Only Living Girl In LA

aaliyah/22/obsessed with everything ✮great impersonator ✮

[drvnklou28]

{——⎯—Blog Intro———}

I’m 22

This blog is a mosaic of all the things I love. This blog knows more about me than most. I love interacting with everyone so feel free to comment or pm me!!! The community aspect of tumblr is my fav part Lowkey a girl blogger bc I blog my life just not aesthetically

[sparassiss]

underground

read on ao3

kidnapping, hurt/comfort, rated G, 1k

Derek’s claws reach out for Stiles like a lifeline.

The hunters hold him back and he writhes and snarls in their grip. Stiles’ face across from him in the forest is a mirror of his own, desperate and haunted and terrified, angry and wild. They reach for each other, but it’s fruitless; they’re too far apart, and the men are dragging Stiles backwards, away from Derek, further and further from him.

Derek roars, spit flying everywhere and sharp teeth snapping at the hunters surrounding him, but his red eyes stay glued to his mate. He thrashes, Stiles’ cries and yells echoing in his ears over the sound of his own rapid heartbeat.

At last he turns around in the hunters’ grasp, intending to slash their throats out with a swipe of his claws, but a needle plunges into his own neck, and his world fades to black.

The last thing he hears is the mournful, harrowed, desperate sound of his own name on Stiles’ lips.

The forest goes dark around him.

*

Long fingers stroke through Derek’s hair. His head is pillowed on something soft, and everything is nice and warm for a moment.

“You with me, big guy?”

Stiles’ voice is familiar and soothing in his ear. It sounds rough and wet, but it’s Stiles. His scent is off as well, and Derek furrows his brow as his senses start to come back to him.

Slowly, his attention draws towards his body, and a sense of pain starts to build. It’s tingling at first, then sharper, then burning, and at last he opens his eyes with a start as his limbs feel like they’re on fire, scorching and aching all the way down to the bone.

Stiles pets his cheek and temple in a comforting motion as Derek tries to curl in on himself, closer to Stiles, his face pressing into Stiles’ abdomen where he’s laying in his lap.

“It’s wolfsbane,” Stiles murmurs to him, his gentle strokes on his face unrelenting and anchoring. “They injected you with it, and locked us in a cellar. I don’t know what they want,” Stiles explains, voice breaking though he tries to be strong.

“Does it hurt?” Stiles asks, even though he already knows the answer.

Derek nods into his shirt, squeezing his eyes shut again as he clutches Stiles closer, moving an aching arm to hold him around his waist.

“I’m sorry,” Stiles mourns, fingers sinking back into his hair, “There’s nothing I can do from here. I don’t have anything to get it out, to get us out. I don’t fucking know what to do, Derek.” His breathing is ragged and sharp, and when Derek peeks up at him from his lap, there are tear streaks on Stiles’ face.

“It’s okay,” Derek whispers, trying to provide any type of comfort despite the incredible pain he’s in. Stiles looks unharmed for the most part, but his face is dirty and raw with a few scratches, nothing too deep, which Derek is relieved to note.

He can feel himself fading, though. Awakening from the blackness only to feel it pulling him under again too soon.

“Stiles,” he mumbles, lips barely moving. Stiles bends his head to hear him, and a tear lands on Derek’s face, but whether it’s his own or Stiles’, he isn’t sure. “Stiles. I lo—“

“Don’t say it,” Stiles rushes, cutting him off, “You’re not gonna die here, you’re not allowed. I don’t want the first time you say it to be in some musty basement when you’re— when you’re— fuck, Derek, just stay with me, you have to—“

Stiles' words fade away along with the pain in Derek’s body, the rushing in his ears, Stiles’ too-fast heartbeat and the scent of his panic. It all disappears until Derek’s left floating, unaware of anything except the feeling of Stiles’ love still around him. He sinks into nothingness, and it’s bliss.

*

“He will awaken when his body is healed enough,” Deaton says calmly, irritatingly, as Stiles paces around the vet’s office, unable to take his eyes off Derek laying there too quietly, too unmovingly on the cold metal table. It can’t be comfortable, Derek deserves to be warm and taken care of—

“Are you sure you got it all out?” Stiles asks, observing a vial of violet liquid on the countertop, the remains of the aconite poisoning Deaton was able to remove from Derek’s bloodstream. He’s still jittery, anxious. Derek’s been unconscious for too long. He was barely breathing when the Sheriff found them, and the adrenaline from the pure relief Stiles felt at their rescue is still thrumming through his veins.

