Additional Tags: Temporary Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Five Stages of Grief, Cang Qiong Mountain Sect (Scum Villain), The five years shen qingqiu was dead in the ground, and how everyone at Cang Qiong delt with that, Shang Qinghua & Shen Yuan | Shen Qingqiu Friendship, Shang Qinghua is very normal about his buddies death not death thing, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, no beta we die like Shen Yuan, Short & Sweet, i haven't written in literal years, a couple short little character vignettes to get me back into writing, Angst, Canonical Character Death
Summary:
Shen Qingqiu Self Detonates to save Luo Binghe from catastrophic qi deviation. Cang Qiong Mountain Sect is rocked to its core, and for five long years the mountain grieves.
5 little one offs about how the characters deal with Shen Qingqiu's death.
I writing fic again! the first chapter is really short but there will be more!!
From this list: #14. "Please tell me this is not why you woke me up."
I Will Wake Up For You
((can also be found on ao3
note: this fic follows this series of mine, but you don't have to read the previous parts. this is a standalone, it's just a future fic in this 'verse))
“No,” Derek mumbles into his soft, heavenly blanket when Stiles tries to yank it away from him. “G’away,”
Stiles doesn’t go away.
“Derek!” He whisper-shouts, voice awed like he’s seen a mountain of Reece’s chocolates. How Stiles would pull that off at ass-O’-clock in the morning, especially when Derek is asleep and is not nervous about proposing to Stiles, Derek doesn’t know, so he decides he doesn’t need to wake up.
Stiles has other plans, though. Plans that Derek doesn't like. At all.
Stiles jumps on top of him, making him grunt loudly at the impact. He misses those days when Stiles was lean instead of all muscly, and not as heavy, but late twenties have only seen muscles on Stiles’ mesmerizing body. Not that Derek is complaining, he is just complaining... right now. Because sleep.
Why the fuck are Stiles’ elbows still skinny anyways? They hurt like hell.
“Derek, you need to see this!” Stiles continues to pester him, and Derek rolls them around so that he is on top of his husband instead.
“Hate you,” he mumbles into Stiles’ neck, which smells of Stiles but also of baby powder and his nephew. He wraps his arms tightly around Stiles, pins him down. Stiles slaps at his back.
“You don’t,” he says, smug, and yeah, Derek doesn’t hate Stiles. He is pretty sure Stiles can feel just how much he doesn't hate Stiles. But sleep.
“I do right now,” he says, then rolls back to his side of the bed. He can hear Stiles panting, regaining his breath. It's his turn to feel smug.
He is almost asleep again, eyes blessedly closed, when Stiles nudges his face under Derek’s chin. He forces his eyes open when Stiles' hair tickles his nose, which he is pretty sure Stiles is doing on purpose.
“You wouldn’t hate me when you see this,” Stiles promises him, even as he smiles mischievously, and way too bright for this time of the day. His eyes look a luminiscent gold in the filtered sunlight coming from the windows into their bedroom. Derek has never been able to say no to those eyes, or that smile.
He sits up straight on the bed, Stiles rising with him, and then he’s being tugged on by an over-eager human to the nursery room that they had specifically made for Cora and Isaac’s son, David.
“Come on, come on,” Stiles is muttering under his breath. When they reach the nursery, though, Stiles quiets, his bright smile somehow taking it up a notch and looking like the moon in the night sky. Lightness surrounded by darkness.
Sometimes Derek wonders how Stiles came into his life, and even more, how Derek gets to keep him for life.
But when he sees what Stiles wants to show him, the only thought in his still sleep-muddled brain is:
"Please tell me this is not why you woke me up, Stiles," he mumbles, eyes moving between the crib where David is asleep and Mr. Charms, their aging cat, who is curled around him, and then back to Stiles.
Stiles gapes at him like he has been scandalized. "What do you mean, this is adorable! Our baby totally hates Isaac and I was pretty sure he hated David too!"
Derek snorts. There's a tingling at the back of his brain that says he should keep his mouth shut, but he doesn't heed it, too busy wrapping himself around Stiles and leaning into him. "Our baby gave his tail to David to hold, that little bastard loves David,"
Stiles leaves his arms abruptly and Derek is left feeling bereft, and frankly, out of sorts. He scowls. Stiles points an accusing finger at him.
