Would it ring true here, at the last mile to walk?
I wanted to take part in Sketchavember but I didn’t have any idea what to doodle, so I looked back what I drew last November.
The cold November wind bit through wool and leather into your very bones, no matter how many layers you wore. Not that Fenris noticed the cold, his mind was utterly occupied with other things.
You’re free now, there is nothing to keep you here any more.
It was what he had wanted, wasn’t it? To be free? Not beholden to any man ever again. He’d as good as driven Garrett away and now…now there was no way back.
Fenris didn’t stop until he was beyond sight of the city gates, far out along the Wounded Coast. There was no one to see him fall to his knees in the snow and weep. He wept for himself, for Garrett, for freedom that felt more like a prison and for words unsaid that could now never be said.
Trying to find my way back to writing…
MATT BECOMES LESS CREEPY WHEN IN PROXIMITY TO DANNY
That’s Danny’s magical power: he makes people better simply by allowing them in his heavenly presence. Matt becomes less of a creeper; Jackson less of a douche; and Scott more homoerotic.
So what you’re saying, is that we could solve this whole pack war issue, just by having the Leather Jacket Gang hang out with Danny. Suddenly, everyone smiles, there’s discussion instead of threats, and instead of beating each other up, they all decide it’s a great idea to take their shirts off.
TEAM SUNSHINE FOR WORLD PEACE
Praise his heavenly light.
Derek hadn’t been at all sure about including Danny in the affairs of the pack. The boy was not a werewolf nor showed any desire to be one, rather he was quite an ordinary teenage boy. But he was Jackson’s best friend and there was a strange aura around him, something Derek couldn’t quite put a finger to.
But within weeks of Danny moving in to the house he was an integral part of the pack. Whenever he was around, things were…smoother, Jackson and Scott weren’t on each other’s throats all the time, Isaac of course was all smiles and practically radiated happiness and the girls were much more relaxed around a boy who had no sexual interest in them, Danny being the only one completely homosexual in their group.
Danny was a smart guy too, had a way with computers and along with Jackson was the most athletic of the lot, so Derek put him in charge of getting everyone in shape for the war ahead. Slowly he found himself warming to Danny too, the boy’s unshakeable good humour impossible to ignore. That and how he seemed to get Isaac, to know just exactly what the other, more fragile teen needed, soon Danny was as much part of the pack as the wolves.
(I’m actually liking this idea a lot but lacking the headspace to make a proper fic at the moment…will play with it more later I think)
It was the first time Chris had been home late. It was also the first time he’d wandered further than Gerard had allowed him to go. Chris had never, not for one second, thought that he’d wind up pressed against a door, another’s hands running through his hair, another’s lips on his own. They’d left him breathless, yet wanting more. He’d tried not to make a sound as he returned home. He didn’t want to answer Kate’s questions on why he was so flustered. He knew his father would talk to him tomorrow, after he’d slept. That was all Chris wanted to do, now. Sleep. Dream.
Kate often teased him about the girls he fancied. She wouldn’t believe him when he told her it wasn’t a girl. It wasn’t, though. There had been nothing feminine about the way he’d been pressed against the door. And he’d never kissed anyone with such force or passion. He’d liked it. A lot. More now he’d been able to think over what had just happened.
That was the first night he dreamed about Peter Hale. But it wouldn’t be the last. Not by a long shot.
In which Stiles and Derek fight and the rest of the pack has to suffer because of it.
(I should be working!)
It was a stupid argument over stupid fucking furniture of all things but it’s the principle of things and Stiles would not give in on this one. The house has been largely rebuilt by now and there’s more than enough room for everyone. Scott has his own room, so does Isaac though Jackson has more or less moved in so his room is now occupied by Lydia and Allison whenever they come around. Erica and Boyd are happy sharing a room, not that they could be kept apart anyway, and they made a room for Derek on the ground floor where the old guest room used to be. And for Stiles too.
