pleasant thought it is.
Warning: Language, making out, and utter ridiculousness
A/N: I had more free time than I anticipated, so you’re getting this early. You have the snow storm to thank for this nonsense.
You walked down the hallway of the academic building slowly, the weight of the paper in your bag causing you to drag your feet. Each footstep bringing more and more uncertainty about the next chapter of your life. You noticed that the door to your professor’s office was locked, and a small sigh of relief escaped your lips.
You didn’t want to have to explain to him how all your interviews had turned to dead ends. You didn’t want to have to explain how you were still going to be stuck in this town. Stuck in the memories of the past year when all you wanted to do was move forward. There was nothing that you wanted more than leaving. If he could leave, so could you. But instead you had gotten hired at the coffee shop in which you first met him. Left to repeat the same memories over and over again.
And as you left the building for the last time, you didn’t feel any different. The emptiness that had filled your chest the day he left was still there. You held your phone up to your ear, the familiar number having been dialed like clockwork. “We are sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is no longer in service.” seared through your ears after the first dial tone.
You kicked at a rock while waiting to cross the street. There was no reason for you to continue to call that number. But there was still a large part of you that hoped he would come back. That when you called his voice would saying hello on the other end. But no one had heard from him. Not you. Not the boys. It was like he had erased himself from your universe.
Taehyung crept into your mind during your most vulnerable moments. Like when the sun hit your skin in the middle of the afternoon, reminding you of the hours you would spend sitting next to him in the front seat of his car. Driving the two of you around while blasting old music and singing along so out of tune that everyone else would stare at you from their cars.
You missed him when you couldn’t get a jar open, not because he was strong enough to open them. But because you would hunch over in fits of laughter as you watched him turn red in the face while trying to open it. He wasn’t much of a muscle pig, but you thought his effort was the cutest.
He was in the worn out t-shirt hidden in the back of your closet. A piece of clothing you didn’t know you had until your nose caught the smell of his cologne the first time Mina came over to your apartment to do your laundry since you hadn’t left your bed in weeks. You had her put it down, worried that if she held it for too long you would forget what he smelled like when he held you.
A/N: I’m in Norway so this is a planned post. p>
Word count: 2,239
My back was resting against
the soft, white pillow. I pulled the covers higher, covering my entire body. I
felt cold, but it had nothing to do with the temperature in the bedroom, it was
all about the enormous fight Shawn and I had earlier. Fighting with him always
made me feel so cold, so tired and completely drained from any sort of energy. I
was reading a book or at least trying to, but I hardly managed to read a single
Honestly, I just needed
something to distract me from the fact that Shawn had left the apartment in
anger and I hadn’t heard from him since.
“Oh my god, I frickin love this one!” Zoe said excitedly as Harry Potter and the goblet of fire began to play on the TV.
You and your boyfriend Joe were staying with Zoe and Alfie for a few nights at their house. It had been a while since you had seen them so it was quite nice to catch up and spend some time with them.
However, Alfie was out late with Sean and Dave as they were working on a van, turning it into a campervan or something. So you and Zoe had decided to have a girly night and watch some films, of course you both had popped out to M&S beforehand to get some snacks. Joe left you both to it as he had some editing to do, so Zoe had run him a bath and he was upstairs editing in the spare room – where you and Joe were staying.
“I always found this one really scary though.” You said to Zoe, pulling the blanket closer to your body.
“Yeah, if you think about it these films are actually quite scary.” Zoe pointed out.
“I mean… If I get scared watching them then I can imagine lots of other people do.”
Time went by as you and Zoe watched the film. Nala was asleep next to Zoe on the sofa and Alfie still wasn’t back yet. You checked the time.
“How is it half 11 already?” You said, not quite believing how fast the time has gone.
When there was no reply, you looked over at Zoe to find her fast asleep on the sofa. Typical.
You watched about 15 minutes more of the Harry Potter film before your phone buzzed. It was Joe.
‘What you doing? X’
You didn’t reply, the film was almost over so you would go up and see him soon. About 2 minutes later your phone buzzed again.