“Yes, Stiles,” Deaton tries to reassure, but it only irks Stiles, the man not understanding just how much Derek means to him, how essential it is that he be safe and unharmed. “You’re welcome to wait here with him until he wakes up. I have other matters to attend to in the meantime,” he adds. “And Stiles?”

Stiles tears his eyes away from Derek at last and looks over to Deaton, who’s standing in the doorway.

“He’ll be okay.” The words of consolation are rare from Deaton, and don’t do much to quell Stiles’ nerves, but he appreciates them nonetheless.

Stiles nods and makes himself finally settle down on to the stool beside the table. Deaton closes the door behind him, and he and Derek are alone again.

“Hey, big guy,” Stiles whispers as he takes Derek’s hand in his own. He cups it between both of his and his grip is tight, desperate. “Think you can wake up for me?” His voice is shaky and raw.

Derek twitches, but otherwise doesn’t move. Stiles doesn’t know how long this is supposed to take, or if what Deaton did worked at all. But there is no way in hell Stiles is leaving this building till he knows Derek is alright. Even if it takes all night, a day, a month. A year. Stiles will stay by Derek’s side forever.

Hours tick by. Deaton checks on them again before he leaves for the day, and Stiles only shakes his head in response. He leaves the lights on and closes the door behind him, leaving Stiles and Derek alone in the vet’s office for the night. John is supposed to come by at some point, but Stiles doesn’t know when. Time doesn’t exist right now.

He doesn’t let himself fall asleep. Commits to staring at Derek’s face and taking it in, memorizing it, just— just in case.

At long last, when Stiles’ pulse continues to rise and anxiety still swirls in his stomach like eels, Derek stirs.

“Fuck,” Stiles lets out in relief on a heavy, sharp sigh, gripping Derek’s hand again. "Der?"

Derek blinks his eyes open. They're clear, and beautiful, and his face is clean of blood and poison, and Stiles stands over him and grips his hand, and cries.

He can't get any words out as he cups Derek's face, brushes his hair back, kisses him all over. Derek clings back, holds Stiles to him. His last memory was dying in the cellar. Where it was dark and damp and smelled like fear. He didn't want to leave Stiles behind, couldn't bear it, especially before he told him—

"I love you," Derek whispers.

Stiles breaks down in his arms as he loses it completely. The sheer relief he feels at knowing Derek is okay, alive, safe with him at last. He shakes as he climbs onto the metal table and wraps himself around his mate, and Derek clutches back with the same relief.

"I love you too," Stiles whispers to him when he can form words again. He lets his lips rest on Derek's temple for second, before Derek turns his head to meet his lips.

"I know," he says when they part, with a soothing hand over Stiles' back. They gaze at each other, with deep affection, dependency and love. Stiles snorts a wet laugh through his tears and lays his head back down against Derek's neck, nuzzling. "Stay with me," Derek says seriously after a moment, his arms tightening around Stiles as his hands continue to stroke and calm.

Stiles' response is honest, and immediate. He meets Derek's eyes and speaks easily, calmly, lovingly.

"Always."

[sugareey-makes-stuff]

It's that time of year again for some new Sterek art! My 2026 Sterek Reverse Bang Quickie art prompt was inspired by cute, fluffy animals and this Tumblr post about grooming and dominance between cats and rabbits. Honestly, I couldn't help it. It was too tempting. Yes, we totally get to see the day where Derek is a rabbit and Stiles is a cat. And yes, Derek and Stiles are stubborn assholes who love each other. Obviously! Thanks to the amazing @definitivelydrivel for being my partner-in-crime this round! It was so fun coming up with utter shenanigans that later turns hot and spicy. You basically ran with everything to write such a funny story, and you also reminded me exactly why I love these two dumbasses so much! 😁 To see the full view of the sexy art piece that goes along with the fic, you'll just have to read the whole thing to find it. 🔥🌶️🍑🍆 Without further ado, happy reading and viewing!

Title: Domination Conflagration (<- view on AO3) Rating: Explicit WC: 9.9k Tags: Angst, Humor, Beta Derek, Idiots in Love, Misunderstandings, Animal Instincts, Animal Transformation, Dominance, Pack Dynamics, Power Dynamics, Friends to Lovers, Snark, Feelings Realization, Love Confessions, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Magical Accidents, Chaos, Cats, Rabbits, Scent Marking, Biting, Licking, Magic, Full Shift Werewolf Derek Hale, Past Relationship(s), Self-Doubt, Self Confidence Issues, Kissing, Consent, Fingerfucking, Anal Sex, Praise Kink, Come Marking, Hand Jobs, Top Stiles Stilinski, Bottom Derek Hale, Angst with a Happy Ending, POV Alternating, Digital Art, Illustrations

Summary:

Stiles' first thought was oh fuck. Stiles' second thought was, why the hell is that rabbit glaring at me? FUCK was his third thought as the rabbit lunged.

