Aren't we all sinners?

The only heaven I'll be sent to, Is when I'm alone with you. - A Blog without any direction.

[rickmctumbleface]

You don't have to be evil to be on the side of evil. Stupidity will do it just fine.

[my85volvo]

Work in Progress!

Gym Crush

Currently just this is written, no idea where it's going.

Sterek, Derek is a gym bro

“Excuse me.”

Derek felt a light tap on his shoulder. He turned to see a young man, an inch or two shorter than himself, with honey-brown eyes and a buzz cut. Derek noticed a tiny mole sitting near the left side of his mouth; it looked just high enough to be swallowed by a dimple if the young man were to smile.

He started talking before Derek could form a greeting.

“I have a small favor to ask. It'll take ten seconds. I'm going to ask you out, and I need you to reject me in no uncertain terms."

Derek furrowed his brow and drew a blank for a moment. Did he just hear what he think he heard? He opened his mouth to speak, but the young man barrelled on.

“Okay, here it goes. Totally gonna ask you out now.” He took a breath and shook out his hands, then looked up with a saccharine smile. “Hey there handsome, are you from Tennessee? ‘Cause you're the only ten I see."

“Uhhh…"

“How about we get out of here and get to know each other a little better over a few drinks?"

Derek stared for a moment, watching the man's unfaltering plastered smile. This was not what he was expecting during his morning workout. “It's 8am."

He rolled his eyes. “Dude, I know. I'm trying to make this easy for you, so get on with it."

“Get on with what?"

“Oh, that's good, you're a bad listener. That helps, actually. I need you to reject me now. Please."

“Why?"

“Doesn't matter. Come on, let's do this."

“I'm free Saturday."

The young man paused, frozen in confusion. A light blush crept up his neck. It took a few seconds before he responded.

“What?"

“If you want to grab that—"

“No! No no no no no,” He started furiously shaking his head. “I mean obviously yes, but absolutely not. Did you hear a word I said?"

Derek shrugged. “Yes, but maybe I don't want to reject you."

The light blush darkened, and moved to his cheeks..

“You cannot possibly be interested in someone who used that pickup line."

“I thought it was funny." Derek smirked at him.

“I'm clearly a weirdo! Unhinged! Bad news! My dad is a cop, so I'll do a background check on you if you tell me your name!"

“Derek Hale."

“That's not---what is wrong with you? Do you have any self preservation skills at all? And you're supposed to be straight!"

“I'm supposed to be straight?"

“Yes! I mean look at you!"

He gestured to Derek, looking him up and down, eyes lingering on his crotch for a fraction of a second longer than expected.

“Okay, let's try this again,” sighs the young man. “Hello. I'm new to this gym, and I find myself quickly developing an unhealthy obsession with the thickness of your thighs. It would greatly help my sanity if you would firmly reject me, so I don't begin making a ten-year plan for our non-existent relationship. Can you please tell me that you are not interested in dating me?"

“Hmmm. No."

“You're fucking with me,” the man scowls.

Derek lets his smirk grow into a smile, then lifted his forearm to rest on the wall to his right. He leaned forward and drops his voice---a signature move with a very high success rate.

“So, Saturday?"

“Okay, I see what this is. You're a fuckboy, aren't you? I mean, I already assumed so, but you're, like, next level."

Derek straightens slightly. “I'm not—"

“You see me, an easy lay, and think, why not have a little fun?"

“Hold on—"

“Well you know what? Fuck you! You're an asshole, Derek Hale!"

He saw the hand raise, elbow bent back. He didn't brace himself for an impact. Why would he? There was no way this man was going to slap him. That would be ridiculous.

The young man slaps him. Stunned, Derek watches him pick up a bright red duffle from the floor and walk straight out of the gym. The slap wasn't hard, but it was definitely a first time experience.

[thememedaddy]

[blorbonicplague]

and doing hobbies that bring you and the people around you joy

[koiagain]

im going to fix my entire life

[fruitcakebro]

When?

[koiagain]

Like Um. later

[beaconfeels]

Peter stretches his arm over his head, feeling satisfied and relaxed. His other arm is around Stiles, whose head is resting on Peter’s chest. Late afternoon shafts of sunlight drift across the wall with the movement of the curtains in the breeze from the open window. It’s as close to perfection as anything could be, Peter thinks. 

