H. Unilateralis by @friend-lover-janitor
My last rbb piece! Thanks so much to
CarburetorCastie
for stepping in and pinch hitting this for me ❤
Tag: tmcff
TMC Fanfic PSA
Guys, if you reblog my fanfiction, do NOT change the format. I format my stuff so that my blog is the one that shows up when they read my work, and it upsets me because some people don’t bother to look and see if something has been reblogged or not [it is a thing, I promise]. When I reblog fics to recommend to people, I leave their format out of respect for the creator of that fic and their formatting [most of my recs are @not-close-to-straight because if you read one thing she writes, you should read everything she writes].
So please, if you like my stuff enough to reblog it, PLEASE LEAVE THE FORMAT I HAVE DONE.
TMC Fanfic – Moving Day
Fandom: Shadowhunter Chronicles
Ships: Malec
Plot: Art Major Magnus Bane and Music Major Alec Lightwood met the day Magnus transferred onto campus from a French univeristy.
Part of the Dorm Life Drabble series [aka: my gifts for @ofdemonicmagic]
Freshman year for his sister meant that Alec was expecting a new roommate. The roommate he’d had the last two years – a fairly handsome man named Underhill – had graduated early and left Alec feeling oddly lonely despite not being very social. He supposed it helped that Underhill had been like him, but hadn’t pushed for a relationship or anything. The male was a really good friend to Alec, like an older brother, so now a sophomore, Alec was hoping he could be as helpful to whomever walked in the door as his new roommate. Isabelle, darling sister that she was, kept insisting she would be his roommate, but Alec knew the odds were unlikely. The university tried to make siblings grown on their own and believed that pairing them up would hinder that. So he wasn’t at all surprised when he got a call from an irritated Isabelle, which lasted until she discovered her roommate was a freshman named Simon, and Alec could hear the crush develop instantly over the phone. He had laughed and promised he would help her unpack as soon as his own roommate arrived, and his baby sister was quick to hang up.
He went to make himself some tea, setting it down before picking up his Gibson TG-1, his favorite acoustic for the rich sound, and began fiddling with tuning it so he could work on a new video. He was tuning his F sharp chord when there was a knock on the door. Carefully setting the instrument on the couch next to him, Alec stood and moved to open the door –
And had to catch his breath.
The man standing on the other side of the door was just a few inches shorter than him, with caramel skin, dark eyes accented by a dark blue glittery eyeshadow, hair done in a mohawk while a black and silver backpack wrapped over his shoulder. It was beautiful and intriguing and Alec was sure his heart had stopped until the man spoke.
“Hello. I’m sorry if I interrupted anything.” the male finally greeted, having been momentarily stunned at the contrast of dark hair, blue eyes and pale skin.
Alec snapped from his reverie at the sound, and the music major wanted to faint because no voice should sound that damn good. “Not at all. You didn’t have to knock, though. I thought the admin office gave out keys still?” He replied inquisitively, stepping aside to let the other inside.
“Yeah, well, my last uni was, uhm…active. A lot. Or at least my loftmates were.” The roommate said as he set his bag down behind the couch, turning to look at Alec and offer his hand. “I’m Magnus, by the way. Transferred in from PCA in France.”
“France?” Alec asked before a faint blush colored his cheeks and he shook Magnus’ hand. “Oh, uh, I’m Alec.”
“Oui.” Magnus said with a grin. “I was there to get an adventure. When I finished most of my courses, I decided to come back to the States.” he explained. “The dorms here are quite large.”
“Large and soundproof.” ALec agreed. “Unless the students in this hall are just not getting any.” He crossed his arms a little and laughed with Magnus, looking around. “Uh, do you want a quick tour?”
“Sure,” Dark eyes returned to Alec from where he’d been looking at the guitar propped on the couch. He followed Alec around the couch and to the kitchen area.
“So the kitchen we have to keep stocked. My sister and I split our tips from work and keep each other fed, but our parents send money once a month out of some obligation their friends have guilted them into.” he shrugged, pointing to their right as they faced the living area. “Laundry room and guest bathroom is that way, our rooms are to the other side.” He explained, leading the way. “Both of us have our own bathrooms, walk in closets, and the office area is the one at the end of the hall.” he pointed at the doors across from each other and then the one at the end of the hall as he spoke.
“The university pays to furnish all this?” Magnus inquired, sounding impressed.
