[ Ever since they'd found out that Stiles was pregnant-- Jesus, that had been a briefly overwhelming experience on its own-- there's no denying the fact that Derek hasn't quite changed so much as he's just... more focused. He's already fairly tactile with her, though they're not much for the public displays of affection like the rest of the pack are, but he's gotten just a little bit moreso now.
Like now.
He can't exactly blame her for not wanting to move around until noon unless the baby gets her out of bed somehow, so he's more than happy to laze while waiting for her to stir. Head pillowed on one arm, he lays with the other draped over her waist, his hand slipped underneath her shirt so that his fingers are fanned out in the small of her back. Off and on, he slips into a quiet focus, aiming to take away a little of her soreness as he keeps his nose tucked against the curve of her stomach.
It's incredibly ridiculous how he went from panicking for the first week to being completely over the damn moon about this. Kids are important in pack, they're the foundation, and he's having one. He's having one with Stiles, and there are still moments where he's struck with disbelief and has to take a seat. Because he never thought he would get to have this again, never get to have a family that he could watch grow.
[ So. Shotgun talk? Happened. Getting married? Also happened. The last six or so month have kind of been a whirlwind, and Stiles went from dating to pregnant to married in about three of them. Not that she was complaining--she'd suggested a fake proposal and Derek had been right there, as usual, completely surprising her, as usual, and making her fall even harder (as usual). So, instead of just casually living in Derek's nicely renovated loft, she'd officially moved out, and has been more or less nesting ever since.
Which is great, because Derek's risen to the occasion since it's happened. It's an entirely different side of him that she's only gotten to see through others, and it's one of her favorite things about him--Stiles had known for a long time that he'd be a good father, and he was proving her exactly right. Rubbing her feet, taking her pain away, going out at the asscrack of dawn for really weird food; above and beyond the call of duty, to say the least.
When Stiles rouses on a late Sunday morning, her first instinct is to screw her eyes shut tighter and try to fall asleep again. Instead, she just flutters her eyes open, just enough to look down at the sight below her, pretending she's not awake for a little longer. It never works, considering werewolf senses, but she can try.
Finally, she mumbles, voice still half bleary. ] Hear anything exciting?
[ After having enough shotguns forced in his face, Derek was less inclined to have the sheriff's pointed at him. With or without wolfsbane. At the very least, he'd been planning something for quite some time, long before the little slip up that lead to the pregnancy, but this wasn't exactly how he expected to pop the question. Not to say he's complaining, despite the whirlwind of chaos that came with marriage and pregnancy, because he has Stiles.
And they're having a baby. God, he's going to be a dad.
He's going to be a dad, and despite whatever fears that Stiles has had throughout the whole ordeal she's going to be an amazing mom. He took every opportunity to make sure he believed it-- knew it-- and that she had whatever would help her feel at ease during the pregnancy. Even if it meant the strangest food combinations that wreaked havoc on his sense of smell at five o'clock in the morning. If it made her happy, he'd do it.
When he hears the change in her breathing, in her heartbeat, Derek shifts closer to her, his arm hooking around her a little more to allow his hand to slide up her shirt further. He's comfortable and warm, capable of tilting his head just enough to rest his cheek against her stomach as he resettles as if he is actually listening. ]
[ Sleepily, she reaches downwards and threads her fingers into his dark hair, giving a little shake as she tries to clear the sleep from her eyes. Derek's been taking away her pain again-which, sweet, romantic, and Stiles'll never call him out on it, because it's just one of those secret Derek things that she loves about him. If anyone's learned that Derek's kind of an angst s'more (completely with gooey center) then it's definitely Stiles.
She wriggles a little, arching her back up to make it a little easier for Derek's hand, then yawns and looks down at the curve of her stomach. ]
G'morning, nameless, genderless child of mine. [ As far as she currently knows, anyway. It's like the only surprise she could ever drop on Derek, ever. Bam, humanity. ] Morning, less genderless, less nameless husband of mine.
[ How they got to this point that they did, Derek is never going to know.
The pack had been close for some time now, and he'd had people coming and going out of the loft ever since he moved in. They've made it more of a home than just a place for him to go to when he had to lick his wounds. There's mixed and matched furniture, and signs of multiple residents at any given time. But ever since the little werewolf pup stumbled across Stiles-- they all know it isn't the other way around-- it's been even more busy, more lived in.