"Derek Seb—" Stiles starts, voice loud, and at a soft snuffle from the crib, pushes Derek out of the room and locks the door behind them both. Derek slumps agaist the wall, the coldness of it seeping some more of his sleepiness away, and his scowl drops down into a yawn. "Derek Sebastian Hale!" Stiles whisper-shouts, bracketing him in.
"No."
Stiles splutters. "What do you mean, 'No.' You asshole, you just admitted to seeing the cutest fucking thing on the planet, did you even take pictures? I'm going to assume you did not. And you're saying I can't be upset about it? Well let me tell you how wrong you are Mr. Stilinski-Hale! You—"
Derek would actually very much like for Stiles to shut up and for them to go back to sleep. Or for their normal activities to commence against the wall. But that's not happening, so Derek tries to find the best way to get out of this lecture—he might be feeling a little guilty, but in his defense, he was too busy cooing over Mr. Charms and his one-year-old nephew to take pictures!—In the end, he decides for something that he has been thinking about for a while.
He knows Stiles has been too.
"If I promise I'll take pictures with our own kids, will you shut up?"
Stiles stares at him, mouth a perfect round 'o', and Derek can't resist. He licks into his husband's mouth, and Stiles kisses back automatically. They kiss for some time, Derek's back against the wall, Stiles' bulging figure blocking him in, and the only reason they stop is because Stiles wraps his arms around Derek's neck and pulls him back. They're both breathing a little hard. But still, Stiles asks, "Do you mean it?"
Derek takes a moment to come back online. But when he does, he smiles and says, "Every word." Stiles smiles, the very same blinding smile, but this time instead of findind it to be too much Derek eclipses Stiles' smile with his own.
Don't know if anyone has asked this yet, but for the WIP title meme, tell me more about "Idioms - J x R"? :D
Uff! This one is also old! I started writing it to test my ground on English. The premise I gave myself was (I kid you not):
The story...there’s no story! I like idioms in different languages, and I love the fact Jaal complains about them in canon! :D
So it’s a little one-shot about him and Sara Ryder playing a game: Jaal researches about (in his opinion) ridiculous English idioms and tries to prove to Sara that they don’t make any sense at all.
“How about…’it’s raining cats and dogs’?” he asks, eyes raising from the tools he has scattered on the tech bench, and instead focusing on Sara’s.
She blinks, dumbfounded.
“Where…?” she starts, trying to connect invisible dots. The idiom is centuries old, and it’s effectively dead. Or so she thought. Leave it to Jaal to rummage through human history and find the unthinkable.
Sara tightens her lips, still under Jaal’s gaze. And the heaviness of those eyes, combined with the smug expression he is starting to display, makes her want to squirm.
“It means…it’s raining a lot. Like, a lot,” she starts, unsure on how to continue the explanation. “Uh…cats and dogs are animals from Earth that humans domesticated and keep as pets--”
She’s buying herself time, and Jaal knows it.
Sara, SAM chirps on her private channel, would you like the etymologic history of the idiom?
No, that’s cheating, she quickly cuts SAM off.
“Yes, I am familiar with those words,” Jaal’s voice is filled with false innocence, and he turns himself away from the bench to face Sara fully. She gives him a sheepish smile and fidgets on the crate she’s sitting on. “But…how did the idiom came to be? Do pets fall off the sky on Earth?”
It’s raining cat’s and dogs it’s my favourite idiom, so. Yeah :D
The song I got: She Loves Control by Camila Cabello. I'm getting Lydia Martin/Jordan Parrish vibes.
can be read on ao3 as well
Lyrics I'm taking inspiration from:
She loves control, she wants it her way // And there's no way she'll ever stay unless you give it up // She loves control, she wants it her way // And all it takes is just one taste, you wanna give it up
The Banshee & Her Hellhound
Her lips taste like euphoria, and he devours it until they're both panting from a shared sense of victory, both their eyes dark with lust but bright with the promise of a new dawn.
They've finally defeated Monroe and her army of Hunters, and tonight is all about celebrating that victory. They're all back in Beacon Hills, enjoying themselves at the party thrown by Ms. Martin and Noah—he assumes the others are enjoying themselves, either by immersing in inane and predictable chatter or by tucking into secluded corners, like he and Lydia.