Joe hardly ever put kisses in texts unless he was missing you or in a loving mood.
‘Come to bed x’
This made you smile. You were feeling quite tired and would love nothing more right now than to go and see your boyfriend. The film was almost over so you decided to head up. You thought about waking Zoe, but decided against it as she’d probably wake up soon or Alfie will wake her when he gets home.
You folded the blanket you were using and placed it on the edge of the sofa. You silently walked out of the living and through the kitchen. You got up the first flight of stairs and opened the door to the spare room, revealing a half naked Joe in his boxers laying beside his laptop on the bed.
“Finally!” He smiled up at you, placing his laptop on the floor and stretching his arms out to you.
“How’s editing going?” You asked, shutting the door and moving over to him.
“Fine, but I missed you.” He pouted and pulled you by your wrists so you got onto the bed next to him.
“Aw babe. I missed you.” You replied, even though you were only apart for 2 hours or so and you were just downstairs.
He wrapped his arms around your shoulders and pulled you into his body, you wrapped your arms around his exposed waist.
“Joe!” You laughed when you felt something hard poke into your leg.
“I know, I really need you right now.” He told you truthfully.
“Well we’re in your sisters house so I don’t think so babe.” You laughed, getting up off the bed and into the en suite bathroom to brush your teeth.
“Fuck sake.” You heard Joe sigh as you walked away from him.
However, when you were almost done brushing your teeth you heard a light moan. Was he really doing this right now?
“Y/N.” You heard your boyfriend moan out. Even though you had just told him you wouldn’t do this with him here, you couldn’t help but feel very aroused at the thought of Joe touching himself to the thought of you.
You walked back into the bedroom and switched off the bathroom light. Joe was sat up, leaning against the head board with a hand wrapped around himself. His boxers were now on the floor. Even though this was the last situation that you would like to be in, you couldn’t deny that the sight in front of you made you weak at the knees. Joe’s eyes were drooping from the pleasure he was giving himself. His eyes never left you as he pumped his length at a steady pace.
“Please.” He whimpered.
That was all it took for you slip off your pyjamas and leave them on the floor at the end of the bed. Joe watched you the whole time you were getting undressed, and when you were finally fully naked, he picked up the pace of his hand movements.
“Can you honestly not wait?” You laughed, climbing onto the bed once again.
“I’m so fucking horny.” He groaned, finally moving from his position so that he could lean forward and press his lips against yours.
Lips still attached, Joe flipped you around so now your back was against the mattress and he was hovering over your exposed body.
Your hands went to Joe’s chest, feeling up and down his toned stomach. This was one of your favourite things about Joe – his abs were so defined and you loved it. One of his hands went next to your head to hold himself up, and the other went to the head board of the bed.
You broke the kiss and stared up at Joe with a smirk. He sent you a confused look.
“What?” He asked.
“I just really love you.”
“Well, Y/N, I love you so much more,” He smiled, kissing you again. “But we’ve got to be quiet.”
Without warning, Joe pushed himself into you. You had to hold yourself back from letting out a moan. You were so used to having sex with Joe at home and making as much nose as you wanted, when you had sex somewhere like this you always struggled to keep quiet.
It’s because Joe knew exactly how to make you feel good. Considering you’ve been together for around 2 years now, Joe knew your body. He loved to make you shake so hard when you cum and to scream out his name. Sex with him was always and intense and you loved it.
He rocked in and out of you, each thrust getting harder. The feeling of Joe’s bare skin on your own was such an intimate feeling which is why you were on the pill. It was such a nice feeling to have Joe completely inside you without a condom, it made the pleasure even more enjoyable and it made you feel closer to him.
“Babyyyy…” Joe moaned into your shoulder before nipping at the bare skin.
You took Joe’s hand that was holding onto on the head board and laced your fingers together. He gave your hand a squeezed and let out a gentle moan, trying his hardest not to make too much noise. Joe’s moans were the most angelic thing you’ve ever heard and you would do anything right now to hear his moans and groans echo throughout the room.