Having Stiles there more often than not is also something of interest, but he's not quite sure how to go about it.
As he comes back in, he shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it over the back of the arm chair that the entire pack started calling (thanks to Stiles) 'the master's chair.' He rubs at the side of his neck, following the scent in the kitchen that he associates with Stiles invading it.
And then he pauses in the archway, raising a brow at the sight that meets him. ]
If she had a concept of dignity at her age, I'd be worried.
[ There were days that Stiles was really, really glad that he was out of high school, and the day he'd found a wolf pup--well, one had found him--was definitely one of them. She was apparently stuck in permanent shift, and when Stiles had pulled over off the side of the road when a pair of eyes had flashed against his headlights, she'd apparently decided that he meant home.
It made sense, if he wanted to be perfectly honest. (He didn't.) Stiles spent most of his time around werewolves, one of them in particular an alpha, and he'd learned the ropes faster than any regular human really should have. That wasn't to say he was ever obedient about it--which, made it make even more sense. Stiles figured out he was the second a long time ago, just. Minus the romantic implications of that. (And really, it was kind of goddamn impressive, that he managed to rise above the werewolves; he'd contented himself with that. Sort of. It didn't really cover the awful, horrible, since-tenth-grade crush he'd had on Derek Hale, but that didn't matter.)
So to make a long story short, the wolf pup--nicknamed "Talia", in honor of Derek's mom (and of Batman's woman--Stiles' firm insistence that Derek was actually part of the Batman Family continued to be true)--became pretty much his constant attachment. He'd finagled an agreement with three of his four professors that she needed him for weird reasons, and that he couldn't afford a sitter with all the money he spent on college, and all Talia ever did was sit under his desk and rub against his feet anyway. Besides, she was adorable, and who could say no to her gigantic, golden puppy eyes. (The answer is not Stiles.)
The only time their little attachment issue didn't work was when he was cooking. Talia always wanted to be touching him, and with his feet and hands fast in motion, it had already ended with a nasty bruise on his chin where he'd smacked it against the counter. So Stiles improvised, because that's what Stilinskis do, and Talia didn't mind the carrier at all--she just wriggled every now and then when something smelled good.
Without any sort of supernatural senses, Stiles doesn't hear Derek come in, and he glances over his shoulder at the remark from where he's arm deep in chopped vegetables. So maybe this wasn't the most, uh, kosher solution, but Talia seemed happy with it. ]
Don't knock it till you try it, wolfman, it's like magic.
Edited (s where did you come from) 2013-05-30 00:50 (UTC)
[ The fact Stiles can get away with having Talia in any of his classes is an impressive feat, though there's a myriad of bullshit reasons he could've given to excuse the fact he had the equivalent of a toddler gnawing on his shoelaces during his lectures. It's interesting that it's more excusable for him to bring her with him to the police station than it is for Stiles to bring her to a college campus, but he doesn't quite question it since he has a decent amount of sway as a high ranked deputy.
Approaching from the entryway of the kitchen, he brings his hands up to rub his fingers into the soft scruff of fur around the pup's face, bowing his head forward to butt it into hers. ]
I'm sorry, Talulla. I promise I won't let him bring out the embarrassing baby pictures too often.
[ He fans his hands, offering her a rumble in question as to whether she wants to be brought out of the carrier or not.
The fact that the image of Stiles in his kitchen, with their wolf pup, warms his heart is something he should worry about. Ever since he and Stiles met, things had grown between them. There was no denying that, regardless of how much they wanted to try, they were something. Maybe there wasn't actually any romantic connotations to their alpha-second relationship, but it wasn't as if he was oblivious of the potential for them.
Long story short, Derek has been aware of Stiles' crush for years now. Except Stiles has his entire life ahead of him, and even with the fact that as second, him leaving would probably have a heavy impact on the pack... Well, he deserves a lot better than him. Even if a great part of the alpha is incredibly selfish and judging, always assessing anyone that even comes near Stiles when they're out.
He should really nut up or shut up.
Straightening up behind him, he noses at the back of his head in greeting and to emphasize his teasing. ]
[ After dealing with the errant puka running amok all throughout the area, Derek hasn't once set foot outside of the village on two feet. Their game has been a constant of chasing and dancing around each other, for sure, but the faoladh hasn't been entirely willing to fully reveal himself-- same as he's known that Stiles hasn't, in his own way.