“Most of it. If you get your own furniture, you can have campus officials pull out the bedroom stuff. It’s what I did.” Alec answered, smiling. “Do you need help with your stuff?”
Magnus gave a smile and nodded as he went to set his bag in the bed in his room. “That would be great, Alec. Thank you.”
TMC Fanfic – Wrong Side of Heaven
Fandom: Marvel x Teen Wolf Crossover
Ships: Steve Rogers x Peter Hale
Plot: Steve and Peter have been dating over a year and Steve just found out his boyfriend is a werewolf. Can love endure?
Chapter Two; Admission
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It wasn’t like it was all a game. Peter had never meant anything to be a game when it came to Steve, especially once he had realized that he was wholly and entirely in love with the man. Everything had started because of a kind of tugging sensation in his body the day he’d met the man. Just a casual moment outside the local grocery store had led to polite conversation and the first time Peter had heard Steve laugh, his heart had fluttered. Steve had a kind of ruggish but very old fashioned style that when coupled with the man himself had Peter hooked like a double shot of wolfsbane laced tequila. Things hadn’t gone particularly fast, but they were by no means slow, either. The two had several times where they met as friends in the initial three months after Steve had arrived. It had been nice to feel normal again after the ups and downs of recovering from the fire and his mistakes. Steve didn’t pry and Peter opened up piece by piece, happy to have the gradual reciprocation. Once, after around four months, Steve had even, without actually saying anything incriminating, given Peter a hypothetical scenario about what someone who had only been attracted to women and been raised that same sex wasn’t a true match should do if they somehow found themselves emotionally attached and physically attracted to someone of the same sex. Peter had somewhat hoped said hypothetical had been about them, having become so thoroughly smitten with Steve, but he’d forced it aside and given Steve options to take. It wasn’t until three weeks later, when Peter had invited Steve over for dinner, that things had become a little different. That was the night when he’d found out Steve had feelings for him that he had for Steve.
Steve had leaned in to kiss Peter as he’d gotten ready to leave, and while at first, the wolf hadn’t responded immediately, he quickly caught up. Steve’s very touch was like a wildfire to Peter’s inner wolf, the beast craving to have it as much as wanting to care for it. Steve set his blood on fire and calmed his soul at the same time, and despite the way he was drawn to Steve, there wasn’t much physicality after that for a while. Mainly the contact was kisses, cuddles, or just plain holding one another as they spent nights together in bed; content to just feel each other’s warmth. Peter may have lost his mind before he could recover from the fire, but something about the normality of a real relationship – the trust and the ease that came with the day to day of loving a person, loving Steve – had him feeling completely sane again, so much so that it had reached a point where there wasn’t even the slightest urge to hunt on the moon. When the sexual aspect finally became part of their deal, it was six months after their first kiss, and Peter couldn’t be sure who had actually started it, no matter how hard he tried to decipher it. All he could remember was the warmth of Steve’s hands on his skin, the gentle way the other had arched up from the bed and kissed at his neck, tempting Peter’s control. Peter had shown Steve all the ways he loved him that night, kissing a trail over a broad chest and shoulders, nibbling on sensitive spots and taking his time as he claimed Steve with slow, dragging thrusts while whispering how good it felt to show him how much he adored Steve. By the time the sun was rising they were exhausted and spent and refused to leave the bed, opting to just lay and talk for the day. It had been wonderful, in many ways better than anything Peter had done prior, but he attributed that to the sheer, intense love he had for the blonde. Despite not telling Steve he was a werewolf, Peter knew he’d found his match. It was just a matter of a time to explain everything about the town in the reality that few saw it for. It hadn’t turned out that way unfortunately.
