Derek doesn’t know if he’s doing the right thing. He understands he can’t just break the rule like this and Laura’s gonna be pissed. But it’s not like he has any other options.
SUPERWOLF: In which Derek died, and his soul went to Purgatory.Turns out Derek had been gone for a lot longer than he’d thought. He doubted anyone would wait four years for him, especially not someone like Stiles. Sure, Stiles would never stop loving him, but he’d gone through death before. He knew what it was like, knew that you could only mourn for so long before you had to get up and go on with your life. That was okay, though, because Derek just wanted to see Stiles, wanted to apologize for dying, to at least properly tell him goodbye. If worst came to worst, Derek could always die again and go right back to purgatory, right?
Only, Derek had no idea if he could do that, not now, not standing an aisle down from Stiles, just hearing his voice as he bickered with Erica, of all people, about if they should pinch pennies on coffee or spend the extra money for a better quality. His voice alone sent Derek’s heart into a frenzy, made his senses go wild to reach out, to search for the source of that voice, to hold him and kiss him and mutter hundreds of thousands of apologies.
Erica fell silent, and Derek knew the exact second he’d been scented because her gasp was audible even to human ears.
Derek had to resist the urge to walk away, to leave the store before they rounded the aisle and came face to face with him. If he ran now, he would keep running, would keep hiding. He didn’t go through a near-literal Hell with Dean Winchester and co. just to hide. He had done all of this for Stiles, for this second chance to see him at least one last time.
Erica flew into the aisle, disbelief on her face and Stiles’ wrist in one of her hands. She wasn’t wolfed out—there was no replicating the scent of your alpha, after all—and the color on her face seemed to drain out.
“Derek?” she croaked.
The tub of coffee in Stiles’ hand hit the ground with a loud clatter, spilling grinds everywhere. Derek lifted his head, a tiny pull in the corner of his mouth. Gods, he just wanted to smile and drag them both into his arms. He didn’t really know how much he’d missed them until they were here, in his line of sight with their scents filling his nose and their heartbeats roaring in his ears.
Derek realized he hadn’t replied, had remained silent in lieu of staring and taking them in—afraid to touch. Stiles was rigid, his breathing erratic and his knuckles white in the hand that was clutching to Erica’s jacket, tugging on it like she could tell Stiles if what he was seeing was real or not.
“It’s been a while,” Derek managed to say, because it would be hard to explain the schematics of purgatory and making deals with hunters in a grocery store full of civilians.
Derek locked eyes with Stiles, and he felt his voice soften. “I missed you.”
Stiles dragged in a shuddering breath, his eyelids twitching but not fully blinking, like he was afraid that closing them just for a second would make Derek disappear.
“Erica,” Stiles said, weak and desperate as he pulled insistently on her jacket.
“It’s him, Stiles,” Erica said, shaking her head. “I don’t know how, but it’s him.”
Apparently that was all Stiles needed to hear. The coffee tin rolled when his foot kicked it, grinds going everywhere as Stiles stumbled forward. Derek didn’t wait for Stiles to reach him, surging forward and meeting him half way.
“Derek!” Stiles sobbed, slamming into him and throwing his arms around Derek’s shoulders. Derek dragged Stiles into his chest, clutching to him as tightly as he knew a human body could take. He buried his face into Stiles’ throat, inhaling his scent and strangling back a sob of his own when the achingly familiar smell hit him like a two ton truck.
Derek trembled, knees going so weak that he had to step back and press up against one of the shelves just to keep upright. Stiles’ fingers curled into his jacket, chest heaving like he was on the verge of a panic attack. Derek brought a hand up, curling it around the back of Stiles’ head, his fingers digging in to the base where his hair had grown out since he’d last seen Stiles.
“I’m sorry,” Derek breathed into Stiles’ skin, repeating it over and over again as they clung to each other, uncaring if anyone saw. “I’m so sorry, I love you, I’m sorry.”
“You’re alive!” Stiles cried, “how the fuck are you alive?!”
Derek started to rub Stiles’ back, wanting to sooth away the frantic breathing and heartbeat. He kissed at whatever skin he could find without pulling away. “I’ll tell you later, I promise. I swear.”
“Don’t go again, please,” Stiles tugged on Derek’s jacket, and then hugged him harder. “Don’t go.”
“I’m not going anywhere. I’m here, I’m staying. I’m so sorry,” Derek assured, and God, he had missed this. He’d never fight again if it meant he could keep this moment forever, if he could have hundreds more like it.