Suddenly, there was a knock at the door, making Joe stop his actions immediately. When the handle went down, he pulled out of you as quickly as he could and pulled the covers over you both, making it look casual. Thankfully, he was quick enough.
“Y/N?” Zoe opened up the door as she rubbed her tired eyes. “I can’t believe I fell asleep on the sofa!”
“I know! I mean… can’t say I was surprised!” You laughed.
You could hear Joe panting next to you, trying to catch his breath. His cheeks were red but Zoe didn’t suspect anything.
“We’ll have to have another girly night again soon, and I promise I won’t fall asleep.”
“Ok, Zoe, I’ll believe it when I see it.” You laughed.
“I won’t!” She defended.
“Is Alfie still not back?” You asked.
“No, I’m think I’m going to ring him in a minute though. What are they doing? Surely they can’t get much done in the dark.” As Zoe spoke, you felt Joe’s hand trail up your thigh.
You didn’t think anything of it until he kept on getting closer and closer to your centre.
“Yeah, he’ll probably be back soon though.” You said to Zoe.
Joe’s fingers went to your clit, gently rubbing his fingertips against the sensitive area. You sucked in a breath, feeling uncomfortable with the situation but also still very horny.
“How many days has he been doing it for?” Joe piped up. You squeezed the duvet in your hand as Joe slid his middle finger into you.
“This is the third, I think they’re planning on finishing it on Saturday.” Zoe told her brother and he nodded.
“It’s quite cool that they’re doing this though,” He replied, sliding his finger in and out of you as you bit your bottom lip, trying your absolute hardest to refrain from moaning.
“I think it’s amazing! I can’t wait to see what it looks like when they’ve finished it,” Zoe said. “Well, I’m going to bed now so night you two.”
“Night, Zo.” Joe said, using her nickname.
“G-goodnight.” You literally almost face palmed yourself as you stuttered over your words.
“You alright Y/N?” As Zoe asked this, Joe added another finger.
“I’m fine.” You quickly said as Joe finger fucked you.
“Ok,” Zoe sent you an odd look. “Night!”
“I fucking hate you, Sugg.” You said to Joe as soon as Zoe shut the door.
“You hate me?” He repeated. “Looks like you don’t want me to finish you off then.”
Joe’s fingers left you and you whined at the loss of contact.
“Shut up and fuck me.” You groaned.
“Of course, m’lady.” Joe chuckled, hovering over you and finishing you both off.
♡ Summary: It has been nearly a year since you started writing anonymous letters to Jungkook, giving him words of encouragement behind the thin mask of a paper. He never considered you as a possible suspect behind these letters, because you were nothing more than a best friend. And you couldn’t put all the blame on him either, after all, you were too afraid to confess in fear of tarnishing your precious friendship.
“Are you sure you can stay on the phone? You won’t fall
Yoongi being so far away was always like slow torture, and
you weren’t sure if your nightly phone calls made it better or worse. Tonight
he sounded extra lazy after a long day, but insisted on calling you anyhow.
“I’m sure; I just really wanted to hear your voice.”
Harry sat on the edge of his bed in Los Angeles, his head in his hands, as he tried to hold back the tears and will his breathing to stay even and calm. His phone lay beside him, the screen still lit up to show him his recent calls - the last of which had just turned his world upside down.
He eventually sits up, letting out a large sigh as his large ringed hands push through his short floppy hair, pushing it back from his forehead. His green eyes look across the room where on top of the chest of drawers sat a picture of the person he cared about most in the world. He stared at your smiling face, his own smiling face next to you and that’s when the tears came. He was going to lose you, he knew that he was.
Just then his phone began to ring beside him. He dreaded it was her, the person who had called a few minutes before him and broke the news but instead he saw your face appear on the screen and that, in that moment, may have been worse. He picks up the phone, staring down at your picture as the phone continues to ring.
He couldn’t do it, he couldn’t hear your voice, happy and still in love with him, when he now knew what he did. He couldn’t tell you over the phone. He had messed up, he knew that, and he had to say it to your face. After the phone finally stopped ringing he gave a sigh and pulled himself up and off the bed.