Stiles’s forefinger traces Peter’s skin, over his pecs and down to the hair on his belly and then back up again. He does that sort of thing a lot. Sometimes it’s after sex, sometimes they’re fully clothed. He’ll tap his fingers along Peter’s arm, or run his hand up and down his thigh, or take a curl at the base of Peter’s neck and wind it around his finger over and over, like he’s using Peter to stim. 

It had almost felt like too much at first, after Peter had gone years with limited physical contact outside of sex. He’d had to learn how to be touched like this again, without any intent behind it, just contact for contact’s sake. Now he has to hold back the rumbling purr that threatens to overtake him when Stiles does this. 

“Peter?” 

“Yes pet?” 

“I want to tell you something, but before I tell you, I just need you to know I’m only telling you because I want you to know, not because I expect you to do something about it.” 

“Okay,” Peter says. He’d be nervous, but Stiles smells content and unbothered. It’s probably nothing serious. 

“Okay,” Stiles says, sounding determined. His finger stops its path, and he rests his hand on Peter’s stomach instead, taking a deep breath before continuing. “I love you. I love you so fucking much. And not even in a romantic way. I mean, probably that too, but like, I love you. You’re smart and funny and awesome and my best friend. I could live without you, but I really don’t fucking want to ever again. Anyway, I just thought you should know.” 

The words hit Peter like a freight train. How long has it been since anyone has said they love him? How long has it been since someone has loved him at all? Derek did once, and maybe he does still, but he’s not sure. He hasn’t been sure of anything like that in a long time. 

“Hey,” Stiles says, uncharacteristically soft. He’s lifted his head to look at Peter now, his eyebrows drawn down in concern. 

And that’s when Peter realizes he’s crying, tears running down to trickle into his ears. Well, that’s embarrassing. Maybe it’s not so embarrassing with Stiles though, who is wiping Peter’s tears away with his thumb while he peppers his jaw with kisses murmuring “it’s okay it’s okay it’s okay.” 

Peter sniffs, pulls himself together. “Sorry,” he says, trying to muster some dignity.

“My dad says real men cry,” Stiles says with a little smirk. “You okay?” 

“Yes.” He’s better than okay. He pulls Stiles into a real kiss, licking into his mouth to taste him, fingers clenched in his hair. 

“I love you too,” Peter says, once they come up for air. 

“I know,” Stiles says. He looks smug. “I would have known even if you never said it, but it’s nice to hear it.” 

Peter feels another rush of emotion, but he’s not going to cry anymore, so he just buries his nose in Stiles’s hair and says, “Yes it is.” 

[alwaysuncanny]

Gotta make room for new mistakes!

[shitpostingsterek]

[json-derulo]

"you were always such a good kid! we never had to worry about you :)" thanks! you actually should've, though. like about this specifically

[definitivelydrivel]

Untitled fae boon fic teaser

NOTE: First draft, unedited. It'll be edited before I post it on AO3 but in the meantime, I thought I'd give a teaser of the fic I'm working on. Enjoy!

Fuck Derek Hale. It was the day after Stiles' 18th birthday and Stiles, true to form, was doing something very, very stupid. He drunkenly walked through the woods with the remainder of a handle of whiskey his dad thought he'd thrown away, stumbling as the forest floor kept trying to rise to meet him like the road in the one Irish blessing without the blessing part. There were no blessings here, only angst, because Derek was gone. He'd run off with Braeden and wasn't that a kick in the balls. It wasn't like Stiles had any claim to him. He wasn't stupid. He didn't actually think Derek liked him, much less cared about him, but he'd thought— he'd hoped after all the mutual life saving bullshit, after all the shared horrors, maybe a text would be nice? Or a call? Or maybe a blowjob now that he was legal... Ok he didn't actually expect the last one. The point was. …What was his point? Oh. Right. Big ugly feelings for the grouchy werewolf who hated his guts. Fuck, Scott was gonna kill him tomorrow morning and he'd deserve it, but maybe a small part of him missed the days when he could still drag Scott into the woods for questionable decisions, the days when the only thing he had to worry about was getting pinned in place by the hottest man he'd ever seen, back before Derek gave up on all the deliciously sexy posturing bullshit with all the physical contact it entailed and just started ignoring Stiles like everyone else. Part of him knew it wasn't fair. It's not like anybody else really ignored him. His 18th birthday bash had all the rest of his favorite people. Hell, Lydia fucking Martin was there. Past Stiles would have been over the damn moon. Present Stiles just wanted Derek to notice him. The booze burned in his veins as he stumbled through the woods, heedless of his surroundings, mired in the mess that was his heart, too caught up in his anger to notice as he stepped into a fairy circle. There was a stone there, smoothed as if by water that never flowed here, an anomaly. Were Stiles sober he'd be walking the other way, but instead he approached. The top of the stone was— well, not quite hollowed out, but a smooth, shallow, bowl-shaped depression was pressed into the surface of the stone. Stiles leaned over to take a look, not quite willing to touch. He hadn't noticed his nosebleed till a single drop of blood splashed upon the surface of the stone. Stiles' magic swirled, his hackles rose as the woods went eerily silent. As the world went dark around him, he thought, this was all Derek's fault.

