merryofsoul



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  1. Public Bookmark *

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    A year after the nogitsune is defeated, Derek is living a quiet life in the mountains above a small town in Colorado.

    Then Stiles shows up.

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    11 Oct 2017

  2. Public Bookmark *

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    He feels the physical embodiment of devastated, his already too strung-out mind struggling to wall up all the hurt, the rejection—he takes a deep shuddering breath and looks down at the shredded skin on his arms, at the sluggish way they’re weakly healing.

    There is nothing, nothing he wants more than to have Derek sweep in and make everything all better. He should have known, though, that something like that would never happen to him.

    OR -

    Stiles accidentally gets bitten, and everything goes to hell.

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    08 Oct 2017

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    “Since you're so sure, what's the proof that you have that he's not a vampire?”

    Feeling like he's the only sane person left on planet earth, Derek rolls his eyes heavenward. “First of all, there's not a mound of dust sitting where he used to be -” he gestures upwards towards the sun like behold, the light, and Scott's jaw tics, “and second of all, he's never done anything even remotely suspicious.”

    Which is true. The most malicious thing Stiles does is watch television late at night and talk to himself – two things that Scott and Derek can hear crystal clear through the walls of their apartment with their werewolf ears. That being said, neither of them have ever heard Stiles muttering something like who shall I prey upon tonight or I must get my coffin ready for my slumber. The most suspect thing Derek's over heard over there is the crinkling sound of way too many snack foods.

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    01 Oct 2017

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    “We can’t just leave him here to die.”

    “He’s an emissary, Scott.” Derek tried to make his tone empathetic, but Scott’s tendency to fight back on everything always grated on his nerves. “His pack is gone, he won’t survive more than a day or two either way.”

    “Then we should stay with him.”

    Derek sighed as he studied the man for a moment; he was too pale against the fur rim of his hood, almost grey from lying out in the snow, and his cloak was stained with dark dried blood around a protruding arrow shaft. It was unlikely he would even last the night. They would probably be able to carry on in the morning with little time lost, if any.

    It wasn’t a horrible idea, Derek decided reluctantly. They hadn’t been able to set up a real camp for a few weeks in the open foothills, and they were all on edge from sleeping in exposed areas. A defensible place to sleep would be good for them, even if they were surrounded by death. They would be able to give the pack proper burials, at the very least.

    “Fine. One night,” Derek relented, already moving away to check on Isaac. “He’s your responsibility.”

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    28 Sep 2017

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    There's a lot of screaming going on inside the first house Stiles visits. He isn't really worried, because it sounds like kids, but then the door opens and hi, says his dick, because the dude in front of him is gorgeous, built like a god with a face like thunder. Stiles wants to lick that solid jaw line. Hold the fuck on, says his cop brain, because the dude's got kids hanging all over him; one's on his back, skinny legs looped around his waist, and another two hanging off one arm, toes barely brushing the ground. There's a tubby toddler clinging to his leg like a koala, and he's got a baby tucked into the crook of the one arm that doesn’t have kids hanging off it. Stiles' mouth drops open.

    "How many of those kids did you kidnap?" he asks before he can wrangle his brain into submission.

    The man gives him a look that says what the fuck is wrong with you and snaps, "You think I'd subject myself to this on purpose?"

    "Oooh," says one of the kids hanging off his arm. "I'm telling Mom."

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    07 Sep 2017