Peter had been alone tonight, the first full moon for him to be so since his relationship with Steve had started, and he’d seen why the moonlight struggles had stopped. Steve had been the one keeping him so centrally human that he hadn’t needed the rush of a hunt. But as luck [or some sick twisted god] would have it, Steve had gotten called in for a graveyard shift and Peter was left by himself. The itch started early, and Peter could do absolutely nothing to sate it. He paced, and cleaned, and folded laundry, even spent a good half hour running on the treadmill in his makeshift gym. So he’d gone to the preserve. Deer were big right now, and the loft was close enough that he could ask Derek to help clean and carve it. But not all had gone as planned. A bunch of hormonal teenagers had snuck into the preserve and of all people, Steve had been asked to disperse the party. The man had, but by accident happened upon a shifted Peter on his way back to the cruiser. The wolf had shifted back, knelt over a deer’s body, and yet hadn’t been able to say anything, which for Peter was a feat of itself. And then Steve had left. Unable to say anything, Peter had let the male leave, his heart breaking and it felt like his soul was crushed. He’d trekked home and cleaned up, changing into a pair of jeans and a dark cream v-neck, the deer forgotten on the forest floor. He hadn’t expected for Steve to find out in such a blatantly gore ridden manner, so he’d struggled to find a way to explain. But when Steve had called over an hour later, Peter had picked up regardless of what he thought he’d find on the other end. He still needed Steve in his life, and he absoutely was not ready for the wonderful thing they had to end because he was a monster. The drive to Steve’s house was silent, not even the usual classic music on his radio as he drove. His mind was a swirling pit of emotions, because with his record of relationships; familial or otherwise, he was dreading the words that were likely to part the lips of the man he’d become so madly attached to that the mere thought of losing Steve had his chest aching to the point his eyes teared up and it felt like he couldn’t breathe. When at last he turned on the block of Steve’s house, he slowed to almost not driving as he coasted to the drive way and pulled in alongside the car. He sat for the longest five minutes before he slowly got out of the car. He took a slow breath in, released it in a sigh and prepared for the worst. Walking with faux confidence, he went up the sidewalk and to the door, ringing the doorbell as he waited. It seemed like ages until the lock clicked and he laid eyes on Steve, as mixture of comfort and loss.
“Steve,” he breathed, smiling faintly. The pressure in his chest lightened just enough that he flet like he could breathe normally, but he still stood and watched the other man. He wasn’t sure what to do, not sure what it was that Steve wanted to talk about. Steve smiled at him, stepping aside and reaching to take Peter’s hand and lead him inside.
“I was wondering if you’d back out.” the blonde admitted, his skin warm and comforting to Peter. “I’m glad you’re here.”
Peter felt a bit of the dread fade at the words, nodding as he laced his fingers with Steve’s, letting the contact send a wave of comfort through him. “I wouldn’t back out, Steve. Not with you.” he answered sincerely. “What do you want to talk about?”
Steve led the wolf to the living room and sat down, giving a soft smile that was sad in a way. “I want to talk about us.” he explained, unaware of the heavy pit that filled Peter’s stomach as he spoke, the silent pleading from inside Peter’s mind of ‘no, no, please god, no’. He looked down and took the man’s hand, thumb running over the back of the wolf’s hand. “Peter, I want to move passed this. I’m not going to leave. But tonight, realizing that you’re not human? It dawned on me that you’re not the only one who hasn’t been…entirely honest.” He finally looked up in time to receive a kiss, returning it with ease as he hummed, enjoying the affection until Peter broke the kiss.
Peter’s hands moved to run along the man’s side and through blonde hair as he looked at Steve tenderly. “Steve, there is nothing you can tell me that will make me run.” Peter murmured softly. “I love you. More than anything. You’re my anchor. I will always be right here. I swear.”
Hearing the words made Steve smile and he nodded. “Peter, there are some things you should know before you say that.” he explained, even though he didn’t move from the closeness of Peter’s warm touch. “For starters, my last name isn’t actually Grant.”
“What is it?” Peter inquired, tilting his head as blue eyes took in his boyfriend’s face.
Steve was quiete for a long moment, finally taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. “Rogers. My name is Steven Rogers.” he began. “I’m from Brooklyn. And the reason why I used a fake name here is to stay off the radar of people I know back in New York.” He watched the other male for a moment, wondering if he should say more.
Peter arched a brow, before he gave a grin. “Are you really telling me I’m dating the Captain America?” he asked. “And here I thought you were just really good at holding alcohol.” He leaned back. “So do your friends know you’re here?”
Steve shrugged. “As far as I’m aware, no. But Stark has a nasty habit of trying to find us.” He ran his tongue over his lips as he watched Peter. “That doesn’t bother you?”
Peter cocked his head. “Why should it bother me? I’m a werewolf for crying out loud, Steve.” he replied, moving to sit closer to the supersoldier. “It doesn’t bother me, or scare me, or make me upset. You had every right to not tell me.” he explained, leaning over to run his hand through blonde hair and resting his forehead against the other man’s. “I still know you. And I still love you. Always.” he promised, his lips curving into a smirk.