But he finally decides to take the step forward, making his way out of the enclosed community, following the path he typically takes when he goes to seek out the other shapeshifter when moving on all fours. A major part of him is a little unsure of doing this, but at the same time...
Well, a small part of him thinks it feels right. And somehow, that's the part that's strongest in him. So he keeps going, green-and-gold eyes a stark contrast to brilliant red. ]
[ It's been six months or so since Stiles first started dealing in the village protected by a faoladh. If any of his kin had seen him, they would've thought he was absolutely nuts for the challenge he'd taken on; a faoladh was known for being vicious to intruders and anything that could harm their "pack", including the people in the villages they protected. To be fair, Stiles wasn't really keen on harming people--in fact, the faoladh had literally seen him saving a child's life once. (It pretty much ruined his reputation, but Stiles was a puka, not a murderer, and he'd rather pretend to be a turtle and carry a kid across a stream than let them drown.)
But after ages of fighting to get his share, Stiles had started to take his interest in something completely different, and that was the faoladh himself. They'd met up multiple times, although neither had really seen their human faces, and Stiles took some kind of grand pleasure in teasing him anyway, making the wolf jump for him when he was a bird, wrestling with him until he was overpowered and could just slip away. Today's supposed to be one of the days, and he's currently sitting in the shape of a black fox, perched on a rock and licking his paws, trying to appear cool for the fact that he's been running around excited about seeing the faoladh all day.
[ The thing of it is, Derek knows better to think that Stiles is anything like a normal puka. He's badgered and badgered them constantly, played tricks and caused general destruction of property everywhere, but at the same time? He's helped them out just as much as he's terrorized, though the general terrorizing has sort of... decreased in past weeks, he has to say. And the faoladh is far from stupid, he knows what that means.
Somehow, the puka has gotten his share. Maybe not in the most conventional way, but he's gotten something that's appeased his nature enough to not bust into residences and places of business with the same frequency he did at the start.
So, why not give him the full share? (Not that this is just for his village, what has become his pack. Rather, it's a good reason to give anyone that asks, especially the druid that takes up residency there. Even if he sees through Derek like a damn window.)
He spots a black shape perched ahead of him, and chuffs amusement at the attempt to look cool. Right, sure Stiles. ]
[ Waking up in Night Vale has been an exercise in sanity. Carlos is still getting used to the idea that god knows what could happen the moment that he opens his eyes, though he's overall adapted to the concept that things are just crazy in Night Vale. He does, after all, listen to the radio, nevermind look out his window. Given the various things that happen in the little burg, you'd think he'd give up trying to understand any of it.
(Absolutely not.)
He's at least comforted by the fact that he doesn't wake up alone, and hasn't ever since he arrived, but now it's... a little different.
Especially since the inclusion of multiple Cecils in his life.
Cracking an eye open slowly, he tries not to startle too badly when a lavender-esque lump appears in his field of vision. His Espurr sits patiently on his chest, staring at him, and he exhales heavily in a sigh the moment it starts to purr. Tucked into his side (closest to the outside of the bed), Enzo complains about the sudden movement brought on by his trainer's surprise. Carlos just pats the Growlithe sympathetically, before tentatively patting the cat-like pokémon between the ears. ]
Good morning, Cecil. [ Though he mostly addresses the staring, purring form on his chest, he pitches his sleep-heavy voice enough to be heard by all current occupants that share the name. ]
[ Cecil tends to be a bit of a morning person. In fact, of his routines, he spends much of his day preparing for the broadcast at the station that night, socializing with the non-oozing residents of his apartment complex, and walking the furrier love of his life, Lovecraft, through the neighborhood. It's peaceful this early, and Carlos had gone to bed late the night before, and Cecil had left him (asleep and drooling and absolutely perfect) to finish his routine. His Absol nudges at his side as they make their way down the promenade, and all is quiet in the town this morning, save for the strange humming from the dog park that Cecil isn't supposed to acknowledge but acknowledges anyway.