He can't help but smile at the thought, fingers lacing through Lydia's and pulling her closer with a gentle tug, her legs bracketing his against the door of her childhood bedroom. His head rests against the hardwood lightly, Lydia's free hand resting on his face, scratching at his lightly stubbled jaw.
"Maybe we should go inside?" He suggests, wary of someone catching them. Especially if that someone is Lydia's mother or her to-be stepdad, who also happens to be his former boss.
Lydia clicks her tongue, green eyes looking up at him through eyelashes, making her seem oh-so-innocent even as she brings her fingers closer to his mouth, her thumb that was previously resting on his jaw inching closer to his lips. "Good Deputy," she smirks, well aware of what that title does to him, "Are you afraid of being seen with me?"
He doesn't say anything, because his answer is that he is and he isn't; he wants the world to know that they're together, but he definitely doesn't want to do so by getting caught like this. Instead, in a moment of confidence, he bites her thumb, just a little nip to distract her. She gasps, more surprised than anything else, and he giggles. The sound comes unbidden, but he can't control it.
He just bit Lydia Martin's fingers. Lydia Martin. The feared and revered Banshee of the Supernatural world that is thankfully still known only to a few; the woman who single-handedly screamed more than a dozen men and women into her submission; the legend who brought not one, but two Hales back to life; the woman who was the pseudo-Alpha of the McCall Pack and is now the Second of the reestablished Hale Pack.
Jordan is in that Lydia Martin's presence. And he's not doing what she wants.
"You little shit," she says, her breath fanning across his collarbone because she's the true definition of a dynamite in a small package, and then she's taking control by pulling him down by fisting both her hands in his hastily thrown on t-shirt and kissing him breathless.
When he blinks himself back to a more steady ground where his brain is not going holy fuck i never want to stop kissing her, he finds Lydia looking at him with her lips pursed, cheeks flushed and her eyes bright with a mischief that makes his heart trip all over itself to make space for all the memories he wants to make with her.
"I'm your little shit, though," he tells her, words holding more weight than he means to.
Lydia intertwines their fingers again, and this time she tugs him towards her so that they both enter her bedroom together, right feet forward. "You are," she agrees, toeing off her heels, using his shoulders to balance herself, "And now that we're in my bedroom, I intend to do things to you, Deputy. Are you ready?"
He laughs and lets her lead him.
It feels good. It feels right.
(When Ms. Martin knocks on the door some time later to tell them to come down for dinner and, "Be decent, you two! Keep your hands off of each other while at the table," he surprises himself by laughing with Lydia instead of being embarrassed. But if he's being honest, there's nothing embarrassing in being love with Lydia Martin.)
okay--i briefly thought about doing this for marrish week but absolutely ran out of time to execute it properly, so--
the day before his second deployment, jordan is sitting alone in a cafe patio. he was supposed to be meeting up with his best friend for one last night out until said best friend's long-time crush apparently decided to confess his love seventeen hours before they were leaving the country (jordan's fine with it--derek's in his unit, it's not like he'll be missing him, he'll be missing relatively cool weather and fruity cocktail drinks and the ability to eat whatever the hell he wants)--so now he's just sitting alone and people watching. he watches the kid that tears his pizza crust into small bites and throw it into the street for the birds, the older couple who hold hands loosely across the table as they talk, and the redhead who is currently having some sort of harsh whispered fight into the phone three feet from him on the other side of the gate.
drama has always drawn him in; he can't help but eavesdrop when she sucks in an unforgiving breath and hisses "i knew you would do this. i need your help for one thing and you decide today is the day you run off to london? my mom already suspects i'm lying, what am i supposed to say now? i just want to get them off my back, jackson."
his check comes and he loses thread of her side of the conversation while he makes small talk with the waitress and tries to talk her out of comping part of his meal when she hears he's deploying, and by the time he can look over at the redhead again she straights up, shakes her shoulders, and marches across the street and into a bar. he watches her through the window until she's lead away to a table, and then--without thinking too much about it--follows.
because walking up to her table and dropping into the seat next to her with a grin and a "hey, sweetheart," is probably one of the dumbest things he's ever done, but he figures it makes for a good story and if it's goes horribly, well--he'll be out of the country for the next two years anyway, so he may as well turn to the couple he assumes are her parents and add, "sorry i'm late, my c.o. had a bunch of pre-deployment stuff to go over. nice to meet you, i'm jordan."
her eyebrow raises, just the slightest bit of surprise, but then she's leaning in and he's wrapped up in her arms, her hair brushing against his cheek when she pulls out of the embrace and kisses him soundly. she keeps the conversation centered on him for most of the dinner, though once her dad starts asking about his military career it's not difficult to do. he doesn't even know her name until they're ordering dessert, and when they stand up to leave she tugs him back down for one more drink, watches her parents walk out the door and then turns towards him.