[musashi]

Hey can you guys reblog Cheeseburger so he can take a sunbeam nap on lots of blogs. No other reason I just want you guys to see him.

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Exorcist: I am here to remove the demon from within you.

Stiles: *confused* I didn’t call you…

Nogitsune: *regretting their choice of host* I did.

[nightlark100]

This remains one of my favourite extracts from a fic

credit to DorianWilde on Ao3

[secretzofdarkness]

A broken heart hurts more than a knife

The Stilinski family;

Ok but what if the reason why Stiles never takes off his many layers of clothes isn’t low self-esteem?

What if there’s another reason?

What if he has a huge scar crossing his back?

What if he has marks he doesn’t want anyone to see?

What if he can’t bear the idea of people staring?

What if he’s afraid of people asking?

What if they’re the most permanent memory his mother’s illness left for him?

What if they are the result of him ignoring his dad's words about “keeping distance from her” because he missed his mom’s hugs?

What if the huge scar was made during a hug between a mother and her son?

What if it happened during their last hug?

What if that was the last time Claudia Stilinski recognized her child?

What if two weeks later Stiles discovered that grief hurts more than a knife?

[unholyfudgebiscuits]

Oof

[applejuice382-moved]

Derek pushes open the door to the small, casual bar.

At the bar top, Stiles is chatting animatedly with a girl that Derek thinks he recognizes.

She’s likely a close enough friend that Derek has seen her in passing, but not so close that he’s ever been properly introduced to her.

Or maybe he has, and he just hadn’t cared to remember her.

Stiles is dressed like he always is. Jeans, a flannel over a plain shirt, some vans. In a college bar like this, just off Berkeley’s campus, Stiles fits right in.

Stiles’ friend notices Derek’s approach, but Stiles doesn’t, his back turned to him and still talking rapidly. She opens her mouth to say something, but Derek puts a finger to his lips.

She deflates, but she looks hesitant. Stiles doesn’t even seem to notice, too wrapped up in whatever he’s talking about.

“—Sean even fucking blocked me on Instagram! Who the hell goes that far?! So color me surprised when the douchebag shows up to our meeting two days ago, which, I don’t even know how he knew we were meeting that day. I think Morgan told him. Have you noticed she has a thing for him? She always—”

Derek stops just short of touching Stiles’ back, bare inches between them.

He leans down, murmuring low near Stiles’ ear.

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Stiles nearly swivels off the bar stool.

Derek immediately grabs Stiles’ arm and steadies him and the seat before they both go crashing to the floor. Derek isn’t paying attention to that, though. That’s just reflexes and instinct. All he can really focus on is the bright, glittering brown eyes and the beaming smile that lights up Stiles’ entire face.

The sheer elation over their mating bond warms Derek from the inside out and makes his head buzz in a way that alcohol never could.

He finds himself smiling a little in response without meaning to.

“But how— when did you— what are you doing here?” Stiles demands, but he’s grinning so wide his cheeks must hurt.

Derek grabs the bar stool next to his mate and pulls it closer, but not too close. When he settles, he leans in just close enough that his intention is clear, but just far enough that it’s not overly intimate. Anyone looking their way will likely see a stranger clearly trying to get lucky.

Derek gives Stiles the sort of smile that used to guarantee him a hookup with the prettiest face in the bar, back when he and Stiles weren’t mated.

“Just looking for some company tonight,” he says low and smooth, connotation obvious.

It’s clear he’s caught Stiles off-guard. His mate flushes a little, and his mouth opens to say something, but the bartender beats him to it.

She slides over, not even really looking at them as she busies himself with some glasses behind the counter. Derek already likes her.

“What can I help you with?” She asks, pleasant enough, but her mind clearly more focused on a million other tasks.

