Tag: goddamn

pale-silver-comb:

stilesisderekslittlespoon:

#can we stop and read this as rock star stiles#very strung out on a bender#whiskey and cocaine every night#on the fifth week of the tour#and this is derek standing across from him#derek the sound tech roadie#who stiles has been steadily falling in love with over the past five weeks#cuddled close with the curtains closed in the tour bus beds#and having long talks#and /intense/ sex#and this is derek telling him that he’s leaving#that he’s quitting the tour#that he can’t handle it anymore#the drugs#the hangovers#and the outbursts#and the way stiles flirts and tries to fuck anything that moves when he’s wasted and doesn’t even know who he is#and how he crawls back to derek’s hotel room every night#sometimes crying and inconsolable#derek can’t handle it#because maybe he loves stiles too#and maybe it hurts too much – (via twinkwolf)

#maybe after the first week of Derek gone stiles is all ‘fuck him- who needs em#after the 3rd week he’s leaving msgs on Dereks voicemail begging him to come back ‘I love you-I’m nothing without you-comeback comeback’#by the second month he loses it on stage breaking everything in his path sobbing Dereks name over and over#Derek hears the tour is cancel from a friend of a friend#he calls Scott ‘nah man haven’t heard from him in months’ calls Lydia ‘maybe you should talk to his dad’#the sheriff just gives him an address and a warning ‘don’t mess this up’#he pulls up to a rehab center asking for stiles and sees him for the first time in half a year#he’s sober and looks health and his hair is flat on his forehead and looks fluff#his eyes sparkle and smiles brighter than any stage light that ever fell upon him#‘why didn’t you tell me?’ Derek asks and stiles just says ‘I needed to do this on my own’ and Derek nods like yes exactly#and he visits every Sunday and maybe it’s not what they had before but it them#a new beginning after a hard goobye and they know they’ll make it#they always do#sterek (via @smokesforwolves)

Napollya Fic

el3anorrigbyworld:

So I have no excuse to write this, other than just wanting to write them again. 

Napoleon had just stepped out of the shower, hair wet and tousled with a towel wrapped around his hips when he hears Illya entering his room.

“Cowboy?”

“I’m in the bathroom,” Napoleon shouts a reply when the door is suddenly pushed open and Illya steps inside before leaning against the doorframe.

“Do you even know what privacy means, Peril?” he asks in annoyance.

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