Until last weekend that is. All he wanted was somewhere he could be on his own every now and then, away from the chaos of living with seven other people - behuman.Derek had gotten it wrong of course,why do you not want to live with me? Why do you need a room for yourself, you’re gonna sleep here anyway so what’s the point?
Stiles tells himself it’s because Derek grew up in a large family, that it’s because he needs the pack around him to feel normal that he doesn’t understand Stiles’s need for solitude. Scott tried to explain, even offered up to move in with Lydia and Allison so that Stiles could have his but that wouldn’t work, the girls had only recently got together and needed time to figure out their relationship - and how Scott would fit in the equation.
Frustrated with the arguments and the big deal everyone was making out of a small request, Stiles had packed a bag of spare clothes and gone back home to his dad who, while happy to see him had made it clear that this could not be a permanent arrangement.
For a whole week he’s managed away, only seeing the rest of the pack at school apart from Isaac who climbs in through his window every night. In the end it’s Isaac’s tearful confession that he is afraid they will never get back together that brings Stiles to his senses. He holds Isaac close and cards his fingers through the blond curls until the other boy falls asleep on his chest. He lies awake for a long while thinking about how much his life has changed in the last two years and while he isn’t a werewolf himself, he shares his life with a whole pack of them.
He goes back the next day from school, apprehensive and full of nervous energy. Before he’s even properly through the door, Stiles is caught in a mass of bodies, Allison, Lydia, Erica, Isaac, Scott is there somewhere and Danny too - even Jackson claps him on the shoulder by way of welcome. It’s all a little overwhelming but the chaos gives way to silence as he notices Derek leaning against the doorframe.
They’re not good with words, him and Derek. Stiles having too many and Derek too few of them but a nervous smile and a whispered sorry, I love you go a long way to patch things up.
As a compromise they furnish the small attic with a desk and a bookshelf. Erica decorates it with colourful lanterns and Lydia buys too-expensive rugs for the wooden floor. Boyd finds an old armchair somewhere and carries it all the way up the stairs and Allison brings a throw for it - it’s decorated in small paw prints, much to everyone’s amusement. And the best thing, there is a door Stiles can close behind him when things get a little too much. The others stay away most of the time - only Isaac comes and curls up on the armchair and watches Stiles reading or doing his homework.
And everyone breathes a little easier again.
Stiles doesn’t really care about baseball, not the way Scott does, he only goes to the games to soak in the atmosphere and there’s usually one or two players that catch his eye who make it oh so much better.
Scott’s been going on about this one for a while, apparently there’s a hot new signing for the Ravens and the way he emphasizes ‘hot’ makes Stiles groan, trust Scott to try and set him up again. But he goes along anyway, he’s way too curious not to.
Scott’s got them good seats as always, after all he’s dating the owner’s daughter. The game starts and Stiles forgets any intentions he had of leaving early. The Ravens’ new guy is not only good at the game but devastatingly good looking. He moves with a sort of animal grace that makes Stiles shiver, he steps up to the plate and Stiles gets a name - Hale.
Derek Hale. Stiles goes home and trawls the internet for everything he can find on the guy, which isn’t much - 6’2, 189lbs, age 25, apparently played baseball since he was old enough to hold the bat. Suddenly baseball starts to look a whole lot more interesting and Stiles turns up at every home game to watch Derek play.
It’s Christmas before he gets the courage to speak to Derek after the game and March when they go out for a few beers and Stiles spends the weekend in Derek’s bed.
To be honest, Stiles wasn’t expecting more than a brief fling, a casual fuck with no strings. But life has a funny way sometimes of throwing curveballs your way and you just gotta adjust your game plan, as Derek puts it one night they’re lying in bed talking, and for once Stiles doesn’t have a snappy comeback for the intensity in Derek’s voice and the way arm around his waist tightens. Yeah, nothing like he expected but at the same time everything he could have wanted.
OH MY GOD I THOUGHT THIS WAS YOUNG PETER HALE’S BACK AND I SCREAMED
just because it’s you bb.