“I don’t want you hurt if anything comes looking for me, Peter.” Steve replied, his voice soft as he watched the wolf, one hand moving up to rest on top of Peter’s.
“Steve, I can handle myself.” Peter replied, laughing softly as he tilted his head to kiss at Steve’s neck. “Wolves don’t leave their mates.”
Steve had tilted his head back until he heard the words, drawing back enough to look at the other male, blue eyes wide and stunned. “Mates?” he asked. “You think…I-”
“I don’t think, I know. And nothing can change that.” Peter cut the other off, grinning before leaning in to kiss the hero. “I chose you long before I even realized it. But you are everything to me, Steve. My whole world.” he promised, pressing close to kiss Steve again. It didn’t take long before he’d coaxed the slightly older male into relaxing and then he was leaning back, Steve chasing his lips as they kissed, the feeling of dread vanishing as the familiar comfort of love washed over him and he felt the warmth of his mate’s hands running along his chest. “I love you, Steve Rogers.”
Hearing his real name part Peter’s lips with those words made Steve’s heart falter for a second, and he leaned into to kiss Peter deeply. “I love you, too, Peter Hale.”
TMC Fanfic – Wrong Side of Heaven
Fandom: Marvel x Teen Wolf Crossover
Ships: Steve Rogers x Peter Hale
Plot: Steve and Peter have been dating over a year and Steve just found out his boyfriend is a werewolf. Can love endure?
Chapter One; Discovery
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Steve pulled into the driveway of his house, turning the engine off and sitting quietly. It was small, relatively speaking. It had three bedrooms [one was a study/library and the other was a guest room on the off-chance Natasha or one of the others stopped by], and two bathrooms. The living room and dining room were basically the same area and the kitchen was spacious but not huge like at Avengers Tower. He wasn’t expecting anyone tonight, and he hoped no one called him back into work at the Sheriff’s station where he’d been given a job over a year ago. He was still a bit stunned at what he’d seen, or rather who he’d seen change into something not quite as human. Getting out and making sure the door was locked, he took the steps up onto the porch and unlocked his front door. He’d heard enough of the things in Beacon Hills that he felt better leaving it locked if he was gone even for a minute. Walking in, he took the jacket he’d been wearing off and hung it on the coat rack in the corner of the small foyer, locking his door again. He moved to the couch, letting his body lay back across it as he stared at the ceiling. He just needed to take it in for a minute, wrap his head around everything that had just happened.
Apparently, Peter knew that.
Glancing at his phone, Steve hadn’t heard it ring once since he’d left the man the werewolf in the wooded area where Steve jogged after work. Peter was a werewolf, there was no denying that. But what Steve was having trouble understanding was why Peter wouldn’t have told them. Better yet, he was trying to figure out why it hadn’t truly bothered him despite the initial shock. He’d been living in Beacon Hills for well over a year now, closer to two years, been seeing Peter more than half that time. While Steve was a little bit disconcerted by the lack of information, he was also aware there were personal things similar to it that he had never told Peter. Starting with his real last name. Since meeting Peter, and subsequently the few Hales that remained of the man’s the wolf’s family, he had been known as Steven Grant, not Steven Rogers. He had needed the anonymity of not being recognized. Peter knew Steve was human but could heal fast, which looking back made more sense when Peter hadn’t been bothered by the suddenly missing gunshot wound Steve had gotten while breaking a drug sell. Things were being seen in new light on so many instances for Steve now, and he wasn’t sure why he liked it more than he was concerned. Like the time he’d been making Alfredo and Peter, who had a key after the two had been together almost six months, came over and immediately knew what kind Steve was cooking. There was also the time when Peter had known, without Steve having to say a word, that Steve was upset and had just held him close – which Steve had needed after the flashback. Thinking about it, Steve now wondered how he hadn’t put together that Peter wasn’t human. The entire relationship had been so comfortable and natural that Steve had just felt like he’d found his place. A real home that he felt he’d lost when he realized he couldn’t find Bucky, who was his only family left, although the “winter soldier” wasn’t his kin by blood.