In which Derek startles Stiles awake in the middle of the dream, resulting in Stiles' spark turning them into a rabbit and a cat respectively.

Complicated questions of dominance follow, along with a resolution to said questions (and of course, smut!).

[hedwig221b]

DIVINE

sterek | E | 7,3k | ao3

Tags: Historical; Alternate Universe – Medieval; Kidnapping; Paganism; Evil Gerard Argent; Non-Consensual Touching; Threats of Rape/Non-Con; no actual non-con; Creepy Gerard Argent; Full Shift Werewolves; Sех in Full Shift Werewolf Form (Teen Wolf); Dubious Consent; Somnophilia; consent is dubious bc Stiles is asleep; Boypussy Stiles Stilinski; Knotting; Voyeurism; as in derek's pack of wolves watches them; Implied Future Mpreg; I make it sound like it's all smut when it's not; Blood and Violence; Murder; Pack Alpha Derek Hale; Top Derek Hale/Bottom Stiles Stilinski

Summary:

Stiles sobbed against the wild forest floor. The earth, rich and moist, would make his bed tonight. He would not be returning. Let the wolves take him. Let the night cover him from unwanted eyes.

“Please,” Stiles begged. “Please…”

Gerard was getting desperate. The killings put him on edge and on wine. If not for Chris’ whining, Stiles was sure he would have had Stiles right there on the dinner table.

Stiles folded his hands over his stomach, feeling the man’s lingering touch. No river was able to wash it away.

Stiles was blessed. His womb was a sacred, precious thing, and it was not meant for a man like Gerard. Elders promised him love and fertility, said they saw loving hands holding his big belly and lips upon his skin. They said the gods would send many children his way.

It felt so wrong to not want them now.

[buckybarnesss]

What is your favourite version of Derek: hissy baby Derek or "my phone is vacuum sealed inside my pants" Derek?

this is the hardest question you've ever asked me.

can i say the cut open by vulnerably about stiles look?

or the really shifty, terrible poker face look about working with stiles over the summer look?

maybe sassy derek?

hissy baby derek in his impractical converse and too big leather jacket in defense of stiles is iconic though

[fiction-justanotherstateofmind]

Not to mention daddy derek

[stylesnews]

Harry at the Together Together Tour in Amsterdam Night I photographed by Jen Roman (May 16th)

[wsummerr]

🩵

[onedirection4eversstuff]

Is Season 2 weight loss about people who don't like Harry anymore? .

[riacain]

[babydoll-4444]

[prettyliilnett]

𝓘 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓽𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓵𝓻

[last-angel-on-earth]

────────────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────────

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

Hi! I read your post about scams on AO3 and found it really helpful! 🙏🏻 I received this comment and immediately thought it was a bot, because it was very vague and unnecessarily personal, but I’d love to get a second opinion. I’m a bit baffled by this kind of scam because I don’t see the point of it. 🤷🏻‍♀️ In any case, it reminded me that I actually need to do my laundry today, so it wasn’t all bad 🤣

either a bot or a troll. either way it doesn't deserve your time or attention. my advice would be to mark it as spam. let ao3 handle it.

the point is to harass and try to get you to delete your work. from what I've been told, these bots/trolls want writers to delete their works. because it's "easier for them to use writers' works to train their ai, since it's extremely hard, if not impossible, for writers to prove ownership of their works if the original works were already deleted".

worth mentioning that, since it's a guest user, there's a good chance they use a legit username of a random, innocent user here (re: this post). so they could be impersonating that user and harassing you / trying to get you to delete your work at the same time. just pathetic loser behavior.

for those who are new, I've talked more about bots and scam comments on ao3 here

[-harrystyles]

[wickedisgood0]

MIECZYSLAW “STILES” STILINSKI

[anxietyproblem]

[anarchistmemedistro]

[anarchistmemedistro]

hurtful

[teaboot]

Not the point in the slightest but are cigarette ads not illegal in the USA❔❔❔For some reason that one is blowing my mind

[ayellowbirds]

Only as of 1999. The original, unedited version of this cartoon, by Clay Butler, was published in 1996, and looks like this:

Someone went to a lot of effort to not only remove the cartoonist's credits, but also make the joke weaker. In the original, the graffiti is a lone and comparatively small, unremarkable tag in single-line monochrome. It contrasts with the billboards and signs by being unobtrusive, making it all the more absurd that the pig notices it with such vitriol. The edited version loses the impact by making it stand out in bright color and cover the whole of the wall.