Chris likes to study Peter, admire the pale skin and count the freckles on his back. He runs his fingers through the messy dark hair, so different from his own dirty blond locks, and watches Peter’s eyelids flutter closed as he leans into the touch.
He likes to do this, tease Peter until he other boy’s resolve breaks and he grabs Chris by the neck and presses the tips of his claws just so against his skin, not enough to break but enough to leave a mark. Peter takes care to never fully shift, only to make it a little exciting, teeth and claws and growling, just enough to remind Chris of the dangerous game they are playing.
But they’re eighteen and in love and the sex is mind-blowing. They don’t care about the outside world, they have everything they need right here. With one another.
I used to have the worst crush in the world on you. Yeah, you, Stiles.
I woke up in the middle of the night with this story idea. So pardon me while it’s still a bit raw but I need to write it down before I go to work :)
Have some Stiles/Erica feels.
To say Stiles is stunned by Erica’s confession would be an understatement. He’s rocked to the core, for one he had no idea she felt that way about him and also, it’s exactly the way he’s been mooning over Lydia. So yeah, he knows the feeling very well.
But there’s so much going on and she doesn’t press the matter so he leaves it alone. Until the fiasco of the detention and Matt and Jackson going batshit crazy and Erica ends up in the line of fire. Stiles’s heart skips several beats seeing her convulsing on the floor - the werewolf bite was supposed to have cured her seizures, that they were back had to be real bad.
He’s never driven so fast in his life, lucky the base is in the middle of nowhere so for the most part he’s able to avoid detection. By the time they arrive, Stiles is about ready to burst, this is not right, this is not how it’s supposed to go. Just as he thinks the worst is over and Derek will just magically cure her it gets worse. She needs to heal, Derek explains and breaks Erica’s wrist. Her scream cuts straight to Stiles’s heart and he holds onto her tight, muttering it’s alright, it’ll be alright into her ear, he’s not sure if she’s listening but somehow it feels right.
Then the healing doesn’t start fast enough and Derek has to crush the bones together and Stiles watches them break her white skin and there’s blood everywhere and Erica screams…he thinks it’s too much to bear and is about to say so when she goes still.
Stiles’s gaze snaps from the bloody hand to her face, suddenly scared of what he’ll see. But she just smiles, a real honest smile like she’s happy it’s Stiles holding her and just before she faints, he’s sure he hears her whisper thank you.
Of course she heals just fine after that, four hours later there is not a mark on her though she hasn’t woken up yet. Stiles sits on the floor next to her bed, he can’t leave now - not after…not after what she said. He’s had some time to think while she’s been sleeping and while this is probably the worst possible time for these things it may also be the only time they’ll have. Maybe Lydia is not the one for him, but maybe he’s the one for Erica? He hasn’t said a word to anyone but Scott knows, Stiles can tell from the way his friend looks at him, he can feel it in the reassuring squeeze on his shoulder as Scott walks by. That gives him some assurance that maybe this is the right thing to be doing.
The soft voice brings Stiles back to the present from his musings. He looks up to see Erica watching him. For a moment he forgets what he was about to say and just stares at her, she’s so beautiful.In a totally different way to Lydia, Erica’s attention is focused on Stiles and it’s a little overwhelming.
"Umm…yes, yeah I stayed. Listen, about what you said…"
"I get it, you’re flattered and all but you love Lydia and yeah, sorry. It’s OK Stiles, I wasn’t expecting anything. It was just a silly teenage crush. You don’t have to say anything."
Though outwardly she doesn’t sound sad or upset, Stiles is pretty well tuned to the werewolves by now and doesn’t miss the small twitch of her shoulders or the minute way she seems to slump on the bed - if she was shifted he is sure her ears would be flattened against her skull. He lifts a hand to her wrist, where Derek broke the bones and runs his thumb over the unbroken skin before answering.
"I was going to say I like you too, Erica. That while I may not be in love with you, I mean it’s been quite an afternoon and I think I need a bit of time to get to grips with everything that’s happened but I do like you. And…well, I…maybe we could see what happens?"