He had things he needed to do in LA, meetings to attend, interviews to be done but he couldn’t. He needed to get to you and tell you as soon as he could so he called Jeff. He couldn’t say it though, he couldn’t tell him exactly the situation, just that he had to go home - and now.
Once he landed in London the next day, his hands were shaking, his palms were sweaty and his breathing was shallow as he sat in the back of the car headed towards your house. He kept trying to play out and plan his words for this conversation. How would he go about it? Where could he possibly start? He had so many confessions to make and what he was most afraid of was the inevitable - losing you. He also knew he wouldn’t be able to handle that hurt, devastated, and heart-broken face that he was soon going to see before him.
The idea brought tears to his eyes. He rubbed the back of his hand against his eyes, grinding away the tears harshly. He hated himself, his entire body was full of regret, remorse, and dread knowing that he could never take this back.
“Hello?” Harry calls a few moments later as he enters your shared home. He knew you were home, it being your day off work and your car was parked out front but he heard nothing. “Love?” He calls out again.
“Harry?” He finally hears from the kitchen. He couldn’t will himself to move towards your voice. He wanted to run back out the door to never have to face this situation, he wanted to pretend everything was okay. But it just wasn’t. And never would be again. “Harry!” You gasp once you see your tall, tattooed and handsome boyfriend standing in the entryway of the living room.
“Hey.” He mutters, barely able to get his voice above a low gravel. He clears his throat and puts his bag down at his feet, sliding off his jacket. He was trying to delay this, anything to keep the truth from coming out.
“What are you doing home? Why haven’t you answered my calls in two days?” You were full of questions but then in that moment you didn’t care. You had missed Harry so much and if he was home - that was all that mattered. So, you cross the room and burrow yourself into his chest. You wrap your arms tight around his torso, taking in that familiar scent of his cologne while his arms wrap around your shoulders. He buries his face in your hair, his eyes closing as the tears began to slide down his cheeks. This was surely the last moment he would hold you in his arms and he wanted it to last as long as possible. “What’s going on?” You question, looking up at him. You gasp when you take in his tears. “Harry, what is it?” Your mind was racing. What possibly could have happened to cause him to act like this? You reach up, brushing your thumbs under his eyes along the tracks his tears were making.
“I messed up, love.” He finally says, his voice a quiet whisper as he stares down into your eyes. You frown, shaking your head a bit in confusion.
“What do yo-”
“I slept with someone.” The words were out before he could over think it. He watched the gears turn in your head as you processed this. As soon as he saw it click, you backed out of his arms, distancing yourself from him just as he knew that you would. “Please, love, i’ was while we were going through tha’ rough patch a few weeks ago. I was angry, you were angry, I didn’ know where we stood-”
“So you fucked someone else and never told me?!” You interrupt as your blood began to boil. “You came back here acting like it was all okay?! As if nothing ever happened!” You also felt your heart break, a dull ache began in the center of your chest. Harry was the love of your life, the man you were going to spend forever with and yet .. he had hurt you in the way he always vowed he never would.
“I jus’…” He scratches at the back of his neck, shaking his head a little as he gave a sigh. He looks at the floor, anywhere but at the hurt and angry face before him. He also noted the fact that your eyes, those gorgeous eyes of yours that he loved so much, had begun to well up with tears. “I don’ know how to make up for this bu’ tha’ isn’t all.” He knew he had to say it, he had to get everything out so just maybe, maybe, the two of you could start trying to work it out.
“What else is there?” You cross your arms over your chest as the tears slide down your cheeks. What else could there be? Had he slept with her again? Was he leaving you for her? Your mind was racing and you weren’t sure you would be able to handle anymore of this. Harry was your life and even with him standing in front of you still you felt it might not be for too much longer and you already felt lost.
“She called me yesterday mornin’,” He began, his eyes peaking at you through his lashes as he kept his head slightly down.