“Whiskey on the rocks for me. Rum and coke for him,” Derek says easily.

“Starting a tab?”

He hands the bartender his card that she takes without even looking at him. “Under Derek.”

“You got it.”

His gaze slides back over to Stiles, who’s rolling his eyes at Derek but can’t seem to suppress his smile. “You don’t need to drive three hours and sneak onto campus just to buy me a drink, dude. I do have my own money, you know.”

“I know,” Derek answers, because he’s learned a long time ago that any other answer will have Stiles insisting to pay for himself. “Just felt like surprising you.”

His eyes catch on the movement behind Stiles. The girl he was talking to is watching their exchange closely, but clearly seems unsure what to do.

She opens her mouth, hand lifting to touch Stiles to get his attention, but Derek lifts his eyebrow at her in a way that clearly conveys everything it needs to.

Get lost.

Wisely, she withdraws her hand. She quietly stands from her barstool and slips away into the small crowd, joining a group of people she clearly knows, but not without shooting Stiles a strange look. Derek mentally pats himself on the back for not bearing his teeth at her.

Stiles doesn’t even notice her leave, too busy smiling at Derek.

He tries not to feel too vindictively happy about that too, but he doesn’t really manage.

Two drinks slide their way, and Derek immediately picks up his by the rim. He lazily swirls the contents of the glass.

“So,” Derek says, mouth already lilting from the laugh he knows he’s about to pull out of Stiles. “You come here often?”

Stiles does laugh. He throws his head back as he reaches to take his own drink in hand, and the sound is utterly music to Derek’s ears.

“Has that ever actually worked?” Stiles asks incredulously.

“Depends,” Derek admits. “You have to get a feel if they’re into those sort of lines.”

“Wha— hey!” Stiles tries to sound indignant, but he’s still laughing. “What are you trying to say?”

Derek half-shrugs, but has to hide his smile behind the rim of his glass. “Some people are easier than others.”

Predictably, Stiles punches him in the arm, which finally pulls a laugh out of Derek. He watches his mate’s cheeks pink a little at the sound, flushed and happy and pleased. Everything a mate should be.

“I’m not easy!”

“No?” Derek hums, lifting a brow.

They both know that’s not true. All it takes is one look across a room for Stiles to immediately start looking for secluded locations to shove Derek into as soon as possible. It’s why Derek does it so often.

“Whatever, asshole,” Stiles rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling.

He turns away from Derek to face the bar, taking a sip of his drink as his eyes are drawn upwards to one of the many TVs. Derek studies the way the light dances across Stiles’ face, everything else fading into the background.

Derek can’t help but notice that Stiles still leans slightly towards him, like he just can’t help himself. Like he doesn’t even know he’s doing it. It warms Derek’s chest in a way he can’t describe.

“Besides,” Stiles continues. “I don’t think anyone’s ‘easy’ enough to actually like stupid lines like that. It’s just your stupid face that they like.”

Derek can’t help but laugh again.

—

AU where Stiles is a college student at Berkeley and Derek surprises him with a visit 🫡

[h4nifah]

I hate when people act like there’s an age limit on fun, excitement, whimsy, silliness, new experiences, finding love, making mistakes, or literally doing anything other than being an NPC drone who has a corporate job and 2.4 kids like sorry you’re a boring bitch but some people continue to live life beyond the age of 30

[tomcruisingthroughlife]

That's fucking badass

[fallcaesar]

Santa is on strike due to global warming.  All presents this year will be delivered by Sasha the Christmas Tiger.  Milk and cookies may not be sufficient.

[thefingerfuckingfemalefury]

“MUST BRING PRESENTS TO GOOD CHILDREN”

“Yes good”

“AND EAT THE BAD ONES”

“Wait no”

“EAT THEM”

“sasha no”

[tolkientrash]

@burstofhope the Christmas tiger is watching

[thefingerfuckingfemalefury]

She is making a list

It is not easy with her paws but she is making it

[iguanamouth]

shes almost here

[miscriont]

Okay fine this is the ONE Christmas thing I will reblog before Thanksgiving BUT THAT’S IT

[craptaztic]

SASHA’S BACK ON MY DASH!

[mace-from-outerspace]

Y’all better behave, you have two months

[aseriouscomedian]

You better watch out

You better watch out

You better watch out

You better watch out

[ordinaryschmuck]

Don’t forget Sasha ze Christmas Tiger.

She’s coming for you~.