It’s like someone drew back the curtains and let the sun in, watching the smile spread on her face. She doesn’t reply, just turns her wrist so that she can twine her fingers in Stiles’s and they stay that way, holding hands and speaking softly for the rest of the evening. There are no objections to Stiles staying the night in Erica’s bed, much to his surprise even Derek seems to approve.
When he wakes up in the morning it’s to find his arms wrapped protectively around her, his face buried in her cinnamon-scented hair and it’s like this is where he’s supposed to be.
This is where he belongs.
Borage symbolizes courage, it’s also known as starflower
As it happens, ‘elenilote’ means ‘star-flower’
I am liking this idea.
Have a ficlet.
Less than twenty-four hours and Stiles is eighteen and officially no longer a minor. Being exactly 74 days younger than Scott has meant enduring seventy-four days of constant needling over things his best friend of fourteen years is allowed to that Stiles isn’t.
Like being allowed to buy beer without having to resort to a fake ID. And get married, not that Scott is in any hurry to do that, though Stiles suspects Isaac would be more than willing should Scott ask.
But the one thing Stiles is looking forward to is getting a tattoo. Sure, he could have gotten a small one somewhere inconspicuous much earlier, there were lots of places that weren’t too bothered by a few months here and there but knowing his luck his dad would have found out and all hell would have broken loose.
He’s known forever the design he will get, the pink-and-lilac blossoms of the starflower decorating his mother’s dressing table every summer on her birthday. The flower is a symbol of courage and healing, both of which Stiles is in desperately in need of these days.
There is another reason he’s looking forward to tomorrow. Tomorrow he doesn’t have to keep his relationship to Derek a secret any more. Of course Scott and the rest of the pack know everything, reallyeverythingas Stiles found out to his mortification the morning after his first night with Derek. But to his dad, the school the rest of the world their relationship is illegal and would land Derek in jail if it came to light.
So a new day, a newStiles.
He can’t wait.
AU: While Stiles is waiting outside the Sheriff’s station for his dad he notices Derek’s car is parked on the other side of the road and he decides to leave a love note for the surly werewolf.
This is…this is sort of continuing on from The Note…sorry it’s a bit jumbled, I’ll clean it up later for AO3.
Stiles slouches in the backseat of Danny’s car, staring out the window with unseeing eyes. He’s exhausted, worry and fear gnawing up his insides in equal measure, not for the first time he wonders if this was the best decision after all?
He thinks of the note he wrote, tucked on the windshield of Derek’s car. He wonders if Derek’s read it, if anyone’s read it, if the wind or the rain swept it away before Derek found it? The thought sends chills down his spine and for a moment he gasps for breath before discarding the thought, no - surely fate or whatever fuck was in charge of these things could not be so cruel?
He thinks back on the words he wrote, the ones he’s never said out loud.
I love you. I love you so freaking much it’s killing me to be away from you.
He’s never loved anyone before. Sure, he’s had a crush on Lydia since they were six but it’s nothing like this. Though they’ve never so much as kissed, a small detail that he’s determined to correct as soon as he sees Derek again, Stiles is certain of his feelings for the werewolf.
But he’s not so selfish to think that it’s only him and Derek at stake here, there are the others too, his friends, his family. Scott, Isaac, Jackson, Erica and Boyd. Hell, even freaking Peter, though Stiles is not a werewolf - or maybe because of it - he feels responsible for the pack. He needs to make sure they are safe and the only way he can do it is by removing himself from the equation so they can concentrate on the battle ahead and not worry about him getting hurt.
I promise I’ll come back, Stiles whispers, his breath fogging up the window. I love you.
Sorry for the angst. It had to be written.
In which Stiles decides to skip town to keep them both safe. Derek does not take it well.
Derek frowns as he sees a note wedged in the windshield of his car. The frown only deepens as he opens the paper and starts to read, seeing the familiar handwriting brings on a sudden panic.