“Okay?” You urged but felt that sense of dread begin to creep up in your head as you surely knew what was coming next. Why would you contact the man you slept with weeks before? There was really only two reasons - wanting to get together again or being pregnant. Your blood ran cold at the latter possibility. It couldn’t be that, it just couldn’t.
“She’s… she’s pregnan’.” The words pained him to say out loud. He hadn’t spoken it since he heard her mumble it through her sobs on the other end of the phone the morning before. He saw your face crumble then. Your eyebrows furrowed together, your eyes swimming with tears, and he saw your breath hitch in your throat.
“You got another girl pregnant.” It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t accusatory, it was just a statement as you took to trying to process this. Harry was going to be a father, and it wasn’t with you. This just couldn’t possibly be happening.
“I don’ know what I’m goin’ to do, bu’ what I wan’ first is to try and make things work with you. Please, love…” He trailed off when you shook your head vigorously, the tears now falling freely down your cheeks.
“You expect me to just forgive you for this?” You give another shake of your head. “Would you forgive me if I got pregnant by another man? If I cheated on you and got knocked up? Would you be willing to move past that?” Harry bit at his lower lip and stared at the carpet under your feet. He knew you were right, he would probably never be able to move past it if you had someone else’s child.
“You won’ even try? For us? We’ve been together for-”
“I don’t need you to remind me how long we’ve been together, Harry! I don’t need you telling me about the life we’ve started here together because I remember, I know!” You felt your anger begin to flare up. “It was you that seems to have forgotten the life we have together while you were busy fucking someone else!” He cringes at your choice of wording as well as your now raised voice but he knew he deserved it all. You were of course right, after all.
“Please,” He takes a step towards you, holding his large hands out towards you, his cheeks wet with his still falling tears. He felt a sob building in his chest as he felt this was it, knowing you would most likely never forgive him. “I made a mistake, I will pay for tha’ for the rest of my life but I need you.” His voice dropped off to a whisper. “Don’ give up on me.” It was then that the sob finally fell from his lips and he felt his knees give out.
“Harry,” You whisper as you watch the man you loved fall to his knees right there in front of you, his face pressing into his hands as large gasping sobs fell from his mouth. You feel a sob of your own and you take a step closer to Harry. You fall to your knees in front of him and bring a hand up to brush through his brown hair. He lifts his head up, his breath catching in his throat as his eyes meet yours. “I don’t think I can ever forgive you.” You watch his face crumble even more as he takes in your words.
“I’m so sorry.” He whispers and the sobs resume. He then falls into your chest, his cheek burrowing into your t-shirt and his arms wrap tightly around your waist. You support his weight, your arms going around his shoulders, your fingers brushing at the hair on the back of his neck. “I’ll never forgive myself either.” He whispers through his sobs.
You sat and held Harry, both of you crying and clinging to one another, knowing that this was it, for a good while until finally you pried him off of you and both of you stood up.
“I think it’s best if you left.” You whisper as the two of you stood awkwardly facing each other. Harry gives a small nod, closing his eyes for a second. His eyes burned, the tears drying his eyes out but he knew he would probably spend the entire night crying.
“Can I do somethin’, one las’ time?” You frown at him but he then takes a step closer to you and as his hand comes up to rest on your cheek you understood what he wanted. You don’t move as his face dips towards yours. You try not to return the pressure his lips press into yours but you couldn’t help it. As if by reflex you were kissing him back and bowing your body against his as your arms wrap around each other. It was as the kiss intensified and his tongue slid against yours that the reason this was to be your last kiss together reared back into your mind and you pulled away from him, breaking all contact together.
“I can’t. I can’t do this, Harry.” You mutter, seeing that hurt and aching look in his green eyes as his chest heaved. He had hoped there for a second as he held you close again, your lips melded together perfectly like they always had, that just maybe you could forgive him. “I can’t be with you, I’m just going to picture you with her every time and I just can’t.”