By the time he returns, he's set up with the news of the day at the kitchen table, looking through his mail and listening to the mayor, as usual, whispering her feelings on an official meeting through his mail slat. It's a sleepy morning, so far--no strange pyramids, no oddly benevolent animal spewing clouds. Yes, it's a beautiful, chartreuse sky kind of day, and as he lets Lovecraft back into his pokeball, he trods through the apartment and pauses at the door, leaning on the frame to look at Carlos, still snoring perfectly, and slips back into bed, toeing off his saddle shoes and getting comfortable again.
By the time Carlos wakes up, Cecil the Espurr isn't the only thing staring. Cecil the human is very much doing the same thing, scooted down just a little, chin perched on his shoulder, two very real eyes and one ink one admiring Carlos' perfect face and perfectly imperfect sleeping habits. ] Good morning.
[ It had, honestly, taken Enzo some amount of time to be comfortable sharing their living space with another person-- especially one so strange as Cecil was-- before he settled into something easy. After spending enough time in Night Vale, Carlos and his motley "team," if they could be called that, came to the conclusion that Cecil was by far the most harmless thing to come out of the not-so-sleepy burg. So as the radio jockey begins the day, the Growlithe just chuffs and nestles closer to his softly snoring companion, providing an excellent heat source to further encourage a sleepy morning.
When Cecil rejoins them, he hardly moves. Carlos certainly doesn't, strangely at peace up until he feels so many sets of eyes staring at him. The Espurr is the one that unsettles him, while the human is mostly considered the norm. Blinking blearily, he looks out of the corner of his eye, catching movement in ink before he turns his head to actually look at the intently staring man.
When did this become the norm? ] I didn't miss anything, did I?
[ Because that's a major concern, given the community of Night Vale. To his side, Enzo shifts, lifting his head up to drop it on his chest near Cecil II, yawning wide by way of greeting to the bed at large. ]
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sup derek
Derek
i'm not sorry
will this soothe the pain of the last one
I'll eventually get to that last one. BI
Like now.
He can't exactly blame her for not wanting to move around until noon unless the baby gets her out of bed somehow, so he's more than happy to laze while waiting for her to stir. Head pillowed on one arm, he lays with the other draped over her waist, his hand slipped underneath her shirt so that his fingers are fanned out in the small of her back. Off and on, he slips into a quiet focus, aiming to take away a little of her soreness as he keeps his nose tucked against the curve of her stomach.
It's incredibly ridiculous how he went from panicking for the first week to being completely over the damn moon about this. Kids are important in pack, they're the foundation, and he's having one. He's having one with Stiles, and there are still moments where he's struck with disbelief and has to take a seat. Because he never thought he would get to have this again, never get to have a family that he could watch grow.
And here he is now. ]
huhuhu ♥
Which is great, because Derek's risen to the occasion since it's happened. It's an entirely different side of him that she's only gotten to see through others, and it's one of her favorite things about him--Stiles had known for a long time that he'd be a good father, and he was proving her exactly right. Rubbing her feet, taking her pain away, going out at the asscrack of dawn for really weird food; above and beyond the call of duty, to say the least.
When Stiles rouses on a late Sunday morning, her first instinct is to screw her eyes shut tighter and try to fall asleep again. Instead, she just flutters her eyes open, just enough to look down at the sight below her, pretending she's not awake for a little longer. It never works, considering werewolf senses, but she can try.
Finally, she mumbles, voice still half bleary. ] Hear anything exciting?
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And they're having a baby. God, he's going to be a dad.
He's going to be a dad, and despite whatever fears that Stiles has had throughout the whole ordeal she's going to be an amazing mom. He took every opportunity to make sure he believed it-- knew it-- and that she had whatever would help her feel at ease during the pregnancy. Even if it meant the strangest food combinations that wreaked havoc on his sense of smell at five o'clock in the morning. If it made her happy, he'd do it.
When he hears the change in her breathing, in her heartbeat, Derek shifts closer to her, his arm hooking around her a little more to allow his hand to slide up her shirt further. He's comfortable and warm, capable of tilting his head just enough to rest his cheek against her stomach as he resettles as if he is actually listening. ]
Just the heartbeat.
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She wriggles a little, arching her back up to make it a little easier for Derek's hand, then yawns and looks down at the curve of her stomach. ]
G'morning, nameless, genderless child of mine. [ As far as she currently knows, anyway. It's like the only surprise she could ever drop on Derek, ever. Bam, humanity. ] Morning, less genderless, less nameless husband of mine.