Sitting up, he went to pour himself a glass of bourbon. He wasn’t the biggest fan of it, but right now he felt he needed the slight burn of the alcohol. It wouldn’t get him drunk because of the effects of the serum, and now that he thought about it, Steve noticed Peter had never been drunk once when they’d shared a bottle, but the action itself would hopefully calm him down. He slowly drank the glass, raising it to his lips every few minutes so as not to drink it too fast and end up downing an entire bottle on his own. After half an hour, he looked back at his phone, not sure how to take the silence from his boyfriend. It had been an hour and still there wasn’t even a text from the wolf he’d grown to adore so much that he knew he loved him. Looking down at his glass and then back over at the phone, he set the empty tumbler down and moved to pick up the device, unlocking the screen and dialing the number he had saved in his contacts, but knew by heart all the same. He waited for a few rings before the voice on the other end of the line made him smile.
“Hello?” Peter’s voice is normal in most aspects, but Steve briefly wondered if there was a sadness there as well.
“Peter, hey.” the super soldier said, smiling lightly. “Uhm, I know I kind of left you out there-”
“It’s okay. I should have told you.” Peter answered, making Steve give a half-laugh.
“Yeah, well, you’re not the only one.” he assured, nodding although Peter couldn’t see it. “I was wondering if you could come over. We, uh, we should talk.” There’s silence for what feels like an hour before Peter’s voice answered him.
“You want to see me right now?” he asked, his tone either confused or nervous. Steve can’t read Peter’s voice very well over the phone. He really just wanted to hold Peter and tell him that it was okay.
“Well, yeah. I can even cook something if you want.”
“I don’t think cooking will be necessary, Steve.” Peter replied. “I can be there in a few minutes.”
“I’ll be here.” Steve promised. The line hangs up on Peter’s end and Steve wonders if maybe he should have said something more than that. Something that held more meaning to it. Something like I love you.
The heirs
TMC Fanfic – All in My Head
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Ships: Sterek, NoahxMelissa
Plot: AU where the entire canon storyline is an elaborate reality created by a traumatized teenager and Derek and John [aka: Noah, because I refuse to change a name this far into a story] are struggling to bring said teenager back from the brink.
Chapter One; Lost
“For while in grief, we are lost to the wishes of our hearts and minds.”
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Wednesdays are the hardest days of the month.
The drive is too quiet, with not enough noise but he has no will to turn on the radio. He sits still behind the wheel, watching the road around him as he heads to the building. It’s an hour from the station, but the man has done this enough in a year that he knows all the shortcuts and can get there in half an hour. Pulling in is always easy at first, and then he remembers why he’s here in the first place. Flashbacks run through his mind as he parks, and he has to sit and brace himself for the familiar scents that await him inside of the structure.
Wednesdays are difficult to stay calm and supportive after he clocks out.
Outside the massive building is trees. It’s chilly, but watching the leaves gives comfort as he looks up to the third floor and watches the fourth window from the left. He isn’t right there inside the room, but he knows what the sight will be. Whiskey colored hues will stare almost lifeless through the window, an aged and distant look in eyes once vibrant and full of life, promise and opportunity. Sitting cross-legged on the bed, the teen hardly ever moves anymore. The nurses have tried time and again to make him move, but eventually he just goes back to his bed to sit and stare out a window that had nothing but the preserve as scenery. He does still eat, but he has to be in his room. People being around him make the teen too anxious and panicky to eat properly. The thought makes the man’s heart drop every time as he gets out and closes the cruiser door, hitting the button that locks it.
Wednesdays are always hard for John Stilinski.
The state of the art hospital nestled just outside the small town of Beacon Hills is barely affordable on a sheriff’s salary, but John manages with the help of an unknown benefactor to his only child’s well-being. John doesn’t have to ask, because he knows who it is. If the circumstance were different, he would be yelling at the other male to leave them alone. But he doubted it would help keep the male away. John had accepted that and simply allows the help he had never asked for, but needs desperately. The generous but anonymous party and John left it at the fact that they never came at the same time and never spoke if need be. Walking into the building, he pauses at the front desk long enough to greet the woman behind the counter and get his visitor’s tag. Not that he needs it anymore. Every staff member in the building knows who John is by now, who he came to see and how long he stayed. They didn’t need the little blue and white tag with his name on it to say hello, or ask how he was holding up. Up the elevator and down the hall that has always seemed much longer than it actually is, he counts the steps to the destination. He pauses at the door, looking through the small window at the form of his seventeen year old son, Stiles, as the boy just sits on his bed and stares out the window as if he were alone. Just as he did almost twenty-four hours a day.
“Hello John, it’s good to see you again.” a familiar voice says, and the sheriff is pulled from his mind as he turns to see a dark haired woman with a sad smile. John manages a smile at her before he motions his head at the door.