I’m sorry, but you were nowhere to be found and…I couldn’t leave without at least letting you know. I love you. I love you so freaking much it kills me to be away from you. But it’s for the best, for now at least. Please don’t call, I won’t answer. I’ll be back when it’s all over, I promise. I won’t leave you.
Derek crumples the note in his fist after reading. There is a cold first around his heart and a weight in his chest, making it hard to breather at the thought of being apart from Stiles. He knows it is for the best, he knows Stiles is right - he is Derek’s only weakness and one that Gerard has tried to use against him once already.
But it’s hard. It’sdamnhard.
"I love you too Stiles," he whispers under his breath, wishing Stiles would be there to hear him, the words he’s never said before. But there is nothing but the cold wind swallowing his words.
Derek pockets the note and takes a deep breath, straightens his shoulders and centers himself again. That night when they plan their next move, the pack sees for the first time the alpha they’ve always wanted Derek to be: strong, determined, dangerous. It doesn’t take long to figure out the reason for their leader’s transformation, Stiles’s absence is obvious. A strange shift runs through the pack, Stiles is important to them too, they would die for him as they know he would defending them.
Now at last they all have a common purpose. Now they are at war.
was Erica even necessary in this scene? I mean…
I think Isaac had it covered.
Ooops I accidentally porn…
The heady combination of alcohol, hypnotic beat of the music and adrenalin pumping in their blood that made for a dangerous cocktail. The plan had been to use Erica as bait for Jackson, after all he had a known weakness for blondes, but that’s not quite how it turned out.
First of all, Jackson was way more handsome than Isaac remembered, maybe it was the effects of his transformation that made it so but the other boy practicallydrippedsex on the dance floor. It was impossible to ignore the way his eyes never left Isaac’s or how his hand seemed to move out of its own accord to grab at his shirt, pulling him closer.
In the end Jacksondidmake the first move, pulling the taller boy into a savage kiss, the kind that made Isaac’s jeans suddenly way too tight and his legs weak. When Jackson pulled away and turned back to Erica, Isaac felt a flash of jealousy -hewas the one Jackson had kissed,hewas the one who should be the center of the other boy’s attention.
"Mine!" Isaac growled, wrapping his arms tight around Jackson’s waist and pulling him flush against himself. "You’re mine, you hear me?”
The words had an electrifying effect on Jackson. He leaned back against Isaac, laying his on his shoulder so that his neck was exposed to Isaac - knowing full well it to be practically an invitation for a bite. Isaac was tempted, oh so very tempted to do just that - to mark Jackson as his own for all to see, leave bloody teethmarks on the pale skin…but Erica’s touch on his arm pulled him back to his senses. She gave him The Look, the one he’d come to recognize as a warning and indeed, when he looked around Isaac could see they had attracted quite a bit of attention with their antics.
Breathing heavily he let go of Jackson and spun him around to face him. He was sure the burning he saw in Jackson’s eyes was mirrored in his own, there was no need for words for what they both wanted. Heedless of the attention he was surely drawing to himself, Isaac grabbed Jackson’s arm and pulled him along behind him towards the back exit.
Once outside, the hot and humid air did nothing to quench the excitement, quite the opposite. Isaac found himself pushed against a wall and then there was nothing but the feel and taste of Jackson kissing him and hands tugging at his shirt and clever fingers unbuttoning his jeans.
Jackson…Jackson was way too good at this. Not that Isaac was totally inexperienced either but he’d never felt suchfireas tonight. And when Jackson knelt in front of him and Isaac felt surprisingly tender kisses along his skin it really took every ounce of self-control he had to keep a hold of himself. Maybe it was just Jackson’s experience, or maybe it was some supernatural instinct but he seemed to know exactly how Isaac wanted - and needed - to be taken care of. All the while his hands - strong and rough but gentle and soft at the same time - roamed every inch of available skin on Isaac’s body.