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jackson come back from the CW
bow down bitches
i thought i was done and then i found taliverse
Oh my god.
The pack had been close for some time now, and he'd had people coming and going out of the loft ever since he moved in. They've made it more of a home than just a place for him to go to when he had to lick his wounds. There's mixed and matched furniture, and signs of multiple residents at any given time. But ever since the little werewolf pup stumbled across Stiles-- they all know it isn't the other way around-- it's been even more busy, more lived in.
Having Stiles there more often than not is also something of interest, but he's not quite sure how to go about it.
As he comes back in, he shrugs out of his jacket and tosses it over the back of the arm chair that the entire pack started calling (thanks to Stiles) 'the master's chair.' He rubs at the side of his neck, following the scent in the kitchen that he associates with Stiles invading it.
And then he pauses in the archway, raising a brow at the sight that meets him. ]
If she had a concept of dignity at her age, I'd be worried.
long ass tag whoops
It made sense, if he wanted to be perfectly honest. (He didn't.) Stiles spent most of his time around werewolves, one of them in particular an alpha, and he'd learned the ropes faster than any regular human really should have. That wasn't to say he was ever obedient about it--which, made it make even more sense. Stiles figured out he was the second a long time ago, just. Minus the romantic implications of that. (And really, it was kind of goddamn impressive, that he managed to rise above the werewolves; he'd contented himself with that. Sort of. It didn't really cover the awful, horrible, since-tenth-grade crush he'd had on Derek Hale, but that didn't matter.)
So to make a long story short, the wolf pup--nicknamed "Talia", in honor of Derek's mom (and of Batman's woman--Stiles' firm insistence that Derek was actually part of the Batman Family continued to be true)--became pretty much his constant attachment. He'd finagled an agreement with three of his four professors that she needed him for weird reasons, and that he couldn't afford a sitter with all the money he spent on college, and all Talia ever did was sit under his desk and rub against his feet anyway. Besides, she was adorable, and who could say no to her gigantic, golden puppy eyes. (The answer is not Stiles.)
The only time their little attachment issue didn't work was when he was cooking. Talia always wanted to be touching him, and with his feet and hands fast in motion, it had already ended with a nasty bruise on his chin where he'd smacked it against the counter. So Stiles improvised, because that's what Stilinskis do, and Talia didn't mind the carrier at all--she just wriggled every now and then when something smelled good.
Without any sort of supernatural senses, Stiles doesn't hear Derek come in, and he glances over his shoulder at the remark from where he's arm deep in chopped vegetables. So maybe this wasn't the most, uh, kosher solution, but Talia seemed happy with it. ]
Don't knock it till you try it, wolfman, it's like magic.
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[ The fact Stiles can get away with having Talia in any of his classes is an impressive feat, though there's a myriad of bullshit reasons he could've given to excuse the fact he had the equivalent of a toddler gnawing on his shoelaces during his lectures. It's interesting that it's more excusable for him to bring her with him to the police station than it is for Stiles to bring her to a college campus, but he doesn't quite question it since he has a decent amount of sway as a high ranked deputy.
Approaching from the entryway of the kitchen, he brings his hands up to rub his fingers into the soft scruff of fur around the pup's face, bowing his head forward to butt it into hers. ]
I'm sorry, Talulla. I promise I won't let him bring out the embarrassing baby pictures too often.
[ He fans his hands, offering her a rumble in question as to whether she wants to be brought out of the carrier or not.
The fact that the image of Stiles in his kitchen, with their wolf pup, warms his heart is something he should worry about. Ever since he and Stiles met, things had grown between them. There was no denying that, regardless of how much they wanted to try, they were something. Maybe there wasn't actually any romantic connotations to their alpha-second relationship, but it wasn't as if he was oblivious of the potential for them.
Long story short, Derek has been aware of Stiles' crush for years now. Except Stiles has his entire life ahead of him, and even with the fact that as second, him leaving would probably have a heavy impact on the pack... Well, he deserves a lot better than him. Even if a great part of the alpha is incredibly selfish and judging, always assessing anyone that even comes near Stiles when they're out.
He should really nut up or shut up.
