#melodramatic drivel

[drowsyreaper]

Midnight Writer: Poet

I wanted to be a poet,

To write words that would burn with their beauty.

To cauterize the wounds of the world with a few deft syllables.

  I wanted to be a poet,

To shine a light into the dark with rhyme and rhythm.

To make constellations on the page to lead people home.

  I wanted to be a poet,

To sit in silence and slip the pieces of my heart through floorboards.

To smuggle my soul into the…

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[salomeia]

TW fic: Stupid

Some seriously melodramatic sterek coming your way, with feelings of unworthiness and depression thrown in. Derek should really consider seeing a therapist.

*

Derek had been fucking stupid. What the fuck had he expected? First sleeping with a 17 year old, and then do an even more idiotic thing and go and fall in love with the kid. What had he been thinking? Stiles was a kid. A high school kid! And Derek had been so happy, to, to... just be with him. Watch movies, sit in a car for hours on stakeout, play fucking Clue. Watch Stiles do homework.

He didn't want to think about his skin, his face, his touch, nothing about him. It hurt. Derek put his face in his sweaty palms and just breathed. Why was he always so fucking stupid? What was wrong with him? It wasn't enough that they leave him, no. They always want to break him. He laughs bitterly and leans against the headboard of his bed. At least this time the one he loved didn't try to kill what was left of his family. Stiles had just took his heart and stomped all over it. Laughed at him. Had took his roses and literally driven over them. Derek wanted to be mad, wanted to fume and break stuff, but he couldn't find the energy. He felt empty. He rolled around and squeezed his eyes shut.

He woke up feeling someone was staring at him. He straightened his body from the fetal ball he had been curled up in his sleep and cautiously turned around. Stiles was sitting next to him in his bed, with a cranky expression on his face, arms crossed over his chest.

Derek tried to find something to say, but Stiles beat him to it.

"I love you." He said, looking cranky.

Derek stared at him. What? Was he dreaming? Was this a cruel joke? He opened his mouth but nothing came out.

"Derek. You remember when we talked about you sweet talking to that witch, to get her to open up and maybe tell us if she was responsible for all those animal deaths?"

"Yes," he said. "But that wasn't the witch." Immediately he wanted to grab the words and stuff them back in his mouth. Even he could hear how vulnerable he had just sounded, but before he could agonize over that any longer, he found himself being enveloped in Stiles' arms. His face was pressed against Derek's neck. "You're so stupid," Stiles said, voice muffled, a warm breath tickling Derek's throat. He had to fight his instict to bare his throat and instead said quitely, "I know."

That only made Stiles hold him harder, before letting go for long enough for him to say almost brittely, "I sent you an e-mail, which you clearly didn't read. Please don't ever look like that again, it almost killed me. Literally. I almost blew my cover." And then grabbing Derek again and burrowing against his chest.

They stayed like that for a long time, Derek not really knowing what was going on, but deciding not to question that and hold on to Stiles as long as he's allowed to.