“How’s he doing, Melissa?” he inquires.
Melissa sighs and shakes her head. “I’m not sure. He’s not letting anyone in. His psychiatrist is having trouble getting in, but he’s making slow progress.”
“Doctor Le Salle said it would take time.” The sheriff briefly stops as a look crosses the nurse’s face and he frowns. “What is it?”
“Nothing.”
“Melissa, what’s wrong?” John insists, not dropping the moment. He can read just about every nurse in the hospital at this point, so why the woman tries to hide it is a bit disconcerting for the officer.
“Doctor Le Salle is leaving, and he’s the only one willing to take Stiles.” Melissa explains softly, a heavy sigh escaping her as she looks down, almost defeated. “I’ve been trying to find someone to take him when the doctor leaves, John, I swear. Stiles is like a second son to me.” The pain in her eyes is a blow John still finds painful every time they talk.
“I know he is. It just…” the man paused and looked through the window. “It hurts seeing him in so much pain.”
Melissa nodded, looking towards the door. There’s a brief moment of anger that John will always feel guilty for, before it’s replaced with a guilty kind of sympathy from the woman. John makes no mention of it because the subject he knows crosses Melissa’s mind is one neither of them have coped with yet. “He should let you in. He lets people he knows in the room.” the nurse says calmly.
“Knows?” John asks, looking back at the woman. When Melissa nods, he wants to ask more, inquire what it is she means, but knows he shouldn’t; that the answer would hurt more than wondering ever could. As the woman walks away, John watches her, murmuring an apology that gets a simple ‘I know’ as she goes to finish her rounds. Taking a slow, deep breath, he moves to knock on the door, opening it slowly as he steps inside. “Stiles?” he asks in a soft tone.
At first, there’s nothing. John begins to wonder if his son is lost forever in whatever reality is in his mind when the boy moves and his head is turning towards him. A smile lights up his face when he sees who stands at the door. “Dad!” the teen says happily, moving out of his chair and going to sit on the full-sized bed provided by the hospital. John can remember when the doctors told him that Stiles moved so much in his sleep the boy needed the larger bed. When the teen goes to pat on the bed, John pulls up the second chair and sits down in it, watching as Stiles leans over to the desk and pulls out a chess board. The wood is old, worn and a few scratches carve the surface of it, but the marble of the board itself is still pristine. Stiles slides open the top and pulls out the pieces, setting them up. “I’ve been practicing. I’m getting better.” he promised, not looking up. “How long are you here?”
“Two hours, unless something urgent happens and they need me.” John answered, smiling as he leans in to move his pawn. Time goes in a haze for John. He doesn’t get much time at all with Stiles these days, just two hours a week because of his career and Stiles’ having to stay in the hospital to be watched. They play four or five games, Stiles winning a few, when John checks the time. Just fifteen minutes left and he’ll be leaving. The thought makes his chest hurt, but he has to be back in time to eat and get some sleep before his shift starts at four the next morning. He’s moving to play his rook when Stiles asks the question.
“When is Scott coming to visit?”
John looks up, fighting the tears threatening his control. “Maybe next time, Stiles. Things are rough, he’s been working a lot.” It’s a lie, but John has learned that the truth makes his son fly into a panicked rage and the teen has to be sedated before the two hours are up. So the man plays along, unable to ruin what little time he has left with his son.
“I hope he comes soon. We’re supposed to watch Star Wars. He promised.” Stiles says, his tone almost thoughtfully absent from the real world, and John knows his time window is closing before Stiles is once more at the window staring out at the rarely changing woods. Honey eyes look up at the sheriff and the teen gives a smile. “You’ll bring my copies, right, Dad? So we don’t have to rent them?”
John nods, forcing a smile at how happy Stiles seems to be, but knowing the trauma that causes this event to occur isn’t likely to go away. “Yeah, I’ll bring them. Would you like me to bring your laptop?” his voice is having trouble staying even as he asks, but he manages to keep it steady through the words.
“Nurses won’t let me have it. They say the cord is a health risk. Which is kind of stupid, because there’s no reason for a cord to be dangerous unless you try to cut through it with all metal scissors or something.” Stiles moves his king and John glances down, thirty seconds. Reaching out, the sheriff plays to check-mate and sighs.
“It’s time for me to go, Stiles.” he announces, moving to stand.