Straightening up behind him, he noses at the back of his head in greeting and to emphasize his teasing. ]
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wow I was sure I hit enter on this.
whoooops.
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how do u feel about omegaverse
Dean
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spams more
HEAVY SIGH
But he finally decides to take the step forward, making his way out of the enclosed community, following the path he typically takes when he goes to seek out the other shapeshifter when moving on all fours. A major part of him is a little unsure of doing this, but at the same time...
Well, a small part of him thinks it feels right. And somehow, that's the part that's strongest in him. So he keeps going, green-and-gold eyes a stark contrast to brilliant red. ]
You love it.
But after ages of fighting to get his share, Stiles had started to take his interest in something completely different, and that was the faoladh himself. They'd met up multiple times, although neither had really seen their human faces, and Stiles took some kind of grand pleasure in teasing him anyway, making the wolf jump for him when he was a bird, wrestling with him until he was overpowered and could just slip away. Today's supposed to be one of the days, and he's currently sitting in the shape of a black fox, perched on a rock and licking his paws, trying to appear cool for the fact that he's been running around excited about seeing the faoladh all day.
He has no idea what's in store for him. At all. ]
Yes I do.
Somehow, the puka has gotten his share. Maybe not in the most conventional way, but he's gotten something that's appeased his nature enough to not bust into residences and places of business with the same frequency he did at the start.
So, why not give him the full share? (Not that this is just for his village, what has become his pack. Rather, it's a good reason to give anyone that asks, especially the druid that takes up residency there. Even if he sees through Derek like a damn window.)
He spots a black shape perched ahead of him, and chuffs amusement at the attempt to look cool. Right, sure Stiles. ]
uwu ♥
SNORTS LOUDLY ♥
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and now for something completely different c:
This was the most ridiculously weheartit prompt ever.
(Absolutely not.)
He's at least comforted by the fact that he doesn't wake up alone, and hasn't ever since he arrived, but now it's... a little different.
Especially since the inclusion of multiple Cecils in his life.
Cracking an eye open slowly, he tries not to startle too badly when a lavender-esque lump appears in his field of vision. His Espurr sits patiently on his chest, staring at him, and he exhales heavily in a sigh the moment it starts to purr. Tucked into his side (closest to the outside of the bed), Enzo complains about the sudden movement brought on by his trainer's surprise. Carlos just pats the Growlithe sympathetically, before tentatively patting the cat-like pokémon between the ears. ]
Good morning, Cecil. [ Though he mostly addresses the staring, purring form on his chest, he pitches his sleep-heavy voice enough to be heard by all current occupants that share the name. ]
You know it was appropro.
By the time he returns, he's set up with the news of the day at the kitchen table, looking through his mail and listening to the mayor, as usual, whispering her feelings on an official meeting through his mail slat. It's a sleepy morning, so far--no strange pyramids, no oddly benevolent animal spewing clouds. Yes, it's a beautiful, chartreuse sky kind of day, and as he lets Lovecraft back into his pokeball, he trods through the apartment and pauses at the door, leaning on the frame to look at Carlos, still snoring perfectly, and slips back into bed, toeing off his saddle shoes and getting comfortable again.
By the time Carlos wakes up, Cecil the Espurr isn't the only thing staring. Cecil the human is very much doing the same thing, scooted down just a little, chin perched on his shoulder, two very real eyes and one ink one admiring Carlos' perfect face and perfectly imperfect sleeping habits. ] Good morning.
It was.
When Cecil rejoins them, he hardly moves. Carlos certainly doesn't, strangely at peace up until he feels so many sets of eyes staring at him. The Espurr is the one that unsettles him, while the human is mostly considered the norm. Blinking blearily, he looks out of the corner of his eye, catching movement in ink before he turns his head to actually look at the intently staring man.
When did this become the norm? ] I didn't miss anything, did I?
[ Because that's a major concern, given the community of Night Vale. To his side, Enzo shifts, lifting his head up to drop it on his chest near Cecil II, yawning wide by way of greeting to the bed at large. ]
cecil would have a tumblr tag for carlos full of shit like this
Cecil stop being so cute.
some would say creepy but ok cute works too ;D
In Night Vale, that would be considered cute.
.....true (this is a story about you.........)
AHAHA... HAAA...
8>
sighs
you love it
For some reason.
♥♥♥
♥
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