"you're insane," she says, "and i can't tell you how much i appreciate that. how much of what you just said was the truth?"
all of it, he tells her, except for the parts he'd made up that involved her. "it's my last night, might as well do something crazy," he explains, and grins at her when he adds, "and you're pretty, so i had to take a shot."
lydia asks him a few more questions--what sorts of things he likes (dive bars and shooting ranges, running trails in la jolla and getting fresh seafood) and what he doesn't (anything spicy--derek makes fun of him for it but jordan doesn't let it bother him), the things he's been able to see while he was stationed in san diego (a lot of baseball) and what he'd never gotten around to (sailing), then sends him up to the bar to get them another drink while she makes a phone call. when he returns with a whiskey sour and a gin and tonic she smiles widely at him and tells him to drink up. "i can do you one better than sailing," she says, "my best friend's dad owns a boat and she's calling the club and asking them to get it ready for us. ready for a sunset cruise?"
(it's not a boat, it's a frickin' yacht. the cruise also doesn't end at sunset; she kisses him just as the sun dips below the horizon and leads him to one of the bedrooms, and that's where they stay until it rises again the next morning.)
I'm on mobile, and it's being difficult, so just imagine I sent you the shuffle icon for the music AU ask!!
Lol, okay 😂❤ also I'm gonna guess Sterek as the ship, if that's fine with you!
Okay, so the song I got (after shuffling 3 times, again) is:
Someday from the Disney movies about Zombies! xD.
Idk how famous this song is, so I'll share the lyrics that are giving me the ideas:
You're from the perfect paradise
And I'm living on the darker side
Ooh, I've got a feeling
If you get to know me
Right from the start you caught my eye
And something inside me came to life
Ooh, I've got a feeling
If you get to know me
Someday
This could be, this could be ordinary
Someday
Could we be something extraordinary?
You and me side by side (yeah, yeah)
Out in the broad daylight
(I'm not going the Zombies route, lol sorry if anyone expected that 😂)
This is a Human AU, where both the Hale and the Stilinski family live in Beacon Hills, and are popular in their own way; Hales have been a very influential family in this town for generations, and the new Sheriff Stilinski is the best the town has ever seen.
But.
The job of the Sheriff might be respectable, but it's not nearly enough payment to juggle mortgage, education fees, hospital bills and the daily cost of living. Stiles and John make it work, but only barely. They have each other, and that's all they need to live a happy life.
The Hales are a big family. Siblings, aunts, cousins, uncles; you name it, there's at least three of those. They're super rich, and they seem like the perfect family: there's always someone for every one of them, to support them, to be there for them.
Except.
Derek is quiet. He's not social enough. He scares his younger family members and the older ones are just too busy to pay attention to him. Even in a family this big, he's all alone.
Stiles and Derek are classmates. Stiles is a Junior, Derek is a Senior, and they're taking the same AP classes. They don't talk to each other, but they know of each other, and they both think the other has it better.
Derek has seen Stiles and his father laughing together, hugging each other etc. numerous times. Stiles knows who the Hales are and who Derek is, what he drives, what he wears.
They're not enemies. They don't hate each other. But there's a tension there—jealousy and attraction, even if neither will admit to either, especially the latter one—and they keep arguing and they're just. Known as these two guys who are the worst enemies of each other. And it's not true at all.
Then something happens that has them working together—maybe a project—and they get to know each other better. Get to know each other outside of the classroom where they're rivals, outside of the cafeteria where they're known as each other's archnemesis.
And this—them getting to know each other—is something neither knew they needed. Lost in the monotonous life they lived, they'd forgotten how to feel alive. But now they remember. Well, Stiles remembers—Derek gets to experience it for the first time in his life.