“I wish you could stay, Dad.” Stiles murmurs, sighing sadly, the tone growing more distant. He moves to crawl off the bed, getting up to hug his dad tight. “You just don’t die on me, too, okay? I can’t lose anyone else.”
John has to close his eyes as he clings to his son for the remaining fifteen seconds of their time together, nodding. The words are the closest to reality that John ever seems t receive from Stiles anymore, and it hurts to think that he has really lost his only child to trauma. “I won’t, son. I’ll be back.” he promises, and he knows the one thing keeping him alive at work when things get messy is the fact that he has a son to take care of. As he releases the teen and heads for the door, Stiles is putting up the game. The man pauses as he shuts the door behind him, watching as Stiles sets the wooden box down and slowly, as if too preoccupied to finish putting up the game to sit in the chair and tuck his legs up under him. John goes back in, finishes putting up the game as quietly as possible, and is placing the king in the wood when he notices a name etched into the bottom of the inside compartment. John feels a brief moment of release from the heart-wrenching pain of seeing his son fade out again and finishes putting the game on the desk, leaving the room and going to the family waiting area, where he sits.
For ten minutes, he sits with his head in his hands, wondering how he had messed up so much that he had lost his son. But at last, the memory of the etched name comes to him and he rights himself. Reaching into his shirt, he pulls out his phone and unlocks the screen, scrolling through contacts until he finds what it is he’s looking for. He calls it, knowing this is so far from the norm. But he has to try this, for his son’s sanity, in the most literal of senses. A few rings later and a voice comes on the other side of the line. As soon as John hears it, he can’t repress the slight, hopeful curve of his lips. “Derek. We need to talk.”
“you’re alive … “
TMC Fanfic – The Masterlist
Want to read all of my stuff? Here is the list; sorted by fandom type and listed alphabetically. Happy reading! ❤
«★» «★» «★» «★» «★» «★» «★» «★» «★» «★»
«★» «★»
«★» «★» «★»
Marvel Fanfiction
- A Mountain of Memories
[Bucky Drabble Series]
«★»
To Fall Apart | Never Enough | Eye Contact
- War of Hearts [TricksterHawk]
Shadowhunter Chronicles Fanfiction
- Dorm Life Drabble Series [Malec;; this series is not in any particular order]
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Quiet Moments | Moving Day | Family Day | Friendly Dinners | Family Day 2 | One Shot - Kiss of Thunder Drabble Series [Jalec;; this series is not posted in any particular order]
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Nightmare Storm | Lightning Defense
- More Than Words [Malec]
Teen Wolf Fanfiction
Crossover Fanfiction
TMC Fanfic – Quiet Moments
Fandom: Shadowhunter Chronicles
Ships: Malec
Plot: Artist Magnus Bane and Singer Alec Lightwood got paired for their dorm room assignments almost two years ago, and after this long, their relationship is in the strange stage where they both want more but are scared to say anything. But there’s quiet moments where they can enjoy and just pretend.
Part of the Dorm Life Drabble series [ AKA: My gifts to @ofdemonicmagic ]
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Being roommates with a music major wasn’t as terrifying as Magnus had originally suspected. Alec’s preferred instrument was an acoustic guitar, thank Nyx, and more often than not, Magnus found himself listening quietly to the lilt of Alec’s voice as he practiced the assigned music or worked on covers for his hobby posting covers on youtube. Sometimes he would just sit and watch, enjoying the way the slightly younger male got into the music. It was beautiful and inspiring. Magnus would never forget the first time he picked up a charcoal pencil and began rough sketching Alec leaning back on their couch, fingers strumming as he taught himself “Thinking Out Loud”. Drawing Alec was something Magnus did to try and keep his feelings for his roommate and friend in check. Today had been rough, professor Fairchild critiquing works meant to be reminiscent of Van Gogh and only a handful of his classmates got a decent amount of praise. Magnus himself had gotten a fair bit of it, but he hadn’t been satisfied with his work, and he had admitted as such. Professor Fairchild – his favorite of the art teachers he’d had – had smiled as she patted his shoulder and explained that it was okay to not like every work he created.
“Sometimes things didn’t fit our usual style, Magnus. It’s okay to not feel complete when we try something new for the first time.”