“Okay—” Stiles choked out, shaking down to his very bones, “Okay, okay.” It was a mantra, Stiles telling himself over and over again that it was okay, that things were okay and that this was happening.
“I missed you,” Derek repeated, rubbing Stiles’ back more firmly, “I came back for you.”
Stiles pulled away, just enough to stare at him incredulously. “I—do I want to know?”
Derek cupped his face, used his thumbs to brush away the tear tracks on Stiles’ cheeks. Stiles closed his eyes and pressed his face into the touch, brought his hands up to clutch at Derek’s wrists and trap them there. “I’ll tell you later, I promise,” Derek assured. Stiles swallowed, nodding and opening his eyes.
“You have to keep it, this time,” Stiles said vehemently, “you’re not allowed to break any more promises,” his voice cracked on the last word, and Derek knew exactly what he was thinking of.
I’m just going to run him out of town. It’ll take an hour, tops. I’ll be back before dinner.
Promise?
Promise.
Derek pressed their foreheads together. “I won’t,” he assured, tilting his head and pressing their mouths together in a soft kiss. Stiles released a quiet, broken noise, sobbing Derek’s name into his mouth and kissing back desperately. Derek knew in that moment that he could never lose this again.
This time, he’d do anything to stay alive—if only to keep from ever hearing that sound escape Stiles ever again.
(Source: trollian-dungeon, via jossismygod)
The Angel has the phone box!
Yes, this is how Superwholock works in my head. And then Castiel and the TARDIS commiserate over their troublesome charges, and become BFFs, and go on awesome adventures together through time and space~.
For wantsomechocoolate, who requested “anything SuperWhoLock related, ANYTHING.”
THE ANGEL HAS THE PHONE BOX
I want this on a T-shirt
And this is why I wish I could enjoy and obsess over SN like I do DW and Sherlock. But after attempting to watch it four or so times, I’ve really given it up as a lost cost. WHICH ABSOLUTELY SUCKS BECAUSE THERE IS SO MUCH I AM MISSING OUT ON. Sigh.
The Angel has the phone box!
Yes, this is how Superwholock works in my head. And then Castiel and the TARDIS commiserate over their troublesome charges, and become BFFs, and go on awesome adventures together through time and space~.
For wantsomechocoolate, who requested “anything SuperWhoLock related, ANYTHING.”
THE ANGEL HAS THE PHONE BOX
I want this on a T-shirt
And this is why I wish I could enjoy and obsess over SN like I do DW and Sherlock. But after attempting to watch it four or so times, I’ve really given it up as a lost cost. WHICH ABSOLUTELY SUCKS BECAUSE THERE IS SO MUCH I AM MISSING OUT ON. Sigh.
Amy Pond was it?
‘The Girl Who Waited’.
Quite a title, for such an insignificant pet.Or wait, was it actually Sarah Jane Smith who waited? Or Tyler? I heard you even left Louis XV’s cunt behind too. I wonder, Doctor, do you think Pond will spend the rest of her life waiting too? Waiting for the Doctor who will never come back?
I was gonna be like I can draw normal Sherlock fanart too and not just aus and then I couldn’t.
(via bbcsherlockfanwork)
OTP.Married.
OMG! I now ship Mrs Hudson/Wilfred! What’s that ship? Wilfrudson? Hudsed?
I think while watching this episode, the ship subconsciously buried itself in my head and nestled there, stealing the neighbor’s babies for tea time and the neighbors never knew until they stumbled upon this tumblr post.
SO SO REAL. THIS IS ACTUALLY PERFECT.
Wow, this works really well.
THEY ARE PERFECT FOR EACH OTHER.
so but so writing this
AND THUS A GREAT SHIP WAS BORN
(via bwap)
(Source: wtfanime, via soullessreblogging)
When Yusef’s hands oh-so-lightly pushed Arthur’s chest, IV’s strewn carelessly across his legs and the floor, it knocked the point man back just slightly. ’Slightly’ being enough to jerk him backward and wake him from the heavy sedative they were testing. Arthur’s slicked back hair flew up as he slid back over his chair and onto the cold tile of the warehouse. A barely audible gasp flew out of his mouth when he jerked out of the artificial sleep.
It was audible to Eames. He snorted when Arthur’s consistantly-flawless black hair fell out of its perfection and around his face. Smirking as his point man’s legs flew up into the air, Eames was reminded of a - more sexual time.
“What are you grinning at, Eames?” Arthur asked as he sat up and adjusted his vest.
“What an adorable lab rat you make, darling.”
(Source: itfeltpure)