Nobody believes them whey they say they're friends. They still argue, hell, they argue more than before, but then—Derek kisses Stiles one day, when he knows he's going to lose to Stiles, and the argument is forgotten in no time at all. Stiles just blinks, pulls back, and dives right back into kissing Derek.
The cafeteria remains dead silent because what the fuck.
Later, Stiles would freak out, because holy shit I didn't know he liked boys, and Derek would be all I'm sorry, but then Stiles will just shut him up with a kiss and that's that.
And the next day they walk around the school hand-in-hand like the sappiest couple ever, and the whole school decides that no, they hadn't mass hallucinated that kiss then.
(And there's the whole both of them coming out to their family, too, but that comes later).
Lydia is leaving Stiles' home when the call comes. Something has been burning down the trees in the Preserve, near the rebuilt Hale House too; Derek has been living at Stiles' ever since the first attack, coordinating the search teams by Stiles' side. Even the Sheriff has let up his rule of not having Derek stay the night for the time being—not that he knows that Derek has been breaking the rules even before they were made.
Lydia knows that Jordan is supposed to be patrolling the Preserve right now, not as just part of the Hale Pack but also as a Deputy, so when she sees his name flash on her phone's screen—the slightly drunk smiling face that stares back at her always makes her smile, no matter what—she picks it up warily.
"Jordan?"
Jordan is speaking even before she starts. "Lyds, listen, I think I know what—fuck, fuck, it's after me—"
"Jordan!" Her panic grows, even though she knows that Jordan can take care of himself. Realistically, Jordan is the best person to fight this fire-waving monster—whatever it is—but the part of her that beats in sync with Jordan's is insisting she do something. "Where are you?" She waits for a reply, stock-still near the driver's seat of her car, phone digging painfully into her hand with the force she is exerting on it. Jordan doesn't reply. "Jordan, please," and then she hears it: metal scratching on metal. "Stay there, I'm on my way, okay? I'm coming."
"Where is he, exactly?" Derek's voice comes from behind her, and she isn't surprised at all. Derek always puts others above himself, and this time is no different. And this is his packmate, his beta, in danger.
Lydia puts down her phone and gets in her car, but not before replying, "The basement." The basement where Derek trains his betas. Lydia has been there enough times, has seen her friends being thrown onto its sturdy walls, has locked up newer wolves or coyotes—Liam, Malia—behind the metal bars. She knows exactly what sound each brick, each piece of metal makes in there.
Her life depends on knowing such trivial things. And now, Jordan's life depends on her.
She puts her foot on the pedal and hightails it to where she knows Jordan is, Stiles' Jeep gunning to life right behind her, Kira's car not so far behind. Theo is reversing his own SUV when Lydia glances at her rearview mirror.
The Hale Pack takes care of its own.
*
They reach the basement in record time.
The entrance is burned, but not destroyed, and they'd passed Jordan's BHPD issued cruiser not too far back. Jordan is here.
Lydia takes a deep breath as she steps inside the basement, most of her pack right behind her, the others standing guard outside just in case.
"I can hear growling," Liam mutters, and Derek growls low in his throat, bypassing Lydia downstairs. Stiles puts his hand on her shoulder, a comforting gesture.
"He is okay," he assures.
"Yeah." Liam confirms.
When they reach downstairs, all the tension bleeds from her shoulders. Because standing on the opposite side of the metal bars are Jordan and Derek, facing against...
...a pup?
"This is the weirdest thing I have ever seen," Stiles mutters.
Jordan moves backwards as the pup moves forward. Derek jumps in front of the three of them.
"Stay away!" He roars. And then orders the ones on top—Theo, Kira, Malia, Mason, Corey—to spread out and search for two more pups.
"What the hell?" Lydia mutters. She is staring at the pup, a small, cute thing, no bigger than Prada, confused. Jordan seems to register then, it seems, that Lydia is here, and he calls her name.
"Lydia! You're here," he says like he can't believe it. And also like he isn't happy about it.
"You called, I came." She states simply. His eyes bore into hers, bright green jewels mesmerizing in the almost blackness of the basement, and she can't help but smile.
"You shouldn't have. It's dangerous."