Magnus had smiled and offered to let her keep his painting, since he didn’t feel he would do anything with it. The lovely woman had agreed and before he’d left, he had helped her hang it next to the vast window near her desk – the forest creek beautiful, but to Magnus not complete. So he’d walked back to the dorm room and gone to put his things in his room, waving at Alec as he passed the other on the couch, smiling back when the blue eyed man smiled and waved as he held his guitar. He set his bag in his room and grabbed his homework, going to the other couch and opening his textbook to read about the Rococo period with Alec’s voice in the background. After finishing the needed chapter and filling several pages in his notebook with notes for the next day, he stopped to get a snack from the kitchen, pausing as he actually began listening to the song Alec was singing. Why was his roommate so damn beautiful? It should be illegal and to top it off, Alec was so talented it was unreal. Magnus was in awe as he watched Alec, the other so lost in the music that he didn’t notice Magnus staring for a long moment. Dark eyes closed and Magnus had to shake himself as he moved back to his spot, pulling his sketchbook from the pile of stuff on the coffee table between them, pulling out one of his finer pencils and glancing up as he began to draw his roommate.
Alec wasn’t sure how to respond when he finished the practice of the cover he was working on to find Magnus drawing on a sketchpad. “Mags?” The nickname pulled Magnus from whatever he’d been working on, and he smiled, dark eyes so loving Alec melted inside. Why was Magnus always so perfect? But after a moment he figured he should say something, so he opened his mouth. “You alright?”
“Yeah. I just…I heard you singing and it just kind of…sparked something. I needed to draw it.” Magnus replied, eyes going back to the page and smudging something the lightest bit.
“What is it?”
The artist shrugged a little. “Nothing major. Just a doodle, really.” he replied, waiting a moment with his lip caught between his teeth. “Will you sing again for me, Alexander?” The inquiry came with a smile and Alec forgot completely that he hadn’t been singing for Magnus, or even to his roommate. But he nodded and moved to make sure his guitar was in tune again, letting the song flow from him as he played.
“Pick up the pen, put it on the paper,
Write on my skin, bring me to life.
Can’t start again, there ain’t no eraser,
All of my flaws, you got them so right.”
He didn’t notice as Magnus twirled his fingers to rotate the pencil before the other went back to work, Magnus shading and drawing without looking.
“Everything is blank until you’ve drawn me.
Touching on my body like you know me.
Write on me, color outside the lines.
Love the way you tear me up, baby take your time.
Write on me, give me some wings I’ll fly.
Love the way you tear me up, I’ll never change my mind.”
Magnus didn’t need to look up to get the details right. He’d been drawing Alec for almost two years, after all. But it all came to life as he brought the image to life, drawn in by the music. The faintest smile curving Alec’s lips as he sang, the easy way slender fingers moved along the neck of the guitar, even the way the light filtered through raven hair. Magnus smiled as he filled in places and left others empty, the image perfect as he set the pencil down and closed the book, getting up t wash the pencil residue from his hands. “Should I give you some time to film so you can post?” he asked, looking over at Alec from the little kitchen island as he washed his hands off and dried them.
Alec looked up and smiled. “No, I’m not posting this week. The state contest is this weekend, I won’t have the time to edit. Besides, it’s not quite where I want it to be.” he answered, looking up as he put his guitar away. “How’d the critique go?”
“Good, I just didn’t feel like my piece was complete. Professor Fairchild has it in her room now.” he replied, smiling. “She loved that I went with the nature aspect. Most everyone went with self portrait style.”
“I don’t see why you didn’t do the self portrait.”
“I’m not good at drawing myself, Alexander.” Magnus replied, bringing a soda from the fridge over and handing it to Alec. “Are you nervous about the competition?”
“Not as worried as I was. We finally got results, and I was second chair.” came the reply as Alec popped the cap from the soda bottle and took a drink. “I mean, yeah, I’m still practicing, but I’m not as super worried about it like I was last week.”
“You’ll be fine, ALexander. One more patch and trophy, right?” Magnus teased, not missing the blush on Alec’s cheeks as the other bit his lower lip.
“I’m glad you don’t put much emphasis on my singing. That’s all some people see.”
Magnus arched a brow from where he had situated with another textbook. “Alexander, there is so much more to you than people believe. Maybe it’s because I have such a close relationship with you day to day, but I know there’s more to you than that angel’s voice of yours.” He gave an encouraging smile and Alec smiled back and when he looked back to his book, Alec moved to pick up his own textbook and the two fell into comfortable silence. Magnus didn’t comment on the fair blush painted along Alec’s face, and Alec didn’t mention the way Magnus’ eyes had lit as he’d said the words ‘close relationship’.