It was hot and insistent and amazing and beyond everything Isaac had imagined. And that it wasJackson doing this, how many times had Isaacbrought himself to a frustrating climax with his own hand while imagining how Jackson’s touch would feel like? Too many to count. It was a miracle he lasted even as long as he did, but Jackson didn’t pull away or stop, he licked and lapped gently until the very last drop before getting up. Isaac tasted himself in the kiss they shared but was too boneless with pleasure to do more than give in. No matter he had started it all, dragged Jackson into the alley with him, there was no question who was really in charge here.
"Next time it’s your turn," Jackson whispered before turning and walking away, leaving a dazed Isaac standing in the shadows.Next time.The words echoed in Isaac’s ears, making him shiver with anticipation.He wants there to be a next time.
Derek was not pleased with the failed trap but seeing the bruises on Isaac’s neck and the swollen, red lips didn’t press the matter - his little cub was growing up, if Isaac’s happiness meant leaving Jackson’s capture for another day, so be it. He could live with it.
Oh look, what’s this? An ME ficlet? Goodness me, how unexpected.
A future for the Krogan.
A real, viable future with no more suffering. That’s what he wanted to give them and he succeeded. The hundred little krogan babies that run around a Tuchanka that, although still a barren and hostile environment, is nevertheless a happier place now that ever before; that is his legacy.
Wrex and Eve’s first child is called Mordin - her decision. What better way to honor the great man himself than to have the boy follow in his namesake’s footsteps. Little Mordin is sent to the Alliance at an early age and taught by the best scientists the galaxy has to offer. Maybe one day he will do equally great things for his people, but Shepard thinks as she watches him play with his numerous younger siblings and even smaller cousins that his existence alone is making all the difference.
You did good Mordin, you were right all along. I only wish you were here to see it.
Holy fuck it’s 11am and I am bored out of my mind, so have some porn!
It’s the only time Derek lets go, when Stiles is sure what he sees is the real thing. And well, he feels pretty fucking good knowing that he is the reason for the sighs and moans and the writhing on the floor.
And Stiles is nothing if not thorough, he wants to study every hitch of breath, every arch of Derek’s hips off the floor and every tremor of his muscles, wants to make the connections between the amazing sounds Derek lets out and what Stiles does with his mouth and his hands.
Derek never saysstop,ornot likethator a million other things that Stiles was afraid his inexperience might bring on. Spurred on by the encouragement, Stiles gets bolder, a scrape of teethhere,a feather-light caressthereand he makes the connections, finds the sweet spots and commits them to memory like so much schoolwork.
The first time he’s unprepared, misses the moment when Derek can no longer hold back and ends up half-choking on the salty, sticky release. Most of it dribbles down his chin where Derek kisses it off, causing Stiles to blush with part embarrassment part arousal, it’s hot watching your boyfriend lick his own come off your chin. A little weird and unexpected but fucking sexy.
The next time he pays more attention and manages to swallow most of it, feeling giddy and weirdly accomplished - remembering all the times he used to tease Scott whether Allison would spit or swallow, not that either of them had anything but fantasies to go by, but now he’d done it. And found that he likes it.
Afterwards they lie on the floor with Stiles on Derek’s chest, feeling the other’s heartbeat against his. He never wants to not have this, and says as much aloud. Derek laughs, the sort of a soft, low growl he does that makes Stiles’s bones turn to water and his jeans suddenly too tight.
"I’m not going anywhere, stop worrying. You worry too much."
And any objections that Stiles may have to utter in reply are silenced by a demanding kiss. And then it’s Stiles’s turn to fall apart, Derek is far too good at pressing his buttons, knows exactly when to kiss and when to bite, where to stroke and where to pinch and doesn’t stop, makes Stiles come three times in the space of an hour before Stiles has to begno more, please I give in.
He doesn’t have the stamina and willpower that Derek has, partly because he’s a seventeen-year old boy and partly because he’s very human but Derek never makes him feel worse for it. For the first time in his life Stiles feels accepted, wanted as he is and most of all, equal.
And it feels good. All of it.
Page 2 of 12