"What, this cute little pup?" She says, and moves forward towards the metal gate. She has no doubt the pup could be lethal, but what can it do from where it is locked? She just wants to touch it. There's just something about the pup.
"I don't think you should—" Liam is saying, but Stiles is watching in avid curiosity, Derek holding him back, eyebrows no doubt up to his hairline. Jordan, clothes torn up but unhurt, hesitates, comes to stand beside her.
"It looks harmless," she says.
"It burned my phone. And my clothes. And some trees." Jordan replies. The pup yips. She holds her palms up, ready to touch its head, but Jordan stops her, holds her hand instead. "No!"
"But it's not doing anything," Stiles says, and he sounds like he is pouting.
"But what is it? A Dogon?" Liam asks. Everyone turns to look at him, even the pup, unimpressed.
Lydia turns back to look at the pup, and this time, does pet the pup. It nuzzles her hand. "I don't know," she says, "but I feel a... connection to it. Him."
They ask her what does it mean, and all she can say is, "I don't know."
*
A few hours later and they have three pups, all of them locked in the metal cells, Lydia inside with them. Jordan is sulking while everyone else has gone home, or in the case of Stiles and Derek, gone home to research.
"They're not dangerous, Jordan."
"They almost killed me, Lydia."
"But they didn't. Or else you wouldn't be sulking."
Jordan and her hold eye contact for a moment before Jordan concedes and sits down on the chair he brought from the lounge room—thankfully that room hadn't been a victim to the three pups' fiery hatred, pun fully intended—looking at her like he wants to come closer.
Lydia keeps petting the pups. She has even named them: the one with black fur is Fenrir, the one with white fur is Dalma, and the one with the grey fur is Cerberus.
"They feel like you," she says suddenly, abruptly. But something in her knows it's true.
Jordan makes a face. "What do you mean? I think I'd know if I had fur."
Lydia snorts, something she wouldn't be caught dead doing, but something Jordan sees almost on an almost daily basis. "No, you goof," she says fondly, and Jordan smiles, making her heart trip over itself. She tries to be serious, "I just mean. They kind of... feel like you. Like we're stepping through together."
Jordan is quiet for a moment. Anyone else, they'd think Jordan doesn't know what to say; Lydia knows better. Jordan is the kind of smart that works behind the curtains, cautious and slow, but worth the best results. It's just another thing of Jordan's Lydia is completely in love with, and she finds herself grateful everyday that she gets to have him—not just in her life, but her heart.
"You thinking they're from wherever I am?"
"Yeah." She agrees. "This means they're dead. Or were dead."
Jordan huffs. It's always an uncomfortable topic, talking about how he became what he is now. Not just because thinking about him lifeless hurts Lydia, but because it also reminds her that he is immortal, and she is not.
"They're better now," Jordan says.
"Yeah."
They stay silent for another moment.
"At least you chose perfect names for them, except Dalma. What's that for?" Trust Jordan to break the silence.
She rolls her eyes, a little embarrassed. "Dalmatians," she says. At his really? look she adds, "Shut up."
She keeps petting the pups—or whatever they are—and soon they fall asleep. And when they do, she leaves the cell, goes to sit on Jordan's lap. He holds her tenderly. Oh, he is always so gentle with her.
He puts back a stray hair behind her ears. She leans her forehead against him, winds her arms around his neck, lets her breaths fan over his neck and collarbone. "I thought I was going to lose you," she admits in a whisper.
"Did you—?"
"I didn't get the urge to scream," she says. Closes her eyes. "But I can't—I don't know what my powers are. How do I trust myself? But I still. Still. The way you sounded," it had ripped her apart, almost. To hear the fear in his voice.
"I trust you," he says, like that's the easiest thing in the world for him. She opens her eyes, right as their lips meet in a sweet kiss, and she sees in his eyes that it is: Jordan trusts her, as easy as breathing. "I'm sorry. For putting you through that. I swear I didn't go looking for trouble," he says when he pulls back. She huffs out a weak laugh.
"No, trouble comes looking for us," She glances at the three sleeping pups, her head resting on Jordan's chest, his arms around her waist. "Hellhounds are supposed to only come when something big is going to happen."
He kisses the top of her forehead. "There's no trouble we can't fight back against, love."
"As long as we are together,"
"As long as we are together." Jordan promises her.