“I understand.” He gives a nod, hanging his head a bit. He pushes his fingers through his hair and looks back up at you. “I’m so sorry that I hur’ you.” He stares at you for a few seconds before backing towards the door. “I’ll always be jus’ a phone call away. I love you, with every piece of my soul.” You ignore the fresh tears sliding down your cheeks and simply give a nod. You look away from his heartbroken face and look anywhere but at him as he reaches for his bags and then a minute later was gone from the house.
You fall to your knees right there where you stood and begin to cry into your hands, feeling like a piece of your heart had just walked out that door with Harry.
Harry meanwhile had gone into the garage and got into his Range Rover but as soon as he was behind the wheel he rested his forehead against the steering while and let the sobs return. They were loud, chest heaving, sobs. Not only had he just lost the love of his life but he also now had to decide what he was going to do about his child on the way.
Hey Rachel got a question for ya. Do you think Stiles would feel inadequate compared to all the buff sexy werewolves and push himself to the breaking point trying to look like he belongs? Cause I have this headcanon where he decides to work out to make himself look like he belongs beside the wolves but it doesn't work out to well and he winds up doing more harm than good. Which upsets Derek when he finds out (because he loves the idiot but he won't admit it)
Aw I can absolutely see this. Stiles, already prone to insecurity and the feeling of not being good enough, slowly being worn down by that itching knowledge in his skull of being that he’s not as strong as any of his friends, not as attractive as any of his friends, and sure as hell not as useful as any of them, right? Sure, he’s smart. He knows that. But what the hell use is that in battle? He can’t dive in front of a bullet to keep the others from hurting, can’t stand beside the others and fight at anything close to their level.
And no matter how much he smirks at enemies’ jibes and plays off as enjoying being the group’s token human (”means I get to leave all the heavy lifting to you guys, right?”) it’s a feeling that would keep building up over time, pushing at the back of his skull every time the pack insists he be left behind on a certain mission, that he should stay where he’s safe, or gets offhandedly told he’ll just slow the others down. Every time they go running out in the preserve and he gets to sit behind and watch the car. Every time he goes out with the group and finds himself wondering what he looks like in everyone else’s eyes: this circle of beautiful beyond belief, supernaturally perfect people and then… him.
He couldn’t share his worries with the others –– Scott would get that worried look in his eyes and insist Stiles is perfect the way he is. Lydia might not share the same speed and strength as the others but she’s always been supernaturally beautiful, and she’s got her own banshee tricks to help out in a fight. So he keeps it inside, bottles it up… and he starts to push himself. Stays after school lifting weights until his limbs are wrecked from it, goes out running until his legs are shaking under him. Thinking one more lift, one more mile, one step closer to belonging.
And it starts working, too. He’s able to keep up with the pack sometimes, on their more casual runs. He’s gaining muscle, losing any last hints of baby fat. But there are hollowed shadows under his eyes too and he’s not eating enough, probably, but that’s fine. It’s fine when he wrestles with Liam and ends up with a purpled bruise blooming out across his ribs from a too-hard tackle. It’s fine that he can’t really sleep anymore because his muscles are always burning. It’s fine because he’s started looking at pictures of the group after pack events and almost seeing a group of people who fit together, not a handful of perfect people around a lanky, awkward him. Who the hell wouldn’t sacrifice a little comfort and the ability to lift his arms above his head for that?
Derek’s the one who notices first, because of course he is. Drops in through the bedroom window one night like the supernatural stalking creeper he used to be, and finds Stiles collapsed to an exhausted heap against the side of his bed. Too tired and too sore to have stripped off his sweat-stained shirt or make it the extra step to lay down on it. He forces a smile when he spots Derek, but it’s more pained than it should be. Wavers at the edges. Derek ignores his opening jibe, doesn’t comment on the way Stiles tries to push himself up on unsteady palms and falters, a spasm of motion that starts and dies just as fast. Just moves silent, sits down next to him on the floor at the foot of the bed. There’s a world of words in his silence, a disapproving air Stiles can feel deep in his bones, and he finds himself saying “I’m fine,” low and head ducked, like it’s a lie.
It’s not a lie. But it’s not exactly true either, is it?
Derek’s eyes are on Stiles’ face now, flicking down his damp shirt, over his faintly trembling limbs, and it’s like he’s seeing too much suddenly, seeing through walls Stiles is too tired to pull up. People aren’t supposed to see him at this point in the day; they’re supposed to see him in the morning when he has the energy to grin and bounce and keep up with the rest of them like it’s effortless. They’re not supposed to see the tired bruises under his eyes or the way he shakes from hours of trying to hold himself at a werewolf’s level.
He wets his lips, a flash of frustration burning bitter through him.
“Look, I’m not strong like you guys.” It’s not news. It’s been a constant refrain for the past two years of his life, ever since Scott was bit and turned into a superhero sports star girl magnet and left Stiles standing awkwardly in his dust. Stiles couldn’t ask for the bite, Scott wouldn’t understand. And he doesn’t think he wants it either, not really. He doesn’t want the claws or the anchors or the pulls to the moon. He just wants to be able to keep up with them. Wants to not be the funny one in a group of supermodels. Doesn’t want to be the weak one in a group of heroes. Doesn’t want to be the one holding them back.
He bites over a frustrated sound, frowns at Derek’s faintly pinched brows, manages to lift one bone-dead arm and snaps out even more harshly: “I’m not… hot.”
It’s not the whole issue, it barely touches the issue, but it’s too much already and he scowls after he says it, daring Derek to snort or mock him or roll his eyes and agree, obviously, but that searching look only seems to sink deeper and Derek murmurs, “You’re wrong.”
Which is just… it’s worse than laughing. Because Stiles could handle people dismissing him, mocking him. He’s used to that. What he can’t take is Derek fucking Hale feeling so goddamned bad about his patheticness that he’s reduced to lying to try and comfort him.
“Oh, right, sure. I’m hot. You guys are all freaking Greek gods with all the muscle and the… faces.” He snorts, falling back against an overworked spine that protests the pressure. “You can’t even talk. You’ve always been the hottest person ever. You’ve got no idea what it’s like to be the one no one ever wants.”
Derek’s eyes flick down Stiles again, reassessing, and Stiles winces over the realization that Derek’s trying to find something, anything likable on his wiry frame.
“Don’t––” He starts, because he physically cannot handle that, but Derek’s saying “You’re wrong,” again, and it’s soft and warm in a way that doesn’t sound like pity.
But Stiles doesn’t let himself feel it. The “oh yeah?” he shoots back is sure and challenging, almost smug in its confidence because maybe he’s not beautiful beyond all reason like the man next to him, maybe he’s not strong and desirable and wanted but at least he’s smart enough to realize that.
Derek lets out a growl of frustration and turns where he’s sitting, crowds in close with palms pressed to either side of Stiles’ thigh, and Stiles is on the edge of rolling his eyes because does Derek seriously think he can intimidate Stiles into changing his mind about himself, but then “you’re wrong” falls out a third time, a too-warm growl of a whisper, and Derek closes the space between their lips.
Stiles loses his conviction in the contact.
Derek’s hands move over him while they kiss, dragging soothing tips and scolding pinches over his wrecked muscles in ways that leave him groaning, touches sinking you’re beautiful and you’re wanted under his skin in ways the best words probably never could. Hands trail down to play across Stiles’ fingers, silently praising the cleverness of them. Beard-rough lips drift up to kiss across his temple and a warmth of admiration seems to melt into him with each press. And Stiles can barely move, arms aching protest as he lifts them to thread into Derek’s hair, body quivering in ways that shift between exhaustion and want.
When Derek finally leans back Stiles whimpers, wanting more but too worn down to chase him. But Derek’s watching him from inches away in the dark room, and there’s no reflected flaws in those dark eyes now. Just you’re beautiful, you’re wanted. You’re important.
Stiles runs light thumbs down Derek’s beard, lets out a light laugh he barely recognizes.
“Guess I believe you,”
(And from now on, on nights when the pack goes out running, Stiles and Derek find a more interesting way to occupy themselves by the cars.)